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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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eddie x fem! reader

master list

summary: Christmas time is here, eddie + you dance around the fact you’re both in love, corroded coffin performs.

w/c: 15k

warnings: NO MINORS —18+ only- mentions of Chad and his awfulness, thoughts of sex

a/n: s/o to my lovely coven for helping me tweak parts of this story, beta reading + letting me insert them through out the story @jo-harrington @blueywrites @newlips @pastel-pillows @loveshotzz @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse @br0ck-eddie @courtingchaos @fracturedarkness @word-wytch @hellfirehottie420 @chestylarouxx @big-ope-vibes 💋 @agentmarvel @hxllfired ♥️♥️

“Don’t peek!”

“I’m not!”

“I mean it, you’ll ruin it if you peek!”

Large hands cover your already shut tight eyes as you walk forward blindly through the crunch of ice and heavy snow. The soles of your chunky boots leave behind inch deep footprints in the parking lot of Boom’s Auto shop.

“Eddie! oh fu— your hands are freezing!”

A deep husky chuckle hums in your ear, skating across the air and landing warmly on your cheek. A flushed heat accompanying the welcomed tickle of his laugh.

“Just a little further,” Eddie says with a laugh, still walking behind you, big hands blind folding your eyes. Maybe you should have mentioned that you don’t like surprises. The last surprise you had trusted was from your parents. And that resulted in them moving across the country to be closer to Kevin, cutting you out and leaving you behind.

Practically stamping your foot and stopping altogether you let out his name in a small whine.

“So impatient, Tooty,” he whispered like a ghost into your ear, sending a flock of goosebumps down your neck. His calloused hands itched at your soft skin. Your eyelashes tickling his palms. “I promise it’s worth the wait, just a little bit further.”

Sighing with hmmpfed pout, you trudge on, squishing snow beneath your feet.

“Okay, are you ready?” Eddie gleams, hinted delight in his voice like a child showing his parents his cubby at school.

“No,” you tease, eyes still closed, “I think I’ll just turn around and go home.”

Eddie breathes out a groan and tickles his cold fingers into your neck, giggling as you squeal, “see you brought your infamous attitude, sweetheart.”

Gasping for breath from the cold and trying to get away from Eddie’s frigid digits you quip, “ah, you know me, I don’t leave home without it.”

“Brat,” Eddie jokes, moving your shoulders into the perfect position he sees fit. “Alright b—Tooty, open your eyes.”

The sun shines blinding against the frosted white ground, stinging your eyes as you open them from the darkness of your eyelids and Eddie’s sheltered hands. Nestled in the back corner of the parking lot next to a pile of snow sits your car, sitting on 4 brand new tires.

Stunned beyond believe, heart full and ready to burst you are at a loss for words.

“Uh—, sorry it took so long, I fixed it up a little bit more than what was initially wrong with it, replaced the tires—they were pretty bad, fixed the headlights, completely flus— ”

Eddie’s mechanical explanation of what was wrong with your car and how he fixed it goes dead with a grunt and a gasp as you throw yourself into his arms, forgetting his healing ribs you fully wrap your legs around his waist. Ignoring the way the snow on your boots is soaking through his shirt making his back wet, his leather jacket riding up from your sudden jump into his arms. He is completely consumed in this moment. He doesn’t care. The whole world is in his hands, and he doesn’t want the warmth of your body to escape him. Soul on fire and the barricade around his heart completely down, grass growing where they lay now, he is enamored by you. The smell of your hair, how tight you are squeezing him around the back of his neck. Your thighs clutching him. He’s a mess. Melting more than Frosty did on the warmest day of the year.

Welling tears spill from your eyes, you whisper shyly, “thank you,” Floored by your own emotions, you are speechless. Outside of the Wheeler’s, you haven’t had someone care for you on such a personal level before. Eddie made you feel safe, he gave you a sense of calm that filled you with hope, filled you with joy. Not being able to fathom how your life has changed so much since he moved in, the anxiety of everyday life washing away with his smile. His goofiness rinsing the doubt out of the air. The bruise around his eye is fading, color returning back to its original beautiful paled complexion. Emotions running high, you can’t convey with words how grateful you are, instead you pull your head from his shoulder and turn it slightly. Pressing delicate mauve painted lips to his cheek. It’s sweeter than sugar. A dainty quick kiss as sudden as the first drop of rain hitting your cheek in the summer.

Wiggling down his body with one last squeeze around him, he doesn’t register that you are sliding away from him on purpose until he releases his hands on the back of your legs. Thankful for his long hair more than ever today, his ears are tinged red much like his cheeks, one colored with a mauve set of lips he never wanted to wash away. Keeping you with him forever.

Looking into Eddie’s eyes you notice how big they are, a smirk is dancing across his lips. Not wanting to ruin the sentiment, but anxious all the same, you push his chest lightly, a coy smile on your lips, “hungry?”

Oh he was hungry. Starved for you. Your touch, your lips, your smile, the way the sunlight caught your hair. He’s never been so hungry for affection in his entire life, and you were feeding him crumbs. Couldn’t you see he was on his knees begging, pleading for more?

“Always,” he finally sputters out, desperately hoping you didn’t see the tiny hearts floating around his head like a cartoon character in love, “but you’re driving,” he says tossing you your key ring, “time to be my chauffeur, babe.”

It feels weird to be behind the wheel of a car again, considering you haven’t driven in months. The same yellowed tree scent hung from your rearview mirror, no longer full of aroma, fake blue and green Mardi Gras beads jingle together as you bump along the neglected roads of Hawkins. Polaroids of you and Nancy smile back at you from beneath the dash. Various materials of scrunchies litter the gear shift. Loose change fills one of the cup holders.

The sound of a window rolling down and the smell of burnt tobacco has you looking over at Eddie. He looks like he’s in a clown car. Bent bare knees from the holes in his jeans are cramped against the dash. His long arms lighting two cigarettes, a brown filtered end for himself, and a white one for you. He inhales deeply, pushing the smoke out of his lungs and looking out the window, arm bent lazily, palm up to hand you yours. Shamelessly flirting, you carefully place your mouth around the cigarette, your lips grazing his knuckles as you look up at him, with a wink you retreat from him, your lipstick leaving another mark on his skin. Burning into him, inking his skin better than any tattoo he had gotten so far. The bob of his throat is more than noticeable as he gulps deeply. He trails his eyes from your devilish lips to your innocent eyes. Wide enough that Bambi would cry at the sight of them.

Eddie shakes his head with a sigh, choking on smoke as you smile to yourself. You don’t notice the way he readjusts himself in the seat, desperately trying to cross his legs, a heat in his cheeks that he would blame on himself getting a cold if you were to ask.

He’s like a child at a fair, touching every single thing in his line of vision, jokingly grabbing the oh shit handle with every turn you take. Flicking his lighter, moving the visor up and down and to the side, pulling this way and that. Adjusting his seat all the way backwards and then all the way forward when you stop at a stop sign, hand still on the lever, a laugh stuck in his throat as he’s practically folded like an accordion in the front seat.

Blondie’s “Call Me” plays and Eddie grabs the hairbrush he found in the glovebox as a microphone. He’s moving his shoulders in a way that suggests he’s a seductive lounge singer, throwing his hair behind him, then in front of him. His eyes dipped in alluring sex appeal, throwing his head back and showing the expanse of his neck. He laughs a maniacs giggle and so do you. Relishing the time spent with him.

“Thought metalheads didn’t dig Blondie,” you question, inhaling the last of your cigarette and discarding it out of the window.

Eddie chuckles, “Surprisingly enough, one of the regulars at the Hideout plays it on repeat while we’re clearing the stage. Every. Single. Night. Speaking of which, uhh—,” he wasn’t sure how to ask you, not even sure if you wanted to go— but it was worth a shot and what would it hurt— worse thing that could happen would be you saying ‘no’, “ya got plans the day after Christmas?”

Thinking for a while you didn’t want to let it on that you in fact had zero plans. It’s not as if your parents came home to celebrate with a dinner or take you to a movie, fuck they never even bothered to call.

“Merry X -mom dad & kev”

Barely a greeting. Just slanted, chicken scratch handwriting inked onto a blank 99 cent Christmas card. The cheapest of pens was used to write the five words, noted by the scribble at the bottom of the card, when the ink went dry. The card itself was very basic, crimson red with a cartoon Christmas tree on the front. More than likely purchased at a gas station with a carton of Marlboros and a microwaved bean burrito. Cold fingers wrap around the envelope, cotton gloves smoothing over the handwriting as if it were a cherished love letter from your husband lost at sea.

Without fail, the one time a year you heard from them, left you more hollowed than the previous one. And as bummed as you were, when Eddie saw the card in the trash can when he tied up the garbage for the curb, he didn’t hesitate, didn’t pry, didn’t ask. Just tied up the trash and didn’t say anymore about it.

“Hmm.. well the salon is closed so I won’t be working, why what’s up?”

Eddie leans over and turns the knob of the radio down, insinuating how serious he was, “well the band is throwing a gig at the Hideout, kinda like a party for everyone who needs to blow off some steam after the holidays… and I thought maybe you’d wanna go? I haven’t seen you at a Corroded Coffin concert since the 80’s.”

He was right, you hadn’t seen them perform outside of your own garage since high school. Busting his balls a little, your lips curl in a sweet tease, “would I make the fifth or the sixth drunk there?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and makes a face, “I’ll have you know, we actually have to sell tickets now, but you? I'm making you pay double for that mean comment.”

“Oh kiss my ass,” you laugh as he shove him lightly, “I guess I can make an appearance.”

Eddie grins ear to ear, he can’t wait to see you in the crowd smiling up at him. Since he’s moved in, he’s dreamt of the day you finally went to see him play again.

“Well I guess I’ll see you there, maybe even buy you a drink, if you’re lucky.”

He thumbs through your cassettes oooing and awing over your beloved tapes, plucking Stevie Nick’s Bella Donna tape and flipping it over to read the song list on the back.

Head spinning you imagine how sexy Eddie would look on stage. Imagining the sweet aroma of sweat dripping from his hair on his bare chest has you practically drooling, thankful that Eddie is pre occupied with your cassettes, you squeeze your thighs tight.

Eddie begins to hum dumbly along as the end of REO Speedwagon sings about taking it on the run, the mixed tape you’d had since high school plays the next song, Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car”. The beginning guitar melody rings into his ears, a song he hadn’t heard in years.

“You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal. Maybe together we can get somewhere. Any place is better. Starting from zero, got nothing to lose. Maybe we’ll make something. Me, myself, I got nothing to prove.”

The lyrics hit your soul, Tracy’s gentle voice singing calmly to you, roped tight with Eddie’s deep serenade, must be what the gates of heaven sound like when they’re opening. Like the two people in the song, you were both tortured by your pasts, aching for something real something new. You ached for him. Did he for you?

Looking over at him, the cords of his neck stretched tight, prominent muscles jutting out around a chain necklace he never took off. It’s impossibly thick, veins lining it perfectly, the best candidate for a vampire’s snack. Stopping yourself from wondering what your teeth would feel like against his skin there, you tear your eyes away from him. Would your tongue tickle from the bitter taste of his cologne? Would the slight drag of your teeth beneath his jaw drive him wild, feral like how you’re feeling? Heat blooming along your cheeks and flooding your belly. You can practically feel the silk of his skin on your lips, daydreaming about the noises he would make if you were to flick the tip of your pink tongue along his adam’s apple. Sucking sweetly, softly… you spend the rest of the drive to Benny’s lost and dazed, desperate for any sort of relief. Body, and soul.

The aroma of bacon grease hung thick in the air when you walked into Benny’s. The sagging, water stained wall paper and faded formica table tops were a staple for the dingy diner. Anyone not from Hawkins, would turn up their nose and leave, fanning their face like a woman in church in the south in the 30’s at the sight of the disheveled diner that somehow kept passing inspections. Benny kept the kitchen area spotless, but could not be bothered with the decor and upkeep of the simple things such as wallpaper and art that dated back to borderline colonial times.

Eddie licked his lips as he eyed the sticky and tattered menu. His stomach was an endless pit, a never ending gaping hole the size of the Grand Canyon. Two baskets of fries, a patty melt, a stack of pancake and a piece of cheesecake, “it’s for later,” he said with a smile, only to devour it in two forkfuls once it arrived in its “to-go” box.

“Thank you, by the way,” you murmur around a mouthful of peach cobbler, voice growing small. “For my car, and well everything you do— oh shit, what do I owe you guys?”

Eddie swallows hard, throat coated with the velvety cheesecake, “Nothing,” he answers as if it were an insult you even asked.

“C’mon Eddie,” you say rolling your eyes, “what do I owe you?”

He enunciates the word again, making syllables where they are otherwise not needed. Moving his head left and right as he gets closer and closer, moving over the booth’s table like a snake, the ends of his curls dancing over the tabletop, a smug look pressed on his lips as he licks his fork.

Pulling your eyebrows in and folding your arms across your chest, you narrow your eyes at him.

“It’s not gonna work,” Eddie says, leaning over to take the last bite of your peach cobbler, savoring the warm peach and sugar infused treat on his tongue, “your pouting games won’t work on me, no matter how fucking cute you look.”

The scowl set on your face would have impressed Medusa, before his smile broke you. He was good at that, breaking you out of your shell and opening your eyes to show you that life didn’t always have to be taken so seriously. Your smile matches his and he reaches for the bill, sliding out of the booth. Twisting your body to stand from the under stuffed cushion Eddie is standing in front of you, leaning with one hand on the table, bill curled in his grasp, the other on the back of the booth. He looks like he’s going to say something but it’s lost on his tongue. Defeat and uncertainty cloud his eyes, not here, not now. He hangs his head, shaking his curls lightly. Shaking the nervousness from himself. He reached a ringed hand out to you, eyes dripping with want and cheeks pinked in the prettiest blush on his cream colored skin, along with the mauve lipstick he never wiped off, wearing your lips proudly, a prize greater than gold burned into his skin.

Words fail him, he notices how when you’re around just how much you steal the breath from his lungs. Almost as if he is prepubescent, full of acne and a buzzed head all over again. Scared of girls, a gangly freak who people made fun of. A lost sheep. It had been years since anyone has made him feel that way, usually women were throwing panties at him, bras, themselves at times. It wasn’t hard for him to fulfill his temporary needs. One faceless broad at a time. You? You were nothing like that. He respected you, trusted you, wanted you to feel safe with him. Wanted to take you out and show you off as his girl, his Tooty. Would you want that? Would you want to be his?

“Ready?” He asks, voice low and his lips dripping with a teasing smile.

Nodding, he pulls you up to him, your smooth fingers wrapped in his rough calloused hands. His face tilted downward to yours, yours up to him. And all of his questions are answered by the look in your eyes. They’re warm, dreamy, sucking him in like a magnet to your soul, frantically yearning to connect yours with his. And he’s ready to give it all to you.

Standing at the faint remnants of color of the checkout counter, a waitress locks eyes with you first. Smiling warmly and making chit chat. Eddie slides the check around you onto the smooth surface, her bubble gum persona fleeting immediately at the sight of him, her brown eyes staring heavily through her bangs at the stained lipstick on his cheek. Giving you and Eddie a quickened glance, she makes a beeline for the back, knocking the stack of rolled silverware over as the door slammed home behind her.

It doesn’t take an expert to put two and two together. She was either an ex girlfriend or simply an ex lover. Either way, at one point in time they meant something to each other— and you weren’t sure how much or how little that something was.

It hits you then just how inexperienced you are. Eddie has probably slept with 100s of women; being the lead singer of a small town band gave him that privilege of doing so. Of course he has, he practically , if not not so practically told you himself. Wheels spin in your mind and you’re embarrassed at the way your nose tingles trying to push down the small inkling of jealousy brewing in your belly. What the hell would he want to do with you if there were so many other women, better looking, and definitely sexier— ready to be his flavor for the night? Being with Eddie was a joke and you were the punch line— why would a guy like him settle down with someone as vanilla as you?

Suspicion creeping it’s ugly face in your mind and making room for all its baggage as a large hand meets your lower back guiding you gently towards the door. He’s talking but it falls deafly around you. Not wanting to know, but finding difficulty in keeping your mind from wandering, you stretch into the unknown of just how many women Eddie has slept with.

The number didn’t matter.

Shouldn’t matter.

But it begged the question looming in your mind for weeks: would you be enough for him? Walking in jaded silence back to the car, the crunch of snow beneath your feet, wind whipping your hair in your face, Eddie’s warm hand on your back, rubbing slow circles as he joins your silence. Desperately looking through the clouds of your mind trying to find where you went.

Eddie might be a lot of things. He may not be that great at math, knowing the ins and outs of fractions to make his sales when he was a dealer for Rick didn’t exactly qualify him as a mathematician, he struggled with making friends when he was younger, learning that being an obnoxious kid didn’t win any gold stars in the popularity department. But he was profoundly excellent at recognizing people’s emotions, any tiny slip, slow shift— he could sense it immediately. So when you shut down, leaving only nods to his never ending questions, he knew you were hurting.

Fumbling with your keys from your pocket they are plucked from your grasp by thick ringed fingers,”Eddie what the h—”

“Just—,” he pauses then, unsure of what to say, how to explain how he feels about you, the words are thick on his tongue but he knows he needs to explain something first, “wait,”

He runs a hand through his hair and points back at the door to Benny’s, “I— I’ve never given a shit about any girl I’ve been with.” The line is not at all how he wanted it to sound, what was meant to be sincere came out as cocky and like he was almost bragging.

“Oh—kay?” you answer even more confused than you were already feeling. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

He huffs a breath and kicks around snow with the toe of his boot, “I’ve never w— fuck,” he takes a few steps backwards throwing his paled face to the now blackened charcoal sky, muttering to himself. This was not going well. He could feel you slipping from his fingers. What was meant to be a nice night was now being spoiled by his incoherent thoughts, mouth moving faster than his brain could think. He looks back at you, your eyebrows raised, weight shifted with your arms crossed. Whatever message he was trying to convey was spilling a capital ‘F’ of his blood all over the snow, crimson coloring the white ground.

Chewing his tongue, jaw tightening with aggressive anticipation that he’s just fucking everything up—he finally spits it out, his mind cooperating with his mouth and all in one heavy, heated breath he practically screams, “goddamnit, Tooty— I’ve never cared about someone like how I care about you.”

Stunned, you stand stone still, watching him with large eyes.

“You— you’re the— fuck.” He moves quick, wrapping his fingers around your cheeks tilting your head up to him, the breath stolen from your lungs as you watch his eager eyes swirl with browns and blacks, Dr. Pepper fountains of bliss. He hesitates, licking his lips. Looking from your lips to your eyes and back again. Deciding not to do what he so desperately craves. But it’s not the right time. Not here. Not now. Not before he asks. Not before you understand the multitude of his seriousness. Not before you make it known that you want it too. Taking a deep breath he finds the courage to press forward, voice strong and steady, no longer breaking, no longer unsure. Confident. “No other girl— no groupie, no ex girlfriend no past fling— no one means shit to me except you, okay?”

Heart exploding piñata candy allover your body, tootsie rolls flowing through your arteries, cotton candy dancing in your lungs, sugary mars bubblegum filled lollipops peak from your eyes as you fall hopelessly further in love with him. His fingers melt into your cheeks, burning and dissolving your candy coated insides into a liquid fire of a molten river filled with pinked sweet syrup. You want to swim in his chocolate eyes like August Gloop. Never full of him.

Would he taste sweet? Oh how your lips cried a sorrowful song not being able to lick the sweet words that drip from them.

Later that night your stomach flutters thinking of his lips on yours. That small kiss on his cheek meant more to both of you than could be imagined. Solidifying there in the parking lot of Boom’s Autoshop, just how much you meant to each other. A silent agreement. An understanding. The line was crossed. The only question now is: who would jump with both feet first?

The dusty overstuffed Christmas tree box slides across the kitchen linoleum with a drag as you shove all your weight into it from the basement steps.

“You’re a stubborn woman y’know that?” Eddie grumbles from the other side of the box, pulling it further into the kitchen, circling back and reaching his hand out to help you up the steps. “I told you I would get all of this up after I got off work.” His work coveralls coated with deep stains of motor oil and grease, snow melting slowly on his boots.

Huffing low and climbing the last step you explain, “yep, and I told you, mister,” a long nail poking him in the chest, “that I didn’t need any help.”

“Yeah yeah, just gonna do everything by yourself your whole life, never asking for help?” Eddie asks, matching your attitude, booping your nose with a dirty greased soaked finger, his toothy grin on full display, “always just a little shit aren’t ya?”

A heavy scoff leaves your mouth, fake shock from your lips as you place a hand to your chest, “me? Think you have me confused with someone else, Mr. Munson.”

Eddie’s face twists with gross turmoil at the name. “Christ, I haven’t been called that since high school in Higgins office,” he turns his nose up and scowls, “please sweetheart, consult a doctor you must be ill.”

Bantering back and forth for a few minutes Eddie agrees on taking a shower before starting to set up the tree. “.. and whatever other girly shit you have planned for us.” He says with a laugh as he shuts the bathroom door and turns the silver knob for the shower head.

It was Friday night and since Nancy had moved out starting her own Christmas traditions with Jonathan, you were left with her same traditions in the same house but with a new someone to make them special with.

Chili was simmering on the stove. Rich and spicy just the way Karen Wheeler had taught you to make it, the counter held her famous cinnamon roll recipe, rising gently on the counter. It was engraved in your mind after watching her make them every Sunday for years, and you had yet to make them for Eddie. The kitchen smelled savory yet sweet, the mixed concoction floating heavenly notes of hunger induced stomach pains to the bathroom as Eddie toweled off, pulling a pair of gray sweatpants low on his hips. His hair hung in wet lengthy ringlets, dripping down his back as he emerged into the dim lit kitchen, a hunger in his belly— but not holding a candle to the fiery burn of want in his stomach at the sight of you.

The flour dusted lightly on your cheek could be mistaken for pixie dust with how magical you looked to him, the sleeves of your baggy red velour knit sweater were bunched around your elbows, bringing a spoon to your plump lips as you made them into a small ‘O’ blowing gently on the contents of meat, tomatoes, peppers and kidney beans cradled in the the silver utensil close to your lips.

Eddie had never been jealous of silverware before but he would give his left nut and his guitar away to be that lucky heated spoon for just one minute. Slotting the metal into your mouth, you hum a sigh of satisfaction as you savor the delectable bite, chewing slowly and licking your lips, Eddie is gripping the counter tighter than an old woman gripping her life alert as she tumbles to the ground. Fuck, he’d break a hip— hell no, he’d break every bone in his body just to have you hum around him, any part of him, his earlobe, his fingers, his cock, he didn’t care. Reaching up and brushing his own cheek like a coy school girl, he still felt the way your lips touched his cheek— and that was weeks ago.

“Think Jonathan still does secret investigative pictures for Murray Bauman if you were looking to snap a few pictures you little perv.”

Head swiveling towards him at your last word, you can’t keep the act up anymore, your cheeks feel like they’re going to burst with how wide you’re smiling, your laugh echoes off his naked chest and hits the cabinets, pinballing around the room, striking him like lightning in a summer storm— bright first and the thunderous boom coming after.

Snorting at your own joke and the way his cheeks heat with shame—caught with his hand in the cookie jar, drool practically falling from his lips as his mouth hangs open. He has never looked better. Your boldness stays long enough to send him a wink, and your stomach flutters when he returns it, rubbing his cheeks to will away the blush implemented on his skin.

“Are we going to eat or are you just going to keep making fun of me?” Eddie presses, a light shade of pink still tinged on his cheeks, his smile bright and cheerful.

Walking closer to him you let your body take control, mind not thinking. Useless in your head as you move with sure steps closer to him. Not wanting to know the repercussions of your actions, yet something about him has made you so sure that what you’re feeling was real. That he felt it too, reassuring you with his body language, his words. He wants this and so do you. Time to dive in. But the ache of rejection, fear of making a mistake, afraid to let yourself be loved when you aren’t worthy of it. Has your stomach in knots. Stopping short of your hands on his chest, the confidence is gone, buried beneath the savory smells of the kitchen and the heated stares between you both.

Uncertainty soaring, you place your hands on your waist, head hung in a cloud of anxiety, “tree first, then we can eat.”

Silently moving through the motions, you unbox the tree monotonously. Eddie’s raging war against himself. Begging the question of what happened to make you turn the flirting dial off. The tree is up, and you’re busy fluffing the branches after a year of being squashed in a box and stuffed into a basement. Overthinking what you said to Eddie, you can’t move past how he makes you feel.

It’s not as if you have had a boyfriend other than Chad, or even had anyone other than him kiss you, touch you, and none of that was enjoyable. Being with him was crippling, suffocating in a way that you weren’t ever sure you’d ever be able to breathe normally again. Living in a state of constant fear for years, waiting for the day he would return. And when he did—Eddie was there to comfort you, hold you while the panic attack riddled your body, collapsing in on itself. Eddie was there to pick up your broken pieces and mend them together with his silliness, his arms wrapped around your body shielding you from demons he couldn’t see. Taking the blame for something that wasn’t his fault. He was impossibly charming, good-looking and even though he could be a pain in the ass— you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

“Fuck, ow ow, shit, Tooty! I’m not a genius or anything, but there is no way this is right!” A quick jolt back to reality has you turning your head sharply to see Eddie tangled in emerald green ropes of colorful christmas lights. Entwined in his hair, around his thick fingers, and arms. Christmas clashing with his tattoos he’s all furrowed brows and huffed breaths. You desperately try to stifle a smile but fail miserably. “It’s not funny! It hurts!”

“Eddie,” you choke out in between laughs, reaching up with delicate fingers, and a laugh buried in your chest you begin to untangle his messy curls from the strings of lights. Adjusting his curls this way and that his brows lax at your pretty face so close to his. There they are again, the lips that kept him up the last few nights. The lips that could be full of vinegary insults, and sweet sultry compliments. The silky skin of them call out to him in his dreams, purring his name.

Feeling the need to explain himself for earlier, “for the record, sweetheart, I was staring at the spoon, n—not at you.”

Smooth. Jesus Christ.

“The spoon huh?” Giggling at his lie, untangling his rings and fingers from the lights, releasing him from the holiday handcuffs, “really? and what was so interesting about it, hmm?”

Eddie grabs your hand as it slips from his hair, leaning close enough that his chest is brushing yours, “I have a grudge against it.”

Confused, you pull your eyebrows inward, “what?”

His lips are licked and he holds your hand palm to palm your fingers between his, hugging his rings in your small grasp. His other hand travels up to your chin, laying lightly against your delicate skin. Small strokes of his thumb outline your top lip, and you suck in a quickened breath. Your knees are weak, and you lean into his touch, pushing yourself closer, skimming your fingers along the charcoal outlines on his chest.

The satiny pillows of your lips against his rough calloused skin send him to heaven on angel’s wings. His eyes are trained on your mouth, thumb lining your Cupid’s bow. He circles downward, studying your lips like a map, following the path of Magellan to the corner of your mouth. Face studied hard he doesn’t see the way your eyes have closed, and barely registers the nails on your hand scratching his chest in delight. If your lips were a test, he’d pass with flying colors. Every line is memorized, the color is painted more beautifully than that asshole on tv painting sceneries of birds and rivers. He’s not even breathing, and you aren’t sure if you’re awake or asleep. His fingers act like melatonin lulling you to sleep with each sweep across your lips. Pulling your bottom lip down, a noise escapes his throat as he watches it pop back up against your teeth with a soft thump.

“The spoon is lucky,” Eddie admits through broken breath. His words flow through you like the smoothest water against a creek bed, rippling and bubbling in your veins pooling in your core and heating your body with lust.

“Eddie,” you hum, sending a vibration through his fingers to his now throbbing cock. The oven beeps and you jump in his hands. Forced back to earth from the ethereal spin of Eddie’s warm fingers massaging your skin. Pulling away from him is harder than erasing a permanent marker, getting year old puke stains out of a carpet, harder than overcoming the worst pain you’ve ever felt. Padding into the kitchen you straighten your sweater, lungs burning with aching want to be filled with Eddie’s essence.

Placing the cinnamon rolls into the center of the warmed oven, you turn to find him behind you, silver Christmas ornament bulbs hanging from his nipple rings. “Think Walt would hire me to dance on stage for Christmas?”

This was routine for you and Eddie, intense moments followed by giggling laughs. An endless circle on repeat. If you weren’t ready to jump he wasn’t going to push you. He’d wait for you, however long it would take for you to be ready to admit that he loved you and you loved him back.

The tree was up and lit, beautiful colors of red, blue, yellow and green shone brightly against the dark evergreen. Sitting at the table eating chili and cinnamon rolls, Eddie looks like a kid in a candy shop. Eyes blown wide and sparkling. “Y’know I’ve never done that before.”

“Put Christmas bulbs in your nipple rings?”

After the light fiasco Eddie hung the decorations with care and slotted two silver Christmas bulbs in his nipple rings, shaking his chest around, a twang in his voice, “my stage name is Elejandro but honey you can call me big E.”

“Well that either,” Eddie laughs, wiping a rogue dribble of chili away from his chin, “but no, I’ve never decorated a Christmas tree.”

Swallowing the mouthful of cinnamon roll you mull over his confession, “did I just take your Christmas virginity?”

“Guess so,” he grins, shoveling another spoonful of the hearty chili into his mouth using his cinnamon roll to soak up the tomatoey broth. “Aren’t you lucky?” It was your turn to battle away your thoughts as he licked the back of his spoon then his lips. Oh his wicked tongue would be more than delicious on more than a few places on your body.

“Who’s the perv now, Tooty?” Eddie gleamed, his smile turning upwards in a satanic smile. The heat from your cheeks would fill a cold room with warmth. A wink from his eyes has you both smiling again. Teetering towards uncharted waters but not quiet dipping toes into the waters of giving in, not yet.

After cleaning up supper and listening to Eddie thumb through the medicine cabinet for the Tums, you whipped up the sugar cookies and pulled them out of the oven.

They were cooling on a wire rack on the counter. Icing, sprinkles, Christmas themed m&ms and twizzler pull apart licorice were filling the brim of small styrofoam bowls. Hot chocolate was bubbling in mismatched ceramic mugs in the microwave. Awaiting their marshmallow floaties to join the rich chocolate bath.

“Cookies too?” Eddie asks, a shit eating grin on his face as he’s coming back inside from his after supper cigarette, the chill of the frozen air following him on his heels, “baby, you’re spoiling me.”

Baby.

The sentiment falling to the deep pit of your stomach making you clench your thighs tight, a skipped heart beat sending heat through your body. It’s definitely not the first time you’ve heard him say it but the way his eyes sparkle and are half lidded have you liquified into a soupy puddle of goo.

Pushing down the heat building in your body, inhaling deep through your nose, you try to keep it together. It’s getting more and more difficult. The feelings you have for Eddie have been steadily growing fonder since Halloween. That stupid Jesus costume had you thinking the unholiest thoughts for weeks. And now he’s sweeter than ever before. Looking like heaven’s fallen angel, Satan's favorite son. A cherub face with a demonic mind, the perfect disguise. There wasn’t a single square inch of him you hadn’t thought about in ways that would make holy water simmer on your skin. Fuck.

“—Tooty?” fingers snap in your face as you’re pulled from the fiery depths of pure joyful sinful lust filled hell. Eddie as the devil and you sitting at his right hand, his hands.

“Christ, you look possessed,”

Oh how you were.

“S-sorry,” you stammer out, a nervous laugh pushes from your lungs as he smiles at you.

Eddie and you were just two misfits, throwing together a Christmas like it was normal for you both. A normal that you could very easily get accustomed to.

“You what?!” Nancy shrieks in the booth next to yours as she rolls another perm rod into her mother’s hair. Her thin eyebrows are hidden beneath her straight bangs a look of disbelief planted on her face, “holy fuck, you’re serious?”

Explaining to Mrs. Nancy Byers and Karen Wheeler about your developing feelings for your roommate, left one of the related women stunned, the other with ecstatic delight.

Karen claps her hands, a fuschia smile on her lips, eyes bright and fighting back tears, “oh sweetie I am so happy for you.”

“Thanks,” you say shyly, fiddling with the combs on your counter, “and yes Nance, I am serious.”

Fingers moving rapidly she rolls the rest of Karen’s hair before saying anything else. “I’m happy for you, too ya know,” Nancy finally admits, “I saw the way he stared at you on Halloween.”

“Saw who stare?!” Robin chirps as the bell above the front door dings, announcing her Kramer-esque arrival, spinning chaos in a denim jacket. She slots her wirey frame in your chair, snowy boots plopped on your counter.

Nancy spins Karen around and motions for her to sit under the dryers. “Seeing Eddie stare at Tooty on Halloween,” she explains to Robin.

Robin nods and flicks through your brushes and hairsprays on the counter. “Oh for sure, he’s in love with her, it's so obvious.”

A bloom in your chest erupts as heat floods your cheeks. Robin’s confirmed words spread open your chest with adoration and love. It’s one thing to think someone might like you, hope they will reciprocate the same feelings, but it’s quite another thing to have multiple other people notice the feelings growing between you and someone you're crazy about.

Robin, Nancy and yourself gossip for the rest of your shift. Robin leaving with fire engine red hair, matching the blood pooling around your heart, beating for Eddie, aching for his touch, his smile, his stupid jokes. All of him. You were ready to take the dive.

“Oil change on this thing already?” Eddie laughs as Steve jumps out of the midnight black G-Wagon, tossing the keys in the air to himself.

Steve chuckles and threads his fingers through his hair, “yeah, new job has me traveling most of the time, and whenever I don’t want to fly— they provide me with this bad boy,” a sparkly gold plastic credit card is pulled from his wallet.

He goes into detail about how he has been taking Leighanne with him on his trips and just got back from seeing the Christmas tree lighting at Rockefeller Center in New York, how he’s sure he’s in love with her. “I’m happy for you, man.” Eddie says, “she seemed like she really was into you.”

Steve smiles, a cigarette between his teeth, “how’s the whole situation with Tooty? Make a move yet?”

Eddie lights his own cigarette, mulling over his answer. The short of it was, things were going … steady? They weren’t moving forward but not necessarily moving backwards either. He thought you felt the same way he yearned for you, but what if he made his move and you recoiled? He would die if he made you feel uncomfortable in any sort of way. You were his main goal, his end game, his one in a million, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he screwed it up.

His stomach in knots he feels like he could puke all over the patent leather of Steve’s shoes.

“I think it’s good?” Eddie blurts, confusion in his tone and a nervous hint of dread. “I care about her a lot— and I’ve told her that, I— ” he swallows hard, unsure of his next sentence but needing some advice, “I just don’t know how to show her that she means more to me than just a friend or a roommate or my friends’ sister.”

Steve looks at him confused, “dude,” he asks in all seriousness, “are you a virgin?”

The choked out bellering laugh Eddie emits from his body scares away the birds resting their feet on the telephone line. “Steve, what part of me being in a band and a cocky asshole screams virgin?”

“Well, you’re acting like one! ‘I don’t know what to do!’ Fuck man, stop being so scared and just tell her how you feel!”

Eddie's laugh turns sour, “I’ve never had to do this before, I haven’t been in a relationship in six years, and even then, I never once felt how I do about Tooty. So yeah I am scared because I don’t wanna fuck it up or have her think I’m just some creep like that fuckwad Chad.”

Steve shakes his head, and grabs Eddie by the shoulders, “you’re overthinking this, like a fuck load—she likes you, I know she does because whenever I talk to her she’s always telling me about something you did that day, but if you want some guidance— I’ll help you out.”

The greatest heads of hair in Hawkins, Indiana work for the next half hour, developing a plan for Eddie to make his move before he lost you.

Soft, pillowy blankets of pure white snow cover the cramped poverty stricken Forest Hills Trailer Park. Illuminating the impoverished community in a mask of Christmas spirit. White, and pristine. An illusionists dream, one so great that someone might have mistaken the rotting trailers and the broken down vehicles as heaps of snow instead of the decrepitness that would show truth when the masking snow melts and brings forth the ugly harshness of muddy roads and sinking foundations.

Spending Christmas Day with Eddie and meeting his uncle had brought a sweetness to your insides, eating away the sourness that the holidays delivered most years, a steady reminder that you were passed down like a pair of jeans. It had been Eddie’s idea to bring dinner over to his uncle's place and you were more than excited to get another peek at his world. Having talked to Wayne on the phone about what he would like you to make for food, his voice was gruff but serene, calling you ma’am and answering your questions between puffs of his cigarette.

“Darlin’,” Wayne answered after the second time of you asking if he was sure that it didn’t matter what you brought over; he didn’t want you to fuss over him, “we could have Surfer Boys pizza for all I care, but if you do make something— you make damn sure that nephew of mine is helping ya, alright? I ain’t raised no man to sit and watch work bein’ done, no matter what he thinks.”

Giggling with a hand to your mouth, Eddie rolls his eyes, cheeks burning crimson, “Christ Wayne,” he breathes, “pipe down or I’ll take your Christmas present back.”

A hacking cough rumbles from the other end of the phone as the two Munson men bicker back and forth.

Settling on garlic mashed potatoes, swedish meatballs, green bean casserole, dinner rolls, and the second pumpkin pie since Eddie ate the first one with a fork and a container of cool whip on the couch after work yesterday; you and Eddie stand at the door of the sky blue trailer the morning of Christmas Day, arms full with casserole dishes and desserts.

The door opens and the waft of a bachelor-esque aroma hits your nose. Stale cigarettes, and laundry soap combine is a surprisingly comforting smell as Wayne Munson meets you at the door. Icy blue eyes crinkled at the edges take a look at all the food balanced between four arms and immediately grabs the containers from you, cigarette planted between his fingers as he slides the food into his own arms. “Lord,” he huffs, “you been cookin’ all morning?”

Eddie holds the door open with his foot and ushers you in, hot on your heels to get away from the bitter cold. “Hell yeah she has been,” Eddie said proudly, showing you off like a 4H blue ribbon, “she wouldn’t even let me taste test it.”

Shying away from his compliments you place the mashed potatoes on the counter, turning around to get a full look at the tiny trailer.

Mugs of various assortments, sizes, colors and shapes decorate the wall above the door. A row of dusty long forgotten hats, balances over the window above the brown couch. A small tv is set in the corner of the living room, a table that has seen better days is wedged into a tight corner across from the cabinets in the kitchen, two matching chairs and a third aluminum folding chair propped against it, the seat hard cracking plastic, stuffing spilling out. The fridge is small but functional, a brass magnet with a clamp holds a hand written note of dates, some crossed out in red ink, others upcoming left alone, next to a calendar. The home is well loved and portrays everything you expected from a bachelor pad. Simple, tidy, cramped.

Imagining Eddie in high school living here, you wonder if the brown couch held more than just dust and well grooved ass prints. Memories of Eddie’s previous lovers? One night stands? The thoughts make you shiver with jealousy and disgust as you take lids off of containers and place aluminum foil from the meatball tray on the side of the counter. Eddie and Wayne are on your right talking about a leaky shower head, the cost of replacement parts and how much it would cost to get a new one.

“… agh,” Wayne argues, “it won’t take me long to take it all apart and figure it out, ain’t no need to go out and buy a new one.”

“Alright stubborn ass,” Eddie pokes, a toothy grin on his face, “just trying to make it easier on you.”

Wayne and him laugh, greeting each other with a hug. Eddie is a whole head taller than Wayne, their stark differences are completely night and day. Where Eddie is pale, Wayne’s skin is weathered and tan, the piercing blue eyes are ice against his tan complexion, meanwhile Eddie’s eyes are so dark they could be mistaken for black holes in the galaxy.

The Munson men pull away with slaps on the shoulders and jokes about frail bones and old age. When Eddie looks at you next Wayne’s eyes follow, his ruddy ringed hand gesture to you with a palm upwards, presenting you like a celebrity, “Wayne, this is Tooty, Tooty, this is my uncle Wayne.”

Smiling sweetly and stretching your hand forward for Wayne to shake you are enveloped with his warmth through his heavily calloused hands. “Pleasure to meet ya darlin’, Eddie ain’t ever brought a girl home for me to meet before.”

Never brought a girl home.

How could you be the first? Eddie dated Chrissy for an entire year, and you’re sure he’s had more than one girlfriend in the past. Including the waitress at Benny's. Why wouldn’t he have brought any of them to meet Wayne? Clearly his uncle means a lot to him, and you remember how Eddie was with Chrissy, how much he cared about her… why did she never come back to the Munson home?

Eddie interjects your thoughts, his cheeks pinked with embarrassment, “Wayne what the f—.”

“Ah hell, I forgot I bought some paper plates, let me go get ‘em from the truck.” Wayne tuts, walking quickly past you and Eddie, the cool rush of air fills the room and the snap of the screen door has Eddie shaking his head. Murmuring to himself about needing to keep his mouth shut as he busies himself with getting forks and knives from the wonky drawers.

Empty plates and full bellies coordinate into a sleepy haze between you all. Wayne’s contagious laugh fills the kitchen as Eddie groans when the small photo album is passed around the table. “Remember this one Ed? Damn you were madder’n a hornet that day when Mrs. Milford asked you to mow her yard.”

“Ya,” Eddie yelled, “that’s cause there is no yard she just made me pick up rocks, and most of it was dog shit from Rocko!”

Wayne’s bellering laugh brings tears to your eyes at Eddie’s misfortunes. A picture of a younger Eddie no older than ten years old, dirt and a scowl on his face, same big doe eyes and a bad haircut.

A smile finally breaks on his face seeing your smirk dance on your lips as you wipe the laughing tears from your eyes.

The three of you spend hours laughing, Eddie and Wayne clean up the table as you put food in Tupperware containers for Wayne, slotting them into the fridge and stacking them neatly.

The Christmas present Eddie had for Wayne was in the back of the van and was heavy. Wayne jumped in to help Eddie carry it in, tutting and making a fuss when you told him you could do it, “no ma’am, you sit down right there, I mean it!”

Once outside, the two Munson’s light up cigarettes, exhaling puffs of smoke into the chilled air, the crunch of snow beneath their boots.

“Sure was nice to meet your girlfriend Ed, I think she’s a keeper,”

Not missing a beat and rolling his eyes Eddie all but screams, “Wayne for fucks sake we are not dating, I told you this! Or did you turn senile since I moved out?”

“Well I just thought that if I’d tease ya enough about it you’d do somethin’ about it ‘stead of gawking at her all night like she’s gonna break.”

Eddie's ears burn, “I have a plan, it’s just not something I wanna ruin— I gotta do it right, she isn’t like anyone else— she— she means more to me than that.”

“I’m proud of ya son, finally grew up,” he claps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “you be good to her. Don’t know anyone of your other girly friends, or whatever you call ‘em, who'd dare step foot out in these parts.”

Eddie's gift to Wayne had been a bigger tv, one he could watch Gunsmoke on and be able to see it comfortably from the couch instead of squinting. Wayne smiled from ear to ear and kept on smiling when he stood at the door and waved goodbye to you both.

Cheeks sore from laughing, exhausted from the day you yawn behind a mittened palm. Watching the street lights bounce and sway as Eddie drives you both home.

“Can’t be tired already are you?” He asks, smoking a cigarette lazily, smoke billowing from his nostrils and around his curls.

You stretch your back, arching it against the cracked leather of his seats, a yawn slips from your mouth, “Just a little bit,” your voice is small and strained from the stretch, eyelids heavy.

He pleads with slight desperation in his tone, “don’t fall asleep on me yet,” his eyes are soft and tender, blinking slow and gazing into yours, “I still have to give you your present.”

“Present?”

Eddie and you hadn’t talked about getting each other presents even though you had one wrapped neatly in a small box in your bedroom at home.

His face lights up as your eyebrows pull into a quizzical ponder. “It’s nothing big,” Eddie shrugs nonchalantly even though his insides are fiery pools of gummy liquid, tangled knots of rope, “just something kinda silly.”

Heated cheeks and a delicate fluttering in your stomach keep you awake the rest of the way home, the fluttering increases anytime Eddie catches you looking at him, his lips pursed in a smirk.

Inside, you speak few words. Eddie tosses his keys on the table, a jingled clink as it skids and stops amongst the stack of mail. The creaking leather of his jacket is soft as it rubs with the flannel fabric of his shirt as his arms are pulled from it, tossing it on the back of the wooden chair. He sits to unlace his boots. The overhead light dances off of the silver of his chunky rings, highlighting his large veiny hands, working in a fluid movement of untying the laces from the eyelets. Those powerful hands. His talented fingers. Aching for them to be on your skin you are tantalized by them. Eyes never moving from the skin pulled taut on his knuckles, chapped and pink from the chilled air and the refusal to wear gloves.

Your own shoes are off, toes begging for warmth as you walk gingerly to your room and change into pajamas. What gift did Eddie have for you? Would he think your gift was weird? Pushing the negativity from your mind, you change into comfy pajamas.

Eddie was waiting in the living room with your gifts behind his back. His mind racing and heart thumping noisily in his chest. He had run this through his mind more times that he could count, obsessing over the fine minute details for days. He had calculated the perfect way to do this with the help of Steve. Tonight was the first part and tomorrow, after ‘A very Merry Corroded Christmas at the Hideout,’ he was going to ask you on a date, a real one. One that he borrowed fancy cologne from Harrington, cleaned his van out for, one that ended with him telling you how crazy he is about you, how he thinks you hung the moon, any and all cliches surmounting every horribly sad country song that Boom made them listen to at work, he’d sing them if you wanted that from him. He’s never felt more like a sap in all his life, but for you, he’d be everything and more. And if he was lucky— and you were ready—maybe he would steal a kiss.

His daydream is cut short when you shuffle from your room to the living room. Christmas tree lit behind him, makes him look fit to be an angel sitting atop the tree rather than standing in front of it, the same smirk he always wore skirting across his face.

The red flannel he’s wearing is rolled to his elbows, pushed up haphazardly. A silver chain hanging delicately around his neck and disappearing in the opening to his shirt. Heart nearly stopping at the sight of him, you walk the same way towards him that he’s standing, hands behind your back, fingers digging into the foiled Christmas wrapping.

“Okay,” Eddie says nervously licking his lips, “let’s countdown from 3 and we can exchange? Does that work?”

Nodding enthusiastically, your mind is screaming at you— your gift is too much, he’s gonna hate it, he’s gonna think it’s weird that you bought this for him. Stomach churning like butter, you hear Eddie’s low velvet voice counting down. At his voice dipping lower when he gets to one you slip the sweat slicked thin box from behind your back and lean hold it out in front of you.

Your chapstick smile is sweet and adoringly beautiful, Eddie nearly drops your present from behind his back at the sight, fingers clutching to the silky wrapped handles of the gift bag with Santa’s fat white ass climbing up into a chimney on the front. His arm swings forward and holds the bag by its handles on one thick finger, like a bomb ready to explode at any second.

Eyes wide and bright he places the gift bag in your hand and exchanges his present for yours. “Eddie you didn’t have to do this,” you gasp at the sight of the bag, “you already fixed my car and wouldn’t let me pay you.”

“Yeah well,” Eddie starts rubbing the back of his neck, “open it and we’ll decide if I should have or not.”

Placing the bag on the ground and taking the crinkly emerald green and sparkly gold tissue paper out one sheet at a time, Eddie’s eyes never leave your hands as you reach the bottom of the bag and they hesitate. His heart jumps to his throat, stomach falling out of his ass. It’s too much, you hate it. Of course you do, it was a stupid idea to begin with. Why the fuck did he ask Gareth for his help? His original idea would have been better than this, and now look! You’re about ready to rip his goddamn head off like a praying mantis or some shit. SON OF A B—

A shrill laugh erupts from your lungs as Eddie feels a tidal wave of relief wash over him. Tucked into the bag, folded as neatly as Eddie could, you pull out a black t-shirt, safety pins decorate the hem, a homemade ripped neckline. Corroded Coffin's sadistic logo is printed on the front and beneath it reads, ‘Eddie’s babysitter’ in bold white lettering. Fingers tracing the lettering you haven’t stopped laughing yet.

“I—I was deciding between ‘babysitter’ or ‘manager’ but went with th— I just figured you needed something to wear for tomorrow and I thought this would be c— do you hate it?”

“Hate it?!” you squeak between giggles, “Eddie this is the best gift I’ve ever received, I can’t wait to wear it.” You meant that, the thought that went into this, the personalization. The almost possession of being anything of Eddie’s made you weak in the knees.

“Thank fuck,” he breathes, finally able to take a breath and relax, “shit I have something else for you too, but uh.. close your eyes and turn around for me.”

His breath on your neck drives goosebumps and flutters all over your body. The cool feel of a necklace tightens on your neck as Eddie latches it closed, and goes slack once he’s finished. His hands trail down your back and land on your hips to turn you back around. His fingertips digging into your flesh ever so lightly.

The necklace is heavy, something weighing it down but you can’t be sure what it is, it’s not until you glance at his hands that you notice one of his rings is missing, the chunkiest of them all, the pig head is no longer on his middle finger, but around your neck instead.

His fingers skate along your neck as he adjusts it into place, tickling your collar bones with his finger tips, sending shivers across your skin, he keeps this up and you’ll be permanently goose pimpled for the rest of your life. You’d wear them proudly if it meant his hands never left you.

“There,” he announces in finality, his eyes dip to your lips, the necklace and back to your eyes, “aren’t you just the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Core throbbing and pooling with molten hot lava at his complimentary words, his velvet, panty dropper voice. Fuck, he is so pretty it hurts.

“Better open your present before your mouth gets you into trouble,” you whisper, blinking long and slow as you stare back into the depths of his eyes, lost in the muddy galaxy.

He grins, his fingers walk up your neck and cup your chin, bringing you ever so slightly towards him, enough that you can feel his breath on your own lips, his tobacco voice pulling you in and wrapping you tight in a nicotine high that they’d make quit ads for in the upcoming future, “oh princess, I’d pay to be in that kind of trouble.”

and you’re floating, in this moment there is no sound, just two souls shedding the last layer of self doubt, the last inkling of the unknown as your toes dip in the warm pools of the burnt caramels of Eddie’s eyes. His lips are slick and you want to get a taste, want to feel the chapped crack in his bottom lip nestled against your tongue, busting the crack open and savoring his blood in your mouth.

The fervoring tension has never been this strong and you wonder if you’ll be able to pull away or if you’ll push yourself up on your tippy toes and close the inch gap between you, sealing your feelings with a kiss. But it’s Eddie who pulls away, taking a ragged breath and hitting himself lightly in the head with your carefully wrapped present.

He could feel the flames from your lips, the sweet venom of your tongue was sirening out to him, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t do it. He has a plan in place and no matter how hard all puns intended it was for him to pull away from you, he had to. Wanting to follow his plan, making sure his i’s were dotted and his t’s were crossed he’d never studied harder for anything in his life. He’d pass this test for sure, having obsessed and studied the material for months, staying up late most nights to tune out the fine details. He’d get this right.

Your eyes droop as he steps away from you tangled in his web of desire you can’t get unreleased from. His fingers slide along the taped edge of the wrapper and you’re certain you’re going to fold like a chair at the way the veins bulge in his hands. He’s looking at the gift you bought, a silence on his lips as you drool for the way he’s holding it. He’s stammering, suddenly an impediment in his vocal chords as his tongue twists thickly against his teeth.

“No way— No fucking way!” He’s screaming, pulling his hair and jumping around the room in a boyish giddiness.

“M-Metallica! Tooty!! No way, dude no way! These are fake right?!”

They weren’t.

Robin always had a craft for winning stupid shit and when the radio station out of Indianapolis announced they were giving away tickets to see Metallica in February to caller number 18, Robin just so happened to call the radio station requesting to do a shout out for Vicky and ended up winning the tickets. The night she came to you to color her hair, you exchanged the service for the tickets.

Before you can answer he grabs you up in his arms, spinning you around the room, holding you tighter than a safety belt on a rollercoaster. He spins and spins as you both laugh like kids.

“Merry Christmas Eddie,” you whisper in his ear when he stops spinning. He’s holding your waist, and you’re on the tips of your toes, his head buried into your neck.

“Why are you so good to me?” Eddie asks solemnly against your neck, his voice vibrating your skin in a heated pulse.

Not answering for a long time, you bathe in his musky scent, his hair tickling your face in silky curls. His strong arms holding you tight against him, your fingers playing with the opening of his flannel and the ends of his curls, your cheek right against his chest, moving with his breathing.

“Because I want to be,” you finally answer, pulling away and getting lost in his inky warm eyes, “you deserve it.”

He reels you back in, his chin atop your head. Minutes melt together and you aren’t sure how long you stand this way, hip bones fusing together as one with your hearts aligning, your eyes have been closed for a while and you feel cracked lips on your forehead, making you shiver as he whispers, softly into your hairline, “my angel.”

The next day is filled with chaos. The guys are in and out of the house at the ass crack of dawn bouncing speakers and other odds and ends you didn’t even know were in the house against each other into the back of Eddie’s van. Wearing Eddie’s necklace proudly close to your heart you make them all sit to eat breakfast burritos. They eat and leave with a flash, but not before Eddie comes back through the door. He grabs your hands, holding them softly in his calloused grip, “See you at the show?”

Smiling widely and trying to will the heat from your cheeks away, you answer, “wouldn’t be a proper babysitter if I wasn’t there to watch now would I?”

“Should have made you the janitor,” Eddie grins and as he sees you still wearing his ring around your neck, he tosses you a wink that could liquify smoke. His tall frame slinks out the door driving like a bat out of hell to go set up at the bar.

The jeans you’re wearing are so tight accentuating your ass to explicit levels, the worn docs you’ve had for years are perfectly broke in and comfy on your feet, the shirt Eddie made for you wrapped around your chest perfectly, the letters of bending the ‘C’ and the ‘N’ on either side.

Steve, Leighanne, Robin and Vicky pick you up around 6, Robin with her fire engine hair and fishnet stockings under holy jeans. Vicky in a plaid printed overalls and a beret. Steve and Leighanne are both wearing jet black, her in a sheer sleeved button up shirt and a long black skirt. Steve wore an old band shirt he borrowed from Eddie. Your nerves were frazzled but settled slightly when Leighanne and Robin cat called out the window as you paraded down the front steps.

The drive to the Hideout had you stifling a chunky vomit in your throat. Nervous beyond belief you couldn’t shake it. Eddie had asked you to come, made you your own shirt to wear just for tonight, he clearly wanted to see you, wanted to have you watch his band play. Breathing in and out in exaggerated breaths Steve parks the G Wagon and it’s time to go inside. Here goes nothing.

Eddie wasn’t kidding, the bar was busy and posters with the bands silhouette were sticking on every surface in the bar and outside of it. Outside the bar was a girl around your age, short in stature, her brown hair piled high on her head, brooding green eyes piercing your own as she smoked a cigarette, selling tickets.

Eyeing your shirt she rolls her eyes, “you must be Eddie’s special guests,” she spits, eyeing you up and down, a jealous pitch in her voice, “guest of honor my ass,” she mumbles to herself as she lets you in free of charge. The Hideout was exactly how you remembered it to be. Pungent smells of spilt liquor and cheap keg beer fill your nose, the smoky haze filling the bar is a welcomed reminder that this place was a legendary spot in Hawkins.

Eddie and the boys were on stage setting up amps and speakers. His long curls catch the light and showering the room with amber swirls of caramel and chocolate. He’s wearing a cut mid drift shirt that looks like it would fit a toddler, his tattoos and fine definitions of his hips and slight abs are on display. Every vein in his arms are protruding and river lined. He’s the single sexiest man on the planet and your body was running over with want.

“Let’s get a drink, yeah?” Steve motions to the sticky counter of the bar. A dark curly haired woman with enormous boobs and red lipstick wearing a t- shirt reading “daddy’s girl” is behind the bar. She’s familiar to you but only in passing, the more you think the more you recognize her as Max's older brother’s girlfriend. Her long red nails clack on the sticky counter as she waits impatiently for you to make a decision.

Steve orders for him and Leighanne and orders Robin a water with a straw, never living down her behavior on his birthday. Vicky and you both order beers that probably should have been cold but with the daggering stare the bartender drove into your skull you didn’t dare ask.

Pocketing the cash Steve slapped into the counter in her bra, she made her way over to the extremely intoxicated drunk girls there for a bachelorette party.

“You’re so fucking pretty, you’re like my bestfriend,” a girl with wavy brown hair and glasses slurs to her friend, her voice up an octave as they power slam fruity drinks that resemble melted skittles.

“I hope Greg realizes what you’re giving up to be with him,” the girl with pinked red hair shouts above the others her leopard print jumpsuit stretched tight across her heaving chest, fussing over her friend with cropped lavender hair’s appearance, holding her up like they’re re-enacting Weekend at Bernie’s.

The bride-to-be pouts and makes a face, “who said I’m giving up anything? This whole bar is free game and according to Jo’s guide for the night, we still have ‘make out with a mustache’ to cross off.”

Snickering as you pass them, Leighanne linked her arm through your left as you make your way to stage, sipping the lukewarm beer in the barely clean glass, its hop tickling your throat with each travel in your mouth. Corroded Coffin has gone backstage and are waiting to be announced. The bar is flooded with people young and old. Reliving their glory days one sparse balding mullet at a time.

“I had no idea Eddie was in a band,” Leighanne whispered loudly into your ear, “he was in such a bad mood when I met him I didn’t really get to know him.”

The memory of Steve’s birthday still stung but the moments after and the day after that were still singing sweetly in your soul. “He’s come around quite a bit,” you explain.

“Yeah,” she agrees, “Steve told me about the two guys he fought at work, said they were mouthing off about you and he just snapped.”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

The bruises on his face, the broken ribs, his cracked and bleeding mouth. That was for you? He fought two guys off because of you?

Mind spinning on its own axis you can’t grasp why he would do that for you. Why he would get himself severely hurt just because some douchebags said some shit about you. It wasn’t worth it. Your eyebrows pull inward and your heart aches even more for Eddie. He was hands down the sweetest man you’ve ever come across. Putting himself in harm’s way just to prove a point. He could have lost his job, could have gotten even more hurt than what he was. It was stupid, reckless and dangerous— but somehow you couldn’t think of anything other than your heart hammering into your chest.

A booming voice fills the speakers and coaxes your attention to the center stage. “Please welcome, all the way from Forest Hills Trailer Park, our own, Corroded Coffin!”

Eddie and the boys trot on stage, Gareth takes his seat behind his drum set, followed by Jeff picking up his bass guitar and Big D picking up his instrument, you notice him winking towards a girl beside you, the blush on her pale cheeks could be seen from another planet.

Eddie is the last out, strutting forward with his runt red warlock guitar slung around his neck and a bullet belt hanging on his slender waist. His smile radiates across his face as he approaches the mic. He looks through the crowd with twinkly eyes and when he catches your stare front and center he winks and bends down, voice low as he speaks only to you— as if no one else is in the room but the pair of you. “Prettiest girl in the world made it all the way from Cherry Lane to come and see me huh?”

“Well since you practically begged,” you quip, heat warming your cheeks as his smile spreads wider.

“Wait for me after?” Eddie asks, eyes dripping deeply into yours, cartoon hearts floating from each blink of his lashes.

His stare could heat a kettle it burned into your soul and cozied up with your heart, softening it to a beautiful graying ash. Nodding and smiling like a fool in love you can’t form words when he shoots you a wink and stands in a swift, fluid motion, grabbing the microphone and shouting, “Hawkins! Are you ready to get this party started?!” The lights beat down on the band as they begin their set for the night.

Thrashing on his guitar, Eddie starts the tinny opening to Metallica’s Wherever I May Roam, followed by Gareth beating into his drums. Having watched them play this song many times in the garage it never ceases to amaze you how deep Eddie’s voice can get in the beginning of the song, his liquid sultry tone curls around your skin and holds you tight. The cords in his neck are profound jutting out in delectable delight. A feast for the wicked. His fingers move deftly along the fretboard as he sings and plays. Hair already slicked with sweat and hanging in a curly wet curtain of onyx down his back and stuck to his face. He’s never looked better. Hardly recognizing anyone around you, you're completely enamored like a moth to a flame by his appearance, his sex appeal on fire, licking up your skin’s gasoline, orange hues in a smoldering fire.

The song finishes and Eddie yells into the mic, “I’m Eddie, and we are Corroded Coffin, if you don’t like metal or the 80’s…”

The crowd chants as Eddie holds the mic out to them, “THEN GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Screams, whoops and hollers are bouncing off every surface of the dingy blackened bar. The beginning bells of For Whom The Bell Tolls chime and the crowd goes wild. When Big D rifts the beginning of Love Bites, Eddie takes a giant swig of Jack Daniels and your tongue aches to lap up the drops coursing down his stomach and finding solace in the waistband of his jeans.

Does he need a chaser? If so, you know the perfect antidote. Hungry like a wolf for him you can feel the soaked panties between your legs, the friction of your jeans give little relief where it’s needed.

The band plays a few more songs, and you are surprised that Eddie’s voice never falters or cracks during the entire nine minutes of Freebird, he nails the guitar solo and his sweltering smooth voice hits your core with each belting ache of the sad song. Steve holds Leighanne from behind and they sway together through the lyrics, he’s whispering into her ear and she’s fighting back tears. Robin and Vicky are slow dancing in a drunken stupor of smoke, completely in their own world.

The drunken girls from the bachelorette party are each making out with men double their age, the bride is getting a piggyback ride from a balding man you recognize to be wait what? Wayne Munson, reliving his glory days and having the time of his life as her white veil is worn around his head, cigarette hung limply from his thin lips. It’s safe to say the entire bar is drunk and having one of the best nights. The bartender has a line of party go-ers to do body shots from her cleavage. It’s hot and humid in the bar but Corroded Coffin doesn’t take any breaks, they keep playing and you can tell exhaustion is evident in Eddie’s face as he sings his heart out.

Eddie’s voice booms as he grabs the mic with a maniacal laugh, he looks down at you and points to you with an outstretched palm, “this next one is for the biggest brat, pain in my ass, absolutely the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever known, we haven’t played this song in years, but I know it’s her favorite.”

Jeff starts thumbing on his bass guitar with Gareth hitting the drums, immediately you know the song. You can’t believe he remembered. It was months ago when you had mentioned it to him, asking shyly if they still played it. Eddie starts singing the first verse,

There’s a place just south of Witches Valley

Where they say the wind won’t blow

And they only speak in whispers of her name

There’s a lady they say that feeds the darkness

It eats right from her hand

With a crying shout, she’ll search you out

And freeze you where you stand

Lady Evil, evil

She’s a magical mystical woman

Lady evil, evil on my mind

She’s the queen of the night

Tears well in your eyes and you can’t help them from falling. Grabbing the necklace he had placed so delicately on you yesterday you rub the tarnished steel between your fingers. It’s not even a sappy song, but the fact he remembered from all those years ago when you were just a bratty sister to his best friend and he was an asshole teenager, made your heart soar. You were in love with him. More than just a little crush, more than just a one night fling, you wanted him as yours— yours and yours alone.

The bar is full of screaming fans, girls with their tops off, throwing their bras at the band, but Eddie’s eyes never leave yours. His soul reaches yours and tells you without words the same thing you are thinking.

The rest of the concert you stand in one spot still staring up at the beautiful man in front of you, utterly intoxicated on him. The valleys of his neck as it vibrates and stretches with his vocal chords, the veiny thick hands as they strum his guitar, his wet hair that would look so delicious wrapped around your fingers. You yearned for him, carnally desired to have those hands wrapped hotly around your skin, between your legs, on your neck. Fuck.

The gig ends and the boys slip backstage. “Fuck man! I haven’t seen that many people at one of your gigs ever, where the hell is Gareth?” Big D asks, squeezing a can of spray cheese into his mouth.

“Oh you know him,” Jeff chides, downing a warm beer, “he’s bumping’ uglies with his main, probably locked in the men’s bathroom again.”

They all chuckle and Eddie hurries to grab his stuff, anxious to meet you up front and buy you a drink, maybe take you out for midnight pancakes at Benny’s. Looking as beautiful as ever tonight he had a hard time keeping the gig going, all he wanted to do was jump off stage and kiss you so deeply your bones would sing from his fervor, and now that it was over, he moved into the final phase of his plan, making you his.

“Ash is waiting’ on me, you still riding with us Big D or is Em gettin’ lucky tonight?

Big D wipes his cheese filled lips, “ah I might give her the ol’ pickle tickle, hey man,” he says gesturing to Eddie, “a whole song dedicated to the most gorgeous girl huh?”

Eddie doesn’t miss a beat, “am I wrong? Tooty not pretty enough for you?”

Big D holds his hands up in surrender, “damn dude that’s not what I was getting at— I’m— we are happy for you. Don’t let her get away.”

Eddie smiled sheepishly, “that’s the plan my man,” he says slinging his worn duffel bag over his shoulder, “that’s the plan, gotta go.”

He makes his way down a narrow hallway back to the bar when he’s stopped by the twins. Arms crossed and looks of vengeance on their painted lips.

“Ladies,” Eddie greets, head down and making to pass them, but the stand stone still, blocking his way.

“Daddy,” Cece answers, “that wasn’t very nice the way you treated us the last time we played.” her lips pursed in a pretty pout, a tight faux leather mini skirt exentuating her curves.

Carol purrs as she walks towards him, her hip gripping leather pants and a denim vest adorned with band pins pushes her chest up and nearly to her eyeballs, soft Farrah curls surrounding her face and sway down her back. Her finger curled under his chin, “I think you owe us… a favor.”

“Ooh yes,” Cece agrees, “a big favor,” her hand wraps around the soft length outside his jeans. Lips pressing into his sweaty neck.

“I’m gonna pass,” Eddie says firmly, avoiding Carol’s needy fingers in his hair, “but Gareth might be up for another round, give him about a half hour or so.”

Carol grabs Eddie by his crotch and walks him back into the wall, pinning his shoulders with her arms, her lips tantalizingly close to his neck. “A song dedicated to that bitch roommate of yours?” she seethes, “how pathetic.”

Cece speaks now, her words laced with venom long slicked back pony tail cascading down her back, “bet she can’t fuck like us, word around town is her pussy was trashed by Chad Cunningham.”

Eddie instantly feels a fire in his belly; he's ready to tell them both off, ready to get to you and take you out for a meal. But when he looks up he sees you standing at the end of the hallway, eyes wide and a hand over your mouth. He calls your name but you ignore him, throwing a middle finger over your shoulder and swallowing the lump in your throat as turn on your heel and stomp away, down the hallway and through the loud chattering of drunks in the bar, passed the stage that you finally felt like you were getting somewhere with Eddie, and out the door.

The wind had picked up, blowing snow all around the parking lot. A white wall of opaque blindness, you don't have a jacket but you know the general way on how to get home. Crossing your arms across your chest you put your head down and began to trudge through the parking lot.

Not being able to fathom what you saw, you are pissed that you’re jealous. Pissed that your rockstar roommate, who was known for being a ladies man and a player, pulled one over on you. Made you think he loved you just for him to be sucking face with the twins who were at your house all those months ago. Tears sting and practically freeze to your lashes as you stomp further and further away from the hideout, heart frozen and rigid once again.

With the wind blowing hard you didn’t hear the door being flung open frantically or the loud music being sung by the drunks from the jukebox. Eddie barely catches a glimpse of your black shirt and barrels through the deepening snow to get to you. “Tooty!”

A warm hand wraps around your arm and pulls you around to face him, your eyes are like steel knives into his as he stares into them pleading with you to understand. “You gonna walk the whole way home?”

“What the fuck do you care?” you shout, trying to wiggle your arm away from him, “you must think I’m really fucking stupid huh?”

Eddie is perplexed, face twisted in confusion, “what the hell are y— Jesus Christ it’s freezing out here, let me take you home. We can argue and fight all you want without getting hypothermia.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere with you!” you cry, trying to shove him away but nearly falling in the snow. You didn’t want to be in his presence ever again. He hurt you, he made you feel like you were special, turns out you're just as common as a penny on the sidewalk, not even face up for luck.

“Tooty,” Eddie barks, voice angry, sharp and full of pain, “if I have to drag you by your goddamn hair into the van I will. I have no problem doing that. Let’s. Go.”

Shoulder checking him on your spin back through the parking lot, you stomp through the thick snow and climb into the passenger seat, shivering and pouting.

Eddie is close behind you, hands raw and red from the elements, trembling as he reaches for the knob to blast the heat. He doesn’t say anything as he pulls out of the parking lot, only looks your way to try and read your face, your peripherals catch him more than once— but you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your tears.

The ride home is full of slippery snow packed roads, at the stop sign before turning onto Cherry, Eddie looks your way, “are you mad at me?”

Are you mad at me? What a stupid fucking question.

“No Eddie I’m over the moon, jumping for joy, mother fucking delighted to see you with not one girl but two— groping you ready to feast on you like a snack.”

Eddie shakes his head, not wanting to argue but seeing no other way through it. “That’s all you saw huh? And where were my hands Tooty? Was I touching them?”

You think hard, unable to to process or give a shit what he was talking about. “I was too distracted to see what you were doing, sorry for leaving so soon and disrupting your rockstar ego in the act— I’m sure you’re into other people watching you fuck.”

Eddie lets out a taunting laugh that is anything but trying to be funny. He’s flabbergasted by how mean you’re being, 100% only seeing what you wanted to.

“You are seriously talking out of your ass right now, ya know that right?” Eddie sneers, pulling into the driveway, he’s hurt and like an animal, he’s lashing out, defending his pride, “Why do you even care if I am, which for the record— I’m not, with someone else? We aren’t dating, you’re not my girlfriend.”

The poisonous words sting worse than the first fight with him ever has. Not giving him a chance to explain, you throw open the door, not slamming it but leaving it wide open and stomp inside. Kicking off your boots you hear two doors slam and Eddie’s boots stomping behind you.

“Fuck!” Eddie shouts, “do you ever finish a conversa—”

“Fuck you! You wanna be some rockstar prick with his dick in anything that walks? Be my guest— but keep me out of it!” Turning to your bedroom, Eddie jumps over the couch to block your path, arms stretched across the door frame.

“We,” Eddie yells again, “are going to talk about this, stop running away from me!”

“No,” you chastise, “we aren’t!”

Eddie hears you but presses on, “why are you mad at me because you think you saw me kissing or touching those other girls?”

“Uhh,” you groan, defeated, “leave me alone.”

“Tell me,” he continues.

“No.” You announce crossing your arms.

“Tooty, Jesus Chr— tell me,” he’s losing his calm, agitated by your bratty attitude and refusal to talk to him.

Fidgeting and stamping your foot you don’t want to give in to him, can’t tell him why you’re so upset. How embarrassing to tell someone you’re jealous.

“Eddie— get the fuck out of my way.”

“Tell me why and I will, be a big girl, use your words,” his venomous teasing only fuels your fire.

“Jesus Christ you incessant fucking gnat! Get out of the way!”

Eddie presses forward, inching towards you, making you draw away from him, “are you jealous, Tooty?”

The word makes your cheeks heat, admission written all over your face as he keeps pressing into you further, your back is at the wall and his arms box you in, face inches from yours. “Did seeing me with someone else make you mad?”

Grumbling his name you try to push away from him but he is persistent. “Tell me I’m not crazy, baby.” His whispered tone seeps through your skin, flooding your panties even more, your heart screaming with each beat, mind inching you impossibly closer to him.

“Tell me you want this just as much as I do,” his hooded eyes, pour into yours, licked lips wet with spit.

Toes in the water, it’s surprisingly warm despite the frigid cold of the weather outside, but he’s been keeping you warm now for months.

Hands on his chest you finger the holes in the neck of his shirt. His cold wet hair tickling your hands as you yank him closer to you, practically bumping noses, “you’re not crazy, but I will be if you don’t kiss me.”

Hesitation long forgotten, the smooth silk of your lips are hugged tight against Eddie’s pinked and chapped ones. Floating higher to the galaxy he swore he would take you to, tank full of gas, dancing you around in his arms on Saturn’s rings, diving head first into Jupiter’s springs.

Blissfully euphoric is the language of your spilled lust infused love.

for readmore 🦋

#honey i’m home #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fanfiction

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changbinsboiledegg · 6 months

Note

Hi!! I love your writing and I was wondering if you could do skz reactions to another member walking in on them and their gf doing the dirty? 😅

lmao sure anon. Digital footprint go brrr (thank you for the request ily 🫶)

Fem! Reader X SKZ. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI.

Warnings: Smut, ofc. Kinda explicit?, Unprotected or protected seggs, I didn't specify, swearing, implied vaginal, edging, cum mentions???, Overstimulation, teasing. Am I forgetting any?

Note: I'm not very good with smut BUT this is just a reaction post. I can do better probably. Also, I included some humorous shit because I got nervous. lol. Hope y'all enjoy :)

MDNI!!! Also if smut makes you uncomfy, pls skip (obviously).

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Chan

“What’s wrong? Can’t handle it anymore, baby girl?” Chan teased, pinning you down against the bed as he snapped his hips into yours, eliciting a loud moan that became muffled when he moved a hand over your mouth.

You were almost on the ledge of release and he as well.

You almost didn’t notice the door opening in the midst of all of the pleasure between you two.

“Oh my god!”

You and Chan both ceased any form of intimacy and quickly scrambled to cover yourselves as Jeongin covered his eyes and turned around.

“Jesus, Jeongin! What do you want?!” Chan sounded frustrated at being interrupted.

“I heard a cry, I thought something was wrong!” Jeongin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Chan glanced at you, then back at Jeongin.

“Please, just… get out for a while…”

With that, Jeongin left without a second prompt.

Lee Know

Minho was teasing the entire time as you begged for him to just insert himself inside of you.

And he did. Slowly guiding himself into your wetness, thrusting once, and then pulling out. You whined, beginning to get frustrated. Minho smirked at this, rubbing the tip against your aching clit.

“Fucking hell! Just please—“

“Hey, Minho! Do you still have my—“ Jisung stopped, immediately going wide eyed and dropping his phone.

“I’m so sorry! I just— I didn’t see anything! Promise!” Jisung frantically apologized, leaving the room.

You exchanged an embarrassed glance with Minho, frozen in place before Jisung came in again, his hand over his eyes as he fumbled for his phone.

“Saw nothing! Just getting my phone!”

Changbin

You already came— twice. But Changbin had no mercy. He loved seeing you cum.

And he wanted to make you cum again.

“You can do it. I know you can.” Changbin gently spread your clenched thighs open again as they shook from your previous orgasm.

“Fuck, Changbin—“ You squirmed, gripping the bed sheets as he positioned himself over your entrance.

“Say the safe word and I will stop.” Changbin cooed, waiting for a response.

However, you didn’t say anything. You wanted to cum again. Right as he slid himself inside of you again, the door swung open.

“Oh.” It took Seungmin a few seconds to process what was going on. Seeing you quivering was enough to make him instantly leave the room, forgetting to shut the door in his embarrassment.

You looked at Changbin and said the safe word.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin was gentle every step of the way from the moment you started. He made sure not to grip your hips too tight or thrust too fast or hard unless you asked.

But you hadn’t asked, wanting it to be just as special as he did.

“You’re so pretty like this.” Hyunjin breathlessly complimented you, meaning every word he said. You stifled back a moan, knowing you needed to be quiet during this, especially since the other members were still there, lingering.

You squeezed your eyes shut, on the brink of orgasm but it was delayed and stopped when Hyunjin frantically got off and covered both of you up.

You almost took the blanket off before realizing Felix was standing in the doorway, hand covering his mouth.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, a bit irritated.

“You act like you’ve never seen two people have—“

“I’m leaving! I am leaving!” Felix cut him off, shutting the door behind him but accidentally slamming it in the process.

“Sorry!” His faint voice called back through the door.

Han

It was your first time with him, although it was a little awkward at first, the more you explored each others bodies, the more comfortable you got with each other.

“I love you.” Jisung whispered in your ear, guiding your hips as you rode him on the edge of the bed. You bit your lip to muffle the moans that left your mouth, feeling your legs shaking the longer you rode.

“I love you too.” You managed to gasp out. Jisung smiled breathlessly before pressing his lips against your neck, softly sucking on the skin between his lips.

You quietly whimpered and gasped, feeling yourself letting go.

“Seriously? Now? Come on!” Minho’s voice halted you to a stop as you widened your eyes, not wanting to look back at him.

“Privacy please!” Jisung stammered out, grabbing a pillow and attempted to cover your backside with it. Minho was already on his way out, pausing at the door.

“You better be using protection!” Then he left. You and Jisung were horrified for a few seconds before laughing off the embarrassment.

Felix

“I am all yours tonight.” Felix leaned back, watching you as you undressed yourself. You walked over to him, straddling him with a smirk.

“And I, am all yours.” You gently pushed him to where he was flat on his back. You leaned down to kiss him, slow at first, then each kiss after progressively became more and more desperate as you helped him undress as well.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” Felix mumbled, taking in a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to see you be the one to take control. You kissed his jaw and down to his neck as he worked his fingers around the clasp of your bra.

You helped him, momentarily pausing and tossing it to the floor beside the bed. Felix’ hands roamed your body, grasping and rubbing any part he could reach before rolling you on your back and spreading your legs apart.

You turned your head, seeing Hyunjin walking in. He didn’t seem to notice you and Felix until his eyes landed on your bra.

“Hyunjin?” You muttered, feeling the panic set in. Felix didn’t see him yet, being more focused on you.

“Hyunjin? What does he—”

Hyunjin gasped loudly and quickly rushed outside of the room, causing Felix’ head to snap in his direction.

“Oh my god!”

Seungmin

His hands roamed your chest, trailing down to your stomach and stopping on your thighs, rubbing his hands against them as his lips were pressed to your neck. Seungmin’s hands inched up towards the top of your thighs before maneuvering a hand between your legs, feeling the damp cloth.

“Already?” Seungmin teased, his breath was warm against your neck as you softly moaned, slightly bucking your hips against his hand.

Seungmin pulled his face back, glancing down, then into your eyes. “Wet and needy. Patience is a virtue, you know.”

You whined, throwing your head back. “I am needy! I need you now!”

You didn’t say anything in specific, but he knew what you meant. Seungmin smirked, pulling the cloth down your thighs, taking them off and exposing to him just how wet you were.

On instinct, you parted your legs and leaned back on your elbows as Seungmin placed his hand back where it was, only this time there wasn’t a barrier.

“More?”

“Seung—”

A scream erupted, coming from the doorway where a shocked Changbin stood. His scream was so loud that you scream as well, startled as you closed your legs together. Seungmin got up to block you, still dressed, unlike you.

“Changbin, what the hell?”

Changbin quickly turned around, mumbling to himself as he shut the door behind him.

I.N

Jeongin hovered over you, both of you still dressed, but just as needy for each other as you made out on the couch. Your lips messily clashed with his as his hand made it’s way up your shirt and towards your the hem of your bra.

Your hand moved down his chest and stopping on his stomach while your other hand gripped the back of his shoulder. He began to grind his hips against yours when you wrapped your legs around his waist.

The other members were outside and weren’t expected to be back inside for another hour. Jeongin wasn’t particularly worried about getting caught as long as he— and you, were quiet and quick.

You lifted his shirt to remove it. Jeongin removed his lips from yours momentarily and sat up, helping you remove it. He then did the same to you, removing your shirt and leaving you in your bra.

Right as he was about to press his lips against yours again, the sound of collective chattering interrupted you both and soon the whole group entered. No one was prepared for what they just saw.

You and Jeongin scrambled for your shirts, slipping them back on.

“Oh my god! That’s what the rooms are for!” Chan’s eyes were glued to the floor. In fact, none of the other members were actually looking at you and Jeongin.

They were as flushed as you were, only slightly less.

“On the couch too?” Minho sighed as Jeongin ran to his room, pulling you with him.

Before the door closed, you heard Hyunjin say, “Guess we have to get the couch cleaned again.”

Note 2: Does nobody know how to lock a door???? be so fucking fr now. LMAO

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids reactions #skz x reader #skz reactions #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios

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fontzero · 2 years

Text

i think stray is great because robots copy their human predecessors and just ... love. the little plant you can remember in elliot’s shop and b12 talks about how plants were modified to thrive with little to no sunlight and ends it with “i think this is what they would’ve wanted” about taking care of them. the music that plays and how you can find radios playing music everywhere. the clothes. the fact washing machines are still used and how there are robot tailors. how the robots developed their own language after some point. how they all, really, want to see what’s outside and what the sky is like because humans loved it so much. the way they live just like humans because they’ve developed like people after sooo long, and really, i think they are also people. they dont breathe and they dont really need to eat but they make food and wear clothes and take care of plants and they even clean if someone spills something... the idea of leaving behind a literal digital footprint in the form of robots loving what they know from books and television and copying us to let humans live on through memory. the idea of it all is wonderful, isn’t it

#stray #sory i like this game

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gingiesworld · 5 months

Text

Fatal Attraction

Chapter Nine

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader/ Wanda Maximoff x Jarvis Stark

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad @natashaswife4125 (if you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

18+ MINORS DNI

Y/N watched as Wanda grew more and more confident since she started to meet with Opal and started the divorce proceedings. Soon enough the elevator doors opened to reveal Gwen in her lab coat.

“We have a slight problem.” She told them as she approached Y/N.

“What is it?” They questioned as Gwen took a deep breath.

“We have been hacked.” She told them urgently. “The blueprints for the Oscorp/Hammer project were the only things stolen.”

“Ok.” Y/N started to move towards their office. “Just one moment and we will go to IT.” She watched as they entered their office, typing away on their computer.

“What’s going on?” Wanda asked them curiously as Opal observed the two.

“Nothing to worry about, but please don’t leave this office.” They told her. “Both of you.” They looked to Opal as Wanda nodded. “I’ll explain everything once I’ve sorted it, I have also shut down the company wifi for the time being.”

“What?” Wanda questioned as she went to follow them but Opal beat her to it.

“Y/N, what has happened?” She asked as she pulled them to the side.

“We have been hacked.” They whispered as Opal sighed. “An important project has been stolen and I plan on getting to the bottom of it.”

“I warned you.” She whispered as she glanced back at Wanda. “This has Stark written all over it.”

“I know.” Y/N groaned as they looked into the older woman’s eyes. “But I can’t help but feel this way, like I need to help her, protect her. I just need her to be safe.”

“You’re in love with her.” She gasped as Y/N nodded. “That’s why you’re hellbent on getting her out of this loveless marriage.”

“I do.” They answered. “But I just want what’s best for her.” She smiled at them before they continued. “Just keep her inside the office, I have this floor on lock down so there will be no unexpected guests before my return, and you know where the fridge is.”

The two watched as Y/N followed Gwen into the lift, Opal approached Wanda and led her back inside the office.

“Come dear, we have much to do.” She told the younger woman as she closed the door behind them. Moving to grab a couple of drinks before continuing their task at hand as Y/N and Gwen raced towards the IT department.

“Scott, please tell me you have something.” Y/N spoke as they entered the Tech lab.

“I am trying to break down the digital footprints, hoping to get an IP but so far nothing.” He told them as he typed away.

“Have you accessed the remote wifi?” They asked him as he shook his head. Y/N then pushed him out of the way as they grabbed their USB from their coat. The two watched as they typed away on the computer, listening as they mumbled to themselves.

“Anything?” Gwen asked them as she stepped beside them, watching as they tried to break through the firewall.

“I am getting closer but whoever this is, they are much better at hacking than our very own IT minion.” They raised their voice as their anger was getting the better of them.

“Maybe we should inform the police?” Scott asked as Y/N laughed.

“No!” They yelled. “We settle this in house.” They started to type away again before talking once more. “How’s Jean doing?” They asked, causing Gwen to smirk as Scott looked unsure.

“She is great, really tired.” He answered them.

“She’s due soon right?” They asked him as he nodded.

“Yeah, she is due next week.” He answered them.

“You should bring the two of them in when she’s had the baby.” They told him as they straightened up. “It’s someone at Hammer Industries.” The two looked confused as Y/N fixed their jacket. “Get the evidence in a secure file for me. I have a call to make.” Scott nodded as Gwen followed Y/N to the lift.

“You’re not going to do anything stupid are you?” She asked them as they smirked.

“Since when have you known me to do anything stupid?” They questioned as she raised a brow. “You know what? Forget what I asked.”

“I have known you forever.” She told them as they stepped inside the lift. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Look, this is my company Gwen. My whole teen and adult life has been spent here, in this building. Learning as much as I possibly could, I am not going to let someone come here and steal from under my nose.” They told her firmly, soon stepping out of the lift and heading to Wanda’s desk, getting out the address book they had.

“Y/N, this could be dangerous. Maybe my dad can help.” She tried as Y/N shook their head no. “Come on.”

“Look, I am not going to do anything stupid.” They told her as they picked up the phone, Gwen’s eyes soon seeing the name of the person they were calling.

“You can’t be serious?! Cottonmouth?” She whispered as Y/N soon started to talk with the person on the other end, their eyes never leaving Gwen’s as they spoke.

“Ok. Thanks.” They soon hung up to see Gwen’s disapproving stare. “He owes me.”

“Y/N, this isn’t going to work!” She yelled at them, alerting the two women just beyond the wall. “He is dangerous, even worse than KP.”

“Look, I have a way of doing things.” They told her as they stood up. “If you don’t like it, then just shut up.”

“Y/N, I worry that you will get hurt, or worse.” She told them softly. “You’re my best friend above all else, and I couldn’t live with myself if you died.” Y/N’s eyes softened as they watched her wipe away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry Gwen.” They whispered. “But I have to do this. This company is all of our livelihoods. Our means of survival and I need to make sure that you and everyone else in this building is protected.”

“I’m going back to my lab.” She whispered as she straightened up. “Scott will be up soon with your file.” With that she left as the door opened, revealing Opal with her bag ready to leave.

“You need to be careful Y/N/N.” She told them as they nodded. “Your mom would kick my ass if anything happened to you.”

“I will.” They assured her. “I know what I have to do.” She sighed knowing she will never break through to them.

“So, what happened?” Wanda asked as she followed Y/N inside their office, closing the door behind her.

“We were hacked.” They told her as they looked over the city. “Someone at Hammer hacked into our database and stole the blueprints from the very project we were working on together!” They turned to face Wanda who remained steady on her feet. “They stole from us and everyone is practically telling me to sit back, just let the authorities deal with it.”

“Maybe you should.” Wanda told them as she stepped closer to them. “It would be safer, maybe terminate the contract since they have broken it.” They listened as she spoke. “We can organise a meeting next week with Justin Hammer and his associates, make it a formal matter, have Opal on our side, and a notary too.” She took their hand as they looked into her eyes. “Make sure that soon enough you will ruin them, from the legal route.”

“I.” They sighed as they closed their eyes, the closeness between the two as Wanda caressed their face.

“Don’t say anything.” She whispered as her lips ghosted theirs. Y/N released a shaky breath before kissing her tenderly, their hands soon moving to her hips as the kiss deepened. Pushing her up against the window as the kiss grew hungrier by the second.

“I can’t.” They whispered as Wanda looked at them. “I can’t do this here.”

“Then where?” She asked them as they stepped away.

“I just, you’re still married.” They whispered as she sighed.

“Not for long though.” She told them.

“But still, I don’t want this.” They pointed between the two of them. “To be just about sex. You deserve more than that.” With that they left the office, leaving a bewildered Wanda behind.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #wanda x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff

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tosuckmyweenis · 1 year

Text

Slow Down

Seen posts about Leon being an absolute menace to society, and now my brain goes brr for Mean!Leon driving way too fast while you beg him to slow down. So I decided to try my hand at writing something what was supposed to be small turned into a novel oop. My digital footprint is ruined already. Poor format. Loss of italics when uploading and too lazy to fix

TW, mean!Leon, patronizing nicknames, unprotected sex, creampie, dub-con/coercion/non-con, threats of tree wrapping in the beginning, outdoor sex, AFAB anatomy, not totally yan! But definitely a little sus. praising is involved(Russ's song gave me an earworm)

"Leon, please slow down; you're going too fast!" you grabbed the handle above the door, trying to brace yourself against it.

"Aw, is this too fast for you, Baby? I thought you liked it fast." He teased, stepping on the gas just a little more

"You're going to get us killed!" you shrieked. Breathing coming in short and sharp, you could hear your racing heartbeat in your ears. Squeezing your eyes closed.

"nonsense, I know how to drive. If we crash, it's because you didn't listen. So what are you going to do?"

You heard the thunk of the mirror being pulled down. You have no idea how fast he was going, but it was way above what's safe and would be fatal should anything happen.

"Lift your dress and spread your legs for me. Then, I'll slow down." Leon pressed down on the gas to prove his point.

"I- I'm scared," your voice cracking and coming out pathetically.

"clock is ticking; we're running out of road. You wouldn't want to take turns at this speed, would you?" You could hear the click of his tongue.

Opening your eyes and taking in a shaky breath, you spread your legs as far as they would go, accidentally knocking on the door with your knee. Blue eyes flick to the mirror, licking his lips while taking in your thighs and lacy panties.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it? Wearing my favourite pair too."

He let off the gas letting it coast down

"You know it's only a little fun, and I'd never do anything to hurt you."

reaching over and placing his hand on your thigh, giving it a few squeezes before rubbing circles, making his way to your inner thigh, pinky brushing along your clothed slit, making you shudder

"You're going to do what I say, right, Sweetheart?"

nodding your head, like you even had a choice, willing to do anything to get home in one piece.

"move them to the side so I can see what I can do to your pretty little cunt" his eyes spent more time looking into the mirror than on the road. Thankfully, there was barely anyone travelling it

No wonder he crashes so often

the vulgar words leaving his mouth, making heat rise to your cheeks, a dizzying feeling flooding your body, making you lightheaded.

Fingers gently ghosted over his hand while they continued the ministrations on your thigh, moving his pinky out of the way temporarily so you could hook your two fingers into the band of your dampening panties pulling them to the side and exposing yourself to him.

Moving his hand entirely off your thigh, moving to stroke his middle and ring finger up and down your cunt, gathering arousal and spreading it before sliding down and slowly pushing into your entrance to the first knuckle, curling them to find your sweet spot, massaging walls until he found it

"Aah, right there...please," your whimpered words edging him on as he fucked his fingers into you faster, grinding the top of his palm against your clit; "mmh," lowering your head, lips parted, letting out puffs of air, feeling the heat build in your gut, you grind your hips into his hand,

"you're being such a good girl," he cooed

removing his hand

"Hold on, sweet thing; I'll give you something better in a minute."

pulling over to the side of the road and shutting the car off,

"Take those off now."

leaning over, unbuckling your seatbelt and his, lifting your hips, you dragged the silky lace down and off.

"get out of the car and put your hands on the hood, face forward."

"Yes, Sir"

getting out of the car and following his instructions placing your hands on the cool metal of the car, leaning over, you watched as he climbed out and shut the door with a slam. You watched him take a significant stride toward you until he was out of your vision and directly behind you. Roughly gripping your hips, pulling them back to meet his own, hard cock grinding against you.

"Do you see what you do to me, Baby?"

Leaning his body over yours, placing light kisses on your shoulder, and tearing out a breathy moan.

"Beg for it." hiking, your dress up, wandering hands groped and kneaded your ass.

"Please, please fuck me; I need you," pleading, trying to push back against him.

"Next time, you'll be on your knees."

you could hear him shuffle, tugging his pants down just enough to free himself before sinking himself in, starting a fast pace snapping his hips into yours, pressing a hand into the middle of your back, forcing your chest to the hood with a thud, feeling the weight of him on top of you, making sure you couldn't get up

"You're so wet for me, baby; you like this, yeah? You like being fucked on the side of the road where anyone could drive by and see how good you take me? How good I make you feel; oh Fuck..yeah, that's it, God..You were made for me."

Clenching around him, moaning at the mix of praises spilling from his heavenly lips, edging you on. His cock hitting all the right places to make you see stars and feel the heat start to build in your lower abdomen again.

"Leon...Ahh...m'not gunna last much longer."

"That's ok, baby, cum for me; I want you to. You deserve it for being such a good girl for me," he purred in your ear, hips rutting into you.

Letting out a loud moan as heat spreads to the rest of your body, legs shaking

"You're doing such a good job, sweetheart. Just a little longer, and I'll fill you up."

He pounded at your over-sensitive cunt, desperately trying to reach his peak. After a few more thrusts, his hips stuttered before thrusting himself as deep as he could go, feeling the pulsing as he came, pushing down on you a little harder while he recovered. Stepping back to savor the sinful sight dripping out of you.

#leon kennedy x reader #yandere leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #TSMWFICS

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i-cant-sing · 9 months

Note

Can i ask how toga tomura and dabi will react to president kai evict them when they turn 18?

Screaming, fighting, yelling, a little bit of arson, threats of kicking Kai to a nursing home, etc etc. Of course, this is all happening when you're not in the country. No, no, you'd give in too easily into them. Kai knows it, that's why he sent you on a press tour while he makes sure that every college the triplets get accepted in is far far far away from home.

And since the teletubbies are putting up a whole fight, literally start burning up Kai's stuff, Kai is now threatening them with all the stuff he's found about them. Yeah Dabi, who exactly did you think it was who bailed you out after your DUI after your mother told you how much she hates drunk drivers??? Who did you think made the charges disappear after you shived your friend who made some perverted comments about your mom???? And Tomura, who did you think helped erase your digital footprint on the dark Web?

It was all dear old dad helping yall out and he hasn't heard ONE THANK YOU! NOT ONE!

So yall pack up your shit and leave right now and maybe you get to see your mother on holidays orrrr throw up a tantrum and see me expose yalls criminal asses to her!

They all left by the time you came home :( Kai said that they absolutely needed to go because their classes were starting. It's okay though, you can go visit them soon🥰

#yandere president overhaul #yandere president kai #yandere kai chisaki #yandere kai #yandere overhaul x reader #yandere overhaul #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere dabi #yandere himiko #yandere himiko toga #yandere toga #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere tomura

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aemxnd · 1 year

Text

curiosity | modern!aemond x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Aemond Targaryen is an enigma you need to solve.

Inspired by an amazing request from @darckxlady for a modern mysterious Aemond based on Avril Lavigne’s “Hot” that’s haunted me ever since it arrived in my inbox. Thank you for letting me loose on your lovely idea Dess, I hope I’ve done it some kind of justice!

WORDS: 5.4k (I know, it got out of hand)

WARNINGS: balls to the wall smut, v fingering, squirting, daddy kink, affirmation kink, praise, serious degrading, p in v sex, slight dubcon if you squint, Aemond being a dom asshole, language, fuckboy Aegon, very much unedited/not proofread, a tiny Easter egg for fans of the Greek alphabet, reader has a name for a plot point

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

My requests are open! 🖤

You know what they say about curiosity.

The conundrum of Aemond Targaryen, the silently contemplative mystery man in your History class, was a red flag to a bull. You had exhausted your average detective skills to learn more about him, inactive Facebook account, unused Twitter and even an old Tumblr account included. There was nothing out there to learn about the silver-haired Adonis that his nonchalant countenance hadn’t already exposed. Either that, or he’s already worked out how to wipe his digital footprint clean off the web.

The less you uncovered, the more entranced you became. Every enquiry’s door slammed in your face drove you further down the corridor. The Targaryen wasn’t going to get the better of you. Was he a lover, a fighter, a good kisser, bad kisser, or worse — a frat boy?

The end of class bell rang you out of your imaginative daze, not realising you’d been staring at Aemond across the classroom for an indeterminable amount of time. He gathered his things in an orderly fashion as normal, so it was safe to assume you hadn’t been caught red-handed. Hurriedly grappling your belongings in turn, you were the last to leave class. As usual.

With the prospect of another gruelling hour in High Valyrian before home time, you idly pored through the remaining avenues of investigation in your mind while trudging the hallway before your ears pricked up to a salacious conversation.

“I had her up against the wall,” Aemond’s voice sliced through the hum of the busy corridor like a gleaming dagger, his skewed tone suggesting his lips were curled viciously as he described his forceful action. Stopping right in the middle of the hall, your gaze frantically searched through the crowds for a sight of the mysterious Targaryen. Finding the platinum curls of his brother Aegon, you scanned beside him to find Aemond making an example of his words, a demonstrative hand aloft in a clutching stance up against the locker beside them, knuckles white as he gripped nothing at all. “She wanted me, she was dripping for me,” he continued, confirming your worst fear — he was indeed a frat boy. On the other hand, Aegon’s sarcastic expression beside him spoke louder than any words, both eyebrows knitted together as if he didn’t believe a word his brother was saying.

“Sure you did,” Aegon scoffed, arms folded tightly across his chest. “Which wet dream are you talking about this time, brother? It’s a wonder we’re even related, I’m not even entirely sure you’d know where to put your cock.”

Aemond’s gaze darted to the floor along with his hands, anxiously drawing his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Seriously bro, did you even watch that gangbang I linked you last night?” Aegon prattled on, completely oblivious to his brother’s indifference. Aegon’s extroverted approach was the polar opposite to his brother’s, he was the popular picked-first-in-gym guy in movies that you just want to sucker punch. “Don’t tell me, your notifications aren’t working again. No worries, I’ll send you ten more in a minute. You like chicks with a pulse, right? Don’t wanna narrow your chances down too much, you’ll get it wet someday.”

Suddenly, Aemond looked up from the ground and stared straight into your eyes across the hall. His gaze was menacing, predatory even, his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together as he practically devoured you from afar. If it weren’t for the bustling school around you, you’d be mistaken for thinking he’d gladly slit your throat then and there for witnessing him being roasted by his brother. Despite the imminent threat of figurative murder in the hallway, you couldn’t help drawing further into his intrigue. In that moment, he became even more fascinating to you. But here you were, mindlessly staring at him for the second time in 10 minutes.

Quickly looking away to any other distraction, you found a particularly interesting flyer pinned to a locker. Saccharine neon colours and graffiti-style text framing its main intention — frat party alert. Tonight. Kappa Nu Tau’s semester-saving opportunity to let your hair down, listen to the same tired songs from the radio and wake up regretting who you just slept with.

Maybe a house party would distract you from the droll of trying to find intel on the man who doesn’t want to be found, or maybe it’d be the perfect opportunity to find such intel.

You turned back to see if Aemond was still staring at you only to find both brothers gone, vanished into the class-bound commotion.

“Are you coming?” A sprightly female voice burst through the crowd accompanied by an arm entwining with yours. Baela, the kindest soul to walk Westeros High that always mistook frat parties for respectable gatherings of upstanding, hard-working students who shared her academic fervour and always bailed an hour and 15 indecent propositions in.

“Uh… sure,” you caved tentatively, knowing full well being best friends with Baela meant the night never outstayed its welcome. “Not sure I’ve got anything to wear though.”

“Sure you do, you can go through my wardrobe!” She cheered in her usual bubbly tone, practically hopping on the balls of her feet with excitement. “I’ve got this really hot red Shein bodycon I haven’t worn yet, I don’t think it’s my colour but it’s definitely yours!”

Dragging you by your linked arms off to your next class, you made another intrigued turn to find Aemond, but he was gone. Once again, the mystery eluded you.

—

The moment the booming party speakers assaulted your ears and snapped you out of your intense detective mindset, you bitterly regretted showing up. Swallowing thickly as you and Baela linked arms and stepped intrepidly into House Kappa Nu Tau, you pasted on your best game face, brushed down Baela’s loaned dress and focused on the matter at hand — find out more about Aemond Targaryen, at all costs.

“The Targaryens are here already,” Baela half-shouted into your ear to be heard over the commotion. “The Snapchat group is going wild for it.”

You furrowed a brow, wondering why your friend would bring them up at the exact moment you were thinking about them, or more specifically one of the three criminally handsome blonde siblings. Aegon the fuckboy may have been the eldest in age, but their sister Helaena was by far the wisest, which left the baby Aemond to cut a name for himself in between. A name which you had yet to work out.

“Dude, would I care what the Targaryens are up to?” You chuckled dismissively, stepping through to the kitchen and grabbing a red solo cup to cling to like your life depended on it. Whether you were aware of it or not, your slight lean against the kitchen island came accompanied by a nervous check of the faces in the room to ensure none had signature platinum blonde hair.

“Oh come on Kat, you can’t stop staring at him!” Baela leaned up against you, planting her head on your shoulder. “Not that I blame you, he’s a certified babe and even I catch myself ogling that violet eye. Do you seriously not notice the way you look at him?”

“Baela, I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Laughing off her comments, you took a sip of your cup for a good few seconds before noticing your cup was still empty. A silence fell between you as you hoped she hadn’t noticed. “… Oh.”

“You’re down bad bad.” Baela dramatically swooned into you, inching closer to watch your every reaction through a suspicious squint. “Admit it, the thought of tangling your fingers in that beautiful blonde mane makes you all hot.”

“I’m not!” you dismissed vehemently. “Look, I hardly even know the guy. He’s a walking fucking mystery, I’ve tried everything: FB stalking him, searching up old yearbooks, he doesn’t even post stories on IG. His brother hacking his Twitter once in 2016 is the only interesting thing about him!”

Unbeknownst to you, a wave of poker-straight silver locks just mingled its way into the kitchen behind you, hearing every word with interest.

“Then you’re looking in all the wrong places,” Baela sighed. “Have you even tried Tinder? Grindr? AO3?”

Aemond’s low chuckle to himself was fortuitously quiet enough to slip under your radar.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Velaryon, I’ve tried everything. Even VampireFreaks!”

Another splutter went unheard.

“Damn, he really is untraceable,” Baela tutted, curling her lips into a pout. “I can always ask Helaena? I have Biology with her on Tuesdays, I can always bribe my way to sit by her. I heard Cregan Stark was struggling last week, he wouldn’t say no if I offer to do his homework this week.”

“No way, that’s too obvious,” you refused immediately. “I can’t let him know I’m interested. You’ve seen him, he keeps himself to himself unless his siblings are around. I have to face it, he’s a locked door and I need to find out where he threw the key.”

Another blonde approached Aemond from behind.

“If I’d have known I’d be bringing you to this party for you to sulk in the kitchen all night, I’d have brought cookies,” Helaena muttered to her brother, offering a solo cup which he reluctantly took. “Can you at least try and let your face know you want to be here? Lying comes naturally to you, can you give it a shot now?”

“Sure, sis.” Aemond forced a pained grin across his cheeks for a split second before dropping into his usual resting bitch face. His violet eye looked over his sister’s shoulder at a rising commotion in the next room. “Hey, isn’t that Aegon dancing topless on a pool table?”

“Not again,” Helaena snarked, storming into the distance and disappearing into the crowd, lost to Aemond’s vision but not to his ears when she screamed at the top of her lungs: “Aegon, this is the third time this week!”

Aemond returned his attention to your conversation.

“Well tonight’s your chance to jump him,” Baela shamelessly encouraged you. “Want me to find him and put in a good word for you?”

“Hell nah,” you protested. “He probably doesn’t even know who I am, we’re only in the same History class.”

“Well in that dress, he’s bound to notice you,” she revelled in the way her dress fitted you like a glove, falling into your curves like it was made for you. “Come on, let’s get you some Dutch courage to go get your mysterious man!”

Before you both turned to pour drinks, Aemond made his escape through the crowd.

—

An hour had passed and you still hadn’t spotted the violet-eyed puzzle of a man. Aegon, on the other hand, had already tried his luck with Baela and received a spectacular shut-down she delivered in front of a baying audience. Not that it phased him for long, he was already doing body shots off a cheerleader over the couch.

“Back in a minute,” you leaned into Baela announcing your departure for the bathroom.

“Okay but don’t leave me for long, okay? The Targaryen brother’s got ten minutes before he forgets the last time and tries it with me again, he’s a rotation fuckboy.”

Tentatively navigating the staircase over scattered groups of teenagers making out and filming regrettable drunken TikToks, your eyes fell upon the bathroom door and lunged for the handle, only for your hand to clasp on someone else’s. A pale, elegant hand with long, slender digits that seemed all too familiar. Looking up at your obstruction, you discovered you were, in fact, holding Aemond’s hand. His features were stern as usual, but significantly less murderous than your last contact.

“Oh shoot,” you flustered, yanking away and stepping back. A quick glance down his figure clocked his plain black skin-tight T-shirt and even tighter black skinny jeans. Mysterious as ever. “Sorry, um… frat boys first!”

Aemond clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“I may be many things but I’m not a frat boy,” he insisted, syllables dripping off his tongue like honey. He released the door handle and waved a demonstrative hand to usher you forward. “Anyway, the rule is ladies first.”

“Incredibly chivalrous for a frat boy,” you goaded with a cheeky grin, the only sarcasm you could muster once you clocked his violet eye, gleaming in the dim light like a precious gemstone. Taking his offer, you scurried toward the door and swung it open, before a hand pressed into the small of your back, pushed you in the bathroom and closed the door behind you.

“Hey, what are you—.”

A click of a key in a lock suggested the door was locked, provoking an instinctive hard swallow as you turned to face him, his back pressed against the portal and blocking your way out. The moonlight glowing outside the small window was the only light in the room yet he seemed to radiate illumination in the dark, his features so clear as if it were daylight. A pale hand holding a key raised into the darkness, clicking his fingers together and sending the key firing off into the pitch black void with a distant chink.

“We need to talk, don’t you think?” He half-purred, gazing down at you like his prey, cornered and panicked.

“What about, Targaryen?” You stuttered, cursing yourself for acting so nervous as if you hadn’t pictured doing the same thing to him countless times over. But this was real life, not a daydream in History class. “Don’t you have some girls to shove against walls or something?”

“What, like this?” His hand fired to grasp your throat, thrusting you against the cool wall, causing you to hiss sharply and clench your eyes shut in fear of slamming into the edge of the basin beside you. Once the shock of the impact settled in your spine, you looked up to see his violet gaze boring down on you once more as he settled his thumb into the hollow of your throat and pressed his fingers into your neck, applying just enough pressure to cut off your blood supply but not enough to make you choke. A wave of excitement spread through you, coming to the clarity that he knew exactly how to choke someone without hurting them — that’s already one factoid you couldn’t glean from his digital footprint.

BookTok was right all along: this really was a turn-on.

Aemond chuckled deep in his throat as he watched your struggles with glee, gazing down at your legs beneath him as they buckled gently, knees squeezing together to resist your core betraying your hardened exterior with jolt after jolt of anticipation.

“Are you quite finished?” He scoffed and quirked a brow, gesturing south in case you weren’t aware you were visibly hot under the collar being slammed against a wall. “Do you notice any similarities in that tall tale to what’s happening right now?”

You swallowed hard against his pressing fingers, realisation hitting you like a freight train.

“I had her up against the wall,” you recalled Aemond confessing earlier. “She wanted me, she was dripping for me.”

“So even if you’re not the best internet stalker, you can still follow simple instructions,” Aemond sneered through a crooked smile. Without warning, his free hand grazed your thigh, brushing the hem of your dress further and further northwards at a slow, agonising pace. If you didn’t stop him there, he would realise he was right about one thing — you really were dripping for him.

“Aemond, please,” you protested weakly, wriggling against his grasp, both hands clutching at his hand wrapped around your throat.

“Please what, huh?” He taunted, snaking his hand higher up your thigh until he reached your hip only to discover your thin lace panties blocking his path. “Say the word and your wish is my command. Go on, what happens next is entirely up to you.”

“I don’t understand—.”

“Sure you do,” he grinned, toying with the flimsy lace as if he could twist his hand and rip the fabric clean off you in a heartbeat. You struggled to slide yourself away, determined to prove him wrong and resist his advances. “You know what they say about curiosity, don’t you Kat?”

With that, your protestations ceased immediately. Taking advantage of your surprise, he gripped your panties and yanked them straight down your legs in one swipe.

“You… you know my name?”

Reinstating his hand on your legs Aemond trailed his index finger between your clenched thighs and parted them effortlessly, finding no objection from you whatsoever.

“I know everything about you. Whilst mine is scarcely visible, your digital footprint may as well be a fucking landmark. So tell me, why is it you’re so interested in the ‘mysterious Targaryen’? What one remarkable thing have I done to deserve your undivided, not to mention pathetic, attention?”

His lips curled into a half-snarl as he dominated you.

“Seeing as you know everything about me, why don’t you tell me, Aemond?” Your sarcastic flair returned to the conversation in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from his finger’s intrepid yet glacial trail toward your soaking core. “What have you done to deserve my attention?”

In thinking up a witty comeback, you hadn’t noticed his adventurous finger had left your thigh altogether.

“How about this?” In a blink of an eye, his free hand gripped your thigh, spread it to one side and propped your foot up on the faucet beside you. Somehow refusing to release the pressure on your windpipe at the same time, Aemond trailed that same curious digit back up your thigh and finally met your throbbing folds, the contact alone causing you to buck your hips into him.

“Easy tiger,” he commanded by delivering a swift slap to your cunt, earning a gasp in response. “Now I’ve answered your question, you owe me a reply to mine and in return, I’ll be kind enough to have mercy on your pretty little throat. What do you want the mysterious Targaryen to do to you?”

He trailed the very tip of his finger over the borders of your folds, circling delicately and inducing goosebumps on your every limb. Your eyes roved to the ceiling, spine flexing wildly and crashing against the wall in a feverish attempt to quell your body’s natural instincts. Aemond closed the gap between you, hovering his lips an inch from yours as his calm breaths fanned your face.

“Use your words, curious Kat,” he taunted, adding another finger to his agonising journey around your now-dripping entrance. “Tell me what you want from me.”

No matter the compromising position he held you in, Aemond was putting you in control. You could turn him down before he fucked you with his fingers, you could slap him across the face and he would obey. The big game he played was all a front, what he really craved was validation. Proof that you also wanted what he wanted to do to you in that moment.

Gulping loudly, you waited patiently until his fingers danced over your clit before bucking your hips forward so far, his digits slipped neatly inside you.

“I want you to fuck my brains out, Aemond Targaryen,” you declared, revelling in his deep groan as his fingers met your spongy walls, instinctively stroking and caressing at an already feverish pace.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised you eagerly, tearing his grip from your throat and planting his free hand against the wall by your head. “I’m glad to see you know what you want at last.”

Clenching around his fingers as he worked your core like a master sculptor, you threw your head back against the wall, squeezing your eyes shut to focus on the searing waves of ecstasy flooding through you.

“No you fucking don’t,” he snapped, curling his hand around the back of your head and forcing your gaze down to see his fingers disappear in your cunt. “Watch me ruin you until the only comprehensible thought in that pretty little head of yours will be my name.”

His breakneck pace plunging his fingers inside you was only increasing, the pressure on your head forcing you down acting as a counterweight for his other hand’s machine-like thrusts. The white heat igniting inside your core began coursing through your veins, Aemond’s brutal speed racing you to the brink of your climax far too soon.

“I’m going to… I need to…,” you begged pathetically through staccato breaths. “Please, Aemond.”

“Wanna try that name again, sweetheart?” He pressed, withdrawing his fingers and slamming back knuckle-deep inside you.

“Oh gods fuck… uh… sir?” His relentless pace stealing every strangled gasp you could muster.

“Nice try,” Aemond chuckled, pressing on your neck harder and working you even faster. “Venture another.”

“Fuck, please, ah…,” you cried out in desperation, pleading for an end to your torment and the simple permission to allow your orgasm to wash over you. “M… master?”

“Now now little girl, this isn’t Fifty Shades Of Grey, this is real life,” he pressed, raising his voice to be heard over the explicit sounds of your slick coating his pummelling fingers. “One last try.”

“Oh gods please, I can’t hold back much…,” you strained to see Aemond’s determined grin beyond the glittering stars appearing in the corners of your vision. “F… fuck… please daddy—.”

“That’s it, baby girl,” he praised before slamming his fingers deep inside you, flattening his palm against your clit and pulling and pushing his digits within you from your back walls to the front. His combined friction against your bundle of nerves and his fingers pressed fervently into your walls built an unusual sensation within you at an alarming pace, searing hot tears tumbling down your cheeks until you couldn’t take the sheer pressure anymore.

“Now squirt all over my fingers like a good little whore,” Aemond purred, his permission sending you careering over the precipice with a strangled scream, releasing the pressure inside until a tidal wave of your juices gushed from your cunt and sprayed his fingers, lewd splashes filling the room as you shamelessly soaked the bathroom floor, your own feet and Aemond’s skinny jeans.

“Good girl,” he encouraged, his words drawling from his tongue as he devoured the sight of you coming undone on just his fingers, continuing his assault on your walls to ride you through your entire orgasm. “I knew you could obey orders eventually, you’re not as dumb as you seem.”

“F… fuck you Aemond,” you stuttered, already regretting the words as they tumbled from your mouth and his gaze met yours.

In the afterglow of the most intense orgasm you were ever likely to experience, you had just committed a war crime. The silence that fell in the bathroom was practically pulsing between you, waiting to explode at any moment.

“As you wish, curiosity killed the Kat,” he snarled like a wild animal, tearing his fingers from your cunt as you clenched around nothing, before gripping your hips and spinning you on the spot, bending you over the faucet and pressing your face into the countertop with one hand quickly balled into your hair, the other wrestling with his skinny jeans and shuffling the denim to his ankles. Your inability to see his next move both excited and terrified you, hearing only frantic shuffling as he presumably freed his length from its cotton confines. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you after that little stunt.”

Delivering a swift kick to your ankle to spread your legs for him, Aemond released your hair and ghosted a delicate trail down your spine toward parting your cheeks before him. A subtle squelching sound suggested he was palming at his cock, and within moments his tip was nudging at your waiting entrance.

“Tell me what you want,” Aemond demanded, his hand returning to fist into your hair and pulling your head back to face him, while holding his cock just at the precipice of sinking into your depths. “Right now.”

Once again, he was handing you the reins. The control over his next move was in your hands, completely and utterly. You strained back to take in his wild, lust-blown gaze down at you. He was just as far gone as you, if not further. His legs gently quaked as his anticipation peaked, desperate to plunge inside you once and for all.

“I want you…,” you hesitated as your legs nearly caved beneath you with want, need, desperation. “I want you to fuck me unconscious, daddy.”

A filthy moan erupted in his throat as he allowed his hips to rock forward, sheathing himself inside you to the hilt and journeying both hands to grasp your hips, guiding you down onto his thick cock. Your eyes widened as your walls eagerly consumed him, his girth stretching you open so much that from that moment on, you would only be filled by him.

“After I let you squirt all over me like a dirty little whore, that’s how you repay me?” Aemond hissed through gritted teeth, setting a relentless pace plunging his throbbing cock into the deepest points of your core. “Not even a ‘thank you daddy for finger fucking me so hard I can’t see straight.’”

“Thank you… thank you daddy,” you repeated mindlessly, overwhelmed by the pressure of his tip pounding your walls so deep you could swear he was hitting your cervix. “Thank you daddy!”

“You’re getting there, baby girl,” he cooed, flexing his hips to bottom out inside you at different angles with each devastating thrust. “All you can think about is my cock, hmm? How good it feels being filled up by me? How good it feels being used as my own personal cocksleeve?”

You nodded furiously, gripping the edge of the countertop and arching your back into his thrusts. Groaning pornographically, Aemond pressed a palm into the small of your back and caressed each peak and trough.

“That‘s my brainless little girl,” he hummed contentedly, drinking in your every effort to please him and ramping up his keen thrusts deep into your soaking cunt. “All you want is me, all you need is me. You belong to me.”

It was all too much. His unrelenting pace blurred your vision of the room around you, the pressure building inside your rippling cunt robbed you of oxygen, the precipice of your second climax coming to view without any strength remaining to withstand it. Your stabilising foot slipped in the puddle of your juices from earlier pooling on the bathroom tiles beneath you, losing grip on the basin. Aemond’s vice-like grip caught you without missing a beat of his relentless piston hips, hoisting your legs back to a straightened position before quickly returning to his gut-wrenching pace, your hip bones grazing the edge of the counter with every pound into you.

“Easy, easy, I’ve got you,” he reassured, curling a particularly devastating plunge inside you that made you wail out into the void, the edges of your vision blurring like a vignette. “I need you to stay awake just a bit longer, okay my little zombie?”

You could no longer respond, allowing your incoherent ragged grunts as he pummelled you to speak for you.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled in satisfaction, rearing his hips for the deepest thrust yet which sent you gasping for air that was simply out of your reach. “Daddy’s going to fill you up now, okay? Be a good zombie and take everything I give you, yeah?”

His nails were digging crescent dips into the flesh of your hips as he impaled you relentlessly, each determined thrust splitting you open so delicately before him like a daisy shedding its precious petals. You were putty in his hands, deliciously malleable and utterly defenseless while he used you to chase his own peak. Your powerless careering toward your own climax tightened a coil within you, mindlessly held back from pushing yourself over the edge until you heard his permission.

“Oh gods, fuck, I’m…,” he stuttered, leaning down to press his chest against your back and purred in your ear. “Cum with me, baby girl.”

The tidal wave of ecstasy hit you both at the exact same moment, his faltering thrusts spilling hot inside you just as your juices gushed around him, your mixed fluids bursting the banks of your aching folds and joining the explicit pool of your previous climax. Your conjoined moans sang in harmony as you rode out your peaks through ever-so-gently rocking hips, not willing to withdraw from each other and accept that the rollercoaster had come to an end.

Aemond’s arms suddenly snaked around your hips, only this time their presence was gentle, tender, considerate. Raising you to a standing position, he turned you to lean up against the counter, propping you up safely as you both slowly regained composure together. His instinctive lean for a hand towel to clean you of his cum leaking from your folds took you by surprise, even dipping a corner under the faucet and taking great care wiping your aching entrance for you.

“Are you…?” He muttered under his breath, carefully scanning your body for any bruising or injuries. His violet eye fell upon each side of your pelvis in turn, your hip bones had grazed against the countertop so furiously that your flesh was red raw, blotching with tiny beads of crimson and the smallest shreds of skin standing upright from your otherwise smooth frame.

Aemond swallowed hard, casting the towel aside and pressing a palm to each damaged hip and surveying the price of his own recklessness.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” he stumbled over his words for the first time. “I never meant to…”

“It doesn’t hurt, Aemond,” you dismissed with a wave of your hand in the limited space between you. “Forget about it.”

“How can I forget about it?” His tone was concerned. “How can I just overlook the fact I hurt the girl I’ve been head over heels—.”

He cut himself off by slapping his hand over his lips, but not soon enough. You quirked a corner of your own into a suspicious pout, brows knitted together.

“What was that again, daddy?” Your sarcastic tone an exact mirror of his typical domineering approach, the adrenaline rush of discovering your newfound power over him going right to your head. “Spit it out like a good little boy.”

Aemond’s violet eye gazed into yours, his signature satisfied smirk creeping back. “It seems I taught you well, baby girl.”

As his smile beamed back at you, you couldn’t seem to tear your vision away from his lips, from his prominent cupid’s bow to the dimples forming in his cheeks as he grinned. Of course, Aemond noticed you were deep in observation and leaned in to press his nose against yours, his breaths fanning your face.

“Tell me what you want right now, rūs riña.” Baby girl.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you responded.

“I want you to kiss me, Aemond Targaryen.”

As soon as the last syllable left your tongue, he crashed his lips into yours, nudging his nose into your cheek to ensure every atom of his lips embraced yours. The combined after-effects of the mind-blowing fuck and your eyes being closed while passionately making out with Aemond made a heady mix, leaving you lightheaded and as if your legs could cave beneath you all over again.

Reluctantly pulling away to catch a breath, Aemond whimpered as you left and wrapped his arms around your waist to hold you close, refusing to let you go and willing you to stay in the moment with him just a little longer.

“You know, curiosity didn’t kill me in the end,” you smiled. “But I still wanna know what that mouth can do, daddy.”

Aemond beamed as brightly as his violet eye glistening with the excitement of a party worth showing up for, making a mental note to thank his sister for dragging him along after all.

With the riddle of Aemond Targaryen finally solved, you were right about one thing — he was no frat boy. Because frat boys don’t fuck like that.

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eideticallys · 9 months

Text

On Almost Kisses & Bruised Foreheads

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: “what’s going on?” the blonde woman asked slyly. “penelope just sent a group text saying you and spence tried to make out and failed so now you both have matching bruises.”

genre: fluff

word count: 1.4k

author's notes: i'm back to original programming (writing for spencer). i laughed a lot writing this. i hope you do too while reading this one. enjoy! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

YOU’D LIKE TO THINK THAT YOU ARE A MATURE AND RESPONSIBLE PERSON. You’d like to think that you are mature enough to not worry about a little blemish—a bruise, if we’re being honest. You work for the FBI for Pete’s sake! So, ending up with a giant bruise on your forehead was something you already anticipated. But getting a bruise due to the most embarrassing reason is something you never thought you’d experience. You’ve been on the receiving end of a couple of injuries after scuffles with unsubs. Of course, you weren’t new to scratches. But this? A massive purple splotch on your forehead caused by a drunken mistake takes the cake. Your coworkers would have a field day on this one once they find out why.

You were taking your sweet time walking out of the elevator when you heard a dramatic gasp from none other than your most gossipy coworker, Penelope Garcia. You love the woman. You do! She’s one of your best friends in the world. You just wished she wasn’t so curious and chatty. You don’t want everyone in the office to know your business and the lore behind your bruised forehead.

“My beautiful baby angel!” Garcia shrieked. “What happened to your forehead? Whose life am I going to ruin for hurting your pretty face? I can just look up their digital footprint and have it sen—“

“I’m fine, Pen,” You laughed. Penelope may be a big gossip but she’s the most thoughtful and caring person ever, right after another colleague of yours. “It’s nothing. My phone fell on my face after I had to turn off my alarm while half asleep.”

“You sure?” Your friend clarified. “Because I can ruin their life truly. I’m not even kidding right now.”

“I know that,” You smiled endearingly at your sweet friend. “And I love you for that.”

You hugged Penelope and kissed her cheek as she started mumbling about how you were protecting the person who hurt you, vowing to know who it was. Oh, you were protecting someone, just not who Penelope expected it to be. And the injury was not because of you snoozing your alarm half-asleep.

Technical analyst down, five profilers to go.

You wish it’d be that easy to fool them.

“What’s going on here?”

Both of you turned and faced none other than the biggest jokester on the team, Derek Morgan. You think fooling Penelope was hard? Try fooling Morgan. As much of a prankster he is, he’s one of the greatest profilers you’ve worked with. Don’t let his well-built body fool you because he isn’t just a typical jock. Derek’s mind was as sharp as a steel trap.

“Nothing,” You retorted, trying to prevent Derek from seeing your forehead. “What? I can’t hug my favorite member of the team now?”

“Hey!” Derek exclaimed. “I thought I was your favorite member of the team. You know, when I bought you your coffee last week?”

“It’s expired. Sorry, buddy.” You huffed sassily, patting Derek’s shoulder, absolutely eager to leave the man behind with Penelope when he easily grabbed your arm before you could escape. “Buy me another cup of coffee and we can talk about it.”

“Did someone hurt you?” Derek interrogated, his jaw hardening as he saw the shiner you were sporting. “Who did this to you? I swear to Go—”

Before you could reply and “explain” the bump you had, Emily came bounding into your little group circle, laughing about some boo-boo Spencer was parading around. She failed to observe the serious atmosphere between you, Derek, and Penelope as she went on and on about the purple splotch on Spencer’s face until she noticed the lack of response from all three of you.

“Did you guys even hear what I just said?” Emily probed, giggling as she tried to share Spencer’s unfortunate tale. “Reid has a shiner on his forehead the size of Texas.”

You stared at your shoes pointedly, scratching the side of your forehead where the bruise was, avoiding everyone’s stare before they could put two and two together.

“What’s up with you?”

At this point, you were sweating buckets, hoping Emily wouldn’t notice the welt on your temple, which may or may not match the one on Spencer’s forehead. You slowly backed away to avoid the three people in front of you when you bumped into someone. Turning, you saw none other than the one person you hoped not to bump into today out of all days because then, the whole team would know what was going on.

“H-hey Spence!” You cheerfully greeted, pretending everything was normal. Pretending that having a bruise that mirrored the other person’s bruise was normal for coworkers like you. “Everything okay?”

You were about to continue rambling to deflect the questions both you and Spencer were about to get bombarded with when all three of your teammates started gasping dramatically. A chorus of “Oh my god!”, “No way!”, and “My man” coming out of their mouths.

You facepalmed and grunted when you accidentally hit your temple as Spencer frowned, not registering the reactions you were getting from your other coworkers. “Are you okay? Did you put an ice pack on your bruise for ten to twenty minutes? You must ice an injury during the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours as it eases the inflammation.”

“I’m fine,” You assured Spencer to prevent him from rambling on and on. He tends to do that when he’s worried. It’s endearing but right now? You didn’t need him to divulge any more details that could help the others construct the whole picture together. “I did everything you told me to last night.”

“Last night?!” Penelope screeched behind you. “Weren’t we all together last night? We were at O’Keefe’s and then—Oh! Boy Wonder took you home after one too many drinks. Oh my god! Are you guys dating? Did you have se—”

Emily placed a palm on Penelope’s face and muffled her screeching before she could cause a scandal on the entire floor while Derek was laughing uncontrollably now, slapping his thigh like what Penelope just said was the funniest thing in the world.

“My man,” Morgan whistled, smirking at Spencer who still looked confused as ever. You were full-on scowling right now, willing the earth to swallow you whole, or maybe the three members of the team who were nagging you and Spencer “I didn’t know you had it in you to spend a late night with anyone else other than your books.”

“Shut up!” You cried while Spencer sputtered.

“W-what? N-no!” The brunette interjected, blushing like crazy now. “I didn’t spend the night at her house,” He pointed at you. “We didn’t do anything! We just, you know, almost kissed. That’s all.” Spencer muttered as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Is that why you both have that huge welt on your foreheads?” Emily wheezed. “ You didn’t even get to kiss. You just banged your foreheads together and called it a day. Oh my god! Wait till Rossi hears this one.”

“Emily!” You shrieked. “Get back here!”

As you tried to chase after the woman who was off like a jet, Penelope and Derek were snickering like little kids trying to text JJ, your other teammate, who hadn’t arrived yet.

“Are you okay?”

You turned to see JJ who had just arrived looking confused as to why both you and Spencer were red in the face, you in indignation, and Spencer in embarrassment.

“What’s going on?” The blonde woman asked slyly. “Penelope just sent a group text saying you and Spence tried to make out and failed so now you both have matching bruises.”

“Not you too!” You groaned as JJ cackled, pulling Garcia and Derek away from you and Spencer.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer broke the silence once both of you were alone. “If I didn’t head butt you, we wouldn’t be sporting these massive bruises.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “For what it’s worth, at least we’re matching. Who else gets to say that?”

Spencer smiled softly and stared at your lips. It seemed time stood still, and you wanted nothing more than to have a repeat of last night—a much better version of last night, of course. You were slowly moving towards each other when you heard someone tittering.

“Oh my god! The kids are about to kiss.”

“Wait a minute, Spence” You held the brunette’s shoulders, stepped back, and turned to your side. Your four other teammates were now giggling like kids in the schoolyard. “Get out!”

They all scrambled right after guffawing.

Maybe maturity was something the FBI should add to their requirements when hiring new agents. The BAU was full of juvenile delinquents.

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missuswalker · 9 months

Note

HOPE UR HAVING A GOOD DAY!!

the craig hcs are so good can we get those for stan??? omg

yes ofc 🤭🤭

relationship headcanons || stan marsh x fem reader

✮ summary: stan as your boyfriend 🤭 ✮ warnings: nsfw content, alcohol, reminder that characters are aged up

sfw

tries to act very cool around you for the first month

kenny likes to mess with him and he freaks out

"dude, don't embarrass me in front of my gf 🙁"

takes everything you say too seriously for the first month as well

"stan youre so annoying" "im sorry 😕"

apologize to him now.

takes a good amount of time to get completely comfortable with you

after that he's all "fuck you, get out of my house"

and then makes out with you

hoowee he looves french kissing

anyways, he wants you to be the big spoon

"y/n, everything is shit 😞🤓" "i know, stan, just go to sleep"

gets super emotional around you when he's drunk

"and- and 😢😢 i just really.. 😖 i really like you 😩 please don't break up with me 😭" "i just wanted to know if you wanted subway"

if you really want him to, he'll TRY to stop drinking so much just for you

still fighting that battle

he loves you so much, he tries so hard to get everything right with you after wendy

he doesn't want you to leave him

if you guys shower together, he likes when you wash his nasty hair

this is only when he's a little drunk

doesn't like you to see him fully naked if you guys aren't sillying

he's a little nervous, that's all 🤞🥰

talks to everyone about how he's gonna marry you one day and make you mrs. marsh

you're like the light of his life

but he hates when you call him stanley

if he's with his friends and you walk past, he's immediately walking away without a word and following you (like that one clip of joe biden following the ice cream truck)

wants you to wrestle with him

don't tickle him though because he gets embarrassed for giggling and being all like "stoppp 😊🥰"

nsfw

really sexually frustrated

it's so bad

gets a boner over everything

worse than kenny

"hey y/n 🥰 how are you 🧐 you look nice today 🤓 can you please give me head 😁 pretty please 🙏"

doesn't like sexting because he's worried kyle will find it and give him a lecture about digital footprint

unless he's wasted

like gone

then he's texting you "fucdk beab, wish yui were hrre. pics?"

don't give him pics, he prints them out on his dad's printer and puts them in his wallet

very slow, sensual sex on a good day

super caring but vv quiet

moans

maybe grunts when he cums

when he's drunk, wants you to ride him so bad

roughhhh

MEOWWWWW

"shit, y/n, so good for me"

embarrassed the next day when he remembers he said that

does it more if you like it though 😻

wants to ask you to suck him off all the time but doesn't because he doesn't want you to be like "😐" and break up with him

#stan marsh #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh headcanons #south park x reader headcanons #south park x reader #x reader #i love stan #i need him so bad

125 notes · View notes

marthawrites · 1 year

Text

A Game of Chase

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 5.7k+

Can be read as a stand alone, but reads best as pt 2 to Pretty Girl

About: You and your best friend go out to a local event. While there, Aemond, surprisingly, makes an appearance. With quick wit you pretend like it's your first time meeting. Equally quick and curious, he plays along. A game of chase ends up with some unexpected aftershocks.

Includes: About half plot and porn. Explicit sexual content! Rough!Aemond with themes of jealousy, possessiveness, and obsession. Sexual/tension, fingering, blowjob, p in v, and a sweet ending.

Note: Hello lovely reader! I had to return to this AU - just had to! One day I will learn to not be a wordy bitch but today is not that day. Reader is nondescript and implied to be 21+ due to alcohol consumption. As always, it is my highest hope that you enjoy this story! ♥

The city below sparked with life in every corner and lane. You leaned on the balcony's railing and looked over the last remains of sunset: spilled watercolors across a slowly dimming sky. As the last rays of sun disappeared, spring's chill swirled through the air making you wish you wore a jacket over your black evening dress.

"Christ. If we're out here any longer my nipples are gonna jab through this dress," your best friend, Rebecca, said with a noticeable shiver. "Shit, girl! Let's go inside." She hooked an arm through yours and turned to guide you both inside where it was much warmer. She looked gorgeous tonight in a mauve dress, silver heels, and silver jewelry. It all accented the lovely hue of her hair and skin; strands of hair loose to frame her classic face. Her seemingly effortless femininity always had you jealous. She was much more "girly girl" than you, and you relied on her often.

"No leather jackets and no jeans! And oh my God none of your combat boots! This is a formal event. Not one of your creepy bonfire circles with gas station beer." Rebecca had told you earlier with a dramatic roll of her eyes, humor clear on her face. "Who knows. Maybe you'll find someone to put your last hook up to shame," she winked.

There was no way you weren't going to tell her about Aemond. Except, much to her dismay, you didn't tell her tell her; just the bare bones of it. You met a guy through work, hit it off, and ended up getting laid after he took you out.

She wanted the deets. You were keeping your mouth shut. She hated you.

You didn't even mention his name! With it being unique you knew she'd do some serious digging – and you already did. Local cryptids had a bigger digital footprint than him. Considering the day and age, maybe it should have been a red flag… Bec wouldn't let you live that down.

"Will you shut up about that?" You laughed. "Okay okay. I'll skip my favorite jacket and boots too. Only, and only, because I just got a fresh pedi. You can take my lipstick and eyeliner out of my cold dead hands though," you threatened.

"Those are your trademarks and we both know it. Besides, you look hot with it. Black dress and… black heels too. Your strappy ones!" You let her pick your outfit. When it was time to leave you looked good.

Bec was the only person who could play with you like a human barbie. You two went through high school together – and all the awkwardness that brought – and even college. You'd been through thick and thin and you loved her more than anyone else. You two even used each other to learn how to kiss. A truly fun and silly experience in hindsight.

This event happened twice a year. Music was huge in the area. More specifically, classic music. The university had one of the best programs in the country and was widely respected for it. At a young age your love for the violin blossomed into something truly spectacular. While it fell to the back burner during college, it remained a cherished hobby. Bec's skill was her voice. It earned her lead soprano. She was ethereal. Listening to her in the choir – whether part of the group, doing a solo, or singing with any of the other leads – was something to behold.

"I'm so glad you were able to come out tonight. It just wouldn't be the same without you," you told her as you both walked away from the bar with drinks in hand.

"Trust. I wouldn't miss it. Hubs can handle things for one night," she laughed even as her eyes rolled in feigned annoyance. She smirked and sipped her beverage.

Everyone seemed to be dressed in their finest. Dresses, suits, and glittering jewelry sparkled beneath the ornate lighting. Various perfumes and colognes hung in the air to create an atmosphere of intimacy. Some of the attendees looked young enough to have just graduated high school while others were grayed and wrinkled with time. The common thread of everyone was their love for music. It was truly a treat.

"I'm constantly shocked at how young the freshmen look every year. Look at them. Babies!" You exclaimed, tilting your head in the direction of a small group of friends who probably couldn't even buy alcohol yet. It prompted you to your drink; an accidental gulp instead of a sip.

In the theme of the event, music played over the speakers which seemed to bring everyone closer.

You two made your way to a bar table by the facade window. The soft lighting and twinkling accents brought out a pink in both of your cheeks that only fine liquor could coax.

"I wish you'd tell me more about your mystery man! Honestly I'm starting to think it was that cute coworker of yours who I like to make eyes at. He's a blusher! You know you could tell me if it was him, right?" She teased you easily.

You gasped. "Oh, wow! You truly have so little faith in me? I wouldn't hook up with your boyfriend," you laughed, unable to keep your mock shock up for long. "You know, it's starting to be more fun holding this over your head than actually giving you all the dirty details." You chased the thin straw of your drink, flashing her a tauntingly playful expression.

She'd just opened her mouth to retort when something else caught her attention. "Oh my God no way," she slammed her free hand atop the table in surprise. "I didn't think he'd come! Here I thought he was way too cool and too busy to make an appearance."

You snorted a laugh as Bec started waving an arm to beckon him over. "Another boyfriend? Sheesh." You teased. She was happily married and you only liked to flick her shit.

"Hey! Yeah, you! I'm so glad you came. Come over here and meet my girl. Y/N, this is Aemond. Aemond, this is Y/N."

Holy shit. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

Bec kept talking, explaining how she knew both of you. You, her best friend since high school. Him, a piano enthusiast who'd taken the university's classes multiple times purely for pleasure. Her voice droned. You heard none of it. Not with Aemond standing there, hand in one of his pockets, drink in the other, looking like that.

Was it even legal for a man to look so fucking good? He looked absolutely stunning. The three-piece suit he donned had to be specially tailored for him because there was no way a regular suit could fit him like that. Black, charcoal, and deep green; it made his naturally silver-white hair and fair skin all the more stark. The subtle pinstripes of his pants and coat elongated his already tall frame, and the tip of his pointed shoes were in a single direction: you.

With Bec introducing, you had fleeting seconds to decide how you'd react to this. "Aemond," you said his name like it was the first time you'd tested it on your tongue. "Nice to meet you.” You sipped to hide smirking lips. Quiet mischief danced behind your eyes. ‘Play with me,’ they said. ‘You feeling it?’ they taunted.

“Hmm,” Aemond hummed while looking over you like he might have recognized you from somewhere. “I thought perhaps we had a class together. But, I don’t think so. Those aren’t pianist hands,” he said, tiny dimples betraying his restrained smirk.

“Ha!” Bec all but snorted. “No. No no no. She does not. She’s a ranger of our lovely national park and she plays the fiddle for Bigfoot.”

Aemond blinked, taken back.

“What the hell, Bec!” You blushed, embarrassment waving up in you like a tide. “You can’t just go telling people that all willy-nilly!” Despite the embarrassment, you laughed, as did Rebecca, and some of the palpable tension between you and Aemond melted. Perhaps she’d done you two tricksters more of a favor than you realized.

“This is Bigfoot country, is it not? I’m into cryptids,” Aemond replied smoothly. “Wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it tonight. But, now I’m glad I did,” he added in that same tone, taking an extra moment to glance over you appreciatively. “Becca’s hard to miss, but it was you who called me over here from across the floor.”

You arched a brow at his forwardness. “Wow. Uhm… I didn’t notice you at all,” you quipped cheekily before taking the last swill of your beverage.

Bec rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Aemond. You’re gonna have to try harder than that. My girl here isn’t quite so easy.”

A genuine smile flashed across his features to brighten his eye. “Right. I’ll have to try harder for that one,” he said amusingly.

“Well. I feel a second one calling my name. Catch you later, Becs,” you said before turning, doing your absolute best (and somehow succeeding) to not flick another glance to the Targaryen tech giant who stood tall and wonderfully imposing next to your best friend. Would he still smell like clean laundry as he did the last time you two were together? Or would he perhaps carry the faintest aromas of shared perfumes, cigarette smoke, and cool night spring air? You dared not glance over your shoulder. You couldn’t be certain, but you swore his gaze trailed after you until you disappeared into the crowd.

An hour passed and you didn’t see either of them. The crowd was growing looser; people mingled like old friends. Karaoke replaced the overhead music and with it brought a fresh batch of excitement and silliness. The entire vibe of the place slowly shifted and you found yourself happily chatting with strangers like they were long lost college, or even high school, friends.

It was during that occasion you finally caught sight of him again. You were buzzed – happy – talking to a dark haired man with a dazzling smile. Each time he did his entire face lit up and sent the corners of his eyes crinkling. He was playing the charm game very well. If you didn’t already have secret plans to leave with Aemond, he very well might have talked you out of your pretty black dress. Aemond didn’t know that, of course, and when you could still see him at the edge of your peripheral you knew the little game just went up a notch.

Another hour passed in the blink of an eye. Bec had to leave – turns out her hubs couldn’t handle everything on his own for a night. The dark-haired man, while attractive and sweet, wasn’t what you had in mind. Once you finally managed to slide away from him you sat at the bar. You’d been standing most of the night and your feet were starting to ache in the heels you rarely wore. The bartender handed you your final drink for the night. You sat alone. Relaxed. Content to people watch as the event resembled more of a high-end bar at this hour.

Again, from the corner of your eye, you saw Aemond linger just there. Just at the edge of your vision. Playing. Teasing – a silent stalk. However, you pretended like you didn’t. You slowly traced the rim of your glass, attention elsewhere. With one leg crossed over the other you leisurely bounced your foot at the ankle, the heel of your shoe tapping against the heel of your foot. Quiet. Confident. Even if Aemond hadn't already known you he would have been drawn to you. It was the tiny knowing smirk at the outermost edge of your mouth that really called to him. ‘I see you,’ it said. ‘What are you going to do?’ it purred.

“Is this seat taken?” Aemond’s smooth voice came from beside you.

With a shake of your head you answered, “it wasn’t. But I think it is now.” Your pretty eyes lingered over him and you just now noticed the three headed dragon tassel he wore on his collar. The buttons of his cuffs were the same three headed dragon. Half of his hair was pulled back and secured into a bun at the back of his head, and you wanted nothing more than to loosen it and let the strands fall over your hand.

“Good,” he all but purred, leaning in a little closer than was truly necessary. “Hm… I don’t know what it is about you, pretty girl, but there’s something about you that keeps pulling me in.”

“Bold of you to say to someone you’ve just met,” you replied through a laugh, giving him a sly side glance from beneath your lashes.

“Perhaps,” he said quickly, leaning on the bar as he stood between you and the empty stool at your side. “But, I think you’ve been eyeing me all night too. Unable to truly lose track of me in this crowd,” his voice was a low rumble and it sent a shudder of excitement all up and down your spine.

“What makes you think that? This is the first time I’ve seen you since Bec introduced us. Honestly, I thought you left.”

He chuffed amusedly. “Sure, okay,” he started. “Is that why you can’t quite look me in the eyes? Or why you let that man paw all over you once you knew I was there? Or… why you only came here once it was empty and I was there?” He tilted his head slightly, just slight, as he spoke; smug condescendence angled his jaw.

It took everything you had to steady the excitement in your voice. “You’re very observant, Aemond,” his name dripped like honey from your tongue. “What do you plan to do with all those observations, hm?”

“Lots,” he answered lowly, triumphantly. “Let’s get out of here.”

Giddiness bubbled up from your core. Before you could stop yourself, you answered, “no. I don’t think so.” The change of his expression filled you with victory. This was your game and you were still playing by your own rules even if that meant making them up as you went. “Here is my offer, Mr. Targaryen. I’m leaving. You will give me your number and if I’m feeling up to it, I’ll text you my address.” The pupil of his good eye expanded; black swallowing violet. You wanted to cheer. He wasn’t expecting this, you thought. “Take it or leave it. If you leave it… I have another number to fall back on.”

“Give me your phone,” he said, posture and jaw tight. You did. He tapped his thumbs a few times on the screen before handing it back.

As soon as you had your phone back you stood. “That’s what I thought,” you told him softly, smugly, not giving him a chance to reply before walking towards the exit.

Game over. You won.

Truthfully you would have left with him immediately, but your house was a mess and you weren't going to invite him over to this. It took perhaps twenty minutes to give the entry way, living room, and kitchen a quick clean sweep. From there, it took maybe half the time to shove everything out of place in your bedroom in your closet. You’d properly tidy later. But now? No. The only thing on your mind was the look on Aemond’s face when you laid out your terms for the night.

You texted him your address and nothing else. Now, it was your turn to wait.

Barely ten minutes passed before a knock sounded at your door. Peeking out from behind a curtain you saw it was Aemond. A secret smile plastered on your face and you wondered what he’d been doing for the last half hour. It took at least fifteen minutes to get to the event hall, so he must have already been out driving in the general direction. Either that, or, he broke every traffic rule to get to you in record time. You opened the door only to be shoved back inside, door slamming closed behind both of you. A sound between a gasp and strangled moan broke from you beneath his kiss as his hands were all all over you at once; sliding, groping, pressing.

“Did you have fun with your little game?” He asked hot against your mouth. You were trapped between the back of your couch and his looming form. The furniture was the first thing to get in the way of your eager bodies.

Your breath shuddered, chest rising and falling above the black neckline of your dress. “Aemond,” you managed to whisper hoarsely. Nothing else formed on your tongue before it was against Aemond’s for a second time.

“I could have had that entire fucking hall dismissed in an instant. You know that, right?” You didn’t ask how or why because you didn’t fucking care. Not now. Not with his mouth on yours, and his hands squeezing your hips and waist, his thigh between your legs. “And then you force me to stalk you around the crowd. Watch you flirt so easily with other men. Watch weaker men stare after you like sniveling piglets.” His teeth sunk into your neck until you yelped, body squirming against his.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, head buzzing with a hundred different things all at once. Heat flooded your core. Thrill webbed throughout all your senses until you were keenly aware of even the tips of your fingers, toes, and ears. He bit again, softer this time, making his way down the length of your neck to your collarbone. “I didn’t think you’d play along for as long as you did,” you simpered, hands rubbing up the sides of his smooth face until your fingers were tangled in his silken hair.

Both his hands pressed up your ribs until the weight of your breasts sat upon them. You couldn’t see from your angle, but he was biting and sucking little hickeys all down your skin. “Do you think that dark-haired man would have tried as hard as he did… pathetic, really… if you were already marked by my teeth, hm?” As if to make his point even clearer, he drew in a mouthful of your soft cleavage and worked it until you yelped, forcefully pulling his head back with a wet pop. A dark bruise was already forming; the deepest one yet.

“What the hell? You’re fucking crazy,” you moaned, breathlessly looking down at him, arousal turning your blood to fire. “Is that what this is about? Me flirting with that guy?” Your face bloomed with heat.

“If I knew you were going to be there you’d have been on my arm the whole night. Fun as it was, pretty girl, I wanted to gouge the eyes out of every man who looked at you for too long.” He was hard inside his pants, painfully trapped inside the confines of the fine material.

Aemond didn’t strike you as the possessive type. It shocked you. Even scared you a little. “Holy shit, Aem,” you said, trying to catch your breath from the assault of his hands, mouth, and intentions. “I just thought we were having fun. With you only being here for a visit I didn’t think it was anything serious, ya know? Fuck.” Your hands fell from his hair to instead push yours back.

“At first I thought so too,” he replied, voice and body language softer now. “I was immediately drawn to you. As soon as you opened the door at your ranger cabin in your dorky uniform...,” he kissed you again, gentle and easy. He felt you melt into and against him. “Distance doesn’t matter to me. In another time my family would be kings,” he smirked, holding your face between his hands to read it.

“If you are a king or a prince –” you teased, playfully mocking the old timey titles, “ – then let me be your queen or your princess.” Your hands trailed down the sides of his biceps, across the front of his chest, down the plane of his abdomen. His intensity could surely frighten other women away, but you found yourself drawn to it. A fire burned beneath his skin and you wanted nothing more than to feel its heat against your own.

Aemond read you well, eyes squinting down at you as you traced and caressed over his clothed form. Something in his gaze shifted, then. A game of his own, you recognized.

His turn.

“Would he have been able to excite you like this?” Your dress had bunched up high around your thighs and he took full advantage of it. With his question he trailed the tips of his fingers over the front of your clothed cunt. Your warmth tingled his fingertips. “Could he have gotten this pussy so wet?” He asked, slipping his touch beneath the front of your panties to your bare folds. “Hm?” He inquired, the pads of two easily sliding up your slit and to your clit where he rubbed small, firm circles. You were soaked.

You jolted, legs tightening. “Aem…,” you warbled, back arching. Your body was desperate for him. One of your hands lowered to the wrist he was using to tease you, eyes looking up at him in a silent plea. “No,” you answered. “He couldn’t.” You squeezed your hand around his wrist, then, urging his fingers to slide into you.

A satisfied growl rumbled in his throat at the combination of your admission and grip. “I didn’t think so…,” he cooed, following your touch as he pushed a long slender finger into your body. “I missed this pussy,” he admitted, bending his head to catch your pleased sigh in a kiss. He swirled and pressed along your walls, reveling in the way you felt around him and the muffled sounds you made.

By now your alcohol buzz was gone and you were entirely drunk on Aemond. He spun you in a whirlwind and you were at his mercy. It was when he pushed a second finger into you that you broke the kiss, unable to hold back the moan he pulled from you. “They feel so good…,” Aemond-drunk and pleasure-drunk; the night was just beginning.

“There,” he said as your eyes fluttered and struggled to stay even half open. “Cum on these fingers so we can take this pretty dress off.” He pumped both in and out of you with added fervor, now, relishing just how fucking wet you were. There was no denying or hiding the sloppy little sounds that came from between your thighs. Those, mixed with your continued pleasured whimpers, made for a delicious melody that made Aemond’s cock throb.

“O-oh..! Right there, just like that! Please…,” you whispered as if in prayer. Your hand squeezed tighter around his wrist as he fucked his fingers into you at that same wonderful angle and pace. Even without your pleas he could tell you were close. Your cunt squeezed around him a little tighter, hips squirming, grinding down on his hand for added pressure. You dipped your head into his chest, hips rolling with his pace, and it was when he squeezed a third inside you that you absolutely lost it. Orgasm washed over you in lovely waves of bliss. You trembled; walls clamped around him rhythmically. You panted. Blissed out and ready for another.

As soon as you came down from your natural high Aemond helped you out of your clothes. Dress, bra, panties. They were all tossed aside somewhere in your living room.

Then, it was your turn to help him out of his own clothing. “Fuck, you have beautiful tits,” he said as he stood in front of you in only his briefs. He bent down to lick and kiss over them appreciatively, holding the soft mounds in his hands.

You giggled at the tickling sensation it gave your sensitive skin. “My room is down this way,” you said with a tilt of your head, taking his hand and leading him through the kitchen, down a short hallway, and into your room. It was only illuminated by an essential oil diffuser which glowed with a soft pink. It steadily misted with a heady mix of oils.

Once there it was your turn to have your hands all over him. You trailed along every bit of him that you could. From his shoulders, to his arms, across the patch of hair along the center of his chest, and down his lean abdomen, until your fingers hooked beneath the hem of his briefs. You pushed him further into your room until the backs of his legs hit the outside of your bed.

Sitting on the edge he pulled you to him by your waist, coaxing you to stand between his parted legs. He unabashedly bit into the meat of your hip. One of his hands reached behind you to squeeze your asscheek, giving it a firm smack.

You jumped at the combination, goosebumps racing to the top of your skin. "My turn to make you feel good…," you grinned, tugging the bun at the back of his head so he was forced to look up at you. "How dare you look so fucking good in a suit. It's really not even fair. Pinstripes, really? And your three headed dragons? It should be me who is green with jealousy over all the women who were checking you out."

Whether you were merely teasing or being wholly serious, Aemond didn't care. You had taken control of the flow once again. He let you have it, let you hold onto the reins if only for a moment. He loved seeing you like this. The faintest hint of pink shone in his cheeks at your compliment.

Releasing his hair you sunk down to your knees. You kissed the flat of his abdomen, beneath his navel, nipping the skin there as your hands pulled the front of his briefs down. He groaned in relief when his cock finally sprang free. Too long had it been solid and trapped; the generous size of him aching to be released for longer than he cared to admit. "So big…," you praised, idly stroking him as you looked up at him.

Seeing you so eager on your knees snapped something in him, and any chance of playing nice broke as soon as your warm tongue swiped along the underside of his shaft. "That's right," he muttered through a pleased groan. "It's like you forgot how fucking good this cock made you feel. Making me play along with your silly game," he tutted, seizing a handful of your hair in his fist. "Parading around like you weren't already mine…," his voice dark, dangerous. "You need to be reminded, pretty girl. Of whose you are, and of how good only my cock can make you feel."

Your belly flipped at the change of his demeanor. The way his eye pulled you into the void of its blackness. You looked up at him like the little doe you were. With his help, and in a single shared motion, you raked his undergarment down his legs to throw it aside. His hand was still knotted in your hair and, using that, he pulled your mouth to his cock until he hit your gag reflex.

Instantly you choked. He fucking groaned as your throat constricted around him. Saliva pooled in your mouth. Your hands gripped over his thighs, fingernails digging into the lean muscle there. He lifted your head up only to do it once more; slower, more deliberate, savoring the sensation of your mouth around him for the first time. And a third time, too. After a moment both his hands lifted your head off him, smiling softly. It wasn't what you expected. It was the gentlest he'd been since arriving. "Too much? Or are you okay?"

It was the sincerity in which he spoke that made you want to slap him, kiss him, and jump on him. All at once. Instead of any of those, you laughed. You wiped away some smeared mascara from under your eyes and nodded, unable to stop laughing. "Surprising, yeah. But, I'm okay. Thanks for checking."

He smirked. That asshole. "Good," he replied, leaning back on one hand while spreading his legs wider apart. "You don't have to be easy with me."

You didn't have anything to say, simply scooted closer into him and looked up at him with those big doe eyes smeared with the night's makeup. You took him in your mouth once again – on your own terms this time. His hand rested lightly at the back of your head in an attempt to keep your hair from falling in your face. You sucked more of him in, then pulled back, plunging forward once again to swallow yet even more of his length.

A truly delectable groan rumbled out from Aemond's throat. He couldn't help it. Your mouth felt so fucking good. He looked down at you, glaring, while a pleasured grin spread across his face; the black of his eye making it all the more lecherous. "Fuck. 'M not gonna last long if you keep doing that."

"Good," you shot back in the same manner of his. "You deserve to cum for playing my silly little game." You didn't go easy on him. Lewd glugs and hot pants filled your room; his hisses and gasps accented the depravity. Saliva drooled helplessly from your mouth and made it all the more sloppy. When your hand moved to cup and massage along his balls you were surprised to feel those already coated in your saliva.

"I'm close… gonna be good and swallow me whole?" He moaned, length somehow getting even fucking harder if that was even possible.

You weren't stopping to say anything back. Your other hand gripped onto whatever wasn't in your mouth and stroked along him firmly, still rolling his sack in your other. He took that as a yes.

The would-be Targaryen prince erupted down your throat with a string of muttered curses and praises. His lean body flexed and shuddered, toes twitching and curling as he rode the waves of climax. His hand had never clenched your hair again, yet it fell heavily like it was tired from holding a fist. "Christ, woman," he breathed, glowing.

You stood and wiped the back of your hand across your mouth. "Yeah," you replied dreamily as you plopped onto your back atop the bed; grinning like the sloppy blowjob gave you as much pleasure as it did him. Or, perhaps it was merely pride.

Both of you stayed like that for a minute – catching your breath. He rolled over. Those slim hips fit easily between your thighs as his hands planted heavily beside your head. A sly grin graced his chiseled features.

"You're already hard again?"

"Can't help it, pretty girl. You're too sexy," he answered, lining himself up with your eager opening. He wasted little time in pushing into you, hissing at the sensation. "God you're so fucking wet from sucking me off."

The stretch of your body around his girth stole your breath. He stilled to let your walls accommodate his size. "You're right. How could I have forgotten how good this cock makes me feel?" You whined up at him, spine arching beneath him tantalizingly. You were more than slick enough for his intrusion, and now you were full. Absolutely full of him. Slowly, he pulled out. Easily, he pushed back in. Your breath turned ragged and quick, lovely pressure building in your core until it moaned out of your red-smeared lips. "Shit, yes," you whimpered, nails digging into his back.

Leaning up, Aemond grabbed both of your ankles in a single hand and threw them over a shoulder. The new angle sent him railing toward your belly button. His cockhead dragged against that deep, deliciously sensitive spot, over and over, your pussy hot and perfect for his ravaging. "Taking me sooo well…," he praised between slapping skin and your cries of bliss. The palm of his free hand pushed down and splayed wide over your low belly; claiming and intensifying your pleasure.

The added pressure sent fire blazing through your senses. Orgasm consumed you quickly and harshly, and you squeezed the sheets in tight fists as he fucked you through it. The edge of your vision blurred with ecstasy.

"Fuck, yes," Aemond panted, sweat glistening on his brow. "Feel so fuckin' good squeezing me like that." His length harded like iron yet again, balls tightening in preparation for a second release. His pace grew sloppier as he chased his high.

"Fill me up, Aem," you cooed up at him, nodding fervently. "Do it, fill me up." Your voice broke off into syllables and mutters, eyes desperate.

Hearing that was all he needed. He twitched inside you, spilling ropes of his seed deep and shallow alike inside your greedy cunt. Finally, with his firm chest heaving, he let go of your ankles and eased out of you. He flopped onto his back beside you, grinning like a fool. "Alright, babe, you're on water and cleaning duty this time."

You giggled. Actually giggled. "In a minute." You laid on your side and cuddled against him, laying your head on his chest – his heart thumping powerfully below your cheek. A contented silence settled over both of you. He stroked your hair, and you his torso. Once his pulse calmed you leaned up and smiled at him. "That was seriously amazing, the fuck?" you said with a satisfied blush. On your dresser was a pile of clean washcloths you forgot to put away. You used one on yourself and tossed another to Aemond. "Be right back." You put on a new t-shirt and underwear before leaving.

When you came back with water and snacks, Aemond was already browsing through your Netflix. "It's all murder docs and shitty reality tv," he teased.

"Oh shut up," you retorted, rolling your eyes. "Here I brought you snacks and you're talking shit."

"Thanks," he said appreciatively. When you laid by him it was his turn to cuddle into you.

Eventually you decided on a horror movie neither of you had seen but agreed looked either really good or hilariously bad.

He stayed the night, and there may or may not have been a third round before sleep finally settled over your pleasantly exhausted bodies.

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