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kiwi-bitchez · 7 months

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Double Down, Triple Threat

Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader

Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension.

Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending.

Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.

Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I

"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.

"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics.

"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways.

"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."

"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."

"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something."

Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order.

Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret.

"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."

"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on.

If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that.

He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."

"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were.

Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers.

But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar.

Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well.

"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."

"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."

"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'

"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"

"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig.

"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."

"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."

"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."

"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him.

He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface.

"What's your drink?" he asks.

"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer.

"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him.

You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.

"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."

"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.

"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."

"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."

He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.

As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."

You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."

Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket.

"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that."

Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull.

"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"

"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."

"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt.

"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards.

You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night.

You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot.

"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."

"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."

"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."

"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive.

"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot.

"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."

"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something."

With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road.

Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt.

You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong.

Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk.

It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one.

You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood.

Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper.

Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful.

You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door.

"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks.

"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go."

You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step.

"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."

"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking.

"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live."

He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."

"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies.

"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.

"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?"

He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought.

The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat.

"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.

"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here."

"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.

"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."

"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."

"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.

"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."

You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.

"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights.

"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.

"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."

"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."

"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought.

You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?"

"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar.

You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."

"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."

"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on.

You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."

He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped.

The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close.

After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy.

"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat.

You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.”

He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside.

Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now.

Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane.

He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.

"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.

"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."

"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"

He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this.

"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.

"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond.

"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that.

This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say.

Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well.

It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile.

"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago.

"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips.

It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window.

After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form.

When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much.

He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?

In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue.

So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”

“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.

“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”

“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner.

You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise.

He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be.

“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.”

With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath.

It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch.

He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief.

His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow.

“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.

Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind.

He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there.

“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.

He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing.

Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights.

The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.

Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow.

“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.”

He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel.

Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale.

“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”

After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request.

Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?

Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut.

You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes.

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…”

And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did.

Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it.

After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off.

Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.

You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”

“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”

“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.

“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.”

“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.

You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances.

“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over.

“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”

There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were.

“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…”

He understood, he hated how much he understood.

“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him.

“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”

“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”

“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”

“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’

He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run.

You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat.

“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive.

He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt.

A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails.

The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers.

You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed.

You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point.

He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction.

“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”

“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale.

“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.

“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.

“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”

You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot.

“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice.

“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”

He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip.

He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.

He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction.

When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?”

A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill.

The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away.

“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“

He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands.

“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.

“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth.��

“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”

With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom.

“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”

“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”

You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on.

“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.

“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself.

You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark.

He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked.

“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you.

“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious.

“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present.

“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed.

“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”

You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream.

“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”

You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go.

You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around.

“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”

It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin.

“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”

“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“

“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”

You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.

He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways?

As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away.

“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back.

He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel.

“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging.

You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.”

As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up.

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.”

His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.

Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most.

Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs.

He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way.

“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you.

When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.

You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”

He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time.

“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?”

The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.

“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him.

“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand.

He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary.

As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else.

Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”

Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes.

He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch.

He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”

Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top?

“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“

“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”

Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching.

It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment.

“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”

Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point.

Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.

The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end.

The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold.

His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean.

“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”

You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two.

You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his.

He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could.

“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”

“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”

Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen.

After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong.

“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep.

An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you.

You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months.

A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control.

“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed.

A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze.

You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue.

You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true.

Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.

“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”

His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper.

“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment.

“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”

“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”

“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”

“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”

“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”

“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.

“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.

“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall.

“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl.

“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”

“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”

“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”

“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time.

“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over.

“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was.

“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”

“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.

“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”

Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear.

“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”

“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”

His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.”

“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this.

“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.”

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.

Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips.

“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.

“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”

“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”

“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”

“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”

“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”

He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you.

Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom.

As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips.

“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.

“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”

“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom.

“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets.

“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”

“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you.

“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”

As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed.

He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away.

You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself.

After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.

“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.

“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect.

“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.

“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”

“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck.

“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.”

“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body.

“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.

You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long.

“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.

“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs.

You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.

A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”

You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”

He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up.

You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.

He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.

You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks.

“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.”

His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away.

“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.”

You nod with a “Please.”

“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”

He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.

“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”

With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit.

He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred.

“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.”

You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask.

You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest.

The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.

You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip.

“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle.

“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?”

The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”

He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you.

Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning.

“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”

Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone.

“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest.

He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit.

“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.

“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”

You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand.

“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”

He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time.

“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment.

You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare.

You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening.

Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.

“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”

He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more.

He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more.

Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time.

He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go.

You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you.

“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time.

He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”

“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state.

You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you.

“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you.

“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could.

Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all.

His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.

He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.

“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now.

He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him.

Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter.

Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue.

You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”

Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.

Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you.

Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you.

“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts.

“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”

“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future.

“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”

Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page.

Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock.

“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips.

“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”

He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“

He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake.

“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his.

“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”

You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours.

“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses.

“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.”

Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.

He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center.

He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.

Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you.

More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”

How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name.

“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”

“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.

“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“

“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release.

Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements.

“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm.

It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name.

It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.

“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van.

You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets.

He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.

“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”

He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss.

“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”

“Special enough for a fourth date?”

You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”

Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all.

“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice.

“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come.

A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #smut #Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson #stranger things smut #Eddie munson fanfiction

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charles-leclerizz · 1 month

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🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ sultry vindications

🏁 Pairings : Max verstappen X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : Smut, just straight smut. warning below the cut

🏁 Word Count : 2.7k words (2763 words)

🏁 Summary : Today, of all days, is the worst time to tease your boyfriend. And sometimes, you just neeed to take a long, hard look in the mirror to realise

🏁 translations via radio comm below

🏁 credits : word dividers by @cafekitsune, motivation by @vroomvroomcircuit

🏁 Music player : Perfect strangers by Jonas blue, JP Cooper

warning : Swearing, p in v, fem recieving! oral, spit talk, spanking, dirty words [like damn], reeader is a brat lmk if I missed any <33

“-So I told her that, if you need me to bury a dead body, I have the money and the skill.” You spoke into the phone, giggling with your best friend as you walked throughout your apartment, throwing odd pieces of clothing into your arms.

“I know! I would be amazing at it.” You sighed, shoving the dirty laundry into the open machine before shutting the door with your hip and pressing a few buttons haphazardly.

Crossing over the foyer, you fall onto the sofa, laying your head back against the headrest, “Yeah, and then he had the audac- umpph.” You stop mid-sentence, grunting under the weight of a heavy head being rested on your shoulder.

“Oh, hey baby,” you whisper, glancing down at Max, whose face was still buried into your sweater, merely getting a groan of confirmation from him, “Yeah…okay I’ll call you back Kika.”

You throw the device further down the couch, burying your free hands into his hair, “Hey schat-“ He groaned, picking up his neck to launch the rest of his body over the back of the sofa and land clumsily next to you, nose diving into the pillows,”- Neuk mij.”

“Oh, okay.” You raised an eyebrow at him, watching as he pushed himself upright, “You look…annoyed?”

“Yeah- I am.” He grumbled, throwing his head back, “Couldn’t get past even half of my normal weight today.”

“Awh, c’mon Maxie, that isn’t too bad,” You cooed at him, throwing your leg over his to slot it between his thighs as you scooched closer to him.

“That’s like 90kg schat,” He glanced at you, eyebrows furrowing when you stifled a laugh, “You’re laughing.”

“I mean yeah,” You shrugged, “It’s funny watching the big bad max, turn into nothing but, this-“You gestured to him, legs spread widely as he stared at you, arms crossed over one another, “Because what? You weren’t as testosterone-y as you wanted to be?”

You leaned over to kiss his cheek and ruffle his sweaty hair, leaving the thick strands to fall over his creased forehead, “It’s okay, you’ll always be my softy.” Leaving him in the living room, you went to the kitchen, suddenly reminded of the dishes that say waiting to be put away in the washer.

“Really? Soft?” He grumbled, suddenly appearing behind you, thick arms looped around your waist.

“As a cloud,” You smirked, attempting to wriggle free of his vice-like grip, to no avail, “Babe, let me go.”

Gasping, you felt him twist you around and rested his forehead against yours, his usual baby blue eyes becoming a darker sapphire, “Take it back.”

You harrumphed, crossing your arms over and puffing out your chest, “make me.’ You narrowed your eyes at him, despite the erratic thundering of your heart.

Max matched your gaze, usually wide eyes squinted to a menacing stare before he kissed you. Unlike every other time he kissed you, his lips claimed yours, ensnaring you in an intoxicating haze that made your knees buckle and thank the heavens for the strong grip he had around your waist. He pressed you against the sink, disregarding the annoyed squeal that you let out when the back of your dress became soaked, instead he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

The taste of him stained your taste buds, making you gasp and moan against him, wrenching your hands away from the counter to instead, latch them onto any part of his body they found available, moving sporadically from his thick shoulders to his grabbable waist and up until his neck where you had tugged at his hair in just the right way that made him groan and guide the pair of you away from the kitchen.

“shit” You gaped, licking your lips savouring his flavour melded with yours, unwanting to flutter open your eyes, lest the fog be pierced through with the unwanted clarity of your reality.

Thankfully, Max met you halfway between your desperate attempts of pulling him against your chest and dove to your exposed neck, sandwiching you between his form and the wall mere inches away from your bedroom door.

He sucked and nipped at your tender skin, trailing his lips down from your ear to the column of your neck, until your collarbone, where he found purchase on the area which made you gasp and arch into his hold, “You ready to take it back yet?” He smirked against you, watching his passion form into multiple purple-ish love bites.

“Not, hah, not really.” You attempt to shrug, but instead your eyes fly open when you feel him press his thigh against your core, “Ohh, you play dirty.” You hiss, bringing him away from your neck to slot your lips together once more, this time properly fighting for dominance with him, your faces melding against each other languidly as heavy breathes left both of you in tumultuous pants.

You barely registered the door clicking upon until he had you locked against the backside of it caging you between his arms, both palms braced next to your head as you cradled his cheeks in your hands.

“Off.” You demanded, tugging at his shirt, barely inching away so that he could rip off the article, throwing it somewhere for it to be collected later.

Your eyes glittered as you admired his chest, muscles rippling and pecs heaving as he shivered when your nails tugged at his nipples ever-so slightly.

Max held you again, this time trailing one of his hands up and under the material of your shirt, until his fingers breached the band of your bra, and instead of doing thee sane thing.

Max pulled away from your lips, looking at you expectantly for your retraction of your statement, consequently when you didn’t give him what he wanted, he hooked his fingers upwards and tore through the material. Leaving only the sound of your squeal and ripping fabric to permeate in the room.

“Max, that was prada, do you seriously need to cave-man your way through things?”

“Watch your mouth.” He answered darkly.

“Or what?”

“I’ll fuck it.”

You stared at him, the overwhelming butterflies had morphed into something darker, needier, controlling you in a way that made you want him to grab you buy the hair and shove his length down your throat until you cried.

“Do it.”

“Really?”

“You too chicken?”

Max gripped your wrist, pulling you towards the mirror, positioning you until you could see both of your reflections perfectly in the large surface, both of you were red, cheeks flushed and chests rising and falling rapidly.

“Strip.”

“What are you, the TSA?”

He growled and dropped to his knees before gripping your lounge pants and tugged them off as well, letting them pool at your ankles, leaving you in just a sweater and panties, exposed to your own eyes as your gaze remained transfixed on his.

You whine and nearly double over when you felt his finger prod the wet fabric that remained soaked over your folds, “You don’t stop watching, schat, want you watching me as I fuck you senseless.” You shiver as he brings his mouth closer towards the leaking cotton, hot breath fanning over your slick covered clothing.

“Stop-“ You whimper, tugging at the waistband, begging for him to give it the same treatment as your bra, “Take, hah, take it off. Please”

“Not so bold anymore, are you?” He chides, bringing one hand away from your thigh to deliver a harsh slap to your ass, hovering over your rippling skin to soothe the sting, “Hm? Too whored out to listen now?”

“I should be getting paid for this then.” You breathe out, laughing to yourself until he meets your dazed eyes in the mirror. Keeping you transfixed on his movements, Max shucks the crotch of your panties to the side too dip a singular finger into your folds before he nudges your clit and blows cool air onto the throbbing bundle.

You hiss and brace yourself on your knees, pushing back against his face, “Ahh, Fuck.”

Max grins, and licks a fat stripe within your pussy, clicking his tongue when he feels you flutter around the muscle and tastes your lust again, and again. Until you’re shaking and moaning, struggling to keep an eye on the reflective surface ahead.

“Don’t stop” You beg, arching backwards until your hands find his hair and you begin to guide his head against your sex, the feeling of euphoria ever rising in quick leaps and bounds.

Until it doesn’t.

You gasp sharply and almost scream when Max detaches from you with a satisfied sigh, a dazed look in his eyes as he watches tears prick on your eyelashes and you turn to look at him, betrayed, “What? You looked away,” He shrugged, standing up again before wiping at his mouth and licking the glistening wetness from his fingers.

You blubbered, mouth moving silently as no sound managed to escape your throat.

“Yes?” Max watched patiently as you crumpled and sunk to the floor infront of him, obediently waiting on your knees, “Look so verdomd perfect.” He hummed, tilting his head affectionately before crooking his fingers and gesturing for you to approach him at his perch on your shared bed.

Just as you were about to stand upright and scurry to him, Max tutted and with his foot, kept a heavy weight on your back. Your eyes widened up at his smug expression, until you grumbled under your breath and scuffled closer to him on your hands and knees.

A painfully embarrassed blush leached into your cheeks, “God- so humiliating.” You hiss, resting your cheek against his thigh.

“You wanna listen now?” Max bit his lip when you paused mid-eye roll, nose twitching when the once tender graze of his fingers against your chin turned into a harsher pull.

“Yeah, just really want to…” You trail off, a self-aware silence donning your tongue.

“You’re going to have to tell me..”

“I would rather not.”

“Well-“ He nodded and began to rise ”-that saves time.”

“No, no-“ You tug at his pant leg, “really want to..cum.” You bitterly mutter.

Max hummed in approval, hand coming to pet your head, “See? Was that so hard?”

“Yes.”

He tugged your head back using your hair, smiling cruelly when you hissed but giggled, “Fucking twisted… You like this, don’t you?” He waited over your open mouth before colleccting spit in his mouth, and dropped the degrading drop into your waiting mouth.

“’Dunno.” You gulped, gasping at the searing hot feeling that scuttled over your chest and throat.

“You sure?”

He guided you up, pulling your panties off simultaneously before sitting you onto his lap, balancing you on his spread thighs, “You sure?” Max cocked his head at you, holding your neck with one hand, the other keeping your waist in place against him.

“Crystal fucking clear.” You’re half tempted to spit on him but refrain from doing so when he arches a daring brow at you.

He swivelled you around in his hold, facing both of you into the mirror once again, but this time, you're back is flush against his chest, head resting limply on his shoulder until his fingers comes up to guide your gaze on his other hand that goes down to his gym shorts.

You shudder when he pulls out his cock, tall and proud in his fist with a red tip leaking pre-cum that made your mouth water and eyes shine.

Max chuckles at your expression, and slaps the tip against your ass a few times, “See that mijn hoer? Look how cockdrunk you look.”

“In, Max, please.” You beg quietly, shaking your hips in hopes he would slip it into your aching hole and heal you of the needy pit that had begun to blossom since the first time he left you high and dry.

“Didn’t hear you schat, speak up.” He ran his dick up and down the seam of your pussy, coating it in your juices and hissed when you shot up, feeling him barely slip into you.

“Please, fuck, Please I’ll do anything, just please fuck me, Goddamit Max I swe-“ You’re cut off by a medley of both your moans as he pushes in his length, “Fuck-“ You squeal, watching as you barely manage to sink down half way, “So big, feel so full Maxie, wanna take all of you though, wanna take it all.” You drool dumbly, forcing your hips lower despite the iron grip he has on them.

“Desperate, aren’t you?” He bites your ear before trailing soft kisses up and down the column pf your neck, even deviating away to pepper his lips at the back of your throat and down your spine.

“Yeah” You follow along, pushing further until you could feel a delightful resistance to your determination and your breathing labours.

“You’ll get hurt-“ He protests, already gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw in an attempt to stave of the luxurious pleasure, “Don’t, I’m serious.”

You interrupt his warning by pressing with more force, until you slip down his length rapidly, causing him to choke and groan, dark, ocean eyes rolling back as he lets himself fall back against the bed, “Fuck, schat, why- why would you do that?”

Ignoring his protest, you roll your hips, moaning loudly when his tip nudges the spongy part furthest within you. You continue to take pleasure from Max, biting your lips and bouncing on his cock with his help, of course, revelling in the feeling of his wandering hand coming up to tweak your nipples our cup your bouncing breasts from his position, laying down on the thick comforter that remained ruined beneath him.

The feeling approaches again, hesitantly like the playful shore breaching the sand and you welcome the sparks of passion with a guttural moan, until Max stops your reverent movements, causing you twitch and whine helplessly, the jittery sea already cresting away from you, taking its astringent sweetness along with it.

“Max.” You scold kicking your legs out.

“You” He thrusts up one, snickering when you fall forward, “Looked” He thrusts again, this time sitting up and plastering his sweaty chest to your back, “Away.” He thrusts once more before stilling and watching as the haze filters out of your pupils, leaving you just as wheepy as you once were, if not more.

“I was so close,” You cried, fat tears running down your cheeks, “You and this stupid mirror,” You curse, sniffling when his fingers came up to wipe away the tears sweetly.

“C’mon,” He urges, guiding your hips once more, “I know you can do it” Max encourages.

“I’m gonna beat your ass.” You promise, allowing him to bind both of your hands together behind your back with his own nimble fingers.

“Sure you will.” He satiates your mindless babbling, watching, amused as you begin to rut your hips continually, clenching around his cock in a way that makes him delirious.

Guiding you, Max controls your movements, one hand around your wrist whilst the other remains tucked between your thighs, tapping, and circling your clit until you begin to quiver and shake around him, just this time, your eyes remain glued ahead.

Whether you’re focusing or not, is another question, but even as your jaw goes slack and eyelashes flutter, your eyes remain open.

Max slaps harshly against your bundle of nerves, grunting throatily when you clench even harder and twitch in beetween your rabid bounces, “Doing so well f’me, yeah?”

You nod your head numbly, spit escaping between your lips and trailing down between your breasts, “Gonna cum Maxie.” You mumble, thighs already quaking and squeezing closed as Max follows suit, his grip on your body intensifying tenfold and cock pulsating until you can feel ropes of cum shoot within your walls, painting your insides with white.

This prompts you to moan, and throw your head back, finally giving up on the inter-personal staring contest to experience the long sought after wash of titillating pleasure and toe-curling bliss that makes your irises disappear within your skull.

Your vision spotted and faded a few times, until you could feel familiar pads of fingers run against your jaw, tapping gently, “Mijn liefje?”

“Mijn liefje? ben je oke?” Max asked again, this time shaking your head slightly, which remained limp against now what seemed to be his arm that wrapped like a poised snake around your breasts, balancing your chin.

“So good.” You confirm, weakly giving a thumbs up before noticing the slight red marks that adorned your wrists, which prompted you to hiss and inspect them, despite the lack of pain.

“Oh shit, does it hurt?” He took your wrists from you, pressing feather light kisses against them whilst rubbing his thumb against the skin, all whilst also brushing your hair out of your face.

“Max you are still inside of me.” You sass, clenching around him as proof, which makes him shudder and wheeze before going back to soothing your skin.

“Yeah, but it looks like it hurts” He coos, bringing a hand down to your ass, where visible handprints were already forming.

“It doesn’t”

“Yeah, it does.” His blonde eyebrows crease with worry as he leans further back, his eyes darting between the bright red indents of his fingers on your hips and the few dozen of love bites that seem to spread through the expanse of your backside, leading futher to your front.

“No max,” You hold his face, kissing his nose once before biting his cheek playfully, “It really doesn’t, I like them- you marked your territory” your voice drops, following his expressions closely, with a cheeky smile.

“What?”

“It means, I’m yours.”

“Well...” He clears his throat once, adjusting himself and you, so that you were now comfortably laying on the bed beneath his hungry, predatory gaze, still buried deep inside you, “You cannot blame me for what happens next.”

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Dutch....to english....over

schat - Darling/Love/Babe [term of endearment]

Neuk mij - Fuck me

verdomd perfect - Damn perfect

mijn hoer - My whore

Mijn liefje - My darling

Mijn liefje? ben je oke - My darling? are you OK

MUTUALS GET INSTANT TAGS [vroomvroomcircuit. [tagged above], @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon, @lorarri], IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE SEND IN AN ASK, AND MUTUALS LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE REMOVED ON PRIV !

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bad-and-drawn-that-way · 2 months

Text

Electric Love - Full Chapter

Want early chapters? Read on Ao3!

Chapter 3: What's in a Deal?

Link to Chapter 1

Notes: Support me by reading on Ao3! Kudos and comments help motivate me to see multi-chapter fics through to the end! I'll be posting announcements for the updates here. Chapters will come out on Ao3 BEFORE tumblr.

Word Count: 5628

Tag List: @sle3pyh3ad2

The extermination was coming in six months.

News spread immediately after the Princess of Hell met with the angels and to say Hell was freaking out was an understatement. For the first few weeks after the announcement, you avoided going outside as much as possible. No one was in their right mind and the more you kept your head down in your little cloaked observatory, the better.

Baxter really had been a game changer when it came to your living situation. You’d put in a lot of hard work fixing up the abandoned place and it looked pretty nice. Too nice for the dark corner of the Pride Ring you were in. He’d given you a cloaking device that made the observatory look as shit and abandoned as the rest of the dead neighborhood while the inside was in comfortable condition.

Even with the system in place, you slept with one eye open as you noticed more sinners slink into the area. Due to the recent news, it seemed some were considering using the district as a potential hideout for the upcoming extermination. Everyone was on edge and nothing felt safe.

Despite this, you had a life to live. Everyone did. Which is why after a while, things went back to normal. You buried yourself in your work to avoid dwelling on the anxiety of the shitty afterlife you were dealt and that was that. Work wasn’t the only thing occupying your attention either.

For the first couple of weeks, since Vox had gracelessly stumbled into your life, there was silence. Not wanting to get anyone’s hopes up, you kept your mouth shut and didn’t tell anyone about the deal you had made. Even with the protection of the deal, you didn’t doubt that someone as powerful as an Overlord could easily double-cross someone like you.

But then it happened. First, it was just one of your friends texting the group chat you were in that they were free of their contract. You’d all hopped on a group call and planned a celebration while she happily cried uncontrollably. She had no other explanation for Valentino’s change in heart other than him telling her that he simply got bored of her services and didn’t want to waste the studio slots on her. While that comment did bruise her ego a bit, she was too relieved to care.

Then it hit all at once. Everyone on the list was suddenly blowing up your phone with the news that they’d been released from their contracts and could start a new afterlife with their newfound freedom. Apparently, Valentino had covered up the entire thing by saying it was a quality cull for the sake of his image. Only a few people took the time to wonder if there was something more to the whole thing. Especially since some of the sinners he released were fairly popular for their work.

The only time you left your home for anything other than basic errands was the night you all gathered at a club and celebrated over the weekend. It was one of the craziest parties you’d ever been to, filled with drugs, sex, and a lot of happy crying.

You thought that was the end of it. Life would go back to normal aside from the growing political tensions between Heaven and Hell. You would stay cooped up and work your ass off on putting together your game and keep to yourself aside from the occasional night on the town with friends. So you personally thought your disbelief was entirely warranted when your day was interrupted by a certain overlord knocking on your front door.

Vox tapped his foot impatiently as he looked around the neighborhood. The place was a piece of shit. It wasn’t like anyone hiding out here would be stupid enough to attack someone with his reputation, but he still felt unsettled as he knocked again and waited for you to let him in. He wasn’t in the mood to repeat what happened the last time he barged in unannounced.

The sound of you crashing about behind the large double doors could be heard. It took a moment before you finally appeared, opening the door with disheveled hair and a bathrobe lazily hanging off of one shoulder, barely revealing your pajamas underneath.

"Vox," you breathe before you chuckle awkwardly. "I'd say you should have called first, but you don't have my number."

"Technically I could if I looked hard enough," Vox chuckled as he looked at the disheveled state you were in. “But is it really so surprising that I’d check in after finishing the last of our little deal?”

"Kinda, yeah," you shake your head as you step back to let him in. You were immediately skeptical. There was no way Vox came all the way to such a sketchy corner of Hell just to be told he did a good job. He wanted something and you weren’t too keen on having that discussion out in the open. The faint shimmer of a cloaking barrier could be seen in the doorway. "Come on in."

The overlord stepped inside, his eyes flicking around the room and taking in everything that he could. He’d only seen the small office tucked in the back of the observatory the last time he was here. There was a big circular opening with a broken-down telescope that connected to the dome-like ceiling in the middle of the room. A desk covered with papers was pushed up against the side of the telescope and you’d split the large space into three areas in an attempt to refashion the space for living purposes.

There was a kitchen made out of plug-in appliances and mismatched furniture on the left. Vox cringed as he saw the power cords working overtime just to keep everything running. The telescope seemed to act as a secondary office for you and you had a couch with a TV setup not too far from it to imitate a living room space. There were also dozens of boxes filled with junk that he had to imagine originally belonged to the observatory and you just never got around to disposing of properly.

"Can I get you anything?" You say as you step into the main space after closing and bolting the doors behind you. Annoyed that your bathrobe keeps slipping off of your shoulder, you fight with it for a moment before foregoing it entirely and tossing it over a tower of books.

"Coffee, if you have it," Vox replied as he followed you into the small living room area. “The amount of shit I’ve had to take care of every since the bimbo leading Hell fucked us all over has left me running on caffeine for the past month.”

He didn't mind the sight of books being stacked up on top of each other as he glanced around, taking in the area. Though the place wasn't the best-looking, it was evident that you had put a lot of work into making it livable. Considering how it looked on the outside, he could only imagine the state the place was in back when you found it.

You start prepping a fresh pot of coffee, wanting some for yourself as well. "So, my friends texted me," you say.

You turn and lean against the counter to look at him properly while the kitchen appliance worked its magic. "They all told me the same thing. How Valentino cut their contracts, saying he was doing quality control for the studio out of the blue. You kept your end of the deal."

"Yes, I did. But that's not the only reason I've come here," Vox murmured as he idly looked at some of the papers on the coffee table in the corner. "I couldn’t help but be intrigued by your… connections.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him as you watch him put down a paper that doesn’t keep his attention. “What about them?”

“At first, I didn’t care too much about your friends,” Vox admitted. “But I couldn’t help but shake the image of you with Angel Dust. So I did some digging and I’m just going to cut to the point. You’ve been to that hotel the princess has been running, haven’t you?”

You cross your arms, studying him carefully, “Well, aren’t you quite the stalker?”

“I like knowing things,” Vox waved you off with a frown. “But for good reason. It’s true, right?”

“It is,” you shrug, not seeing a reason to hide it. “At first, I just went to visit Angel. Helped him move in and stuff like that. The group there grew on me and I help out around the hotel sometimes if Angel and I aren’t already doing something else.”

Vox grins and you immediately catch on to his line of thought. "I'll say it now, don't get your hopes up," you warn him as the coffee pot beeps behind you. "I care for Charlie and Angel Dust a lot. I helped you against Valentino, but I won't betray the hotel."

"I’m not stupid,” Vox chuckles. “You’re a fool if you think that I don't already know you wouldn't betray them." The overlord scoffed as he watched you turn to search the cupboards for mugs.

"You're far too compassionate for your own good, little drama queen,” Vox said with a roll of his eyes as he walked over to you. “Which is why you're rather easy to read. You claim you don’t care about the power struggles in Hell, but in the same breath, you helped me against Valentino… That tells me that you may be willing to strike up another deal."

Your fingers freeze just as you’re about to pluck a mug from the shelf. You knew it was coming and yet, it still caught you off guard. "...What did you have in mind?"

"You see, my dear old rival Alastor has been up to something and I don’t know what. He's getting a bit too close to little Miss Morningstar for my own comfort, and it's becoming… rather bothersome." Vox murmured as he watched you idly. "Though that's just the surface; there is also the fact that I'd like to be able to keep a constant eye on him. As you well know, Alastor enjoys playing with his cards close to his chest..."

“So what?” You frown as you pour the coffee into the mismatched mugs. “You want me to spy on Alastor?”

“Precisely,” Vox grins. He’d chosen someone too naive and careless the last time he attempted to get eyes on the inside of the hotel. You met the requirements Velvette had clearly laid out and unlike the snake, you had proper potential. Still stupid in your own ways, but not like the previous dumbass he’d tried to use for this particular purpose.

"And why would I do that?" You frown. "You've already played the card you had with me. There’s nothing else I could possibly want from you.”

"Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure," Vox smirked as he took one of the mugs. "I’d like to think our last little exchange was rather beneficial for us both. I’m nothing if not resourceful and everyone has their price.”

"And you think you know mine?" You frown, pulling open your fridge and grabbing the ingredients to turn your bitter black coffee into a mocha. The fact that Vox was drinking his black disgusted you, but you supposed when he needed that much coffee to get by, he didn’t have the time to be picky. "Even if I were to agree to this deal, it'd come with a lot of conditions. I meant it when I said I won't compromise the hotel."

"I’d expect nothing less,” Vox shrugged as he took a sip. “And we’ll get to that part next. Right now, you want to know what’s in it for you. Any smart demon wouldn’t bother with a deal that didn’t benefit them in some way and I’ve got just the thing.”

You’re completely unimpressed by the shift into a sales pitch, but say nothing as you mix chocolate powder and raspberry syrup into your drink.

“I know that you have rather a deep love for your work and your creations, so if you were to help me keep an eye on Alastor... I’m happy to give you what you want more than anything,” Vox grinned as he prepared to offer you what he was thoroughly convinced was the key to pulling you under his wing of control.

“More than just money, more than that Radio Demon could ever offer you… I’m willing to give you your very own company. A company that would allow you to complete whatever project your heart desires with the full financial support of a top-tier overlord in Hell.”

Vox smirked as he watched your movements slow to a stop throughout his sales pitch. “Does that sound interesting to you, little drama queen?"

He knew he had you. There was no way he didn’t. He’d done his research and saw how low your statistics were. You’d posted art and various other types of content on your social media and you had a following, but it wasn’t large. Especially not compared to what he knew it could be. The game you were working on was clearly meant to be your big debut into the industry, but even without that, the quality of your work was nothing to scoff at. With the power and control he was offering you, your numbers would skyrocket. You’d no longer be a team of one and could bring your visions to life at a much higher speed with far more efficiency than you could dream of on your own.

Your hesitation speaks volumes and he’s just waiting smugly for you to take the bait. However, instead, you just smile softly and shake your head. "You're going to think I'm crazy, but I'll actually pass on that."

There’s a beat of silence as Vox replays your answer in his head to make sure he heard you right. He nearly dropped the mug in his hands as he comprehended that you genuinely just turned him down.

"You're… joking, right?" Vox exclaimed in disbelief, as he set down the mug on the counter. "You're going to pass up on being the owner of your very own company with infinite financing and control?”

"Yup," you say with a pop for emphasis. "My content is my heart and soul. It's my passion. It has to be built up from my hard work, my dreams, and my well-intentioned connections. If I let someone else just hand it all to me on a silver platter, it wouldn’t be the same at all."

"You're absolutely insane," Vox muttered, shaking his head as he questioned your sanity entirely. "You’re seriously refusing my deal? You refuse infinite fucking funding?! All because of what? Pride?”

"Yeah," you said easily with a relaxed grin as you went back to stirring your drink like you hadn’t just casually declined all the power and money to make your dreams come true.

The overlord took a deep steadying breath as he tried to process the absolute stupidity of your decision. There wasn’t a single sinner in Hell that would pass up on a deal like this, and you just... turned it down in favor of hard work and dedication. The insane stubbornness of your choice left him speechless.

"That being said," you hum thought thoughtfully. "I do think you have something else that I'd be willing to trade for."

The overlord's attention snaps back to you, looking over you skeptically. "Oh, well now I'm curious... What could you possibly want more than an entire goddamn company?"

"It’s something you actually brought up during our last deal,” you say as you sip your drink and lean back against the counter. “I know Valentino would never release Angel Dust's contract willingly," you start carefully. "So instead, I want you to distract Valentino. For as long as I uphold my end of the deal regarding Alastor, you will do everything you can to protect Angel Dust from Valentino's anger and abuse.”

"Protect Angel Dust from Valentino's abuse..." Vox murmured as he shifted back. It wasn’t an easy request. In fact, Vox wondered if it was even possible. He was already running scenarios and contradictions over in his mind as he considered the possibilities. "And… how would you want me to go about doing that?"

"Subtly," you sigh. "If you're too direct, it could just make Valentino angrier and more violent with Angel. Butter up Valentino, distract him, send other sinners his way, whatever it takes. Just… lessen the damage and keep Valentino from catching on.”

"Hmm... that is quite a fascinating challenge you've given me…” Vox murmured as he ran his thumb along his chin. “But, I think I can manage.”

If anything, your proposition intrigued him. Rather than getting to just hand you money and power, which he had plenty of, you were putting him in just as sticky of a situation as the one he wanted to put you in. It set the playing field on equal ground. Neither of you were asking the other to completely betray their factions, but you were both putting each other at high risk.

"I'll keep tabs on Alastor, just like you want,” you frown. As much as you hated the idea of doing it, Alastor was one of the only people at the hotel you had no real connection with. He’d never seemed interested in what you had to offer, so he didn’t waste his time on you. Likewise, you were too focused on Angel and Charlie to pay him much mind either.

“However,” you clarify. “I'll only relay the information I discover of his personal activities. Anything involved with the hotel or Charlie is off-limits."

"Hm..." Vox murmured, considering the terms of the deal. "Very well then, I'll agree to these terms. I may not be a fan of the hotel, but ultimately I don’t care about it half as much as I do Alastor. I want to know what he’s trying to gain from the hotel, but anything involving the princess’s little pet project doesn’t particularly interest me anyway.”

You pause, thinking hard before nodding. "One more condition. If Alastor catches me and kills me for what I'm doing for you, you have to keep protecting Angel Dust from Valentino until whatever you had planned for lessening Valentino’s influence is underway.”

"Hmm..." The overlord murmured as he thought for a moment before he slowly nodded. "Very well, I accept these terms. I’ll protect Angel Dust until I take Valentino down for my own schemes. Do you have anything else to add before we conclude this deal?"

You shake your head, "I'm guessing you'll want to make at least one other deal with me one day. Knowing that, you'd be foolish to try to loophole or double-cross me with this deal. So I think we're good to go."

"I think you have a rather good understanding of me, little drama queen." The overlord grinned. Every time he thought he knew what to expect, you managed to pull the rug out from under him. Rather than being annoyed by the change in his original plans for this deal, he was excited and curious to see what other surprises could come from being involved with you. "Alright then... with that being said, we should seal our deal."

Your magic flares, as the familiar purple mist flows gently around you. You hold out your hand, ready to seal the deal. For the protection of your friend, you were willing to betray Alastor. You may not have hated him like Vox did, but you were somewhat wary of him. The way he always seemed like he was hiding ill intentions behind his permanent grin never settled well with you. There had been times you wondered yourself what he wanted from Charlie and while you weren’t as close to the princess as you were with Angel, you could tell if things kept going the way they were, you’d care for her just as much as any of your other friends. With that in mind, this was a risk you were willing to take.

The overlord's own magic flared to life, blue electricity filling the air. Your hands connected and the mist and sparks swirled around each other in a bright flash before dissipating entirely.

You slowly pull back, flexing your hand as you feel the sparks from his magic still tingling your skin. "So that's that," you hum.

"Indeed it is," The overlord murmured as he let out a quiet sigh of relief. "Our deal is sealed. There’s no going back now. You realize that, correct?"

"I know," you say softly as you accept the weight of knowing there was a good chance if you got caught, Alastor would broadcast your slow and gruesome murder on the radio for all of Hell to hear. "At least if shit goes south, you'll find out pretty quickly," you chuckle dryly, cringing at the thought.

There was a faint hint of a smirk that appeared on the overlord's face as he considered your words. "Well, if nothing else, you’ve earned my respect. You’re fully aware of what’s at stake, yet you agreed to the deal anyway. You are either insane... or extremely brave."

"Why not both?" You chuckle. You were putting your life at risk, and you had rejected his offer of riches and power, opting for the protection of a friend instead. To say your priorities were skewed would be an understatement to most sinners.

"The longer this little game of ours goes on, the more I want to pull you into the world of Hell’s politics," The overlord murmured with a smirk. "I’ve seen your video game work and I won’t deny it has potential, but I think you underestimate your potential for something more.”

You cringe, sticking your tongue out as if the very thought of it left a bad taste in your mouth. “Pass. I’ll leave the evil overlording to you and your stupid bow tie.”

“Fuck you, it’s classy,” Vox snickered as he shook his head. “Plus, how much room do you have to talk when I haven’t seen you wear proper clothing since we’ve met?”

“Fuck you,” you say playfully with a grin. “We’ve only met twice and both times you’ve shown up without warning to my home. Are you seriously telling me you lounge about in your time off in that getup?”

“Bold of you to assume I have time off,” Vox chuckled. “Now... it seems that we both have our parts to play in this deal. You’ll keep tabs on Alastor, and I’ll protect Angel Dust from Valentino when I have the opportunity to do so. I’m around often enough, but it may take a moment for me to get the hang of things. Do you have any other thoughts you wish to add before we part ways?"

You try not to show that you're disappointed in how quickly the meeting is ending. It was true that someone like Vox didn’t exactly have the time to spare to chat with you. It’s not like you were friends or anything. Just convenient dealmakers. But you’d be lying if you didn’t say you found your interactions to be fun despite the risk that came with them.

"How do you want me to get ahold of you if I learn anything about Alastor?" You ask.

Your phone suddenly vibrates in your pocket and you jump with a startled yelp, spilling some of your drink on your shirt. Vox laughs as you grumble and lightly kick at his shin. When you pull out your phone, his face is mocking you from the screen.

“I have access to every device with a screen in all of Hell,” Vox smirked as you tried to swipe away his face to no avail. “I’ve put my number in your phone and yours is now in mine. I have access to anything on your device I want. Your notes, your texts, your camera, your microphone. I can see anything I want, whenever I want. It shouldn’t be too hard to get my attention.”

You huff, crossing your arms after you shove the phone back into your pocket. "Stalker."

The overlord's grin narrowed. "I prefer to think of it as surveillance. But if you prefer to think of it as stalking, it's up to you."

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a melodramatic sigh, "No more reading fanfiction on my phone in the shower for me."

The overlord couldn't help but laugh at your comment. "I wouldn’t necessarily complain.”

Your face feels like someone just set you on fire and Vox smirks as he mentally checks another point in his favor in the little game of back-and-forth between the two of you. It was extremely amusing for him to see how the occasional little comment here and there threw you off your game so easily. He was used to all sorts of depraved commentary from Valentino and Velvette’s sass was unmatched. Pulling reactions out of you so easily was delightfully entertaining.

Acting like he hadn’t just casually dropped such a comment, Vox switched back to a more businesslike demeanor as he added. “Just know that I will be checking in every now and then, regardless of how often I hear from you. You’ll have to start going to the hotel more as well and I’ll know where you are from now on too.”

Shaking off your embarrassment, you give a mock salute with two of your fingers as you make a note of the conditions of your deal, "Yes Sir, Mr. Stalker, Sir."

The overlord smirked slightly back at you before he chuckled. "Well, little drama queen, it looks like our business with one another has concluded. I’ll keep in touch."

----

It was a while before you finally had a substantial update for Vox. Neither of you were too surprised that it would take time before you could naturally find anything of use. Still, it left you feeling unsettled not having anything to offer. You didn’t want to risk Vox getting fed up with your lack of results and calling the deal off. Especially after the shit show that happened at Valentino’s studio when Charlie tried to get time off for Angel. But now you finally had something.

Charlie had been freaking out as the clock whittled down the time until the next extermination. So much so, that she had put aside her raging daddy issues long enough to invite her father to the hotel. When she asked if you’d come to the hotel to provide emotional support and help in case things went south, you happily agreed. You’d been coming by more often and as you suspected, you ended up growing even more attached to the hotel and the rag tag team keeping it together.

Every time you visited, you had to push down the dark, squirming guilt that behind every laugh, every smile, every mishap, was an ulterior motive. You were always watching Alastor out of the corner of your eye. Waiting for something, anything that could be of use to Vox that didn’t involve the hotel.

Between the chaos of Lucifer setting off something competitive in Alastor, the unexpected appearance of Mimzy, and the chaos that came with Charlie’s desperate attempts to prove her point to her dad, there was finally a crack in Alastor’s carefully composed disposition.

While everyone was preoccupied dealing with their own slice of the chaos, you ducked into one of the empty rooms and pulled out your phone. Vox hadn’t been kidding how easy it was to get ahold of him. All it took was a single text with nothing more than his name and the little bubbles that showed he was typing immediately let you know that you had his attention.

Vox: What is it? Did you discover something of note regarding Alastor?

Y/N: I did. It seems like he's under a contract with someone. I don't know who or what the details are, but I overheard him talking in the hall, and it sounds like someone else might own Alastor's soul.

The overlord's eyes narrowed as he read your text. The idea of someone having a contract with Alastor intrigued him, as it was the potential to have a certain level of control over the radio demon.

Vox: I see... and was there any indication as to who they were?

Y/N: He's too tight-lipped to let something like that slip. But honestly? My bets are on Lilith. She disappeared at the same time he did, and she’s of higher status.

Vox paused as he read the text and considered your words. Valentino and Velvette were bitching about something he hadn’t been paying attention to as he slipped out of the room and rolled the possibilities over in his mind. His heart was racing and he could feel the static sparks dancing across his skin. He finally had something.

The big unanswered question that had been haunting him for so long came with no hints, no arrows pointing him in a direction that could finally give him the answers he was owed. But now? Even if the information you’d given him was circumstantial, it was something. After seven fucking years of having nothing, there was finally a straw for him to grasp at.

Vox: I see where you are coming from. Lilith or someone of her caliber would have something of interest worthy of a deal. The real question is what could be worth a deal like that to Alastor? And what did he offer in exchange?

Vox: This is good. Like really fucking good. If you find out anything else, let me know.

You send him a little thumbs-up emoji before asking,

Y/n: Have you been protecting Angel Dust?

All Vox wanted to do was retreat to his surveillance room and get to work on digging up what he could with this new lead you’d given him. He was already marching his way through the penthouse shared between him and the other Vees as he typed.

Vox: It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve been ensuring that Angel Dust has received a very minimum level of abuse from Valentino. So, yes, I have been protecting his soul for you little drama queen. It is our deal, after all.

Y/N: Stop calling me that >:((((

Y/N: And thank you…

Vox barked out a laugh at your irritated response. He hadn’t realized he’d given you a nickname, but now that he knew it bothered you he would be sure to double down. He ignored Velvette asking him where he was off to in such a rush and simply waved off Valentino with promises of updating them later as he stepped onto the pad that’d take him down to his lair.

He was too glued to his phone to notice the look of bewilderment the Vee’s exchanged from where they sat on the couch. They’d only seen him so attached to his phone when he was in a foul mood from dealing with work shit. They’d never seen him with such a downright giddy grin like the one he was unknowingly wearing as he started a call on your phone without warning.

Not expecting the call, you jumped with a startled gasp as his face suddenly flooded your screen.

“Shit, fuck- motherfucker!” you swore under your breath as you grabbed at your phone in the air, trying not to drop it.

Vox laughed as you tumbled with the device and if you weren’t broke as hell, you would have considered chucking it out the window.

“Vox!” you hiss quietly as you step further into the empty hotel room and away from the door where anyone in the hall could hear you. “You can’t just hack into my phone and pop up without warning when I’m at the hotel! What if I wasn’t alone?”

“I tapped into the microphone and didn’t hear anyone else,” Vox rolled his eyes with a smug grin as he made his way to his surveillance setup. “I’m not that stupid, drama queen.”

You groaned, hating the corny nickname even more as you heard him say it out loud. “My point still stands, you shitty stalker.”

“You’ll learn to love it,” Vox chuckled as he sat in his dark office chair and swiveled around to start doing some research on his computer. “Now then, where exactly did you hear about this contract Alastor may have?”

"One of his old friends came to the hotel to escape some loan sharks,” you say slowly as you sit down on the bed. You take your time, trying to consider what you believed was safe to tell Vox without giving too much away. “I overheard someone telling him what to do regarding her, and it was brought up during the argument. They didn't know I was nearby."

Vox hummed as he started looking into the disappearance of Lilith and the events leading up to it. "Interesting... very interesting indeed. So Alastor may have made a deal with Lilith before they both went off the radar… If not her, then someone of similar status…”

You nodded and hummed along as he began to go down the rabbit hole of research and theories. The sound of Charlie and Lucifer having a heartfelt showtune moment down in the lobby softly reverberated through the walls of the hotel and you couldn’t help but smile as you listened to Vox’s excitement as he followed the lead.

Now if only you had noticed the shadow in the corner…

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #electric love series

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