#hem wilson

[chicoryblast-art]

Good ol' pen

#dont starve #don't starve #dont starve together #don't starve together #dst #dst wilson #wilson percival higgsbury #glommer #wilson p. higgsbury #eyeball #I hemmed a little about fixing some of it up digitally and said 'nah'

[thekylemeredith]

This wk on the Kyle Meredith With... podcast, I'm joined by Luke Hemmings (#5sos), Johan Renck (#spaceman), Chris Robinson of The Black Crowes, & Anna Camp!

91.9 WFPK (wk nights at 6p ET), my guests are Lisa Loeb, Aldis Hodge, Daryl Johnson, Slow Pulp, & Heart's Nancy Wilson!

Pic: We were in a parade 🍀

#lukehemmings #adamsandler #chrisrobinson #theblackcrowes #annacamp #pitchperfect #lisaloeb #AldisHodge #SlowPulp #heartband #nancywilson

#luke hemmings #5 seconds of summer #5sos #spaceman #adam sandler #johan renck #chris robinson #the black crowes #anna camp #pitch perfect #lisa loeb #aldis hodge #marmalade #slow pulp #heart band #nancy wilson

[hollywoodfamerp]

UNFOLLOW (5+ DAYS OF INACTIVITY: THE FOLLOWING HAVE BEEN REOPENED)

Jung Wooyoung ( @wooyvung ) *RECLAIMED WITHIN 24 HOURS

Luke Hemmings ( @lovelukehemmy ) *at player's request

Lainey Wilson ( @laineywilscn )

Sydney Sweeney ( @sydncysweency ) *at player's request

Rebecca Quin ( @bvckybalboa ) *RECLAIMED WITHIN 24 HOURS

Joe Anoa'i ( @tribclchiefjoe ) *RECLAIMED WITHIN 24 HOURS

Nick Jonas ( @nicholasjjonas92 )

WARNING (3 - 4 DAYS OF BEING INACTIVE/INCONSISTENT ACTIVITY)

Lee Felix ( @yvngboks )

Otto Wood ( @notottofromparx )

Chace Crawford ( @crawfordx )

Danielle Campbell ( @campbvllfm )

Lucy Hale ( @hale-raiser )

BUBBLE WARNING (DO NOT UNFOLLOW)

N/A

*Inconsistent activity, only answering memes, signing on the day before an activity check, reblogging/posting social media and photos do not count as activity. Bubble warning is for members who fall under what HFRP considers to be bubble rping. Further explanation of bubble rping is defined in our rules.

Those who have been unfollowed are more than welcome to return! You have 24 hours to message us via ask box POLITELY if you’d like to reclaim your character before it officially gets reopened. Don’t forget, if you feel like you need to step away - you can always ask for a hiatus!

#bubble check #activity check #hollywoodfameunfollow #jung wooyoung #luke hemmings #lainey wilson #sydney sweeney #rebecca quin #joe anoa'i #nick jonas #sam claflin #lee felix #otto wood #chace crawford #danielle campbell #lucy hale

[farragoofwires]

don' dweeblog

killing a darling and gnashing my teeth about it so, For Posterity and whatnot.

The first two days after the high-dose chemo, after he was finally free of the dripline, were fine. He’d known they would be. He went to work the next day feeling like he’d been through Hell but come out the other side, and the sun was still shining and the grass was still green out in the world above.

He and House had had to use their lunch break to infuse his own preserved bone marrow back into him, with a shot of filgrastim to help it along so he wouldn’t die of infection before his white count normalized. But he was stable, and hushed experimental medical procedures were par for the course for House.

Two days of reprieve. Then the long-term effects of untargeted chemotherapy started, and everything took another dive. The GI symptoms came back, and while he wasn’t carrying a bucket around anymore, it might’ve just been because he couldn’t stomach anything in the first place.

The fatigue and pain were worse. He’d had exactly enough energy to work, doped to the gills on single-agent oxycodone, modafinil, and caffeine to get him through the day. At 4 pm he went home, where he crashed, too exhausted and too in pain from coming off the opioids to do anything but lie there, exhausted and in pain.

A home care nurse would show up at some point every evening to help out. It was easy. He couldn’t even look at food, hadn’t moved enough to make a mess, barely needed the bathroom. He mostly slept, and when he didn’t he’d lose long periods of time, awake without even thinking, so he didn’t even bother them for conversation.

Then, every morning at 7:30, Wilson’s alarm would ring. He’d inject a GI cocktail, then space out or sleep until the alarm at eight. A glass of water to down his stimulants and half his day’s supply of pain meds, and he’d be in at nine after they’d kicked in enough to let him dress sluggishly and drive. At lunch, rather than eat, he did it all again.

After about a week, his pain had decreased enough that he could dose the oxy properly, spread out through the day like it was supposed to be, and still work. His fatigue continued to be awful, but he was at least awake during the evening without the high doses. He’d terminated the home care and let House start coming by again. With ‘round the clock ondansetron and fosaprepitant he even managed to keep some bland food in his system.

But it was awful, in the same way his patients had so often bemoaned: That the way he felt was entirely determined by the amount of time since his last dose, that his day had become so regimented, and mostly that his body was betraying him in a way he entirely understood and had been entirely incapable of preventing, that he'd had to take poison and blast himself with radiation for the slim chance that he could outlive the cancer.

#i did so little research for this. mostly i was just like 'wasn't there a thing. started with an m. there totally was what if i google.' #'wasn't there a thing. increases white counts.' #i miss scribing for hem/onc!!!!! :( get me out of family medicine!!!!! #f: house tag #anyway. have to kill it because it does literally nothing for no one except ME. have to COMPLAIN about how UNREALISTIC it is that wilson #was GOING TO WORK by making him take tons of meds to make it happen. i HATE the house md writers.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

crazy-mad for you

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, frenemies to lovers)  - Happy Hours series

Chicago, 1991. When you’re not pouring beers and shaking cocktails behind the bar of Jackie’s, you’re fighting flirting balancing banter and bite with the metalhead bouncer on your break.

A busy Friday night changes how you see Eddie Munson. Maybe you were wrong about the bouncer with his silver tongue and Bambi brown eyes...

This is 18+. If you’re not 18 please hit the back button and read something else.

Word count: 16.7 K

Contents/Warnings: Frenemies to lovers. Misogynistic comments; objectification, men being men. Some violence; Eddie gets in a fight. This is an 18+ fic. Smoking, alcohol consumption & drug use. Oral (reader receiving). P in V sex. Excessive use of pet names. Eddie & Reader are mid to late twenties. Reader is written as AFAB and uses female pronouns.

Author’s Note: One minute you’re daydreaming about cherry margaritas and Eddie Munson, and the next you’re writing 36 pages of how you fall in love with him... Just girly things? This is my first attempt at writing Eddie ❤️

I do hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it! Thank you @specialagentmonkey for beta reading / being my hype woman.

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not repost my work to other sites.

Dividers by me ✌️

The cold fizz of vodka soda lime prickles your throat with a pleasant burn. 

It’s August and it’s warm, too warm to be crammed in this little dive bar with too many bodies and not enough of them wearing antiperspirant. Way too warm to be working, slinging cheap drinks to the thirsty Friday night crowd crushed into Jackie’s. They can be stingy with their ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ but the tips are good at least (thanks to the pulled-low hem of your tank top showing just enough and the hug of denim on your hips). 

Jackie’s was a popular little dive you had visited during your first week in Chicago; a drink with your new roommate and some friends ended with you charming the owner Frank and promising to return for a trial shift the following evening. That was almost a year ago and you had settled in well, stepping up to be a supervisor after six months. 

Now, bone tired and wishing just a little bit that you worked a nine to five, you long for a cool shower and something fried and crispy and maybe cheesy (not particularly in that order). You’re here until close, two a.m last call followed by another hour of cleaning. Then you’re home free. Until tomorrow night anyway.

You tip back the last of your drink and crunch the ice between your teeth. Those last few minutes of your break are dwindling and soon you will haul yourself back, to fill beers and shake-up cocktails, all tits and teeth and aching feet. The music from the bar is loud as you perch on your stool at the back door, but you hear him over it hum-singing something way more Billboard Hot 100 than his usual taste. It makes your lips curve into a smirk, your head leaning back against the cool brick wall. 

“Don't you know, hmmhnn change. Things'll go your way. Hmmm hmm Hold On for -”

“Hey, hotshot.”

The small startle that shakes Eddie’s black-clothed body makes you laugh more than it should, particularly when he attempts to brush it off and play cool. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, I should’ve known you’d be here.” His voice is a groan, head tipped back with hammed-up exasperation. 

“Careful, Ed. They’ll revoke your metalhead licence if they hear you’re singing Wilson Phillips these days.” Your voice is a conspiratorial stage whisper as you cross your legs, stacking one over the other. His usual leather jacket has been swapped out for the hot summer nights, black denim over his usual tight black t-shirt and Dickies. 

He rolls and flicks his lighter to set the cigarette between his lips aflame as he meanders toward you. You can hear the crackle of burning tobacco as he takes a long drag, eyes never leaving you. “Not shaking your tits for tips, sugar?”

“Aw, been thinking about me while you’re asking cute girls what their star sign is?” you snark, missing the shadow of something that passes over Eddie’s face as your eyes roll. 

You switch your focus to the night sky above as Eddie comes to loom by you. The smoke swirls around him as he offers the cigarette out to you. Before taking it, you reach back and leave your empty glass on the sill behind you and swap a chilled bottle of Budweiser for the smoking cig. 

It’s not an olive branch, just part of your usual ritual; trading acidic barbs, mean words, shared smokes and free drinks whenever you’re scheduled on the same shifts (which is most nights). 

Eddie uses his keys to uncap the bottle and takes a long pull, head tipped back to show off his pale throat. A sliver of silver glints around his neck. The beer is almost half gone when he rips a truly boyish burp. Gross. 

You take a drag, sighing the smoke into the warm air. 

“What’s the sigh about, princess? Did someone not say please when they asked for their Cosmo? Your little apron tied too tight?” Eddie plucks at the wrap of black fabric around your waist. The way it hugs the curve and flair of your hips is certainly not lost on him.

You blow your second drag of smoke directly at him for that one. “Well if you could make sure we’re not packing the place out and breaching health and safety, that would be fuckin’ fantastic.” 

“Simmer down, princess. I’ve got it handled. You just pour your little drinks and wink at the boys and we’ll get through tonight just fine, ‘kay? Leave the crowd control to me.” Eddie tilts his head, dripping condescension like the total asshole he is. He’s way closer than you even realised and you can smell the spicy Fahrenheit behind the smoke. There’s heavy silence as you both glare at each other in the back alley.

The heat and hectic night make your banter especially snarky but Eddie’s the first to break, nudging you with a little smile. You barely catch his gaze dropping to your lips as you take another drag from his cigarette.

“No one giving you any trouble tonight?” he asks. 

“No more than usual. Just absolutely slammed in there. Just got done changing kegs again - they’re drinking us dry and it’s only Friday.” You roll your neck, sighing again when it cracks. 

“Tips good?” He seems almost genuine until his mean little smirk returns,  “Your tits are probably doing the real heavy liftin’ but..” 

“Listen dickh-”

Just as you’re about to cuss him out, there’s a burst of music and crowd noise as one of the other bartenders comes to find you. Michelle looks between you and Eddie before rolling her eyes. “C’mon, you’re really pushin’ that ten-minute break tonight. Sorry to break up whatever this was,” she flaps her hand between you and Eddie (who’s grinning like a wolf as he finishes his beer), “but we have a bachelorette party in line and it’s already crazy in there.” 

“Bachelorettes?” Eddie pushes off the wall and steals the smoke back from your fingers, “Sounds like I should probably get back to work. Ladies.” He winks before sauntering off, leaving you almost simmering with something like anger until Michelle scoffs and drags you back inside. 

“The sooner you two just bang and get it out of your system, the better,” Michelle tuts. 

“Ew. Pass.” You scoff and pause at the dingy mirror to fix your hair and pat the sweat away with a rip of trusty blue roll, scooping your breasts up in their cups and adjusting your top before scurrying after Michelle again. If you’re going to be busy, you may as well make it worthwhile and rake in the tips. 

The bar is louder than loud but you’re energised from your vodka soda and little sparring session with Eddie and easily fall back into step with the other bar staff, working together like a well-oiled machine - despite the annoying rusty hinge manning the door.  

Eddie rejoined the staff with his buddy Jeff in tow after they had spent some time on tour with their band. You had barely contained your eye rolls when the loud metalhead had waltzed into one of Frank’s staff meetings (conducted over pizza and pitchers of beers) unannounced and kicked his feet up on a table like he owned the place. Everyone was happy to see him (adding a round of shots to toast his glorious return) but you stayed wary of the flirty metalhead with a silver tongue and big brown Bambi eyes. Yeah, you felt warm all over when he looked you up and down and smiled like a wolf but you knew his type - total flirt, make a girl feel special and then move on to the next one. You didn’t move your entire life to a whole new state to get fucked over again, so you and Eddie settled into trading catty comments while you watch out for each other, allowing the occasional flirtation for balance. Getting under each other’s skin in whatever way seemed most annoying and fun? It worked, made the slow nights bearable, the busy ones more fun. Whatever it was. 

An hour later the small of your back is nearly soaked with perspiration. The bachelorettes are in full flight, meaning you have been pouring shots and mixing cocktails non-stop. They’re sweet at least, good with their excited ‘thank you!’s for all the fruity drinks you made them - cherry margaritas, blue lagoons and strawberry daiquiris going down an absolute treat. 

You’re shaking another batch of lemon drop shots for a girl's night group when you become hyper-aware of two yuppie finance bros with their gaze firmly fixed on your chest, trading little smirks and comments with each other behind their glasses. You’re overcome with an overwhelming sense of ick. 

It’s nothing new, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore sometimes - even when you’re up-the-walls busy and the kegs need to be changed. You refocus and fix your gaze on the glowing EXIT sign, thinking about how many more cocktails you will make before close. Your eye is caught instead by Eddie standing by the door, already looking at you while he’s supposed to be making sure none of the patrons are being too dickish. 

When your eyes meet he tilts his chin in a nod. Eddie smirks as he shimmies his chest at you, to which you mouth a very easily recognisable ‘FUCK YOU’ with a cheeky wink for good measure. 

He shakes his head and you pour the line of shots, earning yourself a nice big tip and a rake of compliments from the drunk girls who make you promise to do a shot with them later. Not a promise you can definitely keep, but their enthusiasm is a balm for your soul.

As they shuffle away to give each other pep talks in the bathroom (gosh, you love them), one of the men who had been eyeing you up steps into their place. You don’t miss the way he drags his eyes over their bodies before his snake-like stare is fixed on you. You have already made plenty on tips so you dial back the smile, giving him a barely polite brow raise in place of a ‘What’ll it be?’

“Two whiskeys, top shelf. Whatever’s expensive in this dump,” he says, speaking to your chest rather than your face. You can smell the sour of his breath across the counter. 

You square your jaw and suppress an eye roll that would surely render you sightless for the rest of your days. “If you don’t like it, the doors over there. Ice?”

He grunts affirmative and you pour the drinks from the barely touched bottle, slamming the glasses down just hard enough to startle him before you give him his total.

“There’s an extra fifty in it if you give me a smile,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar with the crisp note in hand. “You been given’ out a lot more for a lot less all night. One little smile for me?” The man nods to your cleavage, and you refuse to feel self-conscious. 

You can’t summon the effort to even fuck with him, come up with a comeback that his Neanderthal brain couldn’t possibly comprehend. You give him his total again along with your best deadpan glare. “You’re holding up the line. Pay up or am I going to need to cut you off, buddy?”

His face turns sour, acidic anger bubbling up. “You’re a hard little bitch, aren’t ya?”

You smirk at that, plucking the fifty from between his thin fingers to cash up before dropping his change back on the counter. “I am, thank you so much for noticing.” Your voice is nearly saccharine, and you play up the airhead facade for a moment before turning to the customer next to him. “Next please!”

His curses blend into the background as Michelle hip-checks you with a grin and wink, which you return while beginning to pour beers for your next order. If you let every slimeball get to you, you would have given up a long time ago. 

On such a busy night, it was easy to be distracted and forget all about him, but the sharp brown eyes standing by the door saw everything - and he wasn’t so forgiving. 

Almost another hour passes; another keg change, more cocktails to shake, another few visits from your favourite group of girls (who you take a shot of tequila with when they bat their lashes at you - you’re a sucker when it comes to girls who give you compliments and smell like vanilla).  

The crowd thins a bit and you take a turn collecting empties, happy to have an excuse to get out from behind the bar and stretch your legs again, even if it is to balance too many glasses on a too-small tray. The ever-changing obstacle course of the floor on a Friday night is one you’re well practised at, dodging stray elbows and dipping in between patrons to take their spent glasses from the sticky tables, maybe chat a little if it’s not too loud or busy. 

Paradise City is pouring through the speakers as your arms begin to protest the load they are carrying. You know your limit and pick up two more stacked pint glasses, catching Eddie’s eye as he bids goodnight to some regulars. His boot is already halfway out the door after them when you see his face change into something you can’t fully comprehend. Not because you can’t read him - you absolutely can - but your body is careening forward and down toward the floor before you can catch yourself. Your foot had caught on something that hadn’t been there before you met Eddie’s stare, sending you flying forward. 

There’s a thud, crash, smash as you hit the deck alongside every single glass you had expertly balanced. The sound feels huge, ringing in your ears and it’s like the air is sucked out of the room, your body is winded by the unexpected impact. The music cuts and everything hurts - part ego, part ‘that’ll bruise tomorrow’ pain. 

You wish for the sticky floor to just swallow you up as patrons form a little circle around you, crunching broken glass under their feet. A familiar pair of boots stops right by your head. Eddie. He crouches to kneel by you with one hand heavy on your shoulder and floods your already overwhelmed senses with his smoke and leather and spice. 

He says your name, edged with panic until you open your squeezed-shut eyes. You manage to push yourself up with a small wince, hauling yourself with his help to sit on a quickly-vacated low stool. His hands feel huge as they cup your face, you hadn’t noticed how long his lashes were (unfair) or the freckles dusted across his nose. 

“M’okay, Ed. Jus’ need a minute,” your murmur, head ducked to hide your hot cheeks and embarrassment. He stands and puts his arm around you, without thinking you rest your head against his hip but miss his slight intake of breath as your coworkers calm the crowd and start sweeping and gathering the glass, and thankfully turn the music back on. 

Eddie bends a little to speak to you, low and quiet, “Just sit there a sec, okay? ‘Chelle is going to bring you to the staff room.”  

You nod and take a few breaths before taking his hand to stand and be passed safely into Michelle’s care.

“I’ll be back to you in a sec. Don’t go gettin’ in any more trouble, ‘kay?” Eddie’s softness has an edge now, his eyes zeroing in on the man who had given you shit at the bar earlier. The one Eddie had been glaring at ever since; he had seen him stick his foot out to trip you. 

You’re just about to push through to the back hallway when you hear raised voices. Eddie’s voice is louder than the others. You turn and see him squaring up to the slimeball who asked you for a smile earlier, not looking as clever or slick now that Eddie’s up in his face.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Michelle murmurs, pausing behind you to watch. 

“I saw you fuckin’ trip her man. Get the fuck out.” Eddie is incensed. “Been givin’ her shit all night.”

Trip her? Oh. He means you.

“I wouldn’t touch’er. That bitch? Fuck off man, get out of my face.”

There’s a scuffle, another broken glass. More shouting before it really kicks off, fists swinging. Through the horrified crowd, you see knuckles connecting with Eddie’s pretty face. It hurts when you yell out his name, adding to the noise as Jeff rushes in to get the men under control. 

Eddie lands his own punch, rings slamming into the man's jaw, raising a collective ‘ooof’ from the gathered crowd. Despite the blood on his face and hands, Eddie manages to haul him out into the street with Jeff, some beefy regular marching the second man out by the scruff of his neck. 

“What the fuck…” you breathe, realising that you were holding on to Michelle’s arm way too tight. You apologise and she steers you back to the staff room in a daze of pain and confusion (more from the fight than your fall). The room is little more than a box with a wall of beat-up lockers, a sink and counter, a table with cracked Formica and creaky chairs and a squishy old two-seater. It’s cramped but it can be a haven on a busy night. 

As you ease yourself into the corner of the squishy sofa, Michelle pours you a big measure of whiskey for the shock. She kneels in front of you, looking you over for any cuts or scrapes from the glass, and checks your pupils for good measure. You’re just shaken up and feeling the impact of the fall. 

“You dizzy or anything?” she asks, squeezing your knee. “You’re gonna have a big fuckin’ bruise, babe. Remember when I spilled that pitcher, slipped and fell on my ass back before Christmas? Black and blue well into New Year.” She squeezes your knee and encourages you to take a sip of your drink. 

The whiskey burns but you barely feel it. 

“Why did Eddie hit that guy? Did.. did he trip me? The floor was clear, I just… I didn’t see... My foot caught something but..” Your voice shakes from the adrenaline, the shock of the last few minutes. 

She shrugs with a little smile. “I didn’t see either. You’ll need to ask Ed yourself.” A little frown etches between her brows. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t get pissed like that for no reason. He’s a good guy, babe. He looks out for everyone, staff and the drunks. He wouldn’t do that without a good reason. I know you get up each other’s ass but..-” 

As you take another sip, the door swings open. 

Eddie. Eddie with a bloody nose, lip swollen. Eddie with his jacket off, draped over his arm as he flexes his bloody knuckles around a bottle of Jack Daniels, a pint glass of ice in the other hand.

“Hey, you okay?”

His brown eyes are wide, but he’s trying to play cool despite the adrenaline coursing through him too. Eddie feels like his entire body is buzzing, not in a good way like when he plays a gig or when he gets you riled up at him, when you roll your eyes and give him that smirk - bad like when he used to get in fights in school, when a teacher would assume he was the troublemaker and send him to detention or the principal’s office. 

You look at Eddie and he looks right back at you. You can’t look away from each other. It’s like your fall and his punches caused something to shift; you can’t name it but it weighs on you, both of you. 

Michelle squeezes your hand. “I’ll leave you two to patch yourselves up. Be good.” A kiss is dropped to your head and she squeezes Eddie’s arm as she passes him by. 

It’s just you now. You and Eddie, both hurting. 

“Ed…”

He takes a long pull from the bottle of Jack and drops into the seat next to you. 

“Eddie, what the hell was that?” Your voice is quiet and your eyes shine when you look at him. He is a ball of frenetic energy, knee bouncing. You take in the black ink on his arms, see the veins and muscles twitch beneath. His nose and mouth are stained bloody, knuckles and rings too. 

He looks over you, sees how you’re holding yourself carefully after your fall. “He tripped you.” Eddie’s voice is quiet, not something you hear often. He’s loud and he’s brash, hear-him-before-you-see-him kinda guy. 

“Oh.”

“Oh? He’d been giving you shit all night, you could’ve called me. Or Jeff.” He sips the whiskey again and tops up your glass without another word.   

“Yeah, he was a creep. Nothing new there. If I come crying to you and Jeff every time someone gets fresh with me I’d never be behind the bar. People are assholes. I can handle myself, Ed.” 

“And how’d that go for you tonight? You could’ve been really fuckin’ hurt.” His eyes blaze, nostrils flare. 

Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?” 

“No. No, fuck,” he growls in frustration. “I know you can handle yourself. That’s why you’re fuckin’ great at your job. If I had just taken him out when he gave you shit at the bar then maybe -” 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie I don’t need you to save me or protect me! Shit happens! This was shit. It happened. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to... I want to..”

The air between you is charged and heavy. 

I want to. What does that mean? 

Eddie covers himself quickly. 

“It’s my job. I want to make sure you, everyone here, can do their job without some fuckin’ guy with halitosis making it worse for you, waving his cash in your face like that.” Eddie nudges you gently, “I just want to do somethin’ right. I like working with you, even when you’re a pain in my ass.” 

You scrunch your nose up, “Sap.” It’s easy to both fit back into your normal routine, ignoring the lingering something more that had just become quite clear to both of you. 

“I might like working with you too. Don’t let it get to your head, I’m not sure your ego needs to get any bigger, Munson.”

He smiles, but the throb of his nose makes him wince and swear.

Eddie has made no attempt to put that glass of ice to good use so you ease yourself up to grab two clean bar towels, tipping the ice into one before wrapping it up. You pass it back to him before filling the empty glass with water.

“Thanks, princess.” Eddie flexes his fingers as the ice soothes the burning with cool unpleasantness. 

You ease yourself back into your seat, facing Eddie now. “C’mere. Let me clean you up.” 

He pauses, looking at you from the side of his big brown eyes before turning to face you. “It’s not broken. Just a little blood. You should see the other guy..” Eddie grins when you roll your eyes. 

“My hero,” you deadpan, though you do kind of mean it. 

With the damp corner of the rag, you gently begin to wipe the blood from Eddie’s face, sitting closer than you have ever really been to him. It’s silent between you, the quietest you have ever seen him. He’s too busy watching you, your focused face and how seriously you are taking your task. 

“Very gentle,” he murmurs. 

“Mm, don’t try me, Munson.” You’re quiet again, concentrating on wiping the blood and not looking into his eyes. “Not your first bloody nose after a fight then?”

“M’nope. High school… Mosh pits. Few angry drunks. The usual.” He doesn’t mention his father’s temper, his first bloody nose from a beer-soaked backhand. The whiskey tastes sour in his mouth at the memory.

You lean back a bit, assessing your work before wetting another edge of the towel. Eddie crosses his eyes, looking down his nose. “Am I pretty again?” He gives an extra cheesy grin for emphasis, making you laugh. It makes his heart soar; that sound, how you duck your head. But he sees your pained wince, bringing him right back to earth. 

“Shit, sorry.” “It’s fine. I’ll live.”

You bring your hand back to his face and wipe the last of the blood-stained around his mouth, taking one last slow swipe over his too-plump-to-be-decent lower lip. That was more for you than for him, though the spark of fire in his eyes said otherwise; it was the same spark lit low in your belly since you had first laid eyes on him and started your incessant teasing of each other. 

“All done.” Your voice is just above a whisper, neither of you making any move backwards. 

“Thank you, nurse.” You can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. “Hey, can you... wear one of those little white dresses next time?” 

He’s grinning again when you shove at his shoulder to put some space between you, the skin beneath almost burning hot under your hand even through the black cotton of his t-shirt.

“No next time. You hear me? Your groupies will come for me if that pretty face gets all bashed up.” There’s that smirk of yours that sets the embers burning low in his stomach alight. 

He rolls his eyes at you, stealing your move. “You heading home?” he asked, watching you again as you drained the last of the whiskey in your glass. 

“Mm, soon. I’ll check if I can help close and clean, then I’ll go.” You lean your head against the back of the battered sofa and close your eyes briefly. You think you might just sleep here until your stomach growls like something from the seventh circle of hell.

Eddie’s big brown eyes shine with mirth, astounded at the inhuman noise that just came from your curled-up body. 

“Shut up. I’ll make cereal or something when I get home.”

“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”

“Who doesn’t like fries?” you peek one eye open to look at him.

“Let’s get some and I’ll make sure you get home safe.” Eddie checks his knuckles and swipes some of the blood from his rings, acting far more nonchalant than he felt. 

“You don’t need to.” Fries and a shake did sound amazing. Walking home while I felt like a human embodiment bruise? Not so much. 

“I know. But I’m going anyway, and you need to eat. So let me.” 

He pokes your arm as he speaks; you think fleetingly that you might let Eddie Munson do anything if he asked you nicely, spoke to you with that hushed husky voice. You think that you definitely must have hit your head when you start thinking about his eyes…

But he can’t know that, so you settle for an eye roll. “Ugh, fine.” 

With far too much energy, Eddie pushes himself up and empties the ice into the sink along with the red-tinged water. He potters around the little staff room, chucking rags into the bag for the laundry and rinsing glasses. You watch him, curious and a little confused until you realise you are staring and don’t want to be caught. 

You sit up and unlock your tiny locker, taking off and balling up your apron to throw in your bag, spraying deodorant under your arms before shutting and locking it again. Eddie’s got his jacket back on and you carry your own too-big denim jacket over your arm. You give him a nod, ready to go, and head out to the bar to check with Michelle that it’s okay for you to call it a night 

The crowd had thinned to a few stragglers who were almost ready to call it a night. Jeff has the door under control and the bar staff are already cleaning tables and glasses. You promise Michelle you will call her tomorrow, that you will stay in bed if you hurt too much, and accept her gentle hug after she passes you your tips for the night. 

“Get home safe. No more getting into trouble,” she says, eyeing you and Eddie together with interest (and some smugness). 

“No promises. See ya tomorrow ‘Chelle,” Eddie says with a wink before you both head out toward the black ‘86 Dodge Daytona parked a little down the street. It’s still humid and warm outside and you walk in silence until you see him unlock the nice car, opening the door for you. Your stomach flip-flops when he gives you a slight bow. He’s only being nice because you made an ass of yourself at work, you tell yourself. 

“Jesus, being a rockstar really pays off,” you tease and throw your bag into the passenger footwell before easing yourself in. “Or did you steal this?” 

You knew he had worked in a garage before moving to the city, and you force the thought of Eddie in a grease-marked tank top out of your head.

“Nah, my days of grand theft auto are long behind me.” Eddie winks and closes the door before rounding the shiny bonnet to sit in the driver’s seat. His keys jangle before he turns the ignition. 

The radio blares Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast so loud that you just about hear Eddie’s swearing over it until he gets the volume down. “Oops.”

“Dude, mind your fuckin’ ears. You’ll be deaf by thirty.” Your own ears are ringing after the onslaught of noise. 

“Huh?” He holds his hand up to his ear and smirks stupidly before revving the engine. 

You sink back into the low seat and shake your head; your own smile reflects at you in the window as he peels away from the curb. “You better not murder me, Munson. I’ll haunt the fuck out of you if you do.” 

“Once again babe, kidnap and human sacrifice are also long behind me.” 

He drives a little fast, but you don’t hate how you feel sitting in the passenger side of his car. He has a faded Black Ice Little Tree hanging from the rearview mirror alongside a skull keychain that cackles and glows red when you push a button on the back. The cramped back seat camouflages balled-up band shirts, a pair of beat-up Chucks, amp leads and guitar strings - a random accumulation that gives you a glimpse of who Eddie is outside of work. It’s easy for your mind to wander; Eddie, a back seat, what kind of girls he usually brings for a ride in his baby. Instead, you wonder about all you don’t know about the guy you spend a good part of your week with, the man currently driving you to get diner food at 2 a.m. after he punched a guy who was mean to you.

“Feelin’ okay?” he checks, flexing his knuckles on the steering wheel as he takes a left.

“Yeah.” You roll your head to look over at him. “Tell me something.”

Eddie glances across at you, brow raised under his bangs. “What?”

“Something, anything. A secret, a story. You always have something to say, so tell me something.” 

“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”

“Probably.”

“Shit okay. Um... Okay. I almost got kicked out of my high school graduation. My friends were disruptively loud, like obnoxious motherfuckers - love them to death. And I flipped the Principal off instead of shaking his sweaty little hand.”

It does make you laugh, just a little - more of a really amused smile. “That’s fuckin’ cool, Munson. Were they your little Dungeons and Dorks friends?”

“Rude.” He pauses. “Dragons. Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Nerd. You’re from where, like Ballsack, Indiana?”

“Close. Hawkins - just north of Ballsack actually.”

“Can’t say I know it. Home of the Metalheads or..?”

“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”

Your lower lip juts out just a little at the loaded confession.

“Your turn. One secret, please. Dirtier the better.”

“Perv.”

“Witch.”

You smirk, leaning your head back. “Been called worse tonight.” 

You don’t see Eddie’s knuckles twitch while you think of a secret. Hearing that guy call you a bitch reminded him of all the times he had heard his poor mother called the same by the deadbeat he called Dad. 

“Okay, you’re going to piss your pants at me. I used to work at this kinda fancy cocktail place before I moved here,” you say. “Totally lied about my experience before starting. Think… wannabe jazz lounge for yuppies. The menu was like this leather folder thing. Anyway, my first week and this like.. rich lookin’ guy comes in and asks for a Roman Coke.”

You see Eddie glance at you as he indicates and swerves the car smoothly to park opposite a little diner not far from where you live. 

“I’m a few days in, super eager to get it all right. I’m like, ‘Yes, of course, coming right up’ and can I remember what the hell is in a Roman Coke? Fuck no. It’s not on the menu so I think ‘Hey this guy must know better than dumb little me’. I’m flipping through the recipe cards, everyone else is busy and kinda mean anyway so I stare at the liquors for like two minutes before I go back and ask him ‘What’s in that again?’.” 

Eddie’s biting his lip. He knows where this is going. He sees how you light up when you tell your story, begs the butterflies to calm their swooping and swirling behind his ribs as you deliver the punchline. 

“Rum. And Coke.”

His head falls forward, rests on the top of the steering wheel. His shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“Eddie. He was the owner.” 

He cackles. That throaty yell of a laugh you hear ringing through the bar or from the staff room when he’s goofing around instead of working. 

“Oh no..” He’s wiping tears from his eyes as you cringe in his passenger seat. “Oh princess, that’s fuckin’ terrible.” 

You sit together in his parked car until you settle, faces hurting from smiling until your stomach growls again.

“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”

“And a Coke?”

“And a Coke.” 

Eddie is out of the car and opening your door before you even have your seatbelt off. He offers you his hand to help you out of the car, careful of your sore body after the fall. 

“Feeling okay?” he asks, still holding your hand. 

“A bit achy. I’ll have a hot shower and take something before bed.” You lift his hand to check his knuckles. “Sore?” 

“I’ve had worse.”

He squeezes your hand gently before you let go and cross the street to the hole-in-the-wall place glowing with neon Coca-Cola signs. 

“You get in a lot of fights then?” you ask as he holds the door. 

“Not anymore.” Eddie shrugs and leads you to a little table, nodding politely to the waitress filling coffees at the counter. She says hi to him by name and you think about Eddie coming in here alone, or not, after his shifts.

The backs of your thighs catch on the red vinyl and you know you will need to peel yourself up later.

Eddie sits opposite you, looking immediately at home as he relaxes back in the booth. In the bright diner lights you can see where his lip is still swollen and sore, the lingering specs of blood in his nostril despite your careful clean-up.

The waitress, an older woman with thinly drawn brows, comes over and pinches Eddie’s cheek with motherly affection. “Hi hon, you two know what you’re havin’?”

Eddie scrunches his nose like a bunny. “Hi, Marie. Usual for me, and a big basket of fries and a Coke?” He looks at you for confirmation, and you nod. “Please and thank you.”

She eyes you up with a little smile as she writes the order. “I was wonderin’ when Eddie was going to bring a nice girl for me to meet. Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”

By the time you both open your mouths to set Marie straight, she’s already gone. Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, but he shrugs it off. “Hate to have to break her heart and tell her you’re not a nice girl.”

You gasp in mock offence and put your hand to your heart. “I am so nice.” You can’t even keep a straight face as you say it. “Slandering my good name, Munson. I thought you were all about protecting my honour.”

Your close-to-the-bone teasing keeps the rosy tint on his cheeks. 

“I never told you, your face when you fell? Fuckin’ hilarious. Should’ve taken a picture to put behind the bar.”

The jab puts you even again, not that either of you keeps score but it’s all about balance. Can’t be too nice, don’t want to be too mean. 

You rest your head against the back of the booth and close your eyes for a moment, feeling the exhaustion from a busy and unpredictable night wash over you. 

Eddie takes the opportunity to just look at you for a moment; even under the too-bright lights of the diner, he thinks you might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Tell me something else,” you say before opening your eyes. When you do, you catch a fleeting dreamy look on Eddie’s face and lean forward to rest your chin on your hand as Marie drops over your drinks and food; fries for you, a burger with oozing American cheese and crisp bacon for Eddie. 

“So nosy,” he teases, shoving a straw into his fizzing Coca-Cola. 

You shrug, feeling a burn in your stomach; maybe you were overstepping. “You don’t have to. You can sit and stare at me if you prefer,” You take a long sip through your own gently placed straw and raise your brows at him. 

He can’t and won’t argue with that one and stirs the ice as he thinks, takes a sip. 

“One of the first gigs I played out of our hometown, we had like thirty people instead of the usual five drunks in the Hideout. I tried to crowd surf, thinkin’ I was hot shit. Broke my wrist.” 

Your eyes blow wide as you eat the best fry of your life - it’s perfectly crisp and fluffy, salted just right - but the punchline of Eddie’s latest confession had you wanting to know more.

“You want half?” Eddie asks, nodding to his burger. 

“No, I'm good, thanks. Hold on, reverse to the breaking your wrist after thinking you were Iggy fucking Pop.” 

He’s already a bite in but holds his wrist up before he flips you off. “See? Good as new,” he says, pausing his chew. 

The fries are too good to waste so you push down the urge to throw one at him. 

“I was eighteen. Stupid kid. S’the reason I didn’t graduate that year.” He sips his Coke again and watches your reaction from beneath his lashes. 

“That’s shitty.” You feel the frown deepen between your brows, angry on his behalf about something he was long over. “No wonder you flipped the principal off.” 

You share your fries with Eddie and eat until your stomach feels warm and full. You share another secret too, tell him about the time you got so scared in a haunted house that you punched some guy dressed as a zombie and got kicked out. He almost choked on a fry at that and laughed so loud that Marie looked over and shook her head fondly at her favourite customer. 

It’s easy to drop the charade that you and Eddie don’t get along. A diner at fuck o’clock in the morning exists a world away from the little bar that pays your rent and bills. When you see him get excited telling you a story, letting you see Eddie beyond the bar, you know you got him wrong - he’s funny as fuck, sweet too. 

Midway through a story about how his friend Robin had dragged him to do (very) drunk karaoke last week, Eddie catches you staring and scrunches his face a little. “Am I rambling? Fuck, sorry.”

“No. Well, a little, but I like it.” You sip the dregs of your refilled Coke and smile a little. 

He smiles back, ducking his head just a little and he catches the time on his watch. His Bambi brown eyes blow wide when he realises. “Jesus, I oughta get you home. The sun will be up soon.” 

You didn’t realise either, but you also don’t care. You’re still tired, still aching, but you feel lighter than you have in months, like a long-dead spark might just be coming back. The warm glow is dampened just a bit when Eddie gulps down the last of his drink. 

He pulls his jacket back on and insists that he helps you put yours on when you wince. He settles the bill, kisses the back of Marie’s hand and promises to come see her soon. Neither of you let her down when she says she hopes to see you again sometime. 

It’s cooler outside now, but the warmth in Eddie’s car and his gentle singing along to the radio rocks you into a light doze as he drives the few blocks to the address you gave him. It kills him to wake you once he’s parked outside. 

The small frown lines on your forehead tell him you’re still in some pain after the tumble you took. The ache in his knuckles felt like nothing in comparison to the twisting anger in his gut when he saw that prick’s foot shove out into your path and you watched as you fell in slow motion.

He gives it a minute, tries not to stare like a creep, before reaching over to shake your knee gently. 

“Hey.” He says your name so softly, so gently, and taps his fingers against your knee. 

You startle slightly and realise where you are. “Sorry, Thanks for the ride, Eddie,” you say quietly. “And the fries. And everything.” 

He smiles again, a gentle curve upward of his lips as his fingers rest on your knee. “Any time. We’re like two or three blocks from each other.” 

Neither of you wants to burst the already waning bubble you have been in since you left the bar. For a moment, you just look at each other until the air becomes too thick, too heady to breathe easy. You’re not entirely convinced that you didn’t hit your head, that this whole night hasn’t been just some dream of yours. The heat of his hand on your leg tells you it’s real. This is something real. 

And still, you make the first move. Pop the bubble. Too much. Too scary. 

Your seatbelt clicks open and you grab your bag as Eddie does the same, coming to open your door and offering you a hand to get out. 

Neither of you let go of the other’s hand, eking out the last of whatever this was before you have to go your separate ways and think about what it could turn into if you only had the bravery. You’re both standing so close and you watch the shadow of his stupid-long lashes under the street light. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Today. Whatever. At work.” You want to slap yourself for stuttering. 

“Only if you feel up to it. Don’t be a hero, princess.”

“That’s your job, Ed. I’ll see you at work. Thank you, again..”

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

You walk to your door and Eddie rounds the car again to the driver's side. He raises a hand to salute you as you turn to give him one little wave before closing the door. 

“Fuck,” you sigh with your back pressed to the wood of the door.  “Fuck.” Eddie growls as his head drops against the roof of the car. 

You both take a minute. Need a minute before you can move on. 

You drag yourself up the stairs and let yourself in, quiet enough to not wake your flatmate. Eddie waits to see your light come on before starting the car and driving the two blocks to his place. 

After popping some painkillers you crawl into bed. Even your racing mind and pounding heart can’t keep you from falling into the deepest sleep you have had in months. Your dreams echo with Eddie’s happy throaty laugh, the gasp from the bar when he threw the first punch, the sound you made when you saw a fist crash into his pretty face.

You sleep late through the Saturday morning city sounds as they turn to afternoon and float through your cracked open window. You sleep until your flatmate knocks to check you made it home and are still breathing, then doze off again while she makes brunch for you both. 

Over eggs and bacon, toast and fresh fruit, coffee and Advil, you tell her everything from last night and show her your bruises. She runs to CVS to get arnica cream and more painkillers while you strip your bed, shower and do laundry, keep busy to keep the recurring thoughts of Eddie from your head. 

While you are folding clean clothes from earlier in the week back into your drawers, you come across a guitar pick Eddie had left on the bar one time before your shift started; once lost from his pocket, found again amongst the collection of shirts and shorts and jeans you wore to work. You had meant to give it back, then he had called you a brat for something stupid. Maybe he had burped too loud in your direction, and so you didn’t bother. As you run your thumb over the smooth curve of it, you think maybe he’s been at the back of your mind for a longer time than you even realised.

You’re sore all over but you call Michelle and let her know you will be in for your shift. You don’t tell her that you stayed out extra late with Eddie talking about stupid shit and laughing until your face hurt - you're not sure you could handle her sweet smugness over the phone. 

After a long bath to soak your muscles and a huge plate of pasta for dinner, you get ready for work. Denim shorts, a tight black t-shirt tucked in, and your trusty Dr Martens (despite the heat). You add some jewellery, spritz your perfume, and fix your hair up off the back of your neck to keep cool. You swipe some Raisin Rage on your lips before wiping it off in favour of a slick of cherry flavour Chapstick. At the last minute, the lipstick makes its way into your bag - just in case. 

It’s just after six when you step back into Jackie’s to help cut wedges of lime and lemon for drinks, make sure the barrels and kegs are hooked up properly, the mixers ready to go. It’s almost time to open up and you haven’t seen (or heard) Eddie yet. You chase your disappointment with a quick smoke break with one of the summer hires before Frank pulls you aside, making sure you’re okay after last night (and that you’re not thinking of suing the bar or anything).

“My wages wouldn’t cover a lawyer, Frank. Even with the tips,” you smirk before stepping from his office out into the hall, running straight into black denim and spicy cologne. 

“Woah, easy there.” Eddie’s hands steady you, two wide palms on your arms that squeeze gently when you look up into his smiling face. “You’re a fuckin’ liability, honey.”

Your cheeks feel hot but you shove his chest gently. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. It was so peaceful and quiet, what a shame.” 

Back to normal. Except Eddie’s hands are still on your arms, his thumb circling on the round of your shoulder. “Feelin’ okay?” he checks, speaking quietly just for you. 

You nod and lift your hand, taking his chin between your finger and thumb, feeling brave alongside the little intake of breath Eddie just about hides. “No bruises. Good.” 

There’s a beat where you and Eddie aren’t quite sure what you mean, what to say next. You’re glad that Frank calls for Eddie from his office, wanting to have the same chat with him as he had with you. It gives you both a good excuse to let go of each other, figure out what the fuck that was before your shift starts.

He squeezes your shoulders and gives you a little smile before letting you go. “Be good. Don’t get in trouble.” 

“I’ll try, hot shot,” you say quietly, giving him a wink before going to join Michelle and the other bartenders for a quick pre-open meeting - but not before you dip into your locker to pat a layer of lipstick on. 

The crowd begins to trickle in, slow and steady until it’s packed full and the music blares just loud enough. They’re a fun crowd tonight, and everyone is in good spirits now that it’s not quite so oppressively hot outside. You don’t have time to think about much else in between chatting to customers and mixing drinks; shaking cocktails is a bit more laborious when your body aches but you don’t complain. 

It’s almost eleven before you take your break. You take another Advil before slipping past the Staff Only door. The air is tinged with smoke as Eddie leans against the brick, waiting. 

His face lights up when he sees you and the two glasses you’re carrying. “Double fisting?” he asks, taking another drag. 

“One for you, one for me. Mines the water.” You extend out the dark fizzing highball glass to him, which he eyes suspiciously. He passes you the nearly burnt-out smoke as a trade-off. 

“What’s this?” he asks, “The witch's potion? I knew you’d take me out by poisoning me.”

You prop yourself on your stool and sip your ice water, smirking into your glass. “It’s a Roman Coke.” 

Eddie’s laugh rings through the alley and he holds up the glass. “You fuckin’... Wow. What an honour.” His free hand covers his heart, silver rings glinting in the light. It would be easy to think he’s being condescending or playing around, it’s what you do. But Eddie is genuinely a little bit touched and a whole lot smitten. He can feel his heart beating faster under his palm. 

You pass him a paper-wrapped straw before watching as he takes a curious sip of your special mix. You take a drag of his cigarette and watch his eyes blow wide as he computes the flavours. 

“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.

“What is in this? It’s insane! I really like it,” Eddie says, grinning. 

His smile makes your tummy flutter. 

“It’s rum - but like, a coffee-infused rum - and Coca-Cola, with Sambuca,” you list off the ingredients that had been turning over in your head all evening. 

Eddie nods as he takes another sip, letting the flavours wash over his tongue. “Mm, I like it. You’re a real little alchemist, huh? Get it on the menu.”

You laugh and pass him back his smoke. “Nah. That’s an Eddie special. Just to say thanks..” 

Eddie looks at you, watching your teeth sink into your stained-dark lip as you wait for him to respond. He’s a shade softer than the usual tough-but-fun guy who works the door, softer than when you’re usually tearing strips off of each other for fun on your breaks. 

“Careful,” he says, voice quiet. He looks almost bashful. 

You frown a little. Your gut twists uncomfortably. Had you read it all wrong? 

“I don’t know what to do with myself when pretty girls are sweet to me,” he says, sipping his drink pointedly. 

The knot in your stomach swoops. He thinks you’re pretty. Eddie thinks you’re pretty. Eddie who flirts with dolled-up girls all night while he’s checking IDs.

You look back at him, see how the light and shadows play on the slope of his nose and those long lashes. “You have plenty of practice, Ed,” you say, so quiet. “You always know what to say.”

He smiles just a little and shakes his head. “Not with you. S’why I say stupid shit. Anyway, no one’s as pretty or sweet as you,” he says. “Even when you’re mean. Especially when you’re mean - so fuckin’ pretty then.”

Your laugh is almost involuntary, cheeks feeling warm. “That was smooth, Eddie,” you say, teasing him again; that was comfortable, less scary. 

“It was? Oh good. I’m fighting for my life here.” He laughs and leans against the wall beside you. 

He’s taller than you as you sit on your stool, tuning your body sideways to look up at him. “Putting the moves on me, Munson?” 

“Is it working?” Eddie raises his brows, pushing them up under his choppy fringe. There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, hopeful and yet apprehensive. 

“Yeah, I think it might be,” you whisper, biting your lip again. He wants to bite it for you, soothe the pinch of his sharp teeth with his silver tongue. 

You reach a hand out, sliding your fingertips up over the back of his hand and wrist until they slip under the cuff of his sleeve. You bring his hand down onto your thigh, warm and bare in the summer evening heat. 

You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too. 

He leaves his drink on the sill next to your water and steps closer, his hand huge on your legs as he feels the smoothness of your skin and the frayed hem of your denim shorts. Eddie crowds closer, smelling the sweetness of your perfume as his leg slots between your knees. His eyes flick from looking at your lips to searching your gaze for any hesitation or hint that you’re just fucking with him. He finds none and feels braver than ever. 

He dips down, brushing his nose against your cheek and hears your intake of breath, that little gasp he wants to swallow and consume. His lips press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, begging sweetly without a word. 

You turn your head just a fraction to close the minute gap, bringing your lips together. With your hand on his neck, you feel his pulse race in time with your own beneath the stroke of your thumb, sliding down the strong tendon to where it meets his shoulder. 

Eddie’s lips press and slot with yours, plush and gentle and tasting sweet like Coca-Cola. He kisses you slowly, savouring the feeling of your lips on his. You pull him as close as you can, your warm breaths mingling as he sneaks a look to make sure you’re real. 

He is gentle behind the bawdy jokes and leather and silver rings. He’s softer than anyone can see. But you can feel that sweet softness in the way he cups your face before kissing you again. Eddie strokes his tongue against your lower lip to ask for permission he doesn’t need. It makes you shiver as that smooth-talking tongue slides with yours, making you gasp. 

Before it can build pressure and turn any steamier, he slows it back down and kisses you in slow pecks again before leaning his forehead against yours. He can’t stop himself from smiling and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not elated when he feels your shy smile too. 

Behind that smile, you’re aching for more. You want to run your fingers up through his curls and tug, be kissed breathless by him. You want a hundred more soft kisses, feel his smile on your mouth. You want to feel him everywhere. 

“You okay?” he whispers, and can’t resist pushing another kiss against your cheek before moving back to look at you again. 

“More than okay.” You bring your thumb to swipe the lipstick transferred over from your lips to his. You want to see every shade you own smeared around his mouth. 

Eddie kisses your thumb, before pretending to nip it to make you laugh. “Are you going to be able to go back to the bar?” 

You shake your head, smiling before sighing over-dramatically and fixing a pout on your face. It drives him mad in the best way. “Mm, maybe give me one more for luck?” you whisper. 

He puts you out of your misery with one more long lingering kiss. “I’m not done kissing you. At all.” Another peck, because he cannot simply stop himself. “I’ll wait for you after work.” 

Your smile is too big to hide, rendered speechless by his confession. So you nod, giving his lower lip one last swipe to remove the evidence before patting his cheek. 

Eddie reluctantly backs off for his own good. He had thought about pressing you against the bricks and kissing you stupid too many times to be decent. He still will - it’s at the top of his bucket list - but just not now.

He grabs his drink, downs it, and gives you a wink. “Don’t go sharing that recipe, okay? That’s for me only, sugar.” 

“Cross my heart,” you tease, sitting on your hands so you don’t drag him back against you. You think he might just be okay with it if you did. 

“Later…” As if he can read your mind, he backs away with absolute mischief in his eyes. 

“Later.” You wiggle your fingers at him and laugh when he almost walks ass-first into the stacked crates of empty bottles. He swears at them and flips them off before throwing one last wink your way. 

Once you’re sure Eddie has turned the corner of the building you cover your face with your hands and smile into them, murmuring ‘What the fuck, what the fuck’ as your cheeks heat up your palms. 

When you have just about gathered yourself, you head back inside and fix your smudged lipstick. You tap Michelle’s hip when you get back, signalling for her to go take her break. 

She looks you over, suspicious of where exactly that coy little smile came from. As she throws one last look over her shoulder, she sees Eddie at the open door, looking just as dreamy and pleased with himself.  

The rest of your shift passes without incident, which is a miracle because all you have been thinking of is Eddie Eddie Eddie. Eddie’s lips, Eddie’s hands. Eddie’s strong inked arms and his sturdy thighs. His lips (again). 

You caught each other’s eye a few times during the night, and it made you feel hot all over. Especially when he was being a total gentleman to some pretty girls, telling them to get home safe. You had felt his dark–chocolate stare on you as you laughed with customers, and shook up cocktails while he watched the strength of your arms and the subtle bounce of your breasts. Knowing Eddie was watching, thinking about how he might kiss you again later, made you slick with desire and excitement. 

You ring the bell for last call at 2 a.m. as your feet burn, and arms ache. There’s a flurry of orders while Jeff and Eddie close the doors and stand inside shooting the shit together, bidding customers good night as they leave in pairs and groups. By three it’s kicking out time and the few reluctant stragglers take recommendations for pizza joints and all-night diners to soak up the alcohol. While the bouncers do one last sweep of the place, you work through your checklist with a singular motivator; kissing Eddie Munson. 

With anticipation buzzing in your chest, you wipe spills behind the bar, refrigerate the mixers and hand-wash the muddlers and stirrers from the cocktails. The younger guys fill the dishwasher with glasses and barware. You thank your stars that it’s not your night on bathroom duty, refilling the straws instead and making a note for Frank of what’s running low before he does his full inventory and stocktake. It’s a well-oiled machine and your duties are finished in record time... 

Eddie made himself useful, staying out of your way (but watching closely, in absolute awe of you) in favour of picking up a broom and keeping the music going to keep morale up. He leans on the clean bar, chin on his hand as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks, tilting his head toward the back door. 

You nod, “Gimme two.” You restrain yourself from running to your locker (a quick walk is sufficient and unsuspicious). You fix your hair, blot your shiny face and spray deodorant and perfume again before opting for cherry flavour Chapstick. Extra lipstick this late? Far too eager. 

After a quick round of goodbyes, you notice Eddie and Michelle have both already gone and you rush around to meet him by the door. One taste and you are hooked, needing another kiss like your next breath. When you can’t see him, it’s like your lungs shrink. There’s no lingering scent of his cologne or swirling smoke, no glowing cherry or loud laugh in the back alley… 

Breathe. In, out. Calm the anxious flutters. Is he already at his car? 

Just as you’re about to round the building, the back door opens and an almost frantic-eyed Eddie nearly catches you with the door... “Hi,” he breathes. Relief. A sigh you both share before the smile, the relief. 

“Shit, did I get you?” He puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezes when you shake your head. His hands skate down your arms to squeeze your hands. “Sorry, got distracted inside. Can I... Can I drive you home?” 

Your nod is far too eager and you squeeze back, your rings tapping against Eddie’s. You drop each other’s hands but stay close to each other. This is new and unnamed and you don’t want the work crowd throwing questions at you before you have even figured it out yourself. 

Your hands and arms bump as you round the building together and for once neither of you know what to say. When you look up, Eddie is already sneaking a glance at you; he smiles when you catch him and you both dissolve into laughter. 

“What the fuck, you’re literally never this quiet,” you tease, elbowing him gently. “Say something.” 

Eddie takes your hand again, swinging his arm with yours. “You looked hot tonight. Like, hotter than usual.” Eddie licks his lower lip and it makes your stomach flip. 

“You think so? It must be the drink I made you. Pretty strong…” 

“Maybe. Maybe it’s ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you kiss.” He’s so smooth and it makes you feel warm all over. 

Close to his car now, you slow your stroll and lean against the passenger side. “Yeah? Maybe you should kiss me some more then, seeing as you can’t stop thinking about it.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna.” He grins and crowds you against the shiny black metal, bracing one hand on the roof as the other loops around your middle to press your body close. 

It’s like stars bursting behind your eyes when you feel Eddie’s lips on yours again. This kiss is eager and almost needy after hours of trying and failing to not eye-fuck each other. The hand lying low on your back slips lower and Eddie uses the leverage to step his thigh between yours with a delicious press of pressure. When you gasp he takes the opportunity to dominate the kiss a little more, licks his tongue against yours in a dirty slide.

You haven’t been kissed like this in a long time, all tongue and pulling soft gasps from each other. It has been even longer since you have been heckled while you’re kissing someone; Michelle breaks that streak as she wolf-whistles at you from across the street as she walks to her own car. 

“Get a room!” You don’t see her grin and salute as you laugh into Eddie’s chest, hugging your arms around him beneath his jacket. He kisses your forehead and holds you after flipping Michelle off with a rosy-cheeked smirk.

“She made me late, by the way. Gave me the talk in the office.” 

You rest your chin on his chest, pulling your eyebrows together. “The birds and the bees? Where do babies come from?” You laugh when he pokes your ribs and holds your squirming body closer still.

“Ha ha, jokes on you. That’s next week.” 

You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt. 

“No, just that I better treat you good and not fuck around. Don’t want work to be awkward, blah blah.” Eddie squeezes your hips. “She also said ‘It’s about damn time’.”

You nod slowly, remembering her quips over the last few months about how you two should just shut up and get over yourselves, bang it out or something. It seemed like it was obvious to everyone but you and Eddie just what was going on behind your little frenemy routine. 

“Well then…” you say quietly. 

“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes. 

There’s a lot for you to figure out. You can’t just kiss your co-worker and expect everything to stay the same, but inside you think that maybe you don’t want that and Eddie doesn’t either. That’s something you both need to figure out, but right now you just might die if you don’t kiss him again soon. 

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I come to your place?” you ask quietly. 

Eddie nods, eyes sparkling. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck. I’d like that a lot. Are you sure you want to? We don’t have to...”

You rock up on your toes to kiss him again. “I want to. Let’s just... See where it goes?”

A little breathless, Eddie nods and roots for his car keys to unlock the door. He pecks your lips again before you both get into the car. This time he keeps his hand on your knee while he drives through the dark streets, only moving it to change gears. You keep it there, smoothing over the rings he wears with your fingers. 

You recognise Eddie’s street - there’s the bagel place you go to, the camera store where you get film developed. You can’t believe he’s been this near all along. 

He swings the car into a little parking garage under the building and takes the spot reserved for apartment 8. You twist in your seat to face him and see he looks a little lost in thought. “I can go home if you prefer?” you say. 

“No no. Please, don’t. I’m just.. thinkin’ about how messy my room might be.” He twists one of his rings and you cover his hand again to stop the anxious little movement you recognised from your own fidgeting.

“I don’t mind. Being nocturnal can be pretty shitty for keeping your place clean,” you say. 

Eddie nods, shoulders deflating now that he’s less worried you’re going to think he’s a total animal.

You pull his hand back over to your lap, fingers intertwined. “Anyway, I’m not here to snoop at your stuff, Eddie.” You shrug a little, hiding your smile as he thumps his head against the seat. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, I know it.” 

“You should be so lucky.” 

Your lips meet again halfway across the centre console, smiling mouths and ringed fingers grasping at each other, wherever you can reach. A rogue elbow hits the horn, making both of you jump - Eddie yelps - then dissolve into a fit of giggles which Eddie gladly smothers with one more kiss. 

“Lemme get your door, princess,” he says, lips brushing your chin and cheek one more time before freeing you from his hold to hop out and round the bonnet. You could get used to this… 

There are more kisses in the small shaky elevator, crowded to the mirrored wall as Eddie’s lips get acquainted with your jaw and neck, finding that spot below your ear that makes you moan his name quietly, tug him closer by his belt loops. 

You drive him crazy in the best way, he makes you feel wanted - perhaps craved is more apt - as his hands run over the flare of your hips and dip to your behind.

The elevator stops, dings, and you drag Eddie’s mouth to your own again to taste his tongue before he takes your hand and does his best not to drag you to the door marked with a brassy 8. 

“Shit,” he mutters, fighting with his keys to find the right one as you slip a hand up the side of his t-shirt, feeling the trail of hair below his navel to scratch through. 

“You’re a demon. An actual devil woman,” he hisses, resting his forehead against the door as he lets you distract him for a second. Before you can tease him anymore, Eddie turns and takes your face gently in one hand. “You actually want to come in or am I going to need to put you over my shoulder and bring you back to the car?” 

His eyes are burning with want, lips pink and puffy from your kisses. He watches your pupils blow wide and sees the gulp in your throat. 

“You gonna behave?” 

All you can do is nod, brain static with want, accept a kiss on the pout he’s placed on your lips, and try not to swoon or combust on the spot while he wins his battle with lock and key. 

Eddie flicks the light on inside and throws his keys in a saucer sitting on a little table inside the door. There’s a short hallway with a fairly full junk closet before you step into the apartment proper. You told him you weren’t here to snoop, but the urge to look around and soak in all you can about Eddie Munson is too good to pass. 

A typical boy's apartment really - an open plan kitchen/living room with a second-hand sofa and mismatched chair, a coffee table cluttered with an empty mug and a full ashtray, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a forgotten Coke can. There are some amps stacked in a corner, framed posters yet to be hung as they prop against the wall. It’s kind of exactly what you expected. 

Eddie twists a piece of hair around his finger, watching you look around. “Can I get you a water…?” he suggests, “Hungry?” 

“Mind if I use your phone? I want to leave a message on my voicemail so my flatmate doesn’t think I died or got in another bar fight.” Sense prevails over your desire to get your fingers back under his shirt, find out what other ink he has hidden beneath. 

“Sure, good idea.” Eddie points to the phone on the wall by the little breakfast bar. You notice a Garfield mug which makes you smile a little. “Back in a sec.”

While you’re leaving a message on your answer phone, Eddie stuffs dirty and clean laundry into some approximation of where they should be. He fixes the blanket and duvet on his bed - thankfully freshly changed - and strums his Sweetheart before hearing you hang up the phone. He takes a peek in the mirror after removing his jacket, shakes out his curls and gives his arms a quick flex before telling himself he’s an idiot - being friends with Steve Harrington has definitely altered his brain chemistry in some sort of way. 

Meanwhile, you have already given your own armpit a sniff and fixed your hair in the reflection of Eddie’s microwave before you hear his boots on the wood floor again. 

“Did you get prettier while I was..?” he looks between you and his left-ajar door glowing with the bedside lamp he had left on. 

You roll your eyes at him before following him to sit on the sofa, leaving your bag and jacket on the well-worn cushion of the armchair next to it. He flicks some music on low and relaxes back into the cushions, watching you decide where to put yourself. 

“Any time you want to go, just say. I’ll drive you home,” he says quietly. You can feel the warmth of his arm where it stretches across the back of the sofa.

Scooting closer, you turn your body to face him a little more. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Ed. Promise.”

He nods and welcomes you back under his arm, pressing his lips to your head while one big hand squeezes the top of your arm. “You smoke?” he asks, nodding to a little box like the lockbox you have for petty cash at work. When he flicks it open, you see some pre-rolled joints, papers and a bag of green. 

“Oh shit, you’ve been holding out on me, Munson,” you tease, poking his ribs before he sits back next to you with a joint and his Bic lighter. 

Eddie flashes his brows upward as he sticks it between his lips to light up. “Something something… Not mixing business and pleasure?” he says, muffled by the joint. He takes a hit before offering it to you, fingers brushing as you raise your brows in turn. 

“Oh yeah? I think we’re doing plenty of that tonight.” You take a drag with a smiling mouth as Eddie’s eyes darken and flash mischief again. 

“Yeah, think so. Been thinking about it a lot longer than I’ll ever admit though,” he says, watching how your breath catches and you cough a little. He tuts playfully, “Am I going to need to show you how, or are you pretending so I’ll shotgun you?” 

You fan your hand in front of your face to give yourself some air before flipping him off. “Be nice, s’been a while.” You tap your fingers against his knee. “Wait, go back. How long have you been pining over me?” You’re more careful when you take your next hit, raising your brows expectantly at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he takes the joint back; after another hit, he taps the ash off the end. “Not your business.”

“Absolutely my business. Go on. Was it when I wore that little dress to the Christmas party? Oh no, I bet it was when I spilt that pitcher of beer on my stupid white shirt… Fuck, I forgot that.” 

Eddie remembers both vividly (especially the little dress) but no, it was way before either of those incidents. “You going to keep annoying me ‘til I tell you?” 

“Yep.” You grin and watch him take a long slow hit. His lips wrap around the end and his cheeks hollow, showing off those sharp cheekbones. “Tell me,” you sing. 

He holds the smoke in before sighing it out with his head back against the sofa to look at the ceiling. His head turns to look at you instead. “Maybe like… the first shift we worked together? Maybe the second, either way, you were shaking up spicy margaritas or somethin’, had this little smirk on your face. Then later you asked me for a cigarette and the rest is history…” 

Your cheeks heat at his confession and Eddie’s do the same. He’s embarrassed and you feel like an idiot for letting your hang-ups get in the way of really seeing Eddie and giving him a chance. 

“Jesus, Ed.” You squeeze his arm, just below the flurry of bats tattooed there. 

His arm sizzles where you touch him - well, that’s how it feels to Eddie anyway. “We got a good thing going though, I mean I really do enjoy it. Making you huff at me and roll your eyes. Fuck.” His smile is cheeky, a little dirty as he licks his lower lip. 

You laugh together and let him bring the joint to your mouth. Your eyes slip closed as you inhale before opening again to see Eddie watching you. It reignites the spark low in your gut as you begin to feel nice and fuzzy around the edges. 

Eddie takes one last hit before saving the rest, stubbing the joint in the ashtray on the arm of the sofa. His eyes don’t stray from yours as you crawl into his lap. 

You twist one of his curls around your fingers; his hair is soft and the curls springy. “Guess it was like…perverse flirting or really long foreplay?”

“Mm, hot.” He squeezes your thigh. “I’m good with both of those. That is if you let me take you out. A real date.”

You pretend to consider it, though you are already in his lap, in his home, ready to give him anything he asks for. “Yeah, I’d like that. Last night was real nice, just talking with you. Just… get me some flowers instead of punching a guy next time?” 

He copies your faux-consideration and nods, “Deal.”

Said deal is sealed with a kiss; this one is sweet and warm, soft even. You both know you are skipping ahead of your date, but as you smile against each other’s mouths, Eddie thinks he might just keep you in his lap forever if you let him. 

Your lips press and slide, tongues tangle and tease as the intensity simmers to a boil again. His hands roam up your thighs and around to grasp two handfuls of you, pulling you close as you press yourself against him. You can feel the hot breaths through his nose against your cheek, and Eddie wants to groan at the feeling of your breasts pushed up against him. Your bravery builds in tandem with how much you want and need him and you start up a slow roll of your hips. 

Eddie swears against your mouth, “Shit, you feel good.” He squeezes his hands and pushes his own hips up, letting you feel how thick and hard he is for you. 

Your whimper makes him crazy-mad with lust, Eddie’s lips feeling the vibration as he kisses your throat and finds that spot on your neck again. He wants to mark it, hear what noise that would pull from your pretty, kiss-bitten mouth. From the corner of his eye, he sees the flutter of your lashes, the way your mouth drops open. He thinks you are so pretty and it makes the ache in his chest pulse like a bruise. 

You direct him back to your lips with a gentle tug, opening your eyes before you press a kiss to his lower lip before leaning back enough to untuck and pull off your t-shirt. Eddie’s jaw twitches as he feasts his eyes on the black lace cups you fill out so perfectly, the glint of your necklace beneath the hollow of your throat. 

He moves both hands back to your waist where the denim cuts in, fingertips skating the bare skin above. “Can I?” he asks, looking up to your eyes. 

Instead of answering, you cover both hands with your much smaller ones, guiding them upward until you feel the warmth of his hands cover and cup the weight. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Eddie whispers, looking at your face again as his thumbs seek and stroke the pebbled nipples beneath. 

Eddie had never been subtle when he checked you out at work; he made playful and bawdy comments his cover story to get away with letting his eyes linger a little too long on your chest. You let him away with it every time, knowing you would get him riled up another way later that shift or on the next one. 

When you look down, the sight and feel of his guitar-scarred hands on your chest make you bite your lip hard. Your palms skate over the gooseflesh of Eddie’s arms, over the bulk of his biceps and shoulders as he learns how to make you keen for him with just his hands on your breasts. You pull him in for another filthy kiss and blindly glide your fingers down his chest to the top of his trousers. You have already felt how hard he is under the roll and grind of your hips, but it’s not enough. Eddie deserves to be touched and tasted after all this time, pining over you. Not because you pity him, you want to make up for lost time. 

His hips press upward, seeking out your touch; you adjust yourself to straddle one of his thighs and flip the hem of his t-shirt up to get at the button and zip. Your eyes are fixed on the hard line of him pushing up against the fabric; your fingers brush over it before undoing the fastenings, making his breath catch in his throat. 

“I want you so bad,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss your jaw again. That makes you pulse right between your legs; you relish the firmness of his thigh pressing against you there as he kisses his way back to your lips. You pull away only to push the black work pants and tartan cotton boxers down enough to get at him, to see him. 

Eddie watches your eyes flash when you see the thick length of him, brushing your fingertips up and down to watch it kick with arousal. You nuzzle against his cheek as you take him in your hand, telling him how big and pretty his dick is before beginning to stroke him. In your mind, you’re thinking about how he will feel inside you and in your mouth, but you try to focus on kissing his neck and learning how he likes to be touched. He’s rock hard and weeping at the tip, it makes your mouth water.

“You think about me when you do this for yourself?” you ask, pausing to lick your hand before grasping him again. The tinge of salt on your tongue makes you want more. 

Eddie nods, eyebrows pinching together. “Fuck, I do. Tried not to, but I can’t help it.” 

That makes you feel hot all over and you rock yourself against his thigh to relieve the pulsing between your legs. “M’here now, don’t need to pretend anymore, Eddie.” Your lips brush his jaw and the way he moans, the way he pulses with arousal in your hand, it makes you giggle. 

“You’re literally gonna kill me,” he groans and rests his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I’m not. Promise. Just want you to feel good,” you say, and kiss him again when your hand picks up the pace. 

Eddie’s hips rock upward into your fist. His hand stills your arm and he has to take a few breaths before looking at you - his chocolate-button eyes are consumed by dilated pupils. “This’ll be over real fast if you keep that up, baby. You’ll never let me live that down.”

His head dips to kiss across the tops of your breasts before running his nose up along your throat. His head tilts toward his room. “Can we? Been thinking about you in my bed.” 

You nod, keep cool even though the butterflies in your stomach are back with a flurry of vengeance. Eddie grins, which sets you off too, and you tuck him back into his boxers before moving to let him stand. 

He offers you a hand and twirls you once. “Hold on. Let me just..” 

Eddie pauses, looks you up and down and you know he’s up to no good. Before you can figure him out he has you over his shoulder with a surprising show of strength. You squeal-laugh, slapping your hand on the back of his thigh. “EDDIE!” 

His laugh is throaty and rough - like an honest-to-god gremlin - and he just about manages to keep his pants up as he carries you to his room. “You seemed to like the idea of that earlier, what you complainin’ about, baby?” 

You can only laugh in response until you’re deposited onto his bed with more care and gentleness than anticipated. You lay back to catch your breath, cheeks warm and aching as you grin up at Eddie. You’re certainly not unimpressed by his ability to fireman-lift and carry you. He kneels to untie your boot-laces, then his own. You sit up and pop the button on your shorts before Eddie takes over, removing them along with your shoes to leave you in your only slightly mismatched underwear and bra - they’re both black, and Eddie doesn’t notice or care. All he sees is you, in his bed.

His t-shirt and pants are left in a heap with your clothes and in a moment he is with you, laying you back to kiss you everywhere. His hands and lips map your body, kissing freckles and stretchmarks, nuzzling the red mark your bra left around your middle when it’s removed and lost to the floor. He notes the ticklish spots on your ribs, saves them for later, and lavishes kisses on your bare breasts. 

As Eddie lays his body between your spread legs, you wish you had longer to see the new ink revealed to you but take the chance to stroke his hair like you have been wanting to. He practically purrs and chases the relaxing motion, leaning against your hand when he breaks his trail of kisses to the band of your underwear. The light is too dim to see how soaked they are, a darker shade of black between your legs caused by him, but Eddie knows it’s there and teases his fingers over the damp heat. He smiles when your hips jump up at the friction. 

His chin rests on your hip bone while he looks up. “This okay?” he checks, dipping his fingertips up past the elastic around the top of your thigh. He goes no further until you nod, breathe out ‘yes, please’.

You get the feeling that if Eddie was still wearing pants, your undies would go right in his back pocket. The thought of that alone makes you throb as Eddie looks at the feast in front of his eyes. 

“Oh she’s pretty,” he murmurs, biting his lip. “And so wet f’me…” 

You gasp when he finally touches you, stroking his finger down the seam of you. He swears and shifts his hips against the bed when he feels your wetness and watches his finger come away shiny. 

He pushes one kiss below your belly button before getting comfy, manoeuvring one leg over his shoulder with his arm around for good measure. His curls tickle against your leg but all you can focus on is how his tongue strokes and licks, how his lips suck and press. 

His name bounces off the poster-clad walls, your voice gaspy and ragged when his tongue circles your clit before pushing its way inside you to seek out your soak. 

“So sweet, I knew you would be.” His voice is a murmur against your cunt, there and gone again as he seals his lips around your clit. 

“Fuhhh- Eddie.” 

One hand balled in the duvet, the other a crown atop his dark curls as you shift your hips and help him find the angle that is just right. He is rewarded with a scalp-burning tug and a guttural moan you can’t even begin to be embarrassed by as he feasts on you like a starved man. 

His fingers squish your doughy thigh before he slows to a pause - it’s brief and yet you whine in complaint. You feel his breathy laugh against your folds, his murmured ‘easy, baby’. Eddie stopped only to remove the rings on his right hand so that he could push one, then two, deep inside seeking out your g-spot before you can comprehend that his rings are on your fingers for safekeeping. 

His eyes are fixed on you; your heaving chest and breasts, the blissed-out expression on your face. He knows when he has found it, feeling you gush in time with a wet, wobbly moan of his name and the pained-by-pleasure look that graces your pretty face. 

“That’s it, huh? Good girl,” he murmurs. He earns another loud moan as you arch your back to chase absolute bliss. 

Eddie’s hips roll against the mattress - if you had the brain capacity to notice you would surely die on the spot. Your heart already feels like it is about to leap from your chest, blood pounding in your ears as he keeps up the pace and pressure. He can hear and feel how close you are as your voice gets higher, begging brokenly ‘yes, yes! Eddieeee!’ when you free fall over the edge. 

Your body goes tense and then boneless as he works you through it, not letting up until you nudge his head with your thigh. “Too mm-much,” you slur, hips twitching. Eddie presses gentle kisses and murmurs words of praise against your sensitive sex; he leans into how you stroke his head while you come back to the land of the living. 

“Y’okay?” he asks, smiling up at you with shiny lips. He eases his fingers out, marvels at just how soaked they are in the golden glow of the bedside light before kneeling up and licking them clean. “Knew you’d be sweet, sugar.” He winks and you curl in on yourself as you shake with laughter. 

“You’re a menace, Munson. Remind me how you've been single all this time when you can do that?”

You take his hand, pulling him down so he is lying on top of you. He’s hard against your hip, but isn’t pushy with getting you to do something about it as he lies with you, holding you as you bask in the afterglow. 

“Guess I had this really big weird crush on a pretty girl, got me in a dry spell,” he teased. He smacks a smooch to your cheek and makes a pleased little noise when you pull him in for a proper kiss, taking your cheek in his ring-less hand. 

You let yourself feel a little smug as you drag your fingertips up his back, swirling and stroking until they brush the band of his boxers. “Do you have condoms?” you whisper against his lips, hoping that the dry spell won't ruin your plans.

Eddie nods and peels himself away to kneel up and reach over to his messy bedside table, digging an almost full box from the top drawer. He squints at the date and takes one from the packet with a pleased grin, “We’re in luck.”

You reach out to palm him through the straining cotton, feeling the growing damp spot and smiling up at him as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. You sit up, pushing his boxers down with both hands. They join the rest of the forgotten clothes on the floor while you get your hands back on Eddie’s body. You see more ink usually hidden beneath his clothes; you want to look at each tattoo, study it and ask him what it means, listen to him tell you more stories and secrets. But there’s plenty of time for that. 

Eddie smiles against your mouth when you wrap your fingers around him again, chancing a glance to watch your hand - your hand heavy with his rings - stroking him. His hips jerk almost of their own volition; his brain has most certainly gone static. “Jesus, fuck,” he murmurs. 

You catch on a moment later and giggle against his shoulder. “That got you going, huh? Me wearing your rings…”

“You get me going. That’s just extra hot.” His voice catches when you squeeze him again, and he calls you a devil woman one more time. You’re getting used to it, kinda like it. 

The foil packet crinkles under Eddie’s knee. You push his chest gently, sending him to sit up against the headboard so you can make his lap your throne again. Without hesitation, you tear the foil and roll the latex down over the diamond-hard length that’s weeping for you to sit on it. He steadies your hips as you hold the base of him, sinking down through the stretch and pinch eased only by how soaked you still are. 

It’s intense, the burn and the closeness. Eddie’s forehead against yours as you watch him watching you take him inside. The lingering tendrils of the weed you smoked together make it all so deliciously fuzzy and warm. Neither of you makes a move, settling into the tight heat and fullness of Eddie inside you. 

His fingers stroke your hips while yours twirl the ends of his hair, touch his silver chain and brush up his neck so that you can cup his jaw and kiss him again. You hold on to each other tighter as you begin to raise and roll your hips, savouring the stretch until your body tells you to move faster, harder. 

“Look how pretty you are,” Eddie murmurs, taking in the bounce of your breasts and the way your jaw hangs open as you move in his lap. “Yeah, that’s my girl. Are you my girl, baby?” 

You whimper, holding him tighter and closer as you nod. “I’m yours, Eddie. All yours.” Your voice wobbles but not because you’re unsure, you’re just feeling so good, so full. 

Eddie groans deep in his throat, squeezing your hips and ass tighter as he helps you to bounce. You pause, focusing on rolling rather than rising to ease the burn in your wobbly thighs; it makes you whimper against his neck. It’s so much but not enough; so good, it’s frustrating.

“Shhh, I got you. You’re just feelin’ too good, huh?” he murmurs, nodding with you when you give a small ‘uh huh’. “Yeah, good girl.”

Your brows crease as you keep rutting your hips. “You feel so big. Fuck, Ed…” 

“You gonna let me do the hard work, hmm? You just lay back and look pretty for me, princess.” His voice is like hot honey, making you drip in his lap. He feels you pulsing, making his hold on your hip tight enough to leave a bruise as he gathers his composure. He’s wanted this so bad for so long, refuses to let himself (and you) down by busting early like a teenager. 

You nod, blissed out as he runs his hands over your warm body. Eddie is careful, so gentle, as he helps you to move up and off of him. He guides you to lay back, comfy on the pillows that smell just like him. You can’t resist nuzzling into them as he makes his way back between your legs. 

“Comfy?” he asks, palming your thigh as you hook your legs over his hips. He watches your eyes, sees that you are a little more with it now, with him. He can’t wait to see you dreamy-eyed and blissed out beneath him. 

You nod and squeeze his hips. “Very comfy.” He sees how your lips pout, asking for a kiss without words.

As if he could say no, refuse you the very thing he himself is craving. 

Eddie leans forward, arms braced on either side of your head and presses his lips to your cheeks, nose and forehead. He laughs quietly when you scowl all mean before you soften at the brushed blessing of his lips against yours.

He reaches down and takes himself in hand, stroking a few times before rubbing the tip against your cunt. He imagines how this would feel without the condom, feels the hot winding pull in his abdomen at the thought before your voice brings him back. He smiles and nudges his nose against yours, mirroring the rub down below.

“Please,” you whisper, lips catching Eddie’s. “Fuck me.”

The eye contact is almost too much, a burning intensity, but you feel hypnotised to keep your eyes on him as he pushes inside. 

You squeeze your lips together, feeling that stretch again, and watch how Eddie’s brows pinch. 

“You feel unreal, baby.”

He rolls his hips and pushes the rest of the way in. Lashes flutter and your jaw drops open. He feels so deep, it’s like he’s all the way in your chest. 

After a moment he begins to thrust slowly, dragging himself halfway out before pushing all the way in again and again and again. Eddie drinks in the little whines and moans that spill from your lips. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. When his hips rock again you feel him press against that spot that makes you see stars and there is no way you can keep quiet. 

“There we go, is that it?” Eddie asks, repeating the motion. Your back arches and he hikes your leg higher, almost folding you in half as his thrusts get harder, faster.

You can feel tears pricking your eyes, feeling almost overwhelmed with pleasure. Through the sting, you see Eddie’s clenched jaw, the meaty cord in his neck straining and the rosy glow on his cheeks. 

“Eddie, m’so close,” you whimper, almost tearful as you squeeze his forearm.  

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it. Fuck.” He huffs through his nose when you flutter around him and he leans over you more, spreading you wider still as he begins to pound his hips into you. He is barely holding on, feeling hot all over as he fucks you, wishes it could last longer but you’re both so tightly wound.

There’s a perfect press and drag against your clit that winds that cord of pleasure inside you tighter and tighter. Your mouths press together; barely a kiss, more a shared moan. One particularly hard thrust brings you to your climax with a broken moan against Eddie’s chin. Your nails press into his rear and pull him in to rut against that spot, fucking you through the most intense orgasm of your life as he meets his own peak with a husky throaty groan.

You feel like you're floating, fallen over the edge in each other's arms.

The weight of Eddie on you brings you slowly back to earth, breath huffing against your neck as you stroke up his back and up into his curls. You take a deep breath in; when you exhale it's shaky and wobbly almost like a quiet sob. 

Eddie summons the strength to press up and look at you, seeing your dazed smile and warm wet cheeks. “Hey,” he wipes the tears gently, “Oh shit. Did I hurt you?” he asks, panic spiking the glowy daze. 

You shake your head, almost giggling when you speak. “No, no. Fuckin’... amazing.” You pull Eddie back down and wrap yourself around him, holding each other as you come back to earth. A few more tears escape and Eddie wipes them away with such reverence. You stay quiet until you can string a sentence together. “That was incredible.” 

He smiles, cupping your face, and kisses you before carefully rolling you onto your sides to face each other to run your fingers over each other's warm bodies and share more kisses. Once he is sure you’re actually okay, he excuses himself to throw the condom away and returns with water and a damp flannel. He spends a moment cleaning you up as you gulp the water down, then finishes the rest and fills it again before closing his bedroom door. 

“You want a t-shirt?” he asks, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before throwing his hair into a low bun.

Despite the blanket, you feel a little shivery and accept the offer. 

He helps you into a well-loved Dio t-shirt before pulling the duvet over you both. Your legs are tangled together as you lie together, as close as you can. Outside, past the closed curtains, the sun is already starting to peek on the horizon.

You hum tiredly against Eddie’s shoulder when you remember the weighty silver on your hand and tap his hip gently. “Hey, Romeo. Your rings.” Your hand comes up in front of his face, wiggling your fingers. 

Eddie smiles, a lazy curl of his lips, and kisses the tips of your fingers before taking them off for you. He reaches back to drop them on his bedside table.

You want to stay awake, stay in the bubble of bliss, but the pull of exhaustion is too strong. 

“Sleepy?” Eddie brushes a kiss on your forehead and flicks the lamp off when you nod. 

“Eddie? Tonight was amazing,” you whisper against his chest.

He smiles in the dark, squeezes your hip. “Yeah, it was. I’ll make tomorrow amazing too if you’ll let me, but you gotta sleep first. Bet you’re really grumpy when you’re tired.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, hiding your face in the pillow. In the dark, you can just see the outlines of each other, shapes and shadows. “Lemme sleep and you can take me for breakfast. Like a date or somethin’.” 

He hides his grin poorly, you can see his teeth flash even with your eyes almost closed. “Nah, breakfast is part of the package. Lemme plan something for our date.” He gives you one last kiss, “Sleep now, sugar.” 

You feel warm, so happy and safe in his arms as you fall asleep. If Eddie asked, you would never leave his arms, leave his bed. And Eddie? Eddie lingers on the precipice of sleep, ready to drift once he knows you’re sleeping soundly. He kisses your forehead one last time before closing his eyes, both holding each other in an utterly blissful sleep. 

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #bouncer!eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #bangaveragefic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things s4 #stranger things fic #frenemies to lovers #stranger things AU #bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader

[dirtyvulture]

Aftermath

Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Sergeant!Reader

18+ only read at your own risk

Summary: Natasha comes to apologize after she unknowingly hurt your feelings.

AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Wrote something short(ish), inspired by several anons as a sequel to this ask.

“You want to come over to my place later?” Natasha whispers in your ear.

“No, not really.” You lean over the railing of the balcony, watching as your recruits tackle the muddy obstacle course in groups of five. “Fitz, Hunter, don’t leave your teammate behind like that!” you shout, noticing two bigger male recruits trying to continue on while their smaller female teammate struggles to scale the rock wall on her own. 

“Yes, Sergeant!” they yell back, meekly turning around and offering their hands to the female.

“Why not?” Natasha sounds shocked you would refuse an offer to be in bed with her. But you still haven’t forgotten her comments at the dinner party.

“I have to catch up on some stuff,” you lie.

Natasha frowns, but she doesn’t push the issue.

***********************************************************************

You’re eating a limp sandwich from the chow hall with some of your colleagues, completely tuned out of the conversation. Natasha walks by with her own tray, tempted to sit next to you, but remembering how distanced you felt from her. 

You notice her, but make no acknowledgement of her.

“Maximoff told me he wants to apply to be a sergeant,” Sam Wilson sitting next to you says. “He was asking what you studied to pass your test.”

“Well, if someone like me can pass, then he shouldn’t have to study at all,” you respond, just loud enough for Natasha to hear. 

Her face turns as red as her hair and she hurriedly turns and walks away.

***********************************************************************

You walk out of your bathroom with just a towel wrapped around your waist, water still dripping down your chest and back from your wet hair. You startle when you see Natasha sitting on your bed, completely forgetting that she had access to your room.

“Hi,” she says in a small voice.

“Why are you here?” you dismiss, walking past her to your closet.

“You’re mad at me,” she says.

“I’m not…mad…” you respond not very convincingly. You grab a clean shirt, turning back to face Natasha and notice that her eyes are trailing down your torso, over the muscles of your chest and stomach where your dog tags hang, and the V-line of your hips that narrow past the towel. “Um, Sergeant?” you ask.

“I’m not your sergeant right now,” Natasha says, and this is the first time you’ve heard her say that. She gets up and steps towards you, gently taking the shirt out of your hands. You stare at her, a little confused. Your relationship with her was complicated to say the least. There were no official boundaries or titles, yet you knew this woman was the only one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. But the nature of your job, especially with the power dynamic, made it almost impossible for you two to make any sort of public announcement.

“I just want to be your Nat right now.”

“My Nat?” you repeat, as if you didn’t hear her correctly. She nods, undoing the towel from your waist and letting it fall to the floor. You feel yourself harden under her gaze alone, a little embarrassed how quickly she turns you on. She takes your hand and leads you to your bed, lying down and guiding you on top of her. “Are you sure you don’t want to–” you start, but Natasha quiets you with a kiss, unbuttoning her jeans and kicking them off. 

“I want you right here,” she says, brushing her hands down your sides before grabbing the hem of her shirt and removing it. 

“I lied. I was a little mad at you,” you confess in a jumble as Natasha holds onto your hips and pulls you down so your cock rubs against her stomach. 

“You had every right to be.”

You look down and see your pre-cum shining along her abs, your cock throbbing harder at the idea of slipping inside of her and pumping her full of your cum. 

“Can I…” you start to pant, your fantasies getting the best of you.

“Of course.” 

For once, Natasha is not particularly dominant with you, lying back and letting you do what you want. Your hands circle her smaller waist, pinning her down to the bed as you line up your cock with her dripping center and slowly push in, moaning at the warmth that surrounds you. 

“F-Fuck, Sergeant,” you say, and Natasha corrects you with a click of her tongue. “I…I mean, Nat. You feel so fucking good.”

Your hips seem to have a mind of their own as they pump forward and backward, filling Natasha to the hilt and pulling out until you can see your tip gleaming with your combined fluids. 

“Keep going, Y/N. Just like that,” Natasha guides, pushing her head back into the pillows as you thrust into her. She holds onto your biceps, tracing the line of a scar on your left one from a knife fight back on one of your first assignments.

You grunt as you start to pick up the pace, slamming into harder and her body shakes as your thighs meet hers. It’s almost like sliding through wet silk; there’s no resistance and only a delicious warmth that makes your head spin. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Natasha moans and you feel her walls tighten around your cock, causing you to increase your strength to fill her deeply. 

“Do you want me to pull out?” you gasp, slowing just enough to wait for an answer.

“Cum inside of me,” she says, locking her ankles around your lower back so you couldn’t pull out even if you wanted to. 

You thrust in one final time, feeling yourself lose control and pumping your cum into her hard and fast. You feel light-headed as you lay down softly on her, putting your head on her chest and letting her stroke your hair until you fall asleep.  

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

AN: Safe to say they’re made up? 🤔

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #sergeant beef au #natasha romanoff x reader

[sideblogofhell]

a dip in the lake

summary: the two of you take a jog to the lake. pairing: sam wilson x male reader word count: 1.1k warnings: 18+ warning, top!sam, lake s3x, outdoor s3x, unprotected s3x(dont do this obviously), public s3x a/n: part two of the event hope u liek it

main masterlist | the repentant's corner

 It was a quiet afternoon in Louisiana. You were pouring cold water into a bottle, it was a really hot day. Sam Wilson was outside practicing with his shield, you could hear the vibranium disk bouncing off of his makeshift training area in your backyard. You went out with the cold bottle, dripping with condensation in your hand. 

He was drenched in sweat despite his sleeveless shirt and his shorts. The red and blue shield flying through the air like a flying blade. He catches it in one swift movement, spinning around to catch the momentum, his muscular arms flexing as he holds the shield. He notices you right away, sinking the shield into the soil.

“Hey, pretty,” he said, taking the bottle from you. Water drips from the corner of his mouth as he downs the liquid, his Adam's apple bobbing. 

“Hey, handsome,” you said, wiping his sweat with your sleeve. 

“Wanna walk?” he asked. “Just down to the lake.”

“Sure.”

“Race you there!” he said, tapping on your shoulder before he ran. You huddled after him, your speed would never match against his but you tried. 

You arrived at the foot of the lake, the blue waters shining like a sheet of mirror against the sun. You caught him by the lakeshore unfazed, you–catching your breath like your life depended on it. “Fuck, you know I’m not built for this,” you said, your words breaking under your breath. 

He laughs playfully, handing you the water bottle. You gulped all the contents of the bottle until your mouth ran dry, sweat drenching your back. You notice him take off his shirt, your eyes wandering to his buff body, sweat glistening all over the expanse of his chest and abs. 

“It is too hot,” you said, fanning yourself with the collar of your shirt. 

“I know. I’ll keep my distance,” he jokingly said. You gave him a side-eye before you saw him untie his shorts.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Let’s take a dip!” 

He pulls his shorts down to his ankles, his body bare naked for anyone to see. He dips his feet at the edge of the water just around his toes. “Sam, someone might see us!”

He scans his head around to check. “No one’s here, plus the water is cold,” he shakes his body around as if he’s freezing. You tried to look around and see as well and sure enough no one was around. You took the hem of your shirt and pulled it off your body, the heat of the sun stinging your skin. Once you were fully unclothed you joined him in the water.

 He was right. The water was cold, the heat leaving your body as you walked deeper and deeper. The water hugged your chest as you stood in front of Sam, his hands on your waist as you tiptoed on the lakebed to meet his gaze. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck as your toes felt the sand below. He took your face and placed gentle kisses on your cheeks and down to your lips. He inched close enough for your chests to touch. He sucks on your skin lightly, you feel a hardness hitting your skin. His hands fall on the curve of your back, kneading the mound. 

You make out for a few minutes, your lips swollen at this point. You two shared gazes half-lidded as he pulls on your thighs to wrap around him. The buoyancy aids in the action as you feel light around his body. Your erection pressed on his abdomen. 

He carries you out of the lake, laying you on the pool of clothes you left behind. You marveled at the gorgeous man on top of you. His large arms pinning your arms, your legs laying on his wide thighs. “Need this,” he said, teasing the hole. 

“Go for it, please.”

He spits on his hand and places two fingers in your hole. He stretched the muscle to prepare you, hitting your spot in the process. You shudder from the contact, your fingertips scratching his back. Your hands go to your cock, stroking it at the same pace as his fingers. Your moans overshadow the sounds of the birds in the trees. 

“Babe, put it in. It’s okay,” you groan. 

He spits another time on his hands to lube his cock, the tip pressing on the tight muscle. Your head falls back as his cock enters you, he presses kisses all over your clavicles to ease you up. His ass clenches as the base of his cock meets your ass, he’s fully inside. The fullness creates an immense feeling of euphoria all throughout your body, your eyes rolling back. 

He starts to thrust slowly, a slight sting hits your back. His finger’s start to dig into the soil, his groans fill your senses. You yelp out as he quickened his pace with the sound of slapping skin. He gestures for you to change positions, his back to the ground as you straddle his hips. You start to ride him at a steady pace, your hands on his pecs. 

His hips start to thrust at the same pace as yours, riding him with the breeze flowing through your hair. His wet skin glistens under the sunlight, his mouth agape has he lets out guttural moans. He strokes your cock in the process, precum leaking off the tip. 

“Fuck.”

“Fuck.”

In the moment your bodies were pure aroused energy, your bodies moving for the sole mission of pleasure. You grew drunk from the sensation, his large hands holding onto your thighs as his hips go in and out of your hole. “Yeah, ride it baby,” he moans.

“ –So big, fuck.”

Your legs start to weaken, his hips start to slow as he lets out long thrusts, his cock filling already. You start to ride him faster to quickly reach your highs. Your fingers dig into his chest as cum spurts out all over his chest. He whimpers from the sensitivity of his cock with your pace, emptying inside you. 

The two of you ride your highs before you collapse next to him on the ground. You stare at the blue sky as you catch your breath. “If this is your definition of a jog then maybe we should do it often,” you laughed.

He laughs, bending over to place a kiss on your temples. “Fuck yeah.”

comments/ reblogs/likes are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

#sam wilson #sam wilson fic #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x reader smut #sam wilson x male reader #sam wilson x male reader smut #the repentant's corner event #marvel smut #avengers smut #sam wilson smut

[the1920sinpictures]

1925 Easter Sunday Deebert, Doris and Donald Wilson ready for Sunday School. The boys wore new knickers which had hems their mother could let down as they grew. Doris wore a frock of light green pongee (silk) made by her mother. Her straw hat came from the Sear's catalog. They lived in rural Dexter, Iowa.

[crazyunsexycool]

The sun ☀️, the moon 🌙, and the stars ✨

Chapter 11: heat of the moment

Pairing: alpha!steve Rogers x alpha!sam Wilson x alpha!bucky Barnes x omega!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warning: smut! All the smut… I don’t think I’ve ever written so much smut for one chapter! Heat, ruts, claiming, biting, bond marks little tiny bit of insecure reader at the end. Some oral (f receiving), tiny bit of choking (you’ll see),

A/N:I’m surprised wrote this so quickly but I had been thinking about this chapter for a while. As always let me know your thoughts, I appreciate the reblogs and comments it hyped me up to write more.

Series Masterlist

“My heat?”

“Yeah sunshine. It makes sense we’ve been around each other nonstop for the last week and a half. It was bound to happen.”

“But it didn’t feel so-so bad last time.” You whined.

“Possibly because you’ve been with the three of us constantly.” Sam says. “What do you want to do, sunshine? We can get Bruce here to help get rid of the symptoms or…”

“Or what?”

“We could help you through it. But it’s your choice if we claim you or not.” Steve says.

“Would you want to?” Your voice was small and you were afraid that they’d say no.

“Of course we do, you’re our best girl.” Bucky speaks up.

“I’d like that. To have your marks, all three of you.” You said before groaning when you felt more slick forming between your legs. It didn’t help that their scents were stronger now, this was just your body’s way of reacting to them.

“Ok, sweetheart. Everything is your choice, we’ll do what you want. Who do you want first?”

You looked at the three of them wide eyed.

“Sunshine, you’re ok. You’re safe with us. Just say the word and we’ll stop ok?”

You nodded, your brain foggy and thinking about only one thing.

“Use your words baby.”

“What I say goes.”

“Good girl.” Sam purrs out as he sat down in the nest you’d built.

Before Steve and Bucky left you and Sam, you practically demanded their shirts to add to the nest. Their scents helped soothe you. Any of them would have been a good choice as your first but Sam had been the one you connected with first. He had eased your worries about being in a relationship not only with an alpha but with the three of them. It would only make sense that as your hindbrain took over that you’d seek that same comfort in this part of the relationship.

“Tell me what you want, omega?”

“You. I want you alpha.” You whined as you straddled his thick thighs.

Sam didn’t stop you when you played with the hem of his t-shirt and then pulled it over his head. You’d seen him shirtless plenty of times and you’ve even had a few make out sessions that also ended with him shirtless but this was different. Sam placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer before crashing his lips into yours. He only pulls away to take off your shirt and then his lips are on your neck and chest until he takes your nipple in his mouth. Your hips jerk forward as a reaction to his ministrations. Especially when his hand finds its place between your thighs and is expertly teasing your clit.

“Sam please.”

“I’ve got you. I’m gonna make you feel good.” He murmured against your skin.

Without warning he ripped the leggings you were wearing. Which was a good thing because you felt like you were burning up.

“Is all this for me?” Sam said with a cocky smirk as he felt the wetness that pooled between your legs.

“Alpha, please. Need you.”

“So pretty when you beg, omega.”

Sam moved you back slightly, enough to pull down his sweats. At any other moment you would have realized he wasn’t wearing any underwear but right now you were more interested in getting some sort of relief. Your attention was on his hardened length and instinctively you wrapped your hand around it and began to move it up and down. You preened when he moaned out your name.

“Y/N, are you sure you want this? Do you want me to claim you?” He asked one more time before he completely lost himself. You couldn’t tell yet but his rut was being triggered just by your heightened scent alone.

“Yes alpha. Want your mark and your knot.”

Sam growled at that and then an arm wrapped around you, pulling you up so that he could line himself up with your entrance. Your breath hitched as you lowered yourself onto him. You had been with a beta once but he didn’t compare to Sam. Sam was bigger, you were sure they would all be. The stretch was a bit uncomfortable at the beginning. He was gently running his hands up and down your thighs to keep you grounded and kissing your neck and chest to distract you. Once you were fully seated and you had a chance to get used to him, he cursed under his breath.

“Are you good, sunshine?”

“Mhm.”

“Take your time baby, I’m all yours. It’s just us, nothing else matters.” Sam smiles up at you as his hands move to your hips.

But you couldn’t wait anymore and you rolled your hips. You moaned as you did it once and a second time. Sam helps you build a steady rhythm by guiding your hips. Soon that isn’t enough and your hands are on his shoulders as you start to bounce on his cock.

“Fuck ‘mega. Feel so good, taking me so well.” Sam mutters. The grip he has on your hips tightens as he starts to take control. It causes more slick to drip from your center and you whine. “Make a mess on my cock ‘mega. Just like that.”

“Alpha, please.” You beg. “W-wanna cum.” You were right there on the edge of bliss but you needed a small push.

His scent was intoxicating, the way Sam held you close was comforting but it was the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world that made you throw your head back. Giving him easy access so that he could claim you. Sam shifted under you a bit, planting his feet firmly and thrusting up into you. That was all you needed as he hit your g-spot over and over again. It was sudden the wave of pure bliss crashed over you. Sam nearly growled as you clenched around him. Then you felt his teeth break skin but there was no pain, not when he helped you through your orgasm.

You were panting and resting your forehead against his shoulder while he rolled his hips a few more times before his knot locked you into place. He guided you to his neck, urged you to claim him just as he had you and you did it happily and he came with a grunt of your name.

The bond snapped into place and you’d never felt so alive or connected to anyone before.

“So good for me ‘mega.” Sam said softly as he pulled a blanket over you. He kissed your temple. You wanted to say something but you were so tired, your eyelids felt heavy. “It’s ok. Just rest.”

Without a worry in the world you relaxed against him and closed your eyes.

****

“Sam?” You called out as you woke up, worried he had left you.

“I’m right here sunshine.” He poked his head out from the bathroom and smiled at you.

Warmth spread through your chest as you made eye contact and your hand flew to your neck. There you found his mark on you and his smile brightened even more.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. Great actually but…”

“But?”

“A little sore.” You said, a bit afraid he’d be upset but he smirked instead. Pride flooded the bond.

“Yeah you are.”

“Sam!” You felt heat rush to your cheeks and more slick formed at the thought of what you had done with him.

“It’s ok baby. I have just the thing for you.”

He walked out of the bathroom and without missing a beat he picked you up. The bathroom was warmer and there were a few candles set up. The bathtub was filled with water and you could smell whatever scented oils he used. There were a few flower petals floating on top too. Sam turned in order to set you down in the tub but your grip on his neck tightened.

“Get in with me?” You looked up at him with doe eyes, something you knew he couldn’t resist.

“Of course.”

Sam got in first and then you did, sitting between his legs and resting your back against his chest. His fingers delicately drew patterns up and down your arm and you sighed contently.

“Thank you.” You said after a few minutes of silence.

“For what?”

“Everything. You’ve been wonderful.”

“Baby, I’d do anything for you. We all would.” He says.

“I know.” You turn to look at him. “I just want you to know that I’m grateful and I’d do anything for the three of you.”

Sam smiles and places a gentle, loving kiss on your lips.

“Well all I want you to do for me right now is to get comfortable again and enjoy this bath before things get intense again.”

You smile and do as he says, enjoying the feel of his kiss on his mark.

Sam had placed you back in your nest. He cuddled with you a bit longer but as your heat built up again he knew it was time for him to let Steve or Bucky in. Even though he was reluctant to do so. Even amongst a pack like theirs possessiveness was bound to happen during an omega’s first heat with her alphas if there were more than one. He knew it was ridiculous to feel that way but he couldn’t help it.

With one last kiss to your forehead Sam got out of the nest you’d built that now smelled like sex. He was replaced by Bucky at your request. You sighed happily when you felt his vibranium hand caress your cheek.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky checked in with you.

“Bad, need you.”

“I know, moonbeam. I’m gonna take care of you now.” Bucky cooed. “Do you still want this? Want my mark on your neck?”

You only nodded as you felt that all familiar fuzziness taking over.

“Use your words darling.”

“Yes, I want it.”

“Good girl.” Bucky smirked as you preened.

He pulled back the blanket you’d been wrapped up in, leaving you bare for him. Bucky inhaled deeply as the sweet scent of French lavender, violets and honey that usually lulled him into a sense of calm, now made him feel alive in a different way. He couldn’t help but settle in between your legs. His lips moving up your thighs and leaving a trail of kisses. Bucky didn’t waste any time as he licked a long stripe from your weeping entrance to your clit. He growled at your taste before sealing his lips around your bundle of nerves.

You gasped at the sensation and your hands found their way into Bucky’s hair. The sweet sounds you were making were like music to his ears and he wanted to hear more. Soon enough he slowly started using a finger to fuck you.

“So fucking good omega.” He murmured against your mound before he started to flick his tongue over your clit.

“Alpha please.”

If the heat alone wasn’t enough, Bucky’s very talented mouth wiped all functions from your brain. You knew what you wanted but you couldn’t ask for it. Not with the way he was using two fingers to find that spongy spot inside. The need low in your belly built quickly and you found yourself grinding against his face.

“Be a good girl and cum for your alpha.” Bucky growled and it sent a shiver down your spine and straight to your pussy. You moaned as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

It took a moment to come down from that high but when you did Bucky was gently caressing your cheek. He smiled at you when you finally looked up at him.

“So pretty when you cum, omega. I wanna see you do it on my knot.”

“Please alpha.” You reached for him and he gladly ducked his head and kissed you. Another moan escapes your lips when you taste yourself on his tongue.

Bucky moves to hover over you without breaking the kiss. Your legs part willingly as he settles himself in between them. When you feel his cock, already hard and leaking precum, against your heat you roll your hips.

“So desperate ‘mega. Is this what you want?” He rolled his hips and you moaned.

You nod and whine as he pulls away slightly. Bucky lines himself up, groaning as he pushes in.

“Look at that, you were made just for me.”

His hands find yours and he puts them over your head, pinning them with one hand. Bucky is slow with a roll of his hips. As much as he wanted to go fast and hard, he remembered that you were more delicate. He had much more restraint than he realized, even when you sounded so pretty.

“Alpha…”

“What do you want, omega? Tell me.” He ran his nose along your neck and he placed a kiss over Sam’s mark before giving your breasts attention.

“More, please.”

“More?”

“Faster. Harder.”

The growl that rumbled in his chest had you clenching around him.

“Are you sure about that darling? Think you can handle me fucking you like that?”

“Yes, please. Need it.”

Bucky smirked, his eyes completely dark and full of lust. His hand letting go of yours and traveling down your body until they’re at your hips. He pulled away from you, sitting up on his haunches and pulling you with him. Bucky snaps his hips once, testing out if that’s really what you want. You throw your head back with a moan as you hold on to his forearms. He does it again and again until he’s built a rhythm that is pushing you to the edge. He knows it just by the way you flutter and clench around him, that and the chorus of yes and alpha that pour out from your mouth.

When you finally reach your peak and you’re engulfed in pure pleasure, Bucky leans over and marks you. You feel his teeth break skin and then his tongue runs over the new mark. The next thing you feel is his knot and you will yourself to look up at him. He’s so beautiful like this, completely blissed out and barely holding back. Bucky offers you his neck and you claim him just how he had done with you. His knot catches and keeps him in place as he whispers your name. With a few final sloppy thrusts, Bucky cums.

Bucky wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you with him so that you’re laying on top of him completely. With a satisfied sigh and a smile on both your lips you let sleep take you as Bucky mutters praises in your ear.

****

To your surprise Bucky is still in the nest with you. He was seated up with his back resting against the pillows you had placed to the side earlier. He smiles as you look up at him.

“Hey there sleepyhead.”

“Hey.” You sit up and move to straddle his thighs and hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, just wanna be close to you.”

You missed Bucky’s sweet smile as he wrapped his arms around you. He held you close for a few minutes, just enjoying the new bond that had been formed between the two of you.

“You need to drink some water.” He muttered a few minutes later. You pulled back to see he had a water bottle close by as well as some snacks. “Gotta keep your energy up, darling.” He said when he followed your eyes.

“I don’t want to eat.”

“What, all you wanna do is fuck?” He teases.

“Yeah.” You teased right back and he laughed. It was still a new and strange sensation, feeling his happiness through the bond. Along with that feeling Sam’s curiosity piqued.

“Just a few bites of something darling. Let me take care of you.”

“Ok.”

“Good girl.” Bucky’s praise sent a shiver up your spine.

The rest of the time with Bucky was spent cuddling and napping. You weren’t sure what time it actually was but you didn’t care as you were lulled to sleep with the coolness of Bucky’s left hand on your forehead.

The door opens slowly to reveal Steve. He was shirtless and was wearing sweats that hung low on his hips. The sight was mouth watering. He had a smirk on his face and a dark, lust blown look in his eye.

“Hi my sweet starlight.” He said as he walked in and closed the door.

“Hi.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Just you.” You whispered.

“Good answer.”

Although Steve is radiating the confidence that comes with being the head of the pack, both the team and personal, he’s gentle as he gets into the nest. He still understands how vulnerable you are at the moment. Steve hovers over you as he crashes his lips against yours. This kiss is more dominant and all consuming than any you’d shared before. You moan against his lips as his hands find your breasts and palms them.

“You like that, sweetheart?” He asks against your lips and you nod. “Do you want more?” You nod again.

“Please alpha, need more.”

“Then present for your alpha.” He whispered in your ear.

The command left no room for argument. Not that you would, the growl laced within it spoke directly to your inner omega. You scrambled to get on your hands and knees. Just for good measure you lowered your chest toward the floor and wiggled your hips for him. You heard his groan and then felt a sting on your ass from where he smacked you.

“Such a tease. You’ve been doing it for weeks.” He mutters before smacking your ass again after hearing your moan.

“You’re a tease.”

“Is that what you think baby?”

“Yes.” You say breathlessly as you feel Steve shift behind you and run his hardened length between your folds to gather the slick that has accumulated there.

“No more teasing then. I’m gonna give you what you want.”

“Please alpha.” You wiggle your ass for him one more time before he buries himself inside you in one thrust.

That was enough to knock the wind out of your lungs and your mouth to hang open. Steve could feel you clenching around him and it took everything in him to not fuck you into oblivion. At least not yet, he knew he needed to ease into it. Steve pulled back slowly and immediately you felt empty so you pushed back into him.

“Someone’s desperate.” He teases while grabbing your hips to keep you in place.

Then he pushes back into your warm cunt. Steve leaves a trail of kisses up your spine while he ruts into you.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around me.” He whispers into your ear. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

Steve straightens up and starts to thrust harder and faster. You grip the pillow closest to you as you take every inch of him. He’s turned you into putty in his hands and all you can do is moan and writhe beneath him.

It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling that fire deep in your belly build. It’s obvious to Steve that you’re close with the way you’re making a mess and fluttering around his cock. His hand snakes around your body and wraps around your throat and he pulls you up. Steve moves his free hand from your hip to your clit, giving you added stimulation.

“Alpha… So good.” You said, over and over again.

“Are you gonna cum for me, pretty girl? I know you are. I can feel you squeezing me. So fucking tight.”

The combination of his filthy words, thrusts and hand between your legs was enough. You feel a wave of pleasure wash over you and the only thing keeping you up is Steve’s arms around you. His head is buried in your neck and that’s when you realized he’s left his mark on your neck. Before you can enjoy the feeling, Steve is pulling away and laying you down on your back before settling between your legs again. He smiles down at you while he lines himself up again.

This time when you look at him you can see the tenderness in his eyes. He’s gentle and caring with how he searches for his own release. Your hand comes up to caress his cheek as he whispers your name as he finds his own bliss and exposes his next to you. His knot seals you together for the moment, but your mark on his neck seals you together forever. Before moving Steve peppers kisses all over your face. Then as carefully as he can he moves to lay on his side. Your leg thrown over his hip and his arms around your waist to keep you close.

****

You’re cuddled up next to Steve when an overwhelming feeling washes over you. You can’t stop the silent tears that slip through your lashes and fall on his bare chest. He pulled back to get a better look at you at the sensation and noticed the tears.

“Sweetheart what’s wrong?” Steve asks as he sits up, bringing you with him. “Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head. There’s no real way to explain it. Soon the door to the room opens to reveal Bucky and Sam. They both have worried expressions on their faces.

“Talk to me baby. What’s wrong? Do you need something?”

“No, I just- I don’t know how to explain it. It just feels like a lot.” You said as you moved into Steve’s lap looking for comfort.

The three alphas look at each other, concerned that maybe they moved too fast. The last thing they wanted was to make you feel forced or trapped in a relationship.

“I’ve been so alone for most of my life. But now I have you, all of you. What if I’m not go-“

“Don’t even think about it.” Bucky cut you off. “We’ve talked about this darling. On our date remember.” He was sitting beside Steve so that you could see him. “Feeling like we don’t belong but we do, you do. That feeling right now, I know it. I felt the same way when I was first mated and bonded.”

“You did?”

“Yeah I did. It took me a while to figure out what that overwhelming feeling that sits right,” he leans forward and touches your chest. “There. It’s the bond and more importantly what you’re feeling is love. It’s the love we have for you.”

“You love me?”

“Sweetheart of course we do.”

“We love you so much.”

“Absolutely.”

They all said at the same time.

“I- I love you too. All of you.” You admitted.

That feeling in your chest warmed you from the inside out. Steve tipped your head back and kissed you softly.

“You have us and we never want you to doubt your place in our pack.” Sam adds. “I don’t think you’ve realized it but you’ve got us wrapped around your finger, sunshine.”

The following few days were a blur. Sam, Bucky and Steve’s rut started a few hours after your heat. The four of you were a tangled mess of limbs within the confines of your nest. They took care of you and you returned the favor.

It was overwhelming and scary, comforting and safe. The more you settled into the bond the more at home you felt. Never again would you be alone. You had your pack to make you feel safe and loved and cherished.

In those first few days understanding the bond and the connection with all three alphas was confusing. But then it clicked. You realized you were more than true mates, your souls were connected too.

Ch 12

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#the sun the moon and the stars series #alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader #alpha!sam wilson x omega!reader #alpha!steve rogers x omega!reader #alpha!steve Rogers smut #alpha!bucky Barnes smut #alpha!sam Wilson smut #sam wilson smut #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #alpha!stucky x omega!reader #alpha!sambucky x omega!reader #alpha!samsteve x omega!reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o universe #a/b/o polyamory #steve rogers x female!reader #sam wilson x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female!reader

[brights-place]

Slenderman is Goddess! Spouse

Pairings: Slenderman X la Muerte! Reader

Warnings: Murder, Gore, Supernatural, Fluff, Angst, Cussing

A/N: Okay so I had this idea slenderman dating an godess of life for example like La muerte who I think is SO FUCKING HOT! she is amazing and Slenderman dating someone like her would be so fun to write!

- When the creepypasta members saw you they first thought you were an intruder you were human - before they attacked you slenderman appeared right infront of you bending himself down to face you properly "(Name)" "Slender" You said smiling softly to him as you both disappeared once he gave you his hand - When you both are alone he picks you up like you are a teddy bear and makes you lay your head on his chest as you chuckle - You and Slender kept your relationship an secret until Jeff entered the office to hand over his report but walked in on you kissing Slender is cheek - As his spouse he makes sure to take care of you - he keeps his scary and tough demeanor but around you? he just tries his bets for you not to show PDA in public he had to keep his scary demeanor! - Due to Slender Man's history being completely unknown it is hard to determine just what he is thinking, although he is commonly seen as a cruel, sadistic, manipulative, predatory, misanthropic demon. It is entirely unknown if Slender Man actually cares for his proxies' safety, or if he's just using them in order to get what he wants, showing his controlling and tyrannical personality - Yet... he married you !! an Human? a basic human who... who didn't even he was just so CONFUSED! well he thought you were Human... - You were gonna be his victim, you were going to die in his hands yet he didn't even do that he just stared at you - He was confused on how everything around you bloomed and became more colorful showing life - You two were the opposites of eachother Slender Man is a mystery. He looks like a human being, but doesn’t act like one. It is uncertain if he is a social creature, understands human languages or behaviors, or even why humans appear to be his primary targets while you were a 'human' who was positive and shown to be a largely kind and loving woman, showing a deeply caring and welcoming attitude to almost everyone you have meet. You were free-spirited and festive. It is believed that the kindness and love of mortal-kind stem from your own - He loves to slow dance with you but he always has to bend down when you were in your Human form of course - He found it peculiar when flower petals always walked behind you - When slender cut Rogue by accident cause she was in the way when he was throwing Wilson the basher against the wall for failing his mission - Slender never told any of his useless proxies or the lower Creepypasta's knew about you but when you appeared from thin air staring at Slenderman who dropped Wilson and the other proxies who failed the missions down quickly turning his ehad towards you the dark appearance and shadowy places that where showing disappeared as he felt his blood drain - You satred at him eye twitching as your fists balled as your human form turned to you true godess form as you shouted loudly "SLENDER!" Slender spoke quickly "My love-" - He watched as you scolded him but he couldn't help but admire your appearance

- Despite both of you being as old and ancient as time itself,you kept youe vision of youth and radiant beauty as you were made entirely of white sugar candy with knee-length H/c licorice hair that is tied in a low ponytail with bangs split on either side and multi-colored glowing eyes with aqua eyeshadow that are in shades of gold and red. While your red dress decorated with cempasuchil (Mexican marigold flowers) all over and marigold flowers with lit white wax candles at the hem of your dress. You also wear an extremely large, wide-brimmed sombrero bedecked with more lit candles and marigolds, small skulls, pink-plumed, curly, swirly feathers and palm leaves. Also wearing a circular gold locket on a choker that he had given you - The proxies were smirking happily being protected by the goddess of life - He makes sure on November second that he comes with you cause you say its the most special day to you which was the day of the dead - You both Slow dance together listening to Classical music -  Though you two have a complicated relationship with due to your different beliefs and the completely different, opposite antagonistic lands and realms you both ruled. - As your husband he does his best to make time for you - When he is out "working" in his words he is just getting victims while you on the other hand would scold him but knew it was his only way of well eating - You knew that Slender wins over the confidence of children but adults are repulsed by fear. - He chooses children because he can take longer to nurture their fear, stalking them for years before attacking them as adults. - He brainwashes children, using them to further his own (unspecified) ends as Proxies. Children are simply easier for him to hunt and eat - You spend time with the younger Creepypasta's and make sure that they are patched up - The other creepypasta's were weary of you and still are - But DAMN! you knew how to cook some good food - If the creepypastas are close to the brink of death they literally scream in their heads for slender to get them or have backup which slender does... sometimes - But if they shout your name at all within any space giving life well Poof your their in an second taking them and scolding them for almost getting caught - Slender makes sure to try maintain his anger issues but he does lash out of the Proxies if they do anything wrong - When you two argue about the creepypastas you speak up "Anyone can die. These kids, they will have the courage to live and fight" you said as slender argued back to you "They are adults My love" "Yes but what has happened to them they were only mere children! well some of them!" You said back as slender groaned in annoyance pinching the bridge of where his nose would be... if he even had one

- Yes you two have different perspectives on humankind for example you believe that humankind is completely good, true and pure while Slender thinks and believes that humankind is selfish, greedy, sinful and concerned only in its own interest on the other hand. - Despite your differences and occasional conflicts you two complement each other perfectly.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

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[housemv]

could you please PLEASE repost the stand by your man amv? OP edited the original post claiming hey hate house md now + hem seems to be very pro incest these days, i don't really feel comfortable rebloging it from them.

damn, such a fandom staple. here's the now edited post and what anon said regretably does check out. Since OP has edited the post and claims to no longer wish to be associated with the fandom i feel like reposting it is fair, considering this is, precisely, a blog meant to archive these creations and prevent them from getting lost.

house/wilson | stand by your man

#type: reposted #song: stand by your man #performed by: tammy wynette #acc: partially captioned #ch: gregory house #ch: james wilson #r: house x wilson #length: full song #submitted by: anon

[kingofthe-egirls]

LUFFY x Y/N (modern au) part 4

part 1 part 2 part 3

(cw: modern au, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, orgasm countdown, kissing, angst/fluff, comfort, reader is a survivor. [a/n--sorry i'm like this. i'm using these stories to heal])

(a/n: i'm overwhelmed with unabashed joy and therefore must never cringe)

Songs: "Jackie and Wilson" by Hozier, "To Be Alone" by Hozier

word count: 1.7k

***

Luffy leans his weight into you, pressing you into the hotel mattress.

"Hiya," he murmurs against your lips. His elbows are on either side of your head, and he's thrusting gently against your clothed cunt. His jeans are riding low around his hips, and you scrabble desperate fingers under the hem of his shirt. His abs are soft and warm under your touch.

"Hey," you breathe, lifting the arch in your back to press your chest deeper into his. He slides his arms under your shoulders, and holds you close as he kisses you again. Your arms are around his neck, pressing him as tightly to you as you can. It's so good to feel him.

Real.

Apart from your virtual ventures, you haven't gotten much play besides your girlfriend. (Which is great, by the way.) But it's been a while since you've had a man. You love masculinity, love the traces of his jaw against your skin. Love the weight of him, pressing into you. Nami is so much smaller than you--you curvy and her thin--you always feel a little clumsier, around her. And femininity is great and all, but sometimes you just need a dick.

And Luffy seems more than happy to give it to you.

"What can I do ta ya?" He rasps softly against your ear. He takes the lobe in his teeth, pulling slightly. You whine in the back of your throat--short and sweet.

"Um--," you push up your chin, scooting closer under him. "I w-wanna make you cum," you confess.

Cherry blossoms bloom along his cheeks.

"I'd like that," he grins, teething at your jawline, "You've already done it once before. Plus, like, two more times since then, ha."

You bust out a laugh, helpless beneath him. He shakes over you, giggling too. "Well, I'm so glad," you huff out a breath, and press a kiss to his collarbone. His round face is open wide and shining, eyes crinkling like half-moons in his bronze skin.

Wow.

You've got it bad.

Luffy nuzzles against your cheek. "Thanks for that, baby." He rolls his hips against you once more. You gasp, face heating like a rose.

"Lu-uffy," you hook your legs around his thick waist, bringing him closer (harder) against you. He starts thrusting quicker, friction both electrocuting and freezing you in place. He regards you down the edge of his tip-turned nose. A sharp eyebrow twitches upward as he smirks.

"Wan' more?"

You nod, furiously, as you break away to tug off your shirt. Luffy sits back on his heels to take off his own, pulling the red t-shirt off over his head with one hand. You stare at his frame, lithe and muscular, and lick your lips. "You're welcome, by the way."

He giggles.

"Shishishi, guess it's my turn to please you," he leans forward again, hand going to the small of your back as he lays you down. The pillows crinkle beneath you. The hotel smells like lemon-scented bleach. A watercolor painting of a fox hangs on the wall in front of you.

Luffy's face is between your legs.

He kisses around your abdomen, over your bellybutton and along the waistband of your skirt. He slyly unzips it, dragging the silver buckle down the length of your thigh. He flicks his dark eyes back up to you, questioning, and you swallow with a nod. He pulls the leather fabric off of you in one, swift motion. Then his fingers are curled in your underwear, pulling them down your legs, too. You let him, lifting your hips for him to undress you. The cotton slides down your shivering thighs, his fingertips grazing your already-heated skin. He smiles, genuinely, as he gazes at your heat.

"S'pretty for me," he murmurs, ghosting both hands back up your thighs. He lies down slowly, making intense eye contact with your clit. You hum, snuggling back into the covers. They were soft, and downy. Your tits splay out side to side as you get comfy.

"Like it?" You ask, arching an eyebrow as he grins at you. His eyes flare like black opal, and your stomach drops. You're fucking in for it.

"Love it, pretty."

And then his tongue is at your clit, flicking over and over again with an intense speed. You groan, arching your back as your legs tighten around his head. His hair is fluffy and ticklish against your inner thigh. You card your fingers through it, gripping tightly. His locks are velvet soft, and you whine.

He pulses in with two fingers, curling upward with the pads of his third and fourth digits. His fingers are strong and thick, and he pumps them into you while he laps at your clit.

"Mm-fuck!" You squeal, twitching against his jaw. His licking and sucking fill the room with perverse noises, and your muffled squeaks aren't doing much to help. Luffy is hungrily groaning into your cunt, grinding his hips against the bed. "Y-you--," you pant, squeezing your eyes shut, "I--want you!" You moan with your spine curled forward, hunching around your pleasure as Luffy speeds up.

"Not yet," he tugs at your strings, playing you like a violin. Deft fingers illustrate a symphony your nerves are only just this shy of being able to withstand. You whimper, nails digging into his scalp. "Wanna see ya cum, first."

His nose is pressed against your pubic bone, his tongue now doing figure eights on your messy clit. Saliva and slick slip down his face and onto the mattress beneath you. He traces imaginary shapes on your clit, over and over again, almost like letters. You let out a gasp, laughing.

"Ya spellin' somethin'?" You ask, neck craned to watch him work.

"Mm," he hums, fingers stretching out like scissors. You shake, beneath his touch. "Wanna guess?"

You laugh out loud, now, and let your head fall back against the pillows with a soft thump. "Umm...," you breathe, chest ragged and heaving. Your skin is on fire by now, plush and deep velvet as you rake your hands over your own thighs. Your fingernails leave traces of scarlet ribbon in their wake. "M-maybe, 'cum?'" You guess, rutting your hips up against his face.

"Nuh-uh."

"Fuck--," you buck your hips. He giggles, vibrating against your cunt. "You're impossible," you mutter, before bringing your focus back on the shapes his tongue is now lazily curling out along your clit.

A curl, a circle, a line?

You whimper, unable to focus.

"I--I have ADHD," you cover your eyes with a forearm, "This isn't fair."

"Me too!" He happily exclaims, before diving back in to repeat his movements. His tongue is so...dexterous.

"L...Luffy?" You sound out, eyebrows scrunched as you search the ceiling for answers. "Are you spelling your own name?"

"Luffy's," he corrects, "'Cuz you're mine now."

"Oh, am I?" You tease, relaxing back in the bed as he fucks you with his hand. Your body is shivering, aching now, as it craves release. "Did you do the apostrophe?"

"The what?"

"Nevermind," you laugh, shaking your head against the pillow. Your hair is spread out, soft and tangled, around you. You lift up a little to make eye contact with him. He's staring directly at your cunt, pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly. He's drooling.

"Gonna make me cum, or what?"

He flares his gaze back up to you, wild and dark, and starts to speed up. He crooks his fingers, his other thumb pressing hard into your clit now. "Five," he says, without warning.

"What?"

He looks over your shaking form with adoration, plus something that almost looks like bloodlust. "Four." He licks his lips as he gazes back up at you. He pinches your clit, and you scream.

"Luffy!!!" You squeeze your eyes shut, toes curling as you bow forward. He snickers.

"Three."

His fingers crook up--delicious--as he speeds up inside you. His pace is unbelievably fast--almost like a vibrator. "F-fuck--," you groan, scrabbling at his head with feeble hands.

"Two."

He's pulling at your clit between finger and thumb, harsh and lovely and spurring you on toward the swell of your symphony. "That's it, baby, moan f'me," he coos, pressing kisses to your inner thigh. "One."

Fuck--

"Lu--," his name is cut off as a chorus on your lips, now gone silent as you shudder through an orgasm. You've never cum this hard, before.

Your name is silent on his lips, as well.

You don't see it, bowed forward and clutching at his hair, but his lips move in the shape of your name, over and over as he gazes at you in awe. Your pretty lips, your wild hair, he can't handle the way you choke on his name. He slows his fingers down inside you.

"Good, baby?" He asks, running a strong hand up and down your leg. His other goes to palm his cock beneath his shorts. He's aching for you, now. You nod, forcing your breathing to cool down. Something was--coming up for you, and you can't help the tears that slide hot and salty onto your cheeks.

[a/n: this is now completely selfish and personal to me, so don't read on if you'd like the story to end here. smut is over now lol]

"'M...sorry," you say, embarrassment flooding through you. "Sorry," you shake, gone cold all of a sudden, as something knotted and thorny comes undone in your chest. Something after--after all these years. "I'm sorry!"

He shushes you, cooing at you immediately. He rushes up to wrap you in his arms, stroking your hair as you start to sob. You press your face into his sternum, and take a shuddering breath. "'M sorry," you say again, pressed against his sweaty skin. You sniff, wetly.

"I'm sorry," he says, kissing the top of your head. He feels so strong around you. "Did I do something wrong?"

You swallow, shaking your head against the muscles of his chest. His scar is a flat pane of scarlet in your eye. "Nope, not you. Someone--else." That's all you say, and that's all he asks.

"I got you," he whispers, humming as he plants more kisses atop your head. You cringe into him, wrapping your own arms around his back. "Don't say sorry anymore, baby. 'S not your fault."

"I know," you whisper, bitter. "I'm just--sorry I'm like this, is all. I don't wanna be, anymore. But..."

"But ya gotta cry, sometimes. I know," he whispers, then tilts your chin up to his face. He's smiling softly at you, hotel lights sending twinkles in his gray eyes. "I cry, too."

You smile, in spite of yourself, and reach up to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you."

***

#do i introduce conflict or no #hmmmmmm #i'm an m dash lover #that turned out so much heavier than i anticipated #oh well #luffy fanfic #luffy angst #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy x reader #luffy comfort #tw: sex mention #luffy smut #one piece fanfic #one piece smut #modern au #dumpster dive #my writing

[marthammasters]

@revenge-of-the-assbutt @firstaidspray @sachermorte thank u for enabling me NEWAY since I’ve been too dead to do any of my own hobbies here’s some thoughts on House & Co’s physical hobbies/lil crafts & such they do in the comfort of their home<3:

House: canonically does a ton of shit like piano/guitar/cooking/so on but In the spirit of him resisting change (At Times!) I think he’s gotten very good if not makes a fun time out of mending clothes🥺…. Didn’t wanna throw away his favorite shirts so it started w small hems+resizings until he looked up more tips online and get decorative w it. Pretty contrasting colors/patterns now randomly laid on his shirts and pants w only the careful eye(Cuddy+Wilson) to notice. If anyone cares

Wilson: gardening. Well as much one can do within his apartments/pretty nonplant friendly homes. He’s not a super greenthumb expert but it always gives him a lil confidence boost when he’s able to grow out spices and herbs & such to use in his cooking ♥️

Cuddy: she seems like a collage-making kind of girlie💗💗 no specific theme in em or anything but she still holds onto the potential self-aid of making vision boards and it’s relaxing for her to go thru magazines/etc + cut out whatever interests her enough to use. Rachel tries and cutely fails to help 💓💓💓

Chase: ironically enough for the prodigal son lol but . He genuinely seems like someone who enjoys spending time in silence/music doing puzzles w 1000+ pieces & such #DWEEB❤️. House once got him a 5000 piece puzzle of a kangaroo or w/e as a joke and he is Determined to complete it. In due time chase…

Foreman: the thought of Foreman crocheting is so dear to me….. he doesn’t rly tell anyone ab it but there’s a lot of half-finished + worn projects as proof around his home. #angsting it sorry but I think he took it up after his mom started deteriorating bc she crocheted too and it was a fonder reminder + sumn they could do together. One yr he gave the fellow ducklings scarves he made as Xmas gift. Not that he told him he made it tho😅#repressed

Cameron: I think she has a moderately sized zen garden on a table somewhere in her home she takes SERIOUS. Changes the lines/circles in the sand periodically, sees what new arrangement of rocks she can do etc etc. Girl that thing is meant to be relaxing!! also colorcodes/sticker-covers/etc her planner like a CHAMP.

Amber: she has the most well-detailed prettiest most concerning-when-read journal/diary everrrr. Dedicates a specific time in every day to it w specific pens of various colors. Some of the recounting even have lil doodles or if she takes the journal out w her she draws her view wherever she is<3 they’re literal chickenscratch but its still fun and fulfilling. It’s a bibleesque piece to Wilson’s Amber shrine btw

Thirteen: she’s hard to analyze for me soz 13heads I do love her #trust… nonetheless I bet she goes to hella dance classes. Partially for the exercise partially for the fun partially for the need to experience Life partially for the women. Heh. She’s rly into zumba, jazz, contemporary classes to be specific.

Taub: ok ok so remember when he did/bought pottery or w/e to convince his wife he was being faithful. I think he’d do it for real as a joke/alibi then be like wait…. This is kinda fun…? There’s no constraints to what he can make + the sculpting reminds him vaguely of plastic surgery work so he keeps it up.

Kutner: I think he draws + writes his own lil comics/zines 🫶 they’re mostly scifi or superhero and more than a lil inspired by his fave preexisting medias . He likes using the crazy cases he’s experienced w House as story inspo. Also he 4 sure runs dnd campaigns so well and fun. Btw

Masters: she’s a suckerrrr for trivia nights my lil nerd wife<3 but um anyway when she wants to relax she Really doesn’t want sumn that can become info overload so in free time she’ll make friendship bracelets, lil shapes/figures out of string, etc. Will someone please give this woman a full on loom to go cray with!!!!

Park: I can see it so clearly . I can see her lil handpainted warhammer and other tabletop game figures so perfectly in my head. She paints more than she actually plays(but she does !). God save you if you touch or tumble them.

Adams: I kinda DGAF about her sorry women… hmm there’s sumn compelling ab her doing blackout poetry plus occasionally full-on written when the inspo hits! started as a boredom thing in her job in the prison w whatever book she brought in then she kept on doing it w more and more written pieces she comes across.

I put so much time into this. Perhaps too much.😭feel free to gimme y’all’s thoughts on this/ur own ideas :3

#I’ve gone mental. #house Md #house #Gregory house #James Wilson #Lisa Cuddy #lee postz #Robert chase #Allison Cameron #Eric foreman #Amber volakis #remy thirteen hadley #Chris taub #Lawrence Kutner #Martha m masters #chi park #Jessica adams #hatecrimes Md #hate crimes Md #Martha masters #James Evan wilson #Greg house

[inkdrinkerworld]

♮ 𝐡𝐨𝐳𝐢𝐞𝐫 -> 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

reader being goofy and trying to get spencer to be more spontaneous / goofy with her

spencer’s baking cookies and you’re dancing to country music.

it’s quite a typical night in your house. spencer does baking because you cooked dinner and you’re dancing because he agreed to make your favourite.

you’re in a sweater and a pair of thigh high socks, spatula in hand as you sing along to lainey wilson.

“Now you're sayin' that you wish you would've cleaned up!”

you’re not even sure if what you’re doing is considered singing at this point, but you can’t help yourself.

there’s just something safe about being with spencer that makes you comfortable with belting song lyrics at well past seven at night.

“angel, you’ll hurt your throat.” he’d never ask you to stop, though spencer doesn’t quite understand how you’ve got so much energy.

“but it’s fun spence,” you slide into him as he shuts the oven door, giggling when his arms catch you from falling on your ass.

“you’re gonna feel sick, your dinner hasn’t settled yet.”

you shake your head, “it so has! my dinner settles really really fast ‘cos of all the dancing.”

you’re not proving to spencer that cookies at this hour is a sound decision. he wouldn’t stop you though.

“really?”

you nod. “yeah and if you dance and sing with me your dinner will settle quick too.”

you say it with such conviction that if spencer didn’t know that wasn’t scientifically true he’d believe you.

“i’m good, love.” he dots a kiss to your forehead but you don’t step out of his hold.

instead, your chin goes into his chest and you give him your best pout.

“please dance and sing with me? s’no fun alone.”

his hands play with the hem of your socks while he contemplates. at his hesitation you promise, “only for one song.”

spencer watches your lip do a little wobble and holds out for a couple more seconds before relenting.

“but i get to choose.” he swears your neck is sprained with how fast you nod.

he chooses a slower song than you would’ve but he does dance the entirety of the song and is rewarded with your smile and a myriad of kisses.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x black!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid drabble #600 follower celebration

[misterdrwilson]

Good Morning,

A James Wilson x Reader Drabble

Content warnings: Smut, smut, and more smut

Word count: 1082

Description: James is normally up and out of bed before you, but this morning he has other ideas…

Author note: this is just. Pure smut and I am so not sorry. This will be crossposted on Ao3, under the user keylocke!

James often woke up before you, and usually he got himself out of bed and started on his day. He would typically get up, shower, and make breakfast before your eyes had even opened. Today, however, when he woke up, your boyfriend opted to stay in bed with you. He reached around your body and pulled you close to him, your back pressing against his chest and stomach.

You let out a soft noise, but didn’t wake up. Gently, James began to play with your hair and lay gentle kisses on your neck. You were wearing his t-shirt with no pants on, only the soft blanket covering your bare thighs. Your boyfriend ran his hand down from your hair down to your shoulders and over your side, sliding up your shirt to trace soft circles over your hip and stomach.

He continued for a while and you woke up slowly, becoming aware of the feeling of James’s hands on you and the way he was peppering your skin with kisses.

“Mmmh,” you pressed yourself even closer to him, yawning slightly and letting him continue kissing and touching you.

“Good morning,” James murmured against your neck, smiling slightly.

“You’re in a good mood,” you smiled, turning your head to give him a soft kiss.

James kissed you back, capturing your lips with his and not pulling away. You turned to lay flat on your back and James’s strong hand ran over your stomach and down to your thighs.

“Want you to feel good,” James said between kisses. “Wanna make you feel good,”

You spread your legs and kissed him harder, giving your consent. James eagerly pressed a hand between your legs, gently beginning to rub you through your underwear.

You let out soft, sleepy noises of pleasure as he touched and teased you.

“James…” You whined out, pulling away to look at your boyfriend.

He had soft, caring eyes and the way he was looking at you made your heart swell. It was clear that in this moment, all he wanted was for you to feel good. His lips were parted ever so slightly, and he seemed to be gauging your reactions to every touch. You ran your fingers through his soft hair, your eyes fluttering shut as he snaked his hand into your underwear and started to rub circles around your most sensitive parts.

“B-baby,” you gasped, bringing a hand up to touch your own chest.

“You look so beautiful,” James whispered as you pulled up your shirt to reveal more of your body to him. You loved the way he treated you, loved the way the man took care of you in bed and out of it.

You felt your thighs begin to shake slightly as James ran two fingers up and down over you.

“James, oh, b-baby,” you managed out, grabbing at his thigh. “You’re so good, always s-so… good…”

James was smiling, loving the sight of you unraveling beneath him. “I love to do it for you,”

You let out soft, eager moans as he leaned down to kiss you again.

“James!” You cried against his lips, one hand tangled in the sheets and the other holding tightly to his thigh. “I need you, James, p-please I need you-“ You pulled at the hem of his boxers, trying to get them down.

James pulled his hand from between your thighs, grabbing your hip and pulling you on top of him. He pushed your shirt off and you helped him get it over your head, making quick work of his boxers afterwards. You pulled down your own underwear eagerly and somewhat clumsily, nearly falling over in the process. Finally, you lined yourself up with him and sank down hard and fast.

“Oh, g-god,” James groaned, his eyes fluttering shut.

You ran your hands over his chest and stomach as you adjusted, soft squeaks escaping your mouth as you began to move and bounce on him.

“C-Christ, Y/N-“ he gasped out in response to the absolutely brutal pace you chose.

It was not the kind of morning for soft love making. You needed this man and you needed him hard.

“This is what I want, th-this is what I need,” you gasped, rolling your hips. “Need you, James, need this!”

James was holding tightly to your hips, meeting each of your downstrokes with a thrust up, trying to get as deep inside of you as he could. You felt tension growing in your core and you whined out loud, your head falling back as you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

“Don’t stop baby, please don’t stop,” James begged, his eyes rolling back. “So good, oh god,”

Had you been less needy, you’d have slowed down at that and tortured your poor boyfriend. You loved the way you could get him to beg so easily, how you could make him so desperate for you. Today, however, was not the day for it. You were chasing pleasure with such ferocity that you knew you’d be sore later, but it would be completely beyond worth it.

“James, honey, sweetheart,” you gasped, bending forward and pressing your hands to his chest.

“That’s it,” James coaxed, feeling you beginning to throb around him. “Let go for me,”

His short nails were digging into your thighs, and he was hitting the deepest possible parts of you with each thrust up. You were shaking, your thighs beginning to spasm as you got closer and closer.

“Wanna feel it, Y/N, wanna feel you come on me,” James groaned out, knowing how dirty talk could get you there. He did, in fact, want to feel you come on him, and he wanted to return the favor by finishing deep inside of you. You could feel him twitching within you let out a noise that was a mix between a whine and a moan as you crashed over the edge, bouncing wildly on your boyfriend.

James guided you through it, continuing to thrust up into you until you felt his whole body tense as he finished.

You panted and tried to catch your breath, coming down from the high with your boyfriend still twitching inside you.

“Oh, James,” you moaned, falling forward against his chest.

James wrapped his arms around you, taking deep breaths himself.

“I should wake you up like that more often,” he smirked.

“Yeah, except you’re going to be late for work now,” you murmured.

“I don’t care,” James laughed. “You are well worth it,”

#james wilson x reader #house md #smut #james wilson #house md fanfic #James Wilson smut #morning #waking up #fanfic #x reader

[operafantomet]

FAVE CHRISTINE COSTUME 2023: The Elissa skirt

Paige Blankson, West End revival: I am soooo loving that they went back to shorter and more pointed false bodices in West End. It balance out the skirt in a most flattering way. I love the added gold in the waist as well. So wery kritzy-kritzy.

Eve Shanu Wilson, West End revival: I suspect this is the same skirt as in the previous photo. If so, a good backstage glimpse of it, showing the kritzy-kritzy in all its glory.

Haruka Fujiwara, Japan: OK, to be fair this photo is from 2022. But my main reason to include a Japanese skirt is that they have remained remarkably consistent throughout the years and is one of the very few reflecting on the original style with a non-pleated hem and alternating red and green tabs. It just fascinates me so.

Emilie Kouatchou, Broadway: The US skirt also stayed extremely consistent throughout the years, and I love how rich, sculpted and tassly they are. I loved Emilie's slightly shorter apron and tabs too.

(original design by Maria Bjørnson)

#phantom of the opera #christine wardrobe #fave christine wardrobe 2023 #christine daae #costume nerding #elissa #maria bjørnson