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whocaresstillthelouvre · 26 days

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Shining Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: You want Mando to make you shine. Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism (you let Din watch you masturbate), p in v sex, creampie (reader has an implant), light sub/dom vibes, Din gets handcuffed by his own binders, sensory deprivation with the help of Din's helmet. Words: 3,735 A/N: This idea has been dancing around in my head for the past week, thanks to @frannyzooey for her thot night post and kind motivation. Also, shout out to "Ghost In The Machine" by SZA. I dunno man, this is the first time I've ever written Din and wow, he was fun.

Masterlist

Mandalorians want for nothing, so why did he want you so bad?

Months of you joining him on his hunts, a damned demand of Karga. “She’s young and capable, she’ll be good for my little friend to have someone else to take care of him. I won’t take no, you owe me.”

Your little trinkets taking up precious cargo in his small ship, your pretty face always shining through the display tempting him to give it all up just for a glimpse of the color of your soft skin, your beautiful body keeping him up and frustrated at night while you sleep soundly on the cot you insisted you needed. The only reason why he caved is because he was tired of you sneaking into his pod and leaving his blankets smelling like you.

The kid, the damn kid loves you, adores you. He’s pretty sure he loves you more than he loves him. The way you talk to him with your sweet voice, the way you run over to him whenever he lets out a frustrated cry, the way his kid looks held in your arms as you soothe him.

He was frustrated, he was at his breaking point. You’re so beautiful and so delicate and yet you call him out on his shit, you keep him in line. He’s never wanted anybody like he wants you.

He hated facing you after stepping out of the fresher, always feeling like you can look behind the beskar he’s covered in. Like you know he just came on the shower wall imagining the cold, flat metal is the warm, silky skin of your tits.

Tonight, in the middle of nowhere on this backwater planet, you trounce around the fire in your gauze sleep gown, smiling and laughing as the kid chases you. You look like an angel, lit by the flames licking across your skin casting your body in a deep amber glow. He tries to focus on the gun he’s cleaning to keep his attention off of you but he can’t stop staring. He counts the minutes until it’s the kid’s bedtime. He has to do something about this, either he needs to take you back home or he needs to feel how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock. Taking you home would be easier.

——

“Well, that didn’t take long,” you say, leaning against the opening of the ship.

He nods at you, his helmet still downcast focused on cleaning his armor. He’s gotten used to you obviously, he’ll at least remove a piece of armor in front of you. Never the helmet, you understand that, but seeing him without his usual chest piece makes you so wet he might as well be fully naked.

You’re going mad, the Crest isn’t a big ship and he’s a big man. If you have to feel the cool touch of beskar against your skin as you move past him one more time you just might explode.

You’re used to getting what you want, you’re smart, you’re clever, you’re resolute. Like Karga always tells you, “you have spunk kid, nobody will ever be able to tell you no.” That’s why you put the white nightgown on, he might be wearing a helmet, but you can always tell just how much he likes what you’re wearing by how hard you feel his stare behind that faceless mask, you really feel it whenever you wear this.

“He’s tired,” you walk down the ramp, “I think all I did today was play with him, don’t know why he needed so much attention.”

“He knows you’ll always give him it.”

“Really?” You roll your eyes as you sit across the fire from him. “At least he’ll sleep through the night, you’re welcome by the way.”

“Hm,” he nods, still preoccupied by shining his armor.

“Think it’s shiny enough, big guy?” You lean over, your hands resting on your knees, the neckline of your dress dipping farther down as you lean forward to look at him above the fire.

“Just about,” he’s rubbing his chest plate harder and faster… you know he’s avoiding looking over at you.

“I love how your armor reflects the flames,” your voice coming out lower and huskier. “I love being able to watch the fire burn on your chest, like your heart’s been set aflame.”

His hand pauses, the cloth he was using sits idle against the metal. His helmet tilts up, you feel his eyes back on you.

“Is it shiny enough for me to see that now?”

A single nod before he lifts his armor over his head and attaches it. “I can see,” you whisper.

He stares forward, his eyes are on you, something has shifted in the air of this small circle around the fire.

You lean even more forward, the plush of your breasts almost spilling out of your dress. You watch his chest rise as he takes a deep breath in.

“I wish I could shine like you,” your confession leaving your mouth as you run a hand up and down your neck and chest.

“You shine,” the modulated voice sizzles through you.

“Yeah? How bright can I shine for you tonight?” Your hand dipping underneath the fabric of your dress petting back and forth across your breasts.

“As bright as you want for me.”

“Sure about that? I can burn really bright. Can I see if I burn bright in your armor?”

He straightens, sitting taller and nods.

You rise off the rock, grabbing the bottom of your dress as you stand, lifting it up over your head.

You pad over to him naked, the crisp breeze of the forest hitting your skin. It truly feels like you’re the only two people on this whole planet. His hands clench into fists as you stand in front of him.

“Can’t see much, just the outline of my body in the flickering light. What do you see?”

“You,” the modulated crackling as he chokes out, “all of you.”

You lift one of his hands, grabbing the edge of his glove. “Can I?”

He nods.

You remove it. Thick fingers, well manicured short nails, trails of veins running through strong muscles. Your cunt begins to weep as you think of what his hand would feel like between your legs. You’ve seen his bare hands before, sometimes he gives the kid it to entertain himself with, sometimes he needs his hand bare to repair something. But, you’ve never seen it this close. It’s the only body part you’ve seen of his, you imagine the rest of him to be just as golden, just as toned, just as thick as his hand.

You rest it on your hip, a moan escapes your mouth at the contact. He lets out a huff of modulated air as he grips your skin.

“Maker,” you whisper into the night sky, just his hand on you igniting something powerful. He tests you, running a lazy line up to your chest and back down to your hips, the path sets your skin ablaze. You want him to go lower, you want one of his thick fingers to push inside, you want him to feel how wet you are.

“See, sometimes you shine too bright, and it does things to me. Sometimes I can’t look away and it makes being around you really hard for me and I have to sneak my hand down at night ‘n try to dull that ache. I think you feel the same way… sometimes I can hear you in that fresher,” his head raises towards you, his grip tightening now searing against your skin, “the walls are thin.”

“I hear you… I-I listen.” Maker, his voice. You’ve never heard his voice this way, the shame dripping out of the tinny speakers.

Your eyebrow raises at his confession. “You listen to me?”

A solemn nod, downcast.

“Hey,” you touch the edge of his helmet, lifting it so he can look at you. This is the first time you’ve ever touched it. In fact, this is the first time you’ve actually touched him, besides a quick brush as you move past or put the baby in his arms. “I like that. Would you watch me if you could?”

His helmet nods in your hold.

You can feel the tensity radiating off of him, you know he’s a hunter you know that under all of those layers he’s screaming to get out, to attack you, to make you his bounty.

“You know, I see you hunt people all of the time. I can’t explain what it does to me to see your big body in the distance walking towards us and the ship, your bounty cuffed and subservient to you. I love the power you hold, but I think you’d like someone else to have that power over you. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have that power over you?”

“Yes.”

“You want to watch me?”

He nods.

You turn away from him, grabbing the blanket folded on the rock you were using earlier to look up at the stars with the kid, laying it on the ground by the fire. You settle yourself on it, the warmth from the flames heating your body. You lean back on your hands, locking your knees together.

“Tell me what you want to see, you’re such a being of few words, talk to me.”

“Open your legs.”

You separate your legs, spreading them open, your pussy is on full display for him, dripping for him. His hands rest on his knees as he leans forward.

“Touch yourself,” he whispers out.

You trail your hand down to in between your legs, rubbing a line from your clit to your hole.

“Am I shining here for you?”

“Yes,” the modulator crackles as he hisses.

Your fingers light a trail around your clit, your hips cant up whenever you rub against the tight bundle of nerves. You’re putting on a show for him, biting your lip and staring straight forward into the small window of his helmet. Even though you can’t see them, you know his eyes are only focused on you. You moan into the night, tilting your head back to look at the stars as your finger dips into your entrance.

You can hear his breathing over the squelchy sound of your finger pumping in and out of you, your head turning back down towards him when you hear a low groan. His hands are gripping his knees, he’s leaning over as far as he can as he watches you fuck yourself.

The way his large shoulders are rising and falling rapidly as his breathing quickens makes your body ache, your palm knocks against your clit as you add another finger and fuck yourself.

“Do you want me to cum for you like this?”

“C-c-can I touch you when you do?”

Oh, his voice. It’s so heavy and yet so light. You’ve never heard it like this, he sounds so young, so excited, so unlike the scary Mandalorian that secretly intimidates you, not that you’d ever let him know.

“Come here,” you shuffle your feet wider, spreading your legs as far as you can. “Kneel down.”

He moves lightning quick, a dash of metal appearing in between your legs. He’s so fucking big, so fucking broad, so fucking handsome, so fucking strong, he drives you crazy and all you’ve ever seen of him is his hand.

He takes his other glove off and throwing it to the side before tentatively placing his hands on your knees, the feel of his rough palms planting against your soft skin bringing you closer to your climax.

“Cum for me,” he whispers. You wish he didn’t have that damn helmet, you wish his real voice could float across the air and land against your cunt.

His hands grip you harder as your hips begin to rise and fall while you writhe against the soft blanket, your cunt tightening around your fingers as you pull yourself onto the cliff and leap down into the ocean of your pleasure.

You don’t break eye contact with Mando, his firm stare you feel behind that damned black shield shattering your heart and your pussy into a million pieces as you scream out into the vast wilderness of the night.

His hands chart a path across your knees, his touch so gentle versus the way he was just clutching you as you came for him.

“Did I shine for you?” Your voice comes out smaller and more delicate than you wanted.

“Brightly.”

“Can I make you shine bright for me?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have my way with you, the way I want it? The way I’ve dreamed about taking you?” You sit up, his hands still rub your legs, as if once you’ve given him permission to touch you it’s all he wants to do now.

He nods.

You turn your head to the side, looking at all of his now clean weapons laid out on the table. The binders are still there, their presence has been on your mind since you saw him pick them up earlier to clean.

“Can I borrow something from over there?”

“What?”

“Can I borrow your binders?”

“Y-yes.”

You rise up off the blanket, moving quickly to pick them up, as if you don’t do this right now, he’s going to back out. You’re now the hunter. You pick them up in your hand, they’re heavier than you thought, the metal is cool against your touch.

“Can I cuff you like I caught you… like you’re my bounty?”

His deep growl as he tips his head back shoots a wave of pleasure through your body, you can only assume it matches what he’s currently feeling. You love that the two of you are now sharing in each other’s pleasure instead of hiding it behind the thin metal walls of a spaceship.

“Yes.”

You can’t hide your smile as you stalk towards him, like he’s now caught and you’re ready to get your reward. He hasn’t moved from where he knelt in front of you as he watched you fuck yourself.

“Can you take your vambraces off for me?”

He deftly removes them without a word, laying them next to him.

“Can you do something else for me?”

He nods.

“Can you show me how to turn your volume and display off in your helmet? You saw my cunt, you heard me fuck myself, but you’ve never felt my pussy or mouth. I want you to only feel it now.”

“Dank farrik,” he grunts. “Yes.”

He picks up a vambrace, putting in a couple of codes, his fingers driving you crazy as they move across the small buttons.

“Press this when you want it,” he pants out as he hands it to you.

“Thank you. Put your hands in front, raise them up.”

He follows your instructions. He looks so good like this, kneeling in front of you ready to serve, you like having this power over him. This must be how he feels whenever he catches his prey.

You grab one of his arms, pushing the sleeve up of his flight suit. His skin is just as bronzed as you expected it to be, born that way, hidden away for years underneath fabric and armor. You do the same with the other arm, the sight of his toned and hairy forearms causing a wave of heat to spread over your body.

You put a cuff over his wrist, locking it in place. You look up at him, checking to make sure he’s okay with this. He nods his approval as you slip the other cuff on and lock it. He’s now bound, still kneeling, his thick legs supporting him as he lowers his hands down.

“Good?” You whisper as you stand tall in front of him. “Lay on your back, put your arms over your head.”

You’ll never not be shocked at how big he is, yet how easily he moves in his large body. He takes up the whole blanket. Your mouth waters as you notice how his pants are tented as he lays down for you.

“I promise I won’t remove any more armor or your helmet, but I will help myself to you. I want you to be as loud as you can be, let yourself go, let me have the power, you deserve it. I’m going to turn off the display and your sound, is that okay?”

“Yes, Maker, yes.”

“If you need me, say Lothal,” you hit the button he showed you, Din’s head thuds against the dirt as you imagine he’s now cast in complete darkness and silence. You listen to his deep breathing as you look down at him. Fuck, this is going to be good.

You settle on the ground kneeling between his spread legs, just like he did for you. Your hands move across the rough fabric of his flight suit, his hoarse groan rumbles through his body when you caress his thighs.

“That’s it, that’s it baby,” you whisper to nobody, the thrill of seeing him like this letting go for you makes your head spin.

The shape of his hard cock straining against the zipper of his flight suit beckons you. You run a hand across it, his whole body shudders. He’s panting, the sounds of his struggle soaring into the air causing goosebumps to prickle against your skin and your cunt to clench.

You lick your lips as you unzip the zipper, grabbing the heft of him and lifting it out. Maker, Maker, Maker. He’s so wide and firm, just like you knew he would be. Swollen, throbbing, fucking gorgeous, precum leaking down his tip.

He lets out a rasped “ahhh” as you wrap your fist around his length. His skin is so soft, so silky, so firm. Your thumb swipes across his tip, collecting the precum on the pad of it, bringing it to your mouth to taste him. He tastes delicious… salty and musky. You sit back and watch him lay there vulnerable only for you, his exposed cock twitching in the light of the fire. Your head, heart, and core are heavy with want for this mystery of a man… you wonder if anybody has ever had him like you do right now.

“Mesh’la?” His voice breaks you out of your daze. Mando’a, you’ve never heard him speak it. You make a note to yourself to look that word up on your datapad later.

“I’m here,” you say before realizing he can’t hear you. You place a hand on his thigh and gently squeeze it as you lay in between his thick thighs, his legs caging you in.

You angle your head forward and seal your mouth over the head of his cock, his whole body shivers as you suck him. He feels so good in your mouth, you love the slight stretch of your lips as you move his length down your throat.

Your eyes water as you take him all the way down, his tip hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him. You slide him out of your mouth, grabbing him at the base and slapping his length against your lips, you revel in the sting it leaves against your skin as you stick him back in and bob your mouth up and down, your tongue tasting the salt of his skin.

You hollow your cheeks around him, the combined sounds of ecstasy coming out of the speakers of his helmet mixed with the slurp of your lips soundtrack the night as his hips begin to lift when he begins fucking into your mouth.

You know he’s close, the way his moans garble, the way his hips begin to stutter as you swirl your tongue against him. He chokes out a protest as you slip him out of your mouth, leaving him pulsing. You’re selfish, you want what you want and he’s given you the opportunity tonight to take whatever you want from him.

You grab his vambrace before sitting down and straddling his thighs. Reaching down you grab his cock, angling him to rub between your soaked folds, the tip bumps against your swollen clit and you yelp.

You want him to watch, you want him to hear. You hit the button on his vambrace, his helmet instantly pops up, the black T of his helmet angled to look right at the apex of your thighs.

“Wanted you to see this,” you say as you rise up, grabbing his cock and slowly sinking yourself down on it.

Your body accepts all of him as you roll your hips, getting comfortable around the feeling of being stuffed so full of him.

“You feel so good in me, I knew you would, let me do the work, let me fuck you,” you whimper as he stretches your tight hole.

You use him to fuck yourself, he lays perfectly still like you asked him, you never imagined he’d listen so well to your instructions. He’s panting for you, his arms still raised above his head, his wrists straining against the cuffs, hands forming tight fists as you begin to pound him.

You move your hand down to start rubbing circles around your clit, you’re on the edge of another orgasm, you can tell he’s even closer.

“You can cum for me, I have the implant, I want to feel you pump your cum inside me, cum for me Mando.”

His helmet bobbles as his body shudders underneath you.

It destroys you, the feel of his big cock spearing you as he empties himself into you, the sound of the garbled words he’s grunting as he tilts his hips up into you, the feel of your fingers tracing your clit, the heat of the fire warming your already feverish body.

You strangle his cock as you orgasm, your slick mixing with his spend inside you as you lean forward on him, laying your body on top of his. You reach up and remove both cuffs, throwing them to the side as he shakes each hand out. You stare into his helmet, you can make out the reflection of your face in the black T of his visor.

“I can see myself shining in you now,” you say as he wraps his arms around you.

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sehodreams · 2 months

Text

last day surprises

TW and Tags: slasher!Wonbin, mentions of violent acts (death of a character), heavy dubcon/almost noncon (well... hard to explain), dark!riize, blowjob, p in v, no condom.

WC: 3.4k

Summary: Wonbin swore he had changed, he was better, he had a job he liked, and he had met you, so why did you have to ruin everything?

Comment: don't you hate when I'm such a cunt? having a thousand unfinished drafts I decided to write something nobody asked for. I just wrote this because I NEEDED TO WRITE SOMETHING TO NOT LOSE MY MIND, I've been swamped with work so I wanted to relax a bit, it's something I did pretty quick so it probably has inconsistencies and grammar mistakes (when have I done a fic with perfect grammar in first place?).

Breathing as silently as you could, you watched the shadows moving in the dim light of the night that trespassed the curtains of your room.

Tears were still flooding and your shoulders were shaking, but you couldn’t do anything about it, even if you tried to force yourself to stop, they kept moving on their own, and the only thing you could do was bite your lip and cover your mouth with the palm of your hand, praying with open eyes that god, if there was even one, helped you and let you live at least one more day.

One more day and your cab would go for you in the morning, just like you had planned with your best friend the day before.

The thumb of his steps over the hardwood kept tricking your mind into believing he was far away from the closet you were hiding in, and you had thought that perhaps God had given you the gift of protecting you, but he was the one making the decisions at that moment, he was playing God, and he wasn’t as kind.

If only your friend had never teased him. If only she had listened to you and had left him alone. If only.

‘’You’re too noisy’’ he opened the door and you tried to close it back immediately, nails almost breaking from how much force you were using to not let the door go, gripping on it to not let him in (or to not let him drag you out).

‘’I didn’t do anything’’ you cried and did your best to fight him, ‘’I swear I never laughed’’.

‘’Don’t lie to me’’ the same hand that prepared your cold drinks when you woke up, that carried your bags and held the door open for you when you arrived now held it to stop you from closing it, ‘’I saw you, you were laughing with her, you’re just like her’’.

‘’Wonbin, I never laughed at you, I swear, I always treated you good’’ you tried to make him remember, ‘’We talked a lot, don’t you remember? I told you about my family, and my job, and my home.’’

Your voice waved with every word that left your mouth, and when you thought he was finally weakening, he used more of his strength to create a bigger gap between the door and the frame, enough for one of his arms to enter and grab one of your wrists and tighten it to hurt you.

You hissed, trying to shake him off, but it was useless, and soon, when he got tired of your little game, he completely pulled the door open, pulling you with the same strength and rage, grabbing your hair instead of your wrist, dragging you out of your cave.

‘’Liar’’ he repeated with his stern voice, full of hate, and with a touch of what seemed like pain and deception. ‘’You’re just like her, and you’ll end up just like her’’.

His grip on your scalp made your head burn, and you closed your eyes and cried his name when he dragged you to his feet.

Not knowing what else to say, you don’t know why you said it, but you didn’t have many options to ponder, so you said the first thing that came to your mind ‘’I-I never agreed with her, I thought you were cute, I think you are cute, really’’.

You felt the weight of your words on your head, when his hand debilitated for a second, and you felt a light of hope illuminating you, the same ray of light that infiltrated between the curtains and that told you how late it was.

‘’Then why aren’t you looking at me?’’ he asked, tugging even harder your hair, making you yelp in pain before you answered.

‘’I’m- I’m’’ I’m scared, you wanted to say, but you knew it would make him angrier. ‘’I’m sorry’’.

You opened your eyes, looking at his feet first, dirty brown shoes covering them, to then move your eyes up, passing through his dark pants, and his silver black belt, arriving at where you were trying to avoid when you closed your eyes.

His shirt still had your friend’s blood drenching its front, and you could even distinguish the prints of her hands when she tried to push him away.

His green-striped shirt was the last thing your friend teased him for, telling him how he looked like a creep when you two arrived from your night walk.

You saw how his eyes were different after she left the comment in the air, and you had no idea why, but all your instincts said he wasn’t in the mood for it, so you quickly pushed her inside when he opened the door for you, telling her with your eyes to shut up when she lifted one of his eyebrows at your attitude.

But she never listened.

Hours later when the lights went out in your shared room, she decided to go to the first floor of the old cabin to leave a piece of her mind one last time before the two of you left first hour the next morning.

‘’Can’t believe I paid so much for this shithole’’ your friend said, leaving you alone while you took a shower, wait for me, you screamed under the water, but she was already gone when you finished getting dressed in the darkness.

You found your phone as you could in the obscure room and turned on your flashlight to walk down the stairs and search for her.

Five minutes later, after calling her name numerous times, receiving no answer from her, inside the kitchen, you saw her body on the floor, blood pooling around her and dirtying your sandals, liquid touching your feet and starling you with the wet sensation before you illuminated her and saw her lifeless eyes.

You screamed and your phone slipped from your hands, falling to the pond and splashing the red fluids to your bare legs with the fall.

His steps, because of the shoes he wore all the time, boots perfect for the woods but heavy on the floor, made soundly thuds, indicating how close he was to you.

Running to one of the single rooms on the first floor, you tried to hide from whoever was out there, but deep inside, you knew who did it.

And you weren’t wrong, your hunch, as almost always, was right.

Your hunch had told you to treat him good, to sweetly say good morning and ramble about the weather and other things you saw with your friend while he prepared breakfast and she got dressed for the day.

Wonbin wasn’t exactly bad at the start, he was just… different.

He never smiled when you two arrived, he didn’t even dare to maintain eye contact, and when you talked with him sometimes you felt you were talking more to the air than to a person, but there was something inside you that pushed you to be overly nice to him, perhaps the same thing that pushed your friend to treat him like shit.

‘’You’re still not looking at me’’ his voice interrupted the memories of you telling your friend to not treat him like that, and you had to move your eyes from the stain on his shirt to his face.

His blonde dry hair seemed lighter at night, almost white, and you sobbed when your eyes inspected his face and a drop of his own blood dripped down his cheek because of a scratch.

It definitely was product of your friend’s manicure, nails always long and sharp enough to cut skin, she once even hurt you when you tried to hold her hand while you were walking through a tough area in the woods and she tripped over one of the many rocks, so it wasn’t hard to deduce how he got that cut there.

‘’I’m sorry Wonbin, I’m sorry’’ you didn’t know what you were apologizing for, it was the only sentence that came out of you.

‘’How sorry are you?’’ he replied to your constant mumbles.

You couldn’t answer, how sorry were you? You didn’t do anything at all, you shouldn’t even feel like that, but there you were, on your knees, with his hand on your hair, his eyes looking down at you, and your heart flinching of fear.

‘’Show me how sorry you are’’ he continued.

The same hand holding you in place pushed your face to his crotch, a bulge was already there, and your breath hitched when you understood what he wanted.

‘’I never- I’ve never done it’’ you sobbed, palms over his thighs to stop your chest from touching him.

Your cheek was pressing his zipper, which felt cold and slightly painful against the soft skin of your face.

‘’I never let anyone free either, there’s a first time for everything’’ he answered, both hands now resting over your head and pressing you to give him what he wanted.

He smelled earthy, like the wet puddles near the river, and you somehow found yourself inhaling the aroma again, to maintain you sane and ignore the stronger smell of your friend’s blood in his shirt had.

With shaky hands you pulled down the zipper, the sound extremely notorious in the quiet house, and your sobs were quickly silenced with his cock intruding your mouth.

He let you take your time with it, sighing with the superficial licks you gave to his shaft, letting you get used to it before he ordered you to open your mouth enough to accept him inside.

At least he wasn’t rough, his hand wasn’t a grip on your hair anymore from the moment he made obvious his needs, posing on the back of your head and even caressing it while guiding you.

Not daring to interrupt the sudden softness he had with you, you let him use you, as if you were only an object for him to satisfy himself, and it was wrong, but you found yourself not hating it.

Your brain turned off for a second, a line of saliva escaping your lips when he pulled out and pushed back in with a deep thrust, making you dizzy with his flavor, and an unrecognizable pressure started to build in your abdomen.

Tears kept rolling down your cheeks, it was horrendous how you were giving the first blowjob of your life to your friend’s killer, and it was even worse that you weren’t dying to push him away from your face.

‘’Shit’’ he exhaled when you started to move your head on your own, choking yourself with his length and gripping on his pants with the pressure traveling from the pitch of your abdomen to your cunt. ‘’You like sucking cock, uh? Were you lying when you said you had never done it before too?’’

You stopped for a second, wrapping one of your hands to the base of his cock to move it up and down while you talked. ‘’I’m not a liar’’ you defended yourself.

You never lied, you did think Wonbin was cute.

Even with his terrible outfits, his ugly straw-like hair and his awkward attitude, he gave you unusual amounts of attention you had enjoyed, like always receiving you with fresh juice when you walked down the stairs and preparing bags with things you might need in the forest.

Your friend had noticed it too, saying how it was his job and for you to not get swayed, he was only the service there, and the treatment you received wasn’t anything special, but you knew why she was like that, resentful, because she wasn’t the one receiving it, and you, her fat friend, were doing it when it should be her.

Grabbing you by the hair again, he dragged you to the only bed in the room, covered by a clean set of bedsheets, laid flawlessly by him, without a single wrinkle in sight, until he tossed you over them and ruined the perfect image he had created.

He felt you were sincere when you said you weren’t a liar, but how could you think he was cute? No one had ever called him that, saying how his face was frightening instead, with those big eyes and his forever dark gaze studying them, hating his equally black hair so much that he decided to dye it to avoid those comments.

It didn’t work, they said how he looked even more like a freak now, and he thought he had left those violent responses well behind in his life, until your friend appeared and broke him again.

She wasn’t the only one breaking him though, you had played a significant part in his mind wanting to repeat past patterns, he even swore he could’ve ignored her if you hadn’t laughed that day.

It was just hours ago, before your daily walk, that he recognized the gray clouds gathering in the sky, and that his body moved on his own, running to give you one of the raincoats he had stored for emergencies. He gave you the coat with a small smile, and you accepted it with a wide one, making him feel something warm install in his chest, making him weak for you.

He thought you were different, and then he heard you laughing when your friend called him an idiot, finishing the job your friend had started so eagerly since you two arrived there.

You had laughed because you thought he was adorable.

‘’Take your shorts off’’ he ordered, watching you stay still in the bed, tears flooding and your hands shaking on your sides. ‘’I’m getting tired of you not listening.’’

You heard him clear, and not wanting to see what he would do when he got fed up with your behavior, your hands tucked down your baby blue pajama shorts.

When you watched them slide down your legs you saw how little red dots appeared on the fabric and the dry blood scrap down like old paint.

His hands were clean, unlike his clothes, so it was probably he was washing them when you walked down the stairs.

They felt cold over your thighs when he made you open your legs for him, and you shivered for the sensation of his big palms touching your large thighs.

He put force into his grip to see how deep into your skin he could go, thinking how good it would feel to sink into your bare skin.

Moving your panties to the side, he was welcomed by your shiny entrance leaking for him. ‘’Fuck, are you enjoying this?’’ he asked, happily surprised by your excitement, ‘’You’re even sicker than me.’’

You didn’t like that affirmation, but you didn’t want to deny anything to him anymore.

His thumb grazed your clit teasingly, enjoying how the little bud jumped in front of his eyes and you shook from something else than fear.

You would rather die than admit it, but it felt good.

‘’You like it so much’’ he said more to himself, showing you the first wide smile you had ever seen from him since you got to that place.

He licked his thumb and groaned at your flavor, admiring you there for a good minute. Your hair was ruffled, your gleamy eyes were looking at his, and your chest was moving up and down, making your hard nipples noticeable through the white t-shirt you wore to sleep. When he saw you wearing your pajama a couple of days earlier, you keeping him company while he made your breakfast, he had salivated more to the picture of your round unsupported chest calling for him to taste them than to the fresh food in his hands.

Now that he had you dripping for him, pussy clenching around nothing, waiting for him to touch it again, he pushed his middle and ring finger inside you.

Knuckles deep, he felt his cock twitching every time you moaned his name when he shoved his fingers with force in and out, biting his lip to not moan at the feeling of you making a mess in his hands.

‘’Fuck-fuck’’ you let your head fall, and you should’ve wanted him to stop, but you were so close to your orgasm, you closed your eyes to ignore the reality of the moment, permitting him to touch you, only begging to cum inside your mind.

His hands pushing your legs up made you aware of your surroundings again.

You couldn’t even ask him what he was doing when he plunged inside you, sliding his cock without any kind of signal, forcing your walls open to accept his length.

It was a pain you had never felt before, a good pain, but the stretch had burned a little, making you whine as a response.

He, on the other hand, sighed of relief, shuddering at the long-missed sensation of a warm real person accepting him.

Messily moving his hips, he didn’t wait for you to get used to him, and he thrusted as deep as he could, completely bottoming out, making you slightly bounce in the bed with each hard smack.

Your skin and his were creating a loud echo inside the room and you moaned his name with how good he was fucking you.

You honestly would’ve enjoyed it so much, free of guilt, if he hadn’t done that. You would’ve even pulled him closer to you if only your friend’s blood wasn’t drenching your t-shirt too.

‘’Take it off’’ your fingers tried to reach for the hem of his shirt, but he kept with his rhythm, groaning with your velvet walls perfectly wrapping him, ‘’please, please.’’

The begging was hot too, but he didn’t want to do it, so he only stopped his movements to take yours off instead.

You lifted your arms for him, and when he had the impure fabric in his hands, he decided to clean some of the sweat accumulating in his forehead with it, tossing it to the floor when he finished.

He looked strangely handsome when he did it, like a normal man you would’ve met in the city, maybe in a club or a bar, one of the kind that usually ignored you to dance with your friend.

But he was with you that night, and you cried when he went back to fucking you, remembering that he wasn’t just any man, making you feel even dirtier with his wet shirt sticking to your abdomen.

It was on purpose, he couldn’t hide it, the amused breath he let out told you how much he wanted to taint you too.

Launching to your breast, he rocked into you while his mouth maintained itself busy with your nipples, taking turns with his hand, making eye contact until you felt the past interrupted orgasm coming back.

He looked so drunk with your chest and your cunt, you couldn’t help but moan louder when the same hand playing with your nipple went down, pushing its way between his solid abdomen and your soft tummy, until it found your clit.

You were already clamping his cock when he started to play with your clit, and he left your chest to moan on your mouth when you cried and writhed under him.

Spreading your legs wider, you didn’t care that his shirt felt disgusting against your skin anymore, or that his steaming breath was directly falling in your open mouth, you simply wanted to cum.

His mouth joined yours when you said his name one more time, a broken Wonbin that made him weak once again, pressing his lips against yours while his hips rutted harder into you to help you obtain your well-deserved orgasm.

He came not much after, letting all in your insides, painting you with his cum to mark you.

You were his the minute you smiled at him and said his hair was pretty the first morning of your stay.

‘’One time is not enough to earn my forgiveness’’ he said, and you eagerly nodded.

You convinced yourself that, when you straddled his lap, it was because you wanted to live, and that it had nothing to do with the fact that he had made you cum for the first time in your life and how you wanted to feel it again.

The next morning you woke up with his weight sinking in the mattress and his hand moving your hair out of your face, making you open your eyes to see him staring at you with a tenderness you had never seen before. He was wearing a clean change of clothes, but with a particularly weird aroma, like the smoke after a campfire.

‘’It’s raining, roads are closed until it stops’’ he murmured to not startle you, ‘’sorry honey’’ he finished, and you closed your eyes, tired of thinking, only praying that your cab didn’t ask you to reschedule, because you doubted he hadn’t burned your things too.

#riize x plus size reader #riize x reader #riize smut #dark!riize #wonbin x reader #wonbin smut #please read tw

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d-lanx · 2 months

Text

I transcribed what McIntyre said to Punk after his mania match

(I did this instead of working on my dissertation and it took an hour of messing with audio and replaying it until I could hear properly)

Essentially, he was saying that Punk is a good commentator and should keep doing it because if he ever wrestles again, McIntyre will end his career. He also really just wanted to rub his win in Punk’s face. Full Transcription is below the photo if you care.

Speakers

P: CM Punk

D: Drew McIntyre

M: Pat McAfee

G: Corey Graves

C: Michael Cole

(ST) is used when multiple things are said at the same time.

Transcription

P: Well, my hat goes off to the champ. I’m not gonna tell him he’s gonna keep it warm for me because I don’t know what the future holds.

*McIntyre stares at Punk, who stares back.*

M: I think he has an idea of what the future holds.

*McIntyre walks towards the commentary table.*

P: Ah. I’ve been here before.

*McIntyre gestures for the other commentators to move out of the way and they do.*

C: Ok.

P: Be careful. Be careful, Drew. Your wife’s here.

*McIntyre climbs onto the table and crawls towards Punk, pushing the belt towards him.*

M: Like a jungle cat on our commentary desk.

*Punk applauds him.*

P: Congratulations. Have fun taking selfies on the internet with it.

*McIntyre kneels on the desk in front of Punk.*

D: I want you to know, every single thing I’ve said about you, I meant every single word.

P: I want you to know that I can’t hear a word you’re saying because I have cans on.

D: And let me tell you something. Right where you’re sitting, I’ll give you props, you got that down like nobody else. Step back in that ring ever again, I won’t put you out for a few months, I’ll end your career.

*Punk laughs.*

D: I’m not playing you; you think it’s funny? I’m not playing you.

P: I think it’s hilarious.

(ST) P: People bigger than you have told me that my career is over.

(ST) D: You’re welcome here.

D: Step back in the ring, I’ll end your career. This is my moment.

P: It is your moment. Why are you- why are you here? Why are you in my face? Why are you making it about me?

D: Because I want to rub it in your goddamn face!

*McIntyre gets up to crouch in front of Punk with the belt.*

(ST) D: Get this shot! I want this framed on my wall!

(ST) P: Alright man. Alright get it.

*Crowd starts chanting “CM Punk”.*

P: I ain’t never won a title and heard other people chanting somebody else’s name.

*McIntyre stands up and gives the DX “suck it” gesture with one hand while holding the belt in the other.*

M: Oh geez.

P: Alright. Ok.

M: Right in his face. He did that right in his face.

*Punk knocks McIntyre over and starts a fight.*

G: Wait a minute!

C: Oh my God!

#this took so long to do #the audio was terrible at this moment #his voice was so quiet compared to the music #and the thick accent makes it even harder to hear what he's saying #but I think this is more or less correct #drew mcintyre #cm punk

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honeybrowne · 11 months

Text

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 — 𝐀𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐄𝐑

— summary: you're a temptation all on your own, but how does your professor react when you show up to a meeting in a pretty summer dress?

— pairing: professor!hotch x female reader

— content: basically straight porn; aaron is extremely horny for reader; age gap (reader's age is not specified, but the dynamic implies it); established sexual relationship; forbidden sex/relationship; fem receiving oral; unprotected p in v (don't be like them); cream pie; no use of y/n [4.0k words]

— author's note: i've been rereading this and editing it like crazy over the last week bc i'm so rusty with writing & i wanted to be happy with the final result and i think i am?? who knows. anyway, thank you to @spacecowboyhotch for beta'ing this for me and making me feel better about it. and thank you to those who showed their interest in this fic, your enthusiasm has helped with my confidence tremendously <3

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College is both fulfilling and really confusing.

Confusing in the sense that you often wondered if you were pursuing the right degree.

How can anyone ever know for sure what they want to do for the rest of their life? Is there even a way to know? People change and so do their interests, but asking yourself that question had made your head hurt and stressed you out more than was healthy, so you stopped.

Now, you're only two semesters away from getting your Bachelor's and you've never been more sure of a decision in your life.

Admittedly, this revelation had nothing to do with the fact that you enjoy learning about forensics and how the human mind works, and everything to do with who is teaching you those things.

Professor Hotchner was your criminal psychology professor and was insanely handsome, middle aged, tall, broad, soft spoken—pretty much everything you found attractive in a man.

Your choice to sit in the front row and directly in front of the podium was a spur of the moment decision, but had given him a perfect and unobstructed view of you. He had caught you staring at him on several occasions because of it, and he's sure you've caught him a few times, too.

He just couldn't help himself. The way you looked at him with your pen between your teeth, however innocently, caused inappropriate images to run through his mind daily. Frequently getting lost in his own daydreams of you, imagining what you'd smell like, how your skin would feel beneath his hands. You were the first person he'd seek out, a thrill of excitement rippling up his spine when he saw you already looking at him.

You had become the primary source of his fantasies, nobody else even coming close to you. Your face and body was the one he thought of when he needed release, and it worked every single time.

It made him feel dirty and shameful, but it wasn't enough to get him to stop.

Still, Professor Hotchner would feel a heavy lump form in his throat when you'd stay after the lecture was over, waiting patiently for the rest of your peers to leave before asking him a question. Nervous you somehow knew of his filthy secret because you were always so shy face to face, rarely ever making eye contact with him.

But the profiler in him knew different. You were attracted to him, even if he struggled to understand why, your body language said everything you didn't. Still, it was purely speculation, and the insecure side of him was convinced it was his delusions playing a trick on him.

It wasn't till you scheduled a one-on-one meeting that he received absolute confirmation of his suspicions.

You hadn't gone out of your way to dress more provocatively, which some students have done in the past for a better grade, but you had a new air of confidence he hadn't seen from you before. You were the one to make eye contact first, maintaining it when his brown eyes stared back into yours, challenging you to look away.

Then, you took him completely by surprise.

"Profile me," you had said.

He thought you were joking, hadn't had a student ask him that unless they were skeptical of profiling, but he could tell that wasn't what this was.

So, he gave you exactly what you wanted.

Everything he ever noticed about you, he said, and he couldn't get enough of the way your eyes watched him intently while he did.

It intimidated you, being perceived that greatly by a man like him, but you still relished it. Knowing he chose to pay attention to you in a room full of people, taking the time to learn all those things about you without an incentive, it made you feel powerful.

After that day, you had scheduled more meetings—an excuse to spend more time with him. He didn't mind it, and would take any chance he could to see you on a more personal level. Although, he always kept these meetings strictly what they were meant to be: you getting extra academic help, something that was available to all of his students.

While you were clearly his favorite, he refused to show you favoritism. He expected the same out of you as he did everyone else, and you appreciated that. You didn't want special treatment just because you flirted with each other. That's not why you flirted with him to begin with.

You were genuinely interested, and you didn't want him to question that.

Eventually, however, your relationship had turned sexual. You had kissed him first, when you took a break together after working side by side in his office for a couple hours, grabbing coffee from the nearest coffee shop. His hand pulling you closer by your waist when another man walked in was purely instinct, not to claim possession over you, he's seen what this world is capable of first-hand.

Regardless of his intentions, his touch had awakened something in you, something that made you stand on your toes and kiss him.

It was sudden, unexpected, but absolutely welcomed. Your lips tasted sugary sweet, mixing deliciously with the lingering bitterness on his, and he couldn't stop himself there. He had taken you home after that, worshiping your body like he always dreamed, and fucked you senseless till both of your needs were satiated.

It happened several times after that, always off campus, and Professor Hotchner—now Aaron, which he had insisted you call him when you were alone—had intended to keep it that way. Establishing a no-sex-in-his-office rule for himself to strictly follow.

However, your respective schedules had made seeing each other outside of lecture impossible recently, and he was aching for you.

And the outfit you currently had on only made it worse.

It was different from what you were wearing during the lecture earlier that morning, catching him entirely off guard. The t-shirt and jeans you originally wore had been traded for a sundress that was short enough to tease him, awakening the intense hunger he felt for you.

In your defense, it was midsummer in Virginia, which meant that it felt suffocatingly hot outside.

Even he had exchanged his typical suit and tie for something more manageable in the heat, removing the tie and jacket from his wardrobe for the time being. It seems you had made the proper adjustments to your attire as well.

The only problem is, it was at his expense.

Your dress accentuated every part of your body he loves, the ones he thinks about regularly. He couldn't help but look, his eyes drifting over your figure as you walk into his office.

"This isn't what you were wearing this morning," he notes as you greet him with a brief kiss, like always.

You look down at your outfit, pulling at the hem slightly, shrugging.

"It wasn't as hot this morning."

Aaron hums, feeling your heart thump a little faster against his fingertips as he slowly traces them along the neckline of your dress, admiring the way it fits you. It's gentle and teasing and you do your best to not let it get to you.

"Well, I like it. It looks beautiful on you," he compliments.

"Thank you."

Your voice is soft, and a little bashful; you've never been good at accepting his compliments but you do your best and that's what matters most to him. He wants to be able to tell you what he thinks and you believe him, not brush it off like he's saying it just to say it.

He brings you in for another kiss, not fully satisfied with the one you'd given him before. One of his large hands caresses the back of your neck, your breath shallow as he tugs you closer by your waist. His tongue swipes over your lips, groaning into your mouth when you let him in. It's tender and loving, and way too passionate for the office.

Remembering his rule, Aaron pulls back, and places one last kiss on your cheek before distancing himself.

"In your email you said you aren't confident about the final," he says, changing the subject. "Remind me what's giving you trouble."

The kiss leaves you wanting, mind foggy as you try to make sense of his words and what just happened. He rounds his desk as you gather your thoughts, an amused expression on his face when your brows furrow, an indication that you're struggling to think clearly.

"Yeah I uh, I still don't fully understand structuralism," you finally manage.

"Okay, tell me what you do understand."

Aaron gestures for you to join him on the loveseat in the corner of the room, bringing his laptop with him. You trail behind, setting your bag on the floor and pulling out your textbook. Your dress rides up further when you sit down, exposing more of you to him, and he has to force himself to look away before he takes this meeting to an entirely different direction.

There's a tab sticking out of the pages that you use to make finding the right one you're looking for easier.

Scribbled down words adorn the margins of the textbook, different colored gel pens indicating certain details of your notes that he can't even begin to decipher.

As you begin explaining the topic to the best of your ability, Aaron listens, wanting to give you his full attention. The more you go on, the more he determines that you are overthinking it and second guessing yourself. You understand the material fine, better than he anticipated, even.

He merely scratched the surface during lectures, the topic not something that needs to be discussed in detail in this particular class, but you're thorough—he's come to learn that's a characteristic you possess in all aspects, especially the ones he tends to benefit from.

Still, he lets you continue because he loves hearing you talk, and gradually moves closer, the appropriate and respectable distance between you becoming smaller and smaller.

You waver a few times, but he signals you to keep going.

He simply wanted to be closer; didn't have any ulterior motive. It's easier to touch you from this distance, to lean in and press a chaste kiss to your cheek because he can. It's easier to admire you up close, where he can brush his finger along your jaw while he tells you how beautiful you are.

It's nothing new. Aaron's love language has always been words of affirmation and physical touch, not that you've gotten to the point that you're ready for love confessions, but it's how he expresses his attraction towards you.

However, when a draft in the room gives him a hint of your perfume, everything changes.

His touch is more determined now, intentions set on getting you out of that goddamn dress. One of his hands makes its way to your shoulder, brushing away the hair that covers your neck. He leans in, placing firm kisses along your jaw before drifting down to your pulse point.

You fumble over your words again, his lips soft and perfect and very distracting.

"Sweetheart," Aaron murmurs when you don't continue, the words muffled against your skin, "I don't remember saying you could stop."

His tone is businesslike, a stark contrast to the very unprofessional things he's currently doing to you. You suck in a breath when his hand skates over your thighs, your head instinctively titling to the side to give him better access.

"I can't concentrate," you pout.

"Then just relax and focus on me."

"But—"

Aaron nudges your jaw and captures your lips in a messy kiss, his large fingers digging into the flesh of your hip as he speaks. "You're stressing yourself out, my love. You understand the material fine. Will you let me dote on you for a moment? I've missed you."

You nod, letting out a soft moan when he retreats back to your neck, teeth and tongue working together to suck a mark into your skin. It feels so good that you forget to speak, a sharp squeeze of his hand on your thigh reminding you that he always expects a verbal response.

"I missed you too, but... what if someone hears us?"

He smiles, pleased that you know him so well. The way he's touching and kissing you is a clear indication of his end goal, and he loves that you know it.

"I suppose we'll just have to be quiet, then."

You take a shaky breath when he takes the textbook from your grasp and sets it aside before moving his hand to the seam of your thighs, a request for access. A satisfied hum leaves his lips when you open them without hesitating, and trails his fingers along the inner skin.

His touch is affectionate, not at all rough or taking, and it turns you on like crazy.

"My perfect girl," he murmurs to himself.

The praise and his voice makes you ache for him even more, and his eyes zero in on the tiny wet patch that begins forming on your panties. His mouth waters at the thought of how delectable you're going to taste when he finally gets his tongue on you.

Carefully, Aaron moves off the loveseat, kissing his way down your body as he gets settled on his knees. He pulls you closer to his face and your dress scrunches up around your waist at the action. The deep breath he takes is slow and mere inches from your barely clothed cunt, his broad and rough hands smoothing over the backs of your thighs.

"You smell incredible," he sighs, content with being in this position. "Can I, baby?"

While getting your consent every time is extremely important to Aaron, you know he's not actually asking for your permission. He already knows that you want him, but it's more to hear you beg for it. With the desperate state he's got you in, you easily give him what he wants.

"Please," you whisper. "I wanna feel you, Aaron. Please."

One of his fingers grazes your pussy as he pulls your panties to the side and out of his way, revealing you to him, the cold air in his office sending a chill up your spine.

"You sound so pretty when you beg, but you gotta be quiet for me now, okay?"

The second your meek "yes, sir" hits his ears, his mouth is on you and your back arches at the contact, a heavy groan resounding through him at his first taste of you in weeks. The warm sensation of his tongue sliding through your folds is more than enough to make your body go alight in an instant, your fingers grasping at the loveseat.

You try to watch him as he works, propping yourself up on your elbows as your jaw goes slack and your eyes threaten to shut with how fucking incredible it feels. He's good at this. So good that it's difficult to suppress a loud moan that creeps out your throat, the sound echoing throughout the room.

All he does is look at you, mouth still attached to your pussy, and you murmur a quiet "sorry" in such a pathetic tone it makes his cock twitch.

Aaron readjusts himself to get a better angle, arms circling your legs to keep you in place. He spreads your folds with his fingers to give him the space to focus his tongue on your clit, teeth occasionally coming out from behind his lips to nip at the sensitive bud. You writhe from the pleasure it brings you, your legs threatening to close around his ears and keep him there forever, and he wishes you would.

He'd live happily if he could drink in your taste every waking moment and feel the way your body shivers in response to each of his actions.

"Aaron," you whimper, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

He hums in response, and your eyes practically roll to the back of your head, the vibration stimulating you further.

He slips a finger into you easily; the mixture of your slick and his spit giving him no resistance, so he adds another, curling the digits once he's knuckle deep and grazing a spot in you that has you grinding against his face.

"Oh, fuck," you mewl, one of your hands finding its way to his head, determined to keep him right there.

You can feel the mess you're making—of yourself, of him and the loveseat. Aaron knows he'll never be able to be in this room again without thinking of this moment, of you spread out and at his mercy, hips rolling eagerly to find your climax.

He uses his free hand to palm himself, the ache in his pants nearing unbearably painful.

"Gonna fuck your pretty pussy, baby, but I need you to come first," he encourages.

And the encouragement works like a damn charm.

The coil in your belly is tight, each delicious swirl of his tongue and thrust of his fingers tightens it further. Your body is trembling, legs shaking as you feel like you're about to erupt. He groans into you again, and your toes curl, the hand in his hair tugging and pulling as the power of your orgasm makes you squirm in his hold. Heavy pants leave your lungs, your bottom lip swollen from how hard your teeth have been digging into the flesh to keep yourself quiet.

Aaron keeps pumping his fingers into you till he feels your walls relax.

Once he does, he backs away only enough to get his belt unbuckled and his fly unzipped. He strokes himself to give you time to catch your breath, the friction providing him with enough relief that he can manage to wait for a little longer.

However, you have different plans.

"I need you inside me, please," you beg, and fuck if that sentence isn't the prettiest thing he's ever heard.

The desire in your eyes makes his heart pound wildly against his sternum—how you make him feel is dangerous. The carnal need and desire he has for you overpowers everything, and both hates it and loves it.

Hates it because it consumes him, loves it because it's you.

"How do you want me?" you ask impatiently.

Aaron gets off the ground, attempts to, anyway. His knees are not as young as they used to be, and you can't help but laugh at the face he makes when he struggles.

"Don't be a brat."

He sits down beside you and pats his lap, and you're quick to seat yourself exactly there despite your wobbly legs.

Before doing anything else, you lean into him, pressing the sweetest kisses you can muster to his lips. You can taste yourself on him and you moan into his mouth because of it. His hands smooth over your ass, giving it a firm squeeze as he pushes his hips into yours.

"I love it when you're on top of me like this," he groans.

Your head tilts back, and your mind had been so foggy from pleasure up to this point that you'd forgotten where you were, awareness suddenly coming back to you. Aaron turns your face back to him by your chin when you start looking around, eyes widening when they land on the door.

"Hey, focus on me."

"But—"

He doesn't give you the time to panic and guides himself into you, the breach sudden and breathtaking, filling you completely. You have no choice but to sit flush against his lap, his broad and strong thighs giving you all the support you need.

"It's locked," Aaron assures you, referring to the door. "I locked it when you got here just in case."

You huff a laugh, breathy and tired. "So, this was premeditated?"

"It always is," he grins.

Slowly, you begin to work your hips, after gaining the needed strength to ride him the way he likes. You falter a couple times, a little weak and uncoordinated, but he's there to help you regain your pace, the two of you working effortlessly together.

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him carelessly. He teases you by pulling away, smiling at the pout you give him.

It feels oddly intimate and sweet considering that you're both almost completely clothed and fucking on a slightly uncomfortable couch with the possibility of someone knocking on the door at any moment. You know he'd just ignore them, but the sound of your skin hitting his every time you slam down on him and the mingling of your heavy breaths isn't exactly quiet.

Neither of you cares, though, Aaron least of all. Touching himself to the thought of you for the last couple weeks had been good and effective, but not nearly as good as the real thing.

You're so warm and tight, your walls hugging his cock like you were made for him, and part of him is convinced you were. It feels like heaven, and he cherishes it, slipping the straps of your dress down your arms to reveal your bare chest. He groans at the sight and cups your breasts in his hands, thumbs rubbing over your nipples as you continue moving over him.

Everything feels so good that you can't even kiss him back anymore, breathing heavily against his mouth instead. Your legs feel fatigued and they begin to tremble again, whether it's from pleasure or exhaustion, you aren't sure.

"I’m getting close," Aaron warns, his voice taut and rough.

You nod, the coil in your belly forming for the second time. He begins matching your movements, thrusting up as gravity brings you down.

"Oh my— fuck," you gasp, feeling him so deep it takes your breath away.

You come in tandem, your orgasm causing you to squeeze him so tight he can't stop himself from letting go. The groans that come out of his mouth are debauched and loud, and he buries his face into your neck to subdue them. It makes you pulse around his cock, pulling out more of his warm spend.

It's soothing, and you swear you've never experienced anything this sexy in your life.

Your body slumps into his, limbs heavy and tired, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin. Aaron rolls his hips a few times, trying to prolong his blissful high. It overstimulates you, and he whispers his apology against the crown of your head, his lips finding their resting place there.

"I can't believe we just had sex in your office," you say after a while.

He laughs, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. "We weren't ever supposed to, but you looked so beautiful today, I couldn't help myself."

"Hmm," you hum skeptically, "what does that say about how I look every other day?"

Aaron huffs. "Absolutely nothing. It's just been too long since I've had you like this, anything would've gotten me this hard for you."

Your face heats up at his honesty, even the mildest of dirty talk still too much for you, especially where he is concerned. Anything that comes out of his mouth sounds sexy, because his voice fuels your libido like nothing else ever could.

It takes a while before either of you musters the strength to get up, exchanging tired kisses and gentle touches till you do. Your dress is wrinkled and so is his dress shirt, the crotch of his slacks damp and covered in the mixture of your juices and his release.

Luckily, he always keeps a spare change of clothes in his office. A habit born from his days as a profiler.

Unfortunately for you, however, you're stuck looking like an absolute mess.

Aaron does his best to help you straighten up, cleaning your thighs and smoothing out your dress before running his fingers through your hair carefully to somewhat brush it out. It's not the greatest but it does the job. The chime that comes from his phone interrupts him, a reminder of his next lecture and a signal that it's time for you to go.

He makes a mental note to turn on the diffuser and wipe down the couch when he returns.

You leave him with one last kiss, promising to do this again once the semester is over, when he isn't your professor anymore and neither of you has to worry about sneaking around.

It's a promise he hopes you keep.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner smut #professor!hotch #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #.writing

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juuuulez · 5 months

Text

📰 | part ten: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers, gun violence, father figure! Negan, soooomeeee ooonneee has a crush, teenagers in love.

summary: You tussle with your emotions regarding Carl, whilst Grimes and co pay a surprise visit to the Sanctuary.

omg i’m on fire!!!!! cliffhanger ending……but also next chapter will be similarly juicy so don’t fret! also half-written a carl x reader oneshot/drabble i’ll post soon between chapters :P

i’m so glad you all love my saviour reader story because i am her she is me…….this series is my CHILD i will defend it with my life!

-> masterlist <-

You hadn’t been to Alexandria in, frankly, what felt like years.

It was actually just weeks.

With an alliance between Hilltop, the Kingdom, and Alexandria, things for the Saviours were trickier than ever. Most of the time Negan spent in his office, trying to decode the best play. You helped, of course, and were practically running yourself ragged trying to keep things together at the Sanctuary.

It felt like everyone knew what was happening. Or they expected it, were waiting for it. It irritated you to no end, that others would blatantly show their disbelief in your cause, in Negan’s cause.

And then there was Carl.

You missed him, which was weird. He had become a constant in your life, the arguing and fighting, the pushing and shoving. But now your relationship had crested into something else… and you didn’t hate it.

In fact, you quite enjoyed kissing Carl.

Not that you’d admit that. To him, to anyone. Nobody needed that amount of power over you.

“You can go to bed, doll.”

You looked up from your lap, where a book of supply schedules was scribbled down. You were seated on that long leather couch in Negan’s office, whilst he worked on god knows what. Hopefully a viable strategy.

“No, I’m fine.” You tell him, politely. Too politely.

Truth is, you were hanging on by a thread. But with no supplies from Alexandria, nor Hilltop, the situation at the Sanctuary was becoming dire. You were trying to figure out how to jig things around so that everyone could be satisfied, or maybe even rethinking the points system, making the imaginary economy more competitive.

“I’m serious,” Negan insists, “You don’t gotta be doin’ this shit. It’s below you.”

You roll your eyes, “Who’s gonna do it, then? Simon’s corpse?”

The sarcastic comment earns you a glare in return, which does make you feel a little bad. You’d watched the brawl firsthand, and had almost tried to help Negan, if not for Dwight holding you back. Either way, it didn’t matter, for Simon was eventually strangled to death.

Brutal, but fitting.

Maybe you were trying to fill that void. The line between right-hand man and teenage daughter was thinning.

Negan rose from his seat, coming over to stand in front of you. He didn’t even need to lean down, swiftly plucking the tattered notebook from your lap, to which you groaned and leaned back on the couch.

He inspected it, reading over the numbers and scrawled figures. “You’re doing this wrong.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should start making your wives do the bookkeeping.” You grumbled, laying down on the couch in defeat.

Negan tossed the notebook onto the coffee table, sitting on the couch opposite you. “Doubt they can count past ten.”

It was a terrible thing to say, but got a smile out of you. It was difficult to be in a good mood on so little sleep, so the tiniest hint of happiness was well appreciated.

“When will we go to Alexandria again?”

You tried not to sound too interested in the question, but couldn’t help yourself, and needed to ask. Not for Carl, just for supplies. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Soon. Give it another week,” Negan confirmed, though his eyes said he knew something more. “Awfully interested in that shithole, aren’t you?”

This caused you to roll over, onto your side, so you could glare over at the older man. “We need that shithole to survive.”

There was a playful glint on Negan’s face, the words earning a small laugh from him. “Maybe you do. Bet you’re just itchin’ for your little cyclops.”

The joke causes you to bristle, irritation rising as you hoist yourself from the couch, making a play for the door. On such little sleep, you weren’t in the mood to entertain being teased.

But Negan stopped you, that grin still on his face. “Hey, c’mon, doll. You know I’m just tryin’ to rile you up.” He admits, coming to a stand.

The glare remains, but at least you stop your escape, instead just standing near the door with your arms crossed. You’d likely give some defensive retort, but Negan is already speaking again.

“Everyone has their first crush at some point. I’m just surprised it took you this long.”

“I don’t have a crush,” You practically snarl. “I’m not twelve years old.”

“Okay, sorry. Not a crush,” Negan approaches slowly, like you’ll run off again, though is pleased when you stand still. “Sounds like it’s past your bedtime.”

Your nose scrunches up, eyes narrowed in offence as he continues to treat you like a child. But you know he’s just making a point to tease you, judging by that stupid grin on his face, so you try not to react.

His hands bracket your arms, giving you a little spin so that you’re facing the door. But now you sigh, turning back around, unable to just drop this conversation all together.

“You don’t care?” You ask. “Like, if I did have a crush, you don’t even mind? Not that I do, I’m just… wondering.”

Negan smiles, finding your half-confession quite adorable. “That’s what kids do, darlin’. Besides, the boy’s got his head on straight. Certainly got more balls than his father.”

You look down at the floor, a little pensive. “I don’t have a crush on Carl.” You reiterate, standing your ground, trying to sound firm in order to convince the both of you.

He seems to get the hint, understanding that maybe you don’t even know what’s going on. “I know, doll. Don’t stress it too much.” Negan drops the subject, letting his arm encase your back for a small squeeze before letting you go. “Go get some rest.”

You muster up a little smile, finally accepting the offer and scampering back off to bed. After all, you were exhausted, despite that inherent need to make yourself useful. Supply counts could wait.

It was a comforting space, your bedroom, one you retreated to whenever things got overwhelming. It was filled with photos and trinkets, candy stashed away in the drawers, all the things you didn’t have when growing up. It was your space.

That night, you fell asleep weighing the severity of simply going to Alexandria yourself. You passed out a few minutes into debating what transportation to take.

Fortunately, or, probably unfortunately, that wasn’t necessary.

For Alexandria had come to you.

Gunfire was a familiar sound to wake up to. Usually, it was a low-level squabble, or maybe one of the Saviours proving a point. Either way, it never lasted long.

But this time, there was shouting, and more bullets. It was enough to jolt you awake, pushing past that bleary state of consciousness and waiting, still, for it to continue.

It did.

You climbed out of bed with urgency, moving on autopilot as you threw on some jeans, not bothering to change from your sleep tank before bolting for the door.

Just as your fingertips brushed the bat, you realised it wouldn’t do. That gun was still locked away in the bottom drawer, so you reached for it, shoving a handful of bullets into your pocket before leaving.

Now, you’ve never been a very good shot. That’s why you preferred using the bat, or at the very least, hand-to-hand combat. You had terrible aim. But maybe now was the best time to fix that issue.

So, you made your way through the Sanctuary, swiftly stepping through hallways, gun at the ready. You were outside in minutes, the shouting becoming much clearer now, a voice you could recognise:

Rick Grimes.

“Fuck this..” You grumbled, growing irritated with this relentless back and forth. And now, they were in your home.

Another shot blew out the glass from above you, forcing you further against the wall, as the shards piled on the concrete. Some littered your skin, your shoulders bare, due to still wearing a tank intended for sleeping. You didn’t even have a bra on.

But there were worse problems, you supposed.

The gun felt heavy in your hands, fingers twitching around the trigger. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to use it, though that seemed like wishful thinking. You wondered where Negan was, yet believed he could handle himself. You and this gun were the main concern, a gun you had no idea how to use effectively.

You hid behind anything available, crouched down, trying to survey the surroundings. From here, you could see the scattered factions of makeshift soldiers, though Rick was now missing. You presumed he had a similar thought process to you: Negan.

That was fine, for now.

Clutching the gun tightly, you shifted into view, holding it outwards and discharging a shot into the distance. It echoed in the nearby vicinity, though there was too much gunfire to distinguish where it had came from, luckily. It didn’t seem to hit anyone.

What a waste.

“Hey!”

It was a whisper-shout, one clearly intended to gain your attention. You spun your head around, searching for the voice, amongst all the yelling and fighting taking place within your home. It took an embarrassing amount of time until you saw him.

Carl.

Thank fucking god.

He’d been watching you, on alert for your figure the second they arrived. He clocked your creeping approach into the battle field, ducking behind anything possible. It was almost amusing, the stark contrast in how you usually chose to fight, but made sense after you fired that hopeless shot.

You had no idea what was going on, assuming that Negan and Rick were off fighting, whilst a few Saviours tried to keep the rival gang at bay. Or gangs, plural. You guessed that speaking to Carl would be your best chance at getting a grip on the situation. That, and you weren’t in the mood for a defensive Saviour to shoot him.

So, you tried to get closer, looking left and right to make sure the coast was clear before ducking behind rubble or vehicles, anything to provide cover. Carl was used to fighting, sure, but felt slightly anxious for a reason he couldn’t pin. It was just a bad feeling, like something was not right.

This time, Carl called out your name, causing you to look up and at attention. He held out his hand, despite being meters away, a signal to come closer under the cover he’d found.

You clutch the gun tightly, safety off, poised at your side. But it’s difficult to see everyone, from this position, forcing you to inch out from behind the truck in order to get a visual.

Still holding out his hand, Carl waits, watching as you peek your head out.

Pop!

A shot fires, crackling in the distance, though it takes you down with a solid thud.

#carl grimes x reader #the walking dead x reader #negan smith x reader #twd x reader #carl grimes #twd x you #carl grimes x you #the walking dead #negan smith

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archangeldyke-all · 5 months

Note

i feel weird saying something so straight forward to a stranger but😭

do u think sev would be the type to suddenly start groping you in public 😳

like maybe you’re both sitting in the last drop, and obviously sevs playing poker or some shit, and maybe she just reaches a hand over and starts rubbing in between your legs over your pants, and maybe her cloak is covering what shes doing up🤭🤭 and even if someone did see, its not like they would say anything bc everyone is scared shitless of her

i think the sevika sphere must have hive mind because i shit you not i got this ask like within an hour of this one:

S-sev groping her girl whenever opportunity arises and her girl being endlessly turned on by it👉🏻👈🏻

hehehe

men and minors dni

sometimes she does it on purpose, but most of the time it's subconscious.

sevika just likes touching you! it's her love language! if you're within reaching distance, sevika's likely got her hands on you.

sometimes it's just your hand. sometimes it's her arm draped around your shoulders, or her fingers tickling the nape of your neck. sometimes, she'll sneak her hand into the back pocket of your pants and give your ass a squeeze, but most of the time she just puts it back there to rest it there.

hands on your hips, around your wrist, her arm hooked with yours-- she just likes having her hands on you. it helps her feel secure-- you ground her in a lot of ways, and when she's touching you she knows you're safe.

but sometimes, when sevika's subconsciously reaching out for you, her hands land somewhere they probably shouldn't.

like when she swings her arm around your shoulders and her palm falls on your tit.

or when she reaches over to hold you while you're sitting beside each other, and her hand lands on your upper thigh.

or it cups your cunt.

like right now.

you're sitting beside her while she plays her cards. she's completely unaware of your current predicament, chatting and laughing with the boys, mech hand holding her cards, while her flesh thumb draws circles against your clothed crotch.

you wonder what she thinks she's touching. she can feel your thighs clenching around her hand-- she has to know she's holding you there, but she's oblivious, the itch in her brain to touch you has been soothed, and she doesn't question it any farther.

so you have to sit and be cool while your girlfriend gropes you in the middle of the crowded bar.

luckily, nobody can see beneath the table.

luckily, nobody would even dare to say anything to sev even if they could.

unluckily, sevika's just ordered another round for the table, meaning she's nowhere near done for the night.

when theriam returns with a tray full of glasses, you down yours before he can finish passing everyone else's out. he shoots you a weird look when you ask him to bring you two more. you're going to need them if you're going to get through tonight.

ten minutes pass. sevika's hand doesn't move, her thumb doesn't cease it's teasing, gentle swiing.

twenty minutes. at one point sevika leans over to press a smooch to your temple. your cunt throbs in her hand. she has no idea.

at the thirty minute mark, you get fed up.

you don't know why you thought more alcohol would help you tame your arousal. it's only made it worse. beside you, sevika's got a cigar between her teeth and a furrow between her brows as she studies her hand of cards. she looks so fucking good you think you might pass out.

sevika chuckles at something someone at the table said, her eyes scrunching up with her smile, the little gap in her teeth revealing itself. that's it.

you reach forward and grab her flesh wrist, pressing her hand firmly against your cunt and squeezing your thighs around her hand.

beside you, sevika freezes.

you can see the gears turning in her head as she realizes exactly which part of you she's been groping. the cigar in her mouth droops as her jaw drops. her thumb ceases it's sweeping motion. her eyes grow wide, you watch in fascination as her pupils dialate.

she's still not looking at you. you quickly scan the crowd at the table. nobody's looking in your direction, so you lean forward to whisper.

"you are driving me. fucking. crazy." you growl against her ear.

sevika snaps back to life, turning to look at you as you sink back against the booth.

when your eyes meet, sevika gulps. your lips twitch up at the side, and sevika's eyes snap down to study your mouth.

"fuck." sevika whispers, her voice shaky. you smile.

"your turn's next." you say, nodding at the table. sevika blinks, her eyes darting to the game before looking back at you. she licks her lips.

sevika's eyes dart up and down your body, trying to soak in the sight of you before she has to focus on the game again. you can tell she's fucking you in her head, can see her eyes mentally stripping you of your clothes. you chortle, and stop on her foot beneath the table.

it's her turn.

sevika turns her attention back to the game, but under the table against your cunt, her fingers start wiggling against you. you hide your gasp by faking a yawn. two can play this game.

you slump against sevika's side, nuzzling your head against her shoulder and hugging her arm, pretending you're just tired and resting against your girl.

tilting your head so only sevika can hear you, you let out a tiny, quiet whimper. sevika fumbles with her cards and shoots you a glare. you ignore her.

sevika's hand joins her fingers in their movement, her palm rubbing circles at the apex of your thighs, giving your clothed clit enough friction to make your thighs twitch. you dig your nails into her arm, and beside you, sevika lets out a little gasp of pain.

"you good, sev?" ran asks across the table. sevika freezes beside you, and you bite your lip to hide your laugh.

"y-yeah, all good. gonna have to call it quits for the night. my girl's gettin' tired, gotta get her home and put her in bed."

a chorus of groans and protests ring out around the table. you have to bite back your smile as sevika rises from the bench, waving goodbye to her friends, then glaring at you when she sees you still sitting.

the second you're on your feet, sevika's grabbing your arm and dragging you out of the bar. you laugh the whole way.

she ducks down the alley with you in tow, shoving you against a brick wall and crowding into your space. you smile at her.

"thought we had to get home? thought i was gettin' tired?" you tease her. sevika rolls her eyes.

"fuck off." she mumbles. you giggle.

"you're so cute. so clingy you don't even realize you're practically fingerbanging me at the table."

sevika groans. "shut up!" she says, a faint blush blooming on her cheeks. you grin.

"what did you think you were holding?" you ask between your giggles. sevika chuckles, unable to stop herself, and shrugs.

"i dunno, just like havin' my hands on you." she says. "helps me think."

you melt, all your teases dying at her words. you reach forward and pull her closer to you by her belt loops until she's crushing you against the wall. her hands grip your hips. "give me a kiss." you whisper.

sevika smirks, and leans forward to press her lips against yours in a sweet, chaste kiss. you sigh against her, pushing her away before she can get handsy, taking her hand in yours.

"c'mon. take me home and put me to bed." you say with a wink. sevika laughs.

"oh, with pleasure." she says, swinging your hands between the two of you as you begin your stroll home.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3

#sorry for the blue balls i took it the fluffy route instead of the smutty route hahah #sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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iveantive · 6 months

Text

Prompt: sowoen has her first rut

sowoen (alpha) has her first rut but thankfully bada (alpha)is there to guide her and tatter (omega) is there to help her

TW: A/B/O, g!p, threesome, dirty talk, degradation, rutting, knotting, double penetration, breeding, age difference, size difference, cockwarming, belly bulge, anal

a/n i refer to tatter as her real name taeyoung throughout

“Let's go through the routine one more time; make sure you got it down,” Bada hummed, sitting on the practice room floor, her head leaning up against the wall.

Sowoen nodded. One more time couldn’t hurt, she thought to herself.

It was nearly 3 am at the dance studio. Other than Bada and Taeyoung, the other Bebe members had long since trickled their way out. Finish memorizing the dance for their upcoming mission. For some reason, though, Sowoen just could not get the moves down. She had been at it for hours, standing in front of the mirror, the same song replaying time after time. Previously, the other members were by her side, explaining the steps one by one to her. However, she just couldn’t get it.

She couldn’t put her finger on it. It was like she wasn’t in control of her body.

Only when all the other members had left was the issue more apparent to Sowoen. When she got to the practice room today, she noticed a strange scent in the air but decided to ignore it. Nobody else seemed to have noticed it, so she assumed she was just imagining things.

When it went down to just the three of them, it became apparent the smell was Taeyoung. And it had only grown stronger. Sowoen didn’t understand why the scent of citrus exuding from her had only now started to disrupt her focus. This is how Taeyoung always smelt. She's sure of it. After all, it was her favorite scent out of the omegas in the group.

Whatever was up with her, she had to ignore it, and she couldn’t let her group down just because she was having an off day.

Bada had seen the frustration and anger coming from the maknae. She knew she was trying her best, doing the best she could. That’s why she said nothing when the other Bebe members bid her goodbye, asking her when she was leaving. Opting to stay with the maknae instead. Bada knows how upsetting and lonely it can feel in the practice room late at night, and she didn’t want that for Sowoen.

And as Taeyoung was practically a second leader to Bada, she had decided to stay with the maknae as well. Standing by her side, doing the movements with her, over and over. Still, somehow, despite how exhaustion and tiredness of 3 am hours had rolled around, Taeyong had been the one to lighten the mood for the three. Still managed to crack some jokes here and there.

It did seem like Sowoen's hard work was starting to pay off. Perhaps it was the pressure of knowing that her unnies wouldn’t leave unless she had gotten the moves down. As the hours went by, the moves had started to click with her.

So here they were. Still stood by Soewon's side for the past few hours.

Bada looked down at her phone, where the song they had been practicing for the past few hours had been queued up time and time again. She pressed play on the song at let the music ring out for the nth time that night.

Sowoens got it; she nodded to herself. Parts where she had previously faltered or forgotten, she had managed to recall the moves, doing them in almost perfect sync with Taeyoung.

Focus, focus, focus, that was the only thing running through Sowoen's mind. She looked at herself in the mirror. Even she was able to see she had improved. She felt more confident in herself than before with each move. So confident, in fact, she let her gaze wander to the side of her.

To Taeyoung.

The sweat coating her skin, falling down her neck. As she whipped her head, hitting the next beat of the dance. In between each movement, Soewon could hear the hard breaths of air she was exhaling.

With every inhale, the citrusy scent was growing stronger, engulfing all of Sowoen's senses. She was trying. She really was. She tried to redirect her eyes back to herself, but no matter how hard she tried, they kept glancing back at Taeyoung, imagining what she would look like, exhausted in another way.

Her head was starting to hurt. Her vision was getting blurry, with tunnel vision only focusing on Taeyoung. She shook her head.

Focus, focus, focus, she was oh so desperately trying.

But, before Sowoen knew it, she found herself tripping on her own feet, followed by her body colliding with the hardwood floor of the dance studio.

“Sowoenie, oh my god, are you okay?” Taeyoung stood over her, face riddled with concern.

“Ye-yeah, i- i jus-”.

Cutting her words off, the overwhelming scent of citrus again filled her nostrils. She looked up at Taeyoung. This. This was her fault, Sowoen reasoned. Getting up off the ground, she towered over Taeyoung. So small, so delicate.

“Why do you smell like that?” Sowoen took a deep inhale; the scent was practically in her head, and she couldn’t think of anything else right now. Just that scent, just Taeyoung. She wanted. No needed it.

“Sm-smell li-like what?” Taeyoung stuttered as she had never seen the maknae act this way before. Sensing the newfound tension in the air between the two, Bada had gotten up and stood next to them.

“Citrus, it's you.” Sowoens eyes bored into Taeyoung. Who only looked back at her with utter confusion. Of course, she knew it was her scent, but she knew for a fact that she had taken her scent blockers today.

Bada took a deep sniff of the air, trying to catch the scent Sowoen had been talking about. Upon inhaling the air, she smelt nothing. Sniffing a bit deeper, she was able to pick up the scent of a slight citrus. That was normal, though. It shouldn’t be anything that would make Sowoen's nose act up unless.

And then it hit her.

“You’re rutting.” Bada's words practically felt like a knife as they cut through Sowoen and Taeyoung's confrontation. Sowoen whipped her head to look at Bada.

“No, I- I- don’t,” She stuttered. Sowoen hadn’t ever rut before. She knew that it would probably hit her sometime this year as she had just recently turned 19. She didn’t think it would be this soon, especially not here.

“You wouldn’t be able to smell Taeyoung like that anyway else,” Bada concluded. She, herself an alpha, knew all the signs of an upcoming rut. The heightened senses, the irritability, the inability to think of anything else but breeding.

“Couldn’t you sense it coming?” Bada quirked an eyebrow at her as she asked.

Sowoen's cheeks started to heat up upon being asked this question. Suddenly feeling the eyes of both her unnies on her, waiting for her answer.

“I-i’ve never rut before, i-i don’t know.” Sowoen bowed her head, looking at the ground.

Bada nodded her head. She couldn’t blame the maknae for not knowing the signs. Now, she was starting to feel bad for pushing her so hard during this dance practice. She would've sent her home if she knew how the maknae was feeling. A tap on her arm broke her away from her thoughts.

“What should we do?” Taeyoung asked. Although it wasn’t inherently her fault, she still felt bad. She had been around some overbearing, aggressive alphas in the past who hadn’t been able to control themselves at the very scent of an omega. She wonders how Sowoen, a relatively new presenting alpha, has been able to control herself this entire time, not just around her but also the other four omegas in the group.

Bada felt that the two options here were cut and dry. Taeyoung helps Sowoen through her rut right now. Or they somehow lug Sowoen back to her house and let her parents deal with it. Looking at the state of the maknae, whose eyes were still firmly planted on the ground, while she had a light sheer of sweat coating her skin, thought the right answer would be obvious. Saying that, though, she wouldn’t force Taeyoung into accepting the first option either.

“Do you want to help her, you know?” Bada quirked an eyebrow.

Hearing those words had caught Sowoen's attention. Her head perked up as she looked to Taeyoung to see her answer.

It’s her first rut. How bad could it be, Taeyoung thought to herself.

“Ye-yeah, I-i’ll help her.”

“Th-thank you, unnie,” Sowoen said with the utmost sincerity.

It didn’t take long for Taeyoung to feel her back collide with the hardwood floor, as the maknae had, by all means, tackled her to the ground. Leaving sloppy kisses all over her neck.

“H-hey Sowoen, wait a second.” She used way too much strength than usual to push the maknae, getting her to stop. She unzipped the hoodie she had been wearing, now only left in a simple sports bra. Taeyoung could practically see the fireworks in Sowoen's eyes as she went back down to kissing her neck, leaving little bites here and there.

Taeyoung smelt so good she needed more. Sowoen kept trying to dig her nose deeper and deeper into the crook of Taeyoung's neck, trying to get as close as possible to her. She needed her; she needed to get closer.

She needed to be in her.

Sowoen started bucking her hips inconsistently against Taeyoung's thigh as she continued to leave sloppy kisses that had now traveled down to her chest. The maknae had started pawing at Taeyoung's clothed breasts, too much in her own mind to comprehend much around her. All she knew was that she needed more of this delicious scent.

Bada looked at Sowoen. She resembled what could be described as an excited puppy right about now with the way she was just grinding against Taeyoung's thigh, her hands trying to grasp onto any skin Taeyoung let her, with the little breath whimpers that fell from her mouth with every passing moment.

The maknae was adorable. She wondered if she had looked this cute and excited during her first rut.

Taeyoung had started to grow impatient. She knew that the young girl didn’t know what she was doing, but god damn.

“So-Sowoenie,” Taeyoung's voice was shaky as she pushed Sowoen's head away for the 2nd time that night.

“You need more. I know you do. Come on,” Taeyoung whined, hoping that would be enough to get Sowoen to do something.

Sowoen just looked at Taeyoung like a confused puppy before quirking her head to the side.

Fuck she's cute as all Taeyoung could think.

“Take her shorts off,” They heard Bada say from the side. What the fuck, Taeyoung had somehow forgotten that she had been here this entire time. If there were a better time and place for your team leader to see you get fucked she would love to hear it.

Catching the not-so-subtle hint from Bada, Sowoen, still coherent enough, managed to move the hand that wasn’t squeezing Taeyoungs tit. Down till it reached the waistband of her shorts and tried to tug them down. However, she was having some trouble doing so, and before Taeyoung could say anything, she heard the sound of fabric ripping.

God dammit, she was going to have to buy some new shorts.

And she knows she hears Bada let out a snicker from the sidelines.

“Take yours off too, Sowoenie.” They once again heard Bada.

Taeyoung swears she heard Sowoen let out a loud huff before seeing her sweatpants tossed across the room. Now, only in her boxers could Taeyoung feel the maknaes bulge in the closest proximity. Her eyes were nearly popping out of her head. She was big.

Sowoen continued to kiss Taeyoung's chest down to her tummy, stopping at the waistband of her panties, looking up at Taeyoung like a puppy, asking permission from her owner. Heh, cute, she thought as she nodded. Feeling the maknae tug down her panties, thankfully not ripping them like her poor shorts.

She doesn’t know why she wasn’t able to notice before, but she was so wet. Maybe it was her body's innate nature to grow with arousal around alphas, or Sowoen's clumsy movements were actually doing something for her. Whatever it was, she was wet and hadn’t been this wet in a long while. The maknae was still stuck grinding her bulge against her thigh, and by this time, she could feel the precum leaking through her boxers onto her skin.

“I-in-inside pl-please.” Since when did her voice get so whiny? Taeyoung wondered to herself.

Sowoens was bucking her hips with nothing but excitement to finally get in something. As a result, the head of her cock was ghosting over her folds, poking the soft flesh every so often. Just making Taeyoung writhe and whine even more. Sowoen was so close to where she needed it most. Taeyoung tried to move her hips in tandem with the maknae but to no avail.

Finally, catching the attention of Bada, who was now Sowoen's side, the leader looked down at Taeyoung with that stupid grin on her face. Bada was having too much fun watching this show unfold, but seeing how desperate Taeyoung was and, well, how blissfully unaware Sowoen was of the latter's desperation, she had to intervene.

Bada reached one of her hands between Taeyoung's legs and manually spread her folds with her ring and index finger, eliciting a muffled moan from her before Bada fixed her eyes back on the maknae.

“Okay, Sowoenie, you want aim here, okay?” Bada instructed the maknae. She used her middle finger to essentially point to exactly where Sowoen needed to go.

And the guidance did, in fact, work as Sowoen took hold of her length and aimed her cockhead precisely where Bada had pointed to and began to insert the head of her cock inside her, making Taeyoung let out a loud moan rip from her throat.

“Shit, she's that big, huh” Bada commented. She knew the younger was big just by judging from where she was, but god.

It didn’t take long for Sowoen to ease her entire length into Taeyoung, giving the girl under her what was definitely not enough time to adjust before she started to buck her hips into the girl below her. Making Taeyoung reach for anything to grab onto, and it just so happened to be the maknaes clothed back. She began clawing at her back, trying to get used to the intrusion inside of her.

Sowoens lips were back on Taeyoungs neck, sucking at the soft flesh, letting her tongue graze over the skin. Her hand that had been dancing on top of Taeyoung's sports bra-cladded chest had made its way under and was now squeezing one of them in her hands. The fabric had seemingly gotten in her way, though, because before Taeyoung could even process what was happening, she heard the sound of fabric being ripped.

Another article of clothing she has to buy, god dammit.

The maknaes hips were moving more sporadically as her knot started to form; her body was practically engulfing Taeyoungs much smaller frame. She just needed to feel as close as possible to her as she could. Sowoen's mouth had traveled back down to Taeyoung's chest, letting her tongue lap at the peak of her nipple. Then she took it into her mouth fully, suckling on the hardening peak in her mouth.

Her thrusts started getting faster and rougher, the sounds of wet skin hitting against each other filling the room with every grind of Sowoen's hips. Her pelvis rubbing up against Taeyoungs clit was making her near closer and closer to the edge.

“Remember, Sowoenie, you have to get your knot inside of her, okay? You’ll feel better after,” Bada patted the maknaes head with her free hand. The other one had found its way into her sweatpants and was lazily stroking her cock over the fabrics.

Sowoen just let out a whimper in acknowledgment to Bada. Nevertheless, she listened with a few clumsy thrusts before a particularly hard one managed to pop the knot into Taeyoung, making her release a loud guttural moan. Her knot was huge, and she was feeling so stretched out, so overwhelmed, she didn’t know how Sowoen was able to manage it. But, her two hands were feeling like 10, with the way they were practically feeling up every portion of her body.

As Sowown teetered closer and closer to the edge, she started putting more effort into the thrusts. Although they were still clumsy, it was clear Sowoen knew what she was going after. With each buck of her hips, a low grunt fell from her mouth. The suckling on Taeyoung's nipples was getting rougher, with the previously soothing lips of Sowoen turning into the feeling of her teeth having more and more contact with her skin. No doubt leaving a mark in the process.

Not long after, after a few more uncoordinated thrusts, Sowoen had came, her knot inflating, stretching Taeyoung out even more, sending her into her own overwhelming orgasm. She hadn’t taken an alpha knot in a while, and good god, was Sowoens by far the biggest she’d had. As Sowoeun erupted inside of her, she let out what was a seemingly never-ending amount of seed from her cock, and due to her inflated knot, it showed no signs of seeping out.

Sowoen had her arms resting beside Taeyoung's head, as her own head was buried in her chest. Letting out little moans from her first harsh, rutting orgasm, the aftershocks still had an effect on her. While Taeyoung was in her own post-orgasm haze, her arms had found their way to Sowoen's neck, holding the younger girl closer. Her body was still quivering, her walls still contracting around Sowoens cock as if she was trying to milk her for all she got.

A few moments had passed, and Bada was sat close to the pair; her hand had found its way beneath her sweatpants, just lazily stroking her hard cock.

Until she very loudly cleared her throat, catching the attention of the pair intertwined together. Sowoen managed to perk up a little, turning to Bada, as she was very much still enjoying the warmth Taeyoung was providing.

“Was Taeyoung a good omega for you, Sowoenie?”

Like Bada even had to ask, just looking at the state the young girl was in is all you needed to see that she had been more than enjoying herself.

Sowoen immediately nodded her head like an excited puppy.

“She’s very warm.” The young alpha was practically glowing, clearly liking how things played out.

“Mmmmmm bred her so well,” Bada hummed, fixing her gaze onto Taeyoung, whose grip on the maknae had loosened but made no effort to try to push her off her. Bada pondered in her head for a couple of seconds before making up her mind. Maybe if Bada thought for a few more seconds, she would realize that she wasn’t thinking straight. Perhaps it had something to do with the strong mix of pheromones wafting in the air, the intense scents practically choking her. It was messing with her head.

“Don’t you think Unnie deserves a turn, Sowoenie?” Bada tutted.

“If unnie thinks so,” Sowoen looked up at Bada with wide eyes. Her pupils were blown wide.

“Good answer,” Bada smirks, gazing back at where the pair were connected.

“You’re gonna have to pull out of Taeyoung, though, okay?” Bada said more as a command than a question.

“O-okay, unnie,” Sowoen mumbled. It was clear who was in charge of the situation, not that Sowoen really minded. She was happy to listen to her leader, listen, and do whatever she pleased.

Thankfully, as the minutes leading up to this had passed, Sowoen's knot had slowly deflated, making it easier to ease her way out of Taeyoungs. Much to the latter's display, her arms were still wrapped around Sowoens neck, whimpering as Sowoens cock began to leave her.

Bada had repositioned herself so she was in front of the pair, and there she had a front-row seat to watching Sowoens load dripping out of her pussy. Bada isn’t sure if it’s because of Sowoens first rut, but she was in awe with how much cum was being pushed out with every contraction of Taeyoungs pussy walls. The fluid was overflowing down to Taeyoungs asshole and even beginning to pool onto the floor. She should be thankful that the Street Women Fighter staff had made it mandatory for all omegas, betas, and alphas to be on some sort of contraception; otherwise, there was no doubt in Bada's mind that Taeyoung would have been knocked up right now.

Once Sowoen had pulled out of Taeyoung, the young girl had flopped onto the ground next to her. It was somewhat cute to Bada in a way, with the way Sowoen had previously been up on Taeyoung aimlessly humping her, running off nothing but pure excitement and well hormones. And looking at her now, her bangs were stuck to her forehead due to the sweat that was still coating her skin, not to mention her cock still covered with the mixed fluid of her and Taeyongs.

“Sit up and watch Unnie,” Bada said in a way that sounded like a command. It was enough for Sowoen to immediately shoot up from her spot lying on the ground to sitting up, staring at Bada. Focusing on her next move.

Bada shifted her focus to Taeyoung, who still lay limp on the ground. Although the deep breathing had subsided by now, and she had managed to catch her breath, she showed no intentions of moving.

“Looks like you gave our maknae here a good first rut experience,” Bada motioned towards the young girl.

“It's a shame her first rut will be her best,” Taeyoung teased.

“You’re that cocky, huh?” Bada scoffed.

“Never met an alpha that didn’t want to hit twice after being with me once.” She shrugged with a smirk on her phase.

“You want to test that?” Bada's tone dropped as she glanced down at her hard-on, then back up at Taeyoung.

“What’re you waiting for?” She said in a smug tone.

It seemed that in one swift motion, Bada was able to completely rearrange her and Taeyoung's positions. Bada was now the one with her back to the floor with Taeyoung straddling her waist.

Sowoen was in complete and utter awe. She didn’t understand how Bada was able to make all those moves so smoothly. She kept watching the older women, hoping somehow a bit of that relaxed yet suave nature would rub off on her.

Bada had started grinding her hips, her cock still locked in the confines of her sweatpants, practically bursting from the fabric waiting to be released. Taeyoung ground against Bada, trying to match her movements. She could feel the combined fluids of herself and Sowoen leaking through Bada's sweatpants.

“Grinding on me like a slut” Bada spat as she reaches her hands to settle them on Taeyoungs waist.

“Well, you like it, don't you? I can feel how hard you are,” Taeyoung retorted.

Bada growled. Who did Taeyoung think she was to talk down to her? She halted her movements, not failing to see the confusion on Taeyoung's face as she tried to move her hips against Bada's strong grip to no avail.

She was able to keep Taeyoung still enough for her to ever so slightly pull down her sweatpants and boxers just enough for her cock to spring out. Upon doing that, the tip of Bada's cock swiped against Taeyoungs core, making her let out an unrestrained moan.

“You want it?” Bada's tone was dripping in lust. She dragged her tip over Taeyoungs folds, ghosting over her already sensitive clit made her gasp. Bada continued on dipping her cock so close to where she needed it most but never gave in.

Taeyoung was really trying to bite her lip, trying to keep her noise restrained. But the way Bada was talking to her had her so fucking horny, to put it bluntly. It was so different from how Sowoen treated her. The young girl had treated her more like a reward that she was happy to receive. It felt like Sowoen was trying to keep her close. While Bada was different, her tone was low and rough. She was treating her like a toy, and she liked it. She liked feeling the older woman's tight grip around her waist, the way she was able to easily pick her up and put her up on her lap.

She was usually never this needy. The majority of the time, she was satisfied with one orgasm, though this time, Taeyoung wanted more. She wanted more of Bada.

“i-inside,” Taeyoung just barely audible mumbled out.

“Mmmm, didn’t catch that one more time,” Bada mocked.

“I- just pl-please.” Taeyoung felt like she was going to go crazy.

“Say it clearly for me.”

Bada looked to the side of her and met with the youngest girl's eyes blown wide, staring back at her.

“And Sowoenie” Bada demanded. Picking up her pace, she drew little whimpers from Taeyoungs as she continued to tease her entrance.

“Need you i-inside,” Taeyoung finally choked out.

“Did you hear that, Sowoenie?” Bada looked back over to Sowoen, seeing her immediately shake her head yes.

With that, Bada gave no further warning as she plunged her cock into Taeyoungs waiting core, eliciting in her letting out a loud-high, pitched moan, followed by her previously stoic stature faltering. She had lunged forward, being caught by Bada, easily able to be held close to her with one arm. Not giving her any time to adjust, Bada started to shallowly grind her hips.

Every movement Bada made, Taeyoung felt so deep inside of her. She had her eyes closed and bit her lip. If she thought Sowoen was big, Bada was a whole other beast. She doesn’t know how she has been able to keep it confined in those sweatpants for so long. She had just been lucky the leftover combination of fluid of her and Sowoen had made it somewhat easier for Bada to sink into her heat.

“Thank you for stretching her out for me, Sowoenie,” Bada spoke before focusing back on Taeyoung.

She was in no rush; she was keeping the same slow, brutal pace, slowly dragging her cock out to the tip before plunging back in. Bada could feel Taeyoung writhing in her arms, doing nothing but holding her tighter, preventing her from finding any sort of stimulation herself.

“Such a slut. Want another alpha to cum in you already?” Bada spat.

“You’re just meant to be alphas little cum slut aren’t you?” Bada raised her free hand and tugged Taeyoung's hair, making her look at her.

“Answer me,” Bada demanded.

“Y-yes, pl-please I want alphas cum” Taeyoung begged, her body thrashing against Badas, trying to find any sort of relief, to no avail.

Bada looked back over to Sowoen, seeing that she had already grown hard again. Must be that rut, Bada thought to herself. She knew it was only a matter of time before Sowoen had gotten her first taste of knotting inside an omega before she’d want to do it again.

And, of course, Bada knew just the trick that would satiate the young alpha enough. Bada snaked one of her hands down Taeyoungs ass down her crack till she ghosted over her unbreached hole. Immediately feeling Taeyoung struggle in her grasp again.

“Stop it. You said you would help Sowoenie,” Bada growled.

Thankfully Taeyoungs asshole still had remnants of her and Sowoens combined fluids dripping in and around the unbreached hole. Bada slowly started pressing, hearing Tayoung let out a string of No’s followed by a loud gasp as Bada inserted the tip of her finger inside her ass.

Along with the shallow thrusts Bada was still giving, her finger had started going in and out of Taeyong's hole. This continued on for another couple minutes or so before Bada started to insert another finger, scissoring the two digits in her hole and stretching her out a bit. After all, Sowoen was going to need to fit, and Bada knew Taeyoung wasn’t going to be able to take her without at least a little bit of prep.

“Sowoenie, come here,” Bada motioned for the younger girl to come closer. The young girl moved quickly over to her.

“You’re hard again, aren’t you” She glanced between Sowoen's legs, her hard cock looking back at her.

“Y-yeah,” Sowoen shyly got out.

“You want to cum again, too, right?”

Sowoen nodded, a blush of red growing on her cheeks.

“Luckily for us, our omega has oh so graciously offered up her ass for you,” Bada said matter of factly.

Sowoen wasn’t really sure what to think. She obviously hadn’t done anal before, and she didn’t want to hurt Taeyoung. Then again, from what she's seen online, it's supposed to be different from a pussy, maybe even better. And that sounded good to Sowoen. Taeyoungs pussy had already felt so good around her. Whos to say her ass won’t feel even better. This is what Bada wanted her to do, after all. And how could she be wrong?

Bada had planted her feet on the ground and spread her legs a bit to make room for the maknae. Sowoen was kneeling right in front of the pair. She could see how Bada was still grinding her hips against Taeyoung.

“What’re you waiting for, Sowoenie? I stretched her out for you,” She heard Bada say.

Sowoen edged closer to them, grabbing ahold of her cock. Running the tip of it over Taeyoungs asshole, letting some of the spurting precum drips inside. Before she began to press her tip into the hole, she slowly started to feed her length into her. She swears she could hear Taeyoung let out a choked sob before it was muffled by Bada, shoving her face closer to her chest.

It had taken a few moments for Sowoen to get comfortable inside Taeyoung, and it felt good. It did feel different from a pussy. She wouldn’t say it felt better for her, but it was different. A good difference.

“I’m going to thrust first, then you okay? Try to keep up,” She heard Bada say.

Sowoen all of a sudden felt her mouth go dry at the last part of Badas' sentence, so she just shot the older girl a simple thumbs up.

They were clumsy at first, with them not being able to meet each other thrusts. But, somehow, they had gotten the hang of it. Each thrust made Taeyoung let out a guttural moan. The thin wall kept them from feeling each other's bare skin. It was a strange sensation to Sowoen. She was able to feel Bada's cock thrusting in as she pulled out. She could feel how strong Badas thrusts were against her shallow ones, and did it feel good.

Bada was the one who started to pick up her pace, it had been a couple of hours since this whole thing had started, and she was the only one who had yet to cum. She looked down against her chest to see Taeyoung's face stained with tears as she let out little whimpers into her sweatshirt. “Such a cockslut for us, Taeyoung, taking us at the same time,” Bada's voice was low.

“Isn’t she, Sowoenie?”

“Y-yeah, g-good omega,” Sowoen managed to stutter out as she was trying to focus on her thrusts working in tandem with Badas.

Bada was able to snake her hand between her and Taeyoung, reaching for her lower belly. Feeling the bump she made with every thrust of her cock indenting itself into her tummy made Bada was to go faster. Wanting to fill her up with her load.

Sowoen had managed to keep up with Bada's fast pace, feeling herself edge closer to the cumming as well. It seemed that the older woman was able to tell because she had planted her feet on the ground and started thrusting rougher and faster into Taeyoung.

By this point, Taeyoung's voice was hoarse. She was barely able to moan anymore, just letting out little gasps and whimpers here and there. She had lost count of the orgasms she had. Where they started and where they ended had begun to blur together.

The fast pace Bada had set with Sowoen managing to meet was starting to get to both of them, their thrusts becoming inconsistent. With Bada’s thrusts having become lazier, her just trying to feel as much as Taeyoung as possible. And Sowoen's rut mindset has seemingly made its appearance again with the way she thrust into Taeyoung in short bursts of energy.

Sowoen was the first one to break, unloading her load into Taeyoungs asshole. Out of some sort of miracle, Sowoen's knot hadn’t inflated the entire time. Perhaps it had something to do with how strong her first one of the night was earlier. She didn’t know. As she came, she let out a loud whimper, followed by herself becoming limp, draping her body over Taeyoung's lower half.

Bada, on the other hand, still had a few more thrusts left in her and used that last bit of energy to fuck into Taeyoung hard and fast, pressing onto the bump in her belly once more, urging her to want to fill the omega up, with her seed. Her loud grunts with every thrust getting louder, she wasn’t sure if it was animalistic instincts inside of her or the pure extortion she was feeling.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum” Bada growled as she came, her hips continuing to stutter in shallow thrusts inside of Taeyoung. The ropes of cum kept going with each movement of Bada's hips till her orgasm had stopped.

Moments passed, and Taeyoung began to recover a bit. She felt so full, Bada's cock still in her pussy and Sowoens still in her ass. Both of their loads deep inside her, she felt good, so warm, so satisfied. Her body was pressed up against Bada's much bigger one. The older girl's arms were holding her close. While Sowoen was draped over her ass, her head resting on her lower back, her arms somehow had found themselves wrapped around her lower body.

Bada reached one of her hands to brush Taeyoung's hair out of her face. Seeing that it was stained with tears.

“You okay?” Bada softly asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. You guys were just kinda rough,” Taeyoung said.

“Mmmm, you kinda asked for it.” Bada shrugged that shit-eating grin back on her face.

“Whatever,” Taeyoung muttered, too tired to poke back at Bada anymore. She opted to lean into the warmth inside of her, just enjoying the feeling of being so full.

Bada looked down at her watch, seeing that it read 5 am.

Shit, Bada thought.

It's way too late to bring Sowoen to her parent's house now. It is better for all of them if they just stay at her apartment for the night. It was only a short walk from the practice room, after all.

“We should go, it's late. You guys can both stay at my place for the night,” She announced.

“I’d agree, but good luck waking her up,” Taeyoung said, muffled into Bada’s sweatshirt.

Bada looked past Taeyoung and fixed her gaze on Sowoen. Somehow, the maknae had fallen asleep. She was now able to hear the little snores coming from the young girl. As she lay, her head resting on the crook of Taeyoungs lower back, and her cock still buried in Taeyoungs ass.

Bada sighed. At least she was having a good first rut.

#g!p #bada lee #bada lee smut #kwon sowoen #kwon sowoen smut #kim taeyoung #kim taeyoung smut #tatter #street woman fighter #swf #street woman fight smut #street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #street woman fighter 2 smut #team bebe #team bebe smut #smut

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fckeddiemunson · 1 year

Text

Take Me Upstairs - Eddie Munson

take me upstairs - rockstar!eddie munson

Synopsis: You run the local record shop and one day Eddie invites you to a show and one thing leads to another.

Warnings: 18+ only MDNI. some fluff, smidge of angst, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, oral f & m receiving, slight choking if you squint.

A/N: Please be nice, this is my first fic I’ve written since I was a teenager xx

4.5k

There was one record shop in Hawkins, tucked away off the main street. It belonged to your uncle, but he was more of a figurehead of the business in his old age, you were there most days, running the shop. It was a dream, you got to speak to people about music all day, play whatever you wanted and no one would complain that it was too loud. Before you started the shop had a dark, dingy feeling to it, dust collected on the shelves and the old hardwood floor had nails sticking up everywhere. You had brightened up the place with a bright lick of paint, pot plants everywhere and you kept the latest stuff in stock of all the up and coming hits.

Eddie Munson had been a regular since your uncle had been working there. He would rush in on a Friday morning when all the new music was released and put on the shelves. Sometimes he would line up ten minutes before it opened to grab the only metal record available, because it was such a small town you only kept a little of everything at once. It was a Friday afternoon when he first met you, he was running late for a new album, he was sweating, worried it had already sold. He had parked his van half sticking out to the road in front of the store, tripped up the stairs, called hello to Ray, your uncle and speed walked to the metal section. He was startled when he heard your sweet, soft voice call back to him. He awkwardly shuffled through the cds on the shelves. Eddie smiled gleefully when he saw the new release, he seized it and kissed the cover, “Was worried I was too late for you darlin’” he whispered and walked up to the counter where you were standing with the new Kerrang edition in your hands. Eddies breath hitched when you moved the magazine away to serve him, you were phenomenal, eyes that were bright and inviting and the warmest prettiest smile he had ever seen.“You’re not Ray” he stated and then cringed at you, wow what an opener, he thought and stuttered out trying to say something else.

You chuckled and leant on the counter, “No, I’m not Ray, I’m Y/N. You’re Eddie right? My uncle warned me about our regular metalhead” You smiled at him and held your hand outstretched to shake Eddies.

“Uh, yes I am Eddie, it’s nice to meet you too” He took your hand, stressing that his hand was sweaty and shook yours. Edde wasn’t usually this giddy when he met a girl, plenty of girls showed up to Corroded Coffin gigs now that they had gained a bit of traction in surrounding bigger towns.

“I put this record on this morning before you got here, you’re in for a treat” You gestured to the Iron Maiden record in his hand, he handed it over to you grinning. “Oh yeah? Well I’m glad to hear it sweetheart, first thing I’m doing after this is blasting it all the way home in the van” Eddie said excited, feeling himself relax and lean against the counter.

You gasped at his answer, “Oh my no! Eddie, your first listen to an album has to be special, right atmosphere, good stereo, not shitty car speakers!” you were horrified at the mere thought, you liked the ritual of putting a new album on for the first time.

“Guess I’m just too impatient with masterpieces” Eddie winked at you and immediately regretted it as he handed over a bill to you. Why was he so awkward sometimes?! He groaned mentally.

“Next time you’re in I expect a full report.” You told him, deadly serious.

“Absolutely sweetheart.” Eddie left, looking once more behind him as he left, seeing you smiling to yourself as you picked up the magazine again.

Eddie knew from that moment he was fucked. Nobody at any shows would ever compare. The next day he sauntered back into the store, hoping you were working on a weekend, he was disappointed to know that your brother worked the weekend as you liked to attend as many gigs as you could on the weekend.

Eddie was back in the shop Monday morning, a grin on his face as he tumbled into the store. He called out your name and your head popped up from one of the rows near the back as he followed you down there.

“Heya sweetheart” Eddie said, leaning against the shelf.

“Hey yourself. What did you think of the album?” You asked excitedly, he thought you looked so cute all excited and chirpy

“It was like a religious experience and i ain’t had many of them let me tell you” you giggled at him and began searching through the shelves again.

“Let me show you something else, you don’t have to buy it, just borrow it for the day and see if you like it?” you picked out a few cds and handed them over.

“Are you sure sweetheart?” He looked over them, not hearing of some of the bands before

“Yeah sure I’ll be glad to hear your thoughts.” Eddie got suddenly excited that you wanted him to come back, and that Eddie had to come back to see you thrilled him.

“Hey, could watch the shop for a minute while i go grab a coffee and pastry?” Eddie heard your stomach growl and he chuckled

“Nonsense, it’s on me, for the cds” You smiled at him and thanked him as he left for coffee.

You bit into the delicious flaky pastry, a bit sticking to your mouth

“Oh you’ve got a bit of-“ Eddie gestured to your cheek. You desperately tried to brush it off after several attempts Eddie reached towards you, his hand gently brushing it off.

“There you go” Eddie whispered as he brushed it off and you both blushed.

You two had become closer over the last few months. He would often spend up to an hour at closing time when it was quiet just helping you tidy up and then walking you to your car. And when he was in at opening he would bring you coffee and pastries fresh from the cafe down the road. You were getting attached to him, you didn’t want to admit it. Hawkins was the last place you thought you’d end up but after a bad run in Los Angeles as a bartender, you thought you needed a change and it all fell into place. At first you thought Eddie’s extensive amount of time in the shop was normal, your uncle had warned you he was there a lot. But Ray tended to exaggerate with these things. Eddie was always on your mind, as soon as you got to the shop and opened up. Your head would whip around to the door every time the little bell dinged as the door opened. He was sweet and funny and a little flirty which often made your cheeks heat up. You were hoping he’d make a move but it had been a few months now and Eddie would still just come in to talk to you.

Eddie waited in a cafe around the corner from the record store, grabbing you your regular latte and pastry. He had some CD’s of his own to give you this time and he was very excited about it. This new found hobby he had of obsessively listening to the CD’s you gave him and thinking about what to give you next was his favourite pastime. Eddie was thinking about asking you out on a date but outside of being on stage he was a bit shy and you were the first girl to mean something to him beyond a girl at a show.

He walked towards the record store, checking his hair in a nearby store window and walked into the shop. He noticed you weren’t at the counter so he wandered through checking out the new releases, he heard your sweet laugh trickle through the store and he also heard another man’s voice speaking to you as you giggled. Eddie didn’t know what it was about but he felt immediately annoyed, his eyebrow raised as he lurked around the shop finding you in the back corner. He saw you talking to a tall dark haired man also with tattoos on his arms. Inside him was pure turmoil - partially because he knew he was overreacting but part because he really didn’t want any suspicion of his to be right.

“Eddie!” You shouted excited, too loud for the small space.

“You have to meet Luke! He was a bartender with me in California!! He was passing through town.” You spoke with adoring eyes for Luke, or so Eddie thought. He also thought it was bullshit, no one passes through Hawkins.

Eddie strained “Nice to meet you” before Luke gave you a quick hug and you two said your goodbyes.

After he left Eddie awkwardly gave you the pastry and coffee, watching as you took a bite.

“Is he ah, an ex?” Eddie found himself spilling out before he could stop.

“Oh, ah no just a friend who helped me out when I was there. Bit weird he stopped by though.” You shrugged and the pit in Eddie’s stomach slowly got smaller, he felt ridiculous to feel such jealousy for you.

“Okay sugar, I’ve got band prac so I’ve got to go but ah here’s some Cd’s i think you should hear. Let me know, yeah?” You smiled warmly at Eddie and his heart swelled in his heart and jeans.

You blew him a kiss as he walked to the door and Eddie swore under his breath as he walked to his van. Oh yeah he was totally fucked.

You knew he had a band that was slowly gaining traction and getting out there. It was his dream and you had passionately spoken about it with him. Watching him talk about the band and getting excited about getting out there more made you swoon. The way his smile lit up the entire shop, it was cheeky and earnest. And his eyes that were constantly on yours, his intense eye contact often made you lose your breath but you loved his attention. You had even started stocking the EP they had released, and playing it in store to spark conversation with other customers so you could gush over him.

Eddie rushed in one Friday morning a few weeks after running into Luke, you peaked through the window seeing the rest of his band in the van, looking packed in with gear.

“Morning sugar” His usual charm on high volume, he was in an excellent mood. The band had gotten a huge gig at a bar in a nearby town. It had a venue room that held about 500 people, and for them that was epic. Beyond huge, the biggest they had ever played somewhere, and away from home too!

“Would you mind putting this up in the window? I want as many people to come tomorrow night as they can!” You looked over the poster, a smile crept onto your face as your eyes met Eddies and you bit your lip in excitement for him.

“Of course Eddie. I’m so ecstatic for you! This is huge, your big break for sure. I will play nothing but Corroded Coffin all day!” You did a little hop skip of excitement around the counter and punched his arm.

“Seriously, super proud of you.” Eddie blushed at your words and looked at you once more before deciding to pull you into a crushing bear hug. You inhaled him, strong and musky, it made you warm inside.

“You better be coming tonight sweetheart.” He winked at you before there was a honk from the van, his bandmates clearly getting impatient. He gave them the finger and looked back at you.

“Seriously, I’ll put your name on the door, as you’re the only one in town who will stock the record.”

“Eddie I am the only record shop in town” you whined but he only smirked and gave your arm a quick squeeze before he ran out the door.

You heard the boys in the van all “whoooo” at the same time and you saw Eddie go bright red as they drove away

You stood in your room hours later, hair in rollers, stressing about which outfit to wear. This wasn’t a normal gig where you’d just throw on any old jeans and a ripped up old shirt. This was Eddie's big gig, you didn’t want to get lost in the crowd, you wanted him to know you were there supporting him. You settled on jeans anyway and an Iron Maiden shit, reminiscent of your first conversation. You tucked it in showing your stomach and went to the bathroom stressing about your hair and makeup.

Once you got inside the venue, you were excited but got a little disheartened at all the stunning girls at the gig. You felt like you couldn’t compare to these bombshells. You shot another drink for good luck, nodding your head along to the opening band. The butterflies in your stomach only intensified as they finished and everyone started closing in for Eddie. You usually got keen for gigs but you felt extra giddy and bouncy as it was his band, he had your heart in chains and he didn’t even know it. You settled for a spot a few rows back from the stage, snug against a wall. There were too many girls crowding the front to get any closer. The lights dimmed and you were smiling at the stage, nerves flying off of you in static waves.

Eddie came out on stage with his signature red guitar, tight black skinny jeans, a ripped up singlet that showed his biceps and tattoos and red boots. Eddie was also the vocalist and he sauntered up to the microphone, mouth close to it and welcomed and thanked the crowd for coming. There were a few cheers but mostly loud squeals from the few girls in the first couple of rows.

The first song played and the riff ripped through the venue, you were hooked. It was like ecstasy, his voice and playing sent you into a frenzy. You were headbanging in time with the guy next to you and shouting out the lyrics. A small mosh broke out and you pushed to be in the mosh, having the most fun you’d had at a show. Their presence was electrifying and the whole crowd could tell they were witnessing something special.

Eddie was the most charismatic frontman. So much so that during one of their dirtier songs he lent down and started singing to her, eyes staring directly into the girl's soul, her hands were on his legs grabbing and touching. He did the same to a few other girls throughout the set. You felt like you had been punched in the gut. You sank to the back of the crowd. You knew it had to be part of the show and his presence but the way he sang to them hurt you more than you could admit. You suddenly didn’t feel special, Eddie had this way of making you feel like you were the queen in his kingdom. He was so charismatic and charming and on stage it was amplified. You slumped against the back wall of the venue, now replaying all the closing chats you had where you talked about your hopes, dreams and fears. Before the gig you were sure he likes you at least a little bit in the way your heart swelled at the mention of his name. Seeing him sing to the girls reminded you that he treated every girl the way he did with you and you tried to enjoy the end of the show without feeling sorry for yourself.

After the gig ended you headed back out and lingered around the main bar for a while, nursing a gin and tonic deciding if you should go knock on the shared dressing room for the boys. Being on the list gave you certain advantages. Out of the corner of your eye you saw one of his bandmates, Gareth, gesturing for you to come over, he was headed back with a tray of drinks.Gareth had been in the store with Eddie a bunch of times. You drew a deep breath, scared to face Eddie feeling sad about unreturned feelings, but your feet started moving towards the backstage door.

You followed through the door behind Gareth and were met with several girls in the dressing room, all giggling and one sitting very close to Eddie, hand on his arm who had his back to you on the couch. You awkwardly stood near the door as Gareth hustled to the table to set the drinks down.

“Look who found her way here” Gareth nudged Eddie, who tore himself away from the girl on the couch, she looked at you intensely.

Eddie grinned at you, you felt your heart twinge at the sight, beating faster with anxiety as he came closer to you. He handed you a beer and you skulled a few sips with him. You were loose tongued when you were tipsy and you were worried you may just pour your feelings out onto him and he would go back to the table of groupies.

Instead you pulled yourself together, “That was one hell of a show Eddie '', he clinked his bottle against yours, biting his lip as you said that. You averted your eyes from his lip biting, knowing any kind of light flirting would make you sad knowing if you didn’t walk in he would probably be making out with that girl.

“I know right! I was worried you weren’t here, couldn’t see you in the crowd” he pouted at you and your heart strings pulled, heart filling with warmth for him against your wishes. You didn't want to be hurt.

“I was in the mosh mostly, too far back to see me. That's why my hair is all messed up.” you gestured to your wavy poofy hair.

“You have never looked more spectacular than you do right now. You’re gorgeous”

Eddie reached up and tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, your heart hammering as he did. You both audibly heard the girl on the couch scoff.

“Let's get some air?” Eddie suggested and you nodded.

You found yourself in a cozy corner of the smokers area, falling into conversation easily with Eddie as he lit up a cigarette and another round of drinks had made its way to your table, perks of being the band playing. Your inhibitions were lowering and you were gaining confidence when you said, “do you usually fuck all those girls in your dressing room after shows?”

Eddie was taken aback by the question. You had talked about your love lives before, exes and the like but never about something like this. Eddie looked at your face, he could tell you were annoyed by the girl he was speaking to before. Eddie hesitated

“I used to sleep with one or two, once our shows started getting a bit bigger. But I’m not really a one night stand person.” You considered, a little more annoyed than you originally thought.

“Yeah but if I hadn’t showed up to distract you, you would’ve fucked that girl in there tonight” You acccused, taking a swig of your drink.

“No I wouldn’t have! If anything, her conversation was a distraction. And what about your friend from Cali huh?” Eddie argued back. You blamed the alcohol for why you were feeling this way but you couldn’t stop now

“He means nothing! Don’t turn this on me, Eddie. it’s almost shameful how intimate you are with those girls in the crowd.” You strained, you felt a lump in your chest, heaving with every word.

“Sweetheart, that's just for the show, got to get everyone riled up!” You didn't say a word and he sighed, placing a hand on your knee and rubbing it. Eddie swallowed hard

“You know I-.. I haven’t even thought about kissing anyone. Anyone at all except you darlin’. I don’t even think about other women like that, I only ever think about you” Eddie searched your face for some sign of reaction. His hand on your knee moved to lift your chin up to meet his eyes.

“Eddie, you make me feel things I have never felt before. And- and I'm scared to get hurt.” You whispered out, looking into Eddie's warm brown eyes, breathless at your admission. Eddie placed his hand on your bar stool and dragged it as close as possible. His knee nestled in between your legs, your thighs touching. Eddie cupped your cheek, letting his hand run down to your neck, thumb trailing along your jaw to your mouth. He had brought his face closer to yours, your hearts hammering together in sync.

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip and you kissed lightly. Eddie stared at you, his hand slithering to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him, your lips a mere inch apart.

He cupped your neck and jaw again, before you lost your composure and lent in, brushing your lips against his plush ones. He exhaled sharply, bringing his other hand up to cup your jaw with both hands as he shifted close to you and entangled your lips again. You gasped as he sucked in your bottom lip, fiercely kissing you. Your hand fumbled for his shirt and collar, desperate to feel him. Eddie took a breath and before he could move, you kissed him again, licking his bottom lip as his tongue met yours and slid over your bottom lip into your mouth. You moaned against him, hand clutching and squeezing his thigh. Eddie stood up, pressing his body into yours. Eddie pulled back from the kiss to look at you, your lips were swollen, lipstick smearing a bit onto his lips.

“Look at you, shit, all fucked out and I haven’tt even gotten started” he whispered, hand behind your neck pulling you close as he nuzzled into your neck. He kissed your neck lightly, testing the waters as you gasped and let your hand disappear into his curly locks. Eddie kissed and nipped and sucked at your neck, you felt your pussy warm and clench everytime he would bite and suck, each time with more vigor and lust. You could feel Eddie’s dick against you. That alone made you whimper against him.

“I have a room upstairs, we have a gig tomorrow so I figured why not-” You cut Eddie off with a bruising kiss, tangling your hands in his hair.

“Yes, take me there” You whimpered out, completely under his control and absolutely soaking for him.

He grabbed your arm, leading you back inside and up a stairway, you stumbled into his room, breathless.

Eddie pushed you against the wall and engulfed you in a kiss, fire exploded in your stomach as you sunk down to your knees, staring up at him, his eyes full of lust.

“I have been wanting to do this for a long time” You whispered, fumbling with his belt on his pants.

“Oh yeah? I’ve dreamed of seeing you on your knees for me” Eddie grabbed your chin and angled it to look up at him, satisfied at the already fucked out look you had on your face. You shimmed his jeans down a bit, stopping briefly, suddenly nervous to see him for the first time. Eddie instead took over, you looked down as he took his cock in his hand, stroking it up and down, groaning as he did.

“Look at me sweetheart.” Eddie said down to you, a command, not a question. Your eyes slowly crept up, you let out a breath seeing his cock at eye level, much bigger and prettier than you were expecting. Eddie tapped it on your lips once before you took him in your mouth, licking the tip and then sucking in, until he hit the back of your throat. You breathed out harshly, refusing to let him slide out.

Eddie groaned deeply above you, sending waves between your legs, you moaned against him as you continued to suck greedily.

“Makin’ me feel so good baby, so good” Eddie mumbled lustily above you, entangling his hand in your hair and forcing more of him into your mouth, you groaned at the sensation. Eddie moved your head back and forth on his dick, your jaw slack for him, his moans were sending you into a frenzy, you gagged on him once before he slid out of your mouth.

“Dirty girl” he muttered, pulling you up and kissing you, tongue invading your mouth. His hands wrapped around you, his big hands grabbing your ass, he tested the waters by giving it a sharp slap and you gasped, convinced you’re dripping through your underwear.

Eddie pushed you onto the nearby bed, his weight crushing as he undid your jeans and dragged them off you, pulling you to the edge of the bed as he did. His hands ran over your bare thighs, thumbs digging in at the apex of your thighs. He teased your underwear waistband, snapping it against your skin before dropping his head right between your thighs, strong hands spreading them for him, and only him. He thumbed the cloth, right against your clit and you let out a whine that turned into a moan as he kissed your clit through the thin cloth. Eddie hooked his finger under the waistband and pulled them down slowly, spreading your legs once again. He slid his finger through your folds, you let out a whimper as he gathered your slick on his fingers and brought it to mouth, sucking it off.

“Just as sweet as I’d thought you’d be baby” Eddie grinned before thumbing your clit slowly, your head rolled back on the bed as he drew slow teasing circles on you, occasionally teasing your tight hole. He sunk his teeth into your thigh, short sharp breaths coming from you as you almost fell apart over Eddies touches.

“Please” You whimpered to him, Eddie’s wicked grin lighted his face.

“Please what?” he teased, his hand abruptly stopping on your cunt.

“Please… fuck me” you writhed on the bed, desperate for pleasure.

“No, I'm not done with you yet.” Eddie growled and pinned your left thigh down and spread your folds, slipping two fingers inside of you, a high moan escaping your lips.

Eddie’s fingers were long and found that sensitive spot inside you quickly as his fingers moved deliciously inside you, filthy noises escaping your mouth at the squelch of your wetness on his fingers. He thumbed your clit at the same time, you felt your build up quickly, but something felt different, more intense as his fingers relentlessly brought you higher and higher.

“Eddie” his name left in a high pitched whine, your hips lifted off the bed as you felt your release flood through you, you shivered, lifting your hips off the bed. You felt extra wet as Eddie continued to fuck you with his fingers, you twitched beneath him, overstimulated.

“Thats it good girl, good fucking girl.” He praised as his movements slowly came to a stop.

You lay on the bed breathless, hair sticking to your neck, but Eddie wasn’t near done yet.

“You squirted sweetheart, have you done that before or was it all for me?” Eddie crawled onto you, settling between your legs, tugging his hard cock as he did.

“All for you, only for you” You replied, looking up at him. His chest lean, arms muscular and covered in tattoos, his face strained as he jerked himself off. Eddie suddenly grabbed your hips and pulled you close to him, kissing you deeply as he slid in, a sharpness you weren’t expecting as he stilled inside you.

“Come on sweet girl, you can take me.” Eddie peppered kisses onto your face as he moved slowly, long languid thrusts into your tight dripping pussy.

Pleasure slowly took over you and you hooked your arms around his ass, pulling him tight against you, needing to feel him everywhere, the feeling of Eddie was addictive.

Eddie brought his hand to your neck, running his thumb over your lip which you took into your mouth eagerly, earning a deep moan from Eddie above you. Eddie snapped his hips to yours, pressing your legs above your shoulders as his thrusts became faster and deeper.

You were moaning loudly, not caring if the whole hotel heard you, your eyes shut tightly as he deepened the angle of his hips. You had never felt so full in your life, Eddie kept fucking you, his balls slapping on your leg. Eddie's hand found your clit, rubbing slowly again, you whimpered under his touch, unsure how much more you could take. Your breath was ragged, you were so close.

“Eddie I’m gonna-” Eddie chuckled and stopped his movements, you groaned loudly beneath him as he withdrew from you.

“Nononono” you whined, jerking your hips up to nothing, as he moved to stand on the edge of the bed. He grabbed your ankles, yanking you to the edge and forced your head down into the mattress.

You whined and shook your ass in front of him.

“Eddie, please” you started playing with yourself in front of him, needing him.

He tapped himself over your clit a few times, making you move your hand as he pushed your back down further into the bed while holding your hips up for him. Eddie slid back in, that familiar full feeling returning as he thrusted against you, his balls slapping your clit each thrust.

“Fuck you feel so good from this angle, so good for me, so wet sweetheart” Eddie was losing it because of you, each thrust sent him closer and closer, he felt the familiar warming in his lower stomach.

Eddie reached round and rubbed circles on your clit and you let out a loud moan, hips moving with his. You felt your stomach tighten as his cock continued to fill you up, each thrust sending you closer.

“Eddie” you warned him, high pitched moans stringing out of your mouth.

You crashed over the edge as Eddie fucked hard and deep into you, every word fell from your mouth as you moaned for him, he gave a final thrust before a deep gutteral moan left his lips, his hot come spilling into you.

“Fuck sweetheart” His deep voice groaned as he collapsed next to you.

You stayed there for a few moments staring at each other in the post hue of sex, he was smiling widely at you.

“I suppose I better take you on a date now huh?” He said wiping his hair from his face and tying it into a bun

“Yeah you better rockstar”

#rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanficiton #eddie munson #eddie munson au #stranger things au #smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson dirty #eddie munson fic #oneshot

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sportswriters · 9 days

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you're jealous? - p. gavi

pairing: pablo gavi x female!reader | f | established relationship | wc: 1.646 | warnings: none

welcome post! “get out, pedri.”

you hear your boyfriend’s laughter echoing from the driver’s seat, pedri looks at you with a frown, but opens the front door and finally gets out. he stares at you and rolls his eyes, but even though he’s annoyed that you kicked him out of the front seat next to gavi, he kisses you cheek affectionately.

“i got here first, you know?” he complains.

you shrug, return the kiss on his cheek and get into the seat he was sitting in before, careful not to wrinkle your loose dress. it took you a while to find the right outfit and you were still a little unsure about the event. gavi is dressed in a black suit, similar to pedri’s, his hair messy, exuding the perfume you know so well.

“would you throw anyone out or is it just because it’s pedri?” your boyfriend asks.

you put on your seatbelt and lean in close enough to steal a kiss from his lips.

“it’s just because it’s pedri,” you reply, mocking.

pedri protests behind you and nips you right in the ear. you glare at him, but turn to your boyfriend in the driver’s seat. when he starts the car again, you grimace and turn to pedri.

“his he driving better than last time?”

pedri laughs.

“what was the last time?”

“oh, you know,” you moisten your lips and move a shoulder. “when he almost ran over that fan at the entrance to the stadium?”

“that was two days ago, y/n,” pedri says with a laugh.

“so the answer is no?” you whine.

“hey!” your boyfriend protests, leaving one hand on the wheel, his attention on the road and using his free hand to squeeze your thigh. “i’m listening, you know?”

you smile and squeeze his hand on your thigh, while he returns concentrating on driving and the three of you start chatting about random things — it distracts you from the nervousness of attending the event. it wasn’t anything too important, just a social thing to promote a new documentary the team has been making for the launch and all the players, their respective girlfriends and family members would be there, as well as the media outside.

nobody apart from the team and the people closest to you knew that you were gavi’s girlfriend. media exposure has always been a fear, mainly because gavi has a lot of young fans and the risk of receiving hate was huge enough for you to have agreed not to make the relationship public yet, coupled with the fact that gavi likes to keep his personal life private, despite his fame.

you were friends before everything. people still think so, although there are rumors. after gavi’s injury, the two of you became even closer and ended up confessing your feelings to each and two weeks later, he asked you to be his girlfriend.

he parks the car and three of you get out, while he hands the key to the valet. as soon as you get in, there’s a carpet that imitates a red entrance and you walk past it, quickly posing for photos and the entering the venue.

“i’m going to find the guys,” pedri announces. “i’m not really into third wheeling.”

gavi laughs, but you roll your eyes and watch the midfielder walk away to join the boys from the team. it’s a nice atmosphere, there’s soft music playing and lots of familiar people, but you feel tense. gavi notices and moves closer, placing his hand lightly on the base of your waist and you immediately feel your muscles relax. it's amazing how he had a calming effect on you.

“are you okay?” he asks you.

you take a deep breath and turn your face just enough towards him, opening a smile to soothe the wrinkle of worry that has appeared on his forehead.

“i’m fine, i promise.”

he looks at you for a moment, but you don’t want to talk about your insecurities, so you take the lead before he asks anything else.

“shall we say hello to the guys?”

he nods, leaving the subject for later. his hand is still on your waist the two of you walk through the hall, greeting acquaintances. you keep a genuine smile on your lips, acting sincere in your friendly conversations and enjoy gavi’s comments in your ear. he had a unique talent for making you feel relaxed in front of everyone like that and you heart leapt for him.

at some point, you were stopped by two girls — who looked to be about your age, both with big smiles on their faces — but you didn't know them. they must have been someone's daughters or something.

“i'm sorry to bother you,” one of them says, the one with the blonde hair, looking directly at gavi, as if you didn't even exist, even though his hand keeps holding you by the waist. “but we're both really big fans of yours, gavi. could you take a picture with us?”

you don't mind him giving attention to his fans. in fact, you make a point of putting him at ease by doing this.

“of course,” gavi replies.

the girls join in and he just moves away enough to fit through the screen of their camera, his hand still on your waist. you tried to move away, giving them space, but gavi insisted on not letting you get away from him.

“thank you, it looks amazing!” the second one says, with black hair.

“it's true, you look hot!” the blonde adds.

the sound of their laughter reaches your ears and you start to feel ridiculous for being annoyed. they're just some fans meeting an idol, their behavior tends to be a bit unusual and you try to take it in your stride.

“didn't you say he was your type, sash?” the black-haired girl asks with an annoying chuckle.

you purse your lips and force a smile onto your face, but none of them pay any attention to you. gavi doesn't say anything, he's just nice enough to remain with a polite smile on his face. you stare at him for a moment.

“broke!” the one called sash complains, but laughs and turns to gavi. “sorry about that. but you're single, right? i'd love to give you my number.”

that’s the last straw for you. jealousy starts to eat you up inside and gavi isn't saying anything, so you lock your jaw and walk away from him, feeling the need to look for a drink, anything. you leave him alone there, with the two of them boldly hitting on him, and you were right next to him. he had his hand around your waist! of course he's not single.

you snort and walk over to the bar, ordering a glass of champagne, something light. you didn't notice the moment gavi came up behind you until he appeared at your side with a confused expression.

“what was that, y/n?” he asks, confused by your sudden behavior.

you stare at him.

“what do you think that was?” you snap, a little annoyed, but he doesn't seem to understand. “you had your hand around my waist and they had the audacity to ask if you were single?!”

his expression softens and he smiles. gavi touches your arm.

“you’re jealous?” he asks, but you don't answer and turn your face to accept the glass of champagne the barman hands you. “come on, you can't make a big deal out of it.”

you take a sip of the drink and narrow your eyes in his direction, wondering if he really meant what he just said. yes, you're seething with jealousy, of course. you wouldn't react any differently to two women hitting on your boyfriend like that and you wouldn't make a scene. not in front of everyone.

so what if they don't know he's dating, since you haven't published anything? his hand on your waist should be enough of a sign that at least he was accompanied.

“really?” you squeak, one eyebrow raised. “so i can let pedri hold me the same way, since it's no big deal?”

he grimace and you know he didn't like it.

“i didn't mean it like that,” he defends himself, grumpily.

you smile, victorious.

“next time, use your voice to communicate that you're no longer single,” you warn, taking another sip.

he comes closer and puts his hand on your waist again, he kisses your exposed shoulder and you sigh at the contact.

“i think it's time to make our relationship public to avoid this kind of situation, then,” he proposes.

you stare at him, wondering if he's serious.

“are you sure?”

he lifts his face towards you and smiles, his face too close to yours. you don't even care if you're in a public place anymore.

“we'll only do this if it doesn't make you uncomfortable," he says. “but yes, i'm sure. it's time to show them that i'm yours.”

your heart races and you turn to him, happiness showing on your face. you may deal with insecurities, you may receive hate messages, but it's all worth it with him by your side. you wrap both hands around his neck.

“i love you.”

gavi smiles and kisses your lips quickly, taking the suggestion of making your relationship public as a positive response. he’ll make sure of doing this when you leave the event.

“i love you, y/n,” he declares. “but i hope that was the last time you used pedri as an example to touch you like that.”

he grimaces again and you laugh, shaking your head. the next thing you do is seal your lips to his once more, oblivious to any public gaze that might be directed at you, because there's nothing you want more at the moment than to let people know that he is yours.

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi imagines #pablo gavi scenarios #pablo gavi fluff #pablo gavi angst #football scenarios #football imagines #barcelona imagines #football drabbles #football blurbs #sportswriters ❤

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manicpixiedreamcurl · 1 year

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The More You Give ❧ (Part VI)

Pairing | Eddie Munson x shy!reader

Warnings | 18+ minors and blank blogs don’t interact, bullying, discussions of anxiety, oral (f receiving), virginity loss, protected P in V sex.

Word Count | ~16,400

A/N | Oh you won't be able to move for all the fluff. Cheeky shout-out to @heydreamchild for this post which made me lose my mind in the tags and think about Eddie's relationship with Wayne's mug collection.

Taglist (please don't ask to be tagged if you won't interact with the fic)

Previous Chapter

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You screw your eyes shut instead of watching the ping pong ball continue its high arch over the remaining cups on the other side of the table. You hear it hit the floor, the barely suppressed scoff across from you at another missed shot.

Your cheeks are burning, have been since you started this game. You open an eye to find May smiling at you encouragingly as she lines herself up for her turn. She’s more practised than you. Invited to more of these parties, asked to play more of these games. The ball flies from her hand and lands with a gentle splash in one of the three remaining cups in front of you, her expression now tinged with satisfaction. You can’t blame her, you’d look the same if you were good at any of this. You fish the ball out and sip the lukewarm beer for a second before forcing the rest of it down just to get this turn over with.

“Sorry,” you murmur, handing the ball to your partner and stepping aside to let him take his turn. Safely at the corner of the table, you glance quickly at the clock on the other side of the room. It reads 11:03pm, and you wonder if you could negotiate heading home by eleven thirty.

Not likely.

When you’d walked through the door, shoulders pressed between both your friends, you had yourself convinced that you would have a good time tonight. Tipsy from the white wine your mom let you drink under her supervision, warm with joy from an early evening spent with May and Heather in your room. It’s your favourite part of going out; the hour or two before. When it’s just the three of you, with nobody else to perform for, you fit right back together as you always did. Swapping gossip, exchanging compliments. Painting Heather’s nails a soft pink, her steady hands painting yours in return. You worked on May’s make up, smiled shyly into the mirror when she set your hair up the way you like it and told you with a pout how jealous she is of its texture.

You listened to Heather, gentle and happy at seeing her boyfriend, at the flowers he’d brought her. You spoke to May about the film you should rent for your next movie night; a comedy with popcorn or a weepy chick flick with chocolate. You’d watched from your bed, grinning and heartsore while May leaned into Heather’s shoulder, serenading her while she applied her lipstick. Heather rolled her eyes fondly as May crooned into her ear, “I can’t fight this feeling anymore!”

Later, head truly fuzzy from paint stripper vodka and lemonade, you’d screamed all the words to Power of Love with them. Hands in the air, hips swaying, content in the knowledge that, if everyone in the house has drank as much as you, none of them will care to remember how you danced and sang tonight. It was exactly as you wanted it to always be. With your friends, believing entirely, at least in the moment, that you still put each other first. That you were friends now not just because you used to be.

Only, Heather’s boyfriend had appeared like a grey cloud in the blue sky of your evening. Before you knew it, she was settled under his arm on a couch at the other side of the room, sipping light beer and talking with the friends he’d brought back from college for the weekend. All boys you can’t stand, and know May can’t stand either. The last time you saw them, when May had told them proudly that you were well on your way to NYU to study Comparative Literature, you’d watched two of them make eye contact, sniggering with each other into their beer. You weren’t proud of yourself for adding that you still might do Chemistry, not that it had helped much.

Soon after, May was called over by some cheer friends. She’d grasped your hand and pulled you along with her, both a blessing and a curse that she refuses to leave you out. Lacking some of your usual self-consciousness, both from your continual sips at your drink and the fact that Caroline, blessedly, hadn’t shown up, you’d managed a brief, fairly friendly chat with Tracy about whether she was wearing too much blush (she was) followed by how well the basketball team will do this year (hell if you know).

Then, when Josh, a boy May has had a simmering crush on since you were freshmen, invited her over to play beer pong, you let her pull you with her again. And here you are, paired with this boy in green and white. Ethan flashes his white toothed smile every time you miss a shot on account of your shaking hands. A charming smile that tells you how girls might get into trouble on his account; girls like Caroline, girls like Erin. You wonder if it was that smile that made Erin follow him upstairs that night, that made Caroline fall back into his arms with little complaint, all the blame placed elsewhere.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, squeezing the top of your arm before turning his attention to the table. May smiles at you again as Josh chugs beer down in a quick gulp, sending you all the signs of gratitude that make you feel guilty for thinking almost exclusively about the ways you could leave soon.

When it’s your turn again, you take stock of the cups across from you. Two on your side, four on theirs, so with any luck this is your last turn. You watch the ball just brush the opposite rim of one of the cups, before bouncing lamely to the table. “Okay, that one was close.” Ethan says kindly, elbowing you.

“Nah, her head’s in the clouds,” Josh says with a smirk, catching the ball and bouncing it a couple times off the table. “Too busy thinking about…Munson, right? Would not have thought that was your type, but uh, I guess that explains why you wouldn’t let Andy-”

“Leave her alone, Josh,” May cuts in, leaning away from him with a scowl. You feel a rush around your ears, your heart in your throat. You like to forget this fact, but sometimes you’re reminded of it like seeing it written in bright red neon. Just about everybody knows what happened between you and Andy to varying degrees of detail, and they can all use it against you whenever they want.

“It’s not that serious,” he says, the following laugh more defensive when May rolls her eyes. “You are dating the freak, right?”

Your toes curl. “Don’t call him that.”

“C’mon, man,” Ethan sighs. “You’re killing the mood.”

“It’s dead and buried,” May corrects, face set in that brilliant frown that gets your heart pumping when it’s directed at you.

Josh glances between the three of you, landing particularly on May and her crossed arms. He looks to Ethan again for support, throws his hands up when he finds none there. “Fine,” he says, smacking his teeth. “‘S boring playing girls anyway.”

He bounces the ball across the table to Ethan, and stalks off with his shoulders sagging. May’s face softens when she comes over to you, your chest warm at her concern. “You okay?”

“Mm. Thank you.”

She pouts, swaying a little. “Why are guys such jerks?”

“Um, I’m right here,” Ethan laughs, chucking the ball back and forth between his hands. There’s that smile again, easy and sharp and clean. You think of Erin, dragged through mud.

“Thanks,” you mumble, barely glancing at him.

“No problem. He’s an idiot when he’s drunk.”

If you were braver, you’d say he’s an idiot sober, too.

“Looks like we need to even the teams up,” May says brightly.

“Oh, that’s okay,” you answer, the only relief from the situation that this may give you a chance to escape for a brief moment. “I wanna get some water. You guys can keep playing.”

“You sure?” She asks, leaning in so it really is just the two of you, giving you a hit of tuberose and orange blossom, the same perfume she’s worn since your first high school party in ‘83. “I’ll come with you if you want.”

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing her arm gratefully. “I’ll be right back.”

The air is fresher the second you’re in the hallway, without the clutch of warm bodies forcing you to mutter ‘excuse me’ enough that the words lose all meaning. The damp heat picks up again in the kitchen, smaller groups standing around with cups in their hands, some swaying to the distant music. You glance at the sink, find a couple crowded in front of it, their eyes intent on eachother. Even your slightly fuzzy mind decides against trying to navigate around them in search of water.

“Hey, Ringwald.” It takes a good couple of seconds for you to register that the greeting might be for you. It requires a tap on the shoulder, Erin’s half there smile directed your way. She holds up a cup. “Want some?”

You glance into it, find clear liquid that gets your hopes up. “Water?”

She snorts. “I know I’m pretty badass, but six shots of vodka in one cup is a little much. Even for me.”

You take it gratefully, screaming at your tipsy brain to remember not to drink too much of someone else’s water. A couple gulps and you hand it back to her, surprised at how much you needed it, throat a little scratchy from singing earlier before your joy left with Heather.

“So, uh, how are you?”

You nod, giving her a close lipped smile. “Yeah, fine. How are you?”

Erin tilts her head, her right eye narrowing. “No, I mean, like really how are you?” She waves her cup around, as if gesturing to the entire house. “Seems like you and May are friends again, I guess.”

“We were always friends,” you assure, heart panging. “She was just,” you search for it, unprepared for this conversation. Where you normally would avoid answering altogether, your cottoned up mind combined with the earnest desperation to defend your friend ends in a rambling answer. “I didn’t tell her the right way, you know? She was hurt, finding out from somebody else about, you know, Eddie and I. But we talked it all out and she’s forgiven me.”

“Forgiven…you?”

“For not telling her myself.”

Erin taps a finger on her cup, considering you. “That’s what she was angry about?”

Your mouth opens, thoughts tangling. “Um, I mean, among other things,” you rush, giving her a reassuring smile. “But everything’s fine now.”

“Okay,” she says, that half smile returning. “Glad to hear it, Ringwald.”

“I, um,” you step a little closer, forcing yourself to look right into her eyes. “I did want to say thank you for that actually. I just-” You just worried endlessly about approaching her, how you would even thank her for preventing you from being quizzed about your sex life in front of an entire group. You shrug, and luckily Erin seems to understand.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “You shouldn’t have had to explain yourself in the first place. But those girls are pretty vicious when they smell blood.”

You’re struck with a pity for her you know she’d probably hate you feeling. You try to remember what she was like before her entire friend group turned on her, before she was taken in by that sharp smile. She still had the sarcastic wit, you’re sure. But without the undertone of anger that comes along every other sentence; less bite. Erin has always been confident, but now she carries herself like somebody full of righteous indignation and nowhere to put it.

“You can have the rest of this,” she says, handing you the water and looking away like she’s read your whole thought process and wants out of the conversation quick. “Those six shots actually sound kind of appealing now.”

“Okay, well, see you later?”

She gives you a little thumbs up as she passes. You watch her elbow past the couple at the sink to reach the bottles and cups piled beside it. Already feeling more sober than you had when you walked in, you finish the cool water, resisting the temptation to start playing with the material of your skirt.

“Hey, uh…hey.” You look over at Neil from your Physics class, recognising the sound of somebody trying and failing to remember your name. “Could you talk to Munson for me? Tell him I’m good for the money, it’s just that it’s another week before I get paid.”

You blink. The information takes a second to move from your ears to your brain, longer to process their whole meaning. You feel a flutter in your chest; something like excitement, something like relief. “Eddie’s here?”

“Yeah, and he’s making a really big deal out of twenty dollars, you know?”

You look over his shoulder as if Eddie might be standing out in the hallway, finding only the empty doorway. “Where is he?”

“Uh, he was by the stereo I think? So, you’ll talk to him?”

“Um, sure,” you mumble, pressing past him to walk down the hall back into the living room. There’s May, laughing as Ethan tips his head back to drink, the table laden with a new set of cups. On the other side of the room, Heather, nodding at something and looking serious as ever.

And then you catch him; a head of messy curls, denim on leather, the cut out t-shirt you know Eddie sewed on himself by hand. He’s standing right next to the stereo, sorting through records. His curls shift with a shake of his head and you just know his expression is dismayed, truly disappointed in the collection. To his side, a group of boys is searching their pockets, failing to hide their efforts to pool money together.

Eddie’s presence pulls at you, an invisible but physical tug, and before you know it you’re crossing the room towards him. He jumps a little when you rest your palm on his back, his hand flying to his wallet chain. Then his brown eyes land on you, and you feel the unique joy of watching Eddie realising it’s you. His expression turns in an instant from guarded to happiness. Round eyes look you up and down once in surprise to confirm it’s you, once again in appreciation. He leans right into you, smile a little wolfish. “Well, hey. What brings you to my darkened corner, sweet thing?”

What can you say to that? That in the six, seven hours since you’ve seen him, you’ve felt the lack of his presence? That you’ve spent the last hour in particular wishing you’d never come here, wondering why you didn’t go home with him instead?

“Was surprised to see you.”

“Yeah, well,” he starts, gesturing with his head to the boys behind him. “My services were required, you see.” His eyes track down again, zeroing in at the place on your legs where your dress ends, the fishnet tights wrapped around your thighs. “You look, uh,” he clears his throat, clearly searching for the right word. “Shit. I mean, fuck. You look good.”

Your cheeks warm. You turn to the side a touch, pressing your knees together. “Thank you.”

“I um, really like these.” His hand teases the hem of your dress, thumb brushing across the string of your tights. Eddie’s fingers are a warm sting that has your breath catching, your body aching to be closer to him, to more of his heat.

“Munson?” Sounds from behind him, and the spell is broken. Eddie jumps again, hand parting from your skin like he’d touched a hot stove. His hair flies around him as he turns, face becoming impassive again.

“Gentlemen,” he says, standing in front of you. “Managed to pool your allowances?”

“Shut up, Munson.”

Eddie’s head tilts. “For future reference, save the shit talk till after you have the product in your hand. Unless you wanna add another ten percent for the ounce-”

“No, it’s fine,” another says, elbowing his friend. “It’s all there.”

Eddie sighs, taking the collection of rumpled bills from his hand. You watch him stand in front of the antsy boys, counting each note twice over just to watch them squirm. “Mm. Looks like it’s all here.” He brings his wallet from his back pocket, attached to his jeans by a chain, and tucks the money inside. Then, after glancing around him quickly, Eddie’s right hand disappears into the front of his pants.

“Kept it warm for you, boys,” he cackles, pulling out a plastic baggy filled with green clumps and hurling it towards them.

In the next second, he’s grabbed your hand and is pulling you through the crowd to the sound of, “Munson, you prick!” from behind you. You can hear Eddie’s almost manic giggling over the music, your heart pounding from speeding after him and the fear of the chance at being followed by five boys, all half drunk and furious.

Eddie’s hand remains tight around yours until the cool air out the front door hits your heated skin, finally slowing to catch his breath, still chuckling to himself. You watch him, wide eyed, as he leans back against the front wall, head falling back and then forward to look at you. His eyes flash, his face tells you he’s proud.

“Why did you do that?”

His laughter stops when he spies the serious look on your face, your hands fiddling with your skirt. “Ah, shit. Sorry,” he sighs. “I didn’t plan for you to be around but there wasn’t much I could do, sweet thing. It was already down there, y’know?”

“That’s not what I- Why would you aggravate them like that, Eddie?”

Something a little cold comes over his face then. “Satisfaction, pure and simple,” he answers. “The only kind I can get out of guys like that.”

“But, if you didn’t speak to them like that-”

Eddie’s already shaking his head. “If I didn’t speak to them like that- Hell, if I gave them that weed for free, got on my knees and asked for an ounce of kindness, come Monday they’re still gonna throw me, or Jeff, or any of the guys from Hellfire into a locker,” he tells you, voice a plea for you to understand. “Or call me a freak, or lock one of the freshmen, who still barely know their way around the building, in a supply closet for an hour.” Eddie tilts his head at you. “It’s got absolutely nothing to do with me aggravating them or not, okay? It's not about how nice I am, or how I talk to them - it's about this," he stresses grabbing his long hair, then his shirt. "And this. And D&D and the fucking trailer and my piece of shit father. No amount of sweet talk will fix it cause they don't want me to be nice; they want me to change. And I can’t do that, okay? More importantly, I won’t do that.”

Everything he says makes your chest hurt.

It makes sense, that this is how Eddie Munson thinks. Since your first stumbled word, you’ve been hiding yourself away, blending into the crowd to avoid all the pain that comes with being singled out. But him? Eddie has no interest in curling in on himself, shrinking his personality to fit in. Everything he says, every move he makes, is unapologetic. As true to himself as that shirt.

But it hurts to think that something so unnatural to you could be right. For all your good will, all your work and staying under the radar, it hasn't saved you. Your need to keep quiet only led to Caroline’s harshness, the laughter from the cheer girls. Your desperation to avoid judgement only opened all the right doors for Andy to hurt you the way he did, for everyone around you to know exactly how. All your complacency, all your acquiescence, none of it kept your friends nearly as close as you’d wanted them.

You swallow, catch Eddie’s eyes, and whisper in earnest. “I don’t want you to change.”

You could cry at the relief in his face, the fast blinking that vanishes the shine in his eyes. His head tilts. “No?”

You shake your head vehemently, wishing he would hold your hand again so you could play with his fingers. He pushes himself off the wall and leans into your space, hair falling towards you. You look between his eyes and his collar, debating hiding your face there.

“Not even my driving?”

“Okay,” you answer, watching his dimples press into his face. “Maybe I’d like you to change one thing.”

“I knew it!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up. “Sweet girls like you are only ever after one thing. You wanna fix me, huh?”

“No,” you whisper, smiling to the side. “Just, gently improve your interest in speed limits?”

“Yeah? And what about my proclivity for pineapple and olive pizza?”

You chew the inside of your lip, suppressing giggles. “I think, given time, I can learn to live with it.” You feel a buzz of pride at Eddie’s laugh, the crinkle around his eyes he gets when he’s really, truly happy. “I do mean it, Eddie. I like you exactly as you are. More-” You take a breath. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

Eddie’s hand finds yours again, your fingers curling into his, your knuckles at his palm.

“Like me enough to come home with me?”

You want to. Desperately. The relief you felt at seeing him, your whole body telling you that you’d rather spend an evening with Eddie than here, navigating social circles you’ll never really be a part of.

“I have to tell my friends first,” you say, watching Eddie nod.

“Sure thing. I can wait.”

“Okay.” Your gaze travels between his eyes and his collar again, stalling your departure. You want a kiss. Want to kiss him all the time, even for a short goodbye. Eddie, sensing your hesitance to leave, narrows his eyes a little like he's trying to work you out. He catches your eyes dart to his lips, and they curve.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to you. It’s a perfect, innocent little thing. But you like it, like the domesticity you’re learning with Eddie. You want kisses goodbye and hello, his hand in yours in the car. You want elbows meeting sides while cooking together, waking up in the middle of the night just to hear Eddie breathing before you fall away again, catching sight of each other in the mirror while you brush your teeth in the morning. You want your daily life, with Eddie in it, with all the things he adds just by way of existing.

You give him another quick peck, face hot, and run into the house before your mouth asks him to leave with you now and never come back.

You find May in the kitchen, huddled together with a couple of the cheer girls as well as Ethan. She waves brightly when she catches sight of you, gesturing you over. “Hi!” She calls, hair mussed, clearly having continued to drink since you parted. “Where did you go?”

“Um, I was thinking I might go home,” you say, fiddling with your skirt. “M’tired.”

“Oh, are Heather and Patrick leaving too?”

“No, no. I ran into Eddie. He’s gonna give me a ride home.”

You brace yourself, the back of your neck prickling with tension. You watch the expression on May’s face shift from confusion, not to anger or disappointment, but amusement.

“Ohh-kay, you’re tired,” she laughs, shaking her head. You make a noise in embarrassment, checking to see if the rest of the group are listening in and she grins at you, pulling you into a quick, floral smelling, hug. “Have a good night, okay? I’ll see you later.”

You give her a squeeze back, chest warm. “Yeah, later.”

You give a half hearted wave to everyone else, navigating your way to the living room. Heather is where she has been all evening, under Patrick’s arm. “Hey,” you say, avoiding eye contact with the boys around her. “I’m gonna head.”

“Already?” Heather pouts. A quick throb or annoyance rises and falls, your anger that she wouldn't have noticed either way reasoned with the fact that it was your decision not to spend any time with this group.

“Yeah, I’m tired.”

“I thought I was giving you a ride?” Patrick asks, leaning over.

"No, Eddie's gonna take me home."

There’s a moment of quiet, information sinking in before Patrick's face displays a shocked frown. "Eddie? Munson? You're getting in that scrap heap he calls a van?"

You look from him to Heather, spy the clear guilt on her face when you say, "He's my boyfriend. Heather didn't tell you?"

“She most certainly did not- when the fuck-”

“I’m sure she can fill you in,” you say, voice edging towards breaking, thinking about her encouragement, her fingers on the cross around her neck. Heather's mouth opens, her hand coming to that very pendant, and you shake your head. "Bye."

She calls your name behind you, but doesn't come after you when you leave.

Eddie is waiting for you still, balancing a seat on the porch rail and smoking when you emerge. A dimple presses into his face when he flicks the cigarette away and slides down. “All good?”

You grab his hand, bury your face into his shoulder to lean on him a little. Breathe in leather and drugstore shampoo - Eddie, Eddie, Eddie - until your heart stops throbbing painfully.

“All good,” you mumble, turning your head to look at him from his shoulder. “Home?”

You realise how tired you are when you are settled in Eddie’s van, your eyes and limbs heavy. You half want to curl up in the soft seat and drift, but get taken in by watching Eddie as he drives. His fingers following the guitar licks of his music on the steering wheel, his hair shifting when he rocks his head forward. The way he glances at you when he turns, catches you staring and grins to himself every time.

"You know, I didn’t really have you down as someone who’d be into paaarties,” he says, eyes wide with his mocking tone. He glances at you again, at your worn out state, and half closes an eye. “And I gotta say, you don't seem like you were having a good time."

You think about that for a minute, wondering how best to explain your complicated relationship with social events. “I like dancing with my friends,” you start with a shrug. “And getting ready.” You lean your head back. “It’s like the only time the three of us are together anymore.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, glancing over at you. “Why’s that?”

Why is that? You’ve wondered it yourself. It felt like, suddenly, though maybe it happened very slowly without you realising, whatever delicate thread held you together started to strain as you moved in different directions. Or, as they did; leaving you lonely in the place you used to share. Waiting for them to visit, when it suits them.

They changed. You stayed the same.

Only, you must have changed a little. You replay that last moment with Heather tonight in your head, wondering if you’ve ever shown her your hurt, your anger. Six months ago, you doubt you’d even have left at all. It’s more likely that you would have stayed, wishing to be anywhere else, until they wanted to leave.

Eddie looks over at you following your long silence, adopts the soft, encouraging smile he gives you to show you he’ll wait for your answer, regardless of the reasons it’s taking you so long to find it. You get an inkling, then, of why you’ve changed, if only a little.

“We’re all just…different than we were,” you say finally.

“People change, I guess,” Eddie nods. “For better or worse.”

You think you might be better.

Exhaustion takes over when you cross the comforting threshold into Eddie’s home; the familiar smell and warmth of it sending a message across your body that you can relax now. You clean your teeth with the brush Eddie presented you with the first time you stayed over, scrub at your face with warm water until all that’s left are panda eyes you don’t have the fortitude to deal with. When Eddie takes his turn in the bathroom, you search through the little drawer he’d cleaned out for you to find soft cotton pyjamas that have your eyes drifting the second you have them on.

When Eddie returns, you’re standing in the middle of the room fiddling with your hands, still a little worried about the assumption of getting into his bed when he’s not there.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he says, holding the covers open for you and tucking them over your shoulder when you’re settled on the good pillow, the one he insists you take every time. You watch, heart sore, as Eddie removes every one of his rings, counting the little metallic clanks as he drops them on the table. Then goes his bracelet, his watch and his wallet chain. You stare shamelessly as he pulls his shirt over his head, soft hair following the collar up, up, up, and dropping down again in a curly mass around his pale shoulders as the fabric pulls away. You hear the distinct clink of his belt, curl your knees up at the heat the sound sends through your core. Eddie wiggles his hips a little as he pulls his jeans down, stepping out of them ungracefully, kicking them off his heels. He stands before you in his blue plaid boxers, all pale tattooed skin.

“You’ve been staring at me all evenin’,” he says, approaching you, dropping down in a squat so his face is right by yours.

You can’t argue, but find yourself fiddling with the duvet, pulling it up to your cheek and half hiding in it to mumble into the polyester. “I like looking at you.”

“Yeah? Well, looking’s free. Usually touching would cost you,” he says, reaching out with a finger to pull the cover down from your face and leaning in like he’s sharing a secret. “But, uh, just between you and I, sweet thing, you can touch for free, too.” Your toes curl, glancing quickly at Eddie’s pink mouth, watching his lips tilt. “Need some of my services just now?”

“Yeah,”

He hums, his big hand capturing your cheek to tilt your face to his. Eddie’s kisses are gentle and warm. You taste dried toothpaste on his lips, the lasting smoke in his breath from that final cigarette. Then, when your kisses have turned too sleepy to last, just soft presses to his bottom lip, he climbs into the other side of the bed and reaches out for you, fingers wiggling. You tuck yourself into his side, and fall asleep quick.

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You drift to waking, gently pulled from sleep by sunshine peeking through cheap blinds and the distant sound of a barking dog. You are comfortably cozy under the sheets. Even having shifted to either side of the bed in the night, no longer tangled, you can feel the heat of Eddie at your back.

You half snooze for a long time, eyes drifting open to take in the contents of the room. The amps and the Corroded Coffin wall hanging, a closet slightly more full than the first time you were here, a floor still messy but less littered with piles of half clean half dirty laundry. Eddie’s acoustic guitar, his writing overtop in white, THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS.

You close your eyes again. The next time they open, the room is brighter. Turning ungracefully, you come face to face with Eddie, and huff a soft laugh through your nose. Eddie’s hair in the morning is a beast, pressed to either side of his face from his tossing against the pillow. Some locks frizzed to the point of dullness, some still set in loose curls; both types tossed over the front of his face. Reaching out, you tuck each lock back until you can see him properly, every pretty feature of his face.

You consider trying to wake him, but find yourself simply shuffling closer, tucking yourself into him, nose at his neck. Eddie hums, one arm coming up instinctively to settle over your half asleep body.

You finally jump awake to the sound of the front door falling closed in a swinging slam. Eddie blinks opposite you, fully registering the noise and your presence together. He hums, closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath through his nose and opens his mouth wide to yawn so loud he might as well have screamed.

“Coffee, boy!?” Wayne calls as Eddie stretches and cracks his pale limbs. He glances at you in question.

You chew the inside of your lip. “Should he know I’m here?”

Eddie takes this in for a second, then smiles. “I mean, he’s about to, either way.”

Regret at not having asked Eddie to set an alarm rids all the warm cosiness of the scene. Your face feels hot already at the thought of facing Wayne on a Saturday morning having clearly slept in this bed. “He’ll- he’ll think we-”

Recognition dawns on Eddie’s face, and he shakes his head quickly. “He won’t think anything, sweetheart,” he tells you, leaning in till he’s put himself in your eyeline. Eddie’s expression is earnest until it shifts into an amused smile. “I’ll even tell him you slept on the floor to preserve my innocence. Score you some points with the old man.”

Eddie’s sleepy laughter has some of the tightness in your chest abating. The sight of his eyes crinkling at the sides, dimples digging into his cheeks, is a treat you don’t usually get so early.

“What time is it?” You ask, realising it may not be early at all if Wayne’s back. Eddie grabs his watch from the bedside table, blinks away residual blurriness.

“Nine thirty.”

Later than you’ve slept since school started back up, yet even now, the thought of curling back up in Eddie’s arms and snoozing for a little longer is an attractive prospect you’re seriously considering.

“I heard your caterwaul of a yawn, boy! How many coffee’s am I making!?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. You nod. He calls back. “Three! If you can count that high!”

The sounds of clinking mugs and sizzling oil mix with Eddie’s soft grunts as he gets himself dressed, jumping up and down to pull his jeans over his feet and searching through the closet for a t-shirt adorned with three angels, all smoking.

He takes you in when he’s put his rings on, no doubt almost as messy haired as him, watching him from his bed. Brown eyes bright, Eddie leans in to give you a soft kiss.

“Morning, sweet thing,” he says. His hand cups your cheek, letting you press into his wide palm. “Take your time, mm? I’ll assure Wayne my innocence remains intact.”

Your nose scrunches at his teasing, even as you turn to press a quick kiss to the centre of his hand. Eddie rubs a thumb under your eye, then shuffles out his door. Immediately, the noise of clinking plates is smothered by the exchange of familiar jabs and teases between the uncle and nephew.

The days you’ve spent here have made you realise how special their relationship is. Not something less than father and son, but in fact something more. Wayne looks upon Eddie with the exasperated fondness of a dad, but reserves the true judgement they can be prone to. No passive aggressive comments about Eddie’s track record at school, nor questions about the way he dresses, despite the bookmarked King James bible that sits on the coffee table. He’s ruffled Eddie’s hair kindly every time he’s been here while you were doing homework, hung his latest C- graded test up on the fridge. Eddie told you Wayne bought him that acoustic guitar when he was thirteen, saved up for months to take him to a real music shop in Indianapolis and let him pick one out.

You can see, even, the parts of Wayne that have filtered straight down to Eddie. Their humour overlaps, the way they can banter back and forth with each other, never crossing the line into hurt. Though, where Eddie can’t help but grin at a good joke, Wayne remains deadpan through every jibe.

Wayne, when he gets talking, can spin a yarn the same way Eddie can. Stories about his nights at the factory, his old job driving trucks across the country, his youth, told not in a long ramble, but structured perfectly to have you on the edge of your seat.

You know now that Eddie’s kindness, the way he treats you, was a gift from Wayne. His genuine interest in your life, your plans. His continual, earnest offer of food from his fridge every time he sees you. When your mom made a lasagne for you to take in thanks for all the evenings you’ve spent here, Wayne didn’t send the dish with Eddie to school, but drove to your house with it cleaned to a shine to hand it back and thank her personally. Soon after, Eddie let it slip that the daisies he brought you for your first date were bought at Wayne’s insistence.

You’d wondered, that day at the lake, how a boy treated like Eddie is treated could be so bright and kind.

Wayne was the answer.

So you should be braver, emerging from Eddie’s room in that big hoodie of his he’d been lending you on and off and shorts you’d left here the last time you stayed over, no doubt still sporting panda eyes from last night. But you find yourself making use of the long sleeves, fidgeting with your fingers against the fabric.

Eddie’s in the midst of getting his wrist thwacked with a spatula for attempting to steal a streak of bacon as Wayne transferred them from pan to plate. Gasping, he holds his hand in the air and lets his wrist fall limp. “I- I can’t feel my fingers!”

Wayne silently watches Eddie flop his hand back and forth, only a slight crinkle at his eyes suggesting he finds anything his nephew is doing at all amusing. When he catches sight of you, his gaze barely flickers from your messy hair to Eddie’s hoodie. “Mornin’,” he says, turning his back to a still howling Eddie to shake the pan. “Eggs? Bacon?”

The temptation to refuse, to be polite and pretend you don’t want anything from him prickles at the back of your mind. Only, experience has taught you he’ll only plate you up something anyway. There for you if you change your mind, something both he and Eddie say frequently.

“Please,” you nod.

“You gonna set the table, Eddie?”

“How can I?” Eddie cries, wrapping his other hand around the injured arm and holding it up as if the ailment has moved all the way to his elbow. “With this!?”

Wanting to make yourself useful, you venture into the cutlery drawer yourself, giggling as Eddie shakes his limp hand at you, before pulling up the fold out table at the other side of the kitchen. “You’re on coffee duty then, Ed.”

Eddie gives up the routine at the prospect of picking out mugs, his eyes shining. It’s an activity he seems to enjoy deeply; shuffling over to the expansive collection and perusing them like he doesn’t already know exactly who’s getting what.

Eddie likes to give Wayne a novelty Garfield mug, something about the quiet, serious man drinking from the head of the large orange cat tickling him. For himself, a black mug with THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE printed in white letters around a cartoon duck. For a while, he has been trying out different mugs for you, showing the best of Wayne’s extensive collection. But he’s settled on a white NASA mug Wayne picked up on a trip to Houston. “For my smart girl,” he’d said the first time he handed it to you, expression all fondness and pride.

Eating together is becoming familiar to you now. Wayne has picked up on your tendency to keep quiet the same way Eddie did, sometimes asking you questions but generally letting you decide when you want to speak without much prying.

“You two got plans?” He asks, glancing briefly at you then turning to Eddie when you look unsure.

“Uh, nothing solid,” Eddie says, focused on the construction of an increasingly complex breakfast sandwich. “But I was thinking about heading to Greenfield to pick up an album. I had loan of Accept’s newest record from Jeff before he remembered I had it.” His tongue peeks out at his concentration, topping the egg, bacon, hashbrown and tomato with a final piece of toast. “Didn’t think three months was too long to keep it. I mean, what’s an album between friends?”

You watch in near fascination as he manages to keep it all in tact through a large bite. He chews slowly, and swallows. “I’d welcome a road trip buddy if you’d be so inclined, Princess.”

Your face warms at the name used in front of Wayne, but you nod.

“There’s a good bookshop, too,” he says, clearly holding himself back from taking another significant bite. “S’where I got my copy of Orpheus.” He must see something, excitement probably, move across your face, because next Eddie is flashing a pleased smile. “Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

When you’re all finished, dishes washed by you at your gentle insistence, face scrubbed further with luke warm water from the tap and hair finger combed through, you leave a yawning Wayne to his fold out.

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The shop, located two towns over from Hawkins, smells like the music room at your first school. The memory hits you as soon as you walk through the door; standing in three lines and belting out an off tune Amazing Grace with another thirty kids. Playing with claves and tambourines. Eddie seems in his element here, directing you through display shelves of pop and country records around a corner to the back where his kind of music is kept. “Course, some albums I just use the cassette,” he tells you, rifling through a couple of records. You look around the section yourself, counting up the albums you recognise from Eddie’s desk, his glove compartment. “But when I love an album I kinda have to get it on vinyl, you know?”

You don’t, not really. You have your own pile of albums in your room, all plastic rectangles ready for your cassette player or your walkman. Your dad has a collection of country records, your Mom some Joni Mitchell, the Crosby, Stills and Nash records she played constantly when you were a child. Before Eddie started asking you to pick out albums you thought looked good in his room, you hadn’t touched a vinyl since your aunt asked you to put on the White Christmas over the holidays.

Eddie senses your confusion, and shrugs. “I mean, I wanna see the album art for real,” he tells you, finding one as an example. “Not quite as effective at four by three inches, right?” You recognise it immediately as Holy Diver. Eddie has a shirt with this cover on it; a demon standing over a priest splashing in water. He was wearing it that day in the woods, when you ran right up and kissed him. He takes the record from you when you nod, placing it back carefully.

“And there’s albums a stereo just can’t do justice to. They’re useful when I wanna skip songs. But hearing it from start to finish? At the highest quality? It just needs a record. Ah-” He finds the album he came here for and shows you. A blue background, with a chrome, blocky heart shape filled with valves and pumps. "Metal Heart," Eddie explains. "Latest, and best, album by Accept. They're this German heavy metal band? The lead guitarist, Wolf Hoffman?” He sighs wistfully, looking off into the distance. “Man, what I'd do if I got him in a room alone.”

You make an awful snorting sound when you laugh, have to ignore the delight on Eddie’s face lest you burn up entirely. "So,” you start. “Heavy metal is different from regular metal, or is it just another term for it?”

Eddie's face lights up at the question, putting on a refined accent. "Heavy metal, young lady, is a type of metal that encompasses many genres,” he explains, bringing a hand up to add to the role. “For example, one could say all thrash metal is heavy metal, but only a simple fool, would seek to claim that all heavy metal is thrash metal. Do you follow?” His character falls apart at your giggle. “I said metal too many times, huh? Note taken. You wanna listen?"

At your nod, Eddie walks you back round to the front towards a row of glass booths housing record players and headphones. You watch his hands move carefully, treating the record with the same care he uses to hold your hand. When it's in place, he dons the headphones and places the needle, nodding his head until it reaches the start of the particular song he wants you to hear. His hair fans out a little as he removes them, making to place them over your ears until you flinch and he jerks them back.

“A little loud,”

“Ah, shit, sorry,” he says, turning a knob on the record player. “I forgot. Princess ears.” He replaces the headphones, eyebrows raising in question. The volume more manageable now, you nod happily, listening to pulsing guitars build in intensity, joined by thrashing drums and eventually the telltale screeching voice that immediately transports you into Eddie’s room, the soundtrack of his life.

Eddie’s eyes are all soft excitement, shining at you, watching for your reactions.

If you had to make a list of all the things to like about Eddie, his passion would surely sit near the top. The way he fizzes all over to talk about music, and Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Rings. The way he’s desperate to share his interests with you. Not out of expectation for you to feel exactly the same about any of it, and certainly not with any assumptions that you should understand it already. Just to share, to let you in, to show himself to you.

You wish you were more like him, that way. That you weren’t more comfortable hiding, keeping bits of yourself under lock and key lest their exposure leave the most delicate parts of you open to attack. You try to imagine Eddie using anything like that against you. You remember him leaning across the table to you on your first date, listening to you ramble about wyverns and etymology while your feet tapped your anxiety out onto the floor. He’d thanked you for sharing. Very metal, he’d said.

Three minutes in, and you realise Eddie’s been playing the whole song in his head, because he brings his hands up to follow the chords playing in your ears with an imaginary guitar, hair shaking as he throws his head back and forth. Then he flashes his smile, soft cheeks displaying his dimples and smile lines.

You can’t help it.

You step forward until your feet are patterned with his. You reach out for his sleeve, playing with the chains keeping the left connected across his wrist. Eddie’s still watching you when you tilt your chin, leaning towards him to press your lips to his. Anxiety prickles along your spine, but you know that nobody can see you. Even better, you know that Eddie is between you and the door, hiding you from the world. With the distinctive chains of his jacket in your fingers, his music sounding through your headphones, his lips on yours; everything around you is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Safe, safe, safe.

He pulls away with a huff of breath against your lips, giving you a series of chaste pecks like he isn’t quite ready to stop kissing you entirely despite protesting lungs. Your face burns, but it’s worth it for the way Eddie is staring at you when you finally open your eyes.

“What was that for?” He mouths, gaze flicking to your lips and back to your eyes.

You bring your foot up, pressing the top of it to the back of your ankle and sliding it up and down your calf. A braver version of you would say what every part of you is screaming. Instead you shrug, still fiddling with his sleeve. Eddie tilts his head, clearly unsatisfied, but doesn't press you.

"I like this," you tell him as it finishes, removing the headphones.

"Well, that settles it," he answers, sliding the record from the player back into its sleeve. "You're coming home with me."

You watch Eddie navigate the shop like it's a second home. He stops off at the cassettes, rifling through for anything new, anything he might not have heard before. He grabs a couple blank tapes too, looks at you to the side with pink cheeks. "In case I wanna make any more mixtapes."

At the desk, Eddie places everything down carefully while you wait at the empty till. After a good thirty seconds, you start playing with the rings on Eddie's left hand while his other raps against the wooden desk. "Uh, hello? Anybody- ah, shit."

"Munson," says the bespeckled boy who emerges from the back room.

Eddie’s fingers twitch, and you cease your fidgeting to look up at him, find his face pulled taught. "Oh, hi. I, uh, didn't think you worked on Saturdays anymore."

"Switched to the weekend shift," he answers, stony faced. "That gonna be a problem for you? Surely you’re not still in highschool?"

Eddie frowns, hand twitching again as he sighs. "Listen, man, I'm not looking to argue-"

"Don't know why else you'd show your face. You know your money's no good to me."

Eddie slumps, all the easy happiness pulled from him. He hasn’t looked at you once, and your heart aches.

"I'm buying these," you declare, searching through your bag for your purse. Tissues, no, lipgloss, no, mixtape, no.

They both turn to you. The boy behind the desk takes you in finally, his nose wrinkling. "Oh yeah? You a metal fan?"

"Mm hmm,” you say, voice higher than you’d like.

"Okay, name three Metallica albums."

You glance at Eddie, find him rolling his eyes until you ask. “But Metallica only has two albums, right?"

Eddie’s immediate smile is warmth inducing, causes you to shuffle with shy pride. You thrust out the money in your hand, start gathering up the items again to place in your shopping bag while Eddie grins in the face of the scowling man.

"Whatever,” he says finally. “I don't wanna see you around here again, Munson."

Eddie gives him a little salute, then grabs the bag from you and takes your hand to leave.

"Jesus," he breathes as soon as the bell announcing the doors closure sounds. "You can't talk like that, sweet thing. We're in public. You’ve-" He scratches at the back of his neck. “You’ve really been listening to me talk about it all the time, huh?”

You frown. “Of course, Eddie. I like it,” you answer, tugging his hand to start the walk back to the van. “Who was that?"

Eddie’s smile drops. "Uh, Peter? We actually, kinda used to be friends. I introduced him to all his favourite bands back in the day, you know? Then suddenly he’s the gatekeeper of metal- I mean it’s a fucking joke.” He opens the side door, placing your bag behind the front seat. “S'how I met Gareth, really. Poor kid couldn't name two Dio albums so he gets insulted buying the latest one, what the hell is that? We all have to start somewhere. I mean, when I met that guy he was a U2 fan. Anyway-” he continues, closing the door. “I told him he was being a dick and he got all pissy about it."

You chew your lip. "He acts that way, because you called him a dick?"

Eddie blanches, his head falling back with a quick groan. "Okay, I wanna add a disclaimer that I was sixteen and dumb," he starts. "And he really was being a dick, acting like- like all those guys metalheads are supposed to hate in the first place, and-"

"And?"

"And I hit him. Real gentle. With my fist."

"Eddie,"

"Sweet thing, even you woulda decked him if you'd been there. I swear. And, I just can't fucking stand that shit, you know?"

You do know. Eddie is all gentle touch and soft smiles around you, but something changes in him when he’s witness to injustice. He'd had to miss a date just last week because he had detention, brought about by standing over a sophomore who'd dared to mess with one of the freshmen in Eddie's club. "You make one vague threat about human sacrifice and suddenly everyone's got an opinion on what constitutes bullying," he'd complained later. "If teachers aren’t gonna teach that kid not to be a cunt, why shouldn't I scare it out of him?"

You've heard him call the whole group his little sheep, laughing like he doesn't kind of mean it. Like he doesn't think of them as weird kids he'd gathered together in something of a herd, a pack. Like he doesn't think of himself as their shepherd, as their protector.

"Point is," he says now. "He's the one in the wrong, I swear. Shit. I can't believe he works weekends now."

"Well, I can go in for you."

"Yeah? You can set him straight, my baby metalhead. Fuck- didn't even say thank you. Was too busy trying to pretend I wasn't half fucking hard-" You make a soft noise and Eddie blinks, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry. How much was it again?"

You press a toe to the top of your other shoe shyly. "Can't I buy you them?"

"Huh?"

"Like a gift?"

Eddie’s face twists. You thought he was just being a gentleman, when he’d paid sneakily on your first date. You know now that’s only part of it. He likes driving you places but won’t accept gas money, likes making you dinner at his home but won’t let you pay for groceries when you tag along on errands. The only thing he doesn’t get twitchy about is your baking, but that’s because you’re there eating them too. You think this might further influence from Wayne; a certain pride, a refusal to accept anything monetary from you.

"But, sweet thing-"

"Please, Eddie?"

He watches you, conflicting emotions passing along his expression. "Okay. But you’re picking out a book. A real fancy one. I wanna see leather binding yeah? And one of those little ribbons attached, okay?"

Your toes curl, nodding happily. "Okay."

You feel more at home as you walk through a glass door to the smell of old paper and ink.

Joan Baez croons from the record player in the corner. The woman at the register nods as you enter but offers no other greeting. Eddie follows after you when you make a beeline to the poetry section; full of battered, well loved books with cracked spines and fading covers.

You send Eddie a shy look, spine prickling from being watched in what feels like a solitary activity. You rub your thumb at a dusty shelf, wondering how to tell him, when he leans in a little. "Hey, you’ve been taking all my music recommendations. Anything for me to read?”

“Oh,” you say, mind lighting up before dimming at the thought of being too pushy, or recommending something he might hate. “I don’t know.”

“C’mon,” he says, leaning in more until he's all you can see, tilting his head until you’re looking into his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

You chew the inside of your lip. “Mm. Maybe- Have you ever read The Metamorphosis?”

Eddie leans back, shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Can’t say I have.”

“I think,” you consider it again. “I think you’d like it. It’s about, well- A man turns into…an insect.” You simmer over the fact you want to share, let yourself believe that Eddie will be as willing as always to hear it. “It was written in German, and the word for what he turns into literally translates to, like, an animal you can’t sacrifice. Like, vermin?” Eddie’s watching you round off this information in a rush, smiling a little. “Kafka, the writer, didn’t want the actual animal to be specific. But sometimes it’s mistranslated and people say he turns into a beetle, or…or a cockroach,” you trail off, cringing at the sound of yourself. “I’m not selling it very well.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he answers. “Sounds suitably weird. Kafka, you said? I’ll get searching.”

Eddie disappears round the corner, leaving you to comfortable contemplation of the poetry selection. Rilke's entire works, some Wilde, some Shelley. You search for something new and land on a name you've never heard. Drawing it from the shelf, you peer at the cover, a silhouette of a bridge bathed in orange, with the Selected Poems by Marina Tsvetaeva printed above.

You read a couple of the shorter poems, struck by her voice, her imagery. Turning to a random page, see the original Russian on one side, the English translation on the other. The title, asking the question, Where Does Such Tenderness Come From? Your heart pangs in recognition of her feelings as you read, the best part of poetry always finding yourself reflected back at you.

You and your eyelashes - she writes. Longer than anyone’s, as if she knows about the eyes you wish you had the confidence to stare into without respite.

“Found anything?”

You jump, closing the book quickly as if you’d been reading something illicit. Eddie gives you a quick up and down look, keeping his distance until your shoulders drop their tension. “Yes,” you say, turning the book so he can see the cover. “I’d never even heard of her but I like her already.”

“Enough to kick poor Rainer off the top spot?”

You feel that strange warmth that comes with being known, the little reminder of things that Eddie has learned and remembered about you. “Not quite, but I’ll still give her a chance.” You glance down at the book in Eddie’s hands, glad to see he’s grabbed your recommendation. “You like it?”

“Seems weird as fuck,” he confirms matter of factly. “So it’s almost like I’m contractually obliged to read it, you know?”

He pulls the new book gently from your hands, retrieving his chained wallet from his back pocket. "My turn," he says with an unusual seriousness. “You want any others?”

You shake your head, lean up to give him a soft kiss on the cheek, surrounded and sheltered as you are by shelves and books. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“Nah,” he says, face a soft pink.

Later, when Eddie has followed you perusing shop windows, and you are full up on drive through fries, eaten in the front of Eddie’s van as you listened to his story of negotiating $20 of payment between his entire band for their nights playing at the Hideout, Eddie drives you back, glancing over at you every so often like he wants to say something, but turning his head back to the road every time instead.

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You feel relaxed, content, sitting comfy on the couch outside of Eddie’s trailer. He popped his head in earlier and found Wayne still sleeping, so you settled here to read in companionable silence. You, discovering more of Marina’s voice, drifting back again and again to the one poem that makes your chest full.

Eddie lies with his head resting on your lap, flicking through the short novella. You play with his hair throughout, curling locks around your fingers and stroking his fringe back from his forehead. Occasionally, you glance down at him, taking in his furrowed brow and eyes shining wet at a couple moments.

“Well, that was fucked up!” Eddie cries, snapping the book shut and somehow managing to whisper a yell. “He just dies? And they don’t care?”

You close your book to focus on him, resting it next to you. You let your fingers tangle into his hair, scratching softly. Eddie, even in his indignation, tilts his head towards the satisfying feeling like a cat. “Mm. That’s the point. He was living his life for his family, but they didn’t really care about him.”

“Yeah, but there’s not caring about someone and there’s hurtling fruit at them,” he reasons. “That Kafka guy had issues, I can’t be the only one who’s noticed.”

You crack a shy smile. “I think he’s brilliant.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie’s dimples tease you. “You’re a freak.”

Your stomach flips at the affection in his voice, fingers stilling in his hair for a second before resuming their gentle caress.

It hits you then, watching Eddie's pretty face, that you’re going to be alone with him again through the night, without interruption, and your throat lumps. As if he realises at the same time, Eddie sits up, hair still at angles from your exploring hands. His mouth opens, then closes again, his eyes flicking from your face to your hands where you’ve started fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

Forcing yourself to take on his example, you ask, “what are you thinking, Eddie?”

“Big question,” he says. “But uh, I guess, I never thought…I never thought sex was that important, you know? Hell, I lost my virginity in the bathrooms at the Emerson Theatre.” His eyes scrunch closed as soon as he says it, like he regrets letting that particular detail slip right now. When one opens, and finds you smiling at him encouragingly, he sighs with his whole body. “And, I hope you know that it wouldn’t matter to me if you had been with somebody else,” he continues, eyes wide. “Like, at all. But at the same time, I’m happy I’m first, you know? Cause I know I can look after you. I can give you what you deserve. Which, again, technically should be a big fancy bed and linen sheets, but some people have absolutely no patience, so-”

“Eddie,” you groan. But it has no bite. You’re already smiling at him, grabbing at his palm to play with his fingers, heart full.

He clears his throat. “So yeah, that’s what I’m thinking about. Also seeing you naked, obviously. But that takes up a good 30% of my brain pretty much all the time so it’s not entirely relevant here.”

“You’re so annoying,” you laugh, watching him clutch his chest in mock hurt.

“I just bared my soul to you!” He cries, watching your giggles incredulously. “Do’st thou mock me? Have you no heart, woman?”

You bury the rest of your laughter in his neck, feeling a kind of dizzy happiness that makes it hard to stop. Eddie’s chest shaking under your cheek tells you that he’s as affected, a hand coming up to stroke at your hair as the mirth fades. Turning to look at where your hands have started up playing with his fingers again, you think about what you want to say.

“Eddie,” you whisper, pulling from his neck, looking between his eyes and his forehead as you search for the bravery he has in spades, the ease to tell him that it always had to be him.

Only, the front door of the trailer opens, revealing a sleepy looking, shirtless, Wayne.

“Oh, Jesus, have some decorum, man!” Eddie yells, covering your eyes with his hand.

“Evenin’, Eddie,” he says, followed by your own name. You wave, blinking to Eddie’s palm. “Get everything you wanted?”

“Yup, sweet girl bought me my very own Metal Heart,” he grins, tapping the album where it sits at his side on the couch as you wrestle his arm away. “Sleep well?”

“As good as I can.” He answers earnestly. “Just makin’ coffee then I’ll hit the road. You want anything?”

"I want you to put some clothes on!"

“No, thank you,” you answer over him, shaking your head and leaning into Eddie’s arm. When Wayne's gone, you glance up, find those soft eyes, those long dark eyelashes. Longer than anyone's.

"What are you thinking?"

You answer honestly. "That you're gonna look after me."

"I will," he nods, sounding almost stern. "As long as you want me to."

You wish it was easy to say, but all you can do is think it.

Always, always, always.

Wayne leaves with a gruff goodbye, a reminder to Eddie that there's left over pasta in the refrigerator. You remember the first time you were here at the same time as Wayne, the almost desperate rush to get into Eddie's room the second he was gone.

Now, you and Eddie stay, settled into one another for a long while after, until the sun has moved from high overhead to just behind the trees in front, turning the scene to a silhouette backlit with orange light. Eddie disappears, comes back with bowls of that pasta. You talk about school, and Eddie's band. He explains more about thrash metal, you tell him your new favourite German word you’d learned only yesterday. When the orange fades to blue-black, Eddie looks over at you.

"Ready?"

You wonder what it means, that despite the increasing thrum of your heart in your chest, you don't even have to think about it. "Yes."

He holds your hand all the way to his room, guiding you through like you don't know how to find his bed at the end. When the door is closed, sheltering you from the world outside, you wrap your arms tight around him, give yourself the comfort of hiding in his collar, feeling the slow rise and fall from his breath.

Eddie hums, his hand coming to that space at the back of your neck that eases everything in your body that you’re used to holding tight. “How you feeling, honey?”

“Good,” you mumble. Then, wondering if he can feel the heavy beat of your heart. “Nervous.”

“Okay,” he says, fingers stroking and squeezing at your tender skin. “What are you nervous about? Anything we can fix?”

You let that thought sit. You are still learning how much Eddie means it when he says things like that. Still practising the belief that Eddie wants you to share your worries, carry some of the burden for you. The responsibility of trying to shed the weight, the disappointment of knowing some of it just has to be carried.

You’re resigned to telling him, but finding the exact reason for the nerves twisting your stomach takes its own time. With anyone else, you’d be worried about pain, about what happens if you have to stop. These concerns float away on their own at the feeling of Eddie’s hand stroking at you, his lips pressing kisses at your temple. Then you land on it, and press your face deeper against the softness of his shirt.

“I don’t know, I guess- What should I do?” You ask, voice small. “So it’s good for you, too.”

You feel his sigh from the rise in his chest, the shake of his head from the brush of his hair against your cheek.

“Will you look at me?” He asks, waiting for you to tilt your head to find him. “You want the truth?” You nod, chin still tight to his shirt. Eddie’s eyes narrow a touch, leaning down conspiratorially. “It will feel good for me,” he starts, his free hand rubbing at your waist. “If we can get your pussy all soft, first.” A surprised throb between your legs has you clenching down on nothing, close to whimpering at the gentle roughness of Eddie’s voice. “All soft, and wet enough that I can just slide in, fill you up easy. Making you cum on my cock, sweet thing. That’s what’ll feel good, for me.” Eddie gives you a wolfish grin as he starts walking you backwards towards his bed, raising his eyebrows in question. “Think we can do that?”

It’s easy, then. “Yes, Eddie.”

“Mm, my good girl,” he says, holding you with the backs of your knees pressed to the side of his mattress, his nose at your temple. “Can I kiss you?”

Even easier. “Yes, Eddie.”

His lips press soft across your cheek and down to your mouth, warm and waiting for him. He's gentle with you, none of the fierceness you've felt in Eddie's kisses more recently. Like he's restraining himself, learning how you like to be touched in the lead up to something new. Your hands find his shoulders, soft cotton of his shirt, and rub at the fabric. His tongue flicks subtly against your bottom lip, but you're already desperate to taste him for real, letting him press deeper without any more prompting.

You feel it at the sound of his laugh, the sudden curve of his lips, the huff of air from his nose against your cheek. The addictive high of showing Eddie how shameless he makes you, the knowledge that he sees you as you are. Not a wallflower here, or a naïve girl. Not an ingénue, to be taken advantage of, or protected from corruption.

With Eddie, you can be as you are. Inexperienced and desperate in equal measure, as nervous as you are sure.

"Fuck," Eddie breathes, pulling away only to blink down at you for a couple seconds before he captures your mouth again, tongue pressing to yours, hot and wet. You whine slowly, rising in volume, your fingers clasping at him. "S'alright," he soothes, giving you another press to your pout. His hand rubs at the back of your neck, encouraging you to lean your head into his support, give him space to leave plush kisses down the side of your throat.

"Eddie," you whisper, softer than you'd expected. Not a moan, or even a plea for more. Just to say it, to feel the shape of his name in your mouth again.

"So sweet," Eddie says, voice a wonderful vibration against your sensitive neck. "Sweetest girl I've ever seen- fuck. Can I?" His hands tug at the hem of your sweater and you nod desperately, helping him pull it off over your head. His lips return to your skin the second the material is on the floor, a wet press down to the softness of your chest. You feel his smile, his excited breath. He sucks, pulls at your flesh until it aches and you squirm. “Mm,” he sighs. “Can’t help it. Wanna mark you up-”

Gentle hands peel your bra from your chest, the tenderness vanishing with his tongue finding the pert bud of your nipple, treating the sensitive peak to wet warmth and friction that has your toes curling. The quick scrape of teeth makes you bat at Eddie's shoulder even as your body tilts to follow his mouth when it retreats.

He gives the other similar treatment, groaning when your fingers drift upwards to tug at his hair. Another little squeak at the graze of his teeth and he’s pulling away to look at you. Your heart jumps at the sight of him, hair mussed from burying himself into your skin, face a light pink, lips wet and kissed dark. The way his eyes flick about you, you’re sure you must be in a similar state.

Eddie’s throat bobs. “Wanna sit up on the bed, there?”

You nod, letting him help you up to the mattress and stand between your swinging legs.

“Need to go over something else, before we really get started,” he tells you, walking you back to sit on the bed, legs swinging off the side. Eddie drops to his knees to take your ankle in hand and pull at your laces. He sets your sneakers to the side, pings your socks over after them. He presses tickling kisses up your calves, eyes all bright when you laugh and kick at him slightly.

Once he’s back at your height, his hands move to your waistband, thumbing at the button of your shorts. “You know that any time you wanna stop, you just say, okay? I mean it, sweet thing.” He pops the button, pulls at the zip. When his hands smooth under the denim to your hips, helping pull them down, he continues. “Doesn’t matter when. Even if I’m making this face-” He scrunches his nose up and lets his tongue hang out in a gross approximation of his expression when he cums and you can’t help but cover your eyes at the image. “What, you don’t like it?”

“That’s not what you look like!”

“That’s right, you’re the expert now, huh? This better?” He asks, stretching his lips flat and crossing his eyes.

“Stoh-op!” You cry, somewhere between giggly and mortified. Eddie’s face settles back into its regular pretty softness, all shining amused eyes and laugh lines.

“That’s exactly what you say to me if you want me to, mm? Or slow down or anything else you want, okay?”

“Yes, Eddie,” you murmur, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. “Will you,” you swallow, playing with the neckline of his shirt. “Can you keep talking to me? While…”

“You say that like I'm gonna be able to stop talking. Hips up, sweetheart,” he says, helping you lie back so he can pull at your shorts. “Nah,” he breathes, hands disappearing to drag his shirt over his head. “You’ll be sick of my voice by tomorrow.”

Eddie helps you shuffle up the bed, your head falling easy to the good pillow.

“Never,” you tell him, arms opening to pull him in. He finds your mouth again, kisses a little more desperate, already a touch breathless. Your fingers brush at the back of his hair, soft curls between his shoulder blades.

Eddie’s hand dances over the soft skin of your stomach, pulling giggles from you when he hits ticklish spots. His fingers edge at the frilled waistband of your panties, waiting for your hips to tilt towards him to dip inside.

“Oh, honey,” he says with a gentle pout, fingers meeting the hot wet warmth between your legs. “Should’ve told me you were feelin’ desperate.”

Your thighs twitch at the first gentle circle around your clit. Eddie’s thick fingers, the roughness at their ends that catches the sensitive bud so perfectly with each little rub. Already your mind feels light with pleasure, body sinking into the bliss of being touched by Eddie. You’re caught between watching his hand where it disappears, the impression of his knuckles moving under blue cotton, and pulling up the courage to stare back at Eddie as he scans every twitch of your face. He grins at you when you manage to turn to him, licking his lips quickly. The little peek of his tongue, the memory of all the ways it makes you weak for him, has your legs kicking and twitching.

“Feels good, yeah?” He asks, eyes flickering to your lips as they open to let out a moan. “Want me to open this pussy up, sweet thing? Get you ready for me?”

You like that, enough that you nod desperately without thinking twice. “Yeah, want- please, Eddie?”

“Jesus,” he huffs a laugh, his fingers easing downwards only to drag slick from your pussy back up to your twitchy clit. “So fucking good, baby. Say please again?”

Your hips tilt up, chasing his hand though he makes no move to deprive you of it. Your whole body feels hot; from his words, his voice, as much as his touch. When you chance a look in Eddie’s eyes, all the warm brown has been swallowed up, leaving his gaze dark and intent on you. You curl your fingers into his shoulder, stare at the pick hanging from his necklace, swaying with the subtle movement of his torso following the pace of his arm. “Please, please, Eddie.”

You make a high noise of protest when his fingers pull away from your bud, shivers running up your spine at Eddie’s patronising coo, the jutting of his plush bottom lip. “Like I said, no patience. Isn’t that right, sweet thing?” He sighs, pushes at your thighs to catch a glimpse of the dark, sodden material between your legs. “Just gotta get these off you, give me space to work, hm?”

Eddie disappears from your side, moving down the bed to sit between your legs. His fingers hook quick into your waistband to pull your panties down your thighs.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, rubbing the wet cotton between his fingers. “Maybe you can be patient. You been wet all day, pretty?” You watch him lean over, hooking your panties over the headboard.

“Eddie,”

He only flashes you a grin, hand strokes at your thigh, fingers digging into the softness to push your leg back. You feel the sticky split of your cunt as it opens up for him, the wave of cool air against your heat.

“Fuck, look at her,” Eddie breathes, dropping down to his front. His wide eyes blink in near fascination, like it’s anything new to him, watching your cunt flex and shine. “You want two?”

You clench down at the thought. “Yeah.”

Eddie hums, nips at the skin of your leg as he drags his fingers through your slick. The first press inside is a good stretch, lacking the edge of pain that comes with three. They sink inside easily with a wet noise that would have you squirming away if you weren’t so fuzzy in the head, so desperate for the pleasure Eddie’s touch promises. The pads of his fingers find the spot at the end of you that he has mapped out, pussy fluttering around his fingers in protest every time they leave to press back in.

“Feels good?” Eddie asks, rubbing his face against your leg. You hum. “You want another?”

“Yeah,” you nod, craving more, wanting everything. “Yes, Eddie.”

“Mm. Open those legs just a little more, baby- yeah, good girl.”

Eddie gives you one final press of his lips to your thigh as he withdraws his fingers, stroking at you again to gather your slick across all three. You feel the blunt ends of his digits at your entrance, the first push and-

“Oh,” you whine, the familiar ache nothing compared to the euphoria of Eddie’s tongue coming to lap at your sensitive clit. Your hands fly down to his hair, clenching around soft curls as if there’s any possibility he might pull away. He groans, sending a pleasant thrum across your nerves. “Eddie, please.”

Your hips twitch when his fingers meet resistance half way deep, but Eddie stops his approach before you have time to register any discomfort. Clenching tight around his half buried fingers, Eddie lathes his tongue, wide and wet, from where his digits disappear inside to the top of your pussy. Your legs kick again, clit throbbing under his attention. He waits patiently for your body to relax into the pleasure, gently pulling his fingers back before pressing even deeper into your supplicating cunt.

“S’good, Eddie,” you whine, thighs pressing at the sides of his head without your wherewithal. All you know is you can feel him everywhere you need him most. His curls in your hands, tickling the sensitive insides of your legs. His tongue on your clit, gentle sucks that feel like kisses. His fingers filling you, stretching you and rubbing just right at the top wall of your cunt to send tingles along your spine. Ecstasy builds everywhere you can feel him, from a aching twitch between your legs to a wave that passes over your entire body.

Eddie’s name escapes you on repeat without shame. You hear him curse, feel the breath of it against your clit, as you squeeze tight around his fingers, pulsing with each peak of the high.

You finally slump into the mattress again, boneless and tingly. You ignore the wet sound produced by Eddie’s hand leaving your pussy, focusing on how he grins at you as he crawls up your body to settle over you, eyes crinkled at the sides with his satisfaction.

“Jesus, you’re so hot,” he laughs, leaning down to plant a breathless kiss to your lips. “Thought your thighs weren’t ever gonna let me up. Started planning a life down there, you know?”

You giggle, but can’t think of anything clever to say back, caught up in the perfect view of Eddie above you. Pink and lightly freckled, lips dark, the entire bottom half of his face shining from looking after you until he drags your slick to his tongue with his thumb. His hair falls forward like a curtain around your faces, tickling your cheeks until you reach up to tuck it back. He leans absent mindedly towards your hand then, enjoying the warmth of your palm.

As you caress Eddie’s face, he gives you a gentle, wide eyed look. “You still wanna?” He asks, a little rushed. “Cause we can stop right here.”

“I want to,” you answer, just above a whisper, but sounding as sure as you ever have done. “If you do.”

“Yeah,” he nods, like he hasn’t quite registered the full meaning. Then, as if he’s taken it in, “yeah. Okay. Okay.”

Eddie climbs off the bed, leaning over his bedside table to search through the drawer, hands emerging with a box labelled TROJAN and a bottle of clear liquid. You watch him fumble a little with the box until it opens, and pull out a square wrapper that has your face feeling hot, as if the presence of condoms is any more illicit that how Eddie has been touching you already.

“Look away!” Eddie jokes when he finds your eyes on him as he pulls at his belt. “Gotta keep my modesty in tact.”

You jokingly cover your eyes, hearing his laughter along with the clink of his belt, his zip pulling open. The mattress dips with Eddie’s return, and you peek through your fingers at him before settling your hands at your sides. Your mind fizzes at the sight of Eddie naked, settled on his knees between your thighs. Your eyes trace all the ink that decorates his torso, the softness of his stomach. The patches of dark hair on his chest, between his legs. His cock is a dark pink, swollen enough that the tip kisses his stomach. Eddie drags a hand over it with a soft groan like he’s been tortured by the wait. If he registers your staring, he doesn’t point it out, focusing on tearing open the foil wrapper and pulling a clear condom down over his length with a sigh.

Your fingers pull at wrinkles in the sheets as Eddie squirts some clear gel from the bottle into his palm, dragging his hand over his cock again to spread it. “What- what’s that?”

“Oh, uh, lube?” Eddie says, throwing the bottle down on the mattress with a bounce. “Makes it easier to, like, move I guess.”

“But-” You’d press your knees together if Eddie weren’t settled between them. “I’m wet.”

Eddie’s eyes flash, lips quirking. “You are, huh?”

“Eddie,”

“Mm. I know, sweet thing. But a little extra never hurt, mm?”

“Okay,” you murmur.

“Okay,” he answers. “I think it’ll be easiest like this, probably?” He drags the spare pillow from his side, tapping your hips gently to place it under you, tilting your body up to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Eddie. S’good.”

“Okay,” he breathes, shuffling forward. With one hand, he strokes gently at your thigh. The other finds your pussy, his thumb playing with clit until you’re feeling pleasured and loose, settled back onto the bed with fluttering eyes. “Still want this, Princess?”

You stare at him, heart sore as you take in his open expression. You can see the evidence of how desperate he must be, how much he wants this. But he looks at you, and you know he meant it when he said you could stop at any time, that he isn’t expecting anything from you, even now.

This body of yours is used to freezing up, follows a routine of tensing and shaking at questions less serious than this. You breathe, swallow, force yourself to look him in the eye. “I want you, Eddie.”

He watches you, searching for your certainty. You smile, a nervous thing, but real, and he nods. “Okay,” he says. “I’m gonna go slow. If it hurts, you say, yeah? Or kick me in the balls - whatever’s easiest.”

You giggle, shaking your head at him, your body feeling loose and relaxed by the time you feel the tip of him catch at your entrance. You make a soft noise at the back of your throat, wanting to watch him but also wanting desperately to keep yourself relaxed and open. You close your eyes, feel the softness of Eddie’s sheets under your fingers.

“Sweet girl,” Eddie murmurs, still circling your clit as the tip of him sinks inside. You feel the aching stretch of him, the pleasant warmth of Eddie’s cock under rubber. He’s saying something, talking to you like he promised, but you’re focused on your breath, on fighting the urge to bear down on him.

He must be a couple inches deep when he stops and pulls back only to press forward again and you think, for a second, you will be able to lay back and take all the pleasure Eddie always gives you, but-

His thumb circles just perfect at your clit and your pussy flutters, the new tightness resisting the slow press of his cock. It’s a sudden, shocking hurt that has your hips flinching to another stab of pain. Before you can help it your body is tensing all over, a soft pained sound escaping your throat.

“Fuck,” Eddie says, voice rough, and that the squeeze of your pussy must feel good doesn’t even register. You can only think that he must be as frustrated with your body as you are. Not in control, but a witness to it falling back into routine, pulling taught even as Eddie starts hushing softly. The more you tense, the tighter you feel, the pleasant ache of him pushing inside quickly turning to a stinging stretch that has you clenching fists in the sheets, tears springing to your eyes.

Eddie pulls out from you, and your chest throbs.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, wanting to close your legs and hide away from him.

Eddie’s warmth doesn’t vanish as you fear. In fact it grows as he leans over you, an arm coming to circle your waist. You feel his free hand at your hair, stroking it back from your face. “Look at me, baby,” he murmurs, his breath a gentle caress against your cheek. “You’re in that head, mm? C’mon out.”

The tears that had been bubbling under your eyelids spring free when you open them, tracking down your cheeks as Eddie shakes his head. He wipes each of them away with his thumb until they stop coming. “Sweet thing,” he breathes. “It hurt, and you needed to stop. It’s okay.”

His thumb strokes over your cheek again and you lean into it, resting your palm at the back of his hand as you sigh. Your fingers weave with his, everything better now that you can touch him, now that you can’t run away into your head away from his voice, so close to you.

“Wanna get dressed? We can watch something, mm?”

You shake your head immediately, feeling determined. “Can we try again?”

“We don’t have to-”

“I want to, Eddie.” You assure, hoping he believes you. You rub your cheek into his palm again. “But, can we stay like this?”

There’s a pause as Eddie blinks at you, then his mouth turns up. “Wanna change tactics, huh, Princess?” You nod, watching as he pulls away briefly to help pull the pillow out from under your hips, his hands pressing at your thighs so he can settle properly between them. You whine softly at the feeling of him, still hard and pulsing, between your legs.

Eddie comes back to you with a kiss, lets you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, get your fingers pressed to his warm skin, playing with the ends of his hair.

“Forgot who I was dealing with, didn’t I?” He says, rolling his hips so the tip of his cock drags over your twitchy clit. Your toes curl, the ball of your foot stroking a little at the back of Eddie’s calf as your legs curl round him. “My girl needs to touch me all over, huh?”

Eddie grins down at you, wiggles his hips just to hear you gasp at the friction of your clit, feel the way your digits dig at him, your right hand rubbing at a lock of his hair. Tension pours from your body at the weight of him all over you, the chance to watch Eddie’s joy at touching you, the pleasure he feels in tandem with yours at every roll of his hips..

He kisses you again, then both your cheeks and your nose and chin, peppers them in quick succession across your neck to get you giggly and soft. When he emerges, you watch each other. Eddie’s gaze flicks about your face while you count down the checklist of your favourite features; dimples and quirked lips, wrinkles at the sides of his eyes and laugh lines.

“Again?” He asks, one hand moving from your thigh to grasp his cock between you. You nod, press your digits into Eddie’s shoulder as his tip opens you up.

“Good fucking girl,” he breathes through the first slow thrust, voice clear as day now he’s so close. “You’re so good, baby.”

Pleasant shivers run through you at the praise. When the stretch makes your body pull taught, your fingers press at Eddie’s skin, letting him feel your need to slow. When the sound of his shaking breath, the sight of his eyes fluttering at the tightness of your cunt around him, has you excited and pliant again, your fingers playing at the ends of his hair tell him that he can start moving once more. Eddie pulls back each time before pressing deeper, humming you through each new tender stretch until you feel the wiry hair above his cock tease your clit. Your hips tilt, chasing the delicious rub, and you feel Eddie’s cock twitch inside you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, face dropping into your neck to groan. “How’s it feel?”

Your cunt flutters at the strain in his voice. This time, rather than sending warnings across your body at an unpleasant sting, your pussy bearing down aggravates a dull throb. Like pushing on a sore tooth, it’s painful and addictive all at once, clenching down again for the satisfying feeling of Eddie’s cock twitching inside you, the sound of him groaning against your skin.

“Good, Eddie,” you say honestly, fingers stroking through his hair. “Will you- can you move?”

“Yeah- fuck,” he nods into your neck, laughing softly. “Just gimme onnnnne second. Jesus. ‘How do I make it good for you?’ She asks, with heaven between her legs.”

Your body shakes as both of you giggle together, cut off by another whimpering moan from Eddie. “Aw, shit, don’t laugh or I’m really gonna embarrass myself.”

He tilts his head to the side, looking at you with his chin at your collar. His hips pull back, relieving your pussy of the ache until he slides forward again, letting you feel full, the weight and warmth of him inside you. It’s different than his fingers, which map out the best spots and play with them. Eddie’s cock, thick and heavy, drags along all of them at once.

His face is so close by yours, watching desperately for every sign of pleasure, any hint of discomfort. You open your mouth to reassure him, but all that escapes is a soft, pleased sound that makes his hips stutter.

“Feels good?” Eddie gasps, nodding like he wants to encourage you to agree.

“Yeah, s’good,”

“Fuck,” he says. “You’re gonna want this all the time now, yeah? Need your pretty cunt full of me?”

Pleasant tingles of shame dart up your spine, and one of Eddie’s hands slips between your bodies to rub at your clit again.

“Yeah? Say it, sweet thing.” He groans, hips stuttering at a clench of your cunt around him.

“Like being full of you, Eddie,” you whine, fingers tightening in his hair. “Want it all the time.”

“Jesus- Christ, you’re so good,” he breathes, his fingers bullying your sodden clit. The ache of his cock falls away in comparison to the onslaught of stimulation there, leaving only the satisfying resistance to your cunt clenching down, the sweet fullness, the friction against your sensitive walls. “You’re so good, letting me hear you. Your pretty voice- fuck. Just for me. Think you can cum?”

“Uh huh,”

“Yeah? Like this? Just like this?”

You nod desperately, hips twitching towards him. Chasing the rub of his fingers, the feeling of being stretched full when he presses deep, the throb of his cock inside.

“You cumming, sweet thing?” He asks, as if he can’t see the flutter of your eyes, feel your body clasp around him. “Yeah? Holy-”

Your high is a gentle thing, compared to what you felt with Eddie’s fingers and tongue. A quick rise and fall focused at the top of your cunt that shifts quickly into the numbness of overstimulation. The lasting ache is too present for anything more, but it feels like a promise, a hint of how good it can be with Eddie, if you do this with him again.

You feel boneless and tired while he finds his pleasure, staring down at your warm, satisfied face as he groans. You can feel him inside, the twitch of his cock as he groans, the sudden warmth behind rubber.

His body half collapses on yours, sweat slick skin sticking together. You wrap yourself around him, foot stroking at his calf, hands scratching at the back of his scalp while he tries to catch his breath against your neck. You can feel the pound of his heart where your chests press together, know he must feel yours. When they slow in tandem, beating together, you find Eddie’s wide, soft eyes.

“That-” his voice cracks, his throat clears. “Was that okay?” When you nod, offering a tired smile, he strokes some of your hair back. “I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” He says, waiting for you to nod again.

You take a shaky breath as Eddie’s softening cock pulls from you, stealing all the soothing warmth inside and leaving you with a sensitive, fluttering pussy. You whimper softly at the tender feeling. “I know,” he breathes. “I know, sweet girl. Gimme one second.”

Shivers run up your spine when Eddie disappears briefly to deal with the condom, a little prickle of something unpleasant at your neck. You’re only starting to replay everything you just did and said that might be shameful, embarrassing, in your head when he returns. Eddie wipes warm damp cloth between your legs. He smooths away the uncomfortable, cooling stickiness. Predictably, he tosses the cloth over his shoulder to fall back into bed and pull you into his chest. There, with his arms tight around you, his adoring gaze set on you, any shame your mind could convince you to feel falls away. Why would you dwell on it, when you can let yourself feel all the warmth Eddie brings?

You lie together for a few minutes, tracing Eddie’s tattoos. Over and over, you drag your pointer finger over the lines forming CORRODED COFFIN under his ribs, letters on Eddie’s skin.

“Thank you,” you murmur eventually, watching Eddie’s eyebrows pull together. You kiss his chest. “I’m glad it was you.”

“Yeah?” He asks, voice breaking a little at your immediate nod. “Well, uh, thank you for trusting me, sweetheart.”

You lie together until the sweat on your bodies is cool and sticky. When the first shiver runs up your body, Eddie helps you stand from the bed like he expects you to be walking like a new-born deer. You manage into the bathroom by yourself, emerge washed and clad in cosy pyjamas, his soft hoodie. Eddie takes his turn, and returns to bed with steamed warm pink skin and dripping hair that sprinkles droplets on your face when he shakes it out like a dog.

You drift asleep with Eddie’s breath at your ear, his fingers stroking steady at your waist.

You wake the next morning to that same sunlight through blinds, the same dog barking in the distance. If it weren’t for the new ache between your legs, you might have thought you’d dreamt the entire perfect day, woken up to find it was Saturday again.

You turn yourself over to Eddie’s side, find his long bare back, pale and dusted with freckles. In a second, you’ll curl yourself around him, wrap an arm over his torso so he can wake up feeling something like the way you feel when he holds you.

But now, your rapid pulse pounds in your ears. Even as he sleeps, your body won't allow you to say it, or even whisper it. Your throat closes up with the thought of too much, too soon.

But you ache to do something, to let the feeling out somehow. Caught between your throbbing heart and the worries that have kept you quiet your whole life, you shuffle forward, reach out, and draw eight letters, one after the other, on the soft skin of Eddie’s shoulder.

I L O V E Y O U

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

Next Part

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x shy!reader

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bubuslutty · 1 year

Text

Frankie loves his girl

pairing: Frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 843 words

tags: nsfw brain rot, p in v, male receiving, female receiving, size difference, stomach bulge, possessive frankie, obsessive frankie, he loves his girl very much, clothed sex, blowjobs, car sex, reader is mostly refered to as 'his girl' or pet names such as darling & angel, use of the words pussy and cock, Frank spits in her mouth heh & other nasty tags okay

warnings: under 18s pls dni, overuse of the word 'love', I wrote this on my phone so I'm sorry for any mistakes, English isn't my first language as well. also this is my first fic posted on tumblr. pls be nice :(

summary: Frank loves his girl very much. He loves her mind and heart, but also her cute ass and sweet pussy.

Frank's the type to live in a cottage, maybe in the woods, with his girl. He's the type of man that would wake up early, kiss his sleeping baby and go walk around the property, checking everything just to make sure nothing happened overnight.

Frank knows they're safe, he made sure of it, getting rid of anyone who'd hurt his girl and their peace.

But he still has to do it, his little daily morning walk, to ease his soul.

Yeah, he's protecting his girl, she's safe because of him, happy because of him, and that makes him unbelievably happy, knowing she can sleep as much as she can, without having to worry about a thing.

Oh, how much he loves his girl.

She's his girl. Even thinking about it gives him butterflies and a hard cock. She's his, and nothing has sounded so good before.

He loves her so so much. He loves her smart words, her creative mind and her heart.

He's so in love with how she speaks to him, how she isn't scared of teasing him, of playing with him and being a little bratty. She's so smart and fun and beautiful in every sense.

Frank loves her mouth, her plush lips and tongue, he loves that he gets to kiss her everyday, loves that he gets to spit in her mouth and watch her eyes get all glazed over.

Frank loves her hands, loves holding them and kissing them. He loves it when she gives him back scratches, when they're lounging on the couch. He loves her hands when they're wrapped around his hard cock. And Frank's big, he's big. And every time his angel has her hands around him, the size difference makes him breathless, makes him cum almost instantly.

He loves her soft skin, running his rough hands all over her soft body. Her breasts, stomach, back, ass, thighs, neck, everywhere. He's obsessed and starved every time he lays his eyes on her.

It's embarrassing really, how every time he looks at her, his body reminds him of the nights and days he spent between her legs, either dick, hand or face buried inside of her sweet pussy.

And she's so wet, always so wet for him. Her thighs sticky and her pussy dripping for him.

She doesn't even wear panties that much anymore when he's around. Sometimes it's thigh length summer dresses with cardigans, tight cropped shirts and short shorts that would expose the bottom of her ass when she stretches, barely decent enough to wear out in public.

All she wears is clothes that Frank can easily take off, slide his hands in to wander on her skin and grope her. And even if she wore something hard to take off, they both know he wouldn't hesitate to rip it off.

Fuck clothes, he wants to see his girl naked and pretty under him.

His girl is beautiful no matter what she wears or looks like. Frank loves her in anything and everything. But he does have preferences, after all, he's just a man.

He likes her in just one of his t-shirts, with absolutely nothing underneath. He loves her wrapped in his coat, wearing a stupidly tight t-shirt and shorts underneath. He likes seeing his girl show off her body for him. Especially when nobody else is around to look at what is his.

He loves fucking her while she's wearing one of those stupid tight white t-shirts she likes to wear, the cropped ones, that leave her stomach naked, with no bra underneath. Her sweat, and his sweat would make the fabric obscenely see through, making her nipples visible. And if he's feeling in a certain mood, he might just cum on her chest, over her t-shirt and on the lower half of her face while his girl is crying and cock drunk.

Frank loves shoving his hands in her shorts, through one of the leg holes, groping her ass and squeezing. You see, he's a possessive fucker and he likes to touch, a lot.

He loves feeling her shake and throb, clench and shiver. He likes to see her beg for his cock and try to swallow him while being all messy on his lap, his balls wet from her saliva. He loves it when she grinds her sweet little ass against his crotch, smiling coyly up at him. He loves folding her while he fucks her to the point of passing out, so hard that he'd be able to see her tummy bulge from the size of his cock.

He loves having her on his lap, in his truck, holding onto the hat he placed on her head while riding him, moaning and babbling nonsense while his cock is splitting her in half. Shorts thrown at the back and panties held in one of his hands.

Frank loves his girl and her sweet pussy very much. And he'd kill anyone with his bare hands if they try to take her away from him <3

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sarah-yyy · 2 months

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Sarah jie jie, In Blossom rec or no?

this is a real tough question to answer hooooo boy where do i start??

i mean, for starters, the premise of the show is actually really fun, and i like it a lot so far!! let's talk a little about this:

(spoilers for the first 2 eps in its entirety which covers the background/setup of the story)

this is yang caiwei. her dad was a minister who was framed for one thing or another, demoted, and subsequently murdered. she was disfigured in the process, and ended up in the city of heyang where she grew up to be a corpse bearer training under a coroner.

yang caiwei has been betrothed since she was a little girl to:

pan yue. this boy is the son of a concubine so his relationship with his dad is very meh. when yang caiwei's family got into trouble, pan yue's dad quickly cut off all ties with them. this led to yang caiwei being turned away at the door p harshly when she came to pan yue for help. pan yue himself though has loved her since he was a boy, and has been looking for her for 10 years!!

ANYWAY these two find each other. he wants to marry her. ofc he does!! she's his 白月光, and he wants to love and protect her!! he's disowned his family so that he can do this, he is ALL IN BABY. he's only found her again for all of 10 minutes and he's already planning their wedding in his head lbr.

she is calm and composed and v sensible because of the way she had to grow up. this whole thing seems too good to be true, and also she might be harbouring some ~feelings over the way he just cut her out of his life when she needed him the most. the yang caiwei she is now just wants to live her life as normal.

the chemistry is 😘 at this point, and i am so invested in their relationship. at this stage, i was still thinking she was the second female lead and was like. huh. this is going to be one of those shows where i'd ship these two more than the official couple i guess??

anyway enter:

shangguan zhi. sister of pan yue's best friend, who is obsessed with pan yue, putting it mildly. she also has this ~thing about her own physical appearance - essentially, she thinks she needs to look and act perfect to be worthy of pan yue's love. this involves a lot of witch doctors and v unhealthy dieting and scrolls on how to smile the perfect way and walk the perfect way. y'all get the gist.

shangguan zhi hears that pan yue is getting married (to someone ugly at that!!!) and loses her shit. she decides the way around this so she can be with her yue-gege forever is-

(you guessed it!!)

-body-swapping with yang caiwei, and pushing yang caiwei (and also the shaman who actually helped her with the swap) off a cliff so that nobody ever finds out.

to her credit, it actually works!! she swaps bodies with yang caiwei, and marries pan yue.

what she didn't account for was being murdered on her wedding day.

ANYWAY. the actual yang caiwei, now in shangguan zhi's body (😭), survives the fall from the cliff, rushes to the wedding with the intent on stopping the wedding and getting her goddamn body back, and reaches just in time to kinda sorta witness shangguan zhi's murder.

cue her thinking that it was pan yue who killed shangguan zhi (she knew the whole wedding thing was too good to be true) and pan yue thinking that shangguan zhi had something to do with yang caiwei's death (after all, she was obsessed with him and had a whole fit over him wanting to marry someone else).

everything about this premise was *chef's kiss*. give me a bucket of popcorn and some comfy pillows, i can watch this all day.

EXCEPT.

except my dudes shangguan zhi (and subsequently yang caiwei-in-shangguan-zhi's body, let's call her shangguan caiwei for now) is played by ju jingyi. 😞 zhhz played yang caiwei TOO WELL my friends, so that when jjy took over, shangguan caiwei felt like a whole different character. it's a bit difficult to reconcile yang caiwei and shangguan caiwei tbh, which made watching the third ep onwards a bit jarring, especially after zhhz set the character up so well.

it's not like......fatal to the show. i mean. i went in expecting nothing from jjy (rightfully i think 😑) and i wouldn't say i am disappointed by it just because i was prepared to be ehhhh about her going in. i'm still watching the show mainly because i like the plot and also, and this is a big factor that i truly cannot stress enough:

liu xueyi looks so good in this show hoooooo boy

look at this!!! is this a face i would suffer 30+ episodes of jjy for??? apparently it is!!

tl;dr: love lxy + like the plot + dislike jjy = still watching and will likely finish the show. is it a rec?? conservatively, i'd say soft yes??? i mean. a huge part of me watching this show is because i'm entertained by the shenanigans, 😍 over lxy, and daydreaming about an alternate universe of the show where we have zhhz instead of jjy as the female lead. it's not something to watch seriously though!!

#tv rec #in blossom #cdrama #sarah watches tv #tldr 真的是lxy在carry全场🥺

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thetomorrowshow · 1 year

Text

Joel thinks it’s stupid, really.

Once they figure it out.

Soulmates, Grian messages them all. I think it’s soulmates.

Which makes sense, with the random pains shooting through his legs that he feels on occasion. He’s sharing a life with someone—or, three lives—and they feel each others’ pain.

Which is dumb. Because Joel doesn’t need or want a soulmate, and he doesn’t care much for the idea of having to share his life with someone and make sure they’re safe. He’s not here to be babysitting another player.

That’s what he would be doing, he’s sure. Babysitting someone. Not that everyone would be, of course—there are some players that he knows instantly will be paired up, because if such a thing as real soulmates exist, they would be them. Grian and Scar. Scott and Jimmy. Bdubs and Etho.

No one for him.

No one for Joel because he’s always been a loner. For as long as he can remember he’s been on his own in these games—in the first one he had his cottage on the hill (so long ago that he can barely remember what it looked like, he can only remember it burning and the flames licking up at him and melting his skin and the smell of his hair and he has to put it out—), and in the games since, he’s been alone. Alliances that last little more than a week, here and there, and somehow he always ends up at Grian’s side at the end of things, but he’s never actually teamed up with anyone else.

He doesn’t want a soulmate. He doesn’t want another player going through his things, walking through his space, just being near him when he’s angry and needs time alone to cool off.

But there’s a morbid curiosity, he supposes. Because he can’t help but wonder who on earth the universe would think to pair him with.

So every person he sees, he socks in the arm (and if he hits a little harder than is considered friendly, he can blame it on adrenaline).

He actually witnesses a soulmate pair find each other before he finds his own.

And, strangely, it’s Bdubs and Impulse.

For a moment, he thinks that can’t be right—he can envision Bdubs with Etho, or Cleo, but not Impulse. And while Impulse is easygoing enough, Bdubs is a wildcard. Impulse’s sense of order is going to be completely upturned by Bdubs and his harebrained ideals.

Maybe. It’s not like Joel actually knows either of them very well.

And then they’re all mining together, and Etho trips.

And Joel feels his knees sting.

Joel doesn’t want to settle down anywhere, at all ever, but after a bunch of fooling around with Grian and Scar (soulmates, just as he’d predicted, of course), he starts. . . .

Not laying down roots. He really ought to get something started, just like everyone else, but that’s just it: everyone else has something started. Everyone else has planted crops and fenced in some animals and set out to get building blocks.

Prime opportunity for raiding some new farms, and to his surprise, Etho absolutely agrees.

For a moment, Joel can forget that they’re linked—he’s just hanging out with a group of friends, laughing at Jimmy, stealing a bit of wheat when nobody’s looking, the norm. Then Etho takes an absurd amount of damage—Joel definitely doesn’t fall back against the crafting table they’ve set up for making armor, definitely doesn’t gasp and clutch at his chest, like he can stop his heart from leaping out of it—and he’s rather rudely reminded that his life isn’t solely his own.

Oh, he hates this already.

Etho calls an apology, but Joel can’t see him through the woods—if they die here and it’s Etho’s fault, he’s never going to forgive him, soulbond or no—so he heads forward, only to find Etho panting beside an enderman in a boat.

“Tricky getting him to walk into it,” Etho says offhandedly, and this could be ender pearls for them if they play their cards right.

Ender pearls are perfect for quick escapes, and if they decide to go with Scar’s absolutely insane plan of trying to take over that outpost, he and Etho are going to need an escape.

He swings with his axe at the angry creature. Easy. Easy pearls, the thing stuck in the boat like a sitting duck.

And then he swings again.

And he hits the boat.

Within seconds, he’s dead.

It’s dark at spawn, and Joel can barely keep from crying in frustration. The enderman had been in the blummin’ boat! All he had to do was hit it a couple of times and they were set!

“I’m so sorry, Etho,” he says, and he hates it. He hates that he has to say that.

He’d been worried about having to babysit another player, keep his lives safe in their hands, but here he is, having stolen a person’s life from them.

He lost Etho their first life, smart Etho who would never mess up killing an enderman in a boat, and now he has to own up to it and live with it.

“I know I messed up first,” Etho says, his eyes crinkling a bit in a way that, combined with the flat tone of his voice, tells Joel he’s definitely frowning. “But I think you messed up way worse there.”

Joel’s familiar with anger—very familiar—but it feels foreign coming from Etho. He ducks his head, runs back through the darkness to wherever it was that they’d died. Something akin to shame is curdling in his stomach, and it’s his fault that they died and Etho’s being weird about it and not yelling, meaning he’s the type to go all cold and calm with anger.

They gather their things from Impulse and Bdubs, then mess around a bit with boats—and maybe he’s just hiding it really well, but Etho doesn’t seem angry, it’s the strangest thing and Joel almost dreads the moment they’re alone together—before joining Grian and Scar on that horribly stupid plan to take over the outpost. It fails, of course, but no one gets seriously hurt and they get to lure a bunch of Pillagers into Bdubs’s stupid little house that he’s building for Impulse.

They hop around for probably a week, never alone, just watching everyone else start on their bases, before they finally set down a couple of chests and furnaces and get to work.

And Etho . . . isn’t mad.

In fact, as Joel starts laying out the foundation for his—their base, Etho comes up beside him, silently surveying, hands in his pockets.

“I don’t blame you for us being Yellow, by the way,” he says casually, and Joel almost chokes on his own spit.

“Sorry, what?”

Etho shrugs. “It was going to happen to one of us at some point,” he says. “And in my eyes? Better you than me, ‘cuz now I get to tease you for it.”

Is that. . . .

Was that a joke?

Etho leaves, and Joel’s left alone with his thoughts and a bunch of wood planks.

He’d thought Etho was boring. He’s always been the quiet, redstone-y kind of guy that Joel can’t stand—not that there’s anything wrong with that! Joel just needs somebody fast-moving, on his level, ready to burn down a building without questions or hesitation.

It’s just one joke. Anyone can make a joke, that doesn’t mean anything about their personality or character. For instance, Joel makes jokes all the time, and he’s a total jerk.

Etho can’t be likable. Sure, he was fine to wander around with for the past couple of days, causing general chaos, but he’s a bore and likes redstone. He won’t be able to keep up with Joel.

But Etho hovers there while he works, occasionally giving little suggestions to the build, and after he wanders off for the afternoon, he comes back with his eyes crinkled over his mask and bragging about some wool farm he’d built.

He doesn’t need help to build this ship. He doesn’t need to depend on anyone to get wool. He especially doesn’t need to depend on Etho, all dry looks and gloating and frowns.

Joel works alone. He always has.

But his indifference to Etho isn’t making him leave, so Joel decides to do what he does best.

Be annoying.

“I’m his biggest fan,” Joel boasts to anyone who’ll listen. “You guys know I looove redstone. Just like Etho. He’s perfect.”

Grian gives Scar a look. Scar doesn’t notice.

“We’re very happy—we have a lovely ‘Relation’ship, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re the best pair on the server, actually.”

Scott gives Cleo a look. Cleo does notice.

“Etho’s probably the best at everything in the world. He’s so good at . . . redstone. And . . . all the stuff you do with it. That’s why we’re practically made for each other.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, you sound kind of. . . .” Jimmy trails off, glancing over at Tango for support.

“Like you’re compensating for something? Unhappy? Inadequate?” Tango suggests helpfully.

“A-absolutely untrue!” Joel sputters, then clears his throat and turns away, nose high. “I’m going to get back to working on me and Etho’s perfect ‘Relation’ship, thank you very much.”

“You’re short!” Jimmy calls as parting words. Joel ignores him.

In total opposition to what he’s been spending the past couple of days declaring, once he finishes the bedroom space of the ship, he places his bed and Etho’s bed on opposite sides of the room.

“You stay over there, and I stay over here, all right?” Joel says that night, pointing to their respective beds. “I’m not a cuddler. I don’t like people in my space.”

“But Joel, I thought you were my biggest fan!” Etho wheedles. There’s a glint in those crinkled eyes that tells Joel he’s heard the stuff Joel’s been saying.

Which is frustrating, and immediately takes all the fun out of it. He’d wanted Etho to be mad about his obnoxiousness, to refuse to speak to him, to mock him in return until their partnership inevitably dissolved.

But Etho—his eyes are crinkling, the way they did back when they first died and when he finished the wool farm and then later, when Joel showed him around the ship’s process and he silently nodded before walking off.

“It’s okay, Joel, I know you love me even if you need space,” Etho tells him now, mirth clear in his voice, and Joel realizes that maybe that look isn’t one of anger or disapproval, as he’d first thought. Maybe Etho is . . . smiling.

That’s not good.

It’s not good at all, because if Etho likes him, then Joel. . . .

Joel has to at least try to like him back, doesn’t he? It’s not like he’s the worst guy to be around, after all. He was actually a lot of fun in that first week, running around and stealing and bothering people together.

Maybe he was wrong.

As it turns out, when Joel decides he can like Etho, Etho becomes a whole lot more likable.

Etho’s brave—he goes out and enchants his stuff, and Impulse tells the story of them being chased by no less than three Wardens and Etho somehow surviving (Joel’s heart skips a beat in his chest at the most tense moments of the story, and Etho casually slugs his shoulder when he looks up to check his soulmate’s okay). He’s strong—not everyone can just run around the Deep Dark all day in full armor and live to tell the tale.

And he totally gets Joel’s sense of humor. He snorts at Joel’s contrived puns, mocks Martyn’s house relentlessly, finds Jimmy’s failures just as hilarious as they actually are.

Joel can’t remember, in recent memory, ever having someone like this. Someone he actually enjoys the company of, someone whom he appreciates and who appreciates him in turn. Someone to talk to, to listen to—and while Etho is a bit quiet, it’s not because he’s boring and isn’t thinking about anything. Joel thinks he just forgets to speak sometimes, and will gladly talk about anything if Joel asks him to.

Sure, he’s had friends. He’s always gotten along with Grian and Jimmy and, really, everyone on the server, when pressed. But none of them are Etho, exactly.

Which is bad. It’s bad because Joel is getting attached, he’s getting complacent, he’s getting happy—

That’s dangerous. This is a death game.

And maybe all that emotional-friend-love stuff works for the likes of Scott, but that’s just not Joel’s modus operandi. He can’t—he can’t be like that. He can’t get close.

“Redstoners and builders don’t work out together, you know,” he says to Etho early one morning. They’d both risen before the sun, for some reason (anxiety, perhaps, as more players become Yellow and fire proves to be a very useful tool) and had decided, without discussion, to sit in the crow’s nest, legs swinging in the air.

Etho hums quietly in that way that means he’s listening, the way he always does when Joel comes over to bother him. Patient, mellow, waiting to see where he’s going with it.

“Seriously, it never works,” Joel continues. “Their brains are too different. You’d think they’d work well, ‘cuz they cover different bases and all that, but it’s the opposite. They just butt heads all the time. It never works.”

“What about Bdubs and Impulse?”

Joel shrugs. “I mean, they both know a good amount of both, right? That’s different.”

There’s a smile to Etho’s voice when he speaks. “Tango and Jimmy?”

“Only if you’re calling Jimmy a builder,” Joel snorts. “In which case, you’re dead wrong.”

Etho makes a show of thinking—he props his chin up on his hand, taps his finger against his cheek. “Hm. You must be right. I can’t think of any other redstone-builder pairs.”

For some reason, something painful sinks through Joel’s stomach. He swallows it back, lets triumph color his tone. “Exactly. They’re too different.”

Etho drops his hand, lightly elbows Joel in the ribs. “Except for you and me, of course. We’re the exception.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry. He clears his throat. The pain vanishes, healed over with hope, surprise, a desperate need for attention filled—and he can’t even make himself disagree and argue, like he’d intended. Instead, all he can do is repeat it.

“We’re the exception.”

As he goes about his day, he barely even processes his actions—Etho thinks they work well together. Etho thinks they’re a match. Etho likes him, and his company, and his building skills, and his humor, and his bluntness, and everything about him.

And Joel’s really starting to think that he likes everything about Etho as well, as hard as he’d tried not to at the beginning.

They go down to the Deep Dark together the next day, and Joel’s trying very hard to ignore whatever his feelings may be on Etho. They can just—they can just be friends, right?

Friends who install proper stairs, of course. The way down takes forever.

“Creeper, behind you!”

Joel spins around, axe up, ready to defend—nothing. Etho huffs a little (again something now familiar that Joel had once taken to be a sign of disapproval), eyes crinkled almost all the way shut when Joel whips back around to him.

“Just kidding.”

“Oh, you cheeky devil—we need to trust each other,” Joel says, no real anger behind the way he shoves Etho lightly.

His palms seem to burn at the contact.

“I just need to make sure you’ll pay attention to me,” Etho says, and Joel has to wonder for a moment if he’ll ever have the problem of not paying attention to Etho again.

He doesn’t think he’s properly ignored his soulmate once all game, and in recent days, he can’t seem to pay attention to anything but Etho. He feels like he’s constantly thinking of him, wondering whether or not he’ll like the touches on the ship, wondering if he’s safe and who he’s with and if he’ll come home all right.

He hopes, a little enviously, perhaps, that Etho has similar worries.

“I am paying attention,” Joel says, and it’s perhaps the most honest thing he’s ever said, in all the games. “I always pay attention.”

When Etho responds, the mirth feels forced, and for a moment Joel feels almost as if he’s seeing Etho without his mask on. “You won’t ignore me in our ‘Relation’ship?”

“No, no, no. I never do.”

It’s true.

It’s so true, it hurts.

Joel—he doesn’t trust people. He can’t. And he’s sick of having to tell himself it again and again, but this just isn’t meant for him.

And then he forgets about it all, because they go into the Deep Dark and it’s bloody terrifying.

(Well, mostly forgets. Because he does walk behind Etho most of the way through the city and Etho—well. It’s a good angle for him, is all.)

That night, Joel lies in his bed on his side of the ship, and stares at the other side of the room. Etho’s sleeping—he hopes, at least—curled up on his side, a blanket pulled up over his head despite the summer heat.

Etho’s always cold, it’s practically his trademark. He’s always got that coat of his on, and gloves, and a mask.

He doesn’t wear the mask to sleep—Joel’s caught glimpses of his face while getting into bed, but he always looks away quickly—, but Joel has no clue if he wears the rest of his ensemble. Just the covers alone ought to be sweltering. Imagine a coat on top of all of that.

If they shared a bed, Etho would have to do away with that extra blanket. Joel could maybe tolerate a bedsheet, that’s it.

If they shared a—where did that thought come from?

But . . . well, Etho’s asleep. And thought isn’t a crime.

So Joel lies there, staring across the room at his soulmate, and wonders. Wonders about what it feels like to hold Etho in his arms, whether his elbows and knees are as bony as they look. Wonders if his hair is quite long enough to grasp between his fingers. Wonders if he’d still be all smooth words after Joel pulled down his mask, grabbed his jaw, and kissed him on the mouth.

Joel falls asleep a little red in the face, and the next morning when Etho does that silent crinkly-eyed laugh, he can’t help but stare and turn red all over again.

He pushes it out of his mind, and it’s through a feverish haze that he even gets through the week, even as they sneak around looking for sugarcane and messing with Scar and running from a Warden on the surface, of all places. He’s really quite occupied, but none of it quite computes when Etho’s right there, being devilishly handsome with that quirked eyebrow and white hair ruffled by the wind.

And the night after they’ve run from the Warden, Joel comes in a bit later than Etho—he’d been out gathering wheat a bit longer—to find that his soulmate has pushed their beds together.

His brain short-circuits as he blinks at the sight: Etho, one hand on the back of his neck sheepishly; the other still holding the blanket he’d been throwing across both beds.

“Is this all right?” Etho asks. Joel turns his blinking gaze toward him. “I just. I wouldn’t mind a bit of cuddling.”

There’s something in the way his eyebrows raise that tells Joel Etho knows exactly what he’s saying, exactly how Joel feels. The part of him that realizes that, that knows that Etho knows, wants to clap and holler and kiss that sexy man.

The rest of Joel, the main part of him, is trained to survive.

“Sure, whatever,” Joel shrugs, trying to affect an air of nonchalance. Etho can’t know. Etho can never know—and not that Etho can’t know just because he has a crush and it’s awkward, but because liking Etho is a weakness and Joel doesn’t have weaknesses, thank you very much.

And if Etho’s shoulders slump a bit at the response, Joel pretends he doesn’t notice.

And then the problem is, Etho doesn’t stop.

Joel makes it clear that he wants his space in bed, and Etho doesn’t encroach on that. But he does steal bites of Joel’s food, and sling an arm around his shoulder when they’re visiting the others, and boop his nose playfully when Joel starts to get angry at Grian for hoarding the sugarcane, and slowly look him up and down with a wink whenever he gets up for breakfast—

It’s maddening. It’s maddening, and every single night Joel lies there stiff as a board, inches away from Etho, trying to not let his thoughts wander to where they have so many times before.

He’s right there.

Every time Joel gets away on his own, he lets out a short, frustrated scream. And then he jumps off a hill that’s maybe a bit too high, if only to try and get Etho back for his teasing.

The fishing rods are possibly the stupidest thing they’ve ever done.

Not surprising, seeing as Grian’s at the head of this whole thing.

But Joel’s never been one for playing things safe, so he stabs the hook through the back of his shirt (he tugs on the line a few times, just to make sure it’s secure), then waits for Grian’s signal.

The first time is thrilling. The first time he flies up into the air, lands hard and laughs from the sheer adrenaline. Then he hooks Pearl, and Pearl hooks Etho, and they go up—

And Joel knows he’s in trouble for a split second before he’s dead on the ground.

He wakes up gasping, and there’s fire in his veins, there’s fire spreading all across his body and he wants—he needs to kill Pearl, needs her blood—

He rolls out of bed, scrambling for his chest and spare stuff, and then he hears someone else roll out of bed with a groan.

Joel turns, and Etho’s there, hungry fire in his eyes, and Joel needs him.

He practically tackles Etho, yanking down his mask—his lips are pink and soft and hot against Joel’s mouth, molten and perfect and everything he needs to stoke the burning inside—

Etho pushes him off (gently, somehow), and holds up a hand. Joel, somehow, manages to hold himself back. Etho’s—Etho’s right there—

Etho takes in a deep breath, and when he looks up, his eyes are crinkled in that perfect way and he’s smiling.

“Took you long enough,” he teases, and Joel lunges for him again.

Their next kiss is slower than that.

After they kill Pearl, and the pounding bloodlust in his head has quelled a bit, Joel leads the way back to the ship. He leans against the railing—and Etho leans next to him—and they kiss.

It’s lazy, Joel thinks he would say. But not lazy in the way he might be with a build—skipping details and panning over mistakes—, lazy in a comfortable, staying-in-bed-late kind of way.

He kisses Etho, lazy and lovely, warm in the evening sun. And he really, really doesn’t care if anyone’s watching.

Let them watch, he thinks, with an almost vicious pleasure. Etho’s mine.

That makes something deep in his chest silently purr, almost, and when he pulls away to breathe, he clears his throat in a contented kind of way (not a growl, not a purr, but the closest he can get without outright embarrassing himself). Etho perks up at the sound.

“I forgot to tell you, I figured out what that sound you make reminds me of,” he says, and even the excited way he speaks sounds lazy and perfect.

Joel clears his throat again—and yeah, he does do it a lot, come to think of it. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Etho sighs a little bit, tips his head onto Joel’s shoulder. “A tiger. Have you ever heard a tiger chuff?”

Joel laughs at that—his soulmate thinks he sounds like a tiger chuffing, and it’s the most stupidly adorable thing ever.

“Why are you laughing?” Etho asks playfully, nudging Joel. Joel doesn’t answer, just chuckles and clears his throat—or, chuffs like a tiger—and plants a kiss on Etho’s head.

“We could go threaten Scar,” Joel offers after a moment. His blood is starting to boil again, and he knows from lonely experience that only violence can scratch the itch.

Well. Probably only violence. He does notice that it’s a decent bit quieter when he’s aggressively kissing Etho.

Etho stands up straight—taller than Joel when he does that, which is blummin’ obnoxious of him—and slowly, gently, lazily kisses Joel. It’s warm and measured, his tongue teasing at Joel’s slightly parted lips, and it seems to Joel that he only pulls away when he’s memorized the feel of Joel’s lips.

“That sounds like a good date,” he murmurs.

Joel grins, and Etho grins back, his eyes all crinkled, and Joel takes off at a run to swing himself over the opposite railing and climb down the ladder.

Etho catches up moments later, mask fixed back on his face, and Joel pulls out his spyglass to check out where the residents of that giant cake-thing are.

They’re right beside it, as it turns out.

“Scar’s holding a flint n’ steel,” Joel warns, shoving his spyglass in his pocket. “He already took down the Ranch, we might want to be careful of that.”

Etho only scoffs. “If the ship burns, everything burns.”

Unsurprisingly, Joel finds he agrees with that—not that he can ever imagine disagreeing with Etho. He nods.

“If the ship burns, everything burns.”

And after everything burns, they burn too.

They’re dying, Joel had come through the portal to find lava and pain, and he screams for Etho to turn back but even if he had they’d still be dead—

He doesn’t even have the chance to glance back at his lover before he burns.

He drifts for a little while, the bitter disappointment of his loss somehow distant when compared to the loss of Etho. The next game will start eventually, and when it does, there’s no way of knowing that Etho will even be there. After all, it’s picked up new players and dropped others as time passed. Joel can’t even remember the original line-up, it’s shifted so much and so many times.

When he lands in the next game, he doesn’t even check his comm before punching apart a tree.

The gimmick isn’t soulmates again, he knows instantly. He’d grown so accustomed to the pull in his chest of Etho that it aches now to not feel him.

(Or maybe that’s just his heart. Same difference, really.)

So Joel tries to put Etho out of his mind and move on with his life. They were never meant to last, anyway. That’s the thing about redstoners and builders—they never work out.

He knew that. He knew they never work out, and he tried to do something with Etho, anyway.

It had been fun while it lasted, of course. It had been . . . perfect, even.

But Joel’s always been a loner, and now that he’s got that Green-life clarity, he can go back to it.

He takes down another tree and has a crafting table and some basic tools put together when someone clears their throat behind him.

Joel jumps, spins around—

Etho’s there, leaning lazily against a tree, and—his eyes are crinkled in that way—

“Miss me?” he teases, and Joel barely has time to drop his wooden pick before he’s storming over, pushing Etho against the tree, tearing his mask down—

The kiss is hard and messy, teeth clicking together and lips sliding apart, and when Joel pulls away to gasp in some air, Etho’s cheeks are flushed and lips bruised and he’s still got that blummin’ smile.

“Right,” Joel breathes.

“Wanna build us a house while I go mining?” Etho offers, and forget whatever loser thoughts Joel had been moping about with! He’s got Etho, there’s no need to be on his own anymore.

Maybe they can even win it, this time. After all, they’re together from the start here. No more acting like an idiot about wanting to be alone or whatever.

Joel watches Etho head off into a cave, stone pick hefted over his shoulder, and can’t help the way his heart skips a beat.

Etho’s his, and when everything burns, they burn together.

#double life smp #traffic smp #trafficblr #smalletho #THE SMALLETHO IS ROMANTIC!!#BEFORE YOU CONTINUE READING THEY MAKE OUT A LOT!#double life fanfic #mas writes #061323 #this will be uploaded to ao3 under the title 'when everything burns'#idk why but after a dlsmp rewatch i had a bad smalletho itch #dlsmp #again this was queued in december #so while i very much appreciate comments and will love you forever #i won't see em immediately #and also i'm not back yet from my break #but lmk what you think!#love you guys

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