#i serve no god but the neon lights

[pinksturniolo]

Switch - Chris and Matt Sturniolo (Part One)

Chris x Matt and Fem Reader

Summary: Cherry Bomb - The largest underground BDSM club in Los Angeles, California. Its member list is extremely exclusive, only granting access to celebrities, influencers and the filthy rich. No one really cares who you are or what you do, they come for one thing and one thing only. Whatever happens at the Cherry stays at the Cherry….

Content warnings: smut, oral, fingering, protected sex, bondage, spanking, teasing, threesome

this story has heavy themes and descriptions of bdsm, so if you’re not comfortable with that pls don’t read <3

word count: 3,879

Neon lights bounce off the shiny black walls, loud music playing but not too loud that you can’t hear what the blonde guy next to you is saying. He’s been talking your ear off for the last 20 minutes, while you zone out, sipping on your lemon club soda. This was the only time you wished they served alcohol here so you could at least be tipsy enough to endure the men that have been approaching you tonight.

Your usual partner hasn’t shown up yet and you have already been here for almost an hour. You try to ignore the slight ache in your chest though, focusing your attention back to the man next to you.

“So, how long you been coming here?” He asks.

“About 6 months now.” You reply.

“Damn, I feel like an amateur." He laughs, “This is only my second time.”

Obviously.

You hated to think so rudely but every person you’ve talked to tonight just wasn’t the one you preferred. You were starting to get extremely impatient, wondering where he was. He was never late.

As if your internal monologue has been heard by a higher power, you feel a hand on the back of your neck and turn in your seat to see the same man you were just thinking of. He has a dark look on his face as he eyes the person next to you.

“I don’t think she’s very interested buddy, why don’t you go bother some other poor girl.” He says to him, his hand now curling around your shoulder possessively.

The blonde guy’s face reddens with embarrassment as he quickly scrambles up from his chair. “Sorry man, I didn’t know she was yours.” he says and quickly walks off.

You scoff as your partner sits next to you, ordering a water from the waitress.

“That was unnecessary.” You say, his face still annoyed as he relaxes into the chair, his arm still slung around the back of you. He takes a long sip of his water, avoiding looking at you. You see his jaw clench and he runs a hand through his hair before speaking.

“What were you doing talking to that loser anyways?” He finally asks, making eye contact with you and he looks pissed.

“Oh my god, are you jealous Matt? Maybe you should’ve been here on time before other guys had the chance to talk to me.” you reply, a teasing smile appearing on your face.

He then grabs the side of your chair, pulling it forcefully towards him, causing you to gasp out. Your thighs are touching, and his hand moves from the back of your chair to the nape of your neck, sliding up to knot his fingers in your hair and pull slightly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t entertain other men when I’m not around and wait patiently for me like a good girl. Or do you need me to remind you who you belong to? Hm?” He whispers in your ear threateningly. Your core pulses with arousal at his words, his warm breath on your neck causing tingles to shoot down your spine.

So of course, this leads to you replying with a smart remark, which makes him take you to the candy room and punish you until you beg for forgiveness.

There were numerous rooms in the club that members could use, their time limit being an hour. But the main rooms that were larger and you could reserve for however long you wanted (at a high price) were only four. The star room, the red room, the flower room and the candy room.

The candy room is where you and Matt spend most of your encounters together at the Cherry Bomb. However, there’s nothing sweet about it besides the name. Its walls are painted red, a black bed with silk sheets in the middle and glossy black floors. There’s a cabinet of floggers, ropes, leather and fuzzy cuffs, vibrators and anything else you can imagine.

There’s no particular reason why it’s your favorite but Matt has been reserving it for you since you met him here and it’s become a routine on a Saturday night, twice a month.

Cherry Bomb has been around since the late 80s and has done a particularly good job at keeping its participants a secret, mainly due to the NDA you have to sign upon your first entry, along with a recent STD panel and heavy entrance fee. They also prohibited alcohol and drug use.

You were referred by one of your friends, which made it easier for you to get in. The money was no issue for you, but the wait list was long and having a friend on the inside had its benefits.

You instantly loved it from the first time you came. The atmosphere wasn’t grungy or too dark like you would expect a typical sex club to be. No one seemed to care who you were here, there was no judgement, and it was a safe place to act out your wildest fantasies, with whoever you choose.

You had had experiences with a couple different men and women, all which were satisfying for the most part. Most people had a habit of choosing a particular partner and being loyal to them, while others constantly swapped, not staying with one person too long.

When you met Matt, you instantly clicked, and found something in him that you hadn’t felt with any other member. He approached you one night, his demeanor confident but also calm. The energy flowed between you two, and once he got you to the room alone, it was fireworks. He was very clear on consent being an important aspect and boundaries were established before anything else.

Matt was a switch, like you. While most of the time he preferred to be dominate, he could also be submissive which was heaven to you. You loved it when he took control, using your body however he pleased, and he knew the best way to handle your brattiness. Because as much as it felt good to submit to him, you also had a fiery attitude which only made the pleasure of his punishment better.

He made you beg till you cried, spanked you so hard you had marks for weeks, and would tie you to the bed and fuck you until your brain was fuzzy, and your throat was raw from screaming his name. Making you cum over and over again until you were numb.

But when he was the submissive for the night… it was a whole different experience. There was nothing better than the feeling of him begging you to please him, demanding him to do whatever you wanted. Edging him until he was whimpering for you, teasing him and seeing how much he enjoyed it. Nothing compared.

And the best part about Matt that you liked, was that he always took the time to make sure you had the proper after care after each session. Cleaning you up, getting you water if you needed it, and even massaging your body if he went particularly hard on you that night.

He was currently holding you after tonight's session was done, rubbing small soothing circles on your back, your head cradled against his chest. You can hear his heart beating at a relaxed pace, calming you as your own heart slows down to match his tempo.

He breaks the sweet silence, his velvety voice pulling you out of your trance. “Y/N… I have a question for you.”

“Mhm?” You mumble, your fatigue settling in.

“How do you feel about a threesome?” He says, his hand stroking over the top of your head.

You’re alert now, lifting your head to turn and look at him. His eyes are half closed, a lazy smile on his face as he waits for your answer.

“I think it’s pretty hot. Is that something you want to do?” You reply.

“Are you comfortable with that?” He asks.

“I’ve experienced them before, yes. Depends… who would it be with?”

His bottom lip is pulled in between his teeth, a contemplative look on his face.

“I know someone that’s interested. In you. He’s always wanted to come to Cherry but he’s hesitant.” Matt says and your heart rate picks up a little at his words.

“He’s interested in me?” You ask, surprised at the fact that Matt talks about you outside of the club. That would be breaking the NDA.

He strokes his hand over the side of your face, caressing your jaw with his fingers. His eyes are soft, like they always are at the end of the night, adoring you with affection.

“Sorry, princess. I know I’m technically not supposed to talk to anyone about this. But I trust him… and I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew you would be upset.” He says.

You sit up now, fully facing him, and place your arms on either side of him, one hand resting on his chest and the other on his bicep.

“I know, I’m not upset. I’m flattered actually.” You say, smirking, the idea of what he’s proposing piquing your curiosity.

“Mm. Don’t get too cocky. But if you would like to try it out, I’ll tell him to come with me next time.” He tells you.

Your mind races at the thought of a threesome with him and another man, wondering how exactly that would change the dynamic between you two. Matt could be a little possessive and you were more than satisfied with just him as your partner but it made you think of how he would be able to share you. It excites you. He must trust this other person a lot.

“Who is it?” You ask him and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you with an amused look.

“It’s a surprise.”

✰✿

You return to Cherry Bomb two weeks later, more nervous than you had been any other time you’ve come. But your anticipation outweighs your nerves as you sit at the bar, patiently waiting for Matt. You’re wearing a skin tight black lace dress that’s basically see through, showing your matching black lingerie set underneath. Sleek red heels are on your feet, your hair falling in soft loose waves that frame your face and a light coat of mascara through your eyelashes.

You took the time to put extra effort into your appearance tonight, and practically everyone in the club notices, staring at you as they wander around. But you pay no mind, your focus on the soda in front of you. Matt would be fuming with rage if he knew you were entertaining anyone else tonight and usually you would play with fire but given the special circumstances, you decided not to mess with him tonight.

The waitress hands you a note, pulling you out of your thoughts. She smiles at you politely before walking off, attending to another customer.

Meet me in the red room.

It’s Matt’s handwriting. He’s never done this before, always meeting you at the bar and then escorting you to your usual room. Your palms sweat as you stand from your chair and make your way to the large room at the end of the hall with the red door.

The red room. It was the largest room in the club, and the only one you hadn’t been in before. You’ve heard rumors of how luxurious it was which is why it was so hard to book. How Matt was able to get it tonight, you’re not sure.

You take a deep breath and adjust your dress, pushing the door open. The cool air of the room hits you, tiny goosebumps erupting on your skin. Your heart picks up speed at the sight of Matt centered directly at the center edge of the bed. He’s also dressed in all black, his eyes roaming up and down your body in hunger as you saunter over to him.

Wait. Is that Matt? You pause in front of him, a few feet away. His hair is longer, and his face is extremely similar but with a slight difference. And his aura is arrogant. But when you make eye contact with him, you feel butterflies gather in your stomach, his blue eyes making you drown with attraction. It’s the same feeling Matt gives you but there’s something different about him.

You now realize it’s not Matt at all.

The smug smile on his lips that’s been growing since he noticed the confusion on your face only widens, his hands gripping the sides of the bed, making the muscles in his arm flex. He looks incredibly strong.

“Looking for someone?” He asks teasingly and you can already feel the pool of wetness growing by the second in your underwear.

“Where’s Matt?” You ask sweetly, tilting your head. Your arms are crossed and your eyes narrow, fighting the smile that threatens to break through.

Let the games begin.

The stranger in front of you chuckles, leaning back on his arms now, his legs spreading slightly in jeans. He licks his lips, looking you up and down again. You can’t help but do the same.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? Don’t like what you see?” He says, his bottom lip stuck out in a fake pout.

You smile at him, mocking the tone in his voice. “I prefer princess.”

He laughs lowly, biting his lip and looks behind you. “You weren’t lying when you said she was a brat.” He says and you whip your head around, shocked to see Matt sitting in the love seat at the corner of the room.

You hadn’t noticed him at all when you walked in, given the darkness of the room and the fact he was so quiet during your exchange.

Matt has a blank expression, not looking at you. “Call her whatever you want, Chris.”

You can see that he’s dressed in a plain white shirt and black jeans. It’s simple, like the clothes he usually wears but he still looks incredible.

You’re still turned towards him, giving Chris a full view of your ass now, which you’re sure he’s appreciating.

“I didn’t know you had a twin.” You tell him, your eyebrows raised in amusement.

The corners of his lips twitch as he fights a smile, exchanging a look with Chris that you can’t decipher. “There’s a lot of things about me you don’t know.”

He gets up from his seat now and crosses the room to where you are. You’re about to respond with a witty remark but he’s suddenly gripping your arms, turning you around forcefully to face Chris again.

Your ass is pressed into his crotch, and you feel him harden against you. You gasp lightly as he places his mouth next to your ear, whispering lowly.

“That’s enough from you, Princess. I suggest you keep your mouth shut unless it’s a yes or no. Understand?”

You nod slowly, and Chris watches with fascination at the way Matt handles you. You can see how visibly turned on he is, his boner straining through his jeans.

You’re more aroused than you’ve ever been, the feeling of Matt’s strong grip on your arms, as he places soft wet kisses on the curve of your neck and the look in Chris’ eyes as they burn into yours, his pupils blown out.

“Are you comfortable? You know your safe word, right?” He asks you, his tone a little lighter. He wraps one hand around your throat, the other on your left hip and squeezes.

“Yes.” You breathe. “Good.” He replies, releasing you completely and you feel him back up from behind you. “Now get on your knees.”

Your heart races as you sink down, Chris’ eyes following your every moment. He hasn’t taken them off you since you entered the room and something in his eyes made you very nervous but incredibly excited at the same time.

Matt is now seated on the opposite side of the room, in a large leather chair. He’s directly in front of you now, to the side of Chris. You sit obediently on your knees, your eyes still focused on him as he speaks his next set of instructions.

“Why don’t you show Chris how you put that mouth to good use.” he says, nodding his head for you to continue.

You swallow and look away from Matt now, to see an enticing smirk on his brother’s face. He spreads his legs farther open as he adjusts himself on the bed, unbuckling his belt from his jeans. He places it on the mattress next to him and pulls his jeans down and off his legs.

You scoot closer to him, positioning yourself between his legs, your hands resting on top of his thighs. The look in your eyes is enough to get his heart racing like yours, and he curls a finger under your chin, tugging your face closer to him as he leans down.

“Let me taste your lips, sweetheart.” He says softly and connects his mouth to yours.

Now you can tell the real difference between them. Matt is harsh, yet caring. His energy penetrates you with a feeling of deep connection, a tie that binds you to him in one more ways then one. The trust you two have built over the past few months comes through when your bodies mesh with one another. He knows just what to say to please you and you in return, love to obey his every wish and command.

But Chris… he kisses you like he’s starving. He’s sweet, yet strong. It’s all new territory to explore, and you can almost taste the desperation on his tongue. His hands are soft against your face, warmth flooding your body at the feeling of his touch. You wonder just how much Matt has expressed to him, what secrets he’s revealed about all the sinful, delicious acts you’ve conceived with him in the candy room.

Chris is magnetic, his wet, hot kisses making you ache in your core. He finally pulls away from you, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed in a dark look. “Take your dress off.” He speaks.

You pull it off with no hesitation, up and over your head, now in your lingerie beneath him.

He drinks in the sight of your half naked body, your tits pushing against your bra, the hem of your black thong high on your hips and you slip your heels off.

He pulls his dick out, red tip leaking with precum already. He’s practically the same length as Matt, with a little more girth. It’s a little intimidating but your needs overpower, your mouth watering as you look at him.

You open your mouth, puckering your lips to let a pool of saliva drip down onto his length and you make eye contact with Matt, the look he gives you making a spark run through you.

Chris groans as you look back at him, spreading your spit down him with your hand before you wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue. “Shit… feels so fucking good.” He rasps.

His chest is moving up and down as he breathes deeply, exhaling from his nose as he grits his teeth, and you take him further into your mouth. It’s a little hard to adjust to his size but you do, bobbing your head as he brushes the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

He moans loudly, bucking his hips up slightly. He pulls your hair back from your face, holding it into a ponytail, tightly, pulling at your hair a little. This makes you moan in return around him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at the pleasure. The air in the room is thick now, the sounds of Chris fucking your mouth and his groaning filling the space. You can feel Matt’s stare on you, and your knees dig into the softness of the shaggy black carpet, your grip on Chris’s thighs tightening.

“Fuck.” He pants, and moves his hands down your back, your body bending slightly so your ass poked out, allowing him access to feel you up. He caresses the flesh of your cheeks, massaging them before he brings one hand down to smack you.

You jolt slightly, not expecting him to do that, and hum around him, your thighs clenching.

“Yeah? You like that?” he says, smacking you once more, making it sting a little. You make another noise of approval, his cock still stuffed down your throat but then pull out, with a response you’re later bound to regret. “Not hard enough.”

You look up through your lashes at him and your heart races from how mad he looks. When Matt gets that mad, his eyes glaze over, and his face is cold. But Chris smiles. Even though his eyes are hard, there’s a grin on his face that says, ‘You have no idea what you just started.’  It’s insanely attractive.

He then reaches next to him, the metal of his belt clanking. He folds it, and you see the genuine leather thick in his hand.

He grabs the back of your head, knotting his fingers in your hair. “Did I tell you to stop?”

You glance at Matt and his hand palms over the hardness in his jeans, his other hand gripping on the arm of the chair.

Fuck.

You take Chris into your mouth again, your ass in the air for him. He sighs as he slips back down your throat, dragging the belt across you. He does this agonizingly slow, your head working on him. Finally, he slaps your it on your ass, hard. You moan loudly, your nails digging into his thighs. “How’s that, princess?”

You breathe out hard from your nose, the harsh sting of the belt lingering. Chris rubs his hand over your cheek, soothing the skin there, allowing you a few seconds of relief before he brings it down against you again, a loud smack ringing in the air.

You cry out, tears forming in your eyes and bring your head up slightly, gasping for air.

See, the pain… the pain sucked. You saw red each time you were punished like this but after the few seconds of hurt passes, you feel a rush of euphoria, and tingles of pleasure you just can’t get enough of.

“Hm? Don’t got anything to say now? Is this what you wanted?” Chris says, his large hands squeezing and rubbing you, before bringing his belt down once more against you. All you can do now is whimper, your actions on Chris at a complete stop, while you grip his thighs, tears now streaming down your face, mascara running.

You look up at him through your pitiful tears, his teeth sunken into his bottom lip so hard it almost draws blood. Your face is flushed, lips red and swollen. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He whispers and your heart flutters at his compliment.

You wonder if Matt heard and flick your gaze to him again. His jeans are unbuttoned now, his black boxers showing, his hand still on himself but not moving. He smirks, enjoying the fucked out look on your face.

Chris then grips your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look back at him.

“What do you think Matt? Think she deserves to cum?”

“Give her what she wants.” He replies.

a/n: soooo this one was supposed to be a full one shot but i had to split it into two parts or else it was gonna be too long lol i had this idea in my head i just had to write it out, so i promise i'll work on the final part of my matt series soon!!

taglist <3 :

@christhopersturniolo @sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @junnniiieee07 @junovrsmp4 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @honestlyjb @mattslolita @stingerayyy2 @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @sturnioloco @wh0resstuff @muwapsturniolo

#matthew sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic

[whoahoney]

An Attempt at a One Night Stand

Eddie Munson x SingleMom!Reader

Part 2

Summary: Reader is a single mother spending an evening at the Hideout with her friends when she meets the lead singer of a band called Corroded Coffin. He buys her a drink and makes her feel ways she hasn’t felt in a very very long time…

Content Warnings: AFAB/Fem!Reader, NSFW(Minors, DNI), Smut, use of alcohol & cigarettes, descriptions of depression, angst, descriptions of a romantic partner’s passing, fluff, female masturbation, nipple play, light choking, p in v sex, protected sex (WRAP IT), more plot than porn

A/N: My first published smut, don’t look at me. 😂🥲

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie Munson had it bad.

He met the prettiest girl in the world at a gig at the Hideout, the only person in the crowd that sang along with him the whole time. He knew he wanted to buy her a drink when she sang Ozzy into her empty bottle, pulling laughs from her friends while he eyes continued to flicker back to his.

Eddie loved her carefree nature about her, her energy magnetic. ‘I have to know this girl.’ He thought—her every movement fascinating him.

After some encouragement from his friends, he worked up the nerve to saunter up to her table, applying his own confident and easygoing facade the best he could. She was surrounded by an entourage of friends, all sets of eyes suddenly trained on him, halting all conversation.

Eddie glanced at each girl briefly before nodding to them, “Ladies,” then he looked at her again. Her eyes were glossed in wonder and inebriation at the boy who looked at her so intently.

“I, uh, I’m Eddie, and I couldn’t help but notice your show stopping performance tonight, and, uh, wanted to buy you a drink.” He smiled softly, his heart hammering away in his chest and sweat trickling down his temple.

She looked at each one of her friends, widening her eyes in excitement and nodding at the one on her left, a silent agreement. “I’d love that.” She stood, walking over to the bar ahead of him.

“I’m, Y/n, by the way.” She said as they settled into two seats. Eddie nodded, repeating her name inside, trying it on and getting used to the feeling it gave him. “Well, Y/n, what do you drink?” He asked, gesturing to the shelves of liquor behind the bar. Y/n’s eyes darted over the labels ahead of her, trying to focus on one at a time when she decided against whiskey.

“I’ll just have another beer.” She shrugged, thankful for the red lighting of the neon light she was seated next to. “No problem. Hey, Sal,” He called the bartender from across the room for service, ordering two bud lights and turning his attention back to her, leaning his chin on a ringed hand.

“You ever been here before?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. Y/n shook her head as their drinks were served. “What gave me away?” She shrugged, taking a sip.

“It’s rare a group of girls is sat up in here for a few hours.” He smiled, taking a drink himself.

“Are you implying that you’re here all the time?” She quirked an eyebrow inquisitively, her mouth gaping in sarcasm. Eddie looked like a fish out of water for a moment before she started giggling. “I’m just messing with you,” She pushed his shoulder playfully.

Eddie let out a relieved laugh, “Oh, god, sweetheart. I didn’t know what to do there. I swear I’m not here all the time, but I’m here a lot! As you can see I play music here, which I do pretty often...” He said with a shrug and tight smile.

“Well, I may have to come back if the talent is this nice every time, I really enjoyed the show—we all did.” She shrugged, looking to her lap to bite back a smile. “Thanks, y’know next time if you perform like you did in the crowd, I’ll have to pull you up on stage with me.” He chuckled, earning another blush from the girl across from him. “I bet you’re fun on car rides, huh?” He asked and nodded at her in understanding.

Y/n scoffed, “I mean, you could say that, I’ve had a lot of practice with car karaoke and all.” She giggled. “You had me smiling the whole time, I know performances like that take practice! It was perfect.” He said, like it was the simplest thing. Y/n sunk her teeth further into her lip to suppress another pathetic giggle.

“So what do you like, huh? What’s your story?” Eddie asked. Y/n took a swig and searched for the best way to share without sharing. “I.. work two jobs, during the day I'm a clerk at a book shop and most nights during the week I waitress at a grill.”

“I mean your hopes and dreams, babe, but also nice to know you’re a hardworkin’ woman, I respect that.” He said, raising his bottle to her before taking another drink. Y/n rolled her eyes and unsuccessfully repressed a smile. “I don’t really have any.”

“Dreams? C’mon, I know you can think big. If you could do anything in the world, what would you do?” He asked as if it were that simple.

“Uh, pfft... Damn. Hold on.” She nervously laughed as her mind blanked, no possibilities coming to the surface no matter how hard she tried. “Take your time, you got it.” He encouraged, nodding gently. Y/n looked ahead instead of at his distracting puppy dog eyes. “I don’t think my passion is gonna lie in a career, you know? I just wanna be able to find something that allows me to make enough money in order to get by and live a happy life and have good experiences with the people I love.”

Eddie wore a warm smile on his face as he scratched the bottom corner of his mouth, “You’re real cute, you know that?” He smiled, leaning forward to brush her hair away from her face.

Y/n avoided his eyes on her as they trailed down her profile; her lips, chin, neck and chest as she tilted the bottle back. When she finished she shrugged, “I’ve been told a time or two, what about you, huh? Did you know you’re real cute?” She flashed him a look and a smile, her words sending him into flattered laughter as he shook his head and drank again.

“I had a feeling I was real cute, but no one really tells me, sweetheart, so, thanks.” He winked and leaned in to get closer to her, reaching for her hand that rested on the bar beside them. “So, what’s your game, here, huh?” She asked as he played with her fingers, his eyes darting up to hers questioningly, “What do you mean?” He asked, unsure of the context of the question.

“I mean, are you trying to play the long game and take your time before you try to get in my pants or are you trying to take me out of here to fuck me in the back ally as soon as possible?” She asked bluntly with big sparkling doe eyes and then took a sip of her drink.

Eddie’s eyes widened, not in embarrassment, but because he didn’t know he came off that way, “Babe if I’m being honest, I didn’t even get this far in my head when I decided I needed to talk to you,” he said earnestly, leaning closer to her to talk over the other band now playing in the bar. “So, I guess to answer your question, I wanna play whatever game you’re playing, if that’s cool.” He shrugged easily, as though hiding his feelings wasn’t on his agenda.

Y/n sat back with her mouth gaping, running her eyes over his frame again like she’s just seeing him for the first time. “Ohh…” is all she could manage, shyness taking over briefly.

She was used to getting hit on in bars, the nights she made it out of the house during the month when she was able to leave Danny without problems. Love had been different since Adam passed. Y/n didn’t think love like that happened twice in the same lifetime—the most beautiful, head spinning love that embraced you and never wavered.

Adam and Y/n had been childhood friends, who soon grew into high school lovers. Adam and Y/n did everything together, truly two halves of a whole.

And when they got pregnant with Danny at the end of their junior year, they thought the curveball thrown their way would be the hardest it got, knowing they’d have each other for the rest of time.

Or until death.

When Adam was 18, he was involved in a car accident near the end of the pregnancy, passing at the scene. Y/n—17, pregnant, and practically widowed—swore off love, feeling as though letting another man into her life in Adam’s place was betrayal.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t lonely. Sure, parenting alone isn’t for the weak, but she had her friends for emotional support, she didn’t need a man for that, and any fun thing she could think of doing either involved her son or her best friend. The more time went by, the more she convinced herself she could do it all alone.

So, over the last couple years, she settled for one night stands, sloppy goodnight kisses, handing out fake names and phone numbers like Halloween candy. But tonight was different.

Emotional intimacy of any kind was uncomfortable, the only man she was able to stay honest and open about her feelings with was one she’d known for a decade before she let him in her pants. Eddie had known her for two seconds and was upfront about his thoughts with so much ease it made her start setting up bricks.

“I-I, wasn’t expecting that answer.” She laughed awkwardly and took another sip, the bottle now over half gone. Eddie smirked and shook his head, his eyes never leaving her being for more than two seconds at a time.

“What was the answer you were expecting?” He asked. Y/n scanned around the room, landing on her friends who looked like they were having a wonderful time with Eddie’s friends who now occupied seats at their table. “I dunno, but no one’s ever been upfront about it, let alone put the ball in my court.” She said it like it was no big deal, but Eddie knew. He knew he got through to her. “Ugh, I hate basketball.” He smiled, trying to get her to relax again, he likes when she’s in control of the conversation. She mirrored his smile and rolled her eyes, the buzz of the current beer working over her head.

“So, uh, how’d you get into music?” She asked, steering the conversation another direction, which Eddie smiled at, knowing he was getting his shot. “I love that you asked that,” He blushed, a proud smile working its way onto his face, “When I moved in with my uncle around eleven or so years ago, he played a lot of Woody Guthrie, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, you know? The originals—the good stuff!” He emphasized; the passion evident by the gleam in his eyes and his movements, which she loved, “I got really into them, like, wore out the needle on the record player. I had that thing going all the time. Well, one day, I got home from a particularly shitty day at school, and there was an acoustic guitar on my bed.” He smiled nostalgically at the memory. “Wayne got me started and I’ve been in love with music ever since.” He shrugged.

Y/n nodded, her heart smiling at his ability to be soft, “That's such a sweet story, you and your uncle must be really close! That was so thoughtful of him.” She awed, Eddie blushed a deeper shade of red as he took a swig of his drink, nodding in agreement, “He’s great, honestly the best man I’ve ever known.” He chuckled nervously, looking at his hands and hating himself for the conversation turning this way so quickly. ‘Too much, dude, c’mon..’ he scolded himself.

“So do you still listen to Willie and Waylon or did you kick the old boys to the curb when you adopted Metallica and Ozzy into your repertoire?” She asked, which soothed his worries immediately. He chuckled and shook his head, “Oh, of course I still listen to them, I couldn’t abandon my roots like that!” He nudged her arm with his, his heart leaping when she joined in his laughter. “You listen to any old cowboy country?” He asked.

Y/n nodded, “I’m familiar with those old cowboys of yours. Except I’m more of a Johnny Cash fan.” She shrugged, taking him for a Willie Nelson enthusiast. “Let me guess, Folsom Prison Blues just really has a hold over you?” He teased, though he was right. “I can casually enjoy songs about prison and crime, alright?” She played into it.

Y/n liked Eddie, that was never a question, but was she afraid? No, but kind of intimidated? Yeah, that’s more like it. She shrugged off her denim jacket, leaving her in her tank top and showing off her tattoos.

“Nice ink, care to give me a tour?” He asked, nodding to her body, most definitely not looking at her tattoos but rather her chest and abdomen, wondering if there were more under the clothes.

She smiled, no guy ever taking the time to notice and ask, the most attention they ever got were ‘Ugh, tatted girls are my favorite’ or ‘do you have any tattoos in other places?’ Eddie may be the first guy to refer to her artwork respectfully. It made her want to show him more than she should.

She pointed to the art on her forearms, the sun on one side, the moon on the other, “These were my first and second,” she nodded, turned to show him the back of her bicep, where a bundle of flowers sat in a broken vase, “this is the third,” she pulled up the side of her shirt to show the bottom of an expansive art piece on her ribs, “fourth,”

Eddie watched on intently, trying to commit them all to memory. She turned to the wall, gathering her hair up in a ponytail to show the fifth tattoo on the back of her neck, “Number five may have hurt the most,” she mentioned as he took in the detail of the moth, slightly bummed when she turned back around. “And six through ten are unable to be shown at this time,” she giggled, picking her beer back up and tilting it back til it was empty.

Before Eddie answered, he turned to order her another, a smile rising to her cheeks at the gesture until she scolded herself, ‘Oh, two beers, what a dreamboat.’

Expecting some sleazy question about when he’d get to see the rest, she was surprised when all he asked was, “So how old were you when you got your first two?” Her eyebrows shot up. A real question?

“I was 16.” she nodded, his eyes widening, “Damn, who was your artist?? I couldn’t get anyone to tattoo me till I was 17, and even then it didn’t turn out right, I was so bummed.” He said strongly, his inflection making her laugh.

“He was my friend's brother,” she shrugged, “So does this mean you’re gonna give me a tattoo tour?” She couldn't resist through giggles. Eddie raised his eyebrows at her, “Oh, I thought you’d never ask, angel.” He said with a smile that could’ve been mistaken for devious, but really that was just Eddie.

He quickly shrugged off his vest and jacket like she had, holding out his arm and turning it slowly to point out his bats. Y/n felt heat rising in her stomach at the sound of him explaining the backstory behind them all, some of which he drew himself, others he found in fantasy novels or had them drawn up by his friend at the shop he frequents now that he isn’t a minor.

“And I love this little demon dude right here,” he said to the area by his collarbone, his hand holding his neckline open more than needed, the fleshy expanse of his chest looking delicious with cinnamon colored freckles sprinkled across it.

Y/n leaned forward to look at the detail of the crazy face it made, laughing easily and looking back up to Eddie; it definitely felt like him. “This one is my most recent, after my favorite Metallica song—“ he rolled up his sleeve to show the puppet master on his forearm,

“Master of Puppets?” She asked before he could say it, his head snapped up to her with a surprise grin, “Yeah, exactly! March of ‘86 I holed up in my room and just listened to it over and over again until I could work out the chords, then it felt like I worked my fingers to the bone trying to get it down. It was a challenge, but it was definitely a defining moment in my music journey, you know?” He nodded, sharing that sliver of himself without trouble. It made Y/n intrigued, yet jealous. She wanted to be able to do that without locking up.

“Wait, you learned it by ear? Amazing! You must be some sort of musical genius.” She said, fully meaning the sentiment, when Eddie scoffed and shook his head humorlessly. “That’s really sweet, thanks, but I’m far from a genius.” He averted his gaze, shyness creeping in.

Y/n cocked her head, sensing she struck a nerve of his, one she would be sure not to touch on again. “You think I’ll get to hear you play it sometime?” She said, brushing his sitting hand with her fingers, gathering some courage.

Eddie’s eyes lit up, “I’d love to play some Metallica for you.” He nodded eagerly. Y/n giggled and took another drink, the liquid courage catching up to her. “Are you gonna give me a private performance? Or should I come back when Corroded Coffin is playing next?” She said suggestively.

Eddie perked up at this, not sure if he’s hearing the implied meaning behind her words correctly. “Why not both? I mean, if the private performance goes well.” He chuckled nervously and sipped his new beer. Y/n looked at his hands, noticing his rings and how each one was different.

The chatter of the crowd around them and the music from the stage was a good excuse to keep leaning forward, thanking herself for wearing a low cut top. She held out her hand, Eddie cocked his head and eased his hand into hers tentatively. She immediately took to his rings, ogling them.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s gonna be great. I saw these fingered working up there earlier and couldn’t keep my eyes off them. These are pretty metal, I must say.” She looked the jewlery over with a quiet and heavy lidded smile. Eddie’s cheeks heated up at their closeness, noticing how she stroked his palm and wrist and stopped paying attention to his jewelry, holding her gaze on his lips.

“Uhm,” he swallowed hard, “W-Would you wanna maybe have that private performance.. now?”

Y/n’s eyes flickered with hope, “Where at, rockstar?” She bit her lip, looking him over and interlacing their fingers. “I—Depends on how long you’re willing to wait, Princess, you think you wanna come back to my place? Or are you more of a ‘right here right now’ kinda girl?” He said in her ear slowly, taking hold of her forearm and stroking it lovingly; mapping out every scar and freckle that lay there.

“Where do you prefer?” She said, shamelessly stroking the column of his neck with her thumb, which sent shivers down his spine. “Baby, I’ll take you anywhere I can get you.” He whispered, his breath fanning over her ear and cheek. Her chest began to heave in want while her eyes roamed his body beneath his clothing, wondering where else he had tattooed.

“Y’know, I have a very spacious van parked in the alley out back, if that’s your kinda thing, but I simply can’t wait another second to touch you.” He whispered nervously, hoping he wasn't ruining everything by crossing the unspoken line between them. Y/n’s eyes turned hungry as she nodded, “Can we do a shot first?” She asked, buzzed and still giddy enough she needed to calm down.

Eddie bit his lip, “I like the way you think, sweetheart, what do you want?” He turned to call Sal the bartender.

“Tequila!” She nudged his arm, looking at the jug on the shelf. “I didn’t take you for a tequila girl.” He smiled, grabbing a shaker from behind the bar and sprinkling himself some salt on the back of his hand as Sal poured them up, setting out limes before leaving.

“I’m not, usually,” she said while sprinkling the salt onto her hand, “Figured it’d be good for tonight—makes my clothes fall off.” She shrugged before licking up the strip of beer salt and throwing back the shot, picking up the lime wedge and sucking.

A moan of relief slipped out as the fresh citrus flooded her mouth. Eddie sat unmoving with his mouth gaping, hand still at the ready to take his shot. “Oh my god.” He breathed, taking the shot and matching her speed for courage.

Y/n hopped up as he set down his glass, sauntering through the door as he paid their tab and looked across the room to his buddies who sported amused and knowing looks as their friend stuck his tongue between his teeth in a victorious grin, slapping down a $10 tip on top of the total because he was feeling especially generous.

“Don’t get your hopes up, lover boy, we’ll still be here when you get back.” Her friend said pointedly, the rest of them sniggering along with Eddie’s friends. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said incredulously, leaning his weight back on the door to meet his dream girl outside.

She stood under the lamppost smoking a cigarette, her jacket back around her shoulders, which made Eddie eager to take it off later. “Hey, there.” He smiled, shrugging on his own jacket, the leather cold before melting into warmth at the touch of his skin. “Hiya.” She giggled behind the cigarette.

Eddie allowed himself to act on his impulses and stepped closer to her until he had to look down, the end of her cigarette a few inches away from him before she removed it and turned away to blow the smoke— ‘What a sweetheart.’ He thought.

“Think I could have a hit off that?” He smiled, his eyes looking over her pretty face in the new lighting, her features so much clearer now. He couldn’t get over the shape of her lips, watching them stretch as she revealed the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

Instead of answering, she stuck her cigarette between his smiling lips, holding onto his shoulder to steady herself. He hummed contently at her promptness and wrapped an arm around her waist, finding the sliver of flesh that rested above the top of her jeans until he grasped her wrist and moved her hand away to exhale to the side and then interlace her other hand in his.

Y/n watched on thoughtlessly as he brought the new hand up to his lips to kiss her finger tips one at a time, then her knuckles and wrist, before flipping her hand over and pressing a kiss to her palm, nipping at it with his teeth and wrapping the arm around his neck— bringing her giggling lips to his and pulling her into a tight embrace, lips working against one another eagerly while his hands cradled her neck and upper back tenderly. Y/n didn’t realize it until she felt the shift of gravity, but she figured out Eddie was leaning her backward, trying to dip her romantically in his almost drunken state after the shot. Her hair fell back, the world slowly turning upside down at his hands, his kiss melting any sense of care away.

‘So what the moon is on the bottom and the cars are on top? I could hold onto him forever.’

‘You’re saying that because you’re drunk and horny, get on with it.’

They pulled away when they were almost falling, both of them laughing breathlessly. Eddie pressed one more kiss to her forehead before taking her hand and gently tugging on her to follow, “C’mon, pretty girl, lemme show you what else I got.” He teased, admiring how deeply pink her neck and chest were burning.

They ran like giggly school children together around the building, as if they’d get caught and have their parents called. Eddie relished in the warmth her hand gave him— wondering how warm they were about to be pressed up against each other in the van.

He unlocked the doors, swinging one open and gesturing inside, “After you.” He bit his lip, worried that at any point she’d turn back. Instead, Y/n raised her eyebrows at him briefly, shooting him a coy smile before taking his hand and stepping up and in. Eddie licked his lips and swung the door shut behind him.

From the moment he turned around, she was on him, her arm snaking around his neck, her other pulling his waist to hers by his belt loop and bringing him in for another hungry kiss.

The quiet of the van amplified the sounds they made together, every moan, gasp, smack, and groan audible, though neither of them minded, if anything they loved it. His hands found her hair, gently stroking it like he’d been dying to since he saw her flipping it around during his set.

He trailed his hand down the side of her neck, his thumb tracing her jaw sent shivers down her spine. She broke the kiss, pausing in the space between them before they went further. His eyes opened to see her looking at his lips, only looking into his eyes when he smiled softly, “You still good? We don’t have to, you know. I’ve had a lot of fun with you tonight.” He said easily, no hint of pettiness in his tone.

Y/n smiled at his words, leaning into his hand more, “I’m having a great time too,” he exhaled slowly, relief evident on his face. “I was just wondering if I needed to climb you like a tree or lay you down, big boy.” She winked with a smile on her lips, laughing when he flopped down to the floor immediately.

“You really just had to open your mouth, didn’t you?” He looked at her with wide eyes in amusement. “I swear everything you say does something to me, baby.” He mumbled, too busy watching her settle her body on top of his lap and strip off her shirt, revealing her lace bra. “Holy shit.” He gasped, wrapping his hands around her revealed bodice to get a better look at her while she leaned forward onto his chest to stroke him with her fingernails through his shirt.

Eddie sat all the way up to pull her body closer to his, “Holy fucking shit, you’re beautiful.” He struggled to look her in the eye as he bounced back and forth between her soft torso and beautiful face. She looked down at him patiently, not used to the compliments, soaking it all up while she could.

“Eddie?” She whispered, stroking his hair and pulling him from his thoughts. “Yes?” He asked earnestly, gazing into her eyes as if he were ready to do anything she asked of him, which he was. She leaned over by his ear, balling his shirt up in her fists, “Can we take this off?” She snickered, pressing a kiss to his cheek, followed by his jaw and neck.

His heart began hammering again as she mouthed at the crook of his neck, thoughts evaporating from his head—including his ability to speak. He remembered he needed to answer only when she slid her hands up underneath the hem at his side, a jolt of electricity sent straight to his dick at the contact.

“Oh, yeah,” he said through her kisses, allowing her to raise it above his head and discard it to the side with hers, her reaction to the rest of his tattoos stroking his ego as she bit her lip and ran her hands across him. “I want you to do whatever you want, sweetheart.” He whispered against her before diving back in for more.

He fixed his hands to the meat at her hips, grinding her on his cock that strained against his jeans. He smirked at the pretty little sound she made when she started moving her hips on her own, rolling them in a way that drove Eddie wild. His hands flew to her chest, massaging the plush of her breasts that begged to be let out of their confines.

“Baby, can I get rid of this?” He asked helplessly, stroking the skin above the clasp at her back. Y/n smiled, her nose bumping his as she nodded and said, “I want you to do whatever you want, sweetheart.” She bit her lip as he smiled like a child on Christmas morning. He went about popping the hooks from the small hoops and sliding the straps off her arms at a nice pace, consciously trying to make sure he wasn’t going too fast to freak her out or make her think he was too eager.

Eddie had his fair share of one night stands, fond memories for his spank bank until the next came along, but none of them compared to this. This was something he’d think of forever.

“Jesus Christ.” He said softly, his eyes taking in the ethereal sight—the bounce of her freed breasts as they fell and soft skin just begging to be marked up and grabbed.

But the best part was the tattoo that sat underneath them. “It’s beautiful.” He breathed, taking her waist in his hands and examining her body like art, trying to find the rest of her tattoos and not bust his load at her perky nipples looking so excited to see him.

“You’re divine, really, baby, I’ve never seen anyone like you before…” He trailed off in wonder, grazing his fingers softly over the ink. She looked at him looking at her, dazed and confused by this stranger’s courtesy and gentleness that could only match—

She tilted his chin up towards hers to stop the thoughts from rolling in, never thinking about Adam during times like these— let alone comparing him, and pressed a soft and hungry kiss to his lips, licking into his mouth. Eddie bucked his hips and groaned at the feeling of both her bare tits against his chest and her tongue in his mouth.

He went to work rubbing her breasts, easing her into a heated pile of mush on top of him, trying to get her to relax further into his touch. “You gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” He asked, nipping at her bottom lip to make her cry out.

“Yes, please fuck me, Eddie.” She whined breathlessly, their thrusts becoming more intense along with their breathing. Eddie laid her down backwards, her legs still around his hips as he kneeled above her, admiring the way her tits bobbed when she fell against the plush blanket pallet he kept.

Her eyes gleamed as they bore into his. He smiled down at her, brushing his fingers around her hairline and stopping at her cheekbone to unbutton her pants, her heart feeling content like a purring cat. “You’ve got me so wet, Eddie.” She whispered, palming her left tit and grazing her fingers down her stomach as he worked at sliding her pants off.

Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away from her touching herself the way she was, only ever seeing girls do it in magazines, he never thought he’d see one do it in real life. “I wanna watch you touch yourself,” He whispered, dropping her jeans next to her shirt and opening her legs slowly to encourage her.

Y/n didn’t answer, instead, she gave him a little smile and slid her hand into the front of her panties, sighing at the contact and writhing a little as she found exactly where she needed to touch. Eddie looked on in amazement, stroking himself over his jeans as he looked down at the angel laying in front of him. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” He mumbled and licked his lips at the wetness pooling in her panties and the bits of flesh he could make out around the straining fabric of the lavender cotton.

He sat there mesmerized at the way her fingers disappeared inside of her, the way she tweaked her clit in time with the thrusts of her wrist and the way she kept her eyes on him the whole time she did so, reminding him that even if he wasn’t touching her, he was the one making her feel good.

Eddie slowly stroked her hips where the elastic sat, tugging lightly at the band until she raised her ass off the floor so he could slip them off her legs and toss them to the growing pile. A thin sheen started to coat her skin, glittering in the dim light of the van. Eddie ran a light and tender hand up her leg and then rubbed encouraging circles on the inside of her thighs, aching to bury his face in her wetness and send her further into the abyss of pleasure.

Y/n rubbed herself gently, opening her eyes as Eddie’s hands came closer to her throbbing core. “Touch me, please…” she whined, looking at him as if she’s waited for his touch for years and then letting them fall shut. Eddie’s eyes widened, his cock desperately needing relief, her eye contact and plea just made it worse.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby,” Eddie took off his boxers quickly, moaning in relief and stroking his dick as he eased on top of her, caging her in with his arms. She gasped when she opened her eyes again to see him naked and godly before her. “Is that okay?” He asked, pressing a soft kiss to her neck, sending her eyes rolling to the back of her head, “Yes, please… Oh, fuck…” she groaned, feeling his weight on top of her as he adjusted her thighs around him, stroking her hips and lower back lovingly. “God damn, you’re so fucking soft, baby, I can’t get enough of you.” He breathed into her, reaching for her breast and meeting her for a warm and wet kiss, complete with teeth tugging lips, tongues licking skin, and quiet and satisfied giggles slipping out every now and then.

They reveled in each other’s nakedness, the feeling of skin on skin lighting them on fire—their hands and lips roaming everywhere.

Eddie took care to latch his mouth onto her nipple as he worked the other one with his tender touch. Her hands stayed in his hair, the mess of it scattered around him as he moved, though she didn’t mind.

Y/n thought she was going to lose her mind before he touched her pussy, swollen and dripping for him when he ran a tentative finger through her folds, “You want me as bad as I want you, don’t you, baby?” He set a slow yet satisfying pace, bumping her clit with every movement as her hand slipped further into his curls, tightening her grip to Eddie’s delight.

With every pant that left her came an adorable little noise, only audible in the space between them as they moved against one another. Eddie smiled to himself, his ego loving all of the praise this girl gave him.

“If you want something you need to ask for it—wanna make you feel good.” He said in between messy kisses along her shoulder. “Eddie, I need you to fuck me.” She whispered to him urgently, pulling his face up to hers with desperation.

“Uh, y-you don’t want me to eat you? C’mon baby, don’t get shy on me now.” He stammered, having been so close to the honey pot he desperately thirsted for. “Uh-uh..” She said, gently shaking her head ‘no’ and taking his cock in her hand.

Her hand traced the length of his shaft, pulling an inhuman grunt from him, a smirk of satisfaction crossing her face as he thrust his hips involuntarily. “Just, uh, lemme..fuck, lemme—lemme get a condom,” he managed through her firm strokes.

Eddie grabbed the chain on his pants, yanking his wallet out of his pocket to retrieve a gold foil package inside. Y/n admired his waist, tracing the dragon that wrapped around the side of his torso as he worked the condom on, stroking himself a couple times before moving back over her, who took no hesitation in wrapping her legs back around him, a giddy smile on her face that matched his. “C’mere, you pretty little thing.” He growled in her ear playfully while descending upon her, pressing his fingers into the plush of her thighs that enveloped him perfectly and kissing her giggling lips like they already belonged to him.

The laughter subsided as the kisses grew deeper and longer, when they pulled back and opened their eyes, they looked at each other like more than a couple strangers fucking in the back of a van for the first time— more like lovers who’d cross space and time to be together just for one night.

“You, uh, wanna put it in?” He asked, a blush dusting his cheeks as he hovered over her, stroking her bum and thigh as he waited. Y/n gently guided his member to her entrance while Eddie placed his other hand around her breast—poised to antagonize her nipple.

After the tip pressed against her, Eddie groaned as he sunk into her, his chest flattening onto hers until they could catch their breath. “You take me so well, baby, oh fuck,” He gasped next to her head, pushing some hair away from her ear and neck to dive down and nuzzle his face there.

“You fill me up so good, Eddie, oh my god.” She gasped as he propped himself up on his hands, gazing into her eyes as he started moving, her pussy gripping him so tight it’s hard for him to pull out and push back in. “Holy shit, do—is that good? Is that good for you?” He asked in quiet awe at the sensation they created together, in and out, in and out.

“Yeah— yeah, it is.” She said, fighting against the ecstasy she was slipping into to keep her eyes open. As Eddie worked his first few thrusts, he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together like they had many times that night, though Y/n was expecting him to hold her wrists above her head like she’s used to, but no. Eddie rested their joined hands next to her head and smoothed her hair affectionately.

“You’re such a pretty girl, y’feel so good on my cock...” He said in awe as he picked up the pace and sent a jolt to her throbbing core when he pinched and rolled her nipple in his other hand. Y/n let out a groan at the feeling, the sound only encouraging Eddie to do what he’d been dreaming of since the moment she took off her jacket in the bar.

Eddie smirked at her anguish, the sparkle in his eye only confirming the mischief he emanated. “You want me to take my time with you?” He panted, slipping his hand in between them and finding her clit, spreading their wetness over it before slowly circling it, knowing exactly how desperate she was to cum.

“No-No, no…please, no. I n-need you to go faster Eddie, I don’t want you to stop til you cum—“ without hesitation, Eddie adjusted his grip on her leg and pressed down on her clit, enough to scratch that unbearable itch that antagonized her deep in her nerves. “Holy shit, Eddie! Oh my god, keep going, yes!” Her back arched off the floor, her chin jutted upwards exposing her neck, which Eddie took advantage of and served up heated kisses all around her throat as she cried out.

“ ‘m close, Eddie, you’re so good, so fucking good!” She mumbled her eyes heavy and eyebrows scrunched in distress, her hand roamed his body with reckless abandon, giving feather light touches across his neck and shoulders then sinking her nails down his back and grabbing his hip as he slammed into her hot cunt.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, moving a hand from her chest to her throat while still holding her other hand tenderly next to them. “ ‘s this okay?” He whispered, keeping a light hold on her neck until she answered.

“Yeah..” She whispered pathetically, bringing her free hand on top of his and closing his grip around it the way she liked, just enough to get a little dizzy on top of the beer buzz, then moaning into his touch as she rocked against him the best she could while the sounds of skin slapping skin resounded between them. Eddie looked down at where they connected, unable to get enough of the sight of his cock burrowing inside of her.

“I want you to cum, baby, I wanna feel it—wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

“Lemme ride!” She insisted quietly like a secret. Eddie's eyes lit up at her enthusiasm and nodded before promptly rolling off of her, eager for her to be back in charge. He scooted himself against the back of the seat, “You want me here?” He asked as she crawled over to him. Eddie barely noticed his hands reaching out for her, but when he did she was already settling on his lap, his member standing between them as she laid a hand against his soft chest and used her other to stroke him. Eddie sighed as he circled his arms around her waist to pull her impossibly closer. “Yeah, baby, you’re perfect.” She whispered, though she didn’t mean to let it slip—the pet name or the word perfect. Eddie preened at the praise, desperate for her validation and affection.

She wasn’t usually one for pet names, or for praising her sexual partners. Up until now, sex felt transactional, and those things weren’t apart of the deal. But with Eddie the praises dropped from her lips effortlessly, and most times involuntarily.

Her hands found his hair, lightly raking her nails on his scalp which made him lean into her. Eddie felt like he hadn’t kissed her lips in years when she pressed hers to his in a thirsting kiss, chasing after his tongue with hers. They moaned into each other as she sat back down on his dick, not wasting any time in setting her quick pace.

Eddie's jaw dropped at the feeling, the warm, wet, silky tunnel that squeezed him so unmercifully he could hardly catch his breath, though he didn’t care because he was too busy bathing in her ecstasy. “Ohh, fuck me..” he groaned against her lips as she exclaimed in delight.

She pulled back from him, her hands holding his cheeks tenderly before dropping to his shoulders for more leverage. Eddie’s hands slithered down to her hips, focusing on the softness of her skin under his hands as he squeezed and squished. “Ohh, my god, angel.. I-I don’t know how much more I can take, I need you to cum, baby, can you? Can you come for me?” He pleaded softly and felt her tighten at his words, “Oh, you like it? You like it when I talk to you?” He tested, feeling her squeeze again and watching her bite her lip as she nodded, slowing her bounces to a roll, not wanting to leave this bubble of pure pleasure just yet.

Eddie moved his hands from her hips to her breasts, pinching both of her nipples in his fingers while he bucked his hips up against her. “Your body is so fun to play with, sweetheart.” He gazed into her sparkling eyes and then her mouth while waiting desperately for his kiss, moaned at the comment. “You think I’ll make you cum?” He asked, his low and gravelly tone masking his insecurity. Should she have finished by now? Maybe made more noises?

“Yeah, yeah—you’re doing so good!” She whispered eagerly before picking up her pace and kissing him passionately. They kissed until the sensation was too much, the electricity brewing within them lighting their cores on fire as they chased their orgasms together. Their noises were involuntary at this point, though listening to one another grunt and moan drove them further to the edge at a blinding speed.

“Eddie! Eddie, are you gonna cum with me?” She asked his lips desperately, now holding back from her climax til he could answer her. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, cum! Cum, baby, cum! Cum on my dick and I’ll cum for you.” He rambled like a madman, like an addict without a fix. He had no idea that this was just the first taste, that this was only the beginning.

His words wrapped her in a wonderful haze, everything was only Eddie. “Please, baby, let me make you cum. Let me take care of you.” He panted into her ear as he kissed and nibbled her neck just under it. “Oh, fuck!” She cried out, her core tensed before the white hot pleasure melted over her body, head to toe. “Eddie, I’m cumming! Cum with me, cum with me!” She pleaded, too busy basking in euphoria to feel pathetic. She grabbed at the back of his neck with both hands, engulfing his lips with hers.

Her sounds, her kiss, the walls of her pussy clenching around him—it was all too much. He cried out as his cock spasmed inside of her, rutting up into her roughly as he lived in her warmth and and rode out the rush that eventually faded right before she went limp on top of him.

They both fought to catch their breath, settling into one another in a new way. Y/n blinked hard, noticing how her arms and legs wrapped around him to keep close, and how he wrapped his arms around her waist for the same. The embrace was comforting, like a warm hug from someone you love after a long day—it felt like home.

She typically knew where to go from here, opting to throw her clothes back on and send the guy a ‘see you later!’ before going home and forgetting their name within a couple days. But with Eddie, she found herself reluctant to leave. Instead, she stayed in this little space for now; her lips grazing the soft pale skin of his shoulder, his heavy pants against hers. Her fingers buried in the back of his curls frizzy from the humidity they produced and tickling the side of her face, though it wasn’t unbearable. She felt like she could breathe deeper with his arms squeezing around her middle as if she were his teddy bear.

“God, you were amazing, angel.” He whispered to her with a smile, stroking the length of her back lovingly and curling his other fingers in her hair, trying to learn her body the way he craved. He wanted to remember exactly how it all felt—how she felt and made him feel.

She turned her head to look at him, lightly stroking the side of his face with her fingers and smiling softly, saddened at the prospect of leaving without any intention of seeing him again—though she wanted to deeply.

Y/n pulled him in for another kiss, this one much slower as she tried to memorize him. Her mind went warm and fuzzy as they set the passionate pace, each movement she made followed by ‘Last one… another one, just one more..’ until she felt Eddie adjust them to lay backwards and begin to roll on top of her, his cock hardening again already.

“Eddie,” She panted into him as he fixed his grip on her legs, pushing her knees back and pulling a sigh from her as he continued to kiss her swollen lips. “Eddie,” she groaned as he kissed her neck again, lightly tilting her chin back with his hand and making her melt into his touch.

“I’m not afraid to stay here with you all night, baby, just tell me what you want…” He whispered, stroking the side of her neck with his thumb as he spoke into her ear.

“I-I have to go, Eddie, I’m sorry.” She managed, pushing some hair away from his face. His eyes widened at her words, caught off guard. “Oh, I’m sorry! Was I keeping you?” He sat upright, grabbing her clothes for her and handing them over before picking up his own and stripping off the condom and tying it off to be dealt with later.

“No, no, you’re fine—great, even!” She scrambled to yank on her pants, ignoring the amused smirk that sat on Eddie’s face as he tugged his own black denim over his boxers and admired her as if he’d never had her before.

She threw on her bra and leaned over to adjust her breasts in the cups, pulling a soft gasp from Eddie—he had no idea watching a girl get dressed was just as fun as watching her get undressed. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she made eye contact with him, sending him a sly smile and wink as she prepared to tug her shirt over her head.

Eddie grabbed her shoes and set them in front of her, spotting his pack of cigarettes by the rest of his clothes and grabbing one out to light as she tied her laces. He noticed the windows were fogged and he smiled around the filter while he puffed.

Though he’d watched her dress, he turned one more time to make sure she was decent before opening up the back doors to the van, the cool night air drifting in and tickling the moisture that collected at their hairlines during the fun.

“So, uh, I-I had a really good time with you tonight.” He fumbled, quickly placing his cigarette back in his mouth after he’d spoken. Y/n smiled at his nervousness and nodded in agreement. “Me too, it’s uh, it’s been a while since it’s been that good for me—with another person, you know?” She said candidly, inwardly shocked she was able to muster up the confidence to share that.

Eddies eyes widened at the information, a hopeful leap in his chest told him that sex made her open up—made her feel close. He nodded in response, removing the cigarette and exhaling. “Y-Yeah, yeah, for sure. I, uh, don’t have many one night stands, but, uh, I can say for sure that it hasn’t been like that before.” He nodded, then realized he said one night stand. His face turned to hers quickly, the alarm apparent in his eyes.

She must’ve noticed his panic, leaning in to place a quick peck on his lips before nicking his cigarette and taking a drag. He chuckled softly as she hopped out of the back and stood in front of him between his legs, retrieving her jacket and shrugging it over her shoulders, fixing her hair in the process. He placed patient hands on her waist, letting her smoke as much as she wanted to if it meant she stayed with him longer.

“When can I see you again?” He asked hopefully.

Y/n giggled, handing him the cigarette back, which he accepted reluctantly. “That’s not very ‘one night stand’ of you, is it, Eddie?” She teased, testing if his big brown eyes deflated in hope a little, though really it looked like it took the air from him.

“How about…” she trailed off and averted her eyes to the ground, searching for a reason to see him again that isn’t more than what it can be. She shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea of seeing him again, let alone wishing she could stay the night. He felt so familiar.

Eddie searched for her gaze with his, successfully pulling her eyes back on him. “How about, I come see Corroded Coffin again? You said you play here often— how often?” She asked, putting her arms on his shoulders and grinning when his hands found her arms and rubbed them softly as he nodded. “We play again next friday.” He smiled.

She nodded at him thoughtfully, not fully present but stuck in the corner of her mind that told her she was being indulgent, that leaving Danny once a month to go out with her friends was selfish as it is, not to mention sleeping with strangers just to feel something, to feel reckless as safely as possible, to feel her age— was too much. She wasn’t supposed to do things people her age did, she was a mother, and she sure as hell wasn’t supposed to feel this with someone else, the way it only felt with—

“I’ll see you next Friday.” She nodded decidedly, turning on her heel and beginning her walk to the front of the building, though Eddie caught up quickly to catch her arm before she could get any further. “Wait, wait, wait, one more?” He asked, taking a hopeful lip waiting between his teeth as he held her close.

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at him before taking his face in her hands and laying a deep kiss to his lips, relishing the butterflies that fluttered relentlessly in her stomach when his hands slipped around her body one last time, pulling back slowly and hesitating before disconnecting their bodies. Eddie quickly took her face in his, sprinkling kisses all over her face, “Thank you, sweet girl.” He said as she giggled.

“Lemme walk you inside?” He asked like a sweet freshman boy at the end of his first date. Y/n sighed, self hatred spreading through her mind like a disease as she nodded with a smile. Eddie grinned and darted back to the van to retrieve his shirt and pull it over his head on his way back, holding out an expectant hand for her that made her heart both flutter and sink, somehow.

The only noise between them on their walk was the crunch of gravel beneath their shoes and the sounds of the night in summertime. Eddie swung their hands between them, a smile tugging at his lips as he tried to stay forward facing.

He opened the door of the bar, looking her over once more and halting her to fix her jacket collar with a focused tongue between his lips before allowing her to continue and opening the door again.

Their groups were a little drunker than they left them, talking amongst themselves and producing boisterous laughter as they walked in. “Ohh ho, look who it is!” Gareth bellowed, pointing a finger at his friend who looked so proud under his blush.

Y/n’s friends looked at her hand intertwined with Eddie’s, sending her taunting looks that said ‘we are definitely talking about this later’ and bit back chuckles unsuccessfully. She looked at her best friend Stella, who took a nonchalant sip to cover her smirk while obviously averting eye contact.

“W-We gotta go, friends!” Y/n tapped her always watchless wrist, not wanting to keep her sitter waiting forever. The girls nodded in silent understanding, always aware of the curfew she kept for herself, and stood to collect their things and pay their tabs.

The members of Corroded Coffin looked at Eddie with sparkling and expectant eyes, ready to hear about the details as soon as the ladies left the premises. Eddie had recounted his sexcapades to his friends in the past, the storyteller in him going off on all the details—both educating them and giving them material for the spank bank.

But this time he wanted to hold onto it for himself—this girl was special and she made him feel special. Something about her essence was addicting, not to mention her face was the best one he’d ever seen.

“I’ll, uh, see you later, Eddie.” She mumbled to him, easing her hand out of his. “Looking forward to it.” He smiled softly, watching her go until the others were leaving out the doors. Sabrina hung behind and looked him over as if she were sizing him up, followed with a curt nod before disappearing out the doors.

Eddie let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as the boys applauded. “I must say, I am very impressed, my friend. I can’t believe you got her back to your van so fast, wow.” Gareth speculated drunkenly to Eddie’s annoyance.

“Don’t talk about her that way. That doesn’t mean anything, girls can do whatever they want, especially if it benefits me. I would’ve taken her back to my place if she hadn’t had some curfew to beat or something. Besides, she’s coming back next week.” He said, turning a chair around backwards and straddling it while picking up a beer from the table and taking a sip. “Whoa, you have another date?” Jeff gaped. “A curfew?” Gareth asked with disbelief.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “This wasn’t a date, we just met—and I don’t know if you’d even call it a date, it’ll probably just be a repeat of tonight, and so what Emerson, like your mom isn’t on your ass about being home by 2am even if you’re a big boy now.” Eddie jeered, Gareth rolling his eyes. “Alright, say she does come back and you guys go round two, then what?” Grant asked.

Eddie paused, pursing his lips for a moment as the boys leaned forward in anticipation. “I’m following her lead so… guess I’ll know next week.” He shrugged.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

On an excruciating car ride home, while receiving the third degree from her friends as they howled out mocking cries of ‘Eddie! Oh god, give it to me’ and ‘And you were holding HANDS! What was that all about??’ Y/n did her best to defend her time with Eddie without showing she liked it too much.

“H-He’s really sweet, alright?” Y/n shrugged their taunts off, turning her attention to the radio and puffing on her last cigarette of the night—cause she was trying to cut back. “Did you see the way he looked at her though??” Mollie shrieked from the back seat, her eyes wide in amazement. Stella laughed from the steering wheel, “Like a lovesick puppy!” She agreed. Y/n blushed and rolled her eyes, “Yeah, well, dudes do that sometimes.” She countered, mostly to convince herself.

“Okay, but— the way he didn’t wanna let go of your hand? C’mon. You’ve gotta give the poor guy a chance.” Mollie nudged her shoulder, earning a weak push back from Y/n who scoffed, “Well you’re about to be so pleased.” She smirked behind her cigarette as the whole car hushed, “Wait a damn minute, are you going out? Did he ask? Did you say yes?” Mollie freaked.

“Hey, hey, hey, slow down, Molls, I only told him we’d come back next Friday to listen to the band again.” She shrugged again, the silence already annoying.

“Oh, my GOD.” Stella exclaimed, “You do like him.” Stella argued, “Do not! Not like that.” Y/n shot back.

Everyone in the car collectively eyerolled and groaned, “How do you not? You don’t go to bars more than once a month and suddenly you wanna come back to this one next week just cause he’s, what, fun? You have plenty of fun, we all know it! And you should! But what’s so wrong with liking him? You’re allowed to love people, Y/n/n.” Stella urged while keeping her eyes on the road.

Y/n couldn’t look at any of her friends, either, unable to come up with another reason to see Eddie— one that didn’t involve her budding feelings for him, or at least the way he made her feel.

“C’mon, play pretend for a minute and tell me all the things about Eddie that made you fluttery inside.” Stella suggested, Kathy and Mollie nonchalantly leaning in to listen. Y/n sighed to the stars out the open car window, pausing before she chose to respond.

“…if I did like Eddie… it’d be because he talked to me, like actually talked to me.. It’d be because he didn’t make me feel like a piece of meat when he bought me the drink—it never felt like he expected anything in return…He never made me feel like sex was something I had to do, up until the last moment he was always asking as if I’d change my mind..

And when I told him I wanted to he told me he’d take me anywhere, to his house, to his car—if I asked him to get a motel room I bet he would. That guy makes me feel like he’d do anything I asked and it’s weird. No, not weird—scary. I can’t tell if it’s real or not, and if it is, isn’t that scarier? I’m not ready for that kind of commitment, and what if I hurt a good guy? Not to mention Danny. No 20 something year old dude is going to want someone else’s three year old boy hanging around—making me flake on dates, pitching fits when he is around, it’s just the facts. I’m not ready.” She cased.

Silence fell over the car as they pulled into Y/n’s driveway. “Y’know, you made some really good points, Y/n.” Stella said, putting the car in park. Mollie and Kathy looked at Stella in disbelief, “She did?”

“I mean, yeah, it’s every reason anyone ever decided against taking their chance on love. I just thought she’d have better reasons, or better yet; I thought she’d be braver than all of those things.” Stella shrugged, her words catching Y/n’s attention like rubbing alcohol on a scrape.

“I mean, c’mon, man, you did the whole ‘against-the-odds-teen-parent’ thing, and you’re rocking that shit, I might add.” She pointed at the young mother from across the console who blushed at the compliment and rolled her eyes trying to feign annoyance, though the girls knew how awful she was at handling praise.

“I never thought you’d be so afraid of love, man. Adam would want you to be happy, he’d want Danny to grow up with a good guy in his life!”

“Well, Adam’s not here.” Y/n bit back, the annoying prickly stinging at her eyes clouding her pride as she regretted her words. Stella hesitated before she reached out for her friend's shoulder. “I know. I know he isn’t,” Stella sighed, “But tell me I’m wrong, Y/n/n.”

Y/n looked at Stella and then Mollie and Kathy who sat patiently in the back and sighed, their eyes engaged on the conversation with quiet care. “I can’t.” She mumbled, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Just think about it! You don’t have to have it all figured out yet.” She nodded encouragingly.

Y/n glanced at the front door and the porch light buzzed as moths darted all around it, mesmerized and unsatisfied. She stepped out of the vehicle and shut the door, leaning down to the open window. “Are we good to go for next Friday or am I going alone?” She asked, hoping she didn’t sound desperate.

The friends looked between each other and giggled, “We wouldn’t miss it. But you’re talking him into buying us a round before you ditch us, again!” Mollie jeered and stuck her tongue out. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and tapped the window sill twice, “I gotta get in there. I love you guys. Drive safe! Gimme a call when you’re home.” She looked at all of them pointedly and jogged up the steps to her house.

She slipped through the door quietly, hanging her keys on the hook and stepping through to the living room.

“Hey! How was it?” Robin Buckley chirped softly from the recliner, setting down the remote as she stood. “It was.. needed!” She smiled. “How’d Danny boy do?” She asked, nodding towards the toddler’s room. “Great, as usual. You gotta stop worrying,we have a whole routine now! We watched the ninja turtles, played some pirates, skipped out on bath time, cause—you know,” she rolled her eyes and shrugged, referring to Danny’s problems with the water, “We ordered pizza for dinner; when I asked him what kind he looked me dead in the eyes and said ‘I eat all the pizza.” She laughed, giving her best impression of Danny’s small voice.

Y/n grinned softly, “How was he with bedtime?” She scanned the living room and through the kitchen door, looking for any stray toys or food that needed to be picked up.

“We read Green Eggs and Ham-“

“Again?” Y/n asked exasperatedly, a smile of disbelief hung on her face. Robin chuckled as she moved to the door to grab her jacket. “Three times, actually, that boy needs all the proper voices, apparently.” Robin rolled her eyes and shrugged at the boy's antics.

“Ahh, of course the voices, how could I forget?” Y/n joked, recalling all the nights Danny insists on turning back to the pages that weren’t properly read. “Someday I’ll get them right, you watch!” Robin insisted as she quietly unhooked her keys from beside the door, opening the large black door slowly.

“Wait, Robin!” She called fumbling for her purse to hand the sitter a few bills.

“Uh-uh. Nope. Nice try though! I don’t want money to watch my nephew, I’m just glad you guys finally moved closer so I can spend more time with you guys!” She said, with a genuine smile. Y/n sighed and looked at her with her head cocked, knowing that Robin shared Adam’s stubbornness, always doing for others without wanting anything in return—both a best friend to everyone around them.

“You’re too much alike.” Y/n scoffed, shoving the bills in her purse, making a mental note to slip it in her backpack or jacket sometime when she wasn't looking. Robin smiled bitterly, thinking of her late cousin—who was more like a brother. Adam spent a lot of time growing up staying at his Aunt Ginger’s house, growing close with Robin as the years passed.

When Y/n and Adam hit high school and made their love official, Robin quickly became one of Y/n’s closest friends. From the moment Danny was placed in Robin’s arms, she made a promise to herself and to her cousin that she would help his little boy live the happiest life as much as she could contribute.

“I’m happy to help! Really, don’t ever hesitate to call. He’s my best friend! Except for maybe Steve, but Danny’s way better to talk to,” Robin jokes, stepping out onto the porch when an idea hits her, “Maybe next time you can drop Danny at mine and moms for a sleepover and you can bring someone home for once.” She nodded encouragingly, yet another person in Y/n’s life vying for her to give love another chance.

Y/n scoffed and went to close the door with an eye roll when Robin stuck her boot in the door. “Y/n, I’m serious. Think about it, that’s all I’m saying.” She shrugged one shoulder and looked at the ground briefly. Y/n sighed, “Why would I wanna bring some rando home with me—Where my kid lives?”

Robin’s eyes grew heavy with good intentions, “I don’t mean a rando, Y/n! Would it be so bad to try? I know you said you will when you’re ready but—“

“And I will let you know when that day comes, Robs, I promise. And I’ll keep your offer in mind. I know Danny would love to see Gigi and eat monkey bread all evening.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes in feigned annoyance, sending Robin a smile.

Robin nodded, a content smile on her lips as she turned to leave but abruptly stopped and turned back,“I have to ask.. any luck tonight?” She asked mischievously. Y/n gaped and turned red, embarrassed at the amount of people involved in the details of her sex life.

“Wh-Robin! I-Why—how?”

“Oh my god, you so did. I thought you looked slightly disheveled when you walked in! Anyone I’d know?” She asked eagerly, as Y/n turned her by the shoulders out the door. “I hope not, see you later Robin, let me know when you get home, loveyoubyee!” She flipped on the porch light and shut and locked the door as Robin howled with laughter from the porch. “I’ll remember this, Y/n/n!”

Y/n kicked off her shoes, taking in the quietness of the house at night—her sanctuary. She walked to her bedroom, pausing to stick her head inside her son's room, his sleeping head just visible over the mound of blankets he insisted on having with him at night. She moved inside stealthily and moved the blankets further away from his face, her mom heart still cautious after two years of peaceful nights.

She continued to her room at the end of the hall, unbuttoning her pants and kicking them off by the door on her way to her bathroom at the other side of the closet. Carefully rubbing the ruined mascara around her eye, she turned on the water to shower.

As she sat down against the tub and stripped her shirt off, her time with Eddie flashed through her mind—remembering how his hands felt around her waist when she last took off her clothes; warm and rough.

The way his voice sounded when his breath panted against hers; warm and rough.

The way his kiss felt working against hers; warm and rough. She could almost feel their tongues in tandem; sometimes visible between them, others tucked away inside each other’s mouths like a home. She missed the way he tasted.

The way his eyes bore into hers like she was all he ever wished for, so intently. So warm and rough.

She shook the thoughts from her head, guilt shrouding her like the world's heaviest quilt. Crying often occurred after sex, though it was typically short lived because she was able to talk herself through it, assuring herself that she wasn’t betraying him, or trying to replace what they had. But this time felt different.

It started off as a sigh, though another deep breath was needed, which turned into quiet sobs. ‘Breathe deeply, don’t hyperventilate.’ She reminded herself, trying to switch off her brain for a minute and let herself cry.

‘He made me feel like he used to.’

‘He made me feel like I was doing everything right while I felt I was doing something so wrong.’

‘I am a single woman doing single woman things, it shouldn’t be this hard.’

‘Even if I gave him a chance he wouldn’t want someone else’s kid.’

‘No one gets serious with a single mom.’

‘He looked at me like I was everything to him.’

‘It all came so easily; the conversation, the sex, it was like magic.’

‘It’s too good to be true is what it is.’

As the thoughts rolled deeper and deeper, she wiped her face and picked herself up off the floor and into the shower. As soon as the steam cleared her senses, she could properly smell her hair; the smokey scent of the bar along with.. Eddie’s cologne.

Her tears halted, picking up a large chunk of her hair and bringing it to her nose to revel in him one more time before she had to wash him away. She tried to focus on the sounds around her and the feeling of the cold soap hitting her hands before working it in her palms and scrubbing her hair, but the safe warm feelings Eddie brought her lingered.

After accepting the calls from Stella and Robin, confirming their safety, Y/n peeled back the covers of her too big bed and slipped inside, positioning her pillows around herself to throw a leg and arm over.

She wondered what it would’ve been like for him to throw a blanket over the two of them, settle into his chest, plant kisses there and trace his beautiful face, holding him exactly like this, kissing him some more, asking him more questions about his life..

But of course, those weren’t possibilities because toddlers come before boys, always. But it didn’t mean she couldn’t think about it.

And think about it she did, until she couldn’t hold her eyes open anymore, drifting off to dream about his curly hair fanned out around him on her pillow, his hands intertwined with hers, and his smiling cheeks accepting her doting kisses.

Part 2?

@took-me-hours-to-steal-those

@samlealea

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson/you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson concept #eddie munson headcanons

[nexusnyx]

ㅤㅤㅤ— ˏˋ꒰under neon lights꒱

→ Based on this request. [WC: 1.1k]

Joel became an expert on many things in this damned life, but running away from something he wants is not one of them. OR; How you're Joel Miller's worst (best) habit .ೃ࿐

Although he'd love to say he "tried his best", Joel's no liar.

He never tried a goddamn thing.

Not even once.

The moment he saw it in you—the glint of something wicked looking for any inch of ground to sink teeth and claws in, the spark of desire meeting him, he was done for. Joel dug his heels and stood his ground despite his instincts, not knowing what would come of this.

"Hey, handsome."

Initially, he thought those to be a joke. Now, Joel knows better. "Thought you wouldn't come," is his answer.

You laugh under your breath, the air turning white in front of you.

Joel watches as you remove your coat, boots, and place all of your items in their proper places. The house Tommy found for him is small just like he wanted and it serves its purpose—Ellie's got a roof over her head, and Joel has pieces of furniture and cracks in the walls he busies himself with. It's more than he could've asked for after years of cleaning sewages or doing god knows who's dirty work.

Your disposition to come over to his place every Friday night and sit with him while everyone else hangs around the town's square for food and drinks never faltered.

Joel serves you the whiskey and sits on his porch chair, knowing you'll follow suit.

During the first visits, Joel's had some of the best conversation of his lifetime.

Even if it felt like this was his third one already—he remembered how good it was to have someone else around who also wanted to just enjoy the peace and quiet. Someone who took pleasure in knowing that this was real luxury. This was luck.

Then, Joel remembered how it felt to learn your visits and company were also the thing he kept denying himself.

Lingering looks. The burning touch of your hand brushing against his at every given opportunity. Sultriness dripped from your voice every now and then when he spoke of things that demanded intimacy. When the topic verged on real things, Joel recalled seeing you lick your dry lips and look him dead in the eye before responding, as if daring him to say you were joking, or even ask if you meant your words.

"I don't come here because I'm lonely, Miller. Is that what you think of yourself? That your company's good as nothing?"

"What?"

"Saying that implies your company offers me nothing when you know that's not true. You see me smilin' at you around town, waving hi, waiting for you to appear in the meetings just so I can have someone else to offer my incredibly witty remarks. You're not the go-to 'cause I'm lonely—which, by the way, I'm not."

"Figured you were. Haven't seen anyone else demand your attention back from me."

"It's 'cause they know it'd be worthless."

"Why'd you come then?"

"'Cause I like talking to you, jackass. Why else?"

"I—I haven't..."

"Haven't what? Interacted properly with another adult person in a while? That's okay, we'll take baby steps."

"Don't laugh at me, that ain't nice, sweetheart."

"I thought I was laughing with you..."

"All of this is weird."

"Which part? Having a life again? ... Yeah, it's weird."

Joel hated it when you were at a loss for words now.

It was more than just a habit after all these times—seeking the heat of your skin as you leaned against the wooden porch. His hand moved under your jumper and shirt, opening wide on the lower part of your back. He caressed the skin slowly and watched you from the side as you looked forward.

It was stupid to ask if something was wrong when everything around everyone sort of crumbled to pieces daily, so instead, Joel made a grunting sound to get your attention back on him.

When you looked up, something shone. The redness of your bitten lips made him want to soothe away your pain. Maybe kiss them until they are numb. Sometimes, Joel pretended he could lick you clean from any harm or any sin.

It's a whisper when your voice cuts through the howling wind of the night. "D'you think we'll ever be more than... this?"

It hits like a rock to his stomach.

This—late nights stolen like the first kisses were. Hidden messages, looks, touches, all hidden underneath some shame. All the taking and giving and taking again, both so lost in the pleasure and the touch that neither are capable of looking away when the other pins one with their eyes.

This—crying, and begging, and moaning, all muttered and exhaled because they were pulled, earned, and nothing could stop the pleasure from drooling from the lips.

This—a secret. A habit. A battle cry.

"I don't know." Joel wants to, though. His hand on your back squeezes harder, and he molds the front of his body to fit the back of yours. "I'm..." a lot. Too much. Never bold enough to think about these things. "A lot different than I was when I first got here."

There's a short laugh. "I know. I remember." Your hands smooth the way from his hands to his forearm, and you make yourself more compact to fit in his hold. "I just... I lied to my sister to come here tonight, and..."

It all added up. "Right." Did you have to? "Why did you?"

He regrets asking the second the words are out because the memory floods back with you quoting his words to him. "This is the last time we're doing this." He said that, back when he was still in denial you wanted him too. "I'm not sure if—"

Joel spins you so abruptly that it shuts you up. "I meant that back then, but it's not true," he shakes his head. "I was saying that more to cover my own ass than anything."

"Cover from what?"

"From how stupid I'd feel once you noticed I'm not what you want."

The silence that follows makes his nape itch. Joel's mind learned to listen for all the threats in the woods and the quiet of the houses surrounding them, but his eyes were glued to you.

You tilt your head at him, analyzing him so thoroughly that Joel does fidget.

"Is that what you thought?"

"It was." He can hear the exasperation in your tone as much as he can hear the surrender in his. "I don't mind if you tell people where you're going—honestly." Joel chuckles. "If I'm lucky enough you want to come back..."

Your arms came up higher and hugged around his shoulders. "This is not where I hoped this conversation would go," your pleased smile only makes his inside feel like they're growing too. "You be careful what you say, Miller."

"I ain't scared." His words already got him feeling like an outsider or perhaps an outlaw, so fuck him—he'd use them to keep you looking at him like this for a change. "I mean it." He could get addicted to this.

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[yournowheregirl]

part 1 [part 2 - coming soon]

Robin is panicking.

She’s standing in the middle of Lovelace Lingerie and she’s panicking. 

There are two reasons why she has always avoided this place like the plague. The first and obvious one being the whole ‘I'm gay and if I stare at this model wearing nothing but a lace bodysuit for a second too long, everyone is going to know exactly how gay I am’ bit. The second reason is just a plain habit. She bought her first bra at the department store, she knows what brand she likes, she knows her size and she knows that she doesn’t want all the frills and the bows and the lace. Just a plain black or white bra (maybe blue if she’s feeling fancy), nothing more, nothing less.

That is until Vickie said something when she stayed over the other day. 

“Why are all your bras so boring, Robin?”

Robin never thought her bras were boring. Sure, they were plain and nothing like the colorful lace bras Vickie likes to wear, but they were just there to serve one purpose - to hold her boobs in place while she goes about her day. Plus, before Vickie, she was the only one looking at her bra and she was doing just fine, thank you very much.

But Vickie’s words got stuck in her head, as they often do, which made Robin decide to take matters into her own hands and buy something that’ll make Vickie happy. A final hail Mary to make up for all the arguments they’ve been having these last few weeks.

Though she’s beginning to regret her decision as the sheer amount of choice start to overwhelm her. There’s just so much lace. So many straps. So many colorful bows and flower designs. So many things that say they’re bras, but look more like a flimsy piece of fabric tied together with two strings of floss. 

In her state of outright panic, Robin rushes through the store and grabs one of each pair of lingerie that she thinks Vickie will like. She doesn’t even bother to look at the sizing - honestly, what good is a size anyway when this bra is just a bunch of straps and two hearts cut out of red fabric - she just grabs them all and heads straight to the fitting rooms.

As it turns out, she should’ve been looking at the label because nothing seems to fit or suit her. The fabric of the lilac one is scratchy and the green one is just plain ugly. The black one makes her boobs look saggy, while the yellow one is too tight and make her boobs spill out. And don’t even get her started on the neon pink one - that one isn’t even a bra, it’s a torture device. 

Oh God, she’s never gonna make it out of this alive. She’s gonna die, right here in this pink and red monstrosity of a fitting room, choked to death by satin straps, and, and- are those walls closing in on her or is she just imagining things?

A knock on the door of the fitting room snaps Robin out of her downwards spiral but her mouth still runs faster than the brain when she calls out, “Who is it?”

“Uh, it’s... it’s Nancy? I work here?” A woman responds from the other side of the door. “You were taking a long time and I was wondering if you were okay, if you needed any help.”

Help. Yes, that’s exactly what she needs. Someone who knows their way around all these lace-y things, who knows what she needs to buy to keep Vickie happy and get out of here as fast as she can.

“Yes.” Robin croaks out. “Yes, please. I definitely needs some help.”

Robin immediately regrets her decision when an actual angel steps into the dressing room rather than an employee. And Robin’s not over-exaggerating, the warm light of the hallway does make it seem like there’s a halo around her brown curls, but it’s Nancy’s smile that makes Robin grow weak in the knees. It might be a customer service smile that she knows all too well, but Nancy makes it look genuinely sweet.

Focus, Robin. She tells herself. You’re here for your girlfriend don’t get distracted by Nancy’s blue eyes or rosy pink lips or-

“Wow.” Nancy breathes, looking around the mess that Robin made of the fitting room. 

“I’m sorry! I just got overwhelmed and I just grabbed everything and then I just panicked and then- then this happened.” Robin rambles apologetically. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve seen worse.” Nancy smiles politely. “How can I help?”

“Is this sexy?” Robin blurts out and Jesus Christ, can the ground open up and swallow her whole right now? Why would she say something like that? 

But Nancy doesn’t seem all that bothered with her question. She just blinks and cocks her head to the side, examining Robin with precision in her eyes. 

“It is from our Super Sexy line, so it’s literally designed to be sexy.” Nancy says. “But the most important question is, do you feel sexy in it?”

Robin turns around and takes a good look at herself  in the mirror. The color of the bra is nice and the flower and butterflies that are stitched into the fabric are pretty, but she still feels the need to wrap her arms around her body and shield it from prying eyes. It looks like something Vickie would like, it’s similar to what she owns and wears, but Robin feels that it’s just not her.

“Not really.” Robin says softly. “I’m not... all of this. I don’t wear all this complicated lace-y, girly junk and- oh shit, I’m totally insulting your job right in front of you.”

Nancy chuckles and shakes her head. “Oh believe me, you’re fine. We have a lot of things that are a bit... out there, so to say. But if you tell me what it is you’re looking for, I can see if we have something you feel more comfortable in?”

There’s something in Nancy’s eyes that Robin can’t put her finger on, but all she knows is that she’s suddenly telling Nancy everything. From her bra shopping at the department store to Vickie (Robin’s just in time to call Vickie her partner instead of girlfriend) telling her the bras she wears are boring and how she’s here in the hopes of finding something that will make her partner happy.

Nancy listens and nods along to the story, asking her questions about her preferences for colors and styles and even though Robin has know clue what she wants or what she’s talking about, Nancy doesn’t seem to mind. She just smiles and explains things into further detail with no further judgement and that somehow puts Robin’s mind at ease.

Maybe things will be alright after all

“I think I have just the thing for you.” Nancy says. “What’s your size?”

“Uh, I- I think it’s this one?” Robin grabs at the price tag on her back, but she has to twist her way like a contortionist to be able to see it. Nancy’s at her side at a split second, looking back and forth between the price tag and Robin’s cleavage.

“I don’t think this is the right fit. Do you mind if I measure you?” She asks, grabbing the yellow tape measurer from where it was hanging around her neck, a stark contrast to the black dress she’s wearing.

And yeah, Robin does mind, actually. If the satin straps aren’t the ones that are gonna kill her, a pretty girl touching her boobs just might do the trick. Still, Robin finds herself nodding and lifting her arms above her head so Nancy can easily measure her. 

The tape measure is surprisingly cold when it hits her skin and instead of focusing on Nancy and her lovely petite hands, Robin starts reciting conjugations of French verbs in her head. It does little to distract her, mostly because Nancy is standing so close that Robin can swell the sweet flowery perfume she has on. Nancy’s touches are light and of course, totally professional, but Robin still feels a goosebumps spreading across her skin when Nancy’s fingertips ghost over her skin.

Christ, get a grip Buckley. 

“Be right back.” Nancy smiles as soon as she’s done and disappears out of the fitting room, grabbing the bras that Robin threw on the floor earlier on her way out. 

Robin leans against the wall and sighs deeply once she knows Nancy’s out of earshot. She really hopes that Nancy wasn’t able to feel the way her heart sped up just now, but the flimsy fabric of the bra she’s wearing probably did shit at hiding that. Her hand reaches up to check and yup, Nancy was definitely able to feel that.

Oh God, why can’t she just be normal for once? She has a girlfriend for crying out loud! Vickie’s the whole damn reason she’s in this pink boudoir hell-hole in the first place! She just has to keep her eyes on the prize and not let Nancy derail her from the process.

Which is easier said than done when Nancy reappears with a new bra in hand. This one is black and looks plain at first, but Robin is quick to notice the mesh detailing and cut-outs, as well as the silver decorative thread in the straps. It’s simple, yet still more exciting than any of the bras Robin currently has in her closet.

“Just let me know when you tried it on, okay?” Nancy says and with another sweet smile, she disappears again.

Robin shimmies out of the blush pink monstrosity she still had on and puts the black bra on instead. She can feel the difference almost immediately - the fabric is soft and doesn’t itch, the mesh detailing isn’t overtly sexy but just suggestive enough and it must be made of magic because her boobs have never looked this good.

Giddy with excitement, she knocks on the door and lets Nancy back inside.

“And?”

“You’re a bra wizard!” Robin beams, gesturing to herself. “Seriously, look at this! I’ve never looked this good!”

“Just doing my job.” Nancy chuckles, a faint pink blush appearing on her cheeks as she looks Robin up and down. “Uh, how’s the fit? Nothing too tight or anything?”

“Fits like a glove.”

“Good.” Nancy says. Her eyes dart between Robin’s face and her cleavage again, her gaze lingering for a beat too long, before promptly looking away, almost as if she’d been burnt. “Uh, if you decide to buy it, come find me in the store and I’ll ring it up for you, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” Robin replies softly.

Nancy nods and quickly walks out of the fitting room, shutting the door behind her with a loud bang. 

As Robin puts her clothes back on again, she can’t help but wonder what all of that was about. She knows she’s not the best with social cues but even she can recognize that there was something going on there.

Could it be-

No, no, Nancy is just a good saleswoman and Robin is just a customer in her eyes. Nothing more.

Still, Robin can’t help but feel guilty when she feels her heart skip a beat at the mere thought of not just being a customer to Nancy. With a loud sigh, she zips her jacket back up, grabs her bra and heads back into the store. 

She manages to find a pair of black panties that match the bra and armed with both of those in hand, she’s able to find Nancy on the other side of the store. Nancy immediately smiles when Robin waves at her and it does nothing to slow down Robin’s already rapid heartbeat. 

“Were you able to find everything?” 

“Yeah, got something to match as well.” Robin nods, awkwardly holding up the pair of satin black panties. 

“Oh, I know from experience that those are very comfortable. Good choice.” Nancy says, and yeah Robin’s not going to stop thinking about that one, isn’t she?

She follows Nancy to the register and her mind is still a bit hazy as she pays and watches Nancy neatly wrap her new items. She even spritzes some sugary sweet perfume onto the bag before she hands it to Robin with a bright smile. “Here you go.” 

“Thank you so much for your help, honestly.” Robin says. “I mean, you saw what a mess I made back there, I was so overwhelmed and you- well, you saved me, actually.”

“I was happy to help, really.” Nancy replies. She pauses for a moment, a frown appearing on her face as if she’s thinking about what to say next. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“I really hope you’re also buying and wearing this set for yourself, not just your partner. You should wear something that makes you feel good, not just because your partner wants it. ” Nancy says firmly. “And frankly, your partner is an idiot if they think you’re boring without a fancy-looking garment. Trust me, you don’t need all the extra frills and ruffles.”

That... That sounds suspiciously like a compliment, maybe even a flirty compliment and Robin’s brain does not know how to deal with that right now. Not after her meltdown from earlier, not after feeling Nancy’s kind eyes and cold hands on her, not while Nancy still has that twinkle in her eyes that makes Robin go just a little insane.

“Th- thank you.” Robin stammers. She grabs the bag a bit tighter, as if that’ll help her get back to reality. It’s still pretty hard though because Nancy looks even prettier in the daylight and- “I gotta gay. Go! I mean- I gotta go. Bye!”

“Have a nice day!” Nancy calls out after her, but Robin’s blood is pumping so loudly in her ears that it mostly gets drowned out. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what is happening to her?

A firm hand on her shoulder shakes her from her thoughts and Robin turns around with a loud yelp.

“Jesus, it’s just me.” Steve says defensively. “Did you buy the whole store or something? You were in there for a while.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. I’m good.” Robin nods a little too obviously, making Steve frown at her. Dammit, why can he always see right through her? But that doesn’t stop her from lying through her teeth. “I’m fine, Steve. Really. I promise.”

Steve hums, still unimpressed. “Alright. If you say so. Glad you got everything you need to woo her right off her feet.”

“Wha- what? Woo who?” Robin panics. How did Steve already know about that weird thing between her and Nancy? Did he have supersonic hearing or something? X-ray eyes? (which, gross, don’t use those eyes in a lingerie store, Steven)

“Ha, you sound like an owl.” Steve snorts. “But I’m talking wooing Vickie, idiot. That’s why you went in there, right?”

Right. Vickie.

brought to you by: me going bra shopping earlier today. also sorry to the vickie stans, i’m sure she’s lovely but she’s not gonna be lovely in this series. stay tuned for part 2! (kudos if you can spot an iconic line from glee that i just had to add in for funsies)

#ronance #ronance fic #robin buckley x nancy wheeler #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stranger things ficlet #stranger things #ronance ficlet #am i turning into a ronance blog? maybe #but the girls deserve some love too!! #okay going to bed now bye bye

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader[4.1k] that nick millar line that's like "stop being mean to me i'll fall in love with you." scoops!steve, record store!reader and some weird drabbles about how steve gets flustered i don't like this i'm sorry

Steve knew he was a goner when he spotted you stacking shelves at the record store. He’d asked Eddie your name and the boy had cackled, slapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Harrington, she’d eat you alive.’

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Steve had answered. 

You wore boots with laces that were never fully tied, fishnet tights, bike shorts and too big T-shirts that served as dresses, gold rings on your fingers and ruby red lipstick on Saturdays. 

You looked like trouble, like a whole lot of fun and Steve took Eddie’s warning as a personal challenge. 

The first time he spoke to you, it was on his day off and he shoved some dollar bills at Dustin, Lucas and Max, told them to go to the arcade and stay in the arcade. 

He found you behind the register, perched on a tall stool and flicking through records, cassettes littering the desk and your foot tap, tap, tapping against the wooden legs. Your store was quieter than the rest of the mall, so Steve tried to act casual, thanked everything holy that he wasn’t wearing his scoops uniform and browsed the boxes of music. 

He kept letting his eyes flicker to you, the store dimly lit and smelling like old books and smoke, a stark contrast to the sweet sugar and bright lights of Scoops Ahoy. 

It was nice, Steve noted, cosy, warm, a strange kind of quiet despite the music that played overhead. He didn’t even own a record player, not anymore, not since he’d been gifted a shiny new Walkman for his Christmas after his parents were out of town on his birthday. 

But still, there was something calming about thumbing through the sleeves, some pre owned and fraying at the edges, arranged in their own box that was labelled ‘already loved.’ The handwriting was neat and romantic looking, big swirls and loops in the L’s and Steve wondered if it was yours, if you were sweeter than your big doc martens suggested. 

But then he took his choices to the cash desk and you looked up from the price labels you were sticking to each record, a smile that was like sunshine and sin on your lips. You looked him up and down, one eyebrow raised and now that he was closer, Steve could see a gold hoop in one nostril. 

He swallowed, tried to say something cool, something flirty, something alluring, but his throat was sticky like honey and he was suddenly speechless.  Steve Harrington had lines, he knew how to flirt - sometimes it didn’t work, he could admit that now - but not a single word came from his mouth. 

You were really something. A smirk rather than a smile, jewellery making you glitter, eyes lighting up at the sight of him and Steve felt like he had a neon sign above him, a shiny big arrow saying ‘fresh meat.’

He suddenly knew what Eddie had meant. He was out of his depth. 

“Hey, pretty boy.”

God, scratch that, he was drowning.

Your voice was sweet, lined with a laugh, like you knew something he didn’t and Steve Harrington had never been shy in his life but your words had his cheeks tinted pink and he could feel the same heat at the tips of his ears. 

“Did you find everything you needed?”

He stuttered, stammered, licked his lips and nodded instead. It was that magic kind of flirting, the kind where no one really spoke but the idea was heavy and thick and tension in it made your head spin. And maybe you weren’t as affected as Steve was, but the boy felt a little giddy with it, eyes nervously dancing between yours and your hands, watching the way you bagged up his records. 

He didn’t even know what he’d bought. 

But he took the bag from you with a smile that made him look really soft, hand warm as it brushed your own and he didn’t even wait for his change, he just backed out of the store with a dazed look in his eyes and the sound of your laughter following him. 

—————

The second time Steve saw you, was half way through his lunch break, his hands full of soda cans and wrapped up sandwiches for himself and Robin, ‘cause there were only so many tubs of rocky road he could have instead of real food. 

You were rounding the corner the same time as he was, barely managing to avoid colliding, shoulders bumping and a can of Dr. Pepper falling to the floor and making a break for it. It rolled enough for Steve to deem it a lost cause, telling himself he’d share his drink with Robin instead of trying to juggle it back into his already full arms. 

But then you were catching it, wiggling it at him between a finger and a thumb as you carefully tucked it in the free space under his chin. He gaped, realising who he’d bumped into too late. You were a pretty painting, black lines above your lashes all cat like, lips coloured in a soft rosy shade. The sweater you wore was too big, bike shorts barely peeking out from the hem and you made music as you moved, necklaces catching against each other. 

You were lovely. But your smile was dangerous. 

“Thanks, uh, thank you- for that,” Steve managed, trying to gesture to the soda but almost losing two sandwiches and a bag of chips in the process. “Shit.”  

“S’alright,” you told him softly and Steve had almost forgotten what your voice had sounded like, because after the first visit to the record store, he’d been too embarrassed to return. 

He’d kept watch from behind the ice cream freezer, sighing over you as he refilled mint chocolate chip and scattered more sprinkles on floor than he did atop of cones. Robin thought it was disgusting. 

“Lunch time?” You asked and it was obvious, the way you were making conversation, seemingly actually wanting to talk to him but Steve couldn’t wrap his head around why. 

He nodded, too fast, hair flopping into his eyes and he had no free hands to smooth it back. Was he red again? He felt warm. You were smiling, eyes on his, scanning his face, taking in each of his features without any shame, bold in each of your actions. 

Fuck. You were really pretty. 

“Uh yeah, yeah,” Steve managed, “for me and uh,” he looked back, saw Robin leaning over the cash register with a grin on her lips as she watched on, more than amused. “And uh…”

“Your girlfriend?” You prompted. You sounded intrigued, voice still soft. “The pretty one in the hat?”

“Oh no, god no,” Steve replied and you grinned at how quick he spoke. He shook his head, fumbled another sandwich was still gazing at you from behind his messy hair. “I mean, fuck, she’s pretty and yeah, she’s wearing a hat but— no, not my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” you were smiling, arms crossed as you tried not to full on grin at the way the boy was floundering, trying his best to assure you that his co-worker was definitely not his girlfriend. 

“I mean, we’re friends,” he was telling you, “best friends but like, super platonic. So platonic. I’m single.” Steve swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “So single.”

You didn’t miss the little ‘fuck,’  he whispered into the lunch he was still clutching to his chest and his cheeks went from rosy to ruby, a flush across the high points of his face that you would adorable. 

You didn’t say anything, not yet, but you leaned a little closer and pushed yourself onto your toes so you could sweep a hand through the front of his hair, pushing back the locks that had fallen into his face. 

Steve wondered if he had stopped breathing. 

“That’s better,” you hummed and you couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at his stricken expression. He looked panicked in the best way. 

Steve nodded and you took it as a thanks because his lips were parted and his brown eyes were turning into honey and he looked a little wrecked. It was fun, you realised, watching the way he reacted to you. 

“It’s Steve, right?” You tapped at his name badge, still standing too close for what some people would consider polite but Steve smelled like sugar and mint and the forest, like cedar or pine. 

Steve cleared his throat, tried not to stare at your lips when you said his name and he nodded, “yeah, uh— Steve Harrington.”

Another grin from you, wide and bright and fucking magical, because Steve decided that every time you smiled at him he felt like he was turning inside out. 

“Okay, Single Steve Harrington—” he cut you off with a groan and it was suddenly your new favourite sound. “—I need to get back to work, enjoy your lunch.”

“Right, yeah, shit,” he winced at the way his voice cracked and Jesus Christ, he thought to himself, what was he? Sixteen again? “Uh, do I get to know your name?” It was a lie. He knew your name. He’d asked Eddie weeks ago. 

And you must’ve been thinking the same because you laughed, reallt fucking cutely, Steve noticed, nose scrunched and eyes bright as you said, “don’t play coy, pretty boy, I know who your friends are.”

You left him standing there, cheeks still flushed, soft hair perfectly rumpled from how you’d pushed it back and you couldn’t help yourself. You turned, a head over your shoulder, lashes lowered as you looked him up and down, doing the least you could to try and hide it. 

“Hey Steve?”

The boy's head snapped round to you, eyes wide as ever. His pretty face was a question mark. 

“Nice shorts.”

—————

The third time, Steve was almost confident enough to say you sought him out. 

Because it was a slow Tuesday and the summer outside had reached its peak, the sun warming the mall through the glass roof like a greenhouse, the air stifling and hazy. It was too warm for even ice cream, most of Hawkins had seemed to decide, and even the kids had passed up on free samples in favour of spending a day at the pool. 

But there you were, record store lanyard missing from your neck which told Steve it was definitely your day off. And besides, if he happened to have remembered your shifts, well, that was just a coincidence. 

You swaned into Scoops with your usual confidence, a glint in your eye and a surprisingly bright sundress on your frame. You were still glittering with jewellery, chains and trinkets on your neck, delicate rings on each finger, tiny gold daisies hanging from your ears. Your dress was a startling red, cherry coloured and all the bare skin on show meant that Steve could see fine black lines of ink peeking out from beneath the cotton. 

He smiled at the way you still wore your boots, laces undone and rolled socks peeking out the top. You had spent some time talking between shifts now, “accidentally” bumping into each other when the mall was still closed, early morning starts spent standing in line together for a coffee as Steve tried his damn hardest to remember how to speak in your presence. 

It got a little easier and Steve could hold a conversation without his voice cracking, but every now and then he’d spot you already gazing at him and you had a look on your face that could take a man down to his knees. 

And god, did you know how good you looked in that dress? Did you understand what you did to him? Steve thought that maybe you did because you were leaning over the counter on your elbows and invading all of his personal space with the smell of your perfume and cocoa butter body lotion. 

You tapped out a beat with your fingernails, Ruby red to match your dress, hands dancing in gold, rings that Steve knew woild look so fucking pretty wrapped around his—

“Hey, pretty boy.”

The boy dropped his ice cream scoop and from an empty table behind you both, Robin snorted. 

“Hey, hi… hi,” he settled on, ducking behind the counter to retrieve his scoop and he tried not to wince at how decidedly unsmooth he was around you. 

He’d panicked to Robin more than enough times about it. How he managed to trip over his words, even his own feet, when he was around you. But, despite his friends usual teasing and unsupportive behaviour when it came to his dating like, she’d surprised him with:

“Well shit, Steve, she keeps coming back, doesn’t she?”

“Hi,” you repeated, grinning. “How’s it going?”

Steve smiled back, wider than he’d have liked, too happy, too pleased that you were here on your day off, in his store, standing talking to him whilst you looked like that. 

The hem of your dress swung at your thighs as you tapped your foot to music only you could hear and you were looking up at him with the most wicked expression. Steve had realised you seemed to save those looks for only him, the rest of your time spent in the record store ignoring the boys who tried to chat you up with cheap lines and shit chat. 

Steve sighed and looked around the empty store. “It’s going,” he replied. “What’re you doing here? Aren’t you… off today?”

“Keeping tabs?” You grinned and Steve flushed. 

It was your favourite thing. 

“What? No, no I—” if Steve could get away with volleying a ball of raspberry ripple at Robin right then, he could’ve. She was hiding her face in the pile of delivery notes but he could hear her laughter. “I just— yeah, shit, maybe I am.”

His admission made you preen, straightening up to catch the ends of that stupid, little sailor scarf between your fingers. You lifted one brow, looked at the boy through your lashes and wondered if you listened carefully enough, would you be able to hear the thumpthumpthump of his heart. 

Steve was almost certain you would. 

“That’s cute,” you mused, sighing dramatically, wistful almost, as you tugged at the scarf. Steve jolted closer, lips parted, eyes hooded as he tried his best to keep his gaze on yours. But your lips were right there. And so were your tits. “It’s a real shame you don’t use that knowledge to work out when to take me out on a date.”

Even Robin stilled. 

“A date?” Steve asked and you were so close, closer than you’d ever been ‘cause he could tell your lipgloss was cherry flavoured, he could smell the artificial sweetness, could count the freckles on your nose. 

You nodded, smiled, let your eyes flicker down to where he was licking at his lips and you felt the way he sighed. He had a knuckle white grip on his side of the counter, arms flexed as he leaned in, letting you hold him as close to you as you dared. 

“Y’know… dinner, maybe a movie, a hot little fumble in the backseat of your car before you kiss me goodnight and go home to take a cold shower?” 

“Christ,” Steve breathed and you watched the way he flushed, eyes drooping prettily as he seemingly thought out your scenario. “Yeah— yeah, I can do that, fuck, we can do that.”

The grin that took over your face was more than pretty and Steve was about done for when you finally let go of his sailors scarf, only to reach up and brush back his hair again. He let you, eyes full of sticky fondness,  a little awe as your fingertips brushed across the top of his forehead. 

“Great,” you told him, backing away, boots scuffing across the parlour tiles. “You can pick me up at eight on Saturday.”

—————

Steve had never been so nervous on a date. 

The good kind, an excitement he’d almost forgotten about and he revelled in the way his stomach tumbled, cheeks flush and lips bitten as he waited for you to appear from your front door. 

You’d smiled at his shyness, ducked your head in a similar fashion when he told you how pretty you looked and then it was a night of feet touching under the diner table, stealing the crispy fries from his plate and Steve pretending that he cared. 

He eventually calmed down enough to talk about everything and anything with you, his job, education, his parents, his friends. And when he’d finished making you laugh like it was his new hobby, you both realised too late that you’d missed the movie. 

But you didn’t seem to care, happy to walk shoulder for shoulder with the boy through the emptying mall, watching him with a smile as he worked up enough courage to hold your hand. 

You let him, hands tangling, a finger gently prodding his pink cheek and he swatted at you with a smile, a fond roll of his eyes and then that was it. 

You didn’t leave his side after that. 

The windows of his car were rolled down as he parked up near the water tower, wheat fields and the forest hiding you both from the rest of the down. The summer air smelled sweet, like leftover barbecue smoke and wet grass and Steve had the radio on low as you teased him about his music taste, the way he’d bitten his bottom lip raw from being so close to you. 

He could take it better now, your little mean streak, the one that liked to push his buttons and turn him pink. He still flushed when you called him pretty boy, heard his breath hitch when you stretched your bare legs over his, back pressed to the passenger door as you let the wind pick at your hair. 

But he got a little braver and let his hands smooth over your shins, eyes flickering from yours to the way your sundress was played messily across the tops of your thighs. Steve was a gentleman about it though, listened when you spoke, asked you questions and got to know you, making those eyes at you, even if he didn’t realise. 

“Did you come in that day just to buy those records?” 

Steve snorted, let his cheek turn and press against the headrest so he could look at you with those big brown eyes, wild hair that you ached to brush away. 

“I don’t even have a record player anymore.”

Your laugh was a whole other type of song and it warmed Steve more than the summer night did. 

“You don’t?” You grinned, nudging a foot into his thigh. “Steve Harrington, you’re a damn fool.”

“If you keep bein’ mean to me,” Steve grinned, voice full of tease and sticky sweet affection, “m’gonna fall in love with you, you know?”

And he did. 

—————

You didn’t grudge Robin for the way she rolled her eyes at you upon seeing you walk into Scoops. You couldn’t. She knew, she knew that you knew. So you just smiled.

“Is Steve….?”

“In the back,” she groaned good naturedly. “You’re lucky we’re dead.”

You grinned, blew the girl a kiss and slipped through the staff only door. The door to the walk-in freezer hummed and music came from the break room, quiet and crackling with static from the old radio. You found the boy at the table, feet kicked up on a stool as he played with his empty bottle of soda. 

Steve lit up when he saw you, an unexpected visit as you were on a late shift at your own store, the chances of you both getting lunch at the same time slim. But you’d bartered with your boss, promising that all of the new stock that had been delivered would get done before close. He’d rolled his eyes and grudgingly agreed, muttering about your new boyfriend and how he was affecting your work ethic. 

You hadn’t used that word yet. ‘Boyfriend.’ And neither had Steve, but that was okay. You were enjoying that inbetween stage that came with uncertainty and butterflies, second guesses and kicking your feet in your bed at night when he dropped you off, each new kiss feeling like another first. 

And you were still making the boy blush, the prettiest pink across his cheeks, stealing reasons to touch him whenever you could, playing with the ends of his hair as he spoke, pressing a hand to the skin under his shirt when you wanted his attention. 

Which was a waste of time, if you asked Steve - you always had his attention, whether your hands were on him or not. Not that he ever complained.

In fact, he looked downright ecstatic when you dropped yourself in his lap, pleated skirt hitching up your thighs as you grinned down at him, pink cheeks, messy hair and sailor boy uniform to boot.

“Hey, pretty boy.”

“Hello to you too, trouble,” he’d gotten better at that part, talking to you without falling over his own words, more flirt and confidence in his voice than the first time you’d met. “I didn’t think I was gonna see you until after work.”

“Sold my soul for you,” you pouted, lifting his little hat and placing it atop your own head. “Promised that a full delivery would be finished before close.”

Steve tried to pout back, but he couldn’t help but smile at how you bargained just to be able to come see him. The sailor hat was perched adorably on top of your head, a little squint and with a cherry ice cream stain on the side. His hands palmed at your hips, squeezing gently and you lifted a brow to gaze down at him questioningly. 

“Robin already isn’t happy I’m back here distracting you,” you smiled, “don’t start something you can’t finish - or win.”

“Win?” Steve scoffed, “sweetheart give me a little cred-”

The boy’s words died in his throat as you stood only to swing a leg over his lap, straddling his thighs with your own, fishnet tights stretched over your skin. You brought your hand to his chin, caught it between finger and thumb and smoothed the pad of it over his bottom lip. You tugged a little meanly, let it fall back with a cute ‘pop’ and grinned at how he was already flushed for you, eyes a little glassy and unfocused, cheeks turning pink.

“You’re too easy, Steve,” you whispered, stretching your arms over his shoulders, fingers tugging through the messy curls at the nape of his neck. You leaned in as if to kiss him, turned before he could catch you and pressed your nose to his cheek instead, letting him feel your smile against his jaw before you mouthed at it.

“You smell so good,” you sighed, voice hitched a little higher than normal, a little breathier. “Could just eat you up.”

“You’re a demon,” Steve huffed, canting his hips up into yours, hands squeezing more tightly at your waist but he did nothing to stop you from tugging at his hair. He let his head fall back, exposing his throat to you and your mouth. “Baby.”

“Baby. Love when you call me that,” you cooed, planting a line of kisses along the column of his neck, nipping at his ear lobe as you pressed yourself against his chest. “Makes me feel so sweet.”

Steve groaned, barked out a laugh that ended in a hiss because you rocked yourself against him, grinding down and grinning. “Yeah? You’re anything but,” he lied.

“Mean,” you teased, bringing your mouth to hover over the boys, lips just grazing his. “You don’t think I’m sweet? That’s not what you said the other night.”

You were pouting, pushing your lips to Steve’s in a barely there kiss before pulling away, running a hand over the front of his hair, pushing it back so you could see the way his eyes glazed over at your words. He knew what you were referencing, of course he did. How could he forget?

“I distinctly remember you telling me that you thought I tasted real sweet in the back of your car,” you grinned, wicked, cupped the boy’s face and smoothed your thumbs over the high points of his cheekbones. “There is it,” you whispered.

A blush, pink and warm and rosy, just for you, even after Steve had spent countless times between you legs, lips sucking, mouth too busy to do anything but moan. He was pink even then. But this? Now?

“I think you’re the sweet one.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #stranger things fic #stranger things

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 04: lonely star

preview: ". . .He knows a part of him is right, what he said wasn’t wrong. Perhaps, he could’ve said it in a different way—whenever he remembers the dejected expression across your features, the attempt at covering up the hurt behind your eyes by pulling away from him as though he was fire—his heart sits heavy.

And then the two of you didn’t talk again. He didn’t bother to try to text you, and you would never text him first."

content warning: cursing, hanma owns a strip club, oral s.ex, unprotected s.ex, choking, hair pulling, no aftercare.

word count: 7k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa @bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

Tokyo was a bustling city. People escape from the mundane using any source of entertainment allowed. From going shopping to partying, the city provides numerous remedies for any challenging moment a person might experience. There, in the depths and labyrinth streets of Tokyo and its lively nightlife, exists a world that only unravels to those who dare seek it. Hidden between tall buildings and colorful signs, paradise on earth stands proudly.

A black car pulls up in the alleyway, parking right outside the back entrance of a disheveled looking building. The door opens and cigarette hits the dirty floor. A foot crashes the bud, adorned in squeaky clean shoes that do not fit the vibe of the creepy alleyway. Golden Glow reads in bright neon light right above the back door. The man’s slender fingers push the wooden door open, stepping into a vibrating world of sensuality and allure where reality and fantasy blur for hours on end at night.

The air is thick with perfume and anticipation, a line of rich men of all backgrounds sitting on the deep red plush seating facing the focal point of the strip club. Murmurs of who will be performing next fill the room and the tall man makes his way towards the VIP table.

“You’re late.” Kisaki doesn’t pull his eyes away from the curtains waiting to unravel tonight’s star, more or less used to this kind of behavior from his right hand.

“I had to take care of something.” Announces Hanma as he pulls his seat back and grabs a cigarette. The relationship he had with smoking was more of a toxic affair—a continuous tag of war between depending on the small bud and desiring a whiff of the substance when things get a bit too hectic. With each inhale, he feels a momentary release from existing. He’s never enjoyed it, not fully at least. Existing meant he had to abide by rules, which he never did. Breakups were nasty, women lashing out insults towards the man they called a God only a few nights prior—they should’ve known better, is what he tells them every time. He never claimed to be a good person, just a good—no, an amazing fuck.

Hanma’s dick serves as a distraction from his violent nature, he momentarily hypnotizes those women with each sharp and angled thrust from his hips. Deliciously dragging out moans, whines and profanities, proclaims of how godly he feels and how they’ve never had better. He is good at using and not giving much in return, he shows it through prioritizing his orgasm, only speaking when the dirty talk tips him over the edge. Shuji doesn’t budge as a pillow is thrown his way, ‘asshole!’ sounds from behind the door he’s just closed and he swears he could feels his fingers twitch. He’ll spare the cleaning staff of the hotel a blood bath tonight.

“You took too long,” Nahoya adds his two cents as usual, and the tall man wonders what the orange haired even provides for him to remain alive and attending special nights like these.

“It’s your club, you’re supposed to get here first.” Kisaki presses and the lights dim as the curtains open, revealing tonight’s a woman clad in a gorgeous set of deep red lingerie. She commands attention with the way her body carries her across the stage, each step is like a soft whisper, beckoning more people to look at her—admire her. She embraces the power she holds over the spectators, feeling a surge of dopamine push her to do better.

“You’re not my fucking dad. I’ll get here when I want to.” His fingers tremble as he drags the cigarette away from his lips, resting his wrist on the table as his whole hand shakes. You would think that years of smoking would get the man used to the motion, familiarized with the aftermath of each whiff—somehow, it doesn’t. Through furrowed eyebrows and behind framed glasses, Kisaki notes the unusual behavior from the man. He is far too moody, perhaps more than usual. Hanma took pleasure into killing, coming back from missions was almost as euphoric as an orgasm after being denied for so long. As far as his report went, the mission was done and Toman’s men were able to discard of the dead body rather easily. So what was wrong?

The younger man doesn’t say anything, he waits until the show wraps up and for people’s attention to drift elsewhere to speak to the taller man. As Hanma, not so quietly, slips away from the table and onto one of the VIP rooms upstairs, Kisaki soon joins him.

“So, wanna talk about what’s up your ass lately?”

“What do you mean?” Hanma’s voice is devoid of any emotion, but he still looks unimpressed as he casts half a glare towards Kisaki.

“You know what I mean. Something’s up your ass, you need to fucking pull it out and do your job. I don’t need a moody bitch as my first in command.”

Hanma’s heard worse over the years, he knows what it meant to be involved with someone as nasty and as disgusting as Kisaki. However, he was having a bad week and Kisaki came to him at the wrong moment.

“This moody bitch will blow holes into your brain and make it seem like it was a pathetic attempt to kill yourself. Don’t fuck with me.” The tension rises between the two men, silence engulfs the room that’s hidden to the rest of the audience. They’ve had to fight before, the scars littering Hanma’s arms a reminder of Kisaki’s knife slashing the man’s skin. The shorter man’s own scarred hands a grim testament to what Shuji was capable of doing. The two of them don’t speak another word.

Kisaki sits on one of the soft chairs facing Hanma, placing his gun on the tiny glass table. The other man does the same, and it feels like a silent agreement that neither of them was going to harm the other.

“I went to her place.” There’s no question about who he is referring to. Kisaki knows all too well who you are. He’s seen you from afar when you were all young, unknowingly grasping the heart of a delinquent who’s never known what the feelings he had for you even meant. His face twitches as he remembers the conversation he had with the man a couple of weeks ago.

“You found her?”

“She’s back in Shinjuku.” Kisaki doesn’t miss the way Chifuyu’s body tenses up when the two men mention your name. He’s managed to keep you away from this mess for years now, his plan was coming crashing down from a single interaction with Hanma Shuji. Like domino pieces lined up, the tattooed man blows on them and watches them tumble just for fun. He was after you just for fun, Chifuyu fears.

“And? What do you wanna do now?” Kisaki’s busy rummaging through papers in his drawers, he doesn’t lift his gaze as he continues. “Do you want the men to take her away or?”

Sensing his silence, Tetta raises his eyes and notices the deadly look on Hanma’s face. Had it not been Kisaki, a man who’s known him for years and was desensitized to his glares, he would’ve most likely fallen from his chair. His eyes became storm clouds, hiding their usual golden color and crackling with the threat of lightning. Hanma’s never cast him a look similar to this before, usually blessed with an emotionless face.

“No. I don’t want any of them near her.”

Kisaki leans back against his seat. He’s seen Hanma get riled up over things like missions going wrong, people pissing him off, testing his patience—this was a different kind of negative emotion he was displaying. Dare Kisaki say that it was fun to witness? Perhaps even unexpected from the tall man? But he doesn’t say a thing, only gives a curt nod and proceeds to finish the task at hand.

“Why is that?” he asks, curious to know what lead the man to end up in your place.

He glances towards his fingers which had long ago healed, he could still feel your fingertips against his skin, warm breath fanning over his wrist as you tended to his wounds with so much care, as though you were stitching a tiny tear in a delicate fabric.

“She cleaned me up.” Kisaki has to blink a couple of times, but he notices how Shuji keeps his gaze fixated on his fingers. He chews on his bottom lip out of habit. The band aid wrapped around them is unfamiliar, the man’s never taken care of himself this way—oddly enough, Kisaki feels that Hanma had a strange attachment to the adhesive strip keeping his healed cuts safe. It has been days since that incident, he most definitely did not need to cover his hands that way.

“Cleaned you up?” Kisaki pours himself and the other man a glass of whisky, pushing one of the glasses towards Hanma.

“Saw my hands and thought that I was in pain.” The taller man mumbles as he brings the glass of whisky up to his swollen lips. Downing the liquid like rapid fire, he slams the glass on the table and leans in his chair, head thrown back as he grunts.

“I think I fucked up.” Hanma admits, his hand covering his eyes. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you or your touch since that night. So soft, offering him what he has deprived himself of for years—you were so gentle with his hands, treating him as though he was made of glass. Your beautiful eyes witnessed the harm he is capable of causing to others, yet your soul set that aside to make sure he was okay.

Only for him to mess it up.

He knows a part of him is right, what he said wasn’t wrong. Perhaps, he could’ve said it in a different way—whenever he remembers the dejected expression across your features, the attempt at covering up the hurt behind your eyes by pulling away from him as though he was fire—his heart sits heavy.

And then the two of you didn’t talk again. He didn’t bother to try to text you, and you would never text him first.

He was growing impatient with each passing second. He wasn’t an expert at solving this kind of problems, let alone when it involved him in the equation. However, one thing was for certain; his insatiable need to feel you again made every moment apart from you feel like he’s been cursed with damnation.

--

October comes to an end, you start to accept the atmosphere of loneliness that settles like a heavy cloak over the landscape. The days grow shorter and the nights longer, there are Halloween decorations displayed along the entrance of every apartment door. It’s adorable. Pumpkins, bats, and your most favorite—cats are all over the fronts of every store. You look up and find paper lanterns with spooky designs, themed displays in shopping malls, and themed merchandise in stores. You find yourself yearning for the celebration to linger a bit longer.

As the days turn into weeks, Hanma’s absence becomes palpable. You cannot ignore that the lack of his pestering feels strange and foreign, when you had only started speaking to the man again for a couple of days only. Like a shadow retreating to darkness, it feels like he never existed in your life. You’re back to living life the same way that you did before he suddenly reappeared in your life—you don’t know why you’re disappointed. After witnessing murder with your two eyes, you thought that Shuji would scare you. He should. Such an unpredictable man with a history of violence that remains unknown to you should instill a deep fear in you. Then why do you find yourself craving the presence of a man whose ruthlessness carves a path of destruction? A man whose words made it feel like walking through a field of thorns?

You pay your feelings no mind as you drown yourself in chores, making sure there was no speck of dust left on each furniture of your apartment. A shower soothes your nerves afterwards, the motion of scrubbing the dirt off of your skin a subliminal attempt at getting Hanma’s aura off of you. You make yourself a cup of hot chocolate, top it off with some marshmallows as you settle on the comfortable couch with a soft yet heavy blanket draped over your shoulders. The movie you picked for the night is nowhere near comforting, but you brush it off for the sake of Halloween vibes.

However, those feelings melt away as soon as ears pick up on the sound of footsteps near your door. It was pretty late for anyone to be visiting you, let alone on Halloween night. You set your hot chocolate down and walk towards the door in quiet footsteps, praying that you don’t make a noise by accidentally breathing too hard.

Behind the door, Hanma stands looking almost apologetic. His head hangs low not out of shame, but because he sees your shadow from under the door. He holds back a chuckle.

 “It’s me.”

When he hears no reply, he pushes himself off of the wall and walks away from the door. An uncomfortable feeling gnawed at his chest, but he refuses to acknowledge any of it as his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He lets one dangle between his lips as he reaches for the lighter. Until he hears the creaking sound echoing in the hallway.

Glancing back, he sees that your door was no longer closed, but he couldn’t see you either. His feet slowly drag him towards your doorstep once again and the moment he attempts to peek inside, your face pops from behind the door. The both of you pull away at the same time, you almost close the door in his face but his foot stops it before you could close it shut.

“I had to hide my cat. He likes to escape when I open the door.” You announce with a tone that appears to be protective, very used to your fur companion’s habits. Hanma nods, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. It wasn’t until you break eye contact that he realizes he’s been staring at you without uttering a single word.

“Are you alone?” He can see inside your apartment, he towers over you with so much ease. You shift your weight from one foot to another, eyes avoiding his as you stare back at the TV screen and the obviously empty living room.

“Yeah,” you pause, glancing back towards him. “Why?”

“I was thinking you could—“ he wiggles his fingers. “See if they’re okay.” You stare down at the band aids wrapped sloppily around the skin and have to fight back the urge to smile. “I tried to do it myself but I don’t think I did as much of a good job as you did,” which was true and very apparent.

You take a moment to consider your options, chewing on your bottom lip as you fixate your stare on his hands. It was relatively late at night, you were wearing a light sleep dress—this could either go right or horribly wrong. For now, you don’t mind taking the risk.

Pushing the door wide, you see the way his eyes glimmer as they scan your entire body from head to toe. He doesn’t hide that he is checking you out, even as he steps inside your place, he chooses to stare at you instead of scanning his surroundings like last time. You refuse to crumble under his gaze nor change what you were wearing, you close the door and make your way to the kitchen without uttering a single word.

Hanma suddenly thinks of something and he bites back the urge to smirk as he makes his way towards the kitchen as well. This is the farthest he’s been in your place, your kitchen is rather small compared to the one he has in his apartment, but he appreciates how full it is. From the fruit sitting on the counter, the coffee machine, the magazines, the small board where you have what looks like a to-do list written there—it feels homey. It feels like you.

You glance behind you, noticing the pair of shoes in your kitchen and don’t bother to look back, but you feel a tad bit annoyed.

“No shoes in my house,” no response. Surely, he wasn’t going to ignore you when you were about to take care of him.

“I said—“ your stomach flutters and your breath catches when you feel something land on your shoulder, hot breath fanning the tiny bit of skin exposed from your sleep dress falling to the side. You hold your breath for what feels like an eternity, body frozen in place.

“No shoes in the house?” his deep voice sends chills down your spine, his hands resting against the fridge instead of gripping your hips.

His fingers twitch when the smell of sweet vanilla and coconut hits his nostrils, your scent is intoxicating and he struggles with himself. Every instinct urges him to break free and surrender to the intoxicating allure, yet the tether of restraint holds Hanma firmly and keeps his impulse in check. He doesn’t want to upset you again, but he thoroughly enjoys seeing you like this. So flustered.

As he pulls away from you, you turn to face him and use the first aid kit to put space between the two of you, like a shield. If you were trying to appear intimidating with the scowl on your face, Hanma’s smirk tells you that you were failing miserably.

“What the hell is your problem?” you don’t even sound mad, just completely and utterly embarrassed. You were fighting a war between your brain and your needs—the warmth of his body lingered on your skin for far too long, and although his breath reeked of cigarette and something minty, it made you feel dizzy.

“You’re red in the face, doll.” He purrs, making his way towards the couch. This time, you were certainly not going to get down to your knees and treat his cuts. Not after the stunt he pulled.

“Shut up.” You groan, sitting on the couch.

“You’re like, totally vermillion in the face—“

“I will kill you!”

He snorts and comfortably settles on the couch right beside you. One glance at his hands and you can tell that it really isn’t that serious. You bring his hands close to your face, inspecting them as soon as you take off the adhesive strips. There are a few faint scars, but they’re all healed and he only needs to apply ointment to them for extra measure. You put them back in his lap for a few seconds, leaning forward to grab the ointment you placed on the small coffee table in front of the both of you. You don’t realize that you had both gone awfully quiet after that moment, for a few seconds you almost forget what his touch felt like until you feel a pair of eyes burning holes in your face.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” you blurt out, never meeting his eyes. You want to appear unbothered by all of this, by his intense way of giving you attention. But god knows how loudly your heart was thumping in your chest.

“Would you let me do it?” oh my god.

You don’t respond, you want to focus on the task at hand and step away from him as quickly as you can. The longer you felt him near you, the harder it was to contain yourself from matching his energy, his flirtatious comments. You were supposed to be mad at him, why did you cave into his request of having his minor cuts treated once again when the man ruined your mood the other night?

“No, I wouldn’t.” You say firmly, although your touch against his skin is very soft. Hanma can tell that you’re fighting an inner battle, you’re not good at hiding it. Your furrowed eyebrows make his own skin burn, his thumb craves to smoothen the skin of your forehead, get you to relax that jaw and melt against him the same way he does when the tip of your finger grazes his skin. He snaps out of his thoughts when he sees that you were already putting everything back in the white box, golden eyes staring between your hands and face.

“We’re done?”

“Yeah, you should be fine now.” You get up and head back to the kitchen, leaving Hanma alone with his thoughts once again. He notices that the movie you were watching was paused only 20 minutes in and the hot chocolate sitting on your coffee table was starting to go cold. It seems as though your night was just getting started and him showing up put it on hold.

However, Hanma doesn’t want to leave just yet. He can’t put his finger on why he feels the need to stay, perhaps the idea of going back into his car, driving to his empty place made him feel a little bit sick to his stomach. It was an unspoken rule for Hanma to never visit his place unless he really needed something. Clothes, money—he always packed those in a bag and left it in his car. His place—located in the heart of the city's shadows, is nestled within a towering skyscraper, its imposing structure casting long, foreboding shadows over the streets below. Whenever Shuji inserts the key card, he is greeted by an atmosphere steeped in mystery and menace. Dark, rich tones dominate the décor. Nothing about the 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms apartment made it feel homey. So Hanma avoided it like the plague.

He thinks he can find an excuse to stay a little longer with you. Should he take you out? He can’t. You were far too comfortable in your sleep dress to change into something else. The movie seemed interesting, perhaps a few sweet words would convince you to let him stay a little longer before he has to depart—

“Have you had dinner yet?” You break his chain of thoughts so easily, Hanma is a little taken aback at first. Glancing back towards you, he sees you holding two white ceramic plates in one hand. The pot, which he assumed had warm, homemade food in it, is sitting on the stove with a ladle inside. Were you offering him a meal?

“Not yet,”

“I figured you skip meals,” you say with a frown. You forget the grudge you’re supposed to hold against him, it nestles itself somewhere in the back of your head the moment you see Hanma lost in his thoughts. You glance at his face—not as full as it was when the two of you were kids. He’s never had chubby cheeks, but you could tell when the man had a good meal and when he hadn’t eaten properly in a while. You naturally find yourself reheating the food you made for yourself, grateful you decided to cook more than a singular portion.

“I don’t do it on purpose,” he clarifies, as though he needs you to understand where he is coming from but then his lips are sealed shut. He’s never had to explain himself to anyone, it’s a little foreign for him to be doing it with you.

“You forget?” you guess, your back facing him as you serve him a good portion of the katsu curry you’ve made. You make sure to give him a bigger portion than yours, assuming that the man has probably skipped lunch as well.

“Mhm.” With the way he engulfed you in his arms previously, you shouldn’t trust him so blindly and have your back facing him again. But you don’t seem to care as much, maybe even wishing he does it again. Instead, you hear a chair creak from behind you and see that the man has made himself comfortable in your kitchen. You hand him his food before sitting across from him, then the two of you dig into the food.

Hanma hasn’t tasted something this good in—14 years. Ever since his mother stopped cooking him a decent meal. You made a dish that’s such a delightful harmony of textures and flavors, engulfing him with a warm velvety blanket he would never throw over his own shoulders. He glances towards you and you’re focused on your food—at least, you look like you’re trying to focus. He sees that some habits never really left you. You ate fast, way too fast, never truly savored your food. You still had a habit of bringing the food close to your nose and inhaling the scent (he never understood why you did it). He can remember the last time you tried to smell something he was about to eat—a sandwich he had bought that had a weird mixture of ingredients, you leaned down to inhale its scent and Shuji swears he hasn’t laughed as hard ever since. The face you made was of pure disgust, pushing the bread back into his hands and away from you. You’ve always had such an expressive face—either that, or Shuji stares at you a bit too much.

The present situation mirrors your date at the ramen shop in sad ways. It is obvious that the two of you have grown apart, no longer needing to be so close to one another at any given moment. The person who sits across of Shuji Hanma is someone he recognizes but doesn’t fully know—he recognizes certain habits that even time couldn’t tear away from you. But your touch, your body and soul feel different. On them lingers this love and care you still held for the man along the years, but never to a full extent. It seemed as though even whilst with him, you were thinking of something else—somebody else. He could be mistaken and you’re just trying to push him away, but Hanma’s gut feeling never betrayed him.

His stomach twists in knots when he sees you reach for the jewelry adorning your neck—a necklace with a golden heart pendent. You hold onto it with so much care, cautious not to break the fragile accessory.

He is reading too much into it.

He pulls his eyes away from you once he’s done with his curry, polite enough to put his plate in the sink and wash it off for you. You stare at his large back in silence, contemplating your next words.

“Tonight’s Halloween.”

Hanma turns to look at you, his raised eyebrow an indication that he didn’t know where you were going with this.

“Yeah? You got a costume you want to show me?” he teases, bracing himself against your kitchen counter. You have to pull your eyes away from his hands and arms, ignoring the way your pussy throbs at how large he looks in your tiny kitchen. You realize what he says and make an offended face, standing up with your own plate and utensils and walking towards the sink.

“Over my dead body.” You nudge his side with your elbow, he moves away from the sink but still stands next to you.

“Okay then?” he questions as you turn on the water.

“You could stay and watch the movie.” You offer without looking at him. You were scared that your face would betray you, you almost slipped and said ‘with me’ and that would give him the upper hand, another thing to tease you about.

“Like a date night?” you halt your movements, quickly turning off the faucet and turning to stare at him. Your breath hitches when you see his face so close to yours. He isn’t trying to intimidate you, the playful glint in his eyes give away his true intentions. However, you can’t deny that having him so close to you was starting to be challenging for your self-control.

“I… I don’t know.” your voice is barely above a whisper. You try to build a wall between the two of you, put some distance, but it’s useless. Hanma stares at you with golden orbs that mimic lanterns lit up in the night, evoking a sense of nostalgia that felt so strange to you—

Up until now, Hanma was a mere teenage crush you had parted ways with on less-than-great terms. There wasn’t a single time during those twelve years where your heart yearned for the man, remembered the way he would make your stomach leap and be like a light at the end of the tunnel—why let such silly feelings resurface so unexpectedly? You could blame it on your celibacy, not having been out on a proper date for a couple of months now—but even as you look at it, you haven’t been this interested in anyone for a while.

What was Hanma Shuji doing to you? What was so different about him? Could it be that the man’s touch messed you up?

He steps closer to you, tall figure looming over your smaller frame in an attempt at caging you between him and the sink. He’s got a million things to say and yet, his lips remain frozen. Yearning to feel the warmth of your own softer, plushier ones. As you confess shakily, although your hands far too comfortable holding onto his shirt for it to sound convincing, he chuckles and you smell his minty breath.

Everything about him looks…inviting. You cannot look away from his neck, or his jaw or his lips. You’re lost in a trance, on this terrifying journey where you wish to be able to hear something other than your own heartbeat. Deafening, muting the world around you for a split second as Hanma leans down and captures your lips in a fiery kiss.

It’s different than the one shared at the ramen shop—there was no waiting, no longing for your touch for twelve long years. You were at hand reach, so close to him like a dream. Hanma needed you like the moon needs the stars, promised himself to tattoo the feeling of your lips against his for years to come—they fit perfectly against his, like a mold made specifically for his body. It’s surreal. The initial kiss is short, gently easing you into the sea of his passionate and intense loving, because when his lips reattach to yours, you’re being pinned to the wall.

His hands grab your face, they hold you in place like he’s been craving to breathe again for an eternity. You can smell him, feel him on you everywhere even with layers of clothes stuck to your skin, set ablaze like a furnace. His electrifying touch leave goosebumps in their wake, trailing from your cheek down to the back of your neck. There, his hand grips your nape before his fingers dig into your scalp.

When you gasp at his touch, Hanma’s heart leaps. Like a ticking bomb, it was only a matter of time before he unleashed a side of him he wasn’t sure he wanted to offer so early on. You’re such a tease, he thinks. Why were you giving him those eyes as he pulls away from the kiss? Why are you biting your already swollen lips if you didn’t want him to bury himself so deep inside you?

“Ask me to leave.” He says, voice firm as he tries to catch his breath.

“Shuji—“ you go for his face but he grabs your wrist mid-air.

“Ask me to leave, doll.”

“No.”

“This is your chance,” he leans down, close to your face and brushes his lips against yours. “—won’t stop if I start.”

“If I touch this,” his hand gropes your boob over your dress. “If I kiss this,” he yanks your head back, brushing his lips against your throat. “I promise you. I won’t be able to stop.”

At this point, you’re more than fed up with his teasing and crash your lips against his. You push yourself off the wall as get on your tiptoes to reach for his lips, and he decides to end your struggle and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You kiss him harder, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as he marches towards your room.

“Didn’t take you for a biter,” his words are muffled against the skin of your neck as he kisses there. You throw your head back, allowing him more room to work with and you feel your back hitting the familiar soft mattress. The bed was made, but the blankets are quickly discarded to the floor as Hanma’s mess of limbs loom over your figure and plant hungry kisses on the skin that’s showing.

Thanks to your choice in outfit, Hanma finds it easy to strip you naked. Skilled fingers undo your bra to reveal your breasts in full display, but his hands are busy groping at your mound. You gasp at how rough he is handling your body, but the wet patch forming in your underwear indicated just how much you’ve been craving this kind of attention. His lips attach to your hardened nipple, whilst his left hand twists and fiddles with the other one. It feels like he is attempting to nurse on you with how hard he sucks, golden eyes staring deeply at your fucked out face. Messy hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, and your eyes barely able to stay open as he gives your erogenous zones the right amount of attention.

“Mmm you’re so soft,” he teases the nipple with his teeth and chuckles when he feels you try to squeeze your thighs together from under him.

“Shuji,” you breathe out, as soft as a silken thread.

Pulling away from your breasts, he admires the hickeys he’s painted across your skin—branding you as his on your very first night together. Sure, he’s done this before but never this passionately. He wants those bruises to never go away, glued to your skin like a tattoo and a constant reminder that this is what being his meant. He attaches his lips to your skin again, this time on your torso—he travels down to your stomach, passes your belly button before kissing right above your panties. He notices how drenched they are and hisses.

“Fuck, you’re fucking dripping.” He says as he moves them to the side and his mouth falls open, drool threatening to spill. “All for me, doll?” his thumb teases at your engorged clit and you whimper.

“Don’t tease, fuck—!”

You react almost immediately as he attaches his lips to your clit. Your legs try to close around his head but he is having none of it as he grips your thighs and forces them open, continuing his assault on your pussy.

“Shit, shit!” you gasp as he lays his tongue flat against the bud before moving his head from side to side while watching intently as you writhed and twitched under his touch. There was no way you could escape his mouth, tongue moving down to lap at your folds while his fingers pinched your clit. Hanma craves to exist between your thighs for the rest of eternity, a place so warm and so wet, offering him the best of both worlds.

He pushes two fingers past your folds, grinning from ear to ear when he sees the way your body tenses up. Curling them upwards, the combination of his rough finger fucking and his mouth’s continuous assault on your clit makes you cum hard. You’re writhing, crying desperately for the man’s head to leave your thighs. Soft “I can’t—I can’t!” resonate through the room, but soon die down when he spares your pussy and instead, litters soft kisses over the inner of your thighs.

“You did so well, took me like a champ,” it seems as though the only time Hanma shows any emotion beside boredom, is when he has you under his mercy like this. It’s when he makes you blush, flustered, angry or in this case, cum so hard that you have to take a moment to remember your name—that’s when he feels alive, as though life is worth living again.

Your heart thumps loudly when you hear him fumble with his belt. A sound that makes your ears perk up, eager with anticipation. You push yourself up with your elbows, licking your lips when you see the obvious bulge in his pants. It makes your mouth water, and your hand reaches down to palm him through his pants. A rough hand grabs your wrist, you look up at the man hovering over you with lustful eyes. You stare at him through your lashes, neither of you uttering a single word—he is telling you not to touch, not right now, and you are craving his body like earth needs the sun.

You squeeze the bulge, lips parting when he closes his eyes and leans down towards you. You hear a soft groan emitting from the back of his throat, and it’s your sign to do it again and even go further. Hanma puts a halt to your attempt with a rough kiss against your lips, pushing you back against the soft mattress until you are whining against his lips.

“Oh what is it?” he says, almost mocking your sounds. “Do you need something?”

“Shuji—“ you are way too embarrassed by how he is speaking to you, staring to the side. But he doesn’t seem to mind your bashfulness, rather indulging it by kissing your cheek and then your pulse. The kiss on the cheek is a stark contrast to how roughly he finger fucked you, and when he finally releases his cock and you see the way it jumps—your stomach twists in knots.

That thing will reach spots your own fingers haven’t been able to.

You panic when he starts to tease your folds, hands pushing at his shoulders to remind him to use protection. You did not want to have a kid running around anytime soon.

“I’m clean,” he says and a part of you can’t help but not fully trust him. He sees the expression on your face and chuckles, leaning down to kiss your neck as you melt back on the mattress.

“I get tested frequently.”

“I’m not on the pill—“

“Don’t worry, I can’t get you pregnant.”

You don’t have time to question what that could possibly mean, lips forming an ‘O’. You are forced to lay back and take it as Hanma’s cock keeps going deeper and deeper—you feel full of him. A sob erupts from your chest as you feel him pull his hips back and then—thrust.

He repeats the motion a few times, piercing eyes scanning your face like a hawk. He wants to memorize your body like the back of his hand, wants to tattoo the feeling of your warm and soft cunt at the forefront of his mind—you are so soft and pliable, making sweet noises that he easily swallows by kissing you deeply.

“Fuck you’re so sweet,”

You moan into his mouth when he angles his hips a certain way, Hanma grins victoriously against your lips and uses his hands to grab the back of your knees. Pushing them to your chest, he enjoys the sight of you taking his cock like a sweet girl. You’re so cock hungry, practically begging him to fuck you silly with those glossy eyes staring deeply into his.

“Yeah? You like that?” he purrs, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. He removes one of his hands from the back of your knee and wraps it around your neck in a possessive grip, watching as the early signs of your orgasm start to creep in on you like a shadow in the dusk.

“Such a nasty fucking girl—“ filth continues to spew out of his mouth at the same rate as your loud whines. Your eyes can barely stay open as he quickens his pace, jaw going slack when his thumb brushes over your sensitive bundle of nerves. He shamelessly leans back to stare at your pussy as he continues to fuck it, watching as his cock slides in and out of you. The room is filled with wet noises, the sound of skin slapping against each other reaching Hanma’s ears as he takes in the sight before him.

You were so pliant beneath him, no longer putting up walls in his presence. He loved it. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock keeps nudging at that one spot that makes you dizzy. Your hand wraps around his wrist as he continues to pin you to the mattress by the neck, you stare up at him with glossy eyes, thighs twitching and your back arching off as you finally cum.

Hanma swears he has never seen something as magical. You feel like a magnetic force, pulling him closer with an irresistible allure that ignites a fire in his stomach and sets his senses ablaze. It tips him over the edge, he empties himself inside you with a loud groan as he lets go of your neck and holds onto your boobs as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

Now what? It’s not like he’s never had sex before, he was in fact very good at it—but usually, he gets up and leaves the moment he empties his balls inside. Now, he worries that you would get the wrong idea, that you’d think he’s using you—does he want to use you?

Isn’t this what he wanted all along? To fuck you senseless the moment he saw you run towards the metro station in your tight skirt. His mind was reeling with all the possibilities of what could be underneath the fabric—perhaps a matching set, or if you wanted to be a tease, nothing.

He starts to wonder what his intentions were with you—he wanted to be your friend without getting too close to you. He couldn’t afford having you near him at all times, that came with a cost he wasn’t sure you could afford. In your arms, he didn’t feel as though he needed to prove anything to you—not his existence, nor his power. And for a man who lives his life in pure chaos, a house that didn’t have a mess isn’t one where he belongs.

His hands pull away from your body, his eyes scanning your face only to find that you were fast asleep. He could wake you up and tell you to go pee, but like a puppet, his own fears pulled on the strings as they desired—his feet carry him towards your door in speed record. Glancing one last time at the pot you left outside, he closes the door.

Even as he drives back to his place, Hanma can’t brush off the burning sensation sitting heavy on his chest.

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

#moon's works #tokyo revengers #hanma x reader #hanma shuji #hanma smut #hanma x reader smut #hanma shuji x reader smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #fem! reader

[hezzabeth]

Everyone who lived on Baker Street had come out from the fog to eat Nanni’s dinner. This made perfect sense; Nanni was one of the few people in the park who knew how to cook meals using ingredients and an oven.

When the park was still open, Revati's home was a coffee shop called the “Mad Hatter Teaparty.” The walls were painted in eye-watering clashing shades of neon pink and green. The light fixtures hanging from the ceiling were all giant velvet top hats. The booths were giant flower teacups with tiny chairs and tables inside.

"Was there some sort of drug in the pineapple?" Revati heard Brigadeiro ask. Revati just ignored him and instead walked past each of the booths, collecting tributes; nobody ate Nanni’s for free.

The Paprikas sat in the blue and gold teacup, their neon orange hair clashing with the paint. The Paprikas were two brothers and their sister who had found themselves trapped in the park as children. Their parents had been vaporized by a towel-warming rack. Now they were in their mid-twenties and worked for Revati as hired muscle for free dinners.

"Who's the new guy? He's actually clean and good-looking," the youngest brother Brie asked Revati. "His name is Brigadeiro Bun; he's an off-world tourist who stupidly went to the wasteland," Revati said. "I was trying to find crystal roses," Brigadeiro smiled helpfully.

"Bridgadeiro huh? So your parents were Goup worshippers then?" The sister, Juniper, asked curiously. Revati vaguely knew that Goupism was a popular religion on other colonies. Over a thousand years ago, there was once a woman who apparently traveled the earth gathering the best health practices needed to be “happy.” "A white woman, and she stole most of her ideas from our eastern religions," Amma, who was a staunch atheist, had snapped with annoyance when Revati asked her to explain the Paprika siblings' religion. Still, despite her thievery, at some point, she had become a god. They firmly believed in things such as “psychic vampires” and “color-balancing therapy.” They also all had peculiar food-related names, mainly because the goddess had named her daughter Apple.

"Yes, they were. They insisted on coming here for a Wellness Day holiday," the eldest brother, Croquette, growled. "I miss mama's Wellness Day Avocado and chocolate cookies," Juniper sighed sadly. "It's not the same, but here I have a couple of factory-made ones in my pocket," Brigadeiro said, crawling into the booth. The Paprika siblings gasped with astonishment as he pulled a packet of cookies wrapped in gold paper out of his jumpsuit's gigantic pocket. "They got a bit crushed when I was kidnapped, but they're still good," he said, opening the package and placing it on the table. The Paprika siblings stared at the cookies, their mouths slack with shock. Croquette slowly shook his head, completely snatched the package, and began to serve the crushed crumbs amongst his siblings. "You need to keep this one forever," Juniper said firmly, and Revati just shook her head, moving onto the next table.

The next table consisted of the elderly Gupta couple. "You adopted another kid? If you want more water for him, we want more dried apples," Mrs. Gupta said, a small scowl on her wizened face. It was Mr. Gupta who had figured out how to gather and purify water from the atmosphere. It was Mrs. Gupta who managed and recorded all the water they collected, rolling it out like a tyrannical dictator. "Fine, one extra package of dried apples per week," Revati said before swishing grandly onwards.

Amma was sitting in the pink cup, her new partner Dusk Brisbane. Dusk Brisbane was a teacher from Titan, who, along with their students on a field trip, found themselves stuck in the park. Like all people from Titan, Dusk had inherited the ability to rapidly change biological genders. Titan had also inherited a name that meant a time of day and a gender. Dusk’s remaining students were sitting with Dityaa on a large cat-shaped sofa. When the invasion began, there were twenty-three of them. Now there were only five nineteen-year-olds left. Dityaa was holding court over all of them, sitting on a couch shaped like a giant grinning beast. "Your sister said you had an interesting night," Amma remarked as Revati sat down next to her. Nanni had laid out a plate of aloo mushroom curry. Revati picked up a piece of hardtack and dipped it into the sauce, refusing to talk. "So you're not even going to bother telling your side of the story?" Amma asked as Revati swallowed. Nanni always moaned that her cooking was so much better before the war. Years ago, Nanni worked in the city as a professional meal prepper for wealthy families that wanted to eat real organic food.

Nanni was proud of her ability to create one hundred percent sand-free meals using the most exotic ingredients. Nanni would bemoan to everyone that her meals were now a mess, that her spices were too basic, and that she never had enough salt. Revati, however, who had never tried anything else, thought her food was delicious. "I'm hungry! Besides, what's the point in telling my side? I'm sure Dityaa's story was more enthralling," Revati replied. "Every story needs both sides and the truth," Dusk remarked. As they spoke, their features shifted from a feminine middle-aged woman's face to a man's face with a beard. "You're not my creative writing teacher, and you're not my parent," Revati pointed out.

Revati knew deep down she didn’t dislike Dusk; Dusk was a perfectly decent person. Not to mention Amma had been so lonely until Dusk offered to help her teach the feral children a year ago. Still, it was a lot to get used to.

“True, but your mother did ask you a question, and I think she deserves an answer," Dusk replied in that same mild diplomatic voice. Revati deliberately ate another mouthful of curry before wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her dress. "Dityaa got attacked by some lady at the ball; the chutiya had A.I. eye implants! They must have switched on somehow," Revati explained. "Mind your mouth, Revati! There will be no swearing at the dinner table," Amma scolded her. "Her implants switched on? That's so odd; one of my students had AI tastebuds, but they stopped working the second we walked into the park," Dusk remarked, their face shifting back into a woman's as they glanced at one of their students. The student in question, Basil Paris, was sitting next to Dityaa, licking their hand. Dusk was right; in order to create true "historical authenticity," the park was surrounded by massive mirrors. The volcanic Martian glass blocked the "AI" life stream. "And what did you do?" Amma asked in a quiet, nervous voice. "I threw a glass of vodka at her face, and her eyes fried up," Revati replied.

"Can you take the children's sign language lesson tomorrow morning? I need to check the mirrors around the walls," Amma said to Dusk.

"Of course," Dusk replied, and Revati rolled her eyes.

"You don't need to do anything, Amma! I'm the elected leader of Baker Street! This is my job," Revati said firmly.

"You're only seventeen!" Amma protested.

"Almost everyone voted for me! Well, apart from Mrs. Gupta, who voted for herself," Revati said, and mother sighed.

"Fine! But you're not going to leave well after the sun rises, and you're not taking Cora and Laila! You can take Vivienne and Jay Jr.," Mother replied firmly.

Nine minutes past midnight.

Revati's eyes snapped open in the blue-glowing darkness. Slowly, she sat up, taking in the familiar shapes of the kitchen's walk-in freezer. Dityaa was sleeping next to her on the souvenir pillows Amma had sewn together into a makeshift bed. In the corner, the feral children slept together in a nest made of old soft toys. Nanni was snoring on one of the plastic shelves that had long ago stored ice cream. Amma insisted on them all sleeping behind the massive metal doors. To anyone who lived near any other planet, it would have been freezing, but Martians had evolved to withstand the cold.

Revati stood up and glanced down at Dityaa. Dityaa had worn her new dress to bed, ignoring the stains. The blood on her dress looked shiny black, her face shadowy blue. She looked just like Princess Savitri in the family book of fairy tales. Revati, on the other hand, had changed into her pajamas, which consisted of a long-sleeved men's shirt three sizes too big. The red fabric hung to her knees, and the words "Olde Landon Halloweenfest 3544" had been printed across the front. Revati picked up her blanket, draping it around her shoulders. Sleep wasn't going to return any time soon. Revati reached underneath her part of the mattress until she found the stories.

Outside the metal doors, Revati could hear distant voices, and carefully she slid the door open. Amma and Dusk were sitting together on the cat-shaped couch, murmuring to each other over tea.

"I don't see how they could know..." Amma began, and then she trailed off, spotting Revati.

"Insomnia again?" She asked gently, and Revati nodded, walking past the two of them.

"If you're going up to the greenhouse, be quiet; I made a bed for the boy up there," Mother replied.

"Really, Amma? You couldn't give him a bed?" Revati asked, opening the front door.

"He would freeze in the fridge, and he said he liked plants," Mother replied.

Outside, the fog was still shifting, and Revati moved ten spaces to the right.

"Evening, boss," Juniper's voice called, and she suddenly appeared holding a jar filled with glowing mushrooms.

"Any problems?" Revati asked.

"Nope, it's been a pretty quiet night!" Juniper said.

"Good, make sure your brother takes over your shift! We don't want you fainting from sleep deprivation again," Revati replied.

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo2023 #regency core #art #science fiction #life on mars #fantasy #speculative worldbuilding #winter wonderland #winter

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Candyland

Rockstar! (ish) Eddie Munson x AFAB! Bar Dancer Reader

Cherry Pie is always the inspiration for some absolute filth. Reader works at a Coyote Ugly type bar - you'll find out, it's hard for me to describe this one. Because I suck.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, suggestive content with the dancing?

The R-Bar, Chicago - 1991

Eddie is sweating his nutsack off, fingers red raw from shredding for almost two hours, voice sore and crackling. The mediocre applause that follows him off the small stage with the rest of the band hardly seems worth the pain. He snags a water bottle from a beat up trestle table, chugging it in relief as their manager Lambshank approaches; so named because he got shanked in prison with a lamb bone, true story.

“That was a killer set guys, great work, the crowd loved you!” He hails with so much bravado it verges on sarcasm. 

“Yeah, all fourteen of them.” Eddie deadpans.

“I counted seventeen.” Jeff wryly supplies with a rough croak, finishing off his own bottle of water.

“Alright, it wasn’t the biggest crowd, granted, but everyone has to start somewhere.” Lambshank reasons.

“Yeah, but we started this group eleven years ago, Shank.” Eddie huffs, he knew the rockstar dream wouldn’t be an easy one to achieve but he thought after graduating and being able to pour all his time and what little money he had into the band they’d be playing bigger and better venues by now.

He was fed up, every place was like The Hideout back home, filled with drunks, and sticky floors.  They did have a couple of genuine fans, who they appreciated even if they were slightly over-zealous in their affections; Gareth had never quite been the same since Luann, the forty-seven year old divorcee, threw her FF bra directly at his face mid-show.

“You fellas need a fun night out, get yourselves pumped up again and I know just the place.” Lambshank says bracingly, working his fists back and forth like a Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robot. Eddie scrubs at his tired sweaty face, pushing his hair out of his eyes, wanting nothing more than to shower and go to bed, god he was getting old. 

“Shank I don’t need a night out, I need to get some sleep.”

“Eddie, I promise you, you’ll enjoy it - and the first round of drinks are on me.” Shank offers teasingly.

_______________________________________________

“Candyland?” Gareth asks, reading the pink neon sign aloud as they all stand outside a rather nondescript looking building, the loud heavy bass thumping of music the only indicator there might be something going on inside.

“Candyland.” Lambshank affirms with a grin, gesturing towards the heavy door in front of them, a burly and surly looking doorman giving Lambshank a curt nod letting the group in.

It’s a cacophony of noise, and flashing lights, the place is packed to the rafters, the smell of stale beer and sweat heavy in the air. But it’s the movement from the bar area that catches Eddie’s eye, a group of women all around his age in various states of undress, dancing and grinding along to No Sleep Till Brooklyn - Beastie Boys, they also appear to be serving drinks.

“Welcome to Candyland boys!” Lambshank laughs, patting Eddie heavily on the back.

It’s certainly a show, the girls are laughing and screaming things out, men and women on the floor crowded up to the raised surface cheering loudly, throwing money, and generally having the time of their lives. 

The song finishes up, and the bar girls all jump down to be replaced by an older looking blonde woman with a microphone in her hand.

“Candyland, how are we doing tonight?!” She yells, to a deafening cheer. “C’mon I know you can do better than that, I said HOW ARE WE DOING TONIGHT?” She corrals with a fist to the air.

The bar shouts back in unison, even Eddie finds himself wanting to join in.

“That’s what I like to hear.” She laughs throatily. “Now I want you to give it up, and by that I mean your hard earned dollars, for our girl JETT!”

I Love Rock ‘N Roll - Joan Jett starts up, along with a raucous cheer from the crowd as girl jumps up onto the bar in black PVC booty shorts, a ripped white crop top, black bra visible underneath and black high-top converse, her back is to everyone as she claps her hands and stamps along to the beat, Eddie tears his eyes away trying to work out the best route to the bar in order to actually get a drink when Gareth starts tugging hard on his arm.

“Jeez man what?” Eddie huffs in irritation, Gareth points dumbly back towards the bar, mouth hanging open, Eddie looks again and feels his own jaw drop.

“Holy shit it’s -” Jeff breathes, the girl is finally facing the crowd, throwing her body back and forth, a huge smile plastered across her pretty face. 

“Y/n -” Eddie finishes his sentence with a gulp.

Eddie hadn’t seen you since graduation, but it was definitely you, despite your get up and apparent new found sense of confidence there was no mistaking your face. You had been something of a shrinking violet at High School, choosing to hang out with Eddie and the gang as they didn’t mind that you were painfully shy and preferred books to conversation, and whilst you had never been a fully fledged member of Hellfire you sometimes took part in the occasional campaign if they were short and Eddie coaxed you enough.

  It didn’t seem you needed to be coaxed into doing anything anymore though as you gyrated on the platform, hooking your leg and arm around a pole between the bar top and ceiling, spinning about seductively. You headbang slightly, before dropping low to grab a handful of dollars from a howling man, one of the girls behind the bar passes you up a bottle of vodka and you expertly pour a shot into the man’s open mouth. As the song fades out, some of the other girls jump back up to join you, the vodka bottle in your hand being swapped for the microphone.

“Good evening Candyland.” You purr slightly out of breath, laughing loudly at the tumultuous response. “Life is sweet, but you know what? It could be a little sweeter, so how about we pour a little sugar on you?” You ask suggestively, throwing your arms up as Pour Some Sugar On Me - Def Leppard rings out.

Eddie doesn’t know where to look, well he knows exactly where he wants to look but he doesn’t know if he should. You’re back to back with one of the other girls, both winding down to your knees, you crawl across the bar and Eddie finds himself standing tiptoes to follow your progress. You lay on your back, arching upwards, so your chest is on display, while a redhead girl in Daisy dukes wets your body with the seltzer tap. You screech wildly, shaking your head allowing the liquid to splash the front row, Eddie thinks he might pass out as the blood thunders down from his brain to his cock.

You move back up into a kneel, taking the tap and spraying it into the raucous crowd, whilst necking a beer you’ve taken off of someone. You and the rest of the girls line up, all bending sideways so you’re grabbing the ass of the other, spanking in time to the music, before shaking your legs so the muscles bounce and jiggle.

“This is insane.” Gareth says weakly next to Eddie, and he has to agree. You straighten up, spinning around the pole once again until you’re head on staring at Eddie and the group, a wide beaming smile of recognition breaking across your face. You seem to be dancing with even more enthusiasm now you’ve clocked your old school friends, hands running over your own form, as you strut up and down the platform. The redhead from before has a bottle of whiskey in her hand which she pours on her chest with a subtle nod to you, you lean in and lick the gold liquid from her skin, to rapturous hoots and hollers, tracing your tongue up her neck until you meet her mouth; Eddie notices more dollar bills clutched in your hands as you pull away.

The song comes to an end, and you instantly jump down into the crowd, pushing patrons out of your way, practically racing towards the band.

“OH MY GOD, HI!” You shout excitedly, barrelling straight into Eddie first, he barely has time to snap out of his funk and embrace you back before you're pulling away to address the others. You’re flushed with exertion, but to him you’ve never looked prettier.

“Gareth, Jeff!” You hail, bringing each of them in for their own hug, Eddie having to fight down a sudden surge of jealousy.

“Y/n! What the hell man?!” Gareth greets you with a laugh, gesturing to the hive of activity still taking place on the bar behind you.

“Girl’s gotta make a living, ya know.” You tease, punching him lightly in the arm. “It’s my Aunt’s place, she’s the blonde one up there.” You point to the older woman who revved up the crowd earlier, she’s currently pouring a row of shots, but all the while keeping an eye on her girls, including you.

“What are you guys doing here?” You ask casually, like you’re not standing in front of them scantily clad, and the source of their awkward crotch covered stances. 

“We’re on tour.” Jeff supplies.

“Holy shit - that’s so cool, where are you playing?” Eddie wants to answer you, but your devastating smile is making his brain short circuit.

“They played the R-Bar tonight. Lambshank, manager extraordinaire and long time patron of Candyland.” Lambshank butts in, offering his hand in greeting, you shake it and Eddie sees a slight wariness enter your expression.

“The R-Bar huh? I’d thought with how good you guys were in High School, you’d be playing bigger venues than that.” You don't say it maliciously, you seem genuinely concerned, and it sparks Eddie's brain and mouth back to life. 

“We’ve been trying to but it’s not been going so well.” Eddie says quietly, and you nod in understanding.

“Where are you guys playing next?” You ask with interest.

“We’re at the R-Bar again tomorrow night.” Gareth says, unable to keep the dismay out of his voice. 

“Ok, cool, leave it with me. Drinks on the house by the way, just go see my aunt. Catch up properly at close?” You ask quickly, already backing up towards the bar, slipping under the gap and whispering in your aunt's ear as you service the clamouring groups. 

  Eddie's gaze is firmly fixed on your retreating form, he always had a soft spot for you through school, ok maybe crush was more accurate, although he'd play it off as a brotherly protective vibe when people had asked but what he was feeling now was far from brotherly.

"I'll get us some beers." He says not caring if the others are listening, purposely ignoring Lambshank's request for a double JD, as he makes his way through the thronging horde, with a little elbowing he eventually gets to the front.

“What can I get you handsome?” Your aunt asks him, leaning across the bar. 

“Uh - four Coors Dry please.” He responds absentmindedly watching the way you’re shaking a drink at the other end of the bar, clearly flirting with every customer and doing a damn good judging by your overflowing tip jar.

“Would you prefer for my niece to serve you?” Your aunt says with a wry smile.

“Oh - uh - no sorry, just haven't seen her in a while.” Eddie stammers, slipping across a $20 bill.

“You’re Eddie right?” He nods, she smiles and it’s not too dissimilar to your own. “I'm Paula. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. She never used to shut up about you when she was a teenager, Eddie this, Eddie that.” She laughs, pouring the beers.

“She liked me?” Eddie asks in shock, the thought makes his head spin.

“I don’t think you need to put it in the past tense hunny.” Paula grins, sliding his $20 back across the bar. “You break her heart, I’ll get Doug the Doorman to break your fingers.”

Before Eddie can respond, your voice cuts across the noise once more, you’re up on the bar again, microphone in hand. 

“Alright Candylanders, it’s come to our attention that we have some very, very special guests here with us tonight -” The seductive lilt in your tone is back, commanding the attention of everyone in the room, but none more so than Eddie. “- all the way from my hometown of Hawkins, Indiana, they are the next generation of rockstars, the one, the only CORRODED COFFIN!” You bellow pointing towards where Gareth, Jeff and Lambshank are still standing. 

“They’re the real deal, and they’re playing at the R-Bar tomorrow, I know - I know it's a fucking shithole." You argue back to the murmured complaints. "But here's the deal, you all go and I will reveal my very secret, very intimate tattoo at the end of their show -” You teasingly pull at the waistline of your booty shorts, before stroking your hand down over your covered mound, the crowd going wild. “- Alright you bunch of horn dogs, save it for tomorrow, now let’s get this fucking party started!” You scream, throwing the microphone down to Paula, who gives you a huge wink.

Cherry Pie - Warrant blares out of the speakers, the girls clambering up to join you once more, pitchers of water in their hands.

“ANYONE ELSE FEELING WET?” Paula shouts into the mic, as you and the rest of the girls pour the pitchers over yourselves, Eddie watches completely enthralled as the water cascades over your chest and down your legs, barely noticing how Gareth and Jeff have joined him.

You stomp over towards them, a huge smile on your face again, dropping into an impressive front split, water droplets glistening over your flushed skin.

“Hey Eddie, you want a blowjob?” You ask loudly over the music.

“Do I want a what?!” Eddie asks incredulously, half laughing, half choking on his beer. 

You jump down, grabbing a shot glass, and two bottles of liquor, topping it off with some whipped cream.

“A blow job.” You present to him with a devious smirk.

Eddie throws his head back in a proper laugh, the kind of laugh you used to savour hearing through school, he moves to take the shot but you slap his hand anyway.

“Oh that’s not for you big boy, it’s for me. You need to sit right here.” You say patting the bar top, Eddie looks at you warily but hoists himself up regardless with a smile, you wink and then move to the other end of the bar, whispering something to Paula as you pass.

“Ohhhhh! Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like Jett is about to give some lucky guy a blowjob!” Paula shouts through the mic, stopping mid pour to ring a bell, Eddie’s ears hurt from the wolf whistles and stamping of feet.

Two girls, the redhead and a brunette, help get him in the correct position, legs spread with the shot in between, you get lifted onto the bar by Doug blowing a kiss to him and the gathered crowd. Sinking to your knees you stalk towards him in a slow crawl, he would never be able to listen to Smooth up in ya in the same way ever again. When you reach him, you lean in close to his ear so only he can hear you, his arm automatically coming up to steady you as you hover.

“When I touch your knee, put your hand on the back of my head, and when I touch it again let go.”

You move back, grinning from ear to ear, running your hands over his chest, down and down, fingers brushing his thighs, until you reach his knees; Eddie lifts a shaking a hand to run through your hair at the crown of your head, you wink again before arching low, ass in the air, he can see your lips wrap around the glass; he knows you must notice his raging hard on. 

“SHOT, SHOT, SHOT!” The bar screams and Eddie suddenly remembers there are a hundred people watching your antics. Once you have the drink secure, you run your hands back up his legs, tapping his knee once, he lets his hand drop from your head albeit reluctantly. You throw your whole body back, chest jutting out, swallowing the shot to ear splitting cheers and clapping, letting a carefully choreographed bit of liquid spill from the side of your mouth, using your thumb to seductively chase it back to your mouth with a firm suck.

You press a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips, before standing abruptly, taking a bow.

“Can I get one of those? Please?” Gareth asks, voice strained.

_______________________________________________

  The rest of the night passes in a blur of girls dancing, pounding music and alcohol but Eddie only has eyes for you. Even when Gareth gets his ‘blowjob’ from the redhead, Cherry, you’re still his focus, the way you move, how openly you laugh with the girls sharing private jokes, the way you handle yourself; fearless and so sexy. 

The bar finally closes at 2am, it’s oddly quiet now the sound system is off, only the chink of glasses being collected and general chit-shit fills the air. Lambshank is chewing Paula’s ear off about management opportunities, which she seems to be responding to with good humour. Gareth is following Cherry about like a lost puppy, helping her with clearing tables, and Jeff is asleep in one of the booths, a cocktail umbrella tucked behind his ear. 

You’re wiping down the bar top, a shy smile on your face, the one Eddie remembered from school, it seems the shrinking violet is still there once the music is off.

“So Eddie Munson the rockstar huh?” You say, voice a little croaky from a night of shouting and singing.

“I wouldn’t say rockstar.” Eddie murmurs, sipping at his drink.

“Is the band your only job?” You ask pointedly, spraying at a stubborn sticky spot.

“Yeah.” Eddie says, rubbing at his neck feeling self conscious.

“Well then, you’re a rockstar.” You grin softly.

“Alright ladies, you can all head home, Mr Shank here is going to help me finish up.” Paula calls, meeting your raised eyebrows with a sheepish shrug of her shoulders.

Eddie watches as Gareth attempts to rouse Jeff from his deep drunken stupor, wondering if he can manage to get him back to the hotel by himself, not quite ready to leave your side, evidently you are thinking along the same lines as you place a delicate hand on his arm.

“Shall we help get the guys back to your hotel?” You suggest gently, trying not to laugh as Jeff sinks lower into the seat trying to pull Gareth in for a spooning.

“You want to come back with me?” Eddie asks, surprised, not believing his luck.

“Yes, if that’s ok.” You say blushing profusely. “Unless you don’t want me to.” You add quickly feeling unsure of yourself.

“No! - I uh, I mean I would love for you to come back with me.” Eddie stammers, his face burning likely matching the same reddened shade as your own.

“Ok, just lemme go get changed.” You smile breathlessly.

The hotel isn’t far from the bar, and the thirty minute walk allows you and Eddie to catch up some more, sharing lingering looks and touches where you can, in between half carrying, half dragging Jeff. Gareth being absolutely no help, floating along behind slowly, waxing lyrical about how he is in love with Cherry.

“Should I tell him she’s a lesbian?” You whisper to Eddie, stifling a giggle.

“Let him have his moment whilst he’s still hammered.” Eddie laughs. “I’ll break it to him in the morning, assuming he remembers.”

Your head is swimming with all kinds of Eddie related thoughts as you try your best to concentrate on the task at hand, helping Gareth into bed, he passes out as soon as his face hits the mattress in the double room. Eddie situates a now entirely unconscious Jeff with some difficulty, before making sure they both have glasses of water and Tylenol on the bedside table ready for their no doubt horrendous hangovers.

You’re bubbling with nerves as he closes the door, but they abruptly disappear when he takes your hand, leading you down the corridor to his own room. It's small and basic but at least it’s clean. 

“So - uh do you want a drink?” Eddie asks, rooting about in a plastic bag on the side. “I have slightly warm Coke or slightly warm Mountain Dew.” 

“Such variety! I’ll take a slightly warm Mountain Dew please.” You laugh, perching on the end of his bed, rubbing your hands over your leggings.

“For Madame.” He passes you a can with a silly little French accent, sitting next to you with a can of Coke. “Gotta say it was one hell of a show you put on tonight sweetheart.” 

You’re blushing again, shaking your head in embarrassed disagreement.

“It’s nothing special, just silly little dances and tricks, but it pays the bills, and it helps Paula out.” You say dismissively.

“I think it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Eddie mutters, his leg jiggling with nerves or pent up energy, you couldn’t tell.

“C’mon Eddie, it wasn’t that good.” You mumble, thinking if your cheeks got any warmer the sprinkler system would go off.

“When you did that thing with the shot, I nearly came in my pants.” He says honestly, laughing at his own admission, it sparks something within you, the same feeling of fearlessness you experience when you’re up on the bar. You stand up, taking his drink from his hand and placing it on the windowsill with yours, kicking off your shoes and pulling down your leggings so you’re left in your panties and pink Candyland sweater.

“It would be a waste if you came in your pants Eddie, when my mouth is right here.” You whisper, sinking to your knees in front of him, praying you hadn’t misread the signals.

Eddie doesn’t give you long to worry, grabbing your face in his hands, leaning down to kiss you hard, tongue stroking into your mouth making you moan softly.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe this is happening.” Eddie murmurs against your lips as you unbuckle his belt, lifting his hips to help you tug his pants and boxers down. His cock slaps against his belly, long and hard, making your mouth water, you wrap your lips around him eagerly, tongue flat against the shaft as you bob up and down.

“Oh - f-fuck.” Eddie groans, hands back in your hair just like at the bar, gently guiding your movements. The room is filled with the sounds of your choking and sucking, the wet slide of your mouth over his throbbing dick, and Eddie’s whimpering gasps.

“Yes! Oh baby, your mouth feels - shit - so fucking good. Used to dream about you - fuck - used to dream about you doing t-this.” He moans, hips pistoning up to meet your open throat as you move quicker. “Can I - ah! Can I fuck you? Please sweetheart?” He begs, and it sends a surge or arousal through you.

You pull off him with a broken gasp, lips swollen and wet.

“Yes please.” You say sweetly, slightly out of breath.

Eddie’s hands are everywhere as he hauls you up from the floor, peeling your panties down, fingers tracing through your wetness whilst he kisses you deeply again.

“Condom - where the fuck did I put the fucking condoms?!” He hisses, stretching back down to retrieve his pants, you laugh peppering his neck with licks and nips.

You’re practically dripping, hovering over his cock, waiting with baited breath as he rolls the condom on, angling the hard tip to your slick opening. Both of you letting out loud moans as you sink down inch by inch, walls hugging him tightly, spasming with the stretch.

“Eddie - oh my god!” You whimper, nails biting into his shoulder, rocking against each other, his balls hitting your ass.

“Yesss, you feel like fucking heaven.” Eddie growls, using his strength to hammer up into you, both knowing the other wasn’t going to last long, the entire evening serving as foreplay. You bring your fingers down to rub roughly at your clit, whining into his mouth through messy kisses, each thrust of his cock bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Eddie, babe, I’m gonna cum.” You gasp, pussy tightening almost to the point of pain, vision going blurry as you climax hard.

“Oh god - baby! Fuck -” Eddie chokes out, arms holding you in a bruising grasp, head against your neck as he jerks his hips at a brutal pace, hurtling into his own release with a loud cry.

Eddie continues to pump gently into you, drawing out your orgasms, lazy kisses, and stroking touches bringing you back down.

“Goddamn, why didn’t we do this years ago?” He asks breathlessly, as you laugh with exhilaration, he lays back on the bed pulling you with him, thundering heartbeats steadily slowing.

“Y/n?” Eddie asks quietly after a time, fingers stroking up and down your thighs.

“Mmm?” You murmur sleepily.

“I know I was a little distracted back there, but - uh - I didn’t see any kind of tattoo.”

You laugh again, pushing off the bed, rummaging through your bag, throwing a small packet at Eddie.

“Candy cigarettes?” He queries in confusion.

“Yep, with a free Batman rub-on tattoo.” You grin, jumping back onto the bed straddling him once more, shoving one of the candy sticks into your mouth.

“Those are a filthy habit, sweetheart.” Eddie teases grinning widely up at you.

 “Care to do the honours?” You smirk devilishly, waving the temporary tattoo at him.

_______________________________________________

#eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson 18+ #strangers things eddie munson #reader insert #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson fanfic

[violetganache42]

Highlights from tonight's movie night celebrating some of the different teams Donald has been a part of in categorized and chronological order (I honestly like this format. I might stick with it):

"Boat Builders":

Good news: The short has subtitles! Bad news: They're not in English, so you still can't understand what the fuck Donald is saying.

Donald: "Yeah, even a child can do it!" Godfrey: "Even Della could do it!"

justaboot: "god's third choice after the 3 stooges"

Max's mother has been found

"The First Adventure!":

Bradford Hate Club

Ludwig appearance!

puffywuffy8904: "he's serving whatever the opposite of cunt is" WriteBackAtYa: "So di—"

(I love this screenshot. 😂)

The reference to Della's letter

WriteBackAtYa and I being on the same wavelength

Eat the rich uncle (Sorry, Scrooge, but I had to. XD)

"You can't mute me, old man!"

RIP Donald's guitar

The Temple of Doom parallel!

PAPYRUS

"Treasure of the Golden Suns" easter egg!

"fragile old body"

POGO CANE

Black Heron doing the smug anime girl laugh (You know what I'm talking about.)

"I'm the chosen one!" Pure Deweycore

"So long, suckers!"

Just Black Heron in general (She's a fun villain. lol)

DONALD KILL

Us ranting about Bradford using the Papyrus of Binding to escape like the COWARD THAT HE IS! WHY WE OUGHTA— COME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE—

If I had a nickel for every time Black Heron lost her robot arm, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

Me: "BEAKLEY YOU FOOL" Godfrey: "YOU FUCKING FOOOOOOOOL"

"The House of the Lucky Gander!":

Louie "I do hate hot dogs" Duck noticing the neon lights shaped like a hot dog

"We're all gonna die! I'VE WASTED MY LIFE!"

Launchpad deserves his own episode dedicating to his love life

Gladstone Hate Club

Scrooge looking at the camera like he's on The Office

puffywuffy8904: "gladstone you have a haircut shut up"

Huey autism moment

Just how bored and tired Dewey, Webby, and Scrooge were after seeing Aquarioon

Dewey and the jade tigers

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

27!

Webby's love for chocolate fountains

"And a distraction."

Scrooge: "I don't even get to be part of the blasted challenge?" Huey:

Real-Life-Pine-Tree: "Roasted duck anyone?" Me: "'Danny: I'll have the duck.'"

Louie's motivational speech

"Where did that come from?"

Us @ Liu Hai: RIP bozo (at least until DuckTales World Showcase Adventure)

The underwhelming Golden Cricket and how fucking bored and exhausted the family was

"Mt. Fuji Whiz":

LotTC basically being DuckTales on crack

Me: "Hell is a city. Where have I seen that before? 🤔" Godfrey: "Hazbin Hote—[gunshot]"

My idea of Clinton and Webby bonding over Clan McDuck history

Missy thirsting for Panchito

The return of the Ari the Autism Bird!

Xandra and the nieces in general (They're some of the best characters in the show. ^^)

*The Three Caballeros are stuck in the Underworld* AMJ: "We have a very simple solution." DT17!Huey: "This doesn't feel simple."

Jack Skellington moon

Donald saying the Karen phrase

Xandra and Charon clothes swap

Panchito being "that" guy

The Sheldgoose family tree taking notes from Goofy's family tree regarding the relatives' designs

IN THE PLUMS!

Clinton hugging Donald 💖

Tokyo? LIKE IN DUCKTALES!

"Potatoland":

Dreamy: "SEE HE HAS 27 FINGERS" Me: "27!"

POTATOLAND! POTATOLAND!

"Mickey, I am fed up with your bullshit devil magic."

Praising Mickey's characterization in the Paul Rudish shorts

Donald's blush

No more Idaho

Just the whole short in general. It's the best. XD

"Mickey, Donald, Goofy: The Three Musketeers":

Black Arts Beagle's Musketeer cousins

puffywuffy8904: "they wanna be Scrooge soooo bad"

Donald being, and I quote Jamie, "a punk bitch" in this movie

The return of Pete Hate Club

"Whoa, he's bisexual, I didn't know that!"/"By the way, I'm bisexual! I forgot, I- forgot to announce it! How do you turn this shit off- wait-"

The entire opera gag

Clarabelle appearance!

Dreamy pointing out the parallels how Pete is to Minnie what Bradford is to Scrooge

In the Hall of the Mountain King

"Why did the music stop?"

"Together, we'll save the princess or die trying!"/"…Die? …Die?"

melcat33: "Minnie discovers she's into bdsm"

WriteBackAtYa and I quoting Philip CD-i Legend of Zelda

The turtle trying to be the rooster from Robin Hood at one point

"That little diddy's starting to grow on me."

Pete referencing The Lion King

Donald FINALLY unleashing his iconic temper

melcat33: "Goofy finally being Dad Material" WriteBackAtYa: "But he was daddy material"

(Look what you made me do! /lh)

Pirates of Penzance

"Not long… maybe… 40 years?"

The movie ending with the fucking Can-Can

Learning about how Tokyo Disneyland had Mickey, Donald, and Goofy as the Three Musketeers and they all looked AMAZING (Why does Japan get all the cool shit?!)

#my post #duckblr movie night #dt cafeteria table #duckblr #boat builders #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales reboot #ducktales season 1 #the house of the lucky gander! #ducktales season 3 #the first adventure! #legend of the three caballeros #mt. fuji whiz #mickey donald goofy: the three musketeers #Youtube

[dinosaur-nuggets]

Wouldn't trade this for the world

wowee I wrote something 😍😍

Tsym @amorvincitomnia-14 (my lovely wife 💕💕💕) for the request

gn!reader x r!Leo

1,033 words (ik its not a lot, but its good and I like it so suck an egg)

Reader is stressed and overworked so Leo decides to help

No particular warnings, just some fluff <33

"Argh! I *have* the right formula, *why* aren't I getting they right answer??" You groan in frustration. You were on your fourth hour studying- or was it your sixth? Either way, you'd been here a while. The school library was almost becoming a second home to you. Your friend April speaks up, watching as you slump against the table and bury your face in your arms. "Yknow, you don't have to spend *all* your time studying- you could..... Take a break? Eat something? Spend time with people other than your study group and these ancient textbooks? Yknow, normal healthy people stuff?" You sigh, looking up at her from your arms. "I can't take a break. Not with exams right around the corner! If I wanna pass them, I *have* to study." You turn your attention back to the textbook, determined to figure out how to solve this equation. April closes the book. "Your brain can't work under all this stress Y/N. You *need* to rest. Why dont you stop by the lair? Leo won't stop whining about how much he misses you." Hmmmm.... It *had* been a while since you saw your boyfriend- or any of the turtles for that matter. Maybe a break would serve some use... "I'll think about it" you say, reopening the thick heavy book to the right page. April sighs, shaking her head as she grabs her backpack. "Alright then Y/N. See you around." With that, she exits the library. Now its just you, your notes, and a whole lotta studying.

˚⊹♡2 hours later♡⊹˚

God how long have you been here? You're starting to despise that familiar library smell of books and old lady perfume. You look at your phone to check the time. 10:13?? Damn..... You've been here a while.... You set your phone down and lean back in your wildly uncomfortable plastic school chair, exhaling a breath. You should probably go home. You load all your books and notes into your backpack and sling it over one shoulder, before immediately switching it to the other side. Thank you shoulder pain. You slide your phone into your pocket and exit the library out the back. As you step outside, cool air, a nice contrast to the hot stuffy library, hits you in the face as you stand and take a breath. Starting your commute back to your apartment, you put your headphones on and turn on some music. By the time you finally reach home, exhaustion clings to you like a thick heavy cloud. Man, you've been working a lot haven't you? Your phone pings with a text message from Leo; with all the studying, you've barely spent time with him. 💙Leo💙: 'Mi amor, I miss you 😢 Would you be up to hang out?' On one hand, you would *absolutely* like to spend time with him! But on the other, youre exhausted and overworked and just need a nap. You: 'I'm sorry babe 😟 I've been studying for exams all day and I'm just really tired 😞 I promise we'll spend time together at some point though' You send the text, knowing you're about to disappoint the nicest boy in the entire world; but you you're too tired to care. You change into something comfy; sweatpants and a t-shirt you "borrowed" from Leon; and head to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You return to your room, setting the water on your nightstand before climbing into bed and switching off the lamp. You get to sleep for some 30 odd minutes before you're awoken by a knock on your window. You sit up and turn on the light, your eyes taking a moment to adjust to the light. Looking at the window, you see none other than the one and only Neon Leon standing on the fire escape outside your window, waiting to be let in. Somewhat reluctantly, you pull yourself out of the soft warm embrace of bed and blankets to open the window, chilly air blowing in and pricking goosebumps on your arms. "Is that my SIX shirt? Ive been looking everywhere for that" Leo asks as he climbs in, bringing a plastic grocery bag in with him. "Thought I told you I was too tired to hang out" you say as you shut the window. "Youre dodging the question" he teases; "And I figured if youre too tired to come and spend time with yours truly, id come and be tired with you." He smiles at you, setting the bag on the bed and digging through it. "I got your favorite snacks, candies, that tea you like, and I even nabbed Donnie's laptop so we can watch something! And if you're not up for watching a movie, we can just sleep together. Well not *sleep together* sleep together- like- snuggling and napping together- yknow?" You can help but chuckle at him. He's such a dorky loser; but at least he's *your* dorky loser. You hug him, burying your fave in his neck to take in that familiar scent of peppermint sticks and black cherry merlot soap. "You're so amazing," you say, kissing his cheek and stepping back to look at him; "And it is your shirt" You smile cheekily as he scunches his nose and squints at you. "Why you little- that's my favorite shirt!" He says in faux outrage, bringing in the dramatics (something he's rather good at). "Thats why I took it. You wear it the most, so it smells like you" Leo can't help but blush. "You like my smell?" "Course I do. Makes me feel like I'm with you, even when I'm not." He wraps you in a hug, planting a sweet kiss to your lips. "Well I'm here now mi amor"

˚⊹♡-♡⊹˚

The rest of the night is spent lying in bed with Leo, sipping raspberry tea, and watching the Great British Bake Off. You eventually end up falling asleep cuddled up next to him with his arm wrapped around you, holding you close in a warm embrace and god were you lucky to have a boyfriend like him. As you lay sleeping next to him, you know you wouldn't trade this for the world.

❀⋆˚✿˖°˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .-. ° . ᡣ𐭩 °˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚ ₊‧⁺˖°˖✿˚⋆❀

#ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #writers on tumblr #rottmnt leo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #save rottmnt #rise leo #tmnt leonardo #leonardo #leo x reader #fluff #be nice #does anyone know how to use italics in ao3?? #Or on Tumblr? #anywhizzle #hope you enjoy

[sadhours]

neon lights pt. 1 | b.h & reader

18+ minors dni. - next chapter contents: adult themes, friends to lovers LAS VEGAS - 1989 Billy didn't realize it had happened until it did, two months of being in Vegas without a dime to his name, living in his Camaro and driving up and down the strip until any opportunity came along. He'd left Hawkin's after finishing courses at the trade school, a promise he'd made to his father but once he was certified for a handful of manual labor jobs and Neil insisted Billy join him at his job, he couldn't hang. He bit the bullet, dealt with the fight and told him he was going home. If only Neil could see him now, homeless with a bit of gambling habit before he'd even made it to California.

The constant party of this town had drawn him in, burning through his wallet and his ambitions. To be totally fair, he didn't even have a plan for what he'd do once he eventually got to San Diego. Finding his mom was about the only thing he really wanted to do but he didn't even know where to start. So he figured, this place was fun enough. He could stick around as long as this town would let him. He'd need a job though. And wouldn't you know it, the strip club seemed like the perfect place of employment.

Billy walks into the Rosy Cheeks on a Tuesday afternoon, asking for the manager and he's introduced to the house mother, which in his luck. She flirtatiously guides him to a booth after offering him a complimentary cocktail, which he takes graciously. "We don't actually hire male dancers," she says to him, an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, thank god, because I'm here for the bartending position," Billy teases, giving her his best fuck me eyes. He really needed this job so what he does to get it doesn't bother him too much, he'd been doing this for years now. Summer's spent working at the Hawkin's Community Pool were practice for moments like this, using the way older women treated him to get what he needed. It caught up to him when he was alone with his thoughts, so he made it quite the mission to never be alone.

"Have you ever bartended before?" she asks.

Billy smirks, "No but I'm a quick learner."

"We'll see about that," she says, "You start this Thursday."

When he's on his first training shift, you're walking in fifteen minutes late to your shift, not letting it bother you when you see the place is empty. You sigh out loud, heading to the dressing room, "I don't know why I bother showing up to this shift." The girls in the room laugh, applying their makeup in preparation for the rush you all hope is coming. You light up a smoke after changing into the set you'd picked out for your first stage dance, slipping your robe on over it but not yet ready to put the platform shoes.

"Ladies!" you hear the house mother Didi call as she struts into the dressing room, a man trailing behind her with an unruly mullet. He looks as if he hasn't had a haircut in months. "I want you all to meet the new bartender," she motions to him. "Billy, ladies."

"Hi Billy," the room rings and he waves adorably back.

"Hello, Ladies," he purrs and Didi pats his bottom as she's ushering him out of the room. Ah, there it is. During your time of the exotic dancing circuit, you had never seen a male bartender. It didn't seem to be good for business, at least at the places you've worked. You cannot help it when your eyes follow his ass as he walks away, his jeans were incredibly tight and he kind of bounced when he walked. Goddamnit, he's hot. You cannot mess around with a coworker again, though. The last time you'd hooked up with a bouncer didn't go so well.

Billy's remarkably well at his job, he keeps track of how much he's served the girls and he gets along with the regulars. Didi points out he can double as security which he does for you. He's leaving from his shift and you're leaving from yours so it made sense to walk out together anyways.

"Jesus Christ, that's a beautiful car," you spew, looking at the gorgeous midnight blue Camaro parked next to your beat up Volkswagen rabbit, which at one point had been your dream car. Unfortunately, you weren't the best driver and you struggled to keep up with regular oil changes or engine services.

"Thanks," Billy muttered, leaning against it as he lights up a cigarette. You peer inside and see the blanket and pillow thrown in the backseat.

"Are you living in it?" you ask, eyes widening.

Billy scoffs, "When I can't find somewhere else to sleep."

"Oh, Billy... Have you been looking for an apartment?" you ask, snatching the pack of Marlboro's from his shirt pocket to light one up for yourself.

"Sometimes I can get lucky and there's some vacancy at the 66 Motel," he shrugs.

"Well... my roommate actually just moved out three weeks ago. I've been looking for someone to take over the space," you say, "if you wanted, you could move in?"

"I couldn't," he tries, "I don't want to impose." but he does follow you home and crashes on your couch for a week until you insist he buys a mattress and takes over the empty room.

Slowly but surely, the room becomes Billy's and it makes you sad that he didn't have anything besides a suitcase full of clothes and his car. When you ask why, he admits he had a lot more things but he pawned them to pay for nights at the casinos.

"Ah, not a local then?" you'd asked, while the two of you watched TV and partook in a couple of drinks after a particularly boring dayshift.

"No, I'd never even been to Vegas before six months ago. I'm from San Diego, lived in Indiana for a few years and decided I wanted to go back home, got kinda trapped here," he explains.

You had been born and raised in this place, never knowing of anywhere else in the world. "The best of 'em get stuck here," you say in an effort to cheer him up, his story being a sad one. You don't ask him much else about his upbringing, learning that it could be a touchy subject and if people wanted to tell their backstory, they would. Billy never talked about his life before the short six months he'd been here. You didn't mind, he was always respectful and gave you space. Billy never comments about girls at work but he'd brought home a string of your coworkers, along with strangers. You two had a good thing worked out and after a while, Billy became your closest friend.

____________________

a/n: hi!! just something i threw together this weekend, I'll still be focusing on Wicked Sensation but sometimes i just get an idea and if i dont write it that instant, i wont at all. hope you enjoy!!!

#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove au

[kit-williams]

Night Out

Female Lead: A necromundian named Smoothie Universe/AU: Warhammer 40k/Yandere Space Marine Canon Status: I dont have any Yandere Custodes so not canon yet?

Note: This one was HARD because I don't exactly have any Yandere Custodes made. I'm still figuring out how to portray the Custodes and how much from Fanon/funny vas (like DreadAnon/My Golden Buddy/TTS) I'm going to be incorporating. (But this is less about how it is and more of what I'm trying to do)

She missed Necromunda that much was obvious as some glammed up tall boy told her she was going to be the cause for some great triumph. Yeah Smoothie heard that one before of some drugged out man getting higher then the spire. That was some really good shit she smoked too!

She crawled up the vent as she was going up and away from the area that made her nose bleed. She lived in a hive long enough to know if something was making you bleed you were most likely already dying but hey a little bit of radiation here and there wasn't going to kill her any faster. Though she was confused as she fulfilled what she needed to do... she had a kid... gross little thing with a grosser man but whatever if the Throne man said her kid was going to become important then she'd do it.

The glam man had asked her a funny question. Why she wasn't so torn up... a kid should be something that brings good memories about a good time. Everything in the lower hives was about survival and well having a kid was no easy choice like those upper hivers getting to have kids like its no one's business. She wasn't torn up because she didn't really care about the guy she had the kid with.

Maybe she shouldn't have answered and just fucked off then she wouldn't have been dragged to Terra. She grinned as she knew he was probably trying to find her, serves him right for putting trackers into her.

Smoothie crawls up the vent before kicking the gilded piece of metal open and breathing in the relatively clean air this high up. "God my tits are freezing." She mutters as she pulls herself up and stretches as she sits down on one of the golden gargoyles and waits for. "There you are big guy took ya long enough to find me."

She feels his massive hand grab the back of her jacket just like he did back in the hive. A man doesn't grab a lady like that for no reason... hell the rations he got for her always tasted better and she'll admit she was getting pampered here with some fancy golden collar. She smacked his hand, "Fuckin sit down feather brain." She says in reference to his plume.

"Smoothie." His voice rumbled with some slight annoyance.

"Just fuckin sit with me and enjoy the night out." She says lighting up some scum lho as she looks out at the golden sea. "Its pretty aint it..."

She feels him wrap her in his purple cloak as she is plucked from the gargoyle and into his lap. "Why did you need to come all the way out here."

"When we were coming in the first time I saw this... first time I saw anything from so high up." She says and her eyes sparkle with the same glow that she held when they were above terra at night when she was arriving. "I'm so use to being under everything seeing all the wires and the ugly underbelly and all the shit they try to hide but this... " She lets the blue green smoke roll out of her mouth. "It's pretty... and not so gaudy like everything else here. Who the fuck even decorated it's so much gawkin gold." She says with a chuckle as his massive arm wraps around her.

"Thank you for giving me a reason to... have a... night out." He says with a sigh as his stuffy demeanor melts a little as he holds her tightly and Smoothie just chuckles.

"Of course big guy I mean least this sewer rat you brought home can do for you." She kisses his faceplate grinning as she leaves a neon green kiss mark on the gold.

Fluffuary Taglist: @bispecsual @the-californicationist @egrets-not-regrets @libraryshadow @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

#fluffuary #fluffuary2024 #warhammer 40k #yandere space marine #adeptus custodes #yandere custodes #OC: Smoothie #Necromunda

[abibliophobiaa]

Okay so I need you to write something Steve inspired by the song Ode to a Conversation Stuck in My Throat by Del Water Gap. Let me tell you that song is SO STEVECODED OH MY GOD. I’m beginning you.

just a little blurb, of steve Harrington x f!reader. first time ‘i love you.’ (1K words) — also, i didn’t go literal on the lyrics, but this song just gives me all the summery vibes. so i hope you don’t mind!

——

The windows are down. Hot summer air curls in through the vents in the beemer. A hand grips your thigh, fingers through yours. Tiny threads sprawl between you, growing thicker every day. Weaving tighter.

His head turns your way. Hazel eyes behind a pair of sunglasses greet yours, his face leaning into your hand as you cup his cheek.

He taps out a beat unknown on the steering wheel, a Madonna song on your cassette tape blaring through the speakers. Your request, and his constant acquiescence to your suggestions. You're dizzy with affection for him.

An endless free fall with the boy you’re sure holds sunshine in his heart.

A few months. In reality it’s been a few months, and yet you’ve not felt this way in a long time. Quite frankly, and possibly, ever. Feelings growing deeper every day for the boy who had pulled over on the side of the road when he noticed your bike had a flat tire and offered you a ride home.

A boy you knew from high school, yet never really spoke to.

He’d always been unapproachable. Intimidating. A dark swirl of hair in the popular crowd.

And you?

You’d preferred the background, the comfort of your friends, the solace of your studies and books.

But it’s been years now, and long gone is ‘King Steve.’

Instead it’s syrupy sweetness. It’s honey kisses after a long shift working your job at the local library. It’s shared popcorn at the movies, rollerblading in the new rink they opened in Hawkins, movie nights, game nights, pool parties and chlorine-smelling skin. It’s mornings spent tangled in bedsheets, his arm around your waist, lips at your shoulder, and his ‘good mornings’ in your ear.

You like him.

You might actually be in love with him.

A fact that becomes clearer every day. Like a painting. Tiny splashes of color on a canvas, dreamy creams, pinks, lavenders and sky blues. All coming together to make up the emotions bubbling in your heart, the lightness of your soul, the way he makes you feel.

The car crunches on gravel as it comes to a stop. The boy with joy in his heart and your heart in his hands rushes around the car to open the passenger side door. Tugs you close to his side to deposit a kiss against your forehead.

Sickeningly sweet, joined by a whisper of, “I missed you.”

To which you giggle gleefully, “You saw me yesterday.”

And yet you understand, even as you take his hand and he leads you in the direction of the fair. You’d spend every day with him if you could. Would devote hours of your time to learning the boy who so seamlessly weaved his way into your heart, and would still find new things to uncover. To discover. Like a stained glass window. Each piece is intricate and detailed. Each serving a purpose. Coming together to create something beautiful, infinite, special.

Bright neons flash in his eyes. Cast glowing shadows across his face. Illuminate the intrigue in his eyes as you clutch his palm in yours and drag him along behind you, your skirt billowing in the cool summer breeze that flutters on by.

He grins as you stop in front of the ring toss boasting an endless array of prizes along the wall.

“Think you got this one, honey?” he asks low in your ear, hands around your hips, chin on your shoulder as you throw your first ring and watch it clatter to the ground.

The bored attendant flips a page in their book, and you try again, when nimble fingers reach over and clasp your hand. Steady it in the air. A puff of breath caresses your ear, the lightest flick of his hand intertwined in yours helping to coax the ring over the lip of the bottle.

A flash of hazel. A broad grin. “You did it.”

“You did,” you say, settling in a pair of arms.

“All you,” he murmurs, nose brushing yours, just as the attendant asks which prize you want. “She’ll take the polar bear.”

“How’d you know?”

“I saw you eyeing it.”

He whisks you away to the bumper cars. Shows you how to perfect your swish on the basketball hoop toss. Holds onto your polar bear as you try your hand at dunking the worker at the dunk tank.

Later, he grips your palm in his as you both spin around the park in your chair swings, watching as the world grows smaller and smaller before your eyes.

Colors bleed together from the sheer speed, until all you can see is him.

You kiss him in the Photo Booth. His hands on your hips, holding you on his lap, skirt fabric bunching high around thighs.

A light flashes and you kiss.

Another and he cups your cheek.

Another and he’s breathing heavy against your bottom lip, his forehead against yours, telling you he loves you.

There’s a final flash as you whisper it back, and the annoyed knocks of a line of teenagers awaiting their own turn greet your ears.

The two of you slip out hand in hand, your scuffed shoes knocking against rocks and dirt, the polar bear still dangling in your hand, giggling as Steve rushes you both back to the car that he winds around a side street before tugging you into the back seat.

“I love you,” you sigh, a little dreamily and a lot in love, still coming down from the high of Steve making you fall apart on his tongue, breaking off into a shudder as he slides your panties to the side and pushes in.

“I love you,” he breathes as he rolls up into you, kisses plastered against your bare shoulder, hand splayed over your back to keep you close. And even closer still.

“I love you,” as you later crawl over his chest after he’s fallen asleep and shut the light.

——

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you

[yoimix]

𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 | 𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦

series: yoimix christmas event !! (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)

pairing: alhaitham x reader

synopsis: if christmas is the season of giving, then you’re giving up on both alhaitham’s ability to play nice, and your teetering love life.

prompt: decorating the tree + mutual pining + modern au

genre: fluff, e2l

wc: 2.8k

warnings: language, this is just 90% bickering 

a/n: holy shit i got derailed from the schedule but i finally decorated the tree with my family (and attempted fixing the busted christmas lights) so merry christmas, my sunshines!! hope you have a lovely time and a wonderful year ahead ❣️

Alhaitham is a man of many talents.

Choosing Christmas ornaments is not one of them. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s aesthetically impaired or if he genuinely never decorated a tree before—but shopping with him has been one hell of a nightmare. It’s a shame he’s been selected as the one to host this year’s Christmas party. Lucky for him, the good samaritan in you decided to help him out. (Even though he told you to not bother and ‘mind your own business’.)

Not because you’re regrettably in love with him.

This year, Fate decided to stitch you a get-along sweater from previous years’ antics because you’re stuck helping him. You couldn’t refuse when Nilou personally called you up to make sure the background for the Instagram posts aren’t downright grotesque (of course, she put it rather nicely but that’s what she meant). You’d take any excuse to see his handsome face and sketch a frown onto it.

“Why the fuck did you buy the yellow ones? They’re hideous!” You hold up the bells, colored a neon yellow with sparkly bits and pieces, and certainly not easy on the eyes. It’s borderline vomit-colored. You never know how he manages to pick the worst thing that has ever befallen your eyes every time.

“They were Buy 6 Get 6 free.” Alhaitham shrugs. How you wish you could knock the nonchalant look off his face. 

“You don’t go by deals when you’re decorating!” You groan, exasperated. “Now we have twelve of these ugly motherfuckers.”

“They were also the first I saw in that aisle,” he answers, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand why you want to spend hours and hours walking around the department store when we can get the job done in five minutes.”

“Well, you’re doing a very sloppy job, bonehead.”

“At least we could get to the decorating part thanks to my intervention.” He crosses his arms. “Otherwise, we’d still be at the mall.”

“God, you are such a—ugh! Fine, let’s get on with it.”

Alhaitham hums in agreement—of course, he never bothers to spare more words than necessary. That’s an invitation to you, though, to provoke him till you have his full attention. Call it childish but you enjoy the cracks in his solid stances.

Besides, it’s not like he cares.

What you have is not a crush anymore—it’s festered into something more vile, more self-serving, and more fun. It’s not like it was back in college, when you could quarrel to your hearts’ content over assignments and exam scores. You have adult jobs now and seeing each other is much more irregular. You never expected silence to be so full of disquiet. 

However, the Christmas reunion every year gets blood rushing to your arteries faster than you let on. There is no greater spectacle for your friends than you and Alhaitham trying to one-up each other over every little festive detail. Last year, it was a squabble over the Christmas music selection, and the year before it was about the photos not turning out quite so well (Refer: Alhaitham’s lack of aesthetic sense), and once it was even about who’s the better driver just because you decided to drive to midnight mass. Let’s not even get started on preparing Christmas dinner. At the very least, though, your friends get to enjoy extravagant gifts from your unspoken gift-giving competition. It’s not like you’ll let a man flash his dollars in your face when you earn just as much, if not more. 

This year, obviously, you need to coach him on style.

“Don’t hang that on the tree—oh Jesus, I must personally apologize to you for whatever this heathen is doing to the tree. I promise I had no part in it—”

“Will you quit babbling and try to get shit done?”

You scoff. “I’d rather swallow concrete than let you put that up. I’m trying to save all of our eyes.”

“I highly doubt you have the capability.”

Alhaitham may not be that interested in this but like hell he’d let you do better. That’s the sort of man he is.

“You narcissistic ass…” You mutter, standing on your tiptoes to hang the rest of the little gift boxes.

“My, aren’t you sweeping self-awareness under the rug today?”

“Go fuck yourself, Alhaitham.”

You can feel the smirk on his face even if you don’t look up at him. 

To be very honest, you’re quite comfortable with how it is. Any step further, and you’ll be falling and scraping your knees; any larger distance and you’ll be bored out of your mind.

“Not that.”

You pull Alhaitham back by his sweater, somehow uglier than yours when you’ve been winning ugly sweater competitions since age eight. Seriously, whatever Eldritch horror rendition of a llama is on his sweater freaks you out. Apparently his niece stitched it herself so you’ll cut him some slack. It’s rather sweet of him, even.

“If not these, then what?” Alhaitham sighs, holding back the little neon murderers of the Christmas spirit. “Do you want to leave half the tree plain?”

“Obviously not, idiot. I’ll fashion some dice into ornaments. Ooh, maybe I can wrap some fruits in aluminum foil and hang them. I’ll paint.”

“What a nuisance,” he mutters, eyelids lowered. You swear it’s your lips he’s staring at but that can’t be possible.

It must be a trick of the light. You look away, shifting your focus to the leftover fairy lights. 

“And- and I have ribbons,” you continue, pretending you never noticed. “There’s also some Kalpalata lotuses we could stick in the branches. That’d be pretty, right?”

“Mhm, yes. Very unique.”

Your eyebrows travel halfway to your hairline. Alhaitham furrows his brows at your stunned silence, unsure of what caused the reaction.

“That’s the first time you’ve complimented me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

Alhaitham’s serious response to your rivalry used to be your best validation. It’s not like you mind the occasional nice words though.

“Ooh, that makes me crave it more,” you tease, elbowing him as he purposely avoids your gaze.

“You get older but never wiser, do you?” He grumbles. 

“Then, O Great Sage, what is your wisdom tonight?”

Alhaitham turns to you sharply, leaning in just enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. You can’t even take a step back for fear of the tree toppling. It seems he’s effectively grounded you. The lack of distance, however, does not fall inside your comfort zone. Is it terrible that you can’t stop staring? Everything about him is so annoyingly attractive, from the high cheekbones to the perfectly carved lips. 

“I know you enjoy pushing my buttons,” he speaks by your ear, voice low. “And efficiency is not a key you’ve ever held. But let’s try, hm?”

You’re only cheeky out of habit. “Do you like watching me squirm? Pervert.”

Alhaitham breathes out, clearly accepting his defeat. “It’s five already. Everyone arrives in two hours.”

You shrug. “We’re pretty much done, aren’t we? Unless you want me put in an ice rink and a cocktail bar too, your highness.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. You’re starting to miss the biting retorts. “Did you check the lights like I asked you to?”

“Oh shit.”

The Christmas lights are at least eight feet long and you have no idea why he has these. This man does not look like he feels any emotion from fairy lights. They’re braided every five light bulbs, and much to your and Alhaitham’s chagrin, they flicker and die midway. They are pretty though, emanatinga. warm golden glow. Very  

“God, I could be out partying right now,” you groan. “Why did I sign up for this?”

“That sounds like a plan. Please do me a favor and go partying.” Alhaitham takes the plug out of the socket, sighing. You press your lips into a thin line and snatch the plug, testing out the wiring. It’s just a little puzzle to solve. You’ve dealt with enough home electricals in your life. You can’t say the same for Mr Paper-for-brains.

“Despite your looks, you’re somehow the nerdiest loser I’ve ever met.” You huff, taking out each bulb and placing bits of aluminum foil to ensure the connections.

“What, because I don’t spend my Friday evenings inebriated?”

“Alcohol could do you some good, actually.”

He meets your retort with a sigh and you take it as a victory. You’re not some child throwing a tantrum that willful ignorance of your actions will get you to feel remorse. 

“It’s already sunset.” Alhaitham clicks his tongue. “The clock’s ticking and you still haven’t rid your habit of messing around with every little thing you see.”

“I’m not messing around! I just wanna solve it like a puzzle.”

“We could just buy new ones,” he states, a deadpan stare directed at you.

“...Or we could do that.” You turn away, breaking eye contact. “But seriously, don’t you find joy in solving some problems the hard way? Like, you wouldn’t set fire to a puzzle as an attempt to solve it.”

Alhaitham pauses, lips parted slightly but he can’t come up with a retort. He’s probably just amazed at your exceptionally stupid example. Even if that was your attempt to salvage your ego, you’re not entirely lying. You wouldn’t be here right now if you didn’t have the tendency to take longer, more troublesome, and more scenic routes. Your original sin is never letting go.

“Cat got your tongue?” You offer him a sarcastic smile. “I know it’s not the same—”

“The way you think is quite fascinating,” he says quietly. “I don’t understand—I’m drawn to it.”

You swallow your own words. Out of all the possible sentences that could’ve come out of his mouth, that wasn’t the one you were expecting.

“You’re creative,” he hums, tapping his fingers against the couch headrest idly. “And you’re strange.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

For the first time this evening, Alhaitham laughs. It’s dry, but it’s a deep sound nonetheless. You can’t take your eyes off him.

“Somehow, I can never understand you,” he responds, leaning back against the wall. “Maybe I never will. You piss me off.”

You let go of the lights and move to sit on the couch arm, looking up at him with a wondrous smile.

“And yet, you always stare at my lips. Are you so eager for the profanities that leave them?”

“I do not.”

A subtle snarl twists his lips. 

“Oh? You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

“Do I now?”

His voice is raised, and he’s no longer leaning against the wall. This is getting exciting. You’d do anything to keep his eyes on you.

“Yes, and you can’t stand it,” you state your theory, even if you don’t believe in it. There are limits to the lengths you’ll go, but you haven’t reached there yet.

Alhaitham knits his brows, clearly soured with the exchange by now with his tense shoulders and deep frown. You quite like that look on him. Especially when he looks at you like that at this proximity. It’s an honor to rile up the Alhaitham, infamous throughout your academic life. You’re not so bad yourself.

You blow a raspberry at him. “Do it, coward. Kiss me.” 

“You know what? Fucking gladly.”

Before you can process it, a soft pair of lips push against yours, while his hands hold you by the waist to keep you in place. You give in for a flash of a second, before you pull away with a gasp. That was not good for your heart. However, you’re not the only one in dire conditions. 

Alhaitham is a sight to behold. His face is the color of ripe Henna berries—you’re not sure if it’s from the kiss or the fact that he’s still pissed off at you. You reach out to press your palm against his cheek, the gesture softening his gaze ever so slightly.

This time, you tug him in, the kiss hesitant at first before the two of you ease into it. When your noses bump, you hold back a giggle and you can feel him smile against your lips. Oh, you’ve never seen all these hues and shades before. You pull away, and he nearly chases your lips before his ego yanks him back by the collar.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” You smirk.

“Not a chance.”

“Then look me in the eyes.”

Alhaitham meets your gaze with no protest whatsoever, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Even in defeat, he manages to look like the arrogant bastard he is.

“Lying doesn’t suit you, sweetheart,” you tut.

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow.

“Tell me again, what you said to me at graduation.”

“What did I say?” You feign ignorance. At the time, it seemed like an appropriate response to him holding up his 4.0 over your 3.95. The goal was never just summa cum laude.

“That you hate me,” he answers, pulling you closer and closer till his mouth hovers above yours. “Tell me you hate me and call me a liar once more. I dare you.”

“I hate you,” you breathe against his lips, “I hate you so much.”

“Liar.” The smile against your lips is sweeter than holiday season. In fact, it might even be comparable to your rich chocolate cookies in ecstasy. 

You pull away with a teasing smile. “Have you been thinking I hate you for all these years?”

Alhaitham rolls his eyes to the side, completely ignoring your remark.

“You like me, don’t you?” Your smile grows wider, a sudden rush of schoolgirl infatuation filling you. 

“How in the ever loving fuck did you come to that conclusion?”

The sarcasm drips like honey off his voice. As if you couldn’t fall any further.

“Maybe you should kiss me again, so I can gather more evidence for a stronger conclusion. I wouldn’t go wrong with my hypothesis.” You lean in, grinning as brightly as the stars in the sky.

He hums, fighting back a smile. “Well, I do support the scientific method.” 

“Okay, so whatever feud you’re having, I’m on (name)’s side—oh.”

Kaveh freezes at the doorway. Surely, the one image he never would’ve conjured up in his head was that of you sitting on the floor between Alhaitham’s legs, his arms wrapped around your waist as you sort through your Christmas cards. And the two of you are laughing. Is that not cause for concern? 

“You know, when people are built like a coconut tree, they shouldn’t be standing in front of doors—oh.”

Cyno is your next victim, and his jaw drops less conspicuously than Kaveh’s does but it surprises him nonetheless. He swears on his gold star espeon card that he’d sooner expect Alhaitham to drop dead than admit his crush on you. No, even if he got over his emotional constipation, Cyno didn’t think you’d be at peace without pressing something to his throat. It truly is a Christmas miracle.

“Boys, can we not clog the doorway?” Dehya groans. “I get that this is the first time you knuckleheads have ever sensed emotion, but we saw this coming a mile away.”

“Oh, don’t be mean, Dehya,” Dunyarzad pokes Dehya’s side, causing the latter to giggle and wrap her arm around Dunyarzad’s waist. “Besides, you went into shock too when I suggested they might have a thing for each other.”

Dehya opens her mouth and closes it again. “You got me there.”

“Alright now, everyone,” Nilou stands on her tiptoes to peek over Kaveh and Dehya’s shoulders. “I set them up and I can’t see the fruit of my efforts.”

“You did what?!” You yell, getting pulled down by Alhaitham when you try to get up. Shooting him a glare, you get comfortable anyway.

“Oh, now you hear me.” 

You try your best to not look offended. Alhaitham tilts his head to the side, an eyebrow raised in curiosity towards the information Nilou just dropped. There’s no schemes without him.

“You just needed an excuse and I knew—”

“Nilou, please stop talking, I’ll buy you more shiba inu figurines.”

“No bribe can—”

“Broadway tickets.”

Nilou makes a gesture of zipping her lips. “My lips are sealed, your highness.”

Alhaitham sighs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You do know that I’m aware of your advances? You’re not very subtle.”

Your jaw drops, offended. “I thought I was being sexy and flirty and mysterious.”

“You were literally none of those. All you did was drive me up a wall.”

“But did that work?”

“Yes.”

Kaveh makes a gagging sound. “If you guys start making out during Nightmare before Christmas, I will vomit all over you.”

“Did you pay rent or are you going to dirty someone else’s living room?” Alhaitham asks.

Kaveh looks away, whistling a note. It elicits a wave of laughter, and like dominoes, Christmas eve is set into motion. The presents line the base of the tree, the lights have been dimmed till only the fairy lights shine, and Alhaitham has started the hallmark movie after much grumbling. 

Maybe the Christmas spirit has some meaning after all; and you could debate this with your boyfriend, but it is the most wonderful time of the year to celebrate anniversaries.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #alhaitham scenarios #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x you #alhaitham imagines #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #al haitham x reader #al haitham x you #al haitham fluff #yoimix.fic #yoimix.event #ho ho holy shit im exhausted #alhaitham is my e2l king i love dialogue #went last min gift shopping today and had to wrap them at the speed of light #our tree is very handsome tho #so is the dog #the alternate title is: deck the halls and also his face

[neonblessing]

7.

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT! ⚠️ Click here to read Neon Blessing from the beginning!

She wandered the streets in a mindless daze, eventually settling into a familiar path, the steps hewn into her body’s memory like an image seared onto the screen of an ancient television.

There was a parking garage by the interdistrict freeway, where autonomous levcars flew past in vacuum-silent tunnels at a thousand miles an hour. You could skirt around the security cameras and duck the barricade if you were short enough, though Shiv had needed to hunch ever since she hit her growth spurt at fourteen. From there, it was a quick climb up the stairs to the roof, where no one could see them and no one cared and they would never grow up and never kill each other.

Hauling herself up onto the concrete wall at the edge of the lot one-handed was an undignified affair that had left her arm aching and face red. As she slipped for the second time, she could have sworn she heard Raz’s voice asking if she needed a hand. It was the exact joke they would have made if they’d been there, and she would have punched them for it and they would have laughed and she would have laughed. Swearing, she finally got herself up onto the wall and lay there, panting and embarrassed. She was glad to be alone and had never wished so badly that she wasn’t.

It was a hot summer day. Whoever had built the City, all those centuries ago, had left the seasons in, their influence felt through the artificial heating and the glow of the lights than through the glare of the sun. It was the same time all around the world, and it was summer everywhere.

On hot days sometimes someone would bring popsicles.

That was the thought that did her in, that one simple fact. On hot days sometimes someone would bring popsicles. One of her friends–now long stripped from her by time, by petty disputes, by death, or by treason–would get their hands on a box of popsicles, and they’d pack them into a beat up old cooler and share them here, up above the world and its problems. On hot days, sometimes, someone would bring popsicles.

Shiv made a choked little noise as tears made their unwanted presence known. They’d all deserved better. Gin, shot in the head by one of the Weeping Lady’s cop-cultists. Ogre was serving twenty years with GGC. Noro was–well, Noro was fine. He just hated her and the feeling was mutual. The same went for Johnny and Fish. Keene went missing, and Ben had still been waiting for her to come back when his cough took a turn for the worse. And Raz, oh Raz, oh fuck.

What were you thinking, Raz? Why did you leave? I needed you here. Did I really matter that little to you?

She thought she’d known them. If it were any other question, she could have given their answer for them, word for word, but when she dug for their answer in the little part of her soul where her best friend had lived, she found nothing but grief for a person she hadn’t killed yet.

“FUCK YOU! FUCK ALL OF YOU!” She screamed at Raz, at the Sorrows, at the gods, at everyone and everything. The cascades of the Diluvian swallowed all sound within their eternal churning, and though she yelled until her throat was hoarse and her eyes ran dry, no one heard her.

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#neon blessing #7 #shiv

[alltimefail-sims]

I think I made Celebrazioni D’amore kinda sexy...😏

I'm gonna ramble now!!! ↓

HOLY CRAP this lot has been a HUGE challenge. Every time I'd think I was close to being done, this freaking lot would provide me with an even more bizarre and questionable feature than the one previously conquered... but despite nearly throwing in the towel, here we are! Phew!

I changed so. much.

The biggest change I made is that I shrunk the building down quite a bit to eliminate the excessive, gaping, empty spaces that were quite literally everywhere and serving no function whatsoever. I also moved and downsized the mega stairs, fixed all the visual balance issues (like one side of the build being heavier than another or tables being off-center from the stage and etc.), made the bottom floor's main area an actual room (yes... that was an issue in the original build), removed the heinous carpeting (goodbye random cheetah print patches), landscaped basically from scratch, and so. much. more. I'm relieved to say that when I look at these pictures though I still feel like I'm looking at the same lot... just a more functional and aesthetically pleasing version of it.

The OG build made a good attempt at something adjacent to "character," and even though it was a bit of a swing and a miss, I wanted to maintain that intention. I never do nightclub or lounge lots so this became a great exercise in pushing myself to build in a style I don't typically gravitate toward. (Using neon, colored lighting and modern fixtures in the same build?? Unheard of for me!) Some of my favorite parts aren't even pictured, so I'm really excited to share the whole thing. Although I'm not done (fingers crossed that I'll wrap it up tomorrow...) I am pretty damn close, and that's a win in my book! I have two things left to do: first I need to decide if I'm going to keep the exterior paint colors (currently a combo of dark purple and magenta) or swap one of the colors out for something like a plain "base" (such as brick). After that I just have to... *gulps*...playtest it (yes I am shuddering and crying profusely. Ask your god to give me mercy). TLDR: I will probably post this lot by Monday at the latest, so keep an eye out for it!

One last thing!!! I promised it would be extremely DLC-lite... and it is!!! It uses less DLCs than every single one of my shell builds. Woohoo! Goal met!

Okay, I'm officially done talking now! If you read all of my rambling... you have my undying love and appreciation. You are also probably entitled to financial compensation for your time (note: we at B.B.R.U.* are not taking cases and claims at the moment, unfortunately). But might I say that you are cooler than the other side of the pillow? 😎 Hopefully that will suffice.

Byeeeee friends! ❤

*B.B.R.U. stands for "Broke Bitches R Us," in case you were wondering. It's my company and I'm the CEO, bless

#ts4 #simblr #the sims 4 #sims 4 #the sims community #ts4 screenshots #ts4 build mode #ts4 tartosa #ts4 my wedding stories #tartosa #in progress #personal #update #*V chats