#you know I thought I’d make one art piece for this series and that’s it. but um. here’s a second one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carolmunson · 1 year

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let's go, don't wait: part II (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! series masterlist summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, phone sex, smut, oral (f receiving). some sad childhood talk, all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (19K words.)

With how easy the first date had been to make, Eddie wasn’t expecting it to be so hard to pin you down for the next one. Neither of your schedules had lined up for the rest of the week, and up until next Friday neither of you had much free time. You either had to stay at work late or he had to stay late for the three extracurriculars he was running (jazz club, D&D club, and co-runner of the school’s GSA) – which he’d only be annoyed about running if he didn’t absolutely love the kids. The extra overtime didn’t hurt either, perks of working at a rich kid private arts school.

At first he was nervous you were busy going on dates with other guys until he called you one night and he could hear your boss in the background waxing poetic about the shift to lab grown sapphires. Then he’d feel bad for feeling so accusatory to start – you’d never said anything to each other about being exclusive. Hell, you’d only been on one date. But you talked every day, and fuck did that feel good for Eddie.

g’morning pretty ew you’re obsessed with me. good morning, boy

He’s happy he knows you’re joking because he’s certain no other guy would get it. He knows you read his text and screamed into your pillow, cheeks hot and chest thrumming. That’s why you always have to respond so mean so that he doesn’t know how much you like him back. This backfires, because he can tell that the meaner you are, the more you like his attention.

what’s your weekend look like? i know you leave for AZ on sunday but i’d really like to see you before you go.

You were headed to a gem trade show in Tucson on Sunday for a few days. You went every year you’d been working for your boss, you told him all about it on the phone. You’re cute when you’re excited but he didn’t want to embarrass you by saying so – just let you rattle on about all the things you get to see. You promised to send him pictures of some of the cool fossils you might come across, all of the big crystal furniture. “You were a weird dinosaurs kind of kid, right? You’d be into pictures of fossils?" “Why are you so mean? Would you go up to nine year old me and call him a weird kid that’s into dinosaurs?” “No, he’d be so sad.” “So next time you wanna say some mean shit, imagine you’re saying it to nine year old me.” “I bet you were a cute kid,” you thought out loud, “You’re a really cute adult.”

“You think I’m cute?” “The cutest.” His face burned at every compliment you offered him, flushing dark pink at every sweet word you said. He was a mess. Embarrassment would flood him when he’d check his phone during class, the kids would never let him hear the end of it. “Did you meet her on Tinder, Mr. E?” “This is not appropriate class discussion guys,” his eyes would shut tight in frustration when they’d catch him texting you back and he’d reluctantly tuck his phone into his back pocket. They were way bolder than he was at their age. “No because like, you’re so happy though. Look how you’re smiling when you text her.” “Mr. Munson’s got that W rizz.” “Is she hot?” “Be fucking forreal. He’s blushing so hard right now.” “Smash or pass, Munson?” “Guys, can you relax? You literally have a test right now." Bzz. Bzz.

i gotta run errands on saturday and go then leave sunday night :( working late friday cause we need to take gem inventory essentially He sighed, he didn’t want to wait until next Friday to see you again.

i could run errands with you if you’ll have me. i’ll drive! you sure? it’s not super exciting stuff. you make it exciting. :) i’ll take you out to lunch. sound good? okay :) okay :) see you saturday, cutie omg shut up 🙄 but yeah. see you saturday. :)

He was nervous you’d notice he got his interior detailed the night before, but he was too embarrassed to let you get into the car in its original glory. He honked the horn in three short bursts, being mindful of the neighbors even though it was around 9:30 in the morning. You inch out of the door of your place, the first floor of a quaint three family home, in your Princess Diana best. You dressed for errands and his heart swells, leggings and a big sweatshirt, little white sneakers and socks. You look cute like this, hurrying outside with your paper Old Navy bag blowing in the wind, relaxed and laid back. But you aren’t for long, you take a step outside only to feel the chill in the ‘second winter’ air of March and raise a finger to him before running back inside — reappearing with a lightweight parka haphazardly thrown on. You patter to the car and he tries to ignore his heart rate speeding up while he leans over to open it for you. “Hey you,” he smiles, “Good morning.” “Morning,” you say with a coy smile. His chest leans forward slightly to kiss you as you settle in but he stops short. Are you there yet? You only kissed that night last week. What if you weren’t ready to kiss again? He swallows, settling back into his seat but recognizing how his car fills with your scent. You smell so fucking good he could eat you. “So what’s the agenda, sugar?” he asks. “Okay, agenda: Target, Old Navy for a return,” you say, raising your bag, “I have to run into Sephora to pick up some sunscreen for my boss, and um…I think that’s it? They’re all in the same shopping center over by um – by the movie theater.” “Oh yeah,” he nods, “I know the one.” He reaches for the sound system, turning the volume up a little, Lamb of God’s Vanishing crunching through his speakers. He watches for your reaction and can tell you don’t know it, but you don’t seem appalled or repulsed. “Do you have a tunes preference?” he asks, voice velvety smooth, eyes catching on your parted lips, “It’s a long drive.” “Uh…” your knee bounces faster, “I mean it’s your car. We should listen to what you wanna listen to.” “Honey, I’m like your Uber driver today,” he offers, head tilting while he looks over at you. Eddie’s gaze lingers on your face with soft eyes, lashes a shadow over his irises, “How’m I gonna get a five star review if you don’t like the music?”

“I do!” you assure aggressively, “I do like it.”

“Here, I have a plan,” he nods, holding his hand out, “Gimme your phone.”

You toss him a look which triggers an eye roll from him, “Just trust me, give me your phone.”

“Here’s the bargain, I connect your tunes to my car,” he mumbles while he disconnects his phone from the car’s Bluetooth and connects yours instead, “But I get to pick the songs. Deal?”

A giggle bubbles out of you, shoulders shaking loosely, “That’s ridiculous.”

“But is it a deal?” he asks again. He takes a breath that inflates his chest, while you consider it. It’s not fair that you look so cute this morning, it’s not fair that he doesn’t have the confidence to just reach over and lay one on you like they do in the movies. He wasn’t lying when he said you were so kissable.

“It’s a deal,” you nod. He watches your knee slow down to stopping. Eddie swallows, eyes traveling from your knees to your full thighs sitting fat in his passenger's seat with a quick scan that you don’t notice.

“Okay, so let’s see…” he mutters, going into your music and scrolling through your artists, landing pretty early on with an enthusiastic nod that makes his waves bounce around his face.

“Blood Brothers?” he asks, “Wow, you really did hate your dad, huh? I haven’t heard this album in years.”

“I started liking them for a boy back in high school,” you shrugged while he thumbed through the tracks, “Then started liking them forreal.” “That’s okay,” he smiles over at you, “You’d be surprised to see my Spotify wrapped every year. Never as mean and scary as you’d expect.”

“No?” your brows raise, “Not a bunch of ‘Stabby Metal Scream Crunch Stab’ in your top ten?”

He scoffs, settling on ‘Set Fire to the Face on Fire’, the opening Fire! Fire! Fire! leaking through the speakers, “I married the head cheerleader at my high school – I’d like to think my music taste is pretty eclectic. Metal’s just, y’know, the main course. Plenty of side dishes on my roster.”

“You a big fan of having something on the side?” you quirk a brow at him through the rear view mirror while he puts the car in drive. He scoffs again, lips twitching up into a smirk. You’re quick and it makes his blood rush, his fingers drum nervously on the wheel while he keeps the car in place.

“Why’re you so mean, huh?” he teases, “Do I look like the kind of guy that’s had a lot of side pieces?”

“Oh,” you start, giving him a once over, “Not even close.”

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” he asks, putting the car in park again. He turns down the volume, turning his body completely towards you. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” you drone, turning yourself toward him in return, “I guess I am.” Eddie clears his throat, tongue flicking over his full lips to wet them.

“So uh…before we hit the road,” his voice cracks, heart rattling in its cage, trapped in his chest, “D’you-think-I-could-steal-a-kiss-good-morning?” It pours out of his mouth while his body goes numb – like the bandaid was ripped off but someone else did it for him. His hopeful voice when he presents the offer sounds foreign to him, but he knows what he’s asking you. Blood rushes in his ears, the steady thump of his heart pounding through his veins. Your bottom lip tucks into your teeth, eyes shutting briefly with anticipation, a tiny chuckle huffs through your nose. Your knee starts to bounce again.

“Yeah, but it’s not stealing if I’m letting you have one,” you reply, your own voice becoming delicate and girlish, teenage nerves coasting down your throat through the back of your neck. He leans close to you, engulfed again in the scent of your perfume, head leaning to the side slightly while your movements mirror his. Eddie brings a hand up to hold your face, keeping you steady while he goes in for the kill, one he’d been hoping to make since he saw you last. Heart stuck in his throat, he almost feels a sob shoot through his chest when his lips touch yours. It’s as soft and warm as he remembers. As soft and warm as the moment he’s been replaying in his head since last Monday.

You both break apart but he doesn’t move away from your face, hand dropping from your cheek to your bouncing knee where he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Are you nervous?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I think maybe, yeah. But I’m excited, too. Y’know, to spend the day with you.”

It’s his turn to feel giddy and embarrassed, a flush building steadily on the apples of his cheeks, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too. But it’s just gonna be a nice, chill day, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, both of you wearing matching smiles.

“I do have a rule, though,” his brows furrow, implying he’s serious. You look very seriously back at him.

“I gotta kiss you every time you’re startin’a look a little too good,” he gives you a shrug of one shoulder before settling back into the driver’s seat while he pulls onto the road, “Cause I don’t know if you saw, but the way you look this morning is fucking illegal.”

You let out a soft tsss from between your teeth, shaking your head while you settle back into your seat, “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m just a man, sugar,” he tilts his head, readjusting behind the wheel before putting the car back in drive. He restarts the song before pulling onto the road, feeling like maybe this errands date would go much, much better than he’d planned. He drums on the steering wheel again, head softly bouncing along with the beat of the song while the lyrics scream through the car. You mouth along with them, staring out the window while you do.

‘Those cold hooks, cemetery claws raking at the infant's jaws,Set fire to the horse on fire,Set fire to the dress on fire,Set fire to the stage on fire,Set fire to the stars on fire!’

“Damn, me and the band shoulder cover this,” he nods to himself, “We’d fuckin’ crush.”

“Can you scream like that?” you ask, turning your head to face him, “I feel like I’d blow my vocal chords.”

“Eh, sorta kinda,” he tilts his head from side to side, “I got plenty of practice. Do plenty of screaming with our own stuff, you sorta train your voice up to do it. I might not be able to scream as high but, I could harmonize with Jeff – lead guitar if you remember –” “I remember,” you smile, “And his wife Alycia.”

“And is wife Alycia! Damn, look at you,” he smiles, “You should write my memoirs. But yeah, surprisingly Jeff can get pretty high up there – it’s super impressive.”

“Well when you cover it, I’ll come watch,” you nod, “You still haven’t really told me about your band.”

“Corroded Coffin?” he asks, turning into a coffee shop drive-thru and pulling up behind a short line of cars, “Not much to tell. We play shows every couple weeks, in the summer every week, at a few bars around the city that are into that scene. We have fun – still play at our old stomping grounds in Hawkins, too. Same five drunks cheering us on for the last twelve years.”

His eyes widen at the realization, “Twelve years, Jesus. I’m so fuckin’ old.”

“Oh, thank god I only have two years until I’m fuckin’ old,” you laugh, “You don’t look old.”

“You don’t look old either,” he smiles, giving you a once over that you immediately feel shy under, “What can I get you?”

“Oh no, no,” you shake your head, reaching for your wallet in your Old Navy bag, “I’ll get it, seriously. You’re driving me.”

“No, please, I’ll get it,” he says, pushing your hand down gently while you offer your card.

“I wanna pay for it, you’re already going out of your way to do all this boring shit,” you offer again. He plucks your card from your fingers and flicks it into the backseat. He shrinks when your smile falls, you’re very obviously not taken by his actions.

“Look,” he shrugs, voice lowering, “I didn’t wanna say anything cause I didn’t know how you’d react. But this location actually doesn’t accept money from women. I know, crazy right? So sexist. Its so gross of me to still go here when it’s totally against all my shit. But since they don’t accept any payments from women, I’m gonna have to pay or else we can’t get coffee.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hold back your laugh, “Fuck, why do you have to be funny about it?”

“You think I’m funny, huh?” he grins, pulling up to the microphone box.

“Yeah, funny lookin’,” you tease. Eddie ‘tsks’ a few times with a shake of his head, looking back at you.

“What can I get you?” he asks again.

“Medium, iced, caramel. Almond milk if they have it, regular if not,” you respond, crossing your arms. He orders and can feel your eyes on him, he wants to turn back around and kiss that pout right off your lips. You’re not used to having someone take care of things and he can tell, you don’t like it either. Or at least you don’t know how to let yourself like it. Two givers stuck in a car running errands with each other – he wonders if you’ve ever known how to take.

He gets the coffees, yours with your milk and flavor, his iced and black. You say thank you when you take it, there’s something about your face when you do, a softness he feels like he’s not supposed to see.

“Hey, you know my rule,” he says, leaning in again, “You’re startin’ to look at little too good right now.”

Your embarrassed smile says enough when you close the gap between the two of you, lips pressing together in a soft and gentle peck.

“Thank you,” he expresses, big brown eyes looking into yours before pulling back onto the streets. He turns the sound system up again, the opening of Cam’ron’s Hey Ma flows through the speakers, he nods enthusiastically.

“Another banger,” he exclaims.

“You know this song?” you ask with surprise.

“I grew up in a trailer park, baby. You hear a lot of different music out there,” he shrugs. Eddie feels his throat choke up when he realizes he called you baby. But at least if you hated it, you weren’t showing any sign that you did.

“Got drops. Got coupes. Got trucks. Got jeeps. Alright, 'cause we gon' take a ride tonight So ma. Wassup? Let's slide. Alright. Alright, and we gon' get it on tonight.” He likes that you’re impressed that he knows the words, of course he does. He grew up hearing this song all of summer 2002, running through the hose with the little kids, while his old baby sitters sat out in lawn chairs to work on their color. Playboy Bunny stickers on their hip bones to show off their tan lines.

You both sing the opening verse to the windshield, windows coming down an inch as you turn onto the parkway, voices booming over Juelz Sanatana’s.

“Now I was down town clubbin’, ladies night, Seen shorty she was crazy right, And I approached baby like, ‘Ma, what’s your age and type?’ She looked at me and said, ‘Yous a baby right?’” He hits the last red light before the long stretch of the drive, turning to you to deliver a passionate line reading of the lyrics. He��s surprisingly smooth, even impressing himself at how actually cool he’s being about it.

“I told her, I’m eighteen and live a crazy life, Plus I’ll tell you what the 80s like, and I know what the ladies like, Need a man that’s polite, listens and takes advice. I can be all three, plus I can lay the pipe. Come with me, come stay the night.”

He winks when he finishes the line and by the way you stop singing, he knows he’s got you flustered. You are easy. He wants to see how much easier it is.

“You better be careful,” you warn, tongue caught between your teeth. “Yeah? I better be careful?” he grins, car pushing forward when the light changes so he can turn onto the highway.

“You’re trouble, Munson,” you shake your head, turning your attention back to the stretch of asphalt ahead of the both of you, “You’re big trouble.”

“She looked at me laughin’ like, ‘Boy your game is tight.’ I’m laughin’ back like, ‘Sure, you’re right.’”

“D’you need a cart?” Eddie asks, taking a side step over to the push carts neatly pushed into each other in between the double doors of Target.

“Nah, if I get a cart I’m just gonna use it as an excuse to buy more stuff,” you pull a face, shoulders dropping dramatically, “And while I’d love to have an excuse to buy more stuff, I just need a basket.” “Basket it is,” he grins, hand wrapping over the hard plastic of one of the handles, tugging a basket loose from where it’s encased with its brothers. You reach your hand out, taking a step closer to the entrance, our step triggers the automatic doors and he files in after you.

He looks at your outstretched hand behind you and then up at your face, “I can hold it, Ed.”

He gives you a small shake of his head, “Nah, I’ll carry it. You lead the way. What’s on your list?” “I mostly just need to get travel stuff…like toiletries,” you think out loud, “I guess this wasn’t really much of a big errand now that I think about it.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and he means it.

You don’t go straight to the beauty section. You’re taken by the $5 and under shelves at the front of the store, full of small decor knick knacks that he recognizes from his own apartment. This is where Tati’s always picking up those little gold tchotchkes for the coffee table and bookshelves every other month. The same way Chrissy would always have new, tiny holiday themed pieces every year to sneak onto their mantle.

“So, do you want me to keep you on task?” he asks, falling in step next to you, watching your fingers toy over a felted bunny figurine for Easter, “Or do you want me to aid in you not being on task?”

You look over at him, eyes scanning over his frame. He catches the way your eyes linger on the way his t-shirt fits him under his leather jacket and denim vest. Dark olive green, a touch too tight in the chest, collar worn out just enough so that the ends of his collar bones peeked through.

“We have all day, right?” you smirk.

“All day,” he nods, “You a walking through the aisles type of girl?”

“Is that a deal breaker?” you ask, attention captivated by a lavender ceramic pencil holder in the shape of a rainbow.

“No, not at all,” he assures, taking you by surprise when he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’m a walking through the aisles type of guy.”

“Was I looking a little too good while perusing the five dollar shelf?” you tease while you move onward into the store, stopping to thumb through a rack of jeans.

“Well that’s the thing,” he says with a tilt of his head, “You’re always lookin’ a little too good.”

He hums when you roll your eyes, “Hmm. How’d I know that was coming?”

“Why’re you so nice to me all the time, huh?” you fake argue, bored with looking at clothes and taking deliberate steps towards home goods to the bath section. Eddie hurries to keep up, basket clicking and clacking in his hand.

“I guess I can be mean to you, but I feel like that would make me a shitty date,” he jokes back, “And an even worse Uber driver.”

“So true, actually. Zero stars,” you nod, running your hand over a towel that matches the color of his shirt, “Y’know green’s a really good color for you? Makes your eyes pop.”

“Oh…” he can feel himself turning red when you say that. So she’s been looking at my eyes? Is she always secretly sort of checking me out the way I’m always secretly sort of checking her out? Does she think I’m cute or something? Why am I trying to propose to her right now? Is it ‘cause we’re looking at towels?

“Um, thank you. I’ll um, I’ll wear it more often,” he runs a hand over his face while you continue to look at towels, turning the corner to look at the fancier ones. You laugh at his jittery response, not so much at him, not teasing, but – this guy covered in tattoos, stomping in combat boots, definitely has a knife in his back pocket, chains dangling down the side of his pants, is blushing bright red just because you said he looks good in green. This guy?

“You should,” you encourage, turning to see his reddened face, “What happened to not being nervous?”

“That’s a rule for you,” he says, walking a few steps ahead of you. His eyes catch on a soap dispenser, it’s the same one he had in the master bathroom back with Chris, “I can be as nervous as I want.”

“Ah, I see, rules for thee, not for me,” you nod slowly.

“See! Now you’re getting it,” he says over his shoulder. He reaches his free hand back toward you, eyes meeting yours, tossing you a smile when you look at his hand and back at him, “Yeah, I want you to hold it.”

When your fingers slide in to lace with his he realizes his hands are a little sweaty. They weren’t last time you saw him, with your hand cradled in between his on his knee at the bar. He was a couple drinks in then, not forced to face the action fully. Not aware enough to realize he was holding a pretty girl’s hand in public on a domestic date and all he can think about is railing you in the backseat of his Honda Civic and also making a mental note of all the color choices you like so when you eventually move in together he already knows what you — Jesus fucking Christ you have soft hands. You guide him through the rest of the bathroom section, stopping briefly to consider whether or not you need more hand towels for your apartment and then shaking it off. He let’s you take him around the corner to mattress covers, you talk about your Casper mattress and how you still aren’t sure if you really like it two years later. He hears himself respond in a fog but he’s caught up on how right it feels to be here with you, to be holding your hand, holding your Target basket for you, listening to you talk about whatever.

You get to bedding and stop at the throws, Eddie’s fog lifts when you let go of his hand to take one of them off the shelf. A dark green knitted blanket replaces his hand, folded up neat and tidy in its wrap-around casing.

“This is so perfect for my living room,” you murmur to yourself, “It’s so cute.”

Eddie leans against the shelf while you let your senses absorb the knit: touch, sight, smell. You peer at the other colors, unhappy with the rest, balancing the blanket on your hip while you look back at the empty spot where it once sat. Your eyes roll again, shoulders slumping for real this time.

“Not seventy five dollars cute,” you grumble, putting the blanket back on the shelf.

“Seventy five dollars?” he asks, aghast, brown eyes rounding in surprise, “What, did they shear the sheep here or something?”

“That’s capitalism for ya,” you click your tongue, giving the blanket one last look with a little pout, “Oh well, I’m sure I can find a dupe or something at TJ Maxx.”

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he consoles, taking your hand back and giving it an apologetic squeeze.

“Sweetheart…” you repeat back, “That’s cute.”

“That’s cute? Okay,” he smiles down at the tile under his feet, teeth showing, “I’ll keep note of that.”

You both continue your journey through bedding, crossing through the Hearth & Hand showcase where he listens to you gripe about how you swear it’s a scam. None of this shit should be this expensive. Like, I could get all this shit at H&M Home online for twenty dollars less. What, just cause they’re on TV? Frickin’ ridiculous. He still stands by thinking that you’re cute when you’re mad. He can’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re both so far from travel toiletries, that you likely forgot why you were even here. He just likes this, being in Target with you, holding your hand while you yell about something.

“Oh, hold on, I gotta look at these,” you squeeze his hand before you let go again, walking ahead of him while Matchbox Twenty’s 3AM fades into Des’ree’s You Gotta Be.

“Decorative wicker baskets?” he asks, stepping back to look at the wall of wicker baskets of all sizes in the back of the store.

“I need two for under my dresser,” you say, reaching up to grab one and looking at the tag for the dimensions, “S’for my socks and stuff.”

He tosses you a look and you look back at him, “Don’t ask.”

You get lost in the task, two stepping with a little sway to your hips, small movements. You sing along to the song while you pull one basket down and put it back, and so on. You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together. You aren’t mocking him when you sing along but the lyrics feel like they are. You’re so into it, too. He guesses this is what you’re like when no one’s around to watch you. How unfortunate that you’re so kissable even when you think no one is around to see it.

“Hey,” he says, putting the basket down, “What did I say about looking too good?”

“What?” you turn around, eyes rounded, almost startled, “Am I taking too long?”

“No,” he says with a furrow of his brow, approaching you gently while he crosses into your personal space. His voice drops a little lower, lips lingering close to yours, “No baby, not at all. Just looking really cute over here.”

You can’t help but feel girlish when he’s like this, giggling while heat floods your cheeks and chest.

“C’mere,” he whispers, pressing you back with his body so you’re flush with the shelves against the wall. His nose brushes yours, fingers finding your chin to tilt you up toward him where his mouth can taste you and you can taste him. He starts slow, just a test, shrouded in the lower light of the back decorative basket aisle, lips parting slightly to see if you’ll match it. He puffs a small breath against the ridge of your upper lip and it’s enough to send you into a frenzy. His body presses close up against you, kiss gaining fervor, hands coming up to cup around your cheek and neck to guide you with him

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, breaking away, “We’re gonna get in trouble.”

“You think I’m scared of getting in trouble?” he clicks his tongue before grinning at you. Looks like you don’t do trouble. His lips ghost over yours, skating softly over your cheek to get to your ear, “I’ve been gettin’ kicked out of Targets since 2007, sweetheart.”

His teeth graze your ear lobe, your hands reaching to clutch the soft leather of his jacket, a small sigh puffs out of you. He’s not sure if it’s pushing it, but the aisle is empty, and whatever he’s doing, he’s pretty sure you like it – his lips drop from your earlobe to the edge of your jaw, settling on a slow, wet open mouth kiss on your neck before meeting your mouth again.

“Ed,” you mumble quietly, “I can’t be turned on at Target.”

“Yes you can,” he giggles, stealing another gentle kiss from you.

“Uh…hey folks,” a timid voice calls from the end of the aisle. You both break away, embarrassment clearly taking you over while you cover your face in your hands. A younger guy in a red t-shirt and khaki slacks waves awkwardly when he has both of your attention.

“Sorry to uh, to interrupt but, um – y’know, this is a family friendly store and we just – yeah, I’m sorry. You’re not in trouble or anything,” he offers, stumbling over his words.

“Thanks man,” Eddie says genuinely, giving him a wave back, “Sorry about that, just uh, caught up in the moment I guess. Baskets really do it for her, y’know?”

The guy nods, walking away when a small thwap of the back of your hand hits his chest.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you laugh, changing your voice to mock him, “Baskets really do it for her. Fuck all the way off.”

Eddie laughs with you, picking up the Target basket and placing it in your hand, “Look, I gotta pee so bad. Do you think you can man the aisles yourself while I go and take care of that?”

You nod, “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll tell you where I am, okay?”

“Cool,” he nods back, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, “See you in a bit.”

hey, where are you at? easter stuff, i got distracted very godly of you

He bustles through the aisles, realizing now that you’re on the totally opposite side of the store than you were before. He spots you where all the candy is, your basket full of your toiletries. “Easter candy?” he asks.

“It’s the best holiday candy, easily,” you confess, “I know people will probably say Halloween since that’s the candy holiday, but dude, there’s something about Cadbury eggs.”

“Yeah?” he reaches out and takes the basket out of your hand gently, you don’t protest when he does, “Isn’t it supposed to be from the UK? Don’t they have better chocolate by proxy?”

“I think so,” you agree while Eddie strolls a little further down the aisle, “Have you ever had them?”

“I’m sure I have,” he says, fingers tracing over a chocolate bunny in a box, “I guess I’m more of a Halloween guy.”

“Boring,” you sing, holding two small bags of Cadbury eggs in your hands. Eddie holds the basket in front of him while you gear up to toss one in.

“Kobe!” you shout, the candy leaving your fingers in a lay up toss, floating through the air only to fall at Eddie’s feet on the tile.

“Too soon,” Eddie shakes his head solemnly, reaching down to grab the chocolate and put it in the red basket in his arm, “How’re you gonna call out a legend’s name and then miss?”

“I feel like you moved it so that I’d miss,” you accuse playfully.

“I kept it exactly where it was, I think you’re just not very good at basketball,” he says, making his way towards you. You put the other bag in with the rest of your stuff and look up at him through half lidded eyes. He matches your gaze while he looks at you.

“You just don’t wanna see me be great,” you tease.

“Oh, stop,” he tutts, “You’re very great.”

Neither of you can help but kiss again. It feels natural to do it at this point.

“You get everything you need to get?” he asks against your lips. You nod, a little ‘mhm’ squeaks out of your throat, “Good, cause they can’t yell at us for making out in the parking lot. So we should head out of here soon.”

The remainder of the errands and lunch go by like a blur to him. Saturday meant busy restaurants so instead you opted for fast food in the parking lot, starting the drive home sharing Wendy’s waffle fries over the center console.

Before you pull out of the lot, he flicks your music on again, opting to just leave it on shuffle because he feels like he learns you better that way. What’s going to come up next that’ll surprise him? What’s he gonna find out about you?

‘Baby, I know you’re hurting, Right now you feel like you could never love again. Now all I ask, is for a chance, to prove, That I love you.’

Eddie barks out a laugh, takes a sip of his Sprite, and then laughs again, “Oh shit. I haven’t heard this song in years!”

“You know this song, too?” you ask, surprised again at his music repertoire.

“You really don’t think I’m cultured, do you?” he jokes, “I have a deep affinity for the Backstreet Boys, though I will admit I was an NSYNC boy myself growing up.”

“Of course,” you murmur with an eye roll, “What’s your favorite NSYNC song?”

“Ooh, let me see,” he thinks while he turns onto the highway, “Definitely Drive Myself Crazy. I’d always try to hit JC’s runs.”

“You knew their names too?”

“I told you already, I grew up in a trailer park. I had the same babysitter from two to eleven,” he explains, “Mrs. Grandy watched me until her daughter Summer turned thirteen and then I’d go and pal around with her and her friends. I was like her little brother, I practically lived there.”

“Were you always there?” you ask, “At your babysitter’s house?”

“Yeah. My uh, my mom died when I was seven but she was always working and tryna stay out of the house when my dad came home so I was always at the sitters. He’s y’know – he’s in jail but he was in and out of it when I was a kid, too. Got arrested for beating on her a couple months before she died and my uncle moved up from North Carolina to take care of me. But he worked nights so – if I wasn’t at school I had to have someone watch me while he slept and then someone had to be at the trailer while I slept. It was way easier when I was in school – but anyway – wow – off topic there – yes, I spent a lot of time with my babysitter and her mom,” he finishes.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, reaching over to give his knee a reassuring squeeze.

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. I’m okay – I turned out pretty cool, I think,” he shrugs.

“You’re really cool,” you smile, Eddie smiles back.

“What’s your favorite Backstreet Boys song?” he asks.

“Hey Mr. DJ, easy,” you tell him, “It’s the most fucknasty song they’ve ever made and it still holds up. Like, I want it played at my wedding. I’m trying to make a child to that song.”

Eddie loses it at fucknasty, head falling back on the headrest while his chest bounces, “The most fucknasty song? We’ll have to play that next.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” you say, “AJ sings it and he was my favorite.”

“Oh, baby, that does not surprise me at all,” he grins. Calling you baby sounds comfortable now, even after just talking for a week. He’s not sure how fast or slow these things are supposed to go, but your little smile every time he says it makes him wanna say it more.

“I saw them in concert, when I was like, nine or ten or something,” Eddie says, ��For their Millenium Tour – was when I Want It That Way was huge.”

“You got tickets?” you ask, a teasing grin splitting your face.

“Summer was a huge Backstreet Boys and NYSNC fan, like, posters all over her room. Had every magazine they were in that she could find, everything. So all we would do when she would watch me was listen to them and talk about them, so I liked them because she liked them and I thought she was cool,” he starts.

“So anyway, she finds out on the radio that they’re giving away tickets to a show in Columbus – cause like, no one fucking comes to Indiana to play shows – and she calls in and wins! She literally went into shock. But we ended up going and she brought me instead of her friend because she was like ‘Mom, he’s family’. Which as an adult, makes me fucking melt y’know? But as a kid I was like ‘Damn you’re gonna drag me to Ohio to see a boy band? I wanna see Tool.’”

“Not Tool!” you laugh.

“But it was cool cause we got to stay in a hotel for a night and all that other shit. It felt really special, her mom got us t-shirts which I’m sure cost her a fortune but – damn. I had a lot of fun.”

“It sounds like you did.”

“The most crazy thing though – which I’ve never told anyone so, I hope you feel special – was when I saw them perform, I thought like, ‘Wow, I wanna do this when I grow up.’ So in a way, if it wasn’t for the Backstreet Boys, I would’ve never realized I wanted to be a rockstar,” he confesses, “And I mean, obviously I was really into rock, and metal, and folk-punk stuff ‘cause of Wayne, but seeing those guys on stage? Everyone screaming? I was like ‘Damn, I wanna be up there! I wanna be shredding up there!’”

“I love that,” you reply, a warm smile spread across your face while you watch him relive the memory in his head.

He shrugs, “It was a cool dream to have but, I don’t know. That ship has long sailed.”

“What do you mean? Long sailed? You can still be a rockstar,” you argue, a fry crunching soft between your teeth.

He shakes his head, slight defeat caressing his tone, “No I can’t. I’m too old now.”

“Too old? Shut up,” you assert through a mouthful of waffle fry, “Metallica’s still out there playing. Iron Maiden is literally on tour right now. And they’re all like – in their sixties for fuck’s sake.”

“Okay?” he huffs back, the red from the hazard lights of the car in front of you flashes against his face, “And? They all got famous when they were like, twenty or younger. I’m fucking…thirty-two.”

“Exactly! You’re only thirty-two,” you exclaim while he rolls to a stop at a red light. Your hand reaches out to squeeze his arm, “You have so much time. You can literally be a rockstar whenever.”

Eddie’s chest gets tight when you say that – it had been a while since he heard that type of encouragement. He’d missed the feeling of someone cheering him on from the bar while he was on stage, Chrissy’s praise when they’d get home. Wayne calling to tell him he saw a review of their set in the paper. Lately the shows felt sad to him, he felt lonely, even though he was always the happiest when he could make it on that stage.

“You can’t be saying shit like that to me,” he says knowingly, maneuvering his arm so that he can take your hand in his.

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a hint of sullenness that breaks his heart. He kisses your knuckles before resting his and your hand on your thigh, the light changing to green.

“‘Cause you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” Your eyes cast down at his hand on your thigh, your smile tight, stretching painfully across your cheeks, “Oh, okay. I’ll be meaner if that’s not what you’re going for.”

“It’s definitely what I’m going for,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand softly.

The mood in the car shifts to comfortable silence, I’ll Never Break Your Heart fading out into the opening croons of Leon Bridges’ Coming Home. You lean your head on the window, looking at the cars passing you on the highway, the light flecks of rain hitting the glass as the car keeps its speed. Eddie lets go of your hand, palm stretching over the mass of your thigh, running soothingly up and down on your leggings. His thumb rubs soft and slow over the outside of your quad, he just wants to touch you. It’s a comforting touch, no implications other than – I like being here with you right now.

‘The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl. You're the only one that I want, Wanna be around. Wanna be around, girl, Wanna be around, girl, Ooh, wanna be around, girl...’

“I like this,” Eddie says, his voice soft, “Who is this?”

“Leon Bridges,” you answer, “The whole album is so good. It honestly sounds even better on vinyl.”

“I was just about to say, I bet it sounds great on vinyl,” he enthuses, “I like the old timey vibe.”

“It’s cozy, right?” you ask.

“Very cozy,” he nods, tossing a look over to you. Your eyes are heavy lidded, breath steady in your chest, “You gettin’ sleepy?”

“Kinda,” you yawn, “You’re not boring me or anything, I promise.”

“That’s okay,” he offers you a soft pat on the thigh, returning back to the slow back and forth that was putting you to sleep, “We’ll be home soon-ish, just take a nap.”

You frown, “You sure? Am I being lame?”

“Nah, you’re not being lame,” he assures. Your eyes flutter closed, the warm cascade of his hand continues while they do.

After a long stretch of highway, Eddie turns the car into your part of town, a sadness washing over him that he has to drop you off and then go home to his apartment for the remainder of this rainy evening. For a flicker of a moment he wants to be selfish and ask if you wanna just kick it at his house, but he knows you have stuff to do before this trip. Envy seeps into his sadness that your boss gets to spend so much time with you, gets to watch you laugh, gets to watch you solve problems, gets to watch you do anything all day. Is it healthy to feel like this so quickly? I don’t know her like that, he wonders, Is it that sort of thing where like, if you know you know? Or am I being kind of insane right now?

“What’d I miss?” you ask, rising from your mini-nap in the car. You frown when you see your surroundings, so much closer to home than you hoped.

“A few showtunes and Mariah’s Vision of Love,” he says, your sleepy voice tugging on his heart and lips, “I’m partial to My All but that’s cause I’m a professional sad boy.”

“My All is on there, but it’s probably good I was out for Vision of Love – you didn’t have to hear me screlting it in the small confines of this car,” you laugh.

“Do you sing?” he asks. You shake your head no.

“I did musicals in high school, as you can see by the showtunes,” you explain, “But I wouldn’t call myself much of a singer.”

“I’m sure I’ll find out if that’s true sooner or later,” he offers. It’s part way through Good Charlotte’s Girls & Boys, volume low so he didn’t disturb you sleeping.

“This song makes me laugh,” you say, he feels your hand find his, still sitting firm on your lap. You play with his rings, twirling them around his fingers, he swallows hard.

“Like, so many songs that came out around this time, even a couple years after – now they just sound like women’s empowerment.”

“Tell me more,” he says, turning onto your street, the ache creeping back up again.

“Like, ‘Girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money.’ Is that supposed to be a dig? Of course I like cars and money – I’m a person. ‘Paper or plastic, don’t matter, she’ll have it.’ Like it’s a bad thing! Sounds like she’s thriving, he’s paying for everything and she didn’t even ask him to, she’s just sitting there looking hot!” you continue, “Sounds like a dream to be honest!”

“Yeah!” he nods, mulling it over in his head, “Fuckin’ – good for her!”

“I’m happy for her!” you laugh, he laughs with you. It’s nice to laugh so much with you, he likes that you’re sort of goofy in your own right. He pulls up to your house, pulling in to park in front of the walk way. Both of your laughs quiet down, you both look at the house through your window and the air in the car changes.

“I don’t wanna go,” you frown, shoulders slumping, “I wanna keep hanging out.”

“I know,” he says gently, “I wanna keep hanging out, too – but you got stuff you need to get ready for tomorrow.”

“I know,” you scrunch your nose, “So stupid.”

“So stupid,” he agrees, “How dumb that you have to go to a really cool expo where the weather’s nice.” “Well when you put it like that,” you say with a tilt of your head and a smile.

“Let me get your stuff out of the trunk,” he offers, getting out of the car into the smattering of rain. He pops the trunk and grabs your bags, coming over to your side to open your door for you.

“Here,” he says, offering you your toiletries, Old Navy exchange (and a few other purchases), and a Sephora bag with definitely more than just your boss’s sunscreen in it. You thank him and lean in for a kiss but he grins, turning away from you to go back to the trunk, “Sorry, forgot a bag.”

He reappears with the trunk closes, another Target bag in his hands that he passes to you. The weight reveals what it is before you look, but you peek to be sure, “Ed…”

“I didn’t really have to pee,” he confesses, “You just really liked it and you looked so sad when you put it back so, you know, I just wanted to do something nice.”

“It’s really nice,” you smile, looking down at the green Casaluna blanket nestled in the bag, “I just don’t want to like…feel like I owe you something.”

“No, no, no,” he hurriedly shakes his head, “Please don’t feel like that. This really was just like – it’s not like a power move or anything I’m not like that, I promise – I don’t want anything in return, seriously.”

“Except maybe a picture when it’s all set up nice in your living room,” he grins. Your eye rolls make his heart flutter because so far, you always kiss him after you do it and this time is no exception.

“I’ll see you when I come back,” you say, wincing as the rain starts to pick up. “You act like you’re going to war, sugar,” he teases, “Like you’re not gonna text me in five minutes.”

“Ew, bye,” you scowl, giving him a peck before hustling up the walkway to find refuge on the covered porch.

“Bye,” he calls out, bottom lip tucking between his teeth in the afterglow of another good date. He gets back in the car and waits for you to get in safely before driving away towards his own apartment. At a red light, his phone goes off, just five minutes since he’s pulled away. He opens his texts, a full belly laugh barking from his mouth. it looks great in my living room. oh shit it’s only been five minutes. 😡 fuck you.

By day two of your trip, Eddie was already homesick for you. Savoring every message you could send his way when you weren’t busy, but also trying his best not to text you back immediately so he didn’t seem needy. Or worse, desperate. He liked it the most when you’d send pictures: big pink quartz bathtubs, amethyst arm chairs, huge chunks of malachite that were the size of his hand.

these would make cool dice for d&d, right? the coolest. you should buy that and then hand carve the dice for me. let me pull a grand out of my ass real quick so i can get to work on that. so needy. oh, so you miss me? of course i do :) i miss you, too :)

“So when’re we gonna meet your mystery girlfriend?” Robin asks, swirling her rum and coke with her straw, “Or does she go to a different school in Canada that we wouldn’t know about?”

Steve snickers with Robin, two mean girls who always mean girl together. It was a Tuesday, which meant Robin and Steve would meet up for Happy Hour at a bar near Nancy’s office for the paper and then bother everyone else to come meet them until everyone showed up. The three sat at the corner of the bar, Steve in the center in his business casual. Patagonia vest over his blue button up, hair perfectly windswept with his sunglasses tucked into his t-shirt collar. Picture perfect finance bro with his mean lesbian guard dog to bark at any woman who might hurt his feelings. Eddie was convinced that if Robin wasn’t gay, they would’ve gotten married the day that they met.

“Well she’s not my girlfriend yet, for one,” Eddie starts, defensively, “And if you wanna know if she’s real, here’s her Instagram.”

He passes his phone to Robin who swipes through your photos with a nod, a smile pulling across her face, “Not bad at all, Munson.”

“Let me see,” Steve demands with a slight whine, plucking the phone from her hand. He scrolls, a touch of a salacious smirk spreading across his face, “Oh, smash. Immediately smash.” Steve passes Eddie’s phone back to him on the table, screen open to a risque picture of you on the beach, “You didn’t fuck?”

“Not yet, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, “I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I slip it in, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, “I would’ve fucked her already.”

“Yeah, we know loverboy,” Robin teases. Eddie’s shoulders tense a little because if Steve wanted you, he’d definitely be able to take you. He’s hot and charismatic, he has more money than he knows what to do with, and at the end of the day – Steve loves women. All kinds of women. Eddie swore Steve would leave college with a taste for thin blondes that were in his frat’s sister sorority but every night it was someone new. And every night, Steve Harrington got what Steve Harrington wanted.

“Tell her to follow me,” Steve winks.

“It’s the first thing I did when I met her, actually – told her to follow you,” Eddie jokes back.

what’re you doing? happy hour with the group. well right now just rob and steve but everyone else is on the way. fun! i bought a new bathing suit at a vendor because i have bad impulse control. also look at these cool rocks. oh, sick – what kind are they? the vendor said they’re ocean jasper do you want one? will you get a matching one with me? also linger is playing at the bar right now and it’s…making me think about you? stupid as hell. absolutely will get us matching ones. i love that song. who said you could be this cute? pretty sure i did. steve says hi by the way, he’s ‘linger’ing over my shoulder. lmao you’re so corny “Is she gonna send you a picture of her in the bathing suit or not?” he asks impatiently. “She’s still working, man,” Eddie flips his phone over so the screen can’t be seen, “And even if she does, I’m not gonna show it to you.” “Yeah, don’t be such a perv Steve,” Robin sasses, “Get me another rum and coke instead.”

After an hour, the rest of the group has made it and Eddie’s had three beers in a short span of time. Not enough alcohol to feel drunk, but enough alcohol that he keeps getting lost in the thought of your thighs on that barstool last week. The little overflow of your tummy in your jeans, your hips, what you might look like out of those jeans. What sounds you might’ve made if he went to your house after Target and he peeled those leggings off you. You’re busy and he’s bummed out about it only because he selfishly wishes you were here at happy hour instead of looking at cool rocks. “You look so sad right now,” Tatianna says from across the table the group has gathered round, “You miss your girl?”

Eddie pouts dramatically, nodding, “I do.” “Guys this is the one, I’ve never seen him like this before,” Tatianna grins, “He’s down bad.”

Tati reaches next to her to hold hands with Gareth giving it a squeeze, “Hinge is the truth, I’m telling you.”

“I mean, you sure? He thought Chris was the one and look how that turned out,” Mike says from the other end. Everyone sighs and groans, whines of ‘C’mon Wheeler,’ sound out of a few of them.

“When you know, you know, kid,” Gareth offers softly, “And I think Ed knows.”

“When’re we gonna meet this girl who likes your nerdy ass?” Erica giggles next to him. “Exactly what I was saying earlier,” Steve adds.

“I don’t think you need to meet her, Steve,” Dustin laughs, “Let him have something, for God’s sake.” “Well,” Nancy starts, “I mean, Steve’s party at Barcade is next week. Might be a good sort of low stakes way to ease her in.”

“That’s actually such a good idea,” Tatianna agrees.

“But I have the jazz concert for my kids that night,” Eddie sulks.

“Yeah but that ends at like, eight thirty,” she argues, “You should tell her to come. We’ll take care of her before you show up.” “I’ll take realgood care of her, Munson,” Steve grins.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s head is down on his forearms so he doesn’t know how many people started scolding Harrington over his head. This was overwhelming again – this part. Eddie thought maybe all the fussing over starting to date would be the worst but now it’s every day that they ask about you. At least twice a day in the group chat – Your girl coming to D&D? How was your date last weekend? Is she with you right now? Tell her we all said hi. Are you gonna bring her to Tati’s art show?

He doesn’t have all the answers yet and he doesn’t know where you’re at either. Do you want to meet his friends? Would you even like them?

Everyone yelling at Steve is satisfying, but it would be cooler if you were here to see it.

The following night he was up late grading papers he should’ve graded a week ago but he was too caught up in his personal life to care. Conversation with you had dwindled quickly last night as he spent more time at the bar and ended up planning the next campaign. You hadn’t reached out at all today and he felt too proud to be the one to text you first, a twinge of resentment plucking at his heart strings in his chest. Hollow loneliness drumming at his ribcage.

The papers were graded, neatly stacked and put away in his bag for tomorrow, red pen capped and put back on his desk. Eddie groans as he stands up to stretch, peeling off his t-shirt and slipping off his sweatpants, tossing them haphazardly in the corner of the room by his hamper. He kicks off his socks, finally comfortable in his boxers and silver chain, before trudging down to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He comes back to a quiet buzz on his phone, screen glowing to life while he swipes it off his dresser.

hey, sorry i was so MIA today. things got really busy and hectic, surprise zoom meeting with bloomingdale’s and then a second surprise offer call with bergdorf goodman and then a few vendors wanted to get dinner and schmooze. it’s no excuse honestly but i should’ve messaged you to let you know i was busy. i’m sorry, handsome :( thought about you all day if that helps

Eddie’s heart leaps in his chest, cheeks already hurting from the smile splitting his face open. You thought about him all day. You thought about him all day. The same way he thinks about you all day. He climbs into bed, snuggling in under the covers with the glow of his phone illuminating his grinning face in the dark.

don’t apologize, sweetheart, i know you’re busy. glad that your hectic day is over at least, now you can relax! thought about you all day, too. one of my kids kept trying to play juicy by doja cat on the sax at jazz practice, so you came to mind immediately. LMAO. i’ll take that as a compliment. what’re you doing up so late? grading papers, but i’m done now. i’d ask why you’re up so late but it’s only nine thirty there. what’re you up to? trying this bathing suit on, finally. do you wanna see it?

“Do I wanna see it?” he murmurs, exasperated with an eye roll to no one, “Of course I wanna see it.”

yeah, show me :)

He waits with bated breath, trying his best to swipe out of the text conversation and do something else instead of counting the minutes until you reply. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits for the familiar buzz in his hand.

And there you are, dark red spandex hugging you tight, cinching you in all the right places. His eyes linger on the high cut of the bottom, the way some of the pudge of your hips pokes out at the seams and he bites his lip. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbles quietly. Your thighs on full display for him, thick and begging for him to grab, you’re so fucking grabbable he can’t even stand it.

jfc you know what you’re doing whaaaaat? what do you mean? ‘what do you meaaaannn 🤪’ you know what i mean. do you not like it? i like it a little too much you wanna see it from the back?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters into the darkness. He feels the blood rush to his pelvis like an army command, cock partially at attention while his hand palms delicately over his boxers.

of course i do

He gulps when the picture comes in, you posed like that on purpose. One ass cheek propped up on the bathroom counter, the other lifted and perky from your stance. The soft rolls of your back on display from how you’re turned to still have your pretty face in frame. He’d fucking wreck you. Lovingly, of course.

do you want me to hop on a flight or?? how much are tickets to az? i’m about to come thru. you got enough blood in your brain to make that trip rn? lmao you know i don’t 😏 sorry i’m all the way in a different state, i’d help take care of it.

“Yeah?” he chokes out, palming turning to full slow strokes over the fabric, “You wanna take care of it for me?”

yeah? you’d take care of it? only if you asked nicely :)

“Fuck,” he whispers, tossing his phone down to reach for his side table drawer to reach for the tiny bottle of lube he kept there. He tugs down his boxers hastily, squirting some of the liquid in his palm before picking up the phone again with his clean hand.

i’d ask very nicely. i’d even say please. what a good boy. :)

“M’such a good boy,” he huffs, hand wrapping tightly around the base of his cock and dragging upwards, “I’ll be so good for you.”

would you want me to use my hands or my mouth?

“Oh my fucking God,” he groans, brain short circuiting at the thought of you on your knees while he stands over you. Eyes looking up at him with a hand tangled up in your hair, desperately trying to not thrust deep into your throat while you go to work on him. He bites his lip while he fucks his fist, palm and fingers gliding in time with his foreskin, teasing his tip. A fire lights in his belly, cooking up thoughts in his head on how he’d want you first.

i like the idea of keeping your mouth full oh you wanna shut me up? is that it? i don’t think it takes much.

His head leans back on the wall behind his bed, eyes closing while his hips roll up to meet the speed of his hand, slower now to stave it off.

“Yeah, suck it just like that…” he hums out, “Please more.” His brows pinch while he looks back at the picture you sent, your glossed lips gleaming back at him. They’d look so good around his cock, your eyes would look so good filled up with tears when you tried to deep throat him.

“T-take all of it,” he stammers out, unsure of his own dirty talk to himself. Would he actually say that?

Bzz. Bzz.

oh yeah cause you’re soooo big 🙄

“Psh,” he hisses out with a roll of the eyes, hand lifting off his cock to type back. He guesses when it comes to you, he would say that. Just so you’d stop being such a brat.

you’re gonna feel so stupid when you see it you sound very confident because i am is it big?

He looks down at himself confidently, laying fat and dense up his stomach, kicking up at the thought of you seeing it for the first time. Chrissy always gawked at it, despite how many times she’d seen it, it was always like she was seeing it for the first time. The girls he’d pull into the bathroom at The Hideout and other bars would whine at the sight. Both him and them slurring together about how they can make it fit.

its big, sweetheart. but i think you can take it. i know i can take it. so sure of yourself tonight, huh? bet you wouldn’t be so cocky if you were here. so i could watch you jerk it in your bedroom? puhlease. 🙄 i can tell by how you’re talking that you really like the idea of that. so you are jerking it in your bedroom? the same way i know you have your fingers between your pretty thighs

He doesn’t know that, but it was worth the shot. His mind reels, thinking of you barely changing out of your swimsuit into nothing to lay back on your hotel bed to touch yourself to him talking to you. He grunts when his hand wraps around his length again, fisting himself with more intention, thinking about your hips writhing in time with his. He wishes he knew how you sounded when you felt good, how you’ll sound when he makes you feel good. And god does he wanna make you feel good.

🙈 stop yeah? i can stop. don’t actually, i’m just embarrassed 😩 how come? cause i do have my fingers between my thighs

“Fuuuuuck me,” he groans into a whimper. He shudders a gasp while his hips buck up to meet his hands thrusts, imagining you on top of him, under him, below him, above him. Mouth, hands, pussy, anything of yours bobbing over his cock. Wiping the images clean and starting over with you splayed out on the hotel bed again, trying to keep quiet so your boss won’t hear you through the hotel’s thin walls.

does it feel good, sweetheart? it would feel better if you were doing it for me. can i call you?

“Can I call you?” he reads out loud, in a whisper, “Can I…call you…”

absolutely.

Your face pops up on his phone within the minute, phone buzzing rhythmically in his hands. His heart rate jerks alive, stomach dropping like he’s on a roller coaster while it continues to ring.

He accepts, swallowing thickly as he does.

“Hey there,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” your voice is shaky on the other end, he holds back a moan.

“Hi,” he says back to you, squeezing himself softly at the base again.

“Do you wanna hear something embarrassing?” you laugh, following up with a soft needy sigh.

“Always,” he swoons out, low and warm.

“Your voice is so hot to me,” you giggle, “I don’t think I could finish if I didn’t hear it.”

“Ah, there you go again, thinking your compliments to me are embarrassing,” he smirks. You sigh again and he lets out a heady breath while he strokes himself, teetering towards a climax.

“Sorry,” you smile, and he can hear it in your voice, “You having a hot voice isn’t embarrassing. Me getting off to it is embarrassing.”

He pauses, hearing your shallow breaths pick up, waiting for the right time to strike. His thumb trails over his tip to smear the precum oozing out of it over the head — his eyes roll back as he thinks about your tongue there instead.

“S’not embarrassing,” his eyelids lower, settling deeper into his pillows. He groans low in his chest before speaking again, “You all wet for me, sugar?”

“Yeah,” you whine to him.

“Wish I could be there to take care of you,” he huffs, “I’d make you feel so good.”

“How?” you ask breathily.

He smirks, biting his lower lip, letting out a low laugh, “I’d take my time with you. Sounds like you get real needy.”

“I’m not needy,” you protest.

“Not needy, but calls me from the other side of the country to cum to my voice?” he argues playfully, “Oh yeah, not needy at all, baby.”

You whine again, a few huffs of breath sound in the receiver.

“You like that?” he asks lowly, “When I’m a little mean to you?”

“Yeah…”

“Fuck…” he whispers back, blood rushing to the tip, twitching while he works his hand up his shaft.

“Wait – are you actually jacking it right now?” you ask with a laugh.

“Yeah,” he sighs back, “Are you surprised?”

“How long have you been doing it?”

“Since you sent me that picture with your whole ass out,” he confesses with a giggle, it just makes sense to him to answer honestly.

“Is that how you wanna fuck me?” your voice is laced with depth and sex, his hips buck up at the sound, “From the back?”

“Maybe not at first,” he starts, imagining he’s in the hotel with you, eyes locking on yours while you touch yourself. Meeting your pleading eyes with a salacious grin while he pumps his cock, climbing on top of the mattress. Climbing on top of you.

“I’d probably want you on your back so I could see your pretty face,” he offers, “Watch you take it.”

You sigh into the receiver again and he groans quietly while pleasure starts taking him over.

“But if I’m being honest…” he starts again, voice lightly teasing. Your breaths pick up, and if he thinks he’s hearing right, you’re very wet. Just because of him, the way he’s talking to you. He shudders before regaining his composure, voice dropping dangerously low.

“I can’t wait to get my mouth on that pussy,” he slurs out, drunk on the idea.

“Mmm, fuck,” you mewl out. Okay Munson, maybe you still know how to do this shit. “Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?” he asks, a light raise to his voice, “You like thinking about me between your legs?”

“Yes,” you huff through gritted teeth. He feels his orgasm creeping up on him quick, your little whines hitting his ear and gliding down his chest to his pelvis. Every soft puff of your breath feels like he’s the one making it punch out of you.

“I know you’d take it so good, too. You’d get so messy for me,” he groans again when his palm grazes over the underside of his tip, cock leaking cum unceremoniously, sending shockwaves through his system, “Just like you are right now, hm? Waiting for me to come over ‘n’ fuck you stupid?” “Please,” you whine into a growl, “Please fuck me stupid.”

“Oh baby, I will,” he moans while he feels his balls tighten, closer and closer to the edge, hearing you pant and beg like that. Just for him. He grunts, breath huffing from his nose like a bull while his orgasm takes him over, cum shooting onto his belly in thick ropes, “F-fuck till you can’t fuckin – mmmf – can’t fuckin’ think.” “Oh! Oh my god, fuck. Fuck!” you cry out into the receiver. He grins, satisfied at that reaction, both of you taking deep breaths into your mics while you both come down.

“Did you cum for me, sugar?” he drawls.

“Mhm,” you squeak out. His grin doesn’t fade, it turns dirty, filthy, “Good girl.”

“Don’t say that.” He can hear your embarrassed smile in your voice, it makes him laugh. He’s normally not like that, that’s not something he thinks he’s ever said in bed – at least not sober.

“I won’t say it, I’m sorry. You don’t like that?” he asks thoughtfully.

“I like it a lot and you’re too far away,” you say softly.

“Poor thing,” he offers.

“I am a poor thing!” you exclaim. You quiet down a little, both just listening to each other breathe on the other end, “I’m excited to see you again, when I come back.”

“I’m excited to see you, too,” he smiles while he speaks softly into the receiver, “But lucky for me, I have these pictures of you to hold me over until then.”

“Visual learner?” you tease. “Physical, too,” he counters.

“You really are trouble,” you laugh, “And um – I don’t want you to think that like, the only reason I wanna see you is just to have sex or anything. I just really like spending time with you.”

“I don’t think that at all,” he assures, “I really, really like spending time with you. I’m – and this is gonna sound super lame – but I’m excited to keep on getting to know you.”

“Lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” you laugh, “But also, same. We can be lame together.” “Oh – uh, by the way,” Eddie’s voice reverts back to normal while a reminder jolts his body awake, “The group really wants to meet you and I know it’s gonna be the day after you get back and you might want to rest, but Steve’s birthday party is Friday if you wanna come. Totally understand if you’re gonna be too tired.” “Oh no, I’d love that!” he can hear you shifting on the mattress, likely getting ready for bed, “Steve’s the one whose Instagram request I shouldn’t accept, right?” Eddie laughs, “Right.”

You both talk for a little longer before he tells you it’s getting late and you should get some rest since you had such a long day. He doesn’t want to hang up, but you’re both too old to be doing the ‘falling asleep on the phone’ thing. Plus, he had to be up for work in five hours.

Eddie slides into the seat on his Honda Civic and sighs – he’s tired. He doesn’t want to go to Steve’s party where everyone is gonna be loud and drunk by the time he gets there. He hates playing catch up, but you’re gonna be there so he’s doing his best to hype himself up before he starts the car. He cracks the Monster Energy sitting in his center console and chugs it, heaving a deep breath before starting the car. Mayhem’s Freezing Moon blares through his speakers and he nods to himself, Good, good, good. It would be a hype enough song to get him excited on the way there. He gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror, looking the same as he did when he freshened up in the teacher’s bathroom after the Jazz Club performed during the Spring Concert. His slim fit black slacks still kept their crease, his wallet chains still dangled from his pocket. Eddie took your advice and started wearing more green, a hunter short sleeved linen blend button up laid open and loose over a clean and expensive white t-shirt. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he looked hot. His hair was coiffed and coiled – he made sure to get a trim before you came back just to touch up the shag. His tattoos were the showiest you’d ever seen them and deeply moisturized, his silver chain and small rings were recently cleaned.

He wants you to lose your mind when you see him, but when he walks into the bar he knows he already lost. There you are, standing at the bar with Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin while they laugh with you at some story you’re telling. You’re all legs in your little black skirt with a cute cropped ‘ARIZONA’ sweatshirt cinching you in right at the waist. Your little white sneakers were shining purple in the black light of the bar, you probably wear these everywhere.

“Eddie!” Dustin calls out, giving a big wave to call him towards the party. You whip around, beaming while he makes his way over, meeting him part way with a drink in your hand. He can smell your perfume immediately and he’s surprised he hasn’t already fallen to his knees. “Started without me, huh?” he asks, nodding to the drink in your hand. “I tried to get Steve a drink but he said it was a better gift for him to buy me one…or two,” you tell him sheepishly. Eddie catches Steve’s eyes over your shoulder when he pulls you in to say hello and shakes his head. Steve smirks, blowing him a kiss before mouthing, ‘Her ass? Insane.’ putting his hands out to show off the size of it. Eddie flips him off while he lets you go.

“Everyone’s been really nice though,” you smile, giving him a once over, “You look really good.”

“Thank you,” he says in your ear, kissing your cheek, “You look too good. Don’t think I can let you stick around here too long.”

“S’kinda hot when you’re like that,” you grin sloppily, biting your lip. The tequila’s blurring the filter in your head a little, he can tell you’re just saying what comes to mind, eyes a little glassy.

“Like what?” “A lil’ possessive,” you shrug. He tucks a knuckle under your chin, lifting your gaze toward him for a moment. “Okay,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you much more passionately than you expected. Your mouth is cold against his, tongue sliding in to taste the tequila on yours. He snakes one arm around your waist so that you’re chest to chest, both of you laughing against each other’s lips while Tati and the group whoop and holler over your makeout. He breaks away, looking down at you, eyes sparkling.

“I missed you,” he says confidently.

“I missed you,” you smile, pulling him tight against you. This was what he was waiting for. An ounce of clinginess so that he didn’t feel so insane for wanting to be close to you all the time. He leads you back over to the bar, hand on your lower back while you put yourself back in your little group.

“What’re you having tonight, big boy?” Ed asks Steve, clapping him on the back in a brotherly hug.

“Surprise me – you doing shots?” he asks. Eddie nods, getting the bartender’s attention when she makes his way over.

“Can I get four shots of Jameson and then two for my buddy over here?” he asks, pointing at Steve with his thumb. The bartender nods, lining up the shot glasses and starting the pour. “I don’t really like Jameson,” you scrunch your nose.

“Well baby, they’re all for me, so don’t worry about it,” he grins playfully, white teeth shining, “I’ll get you something else when you finish that drink.”

You nod lazily, pulled into conversation with Robin while Steve and Eddie start taking their shots. The whiskey feels good hitting his throat, burning just enough to reinvigorate him for the rest of the night. He clicks his tongue when he downs them all, the scent of Tatianna’s vanilla perfume overtakes him before her hands cover his eyes from behind.

“Guess who it is,” she laughs.

“Someone who used my Warm Vanilla Sugar hand lotion today,” he answers, his fingers running over hers while he peels her hands away. He turns to her to pull her into a hug and then hugging Gareth behind her, already with their drinks in hand.

“Look, it went with the fragrance I was wearing today. You used my curl cream again so – you can’t even be mad,” she shrugs, beckoning him over with her hand, “Come sit with us really quick.”

Eddie turns to get your attention but Tatianna stops him, “She’s a big girl, she’s been doing fine on her own without you here, so far. Let her make friends.” Eddie pouts and Gareth pats him on the back after passing Tati’s drink to her, guiding him over to their booth close by the end of the bar. Eddie sits in the middle of the bench, looking like a kid who just got in trouble and is about to get a stern talking to by his parents. “So…” Eddie starts.

“I really like her, dude,” Gareth grins, “Came in and immediately knew who we were, introduced herself, offered to get us a round. All around seems very much your vibe.”

“And you, mom?” he asks, eyes lifting up through his lashes to look at Tatianna who has a smug grin on her face.

“All I’m saying is that you should always be listening to me when I tell you to do something,” she shrugs, “‘Cause what if you had deleted the app that night? Would’ve never met the love of your life right there.”

“Love of my life? You think?” he asks, eyes widening. “I know. Her energy is exactly what I thought it was gonna be,” Tatianna explains, gold rings in her twists flashing back the neon reflecting on them, “And you’ve been down bad for the past few weeks so I knew there had to be something about her that was really good.”

“So you like her?” Eddie grins.

“We love her,” Tatianna nods, “Consider her adopted.”

“Steve loves her too, it looks like,” Eddie huffs, looking back over at the bar to see Steve showing you something on his phone, a little too close for comfort.

“He’s behaving himself, don’t worry,” Dustin says while he slides in next to Eddie, “We all gave him a warning before she got here. Plus, he’s got two girls on his radar right now that he’s trying to take home if he doesn’t get too drunk – but y’know, we’re banking on the getting too drunk part.”

“Always banking on the getting too drunk part,” Gareth laughs.

The night continues on, people coming and going, getting up to dance, getting new drinks. He watches you blend in seamlessly, swaying with Tatianna at the bar while you wait for a rum and coke for you and water for him. He still has to drive home after all.

“What do you know about this song?” Tatianna laughs while Victoria Monet’s Coastin’ booms over the speakers. You both walk back over, two stepping in time until Gareth pulls Tatianna in tight to him, rocking back and forth with each other and stealing kisses.

Eddie watches you approach him while you lipsync the words playfully, hips swaying in in time with the beat.

‘Think of the waaaays, The ways I wanna give you this ass, Just how you liiiiike, Feel like a Thursday how I’m throwin’ it back.’ “The ways you wanna give me this ass, huh?” he smirks, eyes flitting over you while he takes the water yor offer him. You keep up with your sway, pressing up close to him – you look up with a fake unamused quirk of your brow and he knows you’re about to say something bitchy that’ll make him fall for you even harder. “I don’t think you could handle it,” you flirt.

“You know something?” he starts, putting his water on the table of the booth, catching you before you can sit down, “I think I can handle you just fine.” You burn at his words, a shy grin pulling at your lips when he sits down at the edge of the bench next to Nancy and across from Steve and Robin. It’s fun to flirt with you like this, right on the precipice of something a little dirty. He wants you so bad and if he knows women as well as he thinks he does, he knows you want him so bad, too. He pats his thigh, encouraging you to sit on his lap. You hesitate at first but he nods encouragingly, a silent Please, it’s okay. You settle in, the table high enough that both sets of your thighs fit under the table. He takes a breath before letting his hands settle on your skin, imagining what it might be like when he gets to put his hands on all of it.

Everyone banking on Steve getting too drunk to take someone home was right, him and Robin were already in their codependent best friend phase of the night where they only want to hang out with each other, hands cupped tight on the table. You’re talking to Robin about a game that’s like Sims but 8-bit –

“It’s called Unpacking and it’s so cute, you basically unpack a house or a room and you learn more about the person’s story by unpacking their boxes – sort of like Sims but with actual feelings that you don’t have to make up,” you enthuse.

“Is it on Steam?” she asks, “I’ll literally buy it right now.”

“We’re partying, Rob, don’t play a dumb game,” Steve whines.

“She’s not gonna play it right now, Steve,” Nancy chides, “She’s gonna play it later. Don’t worry, we all know tonight is about you.”

Lucas comes over to the table looking aggravated, Max grinning next to him in a smile that Eddie knows too well. Lucas lost a bet and has to pay up, Eddie wonders what they bet on this time.

“Why does your Dragon’s Lair score have to be so fucking high? Can you literally let anyone have anything?” Lucas huffs.

“Don’t be so sad, Sinclair – you can always try to beat Red’s score,” Eddie shrugs, smirking smugly at the pair.

“She’s 250 points behind you, and you’re both like, seven thousand points ahead of everyone else,” he huffs.

“What’d’you owe her this time?” he asks.

“I can’t even tell you out loud,” he sighs. Max cackles, offering her hand and leading him back over to the Party at the bar, fingers laced with each other while they talk. Eddie adjusts under you, groin shifting under your ass by accident but he savors how delicious it feels to have you on top of him like this.

“Are there any other games in there that you have a high score on?” you ask, breath hitching slightly while his hands coast teasingly over your bare skin under the table. Your posture straightens when his fingers glide up your inner thigh, brushing his fingertips past the hem of your skirt. You like that, he thinks, your body language tells him all he needs to know to keep going.

“The Dracula pinball machine,” he replies confidently.

“I’m gonna go beat it,” you grin up at him.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, hand sliding off your thigh when you get up to head to the arcade room, “You even know how to play?”

“You can show me,” you shrug. He doesn’t really have to show you, pinball is pretty self explanatory, but he doesn’t want to give up a chance to have you alone. He leads you to the machine, pointing out where you want the ball to hit for the best chance at extra points. The music on the sound system is loud and the machine’s music matches it so he has to get close to your ear to explain.

“Do you think I don’t really know how to play or do you just wanna get close to me?” you ask, turning your head to look at him while he chin hooks over your shoulder. “You caught me,” he blushes, hand resting on your hip while he fills the gap between your back and his chest, “I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.”

And you do, in fact, you’re really fucking good at pinball and he’s almost mad about it. “Where did you learn to do this?” he asks after you rack up nearly three fourths of his high score in one go, the ball just narrowly missing the lever before sinking down to be propelled again.

“Summers on the boardwalk in New Hampshire,” you grin, “My uncle lives over there so we go visit him every year. Played one pinball machine every summer – my high score still stands, like, eleven years later.” “That’s so hot to me, oh my god,” he laughs while you get the next ball rolling onto the board. You lean forward, hips jutting out against him while you really get into it, concentrating hard. Eddie’s breath hitches when you slowly move your hips against him, so slow that he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose or not. Rihanna’s Work starts over the speakers and that’s when he knows it’s on purpose. Your movement’s pick up a little, lost in the game and in the beat. You’re a good dancer and that makes his mind wander to other things you might be good at. Your fingers work quick on either side of the machine, lights flashes against both of your faces while you keep trying to win and he keeps trying to not pull your skirt up in the middle of Barcade.

While the song continues, he stops paying attention to you playing, so caught up in how your waist winds and ass bounces against him that he doesn’t realize you aren’t even playing any more. His hips grind slowly back against you, one hand on your lower back, the other gripping your hip to keep you in position. This isn’t new territory for him, pulled into clubs by Tati and Gare, Robin and Steve, everyone else, from the moment things opened back up again in Indiana. When you look back at him he short circuits at first, but he knows you’re surprised he can dance like this. Maybe you forgot, but he does teach Music Theory – rhythm is kind of his whole thing. Of course he has it.

Your hips roll, making your ass run painstakingly slow and firm over his hardening cock. A groan gets stuck in his throat, reaching out to your shoulder to pull you up right again with your back against his chest.

“You like bein’ a tease?” he asks, voice deep and daunting.

“Just getting you back for what you did under the table,” you say matter-of-factly, turning around to face him with your butt leaning against the machine, “You’re not the only one here who knows how to be a slut.” “Also, I beat you,” you grin.

“Looks like you did,” he says, eyes passing yours to look at the new high score glowing on the outdated screen.

“Do I win a prize?”

“M’sure I can think of something,” he murmurs, lips pressing against yours while both of your eyes flutter closed. He takes your hand, leading you to the dark corner close by, both of you hidden by the now defunct change machine to press you up against the wall. “What do you think you deserve?” he purrs before catching your mouth in his again. His kiss is a little sloppy, a little needy, it’s the four shots of Jameson. Not too drunk to drive, but buzzed enough that he doesn’t care about his kissing technique, he just wants to taste you. “Oh, it’s like that?” you giggle mischievously, “I don’t think we can do what I think I deserve in a public place.”

“Hmm, okay, not into exhibitionism I guess,” he huffs a laugh while his kisses trail to your neck, knee slotting between your legs where you eagerly press up against him. He feels one of your hands fall into his hair, making his assault on the crook of your neck more intense when you give it a slight pull. “Kiss me,” you whine softly. “M’sorry, sorry,” he smirks, meeting your lips again, “You just smell really good, I like being in there.” “You’re a really good –” Kiss. “Mmm--kisser.” “Thanks, sugar, you’re –” Kiss. “Not so bad your –” Kiss. “Mmm shit – yourself.” He can barely think like this, so close to you but not close enough. Hands on your waist and hips to guide you against part of his thigh while a little whine pulls out of you. He can’t hold off much longer, feeling his pants grow unbearably tight.

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbles against your jaw, a satisfied smile blooms on his face when you roll your hips against his knee again.

“You don’t wanna hear everyone drunkenly sing Steve happy – oh, mmm – happy birthday?” you pant out while he presses kisses at the curve of your jaw back to your mouth. His hand entwines with the hair at the nape of your neck, giving you a soft tug to keep your head in place.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now,” he purrs in your ear, “Is what you sound like when I’m making you cum.”

The ride home is quick, barely saying goodbyes while he pulled you through the crowds building at the bar and paid the tab. Gareth shot him a wink as they left, tossing you both a wave but neither of you could think of anything else except each other.

He dropped his keys twice trying to get in the door of his first floor apartment, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you smile, “Just breathe. I’m still gonna be here.”

The door opens and he takes a millisecond to rip your coat off and kick off his shoes, instructing you to kick off your sneakers or Tati would likely emerge from the walls and kill you both for walking into the house with your outside shoes on. His lips immediately attach to yours. There’s no time to waste for him, pulling you over to the couch and plopping down with an excited puff of breath. “C’mere baby,” he beckons you over with two fingers, grinning up at you while you climb over his lap to straddle him. His kiss is searing, hands exploring you with abandon, all the ways he’s been thinking about touching you were now fair play. No one here to see either of you, no one around to interrupt. You can feel how hard he is under his dress pants, the material leaves little to the imagination. The gentle curve of it, its thickness, the length, all pressing up against you with every mutual roll of your hips.

You choke out a whimper when it hits just right up against your clothed slit. Eddie looks up at you mischievously, greedily sucking on your neck for a moment before catching your gaze a little.

“That’s all it takes? Just pushing my hips up like that?” he purrs, rolling them up again slowly, “Is that what you want?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe. He bites at the skin on your chest, not hard enough to hurt. He grips and grabs you but not hard enough to bruise. He’s testing the waters, seeing what you like and how you like it. His hands travel down past your hips, gripping the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your mouth, exploring you more, his palms flattening against your skirt while it rides up, the curve of your cheeks warm in his hands.

“Finally got to grab it the way you wanted to?” you tease between breaths.

“Mhmm,” he groans, “Now I just gotta smack it around.”

You take his lower lip between your teeth, making his cock twitch when you let it go to click back against his gums.

“Ooh, you wanna spank me?” you laugh into your next kiss. His hand reaches up to pull at your waist, pushing you tighter up against him. His fingers graze between your legs from behind while your head falls back in a breathy gasp.

“Do you want me to spank you?” he asks, brows raised inquisitively.

“Maybe not tonight,” you shrug with a smirk, hips winding over him in a way that makes him really feel you. He growls when you do it, hands guiding your hips to do it again, “Maybe only when I’ve been bad.”

“Jus’lemme know,” he grumbles, pupils taking over the brown in his eyes, “So I can — mmm, shit — teach ya a lesson.”

“Next time,” you huff into his next kiss. He manhandles you so that your back is to the cushions and throw pillows, switching your positions so that he’s on top.

“Next time,” he nods, pulling your sweatshirt off and dropping it to the floor, “But since you’re so good, it only makes sense that you get a reward, right?”

“I did beat you at pinball, so…” you grin. He grins back, kissing your neck hungrily, slotting his knee between your legs like he did at the bar.

“You did beat me at pinball,” he nods, a soft growl brewing in his chest when he feels you start to grind against him. Insatiable, he thinks, Greedy girl. But he doesn’t know if he can say that to you yet. He doesn’t know, all the way, what you like. He feels his heart hammer in his chest at the fear of realizing it – you aren’t Chrissy. What if he was only good because Chrissy thought so? What if he wasn’t actually –

“Oh!” you squeak out, hand reaching out to grip his bicep.

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away from your neck to look at you, big brown eyes blown with nerves.

“Y-yeah that’s just…where you’re kissing…that’s a spot for me,” you admit bashfully, unable to look at him.

“Sweetheart,” he shakes his head with a knowing smirk, “Shouldn’t’ve told me that.”

A kiss on the lips is his only consolation to you before he goes back to your neck, tongue trailing down to its last spot where he parks his teeth and lips. You like that. He hears you like it. And fucking God is it good to hear you like this, to hear you in person, moaning and whining in his ear just from kissing and sucking this spot on your neck.

“Eddie…” you breathe, high pitched and desperate, hips still pressing against his knee for friction. He can’t help but go back to your lips, but before he does, he peeks to see the marks he left behind.

Lips become neck, neck becomes chest, chest becomes stomach, stomach becomes hips, and before you know it he’s on his knees on the rug in front of you. Eddie’s eyes find yours when he’s kneeling between your legs, the center of your thighs looking him in the face. He places a kissing on the inside of your knee, gentle and soft.

He opens his mouth to ask, but you nearly read his mind, tugging up the hem of your skirt over your thick thighs. He helps, pushing the fabric up over your hips and ass so he gets another chance to touch and feel you. Once he settles back down he takes a breath, smiling up at you while he readjusts your legs to open a little wider, mouth making contact with your skin soon after. His lips capture the fat of your inner thigh, traveling down in passionate kisses, like your skin is divinity that he’s found for the first time.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, lips ghosting over your underwear to reach the top of your other knee, planting a kiss there too.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. He lets out a low, teasing giggle at the state of you, head lolling back on the couch while he kisses the inside of one thigh and runs his hand over the outside of the other. His kisses stop and he looks up at you from between your legs, big brown eyes begging you to let him in. A ringed finger teases over the gusset of your underwear, the way you bite your lip gives him the approval to keep going. His slides your panties off, run of the mill black cheeky cut cotton that he wished he could’ve stripped you down to. Just to see that ass swallowing them, to see the way they sat on the curves of your hips.

“You nervous?” he asks with a smile while your legs close, your underwear placed on the floor next to your shirt.

“A little,” you giggle.

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he coos, hands cupping under your knees to spread your legs again, “Just gonna make you feel good.”

He sighs when your legs open up for him, already wet and puffy, you’d been thinking about this all night. Eddie nips softly at your inner thigh again before he lets his lips linger over your folds. You squirm your hips closer to him, a whine leaking out of your mouth.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I won’t tease you, I’m sorry.”

But he’s lying. Leaning in to get close, only to ghost a breath over your clit. Fingers sliding to your slick lips to separate them slightly for more access to you. He pauses, leaning back away from your pussy and looks up at you quizzically.

“Actually, should I put on Hey Mr. DJ to set the mood? Since it’s so fucknasty…” gesturing his thumb towards the sound system on the other side of the room. You let out a mix of a laugh and a groan while his kisses coast on your thighs again.

“You said you wouldn’t teaaaasssseeee-oh my God,” you moan out when his mouth meets your clit without warning, soft, slow sucks and licks.

“You like that, sugar?” he asks, voice dropping down to a bassy gravel.

You nod feverishly, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Mmm, don’t stop?” he asks, tongue gliding from your entrance to your clit.

“Please,” you gasp, hand reaching out to run through his hair, bangs pushing back to reveal the soft lines of his forehead.

“Well you’re asking so nice, seems a little mean to keep you waiting,” he coos, fingers replacing his mouth while he talks, “But I thought you liked it when I was a little mean.”

“Don’t be mean, Ed,” you pout.

“Okay, I won’t be mean,” he smiles, opening your legs a little wider. He’s confident about his skills here, Chris loved getting eaten out so he dedicated a lot of time to getting it right. It helped that he loved going down, watching his partner gasp and whine while he serves her on his knees. Feeling the tug on his hair when he’s doing it right, making her feel good. The press of her hand to push him closer to her when she’s getting close, giving it to her over and over again.

“Oh fuck, Ed — oh my god, baby,” you mewl, hips grinding up against his mouth. He smirks into the next stripe of his tongue, latching onto your clit to suck softly while his fingers press against your entrance. His eyes gaze up at you, your own going glassy while you look down at him.

“I like when you look at me like that,” he confesses quietly, mouth returning to its actions immediately. He keeps his eyes on you while his first finger pushes in, he groans at the feeling — snug, warm, wet. He drags out slowly, a high pitched moan escaping you when he pushes back in with little resistance. His head moves with his mouth, tongue laving over your clit, lips pursing over it when he feels your pulse over his finger.

“You’re so good — fuck — you’re so good at this,” you sigh. The praise runs down his chest and along his spine, he moans gratefully into his next kiss against you. He stripes his tongue again, using his other hand to keep your lips spread for more access. Your thighs twitch while he goes back to soft deliberate sucking, alternating between that and gentle fluttering flicks from the tip of his tongue.

“That’s good for you?” he mumbles.

“You’re so good for me,” you whisper back, gripping his hair hard when he pushes his second finger in, “Just…unhm, just like that.”

He keeps a steady pace with his fingers, evidence of his skill coating them while he does. He wants to drag this out a while, take his time with you like he said he would. He breaks his mouth away for a moment to really look at you, just in your bra and skirt. His heart skips a beat, breath caught in his throat. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Too afraid to say it outloud. What if you don’t like that while you have sex? You said you like when he was a little mean, does that mean he should be mean all the time?

“Earth to Ed…” he hears you say, your hand waving in his face. He looks back up at you, startled, “You okay? You stopped and sort of just…stared for a second.”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he laughs to himself, taking his fingers away to massage the inside of your thighs with both hands, “Just got caught up staring at you.”

“Ew,” you giggle with a smile, “You think I’m pretty or somethin’?”

Eddie leans up between your legs on the couch where you come down to meet him, noses inches apart, “Well I don’t wanna be too forward…”

“You’re literally eating me out, you can’t get any more forward,” you both laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Of both being shaky and shy even this far into the game.

“Like I was saying — I don’t wanna be too forward, but I think you’re honestly so beautiful,” he blushes bashfully, looking down so all you can see are his full lashes, “And I didn’t wanna be corny and say it while I’m like, neck deep in your pussy.”

“That’s very sweet, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, pushing back one side when he looks up at you again. Baby. He likes when you call him that. He likes when you call him baby. He’s excited for you to call him other names like pretty boy, and babe, and honey. He wants to hear ‘em all. He wants you to spend the night so he can make you breakfast in the morning — for like…ever. You kiss him and he shudders, cock jumping in his slacks for a hint of attention — but he has a job to finish.

“You’re very sweet,” he says, nuzzling your nose before kissing your cheek, then your jawline, your neck, your chest, down and further down until he’s between your legs again — he doesn’t tease this time. He licks at your entrance, replacing his fingers with his tongue to lap up what you have for him. Your thighs tremble he trails back up, swirling his tongue over your clit when his fingers snugly sink back inside you.

“Eddie…”

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, voice smokey and deep. He lets his fingers search inside you for your g-spot, grinning when he finds it. Your moan is loud when he massages it, hips pushing down into the couch cushions, head thrown back while you grind against him.

“M’so close,” you huff, “That feels so good, please don’t stop. Don’tstopdon’tstop.”

He grunts, feeling your thighs jump while he keeps up his pace. His tongue gets sloppy with it, wet and filthy, pooling spit out of his mouth in droves to mix with your slick. He fills you with a third finger, legs parting further again while you huff into the stretch.

“Ooh, you can really take it, baby,” he encourages, “Look at you takin’ all these fingers.” He glides the flat of his tongue over you once before leaning back to watch you. The pads of his fingers press in slow circles against your g-spot again, smirking when your eyes roll back.

“M’gonna cum…oh shit — oh fuck Ed I’m g.. — ohfuck — fuckfuckfuck — mmm-ah!” Your hips jump, lifting off the couch, writhing to pull away while you feel your orgasm rush rapidly to its peak.

“Thaaaat’s it,” he smiles, mouth returning home to its place latched over you. He holds your hips down with his free hand, eyes fluttering closed while he continues. A slight flit of his tongue right as he pumps his fingers in puts stars in your eyes, thighs snapping closed on either side of his head — exactly what he wanted.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you chant with strained, shaking vocal chords, tears pricking your eyes. Eddie groans when he feels your walls clench down hard over his fingers, flooding over him down his hand. You hiss while he keeps going, fingers easing out of you but tongue licking up as much as he can while you come down in shivers.

“You okay?” he asks, when your thighs release him. You reach for his hand, still covered in your juices and pull it toward you — but he knows your game. He knows you’re gonna lick it off and give him those eyes — so he pulls his wrist away, “Oh, no baby.”

Eddie delicately puts his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours with a glint of satisfaction, and gently sucks them clean instead.

“I don’t like to waste it, sugar,” he croons, “I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

His sexy act breaks when you roll your eyes at him, clearly flustered by his antics in your post orgasm glow. He snickers when he stands up, leaning down to peck you with your arousal still smeared on his mouth and chin.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pouts back. A peck turns to a kiss, a kiss to something passionate.

“Why don’t I go get cleaned up,” he starts, before catching you in another kiss.

“You should pee since that’s the smart thing to do before and after,” he presses a kiss to your neck.

“And then I’ll take you to bed,” he murmurs huskily, “How’s that?”

“That’s really nice,” you rasp back, turning so that you’re nose to nose, “But I am a little hungry now that you said that.”

“You’re funny,” he smiles, another kiss, “I’ll get us a snack and then I’ll take you to bed, is that better?”

“Much better.”

Eddie passes you your panties and shirt, and points out where the bathroom is down the hall. While you traipse along, he opens the fridge, taking out the tiramisu he got as dessert with his takeout last night but didn’t get around to eating. He slices the generous cut in half, gently placing it on two tea plates and grabbing two forks.

“Do you like tiramisu?” he asks when he hears your socked feet pad into the kitchen.

“I do. My mom’s is the best actually,” you brag. He turns around to see you, your bright smile, your refreshed face.

“Will you still eat it if it’s not your mom’s?” he asks, offering you the plate.

“Yes, of course,” you nod, taking both plates out of his hands and placing them on the table, “But first I gotta –”

Eddie’s taken aback by the kiss, but you don’t notice. He’s swift at the pick up, matching your pace expertly and hoisting you up onto the counter with surprising ease. He grunts when you pull him forward between your legs by the belt loops because he knows you’re trying to fuck just as much as he is.

“Baby…” he starts, regretfully breaking away, “Are you hungry or not?”

You don’t answer at first, you just look at him and kiss him again. When you pull away, your gaze lingers. Fear coasts icily over his chest when you almost look forlorn.

“Shit…” you whisper, shoulders drooping.

“Wh-what? What is it?” he asks, hands getting clammy where they rest on your thighs.

“I…” you take a deep breath, it shakes when you exhale, “I really fucking like you.”

He smiles, but he knows why this is your response, why you look like this, why your shoulders sulk — because he’s also there, “Does that make you scared?”

You nod, but instead of going in to kiss you again he pulls you close, smooching your cheek before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay that you’re scared,” he murmurs, “But if it’s any consolation…”

“I really fucking like you, too.”

When you kiss again, he’s overwhelmed.

“Fuck the tiramisu,” you breathe, “Let’s just —.”

“Mhm,” he breathes back, hoisting you off the counter, balancing you on his hips, “I fucking need you.”

Jingle. Click. Creak.

“HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” calls the voice of a sloshed Steve Harrington, from the front door, “Put your clothes on, sluts.”

But it’s not just Steve, it’s the whole party — the group filing into the living room while you hurriedly slide down Eddie’s form. Tatianna and Gareth follow in after everyone gets their shoes off, laughing and joking with Robin and Dustin while they stumble through the door. They halt when they catch Eddie’s expression from the other room, a stare so cold it could freeze them both. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Gareth mouths, realizing with deep regret what they’ve interrupted. Tatianna makes her way over, making a face of pure guilt when she makes it into the kitchen.

“So here’s the thing, my phone died and Steve was using Gareth’s phone to change the music and I forgot to text you,” she explains to the both of you, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s seriously okay,” you laugh, “Please don’t feel bad. It’s you and Gareth’s apartment, too.”

“Are you mad at me?” Tati pouts at Eddie, who could not stay mad at Tati for even a second.

He puffs a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms, “No, no, I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.”

“Okay,” she smiles, opening her arms for a hug which he obliges without question, “Gare’s sorry too, but unfortunately he’s busy babysitting Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum with Nance.” Eddie looks down at you when he lets go of Tatianna, reaching his hand out to rub your back, “She means Robin and Steve.”

“I figured,” you smile. Tatianna makes her exit and you’re both alone in the kitchen again.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie offers, using the leverage of his hand on your back to pull you in close to him.

“What, why? There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you furrow your brow, forearms leaning up the length of his chest. The opening bass of Dua Lipa’s One Kiss starts to thump from the soundsystem in the living room into the kitchen, along with Steve’s passionate This is my favorite fucking song, holy shit.

“Everything got ruined,” he frowns, “I’m like, kind of embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you urge, pulling him a little closer to give him a reassuring kiss, “There’s always next time. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“No?” he asks, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re stayin’ right here?”

“Well, until I have to go to home,” you shrug. The music gets a little louder and Eddie throws his disappointment to the wind. There is always next time. For now, he has you here in his kitchen, lips on yours, hands on your cheeks, the steady thump of the beat of his heart. And of course, Steve drunk crying to Robin in the living room – You’re literally my best fucking friend. You’re my best fucking friend Rob, I love you so much.

Eddie giggles against your mouth at the sound, an ache caught in his chest. He really fucking likes you.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things s4 #eddie munson x y/n

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anemptypuddingcup · 21 days

Text

Be my guinea pig.

W/ Trafalgar Law.

Trafalgar Law x Female Reader.

I really wanted to throw something a bit different onto the table. This one’s just a freebie and about a week of kinks filled with both the one piece character and Reader’s kinks.

I’m doing self-inserts for just both Law and Luffy! If I ever make this into a series, I’d wanna hear suggestions from you guys.

I’m still working on other things but and I promise Ima get stuff done. I’m a dumbass who’s horny and have plenty of writing/art ideas running through her brain.

Contains: Writing is organized differently in this series. Self-Insert. (Still referred as Reader). Reader and Law helping each other try out their kinks for a week. Asphyxiation kink. Praise kink. Somnophilia kink. Hand kink. Mutual Masturbation. Roleplay. Sensory Deprivation. There’s no oral in this, surprisingly- Fingering. Handjob. Lots of fucking- Reader is submissive in this. Literally a fic dedicated to Law bc he’s plaguing my brain.

“Oi. Can I talk to you about somethin’?” Law slowly walks up to you as he stared down at you sitting there on the couch. You look up from your phone and blink all cutely to him, your brows raising as you began to grow nervous about what he had to say. He sits down beside you and rests his body against yours, his body heavier and rather larger than your smaller and lighter body.

He rests his head against your breasts, his golden eyes peering up into yours as if he wanted to tell you something or maybe ask for something. You quirk a brow to him and set your phone down, your hand resting up against his temple and against his raven strands. “Is there something you want to ask me, Traffy?” You asked, staring down at him while he looks around all playfully.

“Well…Yeah. There is something I wanna ask you.” He responded, his eyes peeking away from yours as to avoid contact with your eyes and advert his gaze. You hum out and paused, wanting to hear him out as curiosity brewed from your mind. “What is it Law?” You asked him, now growing a bit impatient as he left you waiting.

He sighs out before finally asking his question to you, a groan leaving him as he began his sentence. “Would you wanna…try out some of our kinks? I know it’s a sudden question but…I wanna explore and stuff…” He says, struggling to get the last of his sentence out as he grew kinda nervous for your response. You smile at his question and your mind began to roam around deep in your thoughts.

Law never did specify which kinks he had, and neither did you. Maybe it would be nice to explore and see what kind of kinks you both could have.

“I’m fine with that…I’m sure mine are…more subtle than yours though…” You say, a nervous chuckle leaving you as you whispered those words. Law smirks and lifts his head from your breasts, his hands groping them and making you gasp out suddenly.

“I’m fine if your kinks are as vanilla as can be, it’s all about enjoying them together no matter how tough~” He whispers to you, his eyes piercing deep into yours and making your heart flutter and pound against him. “We’ll start next week. That is, if you can handle that before then.” He teased, his smirk on toy turning you on even more while you watched his fingers play at your soft mounds through the fabric of your shirt.

You sigh out shakily and sit up a bit trying to pull away from him but causing him to follow and slide his hands up underneath your shirt. You mewl out and shut your eyes softly, sighing out as your hands press against his. “Q-Quit touching me! Y-You said next w-week didn’t you?~” You gasp out, shuddering at the feeling of your nipples running in between his fingertips.

“Maybe I’m the one who can’t wait~” He chuckles, adoring how sweet your voice sounded while he played and teased at your body.

☆ ☆ ☆

Day 1: Asphyxiation.

His hand reached out and quickly got a tight hold on your neck, your hands uncontrollably clawing and gripping at his wrist as a natural response while he choked you as if he genuinely hated your guts. Weak yet choked moans struggled to leave your throat as you winced and looked up at him, one of your eyes closed while the other stared down at his cock sliding deep inside of you.

As much as you adored feeling him deep inside of your sticky and needy cunt, part of you didn’t expect him to start strangling the life out of you this hard. You whimpered and kicked a bit, your legs frantically kicking about as you whined for him to release his grip on your throat.

“Do we need to stop, sweetness? You don’t look too pleased…” He asked you, quirking a brow as he watched you squirm and wriggle beneath him. You shook your head and mewled out, trying to endure it a little while longer for him while he grows more aroused by your facial expression. He tried to stay patient with you and he gained arousal just from watching you struggle to breathe beneath him alone. You cry out and arched your back, your feet sliding along the sheets as you tried to pull away from his grasp.

Your eyes began to roll up and flutter, your body losing it’s needed oxygen and causing your body to begin fluttering in and out of consciousness.

That ,in return, causes him to stop immediately.

“Alright alright, enough. I don’t wanna hurt you anymore by taking this further…” He sighed out, his hand releasing your throat and allowing you to inhale deeply. You coughed a bit and he peppers a few kisses to your neck, apologizing for hurting you or at least choking you so aggressively. “Well, it was good while it lasted. I don’t want you to push yourself past your limits. Prolly woulda actually caused you to faint if I kept going.” He says softly, his hand pressing against your temple while he combed through your strands.

“M-M’sorry…I-I’m sorry…Traffy…” You apologized to him, wiping away the light tears that brewed at your eyes due to the asphyxiation. His fingers played at your cheek, caressing it softly while he sighs out all lovingly to you and your adorable face. “Don’t apologize baby, it’s not your fault…We can go soft for you if we need to okay?” He says, smirking to you and reassuring you so sweetly. His soft tone of voice followed by his little smirk causes your heart to flutter and you whine out before wrapping your arms around him.

“It’s okay, there’s no need to apologize for something as silly as this sweetheart~” He whispers to you, his body rising above yours before he continues thrusting his hips into yours. You whine out to him and stared up into eyes, still upset that you couldn’t last very long for him. He sighs out and peppers more smooches to the soft skin of your neck, making you moan out while he chuckled.

“Here, if you wanna try again…This time we’ll start with less pressure. Okay baby?”

“O-Okay…”

He slowly wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing hard but not hard enough to the point where you were uncomfortable. He stared down into your eyes as he continued fucking you, thrusting his hips a bit harder into you while you moan out to him in pleasure. You bit your bottom lip as you enjoyed the slight lightheadedness spilling into your head, the very slight lack of oxygen causing the pleasure the be stronger.

“Mmmgh~ Traffyy~” You moan out to him and he smiles, pressing his lips against yours while he rolled his hips into yours, his tip kissing your g-spot so deeply.

Day 2: Praising and slight daddy kink.

“Such a good girl for me, do you like it when I play at your pussy like this?”

You mewl out sweetly to him, watching as he palmed at your slit and slid his fingers through your folds repeatedly. “Mmmhh~” Your toes curled and your brows furrowed from the pleasure, a soft whine leaving your lips while you watched him play with your body as if it was some type of toy. Your back was up against his chest and you were sitting in between his legs while he went to work on you. “Cmon baby girl~ Answer daddy. Aren’t I making you feel good?~” He asked you, his tongue trailing along the soft skin of your neck while you gasp out shakily.

“M-Mhmm~ I-It feels- so g-good Traffy~” You moan out for him, arching your back before you gasp out suddenly at the feeling of his fingers sliding past your entrance and going deep inside of your cunt. He smiles and presses his lips against yours, his chest up against your breasts while he fingered your pussy. He thrusts his fingers in and out to your warm velvety walls, his fingertips occasionally curling up and kissing your sweet spot while his fingers massaged your walls.

“You’re doing so good for daddy, Taking his fingers in so well like this~ Your pussy is stunning fluttering around my fingers like this~” He groans out, his cock hard and throbbing as he thrusts his fingers faster into your pussy. Your moans made him hard as well, with how sweet your voice sounded it was practically hard to keep himself composed.

“Ohhh Traffy~” You gasp out, shutting your eyes softly as you felt yourself yearning to cum just from his voice alone if his fingers weren’t buried deep inside of your pussy. The sound of his fingers going deep in and out of your pussy repeatedly made you shudder before moaning out loudly against him. “That’s right, let your voice out. Keep letting your voice out like my good baby girl~” He whispered, his eyes staring down deep into yours while you shudder and gasp out in response.

You began to feel his fingers thrusting faster, and you can’t help but to cry out and tighten up around his thick digits. The way his fingers kissed your sweetest spot made you curl up and whine out against him.

“Fuckkk~ Traffyyy~”

“If you cum on my fingers daddy’ll fuck you with his thick cock. That’s if you cum on daddy’s fingers like a good girl. Alright princess?”

“Y-Yes daddy~”

“Good girl~”

You whimper out all sweetly and looked away from him, arching your back while you relished in the feeling of his digits ceiling and digging deep inside of you.

“My cute baby girl, you’re taking them so well~ You want daddy to go faster?~” He asked, his lips nipping at you ear while you gasp out all shakily from his voice and fingers. “Y-Yes!~ Y-Yes please!~” You responded all angelically to him, your eyes rolling up as you felt your cunt tightening around his thick digits.

“Yes what, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes daddy~”

“Good~ Fuck you’re such a good girl~ Always obedient and sweet for daddy~ You love it when daddy praises you don’t you?”

“Mhmmm~ I-I love it so muchh~”

His fingers began to curl up and nudge hard against your sweet spot deep inside your pussy and you moan out shakily, struggling to hold yourself back much longer. Your back nearly arches up off of Law’s chest as you moan out loudly, your mind practically melting from his words and his praising.

“Mmgh!~ Fuck!~ I-I’m so close to creaming Traffy!~” You gasp out, your arm resting against your temple while the other hand gripped the sheets beneath your body. “Yesss~ Fuck yes princess~ I want you to cum on my fingers~ Cum for me princess~”

Day 3: Somnophilia.

The sound of your snores filled Law’s ears as his body hovered over yours, his eyes watching as your back rise and fell with ease. You were breathing steadily and Law stared down at your vulnerable body, staring as it rested and built up its energy for the following day.

He sighed out shakily and traces his fingers along your slumbering body, noticing as it twitched from the slightest touches his tough fingertips provided to your soft skin. “God, so fuckin’ perfect~” He moans out to you, basking in the lack of response your sleeping body provided to him.

Law softly stroked his cock as he pressed kisses against your skin, his lips sucking on your skin and leaving dark marks against it while his eyes slowly looks down to your sleeping face. You moan out sleepily and tried to roll over but Law’s hand kept you in place and prevented you from flipping over onto your back. He hissed out before placing his cock against your sticky entrance, surprised that your pussy was wet even though he hadn’t done much to your body.

He slowly slid his cock into your pussy, gasping out at how tight and warm your walls were. Your pussy was practically welcoming him deep inside even though you were asleep and unresponsive. Your pussy encased his cock in a comforting warmth and pleasure, a heavy yet quiet groan leaving him as he slowly began to move deep within your pussy. Your moans were soft and quiet as Law fucked your pussy softly and steadily, making sure to not go as rough as to wake you up.

“God, your pussy’s so fuckin’ good~ Keep squeezin’ me like that, y’hear?~” He gasps out, throwing his head back while his mouth hung open in ecstasy. His thrusts began to grow faster but he stayed steady, his hands softly holding your hips while he thrusts his deep and yet steadily into yours.

He sighs out shakily and quickly covers his mouth with one hand, muffling his groans while he fucked your all needily.

“Your pussy’s so heavenly when you’re asleep~ Your pussy’s always so heavenly for me~”

You moan out shakily beneath him, your face unconsciously twisting and contorting at the sweet feeling of his hot and thick cock deep inside of your sleepy pussy. He hissed out and winced in pleasure, his eyes rolling up as his hips began to unconsciously fuck hard into your hips.

He sighs out heavily, his hands gripping your hips tightly before he pulled you back into his cock. You mewl out sleepy and crack an eye open, a moan automatic spilling past your lips as the pleasure suddenly his you like a brick. “Mmgh~ Oh~ T-Traffy~” You moan out shakily, your hands gripping your pillow while you squeezed around his length.

Law’s eyes widens and he immediately froze, suddenly feeling the weight of guilt fall onto him for interrupting your rest.

“Fuck I woke you up…I-I’m sorry baby~”

“I-It’s okayy Traffyy~ Just please keep fucking my pussy like this~”

“Of course I fuckin’ will~”

He thrusts his hips hard and sharp into your cunt, causing a loud and groggy moan to spill past your lips while he groans out heavily above you. The sound of his hips slapping against yours made your face turn a deep shade of red while your pussy fluttered around his thick length.

“M’gonna fuck you back to sleep baby~ Want me to fuck you back to sleep, yeah?~”

“Yess Traffy, please fuck me back to sleep~ Need your cock to fuck me to sleep~”

Day 4: Hand Kink.

“How do my hands feel against your breasts? Feels good?”

You gasp out all shakily against him, your head resting against his shoulder while he played at your breasts as if they were squish stress toys. “M-Mhmm~ Feels s’nice Traffy~ Please, touch them more~” You pleaded, moaning out all shakily while your hands pressed against his. He chuckles and slide his hands down along your skin, your body trembling against his fingertips as you enjoyed the sensation of his fingers trailing and touching against your body.

His cock twitched at your entrance, making you squeak out while he chuckles in response. “So cute aren’t you?” He hisses out, biting his bottom lip as his hands ran between your inner thighs. You whine out and threw your head back, the feeling of his fingertips against your body making you grow needy and yet so soaked from his touch.

“P-Please~ T-Touch me more Traffy~”

“As you wish baby~”

His hand cups your pussy and he chuckled, feeling how sticky and soaking you were against his rough fingers. His fingers flicked at your clit and you couldn’t help but to mewl out and turn away in pleasure. He played at your slit and clit, a soft sigh leaving him as he felt you tense up against his fingers. His fingers slowly slipped past your entrance and deep inside of your pussy, his fingers nearly kissing your sweet spot immediately.

You cry out in pleasure and watched as his digits plunged deeper inside of your pussy.

“You love my fingers don’t you? Your hand kink is just shooting through the roof isn’t it? You naughty fuckin’ girl~” He continued to tease at you, making fun at the fact that you couldn’t help to be turned on by his hands and fingers. You whine out and pouted to him before your face contorts in arousal, a gasp leaving you while your pussy continued to suck his fingers in.

“You like it when I fuck your pussy with my fingers eh? Maybe you like my fingers more than my cock. You cream more easily from my hands alone~” He shoved his fingers deeper into your pussy and you groan out all shakily, your toes curling while you threw your head back from his fingertips nudging deep into your bundle of nerves so lovingly.

“Come on! Fucking tell me that you like my fingers deep in your pussy.”

“Fuck T-Traffyy~ I-I love it~ Keep fucking my pussy with your fingers!~ I-I’m so fucking close!~”

“Gonna cream? I’m not stoppin’ until you fucking squirt on my fingers. I ain’t gonna stop until you’re soakin’ the fuckin’ sheets.” He huffs out shakily as he watched you melt within his arms, his wrist beginning to ache as he thrusted his fingers faster and deeper into your pussy.

“Gonna cum baby? Hmm? You ‘bout to cum on my fucking fingers?~”

“Yes! Yes!- Fuck- Fuck Traffy!~”

“I wanna feel your juices soaking my fucking hand.”

Day 5: Mutual Masturbation.

Your fingers thrusts into your pussy all needily, your hips lifting up off of the bed as you tried your best to reach the sweetest spot deep inside of your pussy. Law was watching you, breathing heavily while he stroked at his shaft rather fast and hard. He couldn’t help but to chuckle at your desperation, watching as you struggled to fuck yourself with your fingers and whine out all irritably.

He moves your fingers away and you gasp out before whining out, your body squirming at the unconscious heat brewing within your core. He shoved his fingers deep past your entrance and your eyes widens from the harsh thrust of his fingers against your sweet spot, mewling out as you enjoyed the feeling of his thick tatted fingers deep into your pussy. His fingers had immediately kissed your bundle of nerves, making you see stars whilst he adored your shocked expression.

“Oh!~ T-Traffy!~” You moan out his name and watched as he stroked himself with his other hand, multitasking yet focusing more on your pleasure rather than his own. You struggled to get closer to him and when you do, you move his hand away from his cock which makes his brows raise in slight surprise. You climb up onto his lap and stroke his cock, going at the same pace his fingers were going deep inside of you.

He hums out shakily and pressed his hand you moved from his cock onto your hip, holding you in place while he continued fucking with with his fingers. You jerked his cock quickly with your smaller hand, the feeling of his heat in your hand making you grow hotter against him. He hissed out shakily and pressed his lips against yours, his fingers going faster inside of your pussy while you fucked his cock faster with your hand.

“Fuck baby, your fuckin’ hands are gonna make me cum already~” He groans out into your lips, his eyes glancing down and watching as your hand fucked his cock. His fingers curls up inside of you and you mewl out shakily, his fingertips nudging up hard against your g-spot and making you whine out while you moved your hips in even more.

You wrap another hand around his length and made your gestures more pleasurable for him. Your motions grew faster around his length and he moans out heavily, his eyes shutting softly and his brows furling while he breathes out lengthily. You could feel his thick length twitching in your hands while he felt your walls tightening and pulsating around his fingers. “P-Please~ Cum with me Traffy~ I-I’m so close to cumming~” You gasp out shakily, looking up into his golden eyes while he stares at you with his half-lidded and lust-filled pupils.

He wraps his arm around your waist and thrusts his fingers into you faster, his palm occasionally rubbing against your clit which added more pleasure to your cunt. Your fingers played at his tip while your moved your hand in circular motions while jerking his cock, his foreskin continuously folding up to the underside of his tip with every motion of your hand.

His nails clawed at your side and he presses his lips against yours once again, a moan leaving both of your lips as your body shuddered against each other. “Mmhh~ Fuck~ Fuck Traffy!- I’m cumming!~” You gasp out shakily and shut your eyes tightly before you threw your head back, your pussy gushing and squirting out onto his palm.

“Hah!~ F-Fuck baby! F-Fuck-“ Law groans out and rests his head against your shoulder before groaning out loudly, a few heavy breaths leaving him as he ejaculates out onto your hand. A bit gets out onto your tummy and breasts and you moan out at the warmth of his thick seed kissing your skin. He sighs out exhaustively and nuzzles his face into your neck, burying himself into your skin while you mewl out in relief and ecstasy against him.

Day 6: Roleplay. I’d imagine that Law has some sort of medicine or drug to help make your appearances feel more natural and real. Dude is a surgeon after all-

“Such a cute little cow~ You ready to be milked by daddy?~ Don’t you have so much milk to offer for daddy?~” His hand played at your breasts within the cow-printed bikini, pulling at the straps that held your breasts up while you blushed deeply and covered your face out of embarrassment. You whimpered in response and looked up at him with your cutesy little eyes, staring at him who had nothing but just bull horns and ears on the sides of his temple.

Good god, couldn’t he just buy some costumes instead of doing some experiments with potions and such.

His tail had swayed as his eyes trails down your body, admiring for just how beautiful it really was to him. Pressing smooches against your skin, he chuckled and looked up at you while you stared down at him.

You were still nervous but- he was going to break you out of that.

“Cmon, don’t be shy with me. You love this don’t you, my precious girl?~” He asked, his hand cupping your face and squeezing your cheeks while he pulled your face closer to his.

You shuddered and whine out in response to his words, your pussy squeezing and pulsating around nothing but air as you listened to him and his arousing voice pleasing your ears. You poured and looked away all anxiously before sighing out. “M-Mhmm…” You responded shakily, a sigh leaving your lips as you looked up at him. He smirks down at you before revealing his cock to you, his length twitching and just leaking with sticky pre.

You mewl out and spread your legs to him, revealing your bare cunt to him while he sighs out hungrily and stared down at your soaking slit. He watched in awe as you slowly spread your folds open to him, revealing so much of yourself and making him even more feral than he already was. “P-Please~ Milk me daddy~ M-Moo mooo…” You say so hesitantly, your eyes peering away from him while your face burned a deep shade of red.

He could tell that you were oh so anxious, but if he had to be honest with himself…that made it so much fucking better.

He hissed out and pressed his tip against your pussy, groaning out all hungrily before he’d shove himself deep inside of your cunt. You gasp out at the hard yet swift thrust, your teeth nipping at your bottom lip while you watched him begin to thrust inside of your pussy.

“I’m gonna milk you for everythin’ you’ve got baby girl~”

You moan out loudly and held on tight to your pillow, the bed rocking vigorously as Law gave you deep and rough thrusts deep inside your pussy. The way he fucked you felt so animalistic, it was as if he wanted to breed you and milk you for everything you had deep inside. His thrusts were slowly making you fall into the role of a submissive little animal, your toes curling up tightly while his cock smooched the hell out of your bundle of nerves.

Moans spilled from your lips as you threw your head back and arched your hips up into his, your body begging him to just pull you in and fuck you like the animals you were. His knees dug deep into the mattress, sliding against the sheets while he focused on fucking your pussy intensely. You moan out against his heavy body, looking up at his golden eyes while he stared down at you intensely.

He bends down and gives you a sloppy kiss, his arms wrapping around your body as he pulls away and trailed his sticky lips down to your breasts. He pops one of your nipples past his lips and into his mouth, suckling on it rather hard as if he was genuinely trying to get milk out of it. You gasp out loudly yet heavily and moan out shakily against him, your hand pressing against his temple and running though his soft raven strands.

Your eyes rolled up far and you were gasping for air and trying to endure the pleasure while he fucked you like there was no tomorrow. You drooled out onto your pillow, enjoying the deep and hard thrusts he was feeding to you.

“P-Please fuck me more!~ M-Milk me daddyy, m-milk and b-breed my pussy for all its w-worth!~”

“My, you’ve gotten feisty haven’t you?~ If that’s what you want, then daddy will make it happen~” He chuckle breathily, his tongue sliding along your areola and nipples before he’d suckle on it fully.

He groans out shakily and his cock twitches deep inside of you, already indicating that he was close to cumming. He pulls his lips from your breast with a slight pop before he’d focus back on his pleasure and yours.

His grasp grows tight on your hips and he thrusts his hips harder and faster inside of you while you’re gasping and crying out in ecstasy. The headboard hits against the wall while Law throws one of your legs up onto his shoulder, huffing out heavily as he used your body to chase after his high so aggressively.

“S-Shit! Shit!~ M-M’cumming!~” He moans out loudly and lowers his lips down into yours and smooches you deeply, his moans muffled by your lips while he finally releases deep inside of you. His thick seed spurts deep inside of you and you moan out loudly into his lips while your squirt out around his cock and onto his lower abdomen, your tail wagging with delight before it fell flat onto the sheets.

He pulled his lips away from yours, a string of your shared saliva tearing from both your lips while you huff out all shakily and yet slightly broken. Law chuckled at your broken state and pulls you up into his arms, his eyes piercing into your tear-filled ones.

“Don’t think I’m done yet. Didn’t I say I was gonna milk ya? The effects of the potion haven’t even worn off yet.”

Day 7: Sensory Deprivation.

“Ahhh~ Mmgh T-Traffy!~”

“Just keep that blindfold on and stay focused on my touch and voice baby.”

Your body squirms around uncontrollably while you relished in the feeling of Law’s cock deep inside of you. Not being able to see what he was doing certainly enhanced the feeling if not made the pleasure and stimulation stronger deep inside your cunt.

Your back was up hard against the wall and his hands was holding up one of your thighs while you held on tight to him. Your back arches as you felt him kiss your bundle of nerves, your leg growing weak from his thrusts smooching you so deeply and holding you up.

You felt Law’s fingers pinch at your nipple and you gasp out before turning your head and shuddering at his touch.

You could hear him chuckle all lowly and mischievously as if he was enjoying watching you twist and turn against him, his lips couldn’t help but to curl up into a smile hearing your submissive whines.

“Oh god~ Traffy~”

You gasp out shakily and pulled yourself up a bit, your body struggling to keep its balance while Law kept your other leg up. Your pussy tightens around him and he hissed out, you couldn’t stay composed when his cock was kissing all of the spots that needed his genuine love and attention. Your nails scratched at his shoulders and you whined as you began to grow all wobbly and unbalanced.

“T-Traffy~ I-I can’t keep standing m-much longer~” You moan out to him shakily, feeling his hips stammer for a bit before his thrusts began to slow down.

“It’s alright, I gotchu sweetness.”

Law grabs your thighs and pulls you up before pressing you against the wall even tighter, his body squeezing up against your tummy and pretty breasts.

You moan out all lovingly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs tight around his hips while he fucked your pussy deep and hard against the wall. He could notice your brows furling above the blindfold while your pussy sucked him in and squeezed him tighter.

“Gettin’ close aren’t you?~” He asked, pressing a smooch to your lips while you whimper in response. “M-Mhmm~ N-Need to cum…” You exhaled, clawing at his skin as you couldn’t hold back much longer. He huffs out and thrusts deeper into you, his arms holding you up steady while his cock churned up your insides.

You struggled to hold your voice back and your moans started growing louder just as much as Law’s were. You feel Law tremble against you and his thrusts grew disorganized as he felt himself growing close. “Fuck~ I’m cummin’ baby, keep squeezin’ my cock just like that for me, okay?” He whispers out into your ear, heavy breaths hitting your skin as you listened to him and nodded.

Your cunt unconsciously obeys and he thrusts into you faster yet still sloppily while you winced from the pleasure. Your toes curled and you held on to him tight before gasping out angelically into his ear, your pussy fluttering around his length as you finally squirt on his length. “Traffyyy~” You whimpered into his hear, your hand running up into his raven strands while he moans out at your tone.

He gives you a loving smooch before finally releasing deep inside of you, his seed filling up your cunt and making you shudder before you sigh out shakily at the sensation. He huffs out heavily as he stood there in place, holding you still while you rested your head against his shoulder.

He sighs out and pulls the blindfold from around your temple and off your eyes, a mewl leaving you as you lift your head and looked at him. “Are you alright?” He asked, cracking a smile with you stared at him innocently yet satisfied. “M-Mhmmm~” You responded exhaustively, staring into his golden eyes which softened the more he stared at your drowsy features.

“You sure you’re alright? Don’t need any water or anythin’?” Law had pulled you away from the wall, his arms were still carrying you, but his length was still deep inside of you. You hum out and rest your head against his chest. “I just wanna lay on you baby, I want cuddles…” You pouted, your voice in a cutesy yet tired tone.

“Alright, I’ll give you cuddles baby~” He chuckles, peppering a smooch to your temple before he hummed out lovingly. “Before that though, I need you to hydrate. You need some fluids in your system.” He chimed, his brows furrowing as he gives you a playful glare. You whined but nodded to him before a sleepy sigh left your lips, your fingers slipping from his neck just a bit.

“Anything for you baby~”

☆ ☆ ☆

You were lying there on the couch just like how you were last week when Law had came to you. You were resting there and staring up at the ceiling, a satisfied mewl leaving your lips as your body felt very content and stimulated.

“Sweetness.” You heat Law call out to you and you hum out before looking to him, your face all cute and pure as you stared at your boyfriend. He walks over and flops down onto your body, ripping a sudden gasp from you while he snickers. “Traffy, you’re too big to be flopping onto me like this-“ You choked out, your cheeks puffing up as you poured to him. He smiled and peppers smooches all over your face before staring into your eyes.

“Wanna- Try again this week?” He asked, giving you a mischievous smirk while your eyes stared at him absentmindedly. “Is your body not satisfied Traffy? How strong is your libido?” You asked him, quirking a brow before you cracked a cute little smile to him.

“It’s not that I’m not satisfied, I just enjoyed experimentin’ and trying out our kinks together. We don’t even have to fuck as much as we did last week~ It’s about discoverin’ more about ourselves and having fun while doing it.” He confessed, his hand playing at your hair while you blushed at the contact.

“Well…When you put it that way…I guess we can…do it again…” You said all shyly, your hands playing at his fingers while he smiled at your lovable reaction. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. We could just spend more time with each other and go out more if you want to.” Law suggested, throwing out options that could work for you want make you more comfortable.

You perk up at his second suggestion and hum out while pressing your palm against your cheek. “Well…How about we try both? One day we’ll hang out and have romantic dates and another day we could play around and…discover more about ourselves like you said~” You crawled over to Law and straddled him, his hands reaching up and holding your hips while he hums out all breathily.

“Fuck, ion mind that at all~ You thought up an idea better than mine sweetness…” He groans out as he sits up and press his lips against yours, making you mewl out before you giggled. “As long as I get to take my time with you, I’m alright with anything baby~” You say all sweetly, your hand holding his hand before you pulled it up to your cheek and nuzzled into it. His tatted fingers pinched at your cheek and he peppers another smooch to your cheek before relaxing his body back on the couch.

“So, where to first? There’s a bunch of options on the table.” He whispers to you, his fingers going back to playing with your hair.

“A movie night sounds lovely to me baby~”

“A movie night it is then~”

#puddingcupfics #puddingcupimagines #dividers -> benkeibear #one piece #one piece smut #one piece fluff #op smut #op fluff #one piece x female reader #one piece trafalgar law #op trafalgar law #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law fluff #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader

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guess-my-next-obsession · 11 months

Note

Hey! I love your writing. Could I please request a fluff piece when Iris is till a baby and Joel is on dad duty? Idk just something really fluffy where he just enjoys being a dad and also Sarah helping?

Dad Duty

pairing: elementary!joel miller x f!reader

rating: F (no outbreak au, talks of diapers and poop because infants are a mess, elementary!joel being the best dad/husband in the world, talks of being drunk/alcohol consumption)

wc: <1k

a/n: sorry for the delayed wait on this, anon! i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless 🫶🏼

series masterlist | joel masterlist

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” you asked, standing by the front door in a “going out” outfit for the first time since your daughter had been born six months ago. “I can cancel.”

Joel shook his head sternly as he and Sarah sat on the couch, Iris fast asleep in his arms.

“It’s your best friend’s birthday,” he said. “I won’t hear the end of it from her if she suspects you cancelled all because you don’t think I can handle a six-month old.”

“Of course I think you can handle it,” you said, offering him a sweet smile as you grabbed your purse. “I just feel guilty—“

“Baby,” he sighed, tilting his head at you. “Iris ain’t gonna remember you goin’ out one time when she was six months old.”

“I know, but—“

“No buts,” he said. “Get your fine ass out there, and take a couple shots for me while you’re at it.”

“Besides,” Sarah chimed in, pulling your eyes to hers. “I’m here as backup. Go have fun for once.”

Letting out a deep exhale, you nodded, agreeing to bury your guilt over leaving your daughter behind for the first time. “Fine. But if you need me—“

“Baby,” Joel chuckled. “We got it. Go get hammered.”

Walking over to him, you leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I love you.”

“Love you more,” he said, tilting your chin so that he could steal a quick peck on your lips, careful not to smudge your lipstick. “Go on now before they start honkin’ and wake baby girl up.”

“Alright,” you said, walking over to the door. “Sarah, don’t let your dad try to cook anything. I’d hate to come back to ashes.”

“Already on it.”

“Sarah!” Joel called from the upstairs nursery, Iris on the changing table in front of him making the biggest and grossest mess he’d ever encountered in his tenure as a father. “We got any more wipes?”

Sarah was already laughing when she walked in, carrying a new pack of wipes in hand before she witnessed the scene in front of her and started to gag.

“I’m never having a kid,” she said, covering her nose with her t-shirt.

“This ain’t the usual,” Joel said, shaking his head as he tried his best to clean up his very wiggly daughter. “Stay still, baby girl. It’s—Jesus, Iris. How’d it get in your hair?”

“I’m not even sure a bath will fix this,” Sarah said, looking disgusted. “I think we have to take her back and get a brand new baby.”

“Your mom would notice,” he said. “Otherwise, ain’t too bad an idea.”

After a thorough cleaning that left Joel scarred, Iris was set down in her activity chair down in the living room, her favorite nonsensical cartoon on while Sarah helped Joel cook some mac and cheese for dinner, her babbles filing the home.

“And to think she thought the house would catch on fire if I tried to cook,” he said, smiling at the thought of you.

“Well, in fairness it has almost happened before,” she said, earning an offended look from her father. “You don’t remember the fork in the microwave incident?”

“Shit,” he cursed, shaking his head. “You’re right. But in my defense, someone left it in my takeout box.”

“Yeah, you.” Joel chuckled, amused by her wit. “But to pad your stats, we can lie and say you made dinner tonight.”

“No, she’d expect me to start cookin’ then,” he said. “I may have pulled a miracle tonight, but my battin’ average ain’t great. Do you want to take the chance of house burnin’ down?”

“Good point.”

“Exactly. You’re takin’ the credit for this work of art.” Joel pointed at the pot of artificial cheese goodness. “How in the world am I hungry after cleaning up Iris’s shi—“

“Dad,” she winced. “I just got the image out of my mind.”

“If I gotta remember it, you do too, baby girl.”

It was midnight by the time you stumbled in, waving your best friend and her designated driver-slash-husband goodbye as you cracked the front door open before heading inside. To your surprise, Joel was still awake and rocking Iris to sleep in his arms, though judging by the heavy blink of his eyelids, he was barely hanging on.

“Hey baby,” he said with a smile as you stumbled your way over to the couch as quietly and gracefully as you could to sit down beside him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “How was it?”

“I’m drunk,” you confessed, your voice raspy from singing along to the club’s music. “And hungry.”

“Well, lucky for you, Sarah made dinner,” he said, standing up with Iris and setting her down in her rocker before holding his hand out for you. “Come on, you drunkard.”

“How were the girls?” you asked, clasping your hand in his as he guided you to the kitchen table to have a seat while he warmed up tonight’s leftovers.

“A piece of cake,” he said, shooting you a smile from over his shoulder. “Iris had one very messy diaper incident, but besides that, she was an angel. Just like her mom.”

“Hey, I won’t be having any messy diaper incidents for another fifty years or so,” you joked, earning another grin. “You gonna love me when I’m wearing a diaper?”

“Baby, I’m older than you,” he reminded. “If you’re wearin’ a diaper, so am I.”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” you mused with a wide, drunken grin. “You can save your payback for then, have Iris see how it feels.”

“I like the way you think, baby,” he chuckled. “But I love her too much to make her go through what I went through earlier. I think I’m gonna need therapy after that.”

You stood up, finding your way over to him to wrap your arms around his waist and hug his back, too in love with him not to touch him.

“Thank you for tonight. I didn’t know how much I needed it,” you said, humming as Joel’s hand lowered from the pot on the stove to run over your forearm wrapped around his middle. “How about next weekend I watch the girls so you can have a night out?”

“Maybe one of these days we’ll both get to go out,” he chuckled. “Until then, I’m good stayin’ at home with my girls.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller tlou #elementary

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dailyadventureprompts · 6 months

Note

do you have any advice for running and/or adapting prewritten modules?

DM Tip: Coloring outside the lines.

A piece of advice that’s vitally important for DMs, especially newer DMs to recognize is that presenting our party with a fleshed out, vibrant world is a magic trick mostly reliant on us having enough easily adaptable world-pieces laying around. It’s a matter of building the track as they go, and though modules provide a box full of pre-selected track pieces that can be useful building that backlog, the process is still reliant on YOU to fill in the blank space and account for the odd directions your party might end up in.

As such, it’s important for us to look at modules not as a recipe that must be followed to have a good time, but as a concentrated dollop of inspiration/jumping off point upon which we can create our own adventures. There’s a similar philosophy behind my own adventure prompts, as I seldom expect people to be able to use them 1:1. Even I have to adjust things and change details when turning a series of individual prompts into the material of a campaign.

The first step when you’re thinking of adapting an existing work (whether it be a module or a narrative you want to turn into an adventure) is to ask yourself and your players if this is the right fit for what they want to play. There’s no point in adapting an adventure focused around a heist if your party wants to be out exploring the wilderness, and there’s no point in adapting a wilderness exploration adventure if your party wants to do a political thriller/urban mystery. Just like with creating a homebrew campaign, you want to match the story to the expectations of your players. Trying to build a machine without knowing what it’s for is an exercise in frustration, as is trying to build a story without knowing the general direction you want it to be going.

Next is to read the work back to front, making notes as you go, specifically looking for:

Interesting ways the narrative could spin off from this, and what adventures might occur if your party make different decisions than what the story allows.

What emotional work you need to build into the party’s backstory/previous adventures/to have them make the decisions you NEED them to.

What happens if the party fail at each major step of the journey.

Ways you think you could do X thing better.

After you’re done with that, read another work with similar themes/subject matter with an eye of salvaging it for ideas to improve the first. Most modules have a direct path in mind with a few major branching points. What you want is raw material for when your party zigs when the original writers expected them to zag, as well as extraneous details that can make otherwise thin plot beats into sturdy pillars of your story. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve averted disaster or disinterest in my games by importing an npc or worldbuilding detail from something I’d recently read/watched into a narrative I’d thought was fully planned out but was just failing to fire

Finally, sit down with a notebook and try writing out the adventure step by step. Any time you get fuzzy on the details, it means you haven’t internalized the story you want to tell, and would end up running things by the book. This isn’t bad necessarily, but it’s the difference between a musician who has to go slow and follow along with the sheet music vs one who’s practiced enough to be confident in their performance. Recreating it like this might also let you see narrative potential that wasn’t necessarily evident in your first attempts.

Art

#dm tip #dm tips #dm starterpack

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bettyfrommars · 1 year

Text

I'm on Fire

biker!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Part 3

🚨18+Only, biker!Eddie, tow truck driver!Eddie, adult themes, mentions of smut, angst, mutual pining, slow burn, cheating (not on reader), alcohol consumption, flirting, mention of biker!Steve Harrington, 90's music & nostalgia, mention of a loved one with cancer, self-deprecation, eventual smut. Reader and Eddie are late 20's-early 30's

Word count: 5k

Series Masterlist

🔸Reader and Eddie are pining for each other in secret, and reader takes bold initiative to bring Eddie a gift. The two of you keep crossing paths as this crush intensifies and complications arise.

A/N: Always look forward to hearing from you all, what you thought, or what you'd like to see happen 👀

-----------

Steve called a day or two after the initial meetup, but Katie was headed to a conference out of the state, so they didn’t make any immediate plans. The conversation started in the living room where she first picked up the phone; she made a wild hand gesture, arm pivoting from side to side at the elbow, mouthing his name to you so that you would know who it was, and then she switched to the phone in her bedroom. They talked for over an hour, and he told her he’d check back in when she was back from her trip.

“Okay, so Steve thinks that Eddie has a little crush on you,” Katie told you when she came back out to give you the recap. “He said you might have to make the first move, though.”

Your heart fluttered, but you tried to play it cool. You looked up from your magazine. “Please tell me you didn’t spend the entire time talking about me?”

“Oh, of course not,” Katie shrugged. “Only a half hour or so.”

“If I were Eddie, I’d be pissed if my friend spilled the beans like that,” you said with a tilt of your head.

“I told Steve I wouldn’t tell you he said that,” she countered.

“Well, that makes it better.”

“Steve is a really…” Katie hesitated, trying to find the right descriptive as she plopped back down on the couch. “...intelligent, charming guy. I don’t know, maybe I’ll go out with him when I get back. If he asks like a gentleman.”

“Maybe?”

“Probably.”

----------

The next week came and went. You were busy, so you didn’t have much of a chance to think about the possibility that Eddie might have a crush on you.

No, that was a lie: you thought about it a lot. The bad part was, this whole feeling a chemical pull towards him was a distraction that you didn’t need in your life, and it made you do creepy, irrational things, like driving by Munson’s Garage one day after work just to see if you could get a glimpse of him.

The good part was, it had you feverishly painting until after midnight a few days in a row. You were feeling inspired for the first time in months, and even if you still had to be at work at 9am looking like death warmed over, it was worth it.

On Thursday afternoon, you were at the gallery preparing a huge piece of art to be shipped out of the country when you heard it: the unmistakable purring growl of a chopper gunning down your street. You let the corner of the box fall to the ground with a heavy thud, eliciting a horrific yowl from your assistant who had been helping you wrap it up meticulously for the past hour, and sprang to the window like a little girl at the distant tinkle of Santa’s bells.

There were three of them atop their menacing leather and chrome beasts, but they were already disappearing around a corner at the other end of the street by the time you got there. The next thing you knew, you were out on the sidewalk with your hand up to block the sun, squinting, trying to see if one of them had long, dark hair. The high pitched whine of a car alarm shrilled in the distance, and a woman pushing a baby stroller had to go around, eyeballing you with disdain as she went.

---------

Meanwhile, Eddie was seeing you in the face of every woman he met, and simultaneously looking forward to the day when that was not the case. He didn’t have the energy to pine over someone, let alone have issues performing in bed because the woman wasn’t you. Having sex with other women was starting to feel like cheating, and that was an icky, embarrassing truth that he would never confess to one of his buddies.

“Oh? You can’t stop thinking about her when you fuck other women? Damn, that pussy must be tight.”

You were basically a figment of his imagination, and he was having these really gross daydreams about just….holding your hand and shit like that. Not cool, not bad ass. Jerking off to a porn or the idea of some nameless, faceless mouth on his cock was fine, but doing it to the idea of tasting your cum while his mouth was between your legs made him want to lobotomize himself with Jack Daniels.

This was dangerous, bitch-boy territory, and he honestly couldn’t say he’d navigated it in almost a decade. Maybe he’d been hanging out with Steve “Loverboy” Harrington for too long, listening to him get all goo-goo ga-ga over some new chick every other week. But also, he envied him; Steve didn’t just sip the juice when it was good, he let himself drown in it, over and over again.

Eddie shrugged it off and acted like he didn’t care the day Steve told him that he talked to your roommate, but then he came back around a few hours later and asked him if he was planning to meet up with her again. “You should call her friend,” Steve told you. “She digs you, Katie told me.” Katie told him no such thing, as she had a very strict girl code, but Steve couldn’t help himself.

So yeah, Eddie drove by your work on Thursday. Innocent enough, but the part of town where you worked was very high-end, and nowhere near the place him and the boys were headed, but nevertheless, he gave the signal and they followed. One of his buddies ran with the Coffin Kings---a bearded monster they called Tank----and he got a kick out of rumbling his hog close to the expensive cars parked along the street to shake the foundation and make their alarms go off.

He didn’t even turn his head to see through the glass storefront and check if you were inside, that wasn’t the point: he just wanted to be in your orbit, to drive down a street that you parked on every day.

Holy shit, Munson, why don’t you just put your tap shoes on and break into song about it?

--------

On Friday, you left work early, announcing that you had a very important appointment, and then you went and sat in your car around the corner from Munson’s Garage for a half hour. It took you way too long to work up the courage, listening to an album by the band Hole, specifically the song Violet. A gang of bikers rolled up to the stop sign across from you, and you did a comical job of sliding down in your seat so they wouldn’t see you.

Once they were gone, you looked down at what you had in your lap; a gift wrapped up in brown butcher paper and tied with jute string. “This is so stupid,” you told yourself, putting your car in gear to drive away, but then you flipped it into park again with a pensive groan.

After a dramatic pause, cursing as you went, you circled the block one more time and then entered via the open gate at the side entrance. The main garage and supposed clubhouse for the Coffin Kings---the spot where you had dropped the boys off the week before---was to your left, but ahead of you was another garage, and the wide expanse of a junkyard full of wrecked cars behind a fence. Your eyes landed on the black tow truck that Eddie drove, giving you hope that you hadn’t missed him. A row of motorcycles were lined up in the middle of the pavement, and then to the right there were angled parking spots under an awning, and that is where you went.

Your stomach bleated its discontent when you saw that there were at least 10 or 12 guys in biker cuts hanging outside near the grill, flipping burgers in front of the main garage, blocking the entrance to where you would most likely find Eddie. They all had the Coffin Kings insignia placard on the back of their leather vests, and they were tossing back beers and taking shots. After you parked, you craned your neck to see if Eddie was one of them, but there were a few obscured by one of the pillars holding the roof up. Surely, he would’ve spotted your car as you inched along at an elderly crawl.

You took a minute to fix your hair and makeup in the visor mirror, practiced stretching your lips in a grimace smile a few times to make sure there was no lipstick on your teeth, and then made the leap.

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Eddie should’ve been down with the guys getting hammered, or having a game of pool in the club house after a long week, but no. He was on the second floor in his apartment, getting in some bench presses before he showered and continued on with his evening of laundry and trying to get to bed at a decent hour for once. He was listening to Slayer, but the widow was open and he could hear them all giving each other shit down below.

In between songs, at the end of a set, he heard a different type of ruckus going on outside and it made him sit up, sweat dripping into his eyes and down his neck. The guys were giving wolf whistles and saying something about “look at that fine piece of ass” and Eddie didn’t know why, but he felt like he needed to go down and investigate.

That was when he opened the door and saw you making your way across the parking lot. You were carrying something flat and square in your hands and you looked like you were cautiously assessing the scene, like maybe you should return to the safety of your car, and he didn’t blame you.

“Cool it, fuckers,” Eddie told the guys as he pushed by some of them to go out and head over to meet you. But he could still hear them saying things to each other under their breath, whispering about you, and how good you looked.

He didn’t want you to be there, in that moment. Not because he didn’t want to see you, but because he didn’t want the other guys to think you were just some whore he was fucking, or worse yet---he didn’t want any of them to think that they could fuck you. He tried to walk toward you at the right angle so that you would be blocked from their view, inadvertently squaring his shoulders and asserting his dominance as he went.

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You had a feeling this was a bad idea, but you had no idea how bad until a dozen pairs of eyes were turning to stare at you, narrowing on you, and unabashedly so. You were too far away to hear what they were saying, and there was heavy metal music blaring from inside the building somewhere. You planted your feet, looking around, wondering what you would do if Eddie wasn’t there: hand over the cutsie little gift to one of his biker buddies? You didn’t want to embarrass him.

But then, the door opened and there he was, frowning at you like you were the last person on earth he wanted to see. It was more of a scowl, actually, eyebrows knitted together and upper lip rising in an abominable snarl. He said something to the rest of the guys, and a few of them seemed to snap back to reality, but he couldn’t wipe the pissed look off from his face as he made his way over to you with an air of reluctance.

He had on a white wife beater and jeans with his boots unlaced. The front of the tank was damp and his arm muscles were especially defined and swollen. You could see that he had some kind of huge, tattooed chest piece that came up to his clavicle and stretched over his shoulders. Various other ink decorated his arms; the one on his forearm being the most faded of them all. Your pussy fluttered at the sight of him, even though he looked like he was ready to put his hand around your throat. Or maybe because of it?

“What are you doing here?” He barked in a voice low enough so that only the two of you could hear it.

His attitude was not your favorite. “Well, hello to you too, grumpy.”

Now you wished you didn’t have the stupid gift in your hand. Couldn’t you have left it in the car and waited to see if he was here first? No, you had to bring it with you, and now it was too late, dummy.

Eddie glanced over his shoulder at the guys, jaw muscles flexing, and then he gestured for you to walk with him over to where your car was parked, under the awning, out of the overcast but bright sky.

He put a hand at your elbow and maneuvered you so that you were facing away from the riff raff, the view of your backside blocked by your car. There was a matte black Chevelle parked in the slot next to you, and he leaned back against it, crossing his arms at his chest.

“Sorry about that,” he told you. “We usually keep them locked up during the daytime.”

At his joke, your shoulders softened and you exhaled, flexing your fingers on the package. The movement caught his attention and his cocoa brown eyes shifted to the gift.

“You said to come by whenever, but I should’ve called,” you hadn’t planned out what you would say, but now you wished you had.

“No, no,” he assured you, crossing his feet at the ankles. “I promised you a spare tire. I haven’t forgotten.”

Truth, you had totally spaced that he said he’d give you a free tire, which was no small expense, but it was a much better reason than, “I made you something because I can’t stop thinking about you,” or “here’s a gift, now let’s kiss.”

“What’s that?” He asked the dreaded question, tilting his chin at the package and meeting your eyes down the end of his nose.

“Oh this?” You asked cheerily, feigning mock surprise, as if it slipped your mind that it was in your hand. “This is nothing. Just a thank you for...the tow and the tire. I made it, it’s no big deal.”

“You made it?” His voice flew to a higher octave than he was comfortable with at that revelation, and an invisible warm hand wrapped around his heart.

Scratching your eyebrow, you passed it to him. “You don’t have to open it here,” you added, hoping he wouldn’t.

He held it in both hands, strong fingers curling around the backside as his thumbs stroked the front of it to feel the texture of the paper. It had been a while since he’d received a thoughtful gift that wasn’t booze or scratch tickets or a Hickory Farms sausage and cheese platter.

Overall, he was speechless, but one thing that did come second nature to him was offering acts of service as a way of showing his appreciation. “Let me take this up to my place, and then I’ll get you that tire. Can you wait here? I’ll just be a second.”

He was already on the move, but you stopped him. “I can’t sorry, I have to go. Rain check?”

You put your hand on the crook of his elbow without thinking, to stop him, and then all you could think about was the heat of his skin, the way the hair on his forearm tickled your finger. His eyes went to your hold on him and his Adam’s apple jerked in a quick swallow.

You lowered your hand. “Maybe I’ll surprise you again one day,” you were blushing now and you moved your chin to your chest to try and hide it. This was feeling less and less like an interaction between two grown adults, and more like some high school crush that you giggled about to your friends and wrote little hearts around each others name in class.

Over your shoulder, Eddie could see that Wayne was coming that way with an invoice in his hand, probably to ask him a question about one of the pickups that day. He looked a bit pale and peaked, and even though Eddie begged him to take the day off work whenever he had chemo treatments, the old man refused to listen.

“Okay, so, I’ll see you around then,” Eddie heard it come out of his mouth and he wished he could take it back. The tone was off; he sounded like he didn’t care if he saw you again, but that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“Okay, bye,” and you were back behind the wheel of your car, panting, wishing you had a paper bag to hyperventilate into. In the rear view mirror, you watched an older man with gray hair meet up with Eddie. His clothes were baggy, as if he’d suddenly dropped a significant amount of weight. Eddie clapped his free hand on the older man’s shoulder and they walked back to the garage together at a slow pace, your gift in his hand swinging level with his wallet chain.

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After finishing up for Wayne and demanding that he go home to get some rest, Eddie was finally alone again in his apartment. The string you used to secure the package might as well have been steel bars with how tight it was tied, and so he reached over for the butterfly knife on his nightstand and popped it open with a few flicks of his wrist. He sawed the string with caution, careful not to puncture whatever was in it.

His heart was racing and his palms were a little sweaty, and for some reason, the rising of sweet emotions made him angry. Just settle down there, bucko, the voice in his head told him, she probably gives gifts to anyone who does anything remotely nice for her; this doesn’t make you special.

He touched the black painted edges first, realizing it was a canvas, and then the back side fell open to him first: To: Eddie, my hero, and then it was dated and had your name signed on the wood cradling.

Turning it over, he had no idea what to expect, but as his eyes took it in, a quivering sigh escaped his lips.

It was a piece of art depicting the sunset exploding from beyond the low hills in Hawkins; the view you see from the freeway from the exact spot where you had blown your tire, the spot where the two of you had met for the first time. It wasn’t just a standard scenery painting either; it was abstract and full of texture, with tiny bits of paper collage added in. Bright, bold colors, with tiny hand drawn details.

He took down his framed Dio poster so that he could hang your 12x12 painting across from his bed where he could see it from all angles of the room. He puffed his cheeks out and blew air from his lips to make a low whistling sound as he stood there admiring it, wishing he would’ve opened it in front of you, so that you would know how much he cherished it. You might never know how much a gift like this meant to him; it was immediately one of his prized possessions.

Absently, he crumpled the wrapping paper and string up in his hands, pounding it into a compact ball, so that he could make a jump shot for the trash can, and then made it in with a swoosh.

What he didn’t see crushed inside the ball was the square, pink piece of paper with a little note on it that said: “I know Steve has this number, but I also wanted you to have it. Call me sometime.” and then your phone number in cute, block digits.

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Another week went by, and you had officially resigned yourself to the fact that you would, indeed, die alone. Putting yourself out there, even as infinitesimally as you had with Eddie, almost killed you. Getting excited every time the phone rang, hoping it was him, had you regretting the choice to ever make a move in the first place. Besides Katie, you were the only single person in your friend group, and that’s just how it would stay until Keifer Sutherland proposed.

Steve called Katie though, and even though she had the feeling he was a bit of a player, the idea of jumping on his cock had her chomping at the bit.

“Are you sure?” Katie asked as she dowsed herself with hairspray in the bathroom mirror, an L7 cassette in the tape player. You were just behind her in the hallway, and you leaned back to avoid the fumes. “I can hang out with Steve a different night, I don’t want you do go to Marysville alone.”

Marysville was a town down the road, not fifteen miles away, and there was a huge gallery opening in an old airplane hangar, and as the manager of Moon River Gallery, you were forced to attend.

“That’s sweet of you, but Jeff will be there.” You held your breath and waved your hand in front of your face. “But I’m counting on you to get laid for the both of us.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m going to let Steve know what a deadbeat his buddy Eddie is for not calling you to even thank you for that gorgeous painting.” Katie was using her protective mom voice.

“Please don’t,” you begged her. “He just didn’t want to see me again, and that’s fine. I don’t need someone to call me out of obligation. Really, don’t mention anything to Steve or I will turn to stone and crumble to pieces.”

Katie went into your bedroom instead of hers, and held up a certain shirt, asking if she could borrow it. “That’s actually yours,” you told her, waiting on the bed as she changed.

You were putting your arms into your jacket, just about to head out the door, when Katie came around the corner holding up flavored condoms and Magnums in each hand. “Do you want to take any of these with you? Plenty of cute guys in Marysville.”

“No, thank you,” you assured her politely, fixing your collar. “Besides, I’m sure Jeff will have a stockpile with him.”

But Katie threw one at you anyway, and you caught it with a slap to your chest. “Here, just take one of these Magnums, for prayer’s sake.”

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The airplane hanger gallery was situated near the lake, and it was an unarguably stunning venue full of massive artworks and expertly blown glass. You and Jeff arrived together, but went your separate ways initially, both stumbling upon friends from other galleries you knew, and you sipped some expensive champagne while you mingled. You were bent over, reading the details about one of the paintings, when two of the new people arriving caught your eye.

Fantastic, it was Eddie and Charlene.

Charlene looked like she was a movie star about to walk the red carpet and Eddie looked as good as ever. From the waist down was dressed like normal: jeans, boots, and wallet chain--but he always put a nice dark red or black shirt on for the events. Three buttons undone down the front to give a peak of that chest tattoo, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a little earring dangling from one ear, and those chunky, silver rings on his hand. Obviously the two of them were a couple, regardless of the fact that she was married, and regardless of the fact that Eddie referred to himself as being single.

He escorted her in with his arm linked in hers, and you could tell he was about to fall back and head outside to wait, but then his eyes locked on you. You turned your back on him, guzzled your champagne, and then headed over to where you could get a big glass of wine, thirstier than you’ve ever been in your life. Jeff had volunteered to drive you both back, and you had just decided in that moment that you were going to let him.

You were a couple of swallows in when you felt the front of his warm body press up at your side, against your arm, hands in his pockets, and then he leaned his head down closer, wavy dark hair skimming your shoulder, to whisper in your ear. “Your art should be in a place like this.”

“Oh hiiiiii,” you turned, pretending to be shocked to see him. “What a nice surprise. How are you?”

He backed up a step to give you some room, not checking even once to see where Charlene was or if she cared where he was; his eyes were intent on you.

Jeff, was off to the side, flirting with one of the guys on the catering staff, when he glanced over to see who you were standing with, and his eyes bulged wide.

“You clean up good,” you told Eddie, getting intoxicated on how delicious he smelled. Almost two glasses of alcohol in, you were already getting ballsy, and you reached up to brush his hair back from his shoulder and straighten his collar. “You look like you could run for mayor.”

He glanced down at himself, and then met your gaze from under his lashes, full pink lips curving up on one side. “I was going for Colombian drug lord, but I guess I missed the mark.”

Okay, so he made you laugh and he was sexy. So what.

Someone you knew came up to hug you and say hello, and you expected Eddie to take advantage of the moment and make a getaway, but he stayed.

“Can I get you another one?” He asked, gesturing to your almost empty glass. Never mind that everyone was glancing over at him, asking themselves with shifting eyes who the hell let the scary biker dude in to mingle with the rich people. The irony of a bunch of art snobs recoiling at someone who brought something new and different to the table was not lost on you. Sure, he made them uncomfortable, but who would be the one to ask bad boy biker Eddie Munson to leave? Eddie could flick his lighter open and set one of the paintings on fire, and still no one would question him.

“Aren’t you here with someone?” You asked, glancing around for that big gold explosion of wealth that was Charlene.

“No,” Eddie said initially, but then. “Well, I drive for Charlene from time to time but we’re not...together, if that’s what you mean.”

Eddie could feel Charlene giving him the evil eye from across the room, but he didn’t care. He stopped having sex with her two weeks ago, but he wasn’t ready to give up the extra cash working as her personal escort service and hired muscle.

Staying sober for the night, he brought another glass of wine over to you, and then he started asking you questions about the artwork and the artists as the two of you walked.

“Isn’t that Charlene Gregson’s boy toy?” Manny, one of the caterers, asked Jeff as they watched the two of you flirt with each other.

Jeff nodded, a smile creeping across his face. “Oh, this is going to be juicy.”

There was a snap high on the back of your shirt, and you could feel that it had come loose, so you beckoned for Eddie to follow you to the walkway just beyond the paintings, into the shadows, so you could put your glass down on the cement base of one of the pillars.

“Could you...help me with this?” You turned your back to him and pulled your hair to the side. “Fasten this for me, please? I can’t reach it.”

Eddie licked his lips as he closed in behind you, enjoying the proximity of it, and moved his fingers to your neck, callouses from his fingers grazing your smooth skin, taking an audible, deep intake of breath as he caught a whiff of your shampoo. When he was done, his hand slid down your back, indulging himself, letting it land at the curve of your hip in a slow circle. “All good,” he said in a low whisper.

You spun around to face him with a crooked smile, the alcohol in full affect, and your eyes fell on a loose thread that had escaped and was resting on his crisp, dark red shirt, your eyes lingering on the black ink of the tattoo underneath.

You brought your hand up to pick the thread off, but then he caught your wrist, your palm sinking flat to his body, melting, right at the epicenter of his life blood; his heart racing. You shifted your gaze from his grip to meet his eyes, pupils dilated, and your breath caught in your chest; your fingers started stretching out and back against him in an alien form of physical communication.

His lips parted, gaze flicking to your mouth, holding your wrist with a grip that was firm but tender while his other hand rose to cup your face. Rough fingertips grazing your throat until they curled around the base of your head, metal rings clicking together, and then his thumb brushed across your jawline.

You bit your bottom lip softly, delirious need pulsing in your core.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Your voice was tiny, and his eyebrows knitted together, confused. You could see he was just about to say something, but then:

“Eddie,” the unmistakable voice of Charlene Gregson called to him from the other side of the gigantic painting you were both doing a poor job of hiding behind. “It’s time to go. Please pull the car around?"

She was looking directly at the two of you from only a few yards away, with her hands on her hips, but still he held your palm to his chest and searched your eyes, trying to understand. After a beat, he cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry,” under his breath before turning on his heel to go and play chauffeur again, shoving one hand in his pocket to get the keys as he went.

Charlene stood there and stared at you for a bit longer, her eyes taking you in from head to foot, probably trying to understand what you had that she didn’t. But it must’ve occurred to her that she was the one he was going home with and not you, because then she flipped you a little sly smile and puffed a laugh out of her nose as she turned, shaking her head.

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Part 4

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my lovelies who asked to be tagged: @hellv1ra, @tlclick73, @corrodedcoffincumslut, @ms1oftheboys

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #older eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things eddie #fem reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson series

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emmitaaa4 · 5 months

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hey lovelies, i feel like we all know this already, but this is my 1st post and all i wanna say is…

elain archeron 🤝 sansa stark:

traditionally feminine characters, reduced to their blatant beauty, who have been made dolls to dress up & groomed to be the missing pieces to a man’s happy ending. middle sisters who have seen their fathers die and have had too many things happen to them yet carry on quietly, women who have learned to navigate their environments and who are so intimately aware of the roles they were born into that they’ve learned to survive by playing into them. by playing them (& in elain’s case, probably pulling strings behind the scenes). they are underestimated & overlooked—by fellow characters AND fandom alike—condemned and scrutinized for their flaws & the mistake they made… essentially collecting a fandom’s vitriol in universes where beloved (male) characters are much older & have done much worse, but that’s a convo for another time.

more of us should acknowledge that the “trembling fawn” and the “little dove” have grown from the “naive/superficial” façade we initially saw them for (it is an outdated one at that), and are more than other’s narrow sighted assessments of them: they have developed into socially savvy women, women who have made of observation an art form, who bottle everything up as they mask themselves with demure manners & saccarine smiles… and show themselves in gestures & well placed quips. those flaws and mistakes haters love to bring up? they exist and it is what makes them two of the most real/human characters in their respective series.

elain may live in the shadow of the stronger—that is more vocal/promiment—personalities of her entourage, she might not make ppl quake in their boots in fear (yet), and she may diverge from the more pupular « stabby sassy warrior » characterization of the YA archetype, but from the bottom of my heart, so what? i don’t see how that makes her any less interesting or significant, and i’d actually argue the opposite. you know, as much as people online may disregard elain and claim that we know nothing about her, that she’s weak and boring and useless, i’d just respond that there’s a world to see when you pay attention to her.

…

or maybe none of what i’ve said makes sense and it’s all bull, but sue me. it’s 2am, i need to be awake for thermodynamics in 6h, and i cant sleep cause im frustrated cause i love my thoughtful, creepy witchy Seer who downs bourbon at family functions (same)—and wish ppl would at least give her a chance to tell the story that’s stuck in the back of her throat.

#elain archeron #pro elain #sansa stark #very tempted to tag my post anti elain so the haters see it #acotar #acosf #acotar fandom

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rmwb-fanfics · 1 year

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How to remake Harry Potter:

(A step by step guide)

We’ve already had one god-awful adaptation that way too many people think is good. This is our one chance to have the book characters represented correctly, along with the plot they support.

I’ve put YEARS of thought into this. I’ve written scripts for episodes of a hypothetical tv show. I’ve drawn concept art. I’ve done shit. So I figured I’d share my thoughts.

1. Stick to the books*.

Stick to the books has a massive asterisk next to it because I mean the plot and characters. Some stuff (as you’ll see later) should be changed.

Nothing in this show should feel out of character. Harry should be closer with Ron than he is to Hermione. Snape should be a real d*ckhead. Hermione should be judgmental of those who don’t think like her, etc etc. The way these characters navigate their relationships is why the fandom is still relevant. It’s why canon-compliant fic is popular in the first place. We like their dynamics. SHOW THEM APPROPRIATELY.

Plot is a sticky thing because I’d say there’s wiggle room, but not too much. Certain characters have to die. Certain events must happen. You cant change that stuff.

2. Use the Medium.

You’re using film as a format to tell your story. Ideally you’d us animation, but I know Warner Bros has less creativity than Disney’s remake department, so I won’t even try and pitch that.

Use colour and saturation. It can help contextualize emotion. It can make us subconsciously recognize things. For instance, the scene growing more saturated when Ron walks into the room when Hermione is wearing the horcrux, or any multitude of other uses this could bring.

Bring in costume design that (actually fits the world) but also helps show how that character is feeling. What they’re thinking, their personality, their future, etc.

Make magic fun™️. The books sort of sidelined magic in 5-7. Don’t do that. Divert from the books. Magic should feel alive. Colour-code them so we as an audience can recognize spells and what they might do before we see it. Implement sound design to make each spell unique and vibrant. Make this world subtly bursting with magic like it was in the first few books. Have it weave around characters, wrap them up. Be creative with action scenes. Force transfiguration into battle scenes. Choreograph your duels. Show don’t tell us that a wizard/witch is powerful. Turn people into portraits. Lock them up as mice. USE MAGIC.

Your set design should reflect this. Everything should be bursting with personality. Don’t just use the shitty movie sets. Inject some colour, have the surroundings aid you in telling the story. Get weird with the camera. Use these tools to their fullest potential.

Actually fucking try.

3. Utilize Music.

Music is just… such a massive part of film. It’s frustrating how often even the best filmmakers overlook its use. Characters should have themes that mature and develop as the series goes on. Have action arrangements of the themes to play with heroic moments. As the series progresses, we grow attached to these themes. When they appear, the audience FEELS something. Don’t reuse great pieces to force emotion. (Dumbledore’s Farewell in The Prince’s Tale. Are you fucking kidding me?)

For example: Have a theme for Neville that starts out timid and uses very shy instrumentals, but we first hear a change when he stands up to the trio at the end of PS. Then it gains more instruments until OotP, when it grows again. Once we get to DH, it can be used in this heroic swell as he chops the head off the snake in front of Voldemort and everyone watching. The audience, consciously or not, will feel that moment even more.

Have a theme for Ron and Hermione that might not even be romantic until HBP when it gains that element. PLAY WITH MUSIC.

Themes for mystery, adventure, loss, love, friendship, LOCATION. Let them come back throughout the series to highlight various moments. See Lord of the Rings and The Hunger Games, as well as (surprisingly) the Fantastic Beasts films.

Let music affect the visuals. Magic can bend and swivel with the music. Use it to tell the story. Use it to show emotion. Use it to progress a character’s arc. USE CONSISTENT MUSIC.

4 . Be Bold.

This is the big one and it may seem like I’m contradicting myself but I’m not. Rowling’s work hasn’t aged crazily well to modern fiction standards. This is your chance to rectify that. Fill plot holes, actually think through the politics. Introduce world-building elements that enhance the story/characters. (The house system, and how Slytherin fits in. The logic behind avada kedavra???) Get creative with solutions. Contradict the original work when it comes to description of location. If it doesn’t work for the film format, don’t force it to work here.

Spend more time with characters we know are relevant, but maybe not to the plot. These are your Ginny Weasleys, your Seamus and Deans, Nevilles, etc. Really fill them in. Give them more scenes. Ginny has two phenomenal arcs that play completely off-screen, explore them. Show us her friendship with Hermione. Show us her insecurities and her faults. Give us more of her and Harry’s friendship. We know they get married, so maybe fix the whole “Rowling wrote the epilogue first, but didn’t realize she was waiting too long to introduce these characters until HBP”.

Add scenes. Add jokes. Add smiles and covert looks. You have more time, which means you have a chance to focus on friendships, and romance, and world building.

Tell multiple storylines. Give Remus and Tonks a cool spy/thriller subplot interjected with the main story in OotP. Show us more of Fleur staying in England. Give us more of Harry and Sirius bonding. All of this stuff can fit loosely into canon, and be welcome creative additions.

BE BOLD.

And finally,

5. This is your chance to not only retell the story, but to do it better.

RECOGNIZE THIS. Take advantage of this opportunity and enhance canon, don’t fight it.

Don’t add Hermione and Harry dancing because *YOU* don’t like where the romantic pairings went. Don’t add Draco sympathy because you want him to have a redemption arc. Don’t dumb Ron down because you don’t like the fact that he’s just like the teenage boys you dated in High School, and he was a bit immature.

Make changes, be bold, use music, stick to the books*, use the medium, but take this as the opportunity that it is to enhance what came before.

Thank you.

#harry potter #harry potter remake #j.k. rowling #ginny weasley #ron weasley #hermione granger #draco malfoy #neville longbottom #albus dumbledore #hire me #remus lupin #Sirius black #remadora #romione #hinny #marauders

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harry-hollands · 7 months

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my boyfriend’s boyfriends

(a potential au stemming from ‘who does it better?’)

a part two to ‘who does it better’ but can be read as a stand alone.

part 1

alex turcotte x fem!hockey player reader

*PICTURES ARE FROM TWITTER, INSTAGRAM, AND MY OWN PERSONAL ONES I TOOK (10-28-2023)*

(inspired by faithlynn’s @babydollmarauders series media management and kaylin’s @starsandhughes series penalty box. if you haven’t checked them out, PLEASE DO THEYRE AMAZING)

yourusername

liked by quintonbyfield, _alexturcotte, and 42,752 others

yourusername: on today’s episode of “i had a day off at work and my boyfriend and best friend and son had team bonding today so i was left alone because my other roommates had a game tonight”, i decided that i, was going to support my boyfriend’s boyfriends—i mean roommates!

how generous of me right? i was in the upper bowl to watch the game so no one saw me but as is my job to be a professional nuisance to centers and defenders to keep the lethal flying piece of rubber out of my pretty net, i had to humble them somehow during warm ups.

for those wondering why i’m wearing my boyfriend’s boyfriend #2’s jersey, i lost a bet with him. for those also wondering what the bet was, it was on my boyfriend. i THOUGHT my boyfriend was a sweet person but apparently he took a page out of the enemy of silence’s book (@/trevorzegras) and got TWO penalties last game.

turcs was not impressed as you can imagine, and neither was homewrecker (@/jordanjs224) because apparently “homewreckers need to stick together and that comes with wearing my jersey” idk man im just their roommate that willingly has pieces of rubber shot at me at lethal speeds

despite my works of art, i also included other works of art from the professionals. (im legally obligated to make them look good like 3.8% of the time)

as much as i’d love to say that the boyfriends came out victorious, they did not 🥲

my boys played v*gas and lost in shootout but at least we got a point!

my cutie patootie laffy @/alaf14 (kings’s version, not to be confused with the rags’) SCORED HIS SECOND GOAL OF THE SEASON ON HIS TAYLOR SWIFT BIRTHDAY! you made me so proud 🫶🏼

next up, the infuriating maple leafs; auston matthews, I HAVE BEEF WITH YOU (i will be watching from home because it’s where my job is)

buckle up babes, turcs baby (@/_alexturcotte), my son (@/brandtclarke55), and my best friend (@/francesco.pinelli71) play tomorrow against the baby canucks and i don’t know if i’ll have the right mental state to watch them (i have to im their emergency goalie 🤠)

(ps m*rk st*ne, nicolas hague, brayden mcnabb, and ivan barbashev i hope you all suffer a 10 game losing streak you fucking bitch babies. DONT GO AFTER MY CUTIE PATOOTIE!!!)

tagged quintonbyfield, jordanjs224, lakings, anzekopitar, kevinfiala22, duber18, alaf14

view comments

quintonbyfield: WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT PICTURE OF ME?? HOW—?!

yourusername: @/quintonbyfield oh q baby, it’s all over twitter

quintonbyfield: @/yourusername oh, so you got it from twitter, got it

yourusername: @/quintonbyfield how do you think twitter got it? 🤭🫡

quintonbyfield: @/yourusername YOU LITTLE BI—

jordanjs224: oh my god. i look ATROCIOUS

quintonbyfield: @/jordanjs224 good. suffer.

jordanjs224: @/quintonbyfield alright listen here you little asshole—

_alexturcotte: @/jordanjs224 @/quintonbyfield babes, there’s no need to fight! cant we all just get along?

jordanjs224: @/_alexturcotte shut up, this ain’t about you

_alexturcotte: @/jordanjs224 🥲

quintonbyfield: @/_alexturcotte i would never treat you this way

yourusername: @/_quintonbyfield @/jordanjs224 if y’all are gonna fight, at least do it when y’all get home please? i need some entertainment in my life

francesco.pinelli71: @/yourusername am i not enough for you? 🤨

yourusername: @/francesco.pinelli71 YOU’RE LITERALLY LEAVING FOR COLORADO MONDAY 🤠

fan23: she’s feeding the jordan girlies 🤭

fan55: oh my god?? q?? holy fuck y/n KNOWS what she’s doing taking these photos

alaf14: y/n you didn’t need to threaten them, im okay 😭

yourusername: @/alaf14 you were practically thrown to the ice like a ragdoll and then you got HIGH STICKED and were BLEEDING and you’re telling me you’re “okay”??? dude…

alaf14: @/yourusername it’s hockey it happens. besides, YOU WILLINGLY HAVE PUCKS FLYING AT LETHAL SPEEDS AT YOUR FACE AND YOU STOP THEM WITH YOUR BODY

yourusername: @/alaf14 why are you YELLING?? im making sure everyone knows that if they hurt you that they are on my hit list. i will do what flower did to bedsy and trip them up

alaf14: @/yourusername that’s a sure way you don’t make it in the nhl

yourusername: @/alaf14 i will trip you up if you don’t shut the fuck up

alaf14: @/yourusername YOU’RE DOING GREAT SWEETIE KEEP DOING YOU 🫡

yourusername: @/alaf14 that’s what i thought <33

fan15: wait y/n is their emergency goalie?? how did i not know this information?

yourusername: @/fan15 it’s not widely advertised but im tryna be a big girl in the big leagues 🫶🏼

fan15: @/yourusername OMG THANK YOU

francesco.pinelli71: thank you for humbling them. clarkey and i have been dying of laughter for five minutes and turcs is looking at us like a disappointed father

yourusername: @/francesco.pinelli71 i live to serve, but i think it’s been established that turcs is disappointed father and im eccentric mother

francesco.pinelli71: @/yourusername YOU’RE SO RIGHT

_alexturcotte: @/yourusername @/francesco.pinelli71 i regret introducing the two of you

francesco.pinelli71: @/_alexturcotte i dont !

yourusername: @/_alexturcotte @/francesco.pinelli71 i don’t either!

fan12: y/n’s friendships with alex’s best friends >>>

brandtclarke55: MOM I WANNA BE LIKE YOU WHEN I GROW UP

liked by yourusername, francesco.pinelli71 and _alexturcotte

_alexturcotte: thank you for humbling my boyfriends. they’re not allowed to have their egos inflated.

yourusername: @/_alexturcotte of course, my love! expect nothing less!

quintonbyfield: @/_alexturcotte @/yourusername FUCKING OFFENDED???

jordanjs224: @/quintonbyfield @/_alexturcotte is this what betrayal feels like?

quintonbyfield: @/jordanjs224 fuck you.

jordanjs224: @/quintonbyfield time and place

_alexturcotte: @/quintonbyfield @/jordanjs224 without me?

quintonbyfield: @/_alexturcotte @/jordanjs224 never babygorl

yourusername: @/quintonbyfield @/jordanjs224 @/_alexturcotte 💀

_alexturcotte: i love you, my darling <33

yourusername: @/_alexturcotte i love you more, my love <33

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this little installment! i have a halloween one planned and am working on a blurb about worlds!! there will also be hopefully a blurb on turcs introducing her to the boys. I LOVE YOU ALL AND THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING

as always, reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated 🫶🏼

~soph <33

#alex turcotte x reader #alex turcotte #alex turcotte social media x reader #nhl x reader #alex turcotte fluff #alex turcotte imagine #la kings #ontario reign #nhl #nhl fic #alex turcotte blurb #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #soph’s writing 🫶🏼#social media imagine

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indiana-jonas · 5 months

Text

The two invisible steps before you make something

When I made comic strips in the past I would often jump straight into drawing the first panel. I’d just wing it and then improvise each following panel. Sometimes it worked out.

An improvised strip from my old series “Us with plants on our heads.”

But often it just turned into nonsensical crap.

I don’t get this one myself.

I often started drawing a strip and gave up cause I didn’t know what to do.

I thought I was supposed to be able to fart out great comics with ease. But I squeezed and squeezed. I was too eager. Without being aware of it, I tried to do 3 steps all at once. To continue this (f)art metaphor - before anything comes out of you, you’ve gotta 1. find something you want to eat, 2. digest it, 3. let it come out. The problem was that I hadn’t eaten or digested anything.

To put it in a more dignified way.

The first step is to search,

the second is to make sense of,

the third is to make it.

I used to skip the first two steps, I wanted to get straight into making shit. But that often turned into nonsensical crap, or I would run into a wall and give up.

The third step (to make it) is the most obvious one. Despite it being the most obvious step, I got completely stuck on it because I hadn’t gone through the first two.

If you are reading this, it’s likely you already know how to make something. I think these first two steps are identical no matter what medium you are creating in. So I will take the liberty of not going into detail about how to make something.

Instead of trying to think of products first, what any creative person should try to do is think, search and wonder. Think about real things, notice what makes you feel stuff - what is close to your heart if everything else is stripped away? Ideally projects will emerge from the collection of the thoughts you have collected, or at least be designed/conceived in a way that can package your thoughts as nicely as possible.

There’s nothing quite as uninspiring as a blank canvas. 85% of the time a blank canvas only makes me feel dread or boredom. If you come up with a great idea while looking at a canvas it’s not because you looked at a canvas, it’s despite looking at it. Whatever great ideas I have managed to conjure while looking at that white rectangle has always come from something else - an inspiring movie scene, something from my day, a lingering thought, or a line from a song.

Now I’ve abandoned blank canvases, I never start from one. Neither when I write or draw.

Instead, I live in search of noteworthy thoughts. Regardless of whether you know what a thought will be useful for, jot them down somewhere.

To search is just to live life with a keen eye, ear and heart and to make sure you don’t forget.

When I stare at a blank canvas The Search becomes stressful and I want to avoid it. But in reality, if I admit that The Search is part of the process, it becomes the most peaceful and interesting step of them all. It’s just living with a secret mission - to be human and to find out what’s special about that to you.

And of course you need to make sure you don’t forget those thoughts for the next step.

Make sense of

Now that you’ve been out in the world and discovered stuff, it’s time to sit down somewhere, sift through and examine your haul. You might be overwhelmed by how much is in there. You’ll never be able to use everything. So you just gotta use your intuition. See what stands out, group things, talk with someone - do ANYTHING you want with it until you find what’s hiding there.

Your notes are a collection of countless puzzles. Some puzzles are hundreds of pieces big, others are just one or three. Some pieces fit into more than one puzzle. You don’t know. Often you’ll have to find a few pieces in your head to complete a puzzle, while other pieces might still be hidden out there in the world.

The way to make sense of a puzzle is to try to put it together, or to be literal; try to explain it as clearly as you can. Ask yourself, “how can I prove to someone else that this is true?” And ideally not just make them understand it, but also feel it. That’s the puzzle you gotta solve.

Let me give you an example.

I found myself frustrated that we live life too much through screens and I want to make a Space Deer comic strip. That’s the idea I want to make sense of and the filter that I will examine my idea through.

First I will ask myself, “ok, why is that idea true?”- I think life needs balance, you shouldn’t stare too much of it away through a pixelated representation of it. Then I ask myself, “how should we live then?”- We should go outside and get our boots in the mud more, what we will really remember is probably gonna happen out there. And then I try to think of a situation where I can show as clearly as possible that this is right. I’m afraid this message might be tired or preachy, especially if I would aim the message directly at someone like us (you know, someone who’s currently looking at a screen). Luckily the imagery of my comic gives me other symbols to play with.

So I thought of how I could show that in four comic panels and wrote down this.

Space Deer walks on a desolate planet. They encounter a mars rover. They scream “get out here and live!!” NASA people see Space Deer through their screens.

It’s simple, but it gets the idea across. Normally I would like to make it clear that Space Deer is really out there and living freely, to show what these researches are missing out on. But in the comic we will see Space Deer explore and go on all kinds of adventures, so that’s something I didn’t feel like I needed to put more emphasis on. I trust the reader to make that connection themself.

Sometimes making sense of an idea can be much harder, in this example the idea was an entire puzzle on its own, or maybe I had the remaining pieces in my head already. Sometimes all you need is just one piece in front of you to know where to look for the rest.

Make it

And then of course the last step is to just make it. (Step 4 is to share it. Step 5 is to repeat it.)

I have made decent comic strips despite jumping straight into drawing, or so I’ve thought. Thinking back on it, I just managed to search and make sense of an idea as I was drawing. I didn’t magically skip two steps, that’s impossible. I was just not aware of what I was doing.

Now that I know the steps, I’m much better at understanding why I tend to get stuck in different parts of the process.

In reality these steps are not always as clear cut. They will blend into each other, you might do some back and forth, making sense of and making something is a fuzzy line. This is not so much a step-by-step process as it is a journey you have to go through. It has definitely helped me to be more methodical and intentional about it though. I’ve set myself up in a way where it’s fun for me to get each step done. I might go into that in the future.

If you only take one thing with you from this - I hope it’s that you will be aware of and feel more at peace with the first two steps.

--------

If you found this interesting then you might enjoy these blog posts too.

When you don't know what to draw

I will never find my art style

Lazy imagination isn't bad

Thank you for reading my thoughts!

#artists on tumblr #indiana-jonas #writing #drawing tutorial #art advice #comic strip #creativity #art block #writers block

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 2 years

Text

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where scary movies count as a date. And your girlfriend counts as a distraction.

Or the eleventh installment of the SKZ!pack prequel series.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, OT8, SKZ!pack, SKZ!abo, Poly!SKZ, Omegaverse, skz x you, skz x reader, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, skz!pack prequel, pack!prequel, prequel series, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios, skz fluff, fluff, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, lee felix, hwang hyunjin, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, y/n, abo, alpha beta omega

Genre: Fluff

Title: Dire Straights

“Stop drooling all over my carpet.”

Minho bumps his hip against yours with enough force to pull a glare from you, one eyebrow cocked, an amused smirk on his lips, full popcorn bowl held loosely in his hands.

“I am not drooling.” You retort back, sticking your tongue out at him, although you know the gaze you’d leveled on Felix and Hyunjin up until a few moments ago was a little too intense to just be called ‘casual.’

They just smelled really, really good together, okay?

Sharp lemon against the backdrop of soft, sugary vanilla-

You shake your head to physically clear your wandering thoughts and glance back to Minho, who is still watching you with something akin to smug triumph on his pretty features, lit up by the meager light from the lamp and the paused TV.

“Shut up.” You snap out, though you know it’s basically an admittance of defeat. “If you wanna talk about drooling, address the obvious elephant in the room.”

You nod your head in Changbin’s direction, sitting in the corner of the couch, one arm slung along the back, watching with intense, focused interest as Seungmin talks quietly to him, probably explaining something sciency if you’d have to guess, judging by the excited motions of the beta’s hands.

“Oh my god, more popcorn.”

Jisung appears suddenly at Minho’s shoulder, plunging his hand unceremoniously into the once again full bowl, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he glances between the two of you.

His cheeks puff full of food, like a chipmunk, and you resist the urge to coo over him.

“What’re you guys talking about over here?”

Minho scoffs and rolls his eyes, moving the bowl out of Jisung’s reach as he tries to steal another full hand of popcorn, the beta pouting as he lets his chin drop to the alpha’s shoulder in defeat.

“Drooling.”

“Gross.” Jisung makes a face, wrinkling his nose up in an altogether adorable motion. “Not kink shaming or anything, but spit? Not exactly my thing. No thanks.”

“I’m not afraid of getting wet and messy.” You remark, leaning against the wall next to Minho now, stealing a piece of popcorn before he can notice. You shrug, giving Jisung a slight smirk and a cock of your brow. “Wanna try it out sometime, Sungie? Maybe I can change your mind.”

“Yeah, Sungie.” Minho grins, teeth sharp, and chucks the obviously disgusted beta under his chin affectionately. “Let her spit on you.”

“God, no. I’d rather listen to Hyunjin talk about art shit for three hours.”

Your gaze slides across the room to Changbin, leaning in closer to Seungmin now, into their shared space, a slight smile on his lips as he says something in a low tone for only the beta to hear.

You don’t miss the slight blush that comes across the arch of Seungmin’s cheekbones, reddening the tips of his ears.

“I bet Changbin would let Seungmin spit on him.” You snicker beneath your breath, and Jisung chokes on the next handful of popcorn he has just inhaled.

Minho slaps him on the back until he stops coughing, his eyes streaming and his face blotchy and red.

“Oh my god, you’re right.”

“Hyung!” Hyunjin whines from his spot on the couch, snuggled up against Felix’s side, the other omega playing carefully with his hair. He makes grabby hands at Minho. “Hurry up with the popcorn, would you?”

Minho rolls his eyes.

“Try to tell me what to do one more time, Hwang Hyunjin. See what happens.”

Despite his threat, the other alpha moves toward the omega duo anyway, popcorn bowl outstretched.

Hyunjin grins sweetly and thanks him and Minho looks like he’s just lost a battle in a greater war.

You settle back down into the adjacent couch, pulling Jisung along with you, and shove a handful of warm popcorn into your mouth as you glance at the running movie with limited interest.

“God, this movie is boring.” Jisung complains around his own mouthful of popcorn, rolling his eyes so violently you swear you hear them bounce around his skull.

You giggle, reaching down for more popcorn, and glance from the corner of your eye at the beta, who looks utterly and entirely uninvested in the current plight of the heroine on the tv screen.

“You picked it.”

Jisung sighs dramatically, heavily, and slings an arm around your shoulders. The smell of clean laundry envelops you in a heavenly wave.

“I know. But I can’t be faulted for my past mistakes.”

You pick up another piece of popcorn, and Jisung opens his mouth wide in response, raising his brows and widening his eyes in a silent plea for you to feed him.

You roll your eyes, but do it anyway, popping the piece of popcorn into his open mouth as he snaps his teeth shut around the kernel and chews happily for a few moments.

“Seriously, Sungie, you’re such a baby.”

“Yeah, your baby.” He teases, leaning into your space, nuzzling his nose into your neck, making you flinch ticklishly, even as you laugh and squirm beneath his weight.

“Gross.” You quip back his words from earlier, biting down a grin as you reach up to tug playfully at his hair. “Not to kink shame or anything, but sappy words of endearment? Not really my thing.”

“Guess you’ll just have to get used to it.” Jisung retorts right back, leaning back to look at you now, his nose scrunching as he gives you a giant heart shaped grin. “I’m nothing if not a smooooooth talker, doll. Ask Minho-hyung.”

You glance toward Minho, settled down beside Hyunjin, and part your lips, as if you’re actually going to ask him like Jisung said, and the beta lets out a yelp and slaps a palm over your mouth, muffling your instant laughter.

“On second thought, don’t ask him. He’s not gonna tell you the truth anyway.”

“Okay, okay.” You laugh out, voice muffled against his skin, and when he doesn’t immediately remove his hand from your lips, you chance a nip to his palm, taking a chunk of his muscle in between your teeth and biting-not hard enough to hurt, but insistent enough to be felt.

Jisung yelps again and pulls his hand back from your mouth like he’s been burned, shooting you a petulant glare as he rubs at the offended skin dramatically.

“Damn, noona. I hope you’ve had your rabies shot.”

“I have not.” You tease back, leaning toward him and snapping your teeth near his throat, even as he yelps once more and scrabbles to get away from you, effeciently boxing himself in against the corner of the couch. “The vet couldn’t find the time to fit me in, sadly. Same situation with the flea problem, unfortunately.”

“Ha. Ha.” Jisung fake laughs, shooting you a glare that lacks any sort of real bite. “You and Minho-hyung think you’re so funny-”

“We are funny.” You protest, leaning in closer to him once more, the scent of laundry suddenly filling your nose in a way that has saliva gathering behind your very back teeth. “Tell me I’m funny, Sungie. Go on.”

“I would rather listen to Changbin-hyung flirt with Seungmin for an hour straight.”

“Brave words.” You muse beneath your breath, letting your tongue dart out to wet your lips, and you can tell, by the way Jisung presses back against the couch behind him, that he’s suddenly on edge-nostrils flaring, pupils widening and darkening. “You know, you talk a big game, baby. Care to see if you can actually play it?”

The air smells cold now-like a light frost on the very edge of a winter morning.

The movie drones on in the background, long since forgotten.

Finally, Jisung swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing, and manages to get halfway to a halfhearted scowl.

“I’m not letting you spit on me, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“You’re no fun.”

*******

You’re in the kitchen several hours later, refilling your glass with cheap box wine-some cupcake flavored pink shit you’re sure Hyunjin picked out-when Seungmin appears.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye as he sets the empty popcorn bowl in the sink, and then turn to lean against the counter, staring him down fully now as you take a long sip of your drink.

It’s overly sweet for your taste, but you’re just buzzed enough that the flavor itself doesn’t matter too much anymore.

For a poor college student, wine is wine.

“So. You like Changbin, huh?”

The bold question holds less curiosity than it does open smugness.

Seungmin glances at you, head tilted-looking way too cute and way too puppy like for your currently inebriated heart-and the corner of his mouth lifts, just barely, into the start of a small smile.

“Yeah. He’s cool.”

“He hasn’t shut up about you since the study group.” You complain with harried amusement, rolling your eyes and biting back a smile. “I’m glad he finally got the nerve to ask you out properly.”

Seungmin arches a dark brow. “Does it really count as a date though if we’re simply watching scary movies in his current boyfriend’s living room?”

“Sounds weird when you put it that way.” You wrinkle your nose in slight distaste. “But yeah. For Changbin, it definitely does. He doesn’t usually do things very conventionally.”

“I mean-” Seungmin grins now, white teeth on display for the briefest of moments. “-he did stalk you before you ever went out. So. I see what you mean.”

“And you didn’t believe me!” You point out, waving a wild finger in front of his nose, as the beta laughs beneath his breath.

“You sounded batshit crazy.”

“I know. So you’ve told me. Multiple times.”

A comfortable silence falls over the kitchen as your laughter dies down, and you take another long sip of your wine as the muted sounds of the current movie choice of the movie marathon wafts through the open doorway from the living room.

Seungmin taps his finger on the counter along to the background music, and suddenly, you have a thought.

Maybe it’s not the brightest thing to ask, but hey, the cupcake wine is starting to make you feel warm and hazy and altogether less inhibited than you were before.

To hell with it.

“You like Changbin.” You reiterate, and Seungmin glances at you sidelong, blankly, as if wondering why you’re restating something he already confirmed.

You take in a breath and plow onward, swirling the last bit of wine in your glass, watching the way the pink liquid sparkles and spins instead of the way the beta beside you is currently staring you down like you’re an idiot.

“Do you like me? Like that?”

There is silence, and you feel your heart in your throat.

Because maybe you’ve never considered Seungmin as anything but a study buddy, maybe a friend, but this, this is uncharted territory and you’re suddenly so nervous you could throw up.

“No.”

Your head jerks up and he’s watching you, face unreadable and serious, eyes dark, and something inside of you dies a little at his blunt return.

You admire him-the way he always says what he’s thinking, the way he doesn’t spew bullshit-but it hurts a little, stings a lot, and you swallow before you manage to speak again.

“Oh-okay. Cool. Just thought I’d ask.”

You scuff your toe along Minho’s tile, and try to imagine him making Jisung scrub it clean with a toothbrush.

“But-” Seungmin speaks again, his tone softer this time, and you manage to make yourself look at him, his eyes gentler now, his face just as serious. “I think I could like you like that.”

Your mouth suddenly feels dry.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods, looking thoughtful now. “If I gave myself the chance.”

Suddenly, your heart rights itself in your chest and you can breathe again.

“Okay. Cool.” You repeat dumbly, stupidly, biting back a smile, and Seungmin chuckles.

“You already said that.”

“Dude. Do you really have to pick apart my flaws right now?”

Seungmin grins, cocking his head, and the puppy side of him resurfaces. You force yourself to stay cool, even though you suddenly have the intense urge to squeeze and pinch his cheeks.

“Ah yes. Changbin mentioned the ‘dude’ thing. Said he really hates it when you use it as a term of endearment.”

“It’s not a term of endearment. I do it strictly to annoy him. Now when I call him that, it’s meant to be an insult. I’m gonna have to clear that up immediately.”

Seungmin grins wider now.

“Whatever you say. I think it’s cute, dude.”

“Shut up.”

********

“Did you have fun with Seungmin last night?” Hyunjin teases, as he carefully smooths the face mask over the bridge of Changbin’s nose, patting it into place.

“Did you have fun with Felix last night?” Changbin retorts in return, shutting up as soon as Hyunjin tuts and slaps his shoulder, fixing the slipping face mask back into place once more.

“I did, thank you.” Hyunjin sniffs, before sitting back and admiring his handiwork for a moment, before swiveling to face you. “C’mere. Your turn.” You lean toward him, and he begins to delicately place your own face mask into place, the sweet smell of strawberries filling the air as he does so, the gel of the mask settling coolly and deliciously over your skin.

Hyunjin’s fingers are gentle as they smooth the mask down carefully, rubbing across your cheek bones and down your jaw, and you bite back an affectionate smile as you say, careful not to jostle his handiwork, “I’m still shocked you lasted the whole scary movie marathon.”

“Yeah.” Changbin grunts, rolling over on his stomach and reaching for his phone on the nightstand. “You never do that with us.” “Felix was scared. I had to be the brave one.” Hyunjin retorts, finishing with your mask and sitting back on his hands, shooting you both a glare. “When I’m with the two of you, I can be as much of a little bitch as I want, because I know you’ll protect me.”

“Ah, baby.” You reach out to pinch his cheek, and he dodges easily, swatting your hand away. “That’s sweet. Hand me the nail polish.”

Hyunjin leans around Changbin-currently engrossed looking at something on his phone-and places the bottle of bright orange nail polish into your outstretched palm.

You glance down at the shade-Neon Sunset-and hold out your other hand without looking up until Hyunjin places his fingers into your own.

“Pretty.” You remark on the color, before you begin to carefully apply the bright nail polish to Hyunjin’s perfectly manicured nails.

Changbin glances up from his phone and to the bottle in your hand, and makes a dramatic show of covering his eyes, squinting between his fingers as he glances at Hyunjin.

“God, that’s bright.”

“I’m going for memorable and unforgettable, darling.”

“I don’t think you need orange nail polish for that, baby. Your overwhelming personality is enough.”

Hyunjin makes a move to lunge toward the nonplussed alpha, and you giggle, pinning his fingers in place, even as you squawk, “Don’t move! You’re gonna make me mess up!”

Hyunjin settles back down beside you, and Changbin grins, hiding behind his phone screen once more.

There is silence as you concentrate, painting the rest of Hyunjin’s nails, except for Changbin’s quiet typing in the background, and the soft music Hyunjin had picked playing over the speaker in the corner of the room, and eventually, Hyunjin asks conversationally, drowsily, “Is that hyung?”

Changbin blows out a harsh breath and nods, reaching up to rake a hand through his dark hair.

“Yeah. He won’t shut up about this project we’re supposed to be doing.”

“Hyung as in Chan right?” You ask off handedly, finishing up Hyunjin’s nails and putting the polish away, as the omega blows on them carefully.

“That’s the one.”

“He’s from Australia.” Hyunjin adds, glancing at you, as he arches a brow and grins wickedly. “His accent is stupid. But don’t tell him I told you that.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“You wouldn’t dare, hyung.”

Changbin rolls his eyes and types out another response, before tossing his phone to the side and sighing, flopping heavily onto his back as he throws an arm over his eyes.

“God, he’s a slave driver.”

You glance at your boyfriend with slight sympathy, and reach out to pat the meaty muscle of his thigh in a show of support.

“I’ve never met him, but he sounds terrible.”

“That’s the thing-” Changbin sits up suddenly, throwing his hands out, a look of utter irritation splayed across his features. “-he’s not! He’s like, the nicest guy I’ve ever met-not to mention, he’s an actual genius when it comes to producing-so I can’t hate him, no matter how hard I try. He just-” Changbin blows out another breath through his teeth, clenching his fingers into fists in frustration. “-is apparently allergic to sleep and takes on the workload of four people and never, ever stops?”

“Yikes.”

“He’s also really pretty.” Hyunjin points out, inspecting his nails and picking at some polish that has rubbed off on his skin. He glances up between you and Changbin in the silence, meeting the other alpha’s disbelieving stare head on. “What? He is. The one time I met him, I’m pretty sure I swooned like one of those ladies in an old timey film.”

“One time.” Changbin replies helplessly, as if he can’t believe Hyunjin had been that taken the first and only time he had met his department buddy.

Hyunjin shrugs. “Like recognizes like, hyung.”

You grin. “So you think you’re pretty?”

Hyunjin huffs. “Baby, I know I’m pretty.”

You lean toward him and kiss his cheek, face mask and all.

“The prettiest.”

*******

The moment you enter Changbin’s dorm, your hackles immediately rise.

Rain.

Why does it smell like rain?

You set your backpack down beside the door cautiously, every inch of you on high alert, and kick off your shoes as silently as possible, before you creep into the kitchen.

Hyunjin glances up from his spot at the table with slight disinterest at your entrance, his phone held loosely between long fingers, a cheeto halfway to his lips.

“Why do you look like you’re ready to start a fight?”

“You don’t smell that?” You ask, keeping your voice low, eyes scanning the kitchen for anything out of place, as you sink into the chair beside him, body still stiff.

Hyunjin gives you a funny look, before he stuffs the cheeto into his mouth and finishes his message to Felix before clicking off his phone with a sigh.

Suddenly, understanding dawns in the dark of his eyes.

“Oh, the rain thing? That’s just Chan-hyung.”

Your wolf perks its ears at the name, but you feel confusion sweep across your face at his words.

“Chan-?”

“Oh, hey.”

Changbin enters the kitchen, glancing at the two of you, before he heads straight for the fridge, pulling out a bottle of gatorade and chugging it in one fell swoop.

He swipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, and meets your leveled gaze with a raised brow.

“Your scent is all weird.”

“My scent?” You quip back, pinching your nose teasingly, forcing your nervous wolf farther back down into the pit of your stomach. “You smell like a dumpster.”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “I just got back from the gym. Sue me.”

He tosses the empty bottle into the trash and you track his movements as he moves to the table to steal a handful of Hyunjin’s cheetos.

The omega doesn’t even notice, nose buried back into his phone once more, probably texting Felix again.

“Why does your apartment smell like that?” You query, trying to keep your voice level and your wolf under control.

“Like what?” Confusion crosses Changbin’s face, and then something clicks into place as you watch. “Ah, yeah, sorry about that. Chan’s here.”

“Why?”

Changbin looks caught off guard by the defensive question, reaching up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck as he fumbles over his words.

“He went to the gym with me. Now we’re gonna order some takeout and hole up in my room for the rest of the night, try and finish that stupid project he can’t seem to let go of.”

“He actually wants to hook the two of you up, if we’re being honest.” Hyunjin states boredly, glancing up from his phone long enough to throw Changbin an exasperated look, before he’s back to furiously typing, stuffing another cheeto in his mouth.

“What?”

The scent of frost sharpens significantly, and Changbin holds up his hands, as if to thwart any murderous attack you might throw in his direction.

“Okay, look, it’s not quite like that-”

“What is it like then? Hm, Seo Changbin?” You question in a dangerously low voice, rising from the table, as you stare him down, pinning him against the refrigerator with your eyes alone.

“Hyunjin-” Changbin pleads, but the omega simply waves a hand in the alpha’s direction.

“You got yourself into this, figure it out. Told you she’d be mad.”

You stalk toward your boyfriend, who looks increasingly more afraid by the moment.

“Okay, look-” Changbin tries again, voice wavering slightly, as you come to stand right in front of him now, toe to toe, expression murderous. “I just thought, that maybe, if hyung had someone in his life, you know, someone special, maybe he’d lay off me a little, let me breathe, take it easy every once and awhile.”

Your wolf growls, low and menacing, and it starts to rumble in the back of your throat.

The scent of rain is making your insides twitch and your skin itchy.

“So you offered me-and my pussy-up as tribute? That really sounded like a good idea to you?”

Changbin audibly gulps.

“Fuck. Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds bad-”

“He doesn’t know if he’s into men.” Hyunjin offers helpfully, gleefully, watching the two of you with open smug amusement from the kitchen table now. “So he figured what college guy doesn’t want to bang a hot chick? Especially one as hot as you, noona.”

“Thank you, Hyunjin.” You acknowledge the convoluted compliment over your shoulder, before facing Changbin once more, lips pulled back into a scowl. “I’m going to kill you. I’m literally going to murder you-”

The sound of footsteps in the hallway, and then the smell of rain, of damp earth, is almost overwhelming, and your wolf snarls warningly.

A man you don’t recognize appears in the open doorway of the kitchen, still toweling off damp hair, a music department hoodie that’s a mirror of your alpha boyfriend’s-the one Hyunjin currently wears-slung over broad shoulders.

Changbin looks nothing short of relieved.

“Hyung.” He slips past you before you can make good on your promise, and slaps a hand down on the other man’s shoulder, grinning broadly, if not a little shakily. “Look who just got here. This is (Y/N).”

You do your best not to wrinkle your nose as the full wave of petrichor hits you and Chan offers his hand, smiling widely, white teeth a stark contrast to his copper skin.

“Chan. Nice to meet you.” You force a half smile onto your face and grit your teeth, slipping your palm into his for a brief, singular shake.

“Yeah. I’ve heard a lot.”

Changbin glances between the two of you hopefully, and when Chan turns to address Hyunjin, you level him with a glare caustic enough to peel paint.

You’re so dead, you mouth silently at the other alpha, and Changbin grimaces.

Chan turns back to you and you try-with little to no success-to ignore the way his now drying curls fall softly over his forehead, the broad slope of his nose, the cute little dimples that divot his cheeks.

God dammit, Hyunjin was right. He is really pretty.

“It’s honestly a pleasure to meet you. Changbin never stops talking about you guys, you know.”

Chan grins and cocks his head, eyes sparkling, and you tell yourself you’re not admiring the way the golden flecks in his caramel irises offset the ebony of his pupils, you’re not.

“Hm.” You hum back in confirmation beneath your breath, your skin still prickling with something akin to annoyance.

Hyunjin was also right about another thing.

His accent really is stupid.

************************************************************************

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