#whats a swingers club

[martinevev881]

20 Fun Facts About couples swinging

The Best Solution For Swingers Events As Possible Learn About Today

He also found that The Lifestyle comes with a social hierarchy that took him some time to figure out. Single women, similarly, are like unicorns and have carte blanche. In a role reversal that is surprising to outsiders, it is the single men who tend to lack power in the swinging subculture, and are the most likely to only be tolerated.

The Best Solution For Swingers Events Today That You Could Learn

” but one of the big ones asked was what it was like to see their partner with someone else. For the people being interviewed the decision to get into swinging was very much a mutual decision between both partners. Some of the past participants include former cult members, drag queens, transgender people, strippers and, in the latest episode, swingers. Not only should you not pressure your lady into doing anything she doesn't want to do, you should pretty much let her decide what YOU get to do as well.

Those new to the LifeStyle often find that their preconceptions about the LifeStyle were way off. Swingers are not the middle-aged, overweight 1960's rejects as the stereotype suggests. They are normal people, the same people you see everywhere. They go to the grocery store, to the baseball game and to the movies. Perhaps in a few years, it will be the "in thing" to be a swinger. Today, the LifeStyle is evolving and becoming more mainstream.

Alerts & Newsletters

Making friends might lead to you being invited to a party where you do want to do so. You need to keep in mind that everyone has their own uncertainties and insecurities – so it is very important to be courteous and polite. At swinger parties, you can’t be running around like the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, yelling about how late you are. Keep these in mind, as they help ensure that every party is safe and enjoyable for everyone present. "I'm Catholic. I go to church. That's not who I am. People who look for that stuff have alternative lifestyles. I don't look for it. That's why I don't know about it," Schiappa said.

"Tess was the first woman I ever kissed in my whole life. So you always have an innate curiosity about 'How would another woman feel?' I no longer have that curiosity," Bob said. On the hit ABC show "Desperate Housewives," cheating destroys marriages because spouses lie and get caught. To ask other readers questions aboutTHE ULTIMATE BEGINNERS GUIDE TO THE SWINGING LIFESTYLE FOR COUPLES,please sign up. Let us know what’s wrong with this preview of THE ULTIMATE BEGINNERS GUIDE TO THE SWINGING LIFESTYLE FOR COUPLES by Adams Gate. You can download the paper by clicking the button above.

If you lucked out and happened to live near a swingers club, it probably wasn't a very attractive or "upscale" place. Michael, as usual, was supportive and caring, calming me down from across the world with reminders that this was what we had set out to experience. I was scared that he would change his mind about being with me after I followed through with it, a feeling that took years to subside.

The Plain Fact About Swingers Events That No One Is Telling You

Over the years it has been expanded to take in other alternative lifestyle club listings. You may want to temper your expectations of swingers events. You and your partner won’t always find someone you like, and there is also a chance that you may get rejected. This is a very important guideline at any swingers event you attend. You and your partner will arrive as a couple and leave as one.

Ashley Winters, twenty, is currently attending the University of Maine at Farmington and majoring in creative writing. Most of her time is spent writing or thinking about writing, and the rest is spent reading or fangirling about people who don’t actually exist. She loves God, her family, her friends, many, many fictional people, and pretty much anyone who makes a pun. You can do all the Internet research you want, but you’re not going to really understand what it’s like to be in a swinging environment until you’ve been there.

Schiappa said a hotel manager told him about social media rumors about the alleged "adult activities." The manager said the rumors were inaccurate and harmed the business' reputation, Schiappa said. BURR RIDGE, IL – In February, Burr Ridge Trustee Tony Schiappa denounced "inaccurate rumors" on social media about alleged "adult activities" at a local hotel. A group of swingers have given a rare and honest insight into the inner workings of the taboo lifestyle, revealing the truth behind people’s common misconceptions. Like everything in a relationship, swinging won’t work if you don’t communicate.

Many neighbors may be interested in the LifeStyle but have never done anything of the sort before. If they only knew you were in the LifeStyle, perhaps they would seek your advice or counsel. We have helped to introduce many that were interested in the LifeStyle, but needed a gentle hand to guide them. Thanks to ethical non-monogamy, Michael and I are excellent at identifying and resolving conflict in all aspects of our lives. We’ve been able to reach a point where we don’t even have to establish any rules because kindness comes first in every decision we make—from choosing to kiss a new lover to borrowing each other’s car.

The majority of Las Vegas lifestyle venues and clubs allow solo males into their parties so there are a lot of options for them including the Red Rooster, a classic and famous swingers party. Whispers is a venue and party for Couples and Single Ladies only and remains the only club in Las Vegas dedicated just to Couples. Swinging is also known to take place in semi-public venues such as hotels, resorts, or cruise ships, or often in private homes.

But don't the couples worry that their spouse will find they like someone else better? Just a moment while we sign you in to your Goodreads account. Goodreads helps you keep track of books you want to read.

#whats a swingers club #Youtube

[ivymarquis]

Kiiiiinda wanna make a fetlife account and find the dom/me of my dreams, kiiiiiiiinda dont wanna leave the house

#surely there’s not truly ZERO kink groups for my area given im in a major metroplex with millions of people #but I can’t find munches #people bitch that fetlife is full of frauds and not worth actually engaging with??? #but then everyone says go to fetlife to find the munches???? #i just want someone to top me god damn it #i want the munches as an intermediary step to ingratiate myself to the kink community #going straight to a swinger club feels like a big step #also re: swinger clubs are way more prevalent here than kink clubs at first glance #which the numbers dont seem to add on that one but idk what do I know

[iyqkltyk54]

(iyqkltyk54.tumblr.com) I think I will be teaching her a lot more over the next few years. CONTINUE...

#I became more comfortable with my body because I myself and did some photo shoots #went to swingers clubs #and I had no trouble having sex with strangers #which sounds crazy but it is what it is.

[badjokesbyjeff]

I took my wife to a swingers club, I hope this wasn’t a huge mistake.

So after talking it over for the past few months my wife finally agreed to go with me to a swingers club. She wore a really cute skirt, so I knew she was more excited than she let on.

Anyway, we got there and the hostess greeted us and instantly could tell she was nervous so she offered us the use of a more private area so we could watch some of the other people a bit discreetly while we got comfortable with what happens there.

We ordered a couple of drinks and then got settled in and my wife began to relax bit and I could tell she was enjoying it more and more as time went on.

After a while another couple came over to our area and offered to join us and my wife enthusiastically said yes. Well, a couple drinks later and I’ll tell you my wife was relaxed enough that most of her shots were getting right on target and she was hitting her driver a solid 175 yards.

Anyway we’ll be going back to top golf next week and now I’m afraid she’s really getting interested in the lifestyle. A big thanks to the staff at Top Golf for turning the Mrs into a swinger. Now she’s shopping for a whole new wardrobe.

#funny #jokes #humor #lol #comedy

[steviesbicrisis]

Steve’s best relationship wasn’t even a relationship. He could barely call it a fling, a flirt. They never even went on a date. They never kissed.

Steve still thinks of it as the best whatever-it-is he has ever had with someone.

At the beginning it was mostly infuriating, how quickly Eddie managed to win the kids over, compared to Steve’s months of work as babysitter/nailbat swinger/monster fighter. Steve had to literally bleed multiple times to get an ounce of respect, Eddie only had to run a nerdy club about fictional bleeding and monster-fighting.

Then somehow, and Steve still has trouble pinpointing when and how it happened, everything changed.

Taking the kids back home from hellfire became something he impatiently waited for.

He and Eddie would barely talk for a few minutes and he would find himself replaying the conversation in his head for days. Anything he could say to get a reaction out of Eddie became fundamental, and if he started by picking subjects to piss him off, he ended learning about Eddie’s favorites, because few minutes after hellfire were never enough and Steve needed Eddie to talk as much as possible, until the kids were begging to drop it and go home.

Steve never questioned the change, most likely out of fear. He doesn’t think he ever was clueless, just really scared about what would potentially mean to be staring at another dude’s eyelashes as he goes on a rant about why Ozzy Osbourne is the best artist of his generation. Or blush whenever said dude would call him “baby”, or “sweetheart”.

Steve convinced himself that the thing he and Eddie were having was as good as it was going to get, nothing more.

Then Chrissy Cunningham died, Eddie ran, and Steve realized that the thing will never be enough for him.

He couldn’t not have Eddie. Not watch him as he entertains a bunch of freshmen, as he stomps with his worn out sneakers on top of forniture, as he puts his terrible music on to push away anyone who doesn’t care enough about him to stay.

Steve needed to see Eddie being alive, doing what his heart desires, and he needed to be next to him when he does.

Obviously, this realization came at the worst possible time.

Steve tried to tell him so many times: when they found him at the boathouse, when he was hiding at refer Rick’s house, when they were taking a stroll in the upside down, and even when they were driving a stolen trailer to a gunshop.

But, it seemed, Eddie had come to a realization just as important and he tried his best to avoid Steve at every given chance.

Steve tried to initiate the conversation as Eddie did his best to run away from it. And he ran until Steve had no chances left to tell him how he actually felt.

———

Steve doesn’t know if he’s allowed to say he lost something he never had. To mourn a relationship he never began. A partner that, technically, never became a partner.

After Eddie dies, Steve has no one to be next to but he can’t say he ever did.

Steve just exists waiting. He can’t tell if he’s waiting for the pain to go away or for Eddie to jump out of a bush and yell “ah! I got you sucker!! By the way, I’m in love with you too.”

For obvious reasons, that never happens.

What does happen, is a call.

It’s a normal Tuesday, as normal as you could define it after Hawkins almost collapsed into the upside down. Steve got into a routine, between checking on the ones at the hospital, helping out at the shelter, allowing Robin to check on him to see if he’s still alive.

The call happens while Robin is doing her kitchen check up - aka making sure he has food and that he’s eating it-, so she picks the phone like she did a million times before.

“Harrington residence, this is Robin” she says, cheerfully.

Steve doesn’t pay much attention to it as he’s folding his dad’s old clothes that intends to donate to the shelter, until he hears Robin’s loud gasp.

“What is it? Is it the hospital? Is it Max?” He rushes to the other room where Robin is.

She doesn’t answer but she gives him a look as she passes him the receiver.

Steve goes quiet, a million thoughts going through his head as he takes the phone from Robin.

He’s still unprepared when he hears that unmistakable voice “Baby”.

Steve gasps for breath “Eddie?”

Is that really you? What happened? Are you hurt? Isn’t this impossible? Is what goes on in Steve’s head, but he ends up just asking “are you okay?”

He can hear a chuckle, Eddie’s wicked chuckle, a further confirmation that it is him, “I’m- hanging in there… are you okay?”

Steve finds the question absurd. He isn’t the one who got left in the upside down, the one that got eaten by demonic bats, the one who died before Steve had the chance to tell him how he felt.

He answers truthfully nonetheless, “I’m… I’m not okay.”

“I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“Please Eddie, come quick.”

“I’ll break the sound barrier for you.”

#if you can’t tell #im in my RWRB era #if you watched the movie then you might like this? #just felt inspired honestly #that ‘baby’ lives inside my head rent free #also Kas Eddie we always love to see him #basically Eddie and Steve got close during the school year but Steve realized his feelings only during the events of season 4 #Eddie dies but comes back #because this is the only way I can cope with it #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and eddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #platonic stobin #robin buckley

[crystallilytarot]

MDNI! It's pretty unhigged. The roles can be reversed, if you prefer it that way.

Your first rough or unusual night together with your future partner

Pile 1

I don't really see you will be very kinky honestly. But I see you or your partner want to be in control. I feel a little more like it's your partner want to be dominant. I see you will talk about this before, and they will prepare everything, maybe even read about it. They can have already some experience, but still, they want this to be enjoyable for both of you. I feel it will happen when you are already in the relationship for a while, can be that it will only happen after marriage. They will be so good at this, they will sweep you off your feet. Maybe you will have doubt before or you will be a little nervous, but you will be really turned on. I can see a little semi-public thing. Maybe it's just their words and dominant behaviour, or you will make out a little in some hidden area. For some of you, it can be not so hidden, like in a balcony. I feel a little brattiness too, like you will act that way, just for them to put you in your place. Not very roughly, but it will be hot. I don't really see hardcore bdsm, it's more like their behaviour and words. And I feel like a fanfiction boss daddy, sugar daddy, hot mafia but secretly sweet type. Or mommy, whatever you prefer.

Pile 2

Oh I think you can be into some voyeorism or exhibitionism. Just take what's resonates, but can be a swinger club, partner switching, cuckolding. But if it's not your cup of tea, can be that you will make a homemade video of yourself and post it on some adult site. Maybe just pictures and maybe your faces won't be showing. Or just watching porn together and recreating it. And if you are not together, definitely sexting, video calling, masturbating together. I think you will use toys too, maybe on each other's body too. All kind of tools, vibrating panties, vibrating cock ring and a whole set of bondage stuff, blindfolds. Maybe you will even do mutual masturbation if you are together, so not just when one of you travel somewhere else. You will be very open and confident in front of each other. Swinger club maybe isn't the first unusual thing you will do, so I think it will start with some sexting, sending nudes when you are away from each other. Or with using toys. I think one of you will be in control usually, but it can change from time to time. You feel like equal partners, equally open and kinky too. And you will communicate before, after, during.

Pile 3

I feel you are pretty open with your desires or if not so much, maybe this partner will make you safe and you will be open with them early in the relationship. It can be that you will only talk about this for a while, and you will only try it later. One of you can be a little more innocent or inexperienced, but it's actually good, because the other person will like it very much. They can even have a corruption kink. Even if you are not so innocent, maybe you will act that way, it will be your game, maybe your favourite foreplay even. So it can be a student and teacher roleplay too, or anything else in this kind of dynamic, where one of you are more innocent. A little possessiveness or jealous sex can happen too. Again, it's maybe just a roleplay, but both of you will like it. It's not really extreme bdsm, but one of you can be more in control. A lot of touches, cuddles, and everything with hands. Fingering, handjobs. Lots of juices, but I think split too. Sloppy bj, licking each other's whole body. Splitting in each other's mouth. And some cum play, facial. Tasting each other's cum when kissing after oral. Maybe for some of you a little bit of petplay. A little pregnancy kink or more like breeding kink. Definitely multiple orgasm, overstimulation. I think your partner like to be in control in this way, giving you lots of orgasms, until you can't take it anymore.

#18+ tarot #tarot #free tarot #pick a card #pick a pile

[badbtssmut]

Requests info

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Spicy film scene with actor Jungkook

Freeuse girlfriend with virgin friend Taehyung

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About author

Call me miss, mommy, mami or bae, honey, any petname. 21+. Female. Work in marketing. Bias is Taehyung. Sorry too lazy to tag my works. Avoid asking personal and weird questions like: Is my virginity intact or did i bang the whole football team.

About blog

This is a BTS smut blog. I love writing out of pocket fics or freaky shit, you’re on the wrong blog if you want to read fluffy romance 🤭Please don’t trauma dump, or send me personal sex stories. I am here for writing only. Also do not send me inappropriate pics of the members (like bulge pics) or sexualize the members outside of my fics.

Minors please don’t interact.

Requests

Jungkook

Taehyung

Jimin

Seokjin ; Stepfather. Bachelor fuck. Boyfriend’s dad. Military bf. Professor.

Namjoon ; Rough sex. Best friend’s dad. Another best friend’s dad. Pussydrunk.

Yoongi: Changing room.

OT7 ; Freeuse with Hybe staff. Cheerleader. Pokernight.

Maknae line ; Freeuse manager.

Multimembers ; Vmin breeding. Vmin freeuse. Breastfeeding Taekook. Swingers Taekook. Namjin stepdaughter fuck. Public mall Vmin. Vminhoseok party. Friends Taekook.Taekook Same bed. Taekook club. Vmin bus.Taekook roommates.

My works

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Hostclub

Jungkook

Police officer

Ex with benefits

Sticky fingers

Sticky fingers (hyung line)

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Freeuse girlfriend series:

Namjoon’s tutorial

Their turns ft Namjoon

Jungkook’s turn

Taehyung’s turn

OT7

Freeuse movie night

Birthday party

Illegal sex party

Cult ritual

Maknae line

So what?

Upcoming

— Surprise 3K maknae line special

— Rewrite poker fic night into non incest

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#bts smut #bts requests #bts x reader #taehyung smut #bts smut requests #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #jimin smut #namjoon smut #seokjin smut #Yoongi smut #smut bts #poly smut bts

[bpdjennamaroney]

Will and Emma are having relationship problems because Will is not taking COVID seriously enough ("Therapy"). The next day Will takes his frustration out on the glee club and accuses them of not taking COVID seriously enough (Finn doesn't understand germ theory and Brittany is QAnon.)

Will says, "You guys lack historical perspective. Back in the 80s and 90s there was a young gay composer named Jonathan Larson who saw disease and suffering all around him. When he found out he was afflicted with AIDS, he put all of his pain into the timeless and unreproachable work of art, RENT. RENT taught us about community and caring for one another and more importantly...it taught us that musicals can rock." Will sings the title song from RENT with Artie and Finn.

That night: Santana is fed up with lockdown restrictions and sneaks out of her house to visit Brittany ("Out Tonight"). Brittany is planning a big show that will blow the whole COVID conspiracy wide open. She previews it for Santana ("Over the Moon"). Santana is freaked out and breaks up with Brittany. Santana can excuse ignoring disease prevention guidelines but she draws the line at being Republican about it.

Also that night, Will tries to sleep with Emma but she's too COVID-cautious ("Green Green Dress"). She says maybe they need some time apart because of their different priorities.

While grocery shopping, Will runs into Holly Holliday. Holly is lighting scented candles in the middle of the store but for some reason all of them are defective/unscented ("Light My Candle.") Holly propositions Will. Will says he's seeing Emma, and Holly admits she also has a boyfriend.

"I'm sure we can work something out," Holly says. "Meet me at the basement of the swinger's club at 9:00."

Will shows up at the swinger's club and spots his old rival, Brian Ryan (the Neil Patrick Harris character). They glare at each other, then confront each other and it's revealed that Brian is Holly's boyfriend ("Tango Maureen.") She knew Brian and Will were old high school rivals and set all this up because she's into the whole enemies-to-lovers thing.

Will scolds her. "That is so cruel and manipulative of you. I can't believe you would do this."

Holly tries to convince him to live life to the fullest. ("Another Day.")

Eventually Will thinks about what proud openly gay icon Jonathan larson would do, and he has a threesome with Holly and Brian ("Contact," I'm afraid.)

The morning after, Will can't believe he kind of cheated on Emma/hooked up with Brian and really enjoyed it ("Real Life").

On Monday, Brittany and Santana are still broken up but sitting on opposite sides of the choir room is emotionally difficult for them ("Without You.")

On the way home from school, Kurt and Blaine are like "Aren't you glad we're not like Brittany and Santana, breaking up every 5 seconds over something stupid?" and they sing "I'll Cover You" but then they break up over something stupid.

Will contemplates his sexual awakening, torn between Holly+Brian and Emma ("Johnny Can't Decide/Come To Your Senses" mashup).

The tension in glee club is unavoidable.

"Mr. Shu, this is ridiculous," Rachel says. "Ever since you brought up RENT and Jonathan Larson, it's been nonstop hookups and fighting. Also, Jonathan Larson wasn't gay and he didn't die of AIDS! He was straight and died of some random heart thing."

"What? Jonathan Larson wasn't gay? So my sexual experimentation was under false pretenses?"

Will immediately calls and breaks it off with Brian and they argue ("What You Own").

The next day Santana says "I can't believe we caused this much fuss over a straight man, who died of a random heart thing."

"Wait, just because he was straight doesn't make his words less powerful," Finn says.

"You're right," Will says. "Maybe I'm bisexual." ("Louder than Words.") And then they all sing La Vie Boheme.

At some point Santana and Mercedes sing "Take Me or Leave Me" as their glee club presentation. (It's a four-part episode.) Also I think Gwyneth would have fun with Today 4 U, don't kill me.



#glee #rent #jonathan larson

[sincerelywhistler]

✨PART 2✨ of things my husband does that are so violently Asher Coded, I had to compile a written list and turn them into headcanons:

part 1

- Draws himself a bath, pours a glass of wine, disappears with an entire box of cookies. Calls me into the bathroom 5 minutes later to sit with him because “there are too many cookies, I need help”

- Asks to be read a bed time story with full expectations of you actually reading him a bed time story

- disaster bi

- Gets flustered whenever our usual pizza delivery guy shamelessly flirts with him and I do nothing but watch him crash and burn

- Slides around the house in his socks. Has fallen down a few times because of it

- Lives in and breathes in and will die in his From Under The Cork Tree hoodie

- Already canon but has a million watt smile that could power a small country alone oh my god

- Unironically says “oh my lanta” ???

- Scarily in touch with others’ emotions. You don’t even have to speak and he knows exactly what’s up

- Lays on the bed kicking his feet like a teenage girl when texting or FaceTiming his bestie who is also- as you may recall- named David

- me: *bumps into an inanimate object*

him: *squaring up all big and tough* “THIS GUY FUCKIN BOTHERING YOU BABE? THIS GUY BOTHERING YOU??”

- Accidentally nearly Engaged In Activities with a group of swingers (he works at a coastal country club as an event coordinator and was asked to deliver drinks to someone’s party boat thing, didn’t see the instructions to leave the order at the dock, didn’t know why the pineapple decoration on the locked door was upside down when he knocked….)

- Hands always on me and his closest friends in some capacity while out in public

- Oh is it raining outside oh no can’t get your shoes wet let me just HEAVE YOU INTO THE AIR AND CARRY YOU TO SAFETY EVEN IF ITS ONLY TO WALK 10 FEET (he’s 6’3”, I’m 5’11”… it’s a spectacle)

#y’all clearly liked part 1 of this silliness #and I’m quite a fan of asher #and Fox I guess #I suppose he’s alright #but don’t tell him I said that he can’t know that I like him #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted fandom #redacted asher #asher talbot #redacted ash

[readychilledwine]

Exhibition and Voyeurism

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

Exhibition is the sexual arousal of being watched or looked at naked or while performing a sexual act. Exhibition is a kink that most of us actually tend to have to some degree. We can live it out in a place as simple as in front of a mirror with just our partner, by partaking in group sex, or in some places, there are clubs you can attend that attract the swinger and BDSM lifestyle that allow exhibition shows and scenes between couples. This kink is just one side of a very fun and exciting coin.

Voyeurism is being aroused by watching others during sexual acts or naked, and that is the second side of this coin. Voyeurs can find their kicks through a few different methods, but a common one we as a society have stopped associating with both of these kinks are strip clubs. A Voyeur may also be someone who partakes in cuckolding.

I've used exhibition/voyeurism in a few fics before since it is one of my favorite kinks to learn and write about. If you are interested in those, let me know, and I can send you some links 💕

💕 Peep the Valentines Day List Here 💕

💜Read Drumming Song Here💜

As always- NSFW below cut

Rhysand x TamlinsSister!reader

Warnings - could be seen as dubcon in nature (use of sex pollen), Rhys having to wear his mask, public sex, mentions of watching public sex, reader is used by Amarantha to send message to Tamlin, no mentions of seeing Tamlin during the act though, inferred power play with 3 people, forgot to send this to a friend to have them find errors, so forgive me.

Rhys kissed your shoulder, his eyes slightly haunted as he stepped back. “It's been a month,” he whispered gently. “She wants it done tonight.”

Tonight, of course she did after forcing you, Tamlin, and Lucien to watch Feyre beaten into a pulp. You swallowed heavily, stilling your mind while knowing what was to come. “She's doing this to hurt him,” a small smirk came to Rhysand's lips, causing you to glare. 

“You practically came to the idea of this not that long ago.” His hands were on you within a second of you turning away from him. Arms wrapped you tightly into him. “This is about your safety. Your protection. She believed you are my toy, therefore will not touch you due to my loyalty.” His voice had dripped down to a soft purr, echoing from your ear to the rest of your body. “You know I would not ask this of you if it wasn't absolutely necessary.”

Wine appeared before you. It reflected a soft golden shimmer and smelled faintly of citrus. Rhys picked it up, bringing it to your lips as he stared at you in the mirror. “You were so good for me during the Rite. Just be my good girl one more night, darling.” 

He pressed the cool glass against your lips, tilting it in silent command. “Trust me.”

You nodded, eyes watering slightly. You would never live this down. It would forever stain your history, stain the Spring Court's history. You allowed him to force the sweet liquid into your mouth, swallowing it as he placed a kiss to your temple. 

By time two shadows were done dressing you, your skin had started on fire. 

Heat pooled your body like a fevered dream making everything hazy. Every brush of their hands on your skin was heaven. 

But Gods when Rhys came in, when your mate came into the room smelling of power and seduction, you were instantly on him.

 Rhys smiled, hands going to your hips as he scented your arousal. You could faintly hear your brother growling, hear Amarantha's cruel voice, but all that mattered was Rhysand. “Are you ready, darling?” 

This wasn't one of Amarantha's usual parties where the air was stiff with tension and hatred. No, she had tapped into the more animalistic side of fae, allowing drinking, fucking, and fighting. 

You were currently perched on Rhysand's lap, core dripping as you watched two females eating each other out as if they'd found water after months in the Day Court's deserts. 

The gown you were in was completely see through, leaving none of your body to the imagination. You could hear Rhysand growl each time you two were approached at your high table. 

His hands had begun to roam. Squeezing your breasts, your plush thighs, you ass. 

You had begun to subconsciously rock on his thigh as need began settling into your bones. Rhysand's hand moved down, cupping your sex as he began placing tender kisses along your throat. “Good girl,” he purred. “Need help, baby?” You nodded eagerly, gasping as he spread your legs so you had one on each side of his thighs, opening you up to the room with only a shimmering fabric barely hiding you. 

He took one of your arms, forcing it behind his head and pulled your back to his chest.

A long finger circled your clit, causing you to moan loudly. You felt some eyes snapping over to the both of you, locking in on where that hand played with your soaked pussy. Looking over with flushed cheeks, you watched as Helion took a heavy drink, his eyes tracking each movement of Rhysand's hand, his body stirring with each moan and gasp you released. 

It took but seconds for you and Rhysand to be the main show as his finger began teasing your entrance. 

The Lord of Night and the Rose of Spring.

Death and Life.

The idea of you two was erotic alone, but seeing it had some of the fae in the room on their knees, as if worshiping every soft plea that left your mouth. 

When Rhysand finally pushed two fingers in, you couldn't help the scream of his name. You went to turn your head, only for his other hand to grip your hair, keeping your vision locked on where the other fae where fucking in a group. 

Whatever he had given you had dropped your inhibitions. It had relaxed you so completely your mind had forgotten why this was being done. You began riding his fingers in time with a pretty female sitting on a male's face. His fingers were curling, hitting that perfect spot and sending spark after spark through you. Your slick was dripping down his hand making him chuckle darkly in your ear. “Look at you, baby. Look at you getting off with all the High Lords watching you. All of their advisors watching you.” You whined in despair as he took his fingers out of you, forcing you to stand long enough for him to take his cock out. 

His beautiful heavy cock just waiting to plunge into you. To feel you. He sat back down, keeping your back to his chest before sinking you down fully on him. 

You came shamelessly as he bottomed out, but had no time to rest as he ripped the thin material of your dress off, leaving your body bare to all in attendance and began thrusting into you. 

Eyes were tracking each bounce of your breasts, each drop of sweat, each sweet moan causing your lips to part. Rhys retitled your head to where Amarantha sat watching. Her gaze was predatory, dangerous, and filled with lust.

In a normal situation, it would have disgusted you, but as you rode him, as every inch of you stretched out around him further fueling the fire in your lower tummy, she didn't matter. 

No one mattered.

It was just you and him, putting on a show for anyone to see and enjoy.

Your inner walls began twitching and pulsing around Rhys causing you to beg. Your eyes rolled with each movement, mouth falling open as he fucked you stupid. 

“Do not be rude, Rhysand. Allow our poor y/n to cum.” 

Rhys kissed below you ear before licking the pointed shell. “Cum for me, not for anyone else, for your mate.” 

Stars clouded your vision as you screamed his name, mind falling into an even deeper has as his thrusts grew sloppy inside of you before he followed behind. 

It was then that he bit your pulse point hard enough to trigger another orgasm, allowing your body to milk every last drop from him. Rhys allowed you to collapse against him, giving you a few moments before he lifted you and used magic to fix his pants. 

He fully lifted you bridal style then, nodding to Amarantha as he carried you back to his room. 

“Again,” you whispered to him, hand finding his face. “I need more.”

Rhys kissed your palm when it reached his cheek. “I will give you your fill in our room, y/n Darling. Just let me get you away from all those eyes first.”

You nodded sadly, peering up at him with puppy eyes and making his steps falter. “What's wrong?”

“I liked it. Again.”

The soft demand had His gaze going dark. “You will be the death of me, y/n. But if it is at the cost of this perfect cunt, then who I am to complain?”

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu

Rhys taglist:

@tothestarsandwhateverend @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

Valentines Day Taglist

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhysand fic #rhysand x tamlin sister!reader #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand acotar #rhys x reader #rhys acotar #rhys x y/n #rhys x you #readychilledwine valentines day bingo

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 17

PREVIOUS

1. You do not talk about the Speakeasy in the basement 2. You DO NOT TALK about the Speakeasy in the basement

Those are two of the three cardinal rules of Eden’s Twilight both as a VIP customer and as an employee. The rest are more suggestions or requests that are fairly malleable depending on the night and the patron.

Andrew himself had broken the latter half of ‘Don’t be a dick or try anything with your dick on the club premises’ multiple times with Roland and then he’d broken it even further and with more vigor with Neil.

Roland had tried to bill them for the furniture in the break room and Andrew had been more than happy to use some of the blackmail he’d been holding onto to make it go away despite Neil’s repeated attempts to try and pay for it. “It’s my fault Andrew, I asked you to lay me there.” And “Allison didn’t warn me that it could stain fabric, she said it transferred really easily onto skin.” Had been waved away as Roland was happy to have those particular bits of blackmail out of play.

That being said Roland had come in despite the clear ‘occupied’ signs on the door and interrupted some of Andrew’s finest work a few weeks ago (His from? Excellent. His pacing? Excellent. His angle? Excellent. The noises Neil had been making? Perfection.)

Roland still couldn’t look at Neil without his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t so Andrew had a guest pass for the speakeasy waiting for him at the bar to make up for that wandering eye.

Which meant that he could take FF down to the speakeasy tonight. He was sure that FF would pass muster and be able to come without a pass after the night, he was just the kind of guy that they liked to have down there.

It would all be so simple if it weren’t for the third cardinal rule of Eden’s Twilight.

3. Nicky Hemmick is not allowed to know about the Speakeasy.

When Nicky had worked at Eden’s he’d been popular but he’d also talked about all sorts of secrets. He spilled tea like Aaron had spilled drinks.

So the club had done what it had to do in order to protect the incredibly select and private feature of their club:

They lied about what was down there and then they committed to that lie.

So the day came and Nicky was looking at the door with a guard next to it, “Where does that go?” He asked.

“It’s an exclusive club for straight swingers to meet and swap.” The lie rolls off of Roland’s tongue like the truth.

Nicky made a disgusted face. “Straight people.” He said shaking his head and then Roland swiftly made some purchases to sell his lie and offered the guard Frank an additional $5 an hour if he was willing to change his uniform.

Nicky Hemmick has never gone near the door since then and it is considered a success for the record books by all of the staff and VIPs in the know.

Which is why Andrew had needed a plan to pry Nicky off of FF for the night.

Nicky and FF had spent the entire time at Sweeties elbowing one another and laughing (well Nicky laughed and FF tolerated all of Nicky’s jokes and implications stoically), Nicky had been sticking with FF like he was one of the various flecks of glitter that stuck to FF after the freshman had slept in Nicky’s bed.

Before he’d gotten FF dressed up Nicky had made a solemn oath, “You and me Smithy, we’ll dance the night away!” Nicky had exclaimed.

“I’m good thanks.” FF said, “You know what will happen if I dance.” He says and Nicky grimaces as if remembering something painful. He wonders if FF just isn’t a good dancer or if the consequences of someone bumping into him were as painful as they were when someone bumped into Andrew on the dance floor.

“Well, then you and me will just have to spend the entire night chatting in the booth Smithy!” Nicky had smiled as if he wasn’t fucking up Andrew’s plans to take FF down to the speakeasy where they could sit without the headache inducing music that Nicky, Aaron, and even Kevin (he claims Stockholm syndrome) claim to love.

So, Andrew had needed to find a way to get Nicky to a state where he would be compelled to dance and leave FF alone for the night.

There are exactly three sure-fire ways to get Nicky Hemmick to become a slave to the dance floor.

1. You have to play his favorite music and Andrew doesn’t know if there’s enough blackmail in the world to get Roland to force a DJ to play nothing but Nicki Minaj’s Super Bass, Gasoline by Daddy Yankee, or Usher’s DJ’s Got Us Fallin’ In Love (his three current obsessions) on a loop for the entire night. (Bust)

2. You are Erik Klose and you want to dance. This option was unlikely due to Erik currently (as far as Andrew knew) being in Germany. (Bust)

3. Nicky has taken some party drugs. (Feasible)

So, Andrew may have been the one that had reminded both his brother and Nicky about Cracker Dust on their way to the car. Neil shoots him a look he ignores because Andrew hasn’t really pushed or mentioned Cracker Dust in almost a year.

It was something that they had all gotten off of for various reasons the year prior.

Neil had never started, Andrew had his deal with Neil, Kevin wanted to cut back on the substances he was abusing and he was not going to be giving up alcohol anytime soon, Aaron had needed a squeaky clean image for the trial, and Nicky had given it up in solidarity.

Aaron had been bemoaning that he had forgotten to get any the last four times they had gone to Eden’s so, really, Andrew was just being a thoughtful brother when he’d reminded his cousin.

So when they park the Maserati and head into the club it is no shock that after the first round of drinks (Neil & FF both had bottled waters) Nicky whips out the sandwich baggy he had gotten from FF and hands Aaron his share.

In a turn of good luck a bass heavy remix of Flo Rida’s Club Can’t Handle Me started playing and the only thing Nicky did was squeal, kiss FF’s cheek, and drag Aaron out onto the dance floor.

And then there were three.

***

FF had NOT been able to figure out where the hell the bathrooms were.

It might be due to the fact that his stomach is trying to stage a revolt against him but he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to read English. There are no other languages around  for him to see if this illiteracy has spread to other languages.

He wonders it he brought out his katakana flashcards if the lines would blur or if his brain would be so filled with the unrelenting desire to go to the bathroom that his Professor would wonder how he ever got full marks on his midterm.

Maybe clubs didn’t have signs that pointed to the bathroom? Was he supposed to go up and ask that bartender that Andrew kept going to? Was it like a gas station where he had to ask for keys?

Oh god Captain Neil just asked him something.

When the hell did Nicky lea-

Oh Dj’s Got Us Falling In Love is playing. Nicky is definitely on the dance floor. FF has yet to escape Nicky grinding on him whenever this song happens to come on the radio he is sure that someone right now out on the dance floor is suffering the same fate that he has 3-4 times a week.

He wonders if Nicky will call Erik like he usually does when it comes on outside of the club.

At least it’s super hard to hear in this club if Nicky takes a seat next to him and starts gushing to Erik in German.

Oh god Captain Neil just asked him something and he just remembered that this would be the second time Captain Neil has asked him something.

If there was one weakness in FF’s foreign language arsenal it is that he has a hard time processing language when surrounded by loud sounds. If he knows what language they’re talking in he can sometimes get by on reading lips (does that count as another language? Probably not) but Captain Neil speaks like four languages fluently and his Spanish is getting better and better every-

Oh god Captain Neil and Andrew just asked him something and he still hasn’t answered the other two times.

“I can’t hear you!” He calls out and hopes they can at least understand HIM.

Andrew rolls his eyes and bumps Captain Neil’s shoulder with his own. He sees Andrew whisper something to Captain Neil before pointing somewhere in the distance.

OH

They had noticed his obvious plight and were going to show him to the bathroom!

That was nice.

Maybe Nicky had asked them before his songs came on.

Andrew and Captain Neil are out of the booth and Andrew juts his chin off in a certain direction. FF does NOT need to be told twice, he’s more than happy to follow Andrew to the bathroom like some pre-schooler following their mom. These are desperate times.

So Andrew and Captain Neil guide him across the dance floor and…sure enough Nicky is grinding on some other guy who looks like he’s in heaven and he thinks he can see Aaron’s pale arms flying uncoordinatedly all over the place somewhere in the middle distance.

FF finds himself with Captain Neil and Andrew in a hallway. There’s a guard in front of the door with a bizarre pineapple shirt (why are they all upside down?) on but FF hadn’t even dressed himself tonight so he really shouldn’t judge.

“Minyard, Josten, and one guest.” He can hear Andrew say now that they’re away from the loud thrum of the music.

How fancy is this bathroom?

The man looks at Andrew, Captain Neil, and then FF. There is a visible head-to-toe inspection when he hits FF and whatever the man sees must past muster.

“Acceptable. You know the rules.”

Rules?

Wash your hands?

Don’t piss on the floor?

Let staff know if the urinal is low on ice?

FF hoped the rules would be posted in easy to understand pictures because his ability to read the English language was still heavily hampered at the moment.

Why is the handle to the door an upside pineapple too? Did someone install it wrong? Also Eden’s does not give off a very tropical vibe so why would they pick that?

The door opens and-

Oh.

Those are stairs.

Oh.

Andrew’s taking him to the basement.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

Per Your Requests:

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#Fluent Freshman AU #Neil at the booth: Hey Smith how you doing? #FF staring through time and space: .... #Neil to Andrew in Russian: I don't think he's having a lot of fun up here #Andrew to Neil: He said it isn't really his scene #Neil turning back to FF: Hey Smith do you wanna go somewhere quieter? #FF briefly stares at Neil before his gaze returns to the far off future: ..... #Andrew: I don't think he can hear you #Neil: Hey Smith! Can you hear me? #FF looking at them again: I Can't Hear You! #Andrew: Told you. #AFTG #AFTG OC #AFTG AU #My Fics #FF - Pt.17

[chelledolly]

what if there was a brainwashing swingers club where daddies bring their dolls to slowly be tranced without them noticing and all the dumb dollies get together in a big pink bed to touch and rub up against each other and swap outfits while they think it's their idea before they all completely drop asleep to be dreamy dolls for all their daddies?????

#dumbification #hypno girl #hypno fantasy #hypno pet #hypno sub #hypno toy #hypnoslut #brainwashing #hypnofetish #hypnosis #mind control

[teacup-captor]

For the Sherlock & co drawing request: Sherlock and John staging as the couple in the swinger club - in the cardboard box part 2 - instead of Marianna and John, because that’s what my tiny johnlock heart is craving for! 💀

John's DEFINITELY so cool about this, he is so totally not gripping at the table for dear life, and none of them are blushing in the SLIGHTEST at John calling Sherlock his husband!

#sherlock & co #sherlock and co #sherlock & co. #sherlock and co.

[andysorbit]

Home Part Two: Crazy for You (M)

non idol!Jaehyun x black fem!reader

genre: smut, light romance, angst

warnings: light violence, jealousy, racism, foul language, scrappy couple, arguing, unprotected sex, overstimulation, breeding kink, spitting, dirty talk, MC says the N word (the reader is black as stated above)

word count: 4k

part 1 can be found here

"Sir, can you tell the woman you came here with to leave my man alone?" You ask peevishly.

The music is a bit loud and you're definitely tipsy. Confronting this random man was not on your bingo card for the night but life happens.

"What?" he yells.

"Tell the bitch you came here with to leave my man alone!" You yell.

"She said she wanted him and I wasn't really paying either of you that much attention. I didn't know you were together," he replies casually over the music.

"What?" You yell back.

"Our marriage is fucked. I don't wanna lose her and this is what she wants. I told her to bring back whoever she wanted," he replies. He's obviously wasted.

"Well, I'm kinda getting the feeling your marriage fell apart because she was already trying to get dick from men that were spoken for so I don't think this swingers shit is gonna work."

"You don't know shit about my wife."

"I know she can't take a fucking hint when a man who's clearly spoken for and is not interested keeps sending back the drinks she's trying to buy him."

Jaehyun comes up beside you, "What the fuck did I say, Y/n?" he yells as he takes you by the arm.

"You need to teach your girl some manners."

"I think you need to worry about the woman you came here with because she's definitely not into you and her manners aren't much better," Jaehyun shoots back. He's obviously trying to de-escalate the situation but even he has his limits.

You're not sober enough to care.

"You need to stop being a fucking cuck. Your wife is working harder to get dick from a stranger than she is to save your goddam marriage."

The man snaps, "I'll fuck you and your boyfriend up!"

"I'm not fighting you, dude. Y/n, we're leaving now," Jaehyun bellows over the music as he drags you towards the exit.

"He could fold your shit easy! He knows martial arts!"

"I swear to God, Y/n, if you don't stop talking."

Once outside, he continues to pull you along, "What the fuck, Y/n?"

"Don't yell at me! I didn't do anything!" You yell back.

You're almost to the car before the guy comes out, "Come back here and fucking fight me, Bruce Lee!"

"You see why I don't fucking like taking you clubbing? This shit happens every goddam time. Go wait in the car," he sighs as he pushes the car key into your hand.

"But I wanna watch you beat his ass."

"If I'm lucky, I won't have to."

"But that's not realistic. He's raging and-"

"I SAID GO GET YOUR ASS IN THAT FUCKING CAR AND WAIT FOR ME, Y/N, AND IF YOU DON'T HOP TO IT, I'M GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS TOO!"

"Okay, damn. Fine."

You scurry over to the car and get in. You watch Jaehyun try to talk the guy down and you start the car and roll the windows down so you can hear better.

"Listen, I really feel like you need to calm down. I'm not interested in fighting you. Just get your girl and go home or go back inside or whatever. I'm keeping the peace so just let it go and try to enjoy the rest of your night," Jaehyun's tones is calm and damn he looks good.

The guy attempts to shove Jaehyun but he doesn't budge.

He gives the man a sympathetic smile, "I'm telling you, man, this is not gonna go down the way you're hoping it will."

"Come on, Bruce Lee. Show me some of your fancy moves!"

"Dude, I'm literally Korean. I get that you're pissed but you don't have to be racist."

The man throws a punch and Jaehyun catches his fist, "This is really no way to treat the man that you were gonna let fuck your wife."

"Fight me you fucking bitch!" the man is raging. He swings at Jaehyun and just like before, Jaehyun catches his fist. He turns to give you a very bitter glare and you shrink back. Jaehyun turns his attention back to the guy and shoves him.

"This is my final warning because if you try to hit me again, I'm gonna have fuck you up and I just got my hands all healed up from the last time my lady did some shit like this so I really don't wanna start that healing process back at the beginning. Come on, man."

"If she's that much trouble, dump her crazy ass."

"Says you. She's trouble but I don't have to let her fuck other men to keep her happy."

That's the final straw and the man charges at Jaehyun. He swings clumsily and Jaehyun lands a blow to his chest, "That's just a taste of how bad this can be. I'm going to turn around and walk to my car because I'm trusting that you're smart enough to walk away right now."

Jaehyun turns to leave and of course, the man charges at him. Jaehyun turns back in time to shove him and lands two punches to his ribs.

The guy tries to scuffle with him but Jaehyun overpowers him so effortlessly that's a bit scary and you lean out the window, "Fuck him up, Jae!" You scream.

Jaehyun stops swinging and restrains the man long enough to glare at you, "Shut the fuck up, Y/n!"

You purse your lips and look on as Jaeyhun hits the guy one last time. He crumbles to the ground in defeat and spits out blood.

"I'm not apologizing because I literally told you how this was gonna end so get some ice on that and uh… yeah. Good luck with your marriage."

Jaehyun comes over to the car and gets in. You stay quiet and he pulls off. As he drives out of the lot, you see the woman from earlier come up to to guy to help him up and he shoves her away.

The streets are fairly empty as you start your journey home and the air in the car is thick with tension.

The blinker ticking cuts the silence and you ignore Jaehyun. You turn on the radio and Rock with You pours out of the speakers.

Jaehyun turns it off.

"That was Michael Jackson, asshole," You grumble and turn it back on.

Jaehyun turns it back off and when you reach over to turn it back on, he swats at your hand.

"I'll pull the fucking steering wheel," You threaten him.

"Do it! Fucking do it!" he explodes, "Maybe if we're lucky, we'll crash into a fucking eighteen wheeler and I can die and get the fuck away from you!"

"You can't die. God don't want your ass and neither does Satan."

"Yeah, I'm a fucking torture project that's forced to spend forever arguing with your crazy ass!"

"God, you're so dramatic!"

Jaehyun nods with a peevish frown, "I think your flair for the dramatics is why I need to go home and ice my fucking knuckles... again

"I didn't do anything," You sigh.

Jaehyun clenches his jaw, "I'm trying to be the bigger person so shut up," he tells you flatly.

You scoff, "With that big ass head? It's not something you really need to try to do."

He doesn't respond. He just focuses on the road ahead with his hands gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. The bruises are beginning to show and you frown.

"What the fuck are you gripping the steering wheel like that for?" You ask peevishly.

"I'm pretending it's your fucking neck."

You snort, "Bigger person my ass."

When you get home, before Jaehyun can even put the car in park, you click off your seat belt and get out.

You don't wait for him. You ride the elevator up, past the third floor that held so much history and up to the modest penthouse that you now call home.

You press the code to let yourself in and kick off your shoes by the door. After washing the germs from the outdoors off of your hands, you stomp to your shared bedroom and grab an oversized shirt from your drawer before marching into the guest room.

That's one thing you're already liking about having all of this extra space:

Now you have a new place to seek refuge when you and Jaehyun are at each other's throats. You don't have to share the bed with him. You slip your dress off and toss it onto the lounge chair in the corner.

The door eases open, "Why are you in here?" Jaehyun asks as he peers inside to eye you suspiciously.

"I'm sleeping in here," You reply flatly. You pull off your stockings then you turn to shoo Jaehyun away, "I'm gonna take my bra off, can you give me some privacy?"

"Privacy? Y/n, I was literally sucking on your tits this morning and now you can't get changed in front of me? Be fucking serious," he yells incredulously, "This is stupid!"

"So how's that being the bigger person thing working for you?" You ask sarcastically.

Jaehyun huff, "Fine. Whatever. Fuckin' dweeb," he says and shuts the door.

"Yeah, whatever- bye!" You yell.

You finish getting dressed and go out to the kitchen to have a glass of water. You feel the buzz of the evening drinks wearing off.

Jaehyun comes up beside you in blue pajama bottoms and a bare torso. He takes a pack of peas out of the freezer and presses it to his knuckles.

His knuckles took a little bit of a beating but his face is untouched. The Tae Kwon Do he learned in high school is to thank for that.

You finish off your water and glance over at him as you refill your glass. He's icing his knuckles while staring you down so you pretend not to notice.

After a few more tense minutes of Jaehyun icing his hand and you trying to rehydrate to stave off the inevitable hangover you're going to have, Jaehyun tosses the peas back in the freezer and takes out a pint of ice cream, "Don't be a fucking smart ass. Just answer the question. Do you want some of my ice cream, yes or no?"

"No," You say as you watch him take the lid off.

He takes a spoon out of the silverware drawer and spoons some into his mouth.

"Too cute for a bowl?" You ask snarkily.

"It's mine so I don't have to use a bowl if I don't want to," he sighs as he pads out of the kitchen. You watch him through the cutaway counter as he sits on the living room sofa. He turns on the television and opens the YouTube app.

As he scrolls, you get a spoon and your own pint of ice cream. It's the same flavor as his but he can choke. You take the lid off and sit it beside his on the counter.

"So you were just gonna watch this without me?" You ask peevishly when you come out of the kitchen and see him starting a newly uploaded horror game play through from DashieGames.

"I figured you'd wanna go watch it in the guest room," he replies sarcastically.

He doesn't look away from the television and he blinks lazily. He definitely smoked something while you were in the guest room.

You sit on the opposite end of the sofa and take a spoon of your ice cream.

"Why'd you open another one? You said you didn't want any," he asks with a frustrated sigh.

"I never said I didn't want any ice cream. You asked me if I wanted some of your ice cream but you asked it as a stupid closed-ended question," You say and roll your eyes.

"'Closed-ended question' Oh shut up! You know what I meant!"

"Then next time, say that!" You yell.

"Words clearly don't mean shit since you love running your goddam mouth so much! Why do I have to be so fucking particular with how I say things when you're not particular about who you shoot you fucking mouth off to?"

You glare at him, "How was I supposed to know he had a complex?"

"Y/n, you called the man a cuck. Like… come on!" Jaehyun yells, "I told you to leave it alone! I wasn't even remotely interested in her and I asked you to just ignore her! For once it'd be nice if you could just fucking listen to me!"

"If you wanted someone to just follow your orders and be happy about it then you should've gotten a goddamn dog," You say and roll you eyes.

"I totally agree," Jaehyun shoots back.

"Yeah, well… she wasn't getting the obvious message."

"And neither are you."

You stand up and bring your ice cream back to the kitchen before closing it up and shoving it back into the freezer then drop your spoon into the sink. You march into the bathroom to wash the makeup off of your face. You look at your reflection as you do and replay the night over in your head. The drinks, the way Jaehyun held you close when you danced, the way he treated you like you were the only person in the world worth loving.

You smile and remember the look in his eyes before everything went south. Before that woman sent the first drink, you were both in your own little bubble of cocktail flavored adoration.

When you're finished, you brush your teeth. Jaehyun comes in to brush his teeth as you're on your way out and you ignore him as you go back to the guest room.

You crawl into the bed and shimmy under the duvet with a content sigh. Jaehyun peers inside, "You're really sleeping in here?" he asks in a mumble.

"Yeah. I am," You reply.

"Okay. Good night."

"Fuck off."

"Say 'goodnight' to me."

"Fuck. Off."

You roll over to give Jaehyun your back.

"I hope you don't make it to the bathroom and you piss yourself."

"And I hope you get sleep paralysis." You shoot back.

"Fuck you," he mutters barges out. The door slams and you shrug then turn the light off.

You lay in the dark and scroll your phone for a little while then turn off the light and shut your eyes.

Light from the hallway pools in as the door opens slowly.

"Oh hello, Jeffrey. I thought you were going to bed," You say smugly.

"You're really seriously gonna sleep in here?" he asks. His tone is very much disappointed but he does his best to mask it.

"Yes. I'm really seriously gonna sleep in here," You sigh.

Jaehyun comes in and climbs into the bed, "If you think I'm sleeping alone, you got me fucked up. Move your ass over."

He pushes you over a bit and gets under the duvet before turning to face you.

"Nigga, if you don't get out!" You yell.

Jaehyun gives you a bored look and bunkers down under the blanket a little more, "You get out."

"I wish I had to fart right now. You make me sick!" You yell as you roll over.

"I can't believe you're gonna go to bed mad at me. What if I die in my sleep?" he says and reaches out to pull you into his arms.

"God would most definitely send you back," You grumble as you turn back over to give Jaehyun your back, "Get off of me."

He squeezes you close to him, "Shut up. I just wanna hold you. I don't wanna talk to your ass either."

You ignore him and resist the feeling of your body meshing with his.

His hand rests on your hip and he draws you in closer, "I'm still waiting for you to apologize to me."

"Keep waiting," You mutter. If he thinks he's gonna get an apology from you, he's crazy.

"I’ll also wait for you to get off of my dick so I can sleep. Stop moving so much,” he chuckles softly.

There goes that tingle in the pit of your stomach. You resist it, “Fine. You sleep. I’m gonna go smoke,” You sigh as you drag yourself out of his arms and get out of the bed. You wander into your bedroom and fish his weed vape out of his jacket pocket.

After letting yourself out onto the balcony, the cool night air wakes you up. You take a hit then blow the smoke into the gentle breeze and watch it billow away lazily.

Jaehyun comes up beside you with your robe, “It’s cold out here. Put this on, stupid,” he says and helps you into your robe.

“I’m not saying ‘thank you’, jerk,” You say as you feel your body loosen up.

“I wasn’t expecting you to,” he hums as he circles his arms around your waist and pulls the vape from your hand. He takes a hit and blows the smoke away from you. You both stand in silence and take in the view of the ocean off in the distance.

“Are we ever gonna stop fighting all the time?” he asks.

“I hope not. The sex is lit,” You chuckle.

Jaehyun laughs and presses a kiss to your neck, “You're not pushing me away anymore… does that mean you're ready to make up?"

"And if I am?" You ask shakily as his hands come up to cup your breasts. His thumbs stroke your perked nipples as he places open-mouthed kisses against your neck.

"If you are, I'm definitely willing to fuck the rest of that attitude out of you," he hums and dips a hand down into your panties, "Fuck… you're soaked. All this fighting got your pussy wet? Huh, baby? Feels like you've just been waiting to get fucked."

You whine and nod, "Daddy… please," You choke out.

"Oh… so you're just gonna make this easy for me, huh?" he chuckles against your ear as he slows his pace against, "No scratching and biting? You're not gonna try to fight me? I don't have to manhandle you?"

You let him drag you away from the balcony railing and he retracts his hand only long enough to spin you around and press your back to the wall.

"You sound a little disappointed," You whisper.

"And if I am?" he muses as he resumes his slow circles against your clit.

"If you are… I'm definitely willing to give you exactly what you want," you hiss as he sucks on your neck a little too harshly.

He uses his free hand to grab both of your wrists and holds them over you head. He peppers your face with kisses. You wait for him to hungrily press his mouth to yours before you nip at his bottom lip between your teeth. He moans softly, "That's my good little slut."

You writhe against him as his fingers circle your clit faster, "How many times do you think you're gonna cum before I decide to forgive you? Huh?"

"I dunno… fuck, daddy… please," You gasp.

He laughs and you know he's going to leave you a trembling mess.

"Cum… right now, baby… let go," he hums and you come undone with a whine. He covers your mouth with his and swallows each strangled cry you let out.

His fingers speed up as he kisses you quiet and you wriggle and try to squeeze your thighs shut.

"That's not gonna stop me, baby… that's nothing but motivation," he laughs softly before lewdly dragging his tongue over your mouth.

The depth of his velvety voice helps guide you over the edge and your body convulses as you cum once more. Your knees threaten to buckle as he talks you up to yet another orgasm. Soft, deep sighs mingle between the gentle praises he gives you.

"That's daddy's good little girl… cum for me. Yeah, baby. That's it… that's it, pretty girl… that's my girl. Cum one more time, baby. Be a good little slut and take one more for me… just one more, babygirl."

You writhe and try in vain to free yourself from his grasp on your wrists, "Daddy… please," You heave.

Never really having even partially recovered from the last release, you shriek and your knees buckle as you release again. Jaehyun pulls his hand from your panties and wraps his arm around your waist to hold you steady.

"We're going to our bedroom, okay?" Jaehyun says as he practically drags you back into the bedroom. He pushes you forward and you crawl up to the head of the bed. Jaehyun gets onto the bed and grabs your ankle, "You know how this is going," he says and pulls down to the center of the bed.

He hooks his fingers around the band of your panties and drags them down your legs, "Say 'ah', baby," he hums and he gathers spit at the front of his mouth. You open your mouth with a soft and needy "ah".

He passes a fat drop of spit onto your tongue and immediately shoves your panties into your mouth. He raises your shirt up to your chin and pushes his pants down to free his cock, "Come take this dick," he rumbles deeply as he pulls you down even closer.

He lines himself up at your soaked entrance and gives a few shallow thrusts that only excite you as his leaking tip dips into you teasingly. You whine and try to clench around him. "Such a nasty girl," he chuckles as his hands find yours and he pins them above your head.

You muffle against your panties and he slowly fills you up to the brim before pulling out almost completely and slamming back into you.

Once.

Twice.

His hips meet yours with a sharp smack and he finds his pace immediately. Each thrust is a long and punctuated snap of his hips and you cry out weakly.

"You feel daddy's cock pounding that creamy little pussy? You feel that, babygirl?" he says and a gentle break in his voice goes straight to the pit of your stomach, "Look at me… eyes on me just like that. That's my nasty little girl."

Your eyes stay on his as he fucks into you. The intensity prickles up over your skin and you buck against him.

"Mm- mmm!" You pant as you take each thrust and he leans down to suck marks into your heated skin. Your body is ablaze with the need to take everything he gives you.

"Take it like a good girl," he moans, "Take all of it." His hips stutter and he squeezes your wrists as he slowly rocks his hips.

"I'm so fucking close… daddy's gonna breed that slutty little cunt. You want that? Huh, baby? Gonna put a baby in you. You want that?"

His words tumble past his lips with a lazy ease and you almost feel them cling to your skin.

You nod desperately and his hold on your wrists tightens into a deliciously painful vice grip. He gyrates into you and cums with a deep exhale.

"That's such a good little hole. This is daddy's little fuck hole."

You spread your legs even wider and he pulls out. He lets you go and sits back to lean on his haunches. He watches his cum leak out of you before catching it with his fingers and pushing it back into your pulsing hole.

"Good girl, beautiful… you like it when I breed that little pussy? Love it when I'm filling that cunt to the brim?" he pants as he fucks his fingers into you. Your thighs squeeze around his hand as his fingers press into that sweet place deep inside you.

"Yeah… take my fingers in that pretty little hole, baby… you hear my fingers slipping in and out of that wet pussy, don't you?" he groans as he continues his attack on your sanity.

You shake and tremble as he presses his thumb against your clit and somehow you cum once more.

"It's okay… we're done now," he hums as he reaches down to pull your panties out of your mouth. You hum shakily as a soft sigh falls from his mouth and you breathe him in.

"I love you, daddy," is all you're able to whisper as you slowly come down from your high.

"I love you too," he whispers back. He slides back into you and covers his body with yours, "But I'm never taking you to a club again."

You both laugh and Jaehyun rolls you both onto your sides. You drape your leg over his waist and he gives a slow and lazy roll of his hips before stilling himself and kissing your forehead.

"So... never again?" You ask with a weak giggle.

"Girl, it'll snow in hell before I take you clubbing again."

"Well it was worth it. That shit was hot."

#neoculturecollectives #nct smut #kpop smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #kpop fic #ambw kpop #ambw fanfic #kpop ambw #ambw smut #nct x black!reader #nct x plus sized reader #kpop smut for black girls

[blueywrites]

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, smut, fingering (v), p in v, praise kink, emotional sex, angst, hurt no comfort (there will be a happy ending!)

chapter seven : entombed (18k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the song for this chapter is #24.

From the day you arrived

I've remained by your side

In chains

Entombed

Entombed — Deftones

The bathroom countertop is solid white. The sink is recessed, and the faucet is modern and angular, reflected in the tall mirror mounted to the wall behind it. The mirror also reflects the shower behind you. It has a glass front, and the walls are comprised of large white and gray marblesque tiles. The fixtures— the rainfall showerhead, drain, shower knob, and handle— are all chrome to match the sink faucet and the modern, conical lights that frame the mirror. 

It's bright inside the bathroom. The lightbulbs are LED, cool-toned, and the wall lights are joined by discs recessed into the ceiling. Even the smooth wooden vanity beneath the countertop is light birch, and on the lowest shelf near your ankle, two fluffy white hand towels are still folded, as yet unused. The bathroom is radiant and clean. Perfect for a beach location. Plenty of light for preparing for a fun night out. 

No dark corners to hide in.

There's another, smaller mirror on the countertop. It's curved, meant to magnify and assist in the even application of makeup. A neat row of tiny bottles lines a narrow tray on the other side of the sink: hand lotion, shampoo, conditioner, then mouthwash. In another dish, a creamy bar of hand soap has already been revealed. Its discarded wrapper is in the small trashcan near the toilet. 

The thin door is a buffer between yourself and the indistinct murmur of voices outside. The murmuring is audible, but the words are indiscernible. When that murmuring is buried underneath smooth R&B that begins playing on the other side of the door, you finally meet your gaze in the mirror.

Your cheeks glow with a healthy flush. The milk and honey of your satin dress hugs your curves, dipping low to reveal ample cleavage, slitted high to expose a supple thigh. The sweat from the club has dried now in the cool air of the room where you've been hiding. 

You've examined every feature of this hotel bathroom to distract yourself from the overwhelming wave of mixed emotions you've been battling since the Uber ride back from the club. In the backseat, a khaki thigh pressing to yours; soft, broad fingers played in your hair. On his other side, a flash of orange and powdery soft giggles; arms intertwining, porcelain and tan. In front of you, an angular shoulder shifting with the car's turns, peeking beyond the passenger seat; a splay of dark curls against the white fabric. Just four tipsy friends sharing a ride back to their hotel room after a fun night out vacationing in a tropical city. Outside, your lips were curved in an idle smile. Inside, the tide of your emotions threatened to pull you under.

The intensity of the night's moments between you and Eddie— kissing him in the middle of the crowded dance floor, holding his gaze during the fireworks show— hadn't faded. You felt raw, like an exposed nerve; your green searched for him even with Steve's warm side brushing against yours. But the trepidation had returned, resurging as you'd imagined what your play tonight would look like. Because when you'd pictured Chrissy touching Eddie, you'd felt a sour pinch of jealousy, a hint of possessiveness you aren't entitled to. And because, when you'd pictured yourself kissing Steve, you'd felt a twinge of impatience. As if tonight he would be an obstacle keeping you from what you really want. 

You've been oozing with thick, sticky guilt since you'd thought it.

You can't deny that your remaining guilt isn't the only reason you're still hiding in the bathroom. You're also hesitant to emerge and find yourself thrust into one of those scenarios you'd imagined, knowing that your green will tremble restlessly until it finds the light in brown eyes and the charcoal that nourish it. Still, when the murmurs muffling through the thin door finally subside into silence, and all you can hear is the smooth, rhythmic R&B beat left behind, you know you need to finally face the music, so to speak.

Tentative fingers push open the bathroom door from the inside, and your eyes are drawn automatically to movement on the bed furthest from the balcony— Chrissy and Eddie's bed. But Chrissy's soft porcelain doesn't glide against pale quartz; her blonde hair doesn't drag down an inky chest. Instead, her dainty fingers are tangled in disheveled waves, and her pink bow lips are being devoured by your boyfriend's hungry kisses. You note absently that their orange and khaki are gone, leaving their skin entirely bare. As you watch them for a moment, you note that Steve and Chrissy seem frenzied with hot insistence tonight, more so than usual. Maybe they got worked up dancing, too. The thought is almost entirely dispassionate.

You turn your gaze to the other bed, eyes finding beautiful brown so quickly it almost feels like instinct.

Eddie is sitting on the edge, elbows braced on his knees, legs splayed wide, feet planted on the floor. His hands hang in the space between. Just like you, he's still fully dressed aside from his shoes. The white of his shirt pulls taut across his shoulders, and his dark curls spill over one shoulder, still tied back to reveal the cords of his neck, the angular shadow of his jaw, and the glint of silver hanging from his earlobes. His face is blank aside from the intensity of his eyes, which follow you as you softly pad closer until you're standing before him. 

Eddie's body doesn't move aside from a slight shifting of his hands to make room for you between his knees, but his face tilts up to continue watching as you approach, expression unreadable. There's a tension between you which is nearly unnerving as Eddie stares without reaching for you, without smiling, almost without reacting at all. But you don't feel rejected by his stoicism. Instead, you reach out first, running your fingertips over the edge of his cheekbone, feathering lightly down his cheek. When his face lists just slightly into your touch, it emboldens you, and you let your thumb drag against the plump pink of Eddie's bottom lip in a soft caress.

You feel it then— the first reaction you pull from him. It's the subtle pursing of his full lips, the press of a gentle kiss against the pad of your thumb. Poignant longing flutters low inside you; wings quiver along with the green of your leaves. You cup Eddie’s face more fully, and a tremulous sigh falls from your lips when you feel the rasp of his fingertips along the satin at the back of your thighs. His touch is slight, but his rough calluses catch on the fabric, which drags like liquid against your skin before falling as his hands leave your legs to skim your hips. 

After a moment of exploration, his warm palms settle there, and Eddie applies light pressure so you'll step back and give him room to rise. He towers before you, predatory angles softened by the gentleness of his fingers as they feel for the tiny zipper at the back of your dress. Your eyes don't leave his as the fabric slowly parts along your spine down to the small of your back. You peel the thin straps down your arms, helping him remove milk and honey to reveal your bare breasts and the apex of your thighs covered by delicate lace. 

You're content to let the fabric pool around your ankles, but as you step out of it, Eddie picks your dress up for you, laying it across the nearby dresser with a sense of care he never shows his own clothing. A fond smile tilts your lips as you unbutton his shirt, and Eddie helps you undress him down to his checkered boxers.

Eddie's body feels more rigid than usual as he guides you onto the bed. There's an intentness to his actions now as he settles on top of you, a latent power in the coil of his muscles. When your hands run lightly over his shoulders and biceps, you think he seems tense. It makes you wonder if something is bothering him, if maybe he's changed his mind or is thinking about something else. You're frowning a little worriedly by the time Eddie wedges his hand under the nape of your neck, cupping your head firmly; his face hovers over yours as your eyes dart unsurely between his. The hush, the tension remains as his gaze draws slowly over your face until you're nearly squirming with the need to know what he's thinking. The music filling the room is loud and unrelenting, but with Eddie's quiet voice so close to your lips, you hear every word when he finally speaks.

"I need you to know—" your brow pinches at the seriousness of his voice, "—that everything about you is so incredibly beautiful. And I can't get enough of you." 

It steals your breath entirely. And then Eddie's lips capture yours.

You burst with wild flutters, nearly dizzy as your hands clutch his jaw, kissing him desperately back. You pour all of yourself into Eddie as his mouth opens against yours, and you feel his smoke flow down into you, filling you with rich and heady feeling as he holds you close. Seeking tongues, hot breath; needy whimpers fall as you taste each other, writhe against each other's bodies. You press up into his hardness as your legs cradle his hips, and he bears down on you in return, grinding into your softness. He trails scorching kisses down the side of your neck, intent on his path down to your chest. Eddie nips your skin on the way, teeth teasing as you gasp out your pleasure; your breath shudders as he mouths at the swell of your breast. Your fingers seek his curls, tucking in near his scalp as his tongue laves at your pert nipple before his lips close over it. He sucks firmly, eyes flicking to yours to watch as your lips fall open. The warm wet suction of his mouth sparks straight to your pussy, and your hips squirm beneath his weight as you begin to throb between your legs. 

Eddie's hair looks sexy in a ponytail, but you miss the rugged beauty of his dark curls, the way they frame both of your faces when he kisses you, concealing you from the world. Carefully, you guide the elastic band from his hair, letting that wild mass fall free around his shoulders. You bury your fingers in his curls and tug at the root, wanting to make him hum against your breast. And he does— a low, delicious sound that stokes the cinders of your arousal. 

When your hips press up seekingly again, Eddie draws his face slowly back, tugging your hardened nipple with him until it finally pops from his mouth. You gasp again at the feeling, the sound all feminine need, eyes still captured by his heated gaze; a corner of his lips quirks as he switches to your other breast, tongue lashing your flesh until you're flushed, whimpering, hips aching with the desire for him to touch you where you burn for it most. A whispered word, barely more than a breath as it leaves your lips: "Please—"

It's so quiet, your plea, but Eddie seems to hear it. Or maybe he just senses your desperation in how your hips are rolling against him, yearning for friction. Either way, ever so kind, Eddie obliges you.

You feel the rasp of his fingertips against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, low near your knee; the promise of his touch is enough to have you sighing with relief even before he's come close to your heat. You know he'll give you what you want— you know it with the certainty of spring, of new growth and awakening, of wings that emerge from a soft cocoon after a long period of metamorphosis. Sure enough, his hand travels up your leg, kneading the dough of your thigh as you wiggle down lower on the bed so that his face is above yours again. He drapes himself half over you, bracing some of his weight on one forearm. And as his fingers finally rub you over lace, you tilt your chin to join your lips again.

As you kiss him, you relish each detail of the way Eddie's body feels against yours— his warmth enveloping you, his smoke and apples scent in your nose, his belly pressing into yours, expanding with every breath. You drag your calf along the back of his, and you even relish the rasp of his sparse leg hair against your skin, rubbing slowly as you devote your affection to his upper lip. Eddie's kisses are just as intent as before but less frantic now as he pushes lace aside to find the honey at the center of you. You hum, brow pinching in pleasure as his ring and middle fingers sink eagerly into your pussy. 

Eddie takes his time, fingering you thoroughly to ensure you're ready to take him. He repeats his process over and over, patiently working you up: pressing in, stroking, drawing out your slick, and circling your clit before dipping down again. The way Eddie stretches you open is not slow or hesitant, but his attentiveness has you enjoying it all, down to the sting of his fingers as they stretch you. Even then, that sting fades quickly, leaving behind a sweet swell of steadily building pleasure which grows hotter with each shift of his dextrous hand.

You hike your leg a little higher up his hip, nudging your nose against his as you communicate your increasing desire through more sweltering kisses. And the next time Eddie's fingers sink inside you, he keeps them deep. He ruts in, pinky and index jutting against the outside of your slick lips as he works that soft spot on your front wall until you're panting and squirming with want. A small flame is growing low in your belly— a burning need for him to press you to the mattress with his weight, to drive his cock as deep inside you as he can. A whisper of a whine builds in your throat until it comes out in a soft needy noise muffled into his mouth. When he hears it, Eddie breaks your kiss but doesn't retreat far. 

"Eddie," you whimper against his lips, cheeks flushed, brow pinched, voice whiny and nearly pathetic. But you don't feel ashamed of your need when you see the richness of Eddie's brown eyes, how they're burnished to deep amber with his desire for you. 

He husks a quiet question, breath a warm caress against your lips. "Are you ready for me?" 

A thrill pulses through you at the anticipation of his cock inside you, and as you squeeze around his fingers, you watch Eddie's brows jump. There is no hesitation in your answer. 

“Yes,” you tell him. 

He pulls his fingers out, and his hand settles on the wideness of your hip. And when his wet fingers mould into your flesh, you expect him to encourage you down to the mattress so he can lay fully on top of you. But instead, he pulls you in, pulls you closer, tilting your pelvis and pressing his forward so that his hot length is sandwiched between you. His fingers drag to the small of your back, and the way he holds you against him isn't insistent. It's gentle. Tender. 

Eddie asks you another question— inflection the same as the previous, neutral like a second check-in. "You want me?"

Though his voice is no different than it had been, the question gives you pause. And as your eyes flick between his searchingly, you see it— a hint of something approaching defenselessness. Something that, though his irises are still thoroughly amber brown, reminds you of delicate pink. 

You swallow, throat suddenly thick; your body presses instinctually closer as you hold his gaze and answer him. "I want you, Eddie."

And with your quiet assurance, that something behind his eyes shifts. You can feel his voice, thick and heady like smoke, rumble through his chest and into yours. "And I want you, y/n."

The first stretch is always delicious, no matter how much Eddie has fingered you beforehand or how many times you experience it. That moment he presses his blunt head against your entrance and eases in, sliding hard and hot and so thick along your walls… it never fails to leave you quivering with its intensity. It's always incredible, but this time, when Eddie's weight covers you, and you bend your legs, holding him close as he presses steadily deeper until he's seated fully inside, there's something loaded about it. Because the bed you're in— it's motionless aside from the slow rocking of Eddie's hips into yours as he begins to move. It's quiet aside from the hush of Eddie's breath along your cheek, the sound of his little moans muffled against your neck when he buries his face there, moving so slowly inside you like he's savoring the moment. And you're savoring the moment, too, closing your eyes to focus on all the sensations: the whisper of Eddie's curls against your clavicle; his firm musculature under your hands as you run them over the planes of his back; the tender rasp of his calloused fingers as he draws them up your side, caressing your soft skin; the satisfied hum that rumbles against your throat when you move your hips in tandem with his slow, sensual rhythm. For the first time since that very first time— when Eddie went down on you on the big couch— Steve and Chrissy are having sex across the room instead of right beside you. And, frankly, they might as well be on a different planet entirely. Because whatever your boyfriend is doing? It hasn't crossed your mind since the moment you opened the bathroom door and met Eddie's beautiful brown eyes.

The slow drag of Eddie's thickness inside you keeps that small flame flickering, filling you with warmth as you sigh contentedly against his curls. He lifts his head when he hears you, and his hand finds your jaw to tip your head back so he can nibble just underneath your chin. "Mmm—" You drag your teeth against your bottom lip as his mouth sparks heat along your skin. It adds to your burn, and your hips press up into him a little harder, silently encouraging him to move faster.

But Eddie doesn't move faster, though he also doesn't ignore your coaxing; instead, he trails kisses up to the corner of your mouth, murmuring a hair's breadth from your lips when he gets there. "Will you do something for me?" he asks.

Your answer pops out in an automatic sigh. "Anything." 

When you feel the little fond huff from Eddie's nose puff against your skin, your eyes flutter open, and you see those full pink lips pull into a small smile before he kisses you. You lean into it, chin angling to chase him when he pulls away; you’re nearly pouting as he withdraws from your lips. His thumb drags fondly against your jaw, mollifying you as you await his request. You said it— anything— and you meant it, but you aren't expecting what Eddie calmly asks of you as he holds your gaze. 

“Touch yourself.”

You blink, eyes widening as your hips still beneath him in surprise and hesitance. This is the first time Eddie has ever suggested such a thing, and it isn't something you've ever done with Steve, either. You'd always had the impression that guys would think they weren't doing a good enough job getting you off if you did that while having sex with them. You can't help but blurt, "A-are you sure?" You nearly cringe at the tentativeness in your voice.

Eddie doesn't judge you— he never does— but you do read some incredulity in his expression as he strokes back your hair, smoothing his fingers along the strands that fan against the smooth sheets near your ear. "Of course, I'm sure," he replies. "I want you to feel good, sweetheart."

Your hesitance melts away with the earnestness of his reply, replaced by a low flutter as Eddie voices that he wants you to feel good. Of course, you know he does, but it's one thing to know it and quite another to hear him say it with that smoky voice, with his pretty face hovering so close, with his cock hot and hard inside you. You nod, eyes lighting as you see him smile broadly at your approval. "Gimme your hand," he says, and when you offer it to him, he sucks the tip of your index finger between his lips, tongue brushing like a hot flash before he's pulling away. 

Your finger is slick with his spit as you reach between you, and Eddie braces on his forearms, lifting slightly to give you room to wedge your hand down near your heat. You maneuver together into a position that works— Eddie hovering over you, one of your legs hiked up on his hip and the other slack and bent against the mattress as you search for your clit until you find it. The back of your hand nudges against the nest of his dark curls as you begin to press circles into that squishy bead, pleasure sparking with each pass. "That's it," Eddie breathes, and then he's moving again.

The rhythm he resumes is less languid than before, hips rolling in time with your strokes against your clit. You aren’t sure if you're timing your movements with his, or he with yours— it's impossible to tell, but the effect is the same. You rock into him, brow pinching slightly as your head falls to the side, breathy moans falling loosely from your lips as the burn in your belly begins to increase with both of your efforts. He takes your bared throat as an opportunity, and his face fits there against the juncture of your neck as if it's always been meant to. Eddie's nose bobs against your throat as he starts to really fuck into you, hips impacting your thighs faster, harder, with fleshy slaps you can hear over the room's music. And as he does, you can feel the increase of his fervor, the evidence of his pleasure— his breath huffing against your skin, his little rumbling moans, always so vocal, sounds never truly suppressed. And then his fingers are lightly pinching the shell of your ear, drawing down to the lobe in a tender caress seemingly at odds with how he's fucking you.

It makes you flutter with tremulous wings. It makes you melt into a smoldering burn. 

It makes your green quiver and bloom.

Eddie lifts his head to murmur against your cheek. "Does it feel good, pretty girl?"

You breathe in the smoke, pleasure licking higher. "Yes, it's—" you break off in a breathy moan, and Eddie nudges fondly against your cheek with his nose, lips trailing featherlight against your skin. "It's really good," you finish your sentence, voice shakier, huskier with desire.

You bite your lip as Eddie responds to your praise, one hand wedging again under the back of your neck so he can hold you closer, hips moving a little faster now. You find yourself focused on the feeling of his thick cock reaching deep as you adjust to his new pace. And as focused as you are, you don't notice that your hand slows, fingers stalling between your bodies. 

Yet Eddie must notice because his face is now hovering over yours again, expression coaxing. "Keep rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart." Your fingers jolt immediately into action, pressing quick circles into your now-swollen bud, knuckles dragging against the wiry hair near the base of his cock. "That's it, good girl," Eddie husks, warm with approval. You want to keep hearing his voice— you want it just as much as you want him never to stop holding you as close as he is now, moving with you the way he's doing now.

"I like it when you talk to me," you tell him, voice high and needy with feminine hoarseness. His brown eyes burnish further, full pink lips quirking in a tilted grin, and you can't help but smile back when you see the light behind his gaze.

He touches your face, but where you expect the rasp of his callouses, you feel the smooth drag of his nails instead as he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. "I know," Eddie murmurs. "I know you do, sweet girl."

You rub your clit as Eddie fucks you and tells you he knows what you like. "I like talking to you, too," you tell him, pink tongue darting out to swipe at his lips. You want him to know. "You feel so good inside me, Eddie."

He exhales harshly at that, brow twitching up as he stares down at you, gaze locked on your eyes. "Fuck." His voice is deeper, huskier now, and you feel a thrill at his reaction, one that jolts straight down to tighten in your belly. "You look so fuckin' gorgeous takin' my cock. Doin' so well."

Flutter, smolder, burn, bloom. Eddie's praise increases your pleasure, and that quiver inside tightens even further. You want to answer, but all that comes out is a gasp as he thrusts against a spot inside you that makes your toes suddenly curl. "Oh, mmm—" Your voice sounds tight and high, almost unlike you, as you hear it spill involuntarily from your lips.

Eddie is panting now, and your thighs tighten against his hips as you lift both legs, hand pressed tight between your pelvises as your fingers swipe back and forth. "You want it harder?" he asks, sounding determined, if not a little breathless. "You want me to fuck you harder?"

Anything to feel him hit that spot again. "Yes," you moan instantly, "yes, please—" 

He groans as you beg, deepening his thrusts. But he doesn't just fuck you harder. Eddie adjusts you in his grip, and you feel his muscles tense as he leans over on one forearm to hook the other hand behind your knee and pull your leg up higher on his hip. It presses your hand tighter between you, but you don't care— you're rubbing with the flat of your fingers now, your other hand soothing across his flexed bicep, damp with sweat from his effort. He changes the angle of his hips minutely, and his thick length probes inside you as if searching, seeking for something—

A sudden flare of white-hot pleasure makes you gasp sharply; your back arches as your head tips back against the sheets. Eddie stops his searching, holding you firmly as he thrusts again at the same angle, breath huffing in a delighted chuckle when you whimper as pleasure flares bright for a second time. He sounds nearly ragged but entirely pleased when he asks you, "That's it, huh? That's the spot?"

You're so quick to assure him you're nearly babbling. "Yeah, don't— don't stop, please, don't stop, right there—" You hum desperately as he fucks into you again, fast and hard, intent now that he's found that sweet spot that makes you quiver with pleasure. And you are quivering— muscles shaking, heart pounding, breath shuddering as the flame of your arousal catches to a wildfire.

"Fuck yes," Eddie groans, tight with effort but oh, so satisfied. "That's it, sweetheart. I can feel you; you're gonna soak my dick." He's barely pulling out now, nothing more than an inch, just rutting in against that same spot over and over and over— 

Your breath hitches, hiccuping in your chest; tears sting the corners of your eyes as the fire in your belly builds so quickly, tingly and aching and hot. It's that familiar feeling, but far more intense than it's ever been, almost frighteningly so.

"Eddie—?" your soft cry of his name sounds so helpless, wanting but nearly afraid. 

"Hold onto me," he tells you hoarsely; his fingers tighten against the nape of your neck, cupping you supportively. 

You wrap your free arm around his shoulders, clinging to him as he ruts into your wet heat, pounding you evenly despite the harshness of his breath and the trembling of his muscles that reveal his fatigue. But Eddie doesn't relent. He never stops, not when you wrench your other arm from between you to clutch at his shoulders with both hands, not even when you dig your nails into the meat of his back. You no longer care about rubbing your clit as your fire burns impossibly higher, as the pleasure spreads tingly and tight up to your navel. Because you know, with a certainty that you've never felt before having sex, that it doesn't matter whether or not you're touching yourself. You know that Eddie is going to get you there.

You whine pathetically, holding him tightly, following his instruction. "Eddie," you moan all wobbly, betraying the way you're teetering on the edge. "E-Eddie, I'm—" 

You break off in a desperate whimper, that spreading, tingling ache so overwhelming that you can't move, can't think, can't really speak. But you can hear, and Eddie sounds nearly desperate himself as his cheek drags against yours, smoke voice rasping reassurance in your ear. "It's okay— It's okay, y/n, just let go. I've got you—"

“Eddie—!”

You gasp a dry sob and keen his name as you cum.

The feeling that breaks over you as Eddie makes you cum is one you've never experienced before. You've only ever brought yourself to completion with your fingers or a vibrator. You've never orgasmed while having sex with a partner— never been cradled in a full-bodied embrace as the tension snaps inside you, flooding you with sweet, euphoric release that races along your every nerve. You'd float away if Eddie wasn't pinning you to the bed with his reassuring weight, digging his nose into your cheek as he holds you close, panting raggedly in your ear as you go rigid beneath him, pussy pulsing tight around his thick cock. "Holy—" he whimpers, not unaffected as you begin to squirm and writhe with the force of your orgasm, as if your body is unsure whether it wants to escape the intensity of the feeling or crawl closer, begging for it to last forever. And throughout it all, Eddie's hips coax you through, moving slow and tender as your nails dig little half-moons into his skin, as your lips tremble with small choked sounds of pleasure, as that tingling fire rushes hot through your body until it leaves you a melty, quivering mess beneath him, gasping desperate breaths.

As the tension in your limbs finally eases, they slump bonelessly in relief. Your arms remain draped loosely over Eddie's shoulders, and your legs fall open as your pleasure subsides into a lingering warmth. You feel floaty in the best way. Not like before, when you felt you could drift up through the ceiling and be dashed away, untethered from the earth. More like wading into warm sea water, bobbing in gentle waves that swirl your hair soft against your cheeks. Trusting, knowing you'll be kept afloat. At peace.

You feel Eddie's plush lips at the corner of your eye as he turns his head, kissing you softly. And then, as he sighs your name, the movement of Eddie's hips— that steady, even rhythm he'd maintained throughout your orgasm— begins to slow. 

At first, you think maybe he already came, but he's still stiff, still thick and unyielding inside you. A little wrinkle forms between your brows. You ask him softly, "Did you—?"

He stops moving, then. "Not yet," he answers just as softly. No disappointment in his voice— no expectation, nothing but tenderness. You flutter, green quivering as you push your hips into him, drawing him deeper inside you to keep him from retreating. 

Eddie lifts his head, brows tugged up in concern. "You're not too sensitive?"

"No, no, keep going," you answer quickly, thick like honey at his concern. "I want you to cum, too." And to punctuate your point, you bury your fingers in the damp curls at the nape of his neck, cupping his skull with both hands as you pull him to your lips. You encourage him with deep, languid kisses, rolling your hips until he responds. He pushes into you carefully at first, but when you hum, pleased to feel him respond, he gradually increases his pace until he's fucking into you again.

You break from the kiss, panting against his jaw as you tug at his hair to tilt his head back, pulling a grunt from deep in his throat. You nip at his strong jaw, teeth and tongue and lips working at his skin, and he snaps his hips into you in response, flesh smacking again as he fucks you harder, faster. "Mmm—" you moan against his throat, wanting more of his fervor, wanting to give him the same thing he'd given you. You kitten-lick the salt of his neck, scratching at his scalp as you ease your grip on his hair. "Yeah, Eddie, fuck me 'til you cum," you whine quietly against his chin, gratified when he groans deep in his chest.

"Fuck, sweet girl—" He breaks off in a hoarse hum, and you loosen your grip further to let him tip his chin down to look at you. Your eyes rove eagerly over his face, taking him in: plush lips now swollen and flushed deep pink thanks to your kisses; eyes hazy and dark from desire, pupils blown wide, nearly swallowing the brown; pale quartz skin dewy from effort, flushed high on his cheekbones; ink-dark curls sweat-damp and wild and captivating as they stick to his forehead and sway around his face. 

He's beautiful, you realize. Eddie is so beautiful.

"Where should I—?" he asks tightly, and the urgency of the question tells you he's close. "You want me on your stomach? On your tits?"

As soon as he asks, you know what you want.

"No, I—" You duck close and dig your nose into his throat, hesitating. "I wanna…" Though you know with absolute certainty what you want to say, your request sticks on your tongue, clinging stubbornly. 

"Tell me," Eddie encourages you, and you swallow thickly, heart racing as you push the words out in a tremulous whisper.

"I… I wanna feel you again." You will him to understand despite your indirectness. 

It takes a second, but you watch Eddie's eyes go wide, watch his brows flick, watch the way his face slackens with sudden clarity. "You want it—" His adam's apple bobs with a thick swallow before he ducks his head, lips against your ear. There's a pause before he mutters quietly, "I'm not supposed to." 

He sounds halting. Regretful. Like he doesn't want to deny you, sure. But more than that. Because, though you both know what happened last time, Eddie sounds like he wants it, too. Like he wants it just as much as you do.

And you know it's breaking the rules, but frankly, in this moment, all you feel are those fluttering moth's wings and the stretch of your green, the way it's reaching up to twine its first tendrils around your ribs. You don't feel any trepidation, or fear, or oozing guilt. As the green spreads, small white flowers blooming in its wake, the words surge up from the bottom of you.

"I don't care," you hiccup, admission nearly a whimper. "I don't care, just— please, Eddie, I want your cum in me—" 

"Jesus— fuck," Eddie yelps. His hips stutter, losing their even rhythm as his pace turns frenetic. And as you feel his cock twitch inside you, as you feel him start to approach his completion, that poignant yearning wells up in you again, quivering, fluttering with the knowledge of his pleasure, the pleasure you're giving him.

"Eddie," you sigh, tightening one arm around his shoulders and cupping the back of his head with your other hand. You press his face to your hair as he whimpers, panting hot against your skin; you hold him close as his hips rut into you, shuddering a breath as you feel him tense. "Give it to me, Eddie," you whisper, and as Eddie's cock jerks hard, you feel the moment he starts to cum inside you. 

You feel everything.

It isn't like the first time when you were on top. This time, it isn't a surprise when Eddie's hips press tight to yours, when he starts to moan, tight and high, muffling the sound against your sticky neck. It isn't a surprise when you feel the warm flood of his seed fill you. And though you can't see Eddie's face, being able to hold him close while he tenses and shivers with his pleasure is just as good. It's wonderful in a different way.

When his shuddering finally subsides, you wrap your legs around the small of his back, encouraging him to lay on you. And Eddie must be exhausted because he does— he rests fully on you, letting you hold him as his heart beats wildly against your breast. He just lays there and breathes, great panting breaths of exertion and release that puff warm against your skin. It's hot, and damp, and you're sticking to him everywhere, but you couldn't care less. You run your hands softly over the planes of his back, humming when you feel him nuzzle you with his nose. You continue caressing him slowly as he recovers his energy, still buried inside you. As the moment stretches on, you find yourself wishing you could exist here forever— here, in this place where you're holding Eddie, and he's holding you, languid and spent, entirely at peace from the pleasure you've given each other.

Eventually, Eddie shifts on top of you, and you feel a flash of dismay that he's about to get off you. But he's just propping himself up on an elbow to hover over you again. You feel his thumb stroke featherlight along your cheekbone, and your eyes go soft at how Eddie kisses you so carefully. You melt into his kiss, into the light caress of his calloused fingers against your cheek and jaw as he smoothes your hair against the sheets again. 

When he breaks the kiss, Eddie's brown eyes dart between yours. "Was that good for you?" He asks, and the earnestness in his voice, in his face… 

You didn't know you could flutter and bloom more than you already have, but here you are.

"Yeah," you reply, voice tiny and nearly cracked with the strength of your emotion. "Yeah, so good, Eddie. Thank you." And all of a sudden, the sting at the corner of your eyes returns so insistently that before you know it, the first tear has fallen. 

Your bottom lip quivers as you blink, another tear quickly following. Your brow crinkles with confusion, self-consciousness already beginning to tighten in your sternum. "I-I'm sorry," you stammer, shoulders pulling up towards your ears as Eddie watches you with those dark eyes. "I don't know why I'm crying—"

But Eddie shakes his head, smiling tenderly down at you. "Don't be sorry, y/n," he murmurs, smoke voice rich and heady and soothing as he repeats your words from the club back to him— what you'd told him when he apologized for breaking the first rule with you that night. 

Don't be sorry. Don't be ashamed.

Those dark eyes are shining, bright with light that radiates from within him. There's a gentleness there, a gentleness that spreads over the tops of his cheeks. That hint of pink on black and white. And you don't know why you're crying, but you know you're not sad; and when you realize that Eddie knows it too, your self-consciousness eases, and you just relax and let your tears fall.

Eddie doesn't try to quiet you or tell you to stop. He doesn't tell you that you're okay and you don't need to cry. Instead, he wipes your tears patiently with calloused thumbs. He presses tender kisses to your lips and your wet cheeks. Eddie holds you as you cry. And as he does, your leaves soak in his light, roots coveting his rich charcoal. Your petals spread, opening their faces, unafraid of being perceived. And there's something more. As the tendrils anchor around your ribs, vining snug against that supportive trellis, small fruit begins to appear— tiny bunches of green, immature and firm, sprouting abundantly along your growth.

As your tears subside, you sniffle and cup Eddie's cheek, leaning up for a firm kiss. You pour into it, hoping it can convey some of the tenderness you feel for him. Because you want him to know. You want Eddie to know how much you—

The bed across the room creaks loudly then, and you startle, breaking from Eddie's lips as you realize the R&B music must have ended some time ago. The sound of a bed creaking— a bed that isn't the one you're laying on— sends you crashing back into reality. It strikes you suddenly where you are: in a hotel room in Miami, Florida, on vacation with your boyfriend, Steve, your friend, Chrissy, and your friend's boyfriend, Eddie, with whom you've just had the best sex of your life. 

On some level, you can admit to yourself that it's not shocking the best sex you've ever had was with Eddie. But what is shocking is that you'd been so caught up in being with him that you'd entirely forgotten that Steve and Chrissy had been across the room the entire time, just a half-dozen feet away.

You're suddenly aware of them again, but your eyes haven't left Eddie's. And though he hasn't looked away either, you can see in the way he blinks and his vision seems to flicker that he's just gained the same awareness. He's still half-hard inside you, but his stiffness is flagging now; carefully, Eddie pulls out, saying quickly, "Wait there, I'll get you a towel." 

You nod, and before he gets up, you feel his thumb drag fondly against your cheek one last time— a hasty little swipe, like he couldn't help but steal one more touch before he leaves you. You bend your legs, angling your hips to try to keep his cum from staining the sheets. You press the back of your hands against your warm cheeks, taking a slow breath and letting it out, gazing at the blank ceiling as you wait for Eddie to return. You hear his footsteps hastening out of the bathroom, heading for the side of your bed, but they halt when a crisp voice cuts suddenly through the silence.

"I got it," the voice says, smooth and even. "She needs you."

 You lift your head, eyes darting to the two men near the foot of your bed. Both are naked. One is pale and hesitant as his gaze flicks restlessly between everyone else in the room. The other is tan, arms crossed as he stands between your bed and his friend. You watch Eddie swallow as his eyes meet Steve's even stare, and then he's moving toward the other bed, away from you. Steve watches him go, and you glance over at Eddie's destination to see Chrissy lounging against the rumpled sheets, waves of silky blonde hair splayed against her pillow, a dainty hand cupped against her lower stomach to prevent Steve's release from spilling before it can be cleared away. 

You register a presence near your feet, eyes catching on hazel and touseled waves as Steve stares down at you impassively. With instant clarity, you can see yourself through his eyes— the juncture of your thighs sticky with Eddie's warm cum, your eyes wet with tears, your cheeks slowly flushing with the evidence of your thick, oozing guilt. And you feel something else: the thrum of deep shame, prickling like thousands of tiny needles, racing through your veins in time with your heart.

Suddenly, you can't breathe.

You have enough presence of mind to cup a hand over yourself to contain the mess as you scramble from the bed, dismounting near the sliding glass door opposite where Steve is standing. It brings you closer to your open suitcase— a small blessing, as you snatch an oversized t-shirt with your unoccupied hand before making a hasty retreat into the safety of the bathroom again. 

You suck in a shaky breath, heart stuttering in your chest as you puff your cheeks and let it out slowly, leaning against the light wood of the closed bathroom door. Guilt, shame, trepidation— they all resurge stronger than ever as you realize what you and Eddie have done. 

You'd broken the rules again, and this time, it hadn't been an accident. You'd chosen it. You'd wanted it. In the heat of the moment, you hadn't cared about the consequences, but now, as you wad up toilet paper and yank it from the roll, you feel the prickle of hot shame racing as you wipe the evidence of your betrayal from between your legs. You drop the ruined tissue into the toilet, yanking and wiping and yanking and wiping as if your guilt is a physical stain, and if you rub yourself raw, you can cleanse it from your flesh.

But your guilt is inside you, and so is your shame. Hot, prickling, thick, and oozy, shame and guilt coat your stomach, making you feel nearly ill as you consider your selfishness. You think of Steve's impassive face, knowing instinctively that it must have been a mask concealing how he truly felt. You think of what Chrissy will feel when she realizes that Eddie has cum inside you again, heart skipping and thudding at the sudden, horrifying thought that she may have overheard you asking for it. That she or Steve might know how much you wanted it. 

How much you loved it.

Hot tears leak from your eyes, and you wipe them away silently as you flush the evidence of your betrayal. You're still swiping them from your blurred vision as you watch the water swirl.

You're dreading emerging from this oasis with its light wood cabinets and its marblesque tiles even more now than you were earlier tonight. You delay it as long as possible— pulling on your oversized t-shirt, washing your makeup away, brushing your teeth, wishing you had thought to grab a pair of underwear, though at least the shirt covers your ass with a couple of inches to spare. You feel exposed and vulnerable, and you know it has everything to do with the thought of facing Steve when you get out of here. You don't want to endure his reaction but feel selfish for even thinking that. However he responds to what I've done is what I deserve, and I need to accept that.

The bathroom door creaks open into peaceful silence. You peek carefully through the crack, eyeing Steve where he's reclining against the pillows lining the headboard, the side of his face illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp as he scrolls on his phone. As you emerge from the bathroom with tentative steps, Chrissy's hand finds the thin wood of the door, and you startle, nearly jumping as she appears suddenly in front of you.

"Done in there?" Her blue eyes are shiny and bright, and her voice sounds just as perky as it always does. 

"Uh…" Your gaze darts from her to Eddie, who's hovering just behind her, brown eyes wide, full mouth pressed into a long line of bemusement as he stares back at you. "Um, yeah," you say, trying to fix your face into a neutral expression, though you fear it's probably all creased up with guilt and shame.

Chrissy doesn't seem to notice. "'Kay!" she says, flashing a bright grin at you as you sidestep so she can shimmy by you into the bathroom. When Eddie merely stands there, hands hanging limply at his sides as he stares at you, she glances back. "C'mon, Eddie," Chrissy says with a little playful whine, fingers closing around his wrist. "I'm cold, and I wanna go to bed!" 

He moves forward to follow her almost automatically, and you watch him until the door clicks softly shut, separating you. 

You blink at the white door until you hear a rustle break the hush. It's Steve, folding back the now-straightened sheets on your bed like an invitation. When you stare at him without moving, he glances up at you through his mussed bangs as he pats the mattress. No way to misconstrue that— it is undoubtedly an invitation for you to get in bed with him. And what's more, Steve doesn't appear angry or upset at all. In fact, he's currently shooting you a lopsided grin.

It feels like the fucking Twilight Zone.

Is it possible that Steve and Chrissy haven't fully realized what happened between you and Eddie? That they'd been so caught up in their own pleasure that the tension, the intimacy, the first real orgasm you’ve ever had with a partner had gone entirely unnoticed? It's nearly unbelievable. In fact, it is unbelievable. But the evidence to the contrary— Chrissy's usual powdery-soft smile and Steve's usual easy grin— cannot be ignored.

You're reeling, but amid your utter bafflement, you have enough presence of mind to realize that acting strange is not going to do you any favors and will only make the situation— whatever the situation is— worse. So you walk forward, slipping under the covers and turning as you feel Steve immediately click out the bedside light and shimmy over to spoon you. You force yourself to relax as his firm arms wrap around you, and his alkaline nose tucks against the juncture of your neck. You let Steve hold you— let him press his torso along your spine and fit his legs into the crook made by your bent legs, the entire length of his body snug against yours. He sighs deeply, a loud breathy sound of contentment that ruffles the hair at the nape of your neck. 

"Shit," Steve says, and his crisp voice washes over you like a cool wave. "That was fun." 

You've started to adapt to this situation, and that allows you to answer him the way you do. "Good," you say, and your voice is even and warm. "I'm glad you had fun."

Steve presses a chaste kiss to the side of your neck before settling his head back against his pillow. And you realize, as you stare at the empty bed across the room, that what you'd told him— that you're glad Steve had fun with Chrissy— is the truth. That you've reached the point where you really don't mind that your boyfriend fucked someone else tonight. 

That, if you're brutally honest with yourself, you no longer care that Steve is fucking Chrissy at all.

And that should scare you. But despite this realization, the warmth of Steve's body coupled with the exhaustion of the day— both emotional and physical— has your lashes already fluttering with the effort it takes to resist the allure of sleep. You barely twitch as the bathroom door opens, and Eddie and Chrissy climb into their own bed.

And as you succumb to the promise of slumber, soft like a velvet shroud as it covers you until you sink down into unconsciousness, the last thing you see is the image of Chrissy's lithe arms wrapped like a vice around Eddie's back, her dainty fingers pressing into his pale quartz skin. You watch her nails grow, sharpening to points until they're pricking him. They begin to pierce through his flesh as she clutches him so tightly. And you think he must be in such pain; he must be shouting, but you don't hear a sound. You watch as wells of deep red blood flow from his wounds and seep into the sheets, staining them with a gash of crimson that will never wash away.

You don't actually see any of that. As it turns out, you're already asleep.

–

Butterflies live their lives basking in the sun. Moths don’t; they exist in the dark, lives illuminated only by the moon, that indirect refraction of true sun. So whenever they steal a glimpse of the light, they’re drawn to it. Recklessly, they chase it, fluttering around that brightness, unafraid or unaware of the consequences. And because they don’t see it all the time, they yearn for it in a way that butterflies never do.

Even if it destroys them.

–

Approximately twenty-six hours ago, you'd imagined yourself sitting on the hotel balcony, having a leisurely cup of morning coffee to revive you after a long night of partying at the club with your friends and boyfriend. Instead, you find yourself digging in your suitcase, searching for an athleisure outfit so you can accompany Chrissy to the spa.

As you'd awakened to light streaming through the gauzy curtains, eyes blinking open to the sight of dark curls gleaming in the shafts of brightness and Eddie's pale quartz back rising and falling with even breaths, the presence of Chrissy's dainty hand splayed across his spine had conjured a small shiver. But when you'd grasped for it, the reason for your unease slipped from your consciousness like a drop of ink or blood diffusing into water. You quickly attributed the feeling to your actions the previous night, to the vestiges of guilt and shame that still ticked at the edge of your senses despite the conspicuous lack of conflict and a good night's rest. You'd been preparing for the fallout as you sat up in bed, drawing restless fingers through your hair and rubbing the remnants of slumber from your eyes. But when Chrissy awoke, blue eyes bright and smile soft as she pulled herself cross-legged on the other side of Eddie and whisper-shouted to you her proposal for how to spend the morning before your return flight, you finally allowed yourself to accept that maybe things were okay after all.

As you search for an outfit, you're careful not to disturb Steve. He's still stretched out against the sheets, hair adorably disheveled, nose whistling slightly with each inhale. You watch him sleep for a moment, but when it conjures a whisper of feeling you don't want to confront right now, you redouble your efforts to find an outfit. Soon, you're adorned in a loose cropped t-shirt, high-waisted bike shorts, and flip-flops. After a quick visit to the bathroom to brush your teeth and fix your hair, the slight jangle of keys near the door tells you Chrissy is ready and waiting. You emerge to find her in a skin-tight black romper, topped with a loose button-up tied chicly at the waist to show off her athletic legs. Together, the pair of you set out for a morning filled with the promise of relaxation and revival.

The day spa Chrissy has chosen called Ciel reminds you of the bathroom in your hotel. It's all clean lines and light wood, crisp and pristine but scattered with lush greenery that echoes the tropical foliage outdoors. Trying to balance treating yourselves but also sticking to a budget, you and Chrissy had agreed to two spa activities, which would have you back to the hotel by ten o'clock to pack and eat a quick brunch with the guys before your one o'clock flight. 

It smells of rich aromatherapy oil in the massage room where you're lying face-down on the table, face wedged in the opening, with nothing but a thin towel to preserve your modesty. You'd think that after having sex with three people at once, you'd be a little more comfortable with your own nudity. Yet you find yourself having to resist the sudden spike of self-consciousness that pierces you when you hear the door creak open underneath the ambient music and flowing water sounds. Still, Chrissy's presence on the table beside yours is soothing, and as the massage progresses, you find the precise and clinical rubbing does exactly what it's supposed to. It's like the masseuse's fingers are wringing all the tension from your body. As the hot stones rest heavily against your back, they release the ooze of your guilt and shame until you emerge from the room feeling cleansed.

After your massage, you suck down cold water as instructed, Chrissy at your side as you wait for your second activity: manicures. She sighs contentedly, porcelain skin shining pink and healthy from the heat, eyes sparkling even brighter. "That was so nice," she says. "I totally needed that."

"Yeah, me too," you say, exchanging a warm smile with her. "So, how was it dancing on stage last night?"

"Oh, my God, y/n, it was so cool!" she gushes, clasping your forearm as she starts to tell you all about it. And as you listen to Chrissy talk— as she shakes your arm around in her enthusiasm, and you fawn over her on-stage escapades, any lingering trepidation you felt at the thought of Chrissy being angry with you finally melts away. We're okay, you think, feeling a surge of fondness for Chrissy as you squeeze her fingers, and she smiles that soft charming smile that reveals her slightly crooked teeth.

An attendant guides you to the wall of nail colors, and you and Chrissy make your selections. You opt for squared tips and a pretty dove gray color. After some deliberation, Chrissy decides to get acrylics— not too long, but pointed, painted a bright siren red. Her acrylics will take longer than yours, but you don't mind; you've budgeted enough time for the indulgence, and the whole point of this trip is to relax and take it easy. No need to rush.

You sit side-by-side with Chrissy in the salon chair, resting your fingers lightly on the table as you wait for your nail technician to join you. She is an older woman with kindly-wrinkled eyes and shockingly smooth hands for her age. You greet her, and she returns your 'hello' with a smile, getting straight down to business by wiping off your bare nails with polish remover to ensure they're ready to be painted. Chrissy's technician comes second, flouncing into her seat across from your friend. She's younger, probably about your age, with a massive black bun piled atop her head to reveal an undercut. 

"What's up?" she greets Chrissy, who smiles broadly. "We doing acrylics?"

"Yup," Chrissy answers, wiggling her fingers sassily. "You like?"

The technician slants a grin at her. "Hell yeah," she replies, earning one of Chrissy's giggles as she positions her hands atop the towel to begin working.

Your technician eyes her colleague with an air of motherly long-suffering but doesn't comment as she works. Despite the casualness of Chrissy's technician, which may, you suppose, bother some customers, you eagerly welcome the conversation that flows between you three. You learn that her name is Crystal, which you all have a bit of a laugh over as it sounds so close to Chrissy. Crystal's constant chatterboxing doesn't interfere with her ability to work; she seamlessly gossips with you while preparing Chrissy's nails with practiced ease. And your technician doesn't seem to mind being excluded from the conversation, appearing content to work in patient silence while manipulating your limp fingers as your eyes dart from Chrissy to Crystal and back again.

Eventually, as Crystal's most recent story subsides, Chrissy glances at you. And you can tell, as her blonde brows crinkle up and her teeth bite down on her lip to contain a smile, that she wants to say something.

"What?" you say, playfully bald, narrowing your eyes with faux suspicion. "What is it? Spit it out, Chris."

She purses her lips, glancing between you and Crystal as she speaks, sweet and powdery soft in her hesitance. "Well… I've been dying to tell you this, y/n. It's kind of why I wanted to do this without the guys. We're on vacation with our boyfriends," she explains to Crystal, who nods, looking intrigued.

You're also intrigued by the sparkle in Chrissy's eye and the sudden light flush on her cheeks. You can tell it's good news and that it must be something big. Your face goes slack, eyes wide with excitement, thinking that it might be about her yoga studio— the reason she's been taking all those night classes, working so hard. Is she done with her degree? Had she found a good deal on a location? You itch to reach for her, but you can't move your hands; you settle for expressing your eagerness through your face and voice. "What is it, babe?" you ask, warm and buoyant with rising glee as her smile breaks free, lighting her face so radiantly.

"I think Eddie's gonna propose to me!"

Crystal squeals, Chrissy giggles, and your face is still fixed in a bright, eager smile.

"Holy shit!" Crystal exclaims, leaning in, ignoring the pointed look your technician shoots her way.

"I know," Chrissy sighs, feet tip-tapping on the floor like she needs an outlet for her overwhelming giddiness. "I'm so excited. I mean, we were gonna wait until after I finished my classes and got my degree, but we've been dating for, like, five years now, so what's the point in delaying, you know?" She looks from Crystal to you as if seeking your approval. You tighten the sagging corners of your smile, cheeks already aching as you nod quickly. You don't trust yourself to speak. Thankfully, her eyes bounce back and forth between you and Crystal, continuing eagerly without seeking more of a response.

And as Chrissy tells you all the reasons she thinks Eddie is going to propose to her, a feeling like mortification slides hot down the back of your neck to the base of your spine. It's like mortification but heavier, thicker. More asphixiating. Like your friend had shoved a pillow over your face, and each rationale she gives for Eddie's imminent proposal presses it down harder and harder against your nose and lips until your chest heaves, fruitlessly sucking in fabric instead of air. 

"We've been living together for a few months now," she's telling you and Crystal, "and it's been amazing. Like, I heard the transition can be kind of hard at first, moving in with someone, but it was so seamless. I was shocked! And it's so nice to come home to him every day. Well, you know," she chuckles, slanting a friendly, knowing look toward you. "You live with Steve, so you get it."

"All right, what's the best part?" Crystal asks conversationally, filing the acrylic of Chrissy's ring finger to a precise point.

"Hmm…" Chrissy bobs her head back and forth, pursing her lips as she thinks. "Probably sleeping with him." It takes every ounce of willpower you possess not to react.

Crystal guffaws. "Girl—"

Chrissy cuts her off. "No, no! Not like that," she clarifies with a charming giggle. "Eddie's like my personal heater. I'm always so cold, and he keeps me warm every night. And he's so attentive. Even when he's worked a really long shift and comes home super tired, he always wants to cuddle. He's really affectionate. And he's so reliable. I know he'd do anything for me." 

You're still smiling, but you can't breathe.

"Aw," Crystal coos, brows tugging up in a simpering expression of admiration. "I'm happy for you, girl."

  "Thank you," Chrissy replies, letting her head fall back as her eyes take on this far-away, dreamy look. You watch her as she hums contentedly before saying musingly, "Yeah. We'll get married, then I'll open the studio. And I think in a year or two, that'll probably be the right time to start trying." She slants a glance at you and Crystal, smiling conspiratorially as she shrugs. "Or sooner. You never know." She giggles and Crystal huffs amusedly through her nose. "Not sure I wanna wait that long to have my first baby."

There is no pillow; instead, Chrissy has sucked all the air from the room. Your lungs begin to ache.

"Honey," your technician says, all kind and quiet as your eyes dart to hers for the first time in a long while. She smiles reassuringly. "You're a little shaky. Did you eat this morning?"

You look down. She has your pinky in her grip, brush poised with dove gray polish above your nail. She's right. Your hands are trembling.

"N-no." You push the words out, voice creaky with disuse, so quiet that you aren't sure if she's heard you. You flex your fingers, jaw clenching as you focus on trying to keep them still. When she doesn't resume her painting, you glance up at her again. "I'm okay," you add, and when she nods, you turn your eyes back to your fingers, thinking of nothing but holding still and breathing evenly. Inhale slowly. Hold for three seconds. Out slowly. Wait for five. Repeat. Your fingers hold steady, and she manages to finish painting one hand before Chrissy addresses you directly.

"What do you think, y/n? Do you think they could be blue?"

You swallow against the lump that rises in your throat. "Hm?" You make a little questioning sound as you glance at your friend, looking into her face framed by supple strawberry-blonde waves, her bright blue eyes, her pink bow lips, her porcelain skin so radiant and beautiful.

"I was saying that I hope our baby has blue eyes, but Crystal said that brown eyes are, like, a dominant trait. So since Eddie has brown, he probably wouldn't."

"I mean, I wouldn't say I'm an authority," Crystal hedges, looking to you for your response.

You want to say, Chrissy, the thought of you having Eddie's baby makes me feel like I'm suffocating.

Instead, you squeeze out one single word. "He?"

"Oh, yeah." Chrissy looks a little sheepish, smiling softly as her shoulders squish up near her ears. "I kind of always say 'he' because I really want a boy. But Eddie wants a girl. I mean, honestly, I guess it doesn't matter what we have." Her face fills up with adoring affection. "He would be such an amazing girl dad. She'd be his little princess."

You'd do anything, give anything, not to hear another word. 

The realization shifts something in you. It allows you to claw at the pillow Chrissy's inadvertently holding to your face, wrench it from your nose and mouth, and shred it until feathers rain around you in a cloud of soft down. By sheer force of will, you bury your emotions beneath the dark earth at the bottom of you until you can't feel them anymore.

"I think there's a chance the baby would have blue eyes," you say, straightening your spine, face perfectly pleasant. "It's not likely, but there's always a chance."

–

When Steve first proposed carpooling with Chrissy and Eddie to the airport, it seemed like a great idea. Now, it's agony.

When you'd returned to the hotel, Chrissy had asked the guys what they'd been up to while you were gone. "Oh, we just hung out," Steve replied easily, shooting her a lopsided grin as he wrapped his arm around you in greeting, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. Steve had acted entirely normal throughout your packing process, but you couldn't help but feel that Eddie seemed a little… off. 

You didn't look at him often. Despite how you'd pushed your emotions down at the spa, it seemed the effect had been only temporary since the sight of Eddie's black and white caused you to ache deeply somewhere behind your ribs. Still, after so many evenings in his company, even the most fleeting glimpses of his brown eyes and pale face revealed a dullness that was obvious to you. He seemed harrowed. But he also seemed to be avoiding your gaze just as much as you were avoiding his, so you pushed your questions aside and focused your attention on returning home to normalcy.

You're sitting in the passenger seat of Steve's maroon BMW. He's driving with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lightly against the gearshift. In the back seat, Chrissy has opted for the middle spot, pressing close to her boyfriend as he leans tiredly against the car door. You're all pretty worn out from the flight, sitting in the quiet wooshing of the highway as you think dully about the Monday morning of work you'll be facing tomorrow. You're already planning on taking a long hot shower, wrapping yourself in your coziest pajamas, and gorging on pizza and some indulgent Netflix show to unwind before bed. You can't wait until you and Steve drop Chrissy and Eddie off. Chrissy seems to share your sentiment.

"I can't wait 'til we get home." Chrissy is murmuring quietly, but in the hush of the car, you can hear her just fine. It's the first time someone has broken the silence the whole car ride, and you find yourself glancing automatically back to see Chrissy's hand high on Eddie's thigh as she crosses her legs toward him, cocking her head. "I'm gonna get you right in the shower, big boy."

You hear Eddie huff a brief chuckle, and you swallow to wet your suddenly dry throat. You swell with foreboding; dread sinks heavy in your stomach as a brief flash of that hot mortification echoes inside you again.

"What do you wanna do to me tonight?" Chrissy murmurs, voice pitched low and sultry, still quiet but horribly clear. Please, no. Don't make me listen to this, you beg silently, eyes flicking toward the side window as you curl up on yourself in preparation.

Chrissy continues talking. "Do you wanna try fucking my face again? That was fun last time."

There's an extended pause and then Eddie's answer. "If you want." You feel some vindictive relief at the impassiveness of his voice. Hot, prickly shame rushes in to follow, and you rest your chin on your palm, leaning your temple against the cool glass of the window. You don't want to listen, but after Eddie's response, you can't deny that a small part of you is hoping to hear that lack of enthusiasm from him continue. You may not want to listen, but your ears are honed on the back seat now, attentive to each little sound and shift in tone.

Chrissy's voice is suddenly lower, more seductively teasing. "You know I love it when you get me all sloppy."

You don't dare to look; you keep perfectly still, waiting for Eddie's response. And you hear a subtle shifting of fabric, like one of them is moving to touch the other or fidgeting with their hands. Maybe Eddie is twisting his rings in that nervous habit of his. 

Again, it heartens you, his lackluster response. And you know it's wrong to take pleasure in it, but you can't help yourself. Later, you can chastise yourself for your selfishness. Now, you're grasping it like a lifeline. You're reaching for anything that can relieve the oppressive suffocation you'd experienced in the nail salon. Because you know that ache can't be suppressed forever. You know it will return, and you'll latch on to anything that may alleviate at least some of it.

You hear Chrissy giggle suddenly. "Or…" She sounds even foxier now. "You could always…" She trails off pointedly, and you can hear the smile in her voice. You know what Eddie will do; it's clear what Chrissy wants.

"What?" he asks, obliging her.

"You know…" she murmurs, husky and low. There's a rustle and then the barest suggestion of words, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. You realize she must be whispering in Eddie's ear.

His sudden shocked huff nearly startles you; you hear the slight wet sound of him swallowing thickly. "Would you like that?" Chrissy asks, all smug and low with knowing pleasure.

Eddie chuckles disbelievingly. That smoke voice rasps low. "What kind of question is that? 'Would you like that?' Of course, I'd fuckin' like that—" 

The slight relief twists violently into pain behind your ribs; the ache resurges, throbbing as you begin to suffocate again.

 With trembling fingertips painted dove gray, you switch on the radio.

–

It's one o'clock in the morning, and your pain has finally subsided into hollowness. You'd worn your mask for the remainder of the day. You'd worn it while dropping Chrissy and Eddie off at their apartment. You'd worn it during the ride back to yours, where you wrote down all the groceries you needed for the week in your Notes app to be picked up after work tomorrow. You'd worn it while showering, while changing into your pajamas, while relaxing on the couch watching an indulgent Netflix show with your feet in Steve's lap. And now, Steve is asleep, so you no longer need to maintain your mask. It's somewhat of a relief, but it can't compensate for the whiplash of events that occurred on this vacation. On some level, you feel like everything has changed. But laying here, empty and hollow, you realize that, in reality, nothing has. 

You hope your hollowness persists. Maybe, with hollowness in place of the ache, you can put this weekend behind you and pick back up right where you left off before you'd gone on this vacation.

The phone buzzes.

You blink, staring at the bright screen of your phone on your bedside table for a long moment, long enough for it to go black again. You know who the message is from because only one person texts you this late in the evening. You consider leaving it for tomorrow morning and just going to sleep instead. You're certainly tired enough.

You drag the phone underneath the covers with you. 

You open the message, which includes a small block of text and, curiously, an mp3 file rather than a Spotify link. You dully pull out your earbuds automatically, fitting them in your ears before you read the message.

Eddie has written, 'Been working on this one for a while now. Finally finished recording it right before our trip and wanted to share it with you. Let me know what you think.'

Your heart stutters and thumps, and the feeling is not entirely pleasant. As you stare at the file waiting to be opened and played, you waver with indecision. You've never hesitated to listen to one of the songs Eddie has shared with you. But then, you'd never before broken the rules by kissing him. And he'd never before made you orgasm. And you've never before sat in a nail salon, listening to his girlfriend talk about becoming his wife and having his children.

In the end, what finally persuades you to make your decision is not any of those things. It's the memory of Eddie's bouncing knee, of his white knuckles as he glared at the sea, grappling with your kind words. Struggling to accept that you'd listened to his regret and shame and countered with all the parts of him you cherish.

As soon as you hear it, you pause on the chorus, stunned by Eddie's voice, how it's gritty and cracking with the force of his growl. ' Placed inside, safe and sound. Shades of colors are all I see. ' You listen to it once and then immediately play it again and again. You're fixated on it— the way Eddie sings about being 'safe and sound.' The way his voice sounds so raw. An odd image comes to you: a man's pale back pricked by sharp nails, flowing crimson onto sheets. It makes no sense, but it also makes you ill, so you push the image away and hit replay.

You listen to the song again and think about how Chrissy said she wants to have a boy, but Eddie wants a girl. It suddenly becomes so obvious: how they've discussed getting married and having kids, and you don't even know when Eddie's birthday is. You're thinking about how you've never been to their apartment. You're wondering what their apartment looks like. What their bed looks like. And then you're thinking about how Eddie keeps Chrissy warm in it every night. And once you think that, you can't stop the questions that tumble one after another.

Does he touch her like he touches you? 

Does he fuck her like he fucks you? 

Does he moan against her neck when he cums inside her? 

Does he hold her while she cries?

Does he steal one last touch before he leaves the bed to wash up? 

Does she get to see the gentleness in his eyes? Does that gentleness spread over his whole face? You know that it can. Your knowledge comes deep from the bottom of you, where your green sprouts forth. Does Eddie's gentleness spread for Chrissy that way? The way you've never gotten to see it?

The suffocating ache wells up. It leaks silently from your eyes. It's all too much. You feel too much. 

For the first time, you don't answer Eddie's message.

#tkym #blueywrites #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington #chrissy cunningham

[tinfairies]

any bon clay nsfw hcs..

Boy do I 👀

They're a total pillow princess for sure, but they can be a service dom as well.

Loves eating pussy and sucking cock and they're good at both.

Very vocal and will tell you what they like and don't like. Moans so loud, but you know they're about to cum when they suddenly get quiet and start whimpering

Smaller than average cock, about 4 inches hard, 2.5 inches soft. Uncut for sure. They know how to use it though and when they fuck you, you definitely feel it

Cums a lot. Like a whole tablespoon per cumshot

Kinky as hell, loves pet play and bondage.

Loves voyeurism and exhibitionism and frequents sex parties and swingers clubs a lot

Doesn't shave hardly ever, just keeps everything neatly trimmed.

#tin talks #smut #one piece #tin smut #headcanons #one piece smut #op smut #one piece x reader #op x reader #bon clay #Bonclay #Bentham #bentham of the wild #Bonclay x reader