#I wrote this in literate form at first...

[nhlclover]

FIRST SNOWFALL JAMIE DRYSDALE

— event masterlist !

pairing: fem!reader x jamie drysdale

summary: after moving to philadelphia, you get your first snowy christmas, so jamie takes you outside to fully introduce you to snow.

warnings: descriptions of reader being from socal

wc: 1.14k

notes: fic 9 of my christmas event! as i'm writing this, we still have not gotten snow where i live... (UPDATE: it snowed literally a day after i wrote this🤐)

The morning light filtered through the slats of the blinds, casting a faint glow on the beige walls of the bedroom you now shared with Jamie in Philadelphia. The hum of the heating system was the only sound, a soft reminder of the cold winter that was approaching outside. You shuffled out of bed, your toes curling against the chill of the hardwood floor as you padded toward the window. Pulling the blinds aside, you froze.

The world beyond the glass was transformed. Snow blanketed every surface, turning the familiar street into a pristine, untouched wonderland. The cars parked along the curb were reduced to lumpy, formless mounds. The branches of the bare trees sagged under the weight of the thick white layer. It was mesmerizing, and your lips parted in awe.

“Jamie,” you called, your voice rising with excitement. “Jamie, wake up!”

From the bed, a groggy groan emerged as he stirred, his head popping up from the pillow, his dark hair sticking up in every direction. “What is it?” His voice was rough with sleep.

“It snowed,” you said, the words tumbling out in disbelief. “I mean, like, really snowed. The whole world’s… white.”

Jamie swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing at his eyes as he joined you at the window. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, widened slightly as he took in your expression, the kind of wide-eyed wonder that was rare in adults. “You’ve never seen snow before?” he asked, a slow grin spreading across his face.

You shook your head, still staring out. “No. Not like this. I mean, it’s Southern California. The closest I’ve gotten is fake snow at Disneyland.”

His laugh was soft, a low rumble that made your chest warm despite the chilly air in the room. “Well, get dressed. Layers,” he added, pointing a finger at you. “We’re going outside.”

“Right now?” You turned to him, incredulous.

“Right now,” he confirmed, already heading to the closet. “Can’t have you missing out on your first real snow day.”

The process of layering up was comical in itself. Jamie had to pause several times to explain what counted as "real winter gear" and why a hoodie wouldn’t cut it. By the time you were ready, you felt like the younger brother in A Christmas Story, your movements stiff under the weight of layers upon layers of fabric.

“Perfect,” Jamie declared, tugging on a beanie and some gloves. He was significantly less bundled up, but being born in Toronto, he was used to the snow and the cold. “Let’s go.”

The cold hit you first. The air was crisp, almost biting, as you stepped out onto the porch. Your breath puffed out in little clouds, and you could feel the chill settling into your nose and cheeks. But the sight of the snow up close — how it sparkled like a field of tiny diamonds — was enough to keep you from retreating back inside.

Jamie didn’t wait. He was already scooping up a handful of snow, testing its texture in his gloved hands. “It’s good packing snow,” he said, turning to you with a wicked grin. “Perfect for snowballs.”

“Snowballs?” you echoed, but before you could react, a soft projectile hit you square in the shoulder.

You gasped, your hands flying up in mock outrage. “Oh, you’re so going to regret that.”

What followed was a flurry of laughter and snow, as the two of you lobbed hastily-formed snowballs at each other. You squealed every time one hit its mark, the cold seeping through your jacket, but you couldn’t stop grinning. Eventually, a truce was called, and you both flopped onto the snow-covered lawn, where you attempted your first snow angel. The act of lying back in the cold, damp snow felt bizarre at first, the cold seeping through your sweatpants. Jamie was at your side, moving his arms and legs with exaggerated enthusiasm, and his laughter echoed, rich and full, when your own “angel” turned out crooked and uneven.

“So,” Jamie starts once you’ve both stood back up. “What are your final thoughts on snow?”

You glance around at the winter wonderland that consumed the tight-knight community in Philadelphia that you’d grown to call home. “I didn’t know it would be so pretty,” you say softly. “And so cold.”

Jamie smirked, shaking snow out of his hair. “Well, yeah. It’s snow,” he teased.

You roll your eyes at him, but the shivering that’s started to creep in undercuts your comeback. Jamie notices immediately, his brow furrowing. “You’re freezing,” he says, already on his feet. “Do you want to go back inside?”

You hesitate, glancing at the snowy expanse once more, reluctant to leave. But when another shiver racks your frame, you nod. “Yeah, let’s head in.”

Inside, the warmth hits you like a balm. Jamie turns on the fireplace while you peel off your damp layers, wrapping yourself in a plush blanket. By the time he joins you on the couch, the flames are dancing in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room.

Jamie hands you a steaming mug of hot chocolate, complete with a mountain of mini marshmallows on top. “Here,” he says, plopping down beside you and tucking his legs underneath him. “This’ll warm you up.”

You take the mug gratefully, letting the warmth seep into your fingers as you hold it close. The first sip is heavenly, rich and sweet, and you let out a satisfied hum. The warmth of the room and Jamie’s easy presence wrap around you like a cocoon. Outside, the snow still falls softly, blanketing the world in a peaceful silence. It feels like the kind of day meant for slowing down, savoring the little things.

You take another sip of your hot chocolate and glance at Jamie. “You know what would make this even better?”

“What’s that?” he asks, turning his head toward you.

“A Christmas movie,” you suggest, grinning.

Jamie raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, I see. You’ve got snow outside, a fire going, and now you want the full Hallmark experience?”

“Exactly,” you reply, laughing. “And you can’t say no. It’s my first snowy Christmas, after all.”

He rolls his eyes in mock defeat but reaches for the remote. “Fine. But I’m picking the movie.”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. “Nothing boring or depressing, Jamie. It has to be a classic.”

He scrolls through the streaming options, the soft clicks of the remote filling the cozy silence. “Home Alone? It’s funny, Christmassy, and has a ton of snow.”

You agree, Jamie clicking play. As the opening notes of the movie fill the room, Jamie drapes an arm across the back of the couch, his fingers brushing your shoulder. You lean into him, the warmth of his touch and the crackling fire melting away the lingering chill.

[sxfterhearts]

i have a confession to make…

warning: 18+ mdni, explicit content ahead

ok so for the longest time i’ve tried to keep my blog super wholesome and PG with the rare exception of one or two suggestive/smut fics here and there but honestly. i’ve reached my limit 😭 i’m gonna have to do it guys im sorry i disappointed you

(fuck im so dramatic i can’t even)

(it = write that jiung smut fic that’s been living in the back of my head for the past few weeks but has been rudely awakened due to Recent Events IYKYK)

(IM SCARED OK I SUCK AT WRITING SMUT BUT I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS WHAT DO I DO WITH THEM RAHHH)

in the words of my moot — jiung you need to tone down your fanservice and visuals bc youre really making the chocochips act up 😭😭🫠😩

[skitskatdacat63]

Boy King AU | Vettonso + Martian | 1.3k

There's something about putting the future emperor of the Holy Realm on his knees like this. About how easily he goes, how willingly, how obediently. What would his adoring public think if they could see him now. If they saw their beloved king pressed down like this, in the cramped space between Fernando's legs. When they realized their little boy king took it like he was a little concubine instead. 

Fernando's bitterness is lifted away in moments like these, like taking off a heavy cloak on a winter's day. It was hard to feel humiliated about his own situation when watching Sebastian debase himself like this. 

He always gives himself up so easily. When Fernando threaded his fingers through his thick curls. When he pulled them, and then when he pressed his face down further down into the vee of his legs.  Sebastian rubbed his cheek into the coarse fabric of Fernando's breeches and blinked up at him. Fernando had to smother an embarrassing sound; he was just like a little cat!

Sebastian quirked his lips up into an odd little smile and slightly rose up on his knees, "What's funny?" Fernando swallowed lightly and schooled his face back into being impassive, "Nothing. As you were." Sebastian simply smirked at him and let himself be pushed back down by the fist clenched in his hair. 

Fernando scoffed internally, there was only so much pleasure in putting the other man in his place when he instead acted like this, this degrading action, was his birthright. He took to ruling and indulging in carnal pleasures as if they were of equal gravity. To be privileged to hold such high station and also let himself be taken apart like this…Fernando felt embarrassed for him.

He is dragged away from his musings when Sebastian moved to settle his hands in Fernando's lap, clutching his hips over the fabric and slightly squeezing; Fernando fought against the urge to shiver. Sebastian pushed up the skirt of Fernando's waistcoat and smoothed his hands over the opening flap of his breeches.

His eyes darted up at Fernando again, a daft smile on his face. Fernando scowled at him, "What?" Seb's grin sharpened, "You could stand to be a little more gracious. This is your future emperor, and future husband might I add, kneeling for you on this dirty, depraved, derelict- ah–" Fernando tugged on his hair again and hissed, "Well then, why don't you show me how eager you are to perform your marital duties?" 

Seb licked his lips, completely unconcerned by Fernando's annoyance, and unbuttoned one side of the closure to Fernando's breeches and moved to open the other–

The door to the carriage flew open, arrival announcement dying on a wheezing breath as the servant took in the image the two kings made. One splayed across the seat, exuding power, the other kneeled, debauched, between the former's legs. 

One would be hard pressed to determine which was higher on the totem of power and titles. 

There was something gratifying about this to Fernando, about being caught. He had been humiliated enough throughout the entire courtship, what was one more thing? And, certainly, what was one more thing if he could drag Sebastian down into the dirt with him. 

"Oh Mark, don't act so abashed! It's nothing you haven't seen before, in fact, we have been in this very position not even a fortnight ago!"

Oh. Yes. That. 

It was hard to be completely pleased when he remembered how Sebastian had already spent years prior to their engagement sampling the palace's ample selection of fellow high-born men. And how all those men seemed to be completely and utterly wrapped around his little finger.

Fernando released his hand from Sebastian's hair as if it had burned him. He did not understand why he felt ashamed with Mark looking in on them like this. Fernando was the one marrying Sebastian, not Mark; Mark was just a lowly courtier who had the esteemed duty of spending practically every waking hour with the brat…something he himself was decidedly not looking forward to. 

Sebastian stayed kneeling, staring impassively up at Mark, still fiddling with the clasp on Fernando's breeches. Fernando gritted his teeth and looked up from where he was watching Sebastian's clever little hands; Mark stared back at him placidly. 

Mark's indifference made the entire situation worse. Fernando now felt as if he was not doing anything unique, not doing anything particularly new. How many other men had Mark caught Seb with in this exact position? Fernando felt like he was just another plaything of the boy king, soon to be boy emperor, except his position was forever, permanent. He was the "Kept King", the king who only kept his throne due to the whims of a boy who doesn't even understand what power is.

Mark coughed, "Well," he says, "Your Majesty, I do believe you have a meeting to attend." Seb pouted at him and whined, "We were just getting to the main course," but still braced himself on Fernando's thighs and got up off the carriage floor. 

Seb pranced down the steps Mark had placed next to the carriage, miming tripping sown the stairs, snickering when his action made Mark reflexively reach out to grab him, and then playfully skipped off the final step. 

Fernando couldn't help but stare as Mark made the weirdest grimace in response, and he inexplicably felt all his mortification seep away from him. Huh. Maybe Mark is-

Seb then turned around and frowned at him, seemingly disappointed, but his eyes are deceivingly sharp, "Fernando, I regret to inform you that I have other duties I must attend to, you will simply have to wait." He then grinned up at Mark next to him and giggled as the other man stiffened when Sebastian looped both of his arms through Mark's. 

He leaned all his weight on the other man, Mark not so much as shifting his weight, "Oh Mark, won't you carry me back to the palace? I'm so very tired after all the horse riding," Seb looked up at him imploringly.

Fernando observed as Mark rolled his eyes and shrugged off the man, though notably not pulling his arm from Seb's grasp, and he got the distinct feeling that this exact scene had been played out countless times before. 

Fernando clenched his jaw as he watched Seb turn and saunter off, Mark trotting alongside him like a loyal dog. Fernando was supposed to be the unaffected one in this partnership, the unflustered one, the unconcerned one. And yet here he stood, in broad daylight, in a foreign kingdom, on the steps of a carriage with his breeches half unbuttoned and his cravat in disarray. 

He heard a cough from beside him, jolted and looked to the side. Sebastian's loyal Horse Master stood there, lounging against the side of the carriage. Fernando had forgotten who had even been driving the carriage in the first place. After Seb has let himself be pushed down, his hair still windswept from their ride together, everything else seemed to fade away. His thoughts were reduced only to how he could mess up the younger man's hair further. 

Jenson grinned at him wolfishly, and casually crossed his legs,  "First time?" he inquired. Fernando glared at him. The other man laughed openly at him, "What? He's a busy man with big prospects. You're not his majesty's only conquest, you know. Now your throne on the other hand…"

Fernando seethed, it was one thing to be humiliated by the future emperor, but to be patronized by the king's horse boy? No. It would simply not do. He closed his eyes in annoyance, pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaled, and prepared a speech about how he was not about to be talked down to by a man who didn't even have a throne to speak of! 

But when he opened his eyes again and opened his mouth to begin his tirade, Jenson was already wandering away to tend to the horses. Dios mío, Fernando was not mentally prepared to spend the rest of his life with all of these impertinent morons. 

[6mayhem]

anyway i need to hang out with my brother again he is the one person who i am pretty sure knows literally everything about me so he's the only person i trust that i can absolutely not disappoint. nothing i can do could be worse than the sum of everything i've been doing to that poor man (and him to me) the past 19 years

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

sometimes i think about it, yk? as cringe as it sounds i really do think about it.

cringe warning yippeee- (just me texting abt dumb silly writing idea AUGH)

[wickedhawtwexler]

i think that one of my goals for next year is gonna be doing something with my songwriting. like, do some open mic nights or join/start a band or something

[phantom-does-a-thing]

I NEED to design William like a phantom you don’t understand

[ef-1]

For those not tapped into Australian politics, King Charles is in Australia to conduct his "historic first tour to the commonwealth realm" i.e visting countries that King Charles is supposedly a monarch to.

Indigenous senator Lidia Thorpe had requested an audience with King Charles for weeks prior to this visit, she wrote countless letters to speak to him. Unlike other commonwealth nations and other former Brisitish colonies, a treaty with Indigenous peoples in Australia was never formed. Their land was never ceded to the British Crown. After being denied and ignored, Lidia Thorpe, draped in a traditional possum skin cloak, stormed in the Great Hall during the reception for Charles at Parliament House in the capital shouting the following:

I literally can't even look at these photos without getting goosebumps.

[itseasytoremember]

In my first year university course there was a class I remember as being mandatory (at least for English majors) about fallacies and biases in writing. And this prof was all about reading the whole article before you formed your argument. That was his whole thing. You know measure twice cut once he was read twice respond once. He stressed this so much that on our final exam (which was two long form essay questions and a few short answer questions) that I decided to read the WHOLE exam booklet before I grabbed my pen.

Turns out that is what he wanted. The final page, the final question, informed the student that if they wrote 1. Their name, 2. Their student number 3. Their favourite fallacy, and wait for 30 minutes so they don't arouse suspicion, you will literally be given 100 percent for the exam WORTH 40 PERCENT OF YOUR GRADE.

I think about it to this day. The prof literally saw the "reading comprehension on this site is piss poor" and said I can fix them

[odpadkreativity]

I think there's a really interesting difference between main protagonist from the first The Platform movie and from the second one.

The Platform: Main character is a guy thrown into the visual representation of anarchist society with a dysfunctional resource management who wants to make life a little bit better for everyone with the visions of a long term solution after seeing the horrors of the lower levels

The Platform 2: Main character is a Donald Trump

[rucow]

watching a therapy session with one of my favourite artists has left me in shambles oh.. ohhh... ohhhg my godd......😭😭😭

[2hightocare]

COFFEE!

“I think I'm past obsessed at this point, there has to be another word in the dictionary that tops obsessed.”

Synopsis: in which a hopeless romantic falls in love with the man of her dreams…

Pairings: boyfriend!jeongguk x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship.. non idol au

Warnings: literally the most sappy thing I could have possibly written, was listening to ‘coffee’ by miguel while writing, they’re such a gentle love, reader is a book worm, Jungkook likes drawing (doodling) plus points when his drawings are about oc, mentions of their first time having sex, usage of book quotes (read nltm, had to use the mia and sebastian line for my own sanity) <3333333

authors note: this is so simple but my book worm hopeless romantic needed this.. wrote this while high so nothing new 🤍

They say falling in love is the most beautiful feeling in the world.

You couldn’t explain the immediate sensation, the feeling that spreads throughout your chest as if you were a black-and-white picture that suddenly starts to fill with vibrant colors anytime his eyes lock with yours.

It was astonishing how the universe works—the idea that you are destined for someone ever since you are born, and that all the hardships along the way shape you into the person you need to be to meet them.

Your heartbeat thumped loudly in your ears as you watched him laugh from across the room, an oversized hoodie and baggy jeans covering his lean, muscular figure—one you’d memorized to the tiniest detail. You knew every freckle and scar. His head was thrown back, arms crossed, as he paid attention to whatever the guy in front of him was saying.

You scrunched your nose, using your index finger to push your glasses up as you studied your boyfriend from afar. You weren’t sure whether to call it pathetic or endearing, the way you noticed every little crease on his forehead and the way he toyed with his bottom lip absentmindedly. You even took note of his long eyelashes, and nearly died of jealousy every time you counted them when he slept beside you.

It was gut-wrenching to imagine anyone else feeling about him the way you did. The thought alone made you want to puke in the nearest trash can.

You were lovesick for this man, and you could already feel the heat rising to your cheeks whenever you looked at him or heard his laugh. Not only did you want to scream and freak out over every little thing he did, but he also had you daydreaming constantly. You found yourself thinking of silly song lyrics that resonated with how you felt about him. Staring at his side profile, you finally understood the meaning behind Suki Waterhouse’s lyrics: “Oh, my good looking boy,” echoed in your mind.

Before you could form another lyric or recall a favorite book quote to describe your feelings, his eyes found yours. A small smile tugged at his lips as his gaze scanned your expressions, reading you as if you were an open book. You smiled, tilting your head to the side, trying to hide the makeshift fireworks going off in your tummy.

His gaze softened, and it made your breath waver. You had never understood the meaning of “his gaze softened” in books, but now, you understood every syllable of those words after experiencing it firsthand.

You honestly couldn’t think of a single thing you didn’t love about him. You loved everything about him, even the parts he claimed were too “broken” or “damaged” to be loved.

A few seconds passed before he finally said his goodbyes and began making his way back to you. Your eyes followed every step, catching the grin he wore.

“I don’t know, I pretty much think you’re obsessed with me,” your boyfriend teased, his straight teeth on full display as he stopped in front of you, looking down at you on the couch.

“In your dreams.” You laughed, craning your neck to look up at him.

Instead of getting mad, he let out a low chuckle, leaning down with both arms on either side of the couch, caging you in.

“Every night, baby.” He whispered softly, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips before moving to your cheek, delivering another soft kiss. You sighed in contentment as his lips ghosted over your skin, the pet name making your head feel dizzy.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before standing up straight again, looking down at you. Your eyelids felt heavy as you looked up at him through your lashes. He was already smiling, and you didn’t even need to ask “what?”—you already knew. Anyone in their right mind could tell how obsessed you were with him, and it was no surprise to him either.

As you both walked out of the bookstore, carrying a bag full of psychological and romance books (and, of course, the box of transparent sticky notes Jungkook got for you to annotate your books without writing on the actual pages), it was clear this was one of his favorite things to do. In his free time, when he wasn’t working or with you, he loved opening one of your books and reading your thoughts scribbled in the margins. Half of his camera roll was pictures of you, but the other half was just pictures of your annotations, scribbles, and drawings.

It was as if he was inside your mind, reading every thought, and he loved it.

He could still recall the first book he opened that sent his heart racing, like a teenage boy with a crush.

“I couldn’t see him, but his laugh was unmistakable. I could close my eyes and be in so many places with that laugh. That laugh was the cohesive thread, the little recurring melody that showed up in so many scenes of my life, like Mia and Sebastian’s theme in La La Land. Always there, playing in the background.”

Those words were highlighted in the prettiest shade of pink, with two small hearts drawn beside them. But it was your handwriting at the bottom that got him: “The feeling I’ve been trying to put into words about how I feel every time I look at him has just been done for me, oh my.” He remembered feeling his heart stop for a second. And when it started again, it was for you—his heart was for you and only you.

That wasn’t all. It had become one of your shared love languages. Jungkook started buying books he thought you’d like. He even asked your little sister what your favorite highlighters were so he could buy them for both of you.

Your heart did somersaults when you opened a book on his bedside table and saw a drawing—a pair of eyes in black ink, long lashes making them look bigger and more innocent. Your breath hitched as you noticed the small freckle just below the eyebrow, realizing it was you.

It didn’t help the overwhelming sensation of adoration when you saw his handwriting in the margins.

“You remembered?” she said softly.

“I remember every second of us.”

The text was underlined, and in small letters, he had written, “Gosh, she made me fall so hard that I’m reading sappy words and thinking ‘us’ out loud. #sendhelp,” with a frowning emoji next to the hashtag. Before you knew it, you were on page one, reading every single line and note he had left.

Also, the multiple drawings on the pages where there was extra space had your heart thumping hard in your chest. There were so many drawings— each one tied to you or him. It was impossible to describe every feeling surging through your chest, every emotion racing in your bloodstream, as your fingertips traced the drawing of you.

This time, it was an image of you on your back, lying on a bed. Only part of your side profile was visible, with your hair spilling across the bed, covering most of your back. At first, you didn't want to assume it was you he'd drawn-being self-centered wasn't your style. But it was impossible to deny it when he'd sketched every freckle, even the small half-moon tattoo on your shoulder blade, matching the real one inked on your skin.

You smiled at the memory but snapped back to the present as your boyfriend instinctively switched you to the other side of the sidewalk when you two turned toward Target. You held tight to his index finger as he squeezed between people, leading you behind him with a soft "excuse me" to anyone in the way.

Automatically, you found yourself smiling as you picked up your pace to match his longer strides. He pulled you in closer, his arm snaking around your waist, his hand resting over your belly—a little lower than usual, sending butterflies flitting wildly in your stomach. You suppressed a shiver as he gently guided you to the side, allowing an older couple to pass by.

"Us when we're eighty, baby," Jungkook leaned down and whispered into your ear, making you playfully roll your eyes at him. His smile only widened at your reaction.

"Won't be us if you keep watching Young Sheldon without me," you pouted, giving him a playful glare, which only made him smile more.

"Why are you smiling?" you asked, maybe even whining a little as you walked into the store and heard the employee greet you both.

"Because you're so beautiful, and my brain goes in circles when I stare at you," he shrugged casually, giving your waist a small squeeze before untangling his arm to grab a cart.

You tried so hard not to melt, holding onto his bicep as he leaned forward on the cart, making him closer to your height.

"Don't know it you're down, but l've been wanting to learn how to crochet," you said as you glanced around the aisles. Your boyfriend immediately started nodding excitedly.

"Baby, oh my god. I'm so down. We need to make those big-ass blankets," he rambled, looking at your face for a reaction, like a puppy with its ears perked up and tail wagging.

"I think that's knitting, baby," you corrected him, smiling as his eyebrows raised before he let out a small laugh.

"Wait, are those two not the same thing?" His dimple deepened as he bit his lower lip, stopping in front of the craft aisle.

"I actually have no clue," you admitted with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "But I know you can crochet a blanket because you once told me about those pattern blocks you saw on your explore page.”

Jungkook's gaze softened as he made eye contact with you, his pupils dilated with so much adoration that it made your heart swell.

"And I remember because I searched them on TikTok to see what you were talking about. I saw people connecting them into blankets. Also, I remember you pretending to sleep so you didn't have to scratch my back anymore-before my one minute was up. You swear you're slick, but I know when you're really asleep," he said with a grin, teasingly biting your cheek as you tried not to smile.

"How do you know I'm not sleeping?" you teased, and he chuckled, ghosting his lips over yours.

"Because every time you fall asleep, you make this little sound, and then slowly, you start snoring," he laughed, watching your cheeks turn a shade of red before burying his laughing face in the crook of your neck.

To be loved is to be seen.

That phrase had never felt more accurate. No one else had ever seen you the way Jungkook did. He knew you so well, down to the tiniest details that sometimes even surprised you.

Your eyes practically turned into hearts as Jungkook kissed your neck innocently before turning his attention to the yarns.

This was the kind of love you had always dreamed of

-better than the movies or books. Nothing could top the overwhelming feelings of gratitude, love, and appreciation that coursed through your body whenever you looked at him. Your brain practically played the instrumental of "Video Games" by Lana Del Rey whenever you spent time with him.

It was as if even a natural disaster couldn't faze you

-so long as you could experience it with him.

The connection between you two was beyond what you ever imagined existed in real life. It felt like something out of a fairy tale. From the moment you locked eyes with him across the room, you both knew there was no turning back.

After checking out and getting to Jungkook's car, he opened the door for you, reaching over to buckle your seatbelt before putting the bags in the back.

Once he climbed into the driver's seat, his hand instinctively found its place on your thigh after starting the car. His thumb rubbed your bare skin, sending sparks flying through your body. It was such a natural gesture for him, but the butterflies never ceased. You bit your lip, trying not to whine when his hand moved closer to your inner thigh.

As he softly sang along to "Creep" by Radiohead, it was just another thing you'd become morally obsessed with-his voice. You had always known he could sing, but everything changed the night you were first intimate.

It was as if your entire perspective on love and sex shifted. Simply calling it "sex" seemed absurd now, because it was so much more. Everything felt heightened, more intense, making your heart pound wildly in your chest.

"F-fuck, baby..." he whimpered into your ear, his hips moving slowly into yours, leaving your mouth hanging open.

His little groans and moans made you dizzy, like notes of a lullaby. The feeling of skin against skin was the most addicting sensation, made even more special by the way he always checked in on you.

"Shhh, I'm sorry. Am I being too rough, baby?" His voice was strained as his hips halted, his breath heavy as he moved your hair to kiss your neck.

He resumed slowly, making your legs shake and grip the sheets, and you couldn't help but moan, asking for more. His chuckle against your skin was the same one you’d hear when he rested his head on your stomach, expecting you to scratch his back or read to him.

"You're sweaty," you pouted at him, both of you basking in the afterglow.

"I know. Do you still want me?" He smiled, mimicking your expression before pulling the covers over both your naked bodies and pulling you in as close as possible.

"Yes, I'll forever want you," you replied, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, savoring the warmth he radiated.

As sleepiness began to overtake you, you felt his fingertips tracing letters and shapes on your hip.

Just before drifting off, he began singing again. It was like entering another universe where only you and he existed

"I want you to notice," he sang softly, "when I'm not around."

"So fucking special... I wish I was special." He pressed a kiss to your temple, the sound of his voice and your matching heartbeats lulling you both to sleep.

You snapped back to reality when the car stopped at a red light.

"Is it bad that I always hope to get red lights so I can kiss you?" he asked, flashing a grin that had you laughing.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his as his eyes fluttered shut, his finger lifting your chin gently.

"Not bad, but a little weird. You want to spend so much time with me," you teased, pulling back to your seat. "Some might even think you're pretty obsessed."

"I'm past obsessed at this point. There's got to be another word that tops it," he admitted, stealing another kiss just before the light turned green.

As you gazed at him, you couldn't help but wish there was another word, stronger than "love," to describe how you felt about him.

[lis-likes-fics]

Casual

Pairing: bff!Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 12.3k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, protected sex (birth control), virginity loss, friends with benefits, Eddie talks you through it, constant consent, humor during sex, Eddie calls you "mama" but no mommy kink, fondling, slight hair pulling, oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, a million different positions, slight edging?, L-bombs but not romantically, swearing... A/N: So I wrote this as a best friends with benefits thing and not a best friends to lovers, but the line gets blurry sometimes with besties. I really fucking loved this one because they're like...they literally never stop being besties, they're so fucking dumb, I love them. So yeah, this is platonic in the least platonic way possible, and I love that for them. Thank you so much and enjoy! A/N #2: While I was writing the first author's note, my typing kept popping my ears. *cries in adhd like a little bitch*

Eddie finds you in his bedroom doorway moments after hearing the front door close. He half expected Wayne to be coming back home early from work, but that didn’t make sense because he only left an hour ago and he probably would have called ahead.

But, no. You stand there with damp hair from a fresh shower and dressed down in some shirt you stole from his drawer and pajama pants. He raises a brow. He hadn’t been expecting you, but he isn’t surprised in the slightest. He doesn’t even bother to move from his spot, leaning back on his bed with an arm behind his head and a book in his hand.

“Hey, there,” he mumbles.

You stare at him for a while, saying absolutely nothing. You don’t seem particularly pleased. He stares back. Neither of you move.

“I’m upset,” you finally say, still staring, still standing.

If Eddie’s remembering correctly, you’re supposed to be out on a date. So hearing that you’re upset isn’t necessarily pleasing to him. Judging by the time, you should have had a very entertaining night. But apparently not.

He’s the first to move as he lets his book fall down to his lap. “Why?”

You think for a moment and then drop your stuff at his door, walking inside as you use your foot to close the door. There’s a long pause between speaking, as you use it to walk around his room and look at all of his stuff. “It’s sort of embarrassing.” You pick up a random pepper shaker on his desk, swirling it around and then turning on your heel to look at him.

He’s got his head tilted to his shoulder with a look on his face that reads “seriously?”. He sits up, lifting a brow. “I’ve seen and learned a lot about you since we became friends, so I doubt there’s anything you could do or say to embarrass yourself in front of me.”

You roll your eyes, licking your lips as you set the pepper shaker down again. “Okay, well…” you trail out, trying to decide how you want to tell him. “You know how I had that date?”

He puts his book away, crossing his legs and leaning back on his elbows. “The drive in?”

“The drive in.”

“What about it?”

“Well…” you sigh. “Okay, so…” You lick your bottom lip, trying to form the words. You’re never shy in front of him, so there must be something wrong. You chew on your lip, thinking to yourself with a heavy sigh. You plop down onto the bed next to him. “God, so, we got there and the movie was fine and whatever–” you roll your eyes, “–and we watched most of it but at some point, we started, like, kissing, and whatever, right?”

Eddie shrugs, laying back to stare at the ceiling as you continue to recount your night. “Yeah.”

“And it got a little…”

He raises a hand to prompt you, “Hot and heavy?”

“Yeah.” You look down at your lap where you fiddle with your fingers. “So we drove away somewhere more…more private?”

He looks at you, sitting back up enough to fully see your face as he smirks lightly. He gives you this devilish look that makes you want to hit him. “Did you...?”

You nod a little. “Yeah.”

Swallowing thickly, you watch his face shift as he takes in your demeanor. His head slumps to one side, his smirk falling off his face. “Oh…” he mumbles. “How do you feel?”

You stare at him. He can see you mulling over your response as you struggle to find the right words. Despite yourself, you feel a knot tying itself in your throat. You force it down and away, pretending it’s not there and hoping it’ll help. And it does…for now, at least.

“I’m upset.”

He cringes a little, lifting an arm to give you a place to lean into him. “That bad?”

You bury your face in his shoulder and pout. “Yeah.” You pull away suddenly. “I mean, I know everyone’s first time sucks ass and whatever, but, like…” You drop your head in your hands, wiping at your face as you find yourself glad for washing your makeup off earlier. “Eddie, I didn’t even…”

He almost seems offended. He doesn’t care about announcing it because you’re alone and also it’s outrageous. “You didn’t cum?”

“No!” you exclaim. “I…faked it.” You’re almost disgusted with yourself for it. It sort of just happened in the moment. He was clumsy in trying to get you there, but it wasn’t working. You just wanted to end it off and move on, so you just…made the sounds and the faces. He seemed pleased enough. “I feel kinda bad. I mean, he was sweet and all, and he, like… He tried, but…”

His question is crude with as little hesitation as humanly possible. Again, he doesn’t care about being awkward or guarded because you’re his best friend, and you’ve talked about worse, and there’s no filter with you. “How big was he?”

“Eddie, what?” Usually you wouldn’t mind his brashness, but you’re still trying to get over the events of a couple hours ago.

“Honest question,” he shrugs. “I just wanna know. Was he like…” he lifts his hand, squinting his eyes and hunching over and pinching his fingers together, “little?”

You shrug. His bluntness is rubbing off on you. You feel a little less awkward and you hunch a little less. “He was fine…just a little too…short? To reach?”

He makes a face, like he’s shocked and disgusted. He looks you up and down almost like it’s your dick. “That’s rough,” he says. “How many times did he cum?”

“Why do you assume he came?” you raise a brow.

He rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Please, guys always cum.”

You roll your own eyes and push yourself off the bed. You’re roaming his room again as you mess with all of his stuff. You open his drawer and ruffle through his unfolded clothes, you pick up empty beer cans and turn up your nose at the smell, you strum the strings of his acoustic. You do all of this instead of looking at him when you answer. “Twice.”

“Oh.” You fake disgust when he looks at you, smirking and bobbing his brows at you. “You must’ve been really fuckin’ nice.” He makes this weird growling sound, and the “ew” that comes out of you is guttural. He snorts happily, and then his humor is gone as he deadpans, “Or he’s a lightweight. Did he cum inside?”

You’re sick of him.

You shake your head. “I made him wrap it.”

“Aren’t you on the pill?”

“Yeah.” He hums.

He watches you lean back against his desk, looking at this weird mask he had just sitting among the chaos. You move it around in your hands and force down the heat in your throat at the recounting going on in your head. Swallowing it down is a hard task that ultimately fails as he watches you begin to choke on the unshed tears.

He sighs, his chest warm with a bitter emotion as he watches your waterline threaten to spill over. “Oh, c’mere.” He stands from the bed, opening his arms wide to pull you into a bone crushing hug. It’s warm and it hurts and it feels so nice. He smells like he always does, green apple shampoo stolen from your house and cheap cologne and cigarettes. It’s a nice smell.

“I guess I like…I don’t know, I expected a little more. It was…really disappointing.” A couple of tears manage to get past you, and it pisses you off but you’re already over it. “I wanted…to get rid of it, and now it’s gone but it doesn’t feel like anything’s changed, but it also feels like everything’s changed, but not in a good way.”

He rubs your back, listening to you as you need him to listen. “I’m sorry,” he mutters when you stop. He sets his chin atop your head after a kiss to your forehead. Part of him wants to square up with the dude you went out with, but he sets that urge to the side in order to comfort you. “That fuckin’ sucks, and you deserve so much more.”

After a moment, you pull away from him, wiping at your face with a huff. “It’s stupid.”

“S’not stupid.”

You don’t argue, you just throw yourself onto his bed, laying flat on your back with your arms and legs spread so wide that you take up nearly all the space left. Eddie watches you lay there with your eyes closed and your breath slowed. He thinks you’re really pretty, especially right now with you wearing his shirt. He almost hates himself for thinking to ask–

“Look, it might be…creepy and weird to ask and—Jesus, if I’m being creepy, I want you to fuckin’ punch me s hard as you can—but, shit, maybe I should shut up.”

His rambling is cut off by you, still lounging on his bed. You haven’t moved, your eyes are still closed. You don’t seem fazed at all by his awkwardness. “What are you about to ask me, Ed?”

He sighs, sitting next to you with his foot shoved underneath him. He sets his hand on your thigh. You still don’t move, used to his touchy-communication. “What happened tonight fuckin’ sucks–”

“You say ‘sucks’ a lot.”

“It’s a nice word.”

You peek at him through one opened eyes. “You’re weird.”

“Nevertheless–” You laugh. He watches your belly tense as you do it, rolling over to sit up and witness his fumbling with opened eyes. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…”

You laugh again, and he’s happy he could do that for you, especially after your rough night. You’re happy you could ease his worries, because he was being awkward, and Eddie isn’t usually awkward with you, and you know he likes your stupid jokes.

He takes a breath and starts again. “What happened sucks, and—only if you want to—I would be willing—if you’re comfortable—to…fix it for you.”

You raise a confused brow, less confused and more vaguely unbelieving. “Fix it…for me?” you echo.

He shrugs. “I don’t like when you cry, and I want to make you feel better. I’m not a total expert on sex, but I think I know my way around it pretty well.” He puts his hands together like he’s going to pray and points them toward you. “If you want…I can help.”

You raise a brow and stifle the smirk threatening to grace your lips, ready to tease him in order to push down the flush of heat rushing through you. “You wanna fuck me.”

He raises his hands. “I want to fuck you if you want me to fuck you. To help. But I’d love to fuck you… if you want…me to fuck you.” There’s a pause. “Maybe.”

You look away, scratching your head in thought. “Since when have you wanted to fuck me?”

He smacks a hand down onto your thigh just to do it. “Babe, it’s always been on the table. All you had to do was ask.” Whore.

You roll your eyes for the millionth time. “You’re such a guy.”

He shrugs like he doesn’t care at all. “Like I said, guys always cum.”

You raise a brow at him, shoving his hand off your knee to stand again. You jab an accusatory finger into his chest. “Is that to insinuate that you’ve cum thinking about me?”

“I– Okay, I did not– Listen here, you little shit.”

You laugh out loud, still pointing at him to make fun. “I’m kidding!” He fake laughs, and you return the favor by tilting your head and questioning him further. “But have you?”

To avoid it being awkward, he just shrugs nonchalantly and answers the question. “A couple times.” It works, even though you flush at the answer.

“What? That is so weird!”

“That is not weird.” He hopes you ignore the way his cheeks turn pink, powering through it with more brashness and more jokes. “It is completely normal to think of your best friend when you’re cranking one out.”

You shake your head definitely. “No, it’s not.”

He challenges you. “Have you ever cum thinking about me?”

Without turning your head, you glance away from him. “I don’t think that makes it normal.”

“So you have, is what I’m hearing.” You turn to him quickly, raising a finger as you try to speak over his ad libbing. He thinks he’s really funny, and it’s gonna make you scream.

“Listen–”

“Listening.”

You huff, glancing away and then looking back at him. Well, not really him, but the ends of his hair over his shoulders. “Maybe once or twice…” you shrug, “Maybe even thrice, but that’s not–”

“You little freak!” He points his finger at you, his whole face wide with amusement.

“Hey– Be nice to me. Or I’ll cry. You don’t like it when I cry.” You pout to give him a preview. You’re sure you could summon more tears if you really need to…

“You’re evil,” he shakes his head, looking up at you with a huge grin.

You bob your brows. “Yes, I am.”

He surprises you. In the next moment, his arms are wrapped around your midsection, and your feet lift off the ground. He takes you in his hold and turns you until you’re being slammed into the bed. You laugh as you bounce, squirming around to push him off of you as he pins you under his weight. Both of you are giddy with the amusement, laughing at each other and playing along with the other’s fun.

When you open your eyes and the laughter dies down, you realize that he’s actually pinning you to the bed. It sobers you up almost immediately, and you realize that he’s really close. He could kiss you right now if he really wanted to. You notice the exact moment he realizes it, too.

You gulp and take a breath for courage. Your voice is small—awkward—but it’s okay because he’s your best friend. “You can…” you mumble. “You can help, if you want to help.”

His eyes glance at your lips, and then he raises both his brows as he looks back at you. “You want me to?”

You nod, trying not to hold your breath to avoid dulling the charged air between you. “Yes, I want you to.”

He tilts his head and the tips of his hair tickles your cheek. “Is it because I have you pinned?”

“It helps.”

Eddie backs off of you, sitting back on his bed to allow you to sit back up. You do, crossing your legs underneath you. He thinks for a moment, watching you as he does. There’s a long pause where the both of you contemplate something, unsure if the other has the same thing in mind.

“Before we do anything,” he breaks the silence carefully and articulately, and you can see the moment that all his seriosity has set in, “I need explicit permission. And you gotta let me know how you’re feeling. I don’t wanna do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

You listen intently, nodding along as he lays down the rules. “Okay,” you say.

He tilts his head toward you, looking up at you through his bangs. His brown eyes are so pretty. You’ve always thought so. They’re so warm and loving, just like him. It’s the reason you became his friend in the first place: because he’s warm and loving. “S0?” he prompts, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You take in a deep breath and smile, lifting a hand and slowly setting it on his own. “I want you to have sex with me, Eddie.”

He visibly shudders, and you think he’s a sucker. Technically, he is, but whatever. “Jesus,” he mutters, running his free hand through his hair. Then he smacks yours away, and your chuckle turns into a snort. He always knows how to make you comfortable. “Okay.”

You turn your body to face him, clearing your throat. “So… How do we…?”

“Okay, so…” He makes a “shoo” motion with his hands, so you get confused and raise a brow. You slowly and hesitantly lean back onto your elbows, staring at him with all the silent questions you can muster. He rolls his eyes. “No, get up. Sit over there, whore.”

You roll your eyes at him in return, moving to sit at the head of his bed with your legs crossed in front of you. Playfully, he rolls his eyes yet again and shakes his head at you like he’s disappointed. Eddie turns to lounge across the foot of the bed, propping himself up on his elbow. “First, I want you to walk me through everything he did.”

“Okay,” you mumble, thinking back to what happened in that car. “Well, he kissed me. We made out for a bit, and then he pulled me into his lap.” You only glance at him as you speak, but he’s so nice about it that you don’t feel so weird talking to him about being poorly fucked. “And he took off my shirt. He was, like, moving my hips and stuff.”

“Okay.” He listens so closely. His full attention is on you and only you, and it feels nice.

“Then he, uh, he played with my nipples. You motion vaguely to your chest.

“Did he use his mouth?” he questions gently.

“Mhm.”

He shakes his head then. He’s still gentle but his tone leaves no room for argument. “You gotta say yes or no, sweetheart, or I’m not touchin’ you.”

That’s fair enough. “Yes.”

“And it felt good?”

“Yes.” It almost sounds like a question, but he understands what you mean.

“Okay,” he gestures toward you. “What else did he do?”

You think for a moment. It’s already becoming a little fuzzy as your mind becomes distracted by the thought of Eddie, your sweet, idiot Eddie, doing these things to you and making it feel good.

This is the same boy you’ve seen fall out of his van because he tripped on the step and totally ate shit hitting the ground. This is the same boy you’ve seen stuffing his face with marshmallows because he was dared to by Mike and Dustin, and he was trying to prove that he could do more than they originally dared for him.

This is also the same boy you’ve seen absolutely shred his guitar with some fingering skills you’ve been envious of. And the same boy who’s seen you cry a million times and wiped away all the tears with plenty of jokes and compliments and threats of violence as were humanly possible. If there’s anyone who can make you feel good, it’s him.

You shake the thoughts away in order to get them straight. “He laid me down on the seat,” you remember, “and took off his pants and stuff.” You don’t really need the “and stuff” but it does make it a little easier…for some reason.

He furrows his brow in question, tilting his head like he’s grossed out all of a sudden. “Okay?”

“And then he…” you stare at his Dio poster across the room, “put it inside.”

He lifts his lip in disgust. He’s done that a lot tonight in response to this guy. “That’s it?” he asks with more distaste than you thought possible.

“What do you mean?” you furrow your own brow this time.

“Baby,” he says effortlessly, like he’s said it a million times before (because he has), “there wasn’t even foreplay.” He sits up, “No wonder you didn’t get off, girls need foreplay. Guys don’t need shit. We just think about tits, and we’re hard.” He shrugs, “I’m thinking about tits right now. Hard as a rock.”

The face you make transcends the rolling of the eyes or the upturn of a lip as you scoff. “Eddie–”

“You gotta be built up,” he continues, brushing past his comment like he never said it to begin with. You consider his words, taking them as the truth because he knows way more about sex than you would. He’s no prodigy, maybe, but you’re barely out of your virginity, so he’s got more advantage than you. “Did you blow him?”

You glance up, a bitter tone in your words as you mutter the first part, “Between positions… yeah.”

You don’t think “disgust” fits anymore. He’s just annoyed and entirely displeased. “You blew him, and he didn’t blow you?”

“I thought the term was ‘eat me out’.”

He shrugs a shoulder absently. “Symmetry.”

You airquote your response. “Okay, ‘symmetry’.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes,” you reply finally, still tasting traces of your toothpaste in your mouth. “I blew him, but he didn’t blow me.”

Eddie makes a guttural sound to try to properly express the amount of offense he takes to this. “You know what, fuck this guy.” He leans forward, placing both his hands on your knees and holding them there as he stares at you with those big, brown eyes of his. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got you now.”

It’s easy to take humor from that to avoid dealing with the arousal it sends through you. “You’re real confident.”

He’s not pulling back on anything, he has no reason to. He somehow becomes more intense as he effortlessly response, “Because I’m gonna fuckin’ eat you out like my life depends on it.”

“I–” There’s no way you can respond to that. “Oh. Uhm.” Your mind is immediately a jumbled mess of fantasies and incoherent words and more fantasies. There’s a heat between your thighs and an anticipation in your belly that makes it difficult to think.

“Relax,” he catches your sudden daze. He pats your thigh like it’s just something that he does and not a preface to him pulling them apart and having a feast. “You’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

He gets up, stretching his arms high over his head to pop his back. You can’t help the way your eyes fall to the slip of his belly, spying a tattoo hidden away there underneath his shirt. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” He eyes you. “You don’t need any infections.”

You turn your lip up because you think he’s disgusting. “That’s gross, Eddie.”

He points at you. “But considerate.”

You get up specifically to push him away from you. “Go shower, you dirty whore.”

He winks at you. “Yes, mama.” You don’t know how to respond to that. “Get comfy, I’ll be out in a bit.”

You swallow thickly, trying not to dissolve into some pathetic puddle because he called you “Mama”. You’ve never been into that before, and all of a sudden, you can’t get the sound of it out of your head. He’s already long gone, leaving you alone in his room as you sit on his bed to wait for him.

You’re a total goner, you’re sure.

~

You’re going through more of his stuff by the time he comes out of the shower. You glance over your shoulder at him after the door closes, and you’re almost surprised by what you find.

It’s not like you haven’t seen Eddie shirtless before. The sight isn’t unusual to you, but given the context and the way his sweatpants hang low on his waist, giving the perfect view of his gentle V-line, his soft tummy. It’s a mouthwatering sight, and it’s taking everything to look away.

His hair is still dripping. The dampness is giving his curls a gentle shine in the lamp light in the room. He rubs his towel haphazardly through his hair as he speaks. “I know I’m gonna take them off anyway, but–”

He stops short when he finally looks up to see you. You’re rummaging through his drawers like the little thief that you are, your hand stopped somewhere in the second drawer in favor of watching him. But that’s not what makes him pause. It’s the fact that you’re in one of his shirts, one that goes down past the curve of your ass and stops short before even reaching your mid-thigh. Your legs are bare—you’ve discarded all your other clothes somewhere in the room and left yourself in some underwear and his shirt.

He always knew you were sexy. As your closest friend, it’s his duty to know how sexy you are, but this is another level and he doesn’t understand why.

Instead of pointing out the fact that his sweatpants are growing a sudden bulge, he gestures to the shirt. “Are you gonna steal that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He scratches the back of his neck, tossing his towel onto a chair stuffed in the corner of his room. It’s stacked high with clean laundry that he never got around to. He pays no mind to it when the towel and a couple of clothes fall to the floor immediately after.

Eddie takes a breath before he looks back at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles, raising a finger to make a come hither motion. You listen to him, walking over to stand in his space. Your hands rest at his sides because you always rest your hands at his sides, and, naturally, he holds you back.

“Remember,” he begins in a quiet voice (or as quiet as Eddie can be), “you gotta use your words. I gotta know if I’m hurting you, or I’m doing too much or too little.” His thumbs stroke your elbows. “You know your body better than anyone, but I’m gonna do my best to know it even more than that.”

You chuckle playfully. “Okay.”

“And you definitely, definitely have to let me know when I’m doing something right.”

“So you’ll keep doing it?” you guess.

He shakes his head and says in a flat voice, “No, to stroke my ego.”

You roll your eyes, and your humor is interrupted by his hand lifting to touch your cheek. You lean into it because his hands are warm. “You still wanna do this?” He’s completely serious, and a little nervous now as he looks at you.

You nod, raising one hand to wrap around the back of his neck. “I trust you, Eddie.”

He nods, mostly to himself. “Good. That’s good.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips. “That’s great,” he raises his brows. Then he sighs, glancing away from your intense gaze. “Let’s hope I don’t fall in love with you or something, or you’ll be getting your back blown out every night and twice on Sundays. Jesus H. Christ.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head at his ridiculousness, almost forgetting that he’s probably completely serious and you are about to fuck as you play into your banter. “You’re so–”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. You’re cut off by Eddie’s lips engulfing your own, warm and soft and really nice against your own. You let out a long breath, pulling him closer by the back of his neck as he takes a step forward into your space.

To be completely honest, you’ve kissed Eddie before. You’ve kissed him on a dare, you kissed him to trick people into thinking you’re dating. Hell—he was your first kiss because you and some friends were screwing around and then you happened to be picked to be locked in a closet for seven minutes because you were at a stupid party playing stupid games.

So the sensation isn’t completely new, but the making out part is. Eddie is a really good kisser.

When he pulls away, you aren’t really expecting it. He seems pleased by your daze as he bobs his brows. “So what?”

Instead of answering him, as you’ve forgotten what you were going to say, you kissed him again. It’s really nice, kissing someone. It’s nice to be this close, to breathe each other’s air, to taste each other’s lips. His tongue grazes your top lip, and you lean into it, because you trust him and it’s nice.

Eddie keeps you pulled close against his body as he starts stepping forward, keeping you from tripping as he does. The back of your knees hits the bed, and you hold on too tightly as you feel yourself falling backwards. You laugh when you fall back onto the bed with his weight on top of you. He laughs with you, “You’re okay, mama.”

He silences you with his mouth again, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his. He likes it just as much as you. Between that and his little pet name, your mind is swimming and your heart is racing. When he pulls away, it’s only to press his lips to the skin of your neck, suckling and nipping gently at the flesh as he does. You close your eyes, your fingers happily tangled in his hair as you keep him close.

“Mama,” you mutter under your breath, seeing just how much you like it as he nips at your neck. “I like that.”

You can feel him smiling against your skin. “Yeah? Want me to keep using it?”

You nod, “Yeah.” A hum echoes in your chest as he wraps his hands around your sides, lifting you a bit just to put you farther up the bed. He crawls on top of you, one of his knees settled between your legs as his hand caresses your side.

Your breath becomes thin when his hand smooths underneath his shirt, feeling the softness of your skin with a quiet breath. His palm stops at your belly as he slips the very tips of his fingers to rest underneath your breasts, feeling just how warm you are.

“Good?” he mutters, taking your earlobe so gently between his teeth and letting it go.

You nod, your eyes heavy like they’re glued down with sap. “Mhmm,” you breathe.

“Yes or no, mama?” he reminds you, gently kissing your lips.

“Yes.”

He smiles, rewarding you with another kiss as he whispers against your lips. “Good girl.”

You don’t have time to think about that right now. It’s too nice, too fuzzy. It sends a warm flush straight to the pit of your stomach and makes your breath hitch. Eddie knows and adds it to the list of things you like for tonight.

The slightest whimper slips from your lips when you feel his warm fingers reach up to brush your breast, gently groping you as he plays with your peaking nipples. He hikes your shirt all the way up until your bare chest is revealed to him, and he takes them in with an appreciative breath before leaning down to take one between his lips.

It’s much different than the guy before him. Eddie’s deliberate, licking and sucking and so, so gently nipping the bud. It sends a strange sensation through you, lighting every nerve ending and making it impossible to think straight as you keep your fingers tangled in his hair. You keep him close. It feels too good to do anything else.

You speak between breaths, your heavy eyelids and sticky lips working against your attempts to speak. “You’ve seriously cum to the thought of me?” you wonder, whimpering when his other hand comes up to pinch your other nipple between the pads of his fingers.

“Yeah,” he mutters, sucking harshly and making you gasp.

“Why?” you ask, making an attempt at playfulness between the haze of his ministrations. “Am I that irresistible?”

With only seriousness, Eddie looks up at you, letting his fingers take over in teasing you. “Yeah.”

Your grin falters, almost not expecting his answer—or at least the amount of honesty in it. “Wait, really? You’re not just buttering me up?”

He makes a face, a confused one that flatters you more than anything else. “No? You’re fucking sexy as shit.” He tilts his head, “You think I’m lying when I tell you that?” Eddie’s hand smooths down your side, gripping your hip as he goes.

You shake your head, bringing your knee up and sighing gently when his hand slides over the round of your ass. “You don’t have any weird feelings for me, do you?”

He pinches you, and you squirm away from him giddily. “Mama, I’m in love with you, but not like that.” He gently makes your side. “Now stop talking to me. It’s hard to kiss you if I’m talking.”

You chuckle. “Yes, si-”

Your words are interrupted by a tiny moan when his fingers graze the mound of your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties. Your back arches just slightly, the ticklish feeling making quick work of scouring your body.

“Does that feel good?” he wonders quietly.

You nod and bite down hard on your lip. The anticipation of it is eating you up. “Yes.”

“Good,” he lilts, continuing to brush his middle finger up and down the length of your panties until he’s pulling them to the side just enough to see you. Eddie licks his lips, leaning in to kiss your belly. You’re weak against him, trying not to cant your hips up into him and deter his work.

His finger caresses your folds through the bit of slick that had begun to gather there. “You feel the difference?” he asks between kisses.

“Yes.” Your voice is a squeak, and he seems quite proud of himself for making it that way.

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” he says. “Then I’m going to put my mouth on you. You’ll let me know if I’m doing too much, right?”

You nod. “Yes, Eddie.”

He smiles, “Thanks, mama.” He feels the way you react to that, the slightest flutter of your folds. He sits up just to allow him the access to slip your underwear down your legs. The little, flimsy material comes right off. He drops it to the ground and comes to kneel in front of the bed. You hold your breath when his hands close around your waist, pulling you down to the edge to bring you that much closer to his face.

Instinctively, you close your thighs. It’s hard to will them to open and stay that way with the way his warm breath fans over your skin, his hands touch your body, his eyes stay glued to your own, constantly asking for consent.

You think he’s going to say something smart, smirk at you and chuckle at your shyness. But he does. Instead, he just gives you a calming look and asks, “You still okay, mama? You wanna stop?”

You let out a gentle breath, shaking your head. “No, I’m okay.” You chew on your bottom lip. “Just not used to this.”

“That’s okay,” he reassures. His kindness is honestly making your arousal worse. You feel like you’re going to start shaking if he pulls away from you. “Can I open your legs?”

You nod. “Please.”

He nods back, kissing your knee and smoothing his hands down your thighs, one on each side. The hand on the inside of your thigh dips so slowly between yours, seating deep between them until he’s slowly pulling them apart. The sound your thighs make when he opens them is lewd, it’s the quiet schlick sound that comes from the arousal that seeped out of you. You start to feel embarrassed, but then he sighs like he’s so relieved to see it.

“Tell me why you’re so fucking pretty,” he shakes his head. Your thighs are itching to close as you watch him lean in, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh, just to kiss you. You bite your lip, nervous and so ready.

But then he stands. “Give me a second,” he says, walking away from you as his hands slide off your thighs. You sit up higher on your elbows, watching in confusion and slight annoyance as he leaves you on the bed.

“Eddie,” you call while he walks to his dresser.

“Hang on,” he smiles. “Jesus.” He does that thing where his tongue sticks out over his bottom lip as he sorts through the junk on his desk. “Not leavin’. Just lookin’ for something,” he mutters.

You fall back on the bed, willing your heart to calm. He makes a sound of success, turning back on his heel to get back to you. You look at him and watch as he cards his fingers through his hair. He pulls it back into a ponytail, wrapping a hair tie around it to make a messy bun.

You flush at the sight because not even a moment later, he’s on his knees again right between yours. “You can’t be serious,” you say.

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” he replies, looking at you excitedly. His hands land on your thighs again, keeping them spread apart as he pulls you again to the very edge of the bed. “I’d say hold on tight, but there’s nothing to hold onto so… Enjoy!”

He dives between your thighs, and the heat of his mouth latches onto your pussy. Your mouth slips open and a deep moan rumbles out of you. Your thighs close around his head as you feel his tongue licking at you, lapping at your folds as he delves between them.

“Eddie,” you call, one of your hands reaching down to touch the top of his head, trying to find some purchase at his hair. His tongue swirls around your clit, and you’re a total goner when his lips close around it and suck. You mewl at the unfamiliar feeling, enjoying every bit of it with an immense amount of pleasure.

You’d expected him to go slow, hesitant little licks against your folds as he worries about overwhelming you. But this is not that. It’s hot and heavy with deep strokes of his tongue and the tiniest nips of his teeth. There’s no way to keep yourself calm. Your hips are tilting up into his mouth, meaning he has to hold you down with his arms wrapped around your thighs.

Eddie seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He moans into you, heavy breaths fanning over your skin as he eats you out “like his life depends on it”. Your open-mouthed moans encourage him, especially when you say his name in this high-pitched gasp and slam your eyes shut. Your ankles hook behind him, pulling him in closer.

Eddie’s making the most obscene sounds—sounds worse than what you’re making. He slurps and laps at you like a dog drinking water. You’d call him a whore again if you could think of humor at the moment, but the only thing you want to tell him is to keep going and never stop.

When he pulls his mouth off of you, you whine. He smiles, knowing he’s doing a good job as he shushes you gently. “It’s okay, I’m not stopping,” he says. In the next moment, you feel his hand cup your pussy. “I’m gonna put my fingers inside of you. Is that okay?”

You nod. “Please, Eddie.”

His fingers tease your entrance, though you don’t think he means to. He looks at you as he prods a finger at the seam of your cunt, slowly pushing it in until they part around him. A short “ah” sound is what he hears as he presses his finger inside of you, moving slowly until he’s got it all the way in. “Good?” he checks, the slightest thrusts moving in and out of you as he does.

Your nods are becoming insistent. “Yes, Eddie.”

“You want more, mama?”

“Yes, please.” He loves how polite you are. You’re usually so mean—though, he loves that about you, too. It just means you love him.

He sets a steady rhythm, one that’s still slow as he focuses in on your face, the way it shifts and squints at every little push of his thick finger. It feels really nice, the way he takes his time with you, making sure you feel everything he gives you.

“M’gonna add another. You ready?”

“Yeah.” He rewards you with a second finger, pushing it inside along the first and stretching you out for him some more. He thrusts them in and out, a slow and steady motion slowly building as he massages those inner parts of you. He curls them, and they press against a spongy point inside of you that has you rolling your eyes. “That feels good, Eddie. Don’t stop.”

He smiles at your initiative, giving you what you want with as much enthusiasm as you give in wanting it. He leans in, his tongue darting out to lick at your pussy. You’re wetting his fingers so nicely, making it so easy to slip them in and out of you.

His lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks on it while you whine, while his fingers curl inside of you with every intent of coaxing an orgasm out of you. Little ramblings fall from your tongue as you grind against his. He's greedy in the way he licks around his fingers, over your clit, tasting your arousal as it seeps out of you.

A knot is tightening in your belly. Your hips reach for him with each little nuance of his skilled fingers as you seek out the release he's promising you.

His name comes out as a moan on your tongue. If either of you hadn't been so preoccupied, he would have made fun of you for it. Instead, you're spread out on his bed with his fingers inside of you, a moment away from cumming on his mouth.

Your hips try to lift up into him as you get closer and closer. He holds you down with one arm, his lips and tongue and prodding fingers working in tandem to taste you.

Your ankles hook behind his head as your back arches off the bed. “Eddie,” you whisper. He feels the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, his tongue becoming more insistent in the way it flicks and laps at your clit.

He makes these sounds of encouragement, humming and mhm-ing into you as he goes. Your release is like a burst in your belly, it starts there and swarms into your legs, your chest, the base of your being. Eddie’s tongue keeps licking and lapping at you as your back arches off the bed and your legs tighten around his head. You moan his name as white noise erupts in your ears, the distant murmuring of his words muffled as you try to cope with the pleasure that has begun to set every nerve ending on a wild fritz.

Eddie seems more enthused than anything else by your orgasm. Both his arms wrap around your thighs and hold you down. He actually stands, bending at the way to get closer as he longs to taste all the slick and arousal that leaks out of you. As he sucks on your clit and hums at the way that you taste, you grip his hair and pull him in closer.

But there’s a point where you think you might die if he touches you any more. There’s a gasp in your chest that rips its way out as you push him away from your fluttering pussy as kindly as possible. He leans in again, just for a moment, before he registers your body pulling away from him, notices the way your thighs unclench and your fingers loosen from his hair and your moans and gasps of his name turn into weak whimpers and grunts.

“Fuck,” you huff as you lay back on his bed. You turn onto your belly, crawling up his bed and collapsing into his pillows that spell like him. He watches, licking his lips and wiping his face with a smile.

“I was right,” you mumble, feeling your body coming down like you're floating back to the ground.

“About what?” You feel the bed dip next to you where Eddie sits down. Then you feel him lay back, his head laid out on your thighs.

“You're a whore.”

He rolls his eyes, smacking your leg with the back of his hand. “You liked it.”

“Doesn't mean you're not a whore,” you say. “Just means you're a good one.”

He sits up, moving over you so he's caging you in. His hair has come mostly undone by now, and it's more of a mess due to your insistence on how wonderful he is. His guitar pick hangs down in your face. Your eyes cross and uncross trying to watch it dangle.

“Well, if I'm a whore,” he bends down, his soft lips pressing into your neck as your lashes flutter, “then I'm gonna charge you. It's three dollars a minute.”

You chuckle. “Well, guess what?” He hums. “I'm poor, so no.”

He breathes in through his teeth, shaking his head. “Then I guess you'll have to work it off.”

You try not to be too timid as you press your fingertips to his chest, guiding him back so he's sitting up. You move onto your knees, pulling your arms around his shoulders and relishing his hands on your waist.

“That shouldn't be too hard,” you mutter. You are timid when you lean into him, testing the air between you to make sure it's okay that you kiss him.

When you still haven't made any contact, he nudges your nose with his. “C’mon,” he goads, his lips sticky when he speaks with all the familiar affection between you.

Your lip quirks a bit at his humor. You kiss him, biting his top lip just to confuse him. He laughs and you consider your goal achieved. You run a hand down the center of his bare chest, pausing at the base of his belly to tease the light happy trail disappearing into his sweatpants.

You slip your hand just underneath the waistband of his pants, tickling his skin as your fingers brush the base of his length hiding poorly behind the fabric. He flinches slightly from your touch, chuckling lightly as his hand comes to cup your elbow.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask suddenly, slightly startled by his reaction.

He shakes his head. “No, mama. You just surprised me.”

“Okay,” you murmur, your timid fingers slowly attempting to try again. But he just shakes his head.

“This isn’t for me. This is for you,” he says, pulling back enough to see you.

“Yeah, but,” you lick your bottom lip, “I wanna make sure you’re enjoying yourself, too.”

He licks his own lips as if to remind you that they were just wrapped around your sensitive cunt. “Trust me, I am thoroughly enjoying myself, mama.”

Your finger hooks around the waistband of his sweatpants, a slight pout arising from your face. “Can you take ‘em off, at least?”

His hands are already pulling them down his legs as he teases you. “So needy.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut the fuck up.” Your response falls short. As soon as the last word leaves your mouth, his cock springs from its loose confines and reveals itself.

You flush at the sight of him. You’re not a cock-hungry whore or anything—but if you were one, you think his dick would be a perfect subject for it. It’s not like he has this perfect cock that was hand-crafted by the gods or anything. But you think it’s safe to say that calling Eddie a freak is a valid name.

He’s long, freakishly so. He’s got a nice girth to him, you think, but you don’t know if he’s going all the way in—but, of course, you could be exaggerating. You’ve seen two cocks in your entire life, and Eddie’s is one of them and, admittedly, the better of the two. He will definitely reach.

“What the fuck, Eddie?” you look up at him.

“What?” His face falls slightly, his eyes widening just a bit as he wonders if your comment was good or bad. “What’s wrong?”

“How the hell do you fit that thing in your pants?” You shake your head. “Like, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He just shrugs, but he’s a little relieved that you’re just being his asshole and not just some asshole. “I think you’re being a little dramatic.”

“How is it supposed to fit inside of me? What is that, like a foot long?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m flattered—really, I am—but it, most definitely, is not a foot.” He looks down at the erection between his legs. The tip is flushed, and it kind of looks like it hurts. “Seven and a half.”

“What the fuck?” you whisper under your breath. You reach down, brushing your fingers over the tip. He gasps through his teeth, and you watch the way it kicks up in response. “Sorry,” you tell him, ignoring the amusement in your chest. It reminds you of a spring, the comedic kind that goes “boing!”.

“S’okay,” he murmurs. He lifts a hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb over the rise of it as he asks gently and genuinely, “You still wanna go?”

You nod, “Yeah. That monster isn’t gonna scare me away.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that big.”

You shrug. “You know, I heard Harrington’s like that big, nine inches.” You make a circle with your hand, moving it up and down like you’re jerking it off. “You think it’s true?” You bob your brows up and down.

He shakes his head, running a hand down his face as he snickers at you. “I doubt it. He could be one or the other, but both seem a little excessive. Have you seen how tight his pants are?”

“Yeah… you might be right.”

“We gonna talk about dicks, or are we gonna fuck?”

You sigh, shrugging like it’s nothing as you look back at him. “I guess, we’ll fuck.”

He smiles, pulling you closer to him. “Well, then, c’mon, mama.”

You actually giggle, surprising him as you bring a leg to wrap around his waist, pulling the other up to follow suit. He kisses you, his hands supporting your thighs as his dick nuzzles between the both of you, kept warm and wet by the way your folds sit against him as it pushes into his lower belly.

Eddie reaches between your bodies, taking his weeping cock in his hand and stroking himself a couple times with little wavers of breath. You watch some precum spill from his tip, sliding down the bottom.

“You want me to use a condom?” he asks.

You swallow thickly, thinking quickly before shaking your head. “Pill.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t.”

You’re touched by his consideration but you don’t really want to put into words how much you actually want to feel him inside of you. You shake your head again, kissing him quickly to soften the slight awkwardness in your chest. “I don’t want you to use a condom, Eddie.” You almost whisper it, but he understands.

“Okay, mama,” he whispers back. He kisses you, lifting you up from his lap just enough to tuck the head of his cock at your soaked folds. “You ready?” You nod. “Don’t hold your breath. Breathing makes it feel better.” You nod again.

“Ready.”

You try not to hold his breath as he slowly lowers you down onto his lap, splitting you on his cock as you take him inch by inch. At one point, you’re sure he can’t go any further as you feel him seated somewhere deep inside you. And he’s right, it feels really nice.

Your breath is so light and airy when you sigh against his lips, holding him tight as you bury your face in his shoulder. “Fuck,” you huff, hearing his own breaths pass heavily in your ear.

“Fuck,” he echoes. “Jesus, you’re squeezin’ me, mama.”

You don’t know how you feel about the way this makes you feel, the way it makes you act. Your voice gets sort of whiny, breathy, this little thing in his ear that makes his cock twitch slightly inside of you. “Can’t help it,” you sigh. “So fuckin’ deep.”

He nods, his hands steady and firm at your backside and your arms tight around his neck. “I won’t move until you tell me to.”

You just nod, knowing he’s not going to move until you give him an explicit “yes”. It’s a lot to adjust to. He sits really deep inside of you, and he’s pressing against a spot that makes you delirious with just the pressure the head of his cock puts on it. But when you can’t take the suspense anymore and you’re too excited to see how it would feel, you nod again.

“I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll go slow.”

You nod.

Holding your waist, Eddie begins to thrust his hips up into you. He does as he says and moves slowly, guiding your body in his lap so you grind down on him. A whine falls from your lips at the feeling, and you almost immediately seek out that pleasure with the eager roll of your hips into him.

“Not too fast, not too fast,” he hisses, lightly patting your hip.

You nod into his shoulder, feeling his hands roaming. His arm wraps around your waist, his other arm comes up to hook over your shoulder. He keeps thrusting, moving so slowly and filling you so deep. Following his commands, you roll your hips slowly into him, meeting each of his own movements in a building rhythm.

There's an ebb and flow in the way that you move together. Tiny whimpers fall from your lips, and his heavy breaths join them.

Somewhere along the way, it's not enough. Your insistent hips grind into him in search of more. He feels it in the way you breathe, the way you move, the way you hold him just a little tighter.

“Eddie,” you huff. “C’mon, I need more. Please.”

The way you say it is a little more whiny, a little needier than you intended. It feeds his ego, and he can't help but to lose some of his reassuring kindness. He starts making fun of you because he likes making fun of you, and he thinks that you'll probably eat that shit up.

“More?” His grip on you tightens just a bit. His thrusts become a little jerky, searching the same intensity you are. “You need more, mama?”

“Eddie,” you groan.

He pulls your face from his shoulder in order to look at you better. “You sound so whiny, baby. Like a little bitch.”

You roll your eyes because he's Eddie, and he calls you a little bitch anyway. Grinding in his lap, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug. A strangled grunt comes out, and you smirk devilishly. “So do you.”

“Har, har,” he says.

“If this is all you can do, just tell me. It's okay if you're a one-pump-chump.”

You like vexing him. He likes when you vex him. But he also likes proving you wrong because he may be doing you a favor, but he can't let you go about thinking he can't fuck.

“Fuck you,” he scoffs. Then he's pushing you onto your back and wrapping your legs back around his waist, slipping out in the process. He towers over you like some wolf, bushy hair accommodating as his necklace swoops down to brush your skin.

“If you want me to stop, tell me to stop,” he says. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He guides himself back into you, embedding himself within you until you're full. One of his hands grips your hip while the other takes a hold of the headboard. It's this metal thing that squeaks whenever you move. So when he's thrusting into you with a vigor that has grown in the past couple of moments, it's accompanied by the constant whine of the metal. It's sort of funny.

His hips roll into you, waves of pleasure coming with each one. His hand cradles your neck, and you lean into him as he latches onto the sensitive skin of your throat, teeth scraping and tongue licking up the taste of your skin.

One of your legs comes up to wrap around his waist, and you moan as you pull him in deeper. His pace builds into this steady, needy kind of rhythm. The harder he thrusts, the more you clench, and the harder it is for him to stifle his grunts.

But you like the sounds he makes. Sometimes they're these deep groans that rumble in his chest like thunder. Sometimes they're these weak moans that you're pretty sure is him trying not to whimper. And you like the moans so much that you card your fingers through his hair and tug on a chunk of it as his head pulls back. His muscles flex, and his lips part. You watch his eyes flutter, this shocked whimper comes out of him.

“You did that on purpose,” his word and your moan mix together with the thrust of his hips.

“Ah…haha,” you gasp, nodding a little. “Yes, I—Oh, yes, I did.”

“What, are you a top or something?” he wonders, raising a brow.

You shrug, your mind a little blurry with the feeling of his cock shoved inside of you. “Dunno.”

He's interested enough to find out.

Once again, you're being moved around. You whimper when he pulls out of you just to sit you up again. Eddie moves to the head of the bed and pulls you back into his lap. “Let's find out.”

You take him in your hand, lining him up with your waiting lips. As you slowly sink back down onto him, your eyes flutter shut as you feel the way he fills you. And it only gets better from there as you slowly take him farther inside until he’s buried so deep that you can feel him pressing somewhere inside of you that you can’t quite pinpoint.

You’re fully seated on him now, eyes squeezed shut as you adjust to the feeling. Your hands come to rest on his chest, the fingers of your right hand brushing over the demon head on his pec. When you roll your hips and feel the way it presses inside of you, you’re immediately done for.

Your rhythm isn’t steady for a while. You move purely out of an urge to quell this need in the pit of your stomach. As you fuck yourself on his cock, Eddie’s hands hold your waist tightly just to have something to hold onto. You move quickly and without remorse, your head thrown back in pleasure as your hips lift up just to smack down on his lap once again.

For a while, you just grind on him, focusing on that deep spot that shoots electricity through your thighs. This pitiful sound flutters out of you, like a shudder running down your spine as your hands move to cup the back of his neck in your palms. His name falls from your lips with a plea, it’s a weak sound that would bring him to his knees if he wasn’t already on his back.

“Fuck, mama,” he huffs. “Keep going, just like that.”

His hands caress your skin, roaming your body underneath his shirt still draped over you. He hikes it up farther and farther until he feels your warm breasts. “Can I take this off?” he asks. You just nod, muttering an “mhm” as you keep bouncing with closed eyes. He pulls the shirt over your head, revealing your bouncing breasts to him as he takes a hold of them with greedy hands. He palms them, kneading them like he would dough. You just keep moaning as he builds you up.

You don’t mean to, but in an attempt to respond, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a repetitive “yes, yes, yes” that echoes in the room alongside his own loud, open-mouthed breaths. “Shit, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.”

That makes you whimper, moving almost ruthlessly just to satisfy the rising need in your belly. “Fuck, I need cum, baby,” you whisper, repeating that again and again with each little roll. Eddie wastes no time in bringing his large hand to rest at the juncture of your thigh and your hip, his thumb swirling insistent circles into your clit. You gasp at the feeling, which is way more electric than you thought it’d be.

It becomes a little difficult to think. Visions of Eddie and his hands and your bodies, and the sounds of your slick and skin, and the smell of sex and body wash and cigarettes cloud your mind. You’re on the verge of tipping over the edge, you can feel your fingertips tingling with the wild sensations of your pleasure, so, so close to you now–

Eddie pulls you up from his lap, unsheathing your cunt from him. Your moans and your breaths are interrupted, and this weak cry tumbles from your tongue. He grunts, laying his head back and making this “hmph” sound.

You blindly reach for his cock, trying to guide him back inside of you before he’s lightly smacking your hand away. “Wait, mama, wait.”

“Eddie,” you whine, thoroughly unhappy with the way the growing waves in your belly had begun to retreat. “Please.” You could honestly cry. It had felt so good—you had felt so good, and he’d taken it all away in a matter of a second.

“What the fuck, dumbass?” you huff, looking at him with eyes unfocused with frustration and face flushed with lust.

“You’re so mean,” he says, almost as put off by the failed release as you.

“I was so close.”

“I know.” He sits up a little more, moving you off his lap. Your arousal is coating both of you, your thighs are sticky with it, his lap and his cock is glistening in the dim golden light. “That’s called edging.”

“I know what the fuck edging is. Why are we doing it?”

He laughs at your frustration, and you want to hit him. “Relax, we’re not done yet.”

“Well, hurry up,” you whine, already trying to throw your leg back over his legs. He just swats you away again.

“Turn around.” You would argue, but you’re too horny. So, instead, you turn around so your back is facing him. His hand spreads out along your back, and you nearly squeal when he pushes you down so your face is pushing into his covers. He pulls you up so your ass is in the air, grabbing one of your cheeks and squeezing.

“You still good?” He’s checking up, trying to be nice even though he was just the cruelest he could’ve been.

“Yes, please.” He likes you like this, honestly. It’s fun to see you so needy. It’s just something he can hold over your head.

He lightly smacks your ass, not enough to hurt but enough for your hips to jerk at the unexpected sensation. Immediately, he smoothes the skin with the palm of his hand and hums. He nudges your legs apart, spreading you open for him just enough as he pumps his cock in his hand.

“Just testing out some positions,” he says simply before he’s guiding himself back inside of you. It’s a welcome feeling, one you’re beginning to become accustomed to. Once he’s fully inside, he bottoms out with a heavy sigh. “It’s good to see which ones you like.”

“I like when I’m being fu–”

You’re cut off when his hips thrust into you, an almost cruel snap that makes this filthy smacking sound. You moan, literally feeling yourself melting into the bed as one of his hands comes to fist the sheets by your head. The other holds your waist tight, keeping you steady as he begins to fuck into you.

You really like this position. Being on top of him was so, so nice, but being underneath him is a feeling that makes your brain numb. You wrap your hand around his wrist as your other curls in the bedsheets, mewling feebly with every snap of his hips.

It’s dizzying, having him take you like this. There’s a light sheen of sweat coating your skin, encouraged by the warm air straying in through the slightly opened window. His breath is heavy, and you can hear him grunting every time his hips meet your ass. “Do you like this one?” he huffs, moving his hand to wrap lightly around your neck. He pulls you up from the covers so you can speak, your bodies bumping back and forth in the dance you’ve created.

You’re being kept steady only by your hand on the bed, gripping the sheets tightly. “Yes, Eddie,” you moan. You like saying his name, especially when you feel so good. It’s like a wave through your skin. It falls off your tongue with ease. “That feels good.”

He’s happy you’re happy. He keeps it up, losing his breath the longer he goes as your loud ones mix together in the heavy air of his bedroom.

You’re so glad Wayne isn’t home because there’s no way you would’ve been able to keep quiet. You respect that man too much to put him through this. The loud squealing of the bed certainly doesn’t help.

You turn your head to his arm, pressing your nose to his wrist to smell him. He smells like he always does, cigarettes and cheap cologne, like leather and maybe a bit of metal. But under that, you can still smell it. Green apple.

You kiss his wrist, and something snaps in him. For the hundredth time, Eddie pulls out of you and moves you back onto your back. Once again, you’re looking up at him as he locks you in. There’s a wild look in his eyes that makes you breathless, and when he’s pushing into you again, you moan.

“Right there,” you mutter incoherently when he fucks into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer as you keep your legs spread wide. “Yes, fuck, right there.”

Eddie focuses on that spot, punching the head of his cock into it over and over again and watching the way your eyes roll, your head falling back into the sheets and your hands tightening around his arms. He loves the way your lips part, your soft lips split open by the feeling of him. He bends down and kisses the exposed expanse of your throat, sucking on the skin and nibbling hickeys into your skin.

When he pulls away from your neck with a light smack, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down so your bodies are pressed flat together, skin to skin. He ruts into you, pressing his forehead against yours as you both breathe the other’s air. It’s all heat and lust and something else, something hot and heavy.

“I needa cum, Eddie,” you mumble, “For real this time.” You manage to get it out with a minimal amount of stuttering. You’re surprised you were even able to put the sass in it that you managed. He’s made such a mess of you.

His thumb finds your clit once more, and he’s circling the bud with a fervent kind of eagerness. “Keep breathing for me, mama. Breathe in deep.” You do as he says, so much so that you get a little dizzy as the air comes and goes. You buck your hips up into his thumb, your whimper getting higher and higher with each swirl.

You feel a knot curling in your belly, followed by a startling heat. “Eddie,” it comes out almost as a question. You’re addicted to the way his name feels in your mouth. You repeat it over and over, squirming and breathing and tightening your hold on him. He keeps fucking into you, focusing on that spot that makes you see stars as he just thrusts faster until his hips are moving in short, hard spurts.

When the dam breaks, it's with a slack-jawed gasp and a tight embrace. Your whole body tenses, like a coil tightening. It gets hot and hotter and hottest until a band snaps and you're trembling. You moan his name like a cry for help, holding his face between your hands and marveling at the softness of his skin. A brilliant shudder makes its way through your body, the quivering of your limbs making it impossible not to whimper and whine at each little shake.

Eddie helps you through all of it, keeping his in and out pace until it becomes unsteady with the fluttering of your pussy around his cock. Your mouth latch onto one another, more heat and lust and longing to fill the space between you as you recover with a dizzying head and buzzing veins. Loud and sloppy smacks accompany the ones coming from your hips, still meeting with the last sparks of your orgasm and the drive for his own.

His steady thrusts are unsteady now, just tiny little pumps of his cock inside of you as his breaths build into gasps just as small. You’re already coming down from your high, and your whines are sounding a little different now as you tilt your head to the side and hold onto his arm, the punch of his cock bordering on an overstimulated feeling after trying to recover from the large crash of your orgasm.

“Eddie,” you whimper, one hand still splayed across his cheek.

He pulls out of you suddenly, peeling his hand off of you to grab his cock. He tugs harshly at it, bucking his hips into his hand until he’s spilling out over your belly in warm spurts, these shuddered moans coming with it. “Oh, fuck, mama,” he whimpers in that sticky tone, burying his face in the crook of your neck as the last ropes of cum coat your skin.

There are a few moments where there’s complete silence—save for the sound of a car here and there, or a dog barking in the distance, or some people laughing even farther away, or your heavy breaths huffing between you two. Your fingertips caress the skin of his cheeks, drawing patterns into his face as he simply enjoys it with closed eyes and settling breaths.

When Eddie sits up, he takes your hand to pull you up with him. You both sit on his bed, looking down at your bodies now sticky with his cum, though his isn’t the only fluid sticking to your skin. Your thighs make a wet sound whenever you move.

You run a hand down your face, sighing heavily. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, popping your toes. Eddie watches you stretch your arms over your head, enjoying the way your tits look when you do.

“So I did good?”

You look back at him to see the way he watches you, his brows bouncing with a sly grin on his face. You roll your eyes, not looking at him as you chuckle. “Yes, Eddie, you did good.”

He smiles wide.

Eddie stands from the bed, and you watch the way he sort of limps from his room. You can’t help your grin at the sight. At least that means you did good, too.

Eddie returns with a wet cloth in his hands, which he uses to clean you up first, wiping away all of your slick and his cum and even some of the saliva from your neck left behind by his sloppy kisses. He takes care in the way he does it, paying such close attention to you to ensure you’re just as clean and comfortable as he wants you to be.

When he’s done with you, he wraps his hand gently around your throat and pulls you in for another kiss. You lean into it. His kiss is like air in your lungs, and you sigh gently. Then he disappears again and comes back clean (and still deliciously naked—you enjoy the sight of his chain link tattoo curling around his upper thigh). He rustles through his drawers, pulling out another shirt, this one clean and not somewhere on the floor.

“You’re staying over, right?” he asks, as casual as ever as if he hadn’t just cum all over your stomach.

And, just as casually, you nod and turn onto your stomach to stretch again. “Mhm.” He tosses the shirt at you. It lands on your head, and you don’t move to put it on just yet. He picks up his sweatpants from the floor and puts them back on.

Eddie nudges you to the side so he can pull the covers back, and that’s when you sit up to put on his shirt. You stand, padding across his tiny room to turn off the lamp on his dresser, shrouding the room in relative darkness. When you climb back into the bed, you latch yourself onto his back and hold him to your chest. He’s really warm, and it feels nice to be this close.

Sometimes you wonder if you and Eddie are supposed to date. There’s nothing casual about your friendship, and there never really has been (especially not now). But you think that having Eddie as your best friend, perhaps just under unconventional circumstances, is the best thing there is. If you ever decide to get together, that’ll be a moment for a time in the (relative) distance.

For now, you just rest your ear against his back and listen to his heartbeat. “Eddie,” you mumble, bringing your leg up to rest over his body like he isn’t bigger than you.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

There’s a huff that you think is him chuckling. He pulls a hand up and pats yours a couple light times. “Anytime, mama.” There’s some silence. “I love you.”

You smile. You love your best friend Eddie.

“I love you, too. G’night.” He hums back at you.

Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @queermaxwooo @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash @jjmaybankswifes-blog @thegr8estpuff @lover-of-books-and-tea @xxhanililoxx @quickslvxrr Eddie the Banished taglist: @eddiiiieeee @hb8301 @queermaxwooo @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420 @mewchiili @mischieftom Tag yourself here...

[jamminvroomvroom]

no more mister shy guy.

OP x fem!reader

in which you can’t work out why he just won’t sleep with you

i am neither normal, nor am i hinged! i hope you guys get the vision, i literally wrote this last night possessed by some feral urge bc i just love oscar sm and i’ve been needing to write for him sooo baaad. enjoy! pls lemme know what you think <3

songs to set the vibes: delicate by taylor swift, good looking by suki waterhouse, my kind of woman by max demarco, feeling myself by wolf alice

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp but also there is some plot? overstimulation, crying in a hot way, choking, unprotected sex (L bozo don’t do that!) the most minor moment of angst, fluff

2.8k words

you watch him make coffee, daydreaming, balancing your heavy head on your hand. you study him while your free hand taps against the kitchen counter, nails drumming a random beat. sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, framing him golden. you don’t think he knows how pretty he is.

oscar is oblivious to the way your mind is ticking behind him, twisting the cap on the carton of oat-milk. you hear the plastic fall onto the counter and your tongue wets your lower lip as he reaches up into the cupboard, his back flexing beneath his shirt as he finds your favourite mug. you realise then how swollen your lip is, snapped out of the trance he had you in, the one that had you biting your lip so hard, completely mindlessly.

he’s bulked up over the winter break, filled out a lot over the course of his rookie season. he’s no longer the scrawny, anxious guy you’d met at your fathers work event a year ago, he’s broader, thicker in your hands, utterly delicious. as much as you like the way he looks, you like his mind a whole lot more. if only you knew what was going on inside it.

oscar is an enigma, quiet, hilariously dry, the kindest man you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. you’ve been together since the start of the winter break, november, after awkward run ins and plenty of pining since the start of his first season. you’d travel to races with your dad, a mclaren sponsor, and run into the australian, stare at each other and pretend no one noticed. after months of teasing from lando, oscar finally got the kick up the arse that he needed and you’d said yes to dinner before he’d even finished asking the question.

it’s february now, a week til he needs to be in bahrain. the last three months had been serene, spent with a man made of sunshine, and you’re sad to see him go, as if you won’t be in the emirates a mere four days after him. you fear the way you’ll ache for him, having been inseparable since the dinner that started it all.

but then again, it can’t be worse than the way you ache for him now.

“sweetheart?” oscar is waving his hand in front of your face when you realise he’s been calling your name for a good 15 seconds, and you have, in fact, been staring. hm? you jump, staring at him bewildered. he looks amused. “you okay?” he coos, sliding the coffee across the island towards you.

“yeah, sorry, i, um, i just- why won’t you have sex with me?” you blurt, slapping your hand over your mouth as soon as you realise what you’ve just said.

oscar just blinks, mouth forming a little o, the permanent blush he seems to have increasing tenfold. you instantly feel guilty for ambushing him, but you were at the end of your tether. three months of nothing, nada, zilch. every move you made was refuted, ignored as if he was oblivious. you were ravenous for him, he’s so gorgeous! and you didn’t want to pressure him, but you were starting to feel like there was something wrong with you.

you’d wake up in bed with him wrapped around you, grinding against your ass in his sleep, and you’d revel in it, the rare times that he actually seemed to want you like that. you loved him regardless, of course you did, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need to be… dealt with. urgently.

“i- um- what?” oscar splutters, and the bottom of his mug blinks against the granite.

“is there something wrong with me? am i not pretty enough?” you whisper, shy. “do you just not… like- do you not want to do that?” you ramble.

panic fills his face, and he’s rushing around the island, by your side in an instant. he takes your hands into his, finding your eyes. they’ve grown watery, a mixture of guilt and desperation swirling in them which makes him feel ill.

“baby, no, god no.” he rushes the words out, desperate to convince you that it wasn’t you. “you’re the most beautiful person in the entire world, prettiest girl i ever saw.” he promises. “i’m just… it’s scary.”

“oh, osc.” your face falls, and you want to throw yourself off of the balcony. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pressure you. if it makes you feel better, i’m scared too. but i love you so much, i just want to feel even closer to you.”

“you didn’t make me feel pressured, i’m just sorry i made you feel unwanted. trust me, i want you like that. drives me insane. but i’ve never had sex before with someone that i love. not the way i love you, anyway. scared that i won’t be good enough for you.” he murmurs.

you’re hung up on the part where you drive him crazy, the part where he loves you like that, and then you remember how vulnerable he’s being, baring his entire soul to you, and you rip yourself from the fantasy.

your hands smooth over his shoulders, until you’re softly fisting a clump of hair at the nape of his neck.

“i love you. insanely. we’ll go slow.” you state. he moulds further against you, and you quickly realise it’s for leverage, because the next thing you know, you’re in his arms. he has his hands hooked under your thighs and he’s kissing you so, so deeply that you’re dizzy. you don’t realise that you’re halfway to his bedroom until he pulls away.

“i don’t wanna go slow anymore.”

oscar places you on your feet at the end of his bed, the large, plush king-sized mattress that is currently calling both of your names. your blouse gets unbuttoned first, his hands shaking in a way that makes you melt, and his lips trail over every inch of bare skin that he uncovers. when it finally falls to the floor, his pupils are blown wide, his hands palming intricate black lace. your jeans are stripped away mercilessly, his hands shaking less now, and you take it as a sign to crawl backwards onto the bed.

he stands there, watching you, apprehensive again. you can see how hard he is, how desperately strained his cock is through the light grey of his sweatpants, and so you switch tactics. your hand grazes your tummy, skimming up your abdomen until you reach a bra strap. you toy with the elastic, holding the kind of eye contact that makes him twitch, tugging it until it hangs loosely off of your shoulder.

“i need you, osc. i trust you.” you utter, soft and enticing. one finger runs under the cup of your bra, flicking over your nipple. he can just about see the hardened bud through the lace of your bra. it’s not enough, though, and every ounce of self control depletes when you whine, “want you inside of me so badly.”

the elastic band snaps and he’s on top of you, rutting between your legs like a man starved. you drag his shirt up and over his shoulder blades, moaning as you feel each and every muscle under your fingertips.

“just wanna make you feel good.” oscar rasps, rolling his hips even harder into your core.

“take these off.” you beg, pulling at the waistband of his joggers. he somehow musters the strength to pry himself off of you, just long enough to discard the uncomfortable material of his sweats, but as soon as he looks down, his plans change.

painted over the crotch of them is a shiny pool of your slick, and when his eyes flit hungrily to your core, he sees where you’ve soaked through your panties. you’re panting when you see the stain, and you just want to get him inside of you, but his priorities have changed. oscar collapses between your legs, head buried, tongue exploring.

he groans, carnal and needy, into the fabric of your underwear, laving his tongue over the lace. your eyes widen as he dives in, licking over the wet patch until he grows frustrated. you hear the tearing of the fabric, feel his big hands pawing at your thighs to spread them as wide as they’ll go. his tongue slides right inside of you and he whines. he fucking whines. the vibration nearly makes you scream. you can’t believe this is your oscar, the same oscar that had quivered with nerves a mere five minutes ago.

“oh my god.” you chant, rolling your hips against his face. you must be all over him by now, what with the way he’s sucking and slurping, obscene sounds of wetness sounding around the room. you’d be blushing a deep red if you weren’t so turned on, shaking against his bedspread which will probably need changing once he’s done with you.

you thought that maybe he was inexperienced and that was the source of his fear, but if he was, you never would have known. he was a natural in between your legs, nipping at your clit to get you even louder for him.

you cum faster than ever, and he’s mumbling something incoherent into your pussy when you do. you’re riding the high, midway through the bliss, when a thick finger slips its way inside of you. oscar realises that he can easily slide another in, and he does. he doesn’t thrust them in and out, he grinds them against your walls, and your mouth falls open as a silent scream forces it’s way out.

you cum a second time, in record time yet again, and he still doesn’t let up. he’s hitting that spot relentlessly with his fingers, keeping your clit between his swollen lips, and you’re begging him. for what, you’re not sure, but you’re whimpering his name like you’re going to die. and what a good way to go this would be.

his eyes meet yours, and he looks unhinged. that’s when you feel it. that all consuming, belly twisting rush.

“oscar!” you try to warn him, but it’s too late, and he knows it. he makes you squirt, because of course he does. the shy guy who was scared that he wouldn’t be able to please you makes you squirt.

he pulls his mouth off of you but keeps his fingers buried deep, eyes fixed on watching the way your pussy convulses.

“holy shit.” you cry. you’re staring down at him like you’ve gone insane. he’s smiling innocently.

“was that good?” he almost sounds shy and you want to kick him.

“are you… are you serious?” you rasp. oscar just shrugs. “get up here.” you reach for him and complies, slotting himself between your legs once more.

oscar resumes the rolls of his hips, and the friction of the grey fabric against your core makes your eyes roll back.

“please, oscar, fuck me.” you whine, his head falling into the crook of your neck. he bites down, leaving behind the sting of his teeth and a faint purple splotch.

“fucking love you.” he slurs, his accent thickening in a way that makes him sound that extra bit fucked out already.

“i love you.” you murmur, forcing his sweats down his legs. his boxers are wet, just like your panties were, and you can’t help but stare. oh, it’s big.

his boxers are peeled down and you can feel yourself throbbing. his cock hangs heavy, red and dripping, painfully hard. you reach for it, looking at him to make sure it’s okay to touch, and he’s rapidly nodding his head. your small hand struggles but you make it work, and his head tips back, exposing his thick neck that you want to suck purple. your hand works over him a few times, and a visible shiver running through his body makes you stop.

“you ready for me?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“please.” you gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “however you want me, ‘m yours.” you breathe.

oscar’s eyes roll back in his head, your words sending his brain blank, and then he’s pushing home, slow and deep.

“fucking hell.” he groans, guttural. you’re so tight, warm, soaking wet. he feels like the biggest idiot in the world for waiting so long for this.

“oh.” you gasp, your eyebrows knitting together. he’s so deep. “so full.” you pant.

“can you take it, sweetheart?” oscar’s lips bump your jaw. “want you to take it.” you nod profusely, desperate to hear him run his mouth even further. your eyes clench shut when you feel him move, just the tiniest bit, readjusting.

“move.” you plead. he’s staring down at you, watching every single micro movement of your face.

oscar pulls out the smallest bit and thrusts back in, nice and slow. the drag drives you feral, the weight of him on top of you makes you weak. you want to stay like this until the end of days.

“good?” he hisses, trying to keep composed. he’s finally inside of you, claiming you as his in the most intimate way of all. he tries not to think about how many times he could have had you begging under him in the last three months.

“so good, so good.” you repeat, pushing your hips up to try and meet his.

“so pretty like this for me. always so, so pretty.” he rambles. he realises that he never quite made it as far as getting your bra off, and he needs to see all of you. the cups are tugged haphazardly down, and oscar stares at your breasts like he’s never seen tits before. you hear him hum, low and greedy, and then you feel the wet drag of his tongue across your nipple.

the animalistic whine that he rips from you makes him thrust harder, upping his pace a bit. he can hear how much wetter you get when he picks up his pace, and he changes up his rhythm, pushing all the way in and dragging out again at lightning speed. your jaw goes slack and your eyes are damp.

“baby, what’s wrong?” oscar slows to a stop, and you want to scream.

“no, no, no, keep going.” you choke out, your throat constricting with a sob. “it’s so good. feel so good.” you sound drunk, all for him, and he loses his mind completely.

he taps into that athletic stamina, fucking into you with a newfound vigour that you didn’t think was humanly possible, and you feel things that you didn’t even know you could feasibly feel. you see stars behind your eyes, his face, and nothing else but bright white. calloused fingers find your clit, and you wonder fleetingly if he’s trying to kill you when he rubs messy shapes into the much too overstimulated bud. his teeth graze your nipple, and everything seems to come together perfectly.

thick tears run hot down your cheeks, only to be licked away by eager tongue. your belly tightens, aflame for him; he’s wound your body up perfectly and you’ve never in your life teetered so dangerously over the edge.

“can feel you, baby. want you to cum, okay? ‘n then i’m gonna fill you up.” oscar grunts. you clamp down on him even tighter, thanking god for oscar’s filthy fucking mouth and birth control, and then everything snaps.

you think you scream, you know that you’re sobbing, and your throat is raw when the wave hits. oscar keeps going, intensifying your pleasure, and when he finally let’s go, it’s the most beautiful fucking thing you’ve ever seen. it’s surreal, the way his neck flexes, eyes clenched tight, brown locks flopping over his sweat damped forehead. and the sounds he makes, god. he’s muttering into your ear, lewd and shameless, and a fifth orgasm nearly takes you under.

“gonna need you everyday like this, tight fucking pussy, all mine. can’t live without this now. fucking perfect.” he’s rambling, burrowing deep into you one last time. you feel his warmth spilling into you, feel his hot breath fanning your face. he licks into your awaiting mouth.

“fuck.” you giggle, breathless.

“good?” he raises an eyebrow, grinning bashfully.

“more than worth the wait.” you whisper, mustering the strength to lift your head just enough so that you can peck his lips. “you better not hold out on me ever again though.” oscar laughs at that and you feel the rumble in your flushed chest.

“you promise?” there’s the shy guy again.

“osc, honey, that was the best. ever. ever. need you to be mr sex god more often.”

“only if you behave for me.” he smirks down at you.

“there he is.” you sigh happily.

when he snakes his way back between your legs, lapping up the mess he’s made, and then some, you wonder just what you’ve unleashed.

-

whoops? lol

-

taglist

@thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789

(run outta space on my taglist lol, lemme know if u wanna be added or removed)

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! Townspeople Harem x Lucky Reader

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: I have no clue what I was on when I wrote this 💀. This is also inspired by a Reddit post I saw long time ago.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who are absolutely enamored by you and everything that you do. They treat you as if you are some kind of entity waiting to be put on a golden pedestal and paraded around town. You are essentially the town’s golden boy/girl/person, a mascot if you can even call it that. In their eyes everything that you do is inspiring and encouraged. It also doesn’t help that you were born with this amazing power that causes you to become extremely lucky. No matter the deed, every action was thrust into the spotlight as if it were a gracious gesture for the community's well-being. Take, for instance, if you ever fatally shot someone the townsfolk would erupt in applause, discovering the individual to be a notorious mass murderer and your action saved the town.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who can’t help but gush over every miniscule achievement that you got. You got a perfect attendance award? They wouldn’t expect anything less from you. Did you just get a participation trophy? Well they're cheering for you as if you just won the world cup. To say their actions are embarrassing is definitely an understatement. Everytime they cheer for you, you can’t help but die a little bit on the inside.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who absolutely cannot fathom the idea of you moving out of their town. They would much rather skin themselves alive and commit arson than to allow you to leave them. Everywhere you go, there will always be some form of eyes on you. There will always be some type of survance of you at any time of the day. Depending on the person, the townspeople's love for you can either be platonic or romantic. Basically half of the town wants to fuck your and the other half sees you as their beloved child or grandchild.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who may or may not be human. Like sure they might have the occasional human sacrifices but what town doesn’t!?!? This is totally normal behavior that people exhibit. What’s that? Did you just see a tentacle coming out from that woman over there? Nahhh. You must be imagining that! What a cute and overactive imagination you have there. In all seriousness, it would literally die for you. You're just a cutie patootie to them. Your small teeth are so cute compared to their razor sharp fangs. You know, you could really use that small mouth of yours and suck on their–

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople have a monthly ritual where they gather around to brag about all of the items that they stole from you. Never in your life will you see someone so happy to own a pair of used underwear that didn’t belong to them or some used pair of socks. If you looked up a textbook definition of “down bad” then a picture of the Yandere! Townspeople would be the first images to pop up. In your presence these people act as if they had never touched grass or seen the sun before. They all seem to have some type of mutual agreement that in your presence, they would try to act somewhat normal in order to not scare/scar you too much.

—

From a young age, your luck was apparent. In school, while others struggled with exams, you breezed through them effortlessly, always managing to stumble upon the exact answers needed to excel. Teachers marveled at your natural knack for stumbling upon solutions, even in the most challenging of situations. As you grew older, the extraordinary luck only seemed to amplify. Job interviews turned into job offers within minutes, as if the universe conspired to ensure your success in every endeavor. Colleagues joked that working with you was like having a lucky charm around, as projects that seemed doomed to fail miraculously turned into resounding triumphs whenever you were involved. It might seem great and all BUT DAMN WAS THIS LIFE SO FUCKING BORING!!!! Which is why you decided to spice up your day a little and rob a bank.

“Oh hello [Reader]! Is this going to be the usual procedure?” The bank teller asks you with a smile on their face as you hold a gun to their face. “You know… the weather is perfectly nice today. It would be a perfect day for a date don’t you think–”

Suddenly a thunderous crash was heard, the police burst through the bank doors, their badges glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. Guns drawn and voices booming commands, they swept into the lobby, faces masked with determination. Until the police chief sees you and lets out a tired sigh, “Guns down everyone, it’s just [Reader].” A faint sound of disappointed groans can be heard from the crowd of bank patrons from the back. “Why are the police here so soon, I didn’t get enough time to admire their pretty face.” another voice could be heard, “For real, their never this fast in an actual emergency. I mean they only just shot and killed one person, it's really nothing to worry about like who cares–”

—

“You are free to go [Reader], again.” the police officer states as she releases you from your handcuffs. “Turns out the man that you shot ended up being a drug dealer. You really have a special talent for catching criminals don’t you. She states as she gazes at you with loving eyes. “You know I’m free after this shift, you think we can–”

Before she can finish her sentence you walk away with a dejected look on your face. You couldn’t believe how boring a day this turned out to be. Seriously, you wished that something exciting would happen in this town for once you think to yourself. Failing to notice a scene behind you. One that consisted of a bunch of monsters eating the souls of the innocent while on their knees for a statue that seemed to look like you. They all seem to be gripping onto something though– HEY, WAIT A MINUTE ARE THEY HOLDING YOUR UNDERWEAR!?!!?

[shitpostingsapphic]

Why I don't feel disappointed by Vi's arc, but you might

I usually have pretty strong and polarizing opinions when it comes to my takes on Arcane, but this is one where I wanna open up the discussion a bit more and invite people to my perspective, and it's fine if you don't see it this way.

I think there are two primary reasons why people feel disappointed by the arc of s2 Vi. The first, being that Vi had stronger voiced concerns about the state of Zaun in the first season. The second, being that she spent the whole show wanting to be with her sister and she didn't end up getting that.

Why I actually feel fulfilled in Vi's arc has to do with these two points, and I invite you to sit with what I have to say next.

Both of these parts of Vi have to do with her fatal flaw: her neglect of self.

We know two things based on what the creators have said about the show: the theme of Arcane is the cycle of violence, and the entire show was written together, instead of season 2 being written after season 1 production. From this, I can then ask: what do the creators want to tell their audience about this message, knowing they wrote it all out together, knowing the events of season 2 were very purposeful, using Vi as a conduit for that message?

If violence is a cycle, can one person defy it? No, of course not. At the start of Vi's arc, she wants to be a person that breaks it, though. She wants to change things in Zaun, wants a better life for her sister. As season 1 continues on, she wants to pick up where she left off with Powder without truly processing the gravity of the years between them. She thinks she can hold the world on her shoulders and fix any problem that comes her way. She thinks she can use her fists to make progress, thinks she can physically reach out and create change, but it only contributes to the cycle. And that's not because she's morally in the wrong when she does so, but she doesn't grasp yet that her fists can't fix everything. Vander tries to tell her as such in act 1, and it's a lesson that goes beyond just the literal application.

Vi's tendency to try and fix everything around her leads to her neglect of self. Inevitably, when you try to change things you have no control over, it leaves wounds. It leaves a person feeling like something is deeply wrong with them. And we watch Vi go down this spiral. I actually find myself really brokenhearted watching Vi in the first 2 acts, because I think she represents a lot of us: we see pain and devastation around us, but we don't know what the right thing to do is. We try different tactics and try to fix things and are left wondering why things feel worse than how they started.

I think that's something a lot of viewers could benefit to reflect on: I think in watching a show with strong political messaging, we yearn for a message that tells us the answers to these big problems. Truthfully, most of us don't have a fucking clue what we're doing. We want change but don't know how to see it through. That includes the writers. This isn't a show about the solution to political strife. It's about the cycle of violence. It's about not knowing how to change something that's been continuous throughout history in some form.

If we put ourselves in Vi's shoes, it would eventually take a toll on us to try and change something that isn't within our ability to change. Vi can't fix the problems in Zaun. Vi can't change the way time and distance and pain has warped her sister into someone else. In season 2 act 1, she's still trying to take responsibility for things that are outside of her control. She blames herself for the way Jinx has changed and has to tell herself that the only way to fix it is to end the cycle with her own fists. She teams up with Caitlyn because she's convinced herself it's the only way she can help. She sees how violence has devastated not only Zaun but innocents in Piltover as well, and she feels responsible for it.

BUT SHE IS NOT AT FAULT. And she cannot fix it any more than she could have created it.

Perhaps people may feel Vi's arc is lacking because they wanted to see more of her involvement in the revolution of Zaun. They wanted to see her be able to change the situation with her sister and for them to live happily together. But because of the circumstances surrounding both, for Vi to do so, she would inevitably lean into her fatal flaw. She cannot do either of those things without neglecting herself. That's not who she is.

The whole point of a character arc is for someone to be a changed person from beginning to end. If Vi starts out as someone passionate about enacting change to the point of self-destruction, what would a resolution for a character like that look like?

Vi needs to choose herself. Vi needs to release herself of the responsibility of changing the world. She can't do it. There are ways to contribute to positive change that don't involve putting the world on your shoulders, and Vi has yet to put herself first in any situation. Vi choosing love is how she does it.

Amanda Overton, one of the main writers that contributed to Vi's character and the Caitlyn and Vi dynamic and relationship, said about Vi: "If she has no one left to protect, she would fall in love". If Vi finally lets go of this crutch of hers to protect, to fight, to take responsibility for things that aren't her burden to bear, she would fall in love. She would finally be able to choose something for herself.

This is why I find her arc fulfilling. I feel like it's not an arc we really see a lot. It's not every day we have a character that starts out like the classic anime slash marvel protagonist, and instead of being the person that saves the world, they accept they're not a superhero and it's okay to choose love and personal happiness.

If it applies, and you're reading this, I want you to ask yourself: are you perhaps disappointed with her arc because you expected her to be the superhero? And would you be okay with accepting that she isn't and doesn't need to be? That it would be better for her to choose herself?