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#let's play 'spot the honey bee'

urhoneycombwitch · 4 months

Text

I know what they call you.

🍯 honey flavour: You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you.

🐝 the bees: Eddie x shy!Reader, best friends Steve + Robin

wc: 11k

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous.

Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

___

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after.

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music.

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm.

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways.

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask.

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him.

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return.

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me.

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm.

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot.

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house.

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids.

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of.

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again.

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty.

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair.

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke.

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it.

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code.

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter.

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive.

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily.

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending. “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out.

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them.

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in.

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it.

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom.

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth.

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits.

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring.

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence.

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music.

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around.

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows.

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic.

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms.

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate.

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart.

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down.

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement.

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?”

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard.

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs.

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands.

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel.

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves.

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own.

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours.

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp.

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch.

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights.

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown.

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you.

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him.

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation.

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam.

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie.

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders.

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh.

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,”

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips.

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x shy! reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #robin buckley #steve harrington #mdni

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tqmies · 6 months

Text

ZB1 + Jealous Sex

ZB1 after one of you is jealous!

note: legal members only (not including gunwook or yujin!) & as always, minors dni!

JIWOONG's eyebrows just furrow because, really? Did you seriously think any of these run-of-the-mill men at this party could make him feel insecure? They don't but they do manage to piss him off. Why were you so close to them? You were just being friendly? You're a liar.

You babble incoherently as he held the vibrator to your abused cunt, having climaxed more times than you could count before having it ripped away by his hands. All he did was crudely laughs at your expense. "What's wrong baby? Earlier you had no problems acting like a slut. I'm just treating you like one."

You knew ZHANG HAO was cute, everyone knew it. Doesn't mean you appreciate everyone flirting with him though.. And his seemingly oblivious act to it all has you seeing red. God, you had to teach him a lesson.

"Babe, s-slow down." He lets out, cock already spent, your eagerness to get him to cum again has him tearing up. His face red as he bites his bottom lip, letting out low whimpers. You continue bouncing on him though, fingers digging into his shoulders as you use them as an anchor. You scoff, trying not to let any moans slip out. "Think any of those girls out there could have you like this baby?"

HANBIN knows that it's not your fault, but it doesn't stop him from getting a little jealous! His friends had crashed your beach date, catching your body in its full glory in the cute bikini you donned. He swears one of them even popped a boner from it!

"You're mine," He growled, your leg thrown over his shoulder. He hadn't even managed to slip your bikini off, only pushing it to the side enough to enter his fat tip into you. Could you blame him? You just looked so good in it! "Only I get to touch you like this, right?"

MATTHEW had been begging you to join him at the gym for months and you finally gave in. Things were fine until you managed to catch a group of girls giggling at your boyfriend in a compression shirt. Leading to an argument that he found himself determined to make up for.

His tongue licked the stripe up your clit, placing light kisses on your thighs to tease you afterwards, before tongue fucking you. "Don't act silly my love, you know you're the only one I want. Those girl's can look all they want, but you're the one that get's me this way."

TAERAE felt the familiar green monster rear its ugly head into his life the minute he spotted you being asked out at the coffee shop he was here to meet you at. You immediately declined the other, but he still couldn't help but feel a little insecure. It was up to you to show him he had no reason to worry.

"Hmm," You mumble, jerking him off as you prepare to deepthroat. He whines, holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you press kisses to the flushed tip. "Prettiest cock in the world attached to my pretty boy. No where else I'd rather be then here taking your load down my throat." He can't even manage to stutter a response before you're gagging on his shaft.

You can't blame anyone who hits on RICKY, people flock to him like bee's to honey. But two can play at that game, and you played it quite well, but Ricky doesn't like sharing.

"Gonna fill you with so much cum that it leaks out," He has you folded into a mating press, your walls sucking him in as you jolt from how rough he was fucking you. He was determined to drill into you until your pussy was molded for only him. "Lets see you talk to the guys with it dripping down your legs."

He doesn't get jealous, or at least that's what GYUVIN tells himself. He likes that you get along with his friends! No he doesn't mind one of his friends offering you a jacket. Or saving you a seat by them! It's all perfectly fine.

"Please, please don't leave me. I'd cry every day and- haah - I promise, none of them can treat you like I can." He begs, too busy caught up in his own ministrations that he can't even notice you're fucked too dumb to properly respond. Your back arched as his balls hit your ass with every stroke as you try to keep yourself propped up. "I'm promise I'm good enough, I'll be the best boyfriend- shit - you could ever ask for."

#zb1 smut #zb1 #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone smut #zb1 x reader #zb1 x yn #ricky smut #taerae smut #matthew smut #jiwoong smut #hanbin smut #gyuvin smut #zhang hao smut

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9toji · 10 months

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‧₊˚✩彡 BEAUTIFUL CHILD — where in these blue lock boys show their love for their little bundle of joy.

characters ; bachira, sae, kaiser, nagi

tags ; sfw — domestic fluff, established marriage

rina's comments ; this is an excuse to write about having a kid with kaiser

bachira held his little daughter's hand, it was about the size of his palm. he beamed up at the mirror as he brushed off the dirt on the two of their silly little costumes, it was striped yellow and black, and they had a headband placed neatly on their heads, it was really cute.

“look at my little bumblebee!” he smiled, hugging his daughter tightly. “don't i look pretty daddy?” and of course bachira nods excitedly, “mommy's gonna love it. you're already growing up so fast..” meguru stroked mini bachira's hair, his little bumblebee as he called her.

the bundle of joy gets excited at the sound of the master bedroom's door creak open, rushing towards you as she hugged you, “how do i look mommy?” beamed the child, who twirled around. it was perfect, it was a bee costume that had a little tutu attached to the waist. “daddy made it for me!” she added and you gasp up at bachira, it was really well made.

“i might have a knack for sewing, but.. honey, can we go trick or treating?” your husband asked with a sheepish grin, the pumpkin basket already prepared on the little wooden coffee table, and once you agree, just as long as you come with them they rush outside.

your daughter giggling as his dad leads her outside, it was a beautiful halloween celebration, minus the upcoming toothache that your daughter soon acquires.

sae didn't use to be so accepting of makeup, until now. it was quite a surprise for you to see him sitting down on the floor, puffed up with heavy blush, courtesy of your child that mumbled about him looking nice. but that's not even half of what surprised you.

your husband was wearing a pretty yet very tight pink fairy costume, accompanied with fairy wings. it was a sight to behold, and a little hard not to laugh at, you quickly take pictures of him as he tries his best to make his little baby happy.

“cup of tea for you, fairy!” the little girl cheered, pouring some “tea” into his little pink tea cup that he could easily crush in his grip, he politely sipped on the tea. “oh wowww, this tastes so good princess!” sae chuckled, enjoying the moment. even though he looked silly. there was a gentle and more importantly sincere smile on your husband's face.

the little bundle of joy hugged his dad, and soon you joined in. before you whispered, “you look nice, fairy.” into his ear. sae had a faint blush, perhaps embarassed. he instead opted for a grin.

“thanks, i know right?” your husband joked, blinking dramatically at you.

“i bought you another toy!” kaiser said with a smile, showing the new gundam figure in his hands, handing it to your son. “thanks papa!” said the child, an expression on his face that could only be described as pure awe and joy.

kaiser spoiled your child rotten, buying him toys, books, and more. but before he did, he made sure that the two of them had a super top secret secret that involved that he, his son, should always use it, so it doesn't go to waste.

you never really took your husband for the type to care about that, he grew up with lavish toys too, as far as you knew. spotting them in the cute kid's bedroom, playing with the gundam and roleplaying, kaiser was the big bad monster, while his son was the savior, who had to save you, the poor princess.

kaiser was not going to protest, even though he wanted to be the knight in shining armor like he had always told you he'd be for you. “aaahhh!” he shrieked in a monotone voice, and your child shrieked back, throwing what seemed to be a stick at his father's face.

thankfully, kaiser was unharmed.

it was a bit wrong to let the child play video games at such an early age, but you had spotted your husband, nagi and your son playing some sort of mario game on the tv, the little one's faced contorted with concentration.

while the father yawned, he might get bored too quick. like he always did, but thankfully he didn't, and even let his son win, the boy proudly put his little controller down, puffing his chest and putting his closed-into-fists hands on his waist. “i won! i won!” the youngster said, emitting a smug grin.

nagi clapped slowly, and smiled. “you're just like me, huh?” he yawned, and his son beamed. “really? am i as cool as you, papa?” the kid jumped up and down from the compliment, before turning to you and pointing as his papa with a wide smile, “papa said i'm as cool as him! did you hear mama?”

and you nod with a sweet smile, ruffling your son's hair, who quickly goes back beside his dad, challenging him to another round. nagi let the bundle of joy win every round, only because he felt sleepy or maybe he wanted to make his baby happy, your husband turned to you and shrugged, with a knowing smile.

“guess he's better than me, babe.”

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fandom-kiddo · 1 year

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A/N: ok I pinky swear I will write all your requests but I wrote this in a senioritis daze to make myself feel better. I hope y’all enjoy it!

CW: swearing, Tess and Joel have an irreconcilable fight, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, mentions of known character deaths, grumpy but soft spot for you, female reader, AFAB geared pet names, reader is a crybaby but we love them!(self indulgent if u squint)

Cg! Joel Miller X Little! Fem Reader

Joel didn’t know about your regression until coming up from a run earlier than expected and finding you on his floor in the living room, babbling happily as you played with old hot wheels. He looked in disbelief at your sock footed figure wearing an old t shirt of his and tiny shorts. You look notice of him after a minute, looking up and eyes growing wide. You began to cry and stumble over apologies with a lisp, backing away until you found yourself almost in the corner of the apartment near the radio.

Joel’s eyes softened as he approached you softly and carefully. “Hey little lady, let’s come out of that dirty corner hm? Come here, it’s alright.” His gruff voice said comfortingly. You looked up in wonder, crawling towards him gently and slowly. He crouched down, opening his arms to you. You went a little faster, letting Joel pick you up into his burly arms. Joel thanked whatever god there was that he knew what the hell this was from taking that psych class in college before outbreak day. He held you on his hip, running a hand through your hair gently.

“Hey little one, how old are you right now?” He asked gently. You looked away shyly and held up three fingers. He smiled and placed a soft peck on each finger, eliciting a giggle from you.

“You’re a tiny little bub, okay you wanna take a nap together or do you want me to make something for you?” He asked, smiling. A tiny part of you adult brain thought back on the fact that this is the only time, pretty much ever that you had seen Joel not scowling while awake.

“Uhhh daddy make foods?” You asked, looking up at him. His heart melted at the name and he grinned.

“Sure thing kiddo, I can make you something to eat, How’s grilled cheese sound?” He asked. You nodded happily, resting your head on the crook of his neck, inhaling the distinctly Joel scent of pine, soap, and earth. He sung a song that was stuck in his head softly. You recognized it pretty quickly, humming happily with him to the tune. So there you both were, your head resting on his shoulder as you hummed along with Joel singing Little Girl in Bloom by Thin Lizzy.

You sucked you thumb softly before Joel scolded you slightly. “No honey that’s yucky, you got a pacifier, darlin?” He asked sweetly. You shook you head, little tears rubbing down your cheeks softly as your eyes screwed shut and you tried not breathing to not sob.

Joel quickly set you on the counter, taking off your grilled cheese so it didn’t burn before coming up to you and stroking away the tears with his large, calloused thumbs. He briefly thought your resembled a cherub when you were this small. “Sugar you gotta breathe, come on darlin, breathe for daddy, it’s alright, I can grab you one or a teether honey bee, but you gotta breathe” he said, trying to breathe audibly to have you copy his breathing. You let out a sob as you began breathing, looking up at him as you kept sobbing.

“Good job honey bee, good girl, cmon honey now you gotta calm it down, breathe with daddy” he took a deep breath in, and a deep breath out “cmon babygirl, follow daddy” he encouraged, rubbing your arms firmly and comforting as he began grounding you, your breathing eventually beginning to bring you back down, copying Joel. Joel let out a sigh of relief.

“Good girl, so so well for daddy. You can’t just quit breathing on me honey, it’s okay to cry, it’s not okay to stop breathing, alright? You scare me more with no breathing before ever scaring me with some crying, okay darlin?” You nodded softly, crying slightly and frowning, rubbing your eye roughly.

“Hey, hey it’s okay honey, you just did what you thought was right, no need crying over spilt milk, darlin, we’re both learning, okay?” Joel told you lovingly, kissing your temple.

“Sorry daddy, m didn’t mean to scare you.. I jus gotta be tough or I get hurt” you said softly, lip wobbling.

If Joel’s heart wasn’t feeling cracked already, you broke it.

“Why you say that honey? Who told my little girl that?” He asked, carding a hand through your hair. You shook your head, biting your lip hard.

“Darlin, who said it” he asked, trying to keep levelheaded.

“She’s gonna get in trouble if I tell daddy, m don’t wanna be bad or mean” you said, whimpering.

“It’s okay, you gotta tell daddy these things honey, who’s she?” He asked softly, despite the rage he felt coiling like an angry diamondback in his gut.

“was um.. was ‘ess” you said shyly, curling up on yourself. Joel was speechless. His best friend? He could see you retreating into yourself as you curled in on yourself.

“Okay, thank you for telling me, sugar, let’s get some food in your tummy hmm?” He asked. You nodded softly, Joel restarted the stove and finished cooking your grilled cheese before putting it on a plate and cutting it into four for you. He kissed your temple and helped you into a chair at the bar in his kitchen, letting you eat.

“Daddy eat?”you asked, worried. He shook his head.

“No, daddy hasn’t eaten yet.” He said lovingly, smiling softly.

“Daddy eat wif me?” You ask, feeling smaller. He smiled, wondering to himself how he got so lucky to have such a caring little.

“Alright darlin, let daddy whip myself up one real quick sugar” he peppered your cheeks in kisses and made you giggle. He swears it sounds like a porcelain dinner bell. He smiles fondly, making his quickly before plating it and joining you at the kitchen bar. His was just cut into two. He ate it next to you, you leaning your head into your caregiver as you ate.

“Daddy mad?” You asked softly, eating your square of grilled cheese.

“Not at you darlin, never at you” he said in between bites. He leaned into you slightly.

“Daddy mad at ‘ess?” You asked shyly. He nodded slightly.

“Why did she tell you that, sugar? You know?” He asked gently.

“M was crying cos I was worried n missed you when you went on the run before last n it took longer than it should n she got mad at me for crying n said “stop crying. In this world you gotta be tough. You’re not tough, you’re gonna get hurt or get yourself killed.” N I kept crying cos I was worried n she scared me more n she slapped me..” you said sadly, tiny tears rolling down your cheek. Joel had a new found anger that coiled in his chest like a pissed off rattler at this information.

“Darlin, the only time you can’t cry is infront of the infected. Only gotta be tough until the infected aren’t gonna try and hurt you honey bee. In the QZ or away from infected it’s okay, if daddy says you gotta be tough that’s the only time it’s not okay, okay?” He asked, wiping away tears.

“Mkay daddy” you said finishing your grilled cheese together.

———-

“What the hell is wrong with you Tess?” Joel asked angrily after going to Tess’ apartment.

“What the fuck are you on about now, Joel?” She asked, frustrated.

“Why the fuck did she think that crying is a death sentence? She tried not breathing so she wouldn’t cry until she was getting blue in the face and I had to pull her out of a fucking panic attack Tess!”he said angrily. Tess looked at him and scoffed.

“It’s not my fault the idiot quit fuckin breathing, Joel. I told her to stop crying the run before last because me and you both know that stupid shit gets you killed with the infected.”Tess said coldly.

“She’s not an idiot, let’s get that straight. She might be a crybaby, Tess, but she’s my crybaby. It might get her hurt outside of the QZ around a fucking clicker, but not in here. She thought it wasn’t okay to cry at all. That’s who she is, she’s innocent and sensitive and that’s what I love about her. She doesn’t need you filling her head with this poison telling her not to be herself unless she wants to die. Fuck you, Tess.” Joel seethed.

“Now you love her? Cut me a fucking break Joel. She’s a crybaby and pretty much useless. She can’t handle this fucking world and thinks crying is the fuckin’ solution.” Tess sneered, scoffing slightly.

“Yeah I do love her Tess, and you ain’t got even an iota of right to tell her that kinda shit!”Joel yelled at her.

“What, you think you can save her? Like you were some fucking Clint Eastwood? Like your so good at saving people? Like you saved Sarah-“ Tess jeered.

“Don’t you dare fucking bring her into this! How fucking dare you even begin trying to bring her into this? I confide in you about shit and that’s what you do? What about your husband? Or your kid? I’m the fuck up? I thought we were fuckin’ friends Tess. And another thing, you lay a fucking hand on her again, and I’ll saw it off myself. Your not my fuckin’ friend. You’re fuckin’ dead to me.” Joel seethed like an angry rattlesnake, turning and storming out out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Joel stormed down the stairs, wiping his eyes. He couldn’t believe someone who he called his best friend would stoop as low as to attack his biggest inner demon. He felt bad about it, but she struck that nerve first. He shook his head and instead thought about you, willing himself to find his way back to you as he went through the tattered streets of the QZ.

————-

Joel walked back home, buying a pacifier and a few other little things with his ration cards. He walked up the stairs to find you in his apartment, this time wrapped up in one of his flannels, curled up in bed.

“Did my little honey bee get sleepy? Aw hon, how about you and daddy take a nap together hm?” He asked. You nodded sleepily and reached for Joel. He cooed and toed off his boots and changed into sleep shorts and a worn shirt. He picked you up and got into his bed, pulling a thick blanket over both of you. You remained latched onto him, nose nuzzled into his neck.

“Missed daddy, didn’t wanna cry” you said softly. He smiled softly.

“I was only gone an hour babygirl” he chuckled softly, swiping hair away from your forehead and kissing her forehead.

“M know bu still missed you” you said, nosing at the hollow of his collar bone, wrapping your arms tighter around his middle. He rubbed your back affectionately, holding you tighter.

“If it makes you feel better, sugar, I missed my girl too” he smiled softly. You giggled softly, a part of you fluttering at the pet names. My girl, baby girl, darlin, sugar, little lady, my little honey bee, mine. You almost cried at the pure care and love Joel gave you. You hadn’t even noticed the tears on your cheeks until Joel felt the tears on his neck.

“Why are you cryin, my little honey bee?” He asked sitting up slightly, looking down worriedly.

“Happy tears, Jus’ care so much for me, I’m jus’ so lucky s’all” you said through your wavering voice and sniffles to accompany it.

“You’re my girl, that’s my job, little lady” he smiled fondly, wiping away your tears. You placed your hand over his, placing a delicate kiss to his palm. He cooed and peppered your eyes in little kisses, making your little sniffles turn to giggles.

“Y’know I got ya some gifts while I was out”he said, dragging his knuckles lightly over the back of your arms.

“Daddy got gifts? F’r me? Why?” You asked curiously, looking up at him.

“Just wanted to, sugar” he said softly, a lopsided smile gracing his lips.

“Can I see em?” You asked, nibbling on your thumb.

“Yeah we can go look at em honey, cmon” he said, picking you up as he got up, carrying you to the living room where a brown satchel laid on the table. He set you down on the couch, you reaching for him. He chuckled softly”m right here, darlin, daddy’s not going anywhere.”he said comfortingly, giving you a swift kiss on your temple. You giggled happily, watching as he grabbed the bag. He pulled out a pacifier, handing it to you. You gasped happily, flapping your hands excitedly.

Joel smiled, pulling out a teether, handing it to you. You squealed in excitement. He chuckled softly, pulling out a bottle and sippy cup with Elmo and big bird on it, respectively. Little tears came to your eyes with the fond memories of your childhood when watching Sesame Street.

“Thank yous s’much, daddy” you sniffled, hugging his toned arm.

“No problem, sugar, hold the tears honey bun, I still got another gift for my sweet girl” he said, kissing your forehead.

“‘Nother one?” You asked curiously, Joel hummed in conformation.

Joel pulled out a handmade stuffed animal one of the other ladies in the QZ made. It was a liitle white lamb with a pink ribbon on the neck. “I saw it and didn’t think you had any stuffed animals, and it reminded me of you so much I had to get it for my little lamb” he said affectionately, giving you the stuffed lamb.

You really we’re crying now, grabbing your stuffed lamb and holding it close. You began getting into his lap, burying your face in his chest as you cried.

“Thank you’s s’much, i love it all” you cried, holding onto him so tight, like you were scared he’d disappear. He hugged you tightly, holding you in his burly arms.

“You’re welcome, darlin, you like em?” He asked, running a hand through your hair.

You nodded”I love em, daddy” you smiled, kissing him on the cheek. He smiled, thumbing away your tears.

“Okay darlin I think we’ve had enough excitement that a nap is in order, you want your pacifier?” He asked.

You smiled, nodding happily as he put the pacifier in your mouth. You clicked the silicone against itself, getting used to it. He smiled at you, rubbing your cheek affectionately. You leaned into the feeling, suckling at your pacifier, feeling yourself get sleepier at the comforting item.

“Okay sugar, let’s get us to that nap, little lady, you got your lamb?”he asked, smiling slightly at your droopy eyed, relaxed face. You nodded sleepily, rubbing your eye before wrapping your arm around his neck, holding your lamb in the other hand. Joel got up, hiking you up on his hip. He kissed your nose, smiling. You gave him a kiss on the lips with your pacifier still in you mouth and giggled. He grinned, carrying you back to the room and reassuming the position you were originally in.

“Wuv daddy”you mumbled softly around your pacifier. He smiled and kissed your head, letting the firm peck linger for a moment.

“I love you too darlin, so much. My babygirl.” He said lovingly and you held your lamb closer. He rubbed your back comfortingly, shaking his leg gently to mimic rocking your you. You snuggled closer, letting out a sigh of comfort. Finally you closed your eyes, sleep soon overtaking you as Joel held you in your arms, rocking you and humming softly. You felt safe for the first time in so long. Joel made you feel safe in this awful world.

You did the same for Joel. Gone were the nightmares of losing his daughter, of holding her as light rapidly lost in her eyes and her quickened sharp breaths soon fell silent. Joel hated hearing Sarah hyperventilating so, but would’ve given anything to hear that rather than the silence of her soul leaving her body. For once he didn’t let sleep consume him just to relive the worst moment of his life. As he laid with you, holding you tightly in his burly arms as he rocked you slightly. He drifted to sleep as you breathing evened out. And for once, He slept soundly, intertwined with you as your hearts and breaths moved in synch.

#age regression #i need more agere fics ngl #the last of us agere #the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller #crybaby!reader #anxious!reader #little!reader #cg!joel miller #cg! joel #pls like it #3am delirium #fandom kiddo writes

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spacecowboyhotch · 10 months

Text

summary: sometimes the meddling of old men pays off.

pairing: f!reader x jake lockley

contents: pinning, internal angst, an old man meddling, fluff

wc: 1.8k

AN: before i even finished this, i felt like it deserved a part two so…be on the lookout! & thank you @juneknight for helping me figure this outtttt <333

part 2 | moonknight masterlist | requests are open

There’s a lot that Jake hates— frogs, black olives, the Chicago Cubs. But most of all, he hates having habitual customers. Familiarity with others is nothing he craves. There’s this false sense of intimacy that comes with making small talk and knowing another’s routine. It’s uncomfortable, it makes his skin crawl. He’s content with going unseen beyond his ability to taxi someone from point A to point B. At least, he doesn’t allow himself to think so.

Until he met old man Fletcher.

More accurately until he met her. If he’s being technical, he hasn’t met her yet, hasn’t even spoken a word to her. He doesn’t even know her name. She’s the woman at the farmer’s market that Jake takes Fletcher to every Saturday morning. He’s never been more grateful for a smug old man and his routine.

“Fancy meeting you here again. And you’re on time,” The old man quips, looking down at his watch in feigned disbelief.

Jake gives Fletcher an exasperated look as he opens the passenger door, “I’m never late.”

Every Saturday Jake arrives at the old man’s apartment at 8 a.m. on the dot, not a moment sooner, nor a moment later. He helps the frail man into the back of his cab, and plays the oldies station that ensures neither of them will talk– instead they’ll hum along. It's something Jake doesn’t like to admit he enjoys— if anyone were to ask it is just Saturday. There is no fluttering heartbeat, no rehearsal of things to say if she dares speak to him, no fondness growing for the old man. He’s doing his job. That’s all.

The first time he ever saw her, his heart seemed to stop and then pick up, going so fast he thought it’d give out.

Dressed in overalls, her hair up and out of her face, her skin looking so soft even from a distance. She sets up her stall with ease, telling him that this is something she does often. This is her livelihood, he thought to himself. How solitary that must be, tending and keeping bees and flowers. Unless she has someone to help— a partner perhaps. Jake didn’t let himself think much further about that, he let himself get lost in the small probability of possibility.

Jake could see her kindness. It seemed as if everyone at the market stopped at her stall, even after she sold out of things. With bright eyes and animated hands, she spoke to everyone as if they were the most important person in the world. He couldn’t help but wonder if she would extend him the same courtesy.

The following Saturday, Jake woke early, staring at his work phone hoping that it would ring. That hope took root in him, blooming bigger each and every Saturday. Old man Fletcher called him like clockwork, until one morning he suggested he and Jake plan on this visit every Saturday. No, Jake didn’t like habitual customers but at that suggestion, he simply nodded, his mouth quirking up in one corner.

—

Today, like any other Saturday, he’s parked at Fletcher’s house. He takes the shortest route— a left onto Wicker, a right onto Olive and after the annoyingly long wait at a red light on Slater he’s pulling into the park’s lot.

When they arrive at the park, he parks his cab in the same spot under the largest oak tree in the park with the perfect view; her. He removes his jacket and cap before coming to sit on the hood of his car, trying to look busy and unnoticeable. In reality, for the first time in a long time, Jake just wants to be seen.

He wants to be seen by her.

Time stretches and squeezes in the most cruel way; the weekdays creep by slowly and when Saturday comes it flies, as if her presence is like some twisted time warp.

He knows that she must smell sweet— she sells candles and honey and flowers, she must always be bathed in their nectar. He has some idea since Fletcher has started to buy things from her— a jar of honey, beeswax candles, a bouquet or two. Whenever he helps the old man with his bags, he can’t help but inhale the soft scent of the things he’s bought.

Like most days, it’s a bouquet of daisies. Jake wonders if they’re her favorite flowers and that’s why she almost always has them.

As he helps Fletcher load his bags into the truck of the cab when the old man says, “You have to talk to her, y’know.”

He raises a brow at the older man, “What?”

Fletcher nods his head towards the stands, “The honey girl. If you wanna take her out you have to talk to her.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Really? She’s asked about you.”

“About me,” He repeats, turning the idea over and over in his head. “What did she say?”

“I thought you didn’t wanna take her out?” Fletcher asks, and Jake narrows his eyes at him, waiting for him to answer the question. “Alright, alright, settle down. She just asked your name, if you were my grandson or something.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“That you’re a nice young man that’s kind enough to bring me here every week. You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t ask for you to do me any favors.”

“You didn’t have to.”

On the drive home, all he can think about is how she knows his name. How he doesn’t know hers. How if he sticks to his plan he’ll never know it. That is something he’ll live with. Or so he thought.

She has other plans.

It’s the next Saturday and he’s sat on his cab as always when she starts to make her way through the crowd and across the field. Jake can’t help but look around, wondering if she’s walking to her car to fetch something or someone she knows has just arrived. But then she stops in front of him, fidgeting with the frilly strap of her sundress.

He watches with confusion— and amusement— as she squares her shoulders, taking a deep breath in before leading with a simple, “Hi.”

“Hi?” He says, mouth set into his habitual frown.

“You’re Jake.”

“I am?”

Her eyes widen with worry, almost comically so, and he can’t help but think about how precious she looks.

“Did Fletcher give me a fake name?” She asks worriedly, her eyes narrowing as she glances back towards the crowd to look for him.

“No, no. I’m Jake,” His face softens just a fraction, arms crossing against his chest.

She tells him her name and it fits, another piece of her falling into place. He isn’t sure why he hadn’t guessed it— it’s in her smile, the brightness of her eyes. He repeats it quietly, likes the way it sits on his tongue.

“Fletcher says you don’t like leaving your cab unattended or you’d walk around.”

His cab is his most important possession, not only his livelihood but also an object he holds near and dear— something that will never be able to judge him no matter what he does. The thought of something happening to his cab makes his blood boil and his heart sink into his stomach. But there’s more to it; walking around means more socialization than he already endures.

“I’m not…good with people.”

“So you decided to be a cab driver?”

He opens his mouth for some rebuttal but instead he chuckles at her teasing. When was the last time he laughed?

“Being good with people is difficult— tiring,” She admits softly.

His brow knits together, “You seem to do it just fine.”

“I sell things for my livelihood, there’s not much of a choice in it. But, I do enjoy people, they’re…fascinating. So unique. May I?” She points to the spot beside him.

Jake nods, and she comes to lean against his cab beside him. Though she keeps a respectful amount of distance, her delicate scent envelopes him and it’s sweeter than he could ever imagine.

“So you like driving?” She asks, glancing over at him.

Jake does like driving, it helps with that restless feeling inside of him. Being on the go, moving here and there, new scenery, new distractions, it quiets some of the noise. It gives him some control.

“Yes, it’s…relaxing.”

“Relaxing? It drives me insane. Everyone here drives like they’re in a high-speed chase after robbing a bank, there’s no regard for human life,” She huffs, her hands gesturing haphazardly as she vents.

His eyebrows raise in surprise at her strong feelings about driving, and her wild hand gestures pull a chuckle from his throat. “You can’t beat them, you have to join them.”

“I would rather avoid them altogether,” She grumbles, huffing again and he presses his lips together to keep himself from laughing again. “But, I didn’t come over here to complain about the driving culture of our city.”

“No?”

“No,” She says, laughing softly. “I know you’re very fond of your cab here, but usually after we close up, I go for a walk through this park.”

“A walk?”

“Yes, and I was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

“You want me to…go with you? On your walk?”

“Yes. You ask a lot of questions.”

“I— well I have to drive Mr. Fletcher home.”

“I can wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll be just over there at my car,” She points to an old blue truck, it’s rusty and clearly on its last leg.

He’ll have to go on this walk with her now, even if it’s just to convince her to get rid of that goddamn death trap. The thought of her behind the wheel of that truck makes him shudder. He’ll offer to drive her anywhere she needs to go if it means she won't ever have to drive it again.

“Alright,” He says nervously, but the tightness in his chest dissipates slightly at the sight of her triumphant smile.

She leans over, bumping his elbow with her own, “Cool, I’ll see you then.”

“See you then,” He murmurs too softly for her to hear as he watches her stroll back to her stand.

When Fletcher makes it back to Jake’s cab, he wastes no time.

“I told you all you had to do was talk to her,” He says knowingly, slipping into the backseat.

Jake doesn't respond to the old man as he continues to load his bags into the truck with haste, but his mouth twitches, eyes drifting over to where she's back up her stand. She waves, and Jake waves back, head buzzing with the sweetness of her.

Yes, he supposes the old man was right.

moonknight taglist: @angelfxllcm, @honeybrowne, @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @julydaydream, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys , @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #moonknight x reader #jake lockley #moonknight fanfiction #arson writes

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sserpente · 2 years

Photo

A/N: Requests from two anons. This was supposed to be short. Oh well… when does that ever work with me, haha! Enjoy, everyone!

Words: 2485 Warnings: fluff, mentions of abusive relationship

Both Billy and the Reader are over the age of 21 in this Imagine.

Had it been a bad idea? Probably. Did you regret it? Hmm… not one bit. Billy had set his eyes on you ever since you had knocked one of the jocks from school bold enough to grab your arse unconscious in front of half Hawkins at the Hideout. He’d made it his mission to seduce you ever since.

People, especially women who had fallen for his tricks before, had warned you about him from the start—that you’d be just another notch on his belt.

Lately though, things had gotten quite… obsessive. Sure enough, Billy didn’t stalk you like a creep but he did take every chance he got at swarming around you like a bee hunting for honey whenever you happened to be in the same place at the same time. Hawkins was quite small after all. He bought you drinks without asking, always made sure you got home safely, ignored everything and every one as soon as he spotted you somewhere to check in on you…

Then, two days ago and right before you had finally given in to his advances, he’d even paid for your meal at Benny’s Burgers before you’d even known he was there too.

One thing had led to another and then, outside, when he’d offered to take you home… the devil had ridden you and you’d said yes. It was flattering, in a way, to be desired like that.

Billy pressed you against the side of his car, trapping you between the cool metal and his warm body. You looked up at him, holding back a knowing smirk.

“Do I get a ‘thank you’?” He mused.

“Thank you. But in order to bring me home safely, you’ll have to actually let me go into the house, you see.”

Billy tilted his head and averted his gaze for a moment. “You’re playing so hard to get, doll. You’re not attracted to me just a little bit?”

“And if I did?”

“Then…” He leaned forward, his lips brushing your right earlobe. The obscenities he proceed to whisper had you clench your legs tightly.

“Fuck, you got any idea what it did to me when I saw you knock that asshole’s head on the table at the Hideout?”

“Well, it must have something to do with what’s poking my thigh right now,” you uttered sweetly.

Billy scoffed—an odd mixture of amusement and impatience.

“Come on, doll.” He said your name. “Give me one night to convince you I’m worth taking your clothes off.”

He’d kissed you before you could protest and now here you were, another notch on his belt. You couldn’t say you regretted your decision though—after an hour, you had lost track of how many orgasms he’d pulled from your poor and dripping pussy and the fucking… Jesus, that man knew how to use his tool. Billy had not promised too much. He’d given you a night full of pleasure and now, three days later, you had moved on.

Steering towards your regular table at Benny’s Burgers, you plopped down on the squeaky plastic chair and sighed. Work had been killing you recently. You were tired, exhausted and worn-out and boy, were you fed up with your incompetent co-workers who had nothing better to do than to belittle you every chance they got because they had more experience. You needed a holiday. A long vacation on a sunny and deserted island, away from human beings and their—

“Hello, doll.” You flinched when someone wrapped his arms around you from behind. By the time you recognised Billy’s voice, he was already pampering your neck with light kisses.

Irritated, you moved away from him, turned in your seat to look at him and chuckled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m about to buy my girl lunch,” he answered with a smirk. You blinked, needing a moment to process his words when he finally let go and took a seat opposite you. Had he just called you my girl? Had you missed the memo?

“Billy… I… we’re not… a thing. Right?”

His smile faltered a little. “I fucked you into the next year, I’d say that makes you very much my girl.”

“Oh my god, keep your voice down!” You weren’t ashamed—not in the slightest. Still, you had no interest in half of Hawkins knowing about your sex life.

Billy only grinned before he beckoned the waiter over to him and ordered a large meal both for himself and for you. “That okay?” He added in your direction. You nodded, dumbfounded.

“This…” You continued once the waiter was gone again, “…this. Us. That was a one-night stand. Isn’t that what you do all the time?”

Billy tilted his head, his smile now completely gone. “What, do you think I’d fuck just anyone in Hawkins? I’ve been trying to get your attention for a month, you can’t be that blind. Shit, are you for real right now?”

You crossed your arms. “Oh, so you’re saying that isn’t your typical wooing method?”

“No. Unless that’s what I was to you. Just a fuck. And a few free meals?”

“Excuse me? You didn’t even tell me you paid for my food until I asked for the bill. So that’s on you. And as for… I don’t have time for a relationship right now, I thought we were on the same page, to be honest.”

“Apparently, we weren’t,” he spat. Once again, you blinked. He was hurt. He was actually hurt, you could practically feel it.

It was at that moment the waiter decided to return with your meals.

“Actually, make mine a takeout. I’m out of here.” He jumped up, almost knocking over the plastic chair in the process.

“Billy… wait…”

Much to your surprise, he did stop, spinning on his heel to face you again. “Oh and don’t worry, doll, I’ll pay for that too.”

Before you could utter another word, he left—likely remaining just outside the door to calm himself in the fresh air, light a cigarette and wait for the waiter to pack up his damn food. Your own appetite was long gone now. And all of a sudden, you felt horrible about yourself.

“You are awfully quiet today,” Robin remarked. Focused, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror to smudge the eye shadow she’d just patted on there with the tip of her middle finger.

“Huh? Uh… work’s been busy.”

“No…” Robin drew the word out and turned around to face you. “That’s not work. I heard Hargrove made quite the scene today at Benny’s Burgers.”

“Of course you heard.”

“Did that have something to do with you? I mean, I know you told me you two…”

You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

“It has! Oh my god, it totally has! What happened? Tell me everything!” She knelt down right in front of you and grabbed your knees for support.

You buried your face in your hands. Robin wouldn’t stop until she knew every single detail about your interaction at Benny’s Burgers today. You might as well tell her the whole story without her asking you a hundred questions first. So you told the short tale.

“Are you shitting me? Billy Hargrove, the Billy Hargrove, womanizer and king of one-night stands is in love with you?”

You scoffed. “I very much doubt it. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know how to spell the word love.”

“Hmm…” Robin paused.

“What?”

“Well… I mean… I’ve seen him around you a couple of times but you know better about that than I do. What did he do and say before you had sex?”

“Not much… he constantly paid for my drinks and my food when I was out, it was almost annoying.”

“What else?”

“He… well, he was always around me. Making sure I was okay, I guess? He’d watch over me like a hawk. I didn’t have to deal with a single catcaller the past few weeks.”

Robin blinked. “What else?”

“He called me a couple of times to make sure I got home safe. One time I was in the shower and didn’t pick up, next thing I knew he was standing on my porch.”

Fuck. Robin raised an eyebrow but she didn’t have to say it out loud. Billy Hargrove was in love with you. He’d never had just a passionate one-night stand in mind. But… on the other hand, with his reputation, could he blame you? You had thought… well… you… you sighed. No. You were the arsehole here, not him.

“Does he know about…?”

“My abusive ex-boyfriend? You can say it. No, he doesn’t. I never told him anything really private about me on that note.”

“And… do you… like him back?” She asked carefully.

“I… no? Maybe? I don’t know!”

“You don’t know or you’re scared because you do know but your ex traumatised you and now you’re reluctant to get into a relationship again?” She spoke so fast you had to think twice about what she’d just said.

“When did you become an expert in psychology?”

Robin shrugged. “It’s pretty obvious to me, you know.”

“It doesn’t even matter. Even if I did jump in at the deep end and got back into the dating game, I fucked up. He hates me now. You should have seen the look on his face, Robin. He wasn’t angry, he was… he was hurt.”

Robin pursed her lips. “Do you know what? You should come to Steve’s party tonight. It’s gonna be fun. Drinks, music, party games… it’ll take your mind off things.”

“I have to be up early for work tomorrow, I can’t party all night.”

“Then leave at midnight like Cinderella.”

“You’re very persistent, Buckley.”

“That’s how I became your friend. Now pick an outfit. Might as well wear something that’s gonna make Billy regret that he ran off today.”

She’d convinced you in the end. Well, technically she always convinced you. So why not let yourself go to drink and party? You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this drunk. One beer had turned into six and soon after, some of your former classmates had pulled out the heavy stuff. Here you were, too drunk to count to five and walk straight.

You were dancing to “Rock You Like A Hurricane” when you spotted him in the crowd. Billy downed a can of beer like it was nothing and then made his way through the crowd so confidently the people parted for him. He looked outrageously hot tonight. Wearing only a black leather jacket and nothing underneath, you could practically see his muscles dance underneath his tanned skin with every movement he made—towards you.

Your heart skipped a beat when his eyes met yours. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Having fun! What does it look like?!” You slurred, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m at a party so I’m partying.”

“You have work tomorrow,” he responded. If you were sober, you would have probably noticed that he didn’t stop you from clinging to him like a little monkey. “How much did you have to drink?”

“I don’t know. Five? Six? Ten? Doesn’t matter, I’ll deserve the hangover tomorrow.” He shook his head slightly, clearly annoyed with your reckless behaviour.

“You’ve had enough.” Slinging an arm around your middle, he led you outside. The fresh and crisp air hit you like a blow in the face. Dizzy, you leaned against the wall.

“Why do you still care? I fucked up.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” you drew the word out. “My ex was a piece of shit, you know that? I thought I’d rather stay single than do this to myself again.”

Billy straightened. The cigarette he had lit almost dropped to the ground in the process.

“He hit me! But hey—at least I know how to cover up bruises now. If you ever need a good foundation, I can recommend six.” You laughed.

“That fucker hit you?”

You hummed. “I didn’t wanna give up on sex though, it’s fun. So when you started pursuing me I thought that was the perfect opportruni… oppotuny… opprotunity to blow off some steam. What I forgot about myself…” You laughed out before continuing. “…is that I don’t do one-night stands. I like you, Billy. And I hate that I do because the last time I trusted a man I ended up with bruises all over myself… and not in a kinky way.”

Leaning against him, you closed your eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his body. Your hand trailed down the thin line of hair leading to a very interesting place, yet when you made for slipping your palm into his trousers, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, stopping you.

“You tell me who that fucker is. He’ll need to be hospitalised by the time I’m done with him.”

“I don’t care. Moved away. Far away. Billy… let’s have sex again.”

“Shit, you are wasted.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m taking you home.”

“So we’re having sex at home?”

“No, we’re…” He threw his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out. “Who did you come here with?”

“Robin…”

“Okay, wait in my car. I’ll find her and let her know we’re leaving.”

You woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Your eyes flew open. Tiny little construction workers appeared to torment your skull, hammering away and punishing you for your excessive alcohol consumption yesterday.

Billy had been kind enough to close your curtains and the half-darkness in your bedroom was more than just welcome in your current state.

“Oh, fuck…”

“I’m sure of that.” Billy was sitting on the edge of the bed, a cup of coffee in hand. He was still here.

“Before you freak out, I called your boss and told him you’re sick.” Smirking, he handed the mug to you. “How much do you remember?”

“Everything, unfortunately. Including my not-so-subtle invitation to have sex again. But…” You sighed, massaging your temples with your free hand. “I meant what I said last night, you know.”

“I figured that. Drunks either talk complete shit or the raw truth. I asked Robin about your ex yesterday. I’ll pay him a visit soon.”

“No! No, don’t do that.”

A pleasant shiver went through you when Billy said your name. “This guy abused you. I won’t let that slide.”

“So… so what does that mean? Do you forgive me?”

“Forgive you?” He laughed.

“I… want to try it again. The relationship and dating thing. I would have never slept with you if I didn’t like you and I guess I just… didn’t want to admit that to myself.”

Billy shrugged. “I was an ass too.”

“You’re still an ass.”

“Yeah. But it looks like I’m your problem now.” And to seal his promise, he barely made sure the coffee mug was safely out of the way before he kissed you.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove smut #stranger things #stranger things billy #stranger things billy imagine #stranger things imagine #dacre montgomery

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wooahaeproductions · 6 months

Text

Magic in the Moonlight

Moon Taeil x Female Reader

Genre: fluff, smut, established relationship au

Word count: 1k

Warnings: surprises, mentions of food, kissing, semi public sex (in a tent in the backyard), tiny bit of clit play and unprotected sex

Rating: 18+

A/N: This is the last of the Kissing Booth drabbles and honestly a self indulgent fic for myself because Taeil is one of my sleeper biases. I always imagine him being a soft and sweet boyfriend. Enjoy! ~Bee

A Kissing Booth Drabble

“Seriously, Taeil…where are you taking me?” you whined as your boyfriend led you somewhere unknown, his hands covering your eyes. You weren’t one for being surprised usually and he knew that, so it made you even more anxious to know what he was up to.

“Quit complaining and just trust me, okay?” Taeil huffed at you, slowly directing you through the sliding door and into the backyard. You had a rough month navigating the merger between your company and a new one. After seeing the toll it took on you, all Taeil wanted to do was give you a break in any way he could.

He stopped you on the edge of the deck before taking his hands away from your eyes, revealing a projector that was set to point at the smooth back of the house and a tent that was in the middle of the yard, the top adorned with string lights that were just starting to glow as the day was fading into evening.

“Do you like it?” Taeil asked, his eyes crinkling into a smile as he watched you take in what he had set up for you.

“I love it, Taeil,” you breathed out. Maybe you did like surprises sometimes, if your boyfriend was the one doing the surprising.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand in his and bringing you out to the tent he had put up. You followed him as he unzipped the front, pinning it to stay open. Warm blankets and pillows had been set out, as well as some of your favorite snacks. He led you into the tent, indicating for you to sit down on the fleece blankets.

Settling in to sit down next to you, he pulled the remote for the projector out of his pocket and started the movie. He scooted closer to you, leaning his back against the pillows and put his arm around you. You smiled as the opening scene of your favorite movie played on the side of the house in front of you. Taeil knew all your favorite things.

Your stress was slowly melting away as you enjoyed the movie and snacks in Taeil’s warm embrace. The evening sunset that was there when he first brought you out into the backyard had now given way to a bright crescent moon. You ate, laughed, and quoted the movie all while he laughed with you, watching you in one of your most natural atmospheres.

Eventually the ending credits started rolling and you looked over to find Taeil looking at you with the most adoring expression. You paused, a chip midway to your mouth. “What?” you asked him with a laugh.

“I just love you,” he said, a goofy smile that only a man in true love could have on his face.

You let out an amused noise. “I love you too.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and then your nose causing you to giggle. He peppered your face with kisses until you fell backward from laughing. He collapsed on top of you and as your laughing subsided, the look on his face had changed to something else familiar.

The mischief in his honey eyes turned darker as he moved his lips to your jaw and neck, leaving open mouthed kisses on all your tender spots. A slight whine left you as he teeth lightly grazed the base of your neck. Taeil slowly tugged at your shirt and you raised your arms so that he could pull it off. Your hands reached to grab the hem of his and you rid him of it as well.

You two kept kissing, Taeil alternated between your mouth and your neck. You were in enough of a trance that what felt like seconds must have been more like minutes and both sets of your clothes had been completely removed, leaving you both completely bare under a blanket that Taeil had pulled over you.

His hands roamed over your skin, fingers light as a feather that sent shivers through you. His warm body pressed against you, his length nudging at your sensitive bud and making you buck up against him. “Patience, my love,” Taeil said with a chuckle and you gave a small pout. He rubbed against you, pulling a second whine out of you before his hands moved to rub circles on your clit.

You gasped at the feeling, your core becoming wetter by the minute. “Please, Taeil,” you said softly, knowing you were more than ready to have him inside you. He searched your eyes for a moment, confirming you were indeed ready before he lined himself up and pushed slowly inside you.

With every slow push, he kissed a different spot on your face, ending with a kiss on the lips when he fully bottomed out in you. He let you adjust before he began pumping in and out, enjoying the warmth of you around him. He began a slow and steady rhythm, winding both of you up. Taeil had always been a gentle lover.

He was steadily making the coil in your stomach tighten, both of you letting out moans as you were getting closer. Your neighbors probably heard, but that was a problem for later. “Are you ready to cum for me, love?” Taeil asked, his voice bright as he chased his high too.

“Yes, Taeil. Please make me cum,” you begged through louder moans. He moved your legs up so they were resting on his shoulders, allowing him to hit a deeper spot. “Fuck, yes,” you said, almost falling over the edge.

Taeil reached down to rub your clit once more and the coil snapped. Your mouth opened wide in a soundless scream as you orgasmed, hard. The sight of your face showing so much pleasure sent him over as well and he stilled, groaning as he painted your insides.

He carefully pulled out of you as you both came down from your highs. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and moved to lay next to you on the blankets. “So, do you like surprises now?” he asked, playfully.

“Only if they are from you, the most perfect boyfriend ever,” you said with a grin, scooting over to cuddle into his side. The stress you had felt in the weeks previous was gone and you were content, cuddling under the blankets with Taeil, the moon and the stars.

©️wooahaeproductions

All works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works.

#neohub #ksmutsociety #kvanity #kbookshelf #nct 127 #nct smut #nct taeil #moon taeil #taeil smut #the kissing booth

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karmic-vibes · 1 year

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If I Can Dream

19 - Strength to Dream

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr/lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: n/a :)

Year: 1994

“Alright, love bug, let’s go bother daddy at work.” Eddie mumbled to himself, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he tied Bobby’s shoelaces. “Ready?” She nodded. “Double check the outfit.” He picked her up and held her in front of the mirror. “Yes? We like everything? Don’t wanna change the skirt again?”

“No, papa.”

“Awesome, let’s go.”

He carried his daughter out to the car, buckled her into the car seat, and headed off to Family Video. While Steve worked full-time as a social worker, he had to start picking up weekends and some nights again at Family Video to help pay for therapy.

During the car ride, Eddie played the mixtape he made for Steve last year. As it cycled between Steve’s pop songs and Eddie’s rock or metal anthems, Bobby was staring out of the window instead of dancing along like she usually did. Eddie raised a brow, lowered the volume, and got Bobby’s attention.

“Hey, bug, everything okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“You sure? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“I’m sure, papa.”

“You’re not nervous about anything?” She picked at the lint on her sweatshirt. “Bug?”

“School.”

“School? What about school?”

“I’m scared.”

“What about it, honey?” She shrugged. “Starting something new can be scary, but it’s something you need to do, sweetie. Okay? Trust me, I never liked school, but I still finished it. If I could do it, I know you can too.”

She nodded and went back to staring out the window. Eddie let out a sigh and started focusing on the road again. He pulled into the Family Video lot and as soon as he undid Bobby’s seat bucket, she jumped out of the car to run inside. Eddie urgently locked the car and chased after her.

The front entrance bell rang as she stormed in, scanning the store for her dad or her auntie Robin. Once she spotted Robin behind the counter she ran behind it and tugged on her vest. Robin’s eyes bugged out of her head, not even noticing the ninja of a child had snuck behind the counter.

“Hey, Bobbs. Where’s your dad?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged.

“Bobby!” Eddie panicked as he ran in after her.

“She’s right here, Eds.” Robin picked her up and placed her on the edge of the counter.

“Christ,” he sighed. “You have to stop doing that, Bee. You’re gonna give your old man a heart attack.”

“Hey!” Steve beamed, carrying a box of new releases.

“Daddy!” Bobby cheered, opening her arms for a hug.

“Hi,” he chuckled. He set down the box and wrapped his daughter up in a tight embrace. “What brings you guys here?”

“We have our doctor appointment soon,” Eddie said. “So, in the meantime, I thought we’d come bother you before we headed out. And so I could pawn her off on Robin.”

“Thanks,” she smirked.

“My pleasure,” Eddie teased. “How’s everything going?”

Steve finished out the last thirty minutes of his shift before him and Eddie headed over to Dr. McCormick’s office—they got settled and waited to be called in.

“So, boys, how’re we doing this week?” Dr. McCormick asked.

“Good, really good,” Eddie beamed.

“Still having your weekly date nights?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it! Are you two ready for Bobby to start school?”

“No,” Steve whined. “I just want her to stay my little baby forever.”

“But, as a couple, are you two ready? It’s a big step for a family, especially if it’s your only child.”

“We’ll survive,” Eddie smirked at Steve.

The session continued with more or less the same conversations over and over. Dr. McCormick would ask about their communication, sex life, and Bobby, then the boys would answer truthfully (of course, sparing her the details).

“Alright, boys, our session is coming to an end.”

“Oh, okay. See you in two weeks?” Steve asked.

“About that… I think you boys are doing well enough that we can reduce these appointments to monthly… maybe bimonthly… maybe even biannually.”

“What?” Steve stuttered.

“You’re both doing really well, and I don’t think you have as much use for me. I would still like to follow up to make sure all is going well, but just not as frequently. Do you follow?”

“I think it’s a great step,” Eddie smiled at Steve. “You okay with that?”

“Wait…” He turned to face Eddie. “You’re not mad anymore? Like, at all? No more resentment?”

“Not at all. I honestly think we’re doing better than ever.”

“Oh, thank god.” He nearly broke down in tears. “I will happily see you less, Dr. McCormick, no offense.”

“Trust me, none taken.”

They headed home to find Robin in the middle of preparing dinner for Bobby. As per usual, the entire kitchen was in disarray as the girl tried to navigate her way through cooking a meal. Steve and Eddie raised a brow at her as they glanced over at their oblivious daughter scribbling in one of her coloring books.

“How’s it going, Rob?” Steve asked.

“Shut up. Oh, Eddie, Gareth called like ten minutes ago. He said it was urgent.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

He wandered upstairs to their bedroom to take the phone call in private. He shut the door and dialed up Garth’s number. He twisted the phone cord around his finger, anticipating his bandmates answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Eddie. You called?”

“Ed! Oh my god, dude, guess what!”

“What?”

“We got a record deal with Capitol!”

“You’re shitting me…”

“No! And once we record our album, they want us to go on a small, twelve-week tour. Isn’t that exciting!”

“Yeah, holy– wait… when would all this be happening?”

“So they want us to start recording asap, then the tour would happen maybe a month or two after. It’s smaller venues, obviously, but they’re anticipating a good turnout based on our crowds at the Dome when we open.”

“So… we’d be heading out and starting the tour in October?”

“Yeah, November at the latest.”

“I… I can’t…” Eddie teared up.

“Wh-What? Why? Ed, we’ve been dreaming of this day since we were in high school.”

“No, I know, but… I-I can’t… Bee starts school next month. I can’t just leave Steve to deal with that big of a change two months in.”

“But you just said, it’s two months in.”

“Gareth, I can’t leave him to juggle working two jobs, raising our child, and having him help her with schoolwork. It’s not fair! That’s not what a spouse or father does.”

“Eddie, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. This could be the start of something huge. Steve will understand.”

“Let me talk to him and try to see what I can do, but don’t get your hopes up.”

“We’re counting on you, Ed.”

“And I said I’ll try my best. Bye.”

He slammed down the phone on the receiver and let his head fall in his hands. He took a few deep breaths before running his hands through his hair. He hesitantly headed back downstairs to greet his husband and their friend.

“Stevie, can I talk to you for a sec?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, everything okay?”

“Just… come on, please.”

He motioned for them to head to the backyard, Eddie grabbing his pack of smokes and a lighter on the way out. They sat on the back stoop, Eddie lighting up a cigarette and taking a few puffs before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked.

“Corroded Coffin got a record deal with Capitol Records.”

“Ed… that’s awesome! Why do you seem upset?”

“Because we also got an offer to go on tour after the album is released.” He took another long drag.

“I’m still not seeing what’s so bad about this.”

“We would record and release this month, then go on tour two months later…”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, oh…” Eddie exhaled some extra smoke he held in. “I told Gareth no.”

“What, why?”

“You know why, Steve.”

“But-But this is huge for you guys, Ed. You’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this for years.”

“No, I know, but you and Bee come first. You know that.”

“But Ed–”

“Family over career, Steve. I made that very clear to them from the start.”

“But this is an album and a tour.”

“But it’s Bee’s first year in school. I-I can’t just leave you guys behind during that.”

“How long would the tour be?”

“Twelve weeks.”

“You’d be gone for three months?” Eddie nodded and started crying. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Steve wrapped his arm around Eddie and gently rubbed his bicep. “It’s okay, we’ll find a way to make it work.”

“But I’m not going, Steve. I can’t be away from you guys for three months,” he cried.

“But it’s only three months for an opportunity that could change our lives.”

“No, I’m not doing it. I’m not missing Bee’s birthday, or the stupid PTA meetings, or Christmas, or–” Steve cut him off with a kiss.

“Sorry, I needed to shut you up.”

“Jerk,” Eddie pouted.

“It’ll all be fine, Eds. Just work out a deal for you to come home for stuff like that. They have to understand that you have a young family. They can’t just give you an offer like this and expect you to drop everything.”

“They can and they will.”

“Stop being so pessimistic.”

“You’ve met me, right?” Eddie raised a brow. He took a final drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out on the stoop.

“Yes, I’ve met you, and I love you. And because I love you, I want you to do this. Alright, Eds? I’ll have Wayne and my mom help out a little more than usual. We’ll be fine, okay? I know, you’ll be missing out on some stuff, but it’s for the sake of your career.”

“Yeah, but–”

“Bobby knows you love her and she’ll understand why you’re doing all this. She loves seeing you on stage. Think about how much she’ll get to gloat about her dad the rockstar?” Steve chuckled. “Go, Eds… do it…”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“I love you…”

“I know.” He leaned in to quickly kiss his husband. “I love you too.”

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unluckyhoneybee · 1 year

Text

Lavender girl (Quinn Hughes)

(By Caamp) Quinn was never good with his feelings, there was something in you though. He couldn't hide from you. Honey Bee's 2000 Celebration.

Your touch was so gentle he barely noticed it. After spending the whole day with everyone else, he had moved away to take a deep breath. Just ten minutes, he had told himself. It had been almost an hour already and a quite drunk Jack had told everyone he was probably sleeping already. But you had seen Quinn leaving the group and walking away alone and on the opposite direction of the house.

Quinn's breath stuttered when he realized it was you. He was a bit taken aback because, why? Why would you be here?

Then you sat next to him on the edge of the deck, one leg hanging above the water and the other tucked under you, which meant your body was turned to him.

"Hey" You said with a soft smile.

"Hey" He muttered.

"I thought you had fallen to the lake and some crocodile had eaten you."

"You know there are not crocodiles in here"

"They haven't been discovered yet" You pointed out. Quinn chuckled and you felt instantly better with yourself.

You hooked your leg up and leaned your arms on your knee.

"What's wrong, Quinny?" You whispered.

His smile fell and he looked away.

There was something in you. Something so sweet in your voice that made him want to lay on your legs an just talk, to confess everything running through his mind.

"Well... A couple of things" He muttered. If it wasn't for the silence surrounding you, you wouldn't have heard him.

You moved closer and your hanging leg touched his. He wanted to reach and run your hand over the smooth skin. He had been wanting to do that for the whole day.

"The team is quite messy" He said giving you a side eye. "I'm tired. Like... I need a good holiday"

You sighed. He was obviously tired. He had worked himself to exhaustion.

The words fell out of his mouth in a low voice. He told you about all his worries, the furute, the present, things he regret red from the past... He talked and talked and you stayed there, playing with the sleeve of his shirt and listening carefully. Quinn felt open and raw. He couldn't stop telling you all of those things. All but one.

When he stopped talking and took a deep breath, he cleared his throat and thought that it was enough trauma dumping for one night. But you leaned your head against his shoulder and snaked an arm around his lower back. He wanted to tell you more. But he couldn't.

"You are so strong." You muttered. "And much more of a better person than I am. I would have already quicked someone's ass."

A low chuckle vibrated on his chest. He felt so light around you, so much like himself. You were different. You were probably just a girl, just you. But he knew there was something else. He felt something else.

Goosebumps grew on your skin when his hand finally fell on your leg. Feeling your skin crawl under his palm made him dizzy. It was out of pure instinct when he moved his hand up and down your thigh.

Then you looked up and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I'm sure the world has amazing things waiting for you. It's just that sometimes the bravest warriors have to fight the hardest battles."

Quinn turned to look at you and wow. You were so close. Just there. He could easily kiss you.

"I'm not the bravest warrior. Probably the most tired one"

Your giggle was music for his ears, just like the joke to yours.

"I would let you sleep for days" You muttered.

If what. Keep talking. Please.

Quinn swallowed. "I know. You are just like that, aren't you"

"How?"

"Special"

"Am I?" You softly asked with a loving voice.

"I've never felt like this with anyone before" Those words. Finally. "And I'm terrified"

Quinn was your soft spot. He was the boy you would always go back to. Even if you hadn't been more than friends. He made you feel a better you. He was the one making you feel special.

"Of me?"

"No. Of how loose I am around you. Of how my walls just fall when you are near."

He looked at you with those tragic eyes of his and it was impossible for you to do anything else. With a hand on his cheek, you pulled him in for a kiss.

It was a big susprise for him. You were kissing him. You weren't scared of him. He hadn't even needed to say those words. I'm in love with you. You were so good at reading him that you had understood.

Quinn grabbed your wrist. He needed to make sure that you wouldn't go away the moment he kissed back. And then he did and you hummed, moving your other hand from his lower back to the side of his neck and allowing him to kiss you as deep as he needed to. Just to prove you were real and it was truly happening.

The kiss became to much, you were both breatheless when you pulled back. But still, you made him look into your eyes. "I like you. The real you. The Quinn without walls. And for me it's a privilege to be the one throwing them down"

"I love you" He whispered. "I love you so much"

You kissed him back with a smile. "I love you too, Quinny" You muttered on his lips. "Don't ever hide from me."

"I couldn't even if I tried."

#Quinn Hughes #Qh #Fluff #honey bee's 2000 celebration #Nhl #Fic

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robbie-roo · 6 months

Text

somebody in a very long message asked me about skunks and mentioned a few other animals too so I'll do a quick post on skunks and see what I know about those other guys in later posts

also as a side note if you ever just want to chit chat about animals you can always message me or just tag me in your own posts I'm happy to have discussions as well as do these long lecture style posts :)

Skunks

cute little guys <3 I wanted a pet skunk and a pet raccoon as a kid (honestly I wanted a pet everything...) and the good news is you can technically have one! some states (17/50) will allow you to own a pet raccoon or a pet skunk but unless you are very knowledgeable in wildlife care or "exotic" pets I do not reccomend them they are not domesticated like dogs and cats are but can be tame (there's a difference)

anyways some skunk facts;

so their stinky spray is a pretty obvious skunk trait and like the messager mentioned many animals use scent as a way to communicate. pretty much all mammals have a scent gland located somewhere on their body- for many its the top of the head so they can rub pheromones off on trees or other critters to let animals know "hey this is mine" or "hey there handsome.... there's hot singles in your area"

they also mentioned possum and raccoons using scent- opossums are known for playing dead and will secrete stinky stuff to make their act more believable and raccoons? it's their urine and feces that make them stinky

some animals however use scent as a deterrent like skunks do

they are not the only animal that does this all mustelids do (that's the skink, ferret, stoat, etc. fam) and these critters are particularly stinky but don't have the spray adaptation that only skunks really have (as far as I've learned anyway)

both pet skunks and ferrets will often be surgically "de-scented" but usually still have a smell after (I mean... don't we all?)

skunks used to roll with this genus but recently made their own gang called Mephitis (literally means "stink") which has 12 species and includes skunks and "stink badgers" I've also seen some reports of 13 species but I'm not really sure off the top of my head which is true only 4 of them are "true skunks" though

skunks take their scent very seriously guys. some of them will directly aim for the eyes and others will do a little warning dance before spraying they can also adjust their sprays potency and angle and can also choose to spray from both or only one scent gland at a time

(spotted skunk- the dancers)

some can accurately spray 10 feet away but can reach up to 20 or more if they really wanted to soak you but then they have to reload for about 10 days before they can spray anything again

that odor can be smelled from 1.5 miles away! but don't worry 1/1000 humans can't smell it at all and their main predator owls also can't pick up the scent unfortunately for these birds they do still have eyes and a well aimed spray will still take them down

(also the chemical compound in their spray is flammable I have no idea who found that out and why but fun fact!)

if you ever get sprayed don't bother with tomato juice use hydrogen peroxide and baking soda to neutralize the compounds

anyways enough about stink

Skunks are omnivores and some will eat bees aiming for the actual bees over the honey like bears do (yes winny the pooh lied to you he wants that larva not necessarily the honey)

some skunks can be really social living in groups of around 10 and sometimes invite their neighbors to stay with them (there's a few cases of possums staying the night in their den) most of them ate relatively solitary but they aren't very territorial and will overlap sometimes

they are immune to snake venom! another trait that is somewhat similar to their cousins the badgers as they often eat snakes they can handle a lot of poison

alright that's what I know about skunks they're cute little guys but once again

DO. NOT. TOUCH. yes theyre stinky but they are also known to carry rabies if you see one out during the day do not approach it and call wildlife services if you are seriously worried

#skunk #skunk facts #animal science #animal facts #zoology #animals #biology #mammalogy

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batztrangem · 2 years

Text

How You Met The Candyman

Warnings/notes: Gender neutral reader, cursing, mentioning of canon typical violence

Author’s Note: This is probably the best one shot out of all of my “how you met the slashers” series.

"You know what we should do?"

It was Friday night, and you and a couple of your friends had decided to have a sleepover at your house. You all were laid out in your living room. Blankets and sleeping bags were laid throughout the floor. Almost every pillow in the house was also in the living room, most of which were also on the floor.

You walked out of the kitchen with a large bowl of popcorn, adding to the multitude of snacks and drinks lined up on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You grabbed a pillow off the ground and plopped on the couch beside your friend, Alex.

"What should we do?" you asked.

"Yeah, what should we do besides watching this movie because it suuuucckks," your other friend, Emma, said. She was laying on the ground watching the TV.

"Let's play Bloody Mary," Alex said.

"Boo, no," Emma said from the floor.

"Why not?" Alex said, throwing up their hands.

"Maybe because it's for kids, and it's not real," you said.

"What about Candyman?" Alex suggested.

"What the hell is that?" Emma questioned, turning on her side from her spot on the floor.

"Yeah, I've never heard of that. Only Candyman I know is Willy Wonka," you said with a chuckle.

"Oh my gosh, are we going to summon Willy Wonka? Now that shit sounds scary," Emma said.

"No, man. You guys seriously haven't heard of Candyman?" Alex asked.

Both you and Emma shook your heads. Alex's shocked face quickly formed into a smirk as they reached for their phone.

"Whatcha doing?" Emma asked.

"I'm going to tell you guys the backstory of Candyman," Alex said as they typed away on their phone.

After a couple of minutes, it appeared that Alex had pulled up an article on the phone.

"Let's dim the lights. Make it a little spooky in here," Alex said.

"Yes, sir," you said jokingly as you got up from the couch. You walked over to the light switch and fiddled around with the knob to dim the lights. The switch was old and your family barely used it so turning it was a slow process. You looked up at the lights as you did so. Now the room was filled with more ambient lighting, similar to a movie theater as the lights would go down when a movie began.

"I thought we grew out of ghost stories a long time ago," you said as you sat back down.

"Who said this was a ghost story? This actually happened," Alex said.

"Yeah, I'll be the judge of that. Let's hear it," Emma said as she sat up on the floor.

"In the 1800s there was a tragic death of a man by the name of Daniel Robitaille. He was a painter in Chicago. The legend told that Daniel was the son of a slave who became extremely wealthy after inventing a machine that mass-produced shoes during the American Civil War. Daniel grew up to become a well-known painter, most famous for capturing a person's status in portraits. Sometime around 1890, the young painter had been commissioned by a wealthy landowner to capture the beauty of his daughter, a white virgin," Alex stated.

"This doesn't sound scary at all," you mumbled.

"Shut up and listen," Alex said, bringing the phone closer to their face.

"The painter's only real sin was falling in love with the girl in question with whom they were to have a child out of wedlock. Unfortunately, the girl's father had discovered their relationship and was left so outraged that he hired a lynch mob to find and kill the young painter. As the mob chased him down the streets of Chicago, they eventually overpowered him and sawed off his right hand with a rusty blade."

"What the fuck? That's messed up," Emma said.

Alex nodded and continued to read.

"Daniel's body was then smeared with honey from a local apiary, causing the bees to sting him to death and prompting the future generations of the neighborhood to call him Candyman," Alex said, sitting the phone down.

"Ok? That's seriously fucked up and tragic, but how is that scary to us," you questioned.

"Well, if you let me finish. I'll explain," Alex said.

You pretended to lock your mouth and throw away the key, indicating that you were listening.

"Legend has it that Candyman's vengeful spirit still lurks throughout Chicago. He'll also show up anywhere you summon him. It's a lot like Bloody Mary. Go in the bathroom, say his name five times in the mirror, and he shows up to kill you," Alex explained.

"May I speak now?" you asked.

"Yeah."

"Why would I do that? Why would I willingly summon someone who is going to kill me?" you said while laughing.

"For fun, (Y/N)! Have you ever done something just for the fun of it?" Alex said.

"Since when is willingly summoning ghosts fun?" Emma said from the floor.

"Yeah, what she said. I don't fuck around with that shit. Ninety percent of horror movies could be avoided if people would stop fucking with the supernatural," you said.

Alex couldn't help but laugh.

"Screw you guys," they said.

A few hours passed and your friends were down for the count. Alex and Emma were both fast asleep. You on the other hand was wide awake, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram. You looked at the time.

It was a little past 3 and you weren't even tired. You were just bored. You sighed as you put your phone down and got up to go to the bathroom.

You turned on the light and were instantly met with your reflection in the large bathroom mirror. You may have not felt tired but you certainly looked it. You turned the water on and splashed your face a little. You looked back into the mirror, making eye contact with yourself.

You thought back on what Alex had said earlier. All of that stuff about Candyman.

You didn't believe in ghost stories for the most part, so why not? Nothing could possibly happen, right?

"Screw it," you mumbled, standing up straight.

Your reflection stared back at you.

"Candyman," you said.

You glanced around the bathroom and then back at the mirror.

"Candyman."

You then cracked the bathroom door open, making sure your voice hadn't woken your friends.

"Candyman."

You closed the door with your hand as your eyes stayed glued to the mirror.

"Candyman."

All of a sudden, you had goosebumps. The hair on your arms was standing up. It was such a strange feeling. The air seemed colder, and the bathroom seemed quieter.

"Candyman."

You gulped taking a look around the bathroom.

Nothing.

You looked back in the mirror.

Nothing.

It was just you staring back.

There was no mysterious man from the past without a hand.

"See," you said to yourself, "what did you expect?"

You turned to exit the bathroom but to your shock, the nob wouldn't turn.

"What the hell?"

You tried turning it again. It didn't even feel locked. It felt jammed as if it was glued in place. You tried wiggling it then turning again but it wouldn't budge.

"Hey, someone let me out of here!" you called out, slapping your hand on the door.

The lights began to flicker over the top of your head. You looked up, confused. That lightbulb was basically brand new.

You would admit that you were beginning to become panicked. You banged on the door again, trying to get the attention of your friends.

"Guys! I'm locked in! Please help!" you called out to no avail. They couldn't hear you and you had no idea why.

The flickering of the lights began to get worse and worse and your heart rate had begun to elevate. You could hear it pounding away in your chest, beating in your ears.

And in a blink of an eye, the lights were out.

It was pitch black.

And you were terrified.

"Guys! Let me out! This isn't funny!"

If being locked in wasn't scary enough, the dark was a sure-fire way to terrify you to your core.

"I am the writing on the wall, the sweet smell of blood. Be my victim," a powerful voice beamed down. It shook you, causing you to back up against the invisible source.

The light flickered again, causing you to see the figure looming over you. You weren't sure who it was but after what you just did, you had a good fucking idea.

He walked closer to you. The bathroom was small and you had nowhere to go.

Cold metal met the side of your face, gently sliding down to your chin. You realized it was a hook.

Despite the flickering lights, the closer he got the more you could see his face. For a supernatural vengeful spirit, he was handsome. In fact, he was so handsome that it calmed your nerves a bit.

"You're mine," he whispered.

And just like that, he was gone. The light had stopped flickering and the door behind gave way, flinging open. You lost your balance and fell down on the ground.

"Damn it, I think I peed myself."

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puppy-coded · 1 year

Note

I Fell in Love with ur chubby reader x Gareth stories and I wanted to ask if u could write about the reader being extremely touch starved and wanting to sit on his lap all the time but is afraid of like crushing him :>

screming bc i love this <3 also feel free to send in more gareth x chubby!reader rqs, i love these blurbs sm

also warning: kinda spicy, implied smut, use of the petname honey bee bc anyone who uses it on me will own my heart. that and princess <3

okay anyway

imagine sitting in his living room and he's on the couch and your head is resting on his knee and his hand is resting on your cheek and his thumb is stroking your cheek and jaw bone.

you were having a james bond movie marathon. you were only on your second movie and you wanted desperately to cuddle up with gareth, to sit in his lap and let him pat your legs and anything else he wanted.

you knew he was extremely physically affectionate. such a little cuddle bug.

it was just... all your insecurities telling you that he wouldn't want it.

want you anymore.

that you'd crush him if you sat on his lap.

sure scientifically it wasn't possible but your brain kept playing tricks on your mind.

such a meanie head.

you sighed heavily and gareth immediately stopped what he was doing and looked down at you. he looked worried when you made eye contact and you just smiled at him, as if everything was totally fine and normal.

but it wasn't. you knew that. he knew that.

he paused the movie and looked at you seriously.

"what's up honeybee? you good there?" he asked, he was internally panicking and thinking of the worst case scenario. he just wanted you to be safe.

you nodded to look back at the television set and the stock of vhs tapes next to it. "yeah. all good 'ere." you responded shortly, wanting gareth to drop it.

"i've known you for about five years my love. i know when you're lying to me," he reminded you. "please. tell me what's wrong."

"nothing's wrong. please unpause the tape."

gareth sighed and unpaused the movie.

"hold on." he sunk down to the ground next to you and put an arm over your shoulders. "this feels better."

you smiled and snuggled into him, resting a hand on his stomach. you started to fidget after a few minutes.

it killed you to be so close and yet so far way from your boyfriend. truly a tragedy.

he once again noticed you shift in behavior, and fidgeting, and once again paused the movie. "gettin' comfy?"

"i wanna sit on you!" you blurted, immediately slapping a hand to your mouth and pulling away from him.

he stared at you, mouth hanging open, and reached for your hand. you pulled it away and toward your chest, holding it as if you burnt it.

"i'm sorry," you apologized as you grabbed your stuff. "i should go."

it took a couple seconds for gareth to register what you had said but once he did he grabbed your hand before you got up from your spot. "no, no. i just- i'm surprised. i didn't think you'd be so forward about it. but like if you're into it then-"

"what the hell are you talkin' about gareth?" it was a genuine head scratcher. you had no idea what he was on about.

gareth's cheeks burned but he still looked you in the eyes and responded. "you wanted to sit on my face right? i mean, we could definitely try it the next time we do anything," he offered.

it was your turn to be surprised. your eyes widened and you blinked couple times.

jesus h. christ.

gareth emerson you horny idiot.

you loved him.

"gareth. no. we're in your parents' house. in their living room. on their couch and watching their james bond tapes." you listed on your fingers for him to see. "you really think i was thinking about sex?"

gareth shrugged. "don't women think about sex more than men?" he asked, grabbing your hand again and rubbing it with both his thumbs.

you smiled and lightly hit is arm. "you are so cute. yes but not what i meant." you said, patting his cheek.

gareth got pinker and started to chew the inside of his cheek. "oh."

"i wanna sit on your lap. but i don't wanna crush you rex." you explained, putting your free hand on top of his. "i'm being serious. last time... with my ex... he got mad at me."

gareth frowned and made eye contact. "who got mad at my honeybee over nothing? imma fight him. he will rue the day he made you cry!" he said dramatically. "rue it!"

you laughed and smiled at him, crawling over to gareth and setting a hand on his thigh.

he nodded as if to give you permission. "i'm a big boy babe. do it. i can take it."

you sat on his lap slowly and immediately melted into him when you settled. he started to rub your back and squished your thighs a bit, his rings bitingly cold despite him wearing them for about four hours.

"psst. honeybee." he whispered to you, fingers drumming a beat on your leg in excitement.

"hm?"

"i love you," he smiled.

"i love you too. now shut up, sean connery's on the screen." you teased.

he smiled and kissed your forehead, resting his head against the couch.

✰ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @cosmic-psychickitty @masivechaos @rhydianissuperior @aidansloth

#➴➵➶➴athena writes➶➴➵➶#gareth emerson #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x you #gareth emerson x y/n #gareth stranger things #gareth emerson fluff #gareth emerson imagine

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m-jelly · 2 years

Text

The summer heat isn't what's making me sweat.

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Genre and tags: Modern AU, romance, married life, summertime, shirtless Levi, flirting, fluff.

Concept: It's summertime and your husband is working on his car to make sure it's up and running for a camping trip by the lake. As Levi works on his truck, he gets a bit too hot and decides to take his shirt off. You sit on your front porch swing and watch your husband sweat and work as you sip a nice cold lemonade. You offer to rub more sunscreen on his skin, just in case, even though he's already covered. He lets you.

Country living with Levi series.

Part 2

You hummed along to Levi's radio playing out the front of the house. You were making some fresh lemonade for you and Levi to enjoy. Today was rather hot, so you were trying to stay nice and cool. Levi had told you to stay in the shade because it was too hot, so you were going to do as your husband asked.

You picked up the tray and waltzed outside to see Levi cleaning his hands as he looked inside his truck. "Lemonade!"

Levi glanced over at you and smiled. "Hey, honey." He took the glass from you and downed some. "Mm, not too sweet. Perfect." You downed some more. "You're amazing." He licked his lips. "Kiss."

You leaned over and kissed him. "I'll keep the fresh lemonade with me on the proch."

"Okay. You going to keep an eye on me?"

"You know it."

He hummed. "Can you maybe garden?" He blushed a little. "I like watching you work. Just make sure you wear a hat, okay?"

You giggled. "I'll do a bit of work, then I'll sit on the porch."

"Okay."

You put the tray down on the porch before picking up your gardening things. You knelt down and tended to your flowers. As you worked, you felt a strong gaze on you. You looked up to see Levi leaning against his truck with his eyes locked on your cleavage.

You giggled. "Leviii."

He looked up at your face. "I'm one lucky man to be married to you."

You blushed at his words. "I'm a lucky woman as well. You're a stud."

He winked at you. "Thank you." He pointed. "You missed a spot."

"You just want to watch my boobs jiggle."

"Yes."

You hummed. "Honesty, I like it."

He walked over to you. "I try to be honest with you. I made a vow to you when we committed our love to each other." He leaned down and kissed you. "I love you, Mrs Ackerman."

"I love you, Mr Ackerman." You got up. "You need more lemonade?"

He nodded. "Please."

You took your gloves off and walked over to the lemonade and poured him a fresh glass. "There you go handsome."

"Thank you."

You sipped yours and hummed. "There's not much left I can do in the garden."

"Tch, damn."

You cleaned up your things. "You can come and look at my boobs anytime you want, okay? You are married to me, which means you're married to them."

He perked up. "And your butt?"

"Yes."

"And your thighs?"

"Yes."

He smiled. "I'm a lucky guy."

You hummed a laugh. "You are." You cleaned up everything and sat on the porch swing. "Alright handsome, I'll be right here as you work."

He nodded. "Sure thing, beautiful."

You rocked on the swing and turned up the radio to listen to the music. You sang along to a song you loved as you watched the birds, bees and people. You looked over to your husband as he worked on the car. You smiled at knowing he was all yours.

Levi stood up and wiped his brow, but he was too hot. He peeled his shirt off revealing his defined muscle dripping and glistening in his sweat. His trousers were riding low on his hips, so you could clearly see the V. He rubbed his face on his shirt, then pushed back his hair. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a hair tie. He put his hair back and started working on the car again.

You shivered as you watched Levi. As soon as he bent over into the car, you saw a bead of sweat caress his back as it rolled down. You whimpered and mewled at his muscles moving. His bicep bulged when he turned something inside the car.

You grabbed the sunscreen and ran over to Levi. "Darling?"

He stood up. "Hmm?"

You showed him the bottle. "You need protecting from the sun."

"I have loads on."

"But honey, you are insistent with me."

He sighed. "You're right, I am. Go head."

You stood behind Levi and rubbed some cream over Levi's back. You ran your hands over his muscles. You enjoyed every bump and groove. Your body tingled at feeling his hot body under your fingers. All you could think about was Levi's hot body above you as he screwed you senseless.

Levi called your name. "I think my back is covered."

You walked to his front. "Sorry."

"You going to cover my chest?"

You nodded and put some cream on your hands. You shivered as you watched his chest rise and fall with his breathing. You pushed your hands up his chest over his pecs and abs. You were slow with your movements as you enjoyed your husband. You sighed in happiness as you admired his body.

Levi placed his hands on yours. "I think I'm covered." He leaned closer and kissed you. "Thank you."

"What about your face?"

"You're right. More please."

You rubbed the cream on his face. "So handsome."

"Thank you." He tangled his fingers in your hair and tugged you close. He pressed his lips against yours. He let out a long happy sigh through his nose as he felt so at peace. "Thank you." He smiled when you squeaked in delight. "What a cute wife I have."

"You're hot."

"Thank you." He kissed you again and purred. "I think you're not as sweaty as I am. So, I'm going to fix that tonight." He leaned closer and whispered against your lips. "I'm going to get you so sweaty tonight as you shake around me in pleasure."

You whimpered. "Y-Yes, Levi."

He winked at you. "Go be a good girl and watch me from the porch again. I like you watching me

You nodded. "Yes, Levi."

He watched you run off and sit. He blushed a little when you blew him kisses. "I love you."

"I love you too!"

#levi ackerman #fanfic #levi #levi fanfiction #aot levi #aot fanfiction #levi x y/n #levi x you #aot x you #snk levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fluff #jelly fanfics

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ravencp86 · 7 months

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Right, finally weighing into the public sector with my opinions for Good Omens 3. Not seen any posts that say these things, but if there are, then awesome!

On the reunion:

1) one day, whilst Crowley is in the bookshop with Murial, Nina and Maggie, Aziraphale walks through the door. They just stare at each other and Crowley gets up, takes one step forward and folds his hands the way Aziraphale did in Se2ep1 and just ever so slightly cocks his head. Without blinking or sighing, Aziraphale does the apology dance and the corner of Crowley's lip gives the tiniest twitch and then before he realises what's happening, his arms are full of angel and Aziraphale kisses him. Crowley doesn't even hesitate to kiss him back. They just cling to each other. Meanwhile, Maggie, Nina and Murial all roll their eyes and carry on with their book club meeting.

2) The camera starts in the bookshop and the tinkling on a bell pans the camera to the door opening and it's Aziraphale. He calls for Crowley, as he walks around to look for him and gets no answer/can't see him, looking sad, he steps into the street and looks over to Nina's coffee shop and he stops in his tracks as Crowley walks out of Nina's (his usual 6 shots of espresso in a big reusable cup, in his hand) and as Crowley spots him, it starts to rain. They all but run to each other, crashing into each others arms, just hanging on for dear life. Then Azi pulls away a little so he can cup Crowley's face in his hands and he very gently says, "I'm sorry, I never should have left," and he kisses him. Crowley grabs on to Azi's coat and returns the kiss. Then they slowly break apart (traffic be damned), smiling at each other, then Crowley clears his throat, takes a step back and says, "not good enough, I want a proper apology," and a tiny smile lifts the corner of his mouth as Azi sighs, rolls his eyes and does the apology dance in the middle of the street.

3) The idea that Azi just turns up being like, "Babe, I need you to help me raise our kid, cause quite frankly, I'm exhausted and it's your turn." Crowley looks on, dumbstruck, as Azi picks up Junior and hands him to Crowley (who takes him on instinct) and says, "This is your Papa. Daddy needs a break, so behave yourself." Then he walks across to Nina's for an Eccles cake and then to Maggie's to listen to something that isn't a nursery rhyme/shit kids version of good pop songs.

I just feel like Azi would be all like, "Right, you can do this, Aziraphale. Tell him you love him and you're sorry and would he please help you raise Christ 2.0." Then when Crowley actually answers the door, he forgets that plan, panics and a louder part of his brain just screams, "FUCK I LOVE HIM SO MUCH BUT I'M SO DARN TIRED RAISING THIS CHILD I NEED A BREAK!!!"

It's Maggie and Nina that drag him back to the bookshop to sort it out, but as they walk in, they find Crowley sitting cross legged on the floor staring at the child, as said child is pulling books off the shelves, looking for a picture book probably, and telling Crowley all about how he "didn't really like Heaven, but Daddy is very nice and plays games with him and tells him lots of stories. His favourite is the story about a magician who decides to play a scary game called 'bullet catch', but it's OK because his best friend is the one who holds the gun and he knows that his friend would never let anything bad happen to him. He also really likes the story of how a bookseller and his best friend danced together at a party and how it felt like real magic when they held hands."

Crowley is just staring in disbelief at this tiny, blue eyed, black haired child rattling off "stories", whilst his heart is still trying to catchup.

..........................

On the ending:

The only ending that I think any of us will accept will be Aziraphale and Crowley retiring to a little cottage on the south downs where Crowley can keep bees and a beautiful garden and Aziraphale makes honey and sits in the sun reading, watching Crowley tend their garden.

#good omens #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #nina good omens #maggie good omens #happiness

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supplements-superachieverclub · 15 days

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What is MGO in Manuka Honey? And what does UMF mean? How to pick the best New Zealand manuka honey to kill all germs.

Discover the best Manuka Honey: https://super-achiever.com/best-manuka-honey

#manukahoney #manuka #honey

Hello, Health Enthusiasts! 🐝 Today, we're diving into the sweet, mysterious world of Manuka Honey and its secret weapon: MGO.

Don't forget to subscribe to the Super Achievers Club for more honeyed wisdom. Let's unravel the enigma behind the MGO rating in Manuka Honey! MGO Unveiled: The Sweet Strength of Manuka Honey Manuka Honey isn't your average bear's treat; it's a powerhouse packed with MGO, or Methylglyoxal, responsible for its unparalleled healing properties. From rapid wound healing to skin rejuvenation, Manuka stands out from regular honey like a queen bee. MGO: The Bee's Secret The story begins with the bees converting DHA from Manuka nectar into MGO right in their tiny bellies. This transformation continues even after the honey is jarred, increasing MGO levels for up to a year! 🍯 The numbers you see on Manuka honey jars, like MGO 100+, signify its antibacterial strength. However, it's crucial to note that the relationship between MGO levels and antibacterial power isn't linear; more MGO doesn't always mean a drastically stronger product.

The Truth Behind MGO Ratings MGO and Quality: Remember, MGO levels are just one piece of the Manuka puzzle. Authenticity matters since lab-made MGO can deceive unsuspecting honey lovers. Proper storage also plays a crucial role in maintaining MGO potency. UMF - A Broader Measure: Confused by MGO? Enter the UMF grading system, which considers not only MGO but also other key compounds, ensuring you get a fuller picture of your honey's health benefits. Choosing Your Perfect Manuka: For daily wellness, MGO 83+ hits the sweet spot, blending health perks with deliciousness. Whether you're baking, brewing tea, or seeking a nutrient boost, there's a Manuka grade for every need. Pro Tip Alert: To ensure you're not falling for sweet talk, look for the UMFHA seal – your assurance of genuine, quality Manuka Honey. What's Your Honey Pick? Are you Team Regular or Team Manuka? Does the mighty MGO sway your choice, or does the unique UMF rating seal the deal?

Share your sweet insights or queries in the comments below. Don't miss out on our upcoming deep dive into honey varieties – hit subscribe and join our buzzing community of Super Achievers! Until next time, keep sweet and stay healthy! 🍯💪🏼

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