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endless-ineffabilities · 5 months ago

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chemical override (5)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the support for this fic has been amazing, so trust me when I say that I take no pleasure in all the angst and heartache that follows (or do I?) I'm sorry, readers. I'm sorry, Ewan. We'll sort this out somehow - all my love, Freyja <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

A beginning. A first date. Whispers, sightings abound. Falling in love. A necessary lie. Hearts breaking. An end.

Ewan stands in a studio backlot in LA, bouquet of flowers clasped in one hand while the other is nervously stuffed in his tracksuit pocket.

He's itching for a smoke, but he stops himself from doing so, in some lovesick attempt to keep himself as clean and nice-smelling as possible when he sees you again. He already mentally kicked himself for not dressing better, clad in his staple Adidas blacks. But he couldn't wait any longer.

His flight from New York to LA hadn't been the most pleasant. His mind raced for hours, the thought of you being his only consolation. His meeting did not go well.

But enough of it. There is you, here, now.

In this moment, you are all that matters.

The first couple of workers make their way out the studio doors, chatting enthusiastically despite their tired faces. Ewan shuffles on his feet, keeping an eye out for you. Soon enough, your assistant Clara exits, and he waves in an attempt to get her attention.

"Ewan!" she greets brightly. "She'll be out in a while. Are those flowers?" A blush materialises on her face, and she looks so excited Ewan awkwardly thinks she would take them for herself.

"Yeah, do you think she'll like them?" he asks, giving the bouquet a once-over. The classic dozen long-stemmed red roses, kept together with black-dyed muslin wrap.

"She'll love them!" As if perfectly timed, the doors open again, and they spot you walking out with several of your co-stars. Clara smiles to herself as she walks away to give you two some space.

When your eyes land on him, it's like everything falls into place, the ear-splitting smile you give him enough to quell any worries he might have. You meet each other halfway, melding together in an embrace so tight he nearly drops the flowers to the ground.

"Look who it is," you say, still wrapped in his arms, "the internet's babygirl."

"Just your baby, darling." He pulls apart, but only just enough to look at you. "I missed you."

"Mmm, I can see that."

You're about to comment on the flowers, but he can't hold back any longer.

And so your first proper kiss happens behind an LA studio, adjacent to the parking lot and surrounded by prying eyes. The burnt orange haze of the sunset peers from the horizon, casting a glow on the scene. And it's perfect. His lips are gentle as they dance with yours, his warm breath fanning your face when he breaks apart for mere milliseconds, only to resume the kiss as if he can never get enough.

A moment later, there's a couple of woohoos from a distance, your costars oooing and aahing at the sight, making you giggle against Ewan's lips.

"Shall we, then, darling?" Ewan asks.

"Shall we?" Your brows raise, mirroring his question.

"Our first date." He takes a step back, but only to ceremoniously hold his hand out for you to take. "Will you do me the honour?"

"Why, good sir, are we going on a regular date or some super fancy ball?" you laugh, lacing your fingers with his anyway.

He only smiles, planting yet another kiss on the corner of your mouth. "God, I missed you."

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You can't help but cast glances at him every now and then. Ewan, effortlessly cool as he drives the both of you across LA, with one veiny hand gripping the steering wheel while the other envelops yours on your lap.

His thumb draws circles on the back of your hand, and you're thankful for it; you need the comfort because you're growing nervous. A first date.

A first date! And not just with anyone.

"What is it?" he smirks, his eyes finding yours as the car idles at an intersection. There's a smugness there. He caught you staring.

You avert your gaze, a pleasant wave of heat rising to your face.

"Hmm?" he leans across, pecking your cheek and resting his forehead against your hair, eager to get a rise out of you. "I mean, I've been told I'm handsome, darling. You already know, something of a babygirl. But it's even more special that you think so."

The light turns green. You grab his jaw, and lightly push him away, raising your eyebrows. "Careful, baby," you smile knowingly. "Your Aemond is showing."

"Oh, yeah?" The car revs up again, rows of palm trees speeding past in a blur. "Does that - uhh - turn you on?"

Your head snaps to him at his bold insinuation. He gives off an unaffected air, smirking to himself in an undeniably hot what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it way. But you make him nervous too. He swallows, and clears his throat, anticipating your response.

"Maybe," you bite your lip, squeezing his hand harder, "but you don't need to put on your Aemond to turn me on."

"Just me, then?" he chuckles lowly, feeling lighter.

"Yup," you shrug. "But if you ever wanna put on a blonde wig and an eyepatch, I won't stop you."

"For when, darling?" Oh he knows what you meant. It's been a constant on his mind too. He's lost count of the nights when thoughts of you consume him, and what happy news it is that you might have been going through the same.

"Mmm... " You look out the window innocently, but you guide his hand higher up on your thigh, allowing his fingers to splay open and squeeze at the flesh covered only by the material of your jeans.

A minute passes. Driving past a street of exclusively only mansions and expensive cars. Then downtown, low-rise buildings as far as the eye can see. Another minute, slow and steady.

Then he says, "You're going to fucking drive me insane, baby."

A soft sigh escapes your lips. "Well, you started it."

He sneers, accompanied by a humourless shake of his head. "I think you overestimate my self-control." The air is thick, but it's quickly diffused when he pulls into a clearing. You realise you're out of the main road, the car slowly coming to a halt in an empty lot beside a low brick building.

"We're here, darling," he says, but he gives you a look that clearly means this matter isn't over. You have something of his, and he's going to claim it.

He half-jogs over to your side, opening the door for you and taking your hand in his.

"Where are we?" The building is nondescript, with a plain white facade, a small cafe and a laundromat on street level, both of which happen to be closed.

"Had to call in a favour from an old mate of mine. His family moved here from Derby a couple of years ago, and they own that laundromat over there," he explains, leading you inside through a door in the side alley.

You're met with a narrow flight of stairs and he gestures for you to go ahead. "What have you got up your sleeve, Mitchell?" you ask, excitement taking root as you climb up to the very top.

It only takes three floors before you reach the heavy steel door of the roof deck. He shuffles to your side, one hand on your back to keep you steady, and pushes the door open which relents with a loud squeak.

You're met with something you have only seen before on Pinterest boards - the rooftop is softly aglow from hanging string lights. In the far side, a screen projector is set up, and in front of it is a low plush sofa cocooned amidst throw blankets and cushions. There's a wooden tray on one on the blankets, containing treats of all sorts and a bottle of wine glistening in its ice bucket.

You take in the magical ambience of the scene with widened eyes. The haze of faint LA sunlight only serves to make everything more beautiful, though it seems hardly necessary.

"Do you like it, darling?" he asks and what a ludicrous question it is. Do you like it?

He continues, "I admit I didn't have to lot of time to set it up, and I had a bit of help but - mmmpph - "

You lace your hands around his neck, silencing him with a searing kiss. He moans unto you, his tongue dipping past your lips as he nearly relinquishes control. He could forget about the set up, the date he had planned, and just take you here on the rooftop. Would you let him?

"I take it that everything is to your liking?" he purrs, watching you in adoration as your head swivels on its own accord to canvas the scene yet again.

You spot something in the corner - a bouquet of fresh flowers surrounded by some lightweight paper lanterns.

"Oh no!" you moan. "The flowers you gave me... I left them in the car!"

He laughs fondly at the sheer panic on your face. "Don't worry about them, my love. I've got more flowers for you here." He points to the bouquet you just saw.

"But those ones... won't they wilt or something? I don't want them to go to waste."

His heart swells at your genuine concern. The furrow between your brows, the way you chew on your lip in worry, your fingers absentmindedly clutching his wrist - it all makes him fall even harder.

"They'll be fine, darling."

"Are you sure?"

He nods once, pulling you in, "Mhmm, just... come here, please." Another kiss, gentler this time.

This is bliss, he thinks, sweet solace after his days in New York, days he aims on forgetting from now on.

You eventually find yourselves on the velvet seat, the tray of food nestled on your laps. He pours wine into the paper cups as you reach for a chocolate-covered strawberry and bring it to his lips.

"Thanks, love," he mumbles with his mouth full.

"Oh, baby, you've got chocolate on there," you motion to his bottom lip.

He sets the cups of wine on the tray, making a move to wipe it off, but just as his fingers hover, his mind takes on an alternative action.

"You do it, then," he leans close, tilting his jaw.

"Okay." With a smile, you begin to oblige him, but you halt when he playfully says, "Not with your hands, darling."

You feel your heart race at his teasing, and at the way he stares at you with blatant desire. Never mind the fact that you were just making out moments ago. The rush of being with him has not subsided. Maybe it never will.

You kiss him, paying mind to the smudge on his lip, licking your own lips afterward to savour the taste.

You pull back slightly. "All better," you say, patting his cheek lovingly.

"Hmm," he hums, "I suppose I'll just have to make a mess of myself more often."

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Nightfall had already descended when the credits to The Princess Bride start rolling, dotting the sky with twinkling stars.

Ewan has his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, before he declares, "If they ever do a remake to this film, I'll only take the role if you would be my Buttercup."

"As you wish," you smile, nuzzling closer against his black hoodie. "I remember watching this when I was a kid. Believe it or not, it was one of the films that inspired me to get into acting."

"Did you wanna be Buttercup, my Buttercup?"

"No," you respond. "I wanted to do what Inigo Montoya was doing. He's so insanely cool."

"Of course you did," he says affectionately, "my darling."

"What about you, hmm? Did you always want to be an actor?" you ask. You might have read an interview of his where he explains something to that effect, but he doesn't need to know that now.

"As far as I can remember, yes. It was always going to be acting for me. Even when everyone laughed it off when I brought it up in primary school." He shakes his head, the once bitter memory reduced to an anecdote. "I... I find purpose in what we do, being able to slip inside different skins, different lives. It allows me to explore the human psyche, you know, and to make sense of all this madness."

You listen intently, in awe at his words and his sheer sincerity. The world is made better with Ewan able to live his passions. And you feel fortunate that his life is one he may be willing to share with you, if everything goes well down the line.

"I almost forgot - you have to tell me about how your big meeting went."

He shifts slightly, eyes darting downward as he pouts on instinct. He realises he can no longer keep the subject under wraps.

You sense his reluctance, and immediately try to soften your approach. It could have gone either way, and though rejection is part of an actor's bread and butter - you certainly would know - there are some instances where you just let it get to you.

"Is this producer as scary as they say?" you ask lightly, poking his chest.

He smiles, but his expression is still clouded. "You know those mafia dons in Scorcese's movies? This guy practically inspired them, I'd say."

"Goodness."

"He did try to give off a welcoming air, but there was still something... sinister underneath."

"I suppose when anyone is afforded this much power..."

"Especially in this industry..."

"Mhmm." Face half-burrowed in the soft material of his hoodie, you tilt your head up at him. "So it was a bust, huh?"

He shrugs, "The role just wasn't for me. It's all for the best, I reckon."

You hold his hand tight, eager to soothe any worries he might have. "That's a shame. They would have been damn lucky to have you."

He smiles, flattered by your comment. "I am lucky to just be here with you, darling."

You smile in return, tilting your lips to his, coaxing him to lean in close and seal the kiss.

And he does.

And this is the most perfect first date there ever was or ever will be.

"Darling?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I've fallen in love with you."

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The next few weeks pass blissfully slowly, you and Ewan caught in the euphoria that only a fresh relationship can bring.

Rehearsals for your upcoming movie had ended, and you get a month off before filming begins in Atlanta. Ewan also stays in LA, keen on spending every waking minute with you. His team takes advantage of the situation, booking him for several interviews and a feature with Esquire. You were more than happy to accompany him - or rather, distract him - on these occasions.

Once, the team even jokes that you had to stay in the other room because Ewan keeps looking over at you behind the camera and forgetting what to say. Ewan, of course, quickly protests. "My girl stays with me," he confidently says.

It doesn't take long for news to spread. Rumours, at first. Allegations bred from blurry fan photos and supposed encounters with yourself and Ewan while out in LA.

They were holding hands!

They're not just friends, I swear. He was kissing her the whole time in the restaurant!

What about her and Jacob? I thought they'd been dating all this time?

House of the Dragon stars spotted on a date in Hollywood!

Headlines. Gossip fodder. Statements made by people who claim to have seen you.

Sure, you do meet some of the sweetest and friendliest fans during all this, who only gush at the sight of their favourite actors getting together.

There are others, especially online, who are less pleasant, accusing you of cheating on your supposed lover Jacob Elordi.

Jacob, already used to rolling with the punches, gives you a call so the two of you can laugh it off together.

"I'm happy for you, mate," he expresses, voice muffled from the other line. "You and Ewan... you guys just make sense. Do you remember that night when he stormed in all jealous like? Holy shit..."

As if on cue, Ewan shifts underneath the sheets from behind you, peppering your naked back with soft kisses. "Tell him I said hi," he whispers, his tone doing nothing to mask his possessiveness.

And so the days roll on, and it couldn't be more perfect.

That is, until the first cracks started to show. As they always do.

You're in a meeting with your publicist Mallory, at one of the many quaint hipster cafés in LA, discussing your upcoming filming schedule and the other things you have booked in between.

"You've got a busy few months ahead, but the film is of course top priority," she says. "It's slated to be the top rom-com of next year."

"That's great, Mal."

"I mean, I think you know that Ewan was meant to lead that romance-fantasy franchise? That's a big deal, and people are saying it'll be bigger than Twilight!" she gestures wildly with her hands. "But since he had a falling out with Bruce Haversham - and trust me, if he ever sets up a meeting with you, you do not want to go against him - what was I saying? Oh yeah, the release for that will be delayed so your film will get prime spot for a summer premiere."

You grow apprehensive at her words. Ewan never got into detail about that meeting, and you didn't really want to pry. But if that producer's reputation is indeed accurate, it doesn't bode well for Ewan's career that he might have done anything that displeased him.

With a sickening dread, you realise that Haversham might have something to do with Ewan failing to book the two films he went for in the past month. Despite the fact that the local casting director practically raved about his audition, and stated that he pretty much had both of the roles in the bag.

"Mal, you know Donna right? Ewan's publicist?" you ask, knowing that she and Donna are under the same agency. "Does she talk to you about Ewan at all? About what went down in New York?"

"A little, honey, yes," she admits. "But about that meeting, I thought you would know. He didn't tell you?"

"Not in too many words, no. Just that it didn't work out, and that the film wasn't meant for him."

"Oh, I see," she smiles, almost ruefully, like she feels sorry for you. That look compels you to ask, "What do you know, Mal? Tell me."

Her hand reaches and clutches yours atop the table. "From what I heard, he refused the role because of you."

"What?"

"It's rare with young actors like you guys, to be so devoted so early on."

Growing impatient, you say, "Mal, please, what are you saying?"

"Look, I don't know the details of it. But apparently Haversham wanted him to get into a PR stint with his love interest for the film, and to hide whatever real relationship he has going on with you. This ordeal was going to be more restrictive than the arrangement you have with Jacob, which is more or less over at this point."

"I didn't know that," you whisper hoarsely.

"Honey, don't worry about it," she consoles you, taking a sip of her coffee. "Like I said, I don't know much. I can get you in touch with Donna if you want to speak with her? I'm 100% positive it's not all bad. There's one thing we can be sure of, at least!"

You look at her expectantly, unable to formulate a guess.

"That boy loves you!"

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With only a few days left before filming, you had begun to make the final preparations before moving to Atlanta.

It's a late night, one laden with anxiety and nervous jitters, and the several shots of whiskey you had just taken do little to keep the walls from closing in.

Although, perhaps, it is better if they do. If they imprison you, even just for tonight, to keep you from whatever it is you plan to do.

It's for the best. I have to do this. I'm doing this for him, you keep telling yourself. You keep repeating the lies, letting them bounce relentlessly in the walls of your mind, until you fool yourself into thinking them to be true.

You had met with Donna a few days prior, and the whole situation was made clear to you. You didn't know for certain when the decision formed in your mind, but it's there, as real as the love you feel for Ewan.

The love you will have to bury.

He picks you up in his rental Rover, after you told him that you wanted to go for a drive. But you ask him to park his car behind the private apartment building where you're staying.

The car grinds to a halt, like a signal for you to get it over with. There is no going back now.

"Ewan... I - " You can't push the words out, more so when he reaches for your hands and squeezes. He looks at you with those eyes, expecting anything but what you're about to say.

"I'm sorry," you try again, and your voice breaks. His face slowly drops, the mood instantly changed, but the worse is yet to come.

"What are you sorry for, darling?" He rubs his thumb along your cheekbone, the sensation willing you to just abandon your plan completely. To abandon the lie.

"Whatever happens..." Just get it over with. "...I want you to know that I'll always be here for you. We are friends first, aren't we?" Peel the bandaid. Rip it off. Let it bleed.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," he says.

You sound robotic, emotionless. But one wrong turn and the floodgates may break. There's a lump in your throat and you push it down. Reminding yourself to act - use your fucking acting skills if you actually have any. Now's the time. "We can't be together, Ewan."

There it is, sounding itself into existence, ruining the love you have in front of you.

His hand drops, as if he recoils back into himself. Away from you. It's cruel, but you know you will have to do more damage. You have to make it stick. This becomes clear when he says, "No", with conviction. "No, darling," he repeats. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Ewan - "

"You're not being funny, darling." He tilts his head, testing you, giving you the chance to retract your words and start laughing at your twisted joke. Darling comes out a mockery, something to say out of spite.

He takes a deep breath, leaning back in the driver's seat. "I don't... I don't accept this." He looks straight ahead, his lips pursed and jaw taut. "Fucking... why ?"

"I just... don't think it's going to work out."

"Bullshit."

Your words come out rushed, "You should take that role. I don't want you to hold back just for me. This could be something really great for you, Ewan. This could be it! Most actors pray for an opportunity like that to come along and I wouldn't want you to - "

"That's the reason?"

" - refuse it because of me. So we should - "

"Stop."

" - end this."

Silence. Not a single sound in the near-empty parking lot. No sirens in the distance, no pedestrian chatter. Just slow, heavy breathing in this rental car, both of you looking out the windshield. It feels stuffy all of a sudden, and not in the heated way when your limbs entwined in a jumble in the backseat a mere week ago.

"Please. I... I don't want to end this," he pleads. His knuckles are bone white, harshly gripping both sides of the steering wheel in an attempt to anchor himself. He shakes his head, and with some sense of hope, he says, "I don't care about that role. Okay? It's not the end of the world if I don't accept it. Have some faith in me, darling. I'll make it work. Surely there are plenty of other things down the line."

"Ewan," you whisper. You knew he would say this, which is why you prepared something worse. If that were even possible. You suck on your teeth, pulling on whatever poison you keep hidden away. You sigh and look away, a gesture that lets him know nothing will change your mind. "This fucking PR relationship business... it gets to you, you know? We don't know any better. I for one never expected to feel this way about - "

"About?" he finally turns to shoot you a look of betrayal, the pain in his eyes clear as day.

"I might have feelings for Jacob," you lie, "or I might not, I don't know. But there's something there, and I... I can't let this - us - go on while I'm conflicted about everything. It wouldn't be right."

Nothing about this is right.

But you go on, "I'll be off filming, with him, for a couple of months. And it's only going to make everything more confusing, and it wouldn't be fair to you, I know that - "

"I love you."

It's the first time he ever utters those three words, completely and without any doubt. He says them, despite everything you said before. And he means it.

A tear falls down your cheek, and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep the rest at bay.

"I'm sorry," you look at him, in finality, and you want nothing more than to passionately kiss him hard on the mouth, to hold on to him tight and plead for him not to let you go. With your quivering form, you amble out of the car. Every step worsens the weight of what just transpired. His side of the car opens, and he calls for you, but you can't bear to look back.

He catches up to you, breathless and with a wild look in his face. His blue eyes swell with tears, but his brows are scrunched down as if he isn't bothered by them.

"I want you to look me right in the eye and tell me we don't matter. I want you to tell me you don't love me," he says, and it's the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. He searches your eyes for something, anything to hold on to. Part of him is still desperate enough to grasp at straws, on the hope that you will change your mind.

But the other hardened part, has become angry. Indignant. Because how could you do this to him? The only girl he has ever loved. So he needs to hear it from you, clearly. He needs you to drive the final nail on the coffin.

"I do love you," you croak, and you do nothing to stop your tears from flowing freely.

"Darling..."

"But I can't be with you," you turn away, one last time. "Goodbye, Ewan."

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Some time ago, during the meeting in New York...

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden furniture, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot...

(to be continued)

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Update! Read the second bonus chapter here ~

💌 next chapter

HOW DARE YOU, reader. How dare you.

The gif above paints a clear picture of Ewan's heart breaking in the car 🥲 just in case you guys needed a visual aid 🥲🥲

Next chapter - the meeting in New York, the reader's conversation with Donna, and.... we see them move on from each other (?) You know these bloody actors, one relationship in the first half of the year and then another right after...

Feel free to come for me in the comments <3 it was the most heartfelt chapter, after all. Also, let me know what yous want the bonus chapter to be about!

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #chemical override

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seungfl0wer · 4 months ago

Text

Changbin As Your Boyfriend

Contains smut 🩷

Posting this on Changbins birthday🩷 so happy birthday so the very man who got me into stray kids. The loml, the man of everyone’s dreams.

-🩵

•Man is all about you.

•He really just thinks about you a lot.

•The members joke that you’re one of the only people he’ll text back right away.

•Likes to send you gym pictures.

•A lot of gym pictures.

•Just so you’ll compliment him.

•And please do that.

•Do it a lot, because this man just gushes at your praise and kind words.

•The way he just giggles and blushes when you say anything remotely like it.

•Even when you’re together for years he’s still a blushing mess.

•Wants to constantly cuddle.

•You wrapped in his strong arms.

•His favorite thing to do while you’re cuddling is nuzzle his face into your neck.

•Softly leaving kisses as he repeats “Mine, All mine”

•Brings you his clothes to wear constantly because it just melts him.

•He’ll make the comment about “Wow whoever hoodie that is they got taste”

•Loves bringing you to his home with him to hang out with his mom.

•Changbin is so family oriented and to see you and his family together just-

•It makes him wanna cry.

•And the first time you meet his family seeing them love you.

•He’s crying, and he’s crying hard. Holding onto you with a big smile plastered on him.

•Asks you a lot to go to the gym.

•Even if you don’t wanna work out he just likes having your company there.

•Has the Worst photo of you as his Home Screen.

•He finds it so cute and funny.

•He’ll whine when you say you think it’s ugly.

•Because how dare you say that about his partner.

•You guys have such deep conversations.

•He really loves these.

•Just sitting there talking about your future, your dreams, the meaning of life, and how he could make dwaekki could be an actual animal.

•Always texting to make sure you ate.

•He’s always worried you’re not taking care of yourself.

•Has a whole snack box stocked of your faves at all times.

•Also if you ever say anything about something hurting and or feeling sick.

•Mans there so fast to take care of you.

•He’ll be worried until you feel better.

•And if you’re someone who gets periods?

•He’s making sure you have everything.

•Plus make sure to have time to come cuddle you if you need while you’re suffering.

•Has so many files of songs for you too.

•Mans really whipped for you and he wouldn’t have it any other way honestly.

•You both are just each other’s support system. Solving any problems with communication.

•You’re constantly there for each other, in anyway the other needs.

︵‿︵‿୨Smut Below୧‿︵‿︵

•Body worshiping at its finest.

•Kissing every inch of your body, Telling you how stunning you are.

•Lots of praise, So much praise From the both of you.

•”Y/n do you know how good looking you are?” Followed by even more kissing.

•”Binnie my handsome man, aah your lips are so soft”

•His favorite position is definitely one where he’s holding you up.

•Loves showing off his strength of course.

•Plus he loves how you grip on to his arms.

•He has your body memorized, all your sweet spots everything.

•He loves the way you sound- oh god does he ever.

•The way you sound when you are just coming undone around him.

•He wants to save those sounds forever.

•Definitely has a thing for you sucking his fingers.

•Has his hand cupped under your chin, thumb to your lips as you suck on it.

•You ask for anything during he’s giving it you right away.

•”Please Bin- Faster” “Deeper, aah right there”

•He’s giving you anything you want.

•You could ask him to murder someone and he’d probably say yes.

•100% probably records your noises.

•Yeah y’all have phone sex while he’s away

•But nothing compares to the sound of him fucking you into another dimension.

•Although he is very soft for you.

•He fucks you so good, so rough but full of so much love.

•Makes you cum multiple times before he’s cuming.

•God the cuddles after sex though?

•You’re actually just glued together at this point.

•He’s not letting you go for at least 10 minutes.

•And when you finally get up to pee he’s whining.

•Making small grabby hands for you to come back.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

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aquasoftware · 4 months ago

Text

HOT PINK PANTIES…!! ★

Synopsis: One could put up with teasing for only so long before needing to pound you senseless, but Toji doesn’t fail to notice that him being vocal makes you feral.

CW: Dom! Toji/Sub! Reader implied multi rounds, lots of praise, degrading urself once, pet names : (Doll, good girl, pretty, angel, ma, mama), daddy kink, vocal Toji, dirty talk, doggystyle/reverse cowgirl, car sex, dick piercing! Toji (prince albert), breeding, creampie, edging, ass hickeys, begging, spanking, clit rubbing, profanity duh, unprotected sex, established relationship, etc/MDNI.

FT: Drabble

WC: 1.2k || Paring : Toji x F!Reader || M.L

"Oouh... Fuck, ma.." Your boyfriend lowly purred, making you partially bite your lip at his erotically laced voice. Toji was one who had rarely ever been vocal around you, so when he did let out a few moans here and there, boy did it make you weak in the knees.

And he knew what he was doing too, realizing whenever those exaggerated sounds were shoved out of his throat, something ignited in you, causing your beefy ass to rapidly jab back against his pelvis. Swearing up and down that if he recorded this in slow motion, the nefarious recoil would leave him dementedly hypnotized, but he was way too in the moment to pull out his phone right now.

The two of you have been going at it for who knows how long currently, plus Toji couldn't even wait until he got home with the way you were teasing him all night on your date. Besides, his needy little passenger princess also had the nerve to torture his poor hard cock while driving too.

Your boyfriend not bothering to warn you either already implied that you definitely had it coming, which was why the two of you had stopped on an empty roadside for your sore pussy to get pounded dumb in the backseat having the door kept wide open for a few potential passerby's; insanely grateful there were no other cars to be seen yet.

Smudging makeup on the light-colored seats without a care in the world, the only thing that you could focus on was your man's prince albert piercing continuously, nudging against that spongey-like g-spot inside of your velvet cunt.

"Mmngh, d—does my pussy feel good, daddy?" You asked breathlessly alongside whines slipping out, inquiring mind desprately craving his praise like it was the only thing on earth that mattered as drool trudged from underneath your glossy lips.

"Goddd, yes, Y/n, y'er squeezing my cock so fucking tight..." He fed you with affirmation well practically glorifying your body, while his fingers clung onto your hot-pink lacey panties sustaining an unhinged, swift pace, triggering you both to sense the traumatized car to aggressively shake.

"Haah, yeah, that's it, doll.. Fuck back." Toji arousingly demanded producing tiny goosebumps on top of your skin; his eyes slammed shut, engulfing in the heavenly experience at your pudgy fat butt, crushing his wide girth almost pushing his body back a couple of steps.

The way your boyfriend's tip-piercing kicked barbarically against every single sweet spot in those delicious walls, you were sure you were bound to cum just any minute. "Ohhh, s—shitt daddy, don't think I'ma last aah.." Stumbling back and forth on words, you cried out, becoming extremely close to orgasming as tears beaded up towards your lashline, scurrying to escape.

Both of you would probably need more than just two hands to count the number of rounds you've had yet. Toji had you creaming on his dick briskily each time; nobody could ever fuck better than him. “You comin'?" The black-haired man questioned; a lazy grin danced across his scarred lips.

"Mmph, yessss!" A long, amorous response dragged out of you, body on fire as it shook violently, aching arms falling limp on the seat, but still, your fingers began to chase at your plump clit, rubbing it with two fingers, aiding in an intense moment till Toji decided to pull out.

"Don't pull outtt, baby.." Whining at an intense orgasm, only slowly fading away simply because he relished in hearing you beg for him, hissing at the cold summer air that attacked your heated skin before he replied back.

"I wanna hear you beg first, mama." Toji cooed, patiently waiting for your reply, hearing a car whoosh past, doubting they could've seen anything going on anyway since it was nearly pitch black now the only light was a sprinkle of stars. Using a full hand, he harshly spanked your ass, providing an amused hum at the belligerent jiggle motion.

"Please, please, please, let me cum, daddy!" You urgently pleaded, dramatically gasping, when Toji boarderline slingshotted himself into your greedy sopping hole, angling deep at the right spot to instantly bring your climax back.

Muscles began to rhythmically convulse around his wide cock, forming it to twitch like a drum as your entire body began to shake. Noisy mewls spewed out of your plump lips, unable to control your hefty breathing, while your eyes moderately rolled back, leaving a dropped jaw beneath you.

"Such a good fucking girl," Toji praised with a slight groan,spanking your ass again, forcing you to jolt at the sudden action before he spoke once more to talk you through your high "Make a mess all over it, pretty." His words stroked your soul, giving you the push you needed to burst, compelling your spasming cunt to leave a thick ring of cum around your boyfriend's cock.

Pulling out, only to suck the soft flesh of your bubble butt, sinking his fingers into the tender, supple skin, creating dark hickeys everywhere. Toji tapped your leg, backing up, signaling you to get up for a small second, helping you stand on wobbly legs as he sat on the light-colored seat, recognizing the large damp patch you left from previous rounds.

Toji was always never completely done until he poured his seed into your womb. He patted his thigh for you to sit on his lap. A noticeable manspread appeared in front of your eyes. Strongly keen to please your man, you promptly hovered over his lap, aligning his cock to your still sensitive entrance, lightly squealing while you finally glided down.

You were so gorgeous from his point of view, watching the hair in the claw clip hop, scrunching your face as you bounced consistently, helping Toji eventually reach his own climax.

His balls vigorously tightened, grabbing your hips firmly enough to leave painful bruises bucking passionately into your core as the raspy moans and infiltration of sensual curses blew up out of his mouth, granting you motivation to bounce on his dick faster, hearing the skin-to-skin noises grow faster.

"I'm gonna breed you full angel. Is that okay?" Toji wheezed utterly out of breath, banking on your answer whether to cum inside or not, expecting his personally little fuck toy's approval.

"Yes, Toji, fill me up like 'm your filthy sluttt...!" You whinily implored, and who was Toji to deny that request? He thought, thrusting up a couple more times until broad ribbons practically buckets full of semen were released in your wholly bred womb, ending the night with a warm creampie.

Except for some odd reason for him, it was like finding an Easter egg, keeping it mentally noted: "Moan way more often when having sex with my girlfriend."

8/23/24 2:22 am

reblog for clear skin 🧏🏾‍♀️

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I really enjoy your one piece writings, they have given me so much comfort when I don't feel okay 😭

Can I please get a Mihawk (I'm completely in love w this man aah) imagine where his wife is a sensitive person who gets sad when someone is rude to them but they feel insecure couse they think it's stupid

Thank youuuuuu ❤️🥺

First of all, I'm honoured that I can provide a source of comfort to you. I'm glad my work has made you feel better in your time of need.

Second of all: oh yessss bestie this hits the spot. It also reminds me of a wonderful scene in The Gentlemen (10/10, highly recommend) [it also hits close to home because I am a sensitive person]

The thing about strong people is that they make others want to be just as strong, which isn't always easy if even possible. You've always known you're a little 'softer' than most people but only after marrying Mihawk did you find the difference in temperament bothersome. Instead of considering your sensitivity a fact of nature, you've begun to find it a flaw, something that you should change about yourself.

You've never admitted it to yourself but the truth is plain and simple - you think it's embarrassing. That Mihawk will find your sensitivity embarrassing. Maybe if you had been up-front about it with your husband, you'd learn that he adores your soft heart. If he felt forthcoming enough, perhaps you'd even hear that you're the source of warmth and light in his life. Hence he calls you his 'sun'.

To say that Mihawk grew concerned when he heard your muffled sobs would be like not saying anything. A delicious euphemism at best. Anger and fear bubble inside his chest. There's a strange itch in his hands that eggs him to wreak havoc.

"Apple of my eye," his voice carries well through the rather empty room you're both staying at currently. "What is the meaning of this?"

Frantically wiping away your tears, you look over your shoulder to meet his gaze. Mihawk is leaning against the doorframe, blocking the entrance if you so wish to run away from this situation.

"Oh, it's nothing. Really, I'm alright. No need to worry," you half-heartedly attempt to reassure him.

The swordsman loudly exhales through his nose. He's your husband, worrying about you is his duty. In slow steps, Mihawk walks over to the edge of the bed where you're sitting. Pride and titles as if forgotten, he drops on one knee in front of you. One of his hands gently squeezes your knee.

Unsure what's the best way to go about these circumstances, you timidly meet his intense gaze. The passion in his yellow eyes makes you think of a maelstrom captured in a jar - something devastating held back by a miracle. He's already seething, just doesn't yet know who exactly to direct his violence at.

"Indulge me," he prompts you to confide in him. There's a rare sense of pleading in his tone.

So indulge him you do - you tell Mihawk all about the unpleasant encounter with a local tearaway. Your husband tries his best to control his expression as you recount the unambiguously offensive words, unwanted touches and threats of real violence coming from someone who was probably looking for a cowardly scapegoat to vent his anger. As you continue your story, tears just keep rolling down your cheeks, fear and humiliation finally finding their way out of your heart.

"I know I'm being stupid," you mumble as you clumsily wipe your face, "he was just rude and it's not like he actually hurt me but-"

Mihawk's touch makes you cut your sentence short. His hand, its skin rough and calloused, gently cups the side of your face. Your hot, salty tears disperse as his thumb slowly rubs them away. Something about the tenderness of his touch, of hands that have killed and maimed, is enough to make you feel like you're about to break in his arms. Even if you do, you know that when dawn breaks you will be whole again, put back together with the unending love Mihawk holds for you.

"You've always been too good, my sun," he tells you in a low voice. He could have said 'too soft' or 'too sensitive' but then his remark would come off as deceitful as it would suggest his dislike towards your nature. Nothing of that sort - Mihawk genuinely thinks you're a better person than most people walking this plane. And he'd rather succumb to torture than let anyone make you feel bad about that.

The man leans in and places his warm lips against your forehead. Without much effort, he lays you down on the bed and you let him. Even if you wanted to fight back, you're way too tired to do so.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed, caressing your face, neck, arms and back as he's waiting for you to fall asleep. The anticipation doesn't require much patience - Mihawk's tender touches lull you to peaceful slumber rather swiftly. When he's sure that you're asleep, he kisses your forehead again before cautiously leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

Perhaps he can't turn back the time and make the offending man choke on his words but he can ensure that the tearway won't hurt you ever again. Someone resting in peace so you can rest peacefully is a good bargain.

Mihawk knows exactly who he's looking for. He made a note of a certain characteristic trait you had mentioned - an earring with a single, red-coloured feather. It doesn't seem like a piece of jewellery that would be common anywhere.

It doesn't take much to find the tearaway. He makes his presence well-known as he stumbles out of a tavern, his legs almost giving away with each step.

So he assaults random women minding their business and then gets blackout drunk. It's pathetic enough to consider his death merciful.

Staying true to his name, the swordsman stalks his prey before lunging. Appearing as another patron of the inn, Mihawk follows the stranger around the corner towards barns, stables and pigstys. Fitting place for the likes of him, Dracule thinks to himself.

The man with the curious earring staggers his way towards a drinking trough. He's fumbling with his pants, desperately trying to pull them down to relieve himself but his fingers are not dextrious enough.

Mihawk picks up the pitchfork leaning against the barn wall. In one, swift motion he gores the tool through the back of the man's knee. A guttural scream tears through the night as he falls to the ground.

The swordsman grabs a fistful of the tearaway's hair. He forces the kneeling man to look up into his seething, yellow eyes.

"Do I owe you money?" The man is slurring his words. He squints his eyes, trying to focus his hazy vision on Mihawk and, possibly, recognize his creditor. "It's money, isn't it? Shit, just give me two days, man. I'll give it back with interest."

"I don't care about money."

Instantaneously, panic appears in the tearaway's eyes. Did he just find himself in the same position he's put hundreds of people in to cure his own boredom and need for grandiosity?

"Then what it is?!" he shouts, fear settling in his viscera. Dracule's calmness put together with the sheer hatred emanating from him makes for a deeply unsettling impression.

"You hurt my wife," comes the answer. The fist clenching the man's hair tightens its hold further, threatening to tear off his scalp. "My wife," Mihawk growls.

But before the tearaway can ask for clarification, his head is forced into the drinking trough. Surprised and scared, oxygen is escaping him fast. Soon, his throat and chest begin to clench and throb painfully. Dark spots dance across his vision, foreboding blindness.

Then, Mihawk pulls his head just above the surface. The man desperately gasps for air.

"If you believe in a god," the swordsman begins in a low voice shaking with anger and adrenaline, "I suggest you start praying. Fast."

The tearaway's head is forced underwater again but this time, Mihawk keeps it there until the ruffian's body stops trembling and shaking. After that, Dracule waits for a while longer - just for good measure.

You're woken up by the creaking of doors as they slowly open. Blinking sleep away from your eyes, you look over your shoulder only to experience a sort of deja vu: Mihawk is standing in the doorway. Before you can ask about his strange behaviour, your husband makes his way to you in long, quick strides. He kneels on the floor beside the bed.

Mihawk takes your hand in his. He takes something out of his pocket and places it in your palm. You recognize the red feather earring immediately. And is that... a piece of skin still attached to it? Gently, your husband closes your fist and lifts your hand to place a chaste kiss on your knuckles.

"The rat has paid for its sins," he whispers to you. Judging by the intense look in his eyes, you don't want to know the details of this story.

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kelin-is-writing · 2 years ago

Text

+18 MDNI

dabi x fem!reader; he’s so needy in this one my god, breeding kink, stomach bulge, creampie, oral (f!receiving), blow job. BE AWARE.

pussydrunk!dabi who just can’t help but let out a throaty dragged groan whenever he’s balls deep inside of you, tip kissing your cervix, and your walls clench around him like a vice making his turquoise eyes roll all the way back into his skull “f-fuck... it feels so damn good inside of you baby–!”, it’s what comes out of his gaping mouth all slurred, the warmness and wetness of your pussy around his cock making dabi’s brain become all mushy, no thoughts whatsoever, only him quivering at how blissful he was feeling in that moment, dick practically molding your walls into his shape, sending him in cloud nine.

he looks down watching how his cock disappears inside your pussy and then coming out covered in more juices he inhales a sharp breath from between gritted teethes “shit–!”, he would fuck you all day if it was for him, your cunt felt way too good to leave it empty.

when dabi’s eyes roam up and he sees the shape of his dick’s tip in your belly his breath hitch inside his throat, he secures his hold on your waist and lifting himself a little on his knees he angles his hips higher and then picks up pace, groaning along with each thrust while getting high on the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, the loud moans coming out from that pretty mouth of yours making the whole thing even better “aah fuck–! cumming! fuck fuck fuck. fuck–! i’m gonna cum so hard...”, he whimpers while resting his hands at the sides of your head, holding onto the sheets underneath you for dear life as his hips starts pounding inside your pussy at a speed that made you let out a choked moan; dabi stares your way dazed before he leans down looking at you with pleading eyes and cheeks tainted of pink as he panted, leaving you totally speechless at his state “lemme cum inside of you princess, please. i need it so fucking bad, wanna fill up your pretty pussy to the brim with my kids... allow me...”, the raven-haired boy spoke an inch away from your face with a needy low husky tone that was so hot and sexy, those butterflies inside your belly went crazy to say the least, how can you even say no to a request made in such an endearing way?

when dabi spills his seed into your cervix and long your walls, the both of you were in pure ecstasy, mind totally empty. you were panting at the fantastic sensation of his hot cum inside of you, body trembling uncontrollably from the aftermath of your own orgasm, while dabi is glancing down where you two are connected watching his cum pooling at the base of his cock “nnh... so fucking good... wanna stay inside of you forever baby.”, as he pushes his hips flush into yours mumbling about how he can’t let any of it spill, your pitiful whine because of the overstimulation making him groan before he thrusts slowly once into you for the sake of pushing as much seed as he can inside your hole.

pussydrunk!dabi who would seriously eat you out for breakfast, lunch and dinner, tongue flat on your cunt licking between your folds with long stripes or slurping on it loudly and languidly like a starved man eating a full course meal for the very first time.

dabi’s favorite position to eat you out is you sitting on his face, the smell of your arousal is enough to make him hard but the moment your pussy rests on his mouth he’s in heaven, eyes rolling back as his arms go to encircle your thighs to push you down even more on him, because that wasn’t enough, he needed more “ahh yeah... pure fucking bliss...”, he groaned while starting to makeout with your cunt, tongue teasing your entrance a few times deluding you into thinking he was gonna put it in before he goes to lick in circles your throbbing clit “shit... you taste so damn good doll, would devour you all day.”, comes a muffled praise from dabi that makes your pussy clench around nothing and that made such a sinful moan come out of his lips that got you now let out an especially loud one, his palms going to fondle your ass before they slid up to your waist rubbing circles on them and then higher, cupping your breasts gently before squeezing them. when you started grind your cunt against his mouth, you could feel a grin curl up dabi’s lips in satisfaction as he glanced intensely and feverishly at your pleading needy face “i got you baby.”, before he fluttered his eyes close to savour every second while pushing his tongue past your fold and inside your pussy, starting to slurp on it while tongue-fucking you and feeding off of your tasty juices and sublime moans not caring one bit about the fact that you were pulling on his hair whilst crying out in pleasure.

when you come all over his face, dabi groans along your moan with his cerulean irisies leaving space to pearl white, arms plopping wide open onto the mattress loudly as he drank every single drop of your juices like he hasn’t had something to drink in ages, his own cum dripping long his shaft and plastered all over his pelvis.

“thank you for the meal.”

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #dabi #touya todoroki #bnha smut #mha smut #dabi smut #touya todoroki smut #bnha x reader smut #mha x reader smut #dabi x reader smut #touya todoroki x reader smut #pussydrunk!dabi #kelin 🖋#wanted to say that i'm a huge ass shameless dabi brain rot but like– when am i not really??

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uzurakis · 7 months ago

Note

heyy !! i was looking at your profile which is amazing btw and saw someone desperate like me for some kaiser content. maybe smth involving reader wearing his jersey and well… yk.. :33

“aah, someone’s been a thief,” kaiser teases, eyeing the jersey that fits snugly on you. the way the fabric drapes over your shoulders, slightly too big yet perfectly fitting; it’s like you’re carrying a piece of him with you, and it fills him with a sense of pride. “i was wondering where that went.”

during a break from practice, your boyfriend spots you and jogs over, his eyes widening as he notices the familiar jersey. a nasty smile forms on his lips as he approaches, clearly intrigued.

playing pretend, you feign innocence, glancing down at the jersey. “oh, this? i thought it was mine. it fits me perfectly, don’t you think?”

it does, it looks perfect on you. oh how much kaiser wants to say that. but no, there’s still one thing he needs to hold high; a man’s ego.

so, kaiser narrows his eyes playfully, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “nice try, but we both know that’s my jersey. or maybe you happen to be one of my fangirls that shop their favorite—“

“oh, shut up,” that cocky attitude of his is not getting anywhere under your watch. then you shrug, giving him a cheeky grin. “well, finders keepers. maybe you should have kept a better eye on your stuff.”

“ouch, you’re saying i’m messy person? that hurts, mein liebling,” he chuckles, one mirthless laugh falling in your ears. “why don’t you wear it tomorrow for the match?” kaiser suggests playfully. “that way, everyone knows you’re mine.”

you tilt your head, pretending to consider it. “hmm, i don’t know. there will be a lot of fans wearing jerseys with your name on them. even you could mistake me as one of your crazy fangirls. yuck.”

kaiser’s smirk fades, replaced by a mock pout. “but none of them are you,” he says, tone slightly possessive. “it’s different when you wear it. like, it’s special.”

still playing along, you raise an eyebrow. “oh, so now it’s special because i’m wearing it? maybe it’s just a really good jersey.”

he laughs at your remarks, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “mein liebling, seriously, seeing you in my jersey makes me feel… proud..?”

“because when you wear it, it’s a statement. it says you belong to me. and i like that.”

“i like what’s mine.”

you feel your cheeks heat up at his words. “well, maybe i’ll consider it,” you reply, trying to keep your cool. “maybe though.”

his grins broadens, clearly pleased with your response. “good girl. now, how about a kiss for luck?”

you laugh, “only because michael asked so nicely.” leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips, you continue, “anything else you want, your highness?”

he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “you better be in the front row tomorrow. front and center,” he murmurs against your lips. “i play better when i know you’re watching.”

you smile, but what if you still want to mess with him? “huuh, but i also haven’t said i’ll watch your—“

“don’t fucking care, you will watch me,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. “now, go cheer me on. i’ve got a game to win.”

n. i’m taking this way babes. we can also talk abt it if u wanna take it that way *winks aggressively* jus hmu as always <3 mwah ty for trusting me wit every kaiser piece here ahhsakksjs. also! tagging another kaiser lover @6gumi mwaaah xo

@uzurakis

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oreo-creampie · 1 year ago

Text

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, suggestive with toji, mentions of his hard dick, toji smells your panties after taking them off you, mentions of smoking with stoner!choso, cuddles with choso and sukuna, back massage with toji, confessions, jealousy towards a stuffed bear, toji calls ya mama, sukuna teases you and calls you pet, true form!sukuna, plenty of kisses, they are all soft for you how can they not be your wonderful babes, established relationship

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @akumuprincess I'm so sorry to hear that you're having a shit day😭🥺 I've recently been imagining really often about the jjk men holding you (me, us, the reader, everyone idk how to text😭) after a hard day, because I've had it pretty rough the last few weeks and just imagine them hugging you and holding you close while stroking your back or hair! I feel like Toru would drown you in little kisses all over your face while caressing your hair and cooing sweet nothings at you. Suguru would have you sit in his lap, holding you as close as possible, letting you talk about your worries and frustrations, humming and stroking your skin softly until you relax under his touch. Toji I feel like would give you a relaxing massage and then let you bury yourself in his huge chest while you lie on top of him! I think even our mean king of curses would be softer if you've had a rough day, letting you be more affectionate and clingy, he'd still bully you about it, but wouldn't let you go off his grasp, trapping you in the bed with him hoping it'll make you feel better. They'd be just so gentle and sweet aah, I really hope you feel better by the end of the day, I'm sending you hugs and kisses 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Oreo; thank you for this cute idea! I’ve been thinking about choso a little too much! Toji has a little sexual tension to it, but he does his best to behave. After writing this I realizing that sukuna in true form would give wonder massages

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨

Gently, slowly trailing kisses up the side of your face, to the middle of your forehead, down the length of your nose. Cupping your other cheek, lovingly kissing you. Slowly swiping his thumb along your cheek.

Pulling away, “Let’s cuddle on the balcony, look out at the smoke n’ watch the stars try to be as beautiful as you.” Kissing your cheek.

Squeezing Choso’s slim, sculpted waist, hard underneath your squishy thighs. “Don’t let me go.” Slipping your fingers into his soft hair, freeing it. Lightly dragging your nails along his head.

Choso half open, eyes are blood shot, full of admiration and love for you. The way he looks at you has you forgetting the rest of the room. When he smiles down at you, “Never dream of it love dove. I'm your’s forever.” there is only him.

He stands up, holding up the bong for your to carry before picking up his black rolling tray from his bedside. Kissing where his tattoo stretches into his cheek. “I can't believe I get to be your’s.” He flicks on the fairy lights strung along the balcony’s ceiling.

A soft kiss on your forehead and the last of the tension is melting from your body. “Who else could I hope to belong too but a perfect Angel.” Stepping out into the cool autumn air. Sitting down on the sofa looking out at the tree line.

You slip your hair out of his hair, kissing his forehead. Turning around in his lap, grabbing the tray from him, setting it down the bong down. “Lean back for a moment love dove let me make sure your cozy in a blanket. Don't want you to get a chill.” Resting on Choso’s warm, broad bare chest.

He grabs the neatly folded blanket next to you, spreading the blanket over your lap. “Thank you handsome, you’re wonderful I love you.” He squeezes your soft side, his gentle large hands comforting. You’ve never felt so secure in yourself or in a relationship before Choso.

“I love you too love dove. You’re my everything.” Another kiss, and you want countless more. Closing your eyes enjoying his soft lips on your temple.

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

“I’ll be good but I can’t promise that my cock won’t be hard.” Sliding your underwear off, holding the messy part to his nose, taking a deep breath. “I’ll use this lace piece to jerk off when you take a nap.” Looking into your eyes, “Missed ya mama.” Tossing your underwear behind him.

Running your his hard, “I missed you too, couldn’t wait to get home when I got your text. And how is that behaving?” He stands up, leaning over you, kissing your forehead. Grabbing your hips and squeezing. Toji’s loving, gentle kiss and his warm large hands on your soft body is everything you need.

“I could’ve licked ‘em clean like I wanted.” Kissing your cheek, sliding his hands up your waist. “Lay down on ya stomach beautiful.” You stretch out on the bed, turning your head to the side. The smell of his conditioner clinging to the pillow.

After three weeks had started to fade from the large black sweater he lasted wore and from his side of the bed. It didn’t feel like home without him.

Closing your eyes. “If ya fall asleep then I’ll clean ya up n tuck ya n, I’ll be smokin’ on the balcony watchin’ tv if ya need me.” Straddling your ass, making himself comfortable. His hard dick resting on your cheeks. “If ya take a nap after we can order some take out get in the shower together whilst we are waiting.”

Toji leans over kissing both your shoulders, slowly smearing lotion up your back with his large warm hands. “I’ll wash ya up, give you one of my shirts spray ya in my cologne.” Relaxing your shoulders, not realizing how you’ve been tensing up throughout the day. He works on the tight pinch between your shoulder blades with one hand.

Lifting your head, “Will you take my make up off?” Your head hits the pillow, holding it up being too much effort. Closing your eye, smiling at Toji’s heavy sigh, picturing his pout.

Kissing the top of your head. “Lucky I love you.” Focusing on the knot between your shoulders. Gently messaging up towards your neck, letting out a soft sigh when his large fingers wrap around your neck, gently kneading.

“Thank you handsome, I love you too.�� Wiggling your cheeks, he lifts his hips up. Grabbing more lotion pouring some on your back. Smearing it towards your sides, squeezing.

You are admired, beautiful and loved laying on your shared bed with pouty Toji giving you a message. “Teasin me with your beautiful ass how is that fair?” Gently messaging your lower back finding the knots there. “Now stay still, lemme take care of ya mama.”

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

“You sure you want me? That giant Teddy Bear of your’s seems to be-oh!” Sukuna intentionally stumbles forward onto you. Calculating his fall onto you to involve shoving your stuffed animal off the bed.

Caging you in between two of his large hands, grabbing your hips. Nuzzling his face into your neck, pressing you into the bed. Sukuna lightly bites making your squirm. “Didn’t look like you needed me since you picked the bear.” Leaning away, cupping your cheek, the mouth on his hand giving you a soft kiss.

His cheeks flushing pink. “Without a thought of coming to see if you could cuddle me.” He glances down at your lips when you smile for the first time since coming home. Letting go of your face, grabbing waist, lifting you off the bed.

Sukuna lays down, setting you down on his lap. He is shirtless like always, part of the population is seeing him traversing around town half naked. “The great, powerful, handsome sukuna is,” siding your hand down his bare chest enjoying the warmth of his hard pecs.

“Is what? Spit it out pet.” He gently slips his fingers underneath your chin to tilt your head up to admire your face. Sliding both his hands down your thighs, squeezing them. He’s been getting handiser, unable to keep to himself.

You love it, the softer he gets for you the more you fall for him.

All four of his hands comforting, warm, and big. One of the mouths on his hands peppering kisses along your side. “Jealous of a teddy bear blushing pink because he doesn't know how to handle the feelings he has for one measly little brat.” The mouth across his abs vanishes, you lay down, resting your head on his chest.

“You know people are scared to breathe in my presence.” His chest rumbles when he speaks. Kissing his chest, the resting your heard, the heart pounding of his vessel pounding faster.

“Back in my day, ok old man.” Sitting up, kissing his cheek, whatever happened earlier today no longer matters for the moment. All that your concerned with is the beautiful monster beneath you. “I love you.”

Sukuna smirks, “I know ya do pet. What else would explain your baffling behavior. When you first saw me and smiled I knew you were a dumbass.” He pinches your nose shut wiggling your head, gently flicking your forehead.

Grabbing his wrist and biting his finger. Letting go when his hand on your thigh bites back. “I'm your dumbass! I wonder if I'll get to hear you say it back.”

He leans in and softly whispers, “I love you.” Leaning back his expression indifferent, crimson eyes cold which his cheeks are redder than. “Now don't think about trying to hear those stupid words from anyone else.”

Oreo creampie’s m.list

part two; gojo, geto, nanami

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mochinomnoms · 3 months ago

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Shut UUPPP now I need a little scenario with PTM jade and the reader where they're actually in a very risky place while they're doing the Ole tango lol.... In the very back of the library or in the damn janitor closet even, courtesy of yuu's knowledge during their short occupation as a janitor ehehehe

so like i just got super tempted and gave in cause i love the idea of ptm jade and yuu exploiting the fuck out of their telepathy to get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 cause i was gonna save this as a fuller bit in the future cause im weak

Being a telepath has its benefits, especially in these little escapades of yours. You'd have never thought Jade of all people would be so insatiable (a trait more suited for Floyd as most would agree), but you also never thought he'd be so enamored by you, so he was just full of surprises.

“Uuugah~”

Though perhaps you should take just a teeny, tiny, itty-bitty bit of responsibility. Just this once, you decided to be impulsive and bring Jade with you to a corner of the library to fulfill one of his many fantasies he'd dreamt up before you two got together.

“Mmh~”

And, well, you wanted to fluster Jade like he did to you much too often. Though that definitely wasn't the feeling running through either of your veins at the moment.

“Aah, pearl—”

Besides, Jade made the loveliest of gasps, sounds in general really, when you got him like this.

“Seven help me—oooh~ Just like that, so good, my sweet pearl~”

As soft as those sounds were, if someone were to listen closely, they could make out very soft, quiet breaths and slurping sounds.

Now where are the rest of those students? I want to close up and go home!

Which was not ideal, especially regarding the librarian with an especially acute sense of hearing.

An icy cold shock ran through your body, making you bolt straight up, though you hand a very obvious 'mess' on your lips.

“Oh shit! What time is it?” You tried scrambling up, only to be met with Jade's hand grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into a hot, wet lip lock, sharp teeth just scraping your tongue.

Just for a moment, you melted into the kiss in bliss, a loud, wanton moan leaving you.

Hmmp? Did I hear something?

“W-wait, Jade!” In an urgent, but panicked tone, you whispered. “Professor Murine! He's coming!”

You think you felt Jade huff against your lips, but he calmed your growing anxiety as he cleaned up his appearance, watching as you did the same.

Neither of you really undressed as much as you did just expose bare skin for the other's access, so it was rather quick. Shuffling from your spots on the floor and back up to your seats, your knees feeling particularly sore, the two of you did your best to make it look like you'd been studying all this time.

You did anyway, Jade seemed that he still needed to get out a bit more energy. As the footsteps grew louder, let out a surprise squeak at Jade, grabbing your chin to pull you in for a kiss.

The sound of the door opening was nothing to Jade licking the corner of your lips before deepening the kiss. The salty taste from the white beads made you hot as you both heard the door open.

“Why I—” Murine cringed and sputtered. “You—you—you two! Don't you have better places to do this? We're closing, get out!”

Jade let out an 'embarrassed' chuckle as he helped clean up the mess of notebooks and pens.

“Of course, my apologies. We will be out shortly.”

Murine scoffed as he turned around to finish patrolling the library for any further stragglers, leaving you two alone once again.

Quickly heading for the exit, you felt Jade move a hand to curl on your hip and pull you in close, letting him lean down to whisper in your ear.

“We should indeed head to somewhere much more suited for our needs. Perhaps in the privacy of my room?”

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #ptm #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #jade leech smut #!nsfw #my apology for the shitty angst in the last post laksjdlkjsd

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dixons-sunshine · 8 months ago

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Hey!! I really REALLY love your girl dad Daryl series and I thought maybe I could request something :) Imagine Daryl building a doll house or something (maybe a cute little mini motorcycle) for his daughter I can totally see him doing something like that it’s all I can think about when I see this picture. He would totally get the materials from one of his supply runs because I headcanon that everytime he brings something for his daughter (like a doll or something)

His Motorcycle Princess | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When his daughter was born, Daryl swore to himself that he'd do everything in his power to ensure that she remained happy at all costs. So when she asked for her very own motorcycle, who was he to deny her that?

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour arc (the bridge exploding doesn't happen, so Daryl never goes looking for Rick and he's happily living in Alexandria).

Warnings: Swearing, slight suggestive talk.

Word count: 1.3k.

A/n: Okay but why can't Daryl be the father of my future kids? He'd be the best dad ever. All jokes aside, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Daryl, may I ask what the fuck that is?” you asked in surprise at at the sight before you, folding your arms over your chest.

Daryl looked up from his workbench, his ocean coloured eyes meeting your eyes before glancing back down at the big pink object in front of him. “S'a toy bike,” he stated plainly, patting the toy for added effect.

“Okay,” you drawled, nodding your head slowly. “But... Why?”

“S'fer Hazel,” he explained, picking up a screwdriver and resuming his task of assembling the toy motorcycle. “She asked fer a bike like mine, but obviously I ain't 'bout to assemble a real one fer a five year old, so I got this instead.”

You walked down the steps into the garage and walked over to your husband, standing slightly behind him as you watched him tighten the screws of the toy. “Where'd you even get this?”

“I was lucky 'nough to find a toy store tha' was left relatively untouched. Found this hidin' behind one of the shelves,” he explained, glancing over to you and nervously gulping at the close proximity. It amazed him that even after so many years together, you still managed to make butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“Aah, okay,” you nodded, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hazel is gonna freak out over this. This is gonna be her new favourite thing in the world.”

“Ya really think so?” Daryl asked, looking at you hopefully.

You smiled softly at him. There was lot of things people could say about the archer. People who didn't know him personally would call him rude, obnoxious and cold. Those who knew better would call him loyal, determined and caring. When it came to you, there was a lot you could say about your beautiful husband. He was kind, caring, loving, considerate, observant, and so much more. And you could also proudly say that Daryl was an amazing dad. Nobody was perfect and the archer had his moments that he wasn't proud of, but all in all, there was no denying that Daryl would do anything for your daughter.

“I know she'll love it,” you reassured him, wrapping your arms around him from behind and resting your chin on his shoulder. “You could bring her a painted rock and she'd love it. As long as it's from you, she doesn't care.”

“Nah, she hated tha' bunny I brought back fer her,” he replied, closing his eyes at the warm, soft feeling of you pressed against his back.

“It's only because it was covered in walker blood,” you explained. “After I washed it, she wouldn't let the thing go.”

Daryl couldn't deny that. The aforementioned toy had been a proud edition to Hazel's stuffed animal collection for two years at that point. She loved that bunny more than anything, favouring it to join her when she played tea parties with you and Daryl. It made the archer's heart swell with love, just knowing that his daughter appreciated what he did for her made everything worth it. All the battles he fought, all the blood that was shed, it was all worth it in the end. His wife and his daughter were safe, and he'd never been happier in his life than he was in those moments in the small home you shared in Alexandria.

With you still firmly pressed against his back, he got back to work. The toy was almost done; he only had a few finishing touches he had to do. Admittedly, it was a little harder to do so with you pressed against him from behind, but he refused to ask you to move. He'd much rather work on the toy for a few extra minutes than lose the comfort your mere touch brought him.

You watched his hands intently, your mind unwillingly wandering to a place that wasn't needed at that moment. However, you couldn't help it, the knowledge of what those hardworking hands could do in other activities taking over your senses.

“You know, this gives me deja vu,” you started, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah? How so?” Daryl asked, tightening the last screw into the toy.

“Remember back when you were building your own bike five years ago?” you asked, continuing when he nodded. “Seeing you hard at work, doing something you were skilled at really did something to me. It was because you were building your bike that we even have a kid at all now. And now you're building a motorcycle for our kid.”

Daryl chuckled at the memory. “Never knew grease could turn ya on like tha' until then.”

“When it's on my handsome husband's hands? You best believe it does.”

Daryl turned around and wrapped his arms around you, staring down at you lovingly. “And now we have our own kid.”

“Our own little family,” you agreed, smiling up at him. “I love you, Dar.”

“Love ya too, peach.”

“Mama! Daddy!”

Before Daryl could lean down and capture your lips in his for a kiss, your daughter bounded down the steps. The two of you sent each other an amused look, reluctantly pulling apart. Hazel came over to Daryl and held her hands up in a silent plea to be picked up, and the archer complied.

“Hey there, Hazelnut,” Daryl greeted her with a fond smile, placing a light kiss to the top of her head.

“Hi, Daddy,” she giggled, sending a wave at you. “Hi, Mama!”

“Hi, Baby,” you chuckled, walking over to rub her hair affectionately. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Yeah! I'm ready to play now!” she exclaimed happily, a toothy smile on display.

“Well, how 'bout ya and I race our bikes?” Daryl questioned, capturing Hazel's attention.

“But Daddy, only you have a bike.”

“Not anymore,” you said in a playful tone, sharing an excited glance with the archer. “Daddy got you something.”

Daryl turned around with her in his arms and showed her the bright pink toy motorcycle. Hazel let out a surprised gasp before laughing in excitement, throwing her arms around Daryl's neck and hugging him as tightly as she could.

“Thank you, Daddy! Thank you! Thank you!” she exclaimed in excitement.

Daryl chuckled fondly and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “Yer welcome, Hazelnut.”

“Now I can be like you!” she giggled, wiggling slightly to be put down. When she was, she ran over to the workbench and stared in awe at the toy.

“Yeah,” you agreed, walking over to her to ensure she didn't accidentally hurt herself with the tools that were still on the workbench. “You just need your own crossbow now.”

Hazel gasped in delight and turned to Daryl. “Daddy, can I get a crossbow?”

“'Course ya can. How else would ya help me on my hunts?”

“Yay!” Hazel happily clapped her hands. “Mama, I'm getting a crossbow!”

Daryl smiled and walked over to the two of you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and playfully ruffling Hazel's hair. He chuckled at the giggle she let out, feeling content and comfortable as he listened to Hazel's babbling as she regarded over all the places she would go with her very own motorcycle, even to the moon. There was nothing better in his life than moments like these. This was what he fought for. And he would do it all over again if it meant keeping the two most important people in his life safe.

Because without you, his beautiful wife, and Hazel, your perfect daughter, his life would never be the same.

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eddiernunson · 4 months ago

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Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways to Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

Prev | Next

Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which just so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), mult-chapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, perv!Eddie, no use of y/n, Eddie POV, references to readers mom, a nice slow build up

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin color or body shape/type.

So the original chapter 4 was a lot shorter than I remember so I combined it with chapter 5 <3

Word count: 7.5k

Chapter 4-Chapter 5

Five weeks ago, as one of his oldest friends asked him what was new, Eddie offhandedly mentioned he would be making his way down to Hawkins sometime during the summer to help Uncle Wayne finally transition into the nursing home.

Steve laughed, jokingly asking how is it that the old bastard isn’t in one already? The answer was pure stubbornness, of course.

It was without question that Steve offered a bed whenever Eddie needed it, tutting away the nonsense of Eddie staying in the 8 Motel off ‘Sketch Valley’, aka where all dark corners Hawkins’ parents have spent their years warning their kids about. Not that it really needed the negative press, as the atmosphere was off putting as it is.

Eddie was grateful, to say the least. After earning some bang for his buck he’s gotten used to a lifestyle and the 8 Motel was the only place in Hawkins that resembled a hotel.

It was impulsively decided the week of Eddie would go and help Wayne move after he reluctantly admitted simple tasks like bathing and making toast was getting harder for him and he could use the help. He called Steve, betting on the welcome being open in any circumstance.

In the heat of the moment Steve accepted, more than happy to help out a friend, give him some place to stay and a soft bed in the middle of packing and figuring out the kinks.

You would think his one second eldest daughter who hadn’t been as nearly stealthy about her crush on the rock star as she thought staying for the weekend would off set his willingness to help, but he’s so eager to help your visit doesn’t even cross his mind. Until you show up, bag in hand, your mom’s smile on your face as you give him a big hug and he realizes this might be trickier than he thought it’d be.

Eddie’s trip is long and painful, many assholes on the road obnoxiously refusing to let him pass, long mindlessly winding roads, the urge to piss after spending long hours passing semis. Wistfully watching those same semis pass him as he hides in the bushes.

When the door opened, Eddie was surprised to see a pair of eyes a few inches shorter than he’d expected, framed by hair in a tousled bun, a bikini top peeking out from a pretty summer dress. The first thought was wow, she fills out her dress a lot better than I remember. The second thought, brought on by the freckles decorating your skin, was oh shit this is Steve’s daughter.

‘Aah, little Harrington’ was a way to remind himself and you that this was off limits. No matter how intoxicating your perfume was, or how inviting the knot tying your bikini top together was. Of course as an evil twist of fate Steve had to be showering when he had arrived only to be greeted by temptation personified, his presence needed as he found it stupid easy to fall in conversation with you, keeping his distance so he didn’t do something stupid.

You offer to grab him something, being a good host, but Eddie needed to tread carefully as he recalls Steve jokingly remarking how you had a small crush on him over the years.

He’ll get over the reminder that you’re now in your 20s, filling out a summer dress and making him wonder what present that string is possibly hiding underneath the thin fabric. He had to.

He denied your offer to make him something.

As your summer dress hit the cement, revealing the just barely there bikini he ripped his eyes away from your glowing skin, reminding himself what he was not there to do. Steve found him sitting on the couch absently strumming Carla, immediately accusing his daughter of not offering any hospitality.

He was out the backdoor before Eddie could even protest. At Steve’s insistence Eddie followed him back into the kitchen, forced to sit on the island as he worked at making a hot meal for him. Answering the basic how are you questions was easy, the hardest part was keeping his eyes off you through the still opened double doors.

It became impossible when the plate was set in front of him as Steve left the room to bring Eddie’s bags to the guest room.

The image of you gliding through the pool, droplets scattered on your shimmering skin as your legs broke through the water’s surface tension was alluring in a way that only depleted his appetite for lunch.

His one saving grace to prevent him from making any stupid decisions was Steve’s presence. Until it was gone. Fuck, Steve! Out of all possible weekends to have a work emergency you had to pick this one?

He wished he could forget how gentle you were with his things, how forgiving you were to his dorky heart in ways he himself was still so hard himself about. The teasing tone in your voice tugged at his heart strings and low in his stomach, taking him back repeatedly through the long day of packing.

Your tentative touch along his old doodling, listening to him about his favourite Dark Fantasy Novels, the knowledge about his old adventures, the questions you had asked about Wayne…everything you had dared to say only drew you closer to him.

It was a delicious taste of irony, how Eddie had told himself not to let the close proximity get to him but it turned out to be your curious nature and caring touch that made Eddie drawn to you like a moth to a flame, suddenly craving more intimacy.

The unbearable heat of the following day allowed him to gaslight himself into believing it was all circumstantial, but your tiny gym shorts and the sweat glistening along your skin had invited him, called out to him, before he knew it he had invited himself along on your walk.

Ice cream and a joint had sounded really good, finding himself in too deep when he took a deep nhale of the smoke just to smell your sweat still lingering in the grass, deliberately allowing his fingers to brush against yours.

A sweet whiff of your sweat lingered in the grassy stench, the majority reason for his deep inhale as the smoke filled his lungs. It hit the spot, smirking as he handed it over back to you, letting his fingers linger as a jolt of electricity ran right through him.

He found it too easy to fall into conversation with you, teasing and poking and finding a thrill out of the V that so easily formed between your brows. Found it even easier to use so much as his hand on your shoulder to fix your gait as you start to drift to the right or catch your wrist when you nearly nose dive.

He thought you must be trying to kill him when the smoke blew in his face, wanting to return the favor by planting his lips on yours and exhaling his next turn right to your lungs. The following sound you would’ve let out haunted Eddie, just the potential alone releasing an ache in his gut that he hasn’t felt in years.

He watched in real time as you lost your inhibitions, stumbling over your feet and repeating sentences and losing your train of thought. He wondered if you had felt your skin also ablaze when he kept finding the excuse to let your skin connect. At first it was just an excuse, soon became a necessity once you nearly nose dived, catching your wrist.

You seemed to barely notice.

He’d never quite felt jealousy as intense as it was when you mentioned your ex boyfriend, a concerning level of relief taking over him when he’d realized how little you even cared he was there, too distracted by the ice cream.

Eddie went through a world wind of emotions when you’d started lapping your tongue all over the sweet treat, humming delight at the taste and completely disregarding any present company.

He almost lost his mind when you had admitted your ex had only been mediocre with you in bed. The mental spiral he had gone through was swift and winded him, wondering how if anyone would be lucky enough to find themselves in such a position would they manage to mess it up so royally? Knowing if he’d ever give in to that most primal of desires of his, he’d take advantage of any possible moment he’d have between your thighs, make it his mission to have your legs shiver and shake for him.

He’d lap every drop of arousal you’d give him, taking every whine and moan as gospel, eager and willing to give you everything, craving the taste of you on his tongue, to watch you squirm and for him- it sent all the blood from his brain to his dick.

His spiral is squished, the fucker’s hand suddenly tight on your skin, audaciously demanding he have another trial in mediocrity. It was too easy to bend his arm backward, nearly breaking it in the process as he found great joy in how quickly his tough guy macho front collapsed.

Luckily, you forgot about it like it never happened. Unluckily, you made it your goddamn mission to eat the ice cream as erotically as you possibly could. Eddie didn’t even think you were aware of the drops on your tits, watching as you indulge so eagerly, all your slurps and hums of satisfaction going straight to his cock.

God damn the angel that had decided to fuck with him that day, the one that had told you to spend an ungodly amount of time cleaning up the ice cream which didn’t help had the same colour as a certain substance.

You’ve gone quiet as he is, but he starts to worry that maybe he overstepped or made you uncomfortable. That worry only intensified when you admit you’ve smoked way past your own limit, wondering if he had somehow pushed you into smoking more. He needs you to know its ok to listen to yourself, lifting your chin to look up to him— and fuck he takes in your beautiful face up close.

Eddie convinced himself he fucked up worse when you run off.

As he strums his guitar, the chords and melodies come out all jumbled as the nagging worry only grows. He can usually hear your shower from downstairs but the stream hasn’t started yet. Oh god, what if you’ve greened out? You didn’t smoke very much but he had no idea where that boundary for you was.

You could’ve been normally done after three puffs for all he knew. Maybe he’ll just go check on you, the incessant need to make sure you’re okay after withdrawing as hard as you did eating his brain away.

His knuckles nearly collide with the door when he first hears it.

He’s not sure what exactly he’s hearing until he hears it again, clearer and far more distinct.

Oh.

You weren’t going for a shower.

Eddie stops breathing. In the middle of the hallway, he doesn’t allow himself to move a muscle, two halves of a whole person fighting within himself.

He should move. He should put his ear against the door. He should put some pressure on this aching cock of his. He should offer you help. He should leave.

Your moans are intertwined with sighs and whimpers, no words to indicate anything and Eddie goes nuts wanting to see you.

What are you doing? Are you using your fingers in that tight little pussy of yours? Overstimulating your clit? Using a vibrator— no, he doesn’t hear any buzzing… A choked out swear passes through your lips, god those soft pillowy lips he just wants to spend hours kissing.

Images flash through his brain, your tongue wrapped around the ice cream, the drips landing on your tits you didn’t notice, your doe eyes staring up at him through your lashes— Eddie keels over, grasping at the frame of your door as he finally relieves some of the pent up pressure. Fuck—its not enough.

Your moaning has gotten louder, lost in the pleasure you’re giving yourself. Fuck, he wonders what has gotten you so worked up. Are you picturing anyone with you? Is it a side effect of the weed you smoked? Are you driven mad by him like he is by you? As it gets louder he realizes…oh fuck you’re about to— Jesus.

He hopes he has the privilege of seeing you go over the edge one of these days.

He thinks its over for a moment but you start again…and now Eddie really can’t help it anymore he has to fuck…he hisses loudly when his cock finally comes in contact with his hand, the head flushed with a bright red tint.

No wonder he’s being so careless, all the blood is gone from his brain.

For the first time since apprehensively seeing your nipples peaked from behind your adorable little bikini at the front door he allows himself to imagine himself with you with his hand around himself. He imagines its him, Eddie, making you whine as much as you are, the desperate whines and pathetic little cries coming from you the result of him situated between your legs and fucking you with his tongue.

It would taste better than the ice cream did, he knows it would.

His hand flexes, wishing he could play and grope your tit, watch how the you react to him tweaking your nipple playfully. Fuck— did you just cum again?

“Oh fucking hell!” You swear, not sounding in the least bit tired.

All the needs, the questions Eddie has been masochistically asking himself has him being needy, whispering out little pleases as he needs to touch you, to see you, to know what the hell is on your mind. “Please, please, baby, please, ‘need to see that hot fucking body wiggle and curl and shake and fuck please let it be for me. I want it to be for me.”

Eddie has never been so desperate that he needed something like this, more stoned off the moans that fill the halls rather than the joint he shared with you. It was like he was only a step away from his lips on yours, but that little allowance he gave himself earlier is no longer enough, needing your lips to be carnally captured by his, to hear the whimper you let out when he bites your bottom lip, to lick the swollen sting in an apology.

God he can’t remember the last time the thought of someone like this made him this viscerally desperate. Your moans grow louder, on the precipice of yet another orgasm and suddenly Eddie finds himself hurdling towards the finish line. “Come on baby, one more. Cum one more time for me. Let me hear you, just one more time, please.”

As if his wish was your command, you push over the edge in what sounds like an earth shattering, thigh twitching, eyes rolling orgasm. He’s willing to bet you made a mess on your bed, quaking limbs and gasping after shocks as you wear a prettily stupid smile on your face and turn over your sheets to look for your phone.

Eddie grips the door frame, staring at the sticky substance on his hands he wishes you’d lick up the same way you did with the ice cream soup. For now…he’ll wash it off.

As he shakily washes his hands, he finally reaches his eyes in his reflection, knowing that was the only time he’d let himself indulge in the fantasy you’re practically serving to him on a silver platter.

Twenty minutes later, you come down glowing, a bright smile on your face with wet hair and a new summer dress that has his hands itching to rake all over you. It takes five minutes of contemplating for Eddie to realize that this is what you look like after really good sex. He’s rock hard again, and you’re wearing too much clothes.

He’s flushed at your uncharacteristically good attitude, at the knowledge if you were his you’d be this upbeat all the time if he had anything to do with it.

You ask him if he wants pizza, smiling sweetly when he boops your nose and accept graciously. As the dress sways across the top of your thigh while you walk into the living room, Eddie lets out a small grunt as his forehead meets the cool marble counter.

He’s fucked.

The mouthwatering smell of pepperoni and green peppers with sausage made your good mood only increase, after effects of the joints and three orgasms now combined with the pizza turning your sour mood to euphoric. The sun still beats down in a horrid, blazing heat, but for now these things outweigh the muggy outdoors.

You slip the driver some cash, multitasking as you open the box simultaneously to take the first bite. You suffer through the first bite, much too hot as the driver compliments the front foyer in the Harrington house. The door shuts on him as you thank him, Eddie glowering at his wandering eyes over your shoulder that you missed through the entire interaction.

Eddie grabs the boxes from you, cheekily grinning as he insists you must be trying to hurt yourself. You shrug playfully, grinning through the bites that are still much too hot but oh so delicious.

His grin feels looser, more playful, something you wonder if its just a Jedi mind trick.

His hips collide with yours as he goes to grab a plate, serving himself some of his own pizza, (cheddar, chicken, and mushrooms) his hand lingering on your hip as he leans over to steal a piece from your pie, too.

“Who said you could have some of mine?” You ask, reaching for the piece to snatch it back.

He yanks it from your reach, his pretty dimples plain as day as you jump with no such success. “Is that really the best you can do?”

You scoff, jaw dropping as you reach for it again. “It’s easy for you to say when you’ve got—“ you huff, the piece just out of reach, “—3 or 4 inches on me at least.”

One side of Eddie’s pink lips curl up in a playful snarl, “Oh, more than that, I promise.”

You stop jumping, eyes going wide at the innuendo. “Fine, you can have it.”

“Didn’t ask for permission, but I appreciate it anyway, sweetheart,” he winks, taking a big bite from it. Ok, eating pizza should not be this sexy, you muse, watching the tomato sauce spill over his lips, and the tongue that pokes out to lap it up.

His cologne is back to overwhelming your nostrils, enveloping you in a sweet musky scent as you reach to grab some more slices for your plate.

“You know you can have some of mine,” he’s leant in, his voice low and hot breath right next to your ear sending a well defined shiver down your spine.

Your face twists in disgust as you glance at it, reaching for the garlic fingers, instead. “No thanks.”

He laughs, eyebrows raised inquisitively. “What?”

“Not a fan of mushrooms,” you shrug, moving around him for a soft drink. “Soda?”

“You’re missing out,” he insists, taking a big bite out of a particularly mushroomy piece. “Sure, sweets.”

Yesterday Eddie hadn’t gotten closer to you than necessary, always staying at least one pace away from you. Suddenly he’s in your space, leaning in and choking you with his velvet voice and overwhelming presence. That walk must’ve done really well in terms of familiarity, remembering how easy going he usually is with your dad.

“Rent a movie with me?” You ask, nodding your head toward the living room.

“As long as it’s horror and something you’ve never seen before,” he barters, picking up his plate as if he was already planning on joining you.

“Ooh, can we watch Smile?” You flick the tv to on Demand, showing rental options of movies that have just come out.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” Eddie easily grabs the remote from your grasp, switching the screen to Horror movies in stead . “It has to be something I have seen. Meaning I’m showing you a Classic. You ever seen The Poltergeist?”

You blanch, shaking your head quickly.

Laughs bubble up his throat, watching how worried your face immediately becomes in a split second. “Don’t worry. We can shut it off if it gets too much, but it’s just such a Classic.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly remembering he’s in his 40s. “Yeah, it came out when you were dropping out of college.”

He flicks your temple, huffing out a laugh at your yelp. “Shithead. Now sit and watch.”

You get comfortable, bringing the ice cold soda can to your lips as the movie turns on, increasingly aware of his presence on the couch next to you.

It was a fucking scary movie, but his consistent explanations made it worth it.

The temperature ended up cooling overnight, allowing for a deep sleep while a single top sheet frayed over your body, delicately protecting it as you sleep well into the morning. You barely remember falling asleep on the couch last night, the memory of Eddie waking you and escorting you to your bed replaying through your mind as you hug your knees and hide your wide smile against your kneecap.

His hand on your waist, thumb swaying against your cotton shirt as he asked how it is that someone manages to fall asleep during The Poltergeist, huffing out a laugh at the subsequent pout that took over your face. His low voice asked if you needed any water, his hand pausing right before it gently caressed your hairline as you drifted asleep.

The hot spray of the shower was just what you needed, doing your best not to over analyze his sudden closeness as you let the steam fill your bathroom. The too small towel barely covers the good bits as you walk towards your bedroom door, water beads scattered across your skin from your damp hair that you probably should’ve spent more time drying.

Not your fault your sister had a nicer en-suite shower than you did.

You’re only a few paces from your bedroom door when you hear what sounds like someone choking, followed by a coughing fit. You whip around to face Eddie covering his mouth with his elbow, hacking as he raises his finger to indicate he’s fine. You couldn’t be sure, but when he lowers his arm it looks like there’s a faint blush across his cheeks.

“Sorry! I was coming to check up on you it’s almost 1’clock in the afternoon,” he coughs, anxiously avoiding your stare as you stand still holding your towel up clenched in one fist. “So-sorry I’ll let you get back to it.”

You smile, taking advantage of his sudden nervous stature, looking suddenly a few inches shorter than he normally does. “You’ve seen me less in a bikini,” you deadpan, missing the way the towel slowly starts to reveal your hips and Eddie’s eyes zoning in on it.

“Right. In any case I made you lunch, if you’re up for it that is,” he tells you, clearing his throat as he plays with the scrunchie on his wrist.

“I thought rockstars all sleep in,” you joke, tilting your head as you look at him.

“I lost the ability to last year,” he quips back, smirking. “You also went to bed last night at 2 so it’s nearly been twelve hours, forgive me if I thought I had the merit to be concerned.”

“The merit?” You can’t resist it, his squirminess as you just stand in a towel is so entertaining you could burst, not even attempting to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I made god damned grilled cheese and tomato soup for you and this is how you repay me?” He exclaims, one pierced eyebrow rising. “Guess you don’t want it.”

“No!” You protest, your fun suddenly forgotten. God, how’d he know your favorite lunch? “Give me five, maybe ten minutes.”

“I’m timing you on that,” Eddie points to his watch, something probably more subtly expensive than you could guess. “9 minutes and counting!”

Eddie climbs down the stairs, finally able to take a deep breath at the bottom as he braces his hands on his knees. The image of you flashed through his mind, the towel hugging your tits pressing up against them perfectly to knock the wind out of him. As if that weren’t enough, the slit of your towel where at first your leg alone was peeking out became wider and wider, slowly revealing the droplets that still lingered on your skin, finding himself envious of water as it trailed down to where he couldn’t see, hands flexing as he wanted to trace that very pattern.

You apparently made no effort with the towel before making your way over to your bedroom because you were still soaked from your shower, hundreds of little droplets covering your skin, some trailing down from your still soaked hair. It was ethereal, watching the shine of your collarbone and that slow rising reveal of your hips.

Damn. Eddie can’t remember the last time he’s been hard twice within the same four hours. Morning wood is typical, though more uncommon these days, but a damn collarbone? Is he back in goddamn high school?

The temptation to retreat back to his guest room to relieve himself is too much, but for whatever reason he can’t bring himself to. Distraction…distraction.

Something that caught his eyes during his first day suddenly flashed through his mind, a mess of twigs and leaves and branches that has obviously gone years without any maintenance. By the time you get downstairs in yet another stunning summer dress, Eddie has found an old pair of gardening gloves and has already filled one large black garbage bag, already well on to fill a second one.

His hair is done in a loose bun that has already started to come undone, his tongue sticking out as he tries to pull apart one branch off to break the larger branch down into continuously smaller pieces. He has taken advantage of the Bluetooth speaker Steve keeps for the outdoors, blasting music reminiscent of many backyard sunny afternoons swimming and playing and tussling for hours.

His toned arms are practically bulging as he continues the yard work, glistening in a sheen layer of sweat in the hot sun, as he continually gathers weeds and the straggler branches that have blown into the fire pit over the years.

The fire pit is extremely overgrown due to lack of use, the regular use of the pit gone down significantly once your older sister moved out, no longer taking advantage of the extravagant backyard for major parties. You never had interest in hosting any parties, the clean up for the host not worth it in your humble opinion. Steve continued to hire one of the few pool boys available in Hawkins for the outdoor pool, but also saw no need to continue the maintenance of the pit.

By the time you had put the bowl and plate away in the dishwasher, Eddie had already cleared most of the fire pit and was deep in the shed, from the sounds and swears he was making it was clear he was looking for something.

You were sitting on your favorite poolside chair with a good book and some cut up watermelon you stole from the fridge when Eddie comes out pushing the lawnmower, arms fully extended as he struggles through the admittedly tall grass. A gush of watermelon juice runs down your chin as he wipes his forehead and bends to assess the machine, admiring how his hands gently rub any debris or dust that has collected over the years.

As soon as the loud motor of the lawn mower fills the backyard, it drowns the music so you turn it up on the speakers, reciprocating the single handed wave Eddie gives you in either gratitude or acknowledgement. Even with the pages of the filthy smut filled book opened, your eyes don’t stay on the pages for any longer than a second. It takes for Eddie to go from fence to fence (in a stupidly large backyard) twice for you to read a full paragraph that would usually have you on the edge of your seat.

Sorry, two characters who have finally brought their heads out of their asses and admitted their own feelings and are subsequently hooking up in a place they should not be hooking up with, Eddie Munson’s sweaty biceps are taking front row. You swallow a dry throat, the concept of water suddenly flashing through your stupid head.

You’ve been watching Eddie do manual labour in a hot sun for the better part of an hour now and he’s probably parched. You run off indoors, the air conditioned house tingling as you feel each and every goose bump that forms, looking through the fridge for something, you’re not sure.

For one moment you consider grabbing the lemonade powder from the cupboard, though that might be too on the nose. You scoop the neck of a beer bottle, dripping in condensation and the second tub of watermelon, your sandals flapping loudly until you reach the grass again, meeting him as he fills the garbage bag with the cut grass.

“Need some hydration?” You call out, holding the glass bottle to him.

“Oh, Jesus, thank you,” he sighs, tipping back the bottle, his adam’s apple deliciously bobbing as he engulfs it.

“Should’ve brought something non-alcoholic, if you’re gonna down it that quickly,” you mutter, licking your lips as you watch some of it spill and drip down his chin.

“Nah, beer’s perfec-hey, watermelon, fuck, perfect.” He grabs a larger piece from the tupperware in your other hand,one that by the time he rushes into his mouth has already begun to drip down his fingers, wrist, and forearm. When your eyes flicker back up to his face, he’s already messily chewing on the watermelon, the pink juice flowing down his chin. As he enjoys the juice that is supposedly bursting onto his tastebuds.

Eddie Munson eats slowly, he enjoys every possible second of what he eats. Not an ounce goes to waste, if he can help it from the stickiness to his thumb to the drool on his chin, he takes it all in. It drives you mental with sudden lust, squeezing your thighs together as he goes in for more watermelon. How has the pure erotic connotation of this fruit completely evaded your mind? You might as well have given him chocolate covered strawberries, you slut.

Every piece is worse than the last one, it’s like he’s purposely driving you completely mad with hormones and blinding any sense of logic you might have, your toes curling as he slowly makes his way through the chunks.

“You want some?” Eddie offers, quickly shaking you out of your trance.

You clear your throat, gesturing to the empty tub right next to your chair. “Oh, I already had a tub. Did you promise my dad you would perform free labor for a free weekend at his house, because that’s extortion, you know.”

He laughs, in the middle of taking a sip that quickly turns into a coughing fit. “No, believe it or not, I’m crazy enough to be doing this of my own free will. I also happen to have a lot of experience in landscaping.”

Your lips purse, your eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to recall any mentioning of landscaping in any magazine article or one of your dad’s many stories.

“I mowed lawns around town,” he deadpans, chuckling when he sees it click. “I also mowed lawns around LA when I first arrived. It paid for a few amps, some recording studio time, groceries. Working at the record store only paid so much, you know?”

You nod, grabbing one piece and ‘cheersing’ when he offers, picturing young Eddie Munson who’s still unknown, overworking himself to the bone so that he and his band could one day, hopefully make it. The long hours, the sore feet, the stress of hoping and working, it pinches at your heart, squeezing it but his face doesn’t give away any of the negative feelings that comes from working so hard for so long with such bare results.

He’s looking at it from a lens of nostalgia, how eager he was to learn, the eyerolls of his customers who overpaid him to simply trim their lawn at his answer ‘musician’ when they asked him what he did for work. How across those same lawns its a party trick. Eddie Munson once cut my father’s lawn in the summer of 91, true story.

Half those people he’s probably never met, but he’s willing to be someone’s little white lie, after all he dreamed about days like these.

“I considered getting into the pool cleaning business but it was too much to learn and too many bored moms looking for a fantasy in their pool boys. I’m good, I just needed the money. I heard that lost it’s merit after three.”

“Who’d you learn that from?” You grin, seeing a twinkle in his eye.

He laughs again, chewing on some more of the pink juicy fruit you couldn’t help but watch carefully.”Gareth,” he muses, speaking of his band’s drummer who bores a sick goatee and once blonde long locks he chopped off a few years ago much to the dismay of many fangirls. “He said it was the best gig ever then took it (and his gear) back the following week.”

From what you know about their band and their quirks, that sounds like Gareth.

“I’m gonna get back to it. I should be done at least the brunt of it in an hour or so. Do me a favor and keep checking me out, it’s doing numbers for my already large ego,” he winks, taking the final sip of his beer.

You go speechless, your mouth that was once somewhat hydrated from the melon now cotton dry. “I was-I was not–”

“I was teasing you, sweetheart. But hey me thinks the lady doth protest too much”

“I didn’t even protest!” you argue, bearing your forearms toward him feeling like you’re in the middle of a performance with how amazingly dramatic and tense the situation has become.

“Oh, no, you couldn’t even speak,” Eddie smirks, leaning over to yank on the cord of the machine, drowning out your argument.

Not like anything’ll happen, anyway, you shrug, walking back over to your book.

Sometime in the later afternoon after you help Eddie put all the garbage bags at a hidden corner of the yard, he decides to go in for a shower, his stinky musk acting as a strong pheromone.

You don’t even notice him come back down, sat on the cool couch indoors as the filthy scene has finally caught your attention. The character is overcoming her first orgasm and bewildered when her love interest goes in for more when your flow is interrupted by Eddie, as bag of marshmallows between his gritted teeth and cradling a few more indecipherable ingredients as he nods toward the outside.

When you hit the backyard the outdoor string of lights has been turned on, two chairs by the fire in the pit one with a blanket, soft rock music on in the background as Eddie puts down all the ingredients.

“Wh-what is this?” You ask him as your heart pounds in your chest hard.

“I uh–” he clears his throat, biting his thumb, “I just thought we could enjoy this fire pit that has spent so many years feeling useless. Let’s give it a night of change.”

“You cleaned out the fire pit because you felt sorry for it?” You clarify, shooting a pointed glance toward him.

“Not in so many words,” he reframes, scratching his neck. “Though I thought it must be jealous of his neighbor for still getting maintained all these years.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muse, staring up at his brown eyes that don’t reach yours. “And sweet,” you add, biting back giggles when he breaks into a smile. “I’m sure our fire pit would love a night where he’s the center of attention again.”

“He?” Eddie points out, the eyebrow piercing hitting the sunset as they meet his hairline.

“You’re the one who said it must be jealous” you point out, walking over to the chair with the blanket.

As soon as your thighs hit the chair, Eddie wastes no time. “So, What was your dad’s opinion of what was it, Mark? Matthew?”

“Andy,” you mend, not caring if even got the name wrong.Getting the first letter wrong somehow made you feel better, as Andy was barely a blip on your radar as far as your weekend goes. “And he hated him. Tried to hide it, didn’t do a very good job of it, though.”

“Your dad has hated many boyfriends from what I can remember,” Eddie mutters, legs crossed as he stares right into the fire. The fire makes his brown eyes look brazenly dashing and a little on the wild side.

“My sisters and I didn’t all have the best track record of boys in high school,” you admit, suddenly feel the elephant in the room, or yard, that is your age difference that still has yet to be discussed. “College boys are even worse, honestly.”

“Men aren’t much better,” Eddie shakes his head, squinting comically.

“I think there’s a few good ones out there,” you mutter, only staring straight into the fire. “But back to my dad. Andy in specifically I think was his least favorite in the bunch because they just butted heads, all the time.”

“Why stay with a guy like that for two years?” Eddie asks. You look at him, having answered a question that feels accusatory from anyone else with defensiveness. The need to defend the seventeen year old girl dies in your throat when you see his expression, complete curiosity. “Expert in gaslighting and lovebombing and making an insult feel like a compliment. God all the time I wasted on him feeling like I wasn’t good enough–” you sigh, shaking yourself out of it. “Looking back it’s a parade of red flags.”

“Everything in hindsight,” Eddie amends, colliding his shoulder with yours as an act of comfort. “Sorry to bring it up he just seemed–he bothered me.”

“Acting like he’s too smart for college is so like him,” you admit, shaking your head. “What a dick.”

Eddie bursts out in laughter, handing you a cold opened beer bottle. Usually you turn down the wheaty drink if you can, but for his kindness and grand gesture you bring the bottle to your lips anyway after cheersing with him.

He’s in the middle asking about how you think you will do once you continue into your fifth year of college working towards your masters in psychology when the playlist shuffles into a song by Corroded Coffin, one of the only genuine love songs the band has ever produced.

“I love this song,” you muse, swaying to the start of a luck struck tale. It speaks of a girl at 18, wild smiles and pretty eyes meeting a boy of 19, lost and alone and aimless.

“I bet you do,” Eddie smiles, no malice behind his words.

You jerk, sending him the silent question of why?

“You really don’t know?” He asks, leaning back in his chair with wide eyes when you confirm. “Huh.”

“What?” You ask, staring to hum along when the upbeat chorus comes along, just two kids in a crazy world, how simple can this be just a boy and a girl, softly smiling at the hook and title of the song. “What?”

“I wrote this song about your parents,” Eddie mutters, looking off past the fire. “I started writing it early on in their relationship but only realized I’d release it when your dad proposed. I knew when he met her that she was the one for him.”

You smile, only vague memories of your mom flittering around in your mind, mostly hospital visits and playing cards with her and your siblings as she wore a beautiful vivid scarf on her head. “I didn’t know that,” the pressure that builds behind your eyes blurs the orange flames, the bridge suddenly making far too much sense and wondering how you’ve never connected it before.

Or why no one has ever told you.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, the beer bottle pausing on the way to his lips.

“I’m okay,” you smile, one stupid tear breaking free on the last chorus. “Just taken aback.”

“I’m sorry if I–” he starts, his voice drowning in remorse.

“It’s ok,” you nod, taking a sip of the alcohol to kill some of the grief you felt. “Really. Can we talk about something else now?”

He nods, walking around the fire to a few things you still haven’t noticed, pokey sticks. He sheathes a marshmallow on one of the prongs followed by another, hanging the pokey to you carefully. “S’more?”

You grin, nodding as you grab it from him and ignoring the warmth from his fingers brushing against yours gives you. “I suppose. Although it seems we are ignoring our dinner,” you joke, pointing out the hot dogs he also brought out.

“Dinner schminner,” Eddie dismisses, sitting back down. “We have s’mores, instead.”

“You’re a terrible influence,” you accuse, resting the stick on the edge of the pit. “Wait til my father hears about this,” you mutter in your best british accent, terribly butchering it.

“First of all,” Eddie huffs, unable to hold in his laughter. “That was the worst English accent I’ve ever heard in my life. That sucked.” Your fists collides with his knee, barking out laughter at his ‘ow!’ “Hey! I’m roasting marshmallows here, careful, it’s a very delicate process!”

“You deserved that, even if it’s true you just made me cry and now I’m emotionally vulnerable. I could’ve very well burst into tears from your insult!” You can’t even take yourself seriously, bursting into giggles by the halfway point. “Okay, what was second of all?”

“I don’t like to brag but I once met Daniel Radcliffe at one of my shows,” he shrugs, as if it were no big deal, failing to hide how gleeful it t ruly made him feel.

“First, you seem like the type of person who loves to brag, second, you seem very excited about it and I’m not at all jealous you got to meet him. He seems so cool and genuine.”

“That’s just the thing, he really is that cool and genuine and it was the most bizarre thing,” Eddie shakes his head, twirling the stick around. “The most random of people come to our shows and I’m always shocked when they say they like us because it still feels so unreal.”

“Twenty some odd years and it still feels like a dream?” You ask, watching a look of bewilderment take over his face that could never be faked. “That’s really cool, oh shit.” You tug in your marshmallows, one of them extra crispy as you blow out the flame. “Fuck,” you mutter, having hated burnt marshmallows.

“Wanna trade? I love the burnt ones,” Eddie grins, holding out the perfectly golden brown mallows.

You rapidly nod, biting on your bottom lip.

Its a struggle to get the gooey treats onto the chocolates and graham crackers, neither of you having the foresight to unwrap the damn things before roasting the star pieces of the treats. Eddie takes the trouble all in good stride, laughing as one of yours almost falls off the prong before he can get the graham cracker ready.

The first one of yours is already done by the time he sits with his own, having insisted he didn’t need help and to go fucking sit down already.

“How are they?” He takes a bite, nodding in approval before you can answer.

“Really good,” you hum, your voice muffled in chocolatey gooyness as your fingers continue to get sticky.

“Hmm, yeah that hits the stuff,” he appreciates, wet smacking as he works through his s’more so quickly you’re not even sure he was chewing. “Oh, just what I needed after a long day of yard work.”

“You did that voluntarily,” you remind him, taking alas the final taste of a delicious s’more. It might’ve been the best damn one you’ve ever had.

“Guess I just needed a reminder of what a long day of hard work looks like,” he shrugs, pausing in his bites as something crosses his mind. The thought goes away just as quickly, continuing to finish off his s’more.

The sun has nearly disappeared into the horizon, a beautiful dark blue starting to overhaul the once crystal. The conversation dwindles down, the loud crack of the fire pit and background music filling the air instead.

You think it’s the perfect ending to your days spent together.

Until.

‘“I have a stupid idea.” He says, his knee knocking yours.

“Hmm?” you ask, hazy from your third beer.

“In the mood for a swim?”

Thank you so much for reading! Remember replies and reblogs are the best way to support fic writers on tumblr!

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