#like i knew that but i wanted to know how thick the paper would be in a perfect world where the booklets are not springing open at me
justthatspiffy · 5 months ago
for somebody who does printing and also worked housekeeping it is hilarious how much of a baby i am about my hands. they are princess hands and they will never harden to the work required of them and every time i break a nail or get a paper cut or a bunch of microabraisions across my knuckles i WILL get emotional about it
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delirious-donna · 25 days ago
Sit Still [Jujutsu Kaisen]
an: a huge thanks to my bestie and wifey-to-be, @tired-biscuit, for supplying the thirstiest of thoughts ^^
prompt: cockwarming is such a simple pleasure with your handsome fella...
feat: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Itadori Yuji & Fushiguro Megumi
warnings: cockwarming (obvs), lil nipple play, semi public, teasing, implied sex
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Gojo Satoru
A hand spreads your thighs further part.
Nothing escapes that man, and the way your legs had been inching closed was halted by the warm palm on your bare flesh. Fingers kneading, clearly enjoying the little indentations made into your yielding softness.
"You think I don't notice baby?" he murmurs in your ear.
Gojo's warm breath sends shivers skittering across your dewy sweat-slicked skin.
How long had you sat here? How long had it been since he had impaled you on his thick cock and let you suffer?
You both loved and hated it; loved how full you felt, stuffed completely with that deliciously curved and girthy dick, but hated the absence of repeated friction and the static limbo you were imprisoned in.
“S-satoru,” you whined, practically throwing your head against his strong shoulder - a shoulder that was still clothed, unlike you.
The snowy-haired male was fully dressed, except for his cock that escaped through his lowered zip. You, on the other hand, had been stripped of your skimpy sundress the moment he laid his eyes on you.
“Uh-oh - using my full name? Am I in trouble baby? Call me Toru, you know how much I prefer it from your lips.”
Satoru ghosted his mouth over your pulse, sweeping across your shoulder and down your back as far he could reach without moving.
He gifted you one - precisely one - circle of his hips and you near exploded. A hand flew to hold his white locks as the other turned white with how tightly you gripped his arm.
It almost felt like you could sense his heartbeat throbbing through his dick, twitching in that annoyingly erratic rhythm and causing your cunt to clench tighter and tighter.
“Please Toru, want you to fuck me!”
He hummed softly, the weight of his celestial eyes seared into your soul despite how little you could see from your position on his lap. Gojo picked up his phone that lay idly on the couch cushions.
“If you can make it through my phone call with Geto without moving, I’ll give you everything you want and more.”
You could scream, pound your fists on his chest in frustration but goddammit you wanted to be good for him. The meek nod pleased him as the quiet chuckle brushed against your nerves.
“That’s my good girl - now sit still.”
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Nanami Kento
You had done this a hundred times, and yet it still felt as fresh as the very first.
Nothing could ever make you feel unaffected by the way Nanami’s warmth spread throughout your body.
It was early, you should be finishing your morning routine before heading to work, but instead you were in Nanami’s home office.
The tight grey pencil skirt that you knew he adored was hiked around your waist, panties slipped to the side and your cunt stretched around your man’s cock.
A finger toyed with your clit, a mere swipe of the pad that tickled at your sensitive bud while he read the morning paper.
You tried to focus on the words, tried to follow the articles but you couldn’t find the desire to care, not when you felt this good.
Kento pressed a kiss to your temple, pleasure dancing in your veins as dopamine flooded you. Your nose pressed into his neck, inhaling his spicy scent and mewling from the little jolt caused by the turning of the page.
“Kento, please.”
It was a dance at this point, a well-rehearsed two-step.
You would whine and beg Kento to have mercy, to give you the good morning fuck that you craved to help you make it through the day without murdering a colleague.
He would allow you to sink onto his equally as eager erection under the guise of it being a small inconvenience. Culminating in Nanami finally snapping, pressing you flush against the desk as he pounded your gushing cunt until you were both spent and breathless.
The paper fluttered to the desk, a hand wrapped around your delicate throat. Finger and thumb pressed into each cheek until your mouth popped open into a surprised ‘o’.
Your heart rate accelerated from this change in proceedings, slick escaped from your sopping hole, drenching your thighs and most likely ruining Kento’s expensive slacks.
His faint smile pressed against your neck, followed by a hot tongue laving a path across your pulse and up to your ear.
“Hmm, sweetheart. I think you’ve gotten a little too used to getting your way with me, I think it’s time to remind you that I am not always a merciful man.”
You tried to squirm, to find the friction that he was daring to deny you, but you were held fast by strong arms.
“Sit still sweetheart. I’ve got work to do.”
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Itadori Yuji
Pink hair, soft and damp around the edges falls to your breast. The guttural groan of Yuji’s orgasm lingers in the air, mingling with the heavy scent of sex.
Your cunt continues to clench in an attempt to milk him dry, a combination of yours and his arousal trickling out to coat your thighs and soil the sheets below.
Your descent back to earth is slow, the blissful weightless sensation better than any other adrenaline-pumping activity you could think of.
The twitch of Yuji’s well-endowed manhood made your thighs spasm, toes curling into his tight butt.
Nothing could beat the feeling of cradling your adorable beau to your body as only a lover could. Dainty digits scratched against his scalp whilst the other hand drew patterns on his rippling back.
“Mm, babe. Fuck - you feel so good. Never wanna leave,” he groans into your chest, his cheek nuzzling your sensitive skin.
Itadori seems content to remain buried in your warmth, happy to stay joined as his nose rubbed against your nipple.
“Yuji,” you moaned, every nerve ending screaming from the start of overstimulation.
Insistent lips latched around your pebbled peak, a hot tongue swirls around the flesh until a string of saliva connected his mouth to your skin as he pulled back to gaze at you.
“Sssh,” he cooed, giving a soft thrust to remind you that he was still very much hard and willing to use his cock to fuck you dumb, “just wanna feel you a little longer.”
The warmth in your belly returns at full force, Yuji repeats his ministrations on your other nipple but this time biting gently at your flesh.
You want to writhe, to buck your hips and create that sense of urgency that might spur your beau into another round. Anything to end this stalemate, the weight of his presence in your cunt is addicting and mania-inducing.
“Baby, please. Need you to move - aah.”
You gasp as he tugs on either nipple in tandem, hands holding you against the mattress to restrict your every attempted movement.
Yuji is lost in his need to feel you around him, how snug he is embraced in your heat, how utterly loved he feels from your rapid pants and the way you tug at his hair. The desperation to lace your voice makes him want to roll his eyes to the back of his skull, but he won’t.
His hazelnut eyes watch your face, loving every expression that paints across the pretty surface. The blush of your cheeks increases until you are bright red and sweaty. The poke of your tongue through clenched teeth and the completely fucked out glaze of your eyes.
Yuji could do this all day if you let him, and he certainly wanted to for at least a little while longer.
“So pretty for me, stay still and let me feel you.”
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Fushiguro Megumi
It’s a dangerous game, one you never thought Megumi would be up for playing, but here you were.
The room was dark, the only light emitted from the projector screen taped against the far wall.
You tried to remember the plot of the movie, to follow along with what was happening but it was impossible.
Open-mouthed kisses spread out from your cheek down to your shoulder, dark spiky hair obscuring part of your view as Megumi showered you in affection.
You rutted your hips, only an inch but it was enough for the almost silent groan to echo from the depths of his chest. A chest that was pressed flush against your back as he held you steady in his lap.
Teeth latched on your ear, tugging the lobe before a strained and quiet voice flowed inside.
“That was naughty, kitten. Do you want to get caught?” he asked, and the very idea of one of your friends turning their attention to the sofa that only you two occupied made your cunt clench.
The sharp inhale of breath was more audible this time, and you fought to squirm against the hold that was tightening with every passing second.
Megumi’s thick cock rubbed deliciously against your front walls, turning the dial up on how feral you were becoming.
Your man was too perfect, too adept at turning you on with the merest flick of his wrist. Fushiguro was not one for big flashy moves and he certainly did not need them when a slow, almost imperceptible smile and a crook of a finger was enough to turn you to putty in his hand.
Had you been alone you would be rutted against him as if you were a damn feline in heat. Mewled and leaned for what you needed and that was to be fucked out on his impressive dick.
Instead, you tried to steady your breathing. Tried to ignore how every minuscule movement was ticking you closer to forgetting to give a fuck that others were present.
Fingers splayed beneath the hem of your skirt, the graze of the pad against your aching clit was enough to make you bite your lip until the iron tang of blood hit your tongue.
Warm breath fanned your cheek, lips so close to your ear that they tickled.
“Make it through the movie, kitten. Then I promise I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk straight, okay?”
You could only nod, all words and use of your voice could not be trusted. It was imperative you last, that you make it through and receive your reward.
Megumi smiled against your pulse, nipping at the wild beat beneath the skin.
“That’s it, sit still.”
@starnightcat @azurelyy @ur-latibule-blog @allyallygator @lik0
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wintersldr1 · 6 months ago
tell me you’re mine.
part 2 to if you were mine
18+, minors do not interact
mob!bucky x f!reader
warnings: lots of smut, fluff, divorce talk, public sex, breeding kink, possessiveness, mob/mafia business
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Some would say that you and Bucky were in your honeymoon phase.
You could agree with them, for the most part, but the phrase suggested that the good times would end sooner rather than later - which was false.
You knew that life with Bucky would be lavish, but not this lavish. He spoiled you like a princess; breakfast in bed every single day, custom-designed jewelry, spontaneous trips to Europe - he gave you everything and more. He’d gift you the damn moon if you asked.
It’d been six months since the momentous night at the gala. You hadn’t spoken with Henry since, but today was the day you were placing the official finalized divorce papers on his desk.
Bucky had handled everything up until this point. You wanted absolutely nothing to do with Henry, and Bucky was more than happy to assist in making sure you never had to hear from him again. But the law firm you were using required in-person signatures, meaning you’d be face to face with Henry again - today.
“Good God, you are…” Bucky finished his sentence with a low whistle, running his large hands along the curves of your body as he stood behind you in the mirror. You wore a simple black dress with heels, deciding on the morbid color because you saw this as a funeral of sorts; an end to your marriage with Henry Claremont (not that you were complaining).
“You clean up nicely as well, Mr. Barnes,” you retorted. Bucky was dressed in his usual Armani suit, his hair pulled back into a low bun. The glint in his eyes told you that he had been looking forward to this day for a long time.
“And soon,” Bucky said, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin along your collarbone, “you’ll be Mrs. Barnes.”
You laughed, pushing away from the large man. “Says who? You really have to ‘wow’ me with the proposal if you want me to say yes,” you teased, but both of you knew that no matter how he asked you, you’d agree to marry him in a heartbeat.
“Have you met me?” Bucky asked. “You know I only give my girl the best.”
“I’m well aware.”
“Good. The car will be here in two minutes, doll.” Bucky grabbed your purse and escorted you out of the enormous master bedroom, down the spiral staircase, and through the main hall of his sickeningly large mansion. His hand remained on your lower back the entire time.
Within your first few days of being with Bucky, you quickly learned that his love language was physical touch - along with gift giving, of course. He was constantly in contact with you, finding any excuse to pull you into his side or wrap a thick arm around your waist. He was also brutally possessive, and would try to have any man who even looked at you killed. You had to remind him on multiple occasions that a side-glance was not a decent reason to murder somebody.
It wasn’t long before you and Bucky were seated in the back of his sports car, separated from the driver with a pull-up window. Bucky typically liked to drive, with you in the passenger seat controlling the music. But today, he wanted you all to himself with no distractions.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, his voice low.
You hummed. “Good, I think. I’m happy this is happening.”
Bucky smirked, unbuckling your seatbelt and pulling you into his lap. “I know you are, pretty girl.”
“Bucky,” you whined, rolling your eyes as his hands wandered up your thighs.
One thing you learned about Bucky was that he would find a way to get into your pants anywhere. He was insatiable, with an appetite only for you. That’s partly why your relationship was so exciting: the sex was mindblowing. Bucky was like no man you had ever met, or even heard about. He took his time with you, learning your body and what made you tick. He always made sure you were one hundred percent satisfied before he even began to think about his own pleasure.
“Sweetheart,” Bucky groaned against your neck, “you can’t wear that short little dress and expect me to control myself.”
“Maybe I did it on purpose,” you retorted, gasping when he bit into your skin. “Maybe I wanted you to lose control.”
“Well, it fuckin’ worked.”
He was quick to shove his metal hand under your dress, feeling around your panties and pulling them down hastily. You yelped when the car hit a pothole, but he only tightened his grip on you and continued to undress you. When his cool fingers came into contact with you, you sank into his embrace, breathily moaning into his ear. “Please don’t stop,” you pleaded.
“Never fucking stopping, darling,” he said. “You should know that by now.”
He slipped two digits into you and you immediately clenched onto them, throwing your head back. Bucky sucked on your exposed neck, pistoning his fingers inside of you. You could tell he wanted to mark you up, turn your skin red so that when you saw Henry, he’d know that you belonged completely to Bucky.
“Gonna make ya feel real good, sweetie,” he muttered, drawing his fingers out. “Gonna make you scream for me.” He fumbled with his belt, huffing in frustration. You smiled, pecked a kiss on his nose, and gently pushed his hands aside, replacing them with your delicate fingers. You unhooked his belt loops with ease, pulling it off and unzipping his pants. He smiled up at you, squeezing your waist with affection. “What would I do without you?”
“No clue,” you said with a smile, guiding his leaking cock to your entrance. “Please, get inside of me.”
Bucky didn’t have to be told twice. He shoved himself into you, groaning as his length filled you completely. Your walls constricted around him. “Never felt anyone this tight,” he stuttered, forcing himself into you repeatedly. “God, this pussy was made for me.”
You nodded against him, already sinking into his broad chest. He sighed into you, holding your tiny frame against his huge one with ease. “C-can’t take it,” you whined.
“Yes, you can, baby. You’re my good girl, right? You take what I give you. I fuckin’ own you, isn’t that right, doll? You’re mine, yeah?”
“All yours. I belong to you, Bucky.”
“Say my name again. Who’s making you feel like this?”
“Fuck, you are! Oh, god, Bucky,” you whined pathetically, biting into his shoulder so you didn’t scream. “You fill me so good. Never felt this good before, baby.”
“Yeah, you love this shit, don’t ya? You love when my fat fuckin’ dick is fucking you stupid? When you can feel me in your guts?” Bucky’s words were practically snarled at you, his demeanor turning vicious as he got closer and closer to his release. “You gonna come all over me, aren’t you, you filthy girl?”
You nodded, incapable of forming words.
“I know you are. God, you look so innocent. If only everyone knew how fuckin’ slutty my girl is. But I ain’t sharing you, doll. Never gonna share you.”
His words literally sent you toppling over the edge. You clenched, every single muscle in your body spasming and constricting as you screwed your eyes shut and opened your mouth in a silent scream. Bucky took this opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, covering up his moans as he thrusted into you a few more times before coming deep inside of you.
Your heart raced as you came down from your high. You realized your nails were clenching Bucky’s biceps so hard that you had indented his thousand-dollar suit. He didn’t mind; he had a hundred spares and could afford as many as he wanted. As long as you were the one ruining them, he didn’t have a single complaint.
“God, I’ll never get used to that,” you said through a sigh, nestling into Bucky’s shoulder. He smirked, kissing the top of your head.
“You better. You’re gonna be spending the rest of your life like this, honey.” He was quick to clean you up, pulling your panties back on your hips and rearranging your dress, soft hands fixing your hair and gently positioning your jewelry. His eyes glazed over with love and adoration as he examined you.
“Now I have to go into this meeting looking like I just got fucked,” you whispered, burying your head in Bucky’s shoulder. He only laughed, rubbing small circles around your lower back side.
“That was the goal, sweets. Need him to know you’re mine now.”
You didn’t reply, instead smiling and pulling back from him. You two had apparently finished just in time because you felt the car be put in park, its slight shake cueing you that it was time to get out.
Bucky got out first, walking around to the other side of the car to help you out. You shot him a shaky smile, taking his hand as he pulled you out and up. “You’re okay,” he murmured into your hair. “I’m here with you. You’re not doing this alone. Yeah?”
You nodded into him, inhaling his expensive scent. The sun was just beginning to set, and you could see its reflection in his steely eyes as he gazed at you. His face was set in its usual stoic expression, but you could fish out the hint of softness he reserved only for you. He truly was your person - and you, his.
“Thank you,” you replied, squeezing his hand in signal. “Now let’s get this shit over with so we never have to worry about this douche again.”
Bucky barked out a laugh. “That’s my best girl.”
You smirked, tugging him along with you as you led him into the looming office building. It felt intimidating, but the knowledge that the most powerful man in the city was accompanying you provided an enormous comfort.
Bucky’s hand grazed your back possessively, sliding into its usual place. The two of you entered the elevator. Most people in this building didn’t know who Bucky was and what he was capable of, but his large frame and cold gaze had people jumping out of your way nevertheless.
It wasn’t long before you were sitting in a closed off office, having checked in and consulted with your lawyer. Usually divorces were done in court, but somehow Bucky had bargained his way into avoiding that hassle. He didn’t even want to have to leave the house, but he settled for a business building instead.
“Hello!” came a cheery voice from the doorway. You turned your head, meeting the stare of your lawyer, Kristine. She nodded and greeted you, then turned to shake Bucky’s hand. “Good to see you both,” she said. “Mr. Claremont is on his way up. He’ll be accompanied by his representative, of course, but this process shouldn’t take long. All we need is two signatures, one on your part and one on his, and we can all be on our way. Sounds good?”
You smiled. “It does. Thank you, Kristine.”
Bucky nodded in appreciation, squeezing your hand from under the table.
He didn’t remove it when Henry walked in the room - if anything, he held you tighter. You watched intently as Henry’s eyes flitted to your cleavage, and you bit down bile.
It had been half a year since you‘d seen him, and he hadn’t changed at all. He was still the selfish man you knew, only thinking about himself and his pleasure.
“Alright, we’ll try to get this done quickly,” Kristine said as Henry sat down, his lawyer next to him. “If anyone has any questions, you have every right to ask.”
“Uh, yeah, I have a question,” Henry said, raising his hand. “Why is he here?” He pointed an accusing finger at Bucky.
You inhaled sharply. You had been clinging on to a slim hope that Henry would be mature, also wanting to get this over with as fast as possible, but you were obviously incorrect.
“You were informed that you could bring a plus one,” Kristine said. “You chose not to. But she reserves every right to have her company.”
Henry scoffed, but his eyes landed everywhere but Bucky’s cold stare. “Whatever,” he said. “Let’s do this.”
Kristine began reading off of her computer, listing legal terms such as “plaintiff,” “prenuptial,” and “writ of summons.” You didn’t care to listen, knowing that Bucky was. It gave you reason to zone out and stare blankly at your lap, where his large hand rested on top of yours.
Several moments passed, and you snapped out of your haze when Bucky tapped your thigh. You glanced up, feeling everybody’s eyes on you. “Sorry,” you said, blinking rapidly. “What was the question?”
Henry scoffed in disbelief. “You file for divorce, after cheating on me, and you can’t even have the decency to pretend to pay attention? I don’t know if I can sign these papers,” he said, making a show of shoving the folder in front of him.
You felt Bucky tense, preparing to defend you, but a quick squeeze of his hand had him shutting his mouth and shooting you a curious side-glance.
“Do you know how many times I washed lipstick off of your shirts after you came home from wherever the hell you were?” You hissed at Henry, leaning forward. “I will not allow you to sit here and pretend that you were some loyal, loving man who had my best interests at heart. You and I both know you don’t. You never did. I am finally happy after years of a suffocating marriage with you. I won’t let you ruin this for me, Henry. Not anymore. I refuse to give you that power. Now sign those goddamn papers before Bucky ruins your fucking life.”
Henry looked at Bucky, who raised an eyebrow, practically daring him to say one more word. Henry gulped, wisely shut his mouth before averting his eyes from the infamous mobster. Kristine cleared her throat, seeming unphased by the outbreak. As a divorce lawyer, you thought, she had probably seen her fair share of spousal fights.
“Fine,” you heard Henry mutter, but his voice cracked. He signed the presented papers in shaky writing, dropping the pen down onto the table and sliding the papers to you. You grabbed your own pen, holding your breath, and signed.
It sounded cliché, sure, but you truly felt an immeasurable weight lifted from your back as soon as you lifted the ink from the paper. You were no longer chained to Henry. Now, you and Bucky were able to truly be together in the way that you wanted. It was just up to him to make it official.
Once Kristine confirmed that everything was set, Henry cleared out of the room faster than you had ever seen anyone move. Kristine shot you a wink, following the other lawyer out of the room. Just you and Bucky were left.
The second the door closed, Bucky was on you, kissing you feverishly. “God,” he grounded out between groans, “at one point, I thought I’d have to pull my gun out to get him to sign.”
You pulled away from Bucky. “You brought a gun?!”
“Doll, I’m almost always armed,” he said, “but I’m constantly armed with you.” He pressed kisses across your face as you frowned up at him. “Gotta keep you safe. You’re my responsibility.”
“You didn’t need to bring a gun to my divorce signing,” you grumbled.
“I absolutely did, darling.” He snaked a strong hand up your thigh, and you gasped as he came into contact with your panties.
“We can’t do this here, Bucky,” you whined.
“Haven’t you learned by now that I can do whatever I want?”
“Can you wait until we get in the car?”
Bucky sucked on your neck, clearly aiming to leave a mark. That’s how the man worked - he needed to mark his territory.
You whined as his bulge pressed against your thigh. “You’ve always been mine,” Bucky said.
“I know, baby,” you replied, but Bucky wasn’t having it.
“No, doll, I need you to know that a bunch of fucking papers don’t matter to me. From the first second I saw you, I loved you. Today doesn’t change anything. You’ve been mine from the start, and I’ve been yours.”
Your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Bucky, baby,” you whispered, staring steadily into his icy eyes, “I love you too. I can’t wait to spend a lifetime with you.”
Bucky didn’t respond, instead, he shoved your dress up and groaned against your neck. You leaned your head back, exposing your throat. Bucky wrapped his metal hand around your neck, squeezing just enough for you to whine. He moved his right hand and practically yanked your underwear down. He sucked in a breath when he saw how wet you already were for him.
“Still got me leakin’ down your thighs from our car ride over here, sweetheart,” he said cockily, “and now I get to fill you up again.”
You moaned lewdly at his words. This man could make you finish with his words alone, and he knew it too, which was why he was sure to be so vocal in the bedroom (or, in this case, the office building).
“You like the idea of that? You want me to stuff ya so full of me everyone can see me dripping out of you when we walk out of here? My filthy girl.”
He pushed two fingers inside of you. You clenched and bit down on his shoulder, your entire body tensing as he thrusted them in and out.
“You know how pretty you look like this?” Bucky asked, peering down at your blissed-out face. “Lips all puffy, hair messy, eyes crossed. Fuck, could spend the rest of my life just looking at you, you pretty little thing.”
“I… Bucky, I need you,” you said, your voice involuntarily high pitched.
“But doll, you have me,” he replied, feigning confusion.
“Need… need your cock,” you clarified, and Bucky chuckled.
“Why didn’t you just say so? I’d be more than happy to oblige.” He unzipped his pants hastily, wasting no time in pulling his hardened cock out and tapping it against your soaked core. “Look at me,” he said. “If you look away from me, I swear to god I’ll stop.”
You looked into his eyes as he pushed inside of you, opening your mouth in a silent moan. He pulled out, leaving only the tip in, then shoved himself all the way back in. He pressed his forehead against yours as he peered deeply into your eyes.
“You feel so good,” you said, clutching onto him for dear life.
“Oh yea? You’re shaking already, doll,” he commented, holding your trembling thighs with his ring-clad hands. “You can take more, baby. I know you can. Can’t you?”
“I can take it,” you gasped out.
“Atta girl. You’re so perfect. Can’t believe I get you all to myself.”
You clenched down around his length, drawing a moan from him. You loved the thrill of it, the sheer power you felt. You were doing this to him, making him make these sounds. You were the one making him feel good - and he’d never let you forget it.
He set a brutal pace, practically breaking the table as he fucked into a pussy that was much too small for such a large man. He gripped your neck with force, and you had to tap once on his arm to let him know that if he didn’t let up soon, you’d pass out. He loosened his grip, but only slightly.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he growled, and you could tell he was getting close by the way he gasped your name.
“I belong to you, Bucky. I’m yours. Forever.”
“Fuck yes you are,” he snarled. “Don’t ever forget it.”
You were coming soon after, screwing your eyes shut as he drove into you with such force you were sure he’d split you in half. He thrust in several more times, pushing himself as far in as he could go before releasing deep inside of you. You groaned at the feeling of warmth spreading inside of your core.
Bucky pulled out slowly. He squatted down, gently pushing your shaking legs apart so he could get a good view. His release slowly dripped out of your quivering hole, and he licked his lips at the sight.
Your face flushed with embarrassment and you had an urge to close your legs, but the adoring expression on Bucky’s face had you keeping them open. You’d do anything for this man - anything he ever asked of you.
“Fucking shit. I can’t tell you what that does to me,” he said, standing up and smoothing your dress out. “You are just…”
“Sexy? Pretty? Wonderful?” You teased, hugging him tightly when he kissed your forehead affectionately.
“All of those things and more, sweetheart.”
He helped you off the table, gathering your things before ushering you out of the door. You felt somewhat bad about doing such… unholy things in a public place, but if Bucky Barnes was by your side, you knew you’d be untouchable.
The two of you made your way to the waiting car, Bucky nodding to the driver before helping you in and scooting in next to you. You leaned your head against his shoulder as he buckled your seatbelt for you.
“I love you, Bucky,” you said.
Bucky said your name, gently pulling your face up to look at him. “I love you. You are my everything.”
You sighed happily, leaning into his comforting hold as you wove your way through the bustling city.
“Gonna give you everything, doll,” Bucky whispered, eyeing your bare ring finger. “Everything.”
a/n: since i am 19 and have never been divorced, i have no idea what the process is like so this is a shot in the dark. ignore any unrealistic scenarios please & thanks <3
hope you enjoyed, lovelies. 🤍
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maiiurnalapri · a month ago
Fuck You, Billy.
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader
Summary: Over the past few months, you've almost be shredded by an unknown slime dog, and your life has been at risk more times than you can count, so as you settle down into your last year of highschool, all you want is some normality in your life. You kissed normality goodbye when you threw a drink at Billy's face at a highschool party you're not even sure why he was at considering he's graduated, but now you've got him intrigued. You refuse to even picture yourself with him, even after he sneaks back into Hawkins High to make you enter a false relationship with him. You won't give in. You can't give in. You're hoping you can stop yourself from giving in...
Time Frame: between season 2 and 3 / September 1984 (Billy hasn't gotten his Lifeguard job yet)
Warnings: t/w rough handling (this is Billy we are talking about)
Word Count: 3.7k
First Person POV
a/n: personally I think a lot of people write Billy to kindly when he genuinely is very inconsiderate and selfish for most of his time on the show so I'm here to give that side of him some good rep. Let's gooooooooo!
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Why did the air feel so thick? I struggled to keep a consistent breath pattern as I walked down the halls of Hawkins High.
I noticed the plethora of eyes raining down on me, which I was prepared for after the events of yesterday. I just never expected it to feel so suffocating.
I sped up my pace, keeping my head down. I was apart of the yearbook committee for crying out loud. I'm not a cheerleader or one of the freaks of that Hellfire Club, so no one, on normal day, ever wastes their time looking my way.
Except, Billy Hargrove apparently.
Honestly, fuck Billy fucking Hargrove. Yeah, I said it. Fuck Billy mother fuc-
I crashed.
My thoughts stopped and I looked up from the floor from the binder that just dropped and exploded to see the face of the prementioned Billy Hargrove. Didn't he graduate with Steve? Why is he here?
"You know y/n," he said grabbing my wrist, to stop it from going to pick up paper on the floor, "I won't just disappear if you pretend I don't exist."
Even if I wanted to reply, Billy had other plans. He began ushering me away, pulling me by the wrist.
"Billy stop", I said tugging at my wrist. His grip only got tighter, like his hand was a snake and any minute now I was going to be eaten whole. "Billy you're hurting me!"
Next thing I knew I was being dragged to the back of the school's theater where we would be left completely alone.
It was dark and I could barely see and after basically bruising my wrist he finally let go.
"Okay, you got me alone and in the dark. What's next? You gonna slice my throat and throw me out back?"
"y'/n", it only took him saying my name for me to shut it, but even though it was dark I could still see him perfectly. I could see him smirk, when I instinctively jumped when he said my name. "How is that everyone in this school loves me, and even if they don't, they at least don't have the balls to show their disrespect," he took a step towards me, looking straight into my eyes.
"Probably becau-", he shushed me.
"But, you sweetheart, seem to have the fucking biggest balls of anyone," he took another step towards me, so I took one back. I kept taking a step back as he stepped forward till I bumped my foot on the wall behind me. I have no where to go. "Do you think it was funny?", he whispered taking the final steps to almost close the gap between us.
"No I don't think it was funny." he was directly in my face now and it took everything in me to not raise my hands to cover the blush on my face. "I just think you deserved it," I said with a smile.
He slammed his hand on the wall behind me, pinning me into close quarters with him. "Do I scare you?", he said taking his fingers to my chin to force my head to look up at him.
"Do I scare you?", I replied back with. I could hear his breath skip a cycle when I said that, but it didn't stop him from grasping tighter on my chin and looking directly into my eyes.
"You have balls, y/n. I can really respect that. All I ask from you is some sort of apology."
"What about from you, you're the one who wanted in my pants at that party."
"Right," he said with a laugh under his breath. He moved his leg into between mine, his knee just under my crotch. It sent a shiver down my spine.
I won't deny that Billy is very attractive. I'd call him pretty if I was sure it wouldn't boost his ego. If it wasn't the way Billy went at things, if Billy wasn't the way he was. I wouldn't be able to resist it when he asks me if I want to go back to his place like he did at the party.
"Then why are you shivering?", he continued. He finally let go of my face, letting it go back to its resting position of looking at the floor. "So about that apology, I think I know what you can do for me." he clapped his hands and smiled when I looked at him in distraught. "Oh don't worry I'd never have you do anything you didn't consent too"
"Then what is it," I scoffed, "What do you want from me?"
"To give me a chance.", he replied snappily.
"A chance. . .for what?"
"Don't act like as if you don't know. I want you to give me a chance to please you," he paused to laugh, "It's not all about hair and bitchin' rides in this head of mine babe."
"That would require me to actually like you Billy, and considering I feel nauseous from just being alone with you right now, I don't think that'll work.", he sat down on a box behind him and ushered me to come over. I hesitated, but the last thing I need is for him to force me over again and leave worse bruises on my wrist. so I walked over standing just before his knees.
"Guess you'll just have to drink some more water to cool off that stomach, cause I want you to pretend being my girlfriend."
My heart sank. What?
Billy, the guy who doesn't ask anyone for anything. The guy who is basically a walking chick magnet and with what I imagine has raging commitment issues, is asking me to pretend to be his girlfriend? The fact that he is even asking a woman for anything romantic when he could easily get it from anyone else and could easily have a real relationship with anyone else, baffles me.
"Why me?"
"Like I said, you have balls.", he said with a smile.
"Ok other than having balls, why me? You literally could have anyone here, and you choose to force this on me."
"I certainly didn't force you to throw that rum in my face."
"You're avoiding the question," I said folding my arms into my chest.
Unlike before, he gently pulled me to stand between his legs, forcing me to uncross my arms. He placed both hands on my arms, one on each, and looked at me with a smile.
"No one here other than you would dare to throw anything in my face, even if they wanted to.", he laughed to himself, "You intrigue me, y/n."
"What if I refuse to play the role of your girlfriend?"
He whispered, "What would everyone think about you then if I told them what we were doing all the things they already think we're doing in here. It's not like anyone would believe you if you deny it. Especially when I could hold out these." He held up a pair of lacy purple underwear.
I went to reply but I couldn't find the words, he really had me trapped. I could ignore the allegation, but I'd probably get kicked out of the yearbook committee due to the allegations. I'd have everyone hate me, cause oh god how dare I touch the King of Hawkins. "I can't let you off without getting an apology," he whispered.
"I don't want to have sex with you,", I quickly added, "I also don't want this to be the entirety of my senior year."
"I don't think your in the position to be making demands," he said, "but I respect you. I'm a free open book now, but I know you're still in school and all so how about until the end of your first semester, and the next one can be all yours."
"No sex though right?"
"If you can resist me."
"Whatever, Billy," I began to walk away but he grabbed at my waist and spun me around till there was only half an inch between us.
"Close the gap," he whispered.
"Billy, wh-", he grabbed my wrist from before, giving it a tight squeeze.
"Close the gap, y/n. We won't be finished here if you don't seal our deal."
He had the worst devilish grin, and I had to stop myself from spitting in his face by his demands. I sighed, leaning in to give him a quick peck. Our lips met for a second before I pulled away, but his hand reached up to my hair, making me crash back into his embrace.
This is the Billy I know, the one who takes what he wants. I don't know how I could ever see him anything other than a narcissistic head of Farrah Fawcet spray, but when his lips met mine and he held me close my head went blank for a moment and all I could think about is how good it felt.
After a couple minutes of our aggressive kissing, he was of course the one to decide when enough was enough, biting my bottom lip one last time before separating himself from him. I stepped away, refusing to look at him in the eyes.
"Me and you. Date. Tomorrow after school. Don't make me wait for you," he wiped his lip with his thumb while giving me a smile. I turned to leave, but before I could completely leave him by himself I said from a distance, "You better hope all my stuff isn't in the trash by now, or your in deep shit," I paused, "and fuck you, Billy."
With that I felt like I sprinted out of the auditorium, cause when I got back out into the hall I made my way to go retrieve my previously dropped stuff, and I noticed how I felt breathless.
For the rest of the day, all I could think about is how the hell my life went from battling the upside down to being coerced by Billy Hargrove into being his pretend girlfriend. I couldn't stand him, he interrupts me when I'm speaking and he refuses no or an answer. He really is just the worst. It's hard for me to concentrate on all his bad qualities when I get reminded of that harsh, long kiss he stole from me.
With Billy already being out of high school, I hoped the news of us wouldn't get out so quickly as he won't be here everyday to start telling everyone he knows. I sighed, feeling some relief when I entered the room where the yearbook club occupies. Then I saw Billy standing right there in front of the door with my club president.
"There she is," he said after spotting me. "I was just explaining to our friend here what happened yesterday at that party," he smiled at me and back to her.
"I thought you were crazy at first y/n, but Billy told me everything. I'm surprised you guys have been able to keep it a secret for so long."
I blanked, oh so even when he's not in school he's still able to spread it out quickly about us dating . "Uh- yeah I just was really upset about it yesterday." I paused not even looking at her anymore, only staring at Billy's smug smile. "I think you should get going now though Billy, don't you think?"
"Luckily for you, I just got you the day off."
"Have fun," she said with a fake smile, obviously upset by the fact I out of all people am dating their King. Billy walked my way, turning me around. He placed his hand on the small of my back as as we walked out, sending a shiver down my spine.
"Where's my thank you?" he said.
"I actually like being in my club, I didn't need you to give me the afternoon off."
"Well change of plans on our date, we are having it today. So quit crying."
"Billy, you can't just decide for me that I'm going to take the afternoon off to go out and do something with you."
"I need you to meet my family," he said deflecting what I said.
"What for?"
"I just need you to go along with it and stop asking questions," he said opening the door leading out of the school for me.
"I'm taking you home, you'll get dressed, then we're going,"
"Should I bow and call you Your Highness while I'm at it?"
"You know, I thought after our talk you'd start watching your mouth with me.", he said giving me a smart ass look.
"You're the one who said you found me interesting because of it, so I don't really see why you care," I said causing him to laugh.
"Just you wait y/n, you'll regret it eventually," I rolled my eyes in response. "My step-sister Max will be here, she's a real pain in the ass like you but I'll be dropping her off at some hick arcade before we go to your place anyways."
I had to bite my tongue. Even though Max was younger, I met her during all the chaos that happened a few months ago in the summer. She told me about Billy then, and I can see now he hasn't changed. I liked Max, and I wanted to rip his tongue out for speaking bad on her.
"You know even if she's your step sister, you don't have to be so cold to her. She's a kid, Billy. Don't be a prude.," He stopped and held me in place by my waist.
"What would you know?", he replied. I about responded, but it probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell him about his sister and I already meeting during last summer's chaos.
"I just meant, in general. Sister or not, you should get the pole that's stuck in your ass out every once in a while," I said confidently.
"Don't call her just my sister. Got it?", he responded holding me firm in my place and once again deflecting the point I just made.
"You could at least be nicer to me, since you're the one who came up with this idea," I said refusing to let the point go.
"Jesus you and her really are similar," he said resuming our walk to his car.
I let out a small laugh, "Yet here we are," I noticed his defenses a little bit, at the sound of my laugh. I was 100% sure he was only dragging me through all this for his own selfish benefit, but I find it strange that he let's down his guard around me even slightly. All I am to him is a fuck surely.
"Max! Get in the back," he yelled out as we approached the car. I'm sure she would have complained, knowing her, but I could tell she was taken back at the sight of me basically wrapped up in Billy's arm.
She tried playing it off, rolling her eyes. She slammed the door getting in and I swear I thought Billy's veins were about to burst.
To my surprise, Billy followed me to the passenger side of the car to open and close it for me. Max shot me a 'what the fuck is going on?' while Billy walked back to his side of the car.
Without looking at her I whispered, "I'll explain later."
Billy got in the car, immediately turned to point at Max, "If you slam my door again I'll break that skateboard in half and you can forget about the arcade," she rolled her eyes and leaned back further in her seat. He glanced at me and sighed, choosing not to say anything else and turned back around.
He flared the exhaust a couple times before whipping out of the parking place, leading us out of the school. We mostly sat in the car in silence with Billy's music on in the background and him occasionally complaining how shit and hick Hawkins is compared to California.
When we got to the arcade he rolled down the window to tell her, "I'm busy today so you better make sure your little friends get you back home before dinner," she waved him off and walked inside with her skateboard in hand.
He turned to me, rolling back up his window, "You see this isn't a one way street now right? Maybe I should have you told her to be nicer to like you told me,"
"You want the directions to my house or not?", I said deflecting.
After more silence other than the Black Sabbath playing in Billy's car, he pulled into my driveway.
"God damn you live in such a shit area"
"Just because you can't go sixty-five on turn that's meant for a thirty miles per hour road doesn't mean I live in a shit area."
"Are your parents home?", he asked as we both exited the car.
"No, it's just me and my dad. He doesn't get home from work till usually late at night," I looked to Billy smiling, "Don't get any ideas," I added.
He grabbed a bag out from the back of his car, passing it over to me when he got close. I looked inside as we began to walk to the front door of my house.
"Clothes?", I asked in confusion.
"I mean look at the way you dress, after seeing you this morning I went and picked out something for you to wear in front of my family."
He was right I did dress pretty plainly. All I wore today was a deep purple long sleeve tucked into a knee length denim skirt. The only accessory I wore was a brown belt to keep the skirt in place.
"Oh so dressing conservative is unattractive now? You didn't seem to mind my style at the party,"
"Yeah you mean that dress that was so tight I could see your bra strap poking out?", he said smiling at the memory.
I blushed from knowing he was checking me out so intensely then, "I dress fine Billy, I don't need you to buy me clothes,"
"Jesus, at least look at it before you complain."
"I'll see it in a minute," I said as we approached the front door. I unlocked it and once inside Billy immediately began to form his judgement. Since my dad worked a lot for the two of us, I kept the house pretty clean for him so at least I didn't have any shame in that.
"Yeah your a hick just like the rest of Hawkins," he said making his way to our fridge. I followed after setting down my things by the stairs.
"That was quick of you to judge," I said crossing my arms. He pointed at some records hung up in a frame on the wall. My dad's old band made some records a long time ago and my dad wanted to keep them pristine, so we hung it on the wall.
"You idealize some music no one's even heard of, trust me I've heard it all," he opened the door to my fridge grabbing some fruit we had stored away in a bowl.
"It's records from my dad's band when he was younger."
"Yeah I bet it's shit hence why you live here," he plopped a strawberry in his mouth and leaned over the counter top.
"You're always so quick to judge everything so negatively," I said as I walked over to him.
"I didn't with you.", he replied snappily.
I could feel myself blush again and I wanted to hide. What he said reminded me how crazy it was that he was interested by me, but here we are. I didn't respond and tugged the bowl of fruit away from him placing it back in the fridge.
"Don't act like you're at home," I said walking back over to the stairs. He followed with a smile, licking his fingers. We got upstairs and I placed everything on the floor next to my bed before sitting on it.
He stood in the frame of my door smiling at me.
"Hello? Can I get a little privacy?", I said taking off my shoes.
"Well I have to be able to judge," he said nodding at the bag of clothes he brought me.
"Ok then wait outside and I'll show you when I'm done."
"I don't think you understand your situation here, y/n," he came and sat next to me on the bed picking up one of my stuffed animals, inspecting it for a second, and then putting it back down beside him, "This is an apology from you to me, and in an apology you have to do things you don't want to normally do," he said walking his fingers down my thigh making my whole body light up from the touch.
"I'd say fake dating someone is something I don't normally do," he laughed in response. Before I could do anything else, he pinned me down to the bed, putting his lips to my ear.
"I told you you'd regret all the bitching you give me," he whispered. He nibbled the top of my ear causing me to flinch in surprise. "How long do you think you can resist me for y/n, especially when you get excited every time I touch you. Did you think I didn't notice?"
I turned my burning face away from him, too embarrassed to respond.
"Just say the word and I'll help you," he whispered as he was rubbing his knee between my legs. I didn't respond, I just kept my face turned away from him. It only took a few seconds of awkward silence for him to get up and walk back up towards the door.
"Your loss, sweetheart. I'll be out here whenever you're ready to show me," he started to walk off before yelling, "Don't make me sit here and wait for ages either."
I could hear him opening doors from down the hall when I finally came back to reality. I then heard a sink turn on and realized he must have found the bathroom. I leaned up feeling like my whole body was on fire. I closed the door to my room while he was away, thinking 'Yeah, fuck Billy Hargrove.'
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spiderrrling · a month ago
With Love, Eddie Munson (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)
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Summary - It’s been about six months since she went off to college when a very unexpected letter comes in the mail from an old friend
Word count  - 1.6k
Warnings - None, just a lot of bitter sweetness 
A/N - So I had this idea at work earlier, and when I started writing it all the words just started flowing out so here ya’ll have it, two fics in a day!!
You can find part to this on my masterlist! It's called "My Dearest Eddie Munson"
Masterlist - Tag list
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She wasn’t used to receiving mail, sure her family would sometimes mail her a couple of pictures here and there, or her mother would send her a letter.
But this was different, the envelope was thick and the front was warped with messy handwriting. Handwriting she had once joked only she could decipher.
A pit of anxiety and excitement started forming in her stomach as she let her fingers trace the letters that formed her name and address. Her name. He’d written her name.
She turned the letter over, hesitating for a moment before she tore it open, not bothering to care if she tore it, she was desperate to know what he had written.
Several a proper stack of papers were shoved into the little envelope, along with a pile of Polaroids which spilled out. Her heart skipped a beat as she was looking over the glossy photos of the small town she had left what seemed like forever ago. But the pictures brought her right back to those lazy spring days, and busy days in run down hallways.
Evenings spent tucked away in the back of Hawkins High theatre department playing dungeons and dragons. Weekends spent out in Eddie’s bedroom listening to him playing guitar for hours on end while she did homework or read.
Faded memories that were still burned into her mind and came flooding back as she looked at the pictures.
Hey there, bet you weren’t expecting to receive a letter from yours truly today, but what can I say? I am full of surprises.
You’ll never guess where I am sitting while I write you this letter. Or maybe you would, you always were the smart one, hence why you graduated and moved on, and I didn’t. Anyhow, I’m sitting in the back of my van parked out by the small creek that runs out into Lovers Lake. We used to come here a lot together.
I used to come out here to think, because it seemed so far away from the rest of Hawkins. And let’s be honest, it's beautiful out here. That's why I brought you out here for the first time, I wanted for it to just be the two of us. Where nothing else mattered.
I still come out here from time to time, but it’s just not the same anymore. I don’t have you beside me in the car carefully trying to select the perfect mixtape for our tiny get away adventure. And I don’t have you with me as we sit in the back of my van until the sun goes down and the stars come out.
You once sat beside me and told me about the stars. You helped show me the different constellations that reside over us at night. But if I’m being honest with you, I didn’t pay attention. How could I when you were holding my hand to guide me through the night sky. You looked so beautiful in the dim night lighting, with that extra sparkle you always got in your eye when you lost yourself to your thoughts.
Anyhow, how have I been you’re probably wondering at this point. Well, as resident King of the Freaks (self proclaimed, accepted by the masses) I am leading our newest freshmen recruits through their first official Hellfire campaign. They have a long way to go, but they have some potential.
Life at home is… well the same. Wayne still works his night shifts at the factory plant. He has been picking up some extra shifts but he is still good old Wayne Munson.
He asks about you though, and wonders how you’ve been.
You were home for Christmas just a couple of weeks ago, I saw you with your mom down town doing some last minute shopping. If I knew you were coming I would have invited you around to the Hellfire Christmas Special, we had a great time. But it’s not the same without you.
I didn’t even know you were in town. You never told me you would be.
To be fair, I don’t know much about you these days, we haven’t talked since that day you left. Your little car was packed to the very brim, your entire life was in that car. And I wasn’t in it. Not that I can blame you, I can’t believe you managed to fit in there.
You only left me with the memories of you, and a little note containing your new address.
I promised I would write to you, but I didn’t. Honestly I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe I was scared that it would feel so different now that you weren’t here anymore. Maybe it was because I knew writing something to you would only make me realise just how empty my life is without you in it.
I’m hurt you didn’t tell me you would be coming back. I miss seeing your stupid face, I miss talking walks with you in the forest behind the trailer park, I miss driving around Hawkins late at night blasting whatever music we could find.
I miss you.
I miss you more than I thought was possible, I miss you more than I realised I ever could.
Life without you here sucks. I never knew just how much space you occupied in my day to day life and in my mind. And I never once stopped to think what kind of vacuum you would create when you left.
It’s like you disappeared, like you forgot everything that was here. And I can’t blame you for not missing it. For not missing this daft little small town in the middle of nowhere Indiana, for wanting to move on from it and leave it all behind. 
I can’t blame you for not missing Ms. O'Donnell’s 8 am classes. The basketball games, the lazy days spent doing nothing, the small little record store with a shit selection, everything. I can’t blame you for not missing me.
I still wish you did though. I wish you missed me the way I miss you. And I don’t want you to leave me behind. It feels like a part of who I am is just gone, there is nothing there anymore.
If I’m being honest with you, I have no idea why I am writing you this letter. And I know I am rambling, because I cannot find the right words to express to you how I feel.
If you were here I’d write you a song, maybe that would make it easier. There is already a whole stack of them, I keep them in a little box beneath my bed along with the photos I have of you, of us. Sometimes I pull them out just to remind myself that you were real, and not just some figment of my imagination I created to make my life better. To remind myself that you were here.
But you’re not here. And I hate it.
It took me longer than it should have to accept that. And to accept the fact that I miss you.
I should have written you a letter the second you left for college. Hell I should have written you a letter and stashed it somewhere in your packing, just for you to find as you were unpacking.
Do you remember that day last spring? The one where we skipped fifth and sixth period because we just couldn’t stand to be in that building anymore. We went by Joanes, and even though she doesn’t make the best coffee she does still make the best pie North of Indiana.
We bought a whole pan and stole two of her forks. And we spent a whole day out in the woods together. Camped out in the back of my van as always, eating pie and sharing whatever gossip had been circulating. I believe the topic of the day was, does Jason Carver dye his hair to be that colour?
It’s only in hindsight I realised how I must have looked at you. To be fair it is only in hindsight I am realising how I must have felt for you. How I am still feeling for you.
My heart used to skip a beat whenever I saw you in the mornings and you’d wave or smile at me. I got excited whenever I got to sit close to you. Whenever I got to touch you. You held my hand with such ease, but for me I felt as if my heart was pounding out of my chest. I was so nervous.
That one time you cut my bangs, I could feel your breath on my neck as you carefully trimmed my hair. You looked at me so much that day I can never forget it. Still the best haircut I have ever gotten.
I took you to prom, I wasn’t your date, I just offered to drive you.
I should have taken you to prom, officially. I should have asked you then because maybe now I wouldn’t be regretting it so much.
If you’re still reading this, congratulations. You’ve just read everything I never had the guts to tell you.
I don’t know if you’ve understood anything I’ve said, but here are all my feelings laid out. And since I know you can be a little bit daft I might need to spell it out to you.
I, Eddie the Freak Munson, am utterly, and hopelessly in love with you. And I wish I had known it sooner.
I hope you’ll be back in Hawkins soon, and I hope I’ll get to see you again.
With love, Eddie Munson
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Tag list -  @pastel-abyss-x @fayetheenthusiast @obi-wanakenobi  @starbemo @chloebeansack @a-villain-vying-for-attention @meaganjm​ @xbreezymeadowsx @prettytoxix @magicalxdaydream @emmaginanni @ghoulsgraveyard
Mutuals - @uglypastels​ @naturallytom​ @catastrofhe​
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sagesolsticewrites · a month ago
Reunion (Part 1) | Austin!Elvis x fem!reader
A chance encounter at work leads to a reunion with a childhood friend from Tupelo.
Request from @queenslandlover-93: Hello! I have a request for you…what would if Elvis runs into an old childhood sweetheart and they make it work with everything going on around them from his mother passing away to the ‘68 comeback special. I also want to see his sweetheart fight back for him against the Colonel. Can’t wait to see what you come up with! 😊
a/n: sorry this took so long darling! Thank you so much for the request, I hope you like it! The next part(s? 👀) should be out soon!
Word count: 1.9k
Warnings: a couple swear words, I think that's it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!
Hugest of shoutouts to @austin-butlers-gf and the EFC for letting me bombard them with snippets from this 🤍
Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
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You fan yourself with your hand, the Tennessee summer heat close to unbearable as another hour of your shift at the convenience store slogs by. You’ve been the only person here practically since your shift started. Who in their right mind would be out shopping right now was truly beyond— 
“Just this please, ma’am,” a deep voice drawls, and you’re jolted out of your thoughts as someone places a bottle of Coca-Cola on the counter in front of you.
“Ma’am? Now I think I’m a little young to deserve such a title, don’t—?” Your teasing is cut off as you look up to see the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen in your life, contrasted by a sleek wave of thick, jet black hair and a scattering of freckles. You blink as you take in the lace shirt and eyeliner smudged around his eyes and realize exactly who this is. In fact, you had been nodding along to one of his songs not 5 minutes earlier.
Elvis Presley (the Elvis Presley! In your place of work!) lets out a shy laugh, “Well, my mama raised me to be polite, and seeing as I don’t know your name…” he trails off.
You’re not quite sure what emboldens you to stick out your hand for him to shake and introduce yourself, but you know it’s worth it when you see that surprised smile light up his face. Taking it one step further as you ring up his Coke, you strike up a conversation. “You know, I used to know an Elvis Presley growing up back in Tupelo. Not quite sure how common of a name it is, but I think of him when I listen to your music.” you say with a self-conscious shrug.
Elvis is silent for a moment. You cringe inwardly, sure you’ve just ruined the entire interaction, until he speaks up. “Wait… Y/N. You wouldn’t happen to be the Y/N L/N who lived a couple houses down from us back then, would ya?”
You freeze, looking up to take in his features again. You couldn’t tell at first with the makeup and styled hair, but looking into his eyes you see the scrawny blond boy you ran around with in your neighborhood back in Tupelo. The boy who had been your best friend back then.
“Elvis?” you say in disbelief, moving around your little counter to pull him in for a hug, “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you! If I’d’ve known it was you making all this amazing music—“
“You like my songs?” 
You pull away to slap at his chest, playfully scolding him, “Elvis Presley, if you think there’s a girl in this town that doesn’t like your music you’re outta your dang mind.”
He laughs, and oh my goodness. He might have grown up a bit from the little boy you knew, but his laugh was still music to your ears. 
There’s a moment of silence before his gaze flicks over to the clock on the wall and his eyes widen. “Hey, I’ve gotta get goin’, but maybe we could catch up later? It’s been forever, there’s so much I wanna tell you about.” 
“I’d love that,” you nod, grinning. “I get off at 5, if you’re free then.” You say, scribbling down your phone number and address on a scrap of paper next to the register and handing it to him. You try very, very hard to ignore the butterflies that erupt in your stomach as your fingers brush.
“I’ll see ya then, darlin’” he calls, winking as he ducks out the door and leaves you blushing just as much as he had when you were kids.
Getting together after one of your shifts or one of his recording sessions becomes a regular thing for the two of you. You fill him in on how your father’s job transferred him to Memphis only a few years after his family had moved here, and he fills you in on the Hayride, the Colonel, his deal with RCA, and everything else that had happened since he moved away. The two of you grow closer, and eventually it’s as if the years you spent apart never happened. 
Unfortunately for you, the crush you harbored for him all those years ago also grows with your friendship. Every time he smiles, laughs, every time your hands brush as you walk next to each other on your way to some shop on Beale Street he wants to show you, the butterflies in your stomach come to life and you have to fight the urge to kiss each and every freckle on his face.
Elvis never notices, of course. You’ve learned to hide your feelings well. Why bother putting your friendship in jeopardy when you know he won’t feel the same? 
Something changes, though, as you’re sitting under a tree in his unreasonably huge yard reminiscing about your time in Tupelo.
“No, I remember it, clear as day, I absolutely won that race!”
“You did not! I remember, Sam tripped you or somethin’ and I beat you to that tree!”
“Okay, you are definitely thinkin’ of one o’ the other races because I’d have to be dead to forget that my prize was a kiss from you.”
His face flushes as he realizes what he just said, and he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Ah, I mean—“
“No,” you cut him off, “I, um. I remember that race, too.”
“You do?”
“Well, yeah. It’s kinda hard to forget your first kiss.” you shrug, glancing shyly down at your shoes peeking out from where you have them tucked under your dress.
“Yeah,” he nods, “I, uh. I thought about that day a lot after we left.” he admits shyly.
You hum, unsure of how to answer.
There’s a moment of silence, and your head snaps up as you feel his fingers tentatively tangle in yours. 
“Y/N…” his gaze drifts down to your lips then back up, blue eyes meeting yours. He hesitates, then says softly, as if speaking too loud will break whatever force is locking your gazes, “I’d really like to kiss you right now, if that’s all right.”
Your breath catches in your throat as you nod. “I’d really like it if you did that,” you whisper.
His hand comes up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and he cups your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. He leans in slowly and presses his lips to yours, nothing at all like the shy, clumsy, fumbling attempt at a kiss you’d shared back in Tupelo. No, this was sweet and gentle and… there was no other word for it. It was simply perfect.
He pulls away just an inch, keeping his forehead pressed to yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he breathes, eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since I kissed you after that race back in Tupelo,” you mumble with a small smile.
“Well then, it sounds like we’ve got a lotta time to make up for,” he grins as he eagerly pulls you in for another kiss, smiling against your lips.
If your parents thought the two of you were inseparable before, they weren’t prepared at all for how attached at the hip you and Elvis would be once you finally admitted your feelings for each other. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to spend all day together, coming home after dark from one of your houses, and eventually it was accepted that your families — the two sets of parents becoming friends again as you and Elvis rekindled your friendship — would have dinner together at Graceland multiple times a week.
You finally got to meet the infamous Colonel as well, Elvis introducing you as his “other bestest girl” with a wink towards his mama. He was incredibly gracious to you, but something felt… off. You couldn’t put your finger on it, so you brushed it off as no big deal.
You stuck by Elvis through all of the “Elvis the Pelvis” mockery, silently seething as the Colonel tried to force Elvis into a more “family friendly” image. The last straw for your boyfriend, however, was the Steve Allen Show. 
He had torn off for Beale Street after that argument with his mama, and after his parents had gone to bed you simply waited for him to return. You knew that oftentimes he just needed his space and would come home once he calmed down some. 
Eventually you heard the smooth roar of the Cadillac pull up. You strode over to the foyer as he opened the door and fell into your open arms, tucking his face into your neck and squeezing you tight. 
“I’m sorry you had to see me like that, sweetheart,” he says, voice muffled.
You shush him, stroking his hair. “It’s alright, baby. It’s frustrating, I know.”
“I just don’t understand why people have such a problem with me,” he mumbles as you lead him up the stairs to bed,” I told the Colonel before, my own mother approves of what I do!”
“If you don’t wanna change, then you shouldn’t,” you say. “You can’t let all these old people stop you from doing what you love.”
He laughs softly, “B.B. said somethin’ like that tonight. Said they couldn’t do nothin’ to me ‘cause I’m a famous white boy.”
“B.B., as usual, is right,” you reply with a smile as he plops down on his bed, tugging you down with him. You lean against his shoulder and whisper, “There are lots of people right now trying to tell you who to be. I think you just gotta listen to yourself; who do you wanna be.”
“Thank you, mama,” he whispers after a moment of silence, intertwining your fingers and squeezing three times— your own little signal for “I love you”. 
“Always, honey,” you reply. “Now,” you stand up, brushing your lips against his, “You’ve got a big show tomorrow, so you should get some rest.”
He nods tiredly, a sleepy smile on his face. “You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”
You shake your head, “You just get some sleep, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”
The next night, your heart swells with pride as you sit next to his parents in Russwood Park. You beam as he makes eye contact with you throughout his opening speech to the audience, throwing a wink your way when he says “but in the end ya gotta listen to yourself.” 
The Colonel urges you to get back in the car as Elvis’s performance escalates. You and his mother both fight through the crowd as he’s dragged away by police, Elvis urging the both of you to get back in the car, assuring you that he’ll be alright.
It was not alright. A letter arrived soon after the Trouble incident, and the ultimatum was clear: jail, or the service.
As much as you and his family hated the thought of him joining the army, you all hated the idea of jail even more.
“I’ll write to you, and I’ll call as much as I can,” he assures you just before he leaves for basic, repeating the words he’d told his mother just 10 minutes earlier with one addition for you. “I promise, sweetheart, ain’t nothin’ gonna get in the way of us. Not even the damn Army.”
He leaves you with that promise and a lingering kiss, and you’re left juggling your little convenience store job, your worry over him, and his mother’s drinking.
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Aaaand there we go! Part one is done! Hopefully y'all enjoyed. Sorry for the cliffhanger 😊 but part two is in the works now! Please let me know what y'all thought!
Read part 2 here!
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joekeeryswife · a month ago
Hi! Could you do pregnancy prompt " the pregnancy test... it's yours. right? "? ❤️with joe or steve?
Test - J.K
when i tell you that pregnancy prompts and baby imagines are some of my favourite things to write i am not lying! i hope this was okay, enjoy loves <3
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there you were. locked in the shared bathroom, pregnancy test in hand, thick tears falling down your face. you'd never planned for this to happen, you and Joe had only moved into your house three months ago and now you had a baby on the way? you were both so busy with work and other things, you'd never even spoken about having a baby. you had no idea how Joe would react, what if he left you alone with them? how would you take care of a baby all on your own? a thousand thoughts ran through your mind all at one and you were only pulled out of your trance when you heard Joe softly knock on the door. "y/n? are you alright? you've been in there for ages" he said, you quickly wrapped the test in the toilet paper which was next to you and put it in the bin.
"yeah i'm fine, i'll be out in a second" you stuttered, your voice sounded shaky and your nose was blocked. "y/n? are you sure you're alright? let me in babe" he said, turning the door knob slightly but stopped when he saw it was locked. "no i'm fine, give me a minute" you snapped. you heard him sigh before walking away from the door. you quickly washed your face to get rid of the mascara which was smudged all down your cheeks. once your face was free from mascara stains, you took a deep breath before unlocking the door and walking downstairs to see Joe sat down on the sofa with your dog Rex. you walked to sit next to Joe and you put your head on his chest. he put an arm around your shoulder and kissed your forehead. "i'm sorry for snapping earlier, i was trying to take my makeup off and it kept smudging" you spoke, your voice sounded strained from your crying but Joe didn't mention it.
"no it's okay, what do you wanna watch?" he said, changing the subject quickly which you were grateful for. "we can watch whatever. actually, what about Spree? that's one of my favourites" you said, he laughed loudly at you. Spree was one of your favourite films which Joe had starred in. he nodded his head and went to netflix to put it on. it was about halfway through the film when Joe announced he needed the toilet. you moved your head off of him and allowed him to get up. he was up there for a while and you wondered where he had got off too. just before you were about to get up and look for him, he came down the stairs. he looked anxious and stressed. you'd never seen him like this before.
"you okay?" you said as he sat back down next to you. he nodded his head and put an arm back around your shoulders, pulling you back into him. for the rest of the night he was acting strange, he hardly spoke throughout the film like he usually would, he had his arm around you but he wasn't playing with the ends of your hair, he just wasn't himself. after the film finished, you both got up to go get ready for bed. it was a quick process since you had already taken off your makeup. you put on your pyjamas which consisted of christmas bottoms and one of Joe's hoodies. you got into bed and waited for him to exit the bathroom.
once he did, he immediately slipped into the bed next to you and pulled you into his arms. he kissed your forehead and you closed your eyes. "i need it talk to you about something but i don't want to make you feel pressured to tell me or uncomfortable i would just like to know." he said, your eyes shot open. did he know? what was he going to say?. "when i went to the bathroom earlier, i had to put something in the bin and i saw something wrapped in toilet paper. i was curious so i pulled it out of the bin and i saw a positive pregnancy test" he said, your eyes welled up with tears as he spoke. he knew and you didn't know what to do. as he kept talking, the tears from your eyes fell at a fast pace.
"y/n i need you to tell me, the pregnancy test... it's yours right?" he said, finishing off what he was trying to say. you immediately started sobbing into his chest. you could only nod your head. no words would form in your brain allowing you to talk. "okay" he whispered, not pushing you to talk. he kissed your forehead as he pulled you on top of him. he held you as you sobbed to him, the only words coming out were small "i'm sorry's" which could barely be heard. Joe was trying to calm you down, kissing your forehead every so often and rubbing your back softly. "do you think you can take some deep breaths for me love? i need you to calm down" he said i'm the sweetest voice you'd ever heard.
you took some deep breaths and tried to calm down but the tears didn't stop falling. Joe sat up as best he could with you in his arms and started talking. "i know we didn't plan this and i know you're scared but we can discuss what you want to do. it's your body and i wouldn't want to push something on you which you aren't ready for. if you do want to keep the baby then we will manage yeah? i can see you being an amazing mum and i'd be so proud to say i was the father of that baby" he said, his words made more tears spill from your eyes, both happy and sad tears. you looked up from his chest and looked into his eyes and saw that he had a closed mouth smile. you sniffed and nodded your head, you knew you would get through this with Joe and you were so grateful for him.
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valyawrites · 7 months ago
I Can't Live Without You
Vi x Reader
Summary: You and Vi have a fight about how she almost died on the job and then you kiss and makeup. The first half is really angsty and the second half is just smut. That's it, lol. Enjooyy
Length: 5.6k words
Warnings: Language, excessive drinking, yelling, fighting, mentions of vomiting, mentions of blood and a gunshot, SMUT, oral sex, a little bit of degradation, begging, thigh riding (idk if those last two need a warning but I'll leave them here). (please tell me if ypu think I should add any more).
Reader's gender is not specified but they do have a vulva, so keep that in mind.
Author's note: Phew! Writing this was a RIDE. The first half of it was written in a single 12+ hour long sitting and the second was just me struggling to write fully-blown smut for the first time ever, so, at this point I have no idea if this is any good or not (probably not, but I digress). Like I have stated before, I am still in the process of getting back into writing so please don't expect a masterpiece. That said, I hope you enjoy! 💕
“They could have killed you, Vi!”
“I told you, I’m fine!”
“You got shot!”
“It’s healed now, so what’s the problem?!”
“You know that’s not the point!”
“Then what is?!”
“I could have lost you Vi! I could have fucking lost you! That’s the fucking point!”
Your voice broke and tears started falling from your eyes - the thought of losing the love of your life too much to handle. You took a deep, shaky breath and shook your head.
“I can’t deal with you right now.” You said, rubbing your temples, too emotionally exhausted to keep arguing. Making your decision, you walked past her, headed straight towards your apartment door.
“Where are you going?!” She asked, grabbing your wrist.
You ripped it away from her grasp and walked out, not even bothering to answer.
“You can’t just walk away from this!” Her voice was loud and clear through the paper thin walls of your building, but you didn’t turn back. The truth is, you didn’t know where you were going. All you knew is that you couldn’t be near her right now.
She’s unbelievable! You thought as you marched down the stairs.
She has the nerve to get mad at me for worrying?
She’s a reckless idiot half the time! How am I supposed to not worry?
If the roles were reversed she would be just as pissed, if not more!
One of these days she’s gonna get herself killed!
Angry thoughts swirled around in your head, serving as fuel as you moved through the busy streets of the Undercity, now with a clear destination in mind - the bar. You usually weren’t one to drown your sorrows - not with booze anyway - but today… today you really needed it. At least that’s what you told yourself as you stepped through the doors of ‘The Last Drop.’ It was crowded and loud, the thick scent of booze and cigarettes hanging in the air. Just like you remembered. You made your way to the bar and took a seat.
“Haven’t seen ya ‘round here in a while.” The bartender, Callum, said casually.
“Hey.” You responded, not wanting to make small talk.
“So what brings you here? Trouble in paradise?”
“It’s Vi.” You said curtly.
He let out a sigh, clearly understanding right away.
“The usual, then?”
“Yeah, please.”
“Coming right up.”
A couple of minutes later, Callum slammed your drink down in front of you and you took the glass in your hand. You stared at the clear liquid inside, contemplating whether a hangover in the morning was worth forgetting tonight.
Fuck it.
Making your decision quickly, you lifted the glass up to your lips and downed the entirety of its contents, sealing your fate for the night.
“Hey! Hey! Wake up!”
You felt someone shaking you, but you were too tired to face the world so you ignored it and tried to go back to sleep.
“Come on! Vi’s here and she’s gonna kill me if she finds you like this...” You heard Callum say.
You groaned at the mention of her name.
“Fuck Vi!” You yelled, still angry about the fight that had brought you here in the first place.
“Glad to see you too, cupcake.” Said a voice from behind you.
Vi’s here. Wonderful.
“What do you want?” You said bitterly over your shoulder.
“I’m here to take you home.”
“Well, what if I don’t wanna go home?”
“Yeah, that’s not an option.” She said, taking your arm and swinging it around her shoulder.
“Come on. Up you go.” Vi encouraged you.
You groaned in response and stayed still, trying to make yourself as heavy as possible in protest.
“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be like this… How could you let them get this drunk?” She asked Callum, one eyebrow raised in obvious disapproval. You surged in anger at her words - how dare she talk about you like that? Like… Like you were a little kid whose babysitter allowed them to stay up past their bedtime?
“Am not a fuckin’ child! I can make my own choices, y’know?!” You slurred, standing up too quickly and losing your balance.
“Yeah, I can see that.” She said as she caught you in her arms, preventing you from falling flat on your face.
She swung your arm around her neck once more, but this time you were too tired and nauseous to resist her help, so you slumped against her and let her half-carry you out of the bar.
The walk back home was silent… or as silent as it could be in the Lanes, anyway. Neither one of you spoke a word, but you both knew that there was a lot being left unsaid. You could tell Vi was angry, both from the scowl on her face and the way she was staring so determinedly ahead, like she didn’t want to look at you. And maybe, just maybe, you thought, she had the right to be. You had disappeared on her for who-knows-how long and you had gotten black-out drunk by yourself. So maybe she wasn’t completely, entirely, absolutely in the wrong.
But I have a right to be angry too.
The fresh memory of Ekko busting through your door with a barely conscious Vi in his arms flashed through your mind. “Enforcers,” you remembered his words, clear as day, and the deadly weight that he spoke them with. And how could you forget the sight of the woman you loved, almost bleeding to death from the wound on her side? Or the feeling of her flesh as you dug out the bullet with your bare hands? Or the sound of her cries as you passed a needle through her skin, sewing the wound close, stitch by stitch?
Worst of all was the dread that you felt as you waited for Ekko to come back with medicine from the apothecary. You sat there for what felt like hours, unable to do anything but attempt to cool her down as her fever spiked and her breathing became labored. You held her hand through it all, the fear that it may be the last time that you did slicing through you like a knife…
“We’re here.” Vi said as she opened the door to your shared apartment. You’d gotten so lost in your own thoughts you hadn’t realized you’d walked all the way back home. She helped you over to the bathroom and sat you down on the toilet. Your head lolled back against the wall and you closed your eyes, the exhaustion of the night’s events finally settling into your bones. You felt yourself falling asleep and welcomed it, but the sudden sound of the shower spray startled you awake.
“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Vi crouched down in front of you and took your face in her warm, bandaged hands, tilting it down to meet her eyes.
“You need a shower.”
You furrowed your brows. What was she talking about?
“Whatdaya mean? Why?”
She chuckled at your question. “You hurled all over yourself, cupcake. Sober you would kill me if I let you go to bed with pukey clothes.”
“I threw up?”
“Yeah, twice actually.”
A vague memory of countless empty glasses at the bar flashed through your mind in that moment.
“Makes sense.” You said weakly.
“I’m gonna need you to take your clothes off sweetheart. Can you do that on your own or do you need my help?”
“Think I can do it by myself.”
You undressed yourselves as the water got hotter and steam filled the small bathroom. When you finally managed to take all your clothes off (which took you longer than usual, given your current state of intoxication), Vi helped you step into the tub and under the warm shower-spray. Too tired to stand, you sat down and allowed the water to hit your back.
The two of you stayed mostly silent as Vi washed you, only breaking the silence when she needed you to turn around or move a certain part of your body. On any other occasion, this would have been very relaxing and even sexy, but tonight, the air was thick with tension - and not the good kind. There were so many things you wanted to say, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say them. So you just sat there and said nothing, merely waiting until Vi was done.
Soon enough, the shower shut off and Vi helped you step out of the tub, making sure you didn’t slip on the wet tile floor. At this point, all you wanted was sleep, so you were quick to dry yourself off and put on some clean clothes, only brushing your teeth because Vi reminded you to.
As soon as you were done with your night-time routine, you rushed off to your shared bedroom and collapsed on the bed, eagerly awaiting the sleep you so desperately needed. Right before you fell asleep, you felt the bed dip behind you and a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to their owner.
“Thank you for tonight.” You whispered, barely awake.
She kissed your shoulder in response, as if to say “don’t mention it, cupcake.”
You woke up to the sun shining brightly in your face. On most days, this was welcomed - nothing felt better than cozy sheets that had been warmed by the sun’s rays, after all - but today, however, it was not. Your head was pounding and your body hurt all over, a clear and obvious consequence from your very, very poor decisions the previous night. In hopes of shielding yourself from the intense light coming from the window, you turned around and pulled the covers over your head.
You had every intention of going back to sleep, but the delicious aroma of coffee convinced you otherwise. Swinging your legs off the bed, you took a second to stretch your tired body before standing up and making your way to the kitchen.
“Morning.” Said Vi, as she moved around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients.
“Morning.” You said back.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better, thanks.”
“That’s good.” She replied, curtly.
“I made coffee. Yours is on the table.” She continued.
“Thanks.” You said as you grabbed the mug and took a sip, not knowing how to address the obvious tension in the room.
“I’m going to the gym today.” She mentioned, now pouring flour into a big bowl.
“Yeah, I got that new workout routine I wanna try.”
“That sounds fun.”
Oh god, this is so much worse than the yelling.
“I guess I’ll go to the market - get some of that stuff we’re missing.” You said, trying to keep the conversation going.
“Oh, could you get some eggs, then?” She asked as she used up the last ones, adding them to the mystery batter.
“Yeah, sure.”
At this point, you didn't know what was worse - the awkward small talk or the oppressive silence.
“So we're just not gonna talk about it?” You said, finally addressing what was clearly on both of your minds.
“What’s there to talk about?” She asked, now angrily pouring milk into the bowl.
“Come on Vi, we can’t keep running away from this.”
“If I remember correctly, you were the only one running away last night, cupcake. I was more than happy to talk, but I guess you just couldn’t ‘deal with me’.”
Your heart dropped as you remembered the cruel words you had spoken to her in your anger, not even realizing how heartless they were in the moment.
“Vi… that’s not what I meant.” You said with a sigh.
“Really? What did you mean, then?” She asked with a sarcastic tone, as she started aggressively whipping the batter.
“It’s just…” You started, trying to find your words.
“It’s just what?!” She insisted as she let go of the bowl, hands slamming down on the counter.
“It’s just that you don’t listen, Vi! You’re always ‘more than happy to talk’ but you never actually listen to anything I say!”
“Well, I’m listening now, aren’t I?! So come on! Tell me what you want to say! Tell me all these things that I apparently never listen to.”
“See? You’re doing it again!”
“Doing what?!” She yelled, finally turning around to face you.
“You’re dismissing what I say, Vi! You’re dismissing my very real - very valid - concerns!”
“Why? Because I won’t quit the Firelights everytime I get a scratch?!”
“I have never asked you to do that, and you know it!”
“Maybe not in so many words, no. But I can tell you’re thinking it - hoping for it, even!”
“Of course I think about it, Vi! Of course I hope for it! You’re the love of my life, you dumbass! If I could I’d never let anything hurt you! But I’d never ask you to do that!”
“Then what the fuck do you want me to do?! How are we supposed to make this work, huh?!”
“I JUST WANT YOU TO BE MORE CAREFUL, GODDAMMIT.” You yelled, your voice breaking into sobs. Your shoulders quivered as you wailed, and you sat down on the couch, feeling like your knees were going to give out on you.
Vi’s eyes went wide as she watched you from the kitchen. She had never seen you break down like this, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do. She stood there for a second, unsure, before instinct kicked in and she rushed over to you.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey.” She said gently as she crouched down in front of you. She cupped your cheeks in her hands, trying to coax you to look at her, but you wouldn’t budge.
“Come on, cupcake. Look at me.” You shook your head, sobs still rocking your body. You didn’t want her to see you like this - eyes red, cheeks wet, runny nose - you didn’t want her to see you so weak.
“Please, baby. Please look at me.” She was begging at this point, which she never did, so you obliged her, tilting your head down to meet her eyes.
“There you are.” Vi said with a smile as she wiped your tears away with her thumbs. She sat down next to you on the couch and pulled you into her side. “Come here,” she whispered as tucked your head into her neck and lifted your legs onto her lap, wrapping her arms around you.
Vi stroked your hair as she let you cry into her chest, her arms tightening around you every time you let out a particularly loud sob. You clung to her like a lifeline - finally letting all your pent up feelings out - the anger, the sadness, the fear you felt every time Vi walked out the door to go on Fireflight business, never sure when - if - she’d come back. The two of you stayed like that for what felt like eternity, cuddling each other in your own little bubble where nothing could hurt you.
Finally, your wails subdued and your breathing relaxed enough for you to find your voice.
“Vi, I don’t want you to quit the Firelights.” You said, as you lifted your head from its spot on the crook of her neck and turned to meet her gaze. She merely nodded in acknowledgement, encouraging you to continue. “I know how important they are to you and I would never ask you to give that up. Nor would I want to.” You let out a sigh, still reeling from the intensity of your break down.
“That fire, that - that - that drive in you, to fight and to stand up against those Topside assholes - it’s one of the things I love about you.” You continued as you raised your hand to stroke her cheek.
She leaned into your touch, placing her hand over yours and leaving a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist.
“I just -” You exhaled, trying to find the right words.
“Want me to be more careful?” She completed your thought for you, repeating your earlier sentiment, making you giggle.
“Yes... You can be so reckless, Vi. And I know, I know, I knew what I was signing up for from the very beginning. But I just wish you thought a little bit before you jumped into danger, y’know? It’s not just your life, anymore, baby. It’s our life.” You bumped your forehead against hers, further emphasizing your point.
“And three days ago, when Ekko brought you here… God, Vi. You were so pale, and your eyes - it was like you were already dead.” You gripped her hand, voice breaking once more.
“And I really thought you weren’t gonna make it. And it’s like a life without you flashed before my eyes and Vi… that’s not a life I want, ok?”
“So please, just, please. Promise me you’ll be more careful. Please. If not for your sake, for mine.” You pleaded.
“That’s all I ask.” You finished with tears running down your cheeks again.
You sat up, stunned at her words.
“‘Okay’? Just ‘okay’?”
Was she being sarcastic? You honestly couldn’t tell.
She looked you dead in the eye and placed your hand over her heart. “I promise that I’ll be more careful from now on, okay sweetheart?” She said genuinely, gripping your hand in hers.
“Just like that?” You asked with a sniffle.
“Just like that.” Vi nodded and you let out a sigh of relief.
“Expected more pushback?” She asked, wiping your tears away once more.
“Well… to be honest, yeah.”
She laughed. “You are severely underestimating the power of your puppy dog eyes, cupcake.” You let out a giggle at her words and pushed your head against hers.
“I love you.” She said, softly.
“I love you, too.”
“And I’m so sorry, for what I said last night, and for running out and disappearing on you and -”
“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, it’s okay. I forgive you.” She shushed you as she cupped your cheeks with her hands and pulled you closer. You looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, finding all the love and reassurance you both needed right there. Vi’s gaze shifted downwards, to your lips, and then back up to your eyes, silently telling you what she wanted.
With a gentle smile, you leaned in and pressed your lips against hers. Vi’s hands slid down from your cheeks, to your neck, making a final stop at your waist. Yours, on the other hand, made their way to her pink hair, where you buried your fingers as you pushed her closer to you.
Swinging your left leg over her lap, you straddled her, her hands immediately going to your ass, pushing you down against her. You gripped her hair by the roots and pulled harshly to the side, exposing her tattooed neck to your lips. Starting at the sensitive spot below her ear, you trailed kisses and bites down her skin, reveling in her tiny moans as you did.
“Fuck, cupcake..” She said, out of breath, as she cupped the back of your head, encouraging you to keep going.
You smirked at her words - you had no intention of stopping. You licked your way back up her neck and bit her ear, coaxing a whimper out of her lips. “Take this off, baby.” You whispered, grabbing at the collar of her jacket. Vi didn’t hesitate, practically ripping off the red garment before getting her hands back on you. “This, too.” You said as you helped pull off her undershirt, leaving the top part of her body completely exposed.
You let your eyes wander over her form, taking a second to appreciate the utter work of art that she was - her sculpted shoulders, her muscular arms, and fuck, her tits -
“Enjoying the view, cupcake?” She asked teasingly, knowing perfectly well that’s exactly what you were doing. “Can you blame me?” You teased back as you rolled her nipples between your fingers. You leaned down to take one of them into your mouth, biting just a little before turning your attention to the other one, making sure to give it the same love and attention. Vi was a panting mess at this point, and you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself, proud of your work.
You stood up from her lap and kissed her on the lips when she turned to look at you, confused. You stepped back before she could pull you into a deeper kiss, and kneeled down in front of her. Looking up at her through your eyelashes, you placed your hands on her thick thighs and started rubbing them, making your intentions clear. Vi nodded, answering your silent question of consent, and you got to work pulling down her pants. Given her position, she had to shift around a little bit to get them off, but soon enough Vi was wonderfully bare before you.
Without breaking eye contact, you spread her legs, and pulled her to the edge of the couch, lifting one of her legs onto your shoulder. You teasingly bit the side of her knee and kissed your way up her inner thigh, occasionally stopping to suck on her skin. “You’re gonna leave marks, babe…” Vi said, out of breath.
“That’s the point.” You responded, emphasizing your words with another bite to her skin. You kept teasing her, kissing, licking, biting at her thigh - fully aware that you were driving her crazy. “Come on, cupcake.” She urged you, trying to push your head to where she needed you most. You were tempted, of course - you loved going down on Vi almost as much as you loved her. But you wanted her to beg.
“What’s the magic word?” You asked, looking up at her smugly as you sucked a mark onto her skin, loving the way her head lolled back against the wall in pleasure. You turned to the other leg and lifted it over your shoulder as well, licking a long line up her calf and knee until you reached that sensitive spot on her inner thigh. You bit down hard - “mhh” you heard Vi moan above you - and you soothed over the teeth marks with your tongue.
Her hands came down to push your head against her pussy and you lightly slapped the inside of her thigh in reprimand. Vi knew exactly what she had to do if she wanted your mouth on her - the brat was just too stubborn to do it. “Come on, baby… Just say it.” Your hands trailed up her calves and past her thighs, reaching up to grab her breasts. “You know you want to…” you continued, twisting and pulling at her nipples. She lifted her closed fist up to her mouth and bit down, clearly fighting the urge to give you what you wanted.
Realizing you needed to up your game, you sat up so you were at eye level with her stomach. You planted a kiss right above her belly button, and then another one on her lower tummy, kissing your way down until you were face to face with her pussy. You took in a deep breath before diving in, inhaling the scent of her, knowing it always made her blush. “Fuckin’ finally…” Vi muttered under her breath, burying her hands in your hair.
Rather than giving her what she so clearly wanted, you upped the teasing. You licked at the sides of her cunt and around her clit, purposefully avoiding the place where she wanted you most. She let out a loud whine, finally realizing what you were up to and you felt your own pussy clench at the sound- there was nothing better than a needy, desperate Vi. “You’re killing me, cupcake.” She breathed out.
“You know what you need to do, sweetheart.” You said teasingly, looking up through your eyelashes to meet her eyes. She shook her head “no” - stubborn, little thing. “It’s just one tiny, little word,” you said as you now rubbed small circles around her clit, “you can do it.” She bit her lip and you knew you had her where you wanted her.
“Fuck… please.”
There it was.
Giving her no time to prepare, you pulled her closer by her legs and dove in. You swirled your tongue all the way up to her clit, no longer holding back. For what must have been the fifth or fourth time that night, her hands found your head and shoved it against her pussy, only this time you didn’t resist. Instead, you lapped at her folds, shamelessly groaning at her taste.
“Fuck, Vi… You’re so wet.” You said breathily, pulling away for a second before burying your head between her legs once more. You flattened your tongue against her core and licked up her slit. Vi bucked her hips against your face and you pushed down against her hips to keep her as still as you could. You started circling her clit, but a sharp tug at your hair told you the time for teasing her was over - and you agreed, finally wrapping your lips around her clit. You sucked at the bundle of nerves, coaxing a very loud moan out of your beautiful girlfriend. Bringing one of your hands down, you gathered some of her wetness and pushed two of your fingers inside her.
“Augh!” She groaned as you curled them, pushing them against that spot inside her that always made her weak. Her eyes squeezed shut and she gripped at the roots of your hair - she was close. With newfound determination, you drove your fingers deeper into her and intensified the pace, using your other hand to lift up the hood of her clit so you’d have more access. Without your hands to hold her down, she started rocking her hips, grinding her cunt against your face. You let out a groan, swirling your tongue around her folds before going back to sucking on her clit.
“Fuck!” Vi yelled out as she finally came, her hips slowing down and her grip on your hair loosening. You lapped up her juices, giving her slit a final lick before you pulled your fingers out of her and leaned back. Panting, you looked up at her and felt yourself get wet at the sight before you: Vi, flushed and out of breath, with her eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows furrowed in obvious pleasure. Sensing your ogling, she opened her eyes and looked down at you. Her hands came down to cup your cheeks and she pulled you up to sit on her lap.
“You taste so fucking good, babe.” You said, licking your lips as you perched yourself on one of her strong thighs. She blushed at your comment, and brought you down to kiss her. Your lips clashed together, her juices mixing with your saliva as her tongue entered your mouth. Now feeling the need for your own release, you started grinding your clothed core against her thigh, whining into her mouth. Amused at this, Vi leaned down to your ear, licking at the flesh before biting down. “Who’s desperate now?” She whispered, gripping your hips to stop you their movement.
You let out a whimper and attempted to move, but a harsh slap to your ass was enough to make you stop. Vi cupped the nape of your neck and pulled you into a deep kiss, the other hand remaining on your hip as a reminder to behave. She pulled away and looked you dead in the eye. “It’s your turn to beg for me, cupcake.” She said, voice low and pupils dilated. There was no hesitation in her words and you knew instantly that this was vengeance for your earlier teasing. Dropping your head onto her shoulder, you moaned as you tried to escape her iron grip on your hips, but to no avail.
“Come on, babe… it’s just one tiny, little word…” She said condescendingly, repeating your earlier words back to you. Lifting your head by your hair, she pulled it back to expose your neck to her hungry lips. She kissed along your jawline and down your neck, sucking harshly on the skin of your chest. Her hands settled on your hips once more, making sure that you wouldn’t get any release until you gave her what she wanted - you could be just as stubborn as her, after all.
You tried to hold out, you really did, but the truth was, that teasing game had gotten to you just as much as it had Vi, and you just couldn’t wait anymore. “Please, Vi.” You whimpered into her ear, giving in. “Please, what?” She asked sternly, biting at your neck. Fuck, she was cruel.
“Don’t make me say it.” You begged, pushing your forehead against hers, but Vi wasn’t budging. Letting out a whine, you prepared yourself for further humiliation. “Please let me ride your thigh, Vi. Please.” You insisted.
“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She asked smugly, now gripping your ass and pulling you closer. “Well, go on then, have at it…” She said as she released her hold on your hips and crossed her arms behind her head. You pouted when you realized that she wasn’t going to help you, but started moving your hips back and forth, anyway. “Come on, cupcake. Is that the best you can do?” Your eyes were closed, but you didn’t need to see her to know there was a smirk painted across her face. Getting worked up at her words, you started grinding faster and harder, desperate to reach your peak.
“That’s a good little slut.” She said with a slap to your ass. She moved her hands to your sides and started moving you back and forth, guiding your hips against her thigh. Her words went straight to your pussy and you moaned. “Fuck, Vi… feels so good.” You could feel your wetness leaking through the thin panties you had worn to bed the previous night, and based on the way Vi bit her lip and groaned, she could too. “Fuck yeah, babe - make a mess on my thigh.” She said out of breath.
She started bouncing her leg, just as eager to make you cum. “Ah!” You moaned in surprise. You swore, this woman was gonna be the death of you. You could feel the pleasure building as the rhythm of your rolling hips quickened, desperately chasing your climax. “Come on, cupcake. I wanna see you come for me.” She whispered in your ear, still bouncing her leg against your sopping cunt. You were panting and moaning and whimpering, your nails digging into Vi’s shoulders for support.
You were close, teetering on the edge of your orgasm, but not quite there yet. You groaned out in frustration, desperately rubbing yourself against your girlfriend’s bouncing leg. Vi grabbed your face with her hands, squishing your cheeks as she brought you closer to meet her gaze. “Keep your eyes on me.” She said sternly, her fingers holding your face in place. You did as told, your eyes never leaving hers as the pleasure almost became too much for you.
“Cum for me.” It was a command - sure and unwavering - and it was all it took to bring you over the edge. Your mouth opened in a silent moan as your hips slowed down, coming to an eventual stop. You took a second as you came down from your high, your breathing shaky and your body quivering from the extreme pleasure. Vi bounced her leg a couple of times, enjoying the way you shuddered at the stimulation, you pussy now overly sensitive from your climax.
You slumped against her, your activities having drained you, both physically and mentally. Vi reached up to caress your back, trailing her fingers up and down your spine. “You were so good for me.” She said, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “You too,” you responded as you nuzzled into the crook of her neck, planting a kiss there to return the affection. You both sat there for a second, caressing and kissing each other gently.
“Fuck, cupcake.” She said with a laugh as she brushed the hair that had fallen out of place behind your ear. You grinned, “fuck, indeed.” You held each other for a brief moment, before Vi admitted that her leg was getting tired., making you laugh. You got off and the two of you laid down together to cuddle on the couch, too tired to move to the bed.
“We should really stop fucking on the couch.” You mentioned offhandedly as you thought about all the times you had gotten down and dirty with your girlfriend on these very cushions.
“You should stop being such a hot piece of ass then, babe.” She said, giving your ass a light slap before wrapping her arms around your waist. You giggled, placing your hand over hers. “But think about all the stains, Vi… Our guests sit here.”
“Mhhh, I’ve never heard you complain.” She planted a couple of kisses on your neck and nibbled on your ear for good measure, making you squeal with joy.
“Does this mean we’re good?” Vi asked, squeezing you just a bit. “Yeah,” you said, bringing her hand up to your lips so you could kiss it.
“You sure?”
“Really, really sure?”
“Do you need me to make you cum again to prove it, Violet?” You asked, now rolling your eyes.
“I mean… I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” She said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“You’re an idiot - a horny, insatiable idiot.” you said, laughing.
“And yet, here you are, completely and utterly in love with me.” She teased.
“I am.” You said, squeezing her hand.
“That’s good, cupcake. Cause I’m completely and utterly in love with you too.”
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lustbile · 2 months ago
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Jeno X Reader
Word Count: 4.7k
Warnings: oof alright so. Extreme sadomasochism, human ashtray/burning fetish (if that’s a thing idk), dacryphilia, use of drugs, rimming/oral (reader receiving), anal play, just a lot of intense stuff, and Jeno and the reader are both just absolute freaks let be honest.
please read warnings. alright this is definitely not as intense as some things i’ve seen but I do think it’s probably the most intense thing i’ve posted maybe??? maybe not i’ve written some weird things. but yes seriously don’t ignore warnings.
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“And you’re a hundred percent sure you want me to do this?” His fingers press into the flesh of your ass, waiting until you turn your head to the side and gently nod against the bedding, “It’s gonna hurt pretty bad.”
“I know,” you sigh out, almost dreamily. Your thighs spread wider across his lap as you sink lower onto your stomach, “I just really do think I’ll like it, but you don't have to do it if you don't want to.”
“I think thats the issue,” he huffs, bringing the shortening roach to his lips and taking a pull that’s probably just burnt, useless bud at this point, but at least doing something that will focus his thoughts, “I want to do it so fucking bad.”
“So you do want to burn me, Jeno?” You ask in a tone that turns more taunting, your hips shifting back and forth as a minuscule part of you hopes he sticks the burning paper and ash to you by accident, “Why? Wanna see me cry or something?”
Yes. The answer to that was yes. He didn’t even need to verbalize because you knew if there was one thing Jeno loved to do, it was to make you cry.
Yes. The answer to that was yes. He didn’t even need to verbalize because you knew if there was one thing Jeno loved to do, it was to make you cry.
“You’re high,” he says with a stressed and quiet laugh, as if the cotton-like feeling behind your eyes and under your tongue would let you forget that fact, “fuck, I’m high too so I don’t know…”
“Better I’m high than stone cold sober,” you say, more so just speaking out loud, “probably will hurt less if I’m high and I can ease into the pain if we ever do something like this sober.”
It probably would have also never been brought up in the first place if I wasn’t high, you add in your head. The idea of letting your boyfriend purposefully put a joint out on your skin comes from a lot of pain kink exploration and a stranger from twitter with too much time and imagination on their hands. Would it be the first time Jeno has caused you physical pain in the name of sexual release? Absolutely not even close, but it was a pretty intense request you suppose.
He drums his fingers against your ass again a few times, falling into a quick rhythm as you can tell he’s getting more excited about the idea than he’d ever admit. The thick paper of the filter scrapes against your skin as he does so, making your heart thump at the idea of the other end taking its place against your sensitive flesh.
“Do you want me to count to three?” He finally asks, making your breath catch in your throat.
“No… I think I’d rather it take me by surprise.”
“Ah okay cool…”
There’s a heavy silence afterwards, both of you simmering in ideas of how it could become a surprise now.
“Hold this,” he mutters, putting the dwindling joint between your teeth and letting you puff on it just enough to keep the angry fire at the end alive. Once his hands are free he starts to make work of your underwear, the only remaining fabric on your body, similarly to the thin pair of boxer briefs that clings to the narrow hips of the boy behind you. Something about getting high alone with him always results in some shedding of clothes, whether the night ends in sex or not, as you presume hot boxing a room with your partner would make you want to be as uncovered as possible.
He pushes your feet against your thighs for a moment, bending your knees so he can wiggle on your underwear without making you get off his lap. It takes a moment, the fabric getting caught around your knees and then your toes, but once they’re off he throws them unceremoniously on the floor.
“Fuck,” he mutters to himself once he catches sight of the wet heat between your thighs, a sigh of your own following once you catch how deep his voice drops.
He seems to forget briefly about the joint between your teeth as his hands start to wander. His thumbs get so close to where you’d wanted him since the weed reached your brain, and with a quiet sticking noise, he pulls at your skin to watch your arousal drip from your body.
A sudden feeling washes over you as he stares and watches you like it's the first time he’s ever seen you, and without thinking you squirm and let out a whine to remind him there is in fact a human in charge of the body underneath his twitching hands. A very impatient human at that.
“I can take that back,” he huffs, reaching for the roach that still rests in your mouth, the whining and squirming only being partners to the drooling you started that has dampened the filter.
He takes the short roach between his fingers as carefully as he can, kissing your shoulder gently as he slowly pulls away. His mouth continues, trailing down to your shoulder blade and the side of your rib, until your ass pressing against his stomach causes too much of a wedge and he can only brush his lips against your skin like a whisper.
Once he’s back to the way he was seated, the hand holding the joint returns to your hip, and his lips join not long after. He kisses right at the crease where your ass meets your thigh and when he noses inward until he can lick at the wetness that has stuck to the inside of your thighs, you gasp.
You gasp again when his free hand travels behind him. First landing on the sole of your foot a trailing so softly up that it tickles the flesh and you involuntarily kick up. He takes the jerking movement for granted, grabbing your ankle and pushing it up until your knee is bent and your foot is wiggling against your ass in the way it was when he removed your underwear.
He uses your trapped ankle to spread your legs farther, his mouth following the movement to lick around your cunt and ignoring the way you clench around nothing.
Your hips tilt back and up, trying to take how hungrily he mouths at you as meaning he’s too lost in thought to notice if you moved your hips in the exact perfect position. But unfortunately he moves swiftly with you, licking up to the curve of your ass before he harshly sinks his teeth into the flesh.
You let out a yelp, that you think must be much louder than it actually is, and your hips start gyrating helplessly as you wish for just some form of friction.
You take his release of your ankle as a good sign, and you take the way his hands travel to your waist to pull you back until your clit brushes against the fabric covering his crotch as an even better sign. But as you're panting and grinding against the growing bulge between his thighs, you feel it.
It’s not a sudden feeling, almost like a sting of a fire ant bite or pouring antiseptic onto a paper cut. But it grows and it's hot, and before you know it you can feel the way the embers have started to scorch your flesh and smell a burning that you can only correlate to the smell of burning leather.
You let out a pathetically quiet yell, a sob wracking your chest right after and choking it before it can become too loud. Your fists twist into the sheets by your head, your skin blossoms red around the point he presses the dying joint against your skin, and tears spring to your eyes almost as quickly as the new flood of arousal spills from between your thighs.
It bites at where your ass meets your back, towards the curve of the side of your hip. You can still feel the paper sticking to you, the once concerned boy behind you enraptured now with the sights and taking his time to make sure every remaining blossom of burning red is put out and you’re left with nothing but the grey soot of ashes and a telling circular patch of raw flesh.
He tosses the crumpled paper into the floor, the sad thing landing perfectly next to your underwear. Jeno doesn’t really notice either though and his hand mirrors his other again and holds onto your waist as you body shakes and you try to catch your breath.
“Are you good?” He asks with clear concern in his voice, but it does nothing to cover how equally excited he is at the sign of your squirming pain.
“J-e-eno-o,” you stutter out as you feel like your speaking around your own heart lodged in your throat, “fuck me, fuck me please.”
He reaches out, grabbing at your elbow and tugging until you're twisted enough for him to see your face, and once he sees the tears streaming down your face he grunts. But once he follows the streaked trails up your cheeks and sees the wild look in your eyes, he’s going back to the part of you still settled and twitching in his lap as he reaches to pull your ass apart.
In the quiet of the room you can hear the sound of his tongue swishing in his mouth just barely over your panting. He leans down, kissing gently at the still stinging burn before trailing to your tailbone, until eventually he hovers enough to let the accumulated spit fall from his mouth and tail down until it hits the place of your body he’s seemed to have some form of infatuation with lately.
He’s quick to follow the trail of saliva with a pointed tip of his tongue, laying it flat once he reaches your asshole, and making you let out a rattling gasp. Similarly to the putting a joint out on your skin situation, the idea of ass play started as a joke between you two, and it’s now as he laps at your rim and dips as much as the end of it inside you, you’re starting to think joking with this boy may be dangerous.
He gets his fill, pulling away briefly a few times just to come in with quick and harsh licks, before he trails down to where you really need him.
His hands wrap around the tops of your thighs, tugging you up until your back arches and aches and your face is shoved carelessly into the mattress. But you can’t find it in yourself to care much about the degrading position he’s left you in, because after all but shoving his face into you to take in a deep breath, his lips wrap tightly around your clit.
You can feel your face heating up rapidly, and you're unsure if it’s just from the suddenly intense pleasure after such biting pain, or if it’s also because of how shameless his actions are all of the time.
“Jeno, oh my fucking god,” you choke out, reaching blindly behind you in attempt to grab at his scalp, but the way he’s detached from your clit to lay his tongue flat and shake his head rapidly side to side makes it hard to catch his wiggling head.
The way he grunts and groans into your skin is maddening, the level in which he genuinely enjoys getting you all over his tongue and face bordering on detrimental for you in a number of ways.
His arms twist under you one at a time, hooking under your hips until his hands can come up and link together against your back, letting him press you as tightly against his face as the atoms between you will allow. You’re surprised he’s yet to suffocate himself between your thighs, but both you and him seem to be enjoying it too much for you to worry about it.
His blunt nails dig into your back as harshly as he can manage when you start rocking back onto his face, grinning and groaning against your skin when you gasp in the way that tells him that fresh tears are threatening to spill over.
It hurts a lot. The way his nails scratch you, the tension in your muscles from the way he manhandles you, the way he nips and bites at you every time he pulls away for a breath, and especially the raw burn that screams from your hip. But it also feels so good, and overwhelming as the pain glides across your nerves right alongside your impending orgasm.
There’s very little warning you can give Jeno, gasping breaths and whines being almost enough, but they fall on deaf ears. He’s lost himself against you, eating at you like he’ll be able to taste the secrets of the world on his tongue, and if making you come wasn’t the end goal, he wouldn’t have started in the first place.
“God, fuck!” you choke out, your hand coming down to slap at the mattress as your back arches deeply and your toes curl as you kick your feet up beside him until they’re hitting his shoulders.
Your kicking does nothing to deter him as he licks you through the overwhelming amounts of pain and pleasure your body feels at once, and as he goes on the feeling of him pushing you past the initial beginnings of your orgasm has you gasping from a new form of ache.
You’ve gone slack in his hands, his grip on your legs being the only thing that keeps you from melting completely into the bed below you and shaking from the onslaught of stimuli. Your thighs tighten around his head, subconsciously trying to push him out and away as he hums happily as if you’ve given him his favorite treat.
He finally lets up after a moment, your constant squirming and whining become more than he can ignore. He drops you slowly back in his lap, and as if his eyes are drawn to it like a magnet, he glances at the circular burn he left on your skin.
He’s afraid to say much about it, afraid to let you know how much he really enjoyed seeing the act wrack you with burning, stinging pain. But as you lay twitching in his lap, jaw slack as you reach back to fumble with the band of his underwear, he thinks you probably did enjoy it just as much as him.
He pushes at you as gently as he can, lifting you up enough for him to shift below you until he’s sitting up on his knees. Once he's situated, you feel his hand pressing on the center of your back, forcing it to curve and bend to his liking. He leans down, letting his own body follow the curvature of yours, and when you see the soft smile he offers you from the peripheral of your blurry eyes, you find it hard to believe it’s the same man who likes to push burning joints into your skin and make you cry.
“I’m gonna fuck you,” he says. It’s not a question, but you know your ability to say no is there, “I’m gonna fuck you and make you cry even harder than that fucking joint did.”
Part of you wants to curl into a ball. The depth that his voice reached when he spoke to you shaking your insides already and making you a tad nervous along with the way you know your body will be screaming later. But a much bigger part of you, the one that wants him inside of you so bad you think you might start drooling like a rabid animal, lifts up into his body and silently begs him to get on with it.
You hear a shift of fabric, his underwear coming down just enough for him to pull himself out, before he begins to tap his tip gently against your skin. Similar to the journey his tongue took, he presses himself high up near your tailbone, dragging it down against your sensitive skin until the leaking head of his dick bumps against your clit.
You sigh for the millionth time, your shoulders sinking down as you put the rest of your strength into grinding back into him. He grunts and mutters in response, and if you were able to look back at him now you’d see him with his brow furrowed and his jaw locked and tense as he’s almost hypnotized by the magic that is your body.
The first inch of him that slides into you is a lot for the both of you to handle. For you it's always a task taking the length and size of him, feeling as if every time you're testing fate to let him split you completely in half. For him it’s a task to not knowingly split you in half. Taking his time and being patient is a foreign concept to him a majority of the time, so letting you adjust to the way he knows he stretches you to your limits is a patience he had to learn.
The way you shake as he slides in deeper and deeper has him gritting his teeth, and below him you're breathing is labored and your stomach tense. He somehow lights everyone of your nerves on fire every single time, and when he grapples at your body to help you sink down further, and his finger simply brushes against your newly crafted wound, you let out a shuttering gasp that’s perfectly mixed with pain, shock, and arousal.
He shushes you, rubbing his hands down your back, and mutters things that have you debating whether or not he touched the burn on purpose. But your internal debate is short lived, as he’s now seated fully inside you and has started to shallowly rock against you.
“You say stop and I’ll stop, you know the drill,” and he’s right, you do. Your agreed upon safe word sticking back to your mind, but you can’t find anything in you that even considers muttering it, “but until then I”m having my way with you.”
“Jeno,” you start, turning your face again in an attempt to give him soft eyes and a dopey smile, “please I need you so bad. You hurt me so good.”
You see his Adam’s apple bob even with how fuzzy your vision has gotten, your words getting to him but also causing a mean smile to pull across his lips. His hands tighten against your skin, rough enough that you can already feel bruises forming under his touch, and he shifts you around like a doll until you’re flush against him.
The first thrust he delivers knocks the wind from you, a pitched gasp falling from your lips as you flutter around him. Every thrust is sharp and unrelenting, making you feel every inch, bump, and curve of him inside you.
Your mouth falls open, no longer closer like it was earlier when you were mindlessly babbling, but instead just making way for long strings of moans and hiccups and he does exactly as he promised, and has his way with your crumbling body.
The first of his hands to move was jarring but more simple to handle. It slowly slips up your back, kneading at your shoulders as if to comfort you, before he pushes against the back of your neck and leans his weight into it to hold you down. You cough, and let out a small gurgling noise before your body and muddled mind finally just lands on a pathetic whine.
His second hand doesn’t move as far, but it does move more cautiously. You feel him leaning back, slowing his thrusts for only a second to give him space to drop another mouthful of spit on down onto your ass. And as it drips against your skin, you feel him brush his thumb through it until he presses the digit deep into you.
He uses the leverage having his thumb pressed into you gives him to force you back against his hips. Your face digs deep into the sheets below you, and you feel the fabric start to dampen with your saliva.
Your tears had dried up in the process of everything, but when you feel the fingers he has splayed out, stretching across your ass to your hip, you feel fresh ones welling up ready to help your drooling mouth in soaking the bed.
The first brush of his fingers feels like an accident. The quick sharp sting makes you gasp and twitch in the opposite direction of his touch. But the next time you have no choice but to acknowledge what he’s doing.
His middle finger lays on the raw little irregular circle, testing how tender it is and the way that touching it makes you react. The way you jump, the sad little cry you left out, and mostly the way you clench down hard around his rapidly moving length has him biting harshly down on his tongue.
It’s perfect, he thinks. His own little button to get you to react the way he always wants you to. In pathetic, sniveling, and lustful pain.
After a touch comes another, and another. Both brief and teasing, until he finally lets his middle and ring finger both press into the burn and the surrounding tender flesh, holding down hard with a flex to the muscles in his fingers and palm until you’re screaming out with tears rolling down your cute swollen cheeks.
He finds another function of the button he’s created in your skin not long after. Your body shivers almost violently as your legs collapse and you lay limp and flat on your stomach. Your thighs close tightly together, but not tight enough to stop him from continuously drilling into you as you come around him, your hips moving in a way that lets him know you’ve found a way to get friction on your neglected clit.
He uses the spent position your body lies in to angle himself more down, letting his hips bounce off your skin and his hands push harder into your body. And all that you let out is a long overwhelmed whine that gets broken up by his thrusts.
You almost want to reach your hand back again to rip his hands away. Not as much from your neck, or from pushing his thumb in and out of you along with his thrusts, but from the way his fingers circle the small wound in a way so similarly to the way they circle your clit.
But you don’t. And you find yourself truly not wanting to. It hurts so badly, the pain almost blinding and making your chest heave with sobs, but it also sends shocks through your body in a way you’ve never felt before in your life and you feel yourself climbing a dangerous cliff towards another orgasm.
His lip is turning almost as raw as your burn and your throat, his teeth gnawing at it recklessly as the way your body sucks him in has his brain turning to liquid in his skull. He feels his lower belly tensing up and he knows he’s only moments away from coming alongside you.
It’s a race to the finish. His body is a much more active participant than your own, but he loves it that way. The way you turn limp, like your body is made of jelly fills his warming chest with pride, and the way you weakly rock your hips back while you quietly and incoherently beg for mercy is enough for him to know you're enjoying every second.
“Need you to come one last time,” he begs, sounding almost as desperate as you at this point as he leans closer to your ear, “c’mon show me how good you are and how much you love to be hurt.”
Your fist starts to wiggle down, almost as if it’s been reanimated and reminded that it has muscles and bones. You shove it tightly under your hips as they get shoved into the mattress by his, and once you get close enough that you can cover your aching clit with a few fingers, you let out a deep sigh of relief.
The hand he has twisted around your neck turns, flipping it over until it envelopes the front of your neck and presses against the sides. His grip is tight, immediately cutting off the blood flow to your head and making you feel dizzy. And it's this, plus the weak flicking you do against your clit, that sends you over the edge for the last time.
The garbled noises you let out are almost inhuman, only some hints of begging and pleading making its way through as your body tenses and relaxes over and over. The feeling of his fingers digging into the burn becomes less and less evident as the pleasure blinds you and has your eyes fluttering and rolling back.
Jeno hits his finish only a beat or two after. His stomach flexes as his belly button reaches for his spine and his shoulders curve in. He only gets a few more thrusts in, a few more digs into your burn and neck, before he collapses against you. His orgasm being left seated deeply in your body.
You’re not sure if you fall asleep or just blink for a minute too long, but the feeling of your boyfriend's sweat sliding against the raw skin of a burn has you cursing and twisting away. And as if the words fuck and dude ow awaken something deeply within him, Jeno sits up quickly enough that you also have to hiss at the sudden emptiness you feel.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hear him mutter to himself as you hear the door to your bedroom open as he slips out. You don’t get to see which direction he turns down the hallways as you just let your worn body sink into the sheets that stick to your sweaty skin.
“I have absolutely no fucking clue how to treat a burn,” Jeno’s voice is panic stricken, but slurred still as the weed continues to fog his brain.
You turn your body enough to see him digging through a first aid kit that you were fully unaware that you owned, a quiet hhhrmm? coming out from the back of your throat as you sit in confusion.
He looks up from the acetaminophen and a gauze he has gripped in his hands, his face softening and losing its fear when he sees your tired blinking eyes and pouting lips.
He drops the things back in the small box he pulled them from, standing and moving over to sit on the edge of the bed, getting close enough that you can twist in a way that looks horrifying to him but he knows is somehow comfortable to you, until you rest your heavy head in his lap.
“So..” he starts petting at the creases between your brows and your thumping head, “you got what you wanted.”
“Mmhmm,” you simply purr in return.
“Mhm,” he parrots, his head nodding as he thinks, “so, any reviews for being turned into a human ashtray?”
“Jeno,” you start, peaking open one eye and letting your hand flit around dramatically, “it hurts so bad.”
He flinches, moving his hand to your hip and opening his mouth to babble in concern before you speak over him with a grin.
“But it feels so fucking good,” you sigh, like a girl in a teen movie fawning over her crush, “hurts so fucking good. And when you started pushing on it I thought I was going to pass out!”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“Yeah,” you scoff as if it’s the most obvious thing, before nuzzling into his hand as you think, “I do think it means I need to reevaluate a lot of things about myself as an individual.”
“Also in a good way?” He asks again, his voice now trailing off in a quiet laugh.
“Now that I don’t know about,” you huff, wondering if being a freak for pain is really as bad as it sounds, “eh that’s something I’ll think about after I take a bath.”
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inaflashimagine · 2 months ago
true soma
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pairing: eddie munson x g/n reader (though f!reader at the end/smut)
summary: as part of your writing business, you wrote eddie munson's english essay for $20. the problem was, you got caught by the loving ms. o'donnell. the only way to escape expulsion for plagiarism? becoming an english tutor for eddie 'the freak' munson.
word count: 14.5k (help)
warnings: includes the classic stressors and existential crises that come with being a high school senior applying to college, swearing, few substance use references and lots of book references (and a discussion) by two nerds. nsfw part at the end: oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (oops), hypocritical, inexperienced reader making fun of their inexperienced boyfriend, mentions of handcuffs(?)
a/n: I come out of a year-long writing hiatus on this blog only to write my longest one-shot ever...for a 3d character! At the end of the day, Eddie Munson is a dorky metalhead that leads a group of equally-dorky (but endearing) nerds, so I hope that somewhat came through.
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“Please see me after class.”
There was never a time you’d like to hear those words, but receiving them from a frowning Ms. O’Donnell just after the first two weeks of your senior year of high school was less than ideal.
You deluded your anxious self into thinking that your AP Lit teacher wanted to share some information with you regarding college applications. Or that the reason you were the only student who wasn’t handed back their essay on the making of John Proctor as a tragic hero in The Crucible was due to its poignant, publication-worthy analysis that moved its grader to tears.
All those (ir)rationalizations were immediately thrown out the window upon seeing a certain, eccentric person rush into a classroom that everyone but you had now left.
“Ms. O’Donnell! How are you on this fine day?” His growing smile only seemed to further aggravate the visibly annoyed recipient of the question. And when he nodded and offered a wide grin your way, your blood ran cold. 
Because you knew what was about to occur was far from fine.
“It could be much worse, Mr. Munson, even if it is only ten in the morning.” 
When Ms. O’Donnell retrieved two essays from a thick stack of papers, sweat began to form on your forehead as she scolded, “Though I’m afraid the same could not be said for the two of you.”
“And why’s that?” speculated an oblivious Eddie as you seriously contemplated if the man who flunked high school twice was acting stupid or that genuinely dumb. “Aren’t I next to the smartest nerd in Hawkins? President of the Honor Society? It can’t be that serious.”
“Well, Mr. Munson, that statement provides further evidence of why you would hire said student to write your English essay.”
The smile on Eddie’s face immediately swiped off his face, much like the way you felt the ground give way beneath you as a silently fuming Ms. O’Donnell aggressively returned your respective papers.
Only the pages in your trembling hands did not thoroughly discuss the flaws and adulterous sins of John Proctor but provided a horrible retelling of the adventures of Huckleberry Finn in an essay that was intentionally written to barely deserve a C-.
And the most damning part: the paper was purported to be written by “Edward Munson”.
“Oh, I see what’s wrong, Ms. O’Donnell,” Eddie dared to say, a lackadaisical smirk on his face as he pointed to the main title on the cover page he was holding. You swore you saw him (poorly) wink at you before he blathered, “It’s a classic switch-a-roo, a simple mistake. Who is John Proctor? You should give this to him, the dude must be sweating about his grade.”
Ms. O’Donnell’s eye twitched as yours widened. “Mr. Munson, plagiarism is not some silly joke and can result in suspension or expulsion for the both of you.” Knowing she wouldn’t get any answers from him, her stern expression now faced you. “Care to explain why he turned in your AP Lit essay while you gave me his Academic English Lit paper?”
Yet no explanation, or even lie, would get you out of this sticky situation. The truth was simple, really: you charged Eddie “The Freak” Munson $10–plus a $10 rush fee deposit–to write a shitty three-page paper on Huck Finn.  
“You want it to get a C?” you remembered asking him, confusion evident on your face as you scrutinized the energetic man before you. 
How dare he approach your lunch table in broad daylight while he incessantly poked at the hole in his distressed jeans, occasionally munched on a pretzel, and made such a preposterous request? 
“Did anyone ever tell you how my business actually works?”
His amused grin offended you even more, if that were possible. “‘It’s an A or you don’t pay’, got it loud and clear. But from one entrepreneur to another, it’s not the, uh, best branding–”
“–Excuse me?”
 “C’mon, look at me”–he jutted two wagging thumbs toward himself while he looked at you and your baffled friends, wild, brown eyes way too happy over his self-deprecating comment–“do I look like someone who would suddenly write an A+ paper in a course I’ve failed twice?”
After a few solid seconds, you sighed and resigned to his request, before clarifying to the fist-pumping man, “Forcing me to downgrade my writing in less than twenty-four hours will be subjected to expedited service fees.”
Besides, you needed extra money to get a new typewriter, based on the alarming number of essays you were cranking out on your current worn one. At this rate, you’d be able to get one of those fancy computers. 
Eddie barked out a jubilant laugh at that, lips curving upward as he said, “I’m only letting you rob me because that’s a clever charge I might start using in my business.”
You wondered if he still thought you were a clever entrepreneur or the ‘smartest nerd in Hawkins’ as you blankly stared at a scowling Ms. O’Donnell, feeling too stupefied to conjure some fantastical story–or excuse, in this case–that the Dungeon Master was accustomed to doing on a daily basis.
Because there was no way you were going to explain that your sleep deprived brain must’ve given Eddie the wrong paper right before classes started. That your tired mind–consumed with worry about the biology exam you had next period–forgot to double check the content of the writing in your hands before accidentally adding the wrong paper to the growing pile of essays at the end of your English class. 
Of course, he should’ve also checked the essay you had given him. Any of your other customers would at least perform a cursory glance before handing you the money. Still, you had to shoulder some of the blame for having been unusually careless at an activity that required the utmost discretion and vigilance.
But you’d never admit a mistake like that. 
“Please don’t report us,” you blurted out instead, ignoring Munson’s incredulous “Christ!” and exasperation aimed toward your implicit confession. 
Ms. O’Donnell pursed her lips, disapproving eyes considering your nervous figure and Eddie’s cursing one. You closed your eyes, clenched hands anxiously awaiting the verdict that would throw out all of the work you put in for four years.
Snatching the two papers she had returned earlier, she acquiesced, “I guess submitting that plagiarism report would be more painful than grading these papers and having to teach Mr. Munson for yet another year.” 
Right before you and Eddie could exhale a sigh of relief and utter an endless stream of thank you’s, Ms. O’Donnell raised one finger as if to silence the both of you. “But I have one binding condition, aside from the fact that you’ll never commit plagiarism again.”
“Yes, of course, I’ll do anything,” you pleaded while a weary Eddie muttered, “Well, shit.”
You realized you should’ve bit back your words after hearing the worst stipulation proposed in the history of Hawkins, and possibly all of mankind.
“You must tutor Mr. Munson in English for the rest of the year.”
“You’re late,” you sighed dejectedly, glaring daggers at the smiling culprit banging his black lunchbox on the library table, “again.”
“My bad, a…transaction took a bit longer than I was expecting.” He pulled out the chair across from you, ignoring the librarian’s admonishment of his not-so-quiet voice. Rather, his gaze solely remained on you, the puppy-like excitement on his face just begging you to ask for more details.
Instead of taking the bait, you pressed, “Where’s your copy of Frankenstein? You didn’t even bring a pencil.”
Eddie actually pouted at you before murmuring a phrase that sounded eerily close to ‘party pooper’. “I don’t even need the book, it was an easy read so I remember most of it. And I, uh, may have lost the pencil you gave me.”
You’re not sure what your bemused “Huh?” was a response to, but it’s enough to get him talking about the book with a passion you’d only seen whenever he rambled about the current campaign he was running for his club. 
“Look, there’s never shame in running away from your problems, but Victor’s reason for running is the shameful part. Abandoning your creation because he looks like a freak? The scientist is the true monster, if you know what I mean.” 
Eddie, folded arms on the table, inched closer to you, adding in a fervent tone, “But the best part? The creature saying, ‘I will be with you on your wedding night.’ Very metal thing to do.”
Though you tried your best to conceal your surprised smile, your face betrayed you.
It had only been a month since Ms. O’Donnell forced this arrangement on the both of you, and the first two weeks had been an absolute disaster. It was a good day when Eddie actually showed up to your thrice weekly one-hour sessions at the typically empty library. But once Ms. O’Donnell threatened to take away his club privileges if he received one more F on a homework assignment, a reluctant Munson began arriving five to ten minutes late, muttering how English was the bane of his existence.
The remaining fifty minutes would then be spent on trying to pull a restless Munson back into the world of the books you were trying to analyze. Sitting still was a foreign concept to him. Only three things seemed to occupy his mind at all times: Hellfire, his B.C. Rich Warlock, and “running away from shitty Hawkins High”. It was in those instances that you were convinced that nothing substantial ever came out of his brain, or his blabbering mouth.
But in moments like these, where Eddie enjoyed discussing the mandatory literature as much as he loved shredding his guitar or annoying the jocks, you realized his head offered more than just a placeholder for his untamed hair. 
Eddie Munson wasn’t a dumb dork, he was just a lazy one. 
And you could definitely work with that. 
“You know what? You’re actually right for once.” Sliding a loose leaf paper to a bewildered and blinking Eddie, you handed him a pencil and suggested, “So why don’t you write all of that down?”
“Dude! DUDE!”
Completely unaware that you were the dude in question, you closed your locker door only to startle upon finding a psyched Eddie beaming at you. 
“I have a name, you know.” 
“Never said you didn’t,” he quipped, now deciding to say your last name while you rolled your eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” You pulled your calculus textbook closer to your chest, increasingly cognizant of the stares you two were getting from nearby students.
Aside from the teacher who decided to punish you in the first place, only three other people knew about the tutoring ordeal. To explain why you’d be absent for at least three hours a week after school, you kept your two friends, Maggie and Christopher, and the other editor-in-chief of the Weekly Streak, Nancy Wheeler, in the loop.
And while you didn’t think you were someone who concerned themselves with popularity and image at Hawkins High, you shuddered at the rumors already formulating in everyone’s head.
Spreading gossip that tried to piece together why a straight-A student would be talking to a drug dealer like Eddie “The Freak” Munson.
If Eddie noticed your stiffened shoulders and nervous glances he didn’t mention it, instead raising a piece of paper as he smugly said, “Just look at this.”
The first thing you saw was the big, red ‘C-’–a grade that occasionally appeared in your nightmares–on a Frankenstein pop quiz. 
“Holy shit,” you gasped, taking the quiz from him to scan his sloppily written answers, temporarily forgetting all worries as a triumphant Eddie grinned at your widening eyes. In fact, you were shocked to find yourself agreeing with Ms. O’Donnell’s ‘Not Bad!’ comment underneath the grade. “You passed!”
“Hell yeah I did! Told you it was an easy read.”  
“Alright, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, there.”
It took a surprising amount of self restraint to not laugh at Eddie feigning hurt as he gripped his chest. “Must you wound me so? Don’t you torture me enough?”
“Apparently not, since your ego got so inflated with just one passing grade.” To soften the blow, you offered a small smile. “But this is progress. How about we call off today’s session, to celebrate?”
Eddie perked up at that. “Seriously?”
You shrugged before handing him back the quiz, avoiding any brushing of fingers in such a public setting. Even though most students seemed to have returned to their own conversations and tasks, it didn’t hurt to be careful.
“Yeah, why not? I’ll have free time for once. If Ms. O’Donnell asks I'll just say I tutored you during our study period.”
“Hey, maybe we should say that more often.” 
Just as you’re ready to reject his idea, Eddie claimed, “I’m kidding, sheesh!” before returning your smile, appreciation evident in his eyes. “But, uh, thanks. I owe you one.”
“I’ll remember that,” you muttered at his retreating figure, confused at the new wave of emotions replacing the jangled nerves wracking your body a few minutes ago.
Because there was no rational explanation as to why you were sad about canceling a tutoring session with Hawkin’s most pathetic dork.
None at all.
“They said you were trying to get stoned with the freak.”
Maggie’s appalled tone made you cackle, covering your mouth with your hand when her eyebrows narrowed, as if waiting for your side of the story.
“Don’t tell me you actually believe that rumor, I’d never get high in the middle of a school day,” you sighed, shifting your gaze to which drink you should choose from the convenience store. “Especially since I almost got expelled for breaking another school rule just two months ago. I think I learned my lesson.” 
“The thing is, I don’t know what to believe in lately.” Maggie called for your name, exasperated when you opened the fridge door to grab a Coke instead of paying attention to her. “You barely hang out with us anymore.”
“Not true!” supplied your savior Christopher, who popped in from the snacks aisle and wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulder. “You’re just upset we missed your pom-poms routine last week.”
“It’s called cheerleading, dumbass,” retorted Maggie, crossing her arms as she glared back at you. “And Chris was obviously playing on the football field, but you promised you would go.”
You winced, guilt evident in your next words. “I’m sorry, Mag, but you know I was busy with tutoring and the early action deadline. Since I mailed the application, I’ll see you next time.”
“That doesn’t matter, you’re going to tonight’s party with us!” Chris placed your brown fedora hat on his head before lifting his arm to give you a noogie, much to your chagrin. “Gotta make sure you know how to let loose before heading off to YALE!”
“Chris, stop!” you choked out, though relief washed over you after seeing his antics got Maggie to laugh. 
Once you got your accessory back from Chris, you quietly added, “I won’t hear from them ‘til December. And I doubt a school filled with that many nerds party a lot, even on Halloween.”
He grinned, blue eyes swimming with a mirth that seamlessly fit the Danny Zuko costume he was wearing. “Your words, not mine. I’m gonna get some cigs, anyone coming?”
“Wait, Jason told us to get a six-pack, don’t forget!” Maggie dragged Chris further down to the alcohol section, her teased, blond curls bouncing with each step as you wondered how she effortlessly moved in those leather pants. 
“I’m gonna pay for my stuff,” you told them, preferring to let your friends play out their lives as Danny Zuko and Sandy Olson. (And before they started arguing on which brand to get.) 
Deciding to wait for them outside, you leaned against the brick wall of the 7-Eleven, taking a sip of your drink…
“Freddy Kruger?”
…before promptly spitting it out after hearing a familiar voice.
“Eddie, what the hell?” you shouted, miffed by his loud cackling as you tried to assess the damage on your red and green striped sweater.
He stood up from his doubled-over figure, pretending to wipe away a stray tear. “I thought I was supposed to be spooked.”
“I left my glove in Chris’s car, but my nails are just as deadly, you long-haired freak!”
“Sureeee, I’ll lock the door to my van before I leave.” 
“I’ll get you long before then.”
Eddie’s lips curved upwards at the baseless threat. His eyes did a quick once-over, clearly amused. “Last time I checked, Kruger was supposed to be ugly and scary. This might be the first assignment you’ve ever failed.”
You felt your face warm, unsure how to process those words. Was that a compliment? An insult? 
Not wanting to reveal your short-circuiting, you countered, “And what are you supposed to be? At least I’m somewhat creative.”
As if on cue, Eddie dug around the pockets of his leather jacket and put on circular shades, animatedly raising both of his arms to show off his rings and black-painted fingernails while he bellowed, “Ozzy, of course!”
Although you rolled your eyes, you couldn’t help but softly chuckle, deeming his costume as “Very metal” before he asked why you’re dressed up.
“No offense, but you don’t seem like the going-out type. And on a Thursday night?” He covered his gaping mouth with his hand, gasping, “How scandalous!”
Shrugging, you leaned back against the wall, looking at the man next to you. “I don’t go out as much as Maggie and Chris, but I guess it doesn’t hurt to do it once in a while.”
“Respect, no judgment here. And Halloween’s a classic.”
“Right?” you agreed, smiling with Eddie. “But I’m kinda bummed that as you grow up, you trade in king-sized candy bars for cheap beer.”
Eddie lowered his shades as you saw him grab more items from his seemingly infinitely large pockets. “Hey, I know you’re the one who’s teaching me English Lit, but I thought I taught you about forced conforming.”
Just as you were about to ask what the hell he was ranting about, Eddie grabbed your hand and placed a long, rectangular bar on your palm.
Trying your best to ignore his warm touch that made your chest constrict, you laughed at the Snickers bar in front of you as you snorted out a thanks.
“It’s nothing,” he casually dismissed, right before you swiftly snuff out the recently lit cigarette he just placed in his mouth. 
Aghast, he pouted, “That’s how you repay me? You monster!”
“The real monster is lung cancer, you dork, it’s for your own good.” As consolation, you gave him your Coke can, “which might also cause cancer, but at least it’s not lung cancer.”
Eddie laughed, though you weren’t able to hear his jest over Maggie’s yelling of your name.
“Sorry, gotta go.” Brushing off your pants, you slowly began to walk your friends who finally found you and urged you to hurry up.
Yet that didn’t feel right.
Inhaling sharply, you quickly turned around and mustered the courage to ask, “Why don’t you come to the party tonight?”
You wish you were able to see his eyes, covered by those ridiculous shades. But his dramatic head tilt spoke enough. “Me? Going to Jason’s party to hang out with the popular kids? Sounds like it goes against my own personal Munson doctrine.”
“But you’d be hanging out with me. I swear I’m a bit more fun than them, at least enough to be an exception to your little principles.”
“I don���t need any assurance on that,” he said, an almost sad-like smile on his face. “Maybe I’ll stop by after my gig.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” You gave a small wave before running toward Chris and Maggie, the latter instantly questioning why you were talking to Freaky Munson as soon as Chris drove out of the gas station.
“That’s not Eddie, that’s Ozzy,” you replied, unwrapping the Snickers bar and taking a bite out of it to hide your smirk.
“Who?” Her nose wrinkled, as if trying to sift through the pages of the student yearbook in her head. “Is he a senior?”
Chris chuckled knowingly as you cheekily answered, “Yeah, he’s coming to the party tonight.”
You wished the lie didn’t include that part, hating the sinking feeling in your stomach when Ozzy was nowhere to be found in Jason’s crowded house.
“I freaking love this book,” was a phrase you never thought you’d hear come out of Eddie’s mouth. “But Ms. O’Donnell assigning an essay right before Thanksgiving is pure evil.”
You snickered, way too entertained at the sight of Eddie repeatedly banging his head against his copy of Brave New World. “If you love it so much, then writing five pages on it shouldn't be too bad.”
He lifted his head to look at you, tangled hair masking the disbelief painted across his face. “I’m 95% certain you and Ms. O’Donnell are Mustapha Mond, trying to restrict my free will and deprive me of true happiness.”
Though you’d never outright tell him this, hearing his absurd, embellished statements made these tutoring sessions feel less like a chore and more like hanging out with a friend.
Friend. Pairing that word with Eddie Munson felt like an abstract mathematical concept your confused mind was trying to comprehend; you doubt it would sound less foreign if you were to actually say it to him. 
But there was no doubt that these sessions were a lot more fun than in the beginning of the year. When Eddie realized that he would be granted five (more like ten) minutes of non-academic chatting in exchange for five minutes of work, he tried putting effort in his brainstorming or writing. He might even work a bit harder when it was a sci-fi or fantasy book, the only two genres he truly liked. 
And talking with him oddly felt natural. 
He let you vent about the pressure you felt from your parents to be the perfect student and child, despite the fact that they were hardly home. In turn, he disclosed his own current gripes. (“Tell me about it, my uncle keeps on fussing about me making a mess and using up all the hot water. You know, I should get a place of my own.”) 
And he heard your fears on how all the money you saved from odd jobs and your writing services wouldn’t be enough for college, since your well-off parents decided that bestowing such a financial responsibility to you ‘builds character’. (“Not cool for your parents to do. What’s the point of being rich then? College is a scam, anyway. And you want to go to law school? You really like school, don’t you?”)
He sympathized with your complaints on Maggie’s inability to confess her crush to Chris... (“I’m afraid Sinclair is slowly turning to the dark side, he mentioned something about joining the basketball team.” A pause. “You wouldn’t want to be his Hellfire sub this Thursday, by any chance? No? Well, uh, that’s unfortunate. Your loss, really.”)    
…Or listened to your frustration about Nancy choosing Fred Benson over George Davis as the Managing Editor for the Weekly Streak. (“Wheeler did what? I’m sorry, but I have no freaking clue what you’re talking about.”) 
And you actually enjoyed the constant mindless spats with him; whether it’d be better to be a book nerd or a D&D nerd (you obviously won that argument); how vapid the jocks were (you loved Chris and some of his football friends, but basketball captain Jason was definitely an example of all brawn but no brain); or which alien movie was the best (he claimed that Ripley’s badassery was one of best highlights in Alien while you swore by the perfect mix of intelligent characters and the right amount of horror in The Thing).
Ironically enough, your favorite parts always revolved around book discussions. Though these tutoring sessions were required by Ms. O’Donnell, it was surprisingly fun to hear Eddie’s opinions. They weren’t like the contrived contributions you had heard countless times from your classmates during discussions and presentations. Sure, they were far from articulate, but what genuine, spontaneous thought was? 
With each idea you felt like you were getting to know more about Eddie and his perspective on life, an outlook so different from others that you continued to be intrigued.
“Well, I’m not sure if Mustapha Mond is the best comparison, considering that the World State would shock their babies if they even touched a book,” you responded. “If anything, I feel like I relate more to Helmholtz’s struggle to express his intense feelings in a society devoid of such emotion.” 
Leaning your head against your palm, you smirked as you imagined the gears furiously turning in Eddie’s head.  
“Ah, so you agree that there’s no free will in their society?” he spoke after a solid minute, finger extended toward you as if in a ‘gotcha’ moment. “If you don’t fit in or conform to your stupid caste, you’re either forced to leave or you end up dying like good ol’ Johnny boy because you’re so miserable. You call that happy?”
“Free will and happiness aren’t always linked, though. Because of soma, most of society was happy with their position–”
“Because they were ignorant. Does that make them truly happy?”
“Well, how would you define happiness?”  
Eddie scoffed as if you were asking him what color the sky was. “The freedom to be yourself and not care what others think. Why, you think differently?”
You mulled the question in your head, before concluding, “I’m not sure. I just know when I’m happy, I’m not in pain and everything feels stable around me.”
“That sounds like you’re content, which isn’t happiness,” Eddie countered. His intense gaze made you uneasy, brown eyes indecipherable. “Don’t you want more than that?”
“Of course I do,” you said, rather defensively, “but we’re not getting that in Hawkins.”
“And you think you’ll get it at that pretentious college with students that are worse than the rich douchebags in this town?”  
“Yes, because Yale,” you corrected, “has one of the best English departments in the country. I would be able to take so many courses in creative writing! Hawkins has the Hawkins Post. ”
Eddie scratched his head, suspicious eyes narrowed as he questioned, “I thought you wanted to major in Political Science?”
You faltered for a second, astonished he even remembered that. Did he see through your facade?
“R-right, that’s what I meant. I doubt law schools would care, anyway. I’d still meet teachers and friends who’d respect and support my dream of being a lawyer.”
“But why do you still care so much about what others think? To conform to their mindset?” he pressed on, irritation starting to gnaw at you. 
“Because, unlike you”–you rose from your seat, packing up your things as you averted his gaze and furiously whispered–“there’s people that I care about. God forbid I want to be normal and make my friends and parents happy. Your method of running away just creates more problems!”
“Oh, so you think I’m some evil freak?” He stood in your way, preventing you from leaving the library. Of course, the librarian wasn’t at her desk to intervene.
So you stared straight at him, jaw set as your hands tightly gripped the straps of your backpack. “You want the truth, Munson?”
He crossed his arms before having the audacity to roll his eyes at you. “The floor is yours! Clearly you think you’re smarter than me.”
“That’s not true,” you shot back, pressing a finger against his chest, “but what’s true is that you think the whole world is out to get you, when there’s people who care about you. Gareth, Jeff, Mike, Dustin.” 
You gulped, closing your eyes and dropping your hand from his chest as you whispered, “Me.” Opening your eyes, you looked at his dumbfounded expression as you finished, “People do care for you. But you’re too eager about running away to realize and admit it, you coward.” 
Right before his stunned self could say anything, you violently blinked away your blurry vision and asked, “There, are you happy with that answer, Munson?”
At least the one thing you were thankful for this Thanksgiving break was that you wouldn’t need to see him anytime soon.
“–and Chrissy’s upset that Jason’s been so focused on preparing for the season, he even held a practice today, on Thanksgiving!…I’m speaking to the void, aren’t I?”
You regained the loosening grip on your phone, a surprised “Hm?” leaving you while you sat up from your bed and untangled yourself from the telephone coils. 
“What has been going on with you? Are we fighting?”
“Mag, what, why do you think that?”
“Because I tell you my whole life story, and you say one word. One word!” 
“See what I mean? If you’re angry at me, we can work it–”
“Mags, the only thing you need to be working on is telling Christopher Perkins that you’ve been in love with him for the past three years.”
“Oh, don’t bring that into this! That is low, even for you!” 
But hearing her light chuckle across the line showed she wasn’t upset at your daily reminder to get her act together. You laughed, too, before sighing at your own hypocrisy.
A whisper, almost too soft to hear it. “It’s the college stuff, isn’t it? You’re stressed about that?”
“More like I’m having a mid-life crisis at the ripe age of eighteen,” you complained, puffing your cheeks frustratedly as you stared at the ceiling. 
How would you even begin to tell her that Eddie’s words a few days ago still rattled you? That his disappointed face–as if he had realized his gut instinct was right, and that you were no different from the popular kids of Hawkins High–was seared into your mind? 
You questioned every single choice you made, pondered the motives behind your greatest ambitions.
Did you actually want to be a lawyer? Or were you enticed by the prestige and financial security that came from such a title?  
And why were you so hellbent on pleasing others? Why did the respect of your friends and family seem to matter more than your wellbeing?
Just as you felt yourself begin to spiral, Maggie’s concerned voice now a distant buzz in the background, two loud knocks made you jump from your bed.
“Shit!” you cursed, heart hammering out of your chest as you locked onto Eddie Munson’s sheepish eyes behind your window.
“Maggie,” you breathed, hoping she didn’t detect your shaky voice, “Maggie, dinner’s ready, I gotta go. Can’t miss my dad’s cranberry sauce. Happy Thanksgiving!”
“Wait a–”
Hanging up, you rushed to your window to open it, harshly whispering, “You have a lot of nerve showing up after all you said–”
“Can we have this conversation inside, I’m freezing!”
You let Eddie crawl his way to your bedroom floor, your body still fuming as you murmured, “That’s what you get for wearing a leather jacket, you dumb metalhead.”
Your anger then increased when a revelation dawned on you.
“How do you even know where I live? Were you stalking me?”
“What, no!” he whispered back as he stood less than a foot from you, just as annoyed. “The movies make this seem a lot easier than it is. But Mike Wheeler was nice enough to tell me you’re neighbors, unlike a certain person I know.”
“When would that ever be relevant information, you creep?” 
“Stop calling me a–”
You covered his mouth with one hand, using your other to make a ‘shh’ gesture.
When he made a confused sound, you simply mouthed the word ‘dad’ to Eddie. His comically-widened eyes would’ve calmed your heightened nerves if it weren’t for your name being called by a person whose ascending footsteps grew louder each second.
“Hide,” you urged as Eddie dove straight into your closet while you ran to sit against the headboard of your bed, trying to appear as collected as possible.
“Hey, dad.” You looked up from the book you were supposedly reading, smiling at the confused man who just opened your bedroom door. “Something wrong?”
“I dunno, you tell me. Why’d you scream bloody murder?”
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad. I got off the phone with Maggie and I accidentally stubbed my toe trying to grab this book to read. I’m fine, really.”
You caught his glance toward your open window and mentally cursed at your mistake.
“I didn’t know your room was hot enough to crack that open.”
“It just felt a bit stuffy in here,” you weakly supplied, tugging at the collar of your wool sweater while you cleared your throat that felt drier than sandpaper. “Maybe I should’ve worn less layers.”
“Right…I’m going back to the turkey, should be done in an hour.” He pursed his lips, before gravely adding, “If anyone breaks in, just holler again. I’ll bring out the shotguns in the living room.”
Sighing after the bedroom door shut, you felt your frustration toward Eddie slowly chip away as he shyly peeked his head out of your closet, a mixture of fear, concern, and skepticism in his eyes as he asked, “Shotguns? Plural? In your living room?”
“You’re safe,” you assured him as he began to look around your room, “but why the hell are you here?”
“You have a lot of books,” he muttered instead, eyes continuously flitting to a new growing pile out of the many haphazardly distributed in your room. “Like, a lot of them.”
He noisily peered at the cassettes next to the Walkman that laid on your desk. “Big Fleetwood Mac fan. No surprise there.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
It was almost as if he knew his teasing grin would dissipate some of your anger. “What do you think it means?”
That you had better taste in music than he did. The snarky reply never left your mouth, though you could vividly imagine his over-the-top response that would’ve followed—how his affronted gasp would be paired with him banging the library table in false indignation, desperately trying (for the umpteenth time) to convince you to listen to Judas Priest.
But you two weren’t at the library, and this was no time for banter.
“I know, I know, I’ll stop skirting around, just gimme a minute.” As if to give you space, he opted to sit in your desk chair. 
After an awkward silence of averted glances and hand wringing, Eddie prefaced, “I’m sorry for the shit I said on Monday. It was crazy and unnecessary. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It was crazy, and it hurt.” You played with the sleeve of your sweater, unsure of where to start yourself. “But I was also mean, and I’m sorry for that. At least you were right about a few things.”
His knitted eyebrows displayed his lack of understanding. “Right about what?”
“I don’t know what I want to do in my life,” you confided, laughing at the instantaneous relief you felt after sharing the haunting thought aloud. 
You brought your knees to your chest, sending Eddie a quivering smile. “I’ve spent eighteen years of my life constantly pleasing everyone around me, thinking I’d be a burden if I did otherwise. Constantly afraid of failing, not meeting their expectations.”
“You haven’t failed them.”
“But I’ve failed myself.” 
Eddie shook his head, standing from his seat before balking at the empty spot in your bed. When you nodded, he quietly sat across from you, his face the most solemn you’d ever seen him.
“Look, I’m sorry if I made you think you had to have all of life”—he gesticulated wildly, large, brown orbs matching the madness—“figured out. But no one knows what the fuck they’re doing. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. So if someone tries to plan out every single part of your life, fuck them! What authority do they have?”
“And you don’t need to take life advice from a dude who has flunked high school twice…” Eddie nervously twisted the ring on his index finger before giving you a genuine grin. “…but you have time to get it all sorted out. Hey, maybe you’ll get some help from that fancy ass school that will definitely accept you because they’d be stupid not to. And even if they don’t, I know whatever you do will be a hell of a lot better than what most people in this town accomplish.”
You blinked at Eddie, once, two, three times. You then offered the smallest of smiles, not confident that your tightening chest and the lump in your throat would allow you to say anything.
So you hugged him instead, an admittedly awkward embrace with your arms around his neck as you buried your face into his shoulder. But the odd combination of pine, cigarettes, and cheap cologne consumed all your senses, your overactive brain forgetting everything else as it now focused on one thing.
One person. 
“You need to stop smoking,” was the first thing you said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, voice muffled as you directly spoke into his vest.
Soft, fluffy hair tickled your cheek while you felt the deep laughter reverberating from his chest. 
The arm around your waist briefly tightened. “Maybe that’ll be my New Year’s resolution.”
“No, your first resolution should be to finally graduate.”
“‘86 will be my year, I feel it in my bones.”
“Didn’t you say that with ‘85 literally two months ago?”
“I was full of shit back then. That was before I got my first C- in Ms. O’Donnell’s.” He gingerly lifted your head from his shoulder, cupping your chin as he said, “Which was thanks to you, by the way.”
“Not true. Since you actually wrote it.” 
His wide grin fell a bit, and you worried you crossed yet another line. 
His next words only increased your anxiety.
“If I ask you something, will you be totally straight with me?” 
You gulped at the abrupt shift, heartbeat erratic. “Depends on the question.”
He continued anyway.
“The other day, you said you cared for me. Did you mean that?” Those brown orbs imploringly scoured every inch of your face, hoping to find a sign that’d appear before your verbal answer.
He didn’t need to.
“Yes,” you whispered, voice so quiet he would’ve missed it if you weren’t mere inches away. “I meant it.”
His eyes softened, glancing at your lips before returning your gaze. 
Sharply inhaling, you began to close the gap, feeling your lips brush against his—
Before jumping for the second time today, releasing a startled gasp at the shrill sound of your ringing telephone.
“You should get that,” Eddie croaked, voice suddenly hoarse.
When he got up, you panicked. “I’ll get it later. Stay here, I can sneak you some dinner.”
He cleared his throat, fingers and eyes increasingly interested in fixing the pins on his vest. “Uh, I don’t know. I usually spend Turkey Day with my uncle. Chinese food, shitty beer, you get the gist.”
“Y-yeah, of course.” Your forced, tight-lipped smile made your cheeks ache. “Have fun.”
You hated the growing distance between you two. Hated how the incessant ringing punctured the now stifling air. 
He nodded and scratched the back of his head, an uncharacteristically speechless Eddie Munson unsure of what to say.
Bidding for an awkward “See ya later,” he exited your window, not privy to the spectacle of you screaming into your pillow. 
When the phone continued to ring, it was impossible to conceal your pure frustration when answering the call.
“Somebody better be dead or dying…”
“I told Chris!” Maggie exclaimed, who sounded very much alive. “And we’re going on a date tomorrow!”
Groaning loudly, you collapsed against your bed, Maggie’s bubbly voice fading into the background once again as you were on the verge of yet another spiral. 
“You like him, don’t you?”
The way Maggie half-growled your name confirmed you weren’t going to get out of this. “You know who I’m talking about.”
Taking a bite of your sandwich, you looked at a wary Chris. “Do you know who she’s talking about?”
“I’m actually gonna get more tater tots,” he decided slowly, furtive glances sent toward the both of you before he practically ran to the lunch line.
“Don’t play dumb,” Maggie persisted, “not when I just saw you smiling at Eddie freaking Munson.”
“I mean, what he said was kinda funny. And true.” Jason’s comically peeved face after Eddie asked if the basketball captain’s singular brain cell still functioned now reappeared in your head.
“No one laughs at his ‘jokes’ unless you’re one of his lackeys.”
Your lips soured into a shape that was far from a smile. “So you’re saying I’m not just dumb, but I’m also a lackey?”
“I’m saying you have a crush on the weirdest person in this school!”  
The deafening silence that ensued was the nail in the coffin, but your next words truly sealed your fate.
“He’s not that weird.”
Maggie sighed, your brain unable to comprehend the simultaneous, paradoxical look of understanding and pity in her eyes. “You’re in deep, aren’t you?”
She wasn’t the first one to tell you that. After all, you’d read plenty of Austen and Brontë novels to know the reason behind your dysfunction. 
It wasn’t that you were embarrassed to have feelings for Eddie Munson. You were mortified that–
“It’s that obvious?”
Especially after what had (almost) happened on Thanksgiving. Those few minutes were all it took to open Pandora’s Box, releasing a disconcerting cloud of emotions that controlled your thoughts every second of every day.
Which explained why each tutoring session for the past three weeks had been absolute torture. A switch flipped inside you, heightened senses observing the smallest of details.
The multitude of shirts with names of heavy metal bands you’d never knew existed.  
The demon puppet tattoo on his forearm, which neighbored six tiny bats. (And you swore you once caught a glimpse of black ink peeking from his shirt, right underneath his collarbone.)
That slight furrow to his brow whenever he began an essay or homework assignment, which was quite similar to his ‘I’m on a writing roll’ look but also completely different. Or how he rolled up his sleeves whenever he was psyched, but mindlessly twirled the ring on his index finger when he was processing something.
Yet you also noticed the strange change in your dynamic. You initially attributed it to midterms stress, despite knowing Eddie’s lack of concern for exams, or school in general. One second you’d catch him staring at you, as if wanting to tell you something. Then he’d quickly raise the wall, attempting to diffuse the charged tension with some cringe-inducing joke.
It drove you crazy. 
“Uh, considering that you’re currently looking his way,” Maggie interrupted your thoughts, “I’d say, yeah, pretty obvious.”
As if he heard, Eddie’s eyes briefly locked with yours before his chortling friends seized his attention.
He drove you crazy.
“What do you see in him?”
His talent to tell terrible dad jokes. Some signs of intelligence. Way too much confidence. 
“Why do you even care? You’d hate whatever I’d say.”
Maggie shook her head, placing her hand over yours. “I’m just concerned for you. He’s dangerous. And what would others think? Your parents? It’s social suicide!”
“If you’re worried about that last part, then let me make things easier for you. Goodbye, Maggie.” Getting up, you ignored her pleas to come back as you rushed to one of your safest spaces at Hawkins High.
Only to find someone else sniffling at the Weekly Streak’s editor-in-chief workspace.
“Nancy, are you crying?” You frowned, forgetting the reason why you were here as you gently questioned, “Wait, did you hear from Emerson?”
“Huh? No, not yet, I just think I caught a cold–”
“Is it Jonathan? I’ll kick his ass if he–”
“No!” she shouted, wincing at how loud she sounded before she laughed to herself and sent an appreciative smile your way. “I mean, everything’s fine with us. He’s actually visiting soon, for Christmas. But I appreciate your concern.” 
“Oh, that’s great! I’m so happy for you, Nance!” you exclaimed, your wobbly grin and teary eyes indicating otherwise.
Grabbing a few tissues, Nancy rushed to your side while she gave a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder. “Did you hear back from Yale?”
“Nah, I’m in the same boat as you,” you grumbled at remembering yet another lurking stressor.
“Then whose ass do I need to kick?”
“Let me write a list,” you deadpanned, though Nancy found it far from funny. 
“I’m just so stressed, and tired.” Throwing out your used tissues, you leaned against the desk and sighed, “So, so tired.”
You barked out the ugliest laugh. “I wish! That’s easier to understand than Eddie Munson.” 
Mentally cursing at your blunder, you rushed to fix the mistake. “Like, how many times do I have to tell him that Frankenstein is the scientist, not the monster?”
“Right,” said an unconvinced Nancy, her eyebrow raised as she innocently added, “So is that why you tutored him on Thanksgiving?” 
Everything in your body ceased to function, save for your dry mouth that tried to ask her–
“How?” she said, the wry twist to her lips showed she was enjoying this too much. “I was going to keep it a secret, but it’s not everyday you see a man spending over half an hour climbing a tiny tree and spending even longer getting down from it.”
“Oh my god,” you wheezed, tears pricking your eyes while your body shook from uncontrollable laughter. “He is such a loser.”
Unsure of how to soothe you, Nancy enveloped you into a tight hug. “Mike agrees. I don’t know what happened to the two of you that night but ever since then he’s been in a weird mood. Something about making a campaign much harder?”
“Stop lying, Wheeler.”
Breaking the hug, she firmly placed her hands on your shoulder as she forced you to look at her. “You think I like hearing my little brother constantly complain about Dragons and Dungeons?”
“It’s Dungeons and Dragons,” you corrected meekly, afraid that those words would be your last.
Nancy’s eye twitched as her grip on your shoulder tightened to an almost painful degree. “Please know that I say this because you’re my friend, but if you don’t tell him how you feel, then Eddie’s not the only loser in this story.”
“Today’s the big day!” exclaimed Mr. Benson, the mailman excitedly waving the envelope like it was a golden ticket. 
You wanted to hurl. Figuratively and literally.
Nancy’s gift of friendship not only included an absolutely inspiring and vaguely threatening pep talk, but she threw in a bonus side of germs that left you bedridden with a cold the entire weekend. 
Still feeling somewhat weak on Monday, you unexpectedly convinced your parents to let you take a sick day, knowing that at worst you’d be missing lectures dedicated to reviewing for your midterms.
Now every step toward Mr. Benson was tinged with regret in deciding to stay home, not ready to read the either exciting or crushing news.
His gloved hands gave it to you as he sent you a wink. “I dropped off Nancy’s as well. Fred told me he’s already prepared the article to make the announcement.”
“You’re both too sweet, Mr. Benson,” you lied through your chattering teeth, not sure if the trembling was due to your nerves or the frigid weather. But there was no doubt that the Nancy-obsessed nerd wrote only one name on that headline, and it certainly wasn’t yours. 
“Good luck!” he bid as he moved to the next home, allowing you to scuffle directly across to the Wheeler mailbox.
“NANCY!” you shouted from the top of your lungs, attempting to reign in the coughing fit you were about to go into. “NANCY, GET YOUR ASS OUTSIDE OR I’M OPENING YOUR EMERSON LETTER! Oh, hi, Mrs. Wheeler!”
The younger Wheeler appeared not a moment later, sharing an anxious glance before tearing open the envelope you gave her.
Though there was no reason to be nervous for her in the first place, finding yourself jumping alongside her mom and hugging Nancy before she even screamed, “I GOT IN!” 
And you probably would’ve continued celebrating were it not for her stabilizing your dizzy body and looking you dead in the eyes.
“Wait, you need to open yours! Should we call your parents?” 
The unopened letter stuffed inside the pocket of your puffer jacket suddenly weighed like a ton of bricks. 
Even if it was good news, you wouldn’t be able to do this by yourself. 
Which is why you shook your head at a puzzled Nancy, her bewilderment increasing with your next request.
“Do you think I could borrow Mike’s bike for a bit?”
“Fucking hell!”
About halfway into your freezing joyride, the burning sensation in your lungs painfully reminded you of your sheer stupidity in declining Nancy’s offer to give you a ride in her heated car. (You also made a mental note to take your driver’s exam before graduation.)
You had no idea what you were doing. Quite frankly, you hoped the bike ride would clear your head and make it easier for you to choose your next course of action.
But the closer you got to your destination meant the farther you were from turning back. 
So you peddled even harder, whizzing by the sign to the Forest Hills Trailer Park as you spent your last burst of energy. It wasn’t until you spotted a certain battered van that you felt your tired body buzz in anticipation. 
Because maybe there was a slim chance your plan wouldn’t fall apart.
Or at least that’s what you told yourself as you knocked on the door to the trailer before you. 
When no one responded, you took a deep breath before you pleaded, “Munson, please. I know you have early release on Mondays and Wednesdays.”
Deciding whether to knock again or head back home, the choice was made for you as the door finally opened.
“I’m not the Munson you’re looking for,” drawled a middle-aged man who was right in his deduction.
“Mr. Munson! Nice to meet you!” you squealed, wishing you could crawl into a corner as you began profusely apologizing to the man who was probably resting after a graveyard shift.
“No need, about to head out to grab some food anyway.” He studied you for a moment, as if piecing together a puzzle. “You’re his tutor, aren’t you?”
“What gave it away?” you laughed, surprised that he knew his nephew had one in the first place.
“You did, just now.” He lit his cigarette, exhaling smoke the other way before facing you again. “I thought the boy was coverin’ his tracks whenever he talked about goin’ to the library to see his uptight tutor. Good to know it wasn’t a lie.”
“How…nice.” You weren’t sure what irked you more: Eddie Munson calling you uptight or his uncle being able to immediately identify you through that descriptor.
“My nephew uses all our hot water washin’ that hair of his. But he should be done showerin’ soon, feel free to stay warm inside.”
It was a nicer welcome than the one you received from the younger Munson, who clutched his chest and screamed “JESUS H. CHRIST!” when he walked out of the bathroom and saw you.
A joke was on the tip of your tongue, ready to poke fun at the intimidating metalhead cowering in fear. But you felt yourself freeze when he hesitantly said your name, oddly shy with all of his attention on you.
Having a crush was so unnerving. 
He slowly approached the couch you currently sat on before harshly rubbing his eyes, still not believing what he was seeing.
“Stop acting as I’m some ghost, you dork.”
No response, just a suspicious glint. He broke the uncomfortable silence when he poked at your shoulder, yelped, and realized you were, in fact, telling him the truth and casually in his home.
“I have so many questions.” 
“Nice to see you too, Eddie.”
“And you, uh, look and sound like shit,” he continued, a line that would’ve made you slap him if it weren’t for the concern in his voice. “So Ms. O’Donnell wasn’t lying about you being sick. Do you want water or something?”
“Well, at least I don’t have a hole in my shirt,” you lamely pointed out, hoping he didn’t catch your eyes lingering on his biceps. This was the first time you’d seen him wear a short sleeve t-shirt–Iron Maiden merch, no surprise there–and holy shit, was that a new tattoo?
“And water would be great,” you whispered, trying to swallow the new lump in your throat as you exercised great strength to stop admiring his inked arms in that tiny, black shirt. “I hate feeling this thirsty.”
“I’m only ignoring the slander because you’re sick. Even Gollum has seen better days than you.” 
“I have no idea who or what a Gollum is, but I’m still offended.”
His face split into a wolfish grin, mischievous eyes twinkling as he half-sang, “What you don’t know won’t hurt you!”
As he went to the kitchen to fill a glass with water, you then caught his perplexed expression from the counter. “But speaking of being lost as hell, how’d you even get here?”
“Address or vehicle wise?”
“Uh, both, I guess?”
He plopped himself on the opposite side of the couch after handing you the cup, your fingers grazing his ring-cladded ones for what seemed like a second too long. Not trying to dwell on how touch-starved you were, you threw your head back and downed the water in one swoop, ignoring Eddie’s sarcastic, “Lemme pour myself a vodka shot, too.”
“Nancy gave me the address and I may have borrowed Mike’s bike.”
“How did that answer everything but nothing?”
Then a beat later. “Hold on, you biked all the way here in the freezing cold while having a cold? Are you insane?”
“Mike’s odometer said it was only seven miles.” You winced at Eddie’s high-pitched repetition of the number.
“Man, so maybe you wouldn’t design the most intelligent character in the Dungeon…”
“Hardy har har. I didn’t come all this way to play in your little campaign.”
“Care to share the real reason why you’re here, then?” 
You laughed–of course Eddie would ask the most important question last rather than first.
Fishing out the item from the pocket of your jacket, you answered by showing him the envelope.
“Well, shit.” He whistled and gently grabbed the wrinkled paper when you nodded for him to take it. 
“Shit, indeed.”
Eddie’s eyebrows knit into one when he saw the envelope was still sealed. “Why haven’t you opened it yet?”
“I can’t,” you replied honestly, hands fidgeting as you felt the nausea return. “I’ve been waiting so long for this, but I’m fucking terrified.”
“So you’re never gonna open it?”
“Maybe”–you smiled sheepishly, your next jumbled words sounding more like a question than a statement–“that’s because I want you to open it?”
“Me?” he squeaked out, eyes wide.
“And read it, too.”
“Are you sure this cold didn't also, I dunno, fry your brain?”
“Even if it did, you know how stressed I was about applying to schools. Am.” You pointed at the envelope. “You helped me even though you hate talking about college. Hell, you probably saw that side of me more than anyone else.”
“That can’t be true–”
“It is,” you interjected, grabbing one of his hands to squeeze it, hoping your face showed your sincerity. “I don’t want to open it alone, but the idea of reading the letter for the first time with my parents feels even worse.”
“I’m still not getting how I would make things better.”
“Because you wouldn’t judge me, Eddie.” Not when he’s been so supportive.
When he’s been there for you every. Single. Time.
“I’d be stupid to judge you.” He squeezed your hand back, though his softened eyes still held that hesitancy. “But are you sure about this?”
“Yeah, but, are you really that sure?”
“Hey, remember when I canceled tutoring because you passed your Frankenstein quiz? And you said you owed something to your ridiculously hot and smart tutor?”
He rolled his eyes but you still caught the slight twitch of his lips. “Something like that, yeah.”
“Well, I’m cashing in that favor now.”
Even if the dynamic between the two of you felt different after Thanksgiving, his excited grin and brightened eyes toward you never changed.
And the sweet way he said your name, tone hushed, as if in awe. How easily it rolled off his tongue as he softly told you, “You’re something else, you know that?” 
It was in that split second you felt incredibly tempted to ask him for another favor.
But you shook your head and laughed, trying to shake away any of those thoughts before you half-glared at him. “You’re one to talk. But please, please, read the letter, or the suspense will literally kill me.” 
“Impatient, are we? But I will say, it’s quite thick.” Giving your hand one last reassuring squeeze before he let go, Eddie began breaking the envelope seal. “They wouldn’t waste more than a page on a rejected student, right?”
“Ah shit, I can’t watch this.” You shut your eyes, hearing Eddie unfold the letter as he cleared his throat and read the greeting in a neutral voice.
He dropped that tone quickly upon reading the first two sentences, the dramatic shift providing such whiplash that it took your brain a solid minute to fully register the words. 
“Welcome to Yale College! It is with the greatest enthusiasm that I write to congratulate you on your admission to the Class of 1990.”
Tears welled up in your opened eyes, but you could still see Eddie’s toothy grin as he made you stand and jump with him.
“Oh my god, Eddie, the rest of the letter!” Yet your gaze only fixated on the elated man in front of you rather than the paper on the couch.
“Screw the rest of the letter! YOU GOT IN!”
Your excited shouts and laughter joined his as he began twirling you around and almost knocked down a lamp in the process, only stopping when both your voices became shot. 
“Fuck,” you coughed out, laying on the couch as you barely caught your breath and blankly stared at the paper in your hand. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Well, you better start. And we gotta keep celebrating.” Pacing throughout the living room, each finger ticked off an option from the endless list of activities you could choose from. “–a movie, or stuffing our faces at a diner, you name it. What are we doing next?”
“Mmm, how ‘bout a nap?” you yawned, an instant wave of exhaustion washing over you.
“Huh? Christ, I forgot you’re sick.” Kneeling in front of you, Eddie warned, “Don’t you fall asleep on me.”
“Your hand feels nice,” you pleasantly sighed at the cool touch of his hand on your burning forehead, further confirming his suspicions of a fever.
Consciousness was becoming increasingly harder to tap into, but faintly hearing Eddie say the word “home” briefly jolted you back to reality.
Your heart lurched when you realized he was carrying you, senses overwhelmed by the familiar scent of pine and cheap cologne mixing with a minty fragrance coming from his recently-washed hair.
“No, wait!” You weakly grabbed onto his shirt, whining, “I still wanna celebrate!”
“Next time,” he assured you. “I promise.” 
It was the last thing you remember hearing, the calming smell of mint lulling you to sleep.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stop by, even for a few minutes? Mrs. Henderson made these cute Christmas cookies. Well, they’re shaped like cats so maybe they’re not that festive, but they’re still really good.”
“Nance, I’m fine, really. I’m used to the parentals working in the ER on Christmas, saving and healing the Santas that have fallen off their roofs.” 
Holding the phone closer to your ear as you shifted on your bed, you could make out the faint laughter in the background and what sounded like Dustin recruiting someone for the Hellfire Club.
Laughing at the antics, you teased, “Sounds like you got a full house anyway. How’re you and lover boy?”
“We actually got into a stupid fight about him applying to Emerson.”
“Yeah,” Nancy sighed, “We made dinner a bit awkward for everyone. But it’ll be fine, I think. How’s your lover boy doing?”
“Don’t call him that,” you huffed, face instantly burning.  
Besides, the last time you saw Eddie Munson was when you knocked out on his couch. Nancy thought otherwise, especially after last Monday evening, when she answered the ringing doorbell to the Wheeler residence and saw your calmly sleeping figure in his arms.
Despite her interrogation, Eddie only told Nancy that you were worn out from your biking escapade and that he left Mike’s bike in the driveway. After giving you and your decision letter to Nancy (“Don’t lose that, Wheeler.”), he apparently ran back to his van and drove away in his typical maniacal fashion. 
It didn’t help that you missed another day of school, spending the entire time sweating out your fever. Considering you didn’t recall any of this, and Nancy’s journalistic abilities in telling this story seemed compromised, you had hoped to talk to Eddie the day you finally returned to Hawkins High. 
Only to miss his chaos in the unusually quieter cafeteria, freshman and even seniors stressed about midterms and getting last-minute Secret Santa gifts. When Gareth–shocked to see you approach him and the others during lunchtime–had told you that Eddie was sick, you doubted that the metalhead wanted any visitors.
So you resigned to the horrible timing and focused on taking your exams for the rest of the week, immensely grateful for the start of winter break the following Monday.
“Nothing’s going on between us, I swear.”
“Mhmmm.” Hearing more indiscrete voices, Nancy giggled before saying, “Oh, how nice! Mike just said you could borrow his bike again if you wanna pay someone a visit. Maybe Christmas miracles do exist.”
How were you getting clowned by a fifteen-year-old? 
“You’re both insufferable.”
“I’m just fulfilling my duty as a journalist and being honest.”
“But I told you the truth–he’s not interested!” 
“Then why is he climbing the tree next to your bedroom window, again?”
You hung up the phone and ran before your body could tell you to stop, opening the window as your face was hit with the bitter air and disbelief.
“Eddie!” you half-whispered, startling the man as he almost lost his grip. “What are you doing?!”
And of course he still had that leather jacket on.
“Christ, you’re not supposed to see this!” he panted, his frosty breath revealing how cold it was. “Gimme a few more minutes.”
Despite anticipating the oncoming headache, you couldn’t control the amused laughter that escaped you. “You dork, you’re lucky there’s no snow. Just go through the front door. My parents aren’t here.”
You swore you heard a “Oh, thank god” before flying down the stairs and opening the door for him.
“Hi,” he greeted–shooting you a stiff wave and a lopsided smile–as if he hadn’t failed in climbing your tree a few seconds ago.
“Hi,” you returned shyly, that tightness in your chest re-emerging. Quickly picking away the twigs in that ridiculously soft hair and trying to act as if it was no big deal, you let Eddie inside.
“Um, are you feeling better?” you asked as you led him upstairs, hoping you sounded more nonchalant than what you currently felt.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that, considering you, uh, passed out in my arms?” 
You flipped him the bird before opening your bedroom door, scoffing, “I didn’t forget everything that happened that day. If I remember correctly, you promised to celebrate my acceptance with me.”
Letting Eddie sit next to you on your bed brought a sense of déjà vu that was getting harder to dispel with each passing second. 
“You’re totally right. Which is why I brought you something. It was gonna be a Fleetwood Mac poster, but I didn’t have the strength to buy it in public.” He shuddered at the name, a gesture that made you roll your eyes.
“You’re so dramatic,” you muttered playfully, accepting the weirdly heavy plastic bag from Radioshack that he gave you, a sheepish look on his face as he nervously scratched the back of his head. 
“I was gonna gift-wrap it but then realized that A) I don’t have anything to actually wrap the gift with and B) I had no time because I had to make-up my midterms two days ago.” Eyes widening as if he forgot something, he grinned and added, “Oh, speaking of that, I’m preeetyyy sure I bombed Ms. O’Donnell’s exam so I guess you’re still my tutor. Sorry.”
You pretended to shake your head disapprovingly–even if you tried, you couldn’t be mad, secretly happy to hear his rambling again. “You don’t sound sorry.”
“That’s because I feel more sorry for myself. Spending more time with you?” He fake gagged, his hands pretending to clutch his throat as he stuck his tongue out. “Ugh, a fate worse than death. I’d rather head to Mordor.”
“I’ll hit you and your obscure references with whatever is in this bag,” you teased, opening it as you peered inside. “What even is in this–”
You fell silent as you took out the boxed set of books, eyes scanning over the different titles written by J.R.R. Tolkien while your coy smile grew..
“You know, when I said I wanted to read The Lord of the Rings, I didn’t mean you had to get me the whole trilogy.”
In fact, you were planning on getting a library copy soon, in search of a new series to read. (And to finally understand whatever the hell Eddie kept on mentioning these past five months.) 
“The books are actually mine,” Eddie said quietly, hands fidgeting as he nervously looked at your face to gauge your reaction. “I also threw in The Hobbit, which you should read first because it sets the stage for everything but is quick to finish. And if you ever get confused look at my notes. Not to toot my own horn, but they’re pretty damn good. Sometimes even funny.”
“Holy shit,” you breathed, shocked by the myriad highlights and annotations across hundreds of pages.
In August, if someone had told you Eddie Munson read and enjoyed a series that was over a thousand pages long, you would’ve outright laughed at them.
Now, you could easily imagine him excitedly flipping through each page, listening to Megadeth and Dio in the background as he hunched over his messy desk and scribbled his endless thoughts, wondering how he could incorporate some elements to his next D&D campaign.
It was an endearing picture, one that calmed your frantic heartbeats as you were reminded of how you two weren’t so different. 
“Are you sure you wanna give these to me?” you asked, gazing into the warmest, brown eyes that belonged to Hawkin’s allegedly most dangerous teenager.
His cheeky grin already provided his thoughts. “I’ve read these books so many times I can probably quote it back to you. And I know once you finish these bad boys you’ll want to join Hellfire, so it’s a no-brainer, really.” 
“Only when hell freezes over, pun very much intended,” you taunted, about to thank him for the gift until a smug Eddie placed a finger on your lip and whipped out another item underneath his jacket.
Unlike the boxed set, this one was wrapped in newspaper, his intent touching you enough that you didn’t even think about poking holes at his white lie from earlier or at his shoddy craftsmanship. 
“I will say, that horrible pun made me consider whether I wanted to give this to you, but since I’m an incredibly nice person”–he gently placed the rectangular gift on your lap–“I got you this, too.”
Your forehead tilted in confusion and uncertainty, but you nodded and began opening the present.
“A journal,” you whispered in awe, admiring the intricate tree designed on the cover while your fingers appreciated the feel of your initials engraved in the corner of the authentic leather.
“Thought you would need something to write on for all those college creative writing courses you keep on talking about.” He shrugged impassively, but there was no way to hide the genuine gratitude in his eyes, the sincerity that followed shortly after. 
“And I want to thank you for all your help. And for not hating me because people think I’m a freak. You’re cool in general, but I guess not being a douche makes you a pretty good person, too.”
The number of times Eddie Munson had left you unsure of what to say were more than you’d like to admit. But this was the first time he rendered you speechless, brain unable to think of an action that would show how much his words affected you.
How much Eddie meant to you.
So you kissed him, ignoring the weird angle or the way your teeth clicked after pulling his W.A.S.P. shirt a bit too roughly. Ignoring his slightly chapped lips and the fact that you ate sour cream and onion chips not one hour ago. 
You kissed him, press after press of his lips against yours, climbing into his lap as your fingers got lost in his hair. 
He kissed you, one of his hands grabbing one side of your face while the other rested on your hip. Your head felt light, but you didn’t want to stop, enjoying the delightful warmth in your chest, addicted to the way his lips seemed to melt into yours.
Eddie was the first to break it off, allowing for your panting figures to breathe for just a few seconds before he instantly regretted the separation and dove back in, these soft and sweet kisses feeling more raw and open than before.
“Fuck,” he groaned against your mouth, hot breath tickling your face, “I wanted to do that for so long.”
You slowly leaned back, one hand against his chest as you smirked at the sight of his flushed cheeks and shiny, swollen lips. “I thought spending more time with me was a ‘fate worse than death.’”
Laughing, he pecked the tip of your nose before caressing your cheek, affectionate, brown orbs crinkling as he clarified, “You heard me wrong, sweetheart. Spending time without you is worse than death.”
“Ha, smooth!” you teased, amused as you raised an eyebrow. “And whipping out the pet names already? We didn’t even say what we are, you dork.”
Clearing his throat dramatically, he bowed his head as he finally asked the question.
“Would you do me the honor of being your boyfriend?”
Lifting his chin, you smiled into the kiss, hoping that was a good enough answer.
“Edward, slow down!” you screeched over the loud music, reaching for the roof handle of the van. 
Eddie’s chances of receiving his diploma from Principal Higgins this May were getting slimmer by the day, but based on the current speed an extremely excited Munson was driving, that chance was falling to zero for you, too.
The speedometer only lowered a sliver as Eddie scrunched his nose at the use of his first name. “Sorry, babe, but I’m still psyched after that show! We had a solid turnout.”
You recently started going to Corroded Coffin’s Tuesday gigs at the Hideout, and while they weren’t the best band in the world, you only had to watch a few shows before confirming that Eddie was a damn good guitarist. You’d even argue that seeing one show was sufficient to draw the same conclusion, but you could just picture Eddie’s shit-eating grin and constant bragging to his bandmates if you actually said those words aloud.
Proudly smiling at him, you grabbed his free hand and kissed the back of it. “The band’s best show yet. Told you people dig Fleetwood Mac covers.”
“Not as much as I dig you~” he sang giddily, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he slowed down to turn into Forest Hills.
“Ugh, stop being corny, Munson,” you laughed, affectionately squeezing his hand. Some of Eddie’s funniest moments came from the rush that followed after a performance, the man’s hyperactive brain rambling and continuously throwing out whatever joke or vague reference to see what would stick. 
The nights after concerts were also when he was practically bouncing off the walls, itching to release his pent-up energy.
Which explained why he was already peeling off your coat while trying to open the front door to his place. Why he tossed his own leather jacket aside and immediately placed you against the kitchen counter, knocking down a few items as he buried his face into your neck, hands dangerously inching up your thighs.
“Ed,” you mumbled, sighing pleasantly at the soft bite on a sensitive spot as your legs instinctively wrapped around him. “Why do we never go to your bed first?”
He raised his head, a mischievous look in his eyes as he roughly kissed you. Lips grazing the shell of your ear, he whispered, “But where’s the fun in that?”
A few tugs to his hair convinced him to follow your directions, shared laughter filling his bedroom as he gently threw you onto his bed. He wasted no time taking off his sweaty shirt and removing your top before leaning into you, the cold, metal rings on his calloused fingers trailing up to your bra and sending goosebumps all over. 
His lips ghosted yours before he breathed out, “You’re so pretty.” 
The comment made you smile and arch into him, his tongue entering your mouth right after you gasped at him unhooking your bra. 
He kissed you slowly, relishing your whimpers as he toyed with your nipples and shamelessly grinded against you, head too hazy with lust to care about the rough fabric of his jeans against yours. 
Closing your eyes, you let his hungry lips taste every inch of you, committing your skin to memory. For the first time ever you were grateful that the March weather was still cold enough for you to wear a turtleneck, the only way you were going to be able to hide the marks he so generously left on your shoulders and exposed neck. The loud, wet sounds of him gently sucking on the soft fat of your breasts caused you to press your thighs together, frustrated at how soaked your panties were getting. 
“Eddie,” you urged, breathless, fingers tangled in his hair as you guided him upward, foreheads meeting tenderly. You felt the low groan rumble from his chest as you told him, “I want more.”
You and Eddie weren’t necessarily walking into uncharted territory. After two months into your relationship, your intense make out sessions and roaming hands prompted a conversation about boundaries and sex.
Though neither of you were virgins (“Harrington?” Eddie asked you, his eyes practically falling out of their sockets. “As in rich boy, drives-a-BMW Steve Harrington? I’m competing against him?”), the two of you weren’t the most experienced. (“Oh yeah, I’ve been around…” Eddie started smugly, your unrelenting stare getting him to feebly rectify, “...uh, with two women.”) 
You both agreed to take your time, not wanting to rush things. Truthfully, you felt it improved communication between the two of you, Eddie quickly listening and learning about your needs. What you disliked and liked. What turned you off and what moves made you want to jump his bones.
The latter now a feeling that you were experiencing, your chest filling with a greedy desire as the discomfort in your legs increased.   
“Please, Eddie,” you pleaded against his lips, rolling your hips into his and enjoying the low moan you riled out of him. “I want you so bad. I need you.”
“Are you sure?” he questioned, bumping noses and placing a light kiss on your forehead when you confidently responded with, “I’m ready.”
He instantly froze when you said that, hands that were ready to lower your pants now firmly planted on your waist. “It’s okay to say no, now or later. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Fuck, that was sexy, biting your lip at his words. Smiling softly, you reassured, “I’m definitely ready. But no handcuffs.”
The tip of Eddie’s ears matched his bright, blushing cheeks. “You saw those?” he whispered, his sideway glance toward his wardrobe incriminating himself.
Rolling your eyes, you ran a soothing hand over his chest as you teased, “It’s the first thing I saw in this messy ass room. We can use it some other time, but not tonight.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining, at all.” He worked quickly on discarding your pants, giving you a chaste peck before starting a trail of open-mouthed kisses on parts of you he neglected before. “Just the thought of using them is hot enough for me.”
“You kinky bastard!” you joked, body tingling with excitement when he tugged off your panties and part your legs even further, but not before tightly snapping the waistband against your skin. 
“But I’m your kinky bastard.” That comment and a sloppy kiss on your inner thigh drove you mad, not even thinking it was possible for the wetness between your clenched legs to continue growing.
It hurt to swallow your moan, your eyes refusing to leave his as you impatiently challenged, “Then do your magic, Dungeon Master.” 
The only warning was the flat of his tongue teasingly gliding between your parted folds, a shiver traveling up your spine at the sight of his shiny lips when he sighed, “Fuck, you’re so wet.”
His tongue continued to thrust straight into your leaking cunt, slow flicks become more assured as he found a rhythm that drew out your loudest moans and the most forceful hair pulling. The heat of his mouth closing around your core made you dizzy, hips bucking from the touch as you brought him further down to that tiny bundle of nerves.
“S-shit,” you stuttered upon feeling two fingers inside you, writhing helplessly into the bedsheets as he continued sucking your clit like a starved man. The curve of his digits hit a deep spot that made your eyes roll back, breaths becoming shallower as the searing knot in your stomach tightened.
“Eddie,” you whined, aching walls clutching his pumping fingers, “I wanna—”
“Cum, baby,” he encouraged, and you almost did.
But your eyes flew open, animated hands directing Eddie upward and shakily unbuckling his belt as you begged, “Want you inside, wanna ride you. Now.”
His hooded eyes widened while nodding enthusiastically, flipping you to the top and helping you lower his jeans and boxers before he cursed under his breath.  “Shit, where are the condoms?”
“No time, just pull out” you stammered, fingernails digging into his biceps as you spared a second to ogle at his considerable length, the tip glistening with precum. Hard. Ready. Waiting.
For you.
You lifted your hips and sank down, immediately keeling over and whimpering at the way his cock buried into you. Your shaking body alternated between going up and down and rocking back and forth, moaning at how good it felt.
How good he felt.
“That’s it,” Eddie grunted, one hand steadying and holding yours while the other ran up and down your flushed body, mesmerized by the sight of your bouncing tits and the cute mewls that left your pretty little mouth. Stars clouded your vision as Eddie quickened the pace and slammed into your hips, the friction of his thick cock against your walls a sensation you both continued hunting after. 
The incoherent babbling began as soon as he rubbed your clit with his ring, the cool steel bringing a new wave of pleasure that washed over your burning body.
“‘M gonna cum,” you managed to cry out, his name and curses tumbling from your lips as you felt a tense coil wound inside you. 
You let go, eyes shut in bliss as a white, hot burst of pleasure flooded your veins, your numb mind drowning in a newfound sense of euphoria. Eddie felt himself teetering on the edge of an orgasm, chest puffing in pride and eyes darkening at your fucked-out face as he chased his own climax.
Flipping positions again, the bed creaked with every thrust as you sunk further into the mattress, the sounds of slapping skin became louder than both of your groans combined. Eddie swallowed your moan by clumsily capturing your lips into a kiss, the faint taste of your arousal on his tongue. 
“Christ, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered into your ear, voice so low you barely caught it. 
You laughed, your insides doing somersaults as his palm arched your back toward him. The new angle allowed his twitching cock to slip deeper inside your spasming walls as you held his gaze, watching his pants become heavier and rhythm more erratic. 
Eddie quickly pulled out after, your body already missing the fullness as he painted your stomach in warm, white lines. 
“Fuck,” he breathed as he stood on his knees, voice thick and jaw dropped. His heaving chest displayed all the tattoos scattered across his pale skin, entrusting you with a secret only you had access to. His sweaty bangs clung to his forehead while the rest of his tangled hair stuck out in wild directions, framing his face like a halo. Hypnotized, you drank the stunning sight before you as he grabbed some tissues from his desk and gently cleaned you up. 
Eddie Munson was absolutely breathtaking.
And you were so done for.
“Did you hear me?” he asked, breaking your reverie as he laughed at your dumbfounded reaction. He collapsed next to you, letting your head snuggle into his chest as he lightly stroked your arm. “Or did I fuck you too hard?”
You snorted, playing with the tattoo underneath his collarbone before kissing it. “Mmm, no. I was thinking about how you, Eddie Munson, one of the most disorganized people to exist on this earth, found tissues in less than a minute but forgot where his condoms were. Good to know you masturbate more than actually get around.”
“How funny,” he drawled, pinching your waist playfully and raising a shriek out of you as he tried tickling you. “My biggest supporter quickly turns into my worst enemy. Was the sex that bad?”
Looking up, you pinned him with a cheeky grin before nestling your face into the base of his neck, gifting multiple butterfly kisses into the sensitive skin as a peace offering. “No complaints from me. It was amazing.”
“Would you say it was mind-blowing?”
You shrugged casually, amused lips curving upward while you twirled a strand of his hair. “Yeah, I’d say so.”
“Perhaps even better than sex with, I dunno, a popular douchebag?”
“Eddie!” you guffawed, unable to control your laughter.
“It wasn’t a joke,” he pouted, feigning hurt that you thought so.
“So I’ll answer seriously,” you said, pecking him before resting your chin on your hands that laid comfortably on his chest. “Who am I currently with?”
He rolled his eyes but you saw the slight twist of his mouth, felt his soothing hand drawing patterns on your back. “Fine, I guess, you proved your point, my fair lady.”
“Damn right I did. You’re lucky I’m still with you after I found out who Gollum was.”
“Oh, not again,” he whined dramatically, “everyone looks like Gollum when they’re sick!”
“Except?” you pressed, head turned to the side as you listened to his calmly beating heart.
“Except for my insanely hot and intelligent girlfriend…”
Satisfied with the amendment, you hummed loudly, briefly noting his heartbeat quicken.
“...who I happen to love.”
Your finger stopped re-tracing the tattoo on his chest, wondering if you heard that correctly.
Slowly raising your head, you searched his anxious, brown eyes and cautiously asked, “Did you say what I think you said?”
“What, that you’re hot and intelligent?” he nervously returned.
“No, the ‘L’ word,” you encouraged quietly, a hand caressing his cheek. 
“Eddie,” you slightly scowled, not enjoying how the fluttering in your stomach was about to turn into nausea. “The other ‘L’ word.”
The next beat of silence was the longest in your life, his warm eyes meeting yours before he muttered, “You got this, Munson.”
He cradled your face with the utmost care, thumb tenderly stroking your cheek while he said three little words. 
“I love you.” 
His fond smile was contagious, the joyous laughter spilling from your lips music to his ears.
Though nothing sounded better than you saying–
“I love you too.”
The kiss felt sweeter than ever, lifting you to a place you weren’t sure you’d ever reach.
This moment. This person. He was the true happiness you dreamt of.
His eyes lit up with a pure brightness when you told him that, both of you smiling goofily at one another while cherishing that rare, comfortable silence that few lovers had the privilege of experiencing. 
“Not to disturb the peace or anything…” Eddie muttered after a few minutes, struggling to stay awake in your intertwined arms.
“Huh, that’s a new goal for you.”
“...but since we’re on the topic of happiness,” he rambled on, “it would make your boyfriend immensely happy if you were to participate in his D&D campaign. It’s never too late to fight the Cult of Vecna.”
“You have guts, I’ll give you that.”
“So is that a yes?”
Chuckling as you closed your eyes, you relaxed further into his embrace while mumbling, “Mmm, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. If it makes my boyfriend happy.”
You heard his fist pump swoosh the air, Eddie kissing the top of your head before he exclaimed, “The happiest man on earth! I knew ‘86 was my year.”
Smiling into your sleep, you couldn’t help but agree with the dork.
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a/n: if you read this long ass fic then you're automatically my friend. i might write more parts featuring this pairing, i might not. i tried to write g/n smut but failed spectacularly so that's the next goal on my list. would love comments, feedback, or the opportunity to talk about eddie munson's shaggy hair and/or s4 pt. 2 theories. much love
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patxhwrk · 4 months ago
Damn you guys are creative as hell like i didnt even think of sumth like this
I dont know if this was a request or just an imagine but i wrote sumth for it
But really tho these are so cool i love writing for the Fatui
I went with the canon traveller, Aether, btw!
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-ˋˏ✄— In Due Time
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Fatui x Reader, Aether x Reader
Pronouns: they/them
"This isn't truly farewell. More of a 'see you again'."
CW: Mentions of death!!
.navigation. // .genshin impact masterlist.
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Everything was on fire.
A little cabin by the edge of Snezhnaya, hidden behind a forest thick with trees and snow, was enveloped in flames too strong for regular water to extinguish, nearly spreading to the thick forest had the 11th Harbinger not arrived on time.
"What the hell happened?" He asked an agent, who quivered under his deathly stare.
This was no ordinary cabin, after all. The home, or more so office, of one of the important faces of the Fatui.
Y/n L/n, the Tsaritsa's personal watcher, inspector, reporting to her and only her.
"I— Lord Harbinger, we don't know what had happened, b—but rest assured that we—we are still inspecting the house! We will r—report back once we find out what had occured!"
"That's not the problem."
The agent sqeaked, bowing her head as another Harbinger approached the scene.
Il Dottore was not a patient man. As soon as he had been noticed of the fire spreading in the familiar area, he went as fast as he could, not even bothering to spare a glance at his subordinates who offered a carriage.
No, that would take too long.
"The problem is that Y/n was here. I have looked around the area for any signs of them, but there seem to be none that imply that they have left the premises."
His eyes darkened, moving from the shaking agent to the burnt cabin.
"Where are they?"
"Lord Harbinger, we have not seen any traces of them at all! But—"
"We don't need your incompetent assurances, we want to know if they survived."
It was straightforward, stoic, making people assume that Dottore did not care. But his mind raced, a thousand questions running through them, but he could only make sense of one.
'Where was Y/n?'
His direct front made the agent squeak once again, scurrying off to look for someone who might have known.
Childe glanced at him from the corner of his eye, noticing how Dottore had his hands behind his back, twitching as they tugged and pulled at each other. He saw the calculating eyes of Il Dottore, and knew that he did, indeed, care.
"Utter a word and you will personally be my next experiment," Dottore spoke, but Childe knew it was a hollow threat.
His voice was low, lower than a whisper, only meant for Childe to hear. Devoid of emotion, even with the usual irritiation laced with his sharp words.
He didn't speak at all, knowing his voice would probably get caught in his throat.
Y/n L/n was important to all of them, after all.
"My Lords!" A masculine voice exclaimed, approaching them. "I found these by their workbench, untouched by the fire."
He bowed, handing a familiar glowing circular object alongside a folded paper.
"...What?" Childe muttered, taking the pyro vision as Dottore grasped the paper.
The vision had turned dull, colourless, seperated from its owner in both soul and body. It wasn't impossible to fake a vision, but the dull heat, the dim glow of the pyro symbol fading out meant it was real. It had only meant one thing.
Y/n L/n was dead.
"Dottore—" Childe turned to the man, who's eyes wide in shock and unnoticable worry stared directly at the note in his hand.
Silently and slowly passing the note to Childe, Dottore shifted his head downwards, weaving a hand through his messy locks.
"What would the Tsaritsa say?" Dottore mumbled, low and strained. It was only meant to be directed at himself, but he know Childe had heard it.
The ginger Harbinger read through the note.
'Hello. I've no clue how this may reach you, or if this does reach you, but I've managed to create a seal upon these as to not burn alongside everything in this home.
Forgive me, I had been foolish. I had thought I had more time before something like this would happen, but perhaps it was hopeful wishing in vain.
My crimes, unprotected by the title and insignia of the Fatui, have caught up to me, and it is time I pay the price.
Death looms at my door tonight, and though I feel not the heat of the uncontrollable fire, the cool winds of Snezhnaya bid me farewell as my time reaches its end.
I cannot say what I have done, but the Tsaritsa cannot hide me away from their watchful eyes. I, as her personal watchful eye, would know.
I cannot say who would reach my cabin unnoticed and bring it aflame, for I do not know either.
I cannot escape. The doors are boarded, the windows frozen tight, unmelting even in blazing heat. The fire is different than my own. Warm—not hot—but it weakens me.
But I may write this final goodbye. This is not apart of the Fatui in any matter, I beg you not to involve yourself with it.
Perhaps it is not a final goodbye. Perhaps I'll meet you all once the Tsaritsa has fulfiled her duties and brought true freedom to Teyvat.
But not now. Not tomorrow. We will meet again, when the sun sets over the Zapolyarny palace and my memories are all that remain.
—Y/n L/n'
It was messy, rushed with tear drops staining the corner. And truth to the letter, the paper had a bright orange pyro symbol embedded in the corner, shining even if the vision lay lifeless.
"Crimes unprotected by the Fatui..." Childe mumbled, brows furrowing as confusion filled his head. "What does that imply?"
"They've done something to infuriate Celestia, perhaps," was Dottore's answered as he straightened himself. "An act such as simply mockery would not be enough to taunt the gods, but, something far worse than our goal as Fatui..."
"What could they have done?"
Word reach Scaramouche and La Signora quick. As Harbingers, the death of Y/n L/n was important news.
"Tch," Scaramouche scoffed, though he couldn't deny the ache in his hest as his grip on the letter sent to him tightened.
"Y/n L/n, what could you have possibly done?"
Passing the paper to La Signora, who has been beside him toying with the long faded vision, she gently grasped the wrinkled paper.
"Dottore said they could possibly have enraged Celestia in some way. Because there's nothing the Fatui couldn't help them with except the gods higher than the Tsaritsa." She muttered, to which Scaramouche only sighed.
Heavy breaths littered the forest, large coat wrapped around a running figure.
It was a surprise when the Tsaritsa herself believed the lie.
But in all reality, there wasn't a full lie to the letter.
Y/n L/n has truly angered the gods, higher than the Archons.
Sprinting through dense trees, they reached a clearing, away from the sigt of the Fatui, and there waited Aether.
"Y/n! There you are," he whispered, approaching them.
His movements stopped when they brouht their hood down, and tears never seemed to stop streaming.
"...Are you sure you really want to do this?"
"There's no going back now, Aether. Plus, helping you find your sister seems better than spending my time away being her highness' watch crow." Shaky breaths left their mouth.
"Let's just find a way to change my identity. I don't want to stumble upon them and be labeled a traitor."
"If you so wish, Y/n."
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suyacho · 9 months ago
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another & the last day for @nkogneatho ‘s dilftober :) im so sorry for being so late with this but i hope you guys can still enjoy this :)
Where Shinsou is a single dad and constantly flirts back and forth with his son's teacher as she does the same. What would happen if they got left alone in a room together with a lot of tension?
thank you so much to @souyawn for beta reading this :)
A/N: shinsou is in his late 20’s in this.
dilftober masterlist
WARNINGS: minors/ageless blogs dni - fem!reader - dilf!shinsou - reader’s wearing a skirt & is a teacher, shinsou is a single dad - cursing - spanking - slight teasing - unprotected sex - breeding - degrading - clothed sex/classroom sex - 1,2k words
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“To finish up our parent-teacher conference- I’ve got an honorable mention for you mr. Hitoshi.” You spoke, grabbing some papers and sliding them in front of him, only to be met with him staring at you for a quick second and then back at the papers. 
“What is it, miss teacher?” Shinsou asked, leaning back in the chair and winking at you, laughing a bit when he noticed you turning away nervously. There had been a lot of tension between the both of you ever since you had met, sexual tension even.
Ending up alone together surely wasn’t a problem, this day would come eventually but you just knew he would pull something when it happened, it wasn’t like you minded though. 
Shinsou was a single dad late in 20’s who brought his toddlers to school and ever since you became their teacher, the two of you had been playfully flirting. You couldn’t help yourself from doing so, he always looked so good, so breathtaking every single day, leaving you shocked that he was a single dad.
“Your sons are both top students in my class, they’re always doing their work proudly.” You told him, only for a proud smile to appear on Shinsou’s face. “I’m glad- It’s hard being a single dad sometimes, it makes me fear that I might fail them one day.” Shinsou mumbled, his honesty and love for his sons getting the best of him.
“Give yourself some credits mr. Hitoshi, you’re a great dad.” You smiled, only for him to give you a thankful nod.
“That was everything I was going to mention, is there anything else from your side?” You asked, not noticing your pen rolling down your desk. 
“Absolutely nothing besides the fact that your pen fell, you might want to pick that up.” Shinsou told you, a sly grin covering his face.
You swallowed a thick breath and nodded a bit, bending down to grab the pen, your skirt traveling up your body, giving Shinsou a good view of the pretty lingerie you were wearing underneath. It might’ve been on purpose, both the pen and lingerie, who would blame you for wanting a little action?
“Well well- Would you look at that? It’s almost like you put me down last on purpose.” Shinsou whispered, his breath fanning over your neck, making you freeze in your movements. You hadn’t realized that he got up and was so close to you, not until you felt his big hands on your sides for confirmation.
“Fuck..” You breathed out, squeezing your legs together slightly and relaxing yourself. Your mind had been running wild with certain images the whole night and you couldn’t help yourself from being turned on yet little did you know, Shinsou felt exactly the same way.
“Did you get yourself all nice and pretty just for me?” Shinsou asked, pushing you on your desk as his big hand caressed your ass, giving it a harsh smack after. “Maybe I did- What will you do about it?” You snapped back, only for Shinsou to laugh a bit and give you another harsh smack, leaving you whimpering.
“Maybe I’ll breed that needy little pussy of yours, how does that sound? I’m sure you won’t mind, not when you're this turned on already.” Shinsou teased, his fingers ghosting over the damp spot on your underwear as he pushed them to the side.
“I’m not that turned on.” You mumbled, whimpering when he pushed you against your desk more, having your chest pushed up against his. “Are you sure about that sweetheart?” Shinsou laughed, his fingers teasing along your slit and humming in satisfaction once he felt how wet you were.
“You don’t even need prepping, do you?” Shinsou questioned and you whined in response. “Please just do it already-” You sighed, needing him badly right now. 
“Don’t be so impatient, aren’t teachers supposed to be patient?” Shinsou reminded you, unbuckling his belt and dropping his jeans down to his knees together with his boxers, stroking his cock after, letting out a few low groans.
“Shut up and do it already.” You whined, quickly being shut up by Shinsou pushing in his length in one quick thrust, making you gasp out from how full you suddenly felt. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Shinsou grinned, placing his hands on your sides as he quickly picked up his pace.
“Oh you’re a dick.” You moaned out, closing your eyes while you got adjusted to his length. “And you seem to fucking like it with the way your slutty hole is clamping down on me.” Shinsou laughed, his grip on your sides tightening. 
“Shut the fuck up.” You whimpered, clenching around his length from the degrading, pretending like you didn’t like it at all but your body fully giving you away.
“You’re so cute putting up a fake act. Maybe try harder next time?” Shinsou taunted, making you nod quickly and turned on more at the thought of there being a next time. 
“R-Right there.” You moaned out, totally ignoring his words as his tip kissed that spot buried deep inside of you.
“Beg for it you slut.” Shinsou ordered, his tone being more serious than earlier as goosebumps appeared all over your body. “Please-” You whined, not wanting to give him what he wants. 
“Beg me like you mean it or are you that bad of a slut?” Shinsou continued, slowing down his movements.
“Please Shinsou- I’ll do anything?” You begged, continuing begging as he slowly but surely picked up his pace again, beg after beg spilling from your mouth needily. “That fucking needy? It’s almost pathetic.” Shinsou laughed, going back to his rougher pace, hitting that spot over and over as you felt his cock twitch, signalling you that he was close and so were you.
“Please- Please breed me.” You whined, the only thing on your mind being filled up with his cum. Shinsou cursed under his breath, going wild at the thought of you being filled until you couldn’t take it anymore, your tits growing bigger and the fact that he would mark his territory in a way.
“Want me to breed your tight pussy? Just like the needy slut you are?” Shinsou grunted, his movements being rougher with the second as the sound of skin slapping filled the room together with your moans and Shinsou’s grunts.
“Yes! Please sir.” You mewled out, catching Shinsou off guard as that nickname rolled off your lips needily, spilling his seed inside of you and cursing under his breath, digging his nails into your sides tightly while he breathed heavily.
“Fuck-” Shinsou groaned, not slowing down his movements and only fucking his cum deeper into you, making sure that he would breed you. 
“T-Thank you.” You whimpered, only for Shinsou to laugh and give your ass another harsh smack.
“How about we see how much your slutty pussy can take? Maybe I’ll fill that slutty hole of yours until it’s dripping with my cum, until I’m sure I breeded you nicely.” Shinsou whispered into your ear, making you shiver underneath his touch and let out a shaky breath.
“Please-” You whimpered, that being the only confirmation he needed before going all night.
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chilumi-shipper · 9 months ago
Hi i dont know if your requests are open you can decline this if they are closed but can i request streamer! Xiao x fem! reader giving him a blowjob under his desk? Then the chat finds out and the chat goes crazy?❤
-xiaos wife anon👌
Out of Frame
Streamer!Xiao x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Public Sex, Oral Giving, Horny Reader, Slight Crack, Swallowing, Face Fucking.
Summary: Whilst Xiao is streaming, angrily cussing out the game he's playing, you slip under his desk where the camera cannot see and suck on his cock like a needy bitch.
At the very moment that your hands unbuckled his pants from under the desk, he knows he's in trouble.
"What are you doing?!" Xiao exclaimed, making it seem like it was directed to the character he was playing, but you both knew that it was for you, making you smile just a bit from amusement. The chat was just as chill as ever, unknowing of what was happening where the camera cannot see.
You take a sticky note and a pen on his bedroom floor, cause he's messy like that, writing your answer. "I want to make you feel better." He managed to only scoff and turn his attention back onto the game.
You frowned, writing down something again. "Pay attention to me!" You tap his knees continuously, trying to get him to look down at you. "I don't like seeing you angry :(" You showed him the piece of paper, before ultimately dropping it to the ground.
The sound they made definitely reached the audience, the chat immediately asking what was that, saying something that a ghost is haunting the house and it's gonna kill him or something.
I mean, Xiao would rather them believe that rather than his girlfriend is actually below the desk, lowering his pants and boxers to his ankles and grabbing onto his hardening cock, kissing the tip with your plump lips.
He would be lying if he said he didn't like the look of you under him, trying to please him with your hands bobbing on his thick length.
You just didn't know how much he wanted to thrust up into your soft hands, make your grip tighter around him nice and snug, then fuck your fists until he splatters thick ropes of cum on your sweet little face.
His body tensed immediately as you start kissing the base of his dick, lighting making contact with your lips before giving the spot tiny kitten licks. If he didn't have a webcam, Xiao would've already muted his microphone, thrown you onto his bed and force his cock all the way down the entrance of your throat.
You were just in a bit of a teasing mood today.
His hands instantly shake while holding the controller after you went back on his tip, attacking it with forceful, wet licks.
"Shit!" Xiao slammed his controller on his desk, everyone laughing in the chat as his character falls to the ground, he looks back down on you, lips tightening.
Another curse almost emit out of his mouth when your lips finally wrapped around his tip, licking the little slit on top as you slowly inch the rest of his cock into the wet caverns of your mouth. He forgot just how much he loved feeling your tongue licking him as you bob your head up and down on his cock.
The chat was just screaming at him to respawn already, not noticing his shaky form and one of his hands going under the desk, landing on the top of your head and pushing you down onto his cock even more.
Unintentional, a groan escapes his mouth when his whole cock managed to fit into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat as you bob your head even faster.
'Wow, why is this guy so dramatic about dying in a game?'
'You alright, dude?'
'Mans groaned like he nutted or something lol.' It was something like that.
He reluctantly reached for his controller, respawning back into the field with a heavy sigh. "I'm fine..."
You start whimpering, the feeling of his skin rubbing against your clit and pussy felt elevating, so so good. Xiao almost broke the controller in his hands as the vibration went through his entire dick.
"Hhhhhhgg..." You pulled away from him, satisfied to see that his entire length covered in your saliva. It feels like you were about to cum, just one good hump.
You feel his hand drop down onto your head again, this time he forcefully shoved your face back to his cock, the tip settling on your lips and encouraging you to open your mouth again.
A super chat rings into his headset, "Dude you gotta focus up!" He couldn't care less about the game anymore, much less to his stream, all he wants right now is to fuck your face and spurt out cum down your throat and cover your face in juices.
The moment you open your mouth, his other hand lets go of the controller, landing right on your head and forcing his cock back inside that wet and hot mouth of yours.
Both of you did not at all notice that his chair had rolled back a bit, and as you lean closer, both his bottom half and your head peeped out of the desk.
Instantly, the chat went insane, seeing Xiao's blissed out face with a girl they've never seen before happily sucking on his cock. Nothing but lenny faces, peach emojis, water droplets emojis can be seen in the chat, going on and on at the speed of light.
Xiao had groaned so deeply, pressing down your head even harder, loving the way you just deep throat him. With his tip hitting as far as it can, it finally shot cum into your throat...
So so much cum that some of it even managed to drool out of your mouth, he didn't care anymore that people could see him like this, too busy appreciating the mess he's made of your face.
The last thing that the viewers saw was Xiao pulling you by the hair off his cock, holding up your gorgeous naked body for the world to see, and with a yelp from you, he tossed your body onto the bed, shutting off the stream before trapping you under his body.
Much to the chat's disappointment, he still turned off the stream :( darn, you really wish you could show just how hard he's gonna destroy your pussy right after all that.
The offline chat still kept going, talking about you and your body, how his cock looked packing and how you managed to fit all that in your mouth, you couldn't see it anymore though.
Everything was a blur right as Xiao ripped your thighs apart, smirking and degrading you as you cum from him just slapping your pussy once. Probably from all that humping you were doing to his ankle.
All you could do was scoop the rest of his cum from your face and into your mouth, savouring him as he destroys your pussy.
Xiao completely forgot about his game.
A mix of a little bit of crack and porn, I like it that way...
I hope you like this one, thanks for requesting!!!
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amatchinwater · a month ago
Recently obsessed with this one thing
Reader hits Jason with a lunch tray for making fun of Eddie and Eddie then falls in love with reader
She/her reader
Thank you so much!! This was super fun 💚
Peace Sells | Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+ (language), mild blood, mild violence, light angst (mostly caused by Jason), kind of possessive behavior, protective reader and Eddie
Words: 1562
Master List
Not my gif!! Credit to creator!!
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For the first time in your life, you don’t completely hate being the new kid. It took two days, two measly days for you to find people that you can not only call your friends, but that you actually care about. In your third period, Gareth hit you in the face with a crumpled up ball of paper. At first, you were furious because why the fuck did he just throw something at your face? Until he instructed you to open it. Inside, scribbled in awful handwriting, was a note telling you to find him at lunch. 
Which was weird because you didn’t think anyone would want anything to do with the new girl that showed up well over half way into the school year. But he had a nice smile and gave you a reassuring nod. When you found him as promised, he was surrounded by a bunch of guys smiling and laughing, the only one you’d cared to really look at was sat at the head of the table. Turns out, Eddie found out that Gareth shared a class with you and told him to invite you to their group. 
Now, well over two weeks later, you’ve got six of the best friends you could ever ask for. Honestly, you were a little intimidated at first. Not to have your entire friend group be filled with guys, you don’t care about that. No, it was more so that they all seemed so close with one another; very tight knit. And letting in outsiders didn’t seem like something they just did. Definitely not after knowing you for less than twenty-four hours at the time. But you were welcomed with open arms. 
Eddie said he’d never seen a girl walk into school confidently wearing a Motley Crue t-shirt, ripped black jeans, and combat boots. They all knew you were meant to be one of them. You didn’t know the first thing about DnD, but they offered to teach you and you’re actually really excited to learn about it. It sounds like a really fun game. 
Everything was going great until, for some fucking reason, Jason Carver of all people decided to take an interest in you. You tried your hardest to avoid the blonde at all costs. But he was like the world’s most annoying magnet. Gravitating towards you every chance he got. Sometimes out of nowhere too. It was aggravating to say the least. Jason didn’t really seem to care, doing his best to lay the charm on thick like it’d work to his benefit. 
It doesn’t. 
Not a big surprise that it doesn’t stop him either. 
Even when you’ve just gotten your tray of food and are making a beeline to the Hellfire table. Honestly, he’d probably follow you into the bathroom- where you often hide from him- if it wouldn’t get him into trouble. 
“Hey,” Jason steps in your path, flashing his pearly whites, hands in his letterman jacket. 
“What do you want, Jason?” You huff out, watching your friends turn their attention towards you from behind the jock. Jeff’s wincing in his seat while Gareth shakes his head at Eddie who’s already on his feet. Not coming over just yet, but watching with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. You love how protective they are of you, but you’re capable of looking out for yourself. 
“I was wondering,” he looks down as he laughs a little, “hoping, really.” Jason corrects himself, blue eyes landing back on your face. “Maybe you’d want to sit with us today? With me?” 
On one hand, you can appreciate Jason just shooting his shot so effortlessly. But you’re far from interested and have told him plenty of times that you’re not. “Jason,” you sigh, adjusting the now heavy tray from holding it for too long, “I really don-”
“Before you say no,” he holds his hands out, smile ever present, “I really like you and-”
“You don’t even know me.” 
“But I’d like to get to know you,” Jason retorts. 
Eddie’s moved, walking slowly towards the two of you now. 
“Look, I’ve tried being polite,” you chuckle dryly, “really, I have. But you just can’t seem to take a hint even when it’s blatantly obvious.” People close to you have ceased their conversations to listen to yours, your voice having raised a few decibels. “So I’m going to say this one last time and I really hope it sticks. I’m. Not. Interested. Nor will I become interested if you keep pestering me. It’s exhausting! I don’t like you.” 
“Is there someone else or something?” Jason looks confused. 
Of course, that’s the only scenario in his mind that someone wouldn’t be swooning over him. Damn near drooling that the jock is giving them the time of day. “Jason, that’s not-” 
“It’s because of Munson, isn’t it?” Jason’s eyes darken with his anger, malice seeping into his tone. “Him and his band of freaks have corrupted you, haven’t they? You know they’re satanists in their spare time, right? Yo-you’re not like them. You’re too pretty to align yourselves with a freak like Ed-” you don’t let him speak Eddie’s name, opting for flinging the food off of your tray onto his clothes as you whack him right in the face with the hard plastic. 
The whole cafeteria goes silent save for Eddie’s shouted, “yes!” 
Jason stumbles a little from your hit, rubbing his jaw, eyeing you with venom in his eyes. 
“You don’t get to fucking say his name. Eddie isn’t a freak, he’s an amazing, normal fucking human being who enjoys playing a game with his friends. If anyone’s a freak, it’s you. He’s ten times the man you’ll ever be,” you growl, lifting your tray to take another swing at him should he try something else. 
But you forgot how agile someone needs to be to be as good at sports like Jason. How fast. He grabs your wrist, the tray clattering to the floor as he yanks you to his chest. Jason’s face is two inches from yours when he seethes, “who the fuck-”
Once again, Jason’s words are cut short when a ring clad hand wraps around his shoulder, Eddie having made it over to the two of you. The twisting of Jason’s body made him let go of your wrist, which you rub to regain circulation, hoping it doesn’t bruise. “Wrong move,” is all Eddie growls, rearing back his fist and punching Jason right in the face. Hard enough that there’s dribbles of blood on his knuckles and the jock falls on his ass. Eddie squats down, absolutely furious, Jason clutching his bloody nose while Eddie yanks him close by his jacket collar. “You think you can put your hands on my girl?” 
His girl? Your heart does backflips in your chest. You can’t even begin to deny that Eddie is incredibly attractive. Or the several wet dreams you’ve had about him. Or how happy you’d be if you were his girl. But not once since you’ve been friends with him have you ever thought he had feelings for you that weren’t platonic. He treats you the same way he does the rest of the guys. One glance at your table shows your friends are just as shocked by his words as you. 
“Apologize, Carver,” Eddie spits his name, “now.” You half hear a muffled apology while Jason tries to stop the bleeding. “You ever touch my girl like that again, or any girl for that matter, I’ll break more than just your fucking nose. Got it?” The jock nods wildly and Eddie drops him, letting him lay back on the ground in pain. Eddie’s back up on his feet, one hand cupping your cheek, the other carefully holding your hand to inspect your wrist. “Are you alright?” 
You want to answer. Nod and tell him that yes, you're fine, just more shaken than anything. But those words don’t come out. What does is, “your girl?” 
“I’m sorry,” a saccharine laugh bubbling out of his chest, “did you not just smash him in the face defending my honor? I’m pretty sure my heart leaped out of my chest the minute your food went flying. I fell in love on the spot watching you hit him like that. And then that speech,” Eddie tucks your hair behind your ear, smiling, “I’m amazing, huh? Ten times the man?” 
“Well,” you shift on your feet, squirming under his undivided attention. He just punched a guy in the face for you and called you his girl. Your heart is practically levitating. Eddie just told you that he loves you because you defended him against Jason and you can barely think. “Yeah, you are,” you admit, a blush turning your cheeks and ears scarlett. 
Eddie pulls you to his chest by the small of your back, “so are you, beautiful.” He grins at the darkening shade of your cheeks. “So yeah, my girl,” he says with such confidence. But softens just a touch, “you cool with that?”
“Very,” you barely have a chance to fully utter the word before his lips are on your and you melt into him. Were it not for Eddie’s arm wrapped around you stabilizing you both, you’d have knocked him on the ground next to Jason. 
“Fucking bullshit,” the blonde grunts. 
You flip him off, smiling into the kiss with Eddie. 
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zhours · 23 days ago
You Don't Know My Name - Pierre Gasly x Reader
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Request: Yes
Warnings: mentions of first kiss, inspired by the music “You Don’t Know My Name” by Alicia Keys , bad english (?)
Prompts: "im jealous? no, no, no", "wait, are you .... jealous?" + "stop saying im jealous. im not- i just. I dont like having to share you" + "is this your first time?" + "if i where to kiss someone, it would be you" + "i kissed you" "i know. i - was there" + "I want to show you something" + "nope, puppy dog eyes arent going to work this time!" + "I'm just looking out for you" "well, lucky me" + "are you cold? here you go. Come here" + you have something on your face." "what?" "me." 
He was your first crush, even though you've only known him for a short time, you already had that in mind. Unfortunately your life was a little unusual, you started working early and had to get more than one job to keep your living expenses, your family and still studying, which made you never have free time for yourself. Dating and clubbing were something very far from your life and that's how you reached your age without having even had your first kiss.
Pierre and you met at the cafeteria where you work, he had stopped for coffee with his friends and you were responsible for serving them, he was staring at you the whole time he was in the establishment. After that, he went back there every day, but without his friends, and he always asked for the same order. You started to observe the boy in front of you and it was undeniable that he was beautiful and all the accessories he wore only enhanced more.
Friday had arrived and once again he came at the same time and asked for the same thing, your friends started to say that he was there just for you but you didn't believe that a man like that would be interested in you. When he left, he gave you a sharp nod with a smile and left a paper in the tip box.
"I knew it!" Your friend screamed when she saw what he had done and ran to get the paper, quickly heading back towards you.
“Open!” She says, handing the paper over to you.
You take the paper and open it with your hands shaking a little and reading the message written “ I’m Pierre. Call me :)” followed by his phone number.
"What's up?" Your friend asks anxiously,
"It's his number and his name." You say in disbelief.
"You're going to text right?" She asks.
“Of course not, are you crazy? I do not know him." You say would.
"But he's handsome." She says shaking her head.
"I gonna think about it!" You say dodging the conversation and going to serve another customer.
Your shift was over, you packed all your stuff and grabbed your bag and left. As soon as you get home, you sit on the couch and get Pierre's number transcribed into your phone. You were determined to do something risky at least once in your life, like a normal person.
To Pierre: Hey, it's Y/N, from the restaurant.
You stared at your phone nervously and wishing it wouldn't answer because you didn't know what to do if it did. However, the phone vibrates in your hand.
From Pierre: Hey Y/N, how are you?
To Pierre: Well and you?
From Pierre: Well too, will you be busy tomorrow at 7pm?
With that message you were sure you were going to have a heart attack, your mind screamed at you not to be a coward.
To Pierre: No.
From Pierre: Want to go to a party? You can take someone if you want.
To Pierre: Of course!
From Pierre: I'll send you the address, I'll meet you there 😉
[• • •]
Party time had already arrived, you were wearing a black skirt, a gray crop top and an equally black knee-high boot. You had chosen to go alone, you really wanted to live a moment you had never lived, but your mind was wondering if he would really go, you were anxious and afraid, you were insecure and you were never this close to meeting someone.
“Hi Y/N.” You heard a thick voice behind you and turned around smiling.
“Hi Pierre.” You respond, trying to hide your shame.
"Thanks for coming." He says hugging you and kissing your cheek and you just smile.
He guided you inside the place and was greeted by some acquaintances in the place, unlike you he seemed to be quite popular. As soon as you arrived at the part written in the VIP area and he entered quietly, a question mark appeared in your head.
"VIP area?" you ask looking at him.
“Yes, I thought it would be better for us to stay.” He says simple and takes your hand to guide you to the table.
You sat down and he was saying something to you but you weren't paying much attention, you were wondering how he was able to get in there so easily.
“Y/N?!” He calls to you, noticing your airy manner.
"Sorry." You say awkwardly, cringing not chair.
“Alright, you look like you’re not a party girl, huh?” He asks trying to make you comfortable.
“Not really, I don’t go very often.” You say smiling at him.
He'll think you're weird, you hear the voice in his head and ignore it asking him a question.
"What do you do for a living?" You ask.
"I'm a driver." He says.
"Driver? Like a Uber driver?” You ask.
“No, a formula 1 driver.” He says with a laugh.
“That explains a lot.” You say looking around you.
“No need to be nervous.” He says taking your hands.
"Sorry, I never did that." You say.
“Never did what?” Pierre asks confused.
“Go on a date! I know it's weird but I have to go, I'm really sorry.” You say standing up in embarrassment and practically ran to leave.
Pierre gets up and goes after you, holding your waist and holding you lingering in his body. You started to feel like you were going to hyperventilate, but you tried to stay calm.
“Stay calm, look, do you want to go to a quieter place? I'll go wherever you want, I just want to meet you no matter where." He says next to your ear and you turn to face him but don't say anything, you were feeling very embarrassed.
"I don't want to look like an idiot." You say messing with your hair.
"I'm just looking out for you" He says.
"Well, lucky me" You say smiling
"Let's go to my hotel, shall we?" he asks and you quickly nod your head.
Pierre took the car key from his pocket and you went to his car, as soon as you got in you breathed a long sigh of relief. He got in the car soon after and you went to the hotel.
You head was in the millions, you were going to a hotel with a guy you had never seen. You remembered what he had told you about the profession, so you took out your phone, dimmed the screen and Googled “Pierre formula 1”. It didn't take long for him to show up, which made you feel more safe, knowing he wasn't lying.
As soon as your arrived at the hotel, he asked you to wait while he gave you access. You were using your phone meanwhile, when you felt a hand on your shoulder, you thought it was Pierre but when you looked you saw that it was a dark-haired man who seemed to be at the gym 24 hours a day.
“Are you lost princess?” He says looking you up and down.
"No." You say harshly, pulling his hand away from his shoulder.
"Then why are you alone around here?" he insists.
"And do I need to be with someone?" You answer rudely, without any patience.
"Maybe I can keep you company then." He says and you roll your eyes impatiently.
“Is something going on?” Pierre arrives asking and holding your waist.
“This guy.” You say.
"Dude, she's with me." he says seriously.
“Sorry man, I didn't know. I am your fan." The man says and leaves quickly.
"I can't leave you alone for a minute and you attract attention." Pierre says to you.
You laugh and Pierre looks at you, raising his eyebrow.
“Wait, are you….jealous?” You asks playfully.
“ I'm jealous? No, no, no, stop saying I’m jealous. I’m not- I just. I don't like having to share you.” He says.
“Don't worry, if where to kiss someone, it would be you.” You say leaving him speechless. You knew your power, despite all your shyness.
"I want to show you something" He says holding your hand and leading you to the elevator.
You walked in and he kept holding your hand and, for some unknown reason, you were getting more confident. As soon as the elevator opened, you went to his room and you looked around, sitting on the couch and taking off your boots. Pierre does the same with the shoes and runs a hand over your shoulders.
“What did you want to show me?” You ask feeling him getting closer and closer to you.
He stares at you for a few minutes and you're staring at him too, he holds your chin and you arch your eyebrows in confusion.
“I have something on my face?” You ask.
“Yes.” He responds, still gently holding your chin.
"What?" you ask, running your hand over your face.
"Me." He responds and kisses you.
You were surprised but returned the kiss, your heart was so racing that your hands were sweating cold. He took his hand from your chin and cupped your neck, deepening the kiss. Even nervous, you return the kiss until Pierre interrupts.
"Is this your first time?" he asks, running his tongue over his lips.
“Was it that bad?” You say staring at him.
"No! That's not what I meant. It was great, it’s because you were nervous.” He says in a comforting one.
“Yes, it was my first time.” You say looking at the floor.
“No need to be ashamed, really. I don't care, I just don't understand how.” He says.
“I never thought about it, I just thought about working and buying a house and having a study. So I worked for years at multiple jobs and didn't want to be distracted.” You say staring at him.
"I kissed you." He says and you tilt your head to the side facing him.
“"I know. I- was there" you say smiling.
“Am I a distraction to you?” He asks.
"No." You answer.
"So can I kiss you again?" he asks, with puppy eyes.
You don't answer, you just hold his face with both hands and kiss him. You could feel him giving light smiles between the kiss, as if he had won the biggest prize in the world. When you break the kiss, you realize he was looking the same as a few minutes ago.
“Nope, puppy dog ​​eyes aren't going to work this time!” you say laughing and he smiles equally.
He gets up and grabs snacks and turns off the light, taking the TV remote and putting on a movie. You start to cringe as the air conditioner hits your thighs, which Pierre notice.
"Are you cold? here you go. Come here" he says taking it the blanket that was on the sofa next to you and throwing it over you.
You spent a few hours watching the movie until you fell asleep on Pierre's shoulders, who carefully carried you to the bed where you stayed all night, holding each other as if you had been a couple for years.
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primofate · a year ago
Hi there, can I request the boys seeing you got injured or being attacked, whichever is fine ^^
Hey anon! You didn’t specify how injured but I’ll just run with it hahaha :)
Scenario: You got injured Part 1
Part 2 with Zhongli
Part 3 with Xiao
Characters: gn! reader x Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Childe
Warnings: angst, injury, no character death though
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If you’d like to be extra sweet and donate, here’s my kofi link: 
“Master Diluc, if I could just interrupt--” one of the caretakers in the winery walked up to his office and prepared for the assault of words that could be fired towards him, sure enough, Diluc interrupted. “What is it? I’m a little busy right now, make it quick,” he hadn’t turned his face to look at the grim expression weaving in and out through the caretaker. Hadn’t bothered to look up to check if there was anything amiss, but the caretaker continued quickly “It’s Y/N,” the caretaker had only paused for a moment but Diluc had already picked his head up at the mention of your name. It was here that he realises something must have gone wrong, the caretaker’s expression was not a pleasant one. He was up on his feet, eyes widening a fraction at the following words, “They came back to the mansion seconds ago and they’ve been injured past what Adelinde could fix so we called for a doctor—”
In Diluc’s hurry he had stumbled over his chair, it tripping behind him with a thud on the floor but he ignored it and fast runs towards your room. Dear Archons he should NOT have let you go on that commission by yourself. You could hold your own, yes, but things happened and he really should have thought that through first. He was berating himself for it as he swung the door open. “Y/N?!” 
The urgency in his voice tells you that he perhaps had the wrong idea of what was happening, it was really just a gash on your leg, although it was bleeding profusely, the cut must have been deeper than you thought. The maid had already placed a tourniquet to stop and slow the bleeding. You tried not to show it in your face, not wanting to alarm your lover any further, but it. hurt. like. hell. “Diluc, I’m fine, it’s just a gash,” 
The maid that was previously sitting on the chair next to your bed moves away, Diluc replacing her, his eyes didn’t tear away from the wound on your leg, his expression contorted to that of worry and nervousness, before finally turning to your face, reaching a hand out to cradle your cheek. “Stop lying. You’re pale, you’re sweating--” of course he sees through you, he knows the second you get upset, knows every crease on your forehead and every slight furrow of the brow. He had memorized every inch of his beautiful, beautiful treasure. “Your hands are trembling, you’ve lost too much blood, where’s the doctor?!” He grips your hand at the realization that you might actually be in a more dire situation than presented, and just on cue the doctor comes through the door, asking for some time alone with you to do his job. 
Diluc paces outside the door, unable to stay in one place for long. He kept thinking about how frail you looked. How, if you were unlucky, it wouldn’t have just been your leg. He shook his head at the thought. He didn’t know how he was going to let you out of his sight from then on. He knew full well it would annoy you to have him following you around everywhere but.... How could he not after this?
The doctor emerged half an hour later and explained that you just needed a bit of rest and that, with a little healing magic, you didn’t need the stitches at all. “Don’t let them use that leg for a day and they should be fine, it’s nothing life-threatening but they did lose a lot of blood and is going to need time to recuperate. They’re asleep at the moment,” 
Diluc takes note of everything and quietly slips into your room. They must have sedated you in the process and he sighs as he plops down on the chair that was still placed next to your bed. His eyes soften at the sight of you finally relaxed and less in pain, hand reaching out to brush off strands of stray hair that blocked his view of your face. “You’re the only one who can scare me this much,” he mutters under his breath, as if complaining and he swears that he sees a very small and light grin on your face, as if teasing him. He smiles a little, just happy that you’re stabilized and leans in to kiss your forehead, opting to stay by your side till you wake up.
“What do you mean unconscious?”
“J-Just as we said, Captain. They were unconscious when we found them,” Kaeya sighs in slight exasperation. Normally he was a jolly camper but when the knight in front of him is unable to say how injured you are, Kaeya gets a little wordy. “I meant to say why were they unconscious? Were they hurt? Where are they now?”
Kaeya stands. He was in the middle of some Favonius paper work. “They were bleeding profusely from the head,” Kaeya stops as if lightning has struck him and stares pointedly at the knight. “These details should be said early on,” he thought that it had just been something less threatening. Perhaps you had somehow passed out, exhausted, on your bedroom floor. Or perhaps had just rolled from the bed and onto the floor. They said that they found you in the bedroom, and his blood froze when he realizes that someone went in there to attack you.
Kaeya doesn’t bother talking the other knight into giving better reports next time, he’d do that later. He could guess that you were probably taken into the Favonius infirmary. Sure enough, when he walks in there, face scrunched up into what could only be described as worry and anger mingling together, you were awake, head bandaged up and your eyes meet. His heart breaks at how you still smile at him despite the fact that he wasn’t there to protect you. He stands next to the infirmary bed and gingerly touches your cheek, peering into your eyes. “Y/N, what happened?” he asks, eyes scanning the bandages wrapped around you. “Who did this?” and there was that angry and cold undertone in his voice that you rarely heard, as if his cryo vision had taken over his whole being.
“I’m sorry, Kaeya, I-- I can’t quite remember,” You put a hand up to cover half of your eye, your head was still throbbing and in quick realization Kaeya eases up on you and gently pushes you on your back to rest. “It’s fine, sorry, I just--” he cuts his own speech off and takes a deep breath in. Focus on the good. He tells himself. “I’m glad you’re alright, take it easy, I’ll take care of things,” By that he means he might just slaughter whoever even had the guts to break into your house and attack you in the middle of the day. The break-in was reported by townspeople, and Kaeya was sure as hell he’d get every witness to describe that asshole’s face. 
“You’re staying with me for the moment,” he decides quite quickly, and you had no qualms with that whatsoever. Hearing that you had no protest at all, he grins and leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss, afraid to hurt you. “No complaints? Perhaps this was your grand scheme all along to come live with me,” You can’t help but chuckle at how quick he bounces back. “Maybe, honey. Maybe,”
“Ow--” the knife clatters to the floor, as blood starts to pool around your finger. Albedo spins around at the meek sound you make, ignoring the knife on the floor and strides over to you just as you’ve turned on the sink and started running water on the small cut on your finger.
“Let me see,” You turn to him, blinking. His face was blank. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking but he was staring straight at you. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s just a small cut,” but he doesn’t waver and glances at the water running over your finger. “Let me see,” he tries again, this time rather forceful. That got you to obey. Turning the faucet off and awkwardly offering your hand to him.
He receives it and cradles it in his as if it was porcelain, upturning your hand to look at the small cut on your pointer finger. It was tiny. Really nothing compared to wounds that a knight might sustain. Albedo sighs and looks up at you, “Don’t go anywhere,” before stalking off, coming back a few seconds later with a first aid kit. “...Al, it’s alright, it’s not a big deal,” Albedo would only let one person give him a nickname. You. No one else. Frankly he thought the nickname was weird but if it danced on your lips, he didn’t mind it at all.
“Y/N, you’re mistaken if you think I’m going to take this lightly,” he takes out some ointment and a small roll of bandage, starting with the ointment. “Everything and anything that hurts you is a significant thing,” his gaze darkens, as if glowering at that microscopic cut. “Miniscule or massive, it doesn’t make a difference to me,” he starts wrapping your finger, “if it taints your skin, I cannot help but feel--” he doesn’t know the right word, but you do, judging from how his hold on your wrist tightens. 
A soft smile paints your features at how he was such a worry-wart. Sometimes he was so bad at navigating his own feelings but you could decipher them anyway, from his actions. You let him worry over you, and thank him once he’s done. He finishes his work by taking your hand, and pressing it to his lips, his eyes darting up to lock on yours. That made you blush every damn time. His green eyes were just so mesmerizing, and so was his heart.
Dear mother of the Archons, perhaps whoever was responsible for your injuries had some type of death wish. Everyone should offer prayers for whoever had cut you up. Your arms and legs were littered with small scratches from trying to run away from the attackers, you thought going through the thick forest was a good idea. In essence, it had slowed the thieves down. They had managed to throw a fire bomb at you that severely burned your right hand, and the right side of your abdomen. 
Perhaps it was thanks to adrenaline running through you that you had actually managed to make it to the gates of Liyue, just before the bridge, but you’d crumpled down right then and there. The Millelith guards didn’t recognize you, but the three Fatui agents walking on the bridge did. “Someone had better tell him,” The group of Fatuis scrambled nearer to you, one of them picking you up, but glancing at the other who had just spoken up. “I’m not doing that, you do it,” it was slightly comical, seeing them pass off the duty of who was supposed to report to Childe about it. “You know how he gets when it comes to them, I’m not doing--” then one of them finally gets their bearings together.
“Shut up, get them to the healer first,” The tallest one shoves the one carrying you, urging him to go fast and off he went. Now it was just two Fatui agents looking at each other. Two Fatui agents who decided that they would just face his wrath together. “Sir,” one of them starts as Childe turns around to look at them. He actually had no tasks today and was just about to go off to find you. “About Y/N...” Childe’s eyebrows shoot up, what in the world could these agents have to say about you? “We’ve sent them to the healers, they collapsed at the entrance of Liyue, it... doesn’t look good...”
All hell descends upon Childe’s demeanor and poise. His face darkens, his eyes burning holes through the two agents and his fists closed up on his side. His bow appears and hovers behind him, the only thing that shone through his dark person. “The two of you--” he starts, “are going to find out who did it. I’m expecting a report by nightfall,”
Childe himself shows up at the healers quarters, and was told of your condition. “Their hand is going to scar,” keeps reverberating in his head. Like the sound that he imagines the skulls of those who dared touch you crunching under his feet, over and over again. Childe actually winces when he sees you. Small bandages on your arms and legs from the scratches, your right hand wrapped up adequately and, he couldn’t see it now, but he was sure your abdomen was wrapped too.
You cracked an eye open, feeling another presence in the room. Childe immediately appears next to you, leaning over the bed and watching your expression. “...It hurts, doesn’t it?” he asks, tracing over your bandaged hand. You remained quiet for a moment before nodding your head slowly. Just remembering it caused a blinding pain in your mind’s eye. You’d been given drugs to ease the pain now, but there were still traces of it lingering on your skin. “How dare they,” both your eyes snapped open at Childe’s nearly contorted voice, shadowed and overpowered by rage. 
You pick up your good hand and touch his arm with the tips of your fingers. You didn’t like it when he got like this. “Childe, it’s alright,” far from it, but it was the only reassurance you could offer. He catches your hand and brings it up to his face, pressing your hand to his cheek as if it was a lifeline. “It’s not. It’s not,” he repeats to himself, his anger also stemming from the fact that he wasn’t there to protect you. “They’ll regret even laying eyes on you,” You knew he wanted to go now, knew that he wanted to get to the bottom of it, but you yet again pull your hand away to grasp at his shirt, the fabric scrunching up under your hold. “...But stay with me for tonight? Please?” 
That got him. He would never say no. His form relaxes and he leans in to kiss your lips, gentle yet with a hidden hunger in them. “Of course,” he simply says, as if his previous agenda forgotten.
But he would never forget. He would never forget for as long as he could see that scar. 
Tomorrow, he would decimate each and every one of them.
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foldedblankets · 2 months ago
Thick thighs | E.M
Eddie Munson x fem! Reader
Warnings: mention of drugs, smoking and sex. Basically a lot of high raunchy fuckin, thigh kink, slight Dom/sub
Find my masterlist here: masterlist
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It was so dark around here, the trailer park only having very dimly lit street lights, then again not many young women walked around trailer parks at 10pm.
You knew Eddie would be home, no need to call. Your suspicion almost instantly answered as the closer you grew, the sound of metallic guitar rang through the air. As you stepped up to his door, knocking gently, the music stopped.
“Come in!” He yelled, yet as you stepped in his face looked shocked. He was sat at the table, one leg up as his guitar rested on his thigh steadily, a blunt hanging from his lips.
“Shit! Y/n?” He sat up, placing his guitar down on the table “sorry it’s such a shit show in here, wasn’t expecting a visitor” he stated. You guys knew each other, I mean it’s not like you were close but you had mutual friends. Not to mention the huge crush that you had completely repressed for years. As you shrugged he slugged back down, feeling less nervous you would judge his place.
“I was just coming to get some weed” you stated, although it came out shaky, you hadn’t realised just how nervous you were.
His eyebrows rose “really?” As you nodded he huffed “I mean are you looking to buy, like a half ounce or do you want some of this?” He offered his blunt, which had been muffling most of his words this whole time he spoke, taking it out his mouth, he held it out.
“That works, I wouldn’t have anywhere to hide weed anyway ” you stated and he beckoned you closer with his hand, as you did so the smell of weed and beer filled your nose.
“Ah parents” he chuckled. Once close enough he held it out for you, to make a bold move you inhaled it from his hands, bending down slightly to do so.
His breath hitched, quickly speaking “sit down if you’d like” he nodded at the chairs, but ignoring this you sat on the table, just to be as close as possible. His eyes went down to your thighs, watching as they spread when you sat down, quickly looking back at you. Pretending not to notice this, you took the blunt from him, inhaling once again. He glanced towards his music player as it switched to songs, some rock tune playing. He smirked “I fucking love this song, you know it?” He asked intently, totally distracting himself from staring at you.
As you shook your head his eyes widened “oh you have so much to learn my darling” he leaned back, shaking his head. You choked slightly as you exhaled, causing a light laughter to build up between you and him. He watched as the blunt died away, some light conversation has distracted you both. “Ah shit, I’ll roll another” he stood, reaching for a box behind you, purposely leaning over you, face inches away.
As he began to roll, he glanced up at your sudden voice “I’ll pay for this one if you want” he instantly disagreed, shaking his head. “Pretty girls like you get it for free” he winked, licking the paper as he twisted it off, holding it out, the most perfect joint ever.
“Oh yeah, how many other pretty girls you giving out drugs to for free?” You joked as he lit it, pulling it to his lips and inhaling frantically loud. He leaned in and breathed out the smoke in your face “none” he spoke sincerely, a twinge of darkness in his voice. It silenced you, he just snickered “you want some?” He asked, earning a nod off you. He took a puff, confusion overtaking you before he leaned closer, lips brushing against each other as he slowly breathed smoke into your mouth. The tension was insanely thick, was it that making it hard to breathe or the smoke?
He stayed still as you breathed it back out into the air, his eyes almost flickering darker as he smashed his lips against your own. It was irresistible, he tasted like weed and something sweet, he smelt so good, for the amount of drugs around him and that he does, he surprisingly only had a light smell of that, mostly an insanely hot, musky, cologne like scent. His lips were so soft against your own, the kiss was sloppy, due to both of your inexperience and the desperation.
His hands landed on your thighs before pulling back “your okay with this? You want this?” He asked, seriously. You nodded.
“I need words babydoll, need to hear you say it” he spoke gently, his thumb rubbing over you thigh softly, his big hand gripping at the plush.
“Yes, I want this” you whimpered out, a slight feeling of insecurity brushed over you, his hand just covering your thigh.
“I love these yano” he kissed your neck as his pointer fingers tapped each thigh in sync. “When you walk around school in those little skirts and I can see em move when you walk, fuckin’ killed me to not touch them sooner” he sucked on your skin, earning a light moan from you, he hummed in satisfaction. He left a mark, pulling back to blow on it with a smirk “hope no one sees that” he said sarcastically before kissing you again.
As you tugged his leather jacket off, he pulled your shirt up, having to break the kiss to lift it over your head, his eyes landed on your chest. He looked in awe, it wasn’t often he saw boobs (yes he loves your boobs wether they’re big or small, promise!) when he hear a quiet giggle he looked at you, his cheeks tinting a light blush as his hand went to the back of the bra. “May I?” He asked
“You may” you joked but he wasted no time, unclasping it and pulling it off you. “Holy shit” he murdered, kissing from you’d collarbone to your chest, littering your boobs with marks, light and dark. He quickly pulled his shirt off causing you to bite your lip, who knew such a lanky guy could look so amazing, he was glistening slightly due to the sweat.
He watched as you quickly unbuckled his belt and pants, the desperation took over and you just rigged them down slightly, enough to free his cock, he let out a quiet gasp as his breath hitched. He helped by flipping your skirt up, tugging your panties down and humming disappointedly as you squeezed your thighs together.
“Don’t hide from me doll” he shook his head, spreading your thighs and slipping one hand between your legs. His finger brushed over your clit, watching your facial expressions with a grin.
You pulled him in for a kiss to silence yourself, he took this chance to line himself up, letting you wrap your arms around his neck as he slowly pushed in, letting you adjust. He pulled back from the kiss as you winced “tell me if you want me to stop” he stated and you shook your head “no-fuck it feels good, just hurts a li’l” you murmured and he nodded, taking his time.
Once you were ready he moved at a slow but rough pace, fulling pulling out before pushing back in again. Although after a few moments he half you leaned back in your elbows on the table as he slammed into you, almost using your body. “Fuck, doll I’m not gonna last long” hs grunted out, his breathing heavy as moans filled the room.
You felt that familiar hot feeling at the bottom of your stomach, nodding as you moaned out. He became sporadic, his thrusts faster as he leaned his head back in pure bliss, gripping down onto your thighs as he drilled into you. Your moans music to his ears.
“Fuck! Eds…eds I’m so close” you bit down on your lip and after a few more thrusts you fell apart, thighs shaking slightly as cries fell out your mouth. Not long after you felt him fill you with a loud moan, collapsing onto your chest.
“Fuck I’ve wanted to do that for so long” he stated, between deep breaths, as you nodded he chuckled “what took us so long?”
“Us both pussying out?” Uou joked and he laughed, nodding although your faces went blank as you smelt burning.
“Shit! The blunt” he stood up fast, grabbing what was now a small pile of ash and a hole in his table cloth. “Ah he won’t even notice” he said and you giggled.
“So” he started
“So?” You asked, sitting up shakily
“I want you to be mine” he stated, handing you one of his spare shirts, and watching as you placed it on, flipping your skirt back down.
“Good, I don’t want this to be a one time thing” you smiled
“Stay the night?” He raised a brow and you nodded “I’ll tell my parents I’m staying at robins”
Okay sorry guys this was kinda long and shabby buttt, I take requests! Pls! Anything, loving Eddie Munson! But check out my pinned post, I have other characters too!
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