#smoke over malibu

[joonberriess]

⊹₊ ⋆ “she hotter than july in california, tan skin, eyes on it, stretched legs like the roads in malibu,”

TAGS — sleazy baby daddy!jk woop woop, birthday sex, cunnilingus, fingering, messy blow jobs, face fucking, making out, drug use (weed), oc is a cunty mama, this is in the past when they were dating, unprotected sex, creampies, possessive jk + oc, dirty talk to the max, both r high during sex, jk calling his gf “mama”, slight(?) degradation, oc throws it BACK, don’t play w her that’s her man, me thinks they made jiho here by accident, it gets cute at one point LMAO

WORD COUNT — 3.3 k

You leaned against Jungkook with your back pressed close to his chest, throwing your arms up-over your head to wrap around Jungkook’s neck. Jungkook leaned in with a hum, leaving small wet kisses along the nape of your neck. His hands wandered all over your body—your thighs, waist, hips—he managed to snake his hands over your tits and give each mound a gentle squeeze.

The music blared loudly in the background and through the thick clouds of smoke your lips found his cheek as you pressed a sweet kiss, leaving behind a brown glossy lipstick stamp on his once unblemished cheek. Jungkook chuckled quietly under his breath and tugged you closer on his lap, “What is it baby? You leavin’ your mark on me? Want all those other girls to see who I belong to?” He teases softly.

“I don’t need to do all that,” you shrug cutely and turn around in his lap to look him in his eyes, “ ‘s just a reminder for these bitches who wanna act funny.” You gently tap his lip with your finger, “Happy birthday baby.” You say softly after a few moments of eye-fucking him with a coy smile on your face.

“Mmm–happy birthday to me,” he groans out when he feels your plush ass roll back on his cock, he can feel it stirring under the confinements of his boxers/jeans, “fuck, ‘s not fair how you got an ass like this sitting away in your jeans baby.” He smacks your ass hard with both hands, gripping it afterwards with tight squeezes.

You hum in response and lay yourself on his chest, head tucked under his chin as you play with his big hands over your tummy. The moment is interrupted by Jimin who saunters over with Namjoon and Hoseok, “Aww birthday boy getting his cake early?” He smirks deviously as he takes a seat across from you and Jungkook, the others following suit.

“What do you want?” Jungkook sighs as he looks at his three friends, “y/n already don’t like your stupid ass, you wanna make her hate you even more?” He rolls his eyes in annoyance, ignoring Jimin’s fake little whines.

“y/n you hate me?” He immediately asks while setting the rolling tray over the coffee table, “You hate little ole me?” He grins, licking his lips.

You stare back at him unamused, giving him one look up and down before replying, “Yes, but hate is a strong word. More like.. I tolerate you,” your eyes drop down to the rolling tray, “give it to me, you’re gonna fuck it up and none of us are gonna have a good high.” You reach down to take the stuff away.

Jimin holds his hands up in surrender, “You do you then, I’m not gonna stop you.” He sits back lazily.

“Oh shit how come no one told me y/n can roll a fat blunt?” Hoseok laughs, “Man fuck you Jimin, I’m never smoking with your ass ever again.” He hits the other on the shoulder. Meanwhile Namjoon sits there watching in pure awe while you work diligently. Jungkook merely sits there with a proud look as he strokes over your hip gently with a lazy grin.

“Look at Jungkook, sittin’ all stupid over there,” Jimin snickers, “bet you really wanna make her your baby mama now.”

“Course she’s my baby mama, look at her,” Jungkook says, almost offended that Jimin would think otherwise, “fuck getting married first I wanna give her my kids, gonna make her my baby mama before I wife her up.” He grins as the others laugh, he feels your hand smack his arm gently, “Huh? What is it baby?”

“Pass me the wraps,” you mumble, “c’mon,” you glare. Jungkook reaches for the wrapping paper with a quiet “yes ma’am”. You finish rolling the blunt and hand it off, “Light it,” you nod at Namjoon. The five of you smoked the blunt until there was nothing left, Hoseok said something about how Yoongi had grown this new batch of bud himself, you don’t really remember because no less than thirty minutes later it’s hitting you.

Jungkook was relaxed, idly running his hand over your thigh while he listened to Jimin ramble about something. Through your haze you noticed the song playing in the background, it definitely had you wanting to dance. You sway a little in Jungkook’s lap, quietly singing under your breath as you hum along to the smooth beat.

“She hotter than July in California,” You mumble while nodding your head to the beat.

Jungkook noticed how into the song you were, and if he was being honest he liked it too. “Let’s go baby,” he whispers in your ear and pats your ass, “up you go mama.” He helps you stand and leads you away from his protesting friends. Through the grinding couples you guys find a spot, Jungkook licks his lips as he eyes the way your hips sway.

You turn to look at him with a devious smile, one he returns enthusiastically as he gently lifts your arm and has you giving him a small spin. He whistles low and smacks your ass hard, “C’mere mama,” he brings you back, “right here baby,” he whispers hotly in your ear as he has you pressed against him with your ass right over his crotch.

“Here?” You purr softly whilst pushing back on him, hips swaying smoothly from side to side. Jungkook growls quietly and buries his face in your neck, his hands grip your hips tightly guiding them as you sway sensually to the music playing in the background.

“Right there baby, there you go.” He purrs back, “My slutty baby, you showin’ out for me? Gonna let everyone in the room know you’re mine?” Jungkook leaves hot kisses up your neck, biting teasingly at the sensitive skin there.

You reach behind to grip his fluffy hair, throwing your head back on his shoulder as you lick your lips slowly with a grin, “I’m letting everyone know what’s mine is mine, cause a few of ‘em wanna act funny thinking it’s cute.”

Jungkook groans when you slowly lean forward, bending over as your ass sits perfectly over his now hard cock. “Shit baby,” he watches you with dark eyes, loving the way your ass rolls over him as you throw it back for him to see. He runs his hands over both sides of your ass, gripping it tightly as it shakes against the palms of his hands. “C’mere.” He all but growls as he yanks you into his arms.

You turn to slot your lips against his, arms coming up to wrap around his neck as you sigh into the kiss. He pats the back of your thighs, signaling you to jump as he hoists you up into his arms. A few people catcall the two of you, the room fills with whistles as his stupid friends yell “get it Jeon” and some other shit you don’t really give a fuck about.

His lips move against yours with urgency, whenever you try to pull away he drags you back in with a low whine. There’s wet smacking noises that fill the space between the two of you. Jungkook is relentless, the pot in his system sends him into a frenzy, leaving him a horny mess. You’re not faring different either with how your clit buzzes in excitement, throbbing between your now slicked up folds.

“Hey Kook, say cheese!” Jimin yells.

You break from the kiss and stick your tongue out with a devious smirk, his friends release a chorus of “oohs” from the freaky sight. Jungkook laughs as he lets you do as you please, barely looking at the camera as Jimin snaps a photo of you two. “Fuck you Min.” He snorts and begins walking away. He kicks a random door open and carries you in quickly, tossing you like a ragdoll on to the bed.

“You have no idea how bad I want you baby,” he locks the door and hurriedly slips his shirt off, tossing it into a random corner, “do you even know what you do to me when you strut around with those tight little jeans and tank top baby? It’s like you do it on purpose, you want me to lose it.” He climbs over you on the bed with a low groan.

You chuckle quietly and wound your arms around his neck, “I got something else for you baby, ‘s underneath,” you wiggle teasingly while letting the straps of your top slip off your shoulders.

Jungkook licks his lips excitedly and starts undressing you, he shoves your jeans out of the way and tosses your top somewhere with his shirt. “Fucking hell.” He hisses when he sees what you got on under. You lay there spread out for him in all your glory, a coy smile on your face as you push your arms together so your tits press together sinfully.

“You like it?” You purr.

“I fucking love it.” He growls back and leans down to smash his lips against yours, “Gonna fuck you so hard till you’re making a mess all over my cock, gonna have that pussy dripping by the time I’m done with you.” He whispers harshly in between kisses.

You moan softly, mumbling in between kisses as your hands travel from his shoulders to the back of his neck. “Kook…mm..wanna suck your cock,” you softly say as you look up with hazy eyes, “want you to fuck my face baby, gonna make it nice and wet for you,” you purr softly.

His pupils are dilated with desire pooling in his eyes, he doesn’t reply verbally and pushes you back as he climbs over you, “Yeah? You gonna suck my cock like the good little slut you are? Gonna let me use that little throat of yours?” He thumbs at the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down slightly to tease you. “Answer me baby.”

“Yes,” you breathe out, “want it so bad baby.” You bite down on your lip while looking him in the eye. Jungkook unbuttons his jeans and lets them fall open as he pulls his cock out from his boxers. The head leaks drops of cum which falls on to your tits, he strokes over his shaft with a low hiss as he guides the weeping head to your lips.

“Open for me baby.” He whispers, watching closely as your lips envelop his throbbing cock, the sides of your mouth hugging his shaft just nicely as he feeds you inch for inch.

Your tongue lies flat on the underside of his shaft poking at his sensitive throbbing veins, tears spring in your eyes when he hits the back of your throat. You will yourself not to gag as quiet little moans slip past, sending vibrations all over his cock. Jungkook cusses under his breath, he stays perfectly still with a hand fisting your hair tightly, using it as leverage.

“Doing so good for me,” he slurs out, “you’re gonna make me cum if you keep moaning like that.”

Slowly he slides his cock out until the tip remains, giving you a couple of seconds to regain your senses before he’s pushing back in. Jungkook moans under his breath and begins rolling his hips against your face, his head is thrown back as he closes his eyes and tries to focus on the feeling of your hot tight throat around his cock. “Just like that baby, keep going,” he blissfully smiles, hips kicking upwards more forcefully with each thrust.

You gag loudly, spit trails down your chin and the sides of your mouth as you fight to keep your gag reflex under control. Jungkook mindlessly humps your face and his balls are pressed snug against your chin. He grinds his hips in slow circles, his groans are louder as he pulls your head back and lets his cock slip out of your mouth with a quiet ‘pop’.

“So fuckin’ messy,” he pants, “wanna eat your pussy out mamas, don’t wanna cum like this..” He jerks his cock in his hand, slapping the head repeatedly on your swollen glossy lips, “Yeahhh…just like that baby, open up wide, gonna make you slobber on it.” He lazily grins.

You swirl your tongue around the weeping head and moan at the tangy taste of his pre-cum. You want more so you lift your head to get his cock back in your mouth but he stops you, “Let me have it baby, just wanna make you feel good..” He sighs in bliss as he climbs off of you, going down until he nestles between your soft thighs.

Your pussy’s a mess by now, you completely soaked through the lace panties you wore for tonight. Jungkook wastes no time in peeling them off of you, moaning low when he sees dribbles of slick sticking to your plump folds and creating a small string connected to your panties.

“Relax for me,” his hot breath fans over your pussy, “gonna have my birthday present.” He grins before going down, hot tongue laving over your drenched pussy.

“Ohh,” you slur out with your head thrown back, “ ‘s good right there..” You twist your hand in Jungkook’s hair and grip it tightly between your fingers. Low slurping and smacking noises fill the otherwise quiet room as Jungkook eats you like you’re his last meal.

You throw your arm above your head to grip the pillows lying around the bed. His tongue glides over your throbbing clit in figure of eights, flicking back and forth in quick motions that has your back arching off the bed. Jungkook is relentless, he’s got two fingers knuckle deep in your throbbing little pussy. Your poor cunt drools all over his digits, coating them in creamy slick which runs down your ass and onto the blankets underneath.

“Jungkook..” Your head thrashes from side to side as you mewl in pleasure, Jungkook grunts and covers your entire pussy with his hot mouth. Small breathless “uh’s” leave your lips, you tighten your hold on his unruly curls and press his face closer between your thighs. “Right there,” you breath out shakily.

He pumps his fingers deeper and curls them upward to find that special little spot inside of you. Jungkook pulls back from your cunt as he pants hotly, “That’s it baby, cum for me,” he groans low, eyes flickering from your pussy to you. You look so pretty like this in the throes of pleasure, head thrown back and lips parted in a small ‘o’.

“Jungkook..!” Your hips buck against his fingers and your pussy clenches tight, spasming under his touch as a flood of wetness slowly seeps out of you.

You make a real mess this time judging by the slick noises your pussy makes as Jungkook slowly pulls his fingers out of you. Your cunt throbs uncontrollably from your intense orgasm as you lay there trying to recover with a pounding heartbeat.

Jungkook climbs up and over you, hovering low as his necklace dangles in your face. “Hi mamas.” He greets with a soft grin. He leans down to press small chaste kisses over your pillowy lips.

You wrap your hand around the back of his neck and bring him down for more kisses, “Hi,” you greet softly with a tiny smile. His cock twitches from where it’s pressed right against your thigh, you reach down to grip it and stroke him slowly, “Gonna fuck me now or what?” You say in a sultry tone.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “slip me in your little pussy baby.” He hovers over you with his hands on either side of your head, “Go on.” He licks his lips. You eagerly spread your thighs farther apart and slowly guide him to your messy pussy.

He pushes past your wet sticky folds, a loud squelch fills the room when his cockhead breaches your slicked up hole. “Kook,” you moan softly as you press him in, “fuck..fuck me,” you whisper and let his cock go in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck.

Jungkook bites down on his lip as he kicks his hips forward, sinking into your tight pussy in one go. He stuffs his fat cock in and stills for a moment, “Oh shit baby,” he moans out. You can feel his cock throb harshly for a few seconds, so you decide to tease him a little by rhythmically squeezing around him. “Fuck don’t do that baby,” he hisses out as he grips your hip tightly.

“Then fuck me like you promised.” You whisper, “Take what’s yours.” You purr softly as you hook your thighs around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as you hold on to him.

Jungkook slowly pulls out until the tip remains, and after a few seconds he slams back inside in a series of rough thrusts. His hips smack hard into yours, balls colliding with your ass as they wetly slap against your cheeks. You throw your head back with a loud cry leaving you. Your poor body is jostled around, threatening to slide up the bed from the force of his thrusts.

“Fuck,” you whimper through gritted teeth, “just like that baby, keep going,” you plead softly as you take the rough fucking.

Jungkook doesn’t reply, in fact he’s full on moaning while fucks your pussy like a madman. His cock strikes deep against your g-spot, the head occasionally pokes your cervix but it’s nothing too serious because he finds a way to get his cock back on your g-spot. You watch as his necklace swings back and forth in your face, his whimpers and quiet groans slowly becoming louder than the sounds of your wet pussy and his balls slapping against your taint.

“Jungkook..!” You desperately cling to his shoulders and hug his body close to yours, “Right there—don’t stop baby, please,” you whine amidst his moaning.

“Not gonna stop baby,” he slurs out, “gettin’ so close, gonna make it so messy baby.” He leans down to hide his face in your neck, hugging you tight while he grinds his cock deep in figures of eights.

A long moan leaves you from the change of angle, you rake your nails down his back from the intense pleasure he’s giving you. You’re getting so close again with the way your pussy throbs and clenches tight. Jungkook doesn’t sound like he’s far behind either with the way he grinds into you faster and faster.

“Mm..!” You throw your head back and grit your teeth, “C-Coming..!” Jungkook reaches down swiftly to rub his thumb over your clit rapidly, a loud cry of surprise leaves you as your thighs quake, “Jungkook!” You sob out as your cunt throbs. A wave of heat hits you all over as you’re left shaking in the aftermath of your second orgasm.

Jungkook shows mercy by stopping his torture on your throbbing clit, but he chases after his own pleasure with a series of hard thrusts. His moans rise in volume until he shouts with pleasure when his own orgasm hits him, he grinds in deep and slow to ensure every last drop of his cum stays in your ruined pussy.

“Oh fuck..” He pants out as he comes to a stop, “Shit..” He swallows harshly and looks down between you two to admire the way your cunt looks so shiny covered in slick etc. “You okay baby?” He smacks his lips tiredly. When you nod back at him he cups your face gently, “Stay here, ‘m gonna go get some water and see if Jimin will let us crash here.” He kisses your forehead.

“Love you.” You softly reply and curl up into a tiny ball when he gets off of you.

“Love you too mamas.” He replies back as he re-dresses and heads out, “Best birthday gift ever.” He grins lazily while walking out after locking the door behind him.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts jungkook

[rustedhearts]

santa baby (boxer!steve harrington x fem!librarian reader)

summary: a private christmas lavishly celebrated in the bedroom of hollywood’s new favorite ‘it’ couple.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1993) ✶ christmas carols ✶ main masterlist

tags: fluff; some christmas smut; steve is so rich.

lovely adorable dividers by @chechelia

"santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me. been an awful good girl, santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight."

—santa baby, eartha kitt

malibu, california, december 1993

"And then Nike wants a photoshoot for their new shoe collection. They're requesting you as their face...but, I don't know, the deal is—"

"Angel, grab my lighter, please?"

You stood from your leather swivel chair, pushing it away from the conference table to head toward Steve's gym bag near the door. You pulled his lighter from the front pocket and handed it over to him, just as he slipped a Marlboro between his lips.

"Thanks, honey," he mumbled, reaching out to rub your thigh as you sat back down.

"As I was saying: Nike is offering a quarter mil for the deal, but I think we can squeeze more out of 'em. If they want to make a contract deal with you, we're gonna need more—"

"Who says I want a contract deal with Nike?" Steve interrupted gruffly.

You adjusted the necklace on your chest—a gorgeous golden locket from your first Christmas with Steve. You polished it regularly and kept it in its velvet case when not in use. But it was rare that it wasn't in use.

The meeting had been going on for two hours at this point. You were tired, bored, and already positive Christmas was going to be spent at a photoshoot for Nike in L.A. Your parents called last weekend and asked if they should set a place for you at the dinner table for Christmas—but just like Thanksgiving, you told her it was "unlikely."

And just like Thanksgiving, it broke your heart to hear her sigh.

"You'd be an idiot not to take it, Harrington, c'mon,” Mikey huffed.

Steve slid a glass ashtray closer to his side of the table and tapped his cigarette over the litter. "What d' you think, baby?"

You were still in a daze, fiddling with your necklace and checking the state of your manicured nails. Steve tapped your thigh to break you out of it.

Looking up, you glanced at Mikey quickly—noting his eye roll—before shrugging at Steve. "Oh, um...I don't know."

Huffing, Mikey held out his hand to silence you, and you tried not to burn at the dismissal. "Yeah, Steve, look—"

"You might wanna lower that hand if you wanna keep it, Mike," Steve cooly grumbled, taking another drag of the cigarette.

"Look, Steve, I think it's a good business decision. This is literally my job, man, but you gotta let me do it."

Steve hummed, inhaling through his teeth. When he exhaled, a stream of grey smoke furled from his nose.

"I'll think 'bout it."

He made quick work of stamping out his cigarette, pushing away from the table in his chair as it sizzled out. He pulled your chair out next, holding an empty palm upended for your waiting hand. You slid your fingers in the open space and flashed a small smile, grateful for his comfort in your obvious lack of it.

"Wait, guys—Steve, we're not done!" Mikey called after the pair of you as Steve made a path for the door.

Winding his arm around your shoulders, Steve pulled you in close by the crook of his elbow to plant a kiss on your head. "Ready to go home, angel?"

"Mhm."

Throwing a sly grin over his shoulder, Steve shrugged. "Looks like we’re done, Santorini."

Wrapped in a pair of pink silk pajamas, you lathered smooth vanilla cream over your feet, massaging the soreness from five-inch heels as Steve huffed and puffed over the bedroom carpet with every pushup. He counted under his breath between grunts, face screwed up with exertion. The muscles of his back flexed and tightened with every decline.

"I know—forty-five—you're—forty-six—watchin' me."

Cheeks swelling with warmth, you smiled down at your hands as you smoothed the rest of the lotion in. "Whatever."

Four pushups later, Steve hopped up from the floor and adjusted the front of his boxers, bulging with a distracting amount of fullness. The blue light of the television screen cast a sheen over the end of the bed spread, and Steve crawled over it to flop next to you. You let yourself smile again, reaching out to brush a clump of soft, shampooed hair out of his eyes.

"What's a' matter?" he mumbled into the mattress, cheek squished.

You shook your head, placing the lotion on the nightstand. "Nothing—"

"Don't lie."

A sigh shuttered through you. Fingers approached his hair again, delicately swooping and sweeping through—more a comfort for you than him, though he melted into the mattress.

“It’s silly…I just wish we could spend Christmas together.”

“We are,” Steve replied.

“You know what I mean. Without Mikey and Big, and random endorsement guys, or a million fans screaming and taking pictures. Just us. Like it used to be.” Your voice was smaller than you wanted.

You didn’t realize how sad the prospect of a Christmas spent with strangers and money-hungry people made you. You turned your eyes toward the television as a commercial for Campbell’s soup came on.

Steve stirred on the bed, bringing his cheek to rest on your bare thigh. He kissed it, greedy for the bare, clean flesh scented of bubble bath and shaving cream. His teeth scraped the tender space of your inner thigh and you squeaked.

“I know,” he muttered, pressing another gentle kiss.

A moment of silence passed between you. The television buzzed with muffled chatter and the bright, blaring colors of holiday advertisements. Steve rubbed a rough hand over your soft skin, and you leaned back into the silky pillows against the headboard as you massaged his hair.

“I know what will cheer you up.” Steve tapped your thigh twice before sliding off the bed.

Tucking your legs in, you watched him disappear through the french doors of the closet you shared. He rummaged for a few moments—the roll of drawers opening and closing—before reappearing with a gilded shopping bag stuffed with tissue paper. It was far too neat for Steve’s heavy hands, but the thought of him asking a clerk for gift wrap made you smile.

“For me?” You pressed your hand to your chest and grinned coyly.

Steve placed it on the bed before you. “Well, open it and see.”

“It’s not Christmas ye—“

Steve placed his hands on his hips and fixed you with an arched brow. You plucked the tissue paper from the bag with a giggle. The paper revealed a black shoe box in the bottom of the bag, and once retrieved and placed in your lap, you removed the lid and came to a pair of mint green Mary Jane pumps.

“Oh, Steve,” you cooed, picking one up. It was sleek and gorgeous. “They’re beautiful.”

Steve kept his bottom lip firmly between his teeth to hide his smile. But seeing the warmth that gathered on your face, the brightness in your eyes—Steve wanted nothing more than to keep you this happy for as long as he could.

“Y’ like ‘em?”

“Love them, Stevie. Thank you.” Cradling the shoe close to your chest, you looked up to smile at Steve—but caught the back of him rushing into the closet again.

“Steve? Where are you going?”

“Hang on!”

Paper rustling followed Steve’s wobble as he reappeared with an armful of bags and boxes, some wrapped with velvet bows and others bare. You pressed up to your knees and watched him place them near the small, slim Christmas tree in the corner of your bedroom by the window. He huffed once all were dropped on the floor.

You crawled the length of the bed and peeked over the edge toward the tree. “Those are…all for me?”

Steve always spoiled you, especially on holidays and anniversaries, but this was a new extreme. Maybe it was the few months spent apart earlier this year that made him want to adore you more. A newfound appreciation for you and your love, and a new desire to express it the best he knew how.

“Yeah,” Steve scoffed, pushing his hair away from his forehead. “C’mon, open ‘em.”

“But what about Christmas?”

Steve scratched at the nape of his neck, sighing. The sourness of his expression made you drop back on your heels. He stepped over your presents to come near the end of the bed, hands bracing your cheeks.

“Would you hate me if we celebrated early? Because…you’re right, baby, we won’t be able to spend it alone. Mikey wants me to do all these shoots and stupid shit, and I have trainin’ and shit—“

“Okay,” you interrupted, throwing a sweet smile up his way. “As long as I get you all to myself right now.”

Steve pulled you up, the heel of his palms tucked under your jaw. His mouth devoured yours, tongue and teeth and warm lips. "M' all yours, angel."

When your lips were buzzing and numb from his mouth, Steve hoisted you off the bed and spun you around. Giggles subsided, you took in the array of colors near the tree.

"Well, if it's Christmas then you need your presents, too," you told him, and you scampered off toward the guest room down the hall before he could object.

You returned with your own bags and boxes for Steve—and though you felt terrible that there were half as many, you knew Steve would be just as happy with a sparkly red bow on your ass as his only gift.

And in the true spirit of Christmas, you slipped to the kitchen and concocted an array of lavish snacks and treats meant for the holiday specifically. Wine, champagne, cheeses, expensive French chocolates, cured meats, and you even splurged on a little caviar. Well. Steve did.

You made your own little Christmas in the comfort of your bedroom, clad in a pair of tiny silk pajamas that Steve kept tugging at. You fed him chocolates and licked the remnants from the corner of his mouth, and he wound his fingers in the back of your hair and pulled tight when he just couldn't help it anymore.

"Mm...Steve...let go," you giggled, smushed against his mouth by his iron hold.

Steve chased after your lips with a playful nip. "Nah, I want you...right here." He peppered more firm kisses between words.

Kisses that tasted like rich dark chocolate and bright, bubbly champagne.

"But I want you...oh!...to open some presents, too."

Steve groaned from his place in your neck, nuzzling and licking. "Just a little longer."

You wound your fingers in his hair and laughed, allowing yourself to be pulled into his lap. He tugged you down against him and latched onto your throat. Groans and whines muffled the transatlantic accents of the old Hollywood movie on the tv behind you. Steve’s bulge was stiffening against the satin bow of your pajamas.

“Steve,” you whined. “C’mon, open your g-gifts.”

Steve lifted off your neck with a wet pop, leaving a ring of saliva and swollen tooth marks in his leave.

He rubbed his thumb over the sore patch of flesh and raised his head to catch your eyes. “Fine.”

He kept you planted firmly in his lap as he tore the wrappings and ribbon off various boxes and bags, kissing your cheek and neck and mouth as his own version of gratitude with every one. You wrapped the Ralph Lauren tie around his neck and let it hang loosely, spritzed the cologne on his chest and kissed the seasoned skin, and even stuck a silver bow on the top of his head.

"Thank you, angel," Steve murmured with another gentle kiss. "But you know what my favorite gift is?"

You quirked a brow and slipped your arms over his shoulders. "What's that?"

Steve took the shiny bow from his head and placed it in his palm. You watched as he brought it behind you, a grin toying on your lips while you waited for it to touch your own head. Instead, a resounding smack echoed through the room, and a sting gathered in your ass. Steve smacked the bow on with a heavy hand, and you jolted upright in his lap with a gasp. Grabbing a handful of flesh, Steve gave it a jiggle and grinned sideways.

“You.”

Surging forward, you planted a sticky kiss on his mouth. Steve, unable to contain himself, pushed to his knees and hoisted you with him. Soon, you were splayed flat on the mess of wrapping paper and ribbon, a pair of rough hands working the buttons on your silk. Your fingers dragged through his hair as he tugged your little shorts down, writhing and whimpering as his hot breath fanned new patches of skin.

He drew a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, causing your fingers to twist tightly in his hair as your core clenched. His tongue circled your navel, causing you to giggle and twist away, tickled by his hot breath and wet appendage. Steve chuckled at your reaction, wide hands bracing your waist.

He dipped down to place himself between your legs, but you tightened your hands in his hair and tugged him up. Steve furrowed his brows, crawling up toward your face.

“What’s wrong—“

“Nothing, nothing,” you panted, clawing at his firm, muscular chest. “Just want you. Want you now, please, Steve.”

Amusement lightened his features once more, brow quirking up. “Aw,” he chuckled. “You just can’t wait, huh, baby? You need me that bad?”

“Uh-huh! Please, please—“

Steve kissed your babbling mouth, pulling his boxers down. “Shh. It is Christmas, angel. It’d be naughty of me to make you wait.”

You giggled breathily as he hooked your legs over his hips. “R-right. Like that’s ever stopped y—oh!”

Steve pressed until his pelvis pressed against yours, elbows crinkling a bag beside your head as he hovered. His palm cupped over the crown of your head, leveling your gazes.

“It can stop me now, too, honey,” he muttered. “S’ you better be good, hmm?”

“‘M good,” you mumbled, head bobbing up and down. Your thighs were already quaking. “‘M always good.”

Steve gently kissed your mouth again. Another at the corner where your mouth creased, so gentle and sweet.

“Yeah you are,” he whispered.

But enough talking. Steve wanted to devour you, and he snatched at your hands to slide them over your head as his hips began to move. Fingers intertwined and clutching tight, you held on with all your might as he fed pleasure in and out. You did nothing to silence your whines and cries, and he grunted into your neck in time. He was slow and languid, deeper and deeper every time he came back.

“Kiss me, kiss me, please,” you huffed with need.

Steve slid his mouth across your cheek and latched onto your own. You sighed against his lips with relief. Moans echoed into each other’s mouths, refusing to release the other as his thrusts grew frantic.

When he spilled into you, he gasped sharply against your cheek. You shuddered and writhed as warmth flooded you, and stroked his hair lazily when he fell down.

“Christ,” he groaned, cheek squished against your chest. “Fuckin’ Christmas angel.”

You giggled breathily and kissed his temple. “I think that was all you, handsome.”

Steve snickered, nipping at your breast and causing you to squeal. “I’ll take that. C’mon, flip over. Wanna play with you a ‘lil more.”

“Steve,” you laughed, and he lifted up to frown.

“Come on, angel, it’s Christmas,” he huffed.

“Only if I get to wear some of my new stuff.”

Steve immediately sat back, wiping sweat from his head. “Fuck yeah, baby. C’mon, go, go.”

He smacked at your ass as you crawled toward your new lingerie piled near the tree, and you fell into a mess of giggles as you collected them.

You scampered into the bathroom, and Steve chuckled to himself when he heard all your giggling. He snatched the bottle of champagne from the floor and poured another glass, easing back on his elbow to watch the door for your appearance. He grabbed the Polaroid from the bench at the end of the bed and pulled it open, aiming for the door.

When you appeared, the flash shuttered through the room like a white snap. Steve tossed the Polaroid toward the mess of gifts beside him and grinned as you twirled.

“Look beautiful, baby. C’mere, lemme get a better look.”

You crawled your way over in a ruffled mint green teddy and matching panties, and Steve snapped another photo of your arched back.

An early Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

#rolly! #boxer!steve harrington #boxer!steve #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐨 '𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧?' ♡

[Synopsis】 : Coming back from a house party, you and Woo couldn't seem to keep your hands off one another. Everything was happening so fast. You two didn't even make it to the bedroom.

『Word count』 :  1.18k

-> Genre: Smut Without Plot

Pairing: Boyfriend!Wooyoung x F.Reader

[Warnings] : Unprotected sex. PIV. Pet name. Oral. Dirty talk. Drunk sex. Mention of weed/smoking. Wooyoung his so pussy drunk and reader is very cock drunk. They are both crazy. I wrote this around 3 a.m., so it's honestly all over the place. But given this is drunk/high sex, i feel like it fits ahha.

Thank you, @8teez-woo , for this request. They requested a Woyoung fic inspired by 'Slow Down' by Chase Atlantic. I hope this is to your liking, my dear. ♡♡♡

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Maybe taking that last shot wasn't the best idea, and maybe playing some horny ass card game with your friends while smoking was also not your best move, but you could care at this moment. All you could care about was Wooyoung's lips kissing down your neck, suckling on your collarbone to create perfect purple marks over your perfect skin.

Wooyoung swears he could just come now in his pants, by the sheer noises you were making. The way your legs were wrapped around his waist as he ground his erect bulge against you while your fingers gripped the edge of the hallway table. Everything was so desperate and hot. Your minds were cloudy and your head, spinning. All you could taste on his lips was beer and hints of vodka and soju while he tasted the sweet Malibu and coke on your tongue. Your shirt was forgotten somewhere down the hall while he started to rip, not pull, tug, or shift, literally rip your shorts and panties off.

He promised himself he'd buy you new pairs, but all he needed right now was his head in between your legs, or better yet his cock. honestly, he didn't care at the moment. all he wanted was you. no matter what. "Fuck, you're so wet." Was the first words spoken since you and Wooyoung had gotten home from the house party San was throwing. Things got a little out of hand from there. You barely made it through the front door when you were both pushing yourself towards one another.

"Wet for you…" You moaned as his lips smashed back onto yours, picking you up he tumbled into the bedroom but he didn't make it to the bed, no, he fell with you tightly into his grasp onto the very soft floor rug you recently purchased.

Neither of you cared where you were, though, as his hips humped against yours, making a wet patch form from your slick on his jeans. Everything was so loud yet quiet, and that bottle of whiskey you both downed was starting to come into effect. Your body's senses were heightened. Your sense of smell, your hearing. Everything was making you dizzy in the best way possible.

"Woo, please, just…hnng..fuck." Your fingers tried to tug at your boyfriend's pants, but he suddenly sat up, leaning over towards the bed, reaching for something.

"Wait, baby, slow down." He chuckled at your eagerness, but you brushed off his words. Sitting up to unbuckle his pants, tugging them down his thighs enough so that you could get his cock free. You wrapped your hand around his shaft while he still tried to reach for god knows what on the bed. But his movements suddenly came to a screeching hault when he felt your mouth wrap around his angrily hard tip.

"Oh fuck…" his free hand lifted his shirt slightly so he could get a view of you sucking him off like your life depended on it. "You're gonna suck the life outta me doll."

You just giggled around his cock from his stupid remark, pumping him at a pace that got him so hot he felt like he was gonna nut within seconds. He couldn't handle it anymore, gripping your hair tightly, making you pull off him with a loud audible pop. "Please, Doll." His fingers tangled in your hair as he gave you a long drawn-out kiss, tasting himself on your tongue, before pulling away to say; "If you kept going, I would have came down that pretty throat of yours. And I'd rather fuck you first."

"Okay, Youngie." You gave him a big grin. The alcohol had made you become a gigging mess, laying down on the rug, waiting for him to give you another order. But he finally could grab the pillow he was trying to reach prior. He leans down, giving you another quick kiss while putting the pillow under your head before suddenly grabbing your hips, and rotating you in one swift motion.

"What, you wanna fuck me like I'm famous youngie?" You wiggled your ass in his view, letting him give it a loud sharp slap making your words catch in your horse throat.

"No…" he rubbed your red asscheek, "I'm gonna fuck you like it's my last day on earth."

You groaned into the pillow feeling the harsh burn of his cock sliding into you without prep. Your mind wonders why you never had drunk sex before. Wooyoung was talkative during sex normally, but this… this was different. There was no filter between you two. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just raw emotion.

"FUCK WOOYOUNG!." His hips snapped into you, making you take all his length in one motion. Your screams were buried in the pillow. You were too loud for your apartment. And your neighbours would probably call the cops for a noise complaint any second now. "Fuck fuck fuck, woo, please, hnngg.. shhhiitt.."

His fingers dug into your hips, leaving crescent moon shapes from his nails. There would surely be bruises by the morning, along with bright red marks on your ass from how hard Wooyoung was slamming his pelvis against you. "Fuck baby, you are so tight. Squeezing me so well. Oh my god, I'm gonna come."

He sped up, losing himself from the feeling of your tight, gummy walls. Your throat was burning from your yelps and screams. Wooyoung's high-pitched moans harmonised with you, making a song only you and he could make. "W-w-woo-ooyoung!! What‐fuck…what happened to going s-sloww."

Wooyoung snaked one of his hands under you, pressing his fingers against your clit rubbing at the perfect pace to tip you over the edge. "I lied."

You squirted, coming around Wooyoung's hard cock, making a mess on the carpet and Youngie's thighs. He pulled out of you, needed to catch his breath for a moment. Edging himself. You sit up, pushing him down against the end of the bed, hooking your leg over his delicious thighs, before sinking down on his cock. You gasped at the sensitivity but inched deeper nonetheless. Wooyoung slammed his head back against the bed, feeling himself so close to nutting just from the feeling of your tight soaked cunt around him. "Fuck doll, I'm gonna come. Cream inside your cunt."

"Oh god." You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling yourself climax again. He planted his feet on the ground, fucking upwards into you, spilling ropes of come deep inside your abused pussy. You bit down on his shoulder, silencing yourself from screaming any louder while Wooyoung freely moaned with his head tilted towards the roof. You were definitely going to get a noise complaint from this.

—♡

#ateez #ja3hwa #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez reaction #ateez reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez scenario #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #ateez x reader smut #ateez fic #atz reactions #atz smut #atz fluff #atz drabbles #atz hard hours #atz imagines #atz scenarios #atz x reader #atz fanfic #atz wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #kpop

[metalhoops]

The place was Chicago. The year was 1990. 

It was early enough into the year that the term ‘1990′ still sounded space aged. It’d been the 80s for as long as Eddie cared to remember. It was late enough in the year that everyone kept telling him winter was over. Nevertheless, he wore the leather jacket he’d ‘borrowed’ from his ex-boyfriend. Spring in Chicago was worse than a million L.A. winters. 

Eddie hated California on principle, but his record label was in Burbank. Despite the band being one of the biggest rising stars in the metal scene, he didn’t have room to get cocky. He’d spent the break between tours last year with his aforementioned ex-boyfriend in his New York apartment. 

The place had been small enough that smoking with the windows open felt like a hotbox session. There was one window in the apartment. It was in the bathroom and only opened an inch if you could get it to open at all. It wasn’t the rockstar life he’d fantasised about back in high school, but he was getting by. 

So how the hell did he end up in Chicago? He was getting there. 

As the filmmaker he’d slept with in Toronto had told him, opening in media res was the best way to hold an audience's attention. Was that what Eddie was doing? Trying to retell the shitshow of his life back to himself? Trying to make sense of it all, make it climax to something meaningful? Maybe. 

Eddie had gotten into the habit of keeping a journal, mostly for lyrics. The band was meant to be recording their third full-length studio album in a matter of months and Eddie only had three songs that were worth anything. To make matters worse, the other two had been concept albums. 

Corroded Coffin’s first and sophomore albums had been different enough that the band hadn’t been boxed into anything. Yes, they were a metal band, but they got their fair share of punks, goths and even a handful of yuppies that’d shown up to their gigs in the past. Hell, their opening act had been a grunge band. It sounded pretentious as fuck, but Eddie wasn’t afraid to transcend genres. The metal scene was changing. They had to learn to change with it.

The nail in his goddamn Corroded Coffin was that the band were known for their concept albums. Their first album Knightmare was a D&D-inspired thrash, metal album. Think Ritchie Blackmore's Rainbow, with a few more homoerotic undertones. Their next album, Dream Dimension was more sci-fi leaning. It told the story of an unnamed group of kids who’d stumbled into another dimension. It was a little more glam metal. Some of the B-sides like ‘My Year’ and ‘Lakeside Interlude’ had been downright shoegaze. One magazine had likened the story to Dream Warriors, which Eddie thought was fitting. 

It wasn’t like Eddie didn’t have ideas for the next album. That was the problem. Eddie did have an idea. He just couldn’t write the damn thing. It was meant to be his magnum opus, the third album that’d stand on its own but also interconnect with the other two. 

He’d call it Daydream. It followed the story of a white-collar guy living the perfect nuclear family life, complete with a white picket fence and a Malibu Barbie, dream house. The thing was, the dude was miserable. He’d spend all his free time daydreaming about adventure and forgotten realms. 

The kicker was halfway through the album the listener would realise the guy was the titular knight from Knightmare. His perfect suburban life was turned upside down when his kid disappeared à la portal to another dimension. It’d be perfect. All Eddie had to do is write it, and that was the damn thing. He couldn’t.  

All his albums were about something. There was always a meaning beneath the meaning. Knightmare? Easy, that was about escapism. Dream Dimension? It was about growing up too fast. Daydream? That was more complicated. 

Daydream was why Eddie needed to write in his journal. It was why he needed to remember that the year was 1990 and that he was in Chicago. 

The thing was, Eddie didn’t remember writing Dream Dimension. There was a 1988 sized hole in his memory between their first and second US tours. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what caused it. In their early days, they were practically paid in 8 Balls and party favours. Eddie always had an addictive personality and getting into anything stronger than weed had been a bad idea.

It wasn’t until his bandmates had an intervention that he’d been able to see the forest through the trees. Realising there was a whole chunk of his life he’d missed out on was petrifying. So, Eddie kept a journal. 

He’d been sober for almost a year. He was practically fucking straight-edge without all the pretentiousness that came with it, but he knew one slip-up was enough to send him spiralling. That was how he ended up in Chicago.

It was the last show of their Dream Dimension tour, and they were in Chicago. Eddie was always lively on stage. Gareth had abandoned one of his drumsticks during a solo only for Eddie to run across the stage, slip and bite the dust with his ankle going one way and the rest of him going another. 

He’d woken up in a hospital with a lump on his ankle the size of a baseball and the uncomfortably familiar feeling of being high off his face on painkillers. 

To answer the question, Daydream was about getting older. It was about being okay with getting older. It was about doing it your own way. Back in the thick of it all, it’d looked like Eddie wasn’t going to make it to thirty. He was trying to be okay with the idea that he might. 

Last year, Jeff got married to a nice girl who’d been their costume designer for their first music video. It’d shaken him in a way he didn’t know how to explain. He was in his mid-twenties, yet suddenly he felt old. Wayne had retired and with Eddie’s help brought a Winnebago. He was probably fishing in Nebraska right now. 

See, the thing about the titular character in Daydream, was that he’d conformed to what life was supposed to be. By the end of the album, he’d have left that life behind for another, one of action and adventure, because Eddie could never understand why Dorothy wanted to leave Oz for fucking Kansas. Fuck Kansas, on principal.

Something about the album wasn’t clicking. Knightmare was leaving his boring life but ultimately, he was alone. Was that what getting older was all about? Being okay with being alone? When you were gay in 1990, it might be. 

After the tour ended he hadn’t wanted to go back to his apartment in Burbank. He hated it there. He’d entertained the idea of heading back to New York but it was depressing. It reminded him of Jack, and how so many of their friends weren’t around anymore. 

When all was said and done, he and Gareth decided to stay in Chicago. He never said it out loud, but Eddie was sure his friend had stuck around to keep an eye on him. 

Sometimes, Eddie just wanted someone to come home to. Maybe that was why he’d had a string of shit boyfriends. If you weren’t picky, people would walk all over you. 

Jack had been the one that’d made Eddie swear off dating. It wasn’t worth the trouble. He’d rather die alone. His name wasn’t even Jack, it was Corey, but everyone called him Jack. Short for Jacket. Eddie wished he was joking. That should’ve been the first red flag. 

The thing about Corey was he always wore the same goddamn custom-made, leather jacket, all year round. He’d liked having sex in front of his full-length mirror with Eddie always on his knees, which should’ve been at least a yellow flag. He never liked anything gentle. Corey liked the idea of having a rockstar boyfriend more than he actually liked Eddie or monogamy. That was why when Eddie left, he took his jacket. 

He didn’t know why he was still wearing it, but he was. He pulled it on as he hobbled in his moon boot across the street from his and Gareth’s rented apartment to the record store. He hadn’t gone outside in a week, and he was about to start climbing up the goddamn walls. He just needed to go somewhere, and Eddie loved record stores, especially little indie ones. 

Once inside, Eddie noticed the place was practically empty save for the guy behind the counter. They had an eclectic mix of records and zines lining the shelves. Eddie was glad the place was quiet. He didn’t have to worry about being spotted. It wasn’t like they were The Beatles. They could go places but in a big enough crowd, he was sure to turn a few heads. Some days, Eddie just wanted to disappear. 

They had Corroded Coffin records on the display shelf and a couple of magazines with his band's name on the cover, which made pride swell in Eddie’s chest, but he wasn’t here for stroking his ego. He wanted to know what other people were doing and get back in touch with the scene. 

He was busy sifting through the bargain bin when he felt someone slide in beside him. He cringed, almost expecting it to be some over-enthused metal head with a pen and a Corroded Coffin tee shirt, but it was just the dude behind the counter.  

“Sorry, can I squeeze past?” the guy mumbled, a crate of records awkwardly tucked beneath his shoulder.

Eddie did his best to make himself small, his dumbass ankle making a simple task seem like an effort. He didn’t miss the way the man’s free hand brushed over his side as he passed, as though trying to assure Eddie stayed stable. 

“Place sure is quiet,” Eddie observed glancing over at the man.

His jeans were fitted, tight in all the right places. He’d rolled up the cuffs of his shirt to reveal more of his bicep than Eddie deemed necessary and god his hair. There was something about his hair. Something about him seemed familiar. Eddie really hoped they hadn’t hooked up once. That’d be awkward as hell. 

“Yeah, we usually close around five,” The man replied putting an album on the shelf. 

It was almost six. Shit. 

Eddie hated when people did that. They treated him differently because his name was in the papers. Everyone wanted something from him, and they thought doing favours was a good way to win him over. It wasn’t. The guy could clearly see something shift in Eddie. 

“It’s no big deal. I have to stay an hour late to replace the stock, plus my roommate has a girl over, so I’d rather be here,” The boy laughed, shooting a look at Eddie over his shoulder, a stray strand of his perfect goddamn hair falling in his face. 

The boy paused, teeth worrying away at his lower lip, his hand falling to his hip as his eyes searched Eddie's face. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asked. 

And there it was. Sometimes people did that. They played dumb about who he was before making a big goddamn deal out of it. Eddie suddenly wanted to crawl back to his apartment and spend another month in isolation. 

The boy snapped his fingers in triumph.

“Munson,” He practically shouted and holy fucking shit, that wasn’t what Eddie expected. 

No one knew his last name, not his real one. Everyone changed their names when they got famous. He’d gone for something simple, Eddie Emerson, it had some alliteration, just like Corroded Coffin. It wasn’t too far from his real name but not even the die-hards knew him as Munson. 

Then Eddie remembered. 

This guy was Steve goddamn Harrington. He didn’t remember many people from high school, but he remembered Steve. 

“Harrington,” Eddie breathed in disbelief. To his surprise, Steve screwed up his nose. 

“Unfortunately,” He admitted and stuck out a hand expectantly. Eddie leaned down and clasped Steve’s hand. From what he remembered of Steve, the guy had never been this friendly. 

“Nice to re-meet you I guess. I’d like to think I’ve changed a little in over five years.” He had, Eddie didn’t know how to explain how he knew, he just did. It was something about the way the boy held himself. 

“What brings you to Chicago?” He asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that one of Eddie’s records was sitting on the shelf beside him. Honestly, it was a breath of fresh air to find someone who didn’t know who he was. He could keep the charade up a little bit longer. 

“Oh you know, work stuff,” Eddie answered vaguely, toying with his hair. 

That was something he did when he was flirting and holy shit, he needed to squash that right goddamn now. He wasn’t looking to date anybody, and he remembered Steve being very straight in high school. He needed to save himself from another heartbreak. 

“You live in Chicago now?” Eddie asked. The‘ because you didn’t seem like the type to ever leave’ was implied. 

“Yeah. Rob, my roommate, she practically dragged me here. We’ve been attached at the hip since I graduated. It wasn’t like there was anywhere else I wanted to be,” Steve answered. 

A little detail about the statement screamed for Eddie’s attention. 

“The same roommate that has a girl over?” He pressed and watch Steve fold his arms over his chest, all huffy indignation locked and loaded, begging for Eddie to choose his next words wisely. 

“The same,” he confirmed. Now that Eddie knew, he noticed they were selling a couple of queer zines. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. Steve might just be progressive. 

“I thought you were meant to be the lady's man, Steve,” Eddie tried hoping that was enough to make Steve’s defences fall. To his surprise, Steve snorted and shook his head. 

“Like I said, lots changed since high school. My luck in the dating department couldn’t be worse,” he admitted as he returned to stacking the shelves. 

Eddie watched the planes of his back move beneath his shirt, wanting to push himself against him, to feel what it was like for Steve to move beneath him.

He really needed to get a hold of himself. 

“Couldn’t be worse than my luck,” Eddie rebutted offhandedly. 

Steve shook his head and shot Eddie another glance over his shoulder. He inhaled deeply as though preparing to tell a long story. Eddie leaned against the shelf to show Steve he was all ears. 

“Last month, I went on a date with a girl and she asked me if she could call me by her ex-boyfriend’s name,” Steve began. 

Eddie screwed up his nose in response. 

“Worse still, I was so shocked she’d asked, I just agreed to it.” It was Eddie’s turn to snort. 

“Stevie, you didn’t.” 

Stevie. Goddamn Stevie. Don’t do this to yourself, Munson. Pet names are one step away from a full-blown crush. 

“I did. Do I look like a ‘Juan’ to you?” Steve asked honestly. The question had Eddie doubled over in stitches. 

“Alright, alright. That’s pretty bad, but that’s one bad date,” Eddie reasoned. 

“Dude, I wasn’t finished. The girl before that realised she was a lesbian, while on a date with me. Which is like... the third time that’s happened,” Steve admitted.

Eddie’s hand had betrayed him and returned to toy with a strand of his hair. He hid behind it as he tried to mask a laugh. This guy did have shit luck. 

“You’re a lesbian magnet,” Eddie reasoned watching as Steve hid behind his hands. 

“And the time before that, I thought I was getting somewhere with a guy. We’d been on three dates before he told me he had a wife.” 

Steve made the next confession a little quieter than the others, a little more reserved. Eddie felt the hairs on his arm stand on end. Steve had changed since high school.

“Once I hooked up with a guy who’d only give me head if I sang to him while he did it,” Eddie admitted, feeling the need to get Steve off the defensive and add to the pity party. He watched the boy’s features shift.

“Oh wow, that’s bad. You should’ve pretended to be tone-deaf,” Steve reasoned, once more proving he had no idea what Eddie did for a living. 

“See I was torn between that and singing La Cucaracha at the top of my lungs.” Steve snorted, honest to god snorted.  

The two lapsed into silence but it was a comfortable one. Steve smoothed down his hair five times within the space of a minute before taking a deep breath. 

Eddie knew what was coming. He wasn’t dumb, but a part of him would always be trapped back in high school. It kept screaming there was no way a popular kid like Steve would talk to a loser like him. He thought he’d buried that part of himself, yet here it was, rising from the dead. 

“Do you want to get a drink?” 

And there it was. Eddie didn’t mean to cringe, but Steve caught it, his hands stuffed themselves into the too-tight back pockets of his jeans. 

“Or not,” He muttered averting his gaze. 

“No. It’s not that. I... I don’t drink.” 

There you go Gareth. He was responsible enough to look after himself. 

“I could do dinner though,” Eddie tried to throw Steve a bone. 

Eddie waited for Steve to throw up one of the red flags he’d gotten used to seeing with all the men he’d dated or hooked up with. Eddie would say he didn’t drink, and they’d give him a funny look or mutter something about him being a killjoy. 

“There’s a place that does a wicked deep-dish pizza not far from here. You said you weren’t from Chicago, right? You’ve gotta have the pizza, it’s a rite of passage,” Steve ploughed on.

“Sure,” He muttered trying not to look as surprised as he felt. 

He watched Steve buzz around the record store, shutting up shop and then extending a hand shyly to Eddie. Right, his stupid goddamn leg. At least it gave him an excuse to get up close and personal with Steve in the street and not draw too much attention. 

The two made the short walk to the pizzeria at a plodding pace, talking about nothing in particular. 

“What happened to your leg?” Steve asked as they slid into the booth. 

“Slid on a drumstick and took a nosedive off a stage,” Eddie admitted. He wasn’t going to outright lie to Steve. 

“Ouch,” Steve mumbled, passing the menu over to Eddie. 

“So, you still do band stuff? I remember that high school talent show,” Steve noted, and Eddie cringed, letting his head drop to the table. 

“I really wish you didn’t,” He chuckled before confirming,

“Yeah, I still do band stuff,” as he raised his head and chanced a glance at Steve. 

“Cool,” was all he said before they shifted the subject. 

They were swapping stories about best friends, roommates, shared high-school trauma and generally flirting when a figure approached their booth. It was a kid, who couldn’t be older than fifteen with a shaved head and a battle jacket. He reminded Eddie of himself at that age. He knew what was coming.

“You’re Eddie Emerson, right? From Corroded Coffin,” the kid asked, his hands shaking. He watched as a furrow appeared on Steve’s brow before his jaw dropped. So Steve wasn’t totally clueless. 

“One and only. You want me to sign something for you?” Eddie asked, having gone through this song and dance a million times before. He tried to be nice, after all, it was a kid, but sometimes he got tired of always having to be on. 

To make matters worse it happened in front of Steve. Something about people coming up to him always sat wrong with other guys he’d been with. He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or ego that did it, but he knew if he ran into a fan on a date, the rest of the night typically went sideways. 

He signed the back of a napkin as he listened to the kid rattle off praise for their music. He talked about his favourite songs and lyrics. Eddie wished he knew what to say, wished he knew how to take a compliment but he didn’t. To his surprise, he heard Steve speak. 

“Hey, did you make this?” Steve asked indicating the kid's battle jacket, forcing him to come up for air.

“Yeah, all on my own.”

The kid blinked and ran his hand over a couple of the hand-sewn patches. Steve obviously knew nothing about the scene because if you didn’t make your own jacket people would call you a poser. It was a nice shout though because he watched the kid light up. 

“Even the safety pins?” Steve asked curiously.

Eddie watched as the kid launched into a story of every little pin and stitch in the jacket, turning his attention away from Eddie, and giving him space to catch his breath. It was nice. He felt like Steve had seen him.

After another few minutes, the kid’s dad came to collect him and Eddie felt his body sag against the diner booth. 

“You get that all the time?” Steve asked, his foot nudging Eddie’s under the table. 

“You wouldn’t believe it,” He grumbled scrubbing his face. Steve nudged his foot again, giving him a goofy grin. 

“At least he liked your stuff,” He proposed. 

“I’m guessing it’s not your thing,” Eddie reasoned. He wasn’t one for stereotypes, but he really didn’t look like the typical Corroded Coffin fan. 

“I’m not too picky when it comes to music. I just listen to top forty stuff.” Eddie shot him a disbelieving look.  

“Dude you work in a record store,” he laughed and Steve shrugged.

“Among other things. I just got the job to hang out with Robin. She works there too. She only took the job to try and peddle her girlfriend Nancy’s zines. Sometimes I write the sports section because Nancy, Robin and Jonathan don’t know anything about sports.” Eddie rested his head in the palm of his hand, listening attentively. 

“Wait, is that the same Nancy that you dated back in high school?” He asked, trying to sound scandalised, glad to have a break from the rock star bullshit. 

“Like you said, lesbian magnet,” Steve grumbled, mirroring Eddie’s gesture, resting his head in his hand. 

“What are you actually doing in town?” Steve asked, more curious than nosy. 

“Trying to run away from writing our third album,” Eddie spoke. 

It’d been the first time he admitted it out loud. He didn’t talk about his music until he thought it was worth something, but Steve was a good listener. To Eddie’s surprise, he found himself spilling his guts to Steve. He told him all about the third album, about the goddamn symbolism, and the way things just weren’t clicking. 

“Why don’t you give him a reason to stay?” Steve asked when Eddie finished his monologue, as though it was the simplest solution in the world. 

“I mean, Dorothy doesn’t go back to Kansas because she doesn’t like Oz, she misses home. She misses her family. You want your knight guy to stay in fantasy land? Give him someone to stay for,” Steve proposed, and it was like the final puzzle piece sliding into place. It was brilliant.

“Stevie, I could kiss you,” Eddie spoke.

“Is that a promise?” Steve asked with a cheeky grin.

“Let’s get out of here and find out.”

#steddie ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #ficlet #corroded coffin #eddie munson #drabble #prompt fill #stranger things #rockstar eddie munson #normal guy Steve Harrington #this won my prompt poll #it's not usually a trope I reach for #but I really LOVED writing this #I don't know how to explain it #but it came so easy #tw addiction #also I guess a blink and you'll miss it #reference to #aids/hiv #because it felt disingenuous to leave it out #some context for y'all #an 8 ball is #an eighth of an ounce of cocaine #while a party favour just generally refers #to hardcore party drugs #also 'Dream Warriors' is the third Nightmare on Elm Street film #and also a song #by the glam metal band Dokken #Corroded Coffin makes concept albums

[oneforthemunny]

girls on film |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby! reader|

prompt: eddie has you star in his latest music video. he wants it to be really authentic.

contains: 18+ MINORS DNI, language, drugs, alcohol, smut, exhibitionism, mentions of dom! and sub! themes, fingering fem receiving.

November, 1992

The dressing room had an overwhelming stench of aerosol hairspray and cigarette smoke, a dangerous mix. You wondered if the model next to you worried about going up in flames, her cigarette hanging loosely from her lips while she flipped through a magazine, the poor hairstylist behind her rolling curlers high and pinning them carefully into her long, black locks.

"Look down for me, sweetheart," Maurine, your makeup artist- the only makeup artist you'd ever let touch your face- instructed, eyes squinting as she pressed her thumb above your brow, raising the skin tighter.

Corroded Coffin had the music industry in a tizzy, their latest album releasing just days before you and Eddie announced your relationship; before you and Eddie announced your engagement. It was shocking, sure, but what wasn't with you and Eddie?

What was more shocking than the engagement bombshell, was the fact that you'd managed to keep the relationship under wraps for so long. Clandestine meetings in hotel rooms, sneaking through back entrances with hidden faces, stumbling out on shaky legs with a longing ache in your chest. You wanted nothing more than to be with Eddie all the time, but the privacy, the intimacy and secrecy of your relationship was so sacred to you, to both of you. You cherished every second. Trips to remote locations, free of paparazzi or gawking stares from bystanders, where the two of you could just be. Content in your own pleasure, a far cry from the first time you met. A meeting that started so fiery and jagged with hatred morphed into something beautiful; red-hot passion and permanent attachment.

Now, the secret was out. You and Eddie Munson, polar opposites- or so the media thought. Eddie had proposed to you one night, at your family's beach house in Malibu. He dropped to one knee, surprising to even you that Hollywood's raunchiest bad boy could be so sweet, sweet for you. He presented you with the dazzling Harry Winston, spilling out his heart over crashing waves, knee digging into the sand.

The reaction from the press had been nothing less than expected. Headlines, paparazzi photos, and both your agent's phones ringing off the hook with interview requests. You'd declined them, of course, liking the mystery of it all. The only thing you'd agreed to was the music video.

Your publicist pitched the idea first, after getting a request for a booking of another client, a super model. "It would be good press, for both of you." Kathleen gave you a pointed look.

So here you sat, in a stuffy room behind the set with the rest of the models and lucky girl who'd been picked to star with the other boys in the music video for Nailed in the Coffin, premiering exclusively on MTV. A racy, sexy, filthy song, and judging by your attire for the shoot- or lack thereof- you could only imagine what the video would come out to be.

"Alright, ladies!" Ricardo, the producer, entered the dressing room, careless of the half naked models and bustling artists. "Fifteen minutes!" He clapped, before walking over to a chair, finger pointed in accusation at a flaw.

"That's the guy shooting this?" Maurine scoffed lowly in your ear, smudging the eyeliner out from your waterline.

You smirked. "Yeah, Ed says he's a total wild card." You looked at her for a moment, brows raised in amusement. "Says he's a little weird, but makes good videos. Likes to take risks or something."

Maurine shrugged, pressing a powdered sponger under your eyes. "Well, he knows best, I guess." She sighed, looking over her shoulder.

"They've won best video a few times, so yeah, I guess he would." You giggled.

"Mrs. Munson," Ricardo purred from behind you. You could feel him over your shoulder, meeting his eyes in the illuminated mirror.

"Not yet," You teased, giving him a dazzling smile that only years in the limelight of Hollywood could produce.

"But soon, yes?" Ricardo quipped his brow. You giggled, shrugging, playing off the ditzy, spoiled role. You recognized sharks like Ricardo, sweet but would sell your story to the press for next to nothing. "Did your hubby tell you what he has planned for your scenes?" The way his eyes rose, wide and blown with excitement had your tummy twisting gently.

Knowing Eddie, he'd have you over his knee, paddling you with the Corroded Coffin engraved leather paddle until the band's emblem glowed on your backside- he already had the pictures, what would stop him from filming it?

"Oh?" You quipped, brows raising slightly. "Should I be worried?"

"No, darling, it's perfect. Very intimate. The world will love it." Ricardo clapped giddily. "Finish up and we'll shoot you first. Eddie was very adamant about getting done first. He said you're a very busy lady, so I don't want to keep you."

You grinned, shaking your head slightly. More like Eddie wanted to be done shooting as soon as possible. He was bored at the possibility of staying here all day, rambling off a million other things he'd rather do. "Gonna have you in all my videos, sweetheart." Eddie grinned, pecking your cheek. "At least you're there to keep me company."

"Wonderful, thank you." You smiled politely, watching the director turn. "Wait!" You called, turning in your chair to look over your shoulder at the man. "Where is my wardrobe?"

Ricardo gave you a wicked grin before barking out a laugh. "Darling, there is no wardrobe for you." He grinned. "Come as you are, as you came into this world."

You blinked, brows furrowing at his riddled words. "Naked?"

Ricardo nodded, winking at you before walking away. You huffed, turning back to Maurine with a small pout. She laughed, shaking her head at you. "Well, I guess we don't have to worry about messing up your hair getting you into wardrobe." She shrugged.

You rolled your eyes, letting her finish your look- blown out, sultry, bedroom eyes and hair, sexy. Maurine made sure to add your signature lip, contouring the bottom slightly over so you'd have your signature pout, a feature that made Eddie weak in the knees. Your engagement ring that caught the light from the mirror, the obnoxiously large stone dazzling for you. It was dramatic, big, heavy on your ring finger. You expected nothing less from Eddie, truly, everything he did was over the top, especially for you.

Eddie's loud, piercing wolf whistle cut through the deafening sound of machinery and chatter from behind the scenes of the set. You could hear him before you saw him, sitting on the bed in the middle of the set, but he certainly saw you.

"Didn't you get the memo, baby?" Eddie grinned, eyes rolling down your frame when you padded towards him. "Why aren't you in wardrobe?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes slightly. Eddie quipped a brow in warning, making your thighs clench, the unspoken dynamic that always carried outside the bedroom in some way.

"'M not walking around naked." You rolled your eyes playfully back at him, taking in his inked skin, shirtless in nothing but a pair of tight leather pants. You salivated at the sight, his bulge teasing you through the black, tight material.

His hands found your waist easily, running over the smooth material of the silk robe, pulling you closer to him, hand traveling down the the swell of your ass. You grinned at him, your noses nearly touching. He cupped your jaw, ringed finger splaying over your cheek.

"Munson! Hands off!" Maurine snapped, pointing at him from behind the line of cameras. "Do not mess up her makeup!"

Eddie huffed, pulling back, glaring at your stylist with a pout that rivaled your own. You giggled, running a hand down his cheek sweetly. "Heard you wanted to get this done quick?" You raised a brow, brushing his wild mess of curls behind his ear.

"Can you blame me?" Eddie's head tipped to the side, tongue running over his lower lip.

You snorted lightly, pressing your thumb lightly against his bottom lip. He looked so pretty, curls styled and fluffed, muscles glittering with the oil they'd rubbed him down with so he'd shine under the lights for the camera, his tattoos vibrant against his skin.

Eddie pressed a kiss into the pad of your thumb, winking up at you. You swooned, lips spreading in a smile, shrilling when he squeezed your ass through the robe. You two were infatuated with each other, the sick, obsessed, over the top type of love you used to snarl at when you saw.

"Alright, darling," Ricardo called, heeled cowboy boots- very eccentric for the 90's even- clacked across the set towards you. "Love birds, we're ready when you are."

You nodded slipping under the bed next to Eddie. Thin white sheets on the mattress, with an even thinner white sheet on top. You were sure under the harshness of the lights, they'd be able to see right through. Eddie grinned down at you, hand sliding over your hip gently.

"Can you hold the sheet up for me, Ed?" You asked, untying your robe under the sheet. You'd try to maintain some sort of privacy.

Eddie held the sheet while you slipped your robe off, handing it to the antsy tech who waited besides Ricardo. You slipped down further on the bed, holding the sheet tightly against your naked chest. Your nipples pebbled at the bite of the cold air, goosebumps kissing your skin.

"Perfect." Ricardo grinned, all teeth and blown pupils. "So, we only need a few scenes, but I know this will be the most talked about part, of course." He laughed to himself. Your eyes cut to Eddie, raising a brow gently.

"I want sexy, hot, vulgar. Give me a sex tape." Ricardo clapped his hands together.

"Sex tape?" You lifted a brow, frowning at Eddie. "You didn't say sex tape. I didn't agree to that, Edward."

"Not a sex tape," Eddie countered, gently rubbing a hand down your arm soothingly. "He means sexy. Just allude to it, like play it up like we're having sex."

"Exactly." Ricardo snapped, pointing at Eddie. "Give me some va-va-voom, darling!"

"You can do that." Eddie grinned. "I know you can. You do it for me all the time, baby." You blushed hard, rolling your eyes at him.

Once the two of you were positioned, Eddie hovering over top of you, the sheet strategically placed so it barely covered you, Ricardo went back barking orders manically. Eddie's inked hand slid down your naked hip, thumb tracing close to your freshly waxed bikini line.

"You alright?" Eddie asked, brown eyes searching your expression. "This good with you? I thought you'd be ok with it, but, baby, if you're not-"

"No, it's good, Ed." You smiled, hand reaching out to cup his cheek. Your ring cool against his face. "I just... What am I supposed to do? Act like you're fucking me?"

Eddie snorted, lips nuzzling into your cheek. "Something like that." He muttered against the skin. "Just give 'em a show, baby. I know you can do that."

You rolled your eyes, his hand squeezing on your hip; a warning. "That's three times you've rolled your eyes at me." His head quipped to the side, eyes darkening in warning. "You do it a fourth, I'm gonna drag you back to my dressing room, understand?"

You throbbed, clenching around nothing under his dominant stare. You nodded slowly, biting your lip. Eddie smirked, squeezing your hip playfully. "Good girl."

"Ok! Let's get ready! Love birds, are you ready?" Ricardo called from behind the cameras and lights.

Eddie grinned, nodding while you moved your hands to his forearms, rubbing the veiny, inked skin softly. The start of the music played, lights flashing even brighter over you, blinding you from anything other than the set.

"Ok," Ricardo called from his megaphone. "We'll start at the first line. Eddie, move over her, lip-sync the lyrics." He instructed. Eddie moved so he was hovering farther over you, hips grinding through the sheet onto you.

"Mrs. Munson," You fought back another eye roll at the nickname. "Give us those bedroom eyes. Show us how good Eddie makes you feel."

You cringed at the instruction, but moved your leg to hook over his hip. This felt familiar, natural, a position you were in this morning with Eddie before you arrived here. Your nails dug into his arm, lightly, for show of course, while you turned your head to the side, eyes closed and pinched in fake pleasure. It felt weird, having to fake the ecstasy that Eddie constantly gave you, but not having him do it to you now.

"Ok, cut," Ricardo called after a moment. The music halted, screeching to a stop while you pulled apart. "Eddie, let me talk to you for a moment." He motioned him over.

Eddie climbed off of you, squeezing your thigh gently through the sheet. You watched, propped up on your forearms while Eddie talked to the director, eyes cutting back to you.

"Let's take that from the top again." Ricardo clapped, walking away. "Eddie, whenever you're ready."

Eddie climbed back into the bed with you, hand brushing hair out of your face. You laid back on your back, fixing your sheet. "What did he say?"

"He wants it to be more authentic." Eddie replied, moving his knee so it was between your legs. You furrowed your brows softly. "He said we looked robotic." Eddie scoffed, shaking his head.

You giggled. "I don't really know how to look like we're fucking without actually fucking." You admitted with a sheepish smile. Eddie's heart swelled, he loved seeing you so sweet and small like that. "Feels awkward."

"Yeah," Eddie hummed in agreement, his hand dipping under the sheet. You felt him rub across your hip, glide across your tummy softly. "Maybe we should change that."

You frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?" You asked carefully. You felt his fingers trail further, tracing down your mound just barely over your lips. You gasped, pushing him slightly.

"Ed," You hissed, eyes cutting to the producers and film staff hidden behind the blinding lights from the set. You lifted the white, thin, cotton sheet higher over your chest. "Have you lost your mind?"

"What?" Eddie shrugged. "They said to make it as authentic as possible. Sell it up big for the cameras, baby." His grin was salacious, hungry. It made your legs clamp further.

"C'mon, angel, they'll never know I promise." Eddie cooed, ringed hand pushing back your perfectly tousled hair. "I'll make sure Donno watches the whole thing before it's released. Just let me help you out."

You huffed, his hand cupping your thing through the sheets, dangerously close to your core, but of course, he knew that. Eddie leaned forward, lips on the shell of your ear, hot breath tickling and nipping at your flushed skin. "You gotta admit it will be exciting." He grinned. You squirmed, his hand cupping your heat through the sheets. "Our little, dirty secret, huh? The world will never know. How fuckin' hot is that, baby?"

You felt his fingers tickle the top of your lips, your own legs parting to let him in further. He grinned, lips against your cheek. "C'mon, let's give 'em a show." The pad of his thumb rubbed the hood of your clit so lightly, it made your head spin.

You let out a staggered huff, before nodding gently, eyes locking with his. His pupils were blow, looking lustfully down at you with a wolfish smile. Your thighs clenched.

"Ricardo," Eddie called, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt the pad of his thumb slowly circle your clit. "We're ready."

You couldn't even register the sounds of the music starting, lights and cameras whirring into place. Your hand clamped down onto Eddie's arms, eyes pinching closed as he worked you slowly, circling your clit at the perfect place that had you writhing.

"Fuck, Eddie, just like that," You whimpered, legs hooking over his hips, pulling him closer.

"Ok, Eddie, and in three, two..."

Eddie's lips moved against yours, low, gravelly voice signing the words of the song into your skin. You writhed gently beneath him, his free hand moving to your face to look at him. Just as your eyes listed, shining and glassy to meet him, he slipped his middle finger in, pumping slowly in and out of you.

Your back arched, gasping when Eddie's fingers curled into you. You gripped onto his arm, his own hand moving to cradle your chin, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Your hips ground under the sheets, eyes rolling back when he curled into your g-spot, pulling out to circle your clit, then repeating the actions until you were reeling.

His thumb swiped against your bottom lip again, pressing against the soft, lipstick coated mouth. You opened your mouth easily, cheeks hollowing while your eyes met his, obedient. Just like he trained you to be.

Eddie smirked, still mouthing the lyrics that played over the loud speakers. If he wouldn't have been in the music video, he would've praised you for what a good girl you were being for him.

"Beautiful! Beautiful! Keep it up, let's go to the chorus! No cuts!" Ricardo chanted through his megaphone, the music continuing.

Your walls clenched around his finger, moaning against his thumb while he toyed with you, playing with you expertly. Eddie took his thumb out of your mouth, inching closer and closer to you. His calloused thumb was rough against your clit, providing the perfect friction that had your toes curling, hips lifting against his.

Eddie continued to sign the lyrics slow to you, eyes locked. The two of you were in a trance, locked in on each other, uncaring of the others around you. Your mind was spinning, racing and dizzy with the blinding pleasure that Eddie always brought to you. You tipped your head back, the lights above blinding you, centering you back to your own reality a little. The crew around you, watching as Eddie finger banged you relentlessly on camera. You knew you should be ashamed, mortified; but the deep burning pleasure in the pit of your tummy only built more, growing higher and higher, with every flick, pump, curl, and rub of Eddie's magical fingers.

You whimpered, reaching up to grab his curls, threading your fingers through the base of his hair. He knew you were close, your rounded eyes and desperate little mewls. Eddie rocked his hips against your thigh, relieving his own throbbing cock of some of the uncomfortable pressure.

"'M close, Eddie." You whined softly, pulling back on the hairs gently, clutching them for purchase while his fingers moved slow and deep inside of you.

Eddie pressed his lips to the side of your cheek, lightly, still singing the words to you in a low rasp, more of a growl.

"Perfect! Last line, Eddie! Last line!" Ricardo shouted excitedly.

Eddie fingers moved, curling deep inside of you, while you gasped loudly, mouth falling open slightly, rounding in pleasure, while Eddie kept pumping in and out of you. He could feel your release, the gush of it drenching his hand, making a sickening squelching sound as he still fucked you through it.

Teeth clenched together, eyes narrowed near predatory, Eddie watched you fall apart for him. Whining and gasping, while he still finger fucked you relentlessly. His lips were pillowy soft against your blushed cheeks, finishing out the last lyric with a growl, before his licked a long stripe up the side of your face.

You knew Maurine would be furious, her work destroyed by him, but you were too wrapped up in a cloud of satisfaction that followed your release to care.

Ricardo sounded far away, your eyes glassy when you blinked back up at Eddie, familiar brown eyes shining sweetly back at you. "You alright, angel?" Eddie asked, curls tickling the side of your cheeks as he hovered over you.

You blinked, moving to sit up on your forearms. "Are we done?" You asked, looking around at Ricardo, who frantically moved, barking orders.

"They're done with us," Eddie nodded towards the crew. "But 'm not done with you." Your legs clamped under the sheets at his wolfish grin, dark and hungry. You could feel him grinding gently against your leg, leather pants harboring his growing bulge.

You shrunk under the sheets to hide the blush that was creeping over your chest and neck. Ricardo clacked over, loud boots snapping against the hardwood. "That was beautiful, you two, gorgeous! So authentic!" He shrieked. You blushed harder. Eddie grinned, eyes cutting over to you.

"What can I say? I'm a great actor. Maybe your dad should put me in one of his films, whattya think, baby?" Eddie teased, looking back at you.

You scoffed, shaking your head with a small smile. "Sure. I think you're Oscar worthy." You jested back.

"Totally. Eat your heart out, De Niro." Eddie barked out a laugh.

You rolled your eyes, playfully, halting when Eddie's eyes narrowed at you. Ricardo didn't notice, thankfully, too high off whatever powdery substance was still around his nose, laughing erratically at the two of you. "You two are perfect, perfect. Your fans are going to lose their minds, their sanity entirely, when they see this."

"So we're good?" Eddie asked. "I can go change?"

"I've got everything I need from you." Ricardo gave a half bow to Eddie. "Mr. and Mrs. Munson, it's been a pleasure, as always." He grinned, wide and toothy.

You smiled politely back, still clutching the sheet to your chest. Eddie turned back to you slowly, giving you a pointed look. "What did I tell you?" He asked, tilting his head to this side.

You pouted at him. "I didn't mean to." You huffed, biting back a smirk when his jaw set. Even if the two of you are together and in love now, that didn't mean you couldn't still have a little fun with him, rile him up a little. Give him a little glimpse at the girl you once were before he knew you better.

Eddie let out a sharp breath out of his nose, lips pursing slightly. He knew what you were doing, and that was fine. He'd handle you back in his dressing room, make you gag on his cock until all that pretty makeup smeared and ran down your cheeks.

He grabbed the robe from the tech, handing it to you while you carefully slipped it on under the sheet. Eddie nodded, extending his hand out for you, what a sweetheart.

"Eddie," You mumbled, eyes cutting down to the sheets. You flushed with embarrassment, looking at the wet spot let on the white sheets. Eddie just shrugged, and you gaped at him, tongue clicking in annoyance. "We can't just leave that. They'll know."

Eddie scoffed, stopping one of the bustling techs that was scampering by. "Hey, man, you might need to change those sheets before someone else gets in 'em, alright?"

He didn't wait to see their confused, stuttering response. Reaching out for you, Eddie took your hand in his, pulling you close to his wide while the two of you scampered into his private dressing room.

A month later, you sat at the MTV viewing party, hosted at a club in West Hollywood for the band. Eddie pulled you close, smirking when you hid into his leather jacket as the video played on the large screen. Even with the editing and the features, it still looked so raw, so real.

The media seemed to agree too, magazines and articles barreling out by the dozens about the sexy, sensual music video featuring you two, boasting on how intimate it appeared. No one knew exactly how that was possible, except you and Eddie... and maybe the tech responsible for cleaning up the messy sheets.

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #funsonmunson #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson au #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader #rockstar!eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie stranger things

[simplymarr]

Chapter two.

warnings: none.

The next morning was gloomy. The classroom filled with people like always and the weak, pale light coming through the windows made it look even more suffocating.

The class started at the usual hour. As he talked i could tell that his accent made his voice sound quite raspier. The humidity in the air made his skin look like porcelain, glistening in the dark of the room.

He made a couple of questions and by the time the class was ending i was quite embarrased i was the only one answering; yes, i was passionate about study but i didn't want him to think i was trying too hard.

He didn't seem to care.

I stepped out of the building about 10 am and as i walked towards the street i saw him getting into his car. It was a dark-green chevy malibu, perhaps from the mid 70's. My fist thought was that, somehow, the car matched perfectly with his looks. Once he was inside he lit a cigarrette just like the day before. Suddenly he raised his head and looked at me, smoke coming out of his mouth. I was embarrased that he caught me staring at him so i began walking faster than before.

a couple of minutes and some blocks before it started raining. Large drops of water fell on every surface of my face and clothes. I hadn't even brought an umbrella and i was carrying all of my books. The sky completely fell apart as if it was laughing at me.

"Fuck. Is there something else that could happen to me, God?" I thought to myself.

Question aswered. Again.

That vintage chevy again, this time coming behind me then driving slowly, almost stopping, by my side. The window opened revealing the silver hair and the blue eyes that were driving it.

"Do you need a ride? It's getting dangerous to walk with this rain". He said, raising his voice a little, for all the water that was hitting the ceilling of the car made a big and loud noise.

"Oh, no thanks. It's just a couple of blocks until the bus stop".

"Well, it seems like you're gonna get there swimming then". He said, with an ironic but concerned tone.

" It's not a problem, really. I don't want to bother you" . I stuttered with a not convincing smile as i kept walking. He kept driving slowly by my side with the opened window, the grey strands of hair starting to get wet.

"Look, i have to drive all across downtown, it's really not a problem".

I stopped walking, looking at him quite ashamed. The water starting to get on my eyes and shoes. I hessitated.

"I don't bite." He said, with a soft smile. The lines on each side of his mouth appeared again.

I laughed at his bad joke and opted for getting into the car.

As i closed the door the watery sounds stopped, the air filled now with silence. It was kind of awkward for me. A student getting into her professor's car?

He looked at me quickly and i met his eyes. Then he lowered his gaze and streched out his free hand to open the glove compartment, positioned in front of my knees. He brushed them unintentionally with his nuckles and i prayed to God not to blush in front of him. Then he took out a pack of cigarrettes and aproached them to me, offering me one.

"How much does this man even smokes?" i thought to myself.

Though i've smoked casually, i said no with my head and then he put one between his lips.

He broke the silence first.

"I have been reading the drafts you submitted in class. They`re consistent, though i have made some remarks for you to work on. I'm sure it's not going to be a problem". He said with the unlit cig still in his lips. Then he reached out for the lighter.

"Well, thank you. I've been working really hard. I guess being the girl in law school kind of obligates you to".

He laughed, kindly. "y/n, isn't it?" He asked, pronouncing my first name with his french accent.

I nodded with a soft smile. My nervious hands gripping my still wet books.

"Ah, l'Etranger, d'Albert Camus" He said, looking over to the novel i had in between my hands. His voice dripping perfectly in each syllable. "Great, great work."

"Isn't it? Existentialism could not kill me even if it tried." I joked badly, looking at his hands gripping the steering wheel. He looked at me and laughed.

We spent the next 15 minutes talking about books, philosophy, his carreer and what was i going to do with mine once i gratuated.

He seemed the kind of man that likes to listen. He kept asking me questions and i was surprised with how much attention he payed to my words, dissecting every phrase and analyzing every tone of mine. He was very funny too. Kind of an ironic humor that matched with mine.

I didn't even notice that it had stopped raining and that we were parked at the bus stop. I looked at him with surprise, which he seemed to reciprocate.

"Thank you so much for the ride".

"Sure you don't need me to drive you home? I still have a trip to make". His tone felt genuine.

"Oh no, you've already done too much. Thanks anyway". I said while i stepped out of the car.

I bent slightly and looked over the window, no clear words passed my mind but i wanted to see him once again.

"See you next class. Oh, and i will email you the corrections soon, okay?".

"Okay". i said, nodding softly. "Thanks, Mr. Renzi".

"Just Vincent". He smiled at me once again and i reciprocated.

He started the car as soon as i stopped the bus with my hand, and i was kind of wishing we were still talking.

next chapter soon.

#vincent renzi fanfic #vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi #swann arlaud #swann arlaud fanfic

[rafescurtainbangz]

SCREAM x Stranger Things

(Chapter 1 & 2; drop 1 of 7) +18

Harrington | Hargrove | Munson

Minor DNI

Billy Hargrove x OC

Steve Harrington x OC

Eddie Munson x OC

4.8 K

written with my beautiful wifey and bestie @voyeurmunson

dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Warnings: Graphic violence/gore, SMUT, swearing, drinking, major character death, drug usage

Fingering, teasing, oral sex (female receiving), pet names

Chapter I - The Queen

10/18/2002 - Hawkins, Indiana...

Liquorwise

Chrissy Cunningham's POV:

"What do you want, Cunningham?" Jason breathes; glancing over your shoulder as you eye the liquor aisle.

"Malibu." He shudders in reply, giving you a side-eye. "You asked, Jase."

"Well, I'm gettin' beer." He slaps your ass before walking away, shooting you a wink.

Nothing... I feel nothing. I thought it would be different; the both of us being apart for so long, coming back together for the weekend. Some grand reunion of sorts. So far from reality. It's impossible to believe that Jason Carver could be a bigger dick than he already was... Maybe it's Greek life; maybe it's the newfound freedom, no longer under mommy and daddy's thumbs, allowing him to flourish to peak douchebaggery.

We'll see how this weekend goes. Maybe when I go back to Ohio I can just tell him this long-distance thing isn't for me. Find someone new... That wouldn't be the worst thing.

UV Blue or Malibu? How am I going to stuff this into my purse anyway? You look down into your handbag, assessing the space. "Just get a 375, babe," Carol sings, "they're behind the counter." She pulls you in for a side hug, resting her head on your shoulder. "Fuck. I missed you, Chriss. Have I said that enough?"

"I missed you too, babe," you sigh. "You smell good."

"Love Spell."

"Mmm," you hum. "I'm excited for you to come to Ohio State."

"Me too, Chriss. It's gonna be a blast. Roommates, baby. You're gonna hate me by the end of the year I can feel it."

"Impossible," you giggle.

"Carol. Where you at, baby?" Tommy meets her gaze, giving her a sweet smile. "I'm buyin'. C'mon." She struts away; brown curls bouncing as she shimmies her blue Juicy track pants a little lower on her hips; just a glimpse of her pink lace thong and a lower back tattoo.

You shake your head and smile, as you draw your purse closed. A few bottles clink, catching your attention.

Your heart skips as you see a familiar gaze, gaping at you through the line of colorful liquor bottles. Eddie Munson. Holy shit... You give him a soft smile; the phone vibrates a moment later.

He gives you a playful wink and a nod, solidifying the obvious; making your heart beat a little faster. I shouldn't look. He's like my kryptonite; a fuckin' magnet, pulling me in every time I'm back in Hawkins.

Jason and I were on a break last summer... Three days. Enough time for Eddie to swoop in, just for the night. I haven't forgotten it. I haven't had anything that good since. Eddie's, skilled fingers pleased me in ways I couldn't mimic... And trust me. I tried.

Why does he have to be so pretty?

He walks past the aisle, his body now visible throwing you off slightly; his normal Hellfire shirt and black Levi's exchanged for a tattered clown costume. "Fitting," Jason cuts; his jaw clenching as he looks at him. Eddie scoffs and chuckles, breathily; shaking his head as he steps to the counter.

Your eyes track him, hearing his conversation with the clerk. That voice... You feel a heat spread across your body. He points up to the shelf, getting a small bottle of Black Velvet whiskey and a pack of smokes to go with his case of PBR.

"Let's wait 'til the trash leaves," Jason grumbles, swathing his arms lazily around your waist.

"Why are you being such a dick, Jason? We aren't in High School anymore," you sigh, nudging your way out of his arms; walking toward the till.

You look out into the dim Hawkins evening, watching Eddie's face glow in the light of his flame, sucking his cigarette as he shuffles to his van. Where's his van? Damn... You purse your lips, drawing them to the side; holding back your little smile as you watch him mount his black motorcycle.

Maybe I should just see what he said?

You reach for your phone, snatching it from your pocket; stuffing it back inside as you feel Jason press up against you, handing over his beer and a wad of cash.

"Thanks, Jase," you whisper.

"Of course, princess."

You breathe deeply, fighting off the memories of those words leaving Eddie's lips. No use. You glance out into the parking lot, scouring for his bike; his spot, taken by another.

Why do I care?

I do care... A lot.

The four of you make your way to Jason's Jeep, Tommy and Carol climb in the backseat, immediately pawing at each other as you lean your head against the headrest, shutting your eyes.

I wonder where Eddie's going...

"What's wrong, babe?" Jason's voice shakes you from your thoughts.

"Nothing." You open your sights, smiling softly in his direction, doing your best to mask your feelings.

"Is this about Munson?"

"Seriously, Jason?" You groan; crossing your arms, gaze falling toward the window.

"Someone's jealous," Tommy taunts from the backseat, making Jason glare at him through the rearview mirror.

"Fuck you. I'm not jealous of some fuckin' super senior dressed as a clown," he hisses; his expression darkening as he challenges Tommy to mention him again.

"He graduated, dipshit. And, I heard he's packin'," Carol laughs as she smacks her gum obnoxiously. "This big," she gossips; holding out her hands in an attempt to show just how big the rumors suggested.

Not helping, Carol.

"Yeah... Sure." Jason scoffs in disbelief as Tommy pinches Carol's side playfully, making her squeal.

"Can we just talk about something else? Literally anything else," you snip, your tone coming out a little harsher than expected.

"But it's funny..." Tommy bullies; pushing Jason even further. "Carver bein' jealous of the freak and all..." You glance over and see Jason's face turning a deep shade of red; hands, digging into the steering wheel.

"You're a dick. And if anyone should be jealous, it should be you, Tommy. Shrimp dick Hagan? Isn't that right, Carol?" Jason winks back at her making you roll your eyes.

"I'm a grower, not a shower. And, you're neither. So..." Tommy snickers.

Jason slams on the brakes, propelling the duo forward; bodies smacking into the backs of your seats.

"Jesus fuck, Carver!" Tommy yelps. Jason chuckles to himself, loosening in his seat slightly.

"No fucking way!" Jason gripes as you fall in line, slowing to a crawl; a string of break lights glowing ahead, drifting into Jones Family Farm.

You glance out the window, excitement building as you see Eddie's motorcycle parked on the side of the gravel road. You watch as he steps off, plucking a cigarette from his carton; plopping it between his lips.

"There's the freak now," Jason burns. He honks his horn loudly, making Eddie jump. Eddie glares your way, eyes zeroing in on Jason; flipping him the bird. "What a joke," Jason clips, rolling his window down and sticking his head out as Eddie turns away, walking in the opposite direction.

"You followin' us, Munson?" Jason hollers, making Eddie stop in his tracks.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Eddie retorts; a cool smile on his lips, seemingly unbothered by Jason and his antics.

"Let's just have fun. Alright?" You sigh; eyes, begging Jason to drop it.

"You two are killin' the vibe," Carol mumbles. "Mostly you, Carver. You on your period or what?" She spits through a cruel laugh.

"You're pretty funny, baby," Tommy chuckles; leading her out of the car. The door slams shut behind them, leaving you and Jason behind.

His jaw coils, fingers threading around the steering wheel once more. He stares ahead, looking out into the crowd of people, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows harshly.

"You don't think I don't see the way you look at him, Chriss. I do... I always have."

"Munson?" You whisper, weakly. "Jase... He means nothing to me. He's just a friend. Only a friend. I wouldn't even call him that really."

"Promise?" He asks, hastily; his eyes softening as he looks at you.

"I promise..."

Jason nods; face, still pensive. You can tell he's completely unconvinced. It doesn't really matter... He knows that you'd never end up with Eddie regardless.

"I love you, Chrissy," he breathes.

"Love you," you push the words past your lips, giving him your best smile.

"Let's fuckin' go, Carver," Tommy calls out from the ticket line; his arms wrapped lazily around Carol's waist.

"You ready, baby?" Jason whispers.

"Ready, Jase." He swiftly steps out of the car, trotting around the front. Jason tugs the door open; helping you from your seat, weaving his fingers into yours. He draws them up to his lips, kissing the top. His blue eyes sparkle in the low lighting.

"You look beautiful by the way, Chriss," he coos.

"Thank you."

A cool autumn breeze swirls; leaves, crunching under your boots as you walk toward the gate. There's a mob of people gathered at the front, an absolute mess; clambering to the entry.

"Single-file line, people," Sheriff Hopper booms. "Single. File."

He ushers the crowd, herding the masses with his partner, Officer Jones. A familiar face pushes through the horde.

"Hargrove! How are you, man?"

"Carver," Billy answers, simply; his low gruff tone matching his appearance as he walks away, ambling through the parking lot toward his Camaro. He looks a mess; a dirt-stained Jones Farms sweatshirt and his tight Levis, hugging his muscular thighs. He adjusts his hat, turning it backward, the same logo on top; his sandy blonde mullet poking out the sides.

"Does Hargrove work here?" Jason asks, confusedly. "I thought he went to San Diego State?" Billy seals the deal, stuffing a pair of weathered work gloves into his back pocket.

"Maybe he took a gap year?" You shrug.

"A gap year when you have a full ride at a D1 school? Please... Be real, Chriss. He probably fucked up or something," he snickers. "Runs in the family I guess."

You hear his motor start up; Billy, quickly peels out, kicking up rocks as he races toward the exit, disappearing into the night.

"Damn... This place never changes. Does it?" Carol sighs, happily; giving you a smile as she draws your attention back to the group.

"It doesn't." You look out into the sea of people. "I love this place, Care."

"Me too. We've been comin' here for what, eight years now?"

"Damn... I guess," you chuckle. "We should share that apple cider thing... Do you remember?"

"Mmm... Please."

"You give 'em five dollars back, dingus!"

"You don't need the calculator, Robin. Give it to me," Steve grumbles.

"It's basic math, Harrington. You don't need a calculator." The two quarrel.

"We're going for speed and efficiency, Robin," he sasses; drawing out each word as he matches her stare, looking back at her in disgust. "Do you see this line?"

Robin takes two fingers, sliding the calculator over as she rolls her eyes away. "You are going to school for education... You sure about that, Harrington?"

"I just have to be smarter than a Kindergartener, Buckley." He gives her a little scowl, quickly double-checking his math; handing the couple their change.

"Two tickets."

"Please," you smile, sweetly; adding a little kindness to Jason's demand.

"Hey, Chrissy," Robin greets you, nudging Steve as well. He gives you that Hawkins famous smile, making Jason suck his teeth.

"This a class reunion or what?" Jason asks, condescendingly. "You guys doing anything these days or are you still hangin' out in Hawkins?"

"We go to ISU... Workin' here on the weekends during the fall," Steve adds; unappreciative of Jason's tones, taking one of his own. "Robin just gave you your tickets, Carver. You can probably go."

Jason chuckles, more at them than anything. "Losers," he puffs; not man enough to look Steve in the eye as he delivers his last little dig. Steve widens his gaze, holding back his laugh.

"Well, it was nice seeing you Chriss," he softens his tone; giving you a gentle smile.

"You too, Steve."

You eye the line of people; wrapped around the corner, seeing some familiar faces amongst the large group. No Eddie... I only saw him for a second and he's already completely taken over my thoughts.

"What's the policy on leaving this shithole? You girls wanna stand in line? Hagan and I can pop a few beers in the parking lot or something. This is horrendous," Jason complains as you come to a stop, taking your place at the back of the line.

"It'll be fun, babe," you try; nudging him softly with your shoulder, trying to lighten the mood.

"Sure," Jason grunts as he pops the beer bottle open with his class ring, shifting his attention to Tommy; lofting one at him as well. "We'll just get wasted in line then."

"Good idea, Carver," Tommy smiles.

You take the free moment to slip your phone out of your pocket, checking Eddie's text from earlier.

You blush as you read his compliment, shifting your phone away from Jason and the others as you contemplate whether to respond or not. You bite your lip lightly as you text a quick reply.

You glance over at Jason; completely lost in his own world, ignoring you entirely as he talks to Tommy about Phi Kappa Psi. Bitching about his new pledges. Your phone trembles in your pocket almost instantly.

Oh shit... You smile dizzily as your mind wanders back to a few months ago when you drunk-dialed Eddie, feeling the urge to tell him about the tiny tattoo you just got after one too many Jell-O shots.

Okay. Shit... What's the plan? I'll just go to the bathroom. Run into someone along the way. Nancy maybe? See him... Wait.

"Umm... I'm going to get that apple cider thing. Save my spot?" You ask, Carol. "Want one?" Your voice is softened; just loud enough for her to hear, letting Carol do the hard work for you if Jason asks where you went.

"Hell yeah. Thanks, Chriss. You're too good to me."

"Be right back," you beam.

You step away, bleeding quickly into the crowd; falling out of sight almost instantly. Alright... You look over at the concession line; packed as well. Perfect.

Fuck. This will buy me at least twenty minutes. Enough time to say 'hi' at least. Maybe give him a hug...

Who am I kidding? I know exactly what I want.

You can't help the excitement building in your chest as you push open the door of the small storage building. The heavy metal slams shut behind you, leaving you in complete darkness.

"Shit... Eddie?" You whisper.

"You came," his low voice hits your ears from somewhere in the shadows.

"Of course I did," you reply, sheepishly; stepping closer, following in the direction of his voice. Your arms reach out in front of you as your eyes struggle to adjust to the unlit room.

"Um... Eddie? I can't see anything," you laugh, lightly; coming to a standstill as your toe hits something hard on the floor.

"Oh shit. Sorry, sweetheart," he chuckles; reaching up, tugging the small chain hanging from the ceiling. The bulb flickers, crackling a few times before stalling to a dim yellow.

You glance around seeing costumes hanging all around you, creepy masks strung on the wall; a trunk full of weapons covered in blood, and a small vanity with stage makeup scattered messily across the old wooden top.

"So, this is where you work?" You turn your head back in his direction, seeing his warm brown eyes already on you, making your stomach flutter.

"Yeah, just a little side gig for fall. I get to dress up and scare the shit out of every fucker I hate in this town. So, it works for me." He shrugs his shoulders, a wolfish grin plastered on his face.

"How the hell do you make a clown costume look that good?" You giggle; taking in his ensemble. His toned chest is exposed slightly; a loose-fitting button-up draped on his frame, patches of red and black sewn on top of the raggedy white material.

"I ask myself that question all the time," he laughs, weakly as his cheeks blush. You adjust the ruffly black, collar around his neck. Your eyes drift up to his; Eddie's breath hitching as yours align. The light casts a golden glow over his perfect features, his eyes glinting wildly; that same untamed spark burning bright in his dark stare.

If only I could have him. I know he would be everything I wanted. The complete opposite of Jason; kind and funny. And, so fucking hot. Eddie would treat me like a princess.

But I can't. I could never be with Eddie. Not like that.

He steps closer to you, his eyes roaming your body slowly as he takes in each curve.

"You look beautiful, Chriss," he whispers, using the same words Jason said earlier. It meant nothing when it came from his mouth; but, hearing the words fall from Eddie's lips made your body tingle all over.

Your eyes shut, as his fingers begin to trace up your arm lightly. He leans in close; lips, meeting your ear as his fingers switch direction, making their way back down your arm, stopping at the hem of your skirt.

"Eddie, wait..."

His eyes flick to yours, one hand still resting on your thigh.

"My tattoo... it's here," you whisper; unzipping the front of your denim skirt, pulling the fabric down enough to reveal the small butterfly peeking out from beneath the lace of your light pink panties.

A smile spreads on his lips as he leans down just a bit, tracing his thumb over the ink, sending warmth across your body.

"Chrissy Cunningham with a tattoo? Now I've seen it all..." He hums as he drops to his knees, looking up at you with a hunger in his eyes. "You're a bad girl, sweetheart. Aren't you?"

"Only for you, Eddie." You surprise yourself as the words flee your lips. You couldn't help it. Every part of you craving more from him. Wanting to know what it would be like to be with him fully. Just one time.

"Only for me?" He mumbles, lustfully; leaning closer, pressing his lips to the small tattoo, his tongue skims along your skin, causing your knees to buckle slightly. A dark chuckle leaves his lips.

"Y-Yes," you stutter as he grips the hem of your skirt, pushing it up above your waist.

"Did you miss me, Chrissy?" He murmurs; hands slipping in between your thighs, separating them slightly.

"Of course, Eddie. You're my friend," you sigh, coyly; looking down at his mess of curls as he guides your legs even further apart. Eddie snickers at your reply, his fingertips gradually inching up your inner thigh agonizingly slow.

"Just a friend?" He asks just as his fingers reach your warmth, causing you to inhale sharply. He adds a bit of pressure, teasing you through the thin material of your tights.

"You know I'm with Jason, Eds. We can't be more than friends," you whisper, breathily; the contact with him making you feel lightheaded.

"Really good friends?" He flirts as his fingers begin making small circles over your clit, causing your lashes to flutter.

"Really, really good friends, Eddie," you pant; pussy aching for his skin on yours.

"Chrissy?" Eddie mutters as his eyes flick back up toward you.

"Yes, Eds?"

"If you want me to stop, you need to say it now," he burns, his tone dark and delicious.

You shake your head adamantly. "Fuck, Eddie. Don't stop," you plead.

A wicked smirk appears on his beautiful face as he takes your tights in between his fingers, ripping the material slightly, leaving your panties the only thing keeping him from you.

"Eddie, please..." You whimper; feeling his warm breath against your soaked panties. He slips the damp lace to the side making you moan.

"Shh, baby. Don't worry. I'm gonna take care of you. But I wanna take my time," Eddie rasps, leaning closer, bringing his lips to your inner thigh.

"Don't you have to go to wo-" He silences you with his fingers brushing across your dripping slit, just enough pressure to drive you crazy, your pussy throbbing intensely. "Eddie," you whine.

"You want something, baby girl?" He continues gliding gently across your lips, your frustration growing with every second. I know he can be rough with me... I remember it vividly. Just fucking do it, Eddie.

"Please touch me."

"What about your boyfriend?" Eddie chuckles, devilishly; his finger continuing to torture your bud.

"I-I want you, Eddie," you admit, softly; cheeks flushing at the mention of Jason.

"Want me?" He questions as his digits begin a circular motion, toiling around your clit; making you whimper.

"Need you... Eddie, I need you!"

Eddie's eyes darken at your pathetic response, a delicious smirk pulling on his lips.

"Good answer, sweetheart." You let out a soft cry as he finally slips a thick finger into your warmth, the evidence of your excitement clear as Eddie glides in easily.

"Fuck, baby. How do you think Carver would feel knowing his girl is this wet for The Freak? Hmm?" Eddie digs, plunging his finger deeper into your soaked pussy making you gasp.

Your phone buzzes in your jacket pocket making Eddie pause momentarily.

"Speak of the devil..." He grumbles but you ignore him, reaching down; gripping his arm.

You tug on Eddie's wrist, regaining his attention. He follows your unspoken demand, slowly sinking his fingers back into your cunt. You wince slightly as he adds another; but, the pain adds to the pleasure that you're already so addicted.

"Shit... You gonna let me have you later, Cunningham?" He groans as you both listen to the sound of your slick.

"Faster," you cry.

Eddie hooks an arm around your waist, forcing you to remain at his pace, decreasing his speed instead as his eyes focus on watching your essence coat his fingers.

Fuck, he knows me better than I do.

He curls his fingers, rolling them in and out; in and out, each thrust making the knot in your stomach build. You clasp his shoulders tightly as you begin to rock your hips just a bit, making his digits sink knuckle-deep.

"Yes... I'm almost - Fuck, Eddie. I'm almost there," you whimper.

"Already?" Eddie smiles; gripping your thigh, slinging it over his shoulder before locking down on your clit, sucking and flicking; with enough tension to make you scream.

"Just... Just like that," you praise, breathily. Cradling his head in your hands, pulling him in closer as you pulse around his fingers.

He replaces his mouth with his thumb, smiling up at you; watching you carefully, pleasing you to the last possible moment. Letting up slightly when you soften around him.

"That was fuckin' beautiful, Chriss... Shit. You want more, darlin'?" He rasps.

"Please..."

"So fuckin' polite," he chuckles. Your phone buzzes again. "Someone really wants to get a hold of you, baby. You should probably take that. Yeah?" He says, calmly; a small grin on his face.

"No, I don't think-"

"Take. It." He demands, cutting you short.

"Eddie..."

"I won't make a sound. Scouts honor." He winks up at you, making you smile.

"Promise?"

"I swear."

You pull the phone from your pocket, seeing Jason's name on the screen; hurriedly bringing it to your ear. "Hey, Jase."

"Where are you? You've been gone forever." His voice crackles through the phone; cell service, weakened in the shed.

"Sorry, I ran-" You stop suddenly as you feel Eddie's fingers enter you again.

Shit.

"Chriss? You there?"

"Mhmm.. Sorry. I was just saying I ran into Nancy." You push the words out, doing your best to remain calm as Eddie curls his digits again, stroking across your g spot.

"Wheeler?"

"Mmm... Mhmm."

"Well, you haven't missed much. The line's still backed up a mile. Tell Nance I say 'hey'," he continues, completely oblivious to the pleasure felt on the other end of the line.

"Yeah. Of course. I gotta... Oh!" You gasp as Eddie's tongue flashes across your clit; fumbling your device as you struggle to hang up the phone. CLICK. "Fuck!" You rake your nails through Eddie's curls, tugging them in frustration; causing him to moan. "You said you'd be quiet," you huff, lightly; glaring down at him.

He chuckles playfully, an adorable grin plastered on his kiss-swollen lips. "I said I wouldn't make a sound. I didn't say anything about you, Chriss."

"You're impossible, Eds," you sough, reaching down and running your thumb over his plump bottom lip.

"Sorry 'bout your tights," he sighs; not sorry in the slightest as his calloused finger greets your inner thigh, right along the tear. He leans in slowly kissing your skin; eyes, locked on yours.

"You're not..."

"Fuck. You're right," he chuckles, breathily; quickly burying his face between your thighs.

You moan as he begins to pick up speed. The forceful thrusts of his hand are audible as his palm smacks against your pussy, his fingers slamming deep inside over and over again.

Your sounds crescendo, praise; pouring from your lips as your cunt clenches around his ringed fingers. Eddie knows you're close, adding his thumb as well, rubbing side to side; making your thighs quake.

"Fuck, Eddie!"

"Don't cum until I say," he orders.

"But I-"

"God, you're so wet," he cuts in; watching in adoration as his fingers pound into you. "The Queen of Hawkins screaming my name. Begging me to let her cum. And, I've gotten to hear it twice. " he chuckles, laboriously. "Fuck, Chriss. It's a dream come true."

Your back begins to arch suddenly, causing you to stumble backward; hitting the wall. Eddie doesn't stop; fingers working at an insane pace making you squeal.

"I'm so close... Eddie. I can't..." You mumble, drunkenly; feeling a pleasure you've never felt before. He's so rough; but, so tender at the same time; his hands, like magic as he hits all the right spots, driving you wild.

"Has Jason ever made you cum, sweetheart?" He matches your gaze with his dark, hooded eyes; a look on his face telling you he already knows the answer. He raises an eyebrow, slowing his pace slightly; threatening to stop.

"No..." You answer, feebly.

He lets out a gravelly laugh, rolling his eyes. "Thought so."

"Please let me cum, baby," you cry as your eyes struggle to remain open.

"Baby? Well, fuck me..." He moans. "I could get used to that."

"Shit," you hiss.

"Look at me." Your gaze locks on his; Eddie's brown eyes blown with lust. "So Jason's never made you feel this good?" Eddie taunts.

"Eddie..." You breathe.

"Has he?" In a twisted way, his words push you even closer to your breaking point. "Tell me who makes you feel good, sweetheart," he hums, lustfully. You glance down, keeping your eyes set on his as you fight against your orgasm, your body nearly betraying you with every rut.

"You do, Eddie. You do," you moan.

"That's right, sweetheart... Mmm... Cum for me, Princess," he drawls; watching as you fall apart. Your pussy clamps down around his fingers, spasming again and again as your mouth falls slack.

"Eddie," his name flows, languidly from your lips as your head falls back. He doesn't stop, continuing to fuck into you as you ride the waves of your orgasm. "Oh, s-shit..." You look between your thighs, watching as you soak his hand.

"Good girl. Good fuckin' girl," Eddie grunts; his lips parted, taking pleasure in your own.

He slowly removes his digits, making you gasp; drawing his middle and pointer fingers to his rosy lips, tasting you slowly. "So fuckin' sweet," he whispers; looming over you before kissing your forehead.

His lips move from your cheek onto your neck, brushing gently along your skin as your breathing slows.

"Eddie, kiss me." The urgency in your breathy tone is undeniable. "We're running out of time."

You can feel him smile against your neck before his soft lips meet your skin again. Eddie's kisses are gentle and warm, dismissing your requests yet again as he maintains his cadence, moving along your jaw, finally landing on your lips.

"I said 'I wanted to take my time', Chriss."

His lips capture yours in a passionate kiss. You cling to the tattered material of his costume, gripping the fabric; pulling him closer as your tongues roll together. The two of you pant into your kiss as Eddie pins you against the cool wooden wall.

"I want you, Eds. Please," you mumble against his lips as your hand wanders down, groping his clothed cock, groaning desperately as you feel his size. "Let me make you feel good. Please."

Eddie pulls away, making your eyes narrow in confusion.

"Not now. Tonight. I'm coming over."

"B-But we have time," you whisper, needily; as you stroke him through his slacks, pulling a deep moan from Eddie. "Jason said the line was super long and-" He reaches out, gripping your jaw in his hand, demanding your attention.

"I'm in charge, Chrissy."

You suck in a breath; surprised by his tone, making it that much harder to wait.

"Fuck, Eddie. You're in charge."

A smile spreads across his lips, as his eyes look down at yours.

"Tonight?" You whisper Eddie's captivating eyes flick up to yours, drawing you in deeper.

"Tonight, sweetheart."

 Chapter II - The Last Laugh

Chrissy Cunningham's POV:

"Nothin' like waiting an hour in line," Jason scoffs. "This better be good."

"Stop being such a bitch, Carver," Carol sighs as she takes Tommy's hand, stepping into the wagon.

"Should we go in the back?" Jason asks.

"Mhmm," you smile. "It's the best place to sit."

The tractor fires up, rattling the buggy as your excitement starts to build. Jason wraps his arm around your waist, towing you closer. He buries himself in your neck, kissing you softly before drawing back.

"New perfume?"

You give him a little smile and a nod, trying your best to remain calm. Jason, so clearly picking up hints of Eddie's cologne. You grab the fabric, giving it a smell yourself, taking him in. I didn't think I missed him this much.

"Love Spell," you smile.

"Welcome to Jones Family Farm. You are about to embark on the Cursed Grounds Hayride and Haunted House. Please make sure you remain in the wagon and keep your arms and legs inside at all times. Please do not touch our Scare Actors and Actresses," the tractor driver shouts over his motor before stepping on the gas.

You're pulled forward as the ride begins, conversation and excitement brewing around you. "Oh, and the hayride is fifteen minutes in length. If there is a medical emergency, please tell me, and we'll get you some assistance. We will end at the Cursed Grounds Haunted House. Once you go through the haunted house, you will exit at the Jones Family Farm Gift Shop. Thank you for coming out and spending your evening with us. And enjoy the ride."

Jason turns toward you, the warmth of his whisper hitting your chilled skin. "Are you comin' over tonight?"

"I don't think I can, Jase... I have to be at the airport by 4 a.m."

"Well, shit," he huffs. "Maybe I can sneak in." His hand glides between your thighs, dangerously close to the tear.

"Yeah. Can we talk about it later?"

Jason furrows his brows, looking back at you confusedly. "Are we okay? Why don't you wanna hang out with me," he asks, defensively.

"I do," you assure. "It's already 10. And, I can't really do anything... Or, at least you wouldn't want to," you lie.

His eyes widen, as he puts the pieces together, wincing slightly in disgust. "Yeah, Chriss. Get some sleep," he chuckles.

Unbelievable. You can't help but roll your eyes. The simple mention of period sex and he's off my ass... What a man. Eddie wouldn't care. We'd probably take a shower together... A little smirk plays on your lips as you daydream about the thought of it; Eddie's tight body and deep brown curls glistening with water. He'd show me his tattoos... BUZZ.

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, instantly giving you the butterflies. Pulling it out you eye the message, sneaking a peek.

Feedback crackles through the speakers; a low, ominous voice setting the scene as the wagon crawls slowly toward the woods.

"If you've made it this far, welcome. You surely won't return," the voice laughs, viciously. You smile even brighter hearing the spiel you've heard more than a dozen times. Carol looks over at you, reciting the words. "These woods were once a beautiful place. A place of gathering and new life. Now, for most, the end of the line. A dark curse was placed on these grounds. Every October, evil runs free; ghosts, ghouls, and horrific creatures of all kinds take refuge in these woods. If you pass these trees, you are venturing onto cursed grounds. Run while you can." The audio cuts away.

You pass the threshold between the field and the woods. The dull music playing from afar now surrounds you on all sides, competing with the roar of the tractor. Little lights strung from the trees carve out a path in the woods, giving you just enough light to see the route in front of you.

Your heart beats a little faster as you wait for the first scare. Sure, there are little stops along; a different dreadful theme each time; but, there are always people hiding, lurking about, trying their best to make you scream.

"Fuck!" You squeak; falling into Jason slightly as the first monster appears; a werewolf with piercing yellow eyes, in a threadbare flannel shirt. He snarls, his mask allowing him to move his jaw and bear teeth as he swipes his large paw before falling back into the woods.

You giggle nervously, situating yourself on the hay-padded seat again; peering out into the timber to see if there's anyone else waiting for a fright. It's extremely dark, the dense forest blending together making it impossible to see anything else.

Your attention shifts to the tune swelling ahead, building as you move closer; the Halloween theme, simple and haunting. The tractor wads to a stop, cutting off the engine.

There's a white façade of a home, all the lights lit brightly. The wind billows the yellow cotton curtains; peaceful for a moment. Your stomach sinks as you hear a blood-curdling scream coming from inside. All eyes turn to the top floor, watching as Michael stabs his victim again and again.

Moments later he kicks open the door; standing in the frame as smoke pours out from behind him. The tractor starts again, dragging the wagon down the path as he descends the stairs slowly, stalking your party.

"Shit," you hiss; hiding behind your hands, caught off-guard by the shrieking of a nun. Her red bloody eyes stare deeply into yours. She draws out a large crucifix, sharpened at the end; driving it into a hay bale, close enough to a guest to make her cry before fleeing back into the woods.

The next melody plays ahead; a haunted circus. Eddie... You fluff your hair and move yourself a little further away from Jason as the tractor hauls you closer. You pass under the sign Last Laugh Circus lit colorfully overhead; a few bulbs flickering out.

There's a rickety carousel with four horses, creaking as it turns slowly. The four clowns' heads shift gradually, following your cart as you drive by. One slides the blade of her bloody knife along the handlebar, sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

A haunted ringmaster runs out of the tattered circus tent, face painted in fury. "Don't let them get away!" She bellows; her voice, echoing through the night. The clowns leap from the ride, scaling the wooden sides; pulling on guests.

You feel two strong hands wrap around your throat, making you draw a breath; feeling the familiar chill against your skin, just enough pressure to let you know who has you in their clutches. "Hi, Sweetheart," he whispers, setting all your nerves ablaze.

"Fuck off, man!" Jason plows him off. Eddie doesn't miss a beat; stepping down from the cart lazily as he slips his hand into his pocket; phone glowing brightly, quickly shoving it back in his pocket.

Buzz.

You feel your phone vibrate yet again.

"Prick," Jason grumbles. Crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "What the fuck was that?" He scoffs. "Do they always get to touch you like that? We should say something?"

"Jase, stop," you grumble. "They always do that stuff." He rolls his eyes away, looking dead ahead.

"Pretty sure that was Munson. Jackass... He always wears those stupid fuckin' rings. Who the fuck does he think he is anyway?" He pouts.

"I don't think it was him... Will you stop? Why are you ruining this, Jase?"

"Sorry, Chriss," he draws breath; weaving his fingers into yours, giving your hand a tight squeeze. "I'm not jealous at all... Just want to make that crystal fuckin' clear."

Sure. "Mhmm," you smile; giving him a little nod. Jason looks away, staring into the wood; playing guard dog in case Eddie tries anything else. Not jealous at all...

You sneak a peek at your phone.

Jesus Christ...

Dreamlike music blares over the speakers; a thick fog rolling all around. "Maybe I can still come over tonight. Cuddle or something?" Jason asks.

"What?" You reply; evading his question. "I can't hear," you mouth; quickly swerving his further advances.

There's a teen girl with golden blonde hair and a white silk nightgown, tucked into her flouncy pink bedding. The lights around her shift from white to red, the music changing along with it as she drifts into a nightmare.

You see a gloved hand reaching up from behind the wooden headboard; five razors at the tip of each finger. Freddy Krueger.

His hands wrap around the frame, peering over maniacally. Freddy slashes across the comforter, making the girl scream in terror.

Monsters of all kinds come out from underneath the bed, sprinting toward the cart. Ghosts and ghouls, demons and zombies. A chainsaw buzzes; thundering in your chest. He thrusts his saw forward, making you fall back in your seat. Carol hugs you tight, tucking her face into your chest as she screams.

"Uh oh," Tommy laughs.

You look over at Jason; watching as an actor draws his blade; grabbing a fist full of Jason's hair before running the knife along his neck. The three of you scream and laugh; looking around for the rest of the monsters.

"Chr-" Jason lets out a gurgly noise. You glance back at him, matching his wide eyes; stomach twisting as you see the horror on his face. A set of hands take a grip on the shoulders of his letter jacket, ripping him from the cart, and onto the ground.

"Jason!" You yelp; diving over to the edge, looking down into the thick pool of smoke. The fog is too dense to make out anything on the floor.

There's no fucking way he would be playing along with any of this.

"Stop!" You scream. The rest of the wagon looks back at you, returning their attention to the terror around them as you look down into the mass of vapor. "Jason? Jason!"

"Jason, come on. This isn't funny anymore." Tommy shouts, standing up in the cart; looking over your shoulder onto the ground; aiming to get a better view.

"Ugh... Fucking Carver. Always gotta be the center of attention," Carol snips, glancing down at her perfectly polished nails.

The ghoul surfaces from the fog, drawing the knife above his head. He stabs into the earth again and again. Blood flicks from his blade, splattering his white-faced mask.

"Hey fucktard, let him up!" Tommy booms at the actor, causing his head to whip around; white mask, glowing. A set of eyes glare at you; pupils too dilated to make out a hue.

You watch carefully as he stands up, wielding the knife in his fist. Blood drips as he dangles it by his side.

You start to feel your panic set in.

"It's just part of the act. Tommy's right. Jason is just trying to add a little extra flair... Right? RIGHT!"

"Show's over, come on man." Tommy grunts. The ghoul stands staring at Tommy for a moment before turning in your direction, the silver knife glinting under the moon.

He drives it into the person next to you, the tip of that same blade; peeking out of the chest of the old man's flannel shirt. Blood drips thick, the knife pulling back slowly.

His wife is frozen in fear; the rest of the guests screaming in horror, fleeing the wagon in every direction.

A single word flies from Tommy's lips, booming into the night.

" Run !"

Your eyes cut to Tommy then back to the killer, watching as he twirls the knife in his fingers.

"Jason!" You scream one more time, your mind refusing to accept the reality of the situation as Carol pulls you back. "We can't just leave him. He can't be dead. We can't see him, Tommy! We can't just-"

"Chrissy, c'mon," Tommy begs; grabbing Carol's arm, jerking her away. The two of them flee; leaving you behind.

"Wait!" You tear through the woods, following close behind; feeling the mud squish beneath your Uggs as you race towards the exit. Sticks fracture beneath you; branches whipping you as you run as fast as your feet will go.

People and actors sprint by, some still in their costumes; making it that much harder to determine who's who.

The only way out is through the woods or the haunted house. The woods lead to the parking lot. The haunted house leads to the gift shop; police, people... The nature of it posing risks all of its own.

The woods... There's not even a gate. We can run right to the Jeep. Your lungs burn as you run harder and faster than you ever have, trying your best to keep up with Tommy and Carol.

"Wait... No!" You scream as they head toward the haunted house. "Shouldn't we go through the woods?"

"No!" Tommy spits. "Are you serious? There's no one over there, Chrissy. Look at all those fucking people." He points to the clearing in the cornfield. The haunted house shone brightly in the distance, littered with people. He grabs Carol's hand, tugging her again as she looks back at you; tears glossing her cheeks.

"I love you, Chriss. I'm sorry," she blubbers.

People are still running through the woods to the parking lot, not enough... Only a few people actually know what happened. Your body trembles, lip quivering as you try your best to think of the right choice. They're right... Look at all those people. I don't want to be alone.

You hear an ominous laugh coming from behind you making your stomach sink; turning quickly you look out into the woods.

Emptiness... Darkness...

"Carol!" You call out. She stops in her tracks, fighting against Tommy as he continues to pull her to safety. "Wait! Please."

"Keep going!" Tommy grunts.

"Stop, Tommy. Fuck!" Carol hisses; the two waiting just until you are in arm's reach before taking off again.

The world around you lightens as you run closer and closer to security.

The three of you press into the crowd. Screams echo around you, bodies pushing and shoving a mix of people aware and unaware of the slayings; some enjoying the night, some attempting to escape the nightmare behind them.

Your foot slips out from beneath you, plunging you face-first into the crowd, tasting the dirt in your mouth as you scramble to get back on your feet. You watch helplessly as the two pass through the door without you.

"Carol!" You shriek at the top of your lungs. No. No. No! They're already gone. Tears flood your cheeks as you sprint toward the building; shouldering your way through the crowd, stumbling through the door.

Your usual fright of the haunted house is completely overshadowed by the very real threat following behind you.

"Chrissy..." A chilling voice comes from someplace close. Too fucking close.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you cross the entry into the house. Strobe lights instantly blind you. A thick fog hangs heavy in the air as your eyes dart around the room. You hear creepy music playing as you spin about, frantically searching for someone, anyone.

"Help! Somebody help me!" You wail into the void as you misstep across the wooden floor. A track of high-pitched screams and cries plays along with the music, filling the air as you rush to make it through the smoke-filled room.

Your vision is blurred by the murky fog, impeding your visibility. You run your fingers along the wall, scouring for a way out; feeling your heart nearly bursting out of your chest as you finally reach the doorframe.

Shit. It's a tight squeeze, your claustrophobia at an all-time high as the dim hallway appears to shrink with every step you take.

"Fuck!" you wail as a skeleton drops from the rafters, dangling in front of you. You plow through the bones, shoving them to the side as you take off running once again. "Carol! Tommy!"

You hear laughter ahead along with a few screams; innocent screams. You can tell it's not the soundtrack, they're real. Yes.

You bound toward them, snaking through the maze; dodging ghouls and monsters, as they grab and swipe at you.

"Help! Please help me!" You plead. The tween girls hoot and laugh; scampering in the wrong direction. No. You race ahead, following the glowing arrows to the exit.

"Chrissy..." You hear the voice again, just as your feet land on a softer material.

Shit. Your feet begin to fall into the ground, as the quicksand floor pulls you in, usually one of your favorite parts now slowing you down; practically hand-feeding you to the killer.

"Carol! Tommy... Please," you weep as you work against the odds; your feet sludging on, calling out for your friend.

"Poor thing..."

Your body freezes completely as you feel the hot breath against your neck. Your throat constricts, robbing your lungs of oxygen.

You feel him behind you, the cool plastic of the mask nudged against your cheek; chest, butted up against your back.

"P-Please don't hurt me," you stammer.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna play a game," the masked man taunts in a mechanical voice.

"What? What game?" you sob; your breathing coming out in small spurts as your lungs reach for air.

"Ever heard of cat and mouse, Chrissy?" He proceeds in a sinister tone. You feel the tip of his blade press into your lower back, nicking your skin; hissing out a cry.

"Yes," you whimper as you feel a warm trail of blood run down your skin.

"Run little mouse," he growls; shoving you across the last few feet of the floor, your hands hit solid ground allowing you to stand up.

A new room opens in front of you. A body lies in an old casket in the corner of the room, swaddled in a ragged cloth; a few dolls, positioned on a shelf on the wall, motorized devices making their heads turn, following your every move.

You scramble to the opposite side, lying low, ducking behind a tall hooded figure, attempting to keep your breathing silent as your chest heaves violently. You hear his footsteps enter the space, stomping across the floor, heading in the direction of the exit. He looks back in your direction, making time stand still.

The killer lowers his knife, disappearing around the corner.

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

Shit... My phone. You shove your hand in your pocket, struggling with the device; watching in horror as it topples to the ground. Calling: Eddie Munson BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. It trembles wildly against the hardwood floor; glowing like a beacon. Fuck. You snatch it from the ground, accepting the call.

"Eddie?" You whisper.

"Chrissy! Where are you?" He panics. "Are you okay?"

You watch in terror as he walks back into the doorframe; the strobe lights flashing wildly behind him. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"Chrissy?"

CLICK.

The wood creaks beneath the weight of his boots as he steps closer and closer. You clasp your hands over your lips, holding back your sobs; tears, rolling over the back of your hands.

Please go away. Please just go away...

The footsteps come to a halt.

You force yourself to open your sights, instantly seeing two soulless, black eyes staring down at you. A gloved hand reaches out, wrapping tightly around your throat; lifting you effortlessly.

"Caught ya." Your mouth falls open with a blood-curdling scream and you feel a searing pain; his knife, stabbing into your stomach.

You inhale sharply, looking down as he yanks the blade out; taking your breath with it.

Bright red blood spews out onto the floor before gradually flaring onto the fabric of your jacket. You watch in a daze as the hot crimson spreads like ink. Your vision blurs as you reach down; fingers, drifting across your stomach; coating your hand easily.

Tears slip down your cheeks as everything starts to get a little duller; a little darker than before. Your knees buckle beneath you; body, crashing to the floor. You attempt to scream but nothing comes out; gurgling as blood pools in your mouth.

I'm going to die.

The masked man kneels over you, staring down at you; head tilting slightly as he watches you choke on your blood. You inhale, clamping your eyes shut as he lifts the knife, driving it into your chest again and again.

Your eyes fall shut, opening once more when you feel a harsh grip on your ankles. The monster drags you across the uneven floor. Your frail hands claw at the splintered wood with the little strength you have left. Slivers of the old lumber pierce into the skin beneath your nails, as your body scrapes across the ground, doing nothing to stop the inevitable.

He grabs a doll, throwing it down on the floor next to you; shattering the porcelain head. The killer lifts you into his arms, holding you before laying you down again. You feel a plush pillow under your head; raised wooden sides, boxing you in. The coffin.

Your lips refuse to move as you try to scream one last time. The heavy top slams shut leaving you in darkness; no pain, complete numbness as you take your final breath. 

Taglist

Tags: @theoraekenslover @beautifuldisaster88 @leelei1980 @gri959 @redhead1180 @hippiegoth97 @tlclick73 @cutielando @babyyraven @Akashababy @dckweed @struckstarkey @joannamuns9n @strangerthing93 @floredaqueen

#eddie munson #steve harrington #billy hargrove #eddie munson smut #billy hargrove smut #steve harrington smut #scream x stranger things #ghostface smut #ghostface eddie munson #ghostface steve harrington #ghostface billy hargrove #eddie smut #billy smut #steve smut #scream smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x original character #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove x original character #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #ghostface #stranger things halloweeen #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #dacre montgomery smut #joe keery smut

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

hi there! im wondering if you have any fics recs for an au where peter doesnt get blipped? or also any OP/insanely strong peter fics you enjoy? i’m fairly new to reading spiderman fics and would love any recs! thanks!! 💖

Hi!! Sorry it took so long to respond. It's been a busy couple of weeks!! But I totally have a few BAMF Peter Parker fics in my bookmarks! And one very good fic where neither Tony nor Peter blipped.

🕸 to fear and to fly by idyllic_dae Rated T

“You’ll come to learn that there’s only one thing worse than having nothing.” Trying to hold onto his fight, Peter shoots back, “Yeah? And what’s that?” “To have nothing, after being able to believe you could have everything.”

The streets are dirty, crowded, and the jagged bumps in the asphalt are hardly comfortable to sleep on. They’re home, though.

Peter is just about finished with New York City. It’s gotten impossibly harder to find even a scrap of food, and what little belongings he does have are unlikely to keep him alive through the winter. And the memories. God, the painful memories here.

So he saves up. Makes a plan to get out of there.

Then, somehow, he accidentally saves Tony fucking Stark from a gang of eight mercenaries, and the majestic plan disintegrates into ash.

The worst part about it, he knows, isn’t even that he met Tony. It’s that Tony met him.

^^ This one is incomplete still but it is SO VERY GOOD.

🕸 Trojan Teenager by Sara (ctrsara) @ctrsara Rated T

Tony, Peter, Happy, and Daren make a trip to California during Peter's Spring Break, both to get some business done at SI-Malibu, and to look into another hotspot for the human trafficking ring they've been trying to break down. As it often does when self-sacrificial Spider-kids are involved, things go a little off the rails.

^^ This one is part of a series but can be read alone. However, I highly recommend the whole series! It's crazy creative and super well-written.

🕸 turn back the clock (and I'll try again in the morning) by madasthesea @madasthesea Rated T

Peter gets stuck in a time loop. In it, he lives through some of his worst nightmares, only to wake up that morning and have no one remember. He needs Tony to help him get through.

And if that isn't bad enough, his identity is revealed over and over, every day.

^^ This fic has me on the edge of my seat every time I read it, I swear

🕸 The Worst Field Trip by mak5258 Rated G

Peter's kidnapping (Before You Go, chapter 40) from other POVs.

^^ This is part of a much larger series but can be read alone. It's sooo good! If you're looking for a longer read, it's parent fic, Before You Go , is also great.

🕸Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spider by Bergen Rated T

“Tony fucking Stark,” Clint says, and he points at the black smoke. “Did you blow up that base, you piece of shit?” “Absolutely not. I almost got blown up with it.” Clint is not alone. A few yards behind him, a scrawny figure halts and squints at Tony from underneath a frayed baseball cap. Sunken eyes. Dressed in a black undershirt and cargo pants. Can’t be older than eighteen. “What are you doing here?” Clint jerks his head at the boy behind him. “SHIELD mission. Extracting a hostage.” Tony glances back at the teenager, whose face has now morphed into something entirely impassive. “He seems thrilled about his rescue.” — Tony is roped into a mission to transport a teenager to safety. But when things go south, it soon becomes more and more puzzling who the teenager is and what ‘safety’ means for him.

^^ Oh my goodness. This one has a super strong stoic Peter, who also manages to (eventually) be so super soft. I love everything by the writer, honestly.

🕸 Peter Protection Protocol by JAWorley Rated T

"The hell?" Knife guy breathes. He looks at Tony, and then back at the suit. Ned can hear the wheels spinning in his mind. If I have Iron Man, then who is in the suit?

There’s silence for a second, then another. Everyone waits with baited breath until Peter’s tinny voice comes out of the suit. “Give me back my Tony.”

OR

Peter’s class barely makes it in the door to Stark Industries for their field trip when they find themselves in a hostage situation. Peter and Ned know exactly what they have to do to save Mr. Stark from the bad guys. A short fic that’s supposed to be fun and easy to read. Not crack, just fun. Minor angst near the end.

^^ This author has SO MANY super fun and amazing fics, but this one definitely fits the BAMF Peter Parker bill.

Insane Mistakes Everybody Makes by Fluencca Rated T

The Avengers' kids are kidnapped for leverage and ransom. Tony tries to find them, while Peter--who somehow is part of this mess--tries to keep the kids safe.

^^ Love this one so much. It has all the amazing BAMF Peter.

🕸 Survivor's Guide to The Galaxy by fanfic1892 Rated T

Space rock crunched under Peter’s armor-clad feet and he dropped his hand from his eyes, turning to Tony. "Mister Stark," he said softly. "What do we do now?”

The question was entirely reasonable, Tony supposed, but being the one expected to answer it was like an infinity gauntlet punch to the gut. (Now there was a unit of measurement he could submit to the CGPM.)

Or: In a billion-to-one cosmic fluke, Tony and Peter both survive the snap and are left alone on Titan with an alien spaceship and no plan in sight. Peter’s presence brings Tony to make a tough call: diverting their course away from Earth in search of food and fuel. With the galaxy in shambles and no clear route home, the two survivors must carve out a path of their own somewhere in the great infinity.

^^ This is one of my favorite fics of all time.

As usual, I could go on for days with fics I love and would love to share with others. But we'll stop here for now. lol. And look! I didn't even self-promote this time! Thank you so much for asking. Don't forget to leave kudos and comments!!

#irondad fic rec #irondad fic recs #bamf peter parker #peter parker #tony stark #marvel #spider-man #iron man #mcu #irondad and spiderson #fic rec list #must read! #some o my favorite stories

[lovesickonmybed]

bad idea right? | (2/?)

chapter one | chapter three | series masterlist

eddie munson x OC | word count - 3831

summary | a game of truth or dare has consequences.

warnings | swearing, underage drinking, smoking, mentions of drug use, mentions of sex, sexual harassment, a bit of bullying, and depression.

a/n | i fucked with the timeline a little so billy and max had moved to hawkins a few months earlier because I need him for the story. listen to bad idea right? by olivia rodrigo and g.i.n.a.s.f.s. by fall out boy while you read this btw.

God fucking dammit. My night was awful to begin with, hell I didn’t even want to be here in the first place, but now it’s even worse. Eddie fucking Munson is here, and he looks hot, like really hot. I swear to god if I was more drunk I would probably already be on him. Sure he hates me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still think he’s hot. After our falling out I was hoping I’d hate him, that he’d suddenly turn ugly in my mind, but nope, he just gets hotter and hotter. And tonight it’s like he’s the only guy I’ve ever seen. Every guy I’ve ever hooked up with or ever even found attractive all exit my brain as soon as my eyes land on him. He’s sitting on a boulder with his long curly hair tied back into a bun, he’s attempting to light his cigarette. What strikes me as odd is that he’s completely alone, usually Ronnie or Dougie is with him but they’re nowhere to be seen. I down my drink and look away from him, if I keep looking at him I’m going to go over there and it will not end well. 

To distract myself I go over to one of the coolers and try to find something that won’t taste awful, I take a while to find anything. I smile to myself when I find a mini bottle of Malibu and a coke. I grab them and stand up and turn around, immediately running into somebody. They grab me by my shoulders to steady me. We meet each other's eyes and my face goes red and my mouth goes dry. Of course the person I’ve just run into is Eddie. He removes his hands from me with a disgusted look. “I-I-I’m…s-sorry…” I mumble before running off to go find somewhere to hide from him.

I duck behind a rock and open the tiny bottle of Malibu, I chug the entire thing and then chase it down my coke. “Goddammit!” I whisper/yell to myself. I know I look insane as I claw at my skin, breathing heavily, trying to self soothe and calm down. When I’m finally calm I’m left with crescent-shaped indents on my legs from my nails. I wonder what Eddie thought when he came face to face with me like that. I mean I can probably guess from the look on his face that he was annoyed and disgusted. I get lost in my own thoughts, panicking and overthinking the interaction when Carol plops herself down next to me.

“Are you alright? You look like you’re gonna throw up.” Carol isn’t really concerned about if I’m okay, she’s more concerned with how it would look if somebody in her friend group puked at a party from drinking too much, I’m already on thin ice for the amount of ass I’m showing tonight.

“I’m fine. Fuck. I just-” I don’t sound fine, I don’t sound calm. She can tell I’m upset.

“You just what?” She asks in an annoyed tone. 

“I just ran into Eddie…like literally, physically ran into him…w-who invited him?” I ask.

“Oh, Tommy did. Apparently Eddie is like dealing now or whatever and we needed a weed hook-up for tonight. We didn’t think you’d care. It’s not like you and that freak are friends anymore anyway,” She explains. Right now I’d love nothing more than to punch her in the face. 

My friends are assholes, I’m aware of that. But that doesn’t mean I’ve succumbed to it too, she knows I hate when any of them call him a freak or insult him. I hate when they do it to any of the Hellfire kids, I always try to get them to back down and it always ends with her berating me the entire time she drives me home about how if I don’t shut my mouth then I’ll end up back with them. Then she so graciously reminds me I won’t just be back with them, I’ll be lower than them, because if she drops me then not even Hellfire will want anything to do with me thanks to my betrayal. She wasn’t always such a bitch to me. When this all started her and Tina actually enjoyed having me around. They were kind to me; they took me shopping, and we’d have movie nights, now something has shifted. It’s like they’re aware of who I used to be, it’s like it matters to them now that they used to dump trash on me or make fun of me for my appearance. They heavily monitor every move I make, if I step out of line even the slightest then they remind me of where I could be. Eddie was right about them.

“When did he start dealing? I never thought he’d end up like that…” The Eddie Munson I knew was terrified to turn out like his father. His dad was pretty much never home, Eddie would always be at Wayne’s because his dad was out somewhere in another state usually in lockup or getting into some kind of trouble. He’d always come back with a story and a kind smile that charmed everyone into forgiving him for being the worst dad of the year. 

“Are you kidding? We all knew he’d end up like that, Viv. He’s a Munson, they’re all worthless low-lives!” Carol says. 

My hand curls into a fist and I squeeze my eyes shut tightly. I’m one drink away from beating her ass, “Watch your mouth, Carol.” 

She looks at me bewildered, “Why don’t you watch your mouth, Vivian? Defending a loser like that won’t get you far. I’m sure you like fucked him or whatever before you left his loser ass but that doesn’t mean you need to defend him anymore. Spending your time defending a reject like him won’t get you anything good, especially not from him. Just in case you forgot, he hates your guts. If you don’t want to spend the rest of your senior year as a loner then you’ll let me say whatever the fuck I want about him.” 

I go quiet. I hate that I go quiet but her threats are real and I’d rather be with people I hate than be alone. Carol smiles at my silence, “I’m glad we had this talk. Why don’t you go buy something off him to calm down?” She chuckles to herself and walks off to go find Tommy.

I fish my carton of cigarettes out of my pocket and light one up. My hands are shaking with anxiety and anger as I bring it up to my lips. I look around at everyone else who’s here, I’m jealous of them all as they talk with friends, flirt with crushes, and just enjoy their time here. I haven’t had a close friend or anyone to confide in for a long time, even at these parties my friends won’t hang out with me anymore. I honestly don’t know why I show up, I go to parties to be ignored and drink in a corner until I’m stumbling home and trying not to cry. That’s how tonight will go as well. I’ll get into the car of whatever sober girl I can find, because I’m not making the mistake of getting into a car with a guy again, and make small talk as she drives me home. I’ll stumble into my bedroom, cry when I take off my makeup, end up in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts and crawl into bed to cry some more until I can finally fall asleep. It’s not ideal but I guess it could be worse. 

I see Tina flirting with Billy and I shake my head in disgust. He’s the worst thing to roll into Hawkins. Every time I see any of my friends with him I just start distancing myself more and more, I can’t take it. He’s an asshole, a creep, a goddamned racist sack of shit and I want nothing to do with him. I don’t get what any of these girls see in him. Why do they throw themselves at that asshole when there’s so many better options? 

I get up to find another drink so I have something to occupy myself, this time I make sure Eddie is nowhere in the area when I do so. I see there’s only shitty beers left but at this point I’ll take whatever. When I’m going back to my hiding area I’m grabbed by Vicki Carmicheal, she’s one of Billy's groupies. “Vivi! You look bored, come play truth or dare with us!” She drags me off to a group of about 15 people and I let her. What more do I have to lose tonight? I’m sitting between Vicki and Tina as the game starts. I’m zoned out for a lot of it, people are just making others admit their crushes or making them do vaguely embarrassing bullshit. Finally somebody asks me the dreaded question. 

“Vivian, truth or dare?” Heather Holloway is the one who asks, she’s another one of Billy's loyal little groupies, sweet girl but her taste in men is abysmal. 

“Uh, dare I guess,” I say as I take a sip of my beer.

Heather giggles, “I dare you to strip and take a nice little swim.”

I’m looking at her like I could kill her, “Seriously? That’s what you’ve come up with? If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve asked…” I get dirty looks from quite a few people for that comment but I couldn't care less.

“Don’t be a baby, do it.”

I glare at her and begrudgingly head towards the nearby dock, everyone in the group follows me, which of course gets others to follow out of curiosity. I get to the end of the dock and debate if I’m really gonna do this; I finish my drink and decide that I have nothing to lose. It’ll probably piss Carol off to no end as well and I love nothing more than seeing her mad. I start by putting up my hair, next I take off my shirt. I’m wearing a red lacy bra underneath it. I hear some asshole yell, “Take it off!” and roll my eyes. I take off my shorts next, I’m wearing a pair of leopard print panties underneath, they’re one of my favorite pairs. I kick off my shoes and peel off my socks before taking a deep breath and jumping in. The water is cold but not cold enough to where I freeze up and can’t swim. I resurface and look at everyone on the dock. Carol looks pissed but everyone else has a smile on their face. 

“Is no one gonna join me?” I joke.

“Hell no! I heard they found a body in there, you’re crazy!” Tina exclaims.

“It’s just water,” I say before swimming off.

The water feels nice, I’ve always felt calmer in water. When I was a kid, I’d go to the community pool and sit at the bottom for as long as my lungs would allow me. There was something so peaceful about it. I decide to get out and get redressed; I swim back over to the dock where I see Billy Hargrove standing smugly, his arms crossed as he looks down at me.

“Quite a show you put on there, sweetheart,” He says, clearly trying to sound seductive.

“Mhm,” I say uninterestedly, “Mind helping me up onto the dock?”

He reaches down and helps lift me out of the water, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close to him. I put my hand on his chest to keep some distance. I don’t want him to think I’m into any of this. 

“Thanks, Hargrove,” I pull away from him and look down at where I swore I had left my clothes, but of course, they’re not there. I look around with a confused look and then turn to Billy.

“Where the fuck are my clothes?” I ask angrily, I’m freezing cold and in just my underwear with like half of Hawkins High staring at my body.

“You don’t really need them, do you, sweetheart? I mean with a body like that, why cover it up?” He teases, he reaches out to touch me and I take a step back. 

I cross my arms over my chest to cover it up, “I’m serious. Where. The. Fuck. Are my clothes?” I’m giving him my meanest glare.

“Give me a kiss and I’ll tell you,” He smirks.

“In your fucking dreams. Just tell me where they are!” I’m yelling now and causing a scene. Carol is gonna murder me. 

“You know what, princess? With an attitude like that I don’t think I will…unless you wanna make it up to daddy,” He says.

I damn near slap him across his smug face, but before I can get the chance somebody is coming to my aid. I see Eddie snatching my clothes out of somebody's hands, some asshole football player I can’t bother to remember the name of, and gulp as I watch him walk up to me. He doesn’t say a word as he hands me my clothes, I feel pathetic as I take a minute to even look him in the eyes, “T-Thanks.” I redress quickly.

He just nods in response. He goes to leave but Billy is seeing red and wants a fight. He grabs Eddie by his jacket, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going freak?” My eyes go wide, maybe I want a fight too. 

“Billy shut the f-” I’m cut off by Eddie pushing Billy into the lake. Everyone gasps and Eddie goes running, since I’m technically involved in this and don’t plan on having my ass handed to me by Billy Hargrove I take off as well. 

I run as fast as I can to the road. I didn’t drive here because I don’t even have a car so it looks like I’m walking, or well, running home tonight. When I reach the road, I take a minute to catch my breath. That’s when a van pulls up beside me. The window rolls down and for a minute I think I’m about to become a missing person. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but get in,” Eddie says.

My eyes go wide and for a minute I’m frozen in place with my mouth hanging open.

“Hey! Unless you want Hargrove’s little groupies to tear you apart I’d suggest getting in.”

I nod and run over to the passenger side and hop in, I’m quick to get buckled so we can get the fuck out of here. He notices me shivering, “There’s a uh, a blanket in the back. You look cold and this piece of shit doesn’t have heat or air conditioning.” 

“T-Thanks,” I reach into the back and grab the blanket. I recognize it from Wayne's trailer, it’s the one I always used at movie nights. I smile as I remember the time we had watched The Hill Have Eyes, and I pretended to be scared of the cannibals so I could cuddle up next to Eddie. I wrap the blanket around myself and nuzzle my face into the warmth. 

We ride in silence for about 5 minutes before I realize I don’t even know where he’s taking me, “Hey um, where are we going?” I ask. I take a minute to take in his appearance, he looks so much different from when we were friends. He’s been growing out his hair, it reaches his shoulders and curls beautifully. The dark circles he already had under his eyes are even worse now, but he doesn’t look bad. He looks even better than when I knew him.

He rolls his eyes, “I’m taking you home, obviously.” There’s the snarky response I expected. He’s hot even when he’s mean to me.��

“Oh, okay. Sorry…” I reply softly.

“Where did you think I was gonna take you? Did your shiny little friends corrupt you into believing I’m a virgin sacrificing satanist or something?” He asks sarcastically. 

“Definitely not. You couldn’t sacrifice me anyway, you need a virgin, remember? If you sacrificed me it’d probably fuck up whatever you’re doing, turn into a monster or something,” I joke.

I see him smile and butterflies fill my stomach. 

“Sorry I forgot you gave your virginity to Tommy fucking Hagan,” he says dryly. I struck a nerve and now I feel like I could throw up, guilt is clawing in my throat.

“You gave yours to Nicole Summers so I guess we’re fucking even, huh?” I reply angrily.

The rest of the ride is silent, and he speeds up to get to my apartment quicker, we’re there in no time thanks to all the traffic laws he’s broken along the way. “Out,” he says when he pulls up outside of my apartment building. His voice is stern and commanding.

“Thanks for the ride…and for standing up for me,” I say.

“Don’t expect it to happen again, now get out,” He says coldly.

“Fucking fine then!” I hop out of the van, “I’ll walk next time.” I slam the van door and start trudging to my apartment.

“There won’t be a next time! You owe me for this, by the way!” He yells.

“Yeah sure, whatever!” I walk faster up the stairs and go into my apartment. 

My mom is already in bed asleep. I come in quietly and tiptoe to my bathroom. I strip off all my clothes and turn on the shower; I take off my makeup while I wait for it to heat up. I slip my hand under the water to check the temperature, it’s perfect. I step in and sigh happily as I feel the warm water wash over my body. I wash my hair twice because I don’t trust whatever the hell is in the water at the lake. When I get out I wrap a black towel around my body and a blue one in my hair. I do my skin care and hair routines; it helps calm me down before bed. I know that tonight it’ll be pretty impossible for me to get to sleep, most nights I’m up for a while and I know tonight it’ll be even worse. I put on a band t-shirt and a pair of black and gray striped panties before getting into bed. I know the shirt will come off before I go to sleep, I can’t stand the feeling of wearing a shirt when I try to sleep.

I get under the covers and turn on my radio, sometimes listening to music before bed helps me clear my thoughts, but not tonight. Tonight the music just soundtracks my thoughts about Eddie and what happened. I wonder what he thought when he saw me at the cooler, and then what he thought when he saw me stripping in front of everyone and jumping into the lake. I wonder if he liked what he saw, or he was still just disgusted by the mere thought of me. I wonder why he helped me. He didn’t have to, he could’ve just left or completely ignored the entire situation but he intervened. He stole my clothes back from some jock and pushed Billy fucking Hargrove into the lake. He’s on two peoples shitlists now all because he helped me out. It makes no sense; he looked at me with disgust when he saw me at the cooler so why help? And why offer me a ride home? God, I just don’t get it, men are so fucking confusing. There’s a reason I limit them to one night and then pretty much force them to swear it into secrecy that we had ever had sex. It’s not that I’m ashamed that I’ve slept with who I have, well besides Tommy, that’s like the biggest regret I think I’ve ever had. I just know what’ll happen if everyone knows who I’m sleeping with, when you’re in Carol and Tommy’s circle everybody is obsessed with who you’re fucking. Everyone loves the drama of getting to label someone a slut or getting to come up with bullshit rumors about your relationship. But if nobody knows shit about your love or sex life, then you can kind of avoid it.

It’s not just my circle whose relationships and hookups get picked apart. Shockingly Eddie’s love and sex life is considered a fun topic to many people. Everyone knows me and Eddie used to be best friends so when he started dating a girl who was practically my clone everyone was quick to spread rumors he was only dating her because she looked like me. I can’t lie, she could’ve been my twin. She had the same hair and eye color as me; she had my lips and my eyes; she was like me but prettier and it pissed me off. 

I saw them together once at a party; she was dancing on him and he looked at her like she was the only girl in the world, the strobe lights in the room illuminating their faces. It drove a stake through my heart as soon as I saw it. I remember running into the kitchen and taking a shot, and then another. I was quick to find a guy to hook up with; I hoped it would take my mind off Eddie. I had even let him give me hickeys hoping Eddie would notice and be jealous, but that guy couldn’t even make me cum so I got absolutely nothing out of it. I should’ve been over Eddie by then, and I should be over him by now, but he clings to my mind constantly like a parasite. 

I’ve heard the stories about Eddie, sleeping with a few girls here and there, stumbling into short-lived relationships with some of them. My luck is just as bad. Every guy I’ve been with can’t seem to give me what I’m looking for, but then again, I don’t even know what I’m looking for. I just know it’s not whatever a drunk bathroom hookup or a blind date has given me. I’m sick of how I’ve felt since me and Eddie stopped being friends. Some nights it gets so bad I almost pick up the phone. I have his number memorized for years, and I doubt I’ll ever forget it. When I’m drunk, I have to fight back every urge to call him. I know that if I do, he’d either slam the phone down as soon as my voice hits his ears, or maybe he’d cuss me out, tell me everything that’s wrong with me as if I haven’t spent my nights listing off every flaw for years. The emptiness aches through my body like a sickness. It’s an ache that alcohol or pills can’t fix. I don’t know if anything ever will.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x oc #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic

[larcenywrites]

From Cali’ with Love

young!Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: mild sexual references/scene | fluff | kinda sad at first?

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: After his parents' passing, Tony leaves without a trace. Your only clues are a few doodled-on postcards from the Golden State that come in from time to time, but when an important day finally comes around that you'd once hoped to share with him, and no postcards or letters in sight, you have to wonder: did he finally forget?

Two years. Two years since your Tony ran away from all the shadows that haunted him here. So quick, he even left you behind. I can't stay here anymore, he'd said one night, barely able to even side-eye you. You could only nod, agreeing to go with him and as far as he needed. It haunted you when his only reply was turning away. Your family was here, your university was here, your friends were here-- he couldn't do that to you. No matter how willing you were. But you figured he wanted to run away from you, too. You'd seen too much. The tears that soaked his pillow and his snappish words when you tried to get him outside. You were as gentle with him as his mother was, and always by his side. You're pretty sure he just couldn't take the added pressure. And the only way to get it to stop was to just leave. Without telling you so that you couldn't argue with him or worry over him. Hopefully he knew what was best for him. So when the next few days were spent with an uncharacteristic amount of sorrys and the clinginess he'd lost had returned, you couldn't say you didn't know what was coming when you discovered he'd left. 

Of course you grew worried. Where had he even gone? Tony was always a survivor, but he'd hardly learned how to cope. He couldn't even find escape through his new job. Not when he had to pick up right where his dad had left off. Not when you could practically hear Stane griping something along the lines of, "well, this is how your father did it!" Was he sleeping okay? He always had problems, but such a demanding job probably didn't help. He used to tell you that it helped when you were nearby. The thought of him alone in bed killed you as much as being alone in yours. Maybe he'd taken that fuzzy brown shark plush with him to keep him company. One of the sandbar sharks you got at the aquarium. Oftentimes you had to force yourself to stop thinking about it. After months of sorrow and suffering, you just knew it had to be him when your mom said you had unmarked mail. You'd pulled a small postcard from her hands, stiffly hurrying back to your room to investigate. 

Join Us in Malibu was printed fancily and across a clear blue sky, and colorful houses dotted a California coast. Your eyes were drawn to the obvious break in the flat horizon, a rising cliffside right at the edge of the ongoing beach. But it was quite the reason you were drawn to it. A childlike doodle of a house sat on top of the hill, complete with a little chimney and a squiggly line of smoke. Even with tears in your eyes, you giggled. You knew for a fact he could draw a little better than that, but maybe he knew you'd find it more endearing. You stared at it for a little longer, wondering if that was, in fact, the home he drew this up in. Flipping it over, you were disappointed to see that there were no notes written between the blank lines. There wasn't even a return address. But the little stamp he'd chosen to put in the corner was enough when you finally read it. White borders surrounded a cartoonish yellow sun rising over a churning ocean, two words on top and two words on the bottom: From Cali' with Love. 

For now, it was enough to know he was alive, and still thinking of you, hopefully as much as you thought of him. You anxiously waited for another one. Surely he'd send something else! Months went by again, and you swore you'd looked at that card every day. And with the start of the next semester came another! Big letters were filled with other images, but the bolder white outline spelled out a city you recognized much more this time. Los Angeles spelled out over its city skyline. Nothing popped out this time, but your heart raced when you turned it over. Halfway decent drawings of angelfish swam between the black lines, little lines of bubbles in the shapes of hearts came from their mouths. At the top was a shark, obviously drawn with a bit more care than the fish. And next to it was that same stamp. From Cali' with Love. You smiled, touching over the fish as if you could feel the hands that drew them. He must have found an aquarium he liked. You wondered if it had a cute cafe like the one here did. The one where you watched the light ripple shapes across his face as it filtered through churning water behind the glass and he'd always avoid getting seafood because he didn't want to offend the fish that swam by the glass. He joked about it, but you were pretty sure he legitimately felt bad. You could only hope to join him there one day, but hoping only made more tears fall, and you didn't want to smudge his cute drawings. 

Another semester, another postcard. You hoped he kept up the tradition. Santa Monica read in fancy yellow letters against a dusky blue sky. Below it was the famous Santa Monica pier with its Ferris wheel and colorful restaurant roofs. Though you had something else to inspect on the front, you excitedly flipped it over, ecstatic that this one had writing! 

      It's not as fun as coney 

      island was with you :(

Your smile was bittersweet as you read his semi-neat handwriting. The letters were always so close together but the spacing between his words was always a little too far apart. You knew how that felt. Turning the card back over, you briefly studied the part on the Ferris wheel that you and Tony had been in when the ride got stuck that one time. There were no silly doodles there, but you had already noticed the red lines that encircled a part of the beach. The shoreline stretched away from the pier towards you, mostly empty aside front the silhouettes of two figures holding hands. A red sharpied heart was doodled around them, one side flatter than the other (he was never very good at drawing hearts). The sentiment was nice, but any romantic beach walks didn't last very long when he was more interested in finding seashells and kicking chilly water your way. But maybe that was what made it romantic, especially when he got so excited to find those smaller, cone-shaped shells and presented them out to you in his palm. 

His next card was from Hollywood. You could make out the Walk Of Fame, which probably wasn't so empty of crowds in real life, surrounded by ornate buildings. Between them was a probably not geographically correct mountain side where the large white Hollywood sign sat. Nothing really stood out to you, so you flipped it over.  

    I haven't found my star

    yet, but I did find you 

You snorted, shaking your head as if he were in the room saying it. Always a flirt. Just like the others, it joined the pile on your nightstand, but not before making sure to read over your new favorite words: From Cali' with Love, to be reread and ogled until his next one came in. 

But you hadn't gotten one this semester. Had he forgotten? Maybe he got busy, or maybe it got lost and he couldn't have known. Your dependency on a few little cards was pitiful, but it was all you had of him. He hadn't even called! He knew the house number. Then again, it was easier to hide behind handwriting than to actually speak and keep up a conversation. You couldn't blame him for that, especially after the way he left. He'd been so ashamed even when he first brought it up, and his eyes had held such deep sorrow when he'd asked if you knew that he loved you. You'd already forgiven him, but he didn't know that.

Two years and you still hadn't gotten over him. As far as you were aware, you weren't supposed to! He was coming back— he said so! Of all his flaws, he did keep his promises, even if they were kept as imperfectly as his hectic love. He tried his best. Besides, you were finally graduating soon! If anytime was great for another card, it was now. Hell, he had helped you through those first two years, and used to joke about all the ridiculous things he'd yell out when you finally walked across that stage, mostly when you were threatening to drop out or doubting the day would ever come. As if him embarrassing you was supposed to motivate you more. A creeping thought always ruined the memory of good times.

Had he found someone else out there? 

You looked over at the pile by your bed, specifically the card on top. Two figures walked down along the shoreline below the pier, with an imperfect heart drawn around them. It hurt to think the feminine outline could be someone else, holding his hand while they walked the beachfront, with the fun-filled pier in the background. Just like Coney Island. You picked up the rest of the cards, only lit by lamplight, rereading them and studying them as if some revelation would hit you, but instead of some secret code telling you when he'd be back, all you got was pinching sadness in your heart. At least it looked like he was having fun out there. Maybe he'd found some peace. You'd done this many nights, staring down at the cardstock in your hands, as if doing so would make the waiting go by quicker. Maybe this time, it did. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the faint tapping that came from your window, a rhythmic sound that you'd far from forgotten. You still hesitated, however, silently creeping toward the drawn curtains and peeking between them. The male figure, slightly below you due to your window being a bit high off the ground, was turned away from you, keeping a lookout. You couldn't discern any recognizable features in the dark, but who else would have fought their way through rose bushes just to stand patiently under your window? 

You slid the curtain to the side, letting warm light illuminate the dark figure on the other side of the glass that quickly turned around. You hardly recognized him, but the big brown eyes that shined up at you could only belong to one person. You drew in a breath you didn't know you were holding, staring down like he were a ghost. Was he? You weren't sure. You spent two years waiting for this day, and all you were able to do was stand and stare? Making quick work of the latches on either side of the window, you lifted the squeaky panes as quietly as you could. A rush of cool air drifted into your room. 

"Tony?" Your tone was soft with emotion, but you weren't even sure which one. You flipped through them like every color of the rainbow, but you were pretty sure you were somewhere between red and yellow. 

"Hi," he readily responded, smooth voice somehow deeper, but still honeyed enough to make you weak. Or maybe you still weren't breathing enough. Those baby cheeks you used to kiss were more lean, and partially covered with dark facial hair that you could remember him shaving every other day. Two years was more than enough time to change, after all, but puppy eyes still looked just as soft as the tousled curls that still fell over his forehead, and neither seemed quite as tired as they used to. You had to wonder if he was thinking something similar with those studying eyes. 

He leaned forward against the wall of your house and rested his arms over the windowsill. As cool as he always tried to be, his wide grin had always given him away as the affectionate dork only you got to see. 

"I was just thinking about you," you joked nervously, falling into old banter. 

"What a coincidence," he bounced back, glancing over your body as if to make a point. You bit your lip, thumbing at the wooden panels on either side. 

"I was waiting for another postcard," you teased with a disappointed tone. He gave you a brief laugh before held up an arm to reveal the blush-colored rose he'd been concealing in his hand, between himself and the wall. "Will this work instead?" He asked a bit bashfully, glancing at the flower between his fingers as if to study it with you. You were pretty sure it was one of the same roses that dotted the bushes that ran the walls on this side of your house, but you gratefully accepted it regardless. Well, you could help but tease him about it. Just a little. 

"Did you just pick this?" You twirled the flower between your fingers, lowering to sit on the floor to finally be eye-level with him. 

"No," he started matter-of-factly, a trace of your favorite pout on his lips. "I picked it ten minutes ago so I could cut off the thorns."

"You've been out here for ten minutes?" You looked over at him, forgetting to keep your voice low. He hummed thoughtfully, glancing down for a moment. 

"Maybe closer to thirty," he murmured, smiling awkwardly at your bewilderment. "I was a bit scared, okay?" 

You laughed at his defeated confession, turning back to your rose in hand and carefully playing with the soft petals. "What made you come back?" Your question sounded bittersweet. It wasn't that you were afraid of the answer, but if he came, then eventually he'd have to go, too. 

"You, obviously," he replied with his always loving sarcasm. His smile faded a little when your eyes were more serious. It really hurt when he left, and as much as you'd love to go back to normal again, you weren't quite there yet. Playtime was over for now. "I, um," he stuttered, "I heard you were graduating." Your eyes met his, so much more bright and hopeful than the ones that had left you. "So I thought I'd stop by." You smiled at him again. 

"You're a few days early," you chuckled, "It's not until Friday." Not that it was a bad thing. Now he was stuck here, right? 

"Maybe I thought we could," he trailed off, licking his lips, "do something," he shrugged. "Like old times, you know?" 

Your heart swelled at the thought. "It's been pretty boring without you around," you whispered. His next smile looked relieved. Maybe he was afraid you'd found someone else to have fun with, too. You leaned into your side of the wall, bringing your face a little closer to the eyes that couldn't help but flick to your lips. 

"What have you been up to?" You asked suddenly, not so much out of curiosity for the sake of keeping conversation, and to distract those wandering eyes from getting you worked up. 

"Ah, you know," he shrugged and looked down, "building shit, pissing people off," he rattled off half-heartedly. His lips were still parted as if to continue. He played with his hands, nervous. "Drinking," he admitted sheepishly, a familiar look was back behind his eyes when they glanced back up to you. "What I usually do." He tried to smile, but his mood had been dampened. You panicked, instinctively reaching out to take his hand in yours. His skin had been a little calloused, but the fingers that curled around you seemed rougher. You searched for anything to make it better. 

"You know I've kept your postcards by my bed since I got them," you said suddenly, flashing an encouraging smile that widened his again. "What's it like out there?" That spark came back. 

"Beautiful," he said dreamily. Something about the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice had you looking away with a toothy grin and warming cheeks. You're pretty sure he wasn't entirely talking about the other side of the country. You waited for one of his flirty lines that never came. "Got a house right on the ocean," he continued instead, playing with your entwined fingers, "like we used to talk about." 

You smiled at the memory, nights spent talking about a home by the water. "Is it big?"

"Have you ever known anything about me to be small?"

You rolled your eyes with a small shake of your head. You couldn't hide the smile on your face, especially when you felt a scruffy kiss on the back of your hand. He smiled into your skin when you looked back at him. You gently tore your hand from his, swooping your fingers through those stray curls and brushing over his cheeks. He seemed to lean into your touch, eyes never leaving yours. "This is new."

"Thought it would make me look more business-y," he said flauntingly with a raise in his brow. "Do you like it?" 

"It's growing on me," you chimed. His face was scratchier, but you had to admit that he looked a little more handsome. You sat in silence for a few moments, simply basking in one another's presence. You almost had to keep yourself from throwing your arms around his neck the longer you held him in your hand and searched his eyes. 

"May I come in?" His honeyed voice sang to you. You bit your lip and glanced back into your room, studying the door as if you'd suddenly hear your parents on the other side. The coast was clear, for now. "Can you behave?" 

"I always behave for you," he hummed a little too seductively, turning to plant another kiss to your palm. You pretended to hum in thought, side-eyeing him. "Please?" He reversed his antic, pouting into his crossed arms and fluttering his lashes. "It's cold out here," he pleaded dramatically. Somehow it still managed to pull on your heart. 

"Fine," you easily gave in with a laugh, "just try to be quiet." The triumph in his grin wasn't lost on you. Just as confident as it used to be. You rose from your spot by the window, reluctantly pulling your hand away and feeling that chill he was talking about. You watched him slide his way over the sill, not as graceful as he once was, landing facedown on the floor. You giggled. Affectionately, of course. "Nice to see you haven't been climbing through anyone else's windows," you teased down at him. He awkwardly got to his feet, standing tall in front of you. You were sure he had a witty comeback behind that soft smile, but the usual mischief behind those eyes was nothing but love. You had to give in, breaking the obvious pining that you'd both let go on for too long already. 

You nearly tackled him, wrapping your arms around him and shamelessly burying your face into his chest. You squeezed even tighter when familiar arms hugged back, keeping him as close as you could so that he couldn't disappear again. He smelled of fine leather and vanilla, not exactly as you remembered it, but at this point, everything new and everything old was all just as comforting when his hand was petting over your hair. Even after two years, it felt like nothing had changed. You could almost cry, probably trembling with the effort not to with every lingering kiss in your hair and to your temple. 

"This has got to be better than a postcard," he quietly joked, once again breaking the shared silence. You snorted, lifting your face and barely backing away to get a better look at him. He stole another scruffy kiss to your forehead, but he must have noticed the plea behind your eyes. He leaned ever so slow, nose barely bumping yours before you eagerly closed the gap, lips gladly greeting his once more. Somehow you swear it felt even better than your first kiss. He barely even moved against you, instead letting you both lose oxygen to nothing more than a hard-pressed liplock while you found your way to the soft hairs on the back of his neck. 

 You finally had to pull away, tilting your head down to keep him from chasing you. You gripped at his shirt while you caught your breath. Tony nosed his way back, forcing your kiss back to his. You chuckled against his mouth before going in for another round, one that pushed you back against the bed and parted your lips. You hadn't even noticed the nice button-up he was wearing until you'd already worked down the line of buttons, nor the lighter colored dress pants until they were hitting the floor. 

Tony lied. He never behaved. 

You were back in the warmth and safety of his embrace, hands locked together as he loved you in the only way he really knew how. You muffled his whimpers of apologies into your neck, and he silenced your sweet sounds with his shushing kiss. You said his name like it would be the last time he'd get to hear it from you, and carved all the pain you'd felt for the last two years into his back. Those stray curls clung to his face, and rested against your forehead when he leaned down to you. One of the most powerful men in business right now, and you had him limp in your arms. 

His beard tickled the sensitive skin of your neck and down your chest when he nuzzled his way into the space beneath your chin, making himself comfortable in his spot on top of you. You raked your fingers through his hair, pulling back those damp curls. Back in the warmth and forgiveness of your arms, at least you didn't have to worry about him getting any sleep. Yeah, this was much better than a postcard. 

You were starting to think you'd never get to see the way the stars seemed to reflect in his eyes, or watch them become wide with wonder when he reached out to touch the stingrays in the exhibit (and then practically have to force him to wash his hands right after). You thought you'd never get another cheesy, film-like kiss on top of the Ferris wheel, or help him keep an eye out for shark teeth even though it was supposed to be a romantic walk down the beach, and he'd readily let go of your hand when he thought he saw something. Postcard by postcard, you followed the same trail he'd taken alone, this time going with him on the dates he wanted to do with you again. Somehow it felt like falling in love all over again. He came all the way from the other side of the country with more love than when he'd left, and with a new excitement to be out of his cage. 

Something about it had you dreading what would happen after you finally walked across the stage. Tony had to go back at some point. He actually had work now. He was important now. He'd always been important to you, but now he was bigger than whatever you currently were with him. Was he this happy when he was alone out there? Was he alone? You sure had been. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't even have the courage to join the peers you hardly knew in celebration, too busy frantically searching for Tony as if you were on a timer. For all you knew, you were, but luckily he found you first. You were probably more excited to see him than the degree in your hand. You eagerly threw your arms around his neck, cap in hand pushing him closer into the kiss he greeted you with. You still weren't entirely used to the prickle of facial hair.

"You did it," he quietly cheered, a praise just for you. Your free hand came around to cup his face. 

"No thanks to you," you hummed playfully, pressing your thumb to his lips before he could close the gap he made. He frowned, eyes flicking up and down. "I didn't have anyone to help me with my homework anymore," you pouted pitifully. An apologetic smile spread across his cheeks, the same one that used to smile encouragingly when you couldn't quite get a problem right, and those same eyes looked at you with that sympathy. 

"But you still did it," he murmured, softly kissing the pad of your thumb. 

"But I still did it," you echoed, smiling back. You brushed your thumb over his cheeks instead, studying the features of his face as if it were the first time you'd seen him in years. You would have loved to stare up at him for hours more, and feel his hand on your back, but the crowd rushing by and their loud laughter was ushering you to move on. He wasn't leaving just yet. "Come on." You started to back away, but not without taking his hand in yours first. "My parents might wanna see me," you explained, feeling a bit bad for breaking up the moment so suddenly. "Maybe they'll even take us to dinner," you playfully chimed, turning to lead him away, but he didn't budge. 

"Wait," he stopped you, unintentionally pulling you back with the way he didn't move. Your heart sank for the worst, turning back to a nervous stare. It looked too much like one you'd seen before. His jaw tightened with his grip. "I didn't really come prepared, but," he started, nervously licking his lips and searching the ground for his words. He took a breath that mostly left as a laugh. "Would it be crazy if I asked you to marry me?" 

You were probably looking at him as if he were, glancing him up and down to make sure he was real and lips parted in an answer that could come to mind. In the short absence of your voice, he nervously continued. 

"You could go back with me, and- and," he started to stutter, "I know you just got that degree you worked really hard for, but you don't even have to work if you don't want to." He knew you were still listening when you smiled amusedly at that, his tone implying that that would be the cherry on top. "I mean, I know it's been… a while, but," he kept rambling desperately, "I never stopped loving you." Wide eyes begged for approval, and blushing cheeks probably regretted it. Maybe it was simply the tall rollercoaster of emotions you'd both had over these last few days--even years, but you really couldn't think of a reason to say no. This time you weren't going to let him leave alone, especially not when he needed you this time. If your words couldn't come out, then your mouth could relay the message better against his, you decided. You ignored the crowd around you, bringing your Tony down by his collar for a kiss deeper than the Pacific and longer than the 3,000 miles you'd always been willing to travel for him. You finally tore away, hiding in his neck. A hand drifted up your spine. 

"Is that a yes?"

You just had to pull back to look at him, his wide eyes dazed and confused, and blush almost matching the red in his lips. You nearly scoffed. Affectionately, of course. 

"Yes, you goof!"

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark one shot #tony stark drabble #tony stark smut #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fic #iron man #iron man x reader #iron man imagine #iron man fanfiction #iron man drabble #iron man smut #young tony stark #young tony stark x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel smut #marvel fic

[f1gments]

Model! Aki | Hayakawa Aki Model AU | SFW

authors note: my mind is currently filled with aki brain rot and i currently imagine him as one of those ulzzang instagram models with the minimalist and monochromatic aesthetically pleasing feeds. his jawline and shoulders mmmf

+ I was listening to Malibu by pH-1 ft Mokyo and The Quiett.

Hayakawa Aki Model AU ft mentions of Kishibe, Yoshida Hirofumi, Quanxi and Makima

Content warnings : none. sfw.

- Model! Aki who gets approached by some scouts from a big shot modelling agency as he’s making his way home from his mediocre corporate job. He’s barely interested when they start asking him how tall he was, if he had any mixed blood in him and if was interested in being a model. To which he politely declines at first but with a rather cold and dismissive tone.

- Model Aki! who at first didn’t have that many followers on his twitter and instagram accounts where he would usually upload his outfits and the occasional selfie along with some of his paintings since he’s also into contemporary and surrealism art. A means of escape from the mundane life. I also think he would be into photography so sometimes he’d also post pics he had taken on his camera for his followers to see.

- The same modelling agency had contacted him through his socials this time, offering a good amount of money and told him he’d get to travel to various parts of the world. Now that seemed to pique his interest because then he began compiling a portfolio in case he ever made up his mind to join the agency.

- He was skeptical at first because most scouts in the city usually had a different type of “modelling” in mind. He wasn’t that stupid. He’d been given business cards by the two scouts who came up to him and did some research on their agency. Fortunately they weren’t some shady agency using the word modelling as a cover up to do adult movies. That JAV typa shit.

- It didn’t take him long to make up his mind lol since he’s been dreaming of going on a trip somewhere foreign and new for ages. He just hoped that they’d keep their word for that.

- Model Aki! who shows up at the modeling agency a few days after the agency had reached out to him. He’d signed his signature on several documents agreeing to be a member of CSM Elite - the name of the modeling company.

- Model!Aki who gets his first photoshoot session for an avant garde line. There didn’t need to be much smiling from him which he was secretly thankful for because he really wasn’t one who smiled easily. (If only he knew how attractive it was) He’s a natural at this because the photographer didn’t have any problems with getting him to pose in many different angles. It seemed that he was photogenic to the point that he didn’t need to do much posing anyway. It only took them about two hours maximum instead of a whole day.

- It had been a few weeks since he first started his job and his schedule seemed to get busier and busier. He was grateful for it but there were days when he just wanted to go back to the once boring and relaxing routine he had before becoming a model.

- Model!Aki who gets fawned over by all of the stylists and hairdressers assigned to him. They always tell him how handsome he looked and how lucky someone would be if he were their boyfriend. He would overhear their conversations about how tall or how cool and dreamy he looked.

- Model!Aki who makes eye contact with the camera so intense that sometimes the photographer gets a little flustered with his gaze. It’s not intentional though, he’s just doing his job.

-Model!Aki who goes for smoke breaks in between his photoshoots to which one point it funnily enough became a topic in a magazine article and some of his fans had sent in unique and cool stuff like ashtrays and lighters for him to keep. He cherishes every single one of them.

- Model! Aki who’s very polite and professional when speaking to his peers and other staff members at the agency. But sometimes they wish he could show a little more emotion off camera. Most of his responses would make a few of them uncomfortable with how monotonous and brief they were. His amazing effort during photoshoots make up for that however.

-Model!Aki’s first runway was a bit nerve of a racking experience since he had to walk in front of a crowd of people. Which he needed time with getting used to. As he stepped onto the stage platform he tried his best not to squint at the spotlight or make any sort of unnecessary movements that would ruin his first walk. He remained calm and composed like he usually was and he killed it.

- His first appearance on the cover of a magazine on the other hand is what gets his popularity skyrocketing over night - a rising newbie in the industry. Those who were interested in fashion and kept up with the magazine itself began posting pictures of him, asking “just who exactly was he?”

- His socials had gained an instant mass of followers and eventually his pics had been posted across several websites, articles and fan accounts. It really shocked him!

-Model!Aki who then gets along with a few of the top models in the same agency as him. He’s met with Kishibe, Quanxi, Makima and Hirofumi at a celebration party held in one of Tokyo’s elite and exclusive clubs. There were other members from agency that had come but Aki only managed to get comfortable with Kishibe who had been modelling since he was 18 and Hirofumi, although quite relatively new to the agency but not so much compared to Aki, had been modelling since he was a child.

-Model!Aki who’s obviously popular with the ladies; some of them were women of money and status but unfortunately Aki wasn’t really interested in getting to know any of them.

- Model!Aki who ends up getting invited on a few talk shows. Whenever the interviewers ask a question he holds the same blank expression he usually does, giving a shorter response than expected. He reminds himself to (shyly) smile at the camera every now and then so he doesn’t look entirely mean and it turns the crowd in the studio into a screaming mess.

-Model!Aki who finally fulfilled one of his dreams to go to the beautiful country of Italy where he got to do a photoshoot for a luxury perfume brand along with one of the female models from CSM elite who was assigned to be his partner for the shoot.

-Model!Aki who returns back to his new, quiet apartment since the old one could no longer fit the art pieces and souvenirs he had gotten from his last work trip. He plops himself onto the soft velvety material of his black Quilton sofa with an exhausted but content sigh as he thinks back to his life before all this fame came.

- Somehow he feels as if there’s something else missing in his life. It wasn’t money, or traveling since he already had and did plenty of that. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it. He falls asleep as the thought remains lingering in his head.

©️ don’t repost or claim my work as yours that’s all i ask.

#model!aki ⭐️ #aki hayakawa headcanons #aki hayakawa imagine #hayakawa aki headcanon #hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa #hayakawa aki #csm imagine #csm headcanons #aki headcanons #csm aki #aki csm #chainsaw man aki #aki chainsaw man #kishibe #quanxi #makima #yoshida

[invisibleraven]

For the Fluff one - Do you want me to carry you? For Rarrie please.

"You ready to go?" Reggie asked Carrie as the party they were at started to wind down.

"God yes," Carrie replied. "I'm tired, my feet are killing me and I want to see Peter."

Reggie smiled, thinking of their little boy (who was hopefully asleep by now) and his desire to see him as well. Plus these parties were never his favourite, sucking up to the Hollywood elite in order to secure another record deal or photoshoot. He mostly came as Carrie's arm candy, but he still helped her network, using his minor fame and influence to help.

They went to the door, taking deep gulps of fresh air, free from smoke and perfume, but looked at the line for the valet. "Damn that's long," Reggie said with a whistle. "We could probably walk to the car faster."

"Not in these heels I won't," Carrie said, lifting a foot and wincing as it put more pressure on the other.

"Do you want me to go and come back for you or do you want me to carry you?" Reggie asked.

Carrie thought on it-if she waited she might find a chair, but she might also get sucked into more inane chatter and false platitudes from which there was little chance of escape. But it would erase all shreds of her dignity to be carried.

Weighing her options and her aching feet, Carrie decided to screw dignity. "Carry please."

"Bridal or piggy back?"

She snorted, and Reggie smirked, turning his back to her, and whooped as she climbed on, handing him her heels as she latched her arms around his neck. "Come on mighty steed, let's giddy up."

He let out a fake whinny and neigh before trotting off towards the large lot where the cars were crammed. He had tipped the valet well to put it near an exit, so he hoped the guy had followed through.

However, Reggie had been hitting the gym less since Peter came along, figuring he got enough exercise chasing the toddler around as well as walking Tisdale around Malibu. Thus even though Carrie hardly weighed much, he found his stamina flagging as they went along.

"You okay sinta?" Carrie asked.

"Gotta take a break," he heaved, setting her down, stretching out his back, and letting the strength come back to his legs. "Think I'm going to have to go back to doing my morning run if this is wearing me out." '

"I mean I wouldn't mind the company," Carrie replied, rubbing his back. "Toss Peter in a stroller, latch Tisdale's leash to it, we're good to go."

"Sounds like a plan," Reggie panted. "Okay, let's keep going."

"You sure you don't need me to carry you?" Carrie snarked.

"Hardy har, don't make me make you walk," Reggie replied, offering her his back once more.

"You'd never."

And they both knew she was right there. Reggie would walk over coals for Carrie, so there was no way he'd make her suffer the walk in her heels or barefoot, even as it exhausted and strained him further.

Finally, their sensible little car came into view, and Reggie let out a sigh of relief, nearly dropping Carrie as they were close enough. "You drive," he said, handing her the keys before slumping into the passenger seat.

Carrie tossed her heels into the back, along with her purse, and looked over to see Reggie already dozing beside her. She shook her head, but decided to let him rest, since he saved her from potentially twisting her ankle or needing to cut her out of her shoes later.

The drive home was quiet, without Reggie chattering away, the radio low so as not to wake him. Carrie followed the familiar route home, pulling up to their modest home.

"Reggie," she said, shaking him. "We're home sinta."

He snorted, then blinked. "Oh good. Let's go in, check on Petey and go to bed."

Grabbing their stuff, they went in, Reggie paying the babysitter while Carrie tossed her shoes into the depths of the closet, never wanting to see them again. They were the cutest shoes, but like most cute shoes, they were a bitch to wear.

She crept up the stair, peering into Peter's room, smiling when she saw him asleep. Thumb in his mouth, covered in his favourite blanket-the one covered in trucks and excavators, his favourite stuffy-an ancient Chewbacca from Reggie's own childhood cradled in his arms.

She tiptoed in, brushing back his dark hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Sleep well mahal."

"He asleep?" Reggie whispered from the door. Carrie nodded, and sat as Reggie came over, tucking the blanket in further when it had come loose. "Sweet dreams kiddo."

"Let's go to bed," Carrie said, easing up, the two of them creeping out, keeping the door open a crack, just in case. "It's been a long night."

Reggie grinned, scooping her up to carry her to the bedroom. "That it has. But before we sleep, how about a foot rub?"

Carrie's blistering kiss was all the answer Reggie needed.

#filled prompts #ficlet #jatp sweet tarts #julie and the phantoms

[tinydeskwriter]

What about reader having a rough time mentally and they are new at this relationship so she kind of distance herself from him and makes him think that she doesn't like him. Maybe he like comes to surprise her with flowers and when she opens the door he sees her all tired and crying

I feel like I strayed from the topic and got carried away a little bit, but when I stopped to think about it I fell a little bit in love with the idea. From the moment I read ‘rough time mentally’ for some reason, the loss of someone dear come to my mind, and as you weren't specific with her struggle, I decided to use it.

I hope is ok.

English is not my first language, so, forgive- me for any mistake.

Maybe She's Just Not That Into You

In a totally clichéd way they met at a party in LA.

Artistically inclined Y/n was tight friends with Zack Bia, and although she didn't really like parties, she went under the friend's insistence. She didn't drink and didn't smoke and spent the entire night getting energy drinks directly from Zack.

She was fun and like a particular sun everyone seemed to orbit around her. She wasn't famous but she was recognizable, and everyone at the party seemed to know who she was. Initially he just sat with the group listening to her tell a funny story of a trip to China involving a mistranslation and a resentful Chinese lady. He took the chance when he saw her walk away from the group she was talking to and onto the terrace overlooking the city and ocean. They lost track of time talking that night, the party completely forgotten to them.

Not just beautiful, Y/n was one of the most interesting women he'd ever known, she had content. He wasn't the type to trust people easily, but with her in half an hour he found himself opening up about things that with other people took months. There was something in the way she looked at him, as if she could read his soul like an open book, there was nothing he could keep from her, and there was something in her lazy, gentle smile that said he wouldn't read his deepest secrets in an article on a gossip blog.

It wasn't until after they said goodbye that he realized he hadn't asked for her phone number.

Jack tried IG only to see her profile was private despite her high number of followers.

He asked to follow her at the risk of looking like a creep, the request was accepted within minutes and soon he was followed back. He stalked her a little, Y/n was truly artistic, her profile full of pictures of oil paintings, enviable landscapes, flowers, a few rare selfies and photographs of herself making appearances in between.

Their first date took place that same day, at a small cafe in Malibu that Y/n frequented often enough for the barista to know her order—lemon iced tea with a slice lemon pie—. By the end of the day, he knew he wanted to make that date a frequent occurrence. They saw each other almost every day for the two weeks he was in LA. When he wasn't in the studio, he was with Y/n. The young woman was his perfect dose of Serotonin on the hard days.

Different from all the women he'd been involved with in recent years, he could actually imagine himself taking the lavender-scented girl to meet her family over Thanksgiving. He just knew his mom would love her.

Their first kiss didn't happen until his third trip to Los Angeles, almost two months since they'd known each other. And he only returned to Atlanta with the certainty that the girl he was leaving behind at the airport was his girlfriend.

“She’s not very open, is she?” Urban commented to Jack when the rapper finally brought his girlfriend around his crew. It was her first visit to Atlanta, and everyone seemed enamored with the girl who was the personification of a ray of sunshine.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked not understanding what his friend was trying to say. There was no person more communicative than your Y/n.

Before Urban could clarify however they were interrupted by Druski's booming laugh, who yelled from across the room. “Jack, I like your girl, if one day you guys break up, I'm keeping her around.”

The curly haired boy only smiled exchanging a look with his girlfriend across the room.

Shit. Jack smiles as he watches she return her attention to the conversation she’s having with Druski. He's absolutely fucked. —#—

They'd been together for six months, and Y/n hadn't responded to his messages or answer his calls in two weeks, and it was driving Jack crazy. In other 'relationships' he always knew what he had done to deserve the silent treatment, it was usually mutual, with Y/n he had no idea what he had done. He knew he hadn't missed any dates, hell, they didn't even have any dates yet.

His bad mood was hurting his productivity.

Everyone had already noticed that something was wrong, Urban was the only one who knew why, and it wasn't exactly the best help, the only comment his childhood friend made was: 'Have you ever thought that maybe she's just not that into you?'

And he even went so far as to comment that even though they'd been dating for almost six months Jack knew next to nothing about Y/n.

Y/n was good at talking a lot about herself and not saying anything. He knew about her travels around the world, about her work, about her friends. Jack didn't know anything about her childhood, her family, her dreams or her plans for the future. She wasn't much for talking about her feelings either, though she always smiled when he talked about his.

Shit. Wasn't it ironic that the first time a woman made him truly feel anything other than horny, she probably didn't feel anything for him? He freaked out for two more days before contacting Zack, who also hadn't heard from her in weeks. “Man I wouldn't be nervous, I've known Y/n for years, she always disappears for a few weeks during the fall and then reappears like it's nothing.” That didn't reassured Jack, but at least it reassured him that the problem wasn't exactly him.

And that's how he ended up on Y/n's doorstep at six in the morning, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand—because he knew they were her favorite flowers—after catching a red-eye, coach, flight from Atlanta to Los Angeles.

He didn't know what to expect, but he didn't expect her to open the door the way she did.

Y/n looked exhausted like someone who hadn't slept in days, she clearly had been crying too. Her always immaculate hair was greasy in a bun on top of her head, she was wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt he'd forgotten there the last time he'd visited.

She looked at him confused. “Did we schedule anything?”

"We need to talk." He said offering her the bouquet of flowers. “Can I come in?”

She accepted the flowers and made room for him to pass. "Please."

The first thing Jack noticed was the mess.

Y/n's colorful and always exquisitely arranged house looked like it had been the victim of a hurricane, he saw that there were even some broken objects lying around on the floor. The curly haired man placed his travel bag on one of the benches and watched carefully as his girlfriend went to the kitchen and put the flowers in a vase.

“What's going on Y/n? You haven't communicated with anyone for a week.” He said sitting down on a bench, the kitchen island between them. “Zack said this is common this time of year, but we're in a relationship, and things can't be one-sided, and these two weeks where you ghosted me made me feel like I barely knew you, I don’t know about your family, or your childhood, I don’t even know if your born in California.” He kissed his teeth, running his hand through his curls in an exasperated attitude. “I'm starting to believe this is some karmic shit, falling in love with a girl who doesn't like you back.” Jack laughed humorlessly.

Y/n just stared at him for half a minute before sighing running her hand over her scalp.

She went into the living room, rummaged through the mess of things tossed on the coffee table, and then returned to the same spot she was in before.

Y/n handed him a polaroid.

Jack looked at her confused before looking at the photo.

"His name was Tommy…Thomas, he was my little brother." The boy in the photo couldn't have been more than fifteen years old, and he looked absurdly like Y/n, so much so that they could have been twins.

"He was eleven months younger." One more thing he didn't know about her, Y/n had never mentioned that she had a brother. “Last week completed eight years since he committed suicide.” Jack looked at her wide-eyed. “He was my best friend, we didn't have the best parents, but we had each other.” She smiled sadly looking at her brother's picture. “He was screaming for help and no one heard, and I was such a shitty sister that I didn't even answer my phone the day my brother killed himself because I was too busy at a party."

He felt like an idiot.

“You shouldn't be alone at a time like this.” He said taking her hand. “What about your parents?”

Y/n just gave a dry laugh.

“My parents swept it all under the rug, an accident, that was the official statement.” She said. “They are the beginning of everything Tommy's problems, he just wanted to be loved and accepted, but he was never good enough, they are the beginnings of my problems too, I am damaged because of them, they made me afraid of love, my mother indoctrinated me to think that love was a weakness.” She stroked his larger hand with her thumb. “My parents hate each other, but they're still married because a divorce wouldn't go over well.” Y/n chuckled. “When I was eight years old, I remember looking at this picture of a beautiful woman and asking: who wouldn't love a woman like that? my father heard and he told me: Show me a beautiful woman and I will point out to you the man who does not love her.” She looked at Jack with a sad smile. "He was looking at my mother.” Jack was speechless. “That's why I don't talk about my childhood, or my family.” Y/n shrugged. “Not everyone has a childhood like you did Jack, my childhood was one of absolute privilege, but it was sad, and I cut off contact with my family years ago.” She sighed. “I go to therapy to deal with all of this, but I just find it simpler not to open up about it, they made me hard to trust in others.” Y/n smiled small looking into her boyfriend's ocean blue eyes of nearly six months. “And things only get worse around the anniversary of Thomas' death.”

“I'm kind of feeling like shit right now.” Jack confessed.

“Don't feel.” She shook her head. “It's my fault, I should have opened up more, but all it’s still so new, it's not like I've never been in a relationship, but I've never been close to falling in love, and that's terrifying.” She confessed.

“Why?” His brow was slightly furrowed as he looked at his girlfriend.

“Because it makes me feel vulnerable.” She shrugged. “Because you look at me like I'm the sun, and I'm afraid you'll see that I'm not that bright.” Y/n smiled at the man who was looking at her calmly and carefully. “Because it makes me feel on top of the world, and that's a scary place to fall from.”

“I really like you Y/n.” Jack confessed. “And I've never felt this before, nothing but infatuation, no one's ever been able to hold my attention like that, I've been a grumpy motherfucker ever since you stopped answering my texts.” The 6ft3in man walked around the kitchen island and hugged his girlfriend. “I want you to trust me, and I won't pressure you to open up, but know that I will be here.”

#jack harlow imagine #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x oc #jack harlow fluff #jackman thomas harlow

[thislovintime]

Photo 1 by Ric Klein.

“Hendrix injured his right ankle — the one which was originally broken and caused him to be invalided out of the US Army — while a passenger in Monkee Peter Tork’s GTO car at Malibu Beach, Los Angeles, at the weekend. Tork was not in the car, which was spun round three times when another car crashed into it at a filling station. Co-passenger with Hendrix was Byrds’ Dave Crosby, but the Hendrix injury was not bad enough to prevent him continuing his tour.” - Jimi hurt in Monkee Peter’s car,” Disc & Music Echo, July 15, 1967

“Well, after Monterey, I got back down to L.A. and met Jimi at Peter’s house. We decided to go out to my house at the beach. Peter lent me his car, a burgundy GTO hardtop that was given to him by Pontiac. I loved it. My Rolls Royce was busted down. And so we all piled into his GTO and drove out to the beach. I was driving along Pacific Coast Highway when, all of a sudden, this Pontiac, just the smoke, was everywhere. I started to pull over and some idiot creamed me in the back. Instead of stomping on the brakes, I floored it and got the car under control and then pulled over. And then, the cops came and all they did was get Jimi’s bottle of whiskey away from him. We went down the street and bought another one. But the cops gave us all a ride to my house.” - Stephen Stills, Canyon of Dreams: The Magic and Music of Laurel Canyon (2009)

#Peter Tork #Jimi Hendrix #Stephen Stills #Tork quotes #60s Tork #The Monkees #Monkees #long read #1967 #Tork houses #Disc and Music Echo #Canyon of Dreams: The Magic and Music of Laurel Canyon #can you queue it

[9w1ft]

That anon about the keyhole arch reminded me of a point you often make that seems to be very difficult for some people to grasp (I’m not talking about anon, it just reminded me of the concept.)

When we think Taylor (and Karlie) are giving hints, it very often isn’t an EXACT copy of the original thing she’s referencing. Whether it’s clothes, or a flower, or a location, or even an eye, it’s usually just something that’s reminiscent without being undeniable. So the keyhole arch not actually being the one at Pfeiffer Big Sur beach doesn’t mean it’s not supposed to remind us of that. Heck, the Vogue photoshoot wasn’t even done in Big Sur (it was Malibu.) Similarly, a shirt that isn’t exactly the same but is the same color, or a similar style, an archway or a checker board pattern, or the colors of a certain flag, etc etc etc, in our world view it’s just a fun hint, it’s not supposed to be some sort of irrefutable proof, and I think you’re either confident in your beliefs, and understand that, or you’re a doubter who’s looking for reassurance, but always sees holes in the evidence. Not that we all aren’t both of these from time to time, it’s not black and white.

And we don’t always all agree that something means something, and we sometimes think someone is reaching too far with what they see as a hint, but we still have this understanding that this is what’s happening and we’re going to see it and we’re going to enjoy it, even if they didn’t mean to do it or we are being delusional occasionally. It doesn’t really matter if one individual thing is meaningful, it’s the whole grand game that we’re playing for years now that is fun and can feel very meaningful.

I appreciate how you are always able to do this and enjoy things.

↑ yeah this part right here this is it

you worded this all very masterfully, thank you!

one thing i wanted to add is that i think a lot of the ‘reach’ and ‘proof’ conversation comes more naturally when you are not there yet with kaylor and/or you engage a lot or are active a lot on places where the people around you are actively out there to disprove kaylor and you end up in a position of defending or wanting to defend yourself

once you sort of realize, or have fallen completely into the orbit of kaylor and aren’t thrown off orbit by things anymore, and you let go of a want to prove kaylor to people who willfully don’t want to see it, and you no longer are holding out for vindication, then it just becomes more fun and easy and casual to think about and engage with the language of symbolism and optics that have proven themselves over a period of years.

this is why i often say that our blogs don’t exist for the purpose of proving kaylor to others. a lot of the more skeptical newcomers come here with an attitude of wanting to be told and expecting it.

but if you really really believe in kaylor all the way, when you really get there, you kind of become protective of the best parts, or, more open to letting go of correcting all the wildly incorrect things other parts of the fandom literally make up, and accusations of reaching for a lot of stuff don’t hurt anymore because it shouldn’t be smoking gun stuff or like me personally i like that a lot of stuff that i say about the eye theory sounds bonkers because, well, sometimes tempering one’s credibility from time to time is a good thing!

[daisyful-gvf]

malibu // by daisyful

part 1 / chapter 1 / intro

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NSFW 18+

pairings: jake x reader, josh x reader, sam x reader, danny x reader …yeah

Tags: group sex, fluff, oral sex, fingering, making out, alcohol, smoking (weed), hotel sex, a bit of tantric sex, jacuzzi sex, body shots, praise, a little choking, kink negotiation, sleeping together, cuddling,

(it’s not as chaotic as it seems it’s just long)

Word count: 18k

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

summary:

“I think I want some alcohol” you murmured. You bit your lip at an idea. “How about body shots?”

Jake’s eyes rolled back into his head a bit, and Sam’s smile turned devilish.

“Hell yeah,” Sam said, “Whatd’ya want?”

“Malibu,” you said, to which you received two scoffs.

“Hey,” you protested, “it’s delicious.”

Everyone was high at this point, to no ones surprise. There’d been a few bowls, a few blunts, and a few drinks here and there. And it was only ten past midnight, somehow.

Danny and Josh had a deck of tarot cards out on the floor of the hotel room, each of them sitting on the soft red carpet, barefoot and sipping drinks. They’d mixed some sodas from the mini bar with some liquor and called it good. It was not good, in fact, but it was liquor.

The hotel room was large. There were two king sized beds, a pullout couch, a half-assed kitchen, and one of the nicest hotel bathrooms you’d seen, complete with a walk in shower and a jacuzzi tub. A goddamn jacuzzi tub.

You’d seen your fair share of hotels this tour, and thought it was sort of a shame that you all were hotboxing this nice of one. You had joined them on this tour and the last as a coordinator of sorts; pushing them off to planes and into green rooms and out of trouble. You’d gotten familiar, comfortable, even.

The room was hot as hell, even with the windows cracked. You sat with your back against the pullout couch, legs crossed. Jake sat to your left, arm slung around you, finishing a blunt. Sam sat to your right, flicking through slow rock songs with his phone connected to the speaker.

You felt floaty. Everyone did. Warm, too, not only due to the thermostat settings and therefore mentioned hotboxing, but because you were slightly crossed. You felt melty, fluid, drifty.

You turned your head to Jake, who had hair stuck to his cheek and forehead. He put out the blunt in an empty glass beside him, and turned to face you.

You and Jake had done this a couple times, while drunk or high or both. You’d made out, he touched your breasts a couple times, nothing too crazy. Not in front of anyone really, though, not like now. It wasn’t like this with just you and all of them, usually.

He grinned at you, and you knew before he asked.

“You wanna c’mere?” he asked, brown eyes glancing to your lips, then eyes, and back. Your faces were so close already with his arm around you, you hardly had to shift to meet his mouth.

He chuckled into the kiss a bit, hummed too. It was very nice, you couldn’t deny. Slow and wet. His hand went into your hair a bit, though he grabbed only gently. You brought your hand up to his face, thumbed over his cheek.

Kissing him was fun. He made it uncomplicated, reducing the moment to the buzz between your mouths. Simple, blissful.

“Oh?” Sam muttered.

You separated from Jake and wiped a finger over his lip. He looked dazed, grinning.

You looked over to Sam, who looked amused, lips parted and eyebrow cocked.

“What was that, huh?” Sam asked.

“Why, you jealous?” You giggled.

His eyes widened a bit, and he blinked, “I don’t know if I would—“

“Hmm? You want a kiss, Sam?” you teased. You reached a finger up to graze his chin. Your eyes met, and you could see him blushing even in the yellow lamp light.

“Yeah, if you’re offering,” his smile grew, boyish and cocky.

You didn’t ask Jake if this was fine, mostly because you and Jake weren’t really a thing, you just kissed when you were intoxicated, and also because currently it was a little hard to care about anything other than what felt good. And kissing Sam seemed like a fun little idea.

You shifted to bring your lips to Sam’s, and you were greeted with an inviting hum. Sam brought a hand around your head, keeping it there. He drew away for a half second and came back in, lips parting a bit, something warmer.

You could smell his shampoo—a clean eucalyptus—and his breath was sweet with soda and liquor. You giggled into the kiss, because this was new.

After a minute or so, you felt Jake’s hand on your thigh. It was enough to catch your attention, and you pulled back, looking again to Jake.

“What if I want another?” Jake said, eyes heavy and dark. He looked good , you had to admit. His white shirt had the collar so stretched it showed half his tan chest, and his face was flushed and a bit sweaty. Good.

You shifted in your seat on the floor, turning to face both the brothers instead, sat back on your knees. You looked back and forth.

“You mind if I kiss him, Sam?” You played, looking at Jake’s mouth.

“I—“ Sam started

“Hang on,” Jake pawed at your leg again, “I had you first, c’mere”

You grinned to Sam for a second and bit your lip, just a little, toying with what to do next. Jake had a point.

You sat up on your knees and leaned forward, a hand propped up on Jake’s shoulder, and kissed him with a bit of force. His hand immediately threaded through your hair, which you loved. Chasing what felt best, you moved forward to sit over Jake’s legs, straddling him.

He let out a low groan, soft, but you felt the buzz in your skin.

You were in a slip sun dress, not ideal for straddling really, and a pair of cotton panties. You could feel the dress hitching up a bit and you weren’t sure if your underwear were out, but here’s the thing:

Everyone was well dazed at this point, at least high and at most crossed, and so who cared about the underwear, really, who wasn’t looking for something hedonistic. It was in the air, impossible to avoid, really.

“Oh,” Sam said this time, not as a question any longer.

You liked that. You could tell that you’d turned them both on, caught both of their eyes. All of the warm breath was dizzying.

As the kissing got more intense, Danny and Josh recognized the commotion at the couch end of the room.

“Jeez,” Danny said, grinning, flipping a tarot card through his fingers.

“Is that what we’re doing then, huh?” Josh mused, loud enough for you and Jake to hear. Jake gave him the finger.

You decided this was fun, like, very fun, and you could push it a bit further; you drug your mouth down just under Jake’s jaw, licked and kissed lightly. His breath hitched,

“Mm,” he breathed, “that’s—that’s, ah.”

You enjoyed making Jake flustered. It was hot; you already found him attractive enough to jump at most moments, but this was different. He was gripping your waist with a firm pressure.

“Hey,” You heard Sam say, almost a whisper, and when you pulled away from Jake to look him, he was there, touching your face, pulling you in for another kiss.

This was…something. Sat on Jake’s lap, panties touching his soft denim jeans, leaning just over to kiss his brother. This was intriguing, and to your fuzzy mind, it was hot.

You only entertained it for a moment, pulling back after a few kisses. You looked between them, at Jake’s intense eyes and at Sam’s flushed cheeks.

You rolled off of Jake’s lap and laughed, landing on your back on the floor. You closed your eyes, reached up and felt the soft carpet, and you were sure it wasn’t clean, but that is what showers were for. You wiggled your toes against it and inhaled deeply. You pushed all the air out of your chest, feeling numb in a sweet way.

You could feel Sam and Jake’s eyes on you, and you opened your eyes, they both smiled.

“I think I want some alcohol” you murmured. You bit you lip at an idea. “How about body shots?”

Jake’s eyes rolled back into his head a bit, and Sam’s smile turned devilish.

“Hell yeah,” Sam said, “Whatd’ya want?”

“Malibu,” you said, to which you received two scoffs.

“Hey,” you protested, “it’s delicious.”

Sam stretched to reach the bottle off the table, bringing it down to the floor. You sat up to take it from his hand and playfully shoved him on the floor. You pushed his long sleeve shirt up off his stomach, to just under his chest.

“Woah, woah,” he said, giggling, “damn, okay, I’ll go first.”

“Is your belly button clean?” You asked, raising a brow. You laughed.

“Oh my god,” he put a hand over his face, “Yes, I’d hope so”

You looked at him for a moment before pouring. His tongue poked over his lips, and he looked intrigued. You could just barely see the outline of his him through his sweatpants, but you didn’t feel like teasing him about it.

Jake leaned back against the sofa, pondering the scene before him, taking a small sip of his drink.

You poured a half-shot of the sweet liquor into Sam’s navel, smiling cheek to cheek.

“Fuck, that’s cold,” Sam hissed.

You capped the bottle and sat it beside you, sitting up on your knees. You held your hair back and leaned down, taking the shot from Sam’s stomach. You got most of it from the first go, but had to lick a trail of it that dripped down his side. His skin was hot, and you could feel him tense under you.

Jake laughed, seemingly because he didn’t know how else to react.

“Jesus,” Jake said, smirking, as Sam laid there in a stunned silence,“…Jesus,” he repeated, shaking his head.

“Mmm” you said, wiping your lip with the back of your hand. You sat back on your heels, proud.

“You want another?” Jake purred, removing his shirt.

You thought to yourself: this was a great fucking idea.

“Of course, Jake, I’d never say no to you,” you chuckled.

“Oh bullshit,” he laughed as he laid back, “Pour up, sweetheart.”

Sam just laid back, propped his arm behind his head to watch.

You looked over to Danny and Josh, who seemed now to be watching the scene unfold rather than playing with the deck.

“Go ahead,” Josh extended a hand, “Seems like you’re enjoying yourselves.”

You winked at him, reaching for the Malibu to pour another shot into Jake’s navel. You spilled this one a bit more, and you tried to bend down and lick up the spill before it got onto the carpet. Jake whined, and oh, that was sweet.

You pulled back up and looked at Jake, and he smiled drunkenly at you.

“I love your tongue, I’m gonna be honest,” he said.

“I know,” you laughed.

You put a hand down on his chest and lowered yourself to suck the liquor from his navel. He whined again, and you couldn’t convince yourself to leave it there. You looked over at him, lips hovering above his skin, and planted a wet kiss just above his jeans.

It maybe was a bit much, maybe, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Everything felt heavy and pleasure-seeking; the chemicals had your brain by the ropes.

“Oh—“ Jake groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, “Okay, shit”.

You giggled as you pulled away from him, but you didn’t have time for much more as Sam was pushing you to lay down,

“Your turn,” he said, grabbing the Malibu himself. You were laying next to Jake, almost face to face, and he reached over to run a finger across your arm. He giggled.

“Hey Josh?” You asked, leaning your head back to try and see him, “Would you be so sweet as to bring a couple waters over?.”

“Sure thing, sweetie,” he chucked and shook his head as he got up.

Sam slowly realized that in order to pour a shot on your stomach that your dress would somehow need to move. You could see him puzzling through it in his head, so you helped him by lifting up the soft green material to just below your chest. You didn’t have a bra on, so you figured it best to stop there.

Sam blushed as you raised the dress, nearly dropping the bottle of Malibu, blinking repeatedly as he looked.

“Damn,” Jake said smiling, followed by, “…fuck.”

You looked over at him, giggling. You felt so light, so easy, as you stretched your limbs to loosen up, breathing deeply.

You underwear were a pale pink, and the fact that you were a little wet from all the kissing made you wonder for a second if it showed through the panties. You couldn’t be bothered to think about it much longer, and you breathed deeply again as Sam poured an overflowing shot into your navel.

You craned your neck up and looked at Danny, who was puffing on a new joint. You wiggled your fingers in a wave to him, “Hey, Danny, how ya feeling?” you asked.

He nodded and smiled, “Damn good. Enjoying the view.”

You grinned at him and rolled your head back down to watch Sam. He tucked his hair behind his ear and lowered himself to lick the drink off your stomach. It was too good—heat built in your lower stomach, and your eyes rolled back. He didn’t stop with the shot, and instead licked over your stomach a few times.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard Josh whisper, as he set three waters on the table near your head. You looked up at him,

“Heya, Josh,” you slurred.

“Hey, mama,” he giggled, “you havin’ fun? How you feeling?”

You squirmed a little, back arching off the ground a bit as Sam finished a kiss on your stomach. You felt Jake’s hand on your arm again.

“I won’t lie to you, Josh,” you sighed, “I feel fuckin’ great.”

He laughed more at you, taking a seat on the floor a few feet above your head.

“You seem like it,” Josh agreed, toying with a piece of your hair.

Sam moved his hand from your side and placed it on your naked thigh, holding it. You stilled, glancing down at him.

He moved his hand slowly, slowly, from your thigh to your underwear. His thumb rested gently on top of them, the rest of his fingers grazing your inner thigh.

You immediately became warm everywhere, especially between your thighs, and your eyes squeezed shut. You let out a small gasp. The tone in the room changed, heavier.

Jake made a noise, curious, and then spoke “Watcha doing, Sam?”

Sam looked fixated at your lower body, his eyes darker now too, and he rubbed his thumb in a little circle over your underwear. Your toes curled.

“I dunno,” Sam answered him, “Seems like she likes it,”

Jake rolled to his side, facing you, “You alright with this?”

You thought for only a moment, as it was hard to think of a reason against it. Was this anything serious, no. Would you regret this tomorrow, probably not, who knows. Did it feel good, yeah.

“Mm,” you nodded, “mmhm.”

Josh breathed out a curse word. You heard but could not see Danny move, until you saw him sit on the bed nearest you, legs dangling off the side.

Sam continued the little circles, his other hand sliding up your stomach. You were reeling.

Jake leaned over and kissed you, and everything got so sensual so quickly. You’re not sure how it got to this, or how anyone else was feeling, but they all seemed just about as relaxed as you. The soft rock played smoothly in the background, barely audible. You breathed in the earthy smoke from the air.

Jake let a hand trace over your dress, over your breasts, only barely feeling. It tickled, and you could not help but sigh into his mouth.

Sam was softly rubbing you over the panties, now, and you knew they had to be wet.

“You are,” Sam breathed, “so…” he swallowed, “you look amazing.”

You pushed your hips up a bit to let him know you heard him, and that it felt nice.

Suddenly, you felt more fingertips by the seam of your underwear, and could tell only by reaching up to feel his arm, that they were Jake’s. It was your turn to whine, sort of pathetically, as both boys teased you with soft touches.

You used your left hand to push your dress up above your breasts, feeling free in the humid air.

“God damn,” Josh purred, low, “Can I touch you?”

You broke Jake’s kiss to look up at him. You smiled softly, nodding.

At this point, your cheeks were so hot you knew you must be pink. You loved this, though, loved the attention, the adoration. You also knew this wasn’t all of it—that you still had Danny sitting and waiting, and that felt even better to think about.

Josh reached out gingerly and swiped his finger over your neck, which was oddly sensual. He traced this up to your ear, then your jaw, and to your lips. He thumbed over your bottom lip, and you felt him lean forward and down to kiss you. Even upside-down, it was fantastic.

There was something about kissing him right after Jake, you don’t know what and you won’t dwell on it, but it was something.

Josh kissed more gently than Jake, almost teasing, sweet teasing.

He kissed you only twice before sitting back on the ground, smiling. He let his hand fall down to your chest, where he lightly traced over the swell of your breast, lingering over your nipple.

Sam had pulled the band of your underwear down on your hip a couple inches, and he licked there. You could not hold in the whimper.

Jake put a hand on your lower stomach, resting, a gentle pressure.

“Can I take them off?” Sam asked, lips to your skin, pulling softly at the bands of your panties.

You nodded, “Yeah,” because at this point, what the hell, you were already here, and everything felt too good to stop.

You could hear his exhale, it was shaky, and he removed the garment slowly.

“Fuck,” Sam whined, dropping the panties to the floor.

You felt Jake’s hand move down from your stomach to slip a finger between your legs. You gasped quietly and blinked at Jake.

“Do you like that?” Jake asked softly, his eyes looking half closed from the high.

You nodded, “Kiss me please,” and he obliged.

Sam placed a hand on your thigh, and placed a small kiss there. He let his hand wander up, until it met your heat. To your surprise, he nudged at you and slowly slipped a finger inside. You were so wet, you didn’t need lube in the slightest. The fullness made you moan into Jake’s mouth.

Jake continued to slide his finger over you, gently over the clit up and down. This was too much.

“Fuck,” you separated from Jake, “Oh my god, please,” you knew you were whining, almost whimpering.

Josh looked stunned as you looked up at him. He removed his shirt, and unbuttoned his pants. This made you realize Jake’s pants were also unbuttoned, pushed a bit down so his boxers were most of the way out.

“Hey,” Josh cleared his throat, “Maybe we should move to the bed?”

Everyone stilled at this suggestion, because oh, maybe this was going to go that far. Maybe this was getting a bit carried away, from body shots to fingering was a generous leap, and then to…

You realized they were all looking at you. Sam and Jake had slowly withdrawn their fingers, and Jake had a gentle hand on your hip. You weren’t sure what to think.

Jake tilted your chin toward him.

“Whatcha thinking, sweetheart? S’up to you, we can stop or we could move.”

You blushed, because okay, they were all acknowledging this now.

“Um,” you stuttered, “do you all wanna..stop? Or…?” You giggled, “I don’t know, I’m high.”

They all laughed a little.

“Us too, sweetheart,” Jake said, “S’no worries. I think this is fun, but,” he liked his lips, “what do you want?”

You couldn’t really stop from saying what was on your mind, “I want more of this,” you grinned, “if you’re all ok with it.”

You watched as Jake briefly looked at Sam, they looked at Josh, they looked at Danny, and you couldn’t quite understand the interaction but Jake landed back on you,

“Yeah, of course angel. We’re having fun, nothing too serious. S’good,” he smiled sweetly, genuine.

“Mm,” you nodded, “Okay. To the bed, then.” You shared a smile with Jake, who gave an affirming nod.

Sam got up first, stripping his shirt and adjusting himself in his sweatpants. He raked his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath and gazing down at you.

As Jake maneuvered to get up, he extended a hand to you to help. You took it and pulled yourself up, your dress shifting back into place with gravity.

Josh was up, too, and he extended you a water bottle with a soft smile.

“Thank you, babe,”

Josh blushed at the pet name, “Course, mama, can’t have you feeling bad.”

You laughed into the water bottle and took a long drink. You noticed Jake and Sam had stopped for a drink, too, and everything felt so…genuine. So relaxed. It seemed as if there were no rules, as if you all were just existing in this hotel room, in a little world, feeling good.

NEXT PART

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