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thewidowsledger · 1 month

Text

Good Luck, Babe

Pairings: College Student Natasha Romanoff x College Student Female Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Tags | Warnings: +18, smut, ANGST, jealousy, cheating (we're cheating on Steve with Natasha), Natasha has a penis, top!Natasha, bottom!reader, fingering (r receiving), dirty talk, car sex, mirror sex, hate sex (?), choking, slapping, dacryphilia, blowjob (Natasha receiving), breeding kink only if you dare to squint, Natasha fucking r like a guitar, if I missed something I am going to throw hands

Author's Note: I’ll be back in 3 weeks I guess, I already scheduled some chapters for my fics, one each week. For this week, I serve you this one-shot🤲💗 This is something I wrote when I was supposed to be studying, lol. The title says it all. I did not proofread this one and I decided to remove some parts because I feel like it's getting too long. I hope y’all are doing okay! Enjoy!

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⧗

“I realize I just wanted to stay home, have a quiet night in.”

“Oh, you intend to be quiet?”

You furrowed your brows at her question, “Yeah, why would I be loud?” You asked innocently, not aware of the redhead's innuendo, your back was facing her as you started to remove the heels you have been wearing.

“Well, if I am going to fuck someone’s girlfriend, I might want to hear her scream my name.”

⧗

You stirred from your sleep in the middle of the night, woken by the gentle sound of Natasha's snore. As you looked up at her, her auburn locks lay scattered, half-veiling her face in peaceful slumber. You gently pulled the strands aside, you admired the way her features were soft and unguarded in sleep as if she didn't drive you into the brink of ecstasy a while ago.

You watched, entranced, as the steady rise and fall of her chest painted a tranquil rhythm, like the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.

Her eyelashes fluttered softly, like fragile butterfly wings beating in the night.

Soft breaths escaped her lips and with each exhale, her warmth wrapped around you like a cozy blanket, enveloping you in comfort and security.

Your fingers traced the marks that marred her otherwise smooth skin. There were long, deep scratches on her back as you clawed to her dear life when she rammed into you, bringing you both to the peak of your own highs.

Unable to resist the urge, you leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

“I love you, Natasha.”

⧗

Natasha was behind the wheel of her convertible and you were riding shotgun. You both planned to get away before the graduation, a secret escape for just the two of you.

Yes, it was a secret escape, just like your clandestine affair. For the past year, you had been meeting secretly, your passionate trysts hidden away from the prying eyes around your campus.

How could one imagine that the epitome of perfection in the eyes of many, from students, professors, and school staff had chosen a band guitarist to share your deepest desires and secrets with?

The fact that you, the student body president of the College of Liberal Arts, the volleyball captain ball, the campus' debate team leader, and the devoted girlfriend of the campus’ student council Steve Rogers has been in an entangled affair with Natasha Romanoff, the school's band guitarist, was kept strictly under wraps.

Only a select few were aware of the tangled web you both were weaving behind the scenes. A few that only you, Natasha and her sister Yelena know about the affair that you’ve been keeping closely a guarded secret.

With your hands held high up in the air, you relished the feeling of the wind whipping through the open top of Natasha's convertible. The rush of air against your skin felt incredibly free and exhilarating.

As you stood there in the open wind, blissfully unaware, Natasha watched you intently, cherishing the unguarded moment between the two of you. Taking in every detail as she glanced at you the way your hair tousled in the breeze, the sparkle in your eyes as you smiled and the way your pink sundress fluttered in the wind. It was in these small moments, when she could watch you in your carefree state, where she could openly watch you and admire your carefree happiness without the need for secrecy or hiding.

Unlike when you were on campus Natasha could only watch you from a distance. Whether it was her playing with the band during a night blast events your campus would trimonthly organize, searching for your familiar face in the crowd, or her sitting in the audience far enough for her not to be seen by you, watching you shine in a debate competition you joined.

Just for once, it's only the two of you, completely unburdened by your secret affair.

“How did your send off go by the way?” Natasha asked, as she put her hands on your lower back.

“As usual, every player, even the new recruits had to spike a ball into me!” you rolled your eyes in the air. You glance at the redhead who is staring admiringly at you, you smile at her, biting your lip when she slowly dragged her hand all the way down to the curve of your ass.

“Two hands on the wheel, Romanoff.”

Natasha chuckled, tearing her right hand away from you, you slumped on the passenger seat as she did so, “And coach just told me that Bishop will be the next captain ball.”

“She's in the same position as you, right?” Natasha asked, now putting a hand over your thighs, unable to resist the temptation to touch you.

“During her residency coach had to train her as an opposite because we had filled the quota for each position. She was originally middle.”

Natasha hummed at your response. Her fingers can't help but stray, tracing patterns on your thighs. Her hands begin to move of their own accord, sneaking higher and higher up your thighs with every pass.

Her touch sends shivers down your spine, your breath hitching in your throat as her fingers make contact with your sensitive skin. You can't help but let out a soft moan, involuntarily arching towards her touch.

“Natasha,” you warned softly.

Her gaze flickers to yours innocently but she doesn't stop, her fingers continuing to trace patterns on your thighs, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, “What’s wrong?” She watches you carefully, her hands pausing in their ministrations as she waits for your response.

“Stop the car,” you demanded and she didn't hesitate. Her eyes flicker to the rear-view mirror, spotting an empty side street just ahead. She swings the car in that direction, pulling over and turning off the engine in record time.

She barely has time to register your movement before you're on her. Your legs straddling her, your body pressed close against hers as you take control of the situation. Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she grins, her hands coming up to grip your hips and pull you closer.

She trails kisses down your neck, softly nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, careful not to make any marks even though she has been dying to mark you—to make you really hers.

Without warning, she thrusted her fingers deep inside you.

“Oh, Nat!” You cried in pleasure as she drove you higher and higher. Her fingers move faster, her thumb applying more pressure to your clit. She can feel you trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“I can't believe you didn't wear any panties baby,” she chuckled, “what if someone saw my pussy while you stood there in your seat huh?”

“I-I, I—”

“Close baby?” She smirked on your neck, she added another finger curling in your tight walls that made you gasp and buck harder towards her digits.

“Nat, I’m gon’, I’m gonna…” you trailed off, finally hitting the peak of your orgasm. You chased your own breath when Natasha pulled you into a deep kiss and you let her dominate you again as she pushed her tongue onto yours.

She smirked at you as she pulled away, “You always loved quickies, baby.” She teased, licking her digits that were coated with your arousal.

You hummed, placing your forehead on hers, “Because that's what only we can afford.” You said in a small voice, your breath fanning over her mouth.

“Not now though, we have all the time in the world.” Natasha replied as she stroked your cheek, the pain was evident in her voice as she spoke. You both never really had time alone inside the campus without prying eyes or suspicions of others. The only time you have is this, when you two would plan a night out every month or when Natasha would occasionally do late-night visits where she would sneak into your dorm and the two of you would spend the night making love to each other.

“That’s the thing, Nat. We’re on our way back to the world, the real world,” you kissed her neck all the way up to her jaw and to her lips. You eyed her and kissed her nose before moving away from her lap back to the passenger seat.

The drive to the campus’ dorm complex was quick just like the quickie you had half an hour ago. Natasha pulled the car to a quiet secluded area and got out of her car. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow?” Natasha asked as she opened the passenger door, you stepped out with your training bag that you brought with you.

“Steve will pick me up tomorrow,” you said as you looked at her, you placed a kiss on her cheek, “But I for sure will see you tomorrow, alright?”

You and Natasha had agreed upon certain rules during the course of your…affair and one of those rules was that you would never mention your boyfriend's name when she was present. In this moment, however, you inadvertently forgot about this rule and his name slipped from your lips without a second thought.

Natasha just concealed her jealousy and aching heart but when you softly leaned on her, your head comfortably resting on her shoulder it was quick to soothe her. She then asked, “You don't want me to accompany you upstairs?”

“I might not let you go if I let you come with me.” You confessed but the redhead knew this too. Your eyes, however, betrayed your hidden desires, silently pleading with her to disregard any resistance and come to the dorm with you.

“Baby, don't give me those eyes,” Natasha softly whined.

You chuckled and painfully tore yourself away from your secret lover, “Good night, Nat.”

⧗

It is Tony's tradition to host a party before the school year comes to a close and has become a much-anticipated event in your campus. But this year the party held a somber undertone as it marks the end of the journey for your entire batch. Tomorrow is your graduation day and everyone will finally embark on different paths. So this night will hold a memory for all of you as you hold a bittersweet celebration bidding farewell to school days and the journey you had together.

Your boyfriend, Steve, just picked you up at your dorm and as soon as you arrived at Tony's place, your eyes scanned the room, searching for a glimpse of your secret lover. Despite Steve's firm grip on your hand, your attention was elsewhere, the need of seeing your secret lover making your heart skip a beat. You tried to remain composed, pretending to engage in conversation with Steve.

“I finished my graduation speech, love,” he told you, his voice cutting through the loud party music. Your mind was preoccupied with searching for your secret lover and you only half-listened to his words, caught up in your own thoughts.

“What? Sorry baby,” you apologized, your attention finally shifting to him.

“I said,” he held both of your hands and pulled you closer to him, eager to pull you away from whatever is distracting you, “I just finished my graduation speech,” he whispered to your ear.

You smiled, reaching up to pinch Steve's cheek proudly, “My council president.” Eyes shining with pride and happiness for him—genuinely.

Steve is a quintessential all-rounder; a true gentleman who excelled academically and was a beacon for the students as he is the student council president.

He is a good boyfriend too. He was consistent in picking you up from your classes, walking you back to your dorm. You couldn't help but notice that he possessed a mildly possessive nature, because he seemed to want to keep you shielded, no, away from the outside world because your life just revolves around the campus, gym, organization faculty, and dorm and your boyfriend made sure of that.

Whenever you attended training, tune ups or participated in debates, Steve is always there, observing and sometimes engaging in your activities. He had a subtle ego, where he'd train you, play as your opponent during debates and literally break you, pushing you through your limits because he told you that he wants you to do good, do better—he wants you to win.

He doesn't want losers and he always wins and you knew that the day he won your “yes” when he asked you on a date—he always gets what he wants—he always wins and everytime you let him.

“Stop giving Y/N those blue gooey eyes, Rogers,” Tony's joke broke the moment between you and Steve as he offered drinks. “Lovebirds, drinks?” You cringe at his words, it doesn't feel right to you.

Steve accepted a cup for himself but when you were about to get one for yourself he swiftly interjected, shielding your hand away from the tray declining the offer on your behalf. You gave Tony a strained smile, “I’m good, Tony, thanks.”

How did you even bother to get one when he never lets you drink alcohol or engage in any activities he deemed unsuitable for himself when you were out together? You often felt trapped and restricted, as if you could never truly enjoy yourself when you’re with him. He constantly kept a watchful eye on you, ensuring your compliance to his rules—making you feel constantly monitored and controlled like right now you’re basically trapped and isolated in the corner, his towering body shielding you away from the crowd in the party.

Sure, he is a good boyfriend.

“Stop, fucking in the corner blondie!” You heard his friend Sam shout at the distance and Steve just gave him a finger but still facing you.

Steve is never the one who fucks around, he always maintained decency and in fact—he is a celibate and no one knew actually—just you. It was an agreement to the both of you when your relationship began which you completely agreed and respected but what he didn't know was that you were secretly breaking that agreement by satisfying your desires every night with your secret lover.

And your secret lover, concealed by the presence of others at the party, watched despite Steve's imposing frame blocking her view. She watched as you laughed at his words and planted a kiss on his cheek every now and then. She watched Steve as he wrapped your hands around his neck, you looked happy—too happy she thought, considering she knew the truth about your secret. And the secret in question? Is her.

She clenched her jaw as you placed a final, chaste kiss on Steve's cheek, she almost lost it when your boyfriend tried to attempt to kiss your mouth but you gently stopped him by placing a finger on his lips, keeping him at bay and chuckling slightly as you finally walked away from him and from the crowd of the party.

⧗

You managed to convince Steve that you could make it back to your dorm alone, insisting that you'd see each tomorrow at graduation rites. Steve begrudgingly agreed, though you could tell he really wanted to walk you back as he usually did.

As you walked back to your dorm complex in the chill of the night, the absence of your secret lover weighed heavily on you. You didn't see a glimpse of the redhead tonight, she was nowhere to be seen at the party, leaving you to wonder where she disappeared to.

You took a deep breath before opening the door of your dorm only to be greeted by none other than your secret lover who you have been looking for the whole night.

“Out early in the party huh?”

You bit your lip pretending to not be shocked by her presence, you forgot that she had duplicated your dorm key, “I realize I just wanted to stay home, have a quiet night in.”

“Oh, you intend to be quiet?”

“Well, if I am going to fuck someone’s girlfriend, I might want to hear her scream my name.” She stepped forward and grabbed your hips, you sucked in a little breath as she inhaled in your neck. “So tell me, will you be loud for me? Y/N? Will you…scream my name?” She husked, her breath warm against your skin.

You turned to her, green orbs dilated as you looked straight at her eyes.

“Don’t I?” You whispered in a very dangerous tone as you ran your thumb against her lips, “always,” you caressed her cheek and traced your fingers along her tense jawline, “scream your name?”

A growl ripped out through her, she immediately grabbed your hips and turned your back on her front. Her lips found your neck and she sucked and bit gently, leaving a faint mark. With a swift movement, you yelped a little as Natasha pulled your left leg up, causing your skimpy dress to roll up even further. Her hand instinctively went up to the back of your thigh, gripping it tightly.

You didn't notice that you were both facing your vanity mirror. Natasha's eyes darkened while yours widened as you looked at your reflection through the mirror. Natasha's right hand sneaks through your panties, finding its way to your core. She begins to rub gentle circles, causing you to gasp and lean back against her.

“Fuck!”

Natasha's left hand grips your thigh with the same precision and strength as when she holds her electric guitar during their gigs. Meanwhile, her right hand continues to strum your core like how she played a wild solo on her guitar.

She was the artist and you were the art.

“Oh yes, yes ah!”

Your moans fill the air, her fingers moving with a skilled rhythm that could make any musician jealous. To her, your moans and the sloppy sound of your pussy are like music to her ears, a symphony of pleasure that she herself is producing. Your moans crescendo, becoming louder and more frequent as she pushes her fingers in and out of you while her thumb continues to strum your clit. Your moans are like a song she is composing right this moment and the only lyrics is her name.

“Natasha!” You moaned out in pleasure.

Her breath hitches as she continues to pleasure you. She leans in close to your ear again, her voice a low purr. “Open your eyes and look in the mirror.”

You hazily opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was her smokey eyes filled with lust, desire, and pleasure. You then dragged your gaze down to her digits disappearing inside your cunt—the sight only brought you closer to the edge.

“C-cum—please let me cum,” you whined, a tear falling down your cheek. You can feel her lips curling into a predatory smile on your neck as she hears your plea. She doesn't respond with words, instead choosing to increase the tempo of her fingers.

“Only if you open those pretty eyes of yours and look at the mirror, detka.”

You squeezed your eyes shut before managing to open them again, looking straight at her through the mirror.

“Come and scream my name.”

“Oh f—fu—Natasha!”

You finally fall over, throwing your head back on her shoulder, a triumphant cry escaping your lips as she feels your body tremble against her. As the waves of pleasure subside, Natasha removes her fingers and you watch her in the mirror as she brings them to her lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied purr. She immediately catches your trembling body, still recovering from your orgasm, she then carries you into a bridal style and gently places you to the bed.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You hummed pulling her by her leather jacket, “Please stay, Natty.”

Natasha watches as your eyes flutter closed, she carefully extracts herself from your embrace, but you cling to her, your grip tightening on her jacket. Natasha pauses, her heart heavy in her chest as she looks down at your sleeping form. She knows she had planned to talk to you tonight, to finally come clean about her feelings, but now that the moment is here, she can't just bring herself to wake you up.

She takes a deep breath, her fingers gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face. She remembers the first time she saw you, how easy it was to slip into her role as a recluse and simply observe. You were the most popular student on campus, an achiever, the captain ball, always surrounded by a group of admirers. It made it all too easy to keep her feelings under wraps. That's why she couldn't believe the moment her sister told her that you wanted to meet her and it ended up with you in her car, begging her to let you come.

It wasn't long before things took a turn. You would find yourself asking her to come to your dorm after your classes were over, even if Natasha’s class isn't, she would immediately have an early out just to go to you only for the two of you to spend the night relentlessly fucking each other until neither of you could move anymore.

One time her sister brought her to your game. And she saw you struggling to keep up with the rest of your team—having a bad day to play. She watched you go to Steve and how he threw you your towel and handed you your tumbler being the supportive boyfriend that everyone thinks he is when he is acting like an entitled self-proclaimed coach just watching you, not even cheering or hyping you up.

And before she knew it, when you walked towards where she sat during the game completely shocked at her presence, she leaned enough for everyone not to notice—she offered to fuck you as a reward if ever you win the game. Only if she knew that you have a game, she would bring everything she thinks you might need, she’ll bring you a jug of water, different colors of kinesiology tape, hell, she would buy you new shoes. But right now motivation is all she can offer because it's too high of a risk if she did all these things.

It was the first time she had seen you play because it was one of your rules, for her not to show up whenever you're in a competition, games, tune ups or in an event organized by you or your organization. You had explained to her that you preferred to keep things hidden, no, low-key, to avoid attracting unwanted attention that could arise from others noticing the two of you. She agreed, not even thinking a bit of it because she wanted you safe as you hold a lot of titles in you. She doesn't want to ruin your image though it breaks her heart not being able to watch you win and be successful in each game or competition.

Would that still be important if after you win it was her you would spend the night with where she’ll see you in all your glory as she makes you feel like a champion once more?

At first, keeping your affair a secret had been easy. It was a necessary precaution, one that she understood and respected. But as time went on, Natasha found herself yearning for more.

Sometimes she wishes she would be the one you’re running to after you won a game. She wanted to be able to cheer you on from the sidelines as you won game after game, competition after competition, events after events. She wanted to be there every time you win and every moment of loss—she’ll be there no matter what.

But that will happen anymore, Natasha could already feel the weight of the unknown future bearing down on her. This was it, the moment she had both been looking forward to and dreading. You two are graduating tomorrow, new chapters, new beginnings and things aren't still settled for the both of you, you never opened up, you never told her where you stood in this…clandestine affair.

And that made her want you more. She yearned to be by your side, proudly and openly. She craved for the day when she didn't have to hide her feelings for you or keep her presence a secret. She hoped for the day when she could stand beside you, not as a shadow, not a secret but as a partner—your lover.

Is that too much to ask for?

⧗

The sun was beating down on the graduates and their families, sweat glistening on their foreheads as they chatted and laughed, snapping pictures and the students—graduates hugged each other tightly, tears streaming down their faces as they said their goodbyes.

Natasha's eyes frantically searched for you. Her heart pounded in her chest as she clutched her trencher, every second feeling like an eternity as she scanned the sea of faces—and there you were standing with Steve and she assumed his family—deep in conversation and laughter.

In the midst of the chaotic crowd around you, both of your gazes met and everything else faded away—it felt like the whole world stopped and it’s just the two of you.

You snapped back to reality as Steve pulled you into a warm embrace and kissed the side of your head, his family looking on with teasing grins. But you couldn't help but feel a twinge of cringe because you knew Natasha was watching all this happen.

“Love, I’ll just go see my friends and Mom.” You said, pulling back from Steve’s suffocating embrace. You gave him a small convincing smile as you tried to get yourself away from the situation.

When he nodded you immediately excused yourself to his family and ran towards the direction where you last saw the redhead. Before you could even go away there was a hand who stopped you from walking-running, you gasped as warm and strong arms pulled you into embrace—not a suffocating one.

“Hey beautiful.”

“Nat.” You sighed, leaning closer to her. Her scent envelopes your senses.

You were suddenly jolted back into reality, and swiftly disentangled yourself from Natasha's embrace. You could see the pain flickering in Natasha's eyes as you retreated hastily. You despised yourself for causing her this, yet you couldn't explain your actions just yet. It wasn't that you didn't care for her—quite the opposite, but the fear of exposure and being not accepted prevented you from being out with her freely.

How you wished you could tell her that.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

“Nat, I need to find mom, we…” you trailed off, unsure on how to tell her, “we’re gonna have lunch with Steve’s family.”

Nat's eyes searched your face, sensing the turmoil within you. She seemed to want to say something but held back, her silent gaze speaking volumes. You didn't miss the flash of disappointment in her eyes and the sorrow etched on her face. You were all too familiar with this. So, you swiftly reassured her, placing a gentle hand against her cheek, silently begging her to focus on you.

“Nat, don't forget our week-long plans,” you reminded her softly, your thumb tenderly caressing her cheek. “I’ll be all yours, just you and me.”

Natasha despised how effortlessly you could coax her, and yet, she surrendered willingly as she always did—her love for you overriding all the resistance. Every time you whispered sweet reassurances and gave a comforting touch, she melted, her resolve crumbling effortlessly.

She could never say no to you.

Just as you were about to lean in to steal a kiss from Natasha, a sharp call of your name pierced through the air.

“Y/N.”

You turned around to see your mother watching the two of you, “Mama…”

How you wished she didn't see you lean in for Natasha and to alleviate the awkwardness, you introduce them both to each other.

Nervously, you began, your voice quivering slightly, “Mom, this is Nat…” you trailed off, unsure on how to introduce your lover because you cannot just introduce her as your lover yet since your mom knew about Steve and ‘friend’ just didn't seem adequate to describe what you shared with Natasha, not if you both know what each other tasted like. The thing between you and Natasha was too complex, too dangerous, too intense to be boxed into a single label.

You looked towards Natasha, offering a strained smile, silently begging her to make a good impression. Your mother was known for being judgmental at times, and the last thing you wanted was for her to disapprove of the person dearest to you.

Natasha took the initiative, greeting your mom, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” and she extended a hand. However, your mom's gaze remained fixed, her eyes honed in on the intertwined fingers of your hands with redhead. The subtle gesture didn't escape your mom's keen eyes.

Sensing your mom's penetrating stare, you quickly withdrew your hand from Natasha, creating a bit of distance between the two of you. Your mother seemed lost in thought for a moment before snapping back to reality and reaching out to shake Natasha's hand.

“Congratulations.” She greeted with her unreadable expression and the redhead gave her a warm smile and thanked her.

“Steve and his family are waiting for us.”

You nod, acknowledging your mom's reminder before she started walking away. You turned towards Natasha and you found her looking down, she then handed you a box and whispered, “You should go.”

Despite the aching in your chest, you managed a feeble smile, holding the box she had handed you. It is a necklace with a guitar pendant similar with the electric guitar she's using during her gigs, “It's beautiful.”

No reply came out from the redhead and her silence is making you hard to leave, you longed to remain here—to embrace her. Your heart clenched in your chest as you attempted to suppress the tears threatening to spill, “I'll see you, Nat. Okay?”

Natasha stood there, her eyes fixated on you as you walked away. A soft whisper escaped her lips, lost in the air, wishing that these words are enough to make you stay.

“I love you.”

⧗

Two months had crept by since your graduation day and the affair with Natasha remained a secretive yet constant part of your life. The thrill and passion you shared with her continued to burn brightly, with neither of you daring to mention the status of the affair. The question of what it meant would remain locked away, hidden beneath layers of secrecy.

Not until you kept another secret from your secret lover herself.

“So when are you going to tell me about it?” Natasha's voice was cold as she cut through the silence, her anger barely contained.

You froze under her intense gaze, your body shaking as you fought back tears.

“I...I'm sorry,” you whispered.

Shaking her head, Natasha continued, her eyes flickering with hurt and anger. “Engaged? And you didn’t tell me?”

Your tears finally cascaded down your face as you relived the memories of four days ago, when Steve had proposed to you. How could you say no? He decided to propose to you in front of his parents and your mother. And the sickening weight of expectations and the pressure of you saying yes to him had overwhelmed you causing you to yield without hesitation.

Natasha had learned about the proposal from Steve himself and he had even made a joke about her reuniting with the campus band and playing at your wedding.

It was no secret because you were planning to tell her, of course you are, you were just looking for the right time but when she showed up at your apartment minutes ago, her intoxication evident in her glassy eyes and the strong smell of alcohol that hung heavy got to her, you knew—but you didn't know that it came from your fiance himself.

Natasha's voice cracked in anger and despair, “I did everything you wanted! I followed your rules, your demands. I stayed away when you asked, I played along to keep our…fuck!” She suddenly broke off, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as she wiped the tears trickling down her cheeks. “Relationship isn't even the right word. We're not even a couple, right?”

“Stupid,” she chuckled, “stupid! stupid, stupid!” Natasha unleashed a punch to each word, slamming into the wall next to her. You flinched and fought the urge to soothe her but she turned to you, tears streaming down her face.

“I played along to…” she choked back a sob, “to keep you!” She spat, pointing a finger on you.

Maybe it was too much to ask for.

Her words hit you like a knife to the heart, causing you to physically flinch. Your tears welled up and fell uncontrollably, your whole body quivering with sobs as you struggled to hold yourself together.

“Sorry.”

Your heart was heavy with guilt for causing Natasha so much pain. The single word didn't seem enough to fix the hurt you had done, but it was all you could manage in this moment.

“I just wan…” she breathed, “I just want you to be mine.”

“I am yours, Natasha.” You managed to immediately say between sobs, placing your palm over your chest emphasizing each word.

“Are you?” Her brows knit together, “with that ring on your finger?”

Natasha approached you and with every inch she advanced, you slowly retreated, your body moving back in response to her encroaching presence. Natasha finally stood close, her body towering over you. You could feel the heat of her breath on your skin, infused with the strong scent of alcohol. Her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath she took.

“Y/N you were never mine to begin with and I had to live up with that.”

You were looking away from her, arms wrapped tightly around yourself in a protective manner. Natasha's fingers gently guided your chin, tilting your head up to meet her eyes. Her touch was electrifying as she slid her fingers down to your arm, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“I chose to live up with that.”

Her movements were slow and deliberate as she took your engagement ring off your finger and examined it before letting it bounce to the carpet of your bedroom.

“Engaged, hm?” Natasha smirked, the pads of her thumb wiping the tears running down your cheek, “did you let Steve finally fuck you after you said yes to him?”

You breath hitched at the question but you immediately shook your head sideways, her hands slipped at the back of your neck and hissed.

“I am the only one who can make you say yes over and over again.”

“Natasha, y-you’re drunk,” you stuttered, you would never deny the redhead but you feel uncertain and scared around her right now.

She heard you but she didn't care, she then pulled you into a bruising kiss. Her lips were cold and demanding, silencing any further protests. She held the back of your neck tightly, “Shut up.”

She walked you backwards as she kissed you, the kisses becoming sloppy with each step. You felt the edge of the bed against the back of your knees and as she kissed you deeply, you slowly sank down onto the mattress.

“Lie down.”

“Nat, please…we can talk late—” you were cut short when she shoved her forefinger in your mouth. She watched as you squeezed your eyes shut, finally giving up, your lips sucking gently around her finger.

You chased her finger when she removed it out your mouth then your gaze went down as she moved to remove her belt. Her movements were deliberate as she undid the buckle and pulled it from the loops of her pants, causing them to fall open with her boxers.

Natasha's hand wrapped around a fistful of your hair, harshly tugging your head forward and forcing you to kneel in front of her. Your hands instinctively held her the back of her legs for support, her length inches on your faces as if you knew what to do, your hands slowly reached out to touch her. You wrapped your fingers around her shaft, feeling its thickness and hardness, your thumb rubbing the tip with the pre-cum that covered it.

“Open your mouth,” she plainly said, a command rather than a request. Your lips parted slowly and without a second she pushed forward, easing herself into your mouth. Natasha's expression hardened as she gripped your hair, her hips bucking forward aggressively. She thrust into your mouth without remorse, tears welled in your eyes, but she remained unmoved, solely focused on her own pleasure.

She fucked your mouth ruthlessly, her thighs trembling with the force of her movements. Your nose was pressed against her pelvis, your eyes watering from the rough treatment. The only sound was the sloppy wet noises of her thrusting and your muffled cries.

Natasha was one to fight her moans and grunts back, but she was unable to hold them as she unleashed a thick, hot load directly into your mouth. The force of her orgasm sent ropes of cum shooting down your throat, making you choke and gag on the sheer volume.

In a sudden move, Natasha yanked you up by your hair, her cock slipping out of your mouth with an audible pop. She took a step back, leaving you panting and disoriented, your mouth agape, tears falling down your cheek, spit on the side of your lips and her cum inside you mouth. She reached down and yanked your hair again, forcing you to look up at her. She spat into your open mouth, watching as the saliva mingled with her cum.

“Swallow.”

She squeezed your chin, applying pressure until your throat opened up. You looked straight into her eyes, you felt the lump of cum and spit lodge in your mouth, and then you swallowed the liquid sliding down your throat.

Natasha released her hold on your chin and hair, her voice taking on a dismissive tone. “Bed,” she ordered, turning away from you to clean herself up. You scrambled to your feet, quickly making your way to the bed, the sheets cool against your heated skin.

Natasha hovered on top of you, you tried looking into her bloodshot eyes but you couldn't see anything. You couldn't see her. Her eyes didn't sparkle the way it did when you two were making love…is this even making love?

You wanted to make it up to her, you wanted her to use you for what you did to her. For hurting her, it is all that you could do as of now—it’s all that you could offer. But you wanted her to talk to you through it like she always had, but right now she doesn't seem to care about what you need.

Natasha locked her knees on yours, her thighs squeezing tight to keep you pinned in place. She surged forward, burying her face in the crook of your neck. You could smell the alcohol on her breath as she trailed kisses down your body. She then nipped at your skin, her teeth sinking in hard enough to leave bruises. Right now, she didn't care. In fact, she wanted you to be marked, marked by her and not by your stupid fiance.

“N-Nat…Steve might com—” before you could even finish your sentence, Natasha slapped you hard across the face, the sting making your eyes water.

“Don't fucking say his name when you're underneath me,” she snarled and as if losing her patience she harshly pulled you by your thighs towards her. Without giving you a chance to protest, Natasha thrust into your core with a ferocity you hadn't expected. You could feel yourself stretching around her, each movement of her hips sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Natasha folded your thighs towards your chest, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. You eyed her, tears ready to fall down as she fucked you with reckless abandon. She was like a different person, all rough edges and sharp angles, her usually composed, sweet, and caring nature replaced by a harsh, uncaring desire. Her usually gentle features were twisted into a snarl, her eyes cold and hard, lacking the warmth and spark that usually dwelled within them.

You couldn't help but wince as she thrust into you again and again, the pain dulling the pleasure, yet you let her continue. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as you bit back a moan, your mouth agape in a silent scream as she took what she wanted.

You

You tried to claw her back, but she was too quick for you. She wiggled and before you knew it, she had gripped both of your hands on her own, pinning them above your head. She didn't want you to touch her and the realization stung.

She then suckled your tits hard, biting and pulling on them until you cried out in pain and pleasure. The rough treatment and seeing you in pain seemed to turn her on more, and she then continued to abuse your sensitive breasts.

“Say you're mine,” at least just this moment.

“Natasha, I’m yours, I’m yours.” You moaned reassuringly—guinely and you wanted her to see it, to feel it. “I—I'm yours, I'm you...yours,” you breathe, having a hard time to utter a word as she rammed into you.

Natasha's eyes become glossy again, she shook her head sideways as if she's trying to remove what you just said in her head that is now finally ingrained, she asked you to say it, of course you would say it back, but it sounded real and she hated it.

“You're not,” she slurred, “but I am going to make you.”

Natasha’s grunts grew louder, more primal as she neared her peak. Her face contorted, eyes screwed shut, and her movements became jerky, uncoordinated. She touched your lower abdomen to feel her cock bulging in and out. She was close, so close, and you could do nothing but lie helpless beneath her, tears leaving a trail on your cheeks as she held you down and used your body.

She finally let out a guttural growl, her body spasming as she emptied herself inside of you.

At least in this way she could make you really hers.

You jolted awake from the dream as the sound of your baby's cry made you alarmed. It's an instinct that you developed since you had your baby, whatever sound she made you'll be quick to get or coo her, doesn't matter if you're in the shower, cooking or asleep.

You slowly sat in the bed, wiping the sweat that glistened on your neck. You breathed in and out to calm yourself. It was a dream, just a dream, you're not new to it, it's same dream you always dream. It did happen but it never failed to visit—haunt you even in your sleep.

It was a dream but what you're living right now is a nightmare.

You looked over at Steve's body, deep in slumber beside you, the sight of him only causing a lump to form in your throat. The tears began to well up in your eyes, and you quickly looked away, unable to bear the ache and guilt any longer.

You quietly moved away from the bed, the sound of your baby's cries growing louder with every step you took. Your heart swelled as you reached the crib, carefully picking up your child and cradling her in your arms. You gently shushed your baby, cooing softly as you fixed the red hair that had become mussed during her sleep, her little face scrunched up as she wailed.

“Shh, mommy's here.” You whispered as you blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision to fight back your own tears.

As if she was actually listening to you, her cries became silent as her small chubby hand reached up, her fingers wrapping around the delicate chain of your necklace. She tugged gently and your heart skipped a beat as she pulled the guitar dangle free, holding it in her tiny grasp.

You gently rocked your baby, cooing soft lullaby as you tried to soothe her back to sleep. But as you looked down at her, her green orbs shimmering with unshed tears was looking innocently straight at you. Your heart shattered at the sight and the tears you'd been holding back began to fall, softly dripping onto your baby's soft skin.

“I love you, little one.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 2 months

Text

🧠🪱Wiggly Wednesday🪱🧠

(This one ran away with me, whoops)

Batboy_Kas: Um ... dude, what? 🤨

This is the dm that greets Steve when he pulls his phone from his back pocket to check his Instagram. One confused frown, some scrolling, and one near-heart-attack later, he concludes that he forgot to lock his screen when he put the phone away earlier.

Which caused him to somehow end up on this random stranger's profile.

And go to his DMs.

And send him a GIF.

Not just any GIF. One of a grotesquely round and jiggly, animated ass. There's a text beneath the GIF. It reads: 2iggnag lg9gajdgka hfhdgjy.

"Aw, fuck!" Steve swears, neck prickling with heat as he types his reply.

Steve_Hairington: Shit, sorry. My ass typed that 😅

Batboy_Kas: Fitting choice of gif 🍑

Steve_Hairington: Yeah I guess

Batboy_Kas: You could say it's a ... smart ass

Steve snorts a laugh. What a dork! He's still debating if he should reply or leave it at that when Batboy_Kas sends his next message.

Batboy_Kas: So ... not even the tiniest chance you were flirting with me?

Steve_Hairington: Sorry dude. I prefer my men-

(He pauses to squint at the guy's profile pic. A cute little cartoon bat.)

-a little more human-shaped.

Batboy_Kas: Hey! That's just bc you've never had a creature of the night b4 🦇😉

Steve_Hairington: 🤣🤣🤣 Nice try, bat boy!

They end up texting (and flirting) regularly. Kas - named after some vampire dude from that dungeons and dipshits game Dustin enjoys - is a huge fantasy and music nerd, can keep up a string of banter for hours, and his dms quickly become the highlight of Steve’s days.

He knows better than to meet random faceless and nameless strangers from the internet, he really does. But when Kas says he's in town for work some two months later, Steve is a bit embarrassed at how fast he agrees to a date.

Kas doesn't really beat the vampire allegations when he shows up at their meeting point, skittish and nervous, clad in an oversized Metallica hoodie, drawn all the way over his head inspite of the sunny weather, dark shades obscuring his eyes.

He's cute, though. Sweet and almost shy without the distance and a screen between them, but still with that quick wit and edgy sense of humor Steve has come to like so much. A deep, rich voice that makes something inside Steve’s belly tingle, a hint of dark curls spilling out from his hood, and strong, calloused hands covered in rings, the edges of black tattoos disappearing into his sleeves. It makes Steve wanna take the stupid hoodie off him so that he can see all of him.

Which is exactly what he does when they take it to Kas's hotel room later that night. And God, the man is gorgeous. Dark, messy curls framing a pair of insanely dark brown eyes and the poutiest lips Steve has ever had the pleasure of kissing. An intricate web of tattoos that are just begging to be traced with his tongue.

Later, when they're lying together in an exhausted tangle of naked limbs and sweaty sheets, Steve snaps a photo and saves it as his phone background. He doesn't think much of it.

Until a week later, when Dustin opens his phone to read out a message while Steve is driving and starts shrieking so loudly they almost crash into a tree, bc why the fuck does Steve have a selfie of himself and Eddie Munson - frontman of the world famous metal band Corroded Coffin - on his phone and are you both naked, Steve???

Tagging some friends to share a brainworm of their own:

@cuips-not-cute @steddiecameraroll @postmodernau @oh-stars @steddie-island

@wynnyfryd @pennyplainknits @medusapelagia @hotluncheddie @sidekick-hero

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #brainworm #wiggly Wednesday #hype's wiggly Wednesday #hype's brainworms

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adverbally · 1 month

Text

This Must Be the Place

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “‘I didn’t know where else to go’” | wc: 2,262 | rated: T | cw: minor injuries, abuse | tags: steve’s shitbag dad, found family, wayne as a surrogate parental figure, steve is a munson now dammit, previous breakup, getting back together | title from “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)” by Talking Heads

———

Steve sits in his car in front of the Munson house. He had helped them move in, just last year. He remembers dropping a box of Eddie’s books on his foot in the front yard and thinking he had broken a toe or two. Bringing the couch inside, with him and Wayne holding the ends and Eddie shouting unhelpful instructions from the doorway. Unpacking pots and pans in the kitchen while Eddie dozed on the sofa, still not fully recovered from his injuries. Kissing Eddie awake so they could sleep together in an actual bed.

It makes Steve’s eyes burn all over again. He scrubs at his face without thinking, then winces at the pressure on his bruised cheekbone and the sting of saltwater meeting the broken skin.

This was stupid. Why didn’t he just go to Robin’s? Her parents are nice enough. They would probably let him stay over for a few days, at least until his parents leave town again. But then Steve thinks about having to explain why he’s so beat up and why his dad was so mad, and it’s just too much for him to handle tonight.

Here, he won’t have to explain. It might be awkward, but he and Eddie have remained friendly even if they’ve been broken up for close to three months. Hopefully they’re friendly enough that Eddie will let Steve crash on his couch.

Steve gets out of the car before he can lose his nerve and forces himself to walk up the drive. It’s a pretty nice house, actually, not far from Dustin’s. Lush green lawn, solid red brick, shrubs beneath the ground floor windows. More importantly, the porch light is on.

He knocks on the door. There’s no answer. Great.

He wraps his arms around himself, trying to warm up. There hadn’t been enough time to grab a jacket, barely enough time to grab his keys and stuff his feet into the half-unlaced sneakers by the door, so he’s wearing ratty sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt from his basketball days in below-freezing temperatures. He doesn’t even have socks on.

“Shit,” he sighs to himself. Maybe he’ll try Dustin next, since he’s in the neighborhood. He feels a little sick at the thought of Claudia Henderson fussing over him with the full power of her maternal concern, but it’s still better than trying to sleep in his car. Resigned to his fate, Steve is just turning to leave when the door opens.

It’s Wayne.

Somehow that’s worse than having to see Eddie like this. One year ago, Steve and Wayne were watching football and changing the oil in Eddie’s van and cooking together. Steve spent more time here than he did at his own house, and Wayne became more of a father to him than his dad had ever been. Then Steve had screwed that up, just like he screws everything up.

“Eddie isn’t home yet,” Wayne says, not unkindly. The rumble of his voice twists something in Steve’s chest. “Band practice.”

“I’m not really here for him, I guess, I just… I didn’t know where else to go.” He hopes Wayne will attribute the tremble in his voice to the way he’s shivering rather than the lump in his throat.

Wayne’s face softens and he pushes the door open wider, gesturing for Steve to come in. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

That’s it. The immediate relief and crashing adrenaline are more than Steve can handle, and he starts bawling right there on the Munsons’ doorstep. His jaw works, trying to form the words to say ‘sorry’ or ‘thank you’ or anything at all, but he’s sobbing too hard to speak, hunched over with the force of it.

“C’mere, son, before you freeze to death.” Wayne shepherds him inside with an arm around his trembling shoulders, shutting the door behind them before pulling Steve into a hug.

Steve doesn’t know how long they stand there, but it feels like forever. He knows Wayne isn’t a very tactile person, which makes him cry even more when Wayne doesn’t push him away, just lets him cry into his faded flannel shirt and talks to him softly.

“You’re safe here. It’s okay. You stay here as long as you need to, we’ll take care of you.”

When Steve manages to calm his sobs into hiccuping breaths, Wayne pats him on the back and lets him make the first move to pull away. He does, sniffling and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to counter the pressure in his sinuses. Crying always gives him a headache, and he expects it to be worse considering how hard his dad hit him.

“Sorry,” he rasps as Wayne hands him a tissue. “I didn’t–”

“Nope, none of that,” Wayne cuts him off, leading him through the living room, down the hall, and into the bathroom. “Nothin’ wrong with a good cry every once in a while, and you look like you earned that one.” He gestures at the closed toilet seat. “Here, let me patch you up.”

Steve tries to protest, but Wayne silences him with a sideways glance as he rummages in the medicine cabinet. “Thank you,” he says instead. The bright light in here makes him feel like a bug under a microscope, potential migraine trigger aside, so he looks down at the floor to reduce the glare.

Wayne starts with a warm washcloth, gently wiping the tear tracks and blood from his face. He stands between Steve and the light so it doesn’t shine in his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me what happened,” Wayne tells him, never looking away from his work, “but I’m worried about you, Steve.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Steve shuts his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Wayne’s expression. “I’ve had worse.”

“Does it have anything to do with why you broke my kid’s heart?” He sits the washcloth aside and unwraps an alcohol wipe. “Not to mention your own.”

Of course it does. Steve can handle his dad’s temper, but Eddie shouldn’t have to. Ending their relationship was a small price to pay to keep Eddie safe. If their breakup just so happened to coincide with the last time Steve’s parents were in town…

“Ow, shit,” Steve hisses as Wayne swipes over the cut.

With a gentle grip on his chin, Wayne tilts Steve’s head side to side for a better look at the wound. “Don’t think it needs stitches.”

“That’s something, I guess,” Steve says dully, trying not to flinch when Wayne sticks a Band-Aid over it, putting pressure on the surrounding bruise.

“Sorry.” Wayne looks him over with a careful eye. “Anythin’ else hurt? Your head?”

There’s a difference between what hurts and what Wayne will be able to do something about. “Not really. Just sore. Cold.”

Wayne nods slowly, staring at him like he’s trying to gauge his honesty. “Well then, why don’t I get you set up on the couch with some blankets so you can warm up?”

It’s a little pathetic how much better Steve feels, curled up on the Munsons’ old couch, cocooned in a thick blanket wearing a pair of Wayne’s old pajama pants and a worn Anthrax tee borrowed from Eddie’s closet. It smells like home, like Eddie and Wayne, cigarette smoke and stale beer and Irish Spring. Steve feels himself relaxing for the first time in days, no longer having to worry about his dad’s reactions to every little thing he does.

“You need anythin’ else, just ask, alright?” Wayne tells him softly on his way to bed.

“Thanks, Wayne,” Steve murmurs back.

He floats between wakefulness and sleep for a long time, thinking too hard to fully drift off. He doesn’t know what time it is when he hears Eddie’s key in the door.

“Hey, why is Steve’s car here?” he calls without looking, too busy juggling his guitar case and an amplifier while trying not to trip over the cables draped over his shoulders.

“Steve is here, too,” Steve answers, hoping he’s not loud enough to disturb Wayne.

Eddie turns toward him and his face falls. “Jesus, Steve,” he exclaims, sitting down his gear as fast as he can without dropping it. It ends up in a heap near the front door while Eddie focuses on getting to Steve. He kneels next to the couch to get a better look at Steve’s face in the dim light. “What happened?”

Eddie reaches out to trace the very edge of the bruise across his cheek. He barely makes any contact but the gesture is so tender and loving that tears spring to Steve’s eyes.

“Shit, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Eddie frets.

“No, I…” He huffs out a pained laugh. “I’m so sick of crying. And I’m sick of missing you. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to let you go like that—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie hushes him and tucks his greasy, limp hair behind his ear. “We don’t have to hash it out right now.”

Steve shakes his head. “Let me tell you I’m sorry, at least. Please?” His voice cracks. “‘Cause I am, I’m so, so sorry. I was scared and I wanted you to be safe.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, I forgive you. I forgave you ages ago.” Eddie looks down and fiddles with one of his rings. “Like, when it happened. Dustin told me your parents were in town and I just knew that was why you ended things.”

“You see why I was worried?” Steve gestures at his own face for emphasis. “Not that it matters anymore. I guess Dad finally had enough. He said not to come back, that he was embarrassed to have me as a son.” He scoffs. “Like he even knows what it’s like to be a dad that’s more than just a sperm donor.”

Eddie’s face is dark with anger. “That’s his loss. He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“Is he, though?” Steve looks away as more tears overflow. “Missing out?”

“Yes,” Eddie says immediately, lowering his voice but leaning closer. “Anyone who has the chance to know Steve Harrington and throws it away– they can’t even imagine how much better their life could be with you in it. They don’t know how much protectiveness and compassion and worry and, and love they could have!”

Steve chuckles a little ruefully. “I guess that leaves more for you.”

“You’re damn right it does. Their loss is my gain.” His smile is fond, and he looks so beautiful in the lamplight with those deep, dark eyes and his nose still a little pink from the cold.

“I–” Steve clears his throat and tries again. “I love you. Still. Never stopped.”

Eddie laughs. It makes Steve’s heart sink, which Eddie must notice because he rushes to clarify, “No, I mean, I was trying to resist the urge to Han you. Um, like in Empire, how he’s like, ‘I know.’”

“It would be my honor to be Hanned by you.” Steve feels the smile bloom on his face, wide and genuine. It’s nice, even if it pulls at the edge of his bruise. “I would even infiltrate Jabba’s palace disguised as a bounty hunter to free you from your carbonite prison.”

“You’re hot when you’re nerdy.”

“I think you’re biased.”

“Come to bed with me.”

That stops Steve short. “Ed, I–”

“Just to sleep!” he clarifies. “Just, I don’t know, I hate the idea of you out here alone on the couch when you could be more comfortable in my room. The benefits of a government-funded mattress.” Eddie’s attempt at a joke falls flat when everything he says is so earnest. “I think we would both sleep better.”

He wants to, really wants to, and Eddie’s logic is surprisingly sound, but something within Steve is holding him back. It’s gotta be fear, it always is. Fear had forced Steve away from people he loves, kept him under his father’s thumb, made him give up when he should have tried harder. He doesn’t want to live like that anymore, not when Eddie is here on his knees, looking at Steve like he’s some awe-inspiring work of art, begging to take care of him.

“Okay.” Steve’s nod is small but his voice is steady. “Yeah, let’s go to bed.”

Eddie helps unwrap him from his blanket cocoon, steadying him when his foot catches in the hem of his borrowed pajama pants, and holds his hand to guide Steve down the hall to his bedroom. Steve watches him from under the covers as he throws his jacket over the back of his desk chair and strips down to his boxers. Eddie is beautiful, almost luminous in the dark, and familiar in a way that makes Steve ache. He missed him, so damn much, and he hopes he never has to miss him again.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you creeping on me,” Eddie teases as he slips into bed, immediately scooting close to Steve and pulling him into his arms.

Steve grumbles, “I was admiring, not creeping.” And he’s admiring again, letting his hand trace across Eddie’s chest, down his lean torso. His scars are more faded than Steve remembers them being.

“I love you,” Eddie whispers.

“‘I know,’” Steve replies in his best Harrison Ford voice, which just sounds ridiculous.

They both start laughing, even as Eddie says, “You asshole!” and squeezes him as punishment.

With Eddie warm and solid next to him, giggling in his ear, Steve thinks he might actually be okay.

#steddieangstyaugust #steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #mine

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months

Text

always struggling

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'struggling'

rated t | 971 words | no cw | tags: steddie, post-break up, modern era, open ending but assume they get back together, pre-famous corroded coffin

⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️

“How are we still short?” Jeff mumbled under his breath.

Eddie heard him, though, and his heart sank in his chest.

“We don’t have enough.” It wasn’t a question.

Jeff shook his head.

They both looked at Gareth and Frankie unloading the van. Usually, they all took care of their own equipment, but all of them had been too impatient to find out how much they made, so Jeff and Eddie rushed inside their house to count.

They needed $268 more to pay for their travel to the festival that could actually put them in front of the right people. That’s it. $268.

And they only made $197 from their show at the bar downtown.

“So we can’t go.”

Jeff shook his head. “Not unless you can come up with $71 by tomorrow morning.”

Eddie knows if he went to Wayne, he’d find a way. He’d break open a piggy bank or withdraw from his retirement savings. He’d ask for an advance on his paycheck. Whatever it took to help Eddie achieve his dreams.

But he’d done that enough.

Jeff’s parents already covered the cost of Jeff to go, and Frankie’s parents had refused to encourage his ‘rockstar behavior.’ Gareth’s mom didn’t have anything left over after paying for his twin sisters’ back to school supplies and clothes.

“You could call-“

“No.”

Jeff nodded solemnly. “Right.”

Eddie couldn’t call Steve. Steve had helped buy him a new guitar and fix his van before their inevitable crash and burn when Eddie decided to move to Chicago and Steve wasn’t ready. He hadn’t spoken to him in months. He couldn’t call him up and ask for money.

“Maybe I could take a shift at the diner tonight. If I take the big tables, it might be enough in tips,” Jeff offered. “We could busk?”

“You know we never make good money doing that. Nobody likes the noise.”

“Maybe we’ll just have to try again next year. We can keep playing the bars.”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

Neither of them noticed Frankie or Gareth standing behind them, listening in to the dilemma.

“We didn’t make enough?” Gareth asked somberly.

“Sorry, kid. Just a bit short,” Jeff said over his shoulder.

“This is bullshit!” He yelled.

“Gare-“ Eddie started to say, standing to try to comfort him.

“No! I’m sick of struggling so much. We’re good. We deserve to be there.” Gareth continued. “We’re going.”

“Dude, we can’t just print more money.”

Gareth turned to Eddie, fire in his eyes, hands clenched into fists.

“Suck up your damn pride and call Steve. He told you if you needed anything to call him. Call him.” He stormed to his room and slammed the door.

Eddie would do anything for his band, his friends. He knew missing this festival could be one of his biggest regrets.

“Eddie, it’s fine. Gareth-“

“Is right. I should call him.”

Eddie didn’t wait for them to try to convince him otherwise. He walked to his room and closed the door, trying to figure out how to have this conversation with a man he was definitely still in love with.

No way to prepare, really.

He pulled up Steve’s name in his contact list and pressed call before he could stop himself.

It rang three times before Steve answered.

“Eddie? Are you okay?”

God, he’d missed his voice.

“Hey Steve. Sorry if I’m interrupting anything-“

“No! It’s just family movie night, but they’re all arguing about what movie to pick anyway. How’s everything?” The sound of a door closing and silence in the background followed his question.

“Um. Well.” Just spit it out. “We have a really great opportunity at Iron and Metal Fest? It’s in Seattle, and we’ve been trying to save up to go, but we uh, we fell a little short and the deadline to let them know we can play is tomorrow morning.”

“Oh. How short?”

“$71.”

“I’ll Venmo you. Will that be okay?” Steve sounded like he’d switched the phone to speaker, probably to open the app on his phone.

Eddie didn’t deserve him, never did. A man who was willing to give up happiness so Eddie could chase his dreams, offering to help make them happen despite Eddie breaking his heart.

“Steve, I-“

“It’s okay, Eds. It’ll be worth it when you’re on a sold out tour someday, right?”

Eddie ignored the vibration of a notification as his eyes welled up with tears.

“I hope so.”

There was silence for too long.

“You still wanna be a rockstar, right?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“I do!” He really did. “I just didn’t think we’d have to struggle this much in a city made for bands like us.”

“It’ll be a great interview for Rolling Stone.”

“How do you have so much faith in us?”

“I have faith in you, Eds. Always have, always will. You’re gonna make it.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“Nah.” Someone knocked on the door and Steve whispered something to them before speaking to Eddie again. “Hey, I have to go. But I hope you wow everyone at that festival, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Stevie.”

When he checked his notifications, Steve had sent him $500.

He cried for 20 minutes before he went and told the guys.

****

The show was incredible and Eddie had never been more miserable.

The guys were on a high no drug could match, but Eddie was sinking further into a pit of despair.

“Never known you to look this sad after a show.”

Eddie’s head shot up to see Steve standing against a few extra speakers backstage.

“Steve? What’re you doing here?” Eddie walked closer, worried he was seeing things.

“Couldn’t miss your biggest show yet. Hope it’s okay.”

“Of course it is. I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie smiled, feeling some of the heavy weight lift from his shoulders. “Yeah.”

#corroded coffin #corrodedcoffinfest #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #unnamed freak stranger things

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jhdyuiee · 1 month

Text

blossom

wildflower - part 1 .

❁ blossom : a new beginning & growth .

❁ pairing: ex!jaehyun x fem!reader

❁ tags/warnings: angst, fluff, smut!, pregnancy, unprotected sex (flashback scene), multiple positions (doggy&missionary), oral (f), squirting, kissing/making out, nipple/breast play, hair-pulling, spanking, fingering, mentions of masturbation (m), pet-names (baby&darling), down-bad and groveling jaehyun (:0), cursing, mentions of drinking, time-skips, bittersweet ending

❁ w.c: 7.9k

❁ a.n: hi! you ask and i shall deliver, part 2 of wildflower! writing this one was so challenging because i was having major writers block, which ended up delaying it's release, aghh. anyways i tried pulling through, so stick until the bittersweet end <3 ! JOLO OUT IN 2 WEEKS (obsessed with roses, like jaehyun babe who hurt yuh?!) 🥃 . anyways love you all, stay safe & jiji out 🤍

“i'll never forget how stupid in love i felt. i'll always regret how i couldn't ever tell, that you walked a little faster, left me behind.”

“kissed me with somebody else in mind. i loved you so much that i settled for less.“

“oh, you were my everything… i was your second best.”

- laufey | “second best”

jaehyun’s pov.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” i shouted as the door closed. i contemplated chasing after her, but something told me not to. how could’ve i been so fucking stupid? why did i think she would understand– no, this whole shit was impossible to understand.

i cheated and lied to her. there wasn’t going to be anything i could’ve done now to undo what i did. i did the worst thing a man could’ve done, and broke her, played with her innocent self. i could love for infinitely, but that still wouldn't have been enough to repair the damage.

i looked down, remembering the gift she gave me right before leaving. this small gift bag held a massive weight. with trembling hands, i started unboxing it and pulled out a small velvet box.

no, this couldn’t be… now hurriedly i opened it. a silver colored ring, in the middle of the box. you fucking bastard, i thought. i really fucked up, really beyond repair.

i took the ring out. i noted the small stones around the band of the ring, my birthstone, amethyst.

my cheeks felt wet, only then did i realize i started crying. now i regret not chasing after her, spending the rest of my day apologizing to her, pleading with her. she took my happiness when she walked out that door, a part of me with her.

and for all i knew matters would only continue to get worse from here on out…

two lines.

there are two fucking lines on the stick…

“i’m pr-pregnant…” i muttered.

this couldn’t be happening, oh how i wished this was a dream— a nightmare i could wake up to right about now. but no, this is fucking reality.

well i guess that would explain why i was late and the nauseating feelings i kept having. however so i still hoped it would come out negative. it wasn’t that i didn’t want this child, it was just about whether or not i’d be up to live as a single mother.

i caressed my stomach, though still unnoticeable, how would this child be able to live? made without mutual love, and there was no denying this was a result of that night. the very same night before disaster struck.

did the birth control not work? i thought. no, impossible it’d always worked, but perhaps luck was truly never in my favor that day. it’d been about or over a month since that day and a lot has happened, my newly discovered pregnancy being one of those things.

as i walk outside my bathroom and into my bedroom, i gently sit on the edge of my bed as flashbacks of the past month flood my mind. first things first, that same week i began moving out with my shared apartment with yuna. we had a pretty heated argument, both sides equally hurt and betrayed. yet one thing i’d say we both saw eye-to-eye was how much of a scum he was. who knew a simple man would cause our friendship to fall apart.

anyhow, with that out the way i started making preparations to move out of not only that apartment but the city. luckily the move went smoothly thanks to a special someone.

mr.jeong.

it happened a day after my talk with yuna when i decided to talk to his father. i felt the need to come clean, confess to everything that went on. to my surprise, mr.jeong hadn’t yet heard of our breakup nor from his son. i expected mr.jeong to feel upset, or at least angry towards me but he didn’t. in fact he cursed at his idiotic son, sympathizing with me. the woman who entered a fake relationship and lied to him, nonetheless there was no denying mr.jeong’s genuine care and love towards me. he treated me as his family, the thought made my heart ache. i mean it was a silly thought as i’d never will become his family.

our talk lasted well around an hour before i decided to depart. i made the decision to tell mr.jeong that i’d be moving, in which he offered two things. one, to never tell that idiotic son of his where i’d gone to in case he asks. two, money.

i refused to take the money, but he insisted i take it since i’d just quit my cafe job. also adding how expensive getting a singular apartment would be for me. after much dispute… i ended up taking the money. he also added there was no need to repay him back, and that if i wanted to look at it as a i’m-sorry-for-my-idiotic-sons-foolishness recompense.

nonetheless i’m eternally grateful to mr.jeong. i mean without his help i probably wouldn't have been able to move into this apartment in a fairly quicker time as if i didn’t have the amount they asked for. once i settled in, i began job hunting.

just the other day i went in for an interview. i still awaited the call from the company, it was a publishing firm.

i plopped down onto my bed, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. who knew the year would turn out so catastrophic for me. a whirlwind of thoughts flooded my mind which eventually led me to a deep slumber. the pregnancy sure to be the cause of my tiredness.

ring. ring. ring.

my eyes slowly fluttered open, trying to find the noise of the abrupt ringing. my phone's screen lights up, vibrating against the mattress. i reached a hand towards the device, not even bothering to look at who was calling me.

“hello? is this y/n?” a woman’s voice spoke.

slightly unconscious i answer, “y-yes, may i ask who’s this.”

“ah- nice to speak to you y/n, this i’m mrs.kang and i work for the publishing firm you applied for.”

oh, now i was fully awake. “woa- hello! nice to mee-speak to you ms.kang,” i stumbled on my words.

a slight chuckle arose from the other line, “yes, well i just wanted to tell you that… you’re in! congratulations, the company has decided to hire you!”

what! no way… it has to be a dream. i pinch myself, ow. okay not a dream. “wo-wow, thank you so much! w-when can i start!”

“next monday, if that’s alright with you,” she explained. “yes! that’s fine with me,” i almost immediately replied. “that’s great, see you on monday ms.l/n!”

i bid her farewell before hanging up. wow. my life is really seemingly picking up after all the bad luck. oh but now there was the baby to think about, i still haven’t called my clinic. “it’d be best to call them now,” i muttered. and so i did, my appointment was set for thursday.

i reach back for my stomach, a faint smile appeared on my face. “my little light,” i whisper into the empty bedroom.

i was keeping my baby, it didn’t matter whether i would be a good mother or not because this child was a little gift to me sent from the heavens above. my baby, not his. “you may not have a father, but that’s okay, my little light. i’ll make sure to give you both so you’ll never feel lonely. mommy loves you so much already.”

my little light. finding my way out the deepest depths of hell, you became my light who guided me to my new beginning. and for that you’re my little light. my savior.

jaehyun’s pov.

i drove into the driveway of my father’s residence, parking before finding myself knocking at his front door. he’d called me yesterday night, urging me to see him today. i wonder what he could’ve wanted. i wasn’t in the mood to see him today or come to my childhood home where memories of her existed.

it’s been over a month since we broke up and my life has been nothing but a shit show. i stare at my left hand, the sun's light reflecting on the piece of medal around my finger. her final gift, her parting gift; the ring found it’s home on my left ring finger. i’ve never taken it off once since that day that i put it on.

i can’t even count how many nights i spent crying, drinking, and cursing myself. y/n… her name hurt to say, verbally or not. sometimes it felt as though she was still there, waiting for me at my apartment, in my car, everywhere. she haunted me everyday, even when i slept.

she never answered or responded to any of my calls or texts, assuming she blocked my number.

the door swings open, and instead of being met with ms.kim i was met with an angered man, my father. “nice to you see you too,” i said when he didn’t offer to greet me first. strange, i thought. normally he’d be chatty but today he just walked, guiding me to his office. we took a seat across from each other on the leather couches he had in there.

silence filled the office before i decided to speak up. i cleared my throat, “so what’s wrong father.”

he huffed, “you’re no son of mine jaehyun.” i furrowed my brows, no son of mine?

he must’ve noticed my confusion because he then continued. “i know what you did, what you did to her. how could you!” he spoke, his words getting louder the more he continued.

shit.

”you think i wouldn’t find out? the poor girl came to me just the other day, a mess, yet nonetheless confessed to everything that was going on between the two of you,” he continued, my eyes widening more. she came over… she was here…

i clenched my fists. “i-is she alright? did she look okay?” i trashed question after question. my mind only thinking of her. he stayed quiet, not answering any of my questions. a beat or two passed before he continued speaking, “i mean really jaehyun… lying to her just to get back with that other woman?!”

fuck, looks like he knew everything. i sucked a breath in, “i-i didn’t mean to-” he cut me off, “mean to what!?” he shouts. “to fall in love with her. to break her. for any of this to happen,” i answered. my vision was beginning to blur. i faintly hear my father, tsk, before speaking.

“get ready jaehyun.”

i looked into his eyes for the first time since we entered his office. “f-for?” i asked, a gut feeling telling me it wasn’t for anything good. “i’m passing the company to you. i’ve been meaning to for a while now, and after all this mess you got yourself in you don’t exactly deserve it but i’m not getting any younger.”

my mouth fell open, then closed. no way he was asking me to take over the company… i wasn’t in any way, shape, or form prepared. heck i was still a mess from the break up.

“and i don’t care if you’re not prepared, a mess, or whatever excuse you have to offer me, you’re gonna take over and that’s final.”

there was no point arguing, when my father made a decision it was final. “alright,” i said, throwing my head back against the couch.

i hear as he gets up, resting my head back up. he pauses for a moment when he grabs the doorknob, turning to face me.

“and to answer your questions from earlier, she’s gone. y/n left jaehyun, she’s not coming back so you should give up. i mean it’s not like she’s going to take you back after everything you put her through.”

my heart dropped, my eyes blurring again. she-she’s gone? y/n, my y/n? no, no… this wasn’t supposed to happen. and so before i could further inquiry my father any further, he opened the door and walked out.

he left me all alone in his office space, me and my thoughts. my gaze drops down to the ring, where a single tear drop landed.

7 months later.

“ow,” you muttered. you bring a hand to your stomach, feeling the tiny kicks of the little human inside you. “i might as well sign you up for soccer,” i say, feeling another kick that causes me to chuckle. perhaps that was my sign that my little light was up for playing the sport.

for the past 7 months since i found out i was pregnant it’s been… a lot. it was hard being alone, but as time quickly passed i started getting the hang of it. i wished i had someone to go to, but my parents were long gone. i never really had a family to call my own, except now for this little human.

ever since my stomach started showing i’ve been working at home, the company was surprisingly pretty insistent about taking a maternity leave, but i still needed a way to make money. the workload wasn’t a lot, in fact i was only assigned with editing reports. nonetheless the pay was still great.

in fact, next month was going to be my last month working as the date for my birth approached, i needed to take the time off. in the 7 months too, my memory and thoughts of him dissipated. i was doing better, i could feel it. it wasn’t just for me, but for my baby too. i didn’t want my child to be upset with me.

as i got up to go use the restroom i heard the faint ringtone of my phone. i sighed as i looked at the caller id. “and what do i owe you the pleasure of, jungwoo?”

kim jungwoo. my co-worker and newly found best friend. he was the only one by my side and the only one i’ve spoken to about everything that’s happened. shock would be an understatement of his reaction, but nevertheless he still stuck by my side… annoyingly so.

“is that really a way to greet your bestest friend!? i’m very offended y/l/n, after all that trouble of going to get you those midnight cravings,” he says, falsely sobbing into the phone. though he couldn’t see, i rolled my eyes. this guy, i swear.

“oh my, i’m sorry your majesty. please forgive my behavior just now,” i replied. “you are forgiven,” he says back. “but… really jungwoo, why’d you call?”

“nothing much, just… open the door and you’ll find out,” he says. i do as he instructed, slowly walking to my door.

you open it, revealing jungwoo with a carry-out bag in hand. was it unusual to say you developed a keen sense of smell since your pregnancy? well because it smelled like he brought over fried chicken.

“uhm… can you maybe drool later, and let me in now so we could dig in,” he says, standing frozen. i snap out of my hungry state, moving aside to let him in.

we walk to my dining table, sitting across from one another. jungwoo does all the unpacking whilst i watch with prying eyes as he takes the food out and opens it. “dig in,” he announces. i wasted no time, grabbing the chicken and stuffing it into my mouth. i let out a satisfied groan, the chicken tasting so damn good.

you being too engulfed with that damn delicious fried chicken, failed to notice as jungwoo turns on the television. “come back before i finish everything,” you warn him. he lets go of the remote, stopping at some random channel. well the television was the least of your worries right now.

“how’s she doing,” jungwoo speaks up, eyeing my stomach. “i’m thinking of signing her up for soccer when she’s straight out of the womb, little girl can kick,” i replied, earning me a laugh from jungwoo.

a couple months back, my doctor told me the gender of my little light. a girl, my baby girl. i didn’t partially care what the gender was going to be, but nonetheless i was still ecstatic about the revelation. having a baby girl meant i would be able to dress her up, so cute like a little doll.

“jeong jaehyun.”

i whip my head to the television at the mention of that name. my eyes widened, dropping the food from my hand.

“n corps newest ceo is the first to accomplish acquiring various kinds of subsidiaries in such a short amount of time– ranging from luxury brands to flower shops,” the female reporter says as they display a picture of the man.

i squint my eyes, focusing them solely on his left hand. i hoped my eyes weren’t deceiving me because… is that the ring i gave him. no… no, my mind and eyes had to have been playing tricks on me because why on earth would he wear, better yet still have the ring.

“is that him,” jungwoo speaks up, interrupting my thoughts. i turn back around, my mood suddenly plummeting. i don't say anything, just nodding my head to indicate that the man who just appeared was the same man i spoke of.

and so for the rest of dinner we ate in silence, minor talk appearing but jungwoo would always be the one initiating it. i was too lost, going down a rabbit hole about him.

when we finished eating, jungwoo insisted on cleaning up– he even took the garbage with him as he left. i walked him to my door, bidding him goodbye. when he was gone, i headed to the bathroom, a shower was very much needed.

plopping onto my bed, i stare at the ceiling. my thoughts on, jaehyun. a familiar ache appeared in my heart, i thought i was over him but it seems i might be far from it. “i guess mommy isn’t all that strong, huh little one,” i whisper as i reach my hands over my stomach.

you’re not sure what came over you that night, that news report igniting your lost feelings. and so in the midst of your thoughts, you somehow drifted off into a deep slumber.

an interesting one, per say. not only for you but for the other party involved as well…

✧˖°ʚ ❁ ɞ♡

jaehyun crashes his lips to mine, eloping me into a deep and passionate kiss. his tongue slides along my bottom lip, begging for entry in which i grant him.

our tongues fighting one another, and teeth occasionally clashing. my mind began to fog, but i refused to stop. i could feel his love with every kiss.

“strip,” he says in a sultry tone. i felt the air getting hot.

grabbing the hem of my top, i pulled it over my head, and then followed my shorts. i left myself in my lace panties and bra, jaehyun licking his lips in delight.

reaching his hand over, he gropes my tits which earned him a breathy moan of his name.

reaching his hands to the back, he swiftly unhooks my bra, letting it fall beneath me. he groans, admiring the way my tits were on full display. “so fucking beautiful,” he says, taking his mouth over one of my nipples.

he sucks on it, and eventually bites down on the bud. i bite my bottom lip, not wanting to yell out loud.

i look down at him, his eyes staring back at mine as he practically makes out with one of my tits. i could feel one of his hands slides down my back at a slow pace, leaving a burning trail behind.

“you want me to touch you, baby?” he asks as he fondles your ass, sending a small slap across the flesh of skin. “y-yes,” you moan.

“tell me baby, where.” his voice so deep, his head coming up to peck my lips. i nearly melted, “yo-you know.” i take an unoccupied hand of his to my sex, making him palm it. “my pussy needs you,” i whisper as i leaned into his ear.

jaehyun’s lips twitch up, kissing you hard one last time before he begins to go down on his knees. he places his hands to the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs. “open up for me,” he says, and i begin opening my legs up. he drags his fingers to collect the slick that began dripping down my thigh.

kiss after kiss, bite after bite along my thighs. reaching a hand to his hair, i grip it. and when he finally reaches my cunt, i become a whimpering mess. his hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as his tongue darted out.

a slow tantalizing lick, and then another. i jerk my hips forward, wanting more friction. i feel as jaehyun stops his licks. “don’t move, or else i won’t let you cum darling.” his warning was clear, i stayed still.

and so he continues, but instead of licks he sucks on my clit. along with using the tip of his tongue to tease the poor bud, before finishing off with a bite. “j-jaehyun!” i yelled when i felt his teeth on my clit.

letting go with a pop, i watch as he licks his lips before diving back in. his licks faster than when he first started, and before i knew it he brought his fingers into the mix. one of his fingers entering you, then two, both knuckle deep inside you. it wasn’t until after he pecked your clit that he began thrusting them inside you.

in and out, out and in. your gummy walls clenching around his digits as they quickly thrusted into you. you feel the stretch of your walls as he opens them, like scissors. the constant chant of his name was such a melody to his ears, urging him to do more.

you felt yourself getting closer to your release as he continued his ministrations on your pussy. he must’ve felt the way you clenched around his fingers, “close?” he asks. “y-yes, m-my cl-clit!”

jaehyun got the message as he attached his mouth onto your clit. with both his mouth and hands working themselves on you at the same time, it felt like you could cum at any moment. with one suck to your clit and his fingers plummeting in you, you gushed out. a stream of liquid coming out of you, splattering all over his arm. it wasn’t the first time you’ve squirted but nonetheless you still felt shy, hot all over.

jaehyun gets back up, watching you as you watched him lick your essence off his arm and hand. “so delicious, a delicacy that you are baby.”

you could almost cum again from those simple words. as you try regaining your breath jaehyun brings his lips to your ear. “on the bed, all fours,” he whispers. a shiver runs down your spine, his sex-dazed voice was one of your favorite things in the whole world.

without wasting another second you head towards his bedroom, onto his bed with hands and knees on the mattress. your ass up, on full display. slap. you jerk forward from the sudden movement.

and another one on the other cheek. you turn your head around, a naked jaehyun behind you in all his glory. his hard, thick cock reaching his stomach. you could see the glisten of his pre-cum. you feel his hardened member rub against your slit, both your essences blending with one another.

then he places a hand on your hips, while the other holds his cock so he could slide it into your aching hole. his cock slowly stretches you out, walls wrapping snuggly around it. you could hear jaehyun’s groans the deeper he goes in. when he’s all in, he kisses your exposed nape before going absolutely mad.

jaehyun was an absolute madman when it came to having sex. when he was balls deep inside you, he felt like he’d gone into another dimension; another world. you are quite literally the most perfect thing in this world, you were made for him.

your mouth falls into an ‘o’ shape when you feel his tip kissing your womb, tongue hanging out when he grabs some of your hair to pull you against his chest. you didn’t know if it was even possible for his dick to reach you even deeper, but it must’ve because this angle allowed for him to reach places that have never been touched before.

it wasn’t long before you ended up cumming on his cock, jaehyun following suit after a couple more thrusts. feeding your womb his seeds, which eventually dripped out of you as slides his cock out. you slump onto the mattress, too tired, body giving up.

on the other hand, there was something so hot about watching his cum drip out of your pussy. it turned him on, his cock beginning to harden again. his hands reached your body, turning you the other way so your back was against the mattress. you looked so fucked, he loved it.

“ready for round two?” he says, not even waiting for your answer before he intrudes back into your hole. fucking his cum back into your pussy. his hands, finding yours as he interlocks his fingers with yours. your watery eyes, low chants of his name, the clenching of your walls and fingers, the way your mouth falls open, and your tongue lolling out. fuck. it was the perfect sight.

“god, i love you,” jaehyun groans as he thrusted into you.

there was no stopping him now, he was going at an insane pace. the sounds of skin slapping, his balls on your ass, and the squelching sounds of you both echoed in the room.

letting go of one of the interlaced fingers, he brings his hand to your clit. the poor swollen bud victim to his ministrations again. he used his thumb to rub the bundle of nerves, you clench tighter around him. your own orgasm not too far away.

“k-kiss me!” you yelled. jaehyun wasted no time bringing his lips onto yours. it was sloppy but you didn’t care, you loved the way it felt.

you moaned into the kiss, as you finally came for the third time tonight. taking his lips from your mouth, he puts them on an exposed section of your neck, sucking on it as he came.

filling you up for a second time tonight, you felt the warmth inside your womb. you wondered whether you could get pregnant after tonight. having his babies, becoming parents, getting married— a dream.

both of you crash onto his bed, not bothering to clean up for now. both too tied, and unable to get up. he kisses your hair, whispering sweet nothings and lulls you to sleep. you and jaehyun peacefully sleeping in each other’s arms for the night.

jaehyun’s pov.

fuck. what the fuck.

jaehyun jumps up from his bed. too shocked, unable to comprehend what just happened. he doesn’t mutter anything, he just goes into his bathroom and turns on the shower.

stepping into the cold water, he faces the tile walls. his throbbing erection the least of his worries right now.

“wh-why… why did i have a dream about that night, the night before we-we-“ he mutters, the water dripping down his body.

jaehyun didn’t know why he dreamt about you, the steamy night that unfolded a week prior to the break-up.

yeah, he’d get off to past memories of you but never a full on dream. he didn’t know what to do, to think, to say, to anything.

and he couldn’t even being himself to sleep again, so he showered in the cold. it’s been 7 months, the pain still not gone. he misses you tremendously every single day.

he stares at the ring that still stayed on his finger, clenching his hand as he wants to punch the wall in front of him.

“y/n…”

2 months later.

december 14. the day my little star was born.

she was born healthy, no complications. and luckily i was fine as well. it was excruciating pain but knowing she was close to being brought into this world made such pain disappear.

in fact, today we were scheduled to leave and i couldn’t wait to just go home. my home wouldn’t feel so empty anymore, the thought made me smile.

d/n (daughter name) was currently being breastfed, her eyes shut and wrapped like a burrito. she was the most beautiful baby, though she does look quite a lot like her daddy.

i sigh, throwing my head against the pillow. and before i could fully relax after various sleepless nights, there was a knock to my hospital door. the knock causing me to jerk my head towards the door.

“come in,” i said loud enough so the person on the other side could hear, and low enough so it wouldn’t frighten my baby as she was fast asleep.

i thought it was just some nurse coming in to check in before i left but it wasn’t, far from it. my eyes widened. the person also stopping in their trace when they noticed me.

“y/n…” the feminine voice speaks.

my mouth falls open, “m-ms.kim?!”

what was she doing here? why- wait… kim jungwoo, kim… oh my god. the pieces clicked together, she was the person jungwoo promised to call.

just last night jungwoo called me, apologizing over and over again for being unable to take me back home. i do remember him telling me that he’d find someone else, but… who knew it’d be his mother, ms.kim!

we both stayed frozen. neither speaking, you could probably even hear our breaths. however, the cries of a baby erupted into the room. the cries bringing us back to reality.

i look at d/n, swaying her gently in my arms. her wails didn’t stop though. “c-can i?” ms.kim asks. i look up, nodding my head, handing her my daughter. it was almost intriguing how fast d/n calmed down, falling back asleep in ms.kim’s arms. she takes a closer look at the baby in her arms, “she’s adorable, such chubby cheeks.”

i admire the scene in front of me, when was the last time i saw her? i thought. does she still work for them? countless questions wondered in my head until she spoke again. “she looks just like him,” she says softly. i almost froze, eyes widening. i never told her who the father was, but then again my baby does look a lot like her dad. then considering ms.kim had been with the jeong’s since he was born, she must’ve seen how he looked as a baby.

“d-does she,” i say at a loss. she nods, “i’ve been with them since he was still in the womb, and watched him grow, so i can guarantee you they’re daughter and father.” when i didn’t speak she spoke again, “i probably shouldn’t be bringing him up… i- mr.jeong told me. he explained to me what happened when i asked why you weren’t coming over anymore, and well… i’m sorry.”

wait… why- why is she apologizing. i stopped her immediately, “n-no, you-you have nothing to do with what happened, why are you apologizing?!”

“i raised him after,” she answered. i shook my head, “no, please don’t apologize. you and mr.jeong played no part in what unraveled between me and him, nor do or will i blame either of you.”

she faintly smiles, “you’re too kind, y/n. in all honesty, i thought i would never see you again but yet here you are, you even befriended my son.” i giggled a little at the thought of jungwoo, “he sure is something else, but i’ll be eternally grateful to him.”

we continued our conversation for a while longer before a nurse came in to give me the okay to leave today. i did and completed the necessary things so i could go home, ms.kim helped me. and after a couple hours we were finally out of the hospital with d/n in the car seat ms.kim brought along. she said jungwoo got it for me, as a congrats-on-giving-birth gift.

ms.kim drove, while i stayed in the back with d/n, arriving at my home a while later. we spent the rest of the evening there, ms.kim preparing dinner. whilst she was doing that, jungwoo got off work and came over. he was overly excited to see d/n, shunning me and his own mother out.

when the food was ready, i put a sleeping d/n in the crib i placed in the living room. then i headed back to the dining table, sitting down and for the first time enjoying a homely meal. it was so good, i started crying. when was the last time i felt at peace? when i felt complete? jungwoo nor ms.kim said anything, letting me have a moment.

my home was finally warm and cozy, my new life begun today. my little light radiating throughout my- our home.

4 months later.

i sighed, pushing the stroller of my 4 month-old child along the park. the cold winter weather was gone, and the flowers were in full bloom again. we came for a stroll at our local park, i was in need of a refresher.

it’s been a month since i began working again, and things were going great until a couple days ago when i was informed of a new task. the ol’ mighty task being… interviewing… jeong jaehyun. with the rise of n corps, my company was in desperation to get an interview with him. and if matters couldn’t get any worse, our main interviewer broke their leg a couple days ago, so they decided to assign me with the job. well, they gave me until the end of the week to decide whether i was up for it but… come on, me?!

no way, there was no way i was going to-

“y/n?” a voice shouts. the voice sounding familiar, i turn around without any second thoughts. though now i wished i hadn’t turned around at all, that i had simply ignored the call of my name.

i froze. “j-jaehyun,” i said in a voice that was only loud enough for him to hear. what was he doing here… he shouldn’t be here… no… no wh- “it really is you…” he says, interrupting my thoughts. he walks closer, my eyes beginning to blur. “baby,” he says gently. my stomach churns, in a bad way at the use of the word.

“d-don’t ca-call me t-that!” i say, my voice distorted. i was probably trembling as he walked closer. he stopped in his tracks when the cries of a baby erupted.

shit.

he stops, his eyes focusing from me to the strolling behind me. i instinctively blocked her, hiding her from his view even though it was too late now.

it seems it didn't take long for jaehyun to connect two-and-two together. “i-is that my- our child,” he says in an astonished tone. at least he wasn’t such an idiot, i’ll give him that.

i shook my head, “no, you’re wrong. she’s mine, she doesn’t need you.” i wasn’t going to deny that he was the dad but that didn’t mean i’d consider him as her father.

jaehyun drops to his knees in front of me. his sobs getting louder as he cried. my heart ached at the sight, but then remembered why we were even here in the first place. i turn back, my grip tightening around the stroller’s handles.

i begin walking away, stopping briefly. “you should’ve moved on the day i left the hotel. we are strangers jaehyun, remember that.” he looks up, tears staining his face. i noticed a shine from his finger, it came from the ring around his left hand. i immediately identified it as the ring i had gotten him for his birthday.

“w-will i truly never see you again, see her again,” he says, trying to regain his composure. i don’t reply back, leaving him in that park.

on the walk home i made up my mind… i was going through with the interview.

✧˖°ʚ ❁ ɞ♡

i was sat, waiting for jaehyun to arrive. our meeting location was chosen to be at a restaurant, where we were designated with our own room for privacy reasons. honestly, i could care less about the interview. 3 days had passed since our reunion, and i felt that there was still much left to be discussed, so what better way than to talk about it here.

the door slid open, jaehyun stiffened. his mouth falling open, “w-what-” i interrupted him before he could continue. “surprise,” i sarcastically said. he looked out to check if he was in the right room, only to be reassured he was. jaehyun sits down, his head down, not daring to look up. i could tell he was keeping his guard up around me.

i softly sighed, “the person who was set to interview you, broke their leg so they put me as their replacement.” i felt it was only right to explain the situation since i’m sure he was wondering what i was doing here.

when he stayed quiet i continued, “and for the record i accepted it only because i felt that we needed to have a deep talk about everything. let’s put aside the interview for now jaehyun.”

he finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine. “w-where is she?” he asks, stumbling on his words. “she? oh! d/n is with ms.kim. you probably don’t know but ms.kim offered to look after her while i worked,” i explained. it was the truth, ms.kim, since the time i began working again took care of d/n. she argued she’d find a way around working with mr.jeong and babysitting.

however it seems jaehyun was oblivious to this. “m-ms.kim,” he whispers, in which i respond with a nod. “that’s where she’d gone,” he continued. “what do you mean?” i asked.

“well, my father briefly explained that she’d gotten a job somewhere else so she wouldn’t be able to work from certain hours,” he answered. so that’s what she told them, i thought. “mmm, speaking of your father… how is he?”

“i guess he’s alright. the old man and me aren’t doing so well, so it’s hard to say…” he says, stopping briefly to take a sip of his water that was placed there by the waiter before he even arrived. “ever since you left, he got pretty upset with me. he forced me into the family company, didn’t even wanna consider me his son. i mean it didn’t matter to me, i deserved it after all.”

i stayed quiet, not knowing what to say at his revelation. “s-so, tell me about her. please, y/n,” jaehyun pleads. i give it some thought before sighing.

“her name is d/l/n. she was born on december 14th. i found out i was pregnant around a month after that day. she was all i had left so i decided to keep her. and god was that the best decision i’ve ever made. yeah, those 9 months were sometimes hell, but i managed. i was scared of being a single mother, but hey look at where i am today,” i explained. his features softened as i continued explaining my past year.

and when i finished he asked, “won’t you let me see her?” i ponder, “i wish, i want to… but, i-i’m not sure if i can trust you yet jaehyun.” “and why is that?” he asks. “b-because of what you did. you broke me completely, crushed up all faith and trust i had for you.”

“t-then give me a second chance,” jaehyun declares. you look at him astonished at his declaration. “w-what do you mean?”

“give me a second chance to prove to you and d/n i can be trusted. i’ll make up for lost time, i’ll love her triple, no infinitely more. please, just please… we don’t even have to go into it thinking we might get together, i-i just want to see my baby girl.”

his voice was getting weaker, practically pleading with me. a second chance, huh. i took my time to think about it, would letting him into out lives be the right choice? i was gambling here, but nonetheless i made my decision.

“f-fine. you better prove yourself worth forgiving, jeong jaehyun.” his face almost lit up, “th-thank you! i most definitely will, i’ll prove to you both. i won’t make the same foolish mistakes. i’ll love d/n, i’ll love you,” he says. i’ll love you. the phrase brought something out of me, touched my heart per say.

and so after an overdue talk, we cleared up our misunderstandings. we agreed on co-parenting, among other things. the interview then proceeded as planned, and once that was out the way he drove me home. i offered to invite him in, in which he gladly accepted.

ms.kim was shocked to see him show up, confused even but i briefly told her i’d explain it later. d/n was awake, and when i introduced her to jaehyun it was like the most sentimental scene. he cried, heck i probably did too. even more shockingly, d/n warmed up to jaehyun faster than i expected.

it felt like we’d finally become a family, like we could finally live happily ever after. and although i knew the journey was far from being over, i was willing to test the waters. if in the near future jaehyun and i ever get together then we get together, and if we don’t then we don’t.

whatever the future had in store for us, we’d face it once it came. but until then this new life that has bloomed for us like the flowers, will be lived with one another by each other's side.

“you’re my dandelion.”

2024. 08. 18

final a.n: woohoo, we're at the end! writing part 2 like i mentioned was a hassle since i was having writers block, worst feeling ever! on top of that i started school again :(( . not the best couple of weeks but i managed to get this done in a week, nevertheless i really hope you all can enjoy it. thank you for your continued love and support, i truly cannot thank you enough for everything! that being said, i will be taking this upcoming week off, and will hopefully be back to uploading for the last week of august. i love you all berry much! please look forward to jaehyun's solo, JOLO, on august 26! thank you&i love you, jiji signing off 🤍

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wlntrsldler · 7 months

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poisoned mercury | end up here

a/n: i'm going FERALLLLLLL over this chapter. enjoy poisoned mercury's debut album hehe.

iv. end up here by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“your band name doesn’t even make any sense,” you argued, eyes narrowing at the boy in front of you.

luke crashed your secret spot, again, and refused to let you smoke in silence until you gave him a detailed explanation of how your day went. he knew you didn’t smoke every day, only on days that were particularly hard. he noticed that your bad days always had something to do with your dad, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to bring that up.

anyway, you got fed up with his badgering and that stupid smirk on his face because he knew you were about to crack, and decided that if he was going to act like a toddler, you would too. hence, why you were now bringing up his band name.

luke took offense to that because he thought the band name was cool. he was the one to suggest it. he crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to let his hurt show on his face, “what do you mean? poisoned mercury is a sick name.”

“mercury is already poisonous. your band name is like redundant or some shit.”

“then why did so many people in history ingest it?” luke asked, recalling the one thing he remembered from his high school history class before he dropped out. he took a drag from his cigarette, turning his body a bit so the wind didn’t blow the smoke directly in your face.

“they fucking died, castellan,” you replied, deadpan.

“oh,” he blinked, staring off, “i didn’t know that.”

you rolled your eyes, a habit that you’ve picked up whenever you were with him and sat back down on the bench. luke joined you, silent as he thought about what you just said. he really needed to stop zoning out during lessons, but since he was already out of high school, he guessed it didn’t matter anymore.

as much as you hate to admit it, luke castellan was growing on you. sure, he got on your nerves like nobody else– the boy just doesn’t quit– but, he wasn’t half as bad as you originally thought. not that you’d ever tell him that though.

when you got back to the cabin last week after helping with concert prep, the cabin was spotless. there were no empty red bull cans in sight, the table tops were free of crumbs, floor vacuumed and mopped, and there was even a candle burning on the counter. you approached your bedroom door to find a post-it on the handle. luke’s messy writing was smudged around the corners, but you could still make out what it said.

“five star,

i snitched on the boys and my mom will have a stern talk with them about their cleanliness. can’t promise that people will stop talking about me, but i can promise you won’t have to live in the dojo casa house mojo or whatever it was.

ps i’m using the spot tomorrow, just thought i should let you know. maybe we can set up a calendar for reservations.

luke :)”

the cabin hasn’t been as messy since. whatever may castellan told the boys worked like a charm. there was still the occasional trash, but nothing crazy. it smelled better in the cabin too, still like a boy, but it smelled like expensive cologne more than anything. cedarwood and pine.

and thankfully, the luke castellan hype train was starting to run out of steam, with many people finally realizing that he was also just a human being and the surprising revelation that luke castellan was not entertaining anyone during his time at camp helped with it as well. you still heard whispers about him here and there, but you were glad the topic of conversation was beginning to switch to something else.

you and luke walked to the gym and back home every morning together. he and the boys sat with you and clarisse during meals. they tagged along for music lessons and spoke to the kids, which they really appreciated. they helped the older campers with writing music, luke particularly. you’d been around a few musicians in your life and many of them only kissed ass when your dad was around, but poisoned mercury was different. they were passionate about their music. that was clear.

after a conversation with clarisse, where she managed to convince you that not all musicians are like your ex, you began to let loose a little bit. you hung out with the boys more, partly as an excuse so clarisse could hang out with chris without causing too much suspicion, and found that you actually enjoyed their company. and luke castellan? well, he wasn’t half bad. that doesn’t mean he got off easy though.

you took a hit of your vape, facing him, “are you done interrogating me?”

“for now, yeah,” he smiled as you shook your head. “are you coming to the concert tonight?”

“well, i did help organize it.”

“a simple yes would’ve sufficed, five star,” luke teased, relighting his cigarette. it was burning unevenly and luke was never one to waste his cigarettes. “you gonna watch us play?”

“don’t have a choice. dad wants me there the whole time.”

“you can act a little excited,” luke ran a hand through his curls, “we are pretty good, you know.”

“i know,” you hummed. the sun was beginning to set and there was a slight breeze in the air. goosebumps formed on your skin, the t-shirt and denim shorts you wore didn’t offer much comfort. you shivered, “i have listened to your music.”

“are you cold?”

your teeth chattered, but you shook your head, “i’m fine.”

luke took off his hoodie, tossing it in your direction, “take it.”

“no,” you tossed it back to him, “told you i’m good.”

always so stubborn, luke thought.

“if you catch a cold, that’s not on me,” he placed the hoodie on the bench between the two of you. “which songs have you listened to?”

“kilby girl, of course. it played on the radio so much when you guys first dropped it,” you said, remembering the days where you and your hometown friends would blast it in the car. it reminded you of high school, reckless decisions, life-long memories, and the thrill of knowing you were going to be playing the sport you’d worked so hard to excel in at a d1 level in the fall. you looked at him, sincerity in your eyes, “i really like family line. it might be my favorite.”

luke’s eyebrows shot up. not many people talked about family line. it was probably their least streamed song. they never performed the song on tour because it was difficult for luke to sing it. it was a personal song to him. it was inspired by his relationship with his father, or lack thereof.

when poisoned mercury first got signed to olympus records, luke sent a message to his dad on facebook. luke hadn’t tried to contact him since he was ten, not since his father returned his letter to him unopened, no response but a “return to sender” stamp plastered over the envelope. but after the small congratulatory party his mom set up for the band after they signed, luke felt like a little kid again, a kid who wanted to share the great news with his dad, so he found his dad on facebook, made an account, and sent him a message.

he didn’t get a reply, which was expected, but it felt good for a second to pretend that he had a father to tell his good news to. luke thought he didn’t care about whether or not his dad was proud of him, but when his message went from “sent” to “read” a few days later, he was brought back to those moments in his life when he cried and wondered why he wasn’t enough to make his dad stay. he wrote family line in one sitting, on his bed in his bedroom in connecticut, looking at the little league medals on his wall that seemed to mock him.

he originally didn’t want it on the album because he felt like it didn’t fit the vibe of the rest of the songs and that it was too real, too vulnerable for a debut album, but then he played it for his mom and she loved it. she cried when she first heard it and luke knew that even if people didn’t like the song, he was going to put it out for his mom.

“huh,” he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, “wasn’t expecting that one. thought you’d be more of a crash my car type of girl.”

“i like that too,” you shrugged, “but family line. that song. i don’t think i have the words to describe it.”

“thanks, five star,” luke looked down at his feet, taking a puff from his dying cigarette. “that’s my mom’s favorite, too.”

“did you write it?”

luke nodded, looking to face you. there was a new expression on your face, one that you’d never used with him before. it was a mix of disbelief and awe. he tried not to get offended that you didn’t think he could write something like family line, but he couldn’t blame you. he didn’t really portray the type of person who would be able to be that raw and vulnerable on a song. “me and trav write the lyrics for our songs, mostly. chris and connor help too, but the bulk of the lyrics are me.”

“you need to stop doing that.”

he cocked his head to the side, crushing the cigarette butt on the hardware of the bench, “doing what?”

“surprising me,” you shook your head, “i don’t like it.”

“i don’t know what to tell you,” he chuckled, leaning back on the bench. he looked out into the lake, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains, “i have layers. you just gotta give me a chance.”

“how do you do it?” you sat criss cross on the bench, leaning against the arm rest. “how do you write like that?”

you’d always been curious about music, even if you weren’t good at it. your dad was never one to answer your questions, especially because you were interested in lyrics more than anything, and that wasn’t his forte.

luke mimicked your actions, “i dunno. personal experience, i guess?”

you frowned, thinking about the lyrics of family line. luke never talked about his dad, but spoke highly of his mom. was family line based on his own life? if it was, his dad was an asshole.

you relented to the cold, grabbing the hoodie that he left in between the two of you. you ignored the triumphant smile on his face when you draped the sweater over your bare legs, shielding them from the wind chills.

he continued, “sometimes things happen to me that get me worked up and i have to write a song about it. sometimes, it’s based on my imagination. it depends.”

you wanted to ask him about his dad, but you didn’t know if he considered you guys friends yet. it’s not like you made it easy for him anyway. you could deal with the banters and annoyance, but you didn’t want to push him to talk about something he wasn’t ready to. you could be a dick, but you weren’t cruel.

you changed the subject, “okay, let’s play a game.”

“21 questions?” luke bit his bottom lip, trying not to laugh. he waggled his eyebrows, dodging your arm that reached out to smack him.

“you’re gross,” you gagged, knowing the implications of the game, “no, i’m gonna ask about the songs on your album and you tell me if it’s real life or from your imagination.”

“alright, go for it five star,” he beamed, propping his elbows on his crossed knees. he loved talking about music with anyone. he could go on and on for hours.

“18.”

“real,” luke snorted, remembering the first time travis pitched the idea for the song to the band, “but not my experience. it was trav. he met this girl at one of our gigs in new york, right after we got signed, and he was obsessed. she was a freshman at nyu and she kept telling him he was too young for her, even though she was just less than a year older. trav was hooked.”

you could picture it. it was definitely something travis would do. “okay, another one of my favorites. only angel?”

“not real,” luke shook his head, a slight blush creeping up on his face. “if you tell anyone, five star, i will vehemently deny it, but i had a crush on jade west from victorious and i wrote it about her.”

there was something about jade west that made luke like a love-sick puppy. ignoring the fact that she was hot, her attitude was something that luke was attracted to. she had a tough exterior and acted like she didn’t care about people, but she had her moments where she was soft and kind to the people she cared about the most. luke liked that. the idea that someone could be sensitive but only to the people they deemed worthy.

he’d spent so much of his life trying to be worthy, in whatever way the stage of his life defined it, and he craved it– a pat on the back, an approval, a confirmation that he was worthy of it.

you threw your head back laughing, surprised by his ridiculous confession. the sound of your laughter rang across the woods, making luke smile. your voice echoed throughout the trees and he his senses were surrounded by you. it hit luke like a truck.

he sucked in a breath, taking out his phone. he jolted from his seat for more than one reason. “shit, five star. we gotta go.”

you took out your phone too, checking the time. your eyes widened as you got up from your seat. you threw his hoodie over to him, “fuck, we’re late.”

the two of you raced out of the woods, arriving to the concert venue with flushed faces and rapid breaths. you could feel clarisse’s knowing eyes on you as you got ready for the concert. you tried your best to ignore it. you were going to deal with that later.

–

“and for the final event, i know you guys are looking forward to this one,” your dad laughed into the mic. the sun was long gone and there were disco lights illuminating the stage. a smoke machine was on either corner, making it difficult to see the bottom half of the stage. you and clarisse stood in the front row, listening to the deafening cheers of the campers. “ladies and gents, welcome poisoned mercury!”

the screams got louder which you didn’t even know was possible. travis entered the stage first, sticking his tongue out as he expertly twirled his drumsticks around his fingers. connor came in next, smiling and waving at the crowd as he plugged his guitar into the amp. chris walked in with his bass strapped around his neck, eyes immediately finding clarisse and sending her a shy smile. you nudged her teasingly, enjoying the way she blushed under the lights.

then luke castellan walked in. he ditched his hoodie and t-shirt and walked in with a white tank top on, messing with the curls on his head. he tugged on the silver necklace around his neck as his eyes scanned the crowd. he threw a wink to the group of the older girls in the back, turning to travis to let out a laugh at their reaction. the lights on the boys were blinding and a thin layer of sweat already began to form on their skin despite the bite to the air.

luke took center stage, picking up his guitar. he leaned over directly in front of you, fingers pretending to mess with the wires connecting his guitar to the speakers, “hey, five star.”

he straightened his back before you could reply. clarisse’s eyes darted between you and the boy, now nudging you like you did to her earlier. you rolled your eyes, smiling at the rest of the boys as luke began talking on the mic.

“what’s up, camp half blood?” luke screamed into the mic. the crowd roared. “we’re poisoned mercury and we are so happy to be with you guys here this summer. before we close out this awesome concert, i wanna introduce our lovely band.”

“on drums, we have the one and only, travis stoll!” luke turned around to applaud travis as he did a little drum solo, head banging as he hit the drums. he turned to connor, “on lead guitar, we have the amazing connor stoll!”

connor strummed his guitar, leaning over on the left side to soak in the applause of the crowd. the girls beside you swooned as he unleashed one of his award-winning smiles.

luke faced chris, “and on bass, we have my very best friend in the entire world, my 4lifer, chris rodriguez!” clarisse cheered loudly for chris as he played a tune on his bass, mouthing, “love you, brother,” to luke as he played. the crowd quited for a second as luke addressed them again, “and my name is luke castellan. we’re poisoned mercury!”

you turned around to look at the crowd. the size of the crowd tripled when the boys got on stage. everyone had a smile on their face, excited to hear them play.

“the song we’ll be singing for you guys today is from our debut album,” luke adjusted his mic on the stand. he got closer to it, lips touching the metal, “this is only angel.”

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at their song choice. this was not the song they were supposed to sing. they’d been rehearsing kilby girl for the past week. luke saw your reaction, laughing along with you.

the instrumentals began and you nearly missed the beat drop because of the cheers from the crowd. as the song progressed, the boys were one with the music. you watched luke sing, working the crowd like a pro. his skin glistened under the spotlight, beads of sweat tricking down the side of his face. he approached chris when the chorus started, dragging his mic stand with him. he swung his guitar around so it rested on his back as he sang the lyrics. his curls were sticking to his forehead, eyebrows raised in glee as he performed.

you couldn’t take your eyes off the lead singer, not even when the rest of the band had their own solos in the song. your eyes were glued on luke; how his adam’s apple was on full display as he threw his head back, getting lost in the music, how his arms flexed as he wrapped the mic cord around his fist, how his thin tank top stuck to his body and how it raised when he lifted his arm up to bring the mic closer to his lips. you saw the outline of his abdomen and his v-line.

but what really got you was his face. he looked at peace on stage, a wide smile on his face, full lips pink and glossy as he licked them in between verses. he looked incredible up there, like that was where he belonged. he was born to be on stage like this.

“fuck,” you mumbled, applauding at the end of their song. luke’s eyes found yours as he sang the last bit of the song, smiling at you. you hoped clarisse couldn’t hear you talk to yourself. you looked down at your feet, tugging nervously on the collar of your shirt, “i get it now.”

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke pjo #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson

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eddieandbird · 2 months

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Dream Girl—

Sequel to How Romantic. Eddie and you took the rest of Corroded Coffin to brunch to talk about your wedding night. [part 3]

a/n: thank you to everyone who requested a second part to this! tags are in the comments- bird

tags/warnings: fluff w/ slight angst | 3.1k words | f!reader | rockstar!Eddie

———

“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” The officiant’s voice was distorted and flashes of darkness stuttered in your vision.

“Come here, baby,” Eddie pulled you by the hips, and in a blur of colors, you felt him dip your body down. His hands were firm, cradling your head in one hand and your waist wrapped in the other. The last thing you saw was Eddie’s half-opened eyes and dark tendrils hovering over you before he kissed you.

You could hear a boisterous chorus of cheers behind you. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you tried to follow along with the rapid movements of his lips. When you were lifted back to open your eyes, you saw Jeff and Gareth out in the pews still cheering and repeating Eddie’s name like he just won a high school football game.

Suddenly you were brought back into the present with Eddie squeezing your thigh tight.

“Hey. You alright?” Eddie asked quietly.

You swung your head around, taking note of your current environment. You were sat outside at a cafe with the rest of Corroded Coffin’s band members.

“Yeah, I’m just a bit tired,” You lied, offering him a weak smile to keep up appearances for Gareth and Jeff.

Eddie worried about you. He noticed that you seemed uncharacteristically spaced out, almost dazed since you both had met up with the band. He watched you plaster on a convincing smile as you reassured him. He didn’t quite believe it, but he didn’t want to push the topic in front of the others.

Gareth leaned over to the two of you, a wide smile on his face. “So last night got pretty wild, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” You said in a slightly mocking tone.

You pouted and shoved a few bites of scrambled eggs in your mouth. “Do you guys remember what happened or were you too far gone like me and idiot Munson over here?”

Eddie leaned in, raising a finger, about to protest but you jokingly made kissy faces at him to get him to shut up before mumbling “Don’t start, darling, I wanna hear the other guys talk first,” You shook your head.

Your eyes flicked between two other members, waiting for someone to speak. Eddie rolled his eyes at your playful jab. Gareth and Jeff exchanged a look across the table, both of them grinning from ear to ear.

"Dude, last night was epic," Gareth said between laughter. "You guys were out of your minds, all over each other-"

Jeff interjected, his voice full of excitement. "And then you both stumbled into that chapel and bam! You guys got hitched!"

You held your head in your hands with a louder scoff.

“Neither of you thought ‘Hm, that’s our lead guitarist and our manager at the altar, let’s stop them from randomly getting married’?” You realized your voice raised a bit and you almost instantly gave them a wave as a gesture to apologize.

“Hey, leave the guys alone, this was our fault,” Eddie’s voice was strained in attempt to not yell at you. The look in his eye was trying to tell you to stop revealing details about your plan before the guys catch a whiff of it. You reluctantly obliged.

“You’re right. I’m sorry I just— I’m just still a bit shocked I guess. We did a big thing last night,” You sighed before taking a long sip of your orange juice.

Both Jeff and Gareth's grins faded slightly as you spoke. They could tell that you were stressed and overwhelmed with how the night's events had turned out, so they decided against making any more jokes.

Jeff reached across the table to pat your hand comfortingly. "Hey, don't worry about it. We get it, this was a wild night for all of us."

Gareth nodded in agreement, "Yeah, and hey, with how long Eddie's had his eye on you, this wasn't that surprising."

You lifted your head like a dog who heard a whistle in the distance. Gareth’s comment was ringing in your ears. You turned to look at Eddie in an almost robotic manner. Your glare was sharp enough to stab him with a sugary grin that didn’t match at all.

“Eddie, what are they talking about?” You asked, your eye was borderline twitching.

Eddie bobbed his head and wiggled his hand, in an attempt to downplay what was just said. “They’re obviously exaggerating, baby,”

He casually chuckled then pushed your hair behind your ear. His hand was on the back of your neck and he pulled you close to obscure his face from the rest of the table.

“Let’s not tell these blabbermouths it’s all a ruse just yet, yeah? They’ll blow our cover way too quickly. Just go with it,” Eddie whispered to you.

You could feel the heat of your anger rising up to your ears, but on your face, you remained stoic. The whole point of brunch was supposed to be telling the band about your situation, but Eddie didn’t seem interested in letting Jeff or Gareth in on the plan. Now with Gareth’s innocent slip of information, you were beginning to understand why. You mimicked Eddie’s grip on his own thigh, digging your nails into the denim of his jeans.

“You three are so funny,” You flashed another false smile to the table before sitting back in your seat with your arms folded.

Eddie could sense your frustration, but he knew that he needed to sell the illusion of a happy couple. He managed to brush your lips with a kiss which you had little response to. Jeff and Gareth exchanged a quick look after you sat back in your seat, both of them raising their eyebrows at each other in confusion.

"Uh... So-" Jeff started, but Gareth spoke up before he could continue.

"Are we missing something here?" Gareth asked cautiously, his gaze darting back and forth between you and Eddie.

“No! No, nope,” You interjected before the other men could speak. “As you probably know, I’ve been very… private about my relationship with Eddie considering I’m your guys’ band manager and all that. Almost like it wasn’t even a thing before last night,”

He subtly elbowed your arm, giving yet another reminder to reel it in.

“I just can’t believe everything is coming to light now. It’s overwhelming. We’re finally married and it’s… awesome,”

You mustered the best look of excitement you could as you stabbed away at your meal with a fork. Eddie couldn’t imagine how vexing it was to hear that he could’ve possibly had feelings for you way before this whole accidental wedding fiasco happened.

“I know. I am so happy. How about you, babe?” Eddie pressed a kiss to your cheek and you reluctantly returned it with another fake grin.

“The absolute happiest,” You said, knowing damn well you’d be scolding him the next time you were both alone.

Eddie could feel the tension radiating off of you, but he kept his hand firmly placed on you under the table. Jeff and Gareth glanced at each other again, both of them confused by your unusually nervous demeanor.

"Uh... Well, congrats you two," Gareth said tentatively, his eyes darting from your face to Eddie's hand on your leg.

"Yeah, it's about time!" Jeff chimed in, his enthusiasm not exactly matching his bandmates'.

You nodded silently for a moment, reigning in your emotions that were very close to spilling out. “We appreciate your guys’ support, we really do. But, I think it’s about time we go back up and pack our things, yeah? We gotta be in Salt Lake City tomorrow night. C’mon, Mr. Munson,”

A loud creak rang out as you stood up and pushed out your chair. You held out your hand for Eddie. Another smile hid just how confused and irritated you were with the mop-headed boy. He let out a breath and pushed back his chair to stand up next to you. He took your hand in his and squeezed it. Jeff and Gareth watched the two of you as you prepared to leave, both of them slightly concerned by your hurried demeanor.

"Uh... yeah, alright. See you guys later," Eddie said to them, still attached to your arm.

The guys nodded, their eyes still fixed on the pair of you as you hurried towards the exit.

Your footsteps were quick, Eddie was barely keeping up and you couldn't care less. You needed answers and couldn’t wait another moment for them.

“Hey, hey! Slow down, would ya? I’m not as fit as I look-”

“I can’t believe you,” You interrupted as you dragged him inside the elevator, pounding the buttons like it would take you up to your room quicker.

“What are you talking about?” He gave a pinched expression. You couldn’t tell if he was faking it or if he was genuinely lost once again.

“Please don’t make me feel crazy, you know what I’m talking about,” You begged, continuing your strides to the room.

Eddie followed closely behind, quickly matching your steps despite his earlier comment. He tried to pretend clueless, but he knew there was no point. As soon as your hotel room door slammed shut behind you, he let out a long sigh. He ran his hand through his hair anxiously as he struggled to find the right words to say.

“Okay. What do you want me to say?” he finally mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

You scoffed and scrubbed your face in your hands. "Jeff and Gareth basically said you've had a thing for me for ages. You didn't even deny it. You want to start telling me about that?”

Eddie’s mouth kept opening and closing his mouth, but he said a whole lot of nothing. It bothered you the way his eyes floated all over the hotel room skipping over your face, but you knew better than to expect him to talk to you in this state. You had to have a softer approach. You caught his chin and pinched it between your index finger and thumb, positioning him to look at you.

You closed your eyes and brought your heart rate and breathing back down to a normal pace before speaking again. “I’m sorry. I won’t be mad, it’s just… in order for this whole thing to work, I really need to know the truth,” You let him go, allowing him the space to confess.

Eddie’s face flushed slightly, a mix of guilt and embarrassment. He couldn’t deny it any longer. He swallowed hard as he gazed down at the floor, unable to look at you.

“It’s true,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, I didn’t know how to approach you with it. You’re always so good at keeping your feelings inside and- and I just-” He trailed off, struggling to find the right words to say.

That was not what you wanted to hear. A big part of you felt betrayed by Eddie. You stepped away from him, taking in his whole frame as you watched him in shock. Your promise of not being upset had been completely thrown out the window.

“So, what, you decided you’d trap me into a marriage because you have a crush on me?” You said with little breath behind your words.

“Hey, no, don’t do that. That is totally not what happened here,” Eddie’s breath was shooting harshly from his nostrils as he pointed down to the floor. “Last night was an accident and you know that,”

He paced the room for a moment, scratching at his dark curls before continuing his rant. “And it’s not like you would’ve given me a chance anyway. You’re always so busy buzzing around the band and worried about being ‘professional’. You would’ve turned me down instantly if I told you how I felt,”

Eddie’s face fell, his stupidly charming smirk was now replaced with a deep-set frown. He was a tornado of hurt that spun around you and it crushed you. Your chest ached and you were softening at the confession of his reservations.

“You don’t know that,” You muttered. You weren’t even sure if it was true, but you shook your head to further your statement.

Eddie let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, please. You would’ve laughed in my face if I told you I had feelings for you. You keep everyone at arm’s length, especially when it comes to romance. You always say relationships are a waste of time. How am I supposed to believe that you would’ve given me a chance if I did things differently?” He continued pacing the room, his voice growing more and more frustrated.

“You always put up this tough act like everything’s fine like you’ve got everything under control, but deep down, I know that’s not true. You’re scared to let anyone in,”

“That’s not it, you know it’s not true-” Panic was coming up on you as you saw Eddie waiting for you to continue. You waved your hands at your eyes, trying to suck up your tears. You needed to gather yourself quickly. “Eddie, you’re the closest person to me. You’re my best friend,”

No matter how hard you denied it, he was right. You had walls up that refused to let down. You decided a long time ago that’s what you needed to do to keep yourself from getting hurt, but Eddie was a bulldozer to all your apprehensions. His childish humor, his fearlessness, and his ability to light up any room was special to you. You didn’t want to ever lose that.

Eddie stepped closer to you and placed his hands on your shoulders.

"But that's exactly my point," he said, his voice softened. "You're comfortable with me as your friend, you trust me, but you’d shut down the idea of anything more. You don't want to risk losing what you have."

He gently pulled you a bit closer to him, determined to make you understand where he was coming from. Words bubbled up from your stomach, threatening to come out of you like a shaken soda can. What were you even supposed to say when he was staring at you with those giant golden brown eyes? You gulped before attempting to speak once more.

“What do you even see in me? Why do you want to be with me? I don’t exactly think I fit the description of your ‘dream girl’,” You asked the burning questions to further avoid your feelings.

Eddie rolled his eyes at your questioning. "Dream girl?" he repeated, shaking his head as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He leaned closer, his breath gently caressing your face. "You could never be just a dream girl... You're the real thing, better than anything a dream could conjure up. Tough as nails, smart as hell, a badass through and through."

His hands moved to rest on your hips and he pulled you even closer. He could still see the gears turning in your head. You were still having a tough battle inside of yourself. He let out a sigh and hung his head before you. He was getting tired of all the bickering. He wanted to get back to the part where you two were on each other’s side again.

“I know it’s a lot. I’m also wrapping my head around it, but I’m giving you what you want, right? I’m putting all my cards out on the table, but that doesn’t mean I’m trying to make you feel anything you don’t. I’m sure you already feel like I’ve forced you into enough for one Vegas trip,” He chuckled ironically, scratching at the side of his neck.

And with that small gesture, you could feel the bricks of your walls starting to chip away. Upon first meeting Eddie, anyone could easily brush him off as someone who was too odd for his own good. Not you. You saw Eddie the way he wanted to be seen. You were impressed with his talents, you were amused by his jokes. Though you were blunt and closed off, you were not judgemental. That’s one of the things Eddie liked the most about you.

“Hey,” you lifted his chin to look at you once more. “What happened to this being both our faults?” You gave a quiet, breathy laugh.

Eddie chuckled along with you, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Technically, it is," he agreed, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "But I'm the one who decided to get married on a whim, remember? I don't think you had much say in that."

He moved even closer, his arms now wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. The tension and frustration between you seemed to melt away, replaced by that familiar easy banter. You gave your infamous shrug, but this time it was paired with a wiggling smile on your lips as you pushed the hair out of his eyes.

“You’re right. You should know better that I can’t fight off a guy who’s a full foot taller than me hauling me down the aisle, but I was the one who followed you into that chapel last night,”

A grin spread across Eddie's face as you spoke. The tension in his shoulders dissipated slightly, replaced with a sense of relief.

"Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I couldn’t resist getting into the whole ‘kicked puppy’ act," He paused to hear you join him in laughter. "So we’re on the same page, then? You forgive this idiot?"

You jumped up an inch from the floor to get your arms over his head to pull him into a hug.

“Of course, I do, idiot,” Your laugh was muffled by his shoulder. “I’m sorry for all this stupid arguing. Of course, we’re on the same page,”

You definitely weren’t good with stuff like this, but you hoped you could assure him even in the slightest. You felt he deserved it more than anything.

“But to be on the same page, we really need to agree on what we tell people and who we’re telling things to. We’re in this together. Deal?” You flipped back into a stern tone, a hint of playfulness in your grin.

Eddie's grin widened at your words and the way you jumped into his arms, wrapping him tightly in a hug. He let out a content sigh as he returned the embrace, burying his face in your tousled hair.

"Deal," he agreed, nodding his head against the crook of your neck. "We'll get our story straight before talking to anyone else."

He couldn't help but chuckle at your quick transition back to your all-business tone. "You know you're cute when you get all serious, right?"

“Shut up!”

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fluff

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rip-quizilla · 1 year

Text

Eat Me

Pairing: Older!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Popstar!Reader

Summary: (TLDR: you perform with Corroded Coffin, act like a brat the whole time, and Eddie makes you pay for it.) Two years after your hiatus from the music industry, you're back and all grown up now. After collaborating with early 2000's metal sensation Corroded Coffin for several songs off your new album, you debut the new tracks live in a surprise performance with the band during their tour- and the tension between you and frontman Eddie Munson is so thick, you're barely able to keep your pants on throughout the set. (Songs referenced are by Demi Lovato from her album HOLY FVCK, which inspired this fic. I highly suggest listening to the songs "Eat Me" and "Freak" while they're performed in the story for the complete experience!)

Word Count: 14K

Tags: 🔥SMUT, age gap (reader is 27, Eddie is 47), Reader is a brat (Eddie can handle it), fingering, squirting, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap up!!), light degradation, reader has blue hair, reader is a grown-up child star, for the purposes of this fic Corroded Coffin started in the 90s instead of 80s for timeline reasons

🖤🖤🖤

You had no fucking clue what you were doing.

It had been two years since you’d put out music. Two. Years. That’s enough time for a person’s relevance to crawl into a hole and die, which is something you had been strongly considering doing for the duration of those two years.

It was a tale as old as time- child star grows up. Child star is not a child anymore, but the world only wants the star to be a child, so if the star wants to keep being a star, they do not. grow. up.

But you grew up, and guess what happened?

The world hated you for it.

So you stopped trying to be a star. You’d dropped off the face of the earth and deleted every social media app from your phone. You’d bought a house in the mountains, and thanks to modern technologies like Amazon and DoorDash, you basically never had to leave. It was a little scary how easily you had become a hermit living in a cabin in the woods. Your life quickly became a never ending cycle of reading, binge-watching tv, and dying/cutting your hair whenever the mood struck (The latest spontaneous color change had left you with a surprisingly pretty shade of faded blue).

It was easy, running away… until it caught up with you.

After all, at your core you had always been a performer. From your first audition at five years old to your big break at twelve, to the first album you’d put out on your television network’s record label- you had always been a person who had something to say and craved an audience to hear it. When your audience had turned on you, it had jolted your rhythm enough that you forgot the words to a song you’d been singing as long as you could remember.

It had taken you a couple years, but eventually you figured out that when you play the same song on repeat for long enough, it gets old.

So you wrote a new song.

To be more precise, you wrote a whole album. Literally.

Some of the songs were composed, some still needed a tune, but the message of the album was clear: I’m not that little girl on your TV screen anymore. You don’t have to like it, but you sure as hell can’t change it.

The minute you’d figured that out, you’d called your team. Once they understood the direction your career was headed, they helped get everything in order for your re-entry into the fray that had driven you out in the first place.

There was only one part of the album that made you nervous.

I know two years doesn’t seem like that long, your agent had said, but the public eye doesn’t have a very impressive attention span. You only have half of the album composed, right? This is the perfect opportunity to make the other half of the songs collaborations with artists that are in the public eye!

The idea made sense. Their popularity helps you, and if the songs go over well, then it helps the other artists too. The only issue was that these songs were way more vulnerable than what you used to write… hell, half the songs you’d recorded before your hiatus were written by whatever run of the mill joe schmo had gotten the kid-friendly execs’ stamp of approval. Even when you’d split from the network after turning twenty-three, you’d kept your songs strictly PG-rated since you knew the majority of your audience were minors. These new songs, though…

You weren’t an idiot. The themes of these songs were not subtle. Anyone who listened to these new songs was going to see a side of you that wasn’t all that pretty. Were you ready for that? Were you ready to bare that darkness to not only the world, but to other artists who meant to help you make music out of it?

Your anxiety about the album had gotten even worse when your agent had given you the list of potential collaborators.

One song that you were particularly proud of called “Eat Me” had some very metal undertones to it, so you’d told your agent that you’d like to collaborate with a metal band or artist to compose the music that would match the lyrics. Almost immediately, your agent had suggested a collaboration with Corroded Coffin.

The band had been HUGE when you were a kid, topping charts throughout your childhood and making a name for themselves as one of the most culturally relevant turn-of-the-century metal bands. Even now, they were a household name. Your older brother had been a huge fan, so you’d actually listened to their music quite a lot growing up. They weren’t some random collaboration- if Corroded Coffin read your lyrics (which were basically your soul laid out on display) and thought they were shit? It might just send you spiraling right back to your cabin in the mountains.

You had been equal parts thrilled and terrified when your agent told you they’d agreed to collaborate on the song.

Currently, you were sitting in your home-away-from-home, a cozy apartment that you rented on a month-to-month basis whenever you needed to be in New York, which just so happened to be where Eddie Munson, lead singer/guitarist of Corroded Coffin had asked to meet with you. It was your album, so you had invited him to come to your place and discuss his ideas for the song. You shifted nervously on your couch and glanced at the time on your phone. He was ten minutes late- that shouldn’t bother you, a lot of musicians had a habit of running late. Just because you didn’t subscribe to that stereotype didn’t mean you had to judge him for doing the opposite.

When you finally heard the buzz of your doorbell, you practically hopped off the couch. You peeped through the little door viewer to catch a glimpse before you had to look one of your childhood heroes in the eye. You… you hadn’t been adequately prepared to see this.

Eddie Munson had been attractive in his hay day- you could admit that. You’d seen the pictures of him on their album covers, the press photos, the magazines… he had always been cute in a scruffy sort of way. You hadn’t bothered Googling what he looked like now, which you were currently regretting since you had not been adequately prepared for the father of all DILFs to be standing on your doorstep.

After doing some quick math, you came to the conclusion that Eddie Munson must be in his mid to late forties at this point. His hair was still long and curly and thick as hell, but you noticed other details that you distinctly remembered were not present on the album covers you remember from your brother’s CD collection- dark, whiskery shadow along his cheeks and jawline. Tattoos creeping up from the collar of the crew neck shirt he wore, as well as every inch of his arms. A nose ring. Smile lines. Soft creases forming between thick brown eyebrows.

Eyebrows drawing together in confusion because you weren’t opening the door.

Shit. You inhaled sharply and hastily made to open the door. Breathe, you instructed yourself, taking a moment to blow out a semi-relaxing breath before turning the doorknob and plastering on your best entertainment industry smile.

“Hi!” you said, a little too peppy- you knew you sounded too peppy because the rockstar in front of you actually flinched when your high-pitched sorority girl voice slapped him in the face. “Sorry, I think I’m a little caffeine-riddled, I just finished my third cup of coffee.” You said apologetically, swinging the door open wider for him to step through the threshold into your apartment.

“Too many frappuccinos there, huh popstar?” His voice… if it hadn’t been so condescending, you might have melted on the spot. Your pride, however, had to argue with your clenching thighs.

“Uhm, no-” you laughed, keeping your voice airy as you shut the door and leaned back on it to ensure it was closed. “-just cold brew, rockstar.” You couldn’t help but add that quip at the end, seeing how he had just called you popstar like it was the same as calling someone a pussy or a wimp. What was his deal?

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest, and then turned back as if you hadn’t said anything at all. He simply sauntered through the hallway to your living room, where you had laid all the necessary materials for your composing process across the coffee table- but he wasn’t looking at that. He seemed to be inspecting your walls, the decor, the old pictures that sat in frames on your floating shelves, the records you had displayed above your turntable. His eyes surveyed everything like he was a judge at a fucking science fair, and your heart was starting to race as you started to irrationally wonder if you fell short of his expectations or something.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat to get his attention.

He turned to face you, irritation flashing across his expression like a cloud blowing past the sun. You took a breath. Calm down, you chided yourself mentally, he’s probably just a prick, don’t take it personally. Be professional.

“Can I get you something to drink?” You chirped politely, to which he smirked and shook his head.

“Don’t trouble yourself, sweetheart.”

You bristled; sweetheart? Who did he think he was, Don Draper? Was this the 1950’s? Were you his fucking secretary? Your blood pressure rose by the second.

“Hm.” you respond, chewing your lip to keep a snarky response to yourself. “Well, we can go ahead and get started if you want.” You gestured to the pages strewn across the coffee table. Notebook pages with your lyrics written out in black pen, empty pages of sheet music that you planned to fill out with a melody to coincide with your words as the morning went on. Your acoustic guitar sat securely in its stand beside the couch, eagerly awaiting your hands to make the message in your music come alive.

Munson sunk into the cushions of your leather couch, manspreading enough to make you feel like a guest in your own apartment. His forearms rested on the thighs of his ripped charcoal jeans as he surveyed the pages before him. He grabbed the notebook page full of lyrics first, chuckling when he saw the title.

“Eat Me, huh?” he raised an eyebrow at you, and the way he was holding the page between the two of you left only the top half of his face visible from where you sat. You noted that Eddie Munson had extremely expressive eyes. “That’s a pretty evocative title for such a squeaky-clean ‘lil diva.”

Your brow furrowed. “That’s kind of the point.” Using your pointer finger to pull the page down, the bottom half of the rockstar’s face coming into view and spiking your blood pressure again when you saw that fucking smirk still on his face.

That’s it. This guy is an ass.

“Maybe my agent didn’t accurately portray my vision for this album,” you said, struggling to grit out the words without coming across angry. “If that’s the case, I’m very sorry we got our wires crossed.”

Ready to listen, Munson leaned back into your couch and crossed one booted foot over his knee, an arm thrown across the top of your couch cushions. The picture of nonchalance.

Cocky bastard.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I haven’t put any music out in over two years.” you began. “This isn’t just a new album for me- it's more like a debut album for the new direction I want to take my career in. Up until now, I’ve been portraying a very different side of myself that…if I’m being honest, it wasn’t really me. It was childish and immature and I…”

You huffed out a heavy, frustrated sigh. “-I can’t do it anymore, I can’t keep being a kid, I’m twenty-fucking-seven years old, for god’s sake.” the rockstar’s eyebrows jumped up at hearing your expletive, obviously amused.

What the fuck? Here you were, being vulnerable with a complete stranger, and he thought it was amusing? You half expected him to laugh, but you brushed past it and decided to ignore this asshole being even more of an asshole.

“What I’m trying to say is this is a very personal album for me. It’s very different from what I’ve been putting out, and that is very much the point. Does that make sense?”

You watched as he slowly nodded his head, mulling over your words. “So…it’s like a coming of age thing?” he ventured, “Like, ‘little girl’s all grown up and sexy now’ all that?” his mouth turned up at one corner. “How very Miley Cyrus of you, sweetheart.”

You scoffed, physically recoiling a bit. “Are you being serious right now?” you balked.

He shrugged.

Oh, you fumed, that is it. Fuck this guy.

You stood from the couch, finally snapping after holding yourself back from giving this asshat a piece of your mind. “What is your problem?” Munson’s smirk faded a bit, but his smug air remained intact as he stared up at you.

“Look sweetheart-”

“No.” you cut him off, stopping him with a hand in the air. “Stop calling me sweetheart like you know me or like that isn’t a condescending fucking way to speak to someone. You have done nothing but talk down to me since you walked through that door, so no, you do not get to talk to me like that, I don’t care how famous you are.”

There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face now, and you took pride in that. Maybe there was a conscience in there somewhere that was telling him I told you so right now.

You took the page from his hands and held it up for emphasis. “If you had just read my fucking song before making assumptions, then maybe you would have understood that this song is actually a social commentary on people like you who assume the direct trajectory of a child star’s career is to go from cute and childish to sexy ‘girls gone wild’ or whatever the fuck.” you spat, practically shaking the paper in your hand. “I’m allowed to grow into whoever I damn well please, and that’s exactly what this song is about. If I want to write a song about sex- and I’ve written a few, they’re on the fucking album- I’ll write them because that’s what I want to write! I’m not doing it for shock value or because I like attention; hell, I’ve been a literal hermit in the woods for two years, I don’t give a fuck about attention!”

You finally paused to breathe, and you knew your eyes must look absolutely insane because the man before you genuinely looked terrified.

Steeling yourself, you inhaled and exhaled slowly, attempting to push down some of that hysteria. “Sorry.” you bit, “Didn’t mean to unload all that on you. It’s just… this song is a part of me, and you just belittled it without even reading past the title.” You looked him directly in those big brown eyes and thought- hoped- for a second that you saw understanding in his gaze. “That was shitty. I’m not letting other people make me feel like shit anymore.”

When you were finished, silence took over. It settled over the room like a reprieve from a short but heavy rainfall before the sun showed itself again. Suddenly, Eddie Munson stood from your couch and marched to your door, letting himself out with a sharp click of your doorknob latching closed.

Okay. That went well. The lead singer of one of the most famous metal bands just came to your apartment, got yelled at, and ran away. You were just starting to ponder how you would explain this one to your publicist before you heard a knock at your door. Tentatively, you opened it- you didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was.

Eddie Munson stood at your door wearing an expression that you hadn’t seen yet today- he looked open, compassionate, and sorry. One hand in his pocket with the other outstretched, tattoos winding up the expanse of skin, rings glinting light from the sconces on either side of your door. He was offering his hand.

Smiling slightly, you accepted his gesture. You grasped his ink-scarred hand, feeling the cold metal of his rings press against your skin as you shook it. “It’s lovely to meet you-” he said your name softly, and you realized that when he had entered your apartment earlier, you hadn’t even exchanged pleasantries. Hadn’t introduced yourselves, almost as if fame got rid of the need for normal human introductions. Now, here he was, remedying that.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Munson,” you said, voice less chipper than it had been when the two of you originally stood in these same spots. “I’m a huge fan.”

He winced at ‘Mr.’, clapping his other hand over yours tightly. “Please, for the love of god, don’t call me Mr. Munson.” his big brown eyes pleaded with you. “Call me Eddie.”

Your smile widened as you nodded. “Eddie.” you repeated. “Is this you telling me we’re starting over?”

He let go of your hand, and you felt a sudden chill as the warmth of his skin left yours. “If that’s alright with you?” he replied softly, turning up the end of his sentence like a question.

Instead of saying yes, you simply stepped back to make room for him in your hallway. With a pleasant grin on your lips, you gestured for him to step inside. “Let’s get started, then.”

After sitting down on the couch once more, Eddie took the sheet of notebook paper on which you’d scrawled a part of your soul written in verse and began to read intently. Leaving him to digest the song completely (also because you felt awkward sitting there in silence as he read your work) you left to grab two water bottles from the kitchen. When you returned, he had already grabbed a fresh sheet of notebook paper and begun jotting down notes.

You placed the bottles on coasters, bracing yourself for the criticism that you knew was coming-

“You were right.”

Huh?

You craned your neck to see what he had written on the notebook paper. “About what?”

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Eddie yanked the paper out of your line of sight. “About this song, it’s completely different from what I’d assumed you would write. Actually,” he grinned. “-it’s kinda fucking metal.”

You smiled, once again reaching for the page. “Then let me see what you wrote-”

“I’m not finished yet, keep your panties on.”

The two of you worked for hours that afternoon, Eddie suggesting lines and chords as you wrote corresponding notes and chords on your sheet music. It didn’t take long for you to grab the acoustic guitar and begin strumming out portions of the song until it was finished.

Both of you agreed it was something to be proud of.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie stuttered before exiting your apartment that evening, when you were both happy with the work you’d done for the day. “I hope you know how sorry I am for being such an ass when I got here earlier-”

You shrugged, any traces of anger melted away at this point. “Eh.” you smirked. “You made up for it. That song might be my favorite on the album now, honestly, I meant it when I said I was a fan of yours- wouldn’t have trusted it with anyone else.”

He smiled at you warmly. “I’m honored to have such a talented fan.” The door was open, but he wasn’t leaving yet. Instead, Eddie stood with his tattooed arms crossed over his chest leaning his weight to one shoulder against the doorway. “I mean it though, you’re a talented songwriter. If you want to collaborate on any other songs, just say the word and I’m back here.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

He nodded, “Dead serious.”

Smiling excitedly, you ran to your notebook, flipping through the pages until you found what you were looking for. You looked up at Eddie, a knowing grin on your lips. “Remember those songs about sex I mentioned?”

***

The original plan for your album had been to collaborate with multiple artists for about fifty percent of your album, while the other fifty percent would only feature you. What ended up happening was slightly different.

The more songs Eddie saw, the more passionate he became about the message you were working to convey through your lyrics. He ended up reworking every single song with you in a completely collaborative process, where he never overstepped, never tried to take over- simply understood what you were trying to say and added the extra ‘oomph’ each song had been needing to truly become what you had envisioned.

“I feel like I really can’t just call this my album now, Eddie, you’ve contributed way more to this to just be credited as a featured artist-”

You’d first voiced concerns about how to credit Eddie in the album a few days into your songwriting spree. It became an easy routine, Eddie would come over first thing in the morning, and the two of you would sit in your living room working through your songs and ordering takeout until the sun set.

“Well it’s not a collaboration album with Corroded Coffin,” Eddie had replied, sticking a bite of noodles into his mouth. The two of you had been seated at your kitchen table, white boxes of Chinese food, napkins, and torn chopstick wrappers decorating the space between you. “Those fuckers haven’t even met you, they don’t get credit for anything they ain’t playing on.”

“But I’m talking about you.” you pushed, “If we keep going the way we’ve been, you’re going to be a vital part of the composition for every track on this album! I’m not going to let you avoid credit for that.” you gazed at him, unable to hide the admiration you’d begun to feel for the artist at your table. “Let me list you as a composer for every track you help me with. We already know you and your band will be featured on Eat Me and Freak, so obviously you’ll be credited for those…”

As you continued to ramble on about how Eddie would be credited for each and every song lyric he suggested, he got distracted looking at the way your hair glinted slightly different shades of blue in the sunlight that filtered in through your balcony window. His eyes followed the light along your skin, taking in the way it glistened off the dewey shine on your cheekbone, how it shone directly into the corner of your eye so that colors he had never noticed were brought to the surface of your irises…

This wasn’t the first time that Eddie had gotten distracted watching you rant about something you were passionate about. He knew he was supposed to be listening, that it was very important that he knew what your songs were about, that he understood the details of your plans for the album so that you wouldn’t have to repeat yourself later- but dammit, you were just so pretty. Really fucking pretty, it was hard for him not to get distracted. Initially, this whole collaboration had just been something that Eddie’s publicist had suggested for getting the newer generation listening to Corroded Coffin in time for their new album to drop at the end of the summerl, so when Eddie had first waltzed into your apartment he’d been expecting a kid; an innocent, teeny-bopper sort of persona. He hadn’t expected a loud, firecracker of a woman with hair the color of his old denim jacket.

Eddie wasn’t an idiot. He was well aware that he was old enough to be your father. You were what- twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? Definitely under thirty. And here he was, pushing forty-seven with a salt and pepper shadow on his jawline. The hair on his head hadn’t started graying yet (he dreaded the day that he would have to use *gulp* hair dye) but he knew it was only a matter of time. For him to be ogling you like this? It would probably make you uncomfortable if you knew how often his eyes forgot to look away when you left the room. What was that old saying? Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave-

“Eddie?”

Shit. He’d missed an entire conversation, hadn’t he?

He gave you his best apologetic smile, which didn’t work at all. You sighed, hanging your head low exasperatedly. “You didn’t hear a word of that did you?”

“Not a word, zoned out.”

You threw a fortune cookie at him.

***

You and Eddie didn’t see each other for a while after recording the album. Eddie was there with the rest of Corroded Coffin to record the two tracks that they were featured in for the album, but after that plus a few guitar parts Eddie had been kind enough to record for some other songs, the two of you hadn’t had a reason to see each other.

That was why you were so nervous for tonight.

After working all summer and the better part of the fall, the album was finally finished. Copies of CDs and special edition vinyl were already being shipped out to music stores across the country and set to hit shelves in a week, so tonight was the kickoff event for your publicity tour: you would be joining Corroded Coffin tonight onstage for a surprise performance of Eat Me and Freak. Tonight was October 31st, and premiering those songs on Halloween with the metal king that helped you make them the masterpieces they were? This was just one of those moments when the stars aligned poetically.

You looked yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before heading to sound check. It had been a couple of months since you’d seen Eddie, but that wouldn’t matter, right? You’d spent a whole week workshopping incredibly personal- in some cases, intimately personal- songs with the guy, so singing onstage with him shouldn’t be a big deal. You were a professional, so it didn’t matter that you hadn’t performed in over two years, you could do this. Never mind the fact that this was the first performance of the rest of your career; never mind that sometimes the way Eddie looked at you make you feel like your knees were about to buckle; never mind that Eddie Munson, rock god and sex symbol of the metal world, was going to be within touching distance the moment you set foot on that stage…

A knock at the door of your tiny dressing room startled you, along with a voice letting you know that sound check was about to begin. Decisively, you grabbed your water bottle and headed to the stage before you could psych yourself out any more.

When you got to the stage, Eddie was the first person you laid eyes on. He smiled at you, dark curls flying around his face and forming a sinful-looking halo around his face as he gave you a friendly nod- god, he was gorgeous. Waving back at him, you returned the nod and grinned. You wouldn’t be going on until the end of their set, so you situated yourself on an empty stool backstage with a view of the band.

Their practice was fascinating to watch, how all four of the band members were so obviously masters of their craft, each ear trained to notice any imperfection in the way their instruments sounded through the stereos. Every once in a while, Eddie would look your way out the corner of his eye, just to check if you were still watching; you always were. Whenever he saw you looking directly at him, never glancing down at your phone or at the other band members (besides the odd look thrown in Gareth Emerson’s direction; the way his curls bounced was honestly hypnotic), he’d hold your eye contact, smirk into the microphone, and continue to belt out the lyrics to his songs with a smidge more cockiness than he had been prior.

When the time finally came for you to join them, you took a deep breath and strutted to where Eddie stood in the center of the stage. No one had handed you a mic, so you weren’t sure where you were supposed to stand until Eddie moved aside to make room for you at his mic stand.

You looked questioningly at Eddie. “You don’t need your mic?”

He chuckled, placing a hand on the small of your back as he put his lips to your ear. You figured he was just trying to avoid the mic picking up his voice, but the hand on your back… that was new. Was this a move? Was Eddie Munson making a move? On you?

Oh.

That’s a fun development.

“This one’s all you, darlin’.” Eddie said, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’ll stay out of your way. Also-” He pulled away enough to look you in the eyes, and your lips must have been a little too close to the mic because it picked up your fucking gasp. You jerked your head away from the mic, cursing yourself for being so nervous.

Eddie definitely noticed, but all he did was chuckle, still staring at you with giant doe eyes framed by smile lines and bushy brown eyebrows. “-it’s good to see you, popstar.” There was no condescension in his tone this time; all you could find in his gaze was kind, genuine joy that you were here, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

Confidently, you gripped the mic with both hands, smirking at Eddie through your side eye. You didn’t bother leaning away from the mic when you replied, sprinkling sultry into your voice. If Eddie Munson was trying to drop a hint, you wanted him to know you were receiving it.

“It’s good to see you too, rockstar.”

***

Mic check went flawlessly, which meant it was time for you and the band to eat in the green room while fans began lining up outside the venue, waiting for the doors to open.

You had a couple drinks with the band while biding your time before you had to get dressed for the show. Much to your delight, Eddie never left your side the whole time. You had been close to him in your living room day after day when you’d worked on your songs, but this was different; you kept noticing little glances and touches that spoke louder than words- how his hands lingered longer than expected, never missing a chance to touch your arm or place a hand on your back to guide you as you walked. How his eyes were most focused whenever he was looking at you, and he never seemed to give you passing glances- every look he gave you was intense and purposeful, it made you shiver in a very good way. When he and the band left to get ready for showtime, he took a moment to check on how you were before leaving to go to his dressing room.

“You nervous?” he asked. There wasn’t any judgment there, just concern for you.

“Yes,” you admitted, “But I think I’ve got it.”

Eddie smiled widely, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you tightly. “Oh I know you’ve got it, angel.”

You caught his wrist, holding it to your shoulder before he could retract it. Turning to him, you batted your eyes a bit before raising an eyebrow. “Angel, huh?”

Eddie inclined his head, eyes narrowing flirtatiously. “What, should I switch back to sweetheart?”

You smirked. “Only if you wanna make me mad.”

It took everything in you not to shrink back from him as he leaned forward, practically glowering over you. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but must have decided against it. You saw his tongue poke into the inside of his cheek as he nodded to himself, eyes narrowing further as if he were having a whole conversation within his head that you weren’t privy to. Finally, he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and you let him go, staring at him with every ounce of confidence you could muster.

“...I’ll remember that, popstar.” he said, voice low and gravelly and sure to throw you into a coma if he said the right words with that voice at the right time. You didn’t let him see how much he was affecting you, though- save for a little grin that you couldn’t hide as he smirked at you and walked away.

When he exited the green room- and you were sure you were alone- you finally let out a breath that you’d been holding for what seemed like entire minutes. You grabbed your drink, chugging down the rest of your liquid courage in the hopes that it might also cool you down a bit.

***

The cheers from the crowd were deafening, and the gravity of what was about to happen was starting to get to you.

Corroded Coffin was about to start the song that would be your cue to join them. You stood in the wings like you had during sound check, this time fussing over your outfit to ensure every piece was in place. The fact that it was Halloween combined with the tone of your new album had influenced your wardrobe choice for the evening- ripped black jeans that were more rip than jean, a strappy black bustier top with a plethora of silver buckles that decorating the surface of your bodice where the sides attached at your sternum, fishnet fingerless gloves, and your favorite part of the outfit: the biggest platform boots you’d ever owned. You remembered seeing them and falling in love immediately with the straps that decorated the entirety of the shoe, as well as the silver buckles on each strap that matched your top like a dream. Paired with your blue hair, you looked strikingly goth and nearly unrecognizable from the girl your fans remembered.

When Eddie announced you onstage, you had to take a deep breath before joining him out there. Slow inhale, slow exhale… and then you were overtaken with hot stage lights.

Out on the stage, you could really take in the size of this crowd- it was far larger than what you were used to, and when they realized who you were, they went wild. You couldn’t help but be intimidated until you felt Eddie’s hand gently grounding you as it ghosted the skin on your back.

His lips tickled your ear as he leaned in and whispered in your ear out of range from the mic, “Knock ‘em dead, sweetheart.”

You felt a flare of indignation intertwined with delight, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little evilly into the mic at this little shit of a rockstar.

He did that on purpose.

You looked at him with the biggest smirk on your face, and it matched the smug, sultry grin on his. Silently, he nodded at the audience as if to say ‘Well? They’re waiting.’

You looked over your shoulder at Jeff on the bass, nodded, and right on cue as Jeff began the first note of the song, the entire stage was flooded with scarlet light.

***

Eddie could tell you were nervous. Flirting with you probably wasn’t helping, and for all he knew, he might even be making you uncomfortable.

However…

Over the years, Eddie’s gotten more perceptive when it came to the subtleties of body language. He didn’t miss the fact that you’d been leaning into every touch he ghosted over your skin, no matter how overt or fleeting those touches might have been. He’d seen the change in your eye contact when it lingered a little longer than necessary- that shift from attentive to intrigued, even a little wanting at times.

The only question was what you wanted, and Eddie was really hoping it was him.

As he watched you take his place at the mic, standing monochrome in scarlet light, he bit his lip as he tried to hold back the salacious grin that slid across his lips; he was unsuccessful.

Eddie hit his guitar part easily as you purred the lyrics that the two of you had slaved over into your microphone.

Be more predictable

Be less political

Not too original

Keep to tradition, but stay individual

Thrusting ever so slightly with his warlock, Eddie channeled the rage and rebellion of your lyrics into every word, smirking with the next few lines- they had been one of the first additions to the song that he’d made, and you more than did them justice.

Dirty but washable

Winning but stoppable

All that I’m hearing is

You wanna make the impossible possible

Even though you’d been nervous earlier, it looked like you’d been able to shake it all off. Confidence was rolling off you like waves, strength in your comfort onstage practically seeping out of your pores. Eddie felt proud, yes, but mostly? He was turned the fuck on by it. His eyes never left you as you carefully removed the mic from its stand and leisurely strode to the edge of the stage as you sang the next lines, punctuating the last with a little shake of your head and a comically disgusted wrinkle of your nose.

Is this what you’d all prefer?

Would you like me better if I was still her?

Did she make your mouths water?

Ugh.

Just like you’d practiced, flashing white lights littered the stage right on cue when the drums opened up the chorus, and you belted those lyrics with all the anger and exasperation that he knew you’d felt when you’d written them. You were a force to be reckoned with- this was that girl he’d met when he’d walked into your apartment acting like a jackass; this was the firecracker of a woman who wasn’t afraid to tell him exactly what she thought.

I know the part I’ve played before

I know the shit that I’ve ignored

I know the girl that you adored

She’s dead, it’s time to fucking mourn

I can’t spoon-feed you anymore

Dinner’s served, it’s on the floor

I can’t spoon-feed you anymore

You dropped to a crouch, for the end of the chorus, legs bent but spread slightly, and flashing lights glinted off the metal buckles of your platform boots. Your voice ripped from your chest as you belted into the mic.

You’ll have to eat me as I am

Eddie was incredibly grateful for the crouch you’d dropped into, because it gave him a view of your ass that was so perfect, he actually groaned. Swooned, practically. Thank god you had his mic and the music was loud enough that no one noticed. He hoped. However, anyone with eyes could probably see that he was basically undressing you with his gaze right now, so he really needed to get it together unless he wanted to be on a front page tomorrow for the wrong reasons. He cringed, imagining the headline Munson Ogles Popstar Half His Age. Mid-Life Crisis? Yeah. His publicist would love that one.

You stood back up, stalking the edge of the stage as you sang the second verse. When you were about halfway through, you turned to look over your shoulder at Eddie, and it just about knocked the breath from his lungs. Your eyes- lined in black and zeroing in on him like something out of his metalhead fantasies- smoldered like embers on the edge of a cigarette as you sang the second half of the verse to him.

Longer hair and tighter clothes

Would you like me better if I didn’t oppose?

Silver platters, pretty bows…

You were at his side now, turned sideways from the crowd so you were facing him as he turned to face you in tandem. About a foot away from each other, the only thing between you was his guitar, thankfully big enough to hide the way his hard-on was quickly growing harder with every moment you looked at him with those eyes.

Your expression shifted, eyes rolling as you threw your head back in mock boredom, amping the lines up to the extreme. As you lifted your head back up, you looked at him with the brattiest fucking face Eddie had ever seen as you delivered the final line of the verse into the mic.

…Fuck.

And then you smirked, tip of your tongue peeking out of your lips and you winked at him.

Fucking. Winked.

Ohhhhhh, you were doing this on purpose. You had to be.

And Eddie couldn’t do shit about it, because you were in the middle of a performance, on stage, jumping around in platform boots and screaming the chorus into your mic like fucking banshee. So he channeled every ounce of sexual frustration into shredding the fuck out of his guitar and staring you down, salivating at the way you blazed on that stage like a witch at the stake. Then, about halfway through that chorus, at the edge of the stage and working the crowd for all they could give you, Eddie just about had a heart attack.

Because you dropped to your fucking knees.

You let the music take control of you, screaming ‘I can’t spoon-feed you anymore’ into the mic, you dropped down to one knee followed by the other as you delivered the final lines before Eddie’s solo.

You’ll have to eat me as I am

You held your last note long and loud, widening your knees and leaning into a backbend that didn’t stop until your upper back touched the stage behind you. Eddie was amazed that he was even able to remember his part when you were in front of him doing that. Jesus Christ.

Eddie continued to play, and he saw you crane your neck just in time to make eye contact with him as you delivered the next line of the song. You brought the mic to your lips, your knees still spread open and your spine deliciously arched.

Choke on it!

God…you were gonna kill him.

You pushed yourself back into a kneeling position, facing the audience. As Eddie’s guitar solo became more complex, and his playing more impressive, your jaw dropped as you looked to the audience and fanned yourself, as if you were all sharing a joint reaction of ‘wow, are you guys hearing this too?!’. Eyes crinkling from your smile, you brought the mic to your mouth again.

Choke on it!

Once you were back on your feet, you stood at ease in the center of the stage as you waited out Eddie’s solo. When he finished, you stared down the crowd as you delivered the last chorus. At this point, Eddie could see some of the spectators mouthing the words along with you, and his chest swelled with pride at your ability to win over a crowd that hadn’t even been expecting you on stage. Hell, knowing his fans, most of them were probably older than you by several years, and yet here they were singing your song.

When you drew your first breath after the final note, the crowd went wild. He expected you to be staring at them, soaking up the energy of a satisfied throng of fans, but no- immediately, your eyes were on him, an ear-to-ear smile stretching across your face. You had just absolutely killed your first song performed in two years, and you wanted to share your joy with him before you shared it with anyone else.

Eddie couldn’t help but mirror your smile- it was the least he could do, after the way you just made his heart swell to triple its usual size. He took a few steps over to where Jeff stood with his bass, nodding to the mic in a silent question, to which Jeff gladly stepped aside.

“If this is what happens when you take a two-year hiatus,” Eddie said slyly into the mic, “then maybe you should do it more often, rockstar.”

The crowd cheered again, and you looked caught off guard by his calling you rockstar instead of popstar. To Eddie, it made perfect sense- tonight, there was nothing pop about you. You were rock & roll incarnate, his equal in every single way. You took a few steps back until you and he were the same distance from the edge of the stage, and as long as he was speaking, your eyes never left him.

“So I’ve been working with this absolute badass on an album- well no, I’m giving myself way too much credit, she wrote an album, I plucked a few guitar strings, yada yada yada-” You giggled as Eddie reminded the crowd of your name, loud and clear, so they knew who to look up on Spotify later. “-anyway, her album drops in a week, that last song you heard was called…”

Eddie looked at you with expectant eyes and a devilish smile. He wanted to hear you say it. Just for fun. He enjoyed being a little shit.

You smirked into your mic. “Eat Me.”

The crowd cheered again, all it took was hearing you say two little words. Eddie knew the feeling.

“We’ve got one more before our lovely guest has to leave the stage, and this one is my personal favorite off the album.” Eddie started warming up with a couple chords from the song before adding, “This is Freak.”

You had replaced the mic into its stand at center stage, which was where Eddie headed to meet you. During sound check, you had asked him if he would need his own mic for this one, but Eddie- selfishly- had said it was no problem, and he didn’t mind sharing. That was a drastic understatement though, since he would happily leap at any excuse to have his lips close to yours in any capacity at all.

You smiled at him, and you were doing that thing again- that thing where you looked at him like you were giving him a dare. That thing where you touched the tip of your tongue to your upper lip.

Eddie wanted to bite that lip.

Instead, he smoldered down at you as he began the opening chords to Freak.

***

You may not have been sure about Eddie’s feelings before tonight, but you were now.

He wanted you. Bad. So bad, you felt high off the lust that was rolling off the man beside you.

You could tell by the way he was looking at you that he wanted to do so many things to you here and now, but due to the giant crowd before you that wasn’t an option. The power trip of knowing that every move you made was driving him crazy and he couldn’t do shit about it made you feel bratty as fuck, and you channeled every ounce of that into each word of your next song.

Pinch me, singe me, inch me to the edge

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let the sultry lyrics take over, arms bending as you brought them up to dance above your head as you stretched your neck back. Your pose mimicked the way you might have stretched across a bed, arching your back slightly in a way that you knew would make Eddie’s mind wander to all the right places.

Prod me, laud me, ungodly but heaven-sent

As the tempo picked up for the bridge, your lips brushed the mic and you bounced slightly to the beat. Looking up at Eddie, you felt your chest tighten when you saw how blown his pupils were as they zeroed in on you. There was nothing silly or flirty in his gaze now- this was lust, want, need… it was predatory in a way that made you shiver.

Get your tickets to the freak show, baby

Step right up to watch the freak go crazy.

Eddie’s guitar launched into the chorus with you, both of your mouths breaking your little standoff by smiling because you couldn’t help yourselves- performing together, this close, singing lyrics that the two of you connected with- you were having so much fun.

Am what I am and what I am is a piece of meat

Take a bite just to watch me bleed

Freak

Say what you want and what you want is behind your teeth

Ain’t gotta spell it out for me

Freak

Now Eddie’s lips were the ones on the mic, his throaty voice tearing through the air in a way that made you stop short from its power alone. He sang the first two lines on his own-

Bait me, you can cage me

Even plate me, I don’t care

You joined him for the bridge on one side of the mic while his mouth remained in place at the other, and his voice dropped down to his chest to create a sound that was more growl than song. He sounded demonic, feral- damn, you wanted to jump his bones right now.

Get your tickets to the freak show, baby

Step right up to watch the freaks go crazy

As you both sang the chorus together this time, your eye contact across the microphone was charged with feelings reflected as though you were looking in a mirror. Anticipation for what would happen after this show was building with every lyric, and as he growled his lines into the mic you wondered what the headline would be if you stuck your tongue down his throat right now.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t how you wanted to start this next leg of your career- at least publicly. Different time, different place. Like, say, in about thirty minutes. In your dressing room. Against a wall, preferably.

When you finished the chorus, Eddie shredded through his guitar solo like a bat out of hell, even improvised a scream into the mic that made your jaw drop yet again. Upon hearing it, you couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh, hopping up and down in your platform boots and headbanging along with him. After he’d finished, you took hold of the mic stand with both hands and began chanting repeating lines that would take you through to the next chorus before ending the song.

Came from the trauma, stayed for the drama

You sang the line twice before Eddie joined you for the third and fourth repetition, that deep, ripping croon tearing its way through his throat and out of his plush pink lips less than an inch from yours. You wanted to turn your head and look at him so badly, but you were so close that you’d be locking lips if you did.

As you both sang the final chorus, you pulled back just enough for your gazes to meet; you were rewarded with lust blown umber eyes, sweat-soaked curls framing a face as timeless as music itself, and a grin that sparked pure joy in your very soul.

If this guy can fuck, you might just fall for him.

Eddie prompted the audience to cheer for you one more time after the song was over, shooting you a smile as he brought you in for a friendly hug. He was in front of thousands; you knew his hands would remain in strictly G-rated areas (unfortunately), but he did whisper in your ear out of range from the mic.

“Wait for me in your dressing room.”

Bingo.

You thought about following his lead- waiting patiently in your dressing room for him to finish up his show then have his way with you- but you had a better idea. You tilted your head up quickly to bring your lips up to his ear, your clear lip gloss catching its shell.

“I’m gonna keep watching you in the wings- you can do whatever you want after that.”

Your eyes met as you pulled away, and you let yourself revel for a moment at the way he looked at you- like he wanted to, well…eat you. Eyes so dark they were almost black under the stage lights, he shook his head slightly in disbelief. Again, you felt that familiar rush of adrenaline from driving him crazy when he couldn’t do a fucking thing about it; you were beginning to think you might be addicted.

As Corroded Coffin finished their set, you stayed offstage and did exactly what you said you would- you watched Eddie every second. You were like a sponge soaking up every flip of his hair, every deft movement of his fingers as they flew across the frets of his guitar. Every once in a while, his eyes would flick to where you stood, checking to see if you were still there, which of course you were. Each time he saw you, you watched as he shook his head again, or rolled his eyes, or- in one case which almost resulted in you melting into a puddle on the floor- maintaining eye contact as he belted out lyrics to songs he wrote, with a gaze so smoldering it felt as if there were no one in the whole arena but the two of you. With every minute, every note, every song- you felt him spinning a web around you like a spider trapping its prey, and you willingly anticipated the moment he would finally storm off the stage and drink you dry.

And that’s exactly what he did.

The last song ended, and Eddie wasted no time in ripping his guitar from his torso, handing it to a roadie without a second glance and grabbing you by the hand. You didn’t protest as he pulled you into a corner backstage away from any prying eyes. Before you could think a coherent thought besides Wow, I’m wet, Eddie took both your wrists in his strong, ring-dappled hands and slammed them above your head against the wall. His eyes, black with lust and wolfishly hungry, bored into yours as he used the last ounce of restraint to hold himself back long enough to ask the vital question, “Tell me, you want this?”

He bit the words out; growled them into your face as your eyes widened, desire painting your expression a gorgeous shade of pathetic as you nodded desperately. A deep groan sounded from his chest as Eddie pressed his pelvis against yours, and you gasped at how hard he was. “Words, sweetheart, I need you to say it.”

That familiar flare of indignation in your chest mingled with the flames in your core that burned for all he had to give you. Your eyes shifted, screaming rebellion that harmonized with the submission that your body so desperately craved. The corner of your mouth quirked up in a mocking half-smile. “Fuck yes, I want it, what do you think I was bouncing around out there for-”

His lips murmured a “Fucking Christ,” as he cut your sentence short, smashing his needy mouth against your burgeoning smirk. His arms crumbled as he finally felt the release of his skin on yours, caging you in as his forearms collapsed against the wall, hands still closed around your wrists. His biceps flexed, framing your faces as he all but devoured you in a kiss that was so wanting, so possessive- it claimed you. It ruined all kisses that came before it and would ever follow it.

He was ruining you, and you committed the way his whole body covered yours and made you feel both safe and coveted to memory, imprinting it on your mind knowing that you would probably never feel this wanted ever again.

Then, just as soon as he was on you, his touch lifted away.

A needy whine escaped your lips before you could hold it back. Eddie slotted his tattooed hand into the space where your neck met your jawline, thumb caressing your skin as he smiled sweetly down at you- but his eyes were anything but sweet.

“I gotta go back out for the encore. Go take these off-” you melted into his touch as his other hand played with the buckles at the front of your top. His hand at your neck crept back, taking your chin between his thumb and the middle knuckles of his forefinger as if he were scolding a child.

“-and wait in your dressing room.”

Your eyelids were heavy, and you smirked as you opened your mouth to argue-

“And don’t fucking argue with me.”

You bit the reply into your bottom lip- you could save the brattiness for later. Just as Eddie had begun to pull away, his eyes dropped to your teeth on your lip and in half a second he was on you again.

He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, running his tongue along the soft skin before biting down firm enough to set off your mental alarms yet soft enough that you didn’t feel any pain from it. He pulled away once more, letting your lip go with a little pop.

“Been wanting to do that all night.” Eddie said, his shit-eating grin back in full force as he winked at you and jogged back to the stage. You stayed put for a second, smiling like an idiot as you heard the roar of the crowd, imagining what Eddie must look like while he returned to the stage with lips pink and swollen from his attempt at eating you alive. No one would know why he looked out of breath and a little extra happy… but you would.

You’d never walked as fast in your life as you did in that moment, making a beeline for your dressing room, fingers already beginning to work on the buckles at your sternum.

***

When Eddie opened the door to your dressing room about ten minutes later, the gigantic grin on his face fell instantly when he saw you lounging on the couch in the same clothes you’d been wearing during sound check, sans your oversized skull sweatshirt. Your black shorts and knit tank top still showed plenty of skin, but he had explicitly told you to take off your clothes and wait for him. You were still in the mood to brat out, apparently.

You looked up at him from your phone, smiling sweetly with challenging eyes. “Hi.”

Eddie closed the door behind him, leaning against it as it shut. “Hi.” he mimicked, crossing his inked forearms over his chest. He stared at you silently, expectantly.

You raised an eyebrow, coyly pretending not to know what he was being so pissy about. “What?”

Eddie pushed off the door, walking towards you at a pace that was agonizingly slow. “You know what.”

You huffed haughtily, looking back at your phone and pretending to be more interested in your screen than the man who’d had you panting up against a wall ten minutes ago. “Well that’s a little presumptuous of you, I’m not a mind reader.”

It didn’t take Eddie long to cross the expanse of your tiny dressing room, deftly sliding the phone from your hands and placing it on a low table beside the couch. “Should’ve known you weren’t listening earlier,” Eddie tsked and shook his head in disappointment. “I know you were a little distracted back there, sweetheart, but when I told you to take your clothes off, I meant it.”

You sighed as Eddie stared down at you from where he stood, towering over you as you laid back against the couch cushions. His gaze devoured you piece by piece as it roved over your wide eyes, glossy lips- your shoulders still shining from sweat after giving your all to the stage, your chest as it rose and fell with your quickening breath.

“Well,” you purred, like a cat who knew they were the center of attention and didn’t mind it in the slightest. “You didn’t say not to put on clothes after I took the other ones off…”

As you spoke he leaned forward, placing a knee on the couch between your legs so that your heat was only inches from his thigh. His hands splayed across your rib cage, admiring the stark contrast between his ink-covered hands and your soft, cream-colored shirt. It was thin enough to see… wait, were you-?

Eddie smirked, a breathy laugh escaping through his nose as he pulled the fabric taut, confirming his suspicions that yep, you weren’t wearing a bra.

Oblivious to Eddie’s train of thought, you continued, “...if you wanted me to just wait here for you naked then you should’ve been more specif-”

Rrrrriiiiipp!

Your jaw dropped, cold air hitting your bare breasts without warning as Eddie tore your shirt open. You squealed, your shocked voice jumping up several octaves. “Eddie!” but your eyes told a different story. You were pissed, but the anger you felt was nothing compared to how fucking hot he looked after doing something as dominant and unexpected as ripping your fucking clothes off.

He raised his eyebrows, giving you a moment to push him away in case he had gone too far- but you didn’t. Instead, you narrowed your eyes up at him and crossed your arms over your bare chest, pressing your cleavage together the way you knew would drive him nuts. “That was fucking Gucci!” you pouted.

Eddie laughed, taking your crossed arms and shoving them up above your head over the arm of the couch as he mockingly imitated your high-pitched “‘That was fucking Gucci!’” he lowered himself over you, bringing his face to the hollow of your neck, and you heard him inhale the scent of you from your collarbone to your ear. He wrapped his lips around the underside of your ear and sucked, then bit, savoring your little moan at the sensation. His mouth met your ear as he growled, “Wouldn’t have happened if you’d just done as you were told, instead of being a little fucking brat.”

Eddie pulled back, sitting up on his knee that was still slotted between your legs as he cupped his hands around your naked breasts. He kneaded them, played with you like he was testing out a brand new toy. He addressed you without looking up into your eyes as he continued to paw at your chest. “You gonna be a good girl now and do what I tell you to?”

You raised your eyebrows, amused that he expected your submission so quickly. Smugly, you looked up at him through narrowed eyes, placing your hands behind your head like a pillow and sighed petulantly.

“Fucking bite me.”

His eyes snapped up at you, thick with predatory disbelief at your cheek even when he had you half naked beneath you. He’d been challenged before, sure- but at this point, when he had his woman pinned down and moaning under him, he was usually the undisputed decision-maker during sex. The smile that bloomed across his lips was devilish, almost like there was a beast within him that had been kept safely under lock and key- until you’d said that.

Eddie was on you, grabbing one breast and enveloping the nipple in a harsh suck of his lips, biting down on the little nub hard. You gasped, the sound a lewd, sharp moan that brought out a laugh in him so nefarious it gave you chills. He looked up at you with eyes alight with amusement and feral need that shook you to your core.

“Oh, baby-” he laughed, crawling up until his face hovered over yours. “-I’m gonna have some fucking fun with you.”

Taking your face in his hands, Eddie Munson kissed you like it was what he had been put on God’s green earth to do. His lips moved against yours with a beautiful mix of urgency and devotion, like you could just tell that right here, right now, there was nothing else he cared about except making sure you knew exactly how badly he wanted- needed- to make you his. He slowly lowered the rest of his body until his pelvis was flat against yours, grinding into your clothed heat and exploiting the chink in your brat armor that was the his fucking size.

You bucked your hips up into him, craving friction as you moaned into his mouth. Eddie chuckled, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “What’s the matter baby, you need something?”

You pouted against him, moving a hand to reach between the two of you and palm him through his jeans, but he knocked your hand out of the way, continuing to dry hump you to insanity. You whined as he bit your pouting lip, sucking it into his mouth before his tongue slipped into yours. It explored you, tasting you as your tongue happily let him in. You felt his hand creep down your torso, giving your abused, bitten tit a little squeeze before traveling further down to the button of your shorts.

He undid the button with ease before you registered that he was taking off your clothes after he had denied you access to do the same to him. “Hey,” you panted, reaching for him, “you first, that’s not fair. I’m nearly naked and you haven’t even taken off your shirt.”

Eddie chuckled, tilting his head to the side as he feigned confusion. “Fair?” he asked, “Since when did you want to play fair?” He reached back down to your shorts, button already undone, and gently pulled down the zipper. “You were the one out there- as you said- ‘bouncing around’-” His hands raked up your thighs until they reached the hem of your shorts and slowly tugged them down as you lifted your hips slightly so he could remove them smoothly. Eddie smirked; NOW she does what I want her to do. “-knowing full well I couldn’t do a damn thing about it… and that fucking wink-” His eyes rolled back in his head just imagining it. He groaned as he pulled your shorts from your feet and discarded them on the floor. “-what the fuck was that, huh? Trying to get a rise out of me, baby?”

You giggled, bubbly laughter floating into a breathy sigh as Eddie’s finger traced the line of your slit through your panties. “Hmmmmm, like it when you call me baby.” you hummed.

He raised an eyebrow, “Oh you do?” His finger traveled up over the fabric, and he chuckled when you bucked up into his touch as the pad of his finger passed over your clit. That finger slipped under the elastic waistband of your panties, pulling it upwards off your skin as far as it could stretch. “You’re entirely too happy right now,” he stated, matter-of-factly. He let go of the elastic, making you jump with a breathy whimper as it hit your skin with a soft sting. “I’m switching back to sweetheart.”

You whined and he laughed as he continued to play with the elastic on your panties. He stared at them, entranced, before a wolfish grin took up residence on his face. “You like these?” he asked, and you knew where this was going right away.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “How kind of you to ask this time.”

The grin grew, and he took the crotch of your panties into his fist, grabbing the fabric above it with his other hand to do the same. You ground your hips against his knuckles as they brushed your pussy, already soaked and eager for any friction you could get. “Yeah, you know what,” he voiced, as if he were simply thinking out loud. “I don’t really care if you like them or not.”

And with that, another article of clothing was ripped to shreds by Eddie Munson and his stupid, tattooed, ring-covered, sexy-as-fuck hands.

This time you couldn’t even be offended; you were just fucking feral at this point. While he was still distracted by your panties, you quickly shoved yourself up to a kneeling position, startling him enough that he moaned into the fervent kiss that crashed into his mouth. The two of you knelt on the couch cushions, hands grabbing at fabric desperately in a quest to make your skin connect at every square inch you had. Eddie allowed you to pull his shirt over his head, and the shallow breath you had left was instantly knocked from your lungs when you took in the ink that decorated his torso. Some tattoos were old and faded almost blue, while others looked newer- song lyrics, mythical creatures, hellish images adorned his skin like a tapestry that belonged in a museum- but it was here, under your hands. All for you. You couldn’t hold yourself back from bending down a little lower, sliding your tongue up his sternum over the masterpieces scarred into his skin and licking a long, broad stripe from his chest until you reached the tip of his chin. You felt him shiver, arms tightening around you after shoving the remains of your tank top over your shoulders. You started to push him back, planning to open his pants and show him what else you could do with your tongue- but Eddie wasn’t about to let you be on top after the way you’d been acting all night.

“Mm-mm, nope.” he mumbled, stepping off the couch.

“I’m just trying to suck your cock, baby. Please?” You looked up at him with your best puppy-dog eyes, widening your legs as you knelt on the couch facing him, squishing your boobs together in that way that usually got you exactly what you wanted. For some reason, Eddie was immune.

He placed his hand along your neck, thumb and forefinger squeezing just enough for him to feel your pulse. The way your eyes widened, looking up at him the same way you had when he’d shoved you up against a wall earlier- it brought a satisfied hum out of Eddie, and he loved the way he could feel your heartbeat quicken slightly. There was no hiding what you felt when his hand was wrapped around your throat.

“You like calling me baby, sweetheart?”

You gulped. He felt it, of course, and he had to hold back a laugh- you looked so cute like this. Made him want to break you just to see what you’d be like when he picked up the pieces.

Your eyes were blown wide, like a hunted fox with nowhere to run. “Is that okay? Can I call you baby?”

His face crumpled- god, you were adorable. Eddie smiled sympathetically, “Oh you can call me whatever you want, sweetheart-” His thumb moved up to your bottom lip, stroking gently before working it into your mouth; he groaned, head thrown back when he felt your soft, wet tongue swirl around his digit and coat it with your spit.

“-don’t care what you’re calling me as long as you know I own your ass tonight.”

And then you moaned- oh, you fucking moaned his name around his finger in your mouth, and his cock twitched at the way it sounded. He wanted to record that, play it on loop, put it in a fucking song, hell- anything for him to be able to listen to it again and again and again. He wanted everyone to hear it, to know it was his name on your fucking tongue.

His thumb ripped from your mouth, replaced by his middle and ring finger, delving surprisingly deep into your mouth as you gagged around them. Your tongue quickly resumed its previous motions, lapping at his thick fingers and sliding over, under, around, between them. You reveled in the taste of metal as you tongued his silver rings. You gasped when he removed his fingers before, without warning, he slid them into your weeping pussy.

Your expression was beautifully obscene, eyes wide with surprise while your mouth- glistening with spit from his fingers leaving in a rush- fallen open in a silent scream. Eddie thrust his fingers up and into you repeatedly, forcing you open wider and wider with the rapid motion.

“Actually, I changed my mind,” Eddie grit into your ear, “I don’t wanna hear anything but my goddamn name leave that pretty ‘lil mouth until I’m done with you, aright?”

You were moaning, but evidently that was still not enough to deter you from being your snarky self. “Well that’s unrealistic, I’ll probably say more than just tha- ah! Oh fuck-!”

Eddie’s pace was relentless, fingers ripping through you with a vengeance as he muttered “Bratty little slut-” spearing you over and over as you sped toward the white-hot precipice that wasn’t quite release, but certainly what Eddie intended to pull out of you.

You moaned as what felt like a dam within you suddenly gave way, flooding your inner thighs, Eddie’s hand, and the couch beneath you. Eddie smiled wide, the muscles in his arm screaming pointlessly- he wasn’t going to stop until you’d given him every last drop there was to give.

“-yeah, not so bratty when you’re squirting all over my hand, are you baby? What, are you trying to say something? Spit it out, popstar-”

The noises tumbling from your lips were anything but coherent, Eddie knew that. He just kept grinning like a kid in a candy store as you babbled sounds that might have been his name, might have been a prayer, might have just been yes, yes, yes, Eddie, god yes!

Whatever it was, it was music to his ears.

Eddie looped his arms under your knees, pulling you into a sitting position with your legs wide open. Dropping to his knees, he stared at your spread pussy, glistening with the slick he’d just wrestled from you. His hands, wet with all you’d given him, grasped your thighs firmly but gently as he looked up into your eyes. It might have been the post-orgasmic haze you were experiencing, but for a second, Eddie looked at you with nothing in his eyes but care and admiration. His gaze shone like sunlight as he looked up at you, your stomach creasing from the crunch position he'd placed you in, your breasts rising and falling with each breath- the way he stared at you made you feel like an angel.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” he whispered, hands squeezing your thighs affectionately. Before you could even react, his tongue was on you, lapping away at your soaked pussy. You mewled, head thrown back and spine arching as unraveled you from the inside out. He traced endless intricate shapes over your clit, your lips, your hole- thoughts flew from your brain as you let his mouth drive you fucking wild. His ministrations slowed at one point, causing you to open your eyes- you couldn’t even remember when you’d closed them- and look up at Eddie.

Upon looking up, you were blessed with the sight of Eddie Munson, close-cut beard soaked with your slick, shirtless, pantsless, and currently pulling off his black boxers to reveal a cock that made you salivate on sight.

You let your brattiness fly out the window- there would be time for more of it later, but right now you needed that cock in one of your holes and you didn’t quite care which one.

Eddie stroked himself leisurely, eyes boring down into yours the whole time. “Tell me what you want, babygirl.”

You spread your legs open wider for him. “Please.” you whined.

Eddie shook his head, disappointed, sinking to his knees again. “See, this is what I knew would happen,” he murmured, sliding a finger around your clit at a torturously slow pace. “I can’t believe you got fucked stupid already and I didn’t even have to use my cock, those were just my fingers, baby.” From the slick sounds you heard from below your line of sight, you knew that he was jerking himself off as he played with your pussy. It was enough to pull a desperate moan from your throat. He licked one flat, wet stripe from your opening to your clit before murmuring against you, “Can’t even use your words and tell me what you want, sweet girl’s been fucked too dumb to make decisions, is that right?”

You found yourself nodding ‘yes’, the dirty words flying out of his mouth in rapid succession throwing your brain into overdrive. He was right; you barely had the brain capacity to think right now, much less match his attitude with snark. All you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, waiting for whatever he planned on doing next.

Eddie clicked his tongue, tilting his head as he looked at you pityingly. “That’s right, don’t worry baby I’ll just make all the decisions now, okay?” He rose, leaning over you as he placed a knee to your side and stroked himself, lining up his fully hard cock at your entrance. Your heartbeat quickened, excitement and anticipation building now that you knew his cock would be inside you soon. You mewled as his tip stroked your slit, up and down and up and down again… and stopping at your hole, hovering outside you.

You looked up at him desperately, only to breathe in sharply upon seeing his devilish grin paired with coal-black lust-blown eyes.

“Beg for it.”

You sighed so heavy it became a sob, frustrated and scrunching up your face like you were ready to throw a tantrum.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you whined.

“There she is.” he murmured.

If looks could kill, your glare would have sent Eddie Munson to his deathbed. He matched it with a condescending smile that spoke volumes of the power trip he was on right now. Leaning in slightly closer, he repeated himself. “Beg, sweetheart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No.”

Eddie shrugged, backing up just enough for his cock to leave your skin- you knew it was over from there.

“Wait!” you cried, eyebrows drawing together desperately under his cocksure gaze. Christ you didn’t want to beg, but you might not have a choice. Eddie waited patiently, stroking his cock absentmindedly as he watched you squirm below him.

You looked up at him, giving him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes. “Please fuck me Eddie.” Your voice was honey sweet, soft and submissive.

Eddie crouched down, sticking a finger in his mouth before he used it to play with your pussy, stroking circles around your clit and pumping it slowly in and out of you. “Aww, baby…” he crooned before narrowing his eyes. “-we both know you can do better than that.”

You groaned, back arching as your hands fisted frustratingly into the cushions. “Eddie, pleaaasse-”

“Try harder, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Eddie you fucking prick, just fucking fuck me, please, I need your cock-”

Eddie smiled- that was good enough for him. “‘Atta girl.” he groaned deeply as he pushed his cock into your waiting hole, your thankful moan mingling with his.

His dick was perfect, filling you deliciously and long enough to just hit that spot beneath your clit that made your nerves go berserk. You didn’t realize how loud your moaning was until Eddie shut you up by covering your mouth with his own, swallowing down every sound you made and repaying you with noises of his own.

“God, baby- so fuckin’ tight-”

You moaned, squeezing him as his cock speared you again and again. You were so built up between your squirting earlier and Eddie’s talented tongue- you were already getting close.

As if he could read your mind, Eddie grunted out as he continued thrusting into you, “I’m nearly there already, baby, you gonna cum with me?”

You whined, nodding ‘yes’ as he pacified your mewling with his thumb. You lapped at it lewdly, covering him with a thick layer of your spit before releasing it with a pop. Eddie brought it down to your clit, working gentle circles around your bundle of nerves as his thrusting picked up the pace. You squirmed under him, chasing your release as you listened to the filth that poured from his mouth while he fucked the living shit out of you.

“Jesus, fuck, so tight- my sweet girl, gonna fucking ruin you. Gonna make you come undone on my cock, just a fucking mess, gonna cum so hard on my cock-”

That last thing he said seemed to jerk him back into reality- his eyes grew wide, snapped out of his high as he looked down at you. “Shit, I don’t have a condom…baby, I’m so sorry, shit, where should I-”

You reached down, raking your nails softly over his hips. “I’m on birth control.” you said, smiling calmly. You kicked yourself for being so eager; normally you would still insist on a condom even with your implant, but Eddie just did something to you. “You haven’t been fucking any random groupies, have you?”

Eddie huffed, his laughter strained by his fast-approaching orgasm. “You’re the first in a while, angel. Last I checked I was clean, but I can still pull out if you-”

“Inside.” you whispered, grasping his ass and pulling him deeper into you. “I trust you, Eddie, I want you to fill me.”

His movements stuttered, big brown eyes wide and watching you like you were a miracle unfolding underneath him. He was still for half a second before his thumb resumed its movements over your clit as he thrusted faster, harder than before.

“Oh fuck, you want me to fill you baby? You want my fucking cum?”

His cock speared into you as deep as it could go, Eddie’s attention to your clit driving you over the edge with relentless speed. “Yes, I want it Eddie, fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Fucking take it baby, cum on that cock.”

Eddie groaned as you clamped down on him, his seed spilling inside of you while your pussy fluttered around him. You arched your back until your face was pressed into the cushions behind you, muffling your whimpering voice as you moaned his name.

A few moments passed, the air thick with the sound of heavy breathing and the smell of sex, before Eddie slowly pulled out of your wet heat. You laid there for a moment before you felt Eddie clean his sticky spend from your thighs and ass using a tissue.

“Normally,” he said gently, “I would use a warm washcloth to do this, but we have limited options.”

You sat up as he finished, smiling up at him playfully. “That sounds nice,” you said, “maybe I shouldn’t have listened to you earlier, made you wait until you couldn’t take it anymore and just whisked me off to your place.”

Eddie sat down beside you, pulling you into his lap. He looked up at you with nothing but content sweetness in his eyes, any trace of the feral dominance from earlier gone for now. “I mean, we can still do that.”

You beamed, “Really?”

Eddie scoffed, tugging you closer. “What do you mean, ‘really’? You think I need to be desperately horny to want you in my bed?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the mention of his bed. “I don’t know… I guess I didn’t know if you wanted this to just be a one time thing, or…” You trailed off, unsure of what Eddie’s expectations had been for what happened after.

Eddie’s eyebrows drew together, confused. “Sweetheart,” he said, his finger tracing circles on your thigh affectionately. “We can hash out details whenever you’re comfortable… but tonight? I would count myself a very lucky man if you came home with me tonight.” He touched his forehead to yours, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay?” he asked.

You looked down, suddenly shy upon hearing his honey-sweet words. You gave him a quick peck on the lips before looking him in his big brown eyes. “Okay.” you whispered.

Your eyes stayed connected, melting you until your lips met his again, kissing him sweetly as his hands worked their way to your ass, squeezing as he sighed into your kiss.

“Alright,” he grunted, playfully slapping your thigh as a signal to stand up. “Let’s get you dressed.”

You giggled. “In what? You ripped up all my clothes!” you held up the shredded panties, shaking your head in disbelief.

Eddie shrugged, stepping into his boxers. “I didn’t rip up all of them, don’t be so dramatic.” He picked up your shorts, tossing them to you. “Just go commando with the shorts and wear your sweatshirt, no one will know.”

You sighed, stepping over your torn Gucci tank top and retrieving your bra from where it sat neatly folded in a chair. Eddie looked over his shoulder at you as you began to put it on and gasped.

“You did have a bra!”

You smirked, reaching behind your back for the clasp. “Yeah… I wanted to see your face when I wasn’t wearing one.”

Eddie shook his head, smiling like an idiot as he buckled his jeans. “Unbelievable.” he chided, “Was it worth it?”

You tugged your sweatshirt over the bra, taking a few steps in Eddie’s direction until you were close enough to snake your hand around to the back of his neck and pull him down for one more kiss. When you pulled away, Eddie looked down at you entranced, blinking rapidly as if emerging from a dream. He could only describe the feeling in his chest as complete and utter euphoria.

You grinned up at him, eyes alight with adrenaline that still lingered from your performance onstage and absolute infatuation with the man before you.

“So worth it.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #rockstar!eddie munson #older!eddie munson #popstar!reader #inspired by demi lovato's album holy fvck #brat!reader #dom!eddie munson #rip-quizilla

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 1 year

Text

tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y’wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

“It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

“When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he knows that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

#also if this is too niche and it flops lets just forget it happened #okay? okay.#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes filth #gif not mine #credit to owner

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myosotisa · 10 months

Text

something good - e.m.

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

‖ summary: Eddie is drifting through town when he starts offering guitar lessons at night after work to make some extra cash. You are one of the first people to call, saying you want to learn how to play.

‖ tags: hurt/comfort, cheating/infidelity, domestic violence (not described, but visible bruising is discussed), strangers to lovers, fluffy and cute. no y/n. no pronouns, but reader is referred to as a woman and a bride. based on the song I Wanna Learn a Love Song by Harry Chapin (yeah like the 3 other fics i have that mention this song shut uP). happy ending.

‖ word count: 4.1k ‖ read on AO3 ‖ the song ‖

When you get here, come around to the garden door, through the fence on the left side of the house. Please don’t knock on the front door.

With a battered six string slung over his shoulder, in ripped jeans and a band tee, Eddie was absolutely positive that it looked like he was trying to break into this house. That, from an outside perspective, he was a dirty, homeless guy – nervously looking around before pushing into a stranger’s backyard.

A pretty little blue house in a cul de sac with a fancy car out front and the lawn manicured just so. He walked under a trellis with woven vines and white flowers, little stones marking a path in the lawn, and toward the baby blue screen door.

His second day clothes and the pinch in his neck from sleeping in the van had never felt more apparent than they did right now.

After several minutes of contemplating if this was really something he had to do, he hit his knuckles on the aluminum frame of the door and waited. Heard the loud bellowing laugh of a man, and then another, followed by the click of a heavy door shutting, muffling the noise.

The screen door opened with a creak and there was you – with a smile that made him think maybe the sun wasn’t setting just yet.

“You’re Eddie, right?” You asked, leaning on the door as you looked him over. And he expected judgment, maybe disapproval. But you just kept smiling, like he was an old friend coming home after a long time away.

“Yup, that’s me,” he replied as he rocked back on his heels awkwardly, dipping his head in a greeting. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he realized that he hadn’t even tried to remember your name from when you called him earlier this week. “And you are…?”

If you were offended by it, you didn’t show it. Just gave him your first name and invited him onto the porch. Offered him a drink and asked him if he found the place okay. Pleasantries. Politeness.

Autopilot.

He took a seat at the white metal table on the screened-in porch, standing out starkly in his black and denim, and nervously tapped his hands against his knees. You sat down on the chair beside him, dressed in a comfortable sweater and a pair of pants that looked more expensive than his guitar. Casual but put together.

The porch was spotless and there was a hint of jasmine on the breeze. Eddie could not shake the feeling that he did not belong here.

“I guess I want to start off by saying this would be a very temporary arrangement, if you decide you want to keep getting lessons after this one,” he said, wanting to get that settled immediately. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be in town.”

Surprised and intrigued, you learned a bit closer toward him. “Oh! That’s alright. Are you not from around here?”

“No, not really,” he muttered, setting the guitar on the table in front of you. Not particularly interested in getting to know you better, he started off with the easy stuff. “So do you know how to play at all?”

You shook your head with a bashful smile, tucking your hands beneath your thighs. “Not a chord.”

He shrugged, like that wasn’t a big deal. “That’s fine. Are you hoping to learn all the chords and stuff?”

“Oh, no. I’d really just like to learn a couple songs. Is that okay?” You asked it like you were afraid of inconveniencing him. You were paying him for a lesson – who the hell was he to tell you no.

“Sure, that works. Do you have your own guitar? Or are we sharing mine?”

Your smile dropped a bit then, like he’d touched a nerve. “No, not yet. My husband wants to make sure this isn’t just another ‘passing fancy’ before he lets me buy one.” And you laughed it off, shaking your head with a good natured shrug.

“Huh. Okay, no problem. We can take turns – I’ll show you and then you can try.” You nodded eagerly, shifting further up in your seat. “Any songs in particular you were thinking of?”

“Oh, well… I’d really like to learn a love song. Something happy. Something people would want to sing along to.”

The look he gave you in response was strange, almost like disbelief. Being a pessimist by experience, you seemed like everything he loathed. But there was something else, something good. Something that made the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smile against his will.

“A love song, huh? I think we can manage one or two.”

Every week at the same time, Eddie would pass through your garden and knock on the blue screen door. Every week, you closed the door separating your husband’s poker game from the porch and greeted him with the warmest smile he had seen since the last time.

He’d teach you a couple of chords, how to strum along the strings. Tried to be as respectful as possible and keep his distance. You were a married woman after all, he could see the shine from the multi-karat diamond on your finger when you shifted into the positions on the neck.

Little by little, you coaxed more info out of Eddie. He worked as a mechanic during the day and did these guitar lessons at night. He was saving up money to get out of town and would only be giving lessons until he felt like he had enough. He didn’t like staying in one place for too long. You were around the same age, only a couple years off. He had always wanted to be a musician – but it had never worked out for him.

After an hour or two, you’d announce that it was about time for him to go and slide him some cash. Double and triple checking that he’d be back next week; that he wasn’t leaving yet.

And every week, he promised he’d be back.

“A musician, huh? I guess that makes sense.” You replied, eyes trained on the way his fingers manipulated the strings on the acoustic. To learn, of course, no other reason. “Just guitar?”

“I sing a little too, but was always better at playing.”

You sat up a bit too straight, leaned a bit too far forward, looked a little too excited. “Will you sing something for me? I’d love to hear it.”

And, lately, he was having a lot of trouble saying no to you. “Are you sure? Seems like a waste of your lesson time.”

“I don’t think it will be. Play and sing something for me. Please?”

And so he did. Because he couldn’t quite find it in himself to say no.

And it happened again. And again.

Half the time, he wasn’t even teaching you to play anymore. The two of you would talk, and he would play, and you both would sing quietly on your porch as the sun set and night fell. Until it was time for him to leave again.

Neither of you talked about it. But it was the best part of both your weeks. Something to look forward to.

You reappeared 10 minutes later, looking a bit like a kicked puppy. The door hadn’t fully shut behind you as you stepped out, your hands wringing in front of you. “I think you better go. I forgot to take care of something and Henry…” You trailed off, shaking your head as you offered him an embarrassed smile. “Sorry to cut the lesson short.”

One week, you were interrupted by a loud call of your name. Eddie watched all the color drain from your face and how your posture went rigid before you flashed him another smile. “Sorry, just… Just a minute.” You said apologetically, pushing the guitar into his hands and hurrying inside.

Confused, he couldn’t help but look you over before letting his gaze skip over to the darkness through the open door. To the space inside that he’d never seen. “Oh. Yeah, no, that’s fine.” He reassured you, his eyebrows drawing together in a worry he couldn’t identify.

“Thanks again Eddie,” you said, corralling like you were trying to rush him out as you pressed the cash into his hand. “I’ll see you next week?”

And you looked at him hopefully, pleadingly. Every week. Like you were terrified this would be the time he finally said no.

Every week, he said, “I’ll see you then.”

When he looked back, he saw you, giving him that same warm smile as you offered a little wave goodbye. And over your shoulder, in the dark of the house, Henry was standing there. Watching him go.

The next few weeks were back to normal. He’d come around the back, you’d let him in, and you’d both laugh and smile for the first time all week.

He’d only managed to teach you half a song, but that was fine with you. You’d rather listen to him play and sing than anything else. Begged for it every week. Sang along when you felt like it too. It was easy, happy, and good.

Eddie was only a few feet from the fence gate when he heard you call his name. Backing up, you were standing in the open doorway of the front, waving him over with that same bright smile. “Hey! It’s good to see you.”

Hesitantly, he approached the door, hands in his pockets and the guitar slung over his shoulder. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to use the front door,” he teased, slowly marching the couple of steps to meet you.

You laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed his forearm and tugged him in, shutting and locking the door behind him. “Henry is out of town, so I thought we could have our lesson inside this week. Maybe listen to something on the stereo too.”

Distracted by studying the interior of your home, he nodded and muttered an agreement. You fussed over him taking his boots off at the door and then padded across the living room in your socks and into the kitchen to get him a drink.

He walked the room like an art gallery, looking over the art on the walls and the photos. Stopped short on a picture of you and Henry on your wedding day. You, all done up, and beaming up at him like he was a hero as he smiled toward the camera.

You were a beautiful bride.

“Come, sit,” you coaxed from the couch, dragging his attention back to reality. You’d produced a bowl of pretzels and two glasses of lemonade, laid out on the coffee table in nice, expensive glassware. You were sitting on the edge of the cushion, looking up at him with that same warm smile. Like an old friend coming home.

You seemed much more at ease than ever before: smiled easier, laughed louder. Offered him some whiskey and asked him to sing you something while you mixed some drinks.

So the two of you sang and played and drank and laughed and talked for an hour or two, and then longer. The time that you would normally ask him to leave came and went – and you kept singing and talking as the sun went down and night settled over the cul de sac.

The light in the living room was low and warm, casting a glow over both of you. Eddie sang until he felt like he couldn’t anymore, and then you stepped over to turn on the stereo. He couldn’t help but notice you were even closer when you sat back down again.

Eventually, the talking fizzled out, and the two of you sat and listened to the soft melody coming from the stereo in comfortable silence. You’d turned slightly toward him, your legs tucked up on the couch as you leaned an elbow on the back. He had turned toward you too, one knee propped on the cushions.

You both just looked at each other – exchanging small smiles in the growing silence.

And maybe Eddie drank too much of your fancy whiskey, because he leaned in just a little bit closer, looked down at your mouth for just a little too long.

His hand settled on your jaw, thumb to cheek, and felt the heat of your flushed cheeks. He dipped even closer, his eyes lowering, as your breath caught in your chest.

Your eyes nearly doubled in size as your chest rose and fell with stronger breaths, but you didn’t move away. If anything you gravitated closer subconsciously, just a tiny bit of your lower lip tucked between your teeth.

He could swear he heard both of your hearts pounding – but maybe it was just the beat of the stereo he’d tuned out.

“Please, sweetheart,” he found himself begging, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. “Tell me to stop. Tell me to go.”

You’re married. I’m leaving. This shouldn’t be happening.

“Please, Eddie,” you begged in return, your eyebrows pinching together on your forehead in pain. “Please don’t stop.”

And he kissed you like he meant it. Like this was right, even though it was wrong. Like this was supposed to happen, even though it wasn’t.

And you kept kissing him back like you meant it. Like it was easy. Like it was good.

For the next week, Eddie felt like he was walking on air. Like he was living some kind of dream.

You’d kissed him. You’d held him. You’d touched him like no one ever had before. Like he was something, like he was good.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him feel like he was something good.

Couldn’t remember the last time something, or someone, felt like it was worth sticking around for.

And he was whistling a happy tune when he pushed through the gate fence like usual, walking along the stepping stones under the trellis, and to the baby blue screen door. He tapped three times, already smiling just at the idea of seeing you.

But he didn’t hear your husband and his buddies inside. Didn’t hear the loud click of the door shutting. Just saw the vague outline of you approaching the screen door.

You only opened it a few inches, hiding half of your face. Your smile was weak, sad. Forced.

“Sorry, I meant to call you,” you said, fidgeting uncomfortably in the doorway.

His heart dropped, his expression falling too. “Oh. Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” you assured him, and he decided to ignore how choked it sounded. “I just have to cancel our lesson this week. I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He looked you over in concern, his mind racing. Was this because of last week? Did you regret it? Do you regret me? “That’s fine, but are you sure everythin–”

Your hand pressed some cash into his, interrupting him. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, before shutting the screen door and turning away.

He stood there until the door clicked shut behind you. And then a little longer.

You didn’t ask if he would be back next week. And he thought to himself…

Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t.

He didn’t get the chance to decide if he would show up the next week, because he saw you again 5 days later.

Through the window to the lobby, he saw you talking to the receptionist with a smile. It almost felt like seeing you for the first time – not on your porch or in your house. Out in the world, the same one he lived in.

Careful not to hit his head, he pushed upright from the engine he had been working on, wiping the grease from his hands on the rag hanging from the pocket of his coveralls. He stretched his arms up and back – his shoulders protesting and throbbing in pain as he did so.

Shaking out his limbs after spending a bit too long in the same position, he swung his head this way and that and then did a double take.

He didn’t realize he was walking toward the lobby, toward you, until he was pushing through the glass door inside.

You and the receptionist both looked over at the sound, your jaw dropping as the receptionist gave a nod and told you that she would be right back, leaving the two of you alone. “Eddie…” You said, quiet like a whisper. Quiet like singing on the porch while your husband was inside.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he responded with a conflicted smile, taking a few steps closer. Becoming even more conscious of the sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead and that he probably smelled not so great, and wondered if you could smell it too.

Your smile twisted into something sad as you faced him fully, your hands still settled on the receptionist's counter. Both of your eyes had dark shadows beneath them, but on one of them the skin was almost puffy – and the dark coloring extended down into your cheekbone.

Eddie’s heart thumped painfully in his chest as he took three steps closer, fingertips coming to your chin to tilt your head so he could get a better look. Your eyes closed in defeat, allowing him to study the bruising around your eye that was poorly covered by makeup, and another bruise just peeking out of the collar of your turtleneck.

It was like ice water down his spine. Goosebumps breaking out across his skin as his muscles tightened in quick succession, anger and adrenaline kicking up. “Who? Who did this to you?”

Your eyes opened again as you faced him head on, tears pooling in your lower lash line as you shook your head. “Please, sweetheart. Did Henry…?” Your expression fell as you looked away from him, your mouth setting into a firm line.

“It’s nothing,” you tried to say, tried to push him away, tried to close off.

“It’s not nothing,” he hissed, his anger getting the better of him before you flinched – breaking his heart in two. He reeled himself back, one hand dipping to cup your elbow over your sweater sleeve. “He gave you a black eye, and that bruise on your neck, and I bet those aren’t the only–”

“Eddie, I’ll be fine.” You insisted, the muscles in your jaw tight and hurting. “It was an accident– I shouldn’t have tried to– I swear, he’s a good man…” You skipped from thought to thought as your tone wavered, your eyes trained on the door the receptionist disappeared into as if willing her to come back, to save you from this interaction.

“I don’t know much,” he said sadly, getting your attention again. “But I do know that he is not a good man. And I think you know it too.”

Your mouth opened and closed, once, twice. Blinking at him as a single tear fell down your cheek.

The receptionist stepped back in and you rushed to wipe the tear away, subtly taking a step away from him. You greeted her with a polite smile as she handed you a stack of papers and a set of car keys. Eddie took that as his cue to leave – turning his back to you and heading back for the garage.

“Eddie?”

He turned back slightly, looking at you as you hesitated by the door to the lobby. Your shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath before you spoke again. “I’ll see you next week?” You asked, thinly veiled hope in your voice.

Your smile wavered, your eyes getting slightly misty again, as you gave him a slight nod. “Okay.”

And it was so, so hard to say no to you.

“Why don’t you give me a call when you’ve figured things out?” He offered vaguely, well aware of the receptionist still in the room and how she was probably eavesdropping. “And we’ll see if I’m still around then.”

Then you pushed back out into the sun and away from him.

Two months later, at the usual time on the usual day, Eddie’s phone rings.

Just like every time his phone rang before this, every time since the last time he talked to you those weeks ago, he tries not to get his hopes up when he picks it up. “Hello?”

Just so he can be sure it’s really you.

“Hey Eddie,” you reply through the hum of the landline. You sound exhausted but happy. Or maybe he's reading too much into it already.

He’s tempted to ask you to repeat yourself, like he hadn’t heard you, just so he can hear it again.

“Hey,” he offers instead, attempting to keep his cool despite the sweat that immediately broke out across his palms.

There’s a few moments of silence, and he’s worried maybe you hung up. Maybe you decided this wasn’t a good idea. He’s about to ask if you’re still there when you ask, “Are you free tonight for a lesson?”

His brain stutters, confused as he narrows his eyes at the wall. “For a lesson?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, the air huffing noisily across the line. “You can bring your guitar and we… We can play in the living room.”

Hope tugs at his heart like a fishing line being reeled in towards shore. “In the living room?” He repeats again, for reassurance.

There’s a few moments of silence that weigh heavily on his shoulders before you reply. “If that’s okay?”

“I can be there in an hour.”

He ended up on your doorstep a little bit earlier than that.

The fancy car was gone from the driveway and the lawn looked like it hadn’t been touched in a little bit too long.

Nervous like a kid going on his first date, he hiked up the concrete steps and knocked on your front door. Held his breath – like he was waiting for you to open it and yell at him for coming to the front, for coming at all.

You opened the door and gave him that smile again. Like he was an old friend coming home after a long time away.

“Eddie,” you said, half as a relieved sigh. “It’s good to see you.”

And you looked good. Tired and a bit like you had been having trouble taking care of yourself, but lighter. More at ease.

“It’s good to see you too.”

You invited him in, fussed about him taking his boots off at the door, and then rushed to grab him a drink – more nervous than you were before. Nervous?

He noticed the missing photos on the walls before he sat down on the couch and set his guitar beside him. You came back over with a snack and two drinks, setting them on the coffee table with slightly trembling hands. When you sat down on the couch, a friendly distance away, you stopped to take a deep breath. Like you’d noticed how visibly anxious you were.

He took the moment to ask the question burning in his chest. “How are you?”

You laughed a bit, shaking your head. But the smile was still there as you shifted to look more fully at him. “I’m… I’m tired. But better.” You confirmed, telling him in not so many words you were glad for what happened. He smiled too – which only seemed to make yours grow wider.

“I was scared you might’ve left town already,” you admitted quietly.

And honestly, he had thought about it. He had the money he’d originally planned to save and more. But everytime he thought about leaving, he felt this sink in his gut. Like he would regret it if he did. And maybe it was silly to wait but, it led him back here.

“I think I decided to stick around for a while,” he offered vaguely. Shrugging a shoulder like it was a small thing. Like he hadn’t admitted to you that staying places for too long made him feel antsy and uncomfortable.

Your face was hopeful, almost pleading. “You did?”

And when he nodded to reassure you, the smile that broke out across your face made him feel like maybe the sun wasn’t setting just yet.

“So… A lesson?” He asked, grabbing the neck of his guitar and pulling it into his lap before looking to you.

You pulled your legs up to tuck on the couch beside you, turned toward him with your elbow resting on the back cushions. “Actually, I think I just want to hear you play.”

“Oh yeah?” He teased, trying to ignore how it made a flush push up his neck from his chest in embarrassment. “What do you want to hear?”

“Something happy,” you responded quietly, like singing on the porch at night. “Something good.”

“Something happy…” He murmured, absently strumming along the beat up six string in his lap.

Looking up and meeting your eyes again, seeing your smile again, he thought of just the song. “I think we can manage that.”

thanks for reading, please let me know if you liked it!!

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #myos ideas #myo4munson

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