baytpwk

[baytpwk]

What if Joe's crying and we comfort him.

whaT IF JOE IS CRYING AND WE COMFORT HIM ???????? Wordcount: 2K

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Enough Trying

You got a text from Joe late afternoon.

“Busy?”

And you were quick to reply.

“Not really”

When you then didn’t hear from him for fifteen minutes, you decided to text again.

“Why? Everything ok?”

The ticks coloured blue quickly, but this text too went without a response. That worried you enough to quickly stick your feet into a pair of shoes and make your way over.

You could tell something was off the second you walked in.

There was no “hey” from the kitchen, no “in here darling!” from the bedroom. No music playing, no stupid joke about your coat being too long for his coat hook, no fake tripping over the beige fabric of your trench as it draped on the floor by the door. No sarcastic compliment about your hair looking different, “have you done anything to it?”, because every strand was blown wildly out of place, leaving you looking like you’d walked through a hedge backwards.

No smell of food, either, which – on a day off – was an event in and of itself.

The flat was too quiet. Still. Unsettling.

You closed the front door softly behind you and refrained from calling out for him. You took a guess of where to find him and weren’t surprised when you found out you were right.

You found Joe sat on the edge of the bed like he’d just been placed there. Like someone had picked him up and set him down, and then forgotten about him, phone discarded in the sheets on his side.

He didn’t even look up when you softly said his name. Just kept staring at the floor like he was watching something unfold in the faux woodgrain of the laminate right by his feet.

He looked… undone. Not quite sad. Not angry either. More like – hollow.

You hovered in the doorway.

“Joe?”

Nothing.

You toed your shoes off and stepped further into the room. “Do you want to eat something? We could order something, or I can throw something together real quick. You probably haven’t eaten, have you? Or we could go out. Get some fresh air.”

Still nothing.

Okay.

You rubbed your hands over your hips, fidgety, and then tried again.

“I saw a dog on the way here, one of those short fat ones you like. Looked like a little sausage with anxiety. I almost kidnapped it.”

Joe blinked, slowly.

Not a laugh.

Not even a twitch of a lip.

“Okay. Um. Do you want a shower? I could run one for you. Or– tea? I could make tea. Or maybe... I don’t know... something stronger? Gin?”

You stepped closer, voice catching on nerves now.

“We don’t have to talk, we can just lie down. I’ll put a show on. Something dumb with bright colours. Or we can go for a walk, or go sit outside and people-watch – there’s plenty of people about at the minute, actually. Just... let’s go somewhere. I don’t care. Whatever will help. Just... say something, Joe.”

You were about to suggest something else– anything else, honestly. You would’ve read him the entire Wikipedia page on the history of jam if that’s what he wanted.

Then, Joe finally moved.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t even meet your eyes.

He just reached out.

One second you were standing there, trying to help, offering option after option after option, all suggestions that made sense, but obviously weren’t right... and the next, Joe’s fingers wrapped around your wrist like it was the only real thing in the room. His grip was firm, but not rough. More like he needed to make sure you didn’t vanish if he let go. Like he’d finally picked a lifeline and it just so happened to be you.

“Hey... you don’t seem okay... what can I–... what do you want me to do?” you asked in a whisper.

He didn’t say anything. Just tugged you gently until you stood between his knees, right in front of him. And still – no eye contact. Still that hollow look, like he was somewhere deep inside of himself and couldn’t quite climb out yet.

You froze for a second, brain scrambling.

Was this helping?

Was this worse?

Were you crowding him?

Were you not close enough?

You opened your mouth to ask, to offer something else, something better, but before you could even shape the words, Joe moved again.

Slow and deliberate, like everything hurt.

He slid his arms around your waist and leaned forward until his face pressed into your top, right into the soft of your stomach.

You barely had time to react. Your hands hovered uncertainly at your sides, unsure whether to hold him or just let him cling, and then... you felt it.

You felt the way his fingers gripped at the fabric of your clothes, like he needed an anchor. Felt the way his shoulders twitched. Felt the tiny, stuttering breath against your skin.

Joe broke down slowly, edged towards it, and then, fell down into the deep end.

A ragged inhale, sharp and desperate, clawed its way up his throat. His whole body shuddered, and the first sob – quiet but violent – punched out of him like something that had been buried too long finally found a crack to escape through.

You blinked, stunned.

And then the panic hit.

Joe’s pain was loud now, and you were still standing there like a statue while he fell apart on you.

Do something, do something, do something–

You moved your hands slowly, carefully, like you were scared of doing it wrong. One landed awkwardly on the back of his head, the other on his shoulder, unsure whether to comfort or just not make things worse.

“Joe?” you whispered, unsure if he could hear you. “I’ve got you, okay? You’re okay.”

He didn’t respond – didn’t even lift his face – and your stomach twisted into a knot so tight it felt like it might snap. You could feel his heartbreak, the rawness of it, like it was bleeding through your shirt into your skin.

This wasn’t the version of Joe you knew. This wasn’t the dry-witted, easy-smiling, eye-rolling Joe who held your hand in crowded rooms and stole your chips without asking. This was someone unraveling from his core, and you didn’t know how to help.

You didn’t know if holding him was enough or if it was too much.

You didn’t know if you were making it worse by saying anything at all.

Maybe you should’ve called someone.

Maybe you should’ve just sat down.

Maybe–

“I t-tried to...” Joe started to talk, surprising you, but he couldn’t finish the sentence he’d barely even started. Another sob ripped through him, sharper this time. His whole body curled in tighter, his arms tightening around you like he was trying to disappear into you entirely.

You were shaking now. Not visibly, but inside. Heart in your throat. Hands trembling just a little as you finally cupped the back of his head and tried to stroke the short curls there, something gentle and repetitive. Something that might say, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, even though you didn’t have the right words.

God, you hated not knowing what to say.

You’d always been good at talking. Good at diffusing tension, offering jokes, giving options. But now none of your words were landing, none of them felt like the right shape. You could hear the blood pounding in your ears and still, all you could do was hold him and hope your presence mattered more than your silence.

You wanted to tell him to breathe.

You wanted to tell him he didn’t have to explain anything, that he didn’t owe you neat little answers with edges that made sense.

You wanted to crawl into his head and take the pressure off, even just for five minutes.

But instead you stood there, his tears soaking through your top, his grip growing tighter by the second, and you thought: Please let this be helping. Please let me be enough.

You exhaled shakily and finally pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’ve tried enough. I’m here,” you whispered, arms curling around his head for comfort. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You rocked a little without meaning to, bending to let your forehead rest lightly against the top of his head whilst you ran one warm palm down his back.

You’d offered every distraction and Joe had turned them all down in favour of you just standing here. In favour of you just letting him cry into your stomach like he was trying to bury grief where no one could see it.

“Joe... baby?” you whispered after a bit, running your hand back up his back and through his hair, “You didn’t have to hold it in all day.”

He just shook his head. Hard. Face still pressed to you.

Didn’t know what had happened yet.

If it had been building all week, or if something had snapped today.

If he’d got bad news, or if it was just everything all at once. The ache of too much, too long.

“You should’ve called me,” you said quietly, but not like a scold. Just regret, blooming in your chest. “I would’ve come over.”

Joe’s only answer was another sob that shook both of you this time.

You bent down and kissed the top of his head, arms tighter now, protective. You tried to absorb some of it. Tried to be soft enough that he’d feel okay falling apart.

And he did.

Right there on the edge of the bed, he cried until you weren’t sure where your breath ended and his began.

He cried until the knot in your own throat became difficult to be swallowed back down.

He cried like someone who had tried so fucking hard to be strong for everyone else and now just couldn’t anymore.

Eventually, after the worst of it had passed, Joe pulled back, red-eyed and sniffly, his face a blotchy mess of tears and exhaustion. He immediately covered it with both hands as he ran them over his face in a bid to try and rid it of the evidence his emotions had left there.

You didn’t say anything, just moved your hands to help out. Ran your thumbs along his jaw. Pushed some barely-there but almost curls back and raked your fingers through.

“What happened?” you asked finally, so quiet.

Joe blinked slowly, then tried to speak once more but found he had to clear his throat before he could.

His voice was hoarse, like it had been fighting him for hours.

“I um, I tried,” he murmured, and your heart cracked clean down the middle. “I tried all day to not... you know, to not–...” Joe motioned vaguely with a hand, then shook his head a little. He seemed embarrassed, which only grew the ache within your own chest. He took a deep breath in an attempt to finish his sentence, but it only seemed to deepen the crack.

“I know,” you said, quickly pulling him into another hug, his time with you kneeling between his legs, your cheek pressed to his as you hid him away from the world. “I know you did. But the trying is done now, okay?”

Joe didn’t reply.

Didn’t need to.

“Enough trying.”

The two arms that pressed you impossibly tightly against his front only clung to you tighter, as if maybe, if he held you for long enough, the pieces of him that had cracked open might start to slowly slot back together again.

You would stay there as long as he needed.

You wouldn’t make any more suggestions.

Wouldn’t try to fix anything.

You’d just be, right here, until he could breathe again without breaking.

---

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[baytpwk]

the badge |cop!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: how eddie became a cop, and how he met you. aka the lore lol.

contains: cop themes. drug dealing. cops. the justice system is fucked up. hopper is a good cop. small town shit lol. nothing heavy but does deal with the justice system/cops. language. angst at the beginning, but really just fluff and lore.

January 1989

Eddie’s knee bounced, chains on his jeans rattling against the metal of the bench, rusted with the rest of the holding cell. He wondered how often his dad had been in his same position, sat in this same spot, probably not as peacefully- definitely not sober. 

“Munson,” Officer Callahan groaned. Eddie knew him a little too well, countless warnings as a teengager for disturbing the peace, playing his ‘satanic panic’ music too loud. 

Eddie scoffed lightly, tongue rolling over the side of his mouth when Callahan turned his key. “No way. Wayne bailed me?” 

“Not exactly.” Callahan hummed around a slow exhale, the bars groaning when he opened the cell. 

“What?” Eddie frowned, boots dragging across the cracked cement. “Who? Gare- I know Gareth didn’t. Who was it? Was it- Did Jeff?” 

“No.” Callahan’s bored gaze met Eddie’s. “I didn’t say you were free to go. No one posted your bail.” 

Eddie’s spine tingled with an icy panic of fear. He tried not to show it, not to let his eyes widen and face pale, but still, his steps stuttered. 

He shouldn’t be surprised, he supposed, that he was getting booked- that he was going to jail. He was an adult, afterall, selling weed to high schoolers and burnouts at The Hideout. How was he supposed to know it was a sting? That the guy he’d known from Geometry in tenth grade was really working for the DEA? They just let anyone be cops then, Eddie barked at Hopper before he was shoved under into the back of the cop car and taken here. 

“S-So what? I don’t- Man, I don’t get a fuckin’ trial?” Eddie spat, following Callahan down the long hallway, the lights ominously flickering with each step. Callahan ignored him, keeping his same, slow stride, keys jingling in his hand. 

“This is- This is illegal. Alright? I have the right to a fuckin’ trial. I know I have the right to a fuckin’ trial, o-or a judge, or whatever.” Eddie’s voice boomed, echoing off the walls. “Innocent until proven guilty, right? Is that not a thing anymore?” 

Callahan shoved his key in the windowless room, pushing it open. Eddie scoffed, stepping back with disgust. “You fuckin’ pigs, pigs, all the same. Think you’re above the law, huh? Well, I’m not goin’ in there without a fucking lawyer-” 

“-Eddie,” Wayne’s gruff bark came from inside the room. Eddie stilled, squinting into the dark room, a single lightbulb over a desk like something out of a cliched cop show. His uncle sat in one chair, Hopper in the other, a single manilla folder in front of them. 

“Take a seat, boy.” Wayne nodded, arms crossed over his short sleeve coveralls, the lines on his face harder than usual, more prominent. 

Eddie hesitated, looking back down the hall before stepping in, taking slow, calculated steps towards the empty chair next to Wayne. 

“Thanks, Phil. We got it from here.” Hopper nodded to the man at the door, the hinges squeaking before the door fell shut with a heavy thud. Eddie was furious at himself for flinching. 

There was a painful moment of silence, so quiet, Eddie’s thudding heartbeat rang in his ears. 

“So, Eddie, you’re looking at one to five right now.” Hopper’s fingers drummed against the manilla folder, lips pressed in a tight, intimidating line. Eddie steeled himself, meeting his eyes, but he didn’t dare look at Wayne. 

“First offense with a relatively clean record, the judge might only have you do a few months here with probation- might.” Hopper glared when Eddie perked. “That’s the best case scenario, and unfortunately for you, the judge has been around long enough to already see a Munson come through, a few times.” 

Eddie’s brows furrowed, head tilting in challenging question, arms folded in defensiveness. “He’s talkin’ ‘bout Al, boy.” Wayne grunted, glaring at his nephew with a hard stare that had Eddie uneasy. “He’s gonna throw the book at ya because of your Daddy. ‘S worried you’re gonna be like ‘im.” 

“What? They- He can’t do that-” 

“-He can.” Hopper shrugged. “You still broke the law, Eddie. The judge can give you the max, the minimum, whatever he wants- it’s in his hands when you break the law.” 

Eddie’s foot tapped, sulking back in his chair, arms wrapping around his torso tightly, scared his heart might burst right through his ribcage with the way it was beating, thumping rapidly with fear. He was convinced through the thick silence that they could hear it.

“But,” Hopper said around a slow breath, his eyes cutting to Wayne’s before they met Eddie’s. “You’re lucky he also knows another Munson, and happens to play cards with him on Saturday nights.” 

Eddie looked over at Wayne, his uncle’s face unmoving, glaring back at him with the same unimpressed, stoic expression. 

“And we’ve cut a little deal with Judge Dixon.” Hopper slid the manilla folder over towards Eddie. “There’s been a… lacking of officer’s lately in our department. Hawkins is growing, more people are coming in with all the new stuff, and we’re swamped and short handed. We need officers for the lower level things. Traffic conductors, petty crime reports- the small stuff.” 

Eddie didn’t move- he couldn’t. Frozen in fear, in shock, maybe, at Hopper’s words, more so, what he was insinuating with them. 

Hopper flipped open the manilla folder, a small, stapled form that read: Hawkins Law Enforcement Academy, in bold, threatening letters across the top. The form was already filled out, stamped with approval for acceptance by Judge Dixon and Hopper. Eddie felt light headed. 

“So, we came up with a compromise,” Hopper continued slowly. “Judge Dixon agreed that if you go to the academy, become an officer, he’ll wipe this completely. You’ll have a job- with benefits- and you’ll handle the lower level stuff. Help us help you kinda thing.” 

Eddie didn’t speak, he couldn’t, too shocked to even form a thought let alone a word. 

“Or,” Hopper sighed heavily, pulling another paper out from behind the form- Eddie’s booking papers and court appearance request. “You can go to jail.” 

“Send me to jail.” Eddie spat, gawking at the paper. 

“Boy,” Wayne grunted. 

“I’m serious. I-I’ll be alright, just send me to jail, because there’s not a chance in heaven or fuckin’ hell I am being a cop.” Eddie scoffed. 

Wayne only glared, looking at Hopper. “Give us a minute, will ya?” 

Hopper nodded slowly, standing from the table. “Take your time. Just knock on the door when you have a decision.” 

The door shut with a heavy snap again, the room falling still for a moment. 

“I-I’m not being a cop, Wayne, I don’t care. I’m not- There’s no way-”  

“-You’re goin’ to that Academy, son.” Wayne narrowed his gaze at Eddie, hardening with his tone. 

“The fuck I am.” Eddie laughed humorlessly, scoffing.

”I-I mean, a cop? A cop? I’m not- I hate cops! Cops hate me! They’re fuckin’ power hungry bastards who use it to fuck with people because they’re the law.” Eddie threw his hands up in exasperation. “That’s not me, alright? That will never fuckin’ be me, and I’m not-” 

“-There. You just said it.” Wayne rolled his eyes. “‘S never gonna be you, that’s exactly right, boy. You ain’t gotta act like all ‘em dirty assholes. ‘S not in the job description t’act like that, so don’t.” 

Eddie’s lips pursed, hands buzzing with rage, maybe fear, he wasn’t sure. “I’m not doin’ it. I don’t care. I’d rather go to jail, be a criminal-”

“-Be like your Daddy?” Wayne scoffed. “Because he wasn’t a pow’r hungry asshole, was he? He was a real winner, real nice guy. Don’t you remember?” 

Eddie’s heart fell, his face falling with it. Wayne rarely brought up Al, rarely brought up the situation that led Eddie to stay with Wayne permanently. 

“I ain’t lettin’ you be like him, boy.” Wayne shook his head. “I won’t have a second one of ‘im runnin’ around-” 

“-I’m not like him.” Eddie grit through a tight jaw, his throat burning with tears he was desperate to keep down. 

“You know, this is how it started for him?” Wayne narrowed his eyes at Eddie. “Started small, just sellin’- we all gotta make a livin’, Wayne, don’t tell me how to make mine.” 

Wayne scoffed, shaking his head. “You should be thankin’ me for gettin’ you this, and not just tossin’ you out on your ass. Thankful that nice cop out there,” Wayne jammed a finger at the door. “Knows you’re not a bad kid, that you just make some stupid choices.” 

Eddie didn’t move, fist balled by his side, his gaze unmoving from his uncle’s. “That guy, he wants to help people. ‘S why he helped me, ‘cause he doesn’t want you endin’ up like your Daddy either.” 

“You should wanna end up like ‘im instead, not like Al.” Wayne’s glare narrowed at him. “‘Least he tries to help people, not just hurt ‘em… Hell, he’s tried to help you more than that sorry sack of shit ever did.” 

Eddie’s jaw tightened, so tight he was sure his teeth might snap, crack and break out under the pressure. Wayne stood with a small groan. “‘S your choice, boy. I ain’t gonna make it for ya. You’re grown ‘nough.” 

Wayne rapped on the door, slipping out, leaving Eddie alone, in the same deafening silence that seemed to follow him. The two forms in front of him, both missing his signature. Whichever he signed, whichever choice he made, sealed his fate- his future. 

Nearly an hour and a half later, a small knock came from the other side, leaving both Hopper and Wayne jumping. The two men shared a look, before Hopper pulled the door open. 

Eddie’s face was stoic, unreadably cold and expressionless when he passed the manilla envelope to Hopper, avoiding Wayne’s gaze entirely. Hopper opened the folder, eyes widening before they cut back to Eddie’s. Wayne’s chest tightened, fear filling and sinking in the pit of his stomach. 

“You sure? No changing it once I send it in.” Hopper lifted a brow. 

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, arms folding over his chest. 

Wayne’s shoulders fell, slumped with disappointment, a calloused hand running down his face. He was sure he’d gotten through to Eddie. Sure, the kid was stubborn, but he thought maybe, just maybe he’d got him pointed in the right direction. 

Hopper sighed slowly, tucking the manilla folder back under his arm, walking over to Eddie. His hand stuck out, and Wayne steeled himself, ready to watch the cuffs come on, hear his rights being read- he’d seen it a million times with his brother, he just thought his nephew would have a better fate. 

Instead, Eddie took Hopper’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “Congratulations, Eddie.” Hopper said. Wayne’s head snapped up. “We look forward to you joining our crew.” 

“I have one condition,” Eddie paused. “I’m not cutting my hair. I won’t fuckin’ do it. If it’s just the low level shit, then I’m not doing it.” 

Hopper looked over at Wayne, back at Eddie with a shrug. “Fine by me. You just have to keep it back.” 

“Fine.” Eddie nodded, letting do of his grasp. He turned to his uncle, Wayne’s face bright with a grin he rarely saw, beaming with pride though he tried to downplay it. 

“Proud of ya, boy. You’ll do good.” Wayne clapped Eddie on the shoulder, pulling him in for a brief hug. 

The uneasy feeling hadn’t left Eddie’s chest, he wasn’t sure it ever would, but he did know that Wayne was right- he wouldn’t be like those other cops. Disgusting and power hungry, abusing others for their own ego. He’d be someone who helped, who made Hawkins better- because it sure as hell needed it. 

June 1989

Eddie hardly recognized himself. Sitting in a cruiser, not his van; his curls pulled back in a ponytail; not a stitch of leather on his body, instead he wore a khaki uniform, and the only patches on it were regulation ones that said his name and Hawkins Police. Six months later, and he was still queasy when he saw himself- a cop. 

He would admit, it was less dramatic as he thought it would be. After he finished academy, Hopper stuck him on the truly low level duties. Crosswalk duty in the mornings for the elementary school, which was humiliating. Or writing tickets on cars that let their meters expire. Or his personal hell, speed control in the construction zones. Hot days filled with sitting, watching with his speed gun to make sure no one was barreling through. 

This week, Eddie was already dreading his shifts, the days longer and hotter. At least school was out, so he was freed from crosswalk duties. 

“Munson,” Hopper didn’t look up from his desk. “Need you to go speed patrol out on North Avenue. We’ve got a lot of complaints about speeding. You can do that today until it starts to slow down. I’ll radio you if we need anything else.”

Eddie decided there were worse things to do at seven in the morning. While he’d rather be sleeping, he did find it a little humorous hearing the panic screech of tires breaking when they’d round the corner and see his patrol car. 

He’d stopped a group of teenagers, new drivers, letting them off with a warning to drive slow and safe, before he’d gone back to his car. It was growing boring, Eddie’s fingers tapping with boredom, until a car zipped around the curve in the road, not slowing or even hesitating when it passed Eddie. 

Sighing heavily, Eddie pulled out of his spot, flicking on his lights, tailing the car until they pulled over on the shoulder. Out of town plates, Eddie noticed, walking slowly up to the car. 

The woman in the driver’s seat cranked down the window, hands gripping the wheel nervously when Eddie approached. She looked his age, but he didn’t recognize her- he’d definitely remember seeing her before.

“License and registration, please.” Eddie tried not to sound bored or annoyed, there had been a few complaints about that already and Hopper was getting pissed. 

“Here you go.” Your hands shook when you passed them to Eddie through the open window. He examined the license, taking in your full name and your out of town address. 

“You know why I stopped you?” Eddie leaned in lightly, scanning the floorboards and seats of the small car- no guns, no weapons, nothing criminally suspicious, though Eddie was curious as to why there was an excess of laundry baskets piled in your back seat, spilling over with clothes and towels and clutter. 

“I-I was going too fast,” You squeaked, lipstick painted lip tucking between your teeth, nails tapping against the cracked leather of your wheel. Your hands still trembled when Eddie passed your license and registration back to you.

“I know I was speeding, a-and I swear, I-I don’t usually speed- I’m a really safe driver, I promise. I just- I just moved here, an-and it’s my first day of work, and I couldn’t find my alarm in my stuff so I tried to set a timer on my over and it doesn’t work, of course.” You threw your hands up in exaggeration, Eddie flinching, drawing back for his holster. 

“I’m sorry!” You screeched, lifting your hands up, eyes wide with panic. 

“No, I-I wasn’t- I’m so sorry.” Your lip was beginning to wobble, eyes glassing with tears that filled your water lines. “I just- I’m late for my first day and… and I really need the job, and I’m just already having a really bad start to my day.” 

Eddie’s heart leapt when you sniffed, wet and dramatic, a tear leaking out of the corner of your eye. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to make you cry. 

“No, it’s-it’s okay.” Eddie lifted a hand softly. “I mean, wait- speeding isn’t okay. You shouldn’t do that, but it’s not- They have me sit out here, y’know? Try to catch the teenagers on their way to school and stuff. It’s just- You’ll get used to it.” 

Your brows furrowed gently, sniffing again, but no tears fell this time. Eddie’s chest loosened. “It’s a small town, so ya know how it is- or maybe you don’t, but- sorry, I don’t. You’re late an-and I…” Eddie’s tongue felt thick and awkward in his mouth, flopping around words that jumbled. 

“Where’re you working at?” Eddie cleared his throat, trying to still the pubescent shake in his voice. 

“Delia’s- the jewelry store?” Your eyes cut to your watch, knuckles tightening around the wheel. “I’m the manager- well, just the store manager, for the one that opened in the mall, but my general manager will be there and I’m still on my probationary period, and-” 

“-No, I-I get that.” Eddie muttered around a breath. “Um, let me- hold on,” He paused, leaning back to look at you fully. You flustered when he stood at his full height, and sliver of a tattoo peeking out from the khaki of his cuffed sleeve. 

“Do you promise not to speed again?” 

“What?” 

“I mean, if I don’t give you a ticket, do you swear not to speed again?” Eddie kept his face stern, voice tight, though his lips twitched when you blinked at him, wide eyed, a little confused- Fuck, you were cute. 

“Y-Yes. Yes, of course, I-I won’t speed again.” You babbled around your shock. 

“Well, maybe one more time, alright?” Eddie’s crooked grin had your heart skipping with excitement. “But it’ll be legal-ish. I’ll give you an escort.” 

“What?” Your eyes flashed towards him. “Seriously? You-You don’t have to-” 

“-C’mon, there’s not shit to do here, sweetheart.” Eddie scoffed lightly. “Welcome to Hawkins.” 

Your cheeks burned with a tingling thrill. “It’ll take me five minutes, I promise.” Eddie craned his neck, looking down at your watch. “Get you there right before eight. If we go now.”

“O-Okay,” You nodded, shifting your gear into drive. “Thank you!” 

Eddie waved back, jogging to his cruiser, sliding into the driver’s seat. Hopper would kill him, maybe worse, for doing this. Put him back on meter maid and crosswalk duty for weeks, if he found out. But looking back at you, your small smile that brought a familiar rush of heat that Eddie hadn’t felt in so long, he decided it was worth the risk. 

Flying through the stop lights towards Starcourt, Eddie began to wonder if you’d lied to him about your speeding record. Judging by how fast you kept up with him, taking each turn barely pressing your brake, he was beginning to think otherwise. 

Seven-fifty-six on the dot, you and Eddie were parked near the south entrance.  

“Thank you so, so much again.” You scrambled out of your car, balancing a bag in one hand, barefoot in your pantyhose, slipping your pumps on. “I- I really needed that, thank you.” Your gaze lifted to his, shoulders falling for the first time since he saw you.

Eddie’s heart swelled at your sincerity, the lump in his throat growing more and more by the second. “Hey, it’s no problem.” He gave a soft smile. “I’m a civil servant. Here to serve.” 

You giggled, pulling at your skirt, smoothing your hand over the fabric. “Well, I appreciate it again. And I promise I won’t speed anymore.” 

“Good.” Eddie nodded, leaning against the hood of his car. You hesitated for a moment, looking down at your wrist watch before starting towards the doors. 

Eddie’s heart leapt, jumping to run before you. “Here, let me-” He pulled on the handle, boot propping the door open for you. 

“Thank you.” You muttered around a smile, chin ducking shyly when you passed him. 

“Hey, um,” Eddie called out, a white knuckled grip on the steel doors. Your heeled steps stopped, turning towards him. 

“Look I know you’re in a rush, but uh,” Eddie fumbled, patting his belt until he felt his notebook, pulling it out with shaky hands. He cursed when the pencil slide through the wired loops, dropping to the ground. “Shit, um, if-if you ever need someone to show you around or-or want someone to show you the not bad places around here, or whatever, y’know? I, um, I could-” 

Eddie’s hands shook, each number and letter and scratchy, jittery mess on the faded lined paper. “I’d be more than happy t-to show you around… if you want.” Eddie’s hands were sweaty when he handed you the paper. “Or if you ever want to get a drink or something.” 

Your lips curled in a bright smile, looking down at his wobbly handwriting. “Thank you… Eddie?” Your head tilted slightly, squinting at the name you tried to decipher. 

“Yeah, sorry, my handwriting’s…” Eddie took a breath, shaking his head gently. He was sure you could see his red cheeks now. “That’s me. If you ever need anything.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled, tucking the paper carefully into your purse pocket. “Thank you for everything, seriously.” You turned with a wave, giving one last glance over your shoulder before scampering away. 

“Good luck!” Eddie’s voice cracked when he shouted after you, wincing. Maybe you hadn’t heard that- maybe it only sounded like it echoed off the empty walls of the mall. Why the hell weren’t they playing music? 

Eddie was sure he’d blown it. Sulking in the cruiser, forehead pressed to his steering wheel. You weren’t going to call. He was sure of it. Convinced himself of it. You’d throw his number away with a snicker, just like all the other girls did. 

After his shift, limbs heavy, filled with exhaustion from the day, Eddie was ready to smoke a bowl he’d confiscated from some high schoolers, and call it a night. His messaging machine flashing greeted him, finger jamming into the play button, plopping on his bed with a heavy groan. 

“You have one new message,” The robotic voice droned. Eddie rolled his eyes, tugging at his boots with a grunt. 

“Um, hello, hi,” Eddie nearly choked, head snapping towards the machine. 

“I think I got the number right- I’m sorry, I hope this is the right number, I couldn’t really read them, but, uh, if this is Eddie. I-I just wanted to say thank you again, and see if you could call me back? Whenever you get a chance, I know you’re probably busy, but, um… I’d like to take you up on getting that drink. Or showing me the not so bad places around here.” Your nervous giggle floated through the line, and Eddie thought he might kiss the machine. 

“But uh, if this isn’t Eddie… I guess don’t call me back an-and I’m sorry. Anyways, thank you again, and… yeah. Call me, please. Bye.” 

Eddie nearly broke the receiver punching the call back button, boot half off, cradling the phone to his ear with shaking hands. 

“Hello?” Your voice came through on the second ring. 

“Hey, uh, hi,” Eddie stammered, swallowing around his excitement, maybe nerves. “It’s Eddie. I just- I just got off and saw your message.” 

“Oh, good,” You giggled. “I was worried it wasn’t the right one. I thought I left some crazy rambling on some strangers' voicemail. I’ll get a looney reputation before people even meet me.” 

Eddie snorted lightly in laughter. “No, uh, it’s- it was the right one.” 

“Good,” You hummed, a pause filling the line. “Um, well, I wanted to say thank you again, an-and also see if you were serious about getting a drink? I want to buy you one for everything this morning, but I don’t know where to go.” You admitted with a small, shy laugh.

“I figured I’d ask you and see if you wanted to go out tonight? If you’re free.” 

“Yeah, yeah, that would be amazing.” Eddie winced, fist balling in embarrassment, pressing it to his forehead. “I mean, I’m free.” 

“Great. How about, um, eight? Would that work for you?” 

“Yeah, eight is great.” Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose at his own embarrassment. “How about Shirley’s? It’s- It’s close to the mall, actually. Right across from the flower shop. In that strip. Do you know where that is?” 

“By the main entrance?” 

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Sure. I can meet you there.” 

“Perfect.” Eddie’s lips curled, heart hammering in his chest. “I’ll see you then,” 

“See you then. Bye.” You hoped you hung up before he heard you squeal, slamming the phone on the hook, jittery with excitement. 

Where your going out clothes were? You weren’t sure. Looking around the piles and piles of boxes, you flung through totes like a mad woman, ripping through the tape and cardboard until you found the neatly folded dresses you were looking for. 

“So,” Eddie’s fingers drummed on the glass of his beer, knee bouncing under the table, his chains on his jeans jingling. “How are you liking Hawkins?”

“It’s good so far.” You hummed, bringing your own beer to your lips. “Still trying to figure everything out. I just moved here. I haven’t even been here a week.” You gave a small, soft giggle that had Eddie’s head swimming. 

Your eyes rolled down his frame, taking in his attire. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you didn’t expect it to be that. Ripped jeans with chains, a torn leather vest decorated in various band patches, a Megadeath tee, and rings on each of his fingers- the only part of his outfit that gave a ‘cop’ effect, was the belt made of chains and handcuffs. 

“There’s not a lot to do here, honestly. Won’t take you long to figure it all out.” Eddie snorted lightly. “I mean, there’s more now than there was before. With the mall and the other things comin’, but still… Not a lot, I guess.”

You nodded for a moment, a shy, nervous giggle passing your lips that you hoped he didn’t notice. “Where’s your favorite place?” You asked, desperate to fill the silent tension that was looming around the two of you. “Like where do you like to go to have fun? This place?” 

“Yeah, its-I mean, Shirley’s is fun.” Eddie nodded, looking around. The barstools and high top tables with tiny candles on each table to create the ambiance. The bar tenders shaking cocktails in their white dress shirts and ties- too posh for anything in Hawkins, in Eddie’s opinion, the drink prices certainly were. 

 “I’m more of a fan of The Hideout. It’s more my crowd.” 

“Where’s that?” 

“Uh, it’s more on the outskirts, towards the quarry. On the other side of here, actually.” Eddie pointed, rings catching in the low candle light. “It’s a bar too, but more of a dive one..” 

“Oh, we should’ve gone there then.” You smiled at him gently. “If it’s more your taste.” 

“No, it’s- sorry, no, I like Shirley’s. This is… This is probably better for- It’s less rowdy here, y’know?” Eddie’s palms were beginning to sweat, rubbing them on his jeans under the table, hoping you didn’t notice, hoping you didn’t hear his chains jingle. “Plus they have live music, so it’s kinda loud, not as good for talking.” 

You watched him, the way his eyes darted back from your gaze to the green velvet walls, his leg bouncing under the table. “I see,” You nodded slowly, lips twitching in a grin. “Next time, then?” 

Eddie’s heart skipped, mind blanking for a moment. “Ye-Yeah, absolutely.” Eddie hoped you couldn’t see his blush, creeping hot up his neck. 

A silence fell between the two of you, both of you trying to look nonchalant to the other, minds racing to fill the silence gap. “So,” Eddie swallowed around the bundle of nerves in his throat. “Do you, uh, do you like jewelry?” 

He didn’t expect you to laugh; nose scrunching and lips curling in a laugh, it was infectious, had Eddie nervously giggling with you. “Sorry, I- Yes and no.” You grinned at Eddie from across the table. “I mean, I don’t dislike it, but I don’t have a burning passion for it. I just needed a job.” 

“I get that.” Eddie muttered, shyly ducking his head, eyes trained on the ring of condensation left behind by his beer. “I’ve got a small collection, but, uh, not a lot anymore. I can’t really wear ‘em when I’m working.” Eddie twisted the skull ring around his middle finger. You leaned over the table lightly to get a better look. 

“You need to get it cleaned.” You hummed, fingers reaching out to twist the skull pattern towards you. Eddie’s heart nearly soared out of his throat when your fingertips met his skin. He was sure you could see him blushing now. 

“The silver’s starting to tarnish around the eyes, see?” You tapped your nail next to the eye, filled with a greenish tint. “It’s oxidizing. It’ll start getting everywhere. Turn your fingers and clothes.” 

Eddie grunted, forcing a sound of thought to come from his strangled throat, unmoving- scared that if he moved you might let go. “Bring it by tomorrow if you’re free. I work eight to five again. We have a big silver cleaning machine with all the solution and stuff. I’ll clean them for you.” 

“Yeah? That’ll fix them?” Eddie looked up at you, both of you suddenly aware at your closeness. Leaned in together across the table, your pointer and thumb wrapped around his middle finger ring. 

“Yeah,” You squeaked out a reply, chin ducking shyly, but you didn’t pull back. “I’ll do it for you. It won’t take me long, promise. But they’ll look brand new.” 

Eddie actually liked the tarnish look, thought it made them look more metal and sick, though he didn’t tell you that. He wouldn’t dare. He’d get them cleaned, shiny and new, if that meant he got to see you again. 

“Cool, yeah, that would be great. Thank you.” Eddie nodded, too eagerly to be cool, nose scrunching gently in a wince of embarassment. “Hopefully I don’t lose ‘em before then.” 

“Why would you lose them?” Your eyebrows pulled together, a giggle of confusion fell around your words. Eddie chest felt warm, heat spreading to his cheeks in an adrenaline rush of excitement. 

“I don’t- I’m not trying to.” Eddie grinned back- your smile was infectious, he decided, gleaming when he looked at you. “I just don’t have anywhere to put them, I guess. I’m on tomorrow, so I can’t wear them, and I’m really bad at forgetting where they’re at if I don’t have them on me-” 

“-I’m the same way.” You laughed, voice raising in enthusiasm, your own ring clad hand pressing into your chest. “I lost one of my favorite rings because I put it in my jean pocket, but I forgot to get it out, and I washed them and it’s gone.” 

“That’s the worst.” Eddie sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I’ve lost a few that way too. I had a bad habit of putting them in my pockets when I started working, because you can’t wear rings- ‘specially not like those. My boss would bitch at me, so I’d put them in my pocket and forget about them every time.” 

You squinted at him lightly, lips rolling, head tilting to the side- studying him, sizing him up. Whatever it was, it made Eddie’s hands sweaty, nerves rattling in his chest. 

“So, how long have you been a cop for?” You hummed. 

“Not long, actually.” Eddie laughed nervously, leg bouncing under the table. “Only a coupla months. That’s why they’ve got me on speed trap duty.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugged. “It’s better than crosswalk duty, believe me. Or being a meter maid. There’s not a lot that goes on around here besides speeding and drugs, so I’m not missing out on much.” 

You nodded, a silence falling between the two of you again. 

“Besides,” Eddie added quickly. “I’m glad I got put on speeding today.” 

“Yeah? Why?” You tilted your head gently, lips twisting in a smile you tried to fight back, like you knew what he was going to say- maybe you did. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be sitting across from you if I hadn’t.” Eddie grinned, a dazzling smile that left you swooning, cheeks tingling with heat. It was cheesy, so, so corny, yet it made you swoon. 

“I guess you’re right.” You shrugged lightly, lashes batting towards him sweetly. “I’m pretty glad you did too. Even if you did pull me over.” 

“Hey, c’mon, I didn’t give ya a ticket.” Eddie grinned, throwing his hands out dramatically. “No ticket and a police escort? Can’t be that bad of a first impression.” 

“You’re right.” You giggled. “I wouldn’t be here if it was.” You winked at him playfully, a dark yet teasing glint in your eyes that left Eddie’s tummy flipping with an excited rush of heat. It was a look, a tone, a feeling that he hoped he’d get to explore more of- get to know better. 

Last call came before either of you were ready to go. Eddie paid for your drinks, waving off your insistence. “Next time is on me,” You pointed your finger playfully at him, slipping past him as he held the door. He didn’t fight you on that, heart bursting with excitement at the promise of next time. 

Standing by your car, you watched him fidget, rambling about seeing you tomorrow and things to do, hesitating to move in- should he go for a hug? A kiss? Just shut your door and wave goodbye? 

You didn’t give him a chance to dwell- pulling him in for a sweet, sloppy smooch against the driver’s side of your car. Eddie swore he was in love, even more so when you pulled apart, the same dark little grin that had him rushing with thrilling heat. 

“See you tomorrow, Officer.” You winked at him playfully, climbing into your car. 

“Drive safe.” Eddie waved, his voice cracking. He hoped you didn’t hear it, watching you drive away with a lovesick gaze.  

[baytpwk]

what was older!eddies reaction to the first time reader came home from going out with friends? just drunk and clingy

this is my favorite genre and activity is getting drunk and then being clingy and silly. need to do it with my fave of all faves!!! contains silly drunk reader and sweet older!eddie. no smut. just fluff. and tw- gina.

The doorbell sounded once, twice, three times before it was going off in short, annoying successions. Eddie groaned in annoyance, standing from his recliner.

"Easy! Alright? The fuck-" He looked out the peephole, half expecting to see Gina, furious about something. He was pleased to find you there instead.

"Open the dooooorrrrrr!" You whined, half swaying, leaning against the brick. "I need to pee, Ed, hurry."

Eddie fought back a smirk, twisting the lock and opening the front door. "Hey, bunny,"

"Hi," Your face melted, oozing with a drunk smile, eyes glassy from the countess beers you'd had. "Can I come pee?"

"Of course you can." Eddie said around a laugh, holding the door open with his foot, offering his hand to you. "Watch your step, baby." He muttered, nodding towards the step under the doorframe. You crossed it dramatically, taking a big, wide legged step in.

"I didn't know you were coming over." Eddie shut the door, watching you stumble down the hall towards the guest bathroom. "I thought you were out with your friends."

"I was," You muttered, behind the cracked door of the bathroom, the room already beginning to spin as you sat. "But I wanted to come see you. I knew Brielle was gone."

"Yeah? What'd you want to come see me for?" Eddie grinned teasingly, walking down the hall towards you.

"I wanted to sleep over." You admitted, staggering against the doorway, holding the frame for balance. "I wanted you to rub my back."

Eddie barked out a laugh, your bottom lip jutting in a pout. "Rub your back?"

"Yes, Ed." You whined. "You always do it good an-and it- hic!- it always puts me right to sleep." Your words were beginning to jumble, the effects of too much alcohol starting to take over.

"Alright. I can do that for ya, I suppose." Eddie sighed dramatically, holding his arm out for you, placing an anchoring hand on your back as he guided you to his bedroom.

"Lemme get you a shirt to sleep in. I've got-" He turned around, finding you already naked. That had to be a record, he was convinced. Drunk and that coordinated?

You were already crawling into the bed, shoes and clothes kicked off, climbing under the cool sheets that smelled just like Eddie.

"Hold on, bunny, you want a shirt?" Eddie grabbed the sheet before you pulled it up, earning a huffy whine from you.

"No," You whined. "Want you to rub my back, Ed, already told you."

Eddie fought back a grin. "Demanding little thing, aren't ya?" He shook his head playfully. You didn't reply, your cheek smushed to the pillow, already beginning to drift off.

Eddie slipped beside you anyways, snorting lightly when you rolled over on him, leg hiked up over his waist, arm slapped over his chest, face in his shoulder. Still, he rubbed your back, calloused hands gliding over the bare skin, up and down your spine in small circles, the way you liked until you were snoring lightly.

He knew you'd be sick tomorrow, hungover and hurting with a headache, with the spins you always got. And he'd do the same thing then, coddling you, rubbing your head to soothe the ache away. Content in his care.

[baytpwk]

When you know, you know [Carmen Berzatto]

pairing: Carmen Berzatto x Reader

summary: Carmy has a problem saying I love you, but he's got no problem showing it.

warnings: Slight angst if you squint really hard, some fluff

author’s notes: Yeah, it's been a year since I've written something but my current hyperfixation on The Bear has really inspired me to write. Carmy's struggle with saying I love you is so real, but I sincerely feel he's an acts of service man. I hope you all enjoy it and thank you so much for reading!

She stood at the opening of the door, looking down on him. She worked a full shift and she was still as beautiful as when she woke up this morning. He, on the other hand, looked dishevelled; he was sure of it. His hair was all over the place from running his hands through the mass of curls with a thin sheen of sweat layered over his skin and he was still a little self-conscious about the smell of the restaurant that had clung to him upon his arrival, as Sugar mentioned earlier.

She didn’t seem to mind though as she knelt down on the floor beside him. Overdue invoices and notes scribbled down in his brother’s chicken scratch surrounded him on the office floor.

She was closer now, and yes, still beautiful.

“Hi,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hey,” he couldn’t help but huff out a sigh.

Prepping the menu and serving it to all the customers was more than enough work for the day, especially with the disastrous system Richie insisted on upholding. The bed he’d been dreaming about collapsing into, beside her, seemed to get more and more distant with more of the shit he uncovered in the office. Who knew an office so small could have so much shit hiding in it?

“Still sorting, huh?” her eyes held sympathy for him, noticing how tired he looked.

“Still sorting,” he confirmed, his eyes softening when they met hers. “I think it’s gonna be another long night for me tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Can I help?” she asked, already scanning the documents.

“No, I’m sure you’ve had a long day. Why don’t you go home and go to bed?” he reached out and stroked her cheek with his hand, cupping her jaw with the palm of it.

She leaned into his touch, “You’ve had a long day too, and I’ve got the day off tomorrow. Let me help.” She settled down on the floor next to him. “What can I do?”

Carmy’s gaze lingered on her. If he thought about it all too long, he’d break down, he was sure of it, so he simply asked her to organize the overdue invoices — ones for the restaurant, ones for the inventory and so on.

“Yes chef,” she replied with a cheeky grin.

Carmy felt the laugh escape him before shaking his head. He watched her for a moment.

He really—

He couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence. Maybe it was something to do with Donna, or the fact that he never really had a girlfriend before her, or because he still couldn’t figure out what the hell she was still doing with him.

His breath caught as he felt a twinge in his chest. He brought a hand up to soothe it and she looked over at him.

“Bear?” her warm hand reached up and pressed against his. “You okay?”

The concern in her eyes stole his breath but it soothed the ache in his chest. He felt a hint of embarrassment, desperately not wanting to have a panic attack in front of her. He didn’t want to scare her.

So he just nodded and let a smile stretch across his face, albeit tight-lipped.

She wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t push him. She just took his hand in hers and kissed his tattooed knuckles.

His smile cracked, revealing his teeth, and it was more genuine. She seemed convinced, releasing his hand and turning back to the work.

“You hungry? Can I make you something to eat?” he asked instead.

“I’m okay, I had a late lunch.”

“Are you sure? It’ll take me a minute.”

“I’m sure,” she smiled up at him. “I just wanna get this done so you can get to bed.”

Her hand reached up and held his cheek this time. She ran her thumb underneath the bag of his eye. After kissing the palm of her hand, they got to work.

After almost three hours of sorting, Carmy excused himself for a smoke break.

“Can I make you something?” he offered once again, standing in the doorway.

She shook her head, deciding that he’d done enough cooking for the day. Although she was starving at this point, she just wanted to get Carmy home and to bed so he could rest.

Although he lingered at the door for a moment, to probably try and convince her, he decided against it, leaving the office with his cigarettes in hand.

She knew he loved to cook for her, always watching her as she took the first bite of anything he cooked for her, but seeing the toll the restaurant had taken on him after only just a week was beginning to worry her. That’s why whenever her stomach grumbled, she let out a cough or ruffled some papers around to try and mask the sound. She knew Carmy would put her before himself and she couldn’t allow that.

She decided she’d eat once he went to bed, or maybe when he got into the shower.

Yeah. The shower seemed like a good idea.

A great one actually.

Spending three hours sorting through paperwork seemed like enough to call it a night — seven hours since she had lunch. Her stomach grumbled again and she could swear she smelt hints of beef, sautéed onions and peppers in the air.

She really needed to get home.

At the thought, the door to the office opened and behind her stood Carmy with two plates, a sandwich on each of them.

“Carmy-“

She began to protest but he stopped her. He knelt down, not having to dodge copious amounts of papers now that everything was sorted into neat, organized piles.

“I could hear your stomach from out there,” he nodded his head towards the kitchen.

A sheepish expression overtook her face as she looked down to the steaming contents within the sandwich.

“This looks and smells amazing, Bear.”

“Tastes even better,” he held out a plate to her.

Eagerly, she took the plate in one hand and picked up the sandwich with the other and took a bite. Flavours melded together to cause a more than satisfactory feeling to overcome her. Her ravenous stomach finally settled while begging for more at the same time.

She hummed as she chewed, nodding her head in complete ecstasy. Carmy laughed, ducking his head and shaking it slightly at her theatrics. She laughed along with him.

His bashful expression made her heart swell. He had never been more attractive to her. Seeing him do the thing he was so talented at was a sight she could never grow tired of. But the drive and determination that oozed out of him as he worked to whip this restaurant into shape opened up a whole new side to Carmy that she’d never seen before. 

She loved him.

Not that she would say it again, because the one time she did, she watched how catatonic Carmy became. After his sincerest apologies, she assured him it was okay.

She decided to let it hang in the air and let him say it when he felt okay to do so.

In the meantime, she’d revel in the ways he showed her.

[baytpwk]

I need more fake joe pls😭😭🫶🏻

you sent this in ages ago, and im using it for whatever this random shit i came up with is..... HOPE THATS OK LOVE YOU BYE Wordcount: 2.5K

---

I've Got You

Joe wakes up to the sound of the shower going, and momentarily, he thinks that maybe he’s dreaming still. Thinks that whatever he was hallucinating was really happening whilst he slept sort of leaked into his awake state, a little.

It feels like it’s not even close to the morning yet.

One tap to his phone on his bedside table tells him he’s right. A squinty eye reads it’s not even 2AM yet.

The fuck are you in the shower for?

He knows the answer before his internal monologue has even asked the question. It had only been a few hours since he’d tried to help soothe the pain in your neck and shoulders. A pain that prevented you from turning your head both ways. Prevented you from being able to get comfortable on a sofa, let alone in a bed.

You’d been trying to massage your own neck all day. Joe had caught you with hands softly rubbing at reddened skin a couple of times, trying to alleviate the pain you felt in sore muscles. It started when you slept on it wrong and woke up with a stiff neck, unable to turn all the way to the right, and now it had graduated to the other side as well.

“Can you please go and see someone? Go get a professional massage? Or actual physiotherapy?”

“It’s fine.”

You didn’t even want to look at him.

You knew very well that it wasn’t fine, but you didn’t want to let someone else touch you where it hurt. It was easier to pretend it would just go away on its own in a few days – part of you really did believe that to be true. You sort of had to. And the suffering you’d have to do until then would just make you a stronger, more well-rounded person.

It was all a test of character, you see.

A bit like when you’d have period cramps and would just.... take it. Suffer through. Wouldn’t take anything to help with the pain. You’d just feel it and suffer through and feel a strange satisfaction at being a strong person that can easily deal with shit like that.

You’re a trooper God fucking damn it, and you were going to fucking prove it.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, et cetera, et cetera.

“You said that three days ago.” Joe dryly argued, and looked at you like he knew he was right. “It’s only gotten worse.”

He was right. But there was no way that this wasn’t the tipping point. The only way from here was up. Had to be up.

“No it hasn’t.”

It had.

“Look how far I can turn my head to the right without any pain…” you demonstrated to prove your point but turned your head very slowly and so very carefully that it made Joe laugh.

“Who exactly are you trying to convince here?” he shook his head, not quite believing how ridiculous you were being.

It was easy to ignore him though.

“Couldn’t do this yesterday, it’s definitely getting better.”

You let fingertips softly push into flesh that hurt much worse before, and pretended the other side of your neck wasn’t actively killing you as the muscles there twisted and stretched.

Joe eyed you for a second, and then suddenly got up. He’d known you for long enough to know that pushing you meant pushing you away, which was the last thing he wanted to do.

But he did want to help.

“Will you let me have a feel?”

“What?” the way you flinched at the suggestion spoke volumes. The way you winced right after maybe even more so. “Help... help how?”

“You’re in good hands.” Joe was already moving across, a hand waving you over, and the strength of acting like you were fine somehow weighed heavier than the panic of having Joe touch you where you were hurting.

Barely, though.

Only just.

Joe sat down on the sofa, scooched all the way against the back, tapping his hand between his opened legs.

“Come sit.”

You hesitated for just a second too long.

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t,” you lied, convinced he was absolutely going to if you let him near you, so you softly added, “Just... be gentle, okay?”

That made Joe’s chest ache. It was one thing to see your girlfriend in pain. It was a whole other to have her be fearful of being hurt even more by the hands that only want to desperately make better.

“Of course. C’mon. I’ve got you.”

You sat down between Joe’s legs, right on the edge of the sofa, and it took a couple of deep breaths for you to try and relax as much as you were able to. And Joe was clever about his touches. Grabbed you by the biceps first to squeeze your arms there for a moment, moving them up and down, shaking you about slightly to check how easily you’d move with him.

“Would you just... trust me?”

You kind of wish you could, but you genuinely couldn’t. Which wasn’t Joe’s fault. You wouldn’t trust anyone with this, really.

“Have I ever hurt you before?” Joe tried making a point but failed spectacularly. His question made your brain immediately find a memory Joe thought you’d forgotten about.

“Yea you kneed me in the vag once, remember, and–”

“Oh my God, intentionally! Have I ever hurt you intentionally before? No. I haven’t.”

You stayed silent for a moment, secretly smiling to yourself before Joe quietly went, “Have I?”

“No.” you confirmed, then, your voice revealing your smile. “You haven’t. I’m just... here, this bit? It’s getting better, I swear, but it’s almost just... painful to the touch and I–”

You couldn’t help the miniature bit of movement as Joe let fingertips skim across where you were gesturing. Joe noticed it, but you corrected yourself immediately, slinking back down slightly.

“Yea this feels hot...”

“It’s because I’ve been rubbing, I think.”

“Does it burn?”

“A little.”

A lot, actually. But you understood that abnormal tenderness of strained muscles would do that. It wasn’t like you’d never had a sore neck before. You just didn’t remember ever having it be so severe. Have it last so long.

For a couple of minutes, maybe five, six, Joe did as promised. Used gentle fingers, soft pressing touches that hurt when he found the wrong ��� the right – spots.

It actually felt nice.

Every time you flinched, he moved his fingers to different spots, and Joe felt how you slowly relaxed more under his massaging hands.

And it was just then.

Just when you thought you could lean back a little and fully slacken into his front, suddenly, a thumb harshly pressed into sore tissue and made lightning explode behind your eyes.

“Ahh– Stop, stop, stop.”

Joe did.

Immediately.

“Sorry! Sorry.”

Hands moved down to rub at your arms again for a moment, trying his best to regain the little bit of trust he’d just lost.

“Hurts.”

“I know, sorry. I’ve got you.”

You felt a tiny little apologetic kiss of lips that barely touched your shoulder before Joe let his fingers trail back up. Slowly, he got you back into that same state where he could feel you were relaxed enough to let him get some actual work done.

Your frown was there to stay, though.

It only took about a minute for him to make a similar move, one he knew would make you lurch forward like you just had done. He knew it would be received just as bad, if not worse. Knew the touch wouldn’t feel very kind, but, Jesus fucking Christ, how else could he convince you to go see an actual doctor?  

This next move wasn’t going to make him very popular, he was well aware.

Joe drove a thumb into a bit of flesh that had no business feeling as sore as it did, and, he was right.

“Ow stop!! Be fucking gentle! Did I not just say that it hurts?” You moved forward and turned your whole torso to look at him over your shoulder, face in a deep frown, betrayed and offended and hurt.

“Do you want me to fix it or not?” Joe said, hands hovering over your shoulders, voice and facial expression much less caring and apologetic than you were expecting him to be.

“You’re pushing your whole hand in between my bones, how is that fixing it?!”

“Lean back, I know what I’m doing.”

Joe tried to use a firm grip to move you to where he wanted you and quickly got his hands back on you.

Everything inside of you screamed no.

You wanted soft slow touches that barely grazed your skin. Massaging fingers that you appreciated but that didn’t really do anything. Just nice, kind fingertips. None of this.

“It’s this bit, this is the worst of it.”

A single hand to your neck made you flinch up and out of the spot between Joe’s legs.

“Oh piss off– done. I’m done. You’re done, that hurts. You’re hurting me, I can’t–”

“Babe you need to– it’s bad. There’s no other way to get rid of it without biting that bullet.”

“Fuck you, I asked you to be gentle and you’re deliberately hurting me.”

“I’m trying to help you! I don’t want to listen to you wince every time you make the smallest little bit of movement in bed tonight.”

“Fine. You won’t have to. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“Oh yea, ‘cause that’ll surely fix it.”

“Shut up. I’ll be fine.”

“Fine. You’re wrong. But fine. Whatever.”

Joe had gone to bed that night, and had waited for you to eventually find your way over and slip under the covers after you’d cooled down enough. You would, he knew, because you always did. But then he’d fallen asleep as he twiddled his thumbs, and now, the sound of a shower had pulled him back into consciousness.

Have you even gone to bed at all?

With a deep sigh that graduates into a yawn, Joe lets himself roll out of bed to check what’s going on. Stiff hips take a few steps to ease up as he makes his way over to you.

Joe opens the bathroom door and is hit with a cloud of steam. The contrast in temperature is intense - you’ve turned the bathroom into an actual sauna, revealing to Joe that you’ve already been in there for a good while.

“Hey, are you...” Joe starts, but stops when he sees you stood in the shower, a hot steaming stream of water hitting you right where he knows you’re in the most pain.

Your skin colours bright red.

And you’re crying.

You’re actively, but extremely unsuccessfully, holding back sobs.

Part of you hates that you woke up your boyfriend, but a large part of you is pleased to have someone there to take the reins.

The look on your face is one Joe hasn’t seen before. Not on your face, anyway. There’s absolutely no strength left - just... sheer desperation. A wobbly mouth and red-rimmed bleary eyes that make you look like you’re not fully mentally there.

“Hey...” Joe coos, stepping into the room fully now, one arm already tucking into his T-shirt so he can take it off. “Is it that bad?”

“I d-don’t know what t-to do...” you stutter through your words, and Joe’s heart cracks right down the centre.

If you’ve stopped acting like you’re fine, it means it’s serious.

“I j-just want to sleep. I can’t get into any position for more than 30 seconds without wanting to move, and I... my head, it’s... non-stop, this is... it’s non-stop...” you’re heaving, practically hyperventilating, trying to remain quiet still because it’s the middle of the night and you have neighbours, but, what the fuck, nothing you’ve tried to alleviate the pain is working.

The shower was your last resort, and the water helps a little, but not nearly enough to feel comfortable in any way.

Joe pulls his T-shirt over his head and lets it drop to the floor, not hesitating for a second as he gets into the shower with you. Unsure hands hover around you a little at first, afraid to touch you and make it worse.

He doesn’t want to make it worse, but his girlfriend is crying in the shower under scalding hot water in the middle of the night because her neck hurts and all he wants to go is make it go away.

“What do I.... what do I do?” Joe asks softly, hoping that you have an answer.

“I don’t know... I don’t...” you’re spasming through breaths as Joe turns the temperature of the water down to more of a sensible heat. Something that won’t make a layer of his skin slide off after a minute or two.

“Soft touches? Like before?” Joe needs to have you agree before he feels like he can touch you. He’s no doctor. All the knowledge on massages that he’s got is from when he gotten massaged himself.

“Can you... can you just...” you sob, one hand reaching out to grab onto one of Joe’s who’s extremely glad he’s about to get an instruction.

You move Joe’s hand up to your face and try to place it over your jaw.

“Can you hold my head?”

Joe obliges immediately, even though he doesn’t know how this helps at all. With both hands cupping your face he spreads his fingers wide and flexes his triceps to take the full weight of it.

“Hold your head? Like this?”

You close your eyes at the instant relief.

“Oh, my God,” you sigh, and for whatever reason, it just makes you cry more.

Joe’s underwear darkens more when he leans in to press kisses to the parts of your face his hands aren’t covering. He shouldn’t be able to taste the salt of your tears through all this shower water, he thinks.

He also thinks you genuinely might need a neck brace.

“That feel better?”

“Please can do you this all night?” you keep your own hands folded over his to make sure they stay where they are.

“Stay like this?”

Yea, he’s gonna see if he can find one of those foam neck braces tomorrow. If you don’t want to go see a doctor, then at least there’ll be that, and he knows you’ll hate it because it’ll look funny, but God. At least there’ll be that.

That, and every over-the-counter painkiller under the sun.

He’ll fight you if you won’t take any.

Joe can feel the minor adjustments you’re making in his hands, moving with him enough to keep yourself aligned exactly right for you to fully relax everything between your jaw and your chest.

“I’ll just sleep here, like this,” you joke, and Joe can’t help the little laugh that startles out of him.

“Go ahead,” Joe smiles against your forehead, knowing that there’s little chance you’ll actually sleep standing up like this.

But then he sees the way your face relaxes. How the lines in your forehead disappear. How your lips go a bit funny in between his palms.

“I’ve got you...” he whispers. Means it.

He hasn’t gone through months of push-ups and pull-ups for fucking nothing, so it seems.

“I’ve got you.”

---

The Taglisted

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Add yourself

[baytpwk]

clandestine meetings (remastered) |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader| part three

prompt: sneaking around with eddie catches up to the two of you. part three of the series

age gap, but everything is consensual. reader is 25-26. eddie is 42. if this isn't for you, don't read.

contains: minors dni. age gap, swearing, p in v sex, oral fem recieving, language, slight angst.

You liked being with Eddie.

You liked Eddie, a lot. 

You liked how he liked you. You liked how you felt when you were with him. You liked how he made you feel. 

There were a lot of things that you liked about being with Eddie.

Best of all, you liked that he was all yours. Your own little secret. 

A secret that was all your own, just the two of you- well, and Lydia. You had to tell someone. 

A week earlier, you’d given her the giggly confession while you were both making drinks. She had nearly spilled the cappuccino, giving you a wide eye, gawking gasp, the steaming beverage just barely missing her hand.

“The dad?” Lydia blinked, mouth gaping in shock. You could only nod, lip tucking between your teeth, trying to keep your giddy composure. “The one that came in here a while ago?” 

“Yeah, that one.” You nodded, shoving the plastic cup on the drink, setting it on the pick up counter.

 "And… how old is he exactly?" Her brow quipped in question.

You'd grinned. "It’s not that bad. He's only, like, forty...two."

Lydia gave you a laugh that sounded more like a screech of surprise, eyes cutting towards the counter to compose herself. "So, you totally don’t have to answer this- this is me being your friend, not your manager right now, but I gotta know- Is he good?" She asked in a low tone, head ducking down towards yours.

You shook your head, heat prickling in the pit of your tummy when you thought about it- thought about how Eddie had you last night, clawing at his shoulders, yanking at his curls when he went down on you, how it had left you screaming. "Really good."

And he was.

Eddie didn’t rush like the other guys did- guys your own age. Always fast and greedy, not caring about you only chasing their own high. With Eddie, it was like his entire purpose was to please you. As if he had somehow found a book on you, what you liked, how you liked it, and studied it cover to cover. Always knowing the perfect pace, angles, positions that made you gush and scream, clamped around him and clawing at his tattooed shoulders or back until you saw stars.

Your head would reel, babbling mindlessly as he’d fuck you into the mattress. “There, right there, Eddie, fuck.” Tears streamed down your face as you gripped his wrist that was rubbing lazy circles around your clit.

“Right there?” Eddie grunted, a smile on his face as he delivered a particularly hard thrust that had you giving a low, throaty moan.

“Yes.” You whined, high and whiny, the way he liked it. You’d learned that about him now. “So fuckin’ good. Please don’t stop.” You begged.

You felt so full, full of him. His cock was pounding your sweet spot, making you see stars. You were close, you had been for hours. Since you’d come to his house after your shift at the cafe, he’d been on you. Hungry from the moment he saw you, pulling you into a feverish kiss, consuming your mouth in his, pushing you against the counter. He’d gone down on you in the kitchen, dropping to his knees, joints popping and a slight groan leaving his lips that had you giggling before you were bent over the kitchen table, clawing the wooden table as his tongue devoured you.

You were hooked.

In every way. Not just with the sex- though it was better than you ever could have imagined. It was refreshing, comforting the way he was just so sweet to you. 

Always opening your door, pressing kiss disguised compliments to your cheek that left you blushing. He’d give you his jacket when you were cold- because you always forgot yours,and wouldn’t huff about it, no snarky backhanded remarks that left you feeling small and stupid. On the colder nights, when you were walking to his car after dinner dates, he’d take your hands in his, rubbing his calloused palms over yours to keep you warm, flashing you a grin.

“You gotta get you some gloves, baby.” Eddie tutted, voice raspy with years of nicotine intake. “Gonna get sick.” Your heart would rush with adrenaline heat, leaning into his side, gooey with warmth.

You’d blushed, shrugging. “I don’t need one. I can just put them in my pockets.” Shoving them into your- his jacket.

Eddie snorted, giving you a pointed look that left you grinning mischievously. “Yeah? In the jacket you always forget?”

You gave him a small shrug, lips twisting in a grin. “‘S not that far of a walk. I’ll be fine without it.” 

Eddie would grin, pull you close to him, lips pressing to your head in a kiss. “Gotta have one or the other in this cold weather. Fuckin’ freezing out here, and you can’t be freezing, too. Can’t be gettin’ sick on me, baby. Don’t wanna miss our date nights because you caught a cold.” Your heart had soared, sure it would burst right out of your chest. He liked spending time with you too. 

If his words weren’t confirmation enough, the next day when he’d picked you up, knitted gloves sitting in your seat, wrapped in a satin bow and with a tag you recognized from an overly priced boutique downtown. “Figured you needed some.” Eddie shrugged when you’d thanked him. “Thought they looked like you, y’know? Brielle likes that store, so I went in there.” 

“I love them.” You grinned, cheeks straining, aching from how much you’d been smiling lately- how could you not? When Eddie made you so happy. “You didn’t- Let me pay you back. It’s too much-” 

Eddie only scoffed, shoving your hand lightly when you reached for your purse. “I wanted to get them for you. You need some anyway. I figured if they were cute, you might wear them.” Eddie winked at you. 

“Besides, I liked spoilin’ you. Let me spoil you a little, you deserve it.” His words had you in a cloud, leaning across the bench of his truck to kiss him, sloppy and sweet, uncaring. 

For all the affection and adoration that came with being with Eddie, there was a slimmer of something exhilarating. Maybe it was the age difference, that he was closer to your parent’s age than your own. Maybe it was the chaos of it all, that your little sister and his daughter brought the two of you together, an unlikely meeting and an even more unlikely relationship blossoming. 

Maybe it was the secrecy. 

The sneaking around. It felt different than it did in high school, sneaking out to meet guys, hook up in basement bathrooms. It was more mature, the affair of it all, more sophisticated. Eddie would take you out, just not in Hawkins, always a town or two over- the two of you worrisome that you’d run into someone you knew, though neither of you ever said it out loud.  

You’d stay the night, Friday nights, when Eddie didn’t work the Saturday shift. You’d wake up tangled in his sheets, padding down to the kitchen in one of his shirts, aways with a metal hair band from the 80s and 90s. 

“1983 tour, hm?” You hummed, looking at the worn and faded shirt before slipping it on, the fabric soft with age. 

“Yeah, Saxon. They were pretty good. Me and my friends snuck in, pushed our way through the barricade. Actually, we got that shirt off some drunk guy. He dropped it and we snatched it, kept it in my back pocket while he was lookin’ for it.” Eddie snickered at the memory, head shaking slowly. 

“Sounds like fun.” You smiled warmly back at him, hands smoothing over the wrinkles of the fabric. 

“Yeah, it was.” Eddie nodded slowly. He sat for a moment, brows knitting when he looked back at you. “Were- 1983, were you even born then?” 

You only giggled, a nervous heat rising through your throat. It was one of the first times the age gap was mentioned between the two of you, the obvious pointed out and pulled into the light. 

Selfishly, you didn’t want it to come to light, not just yet. You were comfortable in the shadows for now. Comfortable in his kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee. Sometimes you’d sit on the back porch with him, curled up in the seat next to him while he smoked, slow. 

Other times you’d sit at the table, take in every detail of the home. The slightly outdated decor, a hidden hint at when he’d moved in, when he’d gotten divorced. Pictures of Brielle covered the house, her throughout the years preserved through school photos and candids in frames, on the fridge. She looked so much like him, but had features of someone else- her mom, the woman you were petrified of, yet so intrigued about. 

This morning was the same. Another night out, to a brewery two towns over. The night was spent playing skii ball in the very hipster-ish place, still, Eddie had won. He told you he would. “This used to be my fuckin’ game back in the day, baby. I’d always win at the arcade.” 

He’d taken you home, the two of you fucking on the bed, drunken and silly and giggly until you collapsed, overwhelmed in exhausted. You’d woke up in his arms, warm against his chest. 

Eddie was gone in the morning, an early riser, he’d told you the first night when you mentioned his absence. Arms stretching out, you groaned lightly, head pulsing a little from the alcohol the night before, mouth too dry for your liking. 

You were floating, warm and smiley, despite the slight hangover. Even that couldn’t damper your mood, the buzz and thrill of domesticity, of love. Maybe it was too early to say that, you weren’t sure. 

The routine was familiar now; get your coffee, open the blinds, and sit in your own peace until Eddie came in from smoking, then you’d cook breakfast together. Simple, domestic, and oh so sweet. 

The front door opened, you turned, smiling, ready to greet Eddie. Your face fell as you met a different pair of puddle eyes.

“What the fuck?” Brielle jumped, eyes widening as she stumbled back out of the door, looking from the outside back at you in horrified shock, like she’d somehow made a mistake, walked through the wrong door and into an alternate reality.

Your breath caught in your throat, too terrified to speak, unable to even if you wanted to. What do you say? What could you say? Was there anything to say anyways?

“Are you-“ Brielle shook her head, curls that matched Eddie’s falling around her, gawking at you with disbelief. “W-What the fuck? What the fuck is going on? What is- This isn’t real. No fuckin’ way. What are you doing here?”

“Brielle, I-I-“

“Did you get your coffee, baby?” Eddie’s soft voice filled the space as he stepped in off the back porch, the sliding door latching softly. “I left you a mug on the-“ He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, face falling, eyes widening when he saw his daughter with a similar look of horror and shock.

Brielle’s mouth fell, eyes rounding and darting from you to Eddie. “You-” Brielle looked at you. 

“A-And you-” Her words stuttered, jumbling through her shock, maybe her repulsion when she looked at Eddie, face snarling in complete disgust. 

“Oh, I’m gonna be sick.” Brielle groaned, cringing as she turned on her heel to walk out the front door.

“Brielle,” Eddie sighed sharply, a hand sliding down his face, heavy footsteps following her out the door. “Brielle, just wait a second.”

Your body was frozen in place, unable to move even if you wanted to, head reeling with embarrassment- with realization. You could hear the voices of the father-daughter duo outside, Eddie’s desperate soothing tone blending with Brielle’s high pitched screech of horror.

“-Brielle, just calm down-“

“-Have you lost your mind?” Brielle shrilled. “She’s Maddy’s sister- her sister, an-and she’s like twenty-”

“-No, she’s not-.” 

“-She’s like my age, dad!” 

“No, she’s not, Brielle. Stop.” Eddie huffed. “This really isn’t your business-“

“What?” Brielle shrieked loudly, making you cringe inside the house. “You-You’ve lost it. You have fucking lost your mind! I-I don’t even- I don’t know if this is a midlife crisis or something, but you’ve lost your mind. This is crazy.”

"Brielle Jo, get back here. I'm talkin' to you. Do not slam that door." Eddie's voice was hard, stern with a gruff edge you hadn't seen since the first time you'd met. His hand pushed her car door open, eyes narrowing at her. 

"I thought you were at your mama's today." He hesitated, gripping the door with a white knuckled fist.

"I forgot my textbook." Brielle glared, tone filled with annoyance. "And I tried to call you, but," Her eyes cut toward the house, where you were still inside, shivering in disgust all over again. 

"I'm leaving." She declared, reaching for the door handle.

Eddie's shoulders slumped in defeat, moving so she could slam the door. Hands ran down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Your legs shook when you stood, hands wringing nervously, watching Eddie with careful eyes when he finally came back in. "Maybe I should go." You suggested, your voice soft and timid, breaking the deafening silence that filled the kitchen.

Eddie nodded, a hand running over his eyes, trying to rub away a headache that was beginning to form. "I think that would be for the best, baby." He gave a small sad smile that still made your heart flutter, just with a feeling that was unfamiliar- fear, maybe. 

"I just need to talk to Brie for a little bit. She-She's dramatic, y'know? Teenager." Eddie offered a small laugh, but it felt forced. It didn’t bring the relief that either of you hoped it would.

Your own reckoning came later that day.

Back to your apartment, you tried to keep yourself busy, keep your mind from spiraling further, anxious thoughts consuming every part of you. Keep your head from screaming the one damning thought that left you filled with fear- that it was over.

The vibrations on the table had you jumping, eyes cutting towards your phone, heart filling with hope that it was Ed. Madeline's name flashing across the screen instead. 

"Hello?"

"Are you ok?" Madeline's voice was calm on the other end.

You furrowed your brows. "Yeah, why?" The pause that followed had your stomach sinking, the way it did before there was a drop on a rollercoaster.

"Oh, you kow, I was just checking, because I'm pretty sure you've lost your fucking mind."

Ice ran through your veins, your spine wincing at her tone. You’d expected it, yet it still hurt. "Maddy, I-"

"-Brielle's dad?" Madeline boomed, screaming into the speaker so loud you flinched, pulling the phone away. "Have you lost your mind? Like seriously, w-what the fuck?  Why-Why are you doing this?"

You stuttered, struggling to find the words when your heart was hammering this way. "Madeleine, I-I just,” You huffed. “It-It's none of your business, ok-"

"-It most certainly is!" Madeline screeched, her anger intensifying with her tone. 

"You're fucking my best friend's dad! My best friend’s dad, like- are you fucking insane?” 

“No, we’re- we’re not just- it’s not just-”

“-I get a call from Brielle, and she's going absolutely insane losing it on me, and telling me that her dad is having a midlife crisis because he’s fucking my sister, and she walked in on you two in the kitchen!"

"It-It's not like that, ok?" You stammered, a poor defense, but all you could muster.

"Not like that?" Madeline repeated with a huff. “There shouldn’t even be a that! Why? Why would you do this? You couldn’t fuck someone your own age?” 

"It's not like that." You barked defensively. "We’re not just- I like him, ok? We’ve been going out, an-and he's really sweet, and he treats me really nice, and-and,” Your heart hammered in your throat, burning with tears that threatened to fall. 

“I-I'm not having this conversation with you. It's actually none of your business, anyways, and-and we're not doing anything wrong!" You snapped, voice shaking with emotions you tried to swallow down.

Madeline paused for a moment, a stand off of silence between the two of you. 

"Then tell Mom and Dad." She challenged, an edge to her tone that felt petulant- a true younger sister, you grit in bitter thought. 

You scoffed. "What are we, seven? You're going to tattle to Mom and Dad on me?"

"No, but tell them! I mean, you're so proud of this, and there’s nothing wrong with it, right? I mean, that’s what you said! You said there’s nothing wrong with it, so tell them!" Madeline sneered from the other line. 

"Tell them how you're fucking Brie's dad. Tell them how old he is, and that you’re in a relationship or whatever with him!"

"I'm not telling them that!" You snapped, throwing a hand up in frustration.

"Why? Because you're not doing anything wrong? Well, then tell them!" Madeline snapped back. "But you won’t, because you know it’s fucked up. And you’re scared they'll be upset. And they probably will because he's the same fuckin' age as Dad-"

"-Eddie is not the same age as Dad." You barked with a huff. "H-He's only forty-two."

"Eddie?" Madeline gasped, bitter and cold. You cringed, listening to her near mocking laugh back at you. "You're fucked up for this, you really are. Did you ever think about how this could affect my friendship?"

Your heart plummeted, guilt sinking and consuming every part of  your body. You hadn't really, outside of the fleeting thought at the beginning. You hoped it wouldn’t come, truthfully, or maybe that they’d be understanding. Maybe it would have been different, it was in your head, at least.  All the times you pictured it, you never imagined it would play out like this.  

You bit your lip, words caught in your throat, unsure what to say. Madeline gave a final scoff before hanging up, not giving you the chance to reply.

Phone in one hand, towel still clutched, unfolded in your other hand, you could do nothing but stare blankly, stunned by the events of the day- cause from your own actions. Your little Garden of Eden that you and Eddie had created with sweet touches and hidden words was gone now, crumbled and left you with an aching reality and uncertainty that had your stomach lurching. 

Eddie still hadn’t called. You got your wish, you supposed, left in the dark, but this time- you were alone.

[baytpwk]

living in a material world |dom!eddie munson x sub!reader|

prompt: you have a new year's resolution to save money, and eddie is more than willing to help you. based off this no spend prompt idea

contains: minors dni. smut, smut, smut!!! dom/sub themes. everything is consensual. it's kinda soft!dom in a way?? not super bratty or super hard dom. dom!eddie / sub/brat!reader. spanking. alcohol. oral male and fem receiving. aftercare duh. language. shopaholic reader lol. they love each other and they're really kinky and horny.

word count: 8k+

New Years Eve, 1989 

“What’re you doin’ out here?” 

Arms folded over your chest, you stepped out onto the back patio of Steve Harrington’s home, the bitter chill of the night sending your body into a near shock. It was cold, so cold you were surprised it wasn’t snowing; too cold for Eddie to be sitting out in. 

“Hi, baby,” Eddie mumbled, lips wrapped around the cigarette that hung loosely from his lips. A cloud of smoke exhaled with his words, the familiar burning of nicotine filling the air, luring you to him. “Just came out for a smoke.”

“Hm,” You hummed, slinking with careful dragging steps towards the metal lawn chair he was sitting in, hands sliding down his leather jacket, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. The effects of too many plastic flutes of champagne were starting to take their toll on you, leaving your head a little cloudy. 

“Wondered where you went.” You sighed, carefully moving to stand between his legs. 

Eddie’s free hand found your waist, sliding over the velvet of your little party dress- he’d told you that you didn’t have to dress up, that his friends wouldn’t care, but you insisted. It’s New Years Eve, Ed, you told him with an eye roll that had him swooning. He was glad you dressed up anyways, always a little treat for him to see you in pretty things like that. 

“C’mere,” Eddie muttered, cigarette hanging loosely around his fingers, pulling you into his lap, grinning at how you squealed gently. “I know you gotta be freezing, sweetheart.” 

You leaned into the warmth of his chest, head pressed into the crook of his neck, letting his arms wrap around you, holding you close. “How are you not cold?” You muttered, words starting to slur gently, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. 

Eddie snickered around the smoke that rolled out of his nose. Such a lightweight, he’d tease, always poking fun at you for falling asleep the second a drop of alcohol hit your system. 

“No, I’m fine- hey,” Eddie’s leg bounced, shaking you on his lap. “Gotta stay awake, baby, it’s not even midnight yet.” 

“I am awake.” You scowled at him, tossing a glare and a pout his way, brows pinched in frustration. “I was just resting for a second.” 

Eddie snorted, bumming his cigarette in the ashtray. “Right.” He scoffed, hands sliding down your tight clad legs, squeezing your thigh gently with affection. “C’mon, sleepy girl, still got an hour until midnight.” 

Head tipping back to lay on his shoulder, your glazed eyes met Eddie’s, lashes batting up at him sweetly, a lazy smile on your face. Eddie’s heart swelled at the sight, your smile infectious, making his lips curl with you. 

“What?” Eddie said around a smile he tried to swallow. 

“You gonna kiss me at midnight, Munson?” He could smell the champagne on your breath, feel the warmth of it close to his skin.

“No, I think I’ll go for Jeff this year.” Eddie chided sarcastically, eyes rolling big and dramatic for show while his dimples creased in his cheeks. “Was that a real question?” He looked at you playfully. 

“Jeff?” You giggled, sitting up straight. “Jeff’s my replacement?” 

“Yeah, sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie shrugged playfully. “He just knows more about D&D, just knows the way to my heart.” 

You shoved his shoulder, rolling your eyes with a grin that matched Eddie’s. “Of course I’m gonna kiss you at midnight.” Eddie shook his head lightly, hands finding your waist, pulling you back into his chest, nose pressing into your shoulder, leaving a tiny kiss that had you squealing with silly giggles. 

“Might even take you up to one of Harrington’s guest rooms. Kiss all over you at midnight.”  Eddie’s voice dropped to a low gravel, leaving you shivering with anticipation, his teeth grazing playfully, nipping at your shoulder. 

“Stop,” Your cheeks burned, tingly with heat from the alcohol, from the way Eddie made your body rush with excitement. Eddie’s lips pressed against your shoulder again, hand on your tummy, pushing you back into him so he could kiss his way up your neck, leaving hot, wet kisses in his wake. 

“Eddie,” Your groan was anything but convincing, teetering on a moan. “Stoooop.” Nasally and whiny, just how Eddie liked it. 

“I’m not doing this out here.” You muttered, willing yourself to pull away, head tilting from his lips. 

“Why not?” Eddie muttered, lips vibrating on your soft skin. “We’ve done it plenty of times outside before.” 

“Yeah, but not when it’s twenty degrees outside.” You scoffed, his warm hand smoothing over your cold, tight clad legs. “Let’s go back inside. I’m freezin’.” 

Eddie groaned when you stood, body absent of your touch, but your hand still in his, tugging him lazily out of the chair. “Fine,” Eddie’s chains jingled from his jeans, standing with a soft grunt. “But, hey, you gotta stay with me, alright?” His hand found yours, fingers intertwined, the metal of his rings cold against your skin. 

“I wanna kiss you right at midnight. Gotta stay by me.” Eddie’s grasp pulled you into his side, squeezing your hip with affection as the two of you stepped back into the warmth of the party. 

“Hey, hey, look, there he is,” Gareth greeted Eddie loudly, a hand thrown at him in emphasis. “See, ask him now- Robin! Ask him now!” 

“Ask me what, Buckley?” Eddie rolled his eyes, reaching for the plastic cup of beer he’d set by the door. 

“We’re talking about our resolutions.” Robin smirked, proudly, a little darkly. “And we wanna know what your resolution will be for this brand new decade? Hopefully a better taste in music?” 

“That should be yours,” Eddie snided with a scoff over Steve’s bark of laughter. “And yours,” A finger jabbed into your shoulder. “Both of you have the worst fuckin’ taste in music I’ve ever heard.” 

“Oh, says you-” 

“-Yeah, Ed, that’s really bold coming from you. All your music is just loud.” You huffed, rolling your eyes big, for show. You didn’t miss the way Eddie’s brow quipped in warning. It made your spine tingle. 

“Loud, yes.” Robin nodded. “That’s the best word to describe it. Just loud.”  

“Well, yours is just bad.” Eddie scoffed. “Madonna?” 

“Oh, please,” You laughed. “You love Madonna.”  

Eddie’s lips tightened, pinks burning gently at the chorus of laughter his friends gave. The statement was a stretch, you knew it. Eddie liked that you liked it, and he especially liked when you’d sing for him in the van, silly and sweet. 

“Alright, alright, that’s enough kids.” Steve rolled his eyes, voice raising over Robin’s and Eddie’s. “Let Munson speak.” 

“I don’t have any resolutions.” Eddie shrugged. “I’m already perfect.” 

“Boo!” Robin cupped her hands around her mouth, sound echoing over the music. “Come on!” 

“I’m not participating in one of the stupidest societal pressures that have ever been created just because-” 

“-Here we go,” Jeff muttered, eyes rolling dramatically next to you. 

“-Fuck off, I’m right, alright? And you all know it’s stupid too. Over 90% of New Years resolutions fail, because they’re fucking unrealistic and stupid to begin with! I mean, you pick the middle of winter, after all these holidays to choose to get your life together? Fuck that.” 

“You got him all riled up now, Rob.” You passed her a grin, shoulder bumping hers playfully as you went towards the coffee table for another drink. 

“Hey, what about you?” Robin turned, leaning over the couch. “What’s your resolution?” 

“Hm, I dunno.” Your lips twisted in thought, legs a little wobbly from the liquor, yet you still poured yourself more. “I think I’d like to stop buying so much stuff. Save my money for big purchases.” 

“That was mine too.” Nancy nodded. “Stop buying things just because they’re cute. I have just piles of useless junk in my house because I thought it was cute. Now it just sits there.” 

“Exactly.” You smiled. “I’m the same way with shoes. If I see a pair of shoes, I have to have them. It’s like all my senses leave me, and then I get home and I have an identical pair already there.” 

“See? That’s a good one.” Robin looked over at Eddie pointedly. “Not all resolutions are stupid, Munson, your girl has a great one.” 

“Yeah, can’t argue with that.” Eddie’s tongue ran down the side of his cheek, shrugging lightly, though his eyes stayed dark, rolling over your frame the same way he did when he was thinking of a punishment or a new something to try in the bedroom. You didn’t bring it up and neither did he. 

New Years Day, 1990

The New Year rang in quickly, filled with liquor soaked cheers and a rather sloppy kiss on Steve’s couch from Eddie. His ringed hands cupped around your cheeks, pulling you in, uncaring of the ones around you. It left you giggling, nose brushing his, chest spilling over with heat like a froth of champagne bubbles. 

The night was uneventful after that. You’d said your goodbyes to your friends with silly, well wishes for the New Year. Eddie got you in the van, hand on your thigh as he drove carefully through the backwoods towards the trailer, eyes peeled for any cops. You’d nodded off twice, a gentle shake to your thigh waking you with a frown, giving Eddie a sleepy, drunken growl of, “‘M awake.”   

The next morning, when you woke with a slight headache and an incredibly dry mouth, Eddie had two aspirins already beside your bed with a glass of water. Your makeup had been washed off, your party dress swapped for an old, worn t-shirt, and Eddie next to you, his arm lazily thrown over your waist. 

You thanked him by palming him through his boxers, straddling him and pressing warm, gentle kisses down his neck until he woke up, grinning with sleep lines still creased into his cheeks, eyes half lidded with sleep, but his hands on your waist, bunching up your t-shirt. You started your first day of the New Year in your favorite fashion- pressed to the mattress, nails digging and scratching down Eddie’s shoulders and spine while his hips snapped furiously into yours.  

“Hey,” Eddie muttered, chest still covered in a soft sheen of sweat, propped against the pillows piled on the head board. 

“Hey,” Your giggled floated back towards him, the sun shining through the slotted blinds, illuminating over your features. 

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what you said last night.” Eddie hummed. 

Your face fell, blinking blankly at him. Fuck, what had you said last night? The night was a little hazy, liquor soaked, and blurry.

“Nothin’ bad, baby.” Eddie could read you easily, too easily sometimes. “I meant about your resolution.” 

“Oh,” Your shoulders fell gently, relaxing at his words. “Yeah, what about it?” 

“I was just thinking,” Eddie groaned lightly, sitting up. “If you were serious about that, maybe, I dunno, maybe I could help you out with it.” 

“Help me?” You grinned, pulling the crew neck over your head. 

“Yeah, help you.” Eddie’s lips twitched in a grin, eyes trailing your ass as you bent over, shimmying your panties on. “Help you keep it.” 

“How would you do that, hm? Lock my bank card up? Take away my piggy bank?” You teased lightly, rummaging through your drawers for your pants. 

“Somethin’ like that.” Eddie hummed, head lolling to the side lazily. “I was thinkin’ more like, you break your resolution, I get to punish you how I like.” 

Your spine straightened at his words, that familiar icy rigidness flooding your system. “What?” A squeak of a response that left Eddie grinning. 

“Y’know, just as an incentive, or- well, maybe more as a deterrent to keep you from breaking your resolution.” Eddie’s hands twitched under the covers, excitement coursing through his system. “Make it a little fun, don’t you think?” 

“Doesn’t seem all that fun.” You muttered, brows creasing. “Sounds like you get to have all the fun, just waiting for me to mess up.” 

“No, no, hey- c’mon, baby.” Eddie sat up, shaking his head gently. “‘S not like that. I just- I thought it would be fun. Thought you might like that.” 

Your fingers tugged and pulled at the sweatpant strings in your hand. It did sound fun, exciting, at least, but you didn’t want him to know exactly how eager you were. 

“What do I get as a reward?” You countered, eyes narrowing gently, lips twisting and pursing. “I mean, if I break it, I get punished. But what if I don’t break it? What’s in it for me?” 

Eddie snorted lightly, chest rising sharply with a laugh. “Well, I mean, you don’t break your resolution for one.” He said pointedly. “But, fine, for every week you don’t break your resolution, you can decide what you want your reward to be.” 

“Hm, that’s a pretty good deal.” You hummed, lips twisted in exaggerated thought. 

“Yeah? You wanna do it?” Eddie’s eyes lit up, wide with excitement. 

“Before I agree,” You lifted your finger. “I want to clarify a few things.” 

“Go for it.” Eddie nodded. 

“This is only for silly purchases, like the shoes and the trinket things, ok? The impulse buys. If it’s a planned purchase, that doesn’t count.” You crossed your arms gently. 

“Ok, I’ll agree to that, but you have to tell me if it’s a planned purchase ahead of time, alright? Can’t just buy something and go, oh, it’s a planned purchase! That’s not fair.” Eddie mocked your voice, face scrunching in exaggeration. 

“One, I don’t sound like that.” You frowned, leaving Eddie snickering. “Two, fine. I’ll agree to that.” 

“Sound like a deal?” Eddie’s brow lifted. You nodded. “Gotta shake my hand, baby, seal the deal.” 

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, walking towards the bed, your hand slipping in his extended one, giving it a firm shake, before Eddie’s grasp held on tighter, pulling you towards him and onto the bed. He wrapped his arms tight around you, grinning at your squeals and shrills of giggles, pressing his nose into your cheek, peppering your face with kisses. 

January 16th, 1990

The first week had been a breeze. 

The first two days of the brand new year were spent mostly in bed with Eddie, cleaning around the trailer, revitalized for what opportunities the new year would bring. An exhausting return to work came quicker than both of you would have wanted, mixing with the sun setting at six o’clock, you’d blame your deterrent of spending on the frigid weather and your own exhaustion. 

However, that didn’t stop you from claiming your reward that Sunday. An hour and a half spent sitting on Eddie’s face until you nearly cried from pleasure, collapsing in a boneless pile next to him. Your favorite reward, and one he was more than happy to give you. 

The next week, it was more difficult. Especially when the boutiques around the downtown square, that you’d pass on your way to work, started to put up their winter clearance. When the pair of boots you’d been eyeing forever were finally marked half off. And they were so cute. You told yourself you’d just go by and look when you got off, just a peek. 

Luckily, your size was sold by the time you got there after your shift. Divine intervention, maybe. The universe telling you to stick to your resolution, that you don't need more shoes. 

Your Sunday reward wasn’t as sweet as it was the time before. 

The itch began after that, growing and gnawing at you. The shop windows you used to adore looking in now taunted you, reminded you of what you couldn’t have with every handbag, sweater, scarf, shoe, anything. 

“Hey, you wanna go to the mall when I get off?” Eddie hummed, pulling you away from your magazine. 

You thought flipping through a Vogue might settle some of your desire to buy something, seeing the obnoxiously outrageous prices- so far, it was only making it worse. All you could think about was how Shonda’s Shoes had an identical looking pair of knock off Jimmy Choos that were going to be the rage this spring. 

“Yes,” Your eyes lit up, snapping the glossy pages shut. 

Eddie’s brows lifted playfully, disappearing under his curly bangs. “Wow, that’s pretty eager. You don’t even know what it’s for. What if it’s something terrible?” 

“At the mall?” You snorted lightly. “What’s terrible at the mall?” 

Eddie shrugged lightly, slurping down the last of his coffee, putting the mug in the sink. “I dunno, I’m sure there’s somethin’ shitty in there, but I need to go to the music store. Get a couple more guitar picks. I keep losin’ them.” 

“You keep throwing them after your shows.” You gave him a pointed look. It was true, the more popular Eddie’s shows had become at the small town dive bars, the more daring and eager he got on stage, really putting on a performance, and always tossing his guitar picks towards the drunken, middle aged women who danced by the stage his entire set. 

“Aw, don’t be jealous, baby.” Eddie cooed mockingly, arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you back into his chest. “I’ll throw one to you next time.” His lips buzzed against your cheek, stubble tickling your skin as you squealed with giggles. 

Four o’clock couldn’t come quick enough. Eddie had only worked a half shift, much to your pleasure. 

“You’re already ready?” Eddie grinned, dropping his keys on the entryway table when he walked in. 

“Yeah, you said four.” You twisted your watch band around, looking at the face. “It’s four-fifteen.” 

“I know, baby, I’m just messin’ with ya.” Eddie’s brows furrowed, quipped with questioning, eyes flickering back over to yours. “‘M just gonna shower real quick. Change my clothes and we can go.” 

Your shoulders tightened, annoyance rolling over your frame that you tried to contain. “Alright.” You muttered, trudging behind Eddie towards the living room, plopping on the couch while he started down the hallway. 

A ringed hand caught on the doorframe, Eddie leaning back to look at you fully. Your lips pressed out in a pout, arms crossed over your sweater, staring boredly at the television that wasn’t turned on. 

“Hey,” Your head snapped, turning towards Eddie. “You alright?” He frowned, head tilting the side gently. 

“I’m good.” You replied, too monotone for Eddie to get a real read, though it felt off. You felt off.

Did he forget something? Say something? It wasn’t an anniversary, and it was just a Tuesday- not typical for a date night. Why were you being weird? 

Eddie decided against asking you that, when he emerged from the shower with clean, non-work clothes on, ready to go. Your mood had changed, entirely, bright eyed and bubbly from the moment he grabbed his keys. 

It was such a one-eighty that it left Eddie’s head spinning a little. Maybe he’d looked too much into it, maybe he was off. It had to be him, strolling through the mall with you, hand in hand, while you chatted aimlessly about your day, and meaningless gossip you’d heard from your friends. 

“Oh, look,” You gawked, hand tugging Eddie’s, pulling him off his path and jolting him to where you’d stopped. “Bakers are having a sale.” 

“Baby,” Eddie laughed lightly, lips curling gently. “C’mon.” 

“What?” You frowned, looking over at him. 

Eddie blinked, a scoff of a laugh leaving his lips. “Sweetheart, c’mon,” His hand tugged at yours, stepping away. “You know our agreement.” 

“What agreement?” You snapped much louder than he would have liked, pulling the attention of a couple passing by when you yanked your hand out of his grasp. “I can’t go to the store I want to go to?” 

“Stop it,” Eddie hissed, cheeks burning at your sudden change of mood. “You know what I’m talkin’ about, alright? It’s your resolution, and you know our deal.” His voice dropped, crowding in close to you. 

“So I-I can’t even look?” Your lips were beginning to tighten, to fall in a straight line that Eddie knew far too well. 

“If you want to look and torture yourself, fine,” Eddie huffed. “But I know you’re going to want to buy something.” 

“No, I’m not.” You grumbled, stubbornly, glaring at him. “I just want to look.” 

“Fine,” Eddie shrugged, his shoulders loosening but his jaw still clenched tight. “Let’s go look. Just look.” 

“I know, Ed,” You snapped, shrugging the hand he placed on your shoulder off with a huff. “You don’t have to be such an ass about it.” 

Eddie didn’t respond, tongue rolling down the side of his cheek instead. You looked back, eyes rounded gently in question, the same look you always gave him when you were testing his limits, pushing him to see if you’d accidentally pushed too far this time. 

After the third look back, Eddie relented, his hand finding the small of your back, hesitantly at first, closing in the space. “Hey, look at me for a second,” Eddie muttered, his hand sliding over your cheek, your eyes rolling up to meet his gaze. 

“I’m not trying to be an ass. I’m just tryna help you out.” 

“I know,” You muttered, your own shoulders flailing in defeat. “I just- I just wanted to look.” 

“Alright,” Eddie nodded, thumb swiping over your cheek bone gently. “Look as much as you want. Just- Let’s not fight. I don’t wanna fight with you tonight. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” 

“Me too.” You admitted, though you felt you both had slightly different reasonings for the excitement. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright. I’m sorry, too. I wasn’t trying to be a controlling dick.” 

“I know.” You hummed, chin ducking forward, stealing a quick kiss that had Eddie’s cheeks pinkening. 

Your hand found his again, squeezing it gently. “Let me just look one more place, and we can go. I just want to see if they got in anything new.” 

Eddie followed you wordlessly, contently letting you drag him down the next aisle. He didn’t say anything, no protests when you picked up the newest arrival, a red leather, pointed toe heel that was sure to be the next big thing, or so the sales associate told you. 

He didn’t say a word even when you tried it on, modeling it in the mirror for yourself, lip tucking between your teeth, twisting your foot around to look at it through every angle. Even when the sales associate was schmoozing you, telling you how they were made just for you, and Eddie could see you swaying. 

He sat wordlessly, watching you through the mirror. 

Eddie didn’t say a word, not even when you gave him your best, sweetest, pleading eyes. 

When the two of you left the store, empty handed, it was your turn to sit wordlessly, a little sulky and petulantly while you followed Eddie to the music store. 

January 19th, 1990

“So you’ll meet me there?” Eddie’s voice rang through the other end of the line, the phone cradled to your ear. 

“Yes, baby,” You hummed sweetly. “I just gotta change when I get off, and Robin’s gonna pick me up. I’ll be there before you go on. Promise.” 

“Alright, sorry, I just- I’m excited.” Eddie admitted over the phone, and you could practically see his knee bouncing. “We’re playing Friday and Saturday night? It’s fuckin’ amazing.” 

“Yeah, it is.” You giggled gently. “I’m proud of you, Ed, you’ve worked hard for it.”

“Thanks.” Eddie muttered, nearly boyishly. “I can’t wait to see you.” 

“I can’t wait to see you either.” You whispered, hand cupping the receiver close to you. “I have to go, but I’ll see you tonight.” 

“See you tonight, sweetheart. Love you.” 

“Love you, Ed.” You muttered, a familiar tingly rush of heat swelling in your chest, phone clicking on the connection point, your nails drumming over the hard shell of the phone in thought. 

The guilt settled in your stomach, heavier than it was this morning when you’d left. Kissing Eddie goodbye, muttering something about having to be at work an hour early, the lie smoothly falling from your lips and he was none the wiser. 

Since Tuesday, you’d developed something worse than buyer’s remorse- not buying remorse, maybe? Regret? Complete and utter irritation and infatuation with the shoes that you couldn’t buy. And why couldn’t you buy them? Because of some stupid resolution? Eddie was right, New Year's resolutions were stupid. 

You’d thought about it, at least, waited and really thought about it. You had even looked through your closet and you didn’t have any like those shoes- sure, you had leather, and red shoes, but not leather, red heels. These were different, you didn’t buy them on an impulse, so in a way, you’d followed through a little on your resolution. Right? 

That’s what you told yourself anyways, swiping your card with an adrenaline rush far too heavy for just buying shoes. Your eyes lighting with excitement, clutching the bag with a white knuckled grip and giving the cashier a wild and wide smile. 

You’d gotten what you wanted, held it tight on the walk back to work, but the feeling in your stomach didn’t settle. There was no instant satisfaction, no momentary happiness like what usually came with your small meaningless purchases. This time, you still felt… unsettled. Even more guilty when you slipped them on later that night, the finishing touch to your planned outfit. 

“Hey,” Robin greeted, waving through the open window of the passenger’s seat in her date’s car. “Look who’s actually on time.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling at the door handle. “You and Ed act like I’m always late.” You snorted, sliding into the leather seats. 

“You are always late.” Robin laughed. 

“Now you really sound like Ed.” You muttered, setting your small clutch beside you while Robin laughed. 

The Hideout was already beginning to crowd when you arrived, filling with familiar and new faces, all gathered around the bar and tables, drinks in hand, waiting for the band to start up. You were shocked to see your table at the front was still available, heart swelling when you saw a small sign placed there that read, ‘Reserved for the Band’ in Eddie’s handwriting. 

“Here you go,” Robin passed you a plastic cup, sliding into the high top chair next to you. “Vodka cran for the number one groupie.” 

You scoffed, muttering a thank you, lips wrapping around the small black straw. “I love your shoes.” Samantha, Robin’s date, smiled, passing by you to sit by Robin. 

Your heart skipped, dropping in slight fear, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Thank you.” You nodded. 

Robin looked under the table, examining your shoes for herself. “Those are cute. Are they new?” 

“No,” You lied easily, a little too rigid for your own liking, but they seemed to buy it. “I got them last summer.” You waved lightly. 

“They’re so cute.” Samantha smiled. “They look just like some I saw at Baker’s, and I almost got them but they didn’t have my size-” 

“-Hey,” You jumped at the ringed hand on your shoulder, a flash of curls in your peripheral before Eddie was in front of you. 

“Hey.” You swallowed, grinning up at him. “What are you doing-” 

“- We’re about to go on, but I saw you and just wanted to say hi.” Eddie admitted, a little boyishness in his tone, in his smile, that made you swoon. 

“Hi,” You giggled, leaning towards him. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks, baby.” Eddie’s lips found yours, capturing you in a kiss, his fingertips pressed lightly under your jaw. 

“Ed!” 

Gareth’s annoyed bark pulled both of you apart, Eddie rolling his eyes. “I gotta go. I’ll see you after the show.” His eyes rolled over your frame as you stilled, bracing yourself for that furious look of shock in his eyes when he looked at your feet. It never came. 

“You look good, baby.” Eddie winked playfully, nodding at Robin and her date before he ran back onto the small wooden stage. 

You could feel your shoulders relax, ducking your feet back under the bar table with satisfaction. He hadn’t noticed, you knew he wouldn’t, but you couldn’t believe he actually didn’t. You felt smug, sipping on your drink, downing the liquor with the guilt finally being replaced with satisfaction. 

***

“You sounded sooo good.” Arms wrapped around Eddie’s neck, the two of you swayed next to the bar chairs while Eddie waited for his beer. 

“Thank you, baby.” Eddie laughed through a dimpled grin, his hand on your waist, holding you against him in case you fell- again. 

“Everyone loved it.” You hummed, running a manicured finger down the side of his face, over his damp hair line. “They fucking loved you.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie grinned, brows lifting in humor. He liked when you’d get drunk and silly like this, overly and smothering with affection. “How’d you like it though, hm? I only care about what you think. You’re the most important one, you know that.” 

Your giggly smile made his heart swell, leaning back to look at him, lips twisting dramatically in thought. “Hmm, what did I think?” You tapped a finger playfully to your chin. 

“I think-” 

“-Watch out.” Eddie grabbed at your wrist, trying to still you as you took a wobbly, wide step backwards into the path of the bus boy, stumbling into them, the empty drink he was trying to return falling from between his stacked fingers and right onto your shoes. 

“Shit!” 

“Oh no.” You frowned gently, chin dropping to your chest, looking at the melted ice and liquor that darkened the leather of your shoes. 

 “Sorry, man, she didn’t see you. I got it.” Eddie apologized quickly, picking the plastic cup up, shooting the teenager a look of apology. “I’ll clean it up. Sorry.” 

Eddie snatched the stack of napkins off the bar, dropping to mop up the small puddle by your feet. “‘M sorry. I didn’t even see him, Ed.” You mumbled, voice starting to shake with emotions, a warning of tears, drunk and emotional. 

“It’s alright. Don’t cry, sweetheart. Shit gets dropped here all the time.” Eddie’s hand rubbed over your calf gently, squeezing it to soothe you. “Did it get in your shoe? Or just the outside?” 

“No, they’re gonna be ruined.” Your slurred whine made him cringe, ducking back just in time to miss your swinging foot raise up, snatching the shoe off. 

“Baby,” Eddie hissed, pulling at your dress to keep it down. “Hey, c’mon, don’t cry. Just let me close out-” 

“-No, they’re ruined.” You sniffled, eyes shining with tears, scrubbing and dabbing with the cheap paper napkins at the soaked leather. “I just bought these and they’re already stained, and it's not gonna come out.” 

Eddie stilled, eyes flickering from you to the shoe in your hand, narrowing when he realized what exactly was in your hand. It was the same heels from earlier this week, red and leather and with a pointed toe, and now in your possession. He knew he recognized them, knew something about them looked familiar when he saw you in them- when he saw how good your legs looked in them. 

“Ed-Eddie,” You sniffled wetly around a hiccup, lip jutted in a far pout, looking up at him with glazed eyes. 

“C’mon,” Eddie nodded, grabbing your coat off the back of the bar stool. “I’ll fix them back at home.” His heavy arms were around your frame, guiding you carefully through the broken pavement back to the van while you babbled and sniffled, teary eyed and turned into his chest. 

Back at the trailer, he’d managed to get you into the bed before you’d collapsed, drunk and exhausted. The routine was nearly identical to the one just a few days before on New Years Eve; taking off your makeup, swapping out your little party dress for one of his tee shirts, two Advils and a large glass of water on the bedside table. 

Only this time, he didn’t toss your shoes in the closet, onto the piles under your clothes with the others. No, this time, he sat them right on the dining room table. He had managed to find the receipt in the trash, skillfully placed under a wad of paper towels that you’d tried to use to mask it. Eddie placed it next to the shoes, leaving them both for you to find in the morning. 

January 20th, 1990

“Ed,” Your groggy voice made its way into the kitchen before you did, hoarse from the liquor and singing from the night before. “Did you make any coffee? Please tell me you made some.” 

“It’s in the kitchen, baby.” Eddie replied smoothly, eyes still on the screen of the TV. “I kept the pot on for you. Should still be warm.” 

Your feet shuffled over the carpet, knuckling at your eyes. The muffled screech of guitars left you wincing, even at the low volume Eddie had the TV on while he watched his Saturday morning MTV show.

“Did you eat, Ed?” Your heart swelled, seeing the mug he’d left out for you next to the pot- your favorite mug. 

“Hm?” Eddie grunted back. 

“Did you eat?” Your head strained with an ache at the rise in your tone, thumb pressing between your brows to alleviate the pressure. “Or do you want me to make you something? Or we could-” 

Words strangled in your throat, you nearly dropped the mug onto the tiled floor of the kitchen when you turned. There on the kitchen table, your new shoes next to a neatly laid out receipt. 

“Could what?” Eddie said lightly, standing from the couch and turning to see you, wide eyed when your gaze met his. 

“Oh, yeah, forgot about those.” Eddie reached for the remote, muting the volume. “You know, when you told me they were new shoes, I thought maybe you were just a little confused and drunk.” 

His footsteps seemed heavier, louder and more menacing, sending a shockwave of adrenaline and ache right to your core the closer he got. “Then when I got you home, I realized those were the shoes from the mall.” Eddie stopped in front of you, hands resting on the back of the kitchen chair, looking down at you from the slope of his nose. 

“I thought there was no way, no possible way, you went back and bought those, but then, I looked in the trash and you know what I found?” Eddie tilted his head to the side, mockingly. You could only blink, tongue too thick in your own mouth to reply. 

Eddie’s pointer and middle finger fell onto the receipt, pushing it towards you, sliding it across the wood table. “Read the date on there for me, baby.” 

“Ed-”

“-Read it for me.” Eddie’s voice boomed, oozing with authority that had you pulsing between the legs, heart skipping at the same beat. 

Eyes cutting down, your teeth pulled at your bottom lip, eyeing the date printed boldly under the store’s name. “January nineteenth.” It was mumbled, nearly inaudible, and you refused to meet his gaze. You couldn’t, but you knew how he was looking at you. Eyes narrowed with a hard glare that felt nearly challenging. 

“January nineteenth,” Eddie repeated slowly. “Yesterday. You- hey, look at me- You went back to the store and got them?” 

The intensity of his gaze left you feeling vulnerable, like you were see through, squirming and shifting from foot to foot. “I-I just- I just wanted them.” 

“You wanted them?” Eddie lifted a brow. “Baby, you agreed to the resolution thing-” 

“-I know I did, Ed.” You snapped with a huff that teetered on bratty, throwing in an eye roll that had Eddie’s grip tightening on the back of the chair. 

“But, I didn’t, I didn’t buy them right then! I went home and made sure I didn’t have any like them, and I didn’t, so that’s not really breaking it entirely.” You countered, lip jutted lightly in a pout, eyes rounding up at him sweetly- hopefully sweet enough that you’d melt his heart, get him to agree with you. 

“We had an agreement,” Eddie’s fingers tapped on the wood of the chair. “If you wanted them, you could’ve told me, baby. Not snuck around and bought them. You knew what you were doing.” 

Your shoulders fell with a sharp sigh of defeat. “It’s stupid.” You muttered. “You were right. Resolutions are so pointless.”

“I know,” Eddie snorted with a laugh. “But we still had a deal, baby, and you broke your deal.” 

“Ed, come on-” 

“-No, no, no, you were more than happy to accept your rewards. Now you gotta face the music, baby. Gotta take your punishment.” Eddie shrugged lightly, giving you a big sigh for show, like there was nothing he could do about it. It made you furious, even more so when you could feel your tummy erupting in thrilling butterflied. 

The wood chair screeched across the linoleum floors when Eddie tugged it back, wide enough for him to slip in it, legs spread wide. “Come on over,” His hand patted his right thigh. “I won’t go too hard on you, I promise.” 

Your cheeks burned, hot with embarrassed heat- embarrassed at the punishment or the fact that you were so excited to be punished, you weren’t sure. Hesitantly, you folded over his thigh, hands bracing yourself on his thigh, grabbing at the wooden leg of the chair while Eddie guided you over his knee. 

Eddie’s hand smoothed over your ass, bunching the cotton of your panties between his fingers, grinning when you whined, tensing at the anticipation of the first spank. “Relax, baby,” Eddie hummed, squeezing your left cheek, teasing. “You knew this was coming.” 

“Stooop,” A nasally whine left your throat before you could stop yourself, already beginning to squirm. “Don’t be mean to me.” 

“Mean?” Eddie scoffed playfully, brows lifting. “I’m not being mean. Not yet, anyways.” 

You huffed at his words, the air barely leaving your lips before it was sucked back in, a shocked gasp when Eddie’s hand fell without warning, hard against your left ass cheek. 

“I could have been mean last night,” Eddie’s tone cut, his hand slamming down in sharp, thundering smacks that left you gasping, clawing at the wood of the chair. “Could have let your shoes get ruined.” 

Your face twisted in distortion, the night before hazy. You barely remembered seeing Eddie after his set, the memory of the spilled drink flooding to you in liquor soaked waves. It was difficult to really recall with the assault Eddie’s hand was dishing out on your ass, your core aching with need, throbbing as you tried to wiggle your way to his knee. 

“I cleaned your shoes off,” Three hard smacks that had you raising, pushing off the chair to lift off, Eddie’s hand shoving you back into place, holding you there by the small of your back. 

“I made sure they didn’t stain, even after I found out you’d gone behind my back and bought them.” 

“‘M sorry! Eddie, I-I’m sorry!” A panting cry tore from your chest, nose and throat burning with tears, wiggling to try and escape his assaults that rained down unrelenting. You had managed to wiggle your way onto his kneecap, aching clit pressed down and hips rolling to alleviate the needy throb. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. Or maybe that he would. Maybe then he’d get bored of punishing you and might fuck you instead. 

“If I was really mean,” Eddie gritted, delivering a rather hard smack to the center of your bottom, mouth watering and cock straining with need, tented in his boxers. He knew you had to feel it, the same way he could feel your wetness on his bare thigh, seeping through your panties more and more with every roll of your hips. 

“I’d make you return the shoes.” Eddie’s hand fell hard again to the same space, the pain and vibrations of his hit leaving you dizzy, mind numbing with pleasure, mouth lolling open and choking on cries- of pleasure or pain, you weren’t quite sure. 

“Make you really learn your lesson then, hm?” Eddie growled, his voice gravelly with need, sending shivers of excitement trickling up your spine. 

“Please,” You panted between a moan. “I’ve learned my lesson. I learned it. I’ll be good. I promise, Ed, I swear.” 

Wet sniffles and clenched moans filled the kitchen, your hips still writing, desperate to dull the ache between your legs. Eddie’s finger traced over your puffy, pantie clothed lips, featherlight and teasing down your slit, pressing over the patch of wetness he felt at the front. 

“Eddie, please,” Your whine came, nasally and pathetic. 

“You ready to be good?” Eddie muttered, pad of his index finger pressing into your clit so you squealed. “Ready to be good for me? Do what I say?” 

“Yes,” You nodded, blood rushing to your head, still tipped over his knee. “I’ll be good. I’m gonna be good.” 

“Good.” Eddie clipped, pulling you up. You sat on his lap, just for a moment, blood rushing, head spinning from the mix of that sensation and your overwhelming desire. You barely had a moment to steady yourself before you were being stood up, shoved back to your knees on the kitchen floor.

“You wanna show me you’re sorry?” Eddie looked down at you from the chair, hips lifting to shove his boxers down, revealing his angry cock, leaking at the tip. You swallowed at the sight, thighs pressing together and squirming. 

“Show me how sorry you are.” Eddie stroked himself, nodding at you. 

Tongue running over your lips, your spine straightened, shuffling forward to take his length in your hand. Tongue flattening, your eyes were on Eddie’s, licking a long, wet stripe up the underside of his cock, tongue swirling around the head as you sucked it gently. 

Eddie’s head fell back, hands finding your head, pushing you gently onto his length. It was something he normally didn’t do, he knew you didn’t like it, but when you were being punished, he’d do it. Just to hear you gag, toes curling and hips clenching to keep from bucking at the vibrations from the back of your throat. 

“Thaaaat’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” Eddie groaned, eyes half lidded with ecstasy, watching your head bob up and down, eyes glistening with tears with every deep thrusting gag he’d give. 

“Fuck, just- hold on.” Eddie gritted, abs clenching, pleasure beginning to coil tight, threatening to snap in the pit of his tummy. His hand found the back of your head, tugging at your hair, pulling you off his length. 

“What?” You frowned, the back of your hand wiping at your mouth. “It didn’t- Was it not good?” 

“No, fuck no.” Eddie shook his head. “Felt great, baby, always does. You know you’re so good at that.” He grinned, leaving you beaming under his praise. 

“So good I was about to cum. Don’t wanna do that.” Eddie’s hand cradled around your cheek, pinching the skin lightly. “Wanna cum in you. Stand up f’me.” 

You scrambled to your feet, legs prickly nearly asleep from being on your knees, wobbly with excitement. You ached between your legs, painful with need, bending over the kitchen table, pushing the shoes out of the way. 

Eddie paused, tongue running over his bottom lip. “Wait,” You turned, blinking up at him. “Gimme those.” He nodded towards the shoes. 

You frowned, hesitating when you grabbed them, handing them over to Eddie. His hand caught your wrist, tugging you upwards to stand. “Put them on.” 

“What?” You frowned, looking at the shoes- he really had cleaned them, even the bottoms looked brand new, the sweetheart. Your heart swelled. 

“Put them on,” Eddie nodded, standing, cock slapping against his tummy. His eyes were dark, pulling at your t shirt; his shirt. 

“I want you to wear those, just those.” Eddie growled, stroking his length, eyeing you hungrily while you pulled your shirt off, baring yourself to him. “Want you just in those shoes while I fuck you, you hear me?” 

Your head bobbed, nodding dumbly at his words, slipping the heels on with shaky hands. Eddie’s gaze on you the entire time, hungrily eyeing over your frame as you stood there, naked in your new shoes. 

“Mm, maybe you were onto somethin’, baby.” Eddie hummed, tongue rolling down the side of his cheek. “Maybe you did need ‘em. You look fuckin’ amazing in them.” 

Your chin ducked to your chest, shy under his praise, rushes of electric excitement trilling through your body. “Thank you,” You whispered, gaze still on the floor, looking at the red leather heels. 

“Come here,” Eddie motioned you over, his hands finding your hips, pulling you in for a sloppy, hot kiss that left you spinning. 

“Turn around,” Eddie growled, hands still anchored onto your hips, fingertips bruising the skin there. “Lean forward.” 

Your hands found the edge of the counter, nails digging into the tile, crying out in pleasure when Eddie’s fingers slipped between your legs, circling around your clit. 

He fucked you hard, barbarically against the counter. Hips snapping with a fury, deep and fast, sloppily circling your clit. He seemed to go faster, deeper, with every squeak of your heels sliding on the floors, snapping down to find your footing that was slipping away on shaky legs. 

Your cheek pressed to the counter, you felt him fill you, pulling out with his heaving chest laid over your back, both of you starry eyed and spacy with bliss. 

“I like the shoes.” Eddie rasped between heaving breaths. “Think you should wear ‘em again tonight.” 

Your breathy giggles were music to his ears, his own shoulders dropping with relief at the sound. The familiar guilt and uncertainty that always came after you played slowly slipping away, his hands pulling at your sweat soaked skin, pulling you closer to him, lips on your shoulder. 

“I will,” You sighed, cheek pressed to the cool tile of the counter. There was a pause, the two of you skin to skin, feeling each other in the silence of the kitchen. 

“I think I’m ready to call the resolution thing.” You admitted, eyes rounding when you turned to look at Eddie. “I don’t want to do it anymore. It was fun but… I don’t want to do it anymore.” 

Eddie grinned sweetly down at you. “Yeah? Don’t blame you, baby. Told you resolutions are dumb.” He teased gently, hand smoothing down your hip gently. “I did like given’ you your reward every week, though. Can’t lie. That part was pretty great.” 

“Yeah?” Your eyes lit up, turning in his arms to face him. “We can still do that part. I thought that was pretty fun too.” 

“Ooh, you did, huh?” Eddie cooed sillily, arms wrapping around your frame, pulling you into him with a shrill of giggles. 

“I tell you what, you keep those heels on, and you can sit on my face right now, for as long as you want. How’s that sound?” Eddie tilted his head to the side playfully. 

You found yourself in the bedroom not ten minutes later, the stem of the heels digging into your ass as you rocked, hands braced on the headboard, legs parts on either side of Eddie’s head as he devoured into you. 

The heels were his favorite, Eddie decided. A failed resolution, sure, but one of the best purchases you’d ever made in his eyes. 

[baytpwk]

How about when you're having a blah off day and you just want to get spicy with your boyfriend to block everything out but he wants to talk it out and make you feel better *emotionally* and that's just so annoying (but also kinda turns you on even more). soft joey seems like that kind of boyfriend.

.............................. you bitch (i love you) Wordcount: 4.3K (tw/cw: 18+ descriptive smut, a little hurt/comfort, reader has hair long enough to fall into joe's face, sunday scaries for The Future)

---

Half the Hurt, Twice the Joy

Joe barely gets a foot in the door before you’re on him.

“Heyhmp–…”

His keys are still stuck in its lock, and you’ve already attached yourself to Joe by the face. You’ve not seen him for two days, and even though that’s by no means the longest you’ve gone without each other, every second was one too many.

Long day.

Long week.

Too much time spent alone thinking about how you’re becoming more and more convinced that you’ve made a grave mistake and are now stuck in a career you don’t want, climbing a ladder you don’t want to climb. It’s a huge pit of endless anxiety with upcoming deadlines you aren’t going to be able to make, don’t really want to make, and you know you’re going to have to face the music sooner rather than later.

Which is terrifying.

And you, understandably so, don’t really want to think about it anymore. You’ve done enough worrying for the week, maybe even the whole month.

What you do want to think about, is Joe.

“What’s going on?” he manages between kisses.

“Missed me, mmh?”

You can feel how Joe smiles against your mouth as he tries his best to work his way inside with you hanging off his neck. You don’t really make it any easier when you use the leverage to pull your legs up and around him as well.

You had missed him.

A lot.

Last night you’d felt too lonely to safely be alone. Had nearly called him at 2 am.

Hadn’t.

But nearly had.

Having him here now comes with a new surge of emotion that’s easy to hide away in fumbling fingers and biting kisses.

Joe has to lean back to balance himself, and groans at the sudden extra weight he has to carry, dropping his bag to make sure he can hold you up, both hands spread wide on the underside of your thighs.

He gladly accepts your kisses, but when it goes on for too long, when it all starts feeling a little too urgent, he can’t help the slight worry that creeps up his back.

When you feel how he wants to pull back a little, you easily move on and kiss down his jaw.

Find his neck.

Use your hands to push his coat down his shoulders as you hotly breathe, “Been waiting for you all day.” into his skin.

You hadn’t. It’s only been just over an hour since you’ve gotten in. But the sentiment of it is true.

Joe’s coat gets stuck on in his elbows and he’s forced to put you down if he wants to take it off properly. Your feet find the floor again with a dissatisfied grumble, but your arms remain around his neck which you use to pull him down in a bid to keep kissing him.

Which Joe does.

Easily so.

Who is he to argue a welcome home like this after a couple of weird days at work where he didn’t really do much, but somehow still feels exhausted? He blindly reaches to hang his coat over one of the hooks, and he tries two, three times, but then has to break away from you to look at what he’s doing.

It’s then that he gets his first real glimpse of what you look like.

It’s clear you’ve been crying and even clearer that you’ve wiped the skin under your eyes raw in order to hide it from him. He can see the remnants of mascara smeared close to your hairline, and frowns at the sight.

“Hey, what happened?”

You move back in to kiss him some more, use force to pull him back down by the shoulders, but he works against you and fights it.

“You been crying? What’s wrong?”

You redirect focus and get up on your tippy toes as you start undoing the buttons on his shirt.

You don’t want to talk.

Don’t want to think about everything bad. You’re mentally exhausted and need distraction. Want to think about nice things. Or, even better, don’t want to think about anything at all for a little while.

Just want to exist in your body.

Feel nice in your body.

You know that Joe knows how to do that.

Joe always makes you feel so nice in your body.

“Take your shirt off,” you command, ignoring how Joe’s hands reach for yours to hold as he tries for eye-contact that you’re not giving him. He’s not so much kissing you back anymore.

“Darling…”

You’re undressing him, and he lets you, but he doesn’t help.

“What’ve you been crying for?”

You yank on his sleeve to slide it off his arm.

“Hey.”

The skin of Joe’s chest feels as soft against your lips as it looks. Joe’s warm. Smells nice. You want to feel him all over, and so you do. Frantic hands move from Joe’s stomach ‘round to his back where your nails softly scratch towards his spine whilst your lips press into different spots on his front.

Don’t get him wrong.

Joe likes this.

Joe likes this a lot.

He can’t help the foot that takes a step forward when one of yours takes a step backward, his body blindly following you further into the flat. He melts under the attention. Wants your back-scratches to last for hours – they make his whole body tingle. Make his hearing go funny.

But he would at least like to know if there’s something wrong that he should know about, yet you’re ignoring him.

He knows he’s going to have to push you a little. He’s going to need to push you just enough.

It’s an inner battle that, just before he’s about to step over the threshold to the bedroom, makes him take hold of your arms to pull them from the hold you have on him.

“Hey, talk to me. Come on, what’s going on?”

With both your arms held out wide by strong fingers, you’re still able to press kisses where you want them. It hurts your shoulders a little, but you press as much of yourself as you can manage into him whilst you mouth over his clavicle.

Turning his face away from you does nothing – you’re not stopped until Joe pushes both your arms back until they can no longer bend and you have no choice but the accept the space Joe is trying to create.

“Nothing,” you quip quickly, avoiding eye-contact. “Come here, I want to k–” you try leaning back in, but are immediately pushed back again.

“Nothing?” Joe smiles as his eyebrows knit upwards. “Baby, look at me… hey.”

You don’t want to look at him.

You want to kiss Joe and for Joe to kiss you back, and you want the strong grip he’s got on your arms to be moved to your waist where his hands can sneak under your top before he pulls that over your head and undresses you, and you want–

You’ve got your eyes trained on his chest. On the sparse bit of hair he’s got there.

“You’re starting to scare me.”

A small huff of frustration leaves you, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Joe doesn’t have to be scared, jumping to stupid conclusions, making this much worse than it is or it needs to be.

For a short moment, Joe think that you’re considering opening up to him for the simple fact that he’s annoying you, but then he watches as your eyes fall down until it looks like they’re closed and you take a deep breath. Very slowly, you let your head fall forward until it bumps against his chest.

Fine, you think. Forced to be a sensible adult before anything else – like a sexy minx of a girlfriend – you do your best to muster up the right words to tell him that maybe you’ve done your whole life wrong and you don’t think that there’s a way back to undo and fix it.

It’s quiet except for the sound of your breathing, shallow and uneven.

Joe feels in your body how you give in and he’s quick to loosen the grip he has on your arms that he’d been pushing back. You look like you desperately need a hug. Both his arms slowly circle around you, one across your back whilst the other places a hand to the back of your head where he pets down your hair before planting his chin on top, pressing you against him.

It’s almost enough to make you start crying again.

“What made you cry? Hmm? What’s wrong?” he asks, soft and caring. “Let me help.”

He needs to push you just enough.

You take a shuddering breath, entirely unsure of what to say. Of how not sound stupidly dramatic.

Joe is generous with his touches, but it’s caring and emotional and everything inside of your body screams for a want of something else.

You don’t want care and emotion.

Don’t want to say words. To talk.

“I don’t–…”  you voice cracks before you’ve even really said anything. Joe lets his hand slip under the curve of your neck to tip your head back.

He’s met with two wet eyes that try their best to blink back tears, and he can’t help how the sight of you makes his own face drop.

“Come on, let’s go sit.”

“No, I’m fine, I’m–”

“Let’s go sit anyway.”

You get guided over to your living room where Joe sits down on the sofa and then welcomes you onto his lap. Sitting down sideways, you shimmy down enough to lay your head on Joe’s shoulder as he wraps both arms around you to hold you close.

“It’s obvious you’re not fine. Remember how– didn’t I tell you we’re a team? We fight battles together, don’t we? Joint effort, always. Half the hurt, twice the joy. Teamwork.”

A frustrated huff of air escapes you.

“What’s so hard to say, hm? You know it’s just me…”

And just as he says that, something occurs to him.

“Oh, fuck. Is it me? Did I do something?” Joe asks, and you understand why he asks, but it doesn’t stop you from making an annoyed face at him in retaliation, pulling back a little so you’re sure he receives it. Not everything is about him, and if he thinks he’s being funny: he’s not.

Joe doesn’t think he’s being funny, though.

Joe’s trying to push buttons to see which one is going to make you open up. There’s bound to be one that’ll get you to. He shakes his head at your frown, face sort of filled with concern for you. A tiny pinch appears in his brow as he softly whispers, “Did someone do something to you?”

His gaze plunders into your soul when your eyes flick up to look at him, quickly shaking your head because, no, no one did something to you to hurt you.

“Honestly, no. It’s nothing. It’s–…”

You’d just been left alone too long to think too deep about all the things you weren’t happy about and now everything was all… wrong. But you were going to have to sort through everything on your own first, you thought. Process it in time. Let it all simmer for a second.

You shake your head again and give a small shrug.

Joe seems a little pleased at your nonverbal answer as he lets his fingers trace featherlight along your jaw. You’re not giving him much else to go on, though.

After scanning your features for a long moment, searching for clues he doesn’t find, Joe nods to himself. There’s no real sense of fight in him since there doesn’t seem to be any left in you either. He can tell that you’re not entirely with him, a hollow shell of yourself.

“Can’t have you so upset and not know what it’s about... you’re far too pretty for that.”

You smile at that. It’s only small and terribly closed off, but Joe sees it. He gently shakes your face with his hand in hopes of that smile brightening a little more, but it doesn’t really work. Joe watches you closely, and sees your lips part softly to speak but before you have the chance, he uses his nose to nudge your head back a little so he gets access to the sensitive skin of the column of your neck.

Maybe you’re right, you know?

Maybe pushing you was having the opposite effect right now.

Maybe there’s something to say for a little comfort before dipping into this big deep pond of confusing feelings you don’t really seem to know how to articulate quite right.

Time to give you what you were so clearly after the second you laid your eyes on him.

He’ll get to the bottom of this after you’ve cheered up a little.

He’ll push you for an answer when you feel a bit better.

The gasp Joe hears at the touch of his lips to your neck is small, just a little one, followed by a sigh that turns into a soft hum. You let your head fall to the side to grant Joe even better access as he slowly mouths up along your jaw towards your ear.

“So, so pretty.”

Joe captures your lips with his gently as both his hands slip down to your sides to pull you closer by the fabric of your top.

Joe feels how hesitant you are at first. How you’re holding back in your kissing, unlike how you were kissing him when he just got in, probably afraid he’s going to pull back and ask you what’s wrong again if you get too into it.

It’s why he does his best to not break away from you as he manoeuvres you on his lap, encouraging you to move until you’re straddling him, one knee pushing into the sofa either side of his thighs. Both his arms then curl around your middle to pull you flush to his front, his head tipping back to rest against the sofa.

You remain careful, but Joe’s topless, and his skin is warm, so you let Joe kiss you, and let your fingers dance down his arms and grab onto both his biceps.

It’s not until Joe croaks, “Take these off,” into your mouth with a finger curling under the waistband of your jeans that you truly understand what’s happening. Your breathing changes immediately, and the sweet relief of being able to give in to your urges as Joe does the same feels tangible in your body.

Joe feels how you relax and has to hide his smile into the way he kisses you before he helps you up enough to take your bottoms off.

Feels good to give you want you want.

A clumsy ordeal follows where your fingers find the button of your jeans just as your eye falls onto the one on his, which prompts you to bend and reach for Joe’s button to undo instead of focusing on undressing yourself. Joe doesn’t stop you, and instead helps you out. You end up yanking on each other’s blue denim until a burst of giggles bubbles up and out the both of you.

“What are we doing?” Joe laughs, facial expression stupid when he lifts his hips up and undresses himself.

“Just helping. Teamwork.” You wriggle denim down your hips and let all of it pool at your ankles where you barely get your feet out before Joe’s hands slip behind your thighs on either side. He squeezes you gently to guide you back onto his lap as he slips down the sofa a bit more.

Joe grins up at your smile, happy to see how it lingers.

You’re both still in your underwear, and you’re still wearing your top, but there’s something so nice about Joe’s hands that sneak under the soft cotton as you lean down to kiss him again. This time, there’s nothing careful or gentle about the way you latch yourself back onto Joe. He responds with his tongue that works its way into your mouth, swiping against yours and making you moan outwardly.

That makes Joe jump inside of his underwear strong enough for you to feel, and it encourages you to press your hips down firmly to feed pressure where you’re both after it.

Your own action makes you gasp slightly, and you feel how Joe’s hands tighten against your outer thighs, fingers digging into the expanse of fat there as you move against him.

He helps you tilt your hips in little thrusts and, fuck, this already feels so good, he wonders why he tried postponing it.

It’s only fabric dragging over fabric, but your fingers dig into his neck where you hold onto him as your open mouth hovers just in front of his own, your tongue teasing at his lips.

When your hands start sliding down onto his chest, Joe knows what those hands are wandering towards.

He beats you to it.

Curling a hand around from behind, Joe pulls at your underwear to expose you. He has to blow your hair from his face when you still and look down to see what his other hand is about to do.

Joe runs a finger along and through, dipping slowly, carefully testing. He can’t help staring up at your face, wanting to see you react from up close as his fingers find where you’re most sensitive and make you flinch.

“I know,” he soothes, watching your eyebrows crease at his touch. “I know.”

Joe’s touch is teasing, fingertips barely slipping in before he pulls away again, and it doesn’t take long for you to grow impatient. You let a hand slip down along Joe’s stomach until it reaches his underwear to disappear into.

Just before you pull him out to put him on full display, Joe suddenly slips two fingers in fully, making you gasp at how they curl inside. Your head drops back and Joe bites back a chuckle at how he can feel that you’re trying to restrict yourself from moving your hips.

“Yea? That feel nice?”

You nod and breathily confirm.

“Ye– yes.”

It does feel nice. It does. But the high pitched moan that rips from your chest when Joe feeds pressure with his thumb from the outside at the same time surprises you both.

Joe sinks down the sofa more as you tower over him, and he loves this view.

Loves how he gets to slip a hand up your top to see it appear again at your neckline where he can spread his fingers widely around your neck.

Loves how quickly you become unable to keep your head up by yourself, how it tips forwards and back, hair falling every which way.

Loves how he gets to see and feel your chest expand with every ragged breath you take, knowing that every single noise you make is just from how he’s pleasuring you with his fingers.

He wants to make you come like this.

But not before you’ve talked to him.

“Look at me,” Joe urges as his hand finds the back of your head to cradle the weight of it. “Open your eyes.”

You manage to, head tipping forward now, eyes meeting the same intense gaze staring back at you. Your hips are gyrating against Joe’s hand unashamedly now, your hand in his underwear still there but definitely forgotten about.

“That’s it.”

Joe has a way of making intimate situations feel a thousand times more intimate by using his eyes to connect. He makes what could be just easy pleasure and quick release a palpable thing that brings you into the room with him and then keeps you there.

There’s nothing but this.

Nothing but right now.

All other concerning thought gets shoved aside and all you want to do is to stay here. Feel like this forever. Vulnerable, but determined, breath hot and heavy, throat releasing sounds on its own accord. It’s overwhelming in the best of ways, and you can see in Joe’s face that you’re in the same boat.

Teamwork.

Joy shared doubles.

“Yea, yea. Thaaat’s it.” Joe encourages, elongating words, witnessing how you are genuinely trying your hardest at keeping your gaze locked on his. It’s a real task, because your eyes keep wanting to roll back. Keep wanting to unfocus.

“Want you to tell me what’s wrong.” Joe pushes.

Your breath squeaks like you’re in pure agony. Which, in many ways, you are. Yet, somehow, an intense conversation doesn’t feel out of place at all right now. You are as comfortable as you are going to get in this shared vulnerability.

“I don’t,” you say softly, gasping as Joe’s hand feeds more pressure and slows in pace, “I don’t– it’s… it’s just–”

“Just what?” He interrupts. “You just felt sad?”

You nod, because that’s right. But it’s not enough for Joe.

“Why did you feel sad?”

“Scared,” you force out, eyes half-lidded and slowly glassing over. They want to close so fucking badly.

“I was scared.”

“Hey,” Joe taps your cheek and connects his forehead to yours as he pulls you closer to him. You’re quick to blink back into focus, and your hand in Joe’s underwear comes back to life. It makes Joe flinch a little, swearing under his breath as you blindly push his underwear down before his clipped voice asks, “You’re sc–scared?”

Sometimes people take the wrong turn and can’t find their way back on their own.

“Yea, the future… it’s–… the future is–”

“Big and scary?”

“Mmhm.”

“Future is big and scary.”

“Y–yea.”

You’re working hands at each other whilst your foreheads touch, looking each other in the eye until you become blurry, and even though you’ve barely shared anything real, you kind of feel lighter for it already.

Shared sorrow halves.

Joe was right.

“I want–…” you start brokenly, and momentarily Joe thinks you’re about to share more. He’s made you feel safe enough, seems to have pushed you just enough, so it’s not a weird assumption to make.

“Fuck. I want–…” you try again, but your brain’s slowly turning into absolute mush.

“What you do want, baby?”

Instead of answering, you instead grab hold of Joe by the base and guide him towards where his hand is still making you feel good at a steady pace.

You want him inside.

And who is Joe to tell you no at this point?

He sighs, burying his face into the side of your neck as he lets you guide him to where you want to feel him stretch and fill you out fully. You only have to line him up before he shakily seems to lose control of his hips as he pushes up. Both his hands find your hips to dig fingers into soft flesh and you finally reach and pull your top of over your head.

With more skin to look at, and more curves to grab at, Joe doesn’t hold back. Open mouthed kisses leave a wet trail along your chest whilst his hands wander, squeeze and pulling at you all over.

This is what you wanted.

The perfect distraction from it all.

You don’t have to do much work at all with Joe bucking up into you from underneath, and when he puts his hand back to work like it had been before, you start feeling how everything good builds inside rapidly.

Joe concentrates hard on holding off, sparing looks from where he can see himself disappear inside of you, back up to see your blissed out face as he slowly unravels you.

Soft, barely able to really hear, he keeps uttering the words, “That’s it.” over and over as he feels you grow tighter around him.

You feel it coming, and yet, it still surprises you.

You orgasm loudly, louder than either of you expected, prompting Joe to cover your mouth with one of his palms as his hips jerkily work him towards his own orgasm. Completely out of it, you bite into his fingers, and with a broken moan and eyes squeezed tightly shut, Joe spills himself inside of you.

For a moment after, you both catch your breaths, and Joe can feel how you’re still spasming when he pulls out. The second he does, you move to get up, but Joe grabs hold of you before you can leave him. He curls a loving hand along your jaw and cups your face, his fingers around your ear, and you immediately lean your head into his touch with a soft sigh as you close your eyes.

“You okay?” Joe asks tenderly.

“Mmhm.” You ond.

“I think you’re right,” Joe says before he takes a deep breath, and you open your eyes, a little confused at what he means. “The future sort of is big and scary, isn’t it?”

Oh, yea.

You kind of forgot you’d said anything.

“But you know that you don’t have to do the future on your own, right? You’re aware that I’ll be there.” Joe’s not so much asking as he is telling you, his other hand coming to cradle your face on the other side, and all of it is so corny.

“Shared joy doubles, and shared sorrow halve–” you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you, interrupting him. It doesn’t exactly help that you can feel him leaking out of you either.

“I mean it.” He’s dead serious.

“I know you do.”

Joe scans your face as you give him a small smile, and he’s unsure if he should push it further. He kind of feels like he’s pushed you a lot already, and when he looks at you a little longer and sees how your smile slowly grows, he decides: it’s enough.

You turn your face in his hands to kiss inside of his palm, thankful, slow-blinking and at ease.

Makes him smile in return.

Yea, it’s enough.

the end

---

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Add yourself

[baytpwk]

But I Got Wise (You're the Devil in Disguise) || DWD

Prompt: Harry & YN are the picture perfect couple of their suburban little neighborhood where everything is pristine and manicured. It's the 1960’s and they're just like any other husband and wife in this era, right?

AKA The Don't Worry Darling AU I never wrote

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: PLEASE REFER TO BOTTOM OF THE FIC AS IT WILL SPOIL EVERYTHING IF I PUT WARNINGS HERE 🖤

author's note:

I upload a piece of writing every 1-3 days.

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2-3 one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out here!

Inspired fully by this song

It’s a give and take.

An ebb and flow.

The most skillfully crafted routine of all time.

YN should win an Oscar for her perfectly crafted wide-eyed expressions or shocked gasp that could fool every single person in a room.

Every woman wanted to be YN.

Every husband wishes their wife was YN or something of a clone to her.

YN was the ideal housewife.

The sprawling mansion pristine, the meals delicious, and her appearance was always without a hair out of place or a smeared liner.

The jealousy came from YN’s upbringing, a family with old money, the kind that sent their children away.

YN was raised in a Swiss boarding school, where she had etiquette classes and learned how to be a lady.

At least that was the story that had so neatly constructed.

She always knew which cutlery went on which side, what fork was used for salad versus entree, and never had an elbow on the table.

YN was always polite to their guests.

No matter how standoffish the women were, she only smiled and acted as if she didn’t sense the tension.

When their husband’s make passes at her, she swiftly but always kindly, gently turns them down with a sympathetic look.

Like if she could she would but she can’t, she only cannot because she’s married.

Her acting made these men believe that if it wasn’t for Harry, they would have this chance with her.

And that was part of her magic, in the process of denying these men, it made them become even more interested with her.

YN was private, comparatively to the group of women, and didn’t share any information that the others would willing give away.

No one knew anything about her marriage.

Not like how everyone knew that Barbara’s husband was drunk nearly every night which resulted in whiskey dick.

Or how Rhonda’s expects it every night, even on days where he’s worked twelve plus hours and they’re both tired.

YN listened attentively, pouted empathically when necessary but never add anything to relate to it.

When pushed once by Catherine, YN was graceful in her rebuke when asked how her sex life was with Harry.

Was he a dud or star between the sheets?

They were dying to know.

He was a gorgeous man, the most successful out of the lot, and the only one who didn’t need hard liquor to loosen up.

Harry seemed too perfect, just like YN, to the point whs dimples smile seemed more wolfish and intimidating than welcoming.

When one of these men would hit on YN, Harry would make sure to give their hand a near bone-breaking shake on the way out as a warning.

All with that dazzling smile.

YN had not taken the bait.

She sipped her tea, acting as if she was flustered, and coquettishly replied, “Harry is a good, respectable man. A man with strong morals of how to treat a woman.”

All the women took that as a confirmation that he was a dud, the vanilla type who only knew missionary before rolling over to snore.

In an alarming discovery, the group of women all came to the conclusion that none of their husbands had ever gotten them anywhere close to climax.

YN had stayed mum, when curious eyes landed on her, she only gave a closed-lipped smile, and shrugged delicately, “I don’t speak about such things. It’s not very ladylike.”

As much as the gossipers want to roll their eyes at her holier-than-thou approach, it created wonder in what her life was like.

YN nor Harry ever cracked, never once.

Of course, every couple tried to put on their best faces for dinners and cocktails but they’ve all slipped a few times.

Like when Caroline had huffed at her husband to, “make his own damn cocktail.”

Or when Bart had let it slip that Gretchen threw a glass at his head during one heated argument a few days back.

Not Harry and YN.

Dinner tonight was hosted at the Chamber’s home, though no one would say it, they preferred when the couple hosted.

YN’s food was impeccable, the kind that only really was served at high-end restaurants, and cooked to absolute perfection.

Their house was incredible, expansive and an open-floor plan that was not the norm for house concepts - it was new, innovative.

They got together every other weekend, the neighborhood parents while a few of the teenage girls watched the young ones.

It was a mystery too.

Harry and YN were the only ones who were childless in their neighborhood.

At twenty-seven and twenty-nine years old, it was a bit scandalous that the two hadn't brought any additions to their family.

When bluntly asked once over tea about the issue, asking too crudely about infertility - YN had replied that no, she wasn’t and they just hadn’t wanted to start trying yet.

That her and Harry were happy right now.

Which was a concept that the others didn’t understand, majority hated their husbands, minority could tolerate them.

Children were something that brought joy to an otherwise dull life, to put something between husband and wife as a barrier to interact because every word seemed tense.

The largest house in the neighborhood, with five bedrooms, and none of them occupied by little ones.

It was a yearning to be like them.

YN was perfect down to the delicately painted polish on her fingertips.

The most mild-tempered personality, who seemed perpetually bubbly and not one negative, pessimistic molecule in her body.

Harry matched the same energy to an extent.

He had a temper unlike his wife, he wasn’t boisterous or belligerent like the other men but he was much worse.

It was subtle, passive, and it made the person who was the target of his anger feel like they were walking on eggshells until Harry decided not to hold the grudge anymore.

Harry was not one to mess with.

Once their neighbor Tom thought it’d be a funny prank to do a burn-out in their front yard.

It tore up a section of their healthy, thriving green grass that Harry watered before work every morning.

Mud, dirt, their meticulous landscape was tainted by the ruddy tire marks of the Chevy Impala that resides next door.

It was passive aggressive, Tom definitely had some not-too-secretive envy for his next door neighbor.

Harry had all the things the men wanted.

Top of that was a nice, obedient little wife who smiled and kept their mouth shut when the men were talking.

Tom anxiously peeled out his window that morning, blinds drawn only barely as he watched Harry come out of his front door.

Always at fifty-thirty on the dot, he grabs the hose, and it’s a bit comical because he’s already in his pressed, tailored suit, and shining loafers that YN must polish daily.

Harry…doesn’t give a reaction.

Which makes Tom’s stomach sink for a reason he cannot quite put his finger on.

Harry does not lose his shit like Tom was hoping, goading him into breaking his picture perfect image that they know.

No, Harry simply waters the grass, as always, and only glides over the disturbed soil to not make it any muddier.

His facial expression does not even twitch.

“He’s going to take that out on his wife,” Janet, his wife, frets as she looks over his shoulder, “You know he’s going to go in there and knock her around because he’s angry.”

“That’s not my fault,” Tom retorts defensively, letting the curtain fall back so they can no longer see him, pissed and unsettled.

“Tom-“

“Go make me breakfast before I knock you around, alright? You’re pissing me off,” Tom dismisses her as he grabs his cup of coffee, watching her scurry into the kitchen.

It honestly disappears from Tom’s mind after not getting the reaction that he wanted so fiercely.

But Tom was also relieved that Harry hadn’t come over, banging on his front door, or leaving a nasty message in the mailbox.

Nope.

It’s not until Tom walks out to the driveway, where his brand new burnt orange Chevy Impala is waiting for him, his pride and joy.

Tom sees it right away, his tires, the expensive brand new tires he had just paid an arm and a leg for were deflated.

Not just one, all of them.

And it’s easy to see that they’re sunken and useless because the underside of the car is closer to the ground, and not to mention the massive slash marks.

Tom thinks he’s about to have an aneurysm as his face starts to fluster into a shade of beet red, his hands trembling.

Just at that moment, Harry’s exiting his front door with YN walking behind in, tied up in a beautifully floral robe that ghosts on the stone.

Tom is boiling, if he was a cartoon character, steam would be coming from his ears.

Harry leans in to kiss his wife, this soft peck as she cups his face like she doesn’t want him to go, whispering against his lips.

He indulges her in a few more before she’s letting him go, not before pressing her thumb into the indent of his dimple.

“What the fuck, Chambers?” Tom roars as he storms to the edge of the driveway, staying in his own land but throwing his arms up.

Harry does the same fucking shit as before except the twerk of his lips.

Harry fucking smirks at him but his eyes were as slicing as recently sharpened daggers through flesh, he gets under Tom’s skin.

“Tom, watch your language in front of my wife,” Harry replies back calmly, “That’s no way to speak in front of a lady.”

YN’s lips are tight, eyes not dancing anywhere near Tom’s as she holds her husband’s bicep in concern, the typical over emotional woman.

Harry leans over, must tell her to go inside because she does go back into the house with a slam of the door, a deafening click of the lock in the still sleepy neighborhood.

“This crime is getting out of control for how much my mortgage is,” Harry lets out a breezy laugh, waving towards his front lawn, “First my yard is torn up, now your tires! I thought this was the safest place in the state!”

Tom is flabbergasted, he doesn’t know how to respond because Harry is acting like they both don’t know what is actually going on right now.

“I might have to get a watchdog, a rottweiler or something like that,” Harry’s smirk does not fade an inch but his tone gets deeper, more threatening, “Rip the jugular out of the next person who comes on my property uninvited.”

They both were aware that Harry was talking directly about Tom, threatening him in a subtle but almost more malicious manipulative way.

Tom freezes up, unsure of how to even answer him but he stutters slightly when he says, “Yea-yeah. A Rottweiler, not a, uh, bad idea there.”

“I better get going,” Harry thumbs back to his jaguar convertible, “My employees will have my ass if I’m late. You know how it is.”

Another jab.

They both know Tom doesn’t know how it is because he’s a low-level at his desk job where he makes barely enough and still has to rely on his parents sometimes.

“Yeah,” Tom bleats dumbly, now having to figure out this mess that was his car, “Have a good one.”

“You as well,” Harry returns, his dimples teasing at this point with his wide smile, “By the way, Tom, if you ever curse in front of my wife again. We’re going to have an issue. She’s a fucking lady and you’re going to treat her like one.”

Tom can’t reply because Harry has already ducked into his Jaguar, revving the engine, and peels out of their driveway with a loud squeal of tires.

++

Tom and Janet continue to come to dinner parties like nothing ever happened.

Harry will still mix his normal Moscow mule with a question about how his work is going, no one but Tom knows it’s a jab when Harry asks how his new tires are doing for him.

YN is cordial as ever.

When Tom takes her aside to apologize, he doesn’t miss how Harry’s eyes lock on him like a bullseye of a target - watching, clocking every subtle movement.

Harry watches the interaction in its entirety as Tom keeps his voice low, “I apologize for my language the other morning. I shouldn’t have cursed in front of you.”

YN let’s out a short, girlish giggle as she pats him arm, “No apology needed. Harry acts as if I’ve never heard the word before. Though I do not hear it often, I will admit. Harry keeps me sheltered.”

“A good husband,” Tom huffs out, she was adorable, and there was something so innocent about her that made not just him but many drawn like a moth to a flame.

“The best,” YN smiles sweetly, squeezing his bicep as she starts to move away, “Now I must check on my pork chops. I’d be mortified if they’re dry. Enjoy.”

And with that, she glided away, eyes couldn’t help but follow.

YN was cutting up the garnishes, the last touch on the dinner that was about to be served, sprigs of cilantro under her fingers.

A few women flocked around her, sipping martinis and gossiping like grade schoolers.

Harry had sauntered into the kitchen a few minutes after, hands finding her hips, and a chaste kiss to her cheek, “I’m starving.”

“Dinner will be ready in five,” YN looks over her shoulder to tell him, knife pausing for a moment.

“Oh, dinner sounds good too,” Harry’s hand slips from her hips to a bit more suggestive position on her lower back.

“Harry!” YN scolds him, a scandalized expression on her face as the other women flush and giggle.

They all wish the had their own Harry, a husband who was affectionate, a bit inappropriate but he made it obvious that he desired his wife.

His eyes never wandered, not even when Catherine bent over at a barbecue and the wind blew her dress over her head - cotton panties for everyone to see.

All the men had nearly drooled at the sight of skin but not Harry, he glanced with a bored expression at his watch and leaned in to kiss his wife’s nose.

“Out, out,” YN shoos him like a dog begging for a bone, giving him a light shove as he snickers, hands up in surrender.

YN’s eyes are glued to the cutting board, embarrassment latent on her face, “I apologize about that. He sometimes forgets he needs to filter his thoughts before speaking.”

The group around her titters, trying to hide how their cheeks feel warm because how does YN even handle her husband saying to her?

They’d swoon instantly if Harry told them that he was starving for them.

The dinner is served on beautiful, imported dishes from Italy - a wedding gift that was treasured from Harry’s parents allegedly.

The spread was as picture perfect as always.

It was because they were picture perfect.

Most of the men, aside from Harry, were drunk or quite close to it after the salad was served.

By the time the pork chops was on the table, they were bordering on something more uninhibited and unfiltered.

“And Marshall’s new secretary,” Henry’s voice is booming, monopolizing as every one gives him their attention, “Biggest tits I’ve ever seen. Natural too.”

The men all let out these crowing, obnoxious laughs out.

Except Harry.

“I bet her ass is just as -“

“Gentlemen,” Harry cuts in smoothly, raising his lowball glass, “This is no type of conversation in front of the ladies.”

“Catherine’s heard this talk before,” Henry tries to brush him off easily, glancing over at his wife who looks uncomfortable put on the spot.

Harry acquiesces with a sip of his drink, raised eyebrow, and nothing more.

It’s silent for a moment before the conversation continues.

It typically doesn’t wander into such raunchy, debauched territory at a neighborhood dinner but something was in the air.

“Janet wouldn’t let me touch for a month after I broke the radio, even after I bought a new one!” Tom complains between loud chews, “No hand or mouth stuff even!”

Everyone is laughing, the women more of an uncomfortable chuckle than anything, and again - Harry’s face was unreadable.

“How long do you hold out the goods when Harry fucks up? Or are you a good girl who never leaves him wanting?” Henry shoots the question towards YN, innocent YN, who looked like a spotlight had just been shown at her on stage.

“Henry,” Catherine hisses with an elbow in the ribs.

“That’s improper to discuss,” YN wipes at the corner of her lip with her napkin, “I do not do anything other than my duties as a wife.”

The tension is starting to creep in like a thick fog, though he doesn’t speak, everyone’s eyes shift towards the head of the table - Harry.

“I am hoping I heard you wrong, Henry,” Harry sits his glass down knocking loudly against the oak surface, “I know you surely didn’t ask my wife about our intimacy, She wasn’t raised in a barn, to talk crudely, or act it. I do not want you tainting her innocence with such filth.”

The way Harry regarded his wife made it seem like she didn't even know what sex was.

Which again, added to the mystery of what they even got up to (if anything) in the bedroom.

Henry flushes, his face pink from the liquor, and he shakes his head, “I apologize, I’ve had too much to drink.”

Harry gives the sarcastic, crooked smirk, “It seems most of you had. Now I wouldn't want to stress my wife out any further with this nonsense. I think it’s best we end the night here. She most likely needs a lie down from these inappropriate discussions.”

This delicate flower, YN, who just wishes everyone a good night without any fuss about Harry kicking out their guests mid-meal.

Obedient.

Submissive.

Innocent.

The perfect wife.

++

As soon as the last couple is gone, Harry locks the front door, and kicks his loafers off by the front door.

He truly hated his fucking neighbors.

The best part of these dinners was when they left.

YN had sat back down at the head of the table, opposite Harry, and took a long sip of red wine as she watched him walk back in.

“Those men were pigs tonight,” Harry breaks the silence, taking his spot at the opposing end, finishing off his dry whiskey, “I can’t believe the lack of respect around women.”

“Mm,” YN kicks off her black stilettos before she’s kicking her feet up onto the dining room table without a care.

The basket of rolls tumbles to the floor, a gravy pitcher toppling over and starting to drip on their expensive linen tablecloth.

The skirt of her dress rides up, revealing an expanse of her bare thigh, and enough of a peek at her hips to see no elastic in sight - no underwear.

“How do you think dinner went, my dear?” Harry asks conversationally as he pours himself a glass of Merlot from an open bottle.

YN shrugs as she finishes off her own glass, a red drop of liquid chasing down her jawline, throat, and chest - soaking into the white material of her dress.

“I wasn’t paying much attention to any of them,” YN replies honestly, the honey-sweet airheaded tone was gone and a more demure lift was in her words, “I couldn’t get the idea of you fucking me on this table out of my mind.”

Harry grins like a cat who just found a canary, setting his wine glass down, and leaning back in his chair - spreading his legs more.

“My love, watch your tongue,” Harry teases as he starts to loosen the tie around his neck, never taking his eyes off of her, “It’s improper for you to speak like that.”

YN grins sharply, uncrossing her ankles, and bending her one leg, resting her foot on the plush cushion of the chair, the other one the table - giving him an obscene, gorgeous view when she hikes up her dress even further.

“They would be mind-blown, you know that,” Harry’s voice has gone deeper, rougher as his arousal starts to sink into his bones

“Mind-blown about what?” YN switches back on that innocent, friendly tone but it doesn’t match her actions as her fingertips dance near her inner thighs.

“That you’re a fuckin’ filthy little slut for your husband,” Harry rasps as he starts to go for his belt, yanking the leather from the loops.

“That’s not how you speak in front of a lady, Mr. Chambers,” YN scolds with that faux scandalized melody, her fingers were running over her outer folds, gentle and unrushed.

“M’not in front of a lady right now though,” Harry disagrees as he shoves off his suit jacket..

“You’re not?” YN asks in surprise, doe eyes but the foot on the table purposefully knocks over a half-full bottle of wine - splashing on their rug below.

Harry just smiles, teeth gleaming white and wolfish in the low lighting, “You’re the sweetest, most proper little thing in front of company, aren’t you?”

YN blinks at him, her expression unyielding and still playing into this role they’ve constructed over the years -the perfect couple.

“You are,” Harry answers for her, “I make sure no one speaks crudely in front of you. I remind them that you’re pure, unassuming, and delicate.”

“But you’re not delicate nor anywhere near pure,” Harry continues, his hand gripping at himself through his briefs - squeezing for a bit of relief as the sight in front of him was enough to have him come.

“I am,” YN argues weakly, her index and middle finger finally parting her folds, and pressing against her already swollen clit.

Harry lets a loud laugh echo through their now quiet house, only a low static hum from a song playing in their formal living room on the record player.

“You are? It could have fooled me. You acted scandalized when Henry asked if you withhold intimacy to punish me.”

“I was scandalized,” YN lies but it isn’t with conviction, her focus isn’t great as she presses tight circles over her bud.

“I think Henry would have been scandalized if I told him that you’d never withhold it because you love cock so much. Remember when you lasted what, a half-a-day when I came home late to dinner?”

“By bedtime, you were teary-eyed, and begging me even if I’d just give you the tip, huh?” Harry pushes his hand inside his briefs to really grip him up, a hard squeeze at the base to calm himself down.

“Or he’d be scandalized to know what you’re really like when it’s just me and you. How fuckin’ dirty you are. The words that come out of that cute mouth, how cock-hungry you get, how fucking much of a brat you are when you don’t get your way.”

YN bites her lip, trying to scowl but her toes curl and her thigh muscle twitches as she rubs at herself just right.

“I’ll tell him how you sit pretty for me on your knees when I arrive home from work or how you like to sneak my fingers up your dresses under the table at work events. Should I? The list goes on.”

“They wouldn’t believe you,” YN murmurs as she lets her head fall back, showing off the length of her throat as her legs threaten to close.

“Fuckin’ right they wouldn’t because I’m a good husband, aren’t I?” Harry runs his thumb over his sensitive slit, spreading the precome down the length of his shaft.

“I make sure everyone thinks you’re a delicate little thing when you’re nothing of the sort. If only they knew, dear,” Harry tells her, there’s a heavy amount of fondness intertwined with his words.

“Show me your cock,” YN’s head tilts back up, eyes expectant and focused as she slows the friction on her bud, she could have come by now if she wanted to but she’s teasing herself.

Harry makes a show of giving himself a few rough strokes, letting an echoing groan out as all YN sees is movement under fabric.

“Get the fuck over here,” Harry orders with a new gruffness, “If you come on your fingers then you’re done for the night. And I know how greedy you are for your orgasms.”

YN likes to push limits, always, and she doesn’t move from her chair.

Instead she keeps the same sluggish pace before tracing lower to tuck to fingers in, spreading the wetness back to her clit.

“Maybe I’ll go see if Tom can help me out,” YN sighs airily as the tablecloth bunches under her heel, careless when a serving bowl of green beans flips.

Harry barks out a laugh, hand going to the root of his length because YN looked too fucking good, she looked like the definition of a sin, and he gave into temptation every time.

“I think he’d have a heart attack first,” Harry isn’t even exaggerating, “I am certain that our neighbors are convinced that you do not even know what sex is.”

“I barely have a clue,” YN laughs but it’s a stuttering quip because she's actually close to coming, her calf muscles contracting as she braces herself.

Harry’s out of his chair before YN can register it (or notice how he grabs his leather belt from the crumbled mess of his clothes), striding to the other side of the table, and without any warning, yanks her chair by the back hard.

It drags against the carpet but does what Harry had wanted it to do, makes her leg fall off the table, leaving her to grip the bottom of the chair to not fall, and effectively taking her hand away from her core.

“Harry! You fucking prick-“ YN begins to curse because she was close and she full intended on coming in the new few moments.

“Quiet,” Harry leans down to hiss in her ear, his hand coming around her front to cup her throat, not hard enough to it air flow but enough that it makes it more difficult.

“I was about to come,” YN tells him but her words are choppy, like there’s cotton balls in her mouth, and her tongue refuses to move.

“Were you about to come?” Harry mimicked her words in a parroting tone, fingers pressing in only slightly more, “And I didn’t say you could. But you’re not the obedient, submissive wife everyone thinks you are.”

YN bites his bottom lip hard when he tries to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth from behind, that was enough of an answer.

“No, they didn’t realize how hard my job is,” Harry’s voice goes sympathetic, for himself, “How impossible it is to have this needy, bratty slut of a wife who is never satisfied.”

Harry’s lip was oozing, only a drop or two of blood but his hand moves to the back of her skull, knotting in her hair, and brushing their mouths together - smearing it as if it was a blood pact.

YN doesn’t shy away from it, in fact she tries to sink her teeth back into the wound that was already there but he knew her tricks - as unpredictable as she could be sometimes.

It was almost comical, the song that comes on next.

A new one and it hummed lowly in the background, as Harry gathered her hands together behind the chair to wrap together - he couldn’t help but sing the lyrics.

“You look like an Angel.”

“Walk like an Angel.”

“Talk like an Angel.”

“But I got wise, you’re the devil in disguise.”

YN has this cocky grin on her beautiful face, perfectly applied lipstick was smeared to her chin, spotted with his swipe of blood.

Already a mess.

And all his.

With her hands secured behind her back, over the slats of the chair, it is no doubt going to make her limbs ache from holding the unnatural position.

Her chest pushed outwards, shoulders jutting broad as they try to compensate for her wrists being bound together - helpless.

“S’a pretty dress,” Harry compliments with deceiving kindness, the back of his hand running up the bare expanse of her strained arm, “Did it cost me a lot of money, my love?”

He traces the strap of her dress, hooking his finger underneath the fabric before letting it snap back against her skin.

She hadn't seen him pick up the bread knife but she feels the cold of the stainless steel against her skin when he slips the blade underneath the strap.

Sliced through like warm butter, the material falling limply away, and when he cuts through the opposite side's strap - it has his desired reaction.

Not only does the fabric fall away like scraps but it loses all structure and support, and effectively falls towards her belly.

Her tits spilling out, fully on display with the way her back was arched, and pretty nipples pebbled into perfect peaks.

YN has this snark of a grin on her face, trying not to show she's affected by what he just did, how her cunt ached into her whole body.

She loved the fucking games they played, and she flutters her eyelashes at him, “I thought you said I'm worth every penny.”

Harry stands in front of her, stepping on his suit jacket without a care that it took time for YN to starch and iron it that morning - his tie joining after he tugs it down and unknots it.

His fingers go towards the buttons of his dress shirt, the green of his eyes was barely visible but they couldn't pick, spoilt for choice.

From her face, to her tits, to her belly, to her core.

“You're the most expensive fuck I've ever paid for. I gave you my wallet, my accounts, my life,” Harry grunts as he makes her wait, only getting to the second button, his trousers split open by his hips, hanging loosely on his narrow waist.

“You act like-” YN’s words are cut off by a knock at the door, startling her into surprise because who the fuck would be knocking?

Harry peeks around the corner wall of the dining room, getting a clear view to the tall, narrow windows on either side of their front doors.

“It's Tom,” Harry informs her, moving to zip and button his pants back up, shifting them higher on his hips, “I better get that.”

“Harry,” YN stutters in a burst of adrenaline, she can't move from where she's sat - a sitting duck, vulnerable but aware of it, “You can't answer that.”

“I can't, why not, honey?” Harry’s words have this nuance of confusion, artificial and all for show, “It's the right thing to do.”

“What if…what if he sees me?” YN’s chest was heaving with a filthy mixture of arousal and nerves, “He could walk in.”

“I guess you better be quiet then,” Harry walks up to her, thumb dragging her bottom lip down before smearing her lipstick a bit more at the corner of her mouth, “Or he will come to investigate and how on earth would I explain this?”

Harry is walking out of the room before she can say anything else, leaving her alone in a almost-state of undressed with nowhere to look but their wall.

The music is quiet enough that YN can hear the conversation, Tom was naturally a boisterous man without volume control.

“Harry,” Tom greets when her husband opens the door, “I thought it best I come over and another apology for all of my behaviors. Will you grab YN so that I can extend my amends to her?”

YN’s heart seizes, skipping a beat because she wouldn't put it against Harry to push this, prod at her until he feels he's gotten under her skin.

However, YN needs to remember that Harry is already back into his 'perfect husband’ role, he's the Harry now that everyone knows him as in the neighborhood, not the one that was just in front of her.

“YN had to go lie down,” Harry tells him, making sure he sounds disappointed in his friend, “She really is delicate. Your wife may be okay with that kind of fall but she really cannot. It flusters her.”

“How the hell do you get anything from her? Did she pass out the first time she saw your prick then?” Tom chortles, a joke that isn't received well, Harry doesn't laugh.

Harry redirects though, “What was it exactly you wanted to apologize for? I really must get upstairs to check on her.”

Tom’s voice gets lower, still enough that YN can hear but it's their neighbors' attempt at a whisper, “Listen, I know you slashed my tires. It's fucking fair, alright? I got in a fight with my wife, went and got hammered at the bar, and drove home. I was drunk off my ass, I thought I was doing them in my yard. I wanted to piss my wife off.”

Harry’s voice is unsuspecting, casual, “Oh? I didn't know it was you who did those burnouts. I thought it was those teenagers who drive up and down the road at all hours of the night. Apology accepted for the burnouts but I didn't slice your tires. I hate to break it to you.”

“Oh god, I'm sorry for even thinking you did. I just assumed -” Tom begins to babble, anxious because he just accused Harry of a crime that he had no evidence to corroborate said hypothesis.

“As long as it doesn't happen again, you know?” Harry’s tone is still amicable, unbothered but there's an underlying threat that could not be mistaken for anything else, “It really upset my wife and you know how hard it is to control an emotional woman.”

YN rolls her eyes at that but she does admire how well Harry played his part as the stereotypical husband like every other man who lived in this community.

“Can I come in to apologize? I'll be quick, I am so utterly embarrassed,” Tom nearly begs, hoping to not have disrupted their ‘friendship’ with his nonsense.

There's footfall on the marble, YN’s adrenaline starts pumping through her veins because even as she starts around - there is nowhere for her to hide.

Unable to do anything.

Tied to this heavy chair, she couldn't possible move in this awkward position.

Shoulders and arms were already radiating an ache from being held in the same way for this amount of time.

The only modesty she can muster is to close her legs as tight as they can possibly go.

YN starts taking these greedy inhales to try to not freak the fuck out, on displayed with her tits bare and though her legs were closed - it really wasn't doing much to hide the fact she wasn't wearing underwear, skirt of her dress ruffled around her hips.

“She's already gone upstairs to lie down. I was supposed to bring her an adavan and martini to help her relax. I will pass on the message, Tom,” Harry redirects much to YN’s relief, chest starting to not feel as tight.

“Sorry, again. I really admire you, Harry. You just…Every man in this town wishes their wife was half the woman YN is. A true housewife,” Tom means it as a compliment, a disgustingly masochistic banter that insults not only his wife but all women.

“She is wonderful,” Harry agrees wistfully, everything happening in their dining room begs to differ but he acquiesces to Tom nonetheless.

The door closes, the deadbolt clicking, and Harry’s leather loafers were tapping against the floor as he makes his way back.

Harry was observant, in tune with every want and need of his wife, and now is no different as he steps into the room.

Her face must be a dead giveaway.

Harry strides right up to her, gripping her chin tightly enough that her muscle twitches, and he brings his face to hers - eye level.

There's annoyance in his words, the green cutting like sea glass, “You know I would never ever let anyone see you like this. Why the fuck were you worried for even a second?”

YN tries to sound tough, “You don't know! He could have stormed in. You…you didn't know.”

Harry’s fingers move from her chin, to her jaw but end up in her hair.

He knots his fingers in, tugging her forward until their noses bump. “You know as well as I do that I would have fuckin’ slit his throat before he got within view of you. He wouldn't have left this house.”

YN pushes forward, trying to button their lips together but instead of moving backwards, he moves her head back by the roots of hair.

“Apologize to me,” Harry hisses lowly, teeth set like he's resisting to bite her, claim her as an animal would their mate.

YN knows Harry just as well as he knows her.

YN knows that he's upset that she would for a second doubt it.

“I love you,” YN tells him, tilting her neck back so she's leaning into his grip, showing him all the power he truly has over her.

Harry doesn't kiss her lips but instead, the center of her throat, and then further down to her collarbone until he's at the top swell of her breast.

His hand comes to thumb the skin right below her bellybutton, dragging downwards until can fit the whole of her cunt in his palm.

“Wet f’me,” Harry murmurs against her skin, he licks her nipple, smoothing his tongue over one before he’s blowing cold air on it, “I think I'm going to make you work for it.”

“No,” YN whines pleadingly because when he made her work, fuck, he made her really fucking word for it - sweat, tears, spit, and slick.

“I've been such a great husband,” Harry chides as his index finger traces up her seam, ghosting over her bud, “Am I not? Who covered for you? Who always covers for you, my little fucking devil?”

“You do,” YN mashes her back molars together, jaw aching with strain as she keeps her hips planted to the cushioned seat.

“What did I cover for this time? Say it,” Harry middle finger joins his index to split her lips, exposing where she was swollen for him.

His thumb pressed firmly on her bud, rubbing in precise circles, the surest way to get her coming as quickly as possible.

YN can't help her greed, bucking forward into the touch, and riding down on his thumb to get the exact friction she wanted.

“If you come,” Harry’s voice is lulling, a false sense of security, “You won't be able to sit at our next neighborhood dinner because you're ass will ache that fuckin’ bad.”

“Then take your hand away, fucker,” YN bites out, wetting her body lip, it was too good to pull away, and she wasn't far off from an orgasm.

A hand comes to her cheek, not hard but stinging as he smacks it, “Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? You aren't supposed to speak back to your husband.”

YN grins at him, only fueled by the slap, rough was the name of the game, and she sits back in her chair - unbothered.

“Filthy fuckin’ girl,” Harry grunts as he takes a step back, admiring his wife as she keeps her legs spread lewdly - pink and puffy, perfect.

YN flutters her eyelashes, innocent and coy.

“Now answer me, sweetheart. What did I cover for? Why did I have to lie to Tom?” Harry tilts her head, eyes narrowed and tracking her every twitch, “Hm?”

Harry can't help himself, coming closer to the pet at the patch of downy hair on her mound, touching everywhere but her clit.

“Because I slashed his tire,” YN talks through her teeth, willing herself to keep her hips from moving off the chair below.

++

“That motherfucker,” Harry had growled when he came in from watering the grass, “Tore up our front yard with that cheap piece of shit Chevy. If I wasn't going to be late for work, I would go knock him the fuck out.”

YN had been sitting in their breakfast room, sipping on honey-lavender tea in a silk, lace robe that was a deep royal blue.

“I don't want to see you upset,” YN frowns as she puts her cup down, standing up, and trailing over to him, “I'll call the landscapers today, have them fit us in.”

Harry tugs her into a hug, a kiss on her hair, “Do not worry about me, my love. I'm okay. Just pissed off. I've got more important things than Tom to care about.”

“What time will you be home?” YN asks as she blinks her pretty, twinkling doe eyes up at him, arms around his narrow waist.

Harry brings up his arm to look at his watch but sees that his wrist is bare, “God damn. I left my watch upstairs. I'll be right back.”

Harry pulls away, the tension in his broad shoulders was a tell that he was much more enraged then he was letting on.

His expensive Italian leather loafers clicking against the marble as he storms back up the staircase towards their bedroom.

YN hated seeing her husband upset, she craved to see him happy, and she would do anything for him.

It's why she's not thinking twice before grabbing the sharpest knife from the butcher block in the kitchen, tucking inside her robe, and going out the back door.

YN is quick, eyes darting to make sure that no one has seen her as her bare feet hit the dewy grass between their yards.

YN pulls her arm back, using all of her force to push the sharp blade into rubber, and loves it when she hears the air start to moan out as it escapes.

Fuck Tom.

YN scurried back to the house and hoped that she would be efficient enough that her husband hadn't come back down stairs yet.

That was not the case.

He was standing at the back glass door, observing with pursed smile, hands in the pockets of his dress pants with his watch reflecting off the kitchen light.

YN bites her lip, caught out as he opens the door for her, and ushers her in.

His voice is dry, bleak, “Give me the knife.”

Oh shit.

She's in trouble.

At least she thinks that she is.

Until he kisses the side of her head, opens the back door once again, and strides across the lawns like she just had down.

He makes it appear effortless when he slashed the remaining three good tires, pulling the blade down so that there's no hope of patching the rubber.

Harry runs the blunt tip against his door, scraping off the paint like gum on the sidewalk before he's walking back towards the house.

“Darling, you have to slice when you do it. All four will be at least two of his paychecks, a small price for what I'll have to pay the landscaper,” Harry tells her nonchalantly like they were talking about the weather and not a crime they both committed.

Harry glances at his watch, “Shit. I have to go. I'll see you later, alright? Be good f’me even though you're always such a good girl.”

And it's sincere because that's how twisted their relationship is.

YN committing a crime to seek retribution for Harry’s anger was the most romantic sign of her love that he could ask for.

++

The first contact that meets her clit is his palm, when he smacks her flat over her bundle of nerves, and it was hard enough to make her jump.

Her legs start to close but he roughly shoved a knee into her thigh to force them to stay open, “What? You're so tough, right? Surely, surely you can take a few hits, my love.”

YN grits her teeth, molars clashing as the residual pain radiates down her thighs, and at the same time, it had her pulsing.

Her wetness was soaking the cushion, there was nothing that got her slick faster than when he wasn't worried about his heavy handedness.

“Can you take it?” Harry drops his hand to her center, thumb tucking up the hood of her clit, pressing tightly against her bud, and it's too much straight on.

Her legs twitch, dying to close because she was throbbing with sensitivity, pinpricks make her eyes feel tingly because it's too much every other second.

When Harry asks her that question, it is rhetorical, he doesn't wants an answer because he would fluidly switch into something softer, more coddling if she needed.

It wasn't.

YN presses her lips together, refusing to give him answer as she bites on her tongue to point she can taste metallic.

“S’funny, most men can't even find their wife’s clit or don't care about it at all. Aren't you lucky you have me?” Harry’s smile is wolfish, mean, and a different version of her husband, “I've found it? Haven't I?”

He accompanies his words with an unexpected smack before his thumb right up again, no reprieve or mercy for her.

It felt fucking amazing and like hell all at once.

She just needs a bit lighter pressure, slower circles, and that would be it.

Harry knows that and is choosing to torture her instead, not concerned about actually getting her off at the moment.

“Is that all I need to shut you up, pet? A thumb on your clit? I'll have my hand up your dress every second of the day then,” Harry chuckles cruelly, pressing and pressing before his fingers are crooked up inside her walls, squeezing at the unexpected, and robbing her of the stimulation on her clit.

YN wants to hurt him, dig her nails into his back muscles until he bleeds on her, sink her teeth into his thigh where no one but her will see the healing bloody marks.

“Fuck you,” YN can't help herself because he's ruthless, finds it funny, and she feels like if she doesn't come within the minute she’ll explode.

Harry withdrawals his fingers, wiping them crudely on her cheek, dragging to her lips before he's parting her lips and pressing down on her tongue.

When he puts pressure there, it causes her to gag and her eyes instantly start to water, and it shouldn't surprise him when her teeth meet his knuckles.

Harry grunts out in pain when she clamps down which causes him to pinch her tongue, she yelps, and it gives him enough time to remove his fingers.

“S’funny, all these men in the neighborhood want you, huh?” Harry asks condescendingly, his hand goes to the back of the chair, and he tips it.

Her reflexes cause her to twitch, trying to find stable ground but she can't because of the way she's tied up.

Harry keeps her on the edge of falling, her heart lodged in her throat.

“But they don't know what a disobedient little bitch you are?” Harry lets the chair come back down with a loud clatter, “Don't listen to a word when you're hungry for cock. They should be lucky their bored wives aren't so needy.”

“I'm not needy,” YN disagrees sharply, they both knew she was lying through her teeth but she couldn't let him just say those things without a rebuttal.

“You think Janet or Catherine bend over any surface for their husband, forgo panties while they clean so that their men get a glimpse of their cunt, or wake up in the morning dripping and soft?”

“You love it,” YN manages to keep her voice steady when Harry swipes his finger through the whipped cream on top of the pineapple upside cake that was untouched on the table.

“I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world,” Harry agrees, momentarily sincere, a break from his character.

He wipes the sweet, tacky fluff on her nipples before going back for more, destroying the dessert as he grabs a handful of the cake.

Harry smears it from her collarbones, all the way down her belly, and it was absolutely fucking messy as crumbs strayed everywhere, the syrupy sauce sticky on her skin,

“Harry,” YN gasps because she's surprised, she hadn't expected him to rub the cake on her, their dining room was a mess, everything was destroyed.

“Can't let this dessert go to waste. You made my favorite cake, I have to try it,” Harry kneels down, shoving between her legs and leaning forward.

He flattens his tongue above her belly button before trailing in up on a straight line, licking off the clumps of cake in turn.

“Mm,” Harry rumbles as he licks up her sternum, between the valley of her breasts, and his hand is digging to her ribs - keeping her still, “I can't decide which tastes better, your cunt or this cake.”

Harry carelessly grabs a smaller handful but he rubs it from below her navel to her mound, stopping right where her folds begin.

YN was dying, watching him, feeling him lick the traces off of her body with no rush, as if he had all the time in the world.

He bites at her belly after he's cleaned off the cake, making YN’s stomach suck in reflexively because it hurts and she is hazy from all the different sensations.

When he gets down to where she's aching, her heartbeat palpable in her center, he lazily cleans it off her mound.

“Sweet as pie,” Harry hums as he spreads her open, licking into her hole but ignoring where she actually needs him, “Or should I say pineapple upside down cake?”

It was starting to get overwhelming, the arousal was all that was plastered in her thoughts, and nobody else wants their husband to fuck then like she does.

None of them are married to Harry.

Her arms are aching, a dull shout from being held in the same position for so long.

“I love when you're all bound up. I can do whatever I please, right?” Harry takes these harsh laps at her clit before pulling back between each, thumb dancing around the seam of her core.

YN can't even bring herself to respond, it was warm in the house as it was, and sweat was beading from her temples.

“That's what Father Matthew said in marriage counseling before our wedding. Do you remember? He said that your body is mine, that you shall offer yourself whenever I wish, for my fulfillment and satisfaction.”

YN nods, she remembers Father Matthew saying that but it had been a part of their personas in the first place to go, they weren't religious, and neither practiced Catholicism.

It was all an act, like most other aspects of their lives, giving off the appearance that they were normal like every other young couple.

YN had sat prim and proper, agreeing to the priest’s misogynistic words as he droned on about how waiting until marriage to have sex was the utmost important.

To prove how wrong Father Matthew was, Harry had encouraged YN to tie him to their bedpost.

She then proceeded to edge him until he was pink, panting, and bruised on his chest, inner thighs from vicious love bites.

Just to prove the point that if her body was his, then Harry was to offer his body in the same way.

“And you're such a good little wife, aren't you?” Harry accentuates his words by pushing two fingers into her, curling towards her plush walls, and finding her spot like nothing.

YN can't help but moan, to finally have something to get her there after teetering on the edge of losing her orgasm because he knew how to keep her there.

“Always so generous with this pretty cunt,” Harry’s thumb comes to rub at her bud, over the hood to dull the sensitivity a bit - how she liked it, “I can't believe it's all mine. For the rest of our lives, baby, this is mine to fuck, eat, and worship. I love this pussy, just like every other bit of you.”

It was actually sweet, earnest words if you filtered through the crude accompaniments because he was loyal, madly in love with her, and always strived to make her happy through the thick of the chaos.

“Sweet thing prepares dinner, entertains our guests, and everyone would be scandalized to know what crosses my mind when you're bringing out dessert,” Harry's mouth finds her nipples, he gets sidebarred for a moment as he wraps his lips around the peak, pulling it hard as his other hand continues on.

Harry knows this is a monologue, her brain is too fuzzy, and all she can think about is an orgasm - all his words are barely registering, like he's speaking underwater.

“All I could think about was knocking it out of your hands,” Harry's breath is cold in her nipple, grazing with his plump lips on every word, “Flipping your dress up, eating your cunt from behind, and making them watch this proper housewife get treated how she likes, how you beg to be my slut.”

“But you can't be, baby. M’sorry to break it to you,” Harry coos as he presses his hand stops, it fucking stops, “Can't be a slut when you're a married woman who only opens her legs her husband.”

There's fat, pathetic tears dribbling down her cheeks because he had tricked her, she had truly thought that she was going to be able to come.

Her chest was heaving, she was panting like a water-deprived dog, and she knew what she had to look like.

Hair frizzed out from humidity and perspiration, her mascara running down her wet cheeks with her lipstick smeared off the corner of her mouth.

And Harry was looking at her like she hung the moon, that she was the most beautiful piece of art in the museum he was visiting.

“Darling,” Harry laughs but it's not mean, it's genuinely as if she's taken his breath away and he's in awe, “Darling.”

“Please, H, please,” YN chokes out unashamed in how vulnerable she was right now, crying because she's aching, and her body is stressed out to the point of near exhaustion.

Harry leans forward, kissing her forehead which was almost obscenely chaste for their current situation as he leans behind her to unbind her wrists.

Her face pressed into his chest as he reaches, her lips founds whatever is close, mouthing at the skin of his pectoral muscle - desperate to taste him, to have him without the game.

YN doesn't realize that she's been babbling, a noncoherent string of pleas, “Want you, please. I just want you. Need you.”

“Sweet girl,” Harry hums as he understands just how floaty she has become, her eyes moony and glazed as she struggles to focus, “You are doing so good for me.”

“Want t’come,” YN’s replies with staggered syllables, blinking at him with heavy eyelids, “M’aching.”

Harry chuckles at her, it's disgustingly fond because he's that in love when he brings her arms to her front, kissing her quiet when she whines at the ache.

Now that her hands are free, she's gripping and ripping at whatever she can sink her claws into because she can't wait any longer.

Harry tries to help, stepping out of his trousers, and tugging down his briefs until he’s exposed again, pretty and thick.

The angry red of the tip, along with the glistening drops of pre-come that were sliding down the shaft were a sign of how turned on he was.

“How do you want it?” Harry asks as he cradles her face, pressing kisses to her cheeks, lips, neck as his fingers tweak her nipple, “Lady’s choice.”

“Want t’ride you,” YN doesn't hesitate, hoping her words came out intelligible because her head was spinning.

YN had a few lousy lays before Harry, nothing to write home about in her teenage years.

She was positive that no other man on this earth could get her even close to the nirvana that her husband drove her to.

It was something she would never be able to regret or explain if she had to write it out - it would be mindless ramblings without true words.

Harry obliges as he helps her stand, wobbly legs as he takes her spot, and huffs out a mean jest, “My arse is wet from your slick. Darling, you're going to have to take my slacks to the dry cleaner. Hopefully they can get out the marks of a naughty girl’s cunt.”

YN doesn't respond, far too focused on straddling his waist, and gripping his around the girth of his base which filled her hand impressively - fingers struggling to meet.

“Hey,” Harry tries to grab her attention but she’s too focused on lining him up to her center, her hands were clumsy because of the livewire that was running through her body, his voice gets firmer when he barks out, “Hey.”

He grabs her wrist, tugging it off of his cock, and wrangles both of her hands into one of his.

Harry holds them against her chest, making her sit back on his thighs, and the tip of his length is brushing right up against the seam of her lips - if she could move forward a little bit, she may be able to get friction on her clit.

YN is far too enticed by trying to wriggle her hips forward, her eyes zoned in on him because he was the prettiest - in all aspects from his eyes to his nose to his arms to what lay in the cradle of his hips.

“How can you go so dumb for a cock you haven’t even gotten in you yet?” Harry scoffs as he uses the grip on her wrists to yank her forward until he is pressing through her folds.

YN has tears tracing down over her lips as she sniffles, her mouth twisted into a sad pout, “Stop being mean t’me. Just want you.”

Harry knows instantly, knows that's her way of voicing that she's hitting a limit, and she was ready for him to be nice.

“Okay, okay,” Harry simpers as he lets go of her wrists, allowing her to find balance gripping his shoulders as he takes hold of himself, “Be patient for me. Always such a good fuckin’ girl. Fuck, I love you.”

YN’s eyes squeeze shut with instant relief when he helps her sink down until her bum is flush against him once again.

“Baby,” YN lets out the mewl, her head tilting back as she begins to move her hips, more like a roll to get the friction on her clit, pulsing and swollen.

“You squeeze me like a dream,” Harry groans as he kneads her hip, allowing her to move how she needed to nudge her spot and give her bud that extra love.

Harry reaches behind, hand knitting in the hair by her nape to pull her back, to smear their lips together as she moves her hips in this crude, self-indulgent way.

“That's it, greedy girl,” Harry goads as his mouth finds her nipple again, sucking at it before pulling back with a audible pop, “S’all yours to use.”

“Only mine,” YN grits out, possessive even when she was floaty, that never dulled- the claim she felt over him.

Harry kisses the center of her center, “Of course, my love. M'your husband, I vowed that it's yours. I'm not like Bart who doesn't take that shit seriously.”

“I'd cut your dick off if you cheated,” YN manages to scrape out between heavy breaths, she was close, and trying to extend the sensations.

“I'd hand you the knife,” Harry agrees as he grips her waist with more firmness, starts moving her hips in these forceful, direct motions, “I don't have time. When m’asleep I dream of you, when I'm working I'm thinking about coming home to you, and when my cock gets hard - your the only reason it does because I'm thinking about this cunt, about the cute noises you make when you feel good. I’d fucking make a deal with the devil if that meant I got you.”

“You already made the deal,” YN let out this devious giggle, ringing through the quiet space of their sprawling home.

A home they had earned from other means than the others in their neighborhood, it was chaos wrapped in a suburbia bow.

A hideaway from their lives outside of this cul-de-sac of rich, over-privileged men with wives who didn't think for themselves.

It wasn't just Harry brings in the money, no, they brought it in together, and no one would be the wiser to it.

Not their neighbors, their family, the police - everyone was clueless to who the most wanted criminals in America were.

The crime duo who had shoot-outs with police, duffels filled with banded stacks of cash, gold bars, jewelry that was so expensive there wasn't an assigned value.

All in their vault hidden in their walk-in closet, where the secrets, the evidence, and the reward was hidden from unsuspecting guests in their home.

“I'd make the deal a million times over,” Harry replies as he leans forward to bite at the hinge of her jaw, “Just to have you squirming on my cock.”

YN digs her nails into the meat of his shoulder, eye fluttering like butterfly rings as they struggle to stay open, and her mouth drops in a moan.

“Harry,” YN throws her head back, her hips rolling into the cradle of his hips with force, keeping her clit smushed to his pubic bone, and there was slick coating the trimmed hair around the base of him.

“Fuck yeah, c’mon. Keep going,” Harry grits out because his balls were throbbing, begging for a release after she'd just squeezed him like a god damn vice.

YN always gets lazy after an orgasm, especially after being edged, and her hips are starting to stall into sluggish, barely there effort.

Harry takes it upon himself to move her how he wants, gripping her hips, and she whines when he digs his fingers into the meat of her love handles.

“If you didn't want it to hurt, you would move your hips yourself,” Harry reminds her as he graciously kneads bruises into the spot, guiding her into a swivel where he's persistently nudging her spot, “Fuckin’ move.”

YN doesn't ever take orders well so instead she slouches forward until she's hugging him, their chests pressed, and effectively putting all her weight on him.

Instead of getting frustrated, it melts Harry, and he wraps his arms around her and pulls her as close as possible.

“I fucking love you,” Harry murmurs against her hair, his feet planted flat on the floor as he fucks up into her with brutal but paced thrusts, “Did so good for me. I want you to give me another one.”

YN sinks her teeth into his shoulder, he doesn't acknowledge it as he angles his hips better to give her clit the stimulation she needs.

“O-oh,” YN mewls when it suddenly sparked a much less intense but still as good orgasm, “Harry.”

“I know, sweetheart. Fuck, you're going to make me come,” Harry assures her as he picks up the speed of his actions, teeth getting, “You take me so well. God, this cunt is mine, yeah? Fucking tell me.”

“Yours, S'yours,” YN whines because her body is tired, starting to ache in all the places he’d dug into with his fingers, had hit, and grabbed.

Harry wraps her hair around his knuckles but he's completely gentle when he goads her to move her head back.

He buttons their lips together, in a kiss sweet enough to make your teeth rot, a contradiction to what they'd just done.

Because despite all the show, they were a love story, and Harry loved YN so deeply that he wouldn't hesitate to take a bullet for her, push her out of the way to take the brunt.

Without thinking he would.

He has shielded her body countless times with his own, was grazed by a slugger to his thigh, and shoulder before.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” Harry grits out through clenched teeth, moving her down harder until she purposefully clenched to get him to come.

“Shit, that's it's,” Harry tilts his head back, smiling when YN starts smudging kisses to his throat in a goading support, “That cunt is a fuckin’ dream.”

YN giggles as he comes down, brushing his hair off his face, going into her normal caring mode as she starts to fuss over him.

He doesn't allow it for more than a moment, despite her pout because it was his job to take care of her, his duty as her husband.

“You're absolutely filthy,” Harry chuckles as he helps her stand up in front of him, sticky, wet, bruised, and his softening cock gives a weak twitch of interest, “Let's get up to the bathroom, quick shower before bed, yeah?”

“The food,” YN motions to the mess around them, everything was a disaster, “I have to clean this up first, H.”

“I'll do it. You did so much today,” Harry assures her because it was true, she was phenomenal, and the least her could do is clean up all the remnants, “I want to get you clean and curled up in our bed. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

“It's Coastal Trust Bank, in Santa Monica, yeah?” YN asks as he guides her towards the staircase, her movements languid and strained.

“I have it mapped out already, we're going to hit it at closing this time. They only close up with three employees at the end of the night. A manager and two tellers, not too many people to wrangle up,” Harry informs her, casually as if they're planning a weekend getaway.

“I want the keys to the safety deposit boxes. I want a Diamond tennis bracelet,” YN grumbles because she has yet to find one that she likes, there were at least seven sitting in her vault that weren't exactly what she wanted.

Harry shakes his head with a laugh, dimples popping as they walk up the stairs, “Or we could just buy you one, darling.”

“S’not as fun,” YN frowns in disagreement, it gave her a sick satisfaction to have someone else's hard earned money on her wrist as they yearned for their belonging back.

“I'll get you the keys to deposit boxes, anything you want,” Harry placates because it will also keep her occupied while he's shoving stacks of cash into the duffle bags he had splayed open.

“God, you're so romantic,” YN hums without any jest, this was their love, their secret, and the life they had created together.

++

YN didn't get nervous anymore, not when she walked into the bank at six-fifty, ten minutes before closing in a pretty bit plain tailored dress, a purse on her shoulder, and a coat over her forearm.

YN gives a fake name, the name of someone who actually patronizes the business, and asks questions about how to get a loan for a car.

The teller pulls out a binder, rifling through stacks of paper with small print, finger tracing over the page to find what he's looking for.

YN has to play the part when a litany of loud noises comes from the front entrance, all three employees and her look instantly.

Harry was dressed completely in black, covering every inch of his skin, gloves to disguise his hands, and a balaclava to only show the piercing twinkle of his eyes in the fluorescent lighting.

He had straps of artillery across his chest, two guns sling over his back to make an X, and a shotgun in hand as he pointed it towards them all.

“Get on the fucking ground!” Harry roars loudly, booming and frightening as all of them instinctively put their hands up in surrender.

Harry keeps an eye on them while he barricades the front door, he had already done so from the outside for the other exits - no escape.

YN matches the energy of the rest of them, tears streaming down her cheeks as she kneels on the ground until it's her turn.

Harry makes a point of binding her last, with zip ties around her wrists but they both know it's a trick pair - all she needs to do is use a bit of force and they'll break for her.

“Don't hurt the lady,” The manager begs as Harry roughly shoved YN towards the particular door, barking at her to sit back down and don't fucking move.

Harry turns to glance at the manager, “I'm going to kill her unless you open that fucking vault and hand me the money without any trouble.”

YN subtly nudges his foot.

“And the master key to the safety deposit boxes,” Harry facts on because even in the middle of a heist, he's still a doting husband.

+

warnings: Bonnie & Clyde AU mixed with DWD, mean H, d/s undertones, light bdsm (hands tied behind back), name calling, hitting, blood, guns, crime, knives, edging, overstimulation

I absolutely love this. I put a lot of work into it and it is definitely one of my favorite pieces. I would love to know your thoughts!

[baytpwk]

my funny valentine |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: your first official valentine's day together as a couple, and eddie wants it to be perfect. he's planned for everything- well, except one thing.

contains: fluff lol. lovey dovey mushy shit. they're so in love here (it's the engagement era). a little bit of light fighting? language. alludes to some smut but nothing graphic. valentine's day fic for the masses <3

“Alright, I’m just going to ask,” Farrah wrinkled her nose, heels clicking across the marble floors of her Hills home, swinging the dress shirt bag around. “Why would you need a red suit?” 

Gareth looked up, snickering around the cigarette in greeting while Eddie set down the guitar he’d been strumming. “For Valentine’s Day, Farrah.” Eddie hummed like it was obvious, standing and taking the fresh suit out of the Versace bag. 

“Look at that. Fuckin’ cool, isn’t it?” A ringed hand hit against the plastic of the bag, Eddie’s chest swelling with excitement. 

“Yeah, Ed, looks sick. Leather too?” Gareth grinned, leaning over to Farrah, kissing her in greeting. 

“Yeah, leather and red. Practically made for me, I fuckin’ swear.” Eddie grinned ear to ear, positively beaming with joy. “And just in time for Valentine’s Day. I mean, it doesn’t get more perfect than that, huh? She’s gonna love it. Don’t you think, Far?” 

Farrah’s usually chipper, giggly nod of reassurance didn’t come. Instead, her lips pulled, in a downward grimace that she tried to hide. A terrible poker face, you always told her with an eye roll. 

“Um, yeah,” Her words were forced, filled with uncertainty, eyes rolling down the fabric, fingers fiddling and twisting her rings.  

“What?” Eddie frowned, looking at the suit. Fresh off the runway, he saw it in one of your Vogue’s and called his agent immediately. It would be perfect for Valentine’s Day, perfect to surprise you in. You would love him in it, swoon and coo and kiss all over him so sweetly,  he was so sure of it- Well, he was until now. 

“What you don’t- You don’t think she’ll like it?” Eddie looked from the suit, back to Farrah, eyes wide with wild uncertainty. Maybe it was too much, too flashy. 

“No, no, no. The suit? She’ll love it.” Farrah said sincerely, head shaking. Still, her face held some hesitancy that made Eddie’s stomach drop. 

“Then what? What’s the- Why’re you lookin’ at me like that, Farrah, you’re freakin’ me the fuck out.” Eddie growled.

“Ed, man, chill-” 

“-I’m not looking like anything. The suit is fine.” Farrah rolled her eyes, gaze meeting Gareth’s carefully. “It’s just… Uh, I didn’t know it was for Valentine’s Day, that’s all. I thought- I dunno, I thought it was for a red carpet or something, not… Not Valentine’s Day.” 

Eddie blinked, confused. “What? Why- What are you talking about? So what it’s for Valentine’s Day? Should I not wear red on the one fuckin’ day of the year everyone wears red?” 

“No,” Farrah snapped defensively, Gareth’s arm tightening around her waist, glaring at Eddie over the top of her curls. “It’s nothing. It’s fine. Just wear the suit.” 

“No, clearly it’s something.” Eddie frowned, good mood turned sour at the lack of excitement he felt from your best friend. “What’s the matter? It’s not the suit, so what?” 

An uncomfortable silence fell between the three, Farrah fidgeting, looking at Gareth helplessly. “What is it? Valentine’s Day?” 

Farrah hesitated, lip rolling between her teeth, eyes flashing to Eddie in a way that gave him his answer. 

“Farrah, seriously, what’s the big deal with Valentine’s Day? I mean, I’m takin’ her out and doin’ nice shit, so what’s the problem?”

“Nothing, nothing it’s nothing,” Farrah waved him off, pausing for a moment, nose scrunching in a soft cringe. 

“… but, like, where are you going?” Farrah’s head quipped to the side, lip still rolling between her teeth, brows knitted in nearly a sympathetic way. “Is that appropriate?” 

“Is it- Yeah, I think so.” Eddie scoffed, eyes rolling with arrogant confidence that made Farrah pity him even more. He really had no idea.  

“‘M takin’ her to Spagos in the Hills. They’re doin’ this Valentine’s Day special with the white table cloths and candles. I called Marty and he got us a reservation.” Eddie’s chest boasted with pride, lips curling in a smug grin. Gareth and Eddie shared a confident smile, nodding at each other, oblivious to Farrah’s nervous expression.

Your first official Valentine’s Day together as a real couple, really together, really engaged. Eddie was determined to do it right, to make it count. You were his wife, afterall- well, soon to be wife. There’s nothing he wanted more than to spoil you the way you deserved. Flowers ordered, reservations made, the driver scheduled, and a gorgeous ruby necklace sitting in the jeweler’s vault, waiting to be picked up. It was all so mushy, so lovey and sweet. You really had changed him, and he knew you’d love to see that. Gush and squeal and be so sweet to him. 

It was all so perfect. Every detail was so thought out and so romantic. 

Except one. 

“What’s this Farrah’s telling me about a Valentine’s Day dinner at Spagos?” You hummed, lotioned hands sliding down your arms, smoothing over your skin. Your eyes watching Eddie’s carefully through the vanity mirror. 

He stilled, head snapping up and eyes rounded and wide- always looking like a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar. Void of any playfulness, dripping in genuine, true shock. It made your lips curl.

“W-What? What?” Eddie stammered, his heart skipping, sure he’d heard you wrong. “What are you talkin’ about-” 

“-Spagos?” You lifted a brow, turning in your chair to look at him, hands rubbing the excess lotion in. “For dinner tomorrow night? For Valentine’s Day?” 

Eddie blinked, mouth falling and closing around words he couldn’t seem to find. He’d been so, so careful. Planned it all perfectly, every single detail. He’d put more care into this than practically anything before, and now it was ruined.  

“I-I- fuck- I thought you liked Spagos!” Eddie threw a hand up, letting it fall against the throw pillow with a loud, dramatic thud. “You-You said you liked it, and-” 

“-I do like it.” You hummed sweetly, standing from your stool, leaning to flick the lights of the mirror off. “I love Spagos in the Hills.” 

“Then, ok,” Eddie huffed, irritation and disappointment building in his chest. Why the fuck had Farrah told you? Ruined his surprise. “What’s the problem then?” 

Your lips pursed, hesitating, just for a moment. Eddie huffed in annoyance. It was the same look Farrah had given him and now you? He was beyond annoyed. 

“Seriously? What’s the problem? I mean, I planned this perfect fuckin’ dinner, did all of it right, and what? It’s not good enough? It’s never fuckin’ good enoug-” 

“-Ed,” You huffed, an eye roll of annoyance at his erraticness cutting him off. “It’s very sweet. It’s perfect.” 

Eddie’s frown softened, posture lifting at the praise. “It’s absolutely exactly what I would want if I liked Valentine’s Day.” You said, face neutral, watching him carefully. 

Eddie’s own face fell, brows knitting back into confusion. If you liked? If? “Wait, wait… What are you talkin’ about, baby? You don’t-” Eddie’s head tilted to the side, eyes squinted in question. “You don’t like Valentine’s Day?” 

You kept wringing your hands, pretending to rub in lotion that was already absorbed, giving Eddie a small shrug. “No, not really at all, actually.” You admitted. “I actually think it might be the stupidest holiday ever created, and yes, that includes tax day.” 

Eddie blinked in disbelief, an airy scoff leaving his mouth, still hung in shock. “Are you serious?” Eddie’s brows lifted high, hiding under curl bangs. “You don’t like Valentine’s Day?” 

“Yes, Ed,” You huffed, annoyed with his wide eyed, shocked exaggerated expressions. 

“It’s- It’s a dumb holiday that’s only made by the candy companies to sell shit in the middle of winter when no one wants to buy anything. It’s all a marketing scheme. I mean, come on. You really need a whole holiday to remind you to tell your partner you love them? That holiday already exists, and it’s called your anniversary, and it’s just so fucking dumb, and- stop looking at me like that.” Your eyes narrowed in a glare, lips pressing in a thin, hard line, that only had Eddie howling with laughter. 

“What’s funny?” Your mouth twisted, tone snipping in annoyance. 

“I just- I can’t believe you out of all people don’t like Valentine’s Day.” Eddie snickered. 

“What does that mean?” 

“No- hey, c’mon, don’t be mad at me.” Eddie cooed at your angry expression, a pout beginning to spread across your lips, arms crossed tight over your chest. Legs thrown over the side, you could see Eddie coming towards you in the mirror, though you stubbornly didn’t turn around. Instead, you glared at him through the mirror, unwavering even when his arms wrapped around your frame, squeezing you against his chest. 

“I was just meaning I can’t believe you don’t like Valentine’s Day because you’re so… girly and shit.” 

Your scoff shook against his skin. “What?” 

“You know what I mean, baby.” Eddie cocked his head to the side, hands smoothing down your arms, squeezing them lightly with affection. “You’re so… pink, y’know? You like pink and girly shit and I just thought you’d love Valentine’s Day too. Seemed right up your alley.” 

He could feel you relax under his touch, leaning back into his midsection, head pressed between his pecs. “No,” You muttered, still with a pout that had Eddie’s heart swooning. “Just not for me, I guess.” 

“That’s alright.” Eddie nodded reassuringly, because he knew you needed it, even if you wouldn’t admit it. “Honestly? Kinda a relief.” 

“Yeah?” Your head tipped back, eyes rounded so sweetly up at him. He wondered if you could feel his heart jump. 

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded, moving his hands to hold either side of your face gently. “I was so fuckin’ worried I was gonna fuck somethin’ up. Not do it right. It’s a relief.” 

Your lips spread in an endearing soft smile, head turning to the side, kissing the pad of his thumb. “No, it’s perfect.” You shook your head gently, taking a deep breath. “It’ll be fun.” The words were as forced as the ‘reassuring’ grin you gave Eddie, that resembled more of a grimace. 

“Nah, we’re not doin’ that.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m not subjecting you to that.” 

“No, it’ll be fun, Ed-” 

“-Sweetheart,” Eddie purred gently. “If I wanted to torture you, I’d take you to the basement. Have my fun with you in there.” His eyes darkened with a hint of mischief that made you shudder. The newest addition to your forever home, the infamous ‘love dungeon’- because sex sounded too malicious, according to Eddie. It wasn’t done quite yet, a few finishing touches still needed, but filled with some of your and Eddie’s favorite toys. 

“Mm, that sounds like a better idea.” You hummed, head tilting back, nose nearly touching his sternum. 

“I think so, too.” Eddie grinned. God, how he loved you. His perfect match, who would’ve thought? Practically made just for him, sharing the same mind, beating heart. 

“Maybe order in? Order a pizza? Then I get you all to myself.” Eddie’s grip tightened across your torso, head dipping down, nose dragging over your own. “I’ve got a few new toys down there. Maybe we try them out? How’s that sound, hm, baby?” 

“Sounds perfect.” You grinned, lashes fluttering against his cheek when you nuzzled into him. “Sounds like the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever heard. Maybe you’ll turn me. Change my mind. Turn me into a candy heart, mushy bullshit believer.” 

Eddie snorted in laughter, moving to pull you from your chair, his hands on your waist, lips moving against yours, hungrily. Bunching the silk material of your robe, hand slipping under your bare skin, squeezing at the fat of your ass so you squealed into his mouth, giving him just enough leverage to slip his tongue past your teeth. 

The night was spent not in the basement, but in your bed, still, it was filled with cries of pleasure and gaspy whines between silk sheets. The next day, Eddie still set up the dozens of roses in the living room, vases and vases everywhere, because he knew you’d enjoy it- you always enjoyed flowers. 

He still went to the jeweler, even wore his new suit, walking proudly into the pizza shop to get your heart shaped pizza, posing for a picture with the staff- a photo that would live on their wall for years. You’d go, years after, to that same pizzeria just to giggle at Eddie framed in his flashy red suit. A picture perfect memory of your first Valentine’s Day together, one of many. 

[baytpwk]

made with love, my valentine |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: you recruit eddie's help to make valentines for your class.

contains: fluff. just lovey dovey, lovesick fluff. early in their relationship, but super sweet <3

“There?” 

Eddie grunted as lightly as he could, one hand holding the bouts of frilly, lace paper hearts, the other balancing the loaded staple gun that he should definitely not be holding so carelessly on a ladder. 

“Yes, that looks perfect.” You gave a quick nod from below, holding his ladder steady. 

Eddie caught a glimpse of the tiny smile you gave when your eyes met, beaming from the inside out the way you always did. His knees felt weak, heart skipping with an adrenaline rush of adoration and heat that poured out of his chest, crept all the way up to his cheeks. He hoped you couldn’t see, that his hair hid his blushing grin. 

“Perfect.” You grinned, stepping back when Eddie stepped down, work boots wedged into the old, creaky ladder. “That looks amazing. So much better than I could’ve done.”  

“I don’t think that’s true,” Eddie shook his head, looking around the fully decorated classroom. You’d gone all out. You always did, trying to make the holidays the very best for your kids. Decorating to the nines, even with the little supplies and budget you had. You were crafty, that was for sure, a talent that always left Eddie in complete and utter awe. 

“You did a helluva job without me. This place looks sick.” Eddie’s finger jammed against a paper heart that was dangling from the ceiling. 

“Sick is good right? Sick in a good way?” You giggled, light and airy. Eddie knew his heart was stopping. 

“Yeah, o-oh yeah, sorry, no, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like sick, bad. No, sick-sick means good. Sick in a good way, like a cool way, ya know? Or that’s what I meant. When I use it, it means good and cool, n-not ew sick as in ill-” Eddie’s cheeks flamed, stammering around fumbled words. The last thing he wanted was to insult you, he would never.

“I’m joking with you, Ed.” You grinned, bumping your hip playfully against his. “I’m glad you like it. It took me hours.” 

“Right, yeah,” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hours?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I had some of it from the years before, but most of the glue started coming undone, or they got all crinkled, so I had to start over.” You shook your head lightly. “My hands are completely torn apart. I have so many paper cuts.” You giggled, holding up your hands for Eddie to see. He had to fight the urge to hold them, intertwine your fingers in his like you had the weekend before. 

“Looks pretty gnarly, sweetheart.” Eddie sucked in a breath, pointer finger tracing over the cut on your knuckle, leaving you shuddering. “Should’ve asked me to help. Could’ve at least brought you some gloves to wear.” 

“It was fine. I did it during my planning period mostly.” Not a total lie. You had done most of it on your planning, and the other at home, until nearly two in the morning, when you were slumped over piles of shredded construction paper and glue sticks. 

“But, if you’re offering,” The sing-song in your voice had Eddie’s heart lurching with hope, trying to still himself, remain cool at your soft smile. “I do need to finish up making Valentine’s for the class.” 

You paused, giving him a tiny grin, lip tucked between your teeth. “And by finish, I mean I haven’t actually started.” Your lashes batted at him so sweetly, like you needed to sway him. Like he was on the fence of saying no, rejecting spending time with you? As if.   

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Eddie tried to play it cool, shoving his hands in his utility pants pockets. “Whatever you need me for. I’ve finished for the night, so y’know… ‘M all yours.” 

“Well,” You hummed, neck craning to look at the clock. “If you’re done, I thought maybe we could go back to my place?” Eddie was sure he was going to pass out, head reeling at your words. 

“I just think that would be a little more comfy just to not… be here, ya know? I can order us a pizza and we can knock these out.” You paused for a moment, really scanning Eddie’s features. “Maybe you could stay the night if you want? If it gets too late.” 

“Yes,” Eddie blurted before his mind could rationalize him stopping, eyes wide and words dripping with eagerness. “I mean, yeah, that would be… great.”  

“Great,” You repeated, your own heart thumping with excitement that spilled all the way to your face, lips curling in a wide grin. “I just, um, let me grab a few things, and- You remember where it is, right?” 

How could he forget? Eddie had been beyond nervous, palms too sweaty every time he came to pick you up. The handful of dates you’d been on were slowly becoming more and more frequent. 

“Yeah, I do.” Eddie’s lips twitched, swallowing down his excitement, maybe his nerves. “I just gotta put this up and lock up, and I’ll meet you there?” 

“See you in a few.” The words squeezed out of your chest, clutching your planner close to your body, slinging your purse over your shoulder. 

“Oh, is pepperoni okay with you?” You stopped, turning the lock to your classroom, your voice echoing down the dim lit hallway towards Eddie. Damn, he had moved fast with that ladder, practically sprinted down the hall. 

“Perfect for me.” Eddie called back, curls bobbing when he nodded. He’d nearly flung the ladder into the small hole of a janitor’s closet, snatching his lunch pail and keys before sprinting to the front, locking up and sailing down the cement stairs at the front of the school. 

Every second that went by was a second too long, tires flying over the snow dusted roads that led to your small home. The porch light was on when he arrived, bright and warm and welcoming. 

Eddie hesitated for a moment, whether he should ring the bell or just walk in. You knew he was coming, what would be the harm in going in? Still, it felt rude just to barge right in. Just to walk in felt arrogant, and what if you were naked? What if you were naked? Eddie’s cheeks began to heat, squirming at the thought. 

“Hey,” The door opened before Eddie could decide, leaving him standing there, wide eyed and blinking in your presence. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You giggled, leaning against the doorframe lightly. 

“I couldn’t remember if I left it unlocked or not, and then I saw you standing here, so…” You trailed off, a little unsure of what to say, what not to say. It was all still so new. 

“Yeah, s-sorry, I, uh, I was just trying to see if I-I left my wallet in the van.” Eddie stuttered out a lie, patting his pocket for emphasis, heart slightly dropping when he didn’t feel it there. Shit, did he leave it in the van? 

“No worries, um, come on in.” You stepped back, opening the door for him. 

Eddie immediately was wrapped in a warmth, a soft, sweet aroma that smelt entirely yours. He loved it, the few times he’d come over, every time it left him just as light and airy. 

“Thanks so much for coming to help me.” You hummed, watching Eddie carefully from your place in the door frame as he shed his winter jacket, hanging it on the hook. “I thought I was going to be up all night again trying to make these.” 

“Again?” Eddie lifted a brow, his tone teasing. “Sweetheart, you just call me whenever, alright? I’ll come over any time and help you out. Even if it’s the middle of the night.” 

Your giggle was music to his ears, heart bursting at your smile. “That’s sweet, thank you.” Your smile warmed over him, left him spinning with desire. “I just need to finish these. I have six done, I think?” 

Eddie followed you into your kitchen, stacks of construction paper laid out with scissors and hot glue guns, a list of names propped on the middle. “It was easier last year. I only had twenty-two kids, but with the zoning and all these new kids coming in…” You shook your head lightly, thirty-three kids listed on the attendance sheet. Eddie remembered Steve bitching about it at the beginning of the school year. He still wasn’t sure how either one of you handled it, but you both made it work, despite the district uncaring. 

“Yeah, I bet it’s… rough.” Eddie nodded, pulling out a seat. “You just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’m yours for the night.” 

Your smile spread, sitting next to Eddie. You showed him how to cut the hearts out, hot glue the paper lace on the edges, then press the other heart on the back to hide it. Eddie made them, setting them to the side so you could address them. 

The better part of two hours was spent in your kitchen, giggling and chatting over pizza and beer, wiping your greasy fingers off on napkins so it didn’t stain the cards. You both wanted them to be pristine, perfect. 

“So, uh, what-” Eddie cleared his throat gently, trying to shake the rattle in his voice from his nerves. “What are you doin’ on Valentine’s Day?” 

He felt your eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. “A-Any big plans?” Eddie cringed at the tweaking crack in his voice. He felt like he was in junior high again, asking Lisa Caltrelli out to the Sweethearts Dance. He hoped you wouldn’t reject him like she did. 

“No,” Your voice squeaked in response, creasing the paper between your fingers from your tight grip. You don’t know why you were so nervous, I mean, Eddie and you had been out before. It shouldn’t have shocked you so much when he asked you, but still, you were filled with an excited thrill. 

“No, I-I didn’t really plan to do anything. I mean, I would like to, but I just… I haven’t made plans.” You winced at your babbled answer, anything but cool. 

There was a pause, one that left your heart dropping with fear, your hands shook when you cut out the heart on red construction paper. “Um, well, I-I was just wondering if, if you’re not busy- shit, well, I know you just said you’re not busy. I just- I was wondering if you’d want to maybe go and get dinner?” Eddie’s wide eyes met yours, rounded with complete and utter fear and hope, like a deer in headlights. 

“With me?” His mouth was dry, heart beating so fast he could feel it in his eyeballs, sweat starting to bead at his hairline.

You tried to swallow down your own excitement, heart soaring with adrenaline, biting back a wide grin and a squeal. “Yeah,” You nodded, lips curling and eyes shining. “Yeah, I would. I would love to go out with you again.” 

“Really?” Eddie blinked, the words falling from his mouth before he could stop them. “I mean, really? Uh, great, that sounds… great.” Eddie ducked his own head down, gluing the paper lace to the heart, hoping his curls hid his pink cheeks and dimpled grin. 

“I was thinking we could go to Dino’s- Do you like Italian food?” 

“Yeah, I do. Love Dino’s.” You nodded. 

“Great. Um, my buddy, Jeff is the manager there now, and they do this Valentine’s Day special. It’s- It’s not anything crazy, they just put like candles and rose petals and shit on the tables, but he said he could get us in.” Eddie’s knee bounced, buzzing with excitement. 

“That sounds amazing,” You tapped the pen against the table, lips twitching with a smile you tried to hide. “It’s a date.” 

Eddie laughed, grinning so wide you thought your heart might burst. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Is that enough time?” 

“That’s perfect. I’ll have to clean up after the Valentine’s Day party, but-” 

“-I’ll help you.” Eddie nodded eagerly. “I’ll swing by after I get done in the cafeteria. I’ll help you clean up.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled sheepishly, ducking back to your craft. 

Eddie’s hands were clammy when he leaned in to kiss you later that night, at your doorway, under the glow of the street lamp outside. He was even more surprised when you wrapped your arms around him, pulled him closer and deeper into the kiss, one that left you both swooning and heads swirling with adoration. 

The next morning, Eddie was beyond pumped, eager for the day, knowing he had a date tonight. He nearly missed the small red heart that was waiting on his desk- a Valentine, from you. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie. I can’t wait to see you tonight.” 

[baytpwk]

new year's day |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: new years eve with eddie at his boss, rick's house. based off this blurb.

contains: complete fluff. hints at smut but nothing graphic. language, drinking, mafia themes. really just sweet and fluffy.

“I feel underdressed,” You muttered, free hand smoothing down the silk material of your cocktail dress, eyeing the woman who passed you in something adjacent to a ball gown. “I think I’m underdressed, Ed. Am I underdressed? You said this would be fine-” 

“-Relax, baby,” Eddie’s hand found the small of your back, rubbing the exposed skin above your back gently, leaving you shivering. “You look great. Perfect.” 

Your eyes rolled in annoyance, clutching the wrapped hostess gift with your clutch in your other hand. “Yeah, but am I underdressed?” You nodded towards a woman standing by the entrance, dripped in diamonds and feathers all over her dress. “I mean, look,” You whispered, eyeing pointedly towards the woman. 

It was Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes, offering you his arm as you started up the grand staircase outside. “Baby, I promise, you’re not underdressed. Some of the women just like to go big.” Eddie muttered, brows lifting at the feathered collar that stuck around the woman’s neck, nearly going into flames when someone lit a cigarette beside her. 

“Not all of them are like that, though. Just the ones who like to show out.” Eddie nodded towards the man who greeted them, accepting the two champagne flutes. 

“Alright.” You sighed, posture straightening as you followed Eddie through the open doors. “‘M just nervous.” 

“Don’t be. Why’re you nervous?” Eddie nearly cooed, head ducking close to yours, giving you a small grin that made your heart flutter to life. 

“I don’t know. This is- This is like your boss. The big boss, or whatever- I’m just nervous.” You babbled, hand tight around the gift, nerves fluttering with every step you took into the extravagant house. 

You thought Eddie’s house was large and impressive, this one made his look like a shoe box. Fountains and sculptures everywhere, candle operas by the dozen creating a warm, elegant ambiance. A string quartet set up in the middle of the spacious living room, playing softly but still it echoed off the marble flooring.

“Eddie!” You jumped at the bark of a laugh that came from behind you. “Look who finally made it. And on time? For once,” The man teased, clapping Eddie firmly on the shoulder with his free hand. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie snorted lightly. “How ya doin’, Rick?” You stilled at the name, frozen as you looked at the man. He didn’t look exactly like what you thought he would. Far less intimidating, happier than you expected.

“Great, just great.” Rick grinned, waving a waiter over. “C’mere, gimme a cigar for me and my boy, Eddie.” Rick plucked too large cigars off the silver serving tray, snatching the lighter. “Got these imported from Cuba last week with the, uh,” His eyes met yours, blinking. You thought you might pass out, a prickly icy tingle of fear spilling down your neck and spine. 

“Well, hello there,” Rick grinned, lowering the cigar. “Where are my manners? You must be the Mrs. that Eddie is always talkin’ about.” 

“Not yet,” You squeaked, forcing a giggle, fumbling with the gift and your clutch to free up your hand as you stuttered around your name. “It’s very nice to meet you.” 

“And you as well, my dear. I’ve heard only the best thing about you.” Rick smiled, shaking your hand gently. 

You grinned shyly, eyes cutting to Eddie gently. “Thank you,” You muttered, an iron grip on your gift. “Oh! Um, this is for you. Well, you and your wife. A thank you for inviting us.”  

“Look at that, huh,” Rick grinned, taking the wrapped package from your hands. “Thank you. You are too kind, sweetheart. We’re happy to have you- both of you.” 

You beamed, sliding closer to Eddie, taking your champagne flute from his hand. Rick lit his cigar, passing the lighter to Eddie so he could  do the same. “I’ve got to go talk to Randal for a second, but hey, you two enjoy yourselves, alright? We’ve got hors d'oeuvres being passed around right now. You know where the bar is, don’t you, Ed?” 

“You wanna stay in here?” Eddie muttered, inhaling his cigar, turning the other way to blow the smoke. “Or are you hungry? I’ll see if I can find the waiters.” 

“I’m good.” You nodded tightly, shoulders stiff, clutching your champagne glass as you looked around the room that was slowly filling up. 

Eddie looked at you for a moment, snorting lightly. You looked painfully uncomfortable. Nervous and a little intimidated by the uncertainty of it all. “C’mon,” Eddie’s hand found your back again, stepping through the crowds of people towards a hallway. “I’ll show you around. See if I can find some food. ‘M starving, baby.” 

“You want another?” Eddie muttered, his voice carrying a gravelly rasp that it only did when he’d been drinking. It made you squirm, pressing yourself closer into his side on the sofa.

“Maybe in a second.” You hummed, hand sliding over the silk material of his dress shirt, teasingly over his tummy, hand dipping just low enough that you could feel his abs clench at the teasing. 

After too many champagnes and filling up on shrimp cocktail, you found yourself back in the living room with the others, pressed into a small ottoman, perched on Eddie’s knee as he smoked a cigarette. He looked irresistible, you decided, looking at him through drunken, hazy vision, bottom lip rolling between your teeth. 

“What’re you doin’, baby?” Eddie grinned, lopsided and soft, looking at your through dark lashes. 

“Nothin’,” You sighed sweetly, eyes batting at him. “Just looking at you. You look really pretty.” 

“Pretty?” Eddie grinned, a wide smile that had your heart skipping. “You’re the pretty one, baby. Prettiest fuckin’ thing here, you know that?” 

You beamed, champagne soaked giggles trilling past your lips, folding yourself forward so you could kiss him, taste the nicotine on his tongue. 

Eddie pulled back too soon, leaving you huffing softly with protest. Eddie’s head craned around, looking at the others, too drunk and enthralled with their own conversations and activities to notice. 

“C’mon,” Eddie muttered, patting your thigh gently. “Let’s go outside.” 

“Outside?” You giggled, brows lifting in surprise. “It’s freezing.” 

“I’ll keep you warm.” Eddie winked, grabbing your hand sweetly in his. “Seriously, wanna show you somethin’.” 

You followed him, of course, blindly and wholeheartedly through the clouds of smoke and loud conversation, past the others smoking on the balcony, and down the stairs towards the garden. 

“Where are we- Ed!- Where are you taking me?” You squealed, nearly tripping as you shuffled down the cobblestone next to him, skin covered in chills from the frigid night air. 

“Just come with me.” Eddie jerked his head towards the small garden area, barren of any leaves or flowers. His hand dropped from yours, just for a moment, tugging his tux jacket off, stopping to drape it around your shoulders, hands running down your arms to lock in the warmth. 

“Thank you,” You muttered, chin ducking with a swelling blush of adoration. 

“Don’t want you to freeze, baby.” Eddie grinned, his arm looping around your waist, pulling you close to him. He stuck his arm out, looking at his watch under the cloudy moonlight. “Two minutes.” 

“Two minutes to what?” You lifted a brow. “To New Years? You brought me out here for that?” 

Eddie smiled tightly, giving you a tiny shrug, hand squeezing your hip. “You’ll see.” 

You scoffed lightly, still pressed into his side. “What? You couldn’t kiss me inside with the others? Are you thinking you’re going to get something more than a kiss?” 

“Ooh, that sounds pretty nice, sweetheart. You offerin’?” Eddie snickered lightly. “Wasn’t why I brought you out here, but I certainly won’t stop you.” 

“Why’d you bring me out here then?” Your brow furrowed, looking up at him. 

“Just wait. You’ll see.” Eddie hummed, his hand rubbing down your hip, dipping towards your ass, grabbing your left cheek playfully, grinning when you squealed. 

His nose moved to brush over your cheek, you could smell the whiskey on his breath still. Full lips moved to kiss your cheek, so softly you could barely feel it, other than the pricks of electricity that always came with his touch. You melted into his warmth, eyes fluttering shut, body leaning closer and closer into his chest as his lips made their way down your cheek, nipping at your jaw. 

Hands clutching his jacket around you, you turned towards him, tipping your head back to catch his mouth, barely feeling his lips brush yours before you both were startled- a chorus of cheers from the house were brief before the crescendo of cracking pops of fireworks cut them off. 

Eddie’s hand pressed to your back, protectively, before he looked up, the gold sparkles of the first firework catching in his eyes before the others followed. An extravagant firework show that lit up the entire sky, seemingly all around you. 

Eddie grinned, looking down at you. “See? Wanted you to see this.” His voice carried over the cracks of the fireworks. “Much better view out here.” 

You turned to look back at the sky, the red and gold mixing together, before more were set off. “So,” Your lips rolled into a playful purse, brow lifting when you turned back to face Eddie. “You’re not going to kiss me? No New Year's kiss?” 

Eddie snorted lightly, cold hand cupping your jaw, rings icy from the night air when they touched your skin. His lips brushed over yours, breath ghosting over your face nearly teasing, before he pressed you into him, mouth sliding over yours, hand tipping your head back towards him. His tongue slipped past your teeth, hand sliding to the back of your head to pull you closer and closer into the positively sloppy kiss. 

Your hands slid from the jacket, uncaring at how it moved so the cold air cut into your skin, so you could hold him, wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer and closer. Eddie took a few stumbling steps back, a clumsy waltz until you found a marble fountain, pressing you against the cool stone, his hand moving towards your hips, your ass, back up to paw at your chest. A symphony of fireworks, your soundtrack to your own steamy makeout.

 Eddie’s hand moved, bunching the material of your dress sloppily until he found the end, hand dipping under and towards your core. “Ed,” You squeaked, legs clamping together when his fingers brushed your core, sliding over your clothed clit. “We can’t.” 

“Why not?” Eddie grumbled, nose still pressed to your cheek, lips sliding over the corner of your mouth in a wet smooch. “No one’s out here.” 

“You don’t know that.” You hissed, looking around, using the flash of lights from the fireworks to see. “Plus, this is your- Eddie- This is your boss’ party.” 

“He won’t care.” Eddie muttered, teeth grazing over your bottom lip. “This house has definitely seen worse than two people hookin’ up.” 

You shuddered at the thought, too scared to ask what he meant exactly but you had your suspicions. “Eddie,” You huffed, firmer this time, moving your hands from his collar, back to fix the jacket into place. “We can’t. Not here.” 

Eddie grunted in annoyance, pulling back with a grimace that had you fighting back a giggle- nearly pouty in his expression. “C’mon, we can be qu-” 

“-No,” You shook your head. “It’s your boss’ house and it’s freezing.” You clutched the jacket around you for emphasis. “Just wait until we get home. I promise I’ll make it worth the wait.” The purr in your voice had Eddie perking, eyes darkening with a dangerously, excited glint. 

“You promise, huh? Shit, sweetheart, let’s just go now.” Eddie grinned, hand snaking around your waist, pulling you close to him so you were pressed together. 

You rolled your eyes, lashes batting up at him sweetly. “You can’t just leave. Go say goodbye to everyone and we can go.” 

Eddie groaned, running a hand down his face. “You’re killin’ me, baby, you know that?” He muttered, hand still on your hip, pressing you into his side. 

You both started back as the last firework erupted with a loud crack in the air, the smoke beginning to settle around you two. “Make it worth the wait, hm?” Eddie muttered as you approached the steps, taking his hand so he could steady you as you walked up them. “Can’t wait to see what you’ve got in mind.” 

“Hm, it’s gonna be pretty good.” You purred, matching his playful tone. “Better than that New Year’s kiss.” 

“Yeah? Well, then let’s fuckin’ say bye to these people and get the fuck outta here.” Eddie laughed, squeezing your hand gently with affection as he pulled you back into the still packed house. 

[baytpwk]

christmas with the devil |dom!eddie munson x sub!reader|

prompt: even the dirty magazines are in the holiday spirit. after you and eddie stumble upon a particularly interesting magazine, you both are inspired by the spirit of the season.

apart of my munny's merriest series!

contains: minors dni smut. dom/sub themes. dom!eddie x sub!reader. spanking. spanking with implement. switching. pinv sex. a little roleplay lol? all consensual and sweet. they're kinda nerdy and i love them. eddie hates christmas, reader loves it. they're in love.

“Can you hurry up?” Your eyes cut around the abnormally crowded comic book store, chin ducking towards your chest as if all their eyes were on you.  

Bundles of teenagers, kids, parents all gathered around and looking through the stacks of Marvel issues, while you and your boyfriend trudged towards the scandalous back area. Marked off with a rope that held a sign, ‘Adults Only’ in bold print and was the vault for the more risqué magazines. 

“Relax, baby, we’re both adults.” Eddie cooed, a smirk in his tone that had your teeth gritting with annoyance. “We’ll be in and out, I promise.”  

“I don’t know why they have to make it so obvious.” You muttered, sliding past the rope and scurrying into the tiny room, filled with X-Rated magazine covers. “The rope seems like a little much.” 

Eddie snickered, his hand finding your waist, pulling you into him. “I kinda like it. Feels like they’re giving me the VIP treatment.” 

You rolled your eyes, but stayed flush against him, his chest warm on your frostbitten skin. “VIP treatment while you buy your porno magazines.” Your nail brushed over the edge of a Playboy, lifting a brow up at Eddie pointedly. 

“It’s not a porno magazine,” Eddie rolled his eyes lightly. “It’s just made by Penthouse, but it’s more sci-fi than-” 

“-I know, Ed.” You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temple. “You know I don’t care. I just hate coming in here.” You looked around, the dim lights and tight corners all plastered with vulgar photos. “Just feel skeezy.” 

“Skeezy?” Eddie grinned down at you. “Some of our best ideas came from this room, baby.” 

Your cheeks burned with a rush of heat, eyes cutting to the door carefully. It was true. You had many Fotoplays Magazines to thank for some of your favorite tricks in the bedroom. The countless times you and Eddie would flip through the dirty magazines, oohing and awing at the photos and stories, bookmarking pages that sparked your excitement to try later. 

“There it is.” Eddie’s chains jingled with his steps, pulling you out of your thoughts. You frowned, following his ringed hand towards the Omni Magazine cover. 

“Look at this. This looks so fuckin’ sick, doesn’t it? UFO Edition. This one’s gonna be all about aliens and shit.” Eddie grinned, bubbling with nerdy excitement you found overwhelmingly endearing. 

“Mhm,” You hummed, though you only partially heard him, your attention caught by the magazine in front of you. 

Eddie’s smile dropped, looking up at you with a furrowed brow, following your line of vision to what had captivated your attention over him. “What’d ya see, babe?” Eddie muttered, a low gravel in his tone that had you shivering. 

“What’s this?” You pointed at the cover. There on the glossy page, a goat-like demon with bat wings lifting a bundle of sticks high in the air, ready to bring them down on a woman’s bottom. Her ass stuck high up in the air, clad in lingerie, face animated with excited fear. 

“Krampus,” Eddie read, pointing at the golden cursive font below the image. “Hm, I don’t really know. Looks cool though, doesn’t he?” He grinned, nudging you playfully. 

“Looks like your little Hellfire mascot thingy.” You nodded back, picking up the magazine. 

Eddie’s brows lifted, suddenly, no longer interested in his Omni, tossing it back on the shelf, too consumed with the magazine capturing your attention. “You want to get this too?” 

“No, you don’t have to. I was just looking to see what it’s about.” You hummed, flipping through the pages until you found the cover story, an erotic retelling of the European Christmas demon. 

“Punishes those who misbehave with birch rods.” Eddie grinned, adjusting himself shamelessly behind you. His mind was racing, flooded with excited, devious ideas with every image. “Seems like you need Krampus to visit you.” 

“Nuh-uh,” Your tongue clicked, glaring at Eddie. “Why would you say that? I’ve been such a good girl this year.” 

“Psh, please,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “You’ve been such a bad girl.” His voice dropped,  breath tickled the shell of your ear, leaving you quaking with excitement. 

“No, I haven’t.” Your whine sounded more like a mewl, gripping the magazine so tightly the pages were creasing under your grasp. 

“I guess we’ll find out.” Eddie shrugged, pulling away from you, plucking the magazine out of your hand, tucking it under his arm with the other. “See if Krampus visits you tonight.” The wink he gave you left your tummy flipping with heat, following him to the counter on shaky legs, mind racing with excitement of what was to come. 

“Well, well, well,” You jumped at the sound of Eddie’s voice, booming from the doorway behind you. He’d been stowed away in his room since you got home, only telling you not to come in- that he had a surprise for you. 

“Look what we have here.” Eddie waved the rolled up paper around in his hands, grinning at you as he took slow, calculated steps closer and closer to you. 

“What’s that?” You frowned, shoving the stack of folded dish towels into the drawer. 

Eddie’s tongue rolled over the inside of his cheek, looking at you with a positively primal glare. “Looks like this year’s naughty list just came in.” Eddie sucked in a breath, shaking his head exaggeratedly. “And I’ve got some real bad news for you, babe.” 

You feigned surprise, matching his playful, dramatic tone. “No,” You gasped lightly. “Don’t tell me I’m on that list. There’s no way. I’ve been sooo good this year.”  

He could kiss you, right then and there. How easily you played along, gave right into his dramatics without question. How perfect you were for him. He’d tell you after this, later when you were curled into him, sharing soft kisses and softer touches. But for now, he had a part to play. 

“This list begs to differ,” Eddie shrugged dramatically, shaking his head, unrolling the list he’d been working on. There in gothic, cursive font was your name, listed under the intimidatingly gloomy ‘Naughty’ side.  “And unfortunately there’s nothing I can do about it.” 

“This has to be a mistake. I’ve been nothing but a good girl this year. Perfect.” You quipped, stepping towards him. 

“No, this list doesn’t lie, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head, toe to toe with you now, looking at you down the slope of his nose. “You’ve been naughty this year, and you know what that means?” 

You shook your head, playing coy while your lashes batted at him. Eddie swore his heart was going to burst right out of his chest. 

“It means you’ll have to take your lashing from Krampus.” Eddie shook his head at you. 

“My lashing?” You gawked lightly, a giggle of surprise bubbling out of your chest. “I thought naughty girls got coal in their stockings.” You frowned, lip jutting in a gentle pout towards him. 

“Not around here they don’t.” Eddie grinned, a darkness to his eyes that had your heart rushing with floods of excitement. “Naughty girls around here get a visit from Krampus if they’ve been bad. They get corrected for their bad behavior.” 

“Well, I don’t want to be naughty.” You sighed heavily, really playing it up for him. You could see how much he was loving this. “I’ll do whatever I have to, to get off that list.” 

Eddie swallowed back a grin, nodding slowly instead. His footsteps fell heavy on the kitchen floor, striding over towards the stove, pulling the designated junk drawer open for the cutting pliers. You squirmed under his intense gaze when he brought them back, handing them to you, neither one of you breaking eye contact from the other. 

“Go get me eight good ones from the tree in the front, alright? Make ‘em good ones.” Eddie nodded at you. 

Your legs felt like they might give out slipping on your boots, wrapping Eddie’s jacket around you, climbing down the creaking steps of the trailer. It was cold out, everything dried and dead for the winter- it made the perfect time to pick a switch. 

Eddie watched from the doorway, fingers drumming with excitement taking in every branch you’d pick. How you’d examine it carefully before tossing it to the side or adding it to the collection in your hand. It consumed him with excitement, cock throbbing with exhilaration. 

“Will these do?” You held the branches towards him, after what felt like an eternity, standing on the steps, waiting for his approval. 

Eddie carefully looked at each one, swishing them through the air, before nodding. “Very good.” He gave you a curt nod. “So you can be good then, hm?” 

You blistered under his gaze, burning with excitement as you kicked off your boots, chin ducking so he couldn’t see your flustered grin. “I always try to be good.” 

Eddie snorted in laughter. “Yeah, right.” He muttered sarcastically. “Now, you’re back on the naughty track. You know better than to lie.” 

You glared at him, huffing with a pout, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it on the hook. “I’m not lying.” 

Eddie’s brows lifted, in shock or in warning, you weren’t sure. “You better watch your tone with me.” Eddie pointed at you, waving a branch near you to make his point. “You’re not in much of a position to be mouthy.” 

You bit back a snarky reply, lip jutting further instead, trailing behind Eddie towards the living room. Eddie laid the branches out, lining them up evenly on the coffee table in front of you. 

“Hold on,” You stilled at the sound of his voice, stopping before you knelt into position in front of the couch. “Go ahead and strip f’me.” Eddie’s eyes rolled over your frame. 

Your hands shook with excitement, trembling when you took off your jeans shoving them to the ground, pulling your sweater off with a rough tug, giving them a half hearted fold and placing them on the recliner. Your nipples pebbled in the cold of the room, maybe from your own excitement. 

Eddie gave you a nod of approval before he left the room, silently going to the kitchen. You sunk to your knees on the shagged carpet, spine straightening long and eyes forward; you were on your best behavior, after all.

The soft screech of duct tape tore through the living room before Eddie could enter, the silver tape in his hand, teeth tearing off the end of the long strip. He made a show of wrapping the bundle of wood together, looking at you with dark eyes while he wound the tape over the switches to keep them together. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and bend over the back of the couch for me, hm?” Eddie nodded, twisting the tight bundle in his hands. “You know how I want you.” 

You swallowed back a shiver when you stood, every inch of your exposed skin tingling with a prickling heat of excitement. Arms stretched out in front, you lowered yourself over the arm of the couch, elongating yourself and propped nicely so your ass was high in the air.

“I think twelve will suffice, don’t you?” Eddie hummed, eyes scanning your features for even a quip of uncertainty- he was good like that. “One for each month.” 

You nodded, shifting from foot to foot, desperate to alleviate the aching that was ever growing between your legs. “Yes, Sir,” Your voice lilted to an airy, positively sweet coo. It made Eddie’s cock lurch, throb with blinding pleasure that left him reeling. 

“Look at me,” Eddie’s hand squeezed your hip lightly, pulling your eyes back to his. “That’s good?” 

You nodded, pushing up on your forearms. “That’s good, Ed.” You gave him a soft smile. “If it’s too much, I’ll let you know.” 

Eddie couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his features. He had an overwhelming urge to kiss you, but he’d wait, for now anyway. 

“Why don’t you count them for me too then?” You jumped at the feeling of the branches on the back of your thighs, scratchy and rough. Oh, this was going to burn, you could already feel it. You throbbed between your legs at the thought. 

A thundering crack of his palm left you gasping, hips tensing over the arm of the couch in surprise. “Did you hear me?” 

“Y-Yes, Sir,” You babbled, tongue thick in your mouth, head spinning with pleasure. “I’m sorry, Sir.” 

Eddie tutted mockingly, shaking his head. “I don’t know if you’re cut out for the nice list, baby. Sure isn’t seeming like you’re gonna make the cut after all.” 

“Noo,” Your lip jutted out in a whine. “I am good, please, I’ll be good.” 

Eddie tapped the bundle of switches against your ass lightly. “We’ll see about that.” He muttered. “Make sure you count loud for me. Loud and clear.” You nodded, lowering your chin back onto the cushion before you. 

A whispering swish of wind was your only warning before you felt the familiar searing of heat across your ass, this time in multiples instead of the singular switching you’d had before. It wasn’t as hard as usual, Eddie’s uncertainty with the newness of this shining through, but enough to have you hissing, dancing from foot to foot at the sting. 

“One,” You hissed through gritted teeth, fist balling to keep from reaching back, running out the itchy sting. 

The second hit came a little harder than before, enough to leave you whining at the impact. “Two,” 

Your voice tightened with every blow, lifting into near squeaks until number eight. “Ei-Eight,” Followed by a wet sniffle, and a pathetic little mewl. 

Eddie grinned, running his hand over your hot skin, lines of his handiwork already beginning to show. He took mercy on you, giving you a soft rub that he knew you were craving, fighting from doing yourself. 

“You’re doing very good, baby.” Eddie cooed, grinning as you rubbed your teary face into your arms, soothing the burn in your nose, trying to hide your tears. “Looks like you might make it on the nice list afterall.” 

“Thank you,” You gave a squeaky whisper, face still buried under your arms. 

Eddie gave your right cheek a firm squeeze, grinning at how you screeched. “I’ll do these last ones quick, how’s that sound? Since you’ve been so good.” Truthfully, Eddie wasn’t sure he could last much longer. Not with the little sounds you’d make that drove him wild, blind with pleasure. Not with the way he could see how wet you were, get an agonizing glimpse between your legs every time you’d shift that left his mouth watering. 

You nodded silently, and he didn’t correct you, too blinded with his own intense pleasure. The final four came down in quick, crescendoing successions that had you lifting up off the couch, voice squeaking through sobs as you counted them, squirming desperately to get away. 

The sound of his zipper followed the crunching thud of the switch bundle being tossed on the carpet. Your eyes glossy already, cheek pressed to the couch, tears and a string of drool pooling carelessly beneath you. 

“Am I on the nice list now?” You whimpered, so soft and airy, lashed batting up at Eddie sweetly. He thought he might burst, through his heart or maybe through his dick. 

“Fuck yeah, yes, baby.” Eddie kicked his jeans off, hand wrapping around his throbbing length, stroking himself enough to alleviate some of the aching throb of pleasure. 

“Definitely on the nice list. The top of it too. You’re such a good girl, you know that? You do know that don’t you?” He gave you a wide grin, body folding over yours and placing a kiss on your left shoulder blade, erection rubbing against the hot, sensitive skin of your ass. 

“C’mere,” Eddie muttered, pulling you by your hips closer to him, shamelessly rubbing himself into you. “Let me take care of you now, baby. You want that? Hm, that sound good?” 

“Yes,” You whimpered, hips rolling back towards him, desperate for friction. “Don’t tease me, Ed.” 

He let out a small laugh, fingers sliding through your slick, sopping folds, circling your clit, grinning at how you shuddered. “I won’t tease. You’ve been so good, I won’t tease you, baby.” Eddie muttered, pressing a final soft kiss the the middle of your spine, before he pushed himself in, bottoming out and stilling just for a moment, eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

He fucked you over the couch, hard and messy, furiously rutting into you while his fingertips made bruises on your hips from his grip. The way you were taking him, walls squeezing him just right, both you spend collecting at the base of his cock; he decided that you were definitely on the nice list, top of it. On his, at least, his perfect, nice, good girl. 

[baytpwk]

iscador |dom!eddie munson x sub!reader|

prompt: eddie thinks mistletoe is stupid. you put in place a new 'tradition' to make it more interesting. to boost his christmas spirit, of course.

apart of my holiday series munny's merriest <3

contains: smut minors dni. dom/sub themes and undertones (but not too many in this work this ones more cutesy and sweet and silly lol). oral male receiving. dom!eddie/ sub!reader. brat!reader. brat tamer!eddie ofc. eddie is a scrooge and reader loves christmas lol. really sweet and silly.

“Eddie! Can you come here?” 

The trill in your tone had him wincing, eyes pinching closed, fist still closed around the pencil, rubbing his knuckles against the center of his forehead. Eddie had managed to drown out the obnoxious Jackson 5 Christmas tape you’d mutilated his beloved boombox with. He just wanted to finish the campaign. 

“Eddie!” Sharper now, your voice held an agitated bark that had him groaning in annoyance, head tipping back towards the ceiling- the only place in the trailer that seemed void of your holiday cheery. 

“What?” Eddie snapped, slamming the pencil on his small wooden desk, shoving the chair back on the carpet. His feet were already falling in hard, sock clad steps towards the living room, brows still in a furrow under his bangs. 

He found you standing on a kitchen chair, drug under the door frame that led from the kitchen to the living room, balancing in your socks, holding a small, felt mistletoe to the top of the door frame. 

“I need the hammer and the nail.” Your bottom lip jutted gently, eyes rounding sweetly towards him. “I left it on the table. Will you get it for me?” 

Eddie huffed but still trudged towards the kitchen. “Get down, alright?” A ringed hand patted your hip gently, offering up to you to help you down. 

“Why?” You frowned. “You can squeeze by.” Your head jerked towards the sliver of space between the chair and the wooden frame. 

“I know but I don’t want you to fall, baby.” Eddie squeezed the flesh of your hip lightly. “Don’t really want you to bust your head open trying to hang this shit up.” 

You huff, hand sliding into his, stepping off the chair with the felt mistletoe still in hand. “It’s not shit.” You glare at him, moving the chair out of the way, so he can slide through and retrieve the hammer and nail. “You better quit talking bad about my decorations, Munson, before you get coal in your stocking.” 

Eddie snorted, eyes rolling. “You gonna put coal in my stocking?” 

“Not me,” Your lips curled in a smirk you tried to swallow, leaning against the door frame. “Santa will.” 

Eddie let out a bark of a laugh, twisting the small nail around his fingertips. “Oh no,” He played along, though his voice was dripping in sarcasm. “I guess I better shape up then.” 

“Mhm,” You sighed, tongue running over the inside of your cheek, lidded eyes watching his shirt ride up when he lifted the nail, centering it over the door frame. A sliver of his tummy peeking under the soft cotton hem, boxer band peeking out in a nearly teasing way. 

“Right there?” Eddie’s tongue poked out, holding the nail in concentration. 

“Baby,” Eddie grunted, an edge of irritation in his tone that had your gaze snapping back to him. “Right there?” 

“Uh, yeah, yeah that’s fine.” You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, cheeks hot with fluster you hoped Eddie couldn’t see. “That looks good.” 

He didn’t, you thought, as Eddie hammered the nail into place, his hand twisting to extend towards you, fingers wiggling for the felt mistletoe in your sweaty palms. 

“There,” Eddie stepped back, hands on his hips, looking up at the hung decoration. “How’s that look?” 

You couldn’t care less about the decoration anymore, teeth pulling at your bottom lip, rolling it in thought. “Looks good.” You hummed, eyes trailing down his frame, towards his sweatpant clad ass. “Thank you, baby.” 

Eddie turned, brows furrowed at your dreamy tone. “No problem, sweetheart.” He muttered, setting the hammer back on the kitchen table. 

You stepped under the frame before he could pass back through, a devious little grin, that he was too familiar with, spread tight across your lips. “What’re you doin’?” Eddie huffed lightly with a lifted brow. “I helped you, now, I gotta go finish my campaign-” 

“-Look,” You grinned, nodding upwards, towards the felt mistletoe that hung above you both. “Hm, what a coincidence that we’re both here. Underneath the mistletoe. Must be fate.” 

Eddie’s lips curled, though he gave you an exaggerated eye roll. “Must be.” He muttered, hand sliding over your face, cupping your jaw. Your heart fluttered with excitement, fist balling at his shirt when he pulled you in, lips pressing to yours- but only for a moment. 

Your eyes flew open, fist still tightly wrapped around his shirt, mouth gaping with shock when he pulled away. “There. Is that the magical Christmas kiss you were wanting, sweetheart?” Eddie mocked lightly. 

You blinked up at him, scoffing after a moment. “You call that a kiss?” 

“What?” 

“What was that?” You lifted a brow, snarling up at him. “A kiss? That was not a kiss.” 

“Baby, please,” Eddie sighed, running a tired hand over his eyes. 

“No,” You shook your head, arms crossing over your chest. “You freaked out on me when I pecked you at your show a couple months ago because it wasn’t a proper kiss, and now, the one place you’re supposed to give me a real kiss, you don’t?” 

You ignored his eye roll and the short, irritated huff he gave. “We’re literally under the mistletoe!” 

“Ok? So what?” Eddie snapped, throwing his hands up. “I kissed you. That was a kiss.” 

“That was not-” 

“-Don’t.” Eddie pointed a finger at you. “It’s just- It’s just a silly tradition thing tha-that I don’t think is supposed to be taken so seriously.” He threw his hands out. 

You glared at him, brow lifting in challenge. “Hm,” Your lips twisted. “I think it should be taken seriously.” 

“Really?” Eddie deadpanned. 

“Yes,” You hummed in defiance. “And I think you should take it seriously too, and I think I’m going to make you.” 

“Make me?” Eddie snorted in surprised disbelief. “You’re gettin’ pretty bold there, baby, you better watch it.” 

Your tummy flipped with heat, tensing to keep yourself from squirming under his darkened glare. “No, I know I can make you.” You challenged. “At least make you appreciate it more.” 

“Yeah? How’re you gonna do that?” Eddie leaned against the doorframe, glaring at you down the slope of his nose. 

You glared back at him, eyes locking with his just enough to have his spine straightening, bristled by your defiant attitude and ready to adjust it. You could see him, sense his growing agitation with your brattiness, teetering towards acting on it with the way his hands twitched. He’d just begun to uncross his arms when you dropped to your knees, your eyes on him the entire time. 

“What-What are you-” Eddie’s words caught in his throat, strangled by the gasp of breath that tore from his lungs when you yanked his sweatpants down, tugging them down with his boxers in one quick movement. 

You broke eye contact with him for a second, tongue running over your bottom lip as you looked at his cock hanging in front of you, semi-hard from the excitement your brattiness had brought. Your thighs pressed together, hands still on his thighs, squeezing the flesh lightly. 

“What do you think you’re doin’, hm?” Eddie’s voice was tight, swallowing back a shivered moan at the sight of you, face centimeters from his cock, so close he could feel your breath. 

“Making you like the mistletoe.” You hummed so sweetly it made Eddie’s knees weak, eyes rounded and blinking up at him. Oh, how he ached, craved for you to touch him. 

“That right?” Eddie said around a shaky breath he tried to conceal. “This a new tradition, hm?” 

You nodded, fingertips ghosting over his skin, trailing down the bush of pubic hair with a teasing, featherlight touch towards his cock. “Until you’re ready to fully embrace the mistletoe tradition,” You purred, the pad of your thumb brushing over his tip. “I figured this will help ease you into it. Really get you into the holiday spirit.” 

“Fuck,” Eddie grunted, mind blanking with any sarcastic, teasing remark he once had when your tongue licked a long, slow stripe on the underside of his cock. Tongue flattening until you reached the top, taking just the tip in your mouth. 

“Look at me,” Eddie said between clenched teeth, both his hands on either side of your head, desperate to regain a little bit of control. 

Your eyes moved up to him, cheeks hollowed as you bobbed, slowly enough that it had Eddie swallowing a whine. Your nails dug into the fat of his hips, steadying yourself as you swallowed him further and further down your throat. 

“Holy shi-it,” Eddie’s voice cracked, head tilting back and toes curling when you gagged gently, the tip brushing the back of your throat. “Baby, fuck- keep doin’ that. Feels s’good, so fuckin’ good.” 

One hand slipped from his hips, cupping his balls gently, giving a soft squeeze that had Eddie groaning, whimpering with pleasure. Your hand slipped around his length, pumping him slowly, head ducking under to lick down the seam of his sac, wrist flicking and twisting his cock- exactly how he liked it. You knew exactly what he liked, what drove him crazy and left him begging for more. 

“You gotta- Baby, I-I’m close.” Eddie’s breath was ragged, his grip tightening on either side of your head. 

Your mouth took the place of your hand, eyes fluttering back up to him, cheeks hollowing as you sucked the tip of his cock. Eddie sucked a breath in, tensing with pleasure as he teetered closer and closer to his own orgasm. 

“Put your tongue out, now.” Eddie gritted, moving his hand to grab his own length. “Open up, all the way out- good girl.” 

You nearly whimpered at his praise, tongue folded over your chin, eyes still trained on him as he jacked his length furiously, cheeks reddening with splotchy heat until you felt the thick, hot ropes of cum on your tongue. 

Eddie’s head was spinning, cloudy with pleasure as he slumped against the doorframe, chest filled with ragged breaths that rattled his core. He didn’t even try to hide the loud groan that spilled out when you swallowed, eyes batting up at him sweetly, still on your knees. 

“Fuck, that was…” Eddie wiped his brow, sweaty and prickling with heat under his bangs. “Ok, I-I think I’m starting to get the mistletoe thing, baby.” 

“Yeah?” You purred, standing slowly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand- it made Eddie’s knees weak. “You like this better than the kiss?” 

“Yes.” Eddie nodded leaving you giggling. “Still might need some more convincing though. Still on the fence.” 

“Are you? That wasn’t good enough?” You lifted a brow. 

“No, no, that was fucking amazing, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head frantically. “Just… I don’t know, I’m kinda a Scrooge. Might need just a few more times to really get me into the spirit, ya know?” 

“Hm,” Your lips twisted playfully. “I think I could maybe do that.” 

Eddie grinned, positively beaming and silly, gooey with adoration. His hands reached out for you again, cupping your cheek, the back of your head, pulling you into him, bodies flushed and lips crashing into yours. You squealed gently, giggling when he pressed you against the doorframe, smooching you sloppy and sweet and filled with so much love it left you dizzy. A much more passionate kiss than before. 

Your eyes were shining when Eddie pulled back, his breath caught in his throat at the sight; you always had that effect on him. “See? It’s working already.” You grinned. “That was a real kiss.” 

Your smile and giggles were infectious, leaving Eddie’s own lips curling, chest bubbling with affectionate laughs. “That was better?” 

“Much better.” You nodded, hands sliding down his arms. “Much more festive.” 

Eddie pulled you into his chest, squeezing you in a tight hug. He wanted to press your body into his, push so tightly into the two of you fused together, bodies and souls and minds all intertwined into one. Instead he held you, peppering kisses to your cheeks so you squealed and laughed. His eyes caught the small felt decoration above the door frame, lips curling in a smug grin. 

He really was enjoying the mistletoe, already contemplating going out and buying one for each door frame in the house- hell, even one for over the bed. Eddie Munson’s favorite decoration was now the mistletoe, so much so that he wanted to keep it out year round. 

[baytpwk]

hold my heart and watch it burn |ex-husband!eddie munson x ex-wife!reader|

prompt: your first christmas apart and it's proving to be a lot harder and lonelier than you thought.

contains: i mean, you know i'm gonna write christmas angst lmao. so angst. divorce. ex-husband!eddie. dad!eddie. mentions of loneliness. of fighting. language. holiday blues. divorce blues. just sad but a little better at the end? maybe? kinda?

"Jude!" Your voice drops, breathy with a stern hiss that your eight year old ignored, running ahead through the crowds of people bustling through the ridiculously busy Starcourt Mall.

Lucy's small hand in yours, you pulled her through the crowds of people, dodging a woman and her twenty shopping bags that swung when she turned, nearly taking you out.

"Jude Wayne, stop." A rare tone of your voice came out, void of it's usual lightness that you always used with the kids- a tone that you usually reserved for their father.

"Woah," Your shoulders tensed, fighting back a grimace at the squeal Lucy let out, wringing her hand out of your grip. Speak of the devil, you thought, lips pursing to hold back the snarl you wanted to give. You wouldn't, not in front of the kids, no- you'd keep it civil for them, even though you wanted to smack the smug, dimpled grin that greeted you when you did finally look at him.

"Hi, sweetheart." Eddie hummed, eyes rolling over your figure, hoisting Lucy on his hip.

Your lips twisted, fighting back an eye roll. "Hi," You snapped curtly, turning to Jude, bending at your knees to get to his level. "Jude, you can't run through the mall, honey. You have to stay with me-"

"-Ah, he was just excited, baby." Eddie grinned, nodding at the young boy, who looked so much like him. "Weren't you, Jude?"

"Yeah, Mama." Jude nodded, lips curling in a positively sweetly devious grin- just like his Daddy's. You could feel your heart melting already. "I just want to see Santa. I hafta tell him the things on my list or he'll-"

"-You will, Jude." You sighed, the start of a headache pulsating dully at the base of your skull. "We'll walk to the line right now, and you both can tell Santa what you want, ok?"

Jude nodded, still walking ahead in quick, excited steps. Your eyes cut to Eddie, looking past him towards Lucy. "Surprised you showed up on time." Your tone clipped, quiet enough that the kids couldn't hear but that he did.

Eddie scoffed, a snort of air. "Showed up on time to see my kids? That's not very nice." Eddie's tone stayed light though his eyes narrowed when they looked at you.

"The truth isn't always nice, is it?" You quipped, turning forward to look at Jude.

"You act like I don't come to every thing they do." Eddie retaliated, a low hiss in his tone that left your jaw clenching with a familiar bubbling rage. "Really trying to make me into the deadbeat dad, hm?"

"I can't make you into anything." You scoffed. "But if the shoe fits-"

"-You're really doin' this?" Eddie's voice dropped, jaw ground tight with irritation. "Really? Today you're gonna start this?"

"I'm not starting anything." You snapped, a little louder than you meant to, eyeing Jude and Lucy carefully. "You're the one who's usually late to things. It's a fact."

Eddie scoffed, a light airy laugh leaving his lips that made your blood boil, nails digging into your balled fists. "Please. You think I don't know what this is about?"

"What?" You snapped, brows furrowed at him.

"Oh, c'mon, you're pissed about Trina." Eddie turned, looking at you fully.

You knew he had to see the way your heart dropped, sinking into a burning pit in your belly, filled with ache.

Trina was a bartender at The Hideout, she'd been one since you and Eddie had started going, and one you'd always felt a little wary of. The way she'd giggle and bat her eyes at Eddie- she'd been a catalyst to a few fights when you were still together.

Last Saturday morning, Eddie was late coming to the house to get the kids.

"Rough night?" You giggled, his hair wild, eyes puffy with lack of sleep- a look you'd seen too many times before, one that was always a sign he was hungover.

"Yeah, sorry, I forgot to set my alarm last night. I went out, and got a little... ya know," Eddie had muttered, running a hand down his face. "Had to shower because I smelt like smoke and didn't want Lucy's allergies actin' up, and I had to take Trina to her apartment, then I had to get gas, and-"

"-Trina?" You'd nearly spat. "From-From The Hideout, Trina?"

"Yeah, we, uh, we kinda went out last night." Eddie wouldn't meet your eyes, looking anywhere but at you. "I mean, you've been goin' on dates, and... ya know." He lifted his hand, nervously running his fingers through his bangs, a habit he'd always had.

You noticed the gold band missing from his left hand for the first time since your wedding, stomach dropping as he walked in, greeted by your children's excited squeals.

You were sick in the bathroom after that.

Now, your stomach still flipped, still burned with a familiar nauseating ache. Standing in line, trying to feign excitement listening to Jude and Lucy babble on and on about what they wanted Santa to bring them, trying to ignore the spiraling thoughts that consumed your mind.

The same thoughts that kept you up at night, tear stained cheeks pressed into the pillow next to yours, that still smelled like Eddie- the one he'd slept on three nights before his date with Trina. Did he know he was going out with her when he laid there next to you? Was he thinking of her when he had slid into you that same night? When he kissed you so fiercely, so full of love that it left you dizzy, did he wish it was her instead?

A piercing wail of a infant cut through your thoughts, taking another zombie like step towards the front of the line. Jude was bouncing, eyes so wide an intense, honed in on the older man in a red suit juggling the screaming baby to a photo.

"What're you gonna ask for Luce?" Eddie hummed, bouncing the four year old on his hip with a grin.

"Play Doh," Lucy gave a toothy smile. "The ones where you can make the rings." She shoved her chubby finger towards Eddie with emphasis.

"Oh, you gonna make some rings for Daddy?" Eddie grinned, glowing from the inside out- damn him, he was a good dad. Your heart fluttered when he wiggled his own fingers at her playfully, rings shining dully under the white Christmas lights of the mall. "I've been needin' some new ones."

Lucy laughed, silly infectious giggles that had your lips tugging in a grin, your hand smoothing over the wool of Jude's jacket. "You ready Luce? You're next." You cooed, stepping up to the bright candy caned line.

A bored teenage 'elf' looked at you with a less than jolly expression, waving them over as the kids ahead went bounding towards the mall Santa.

"Stay with Jude. Hold her hand, Jude. We'll be right over here." Your voice tightened, not moving until her hand was in his, scampering towards the next marker. "Smile pretty!"

"C'mon," Eddie muttered, his hand softly on the small of your back. "They're good."

You glared at him, huffing and pulling away from his grasp. "Don't talk to me like that."

Eddie sighed, tired and bored. "Like what?"

"Like that," You sneered, voice low as you stood behind the gate with the other parents, watching their kids as they told Santa their lists. "You don't have to be so condescending."

"Condescending." Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, just like that." You snarled, turning away from him, lips in a tight, annoyed line. "Like you always are."

Eddie nodded, slowly, tongue running on the inside of his cheek. There was a tense pause, both of you looking forward wordlessly.

"Look, I don't know what pissed you off so bad, if it's the Trina thing or-"

"-Can you not do this?" You bit in a hushed hiss. "Watch your kids. Don't make this about us." Your chin jerked towards Jude and Lucy, who were too enthralled with climbing on the fake sleigh to look back at two of you, which you were thankful for.

Eddie laughed humorlessly, an airy, unamused snort of air and you could feel him stiffening beside you. "Fine."

The eye roll you gave was so fierce it left you with a headache between the brows, fingers tapping on your crossed arms, trying to ignore him- to be present for your kids, enjoy and embrace the moment, but dammit was it hard. When he always had to have the last fucking word. Flashbacks of countless fights spun through your mind like a rolodex.

You managed enough cheer to mask the tension, greeting Jude and Lucy with their waving candy canes. "Did you tell Santa what you wanted?" You cooed, a hand running over Lucy's head.

"Yeah," Jude hugged your waist. "I told him I'd been really good, but will you tell him too, Mama? When you talk to him later."

You smiled, warm with content at his childlike innocence. "Of course." You nodded. "Let me pay for your photo and you can take it to Papa Wayne-"

"-I got it." Eddie muttered, still not looking at you, already flicking through the bills of his wallet, handing them to the cashier dressed like a elf.

"Let me pay you my half." You frowned, slinging your purse forward, pulling the zipper.

Eddie shook his head with an eye roll, nodding at the cashier, before stepping to the side. He sifted through the change in his palm, plucking out two quarters and handing them to Lucy and Jude. "Here, go get something out of the gumball machine."

Lucy and Jude squealed with excitement, bounding towards the array of candy and toy machines in the middle of the mall, ignoring your shout of warning.

"They already have a candy cane." You looked at Eddie with a bored expression. "So you're giving them more sugar?"

"Jesus Christ, it's the holidays." Eddie huffed. "Thought this was your favorite holiday?"

"It is." You countered, arms crossing over your frame defensively.

"Then quit bein' so mean." Eddie shook his head. "Just 'cause you're pissed at me."

"I'm not pissed at you." Your lips pressed in a hard line. "Not everything is about you."

Eddie let out a laugh, teetering on mocking and mean. "I- you know what, I give up." He shook his head. "Stay in your foul mood, whatever."

His hand fell on the white envelope on the counter, pulling the small photo out, handing it to you. "Here. Merry Christmas." His words fell flat, filled with irritation. "I'll have them back by eight tonight."

You fought back a snarl, looking at the grinning face of your children on the glossy photo, two identical smiles that reminded you so much of the man you loved- used to love.

"C'mon, let's go see Papa." Eddie clapped, grinning at the kids. "Tell Mama bye." His eyes met your with a forced grin, teeth nearly baring at you.

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, bending to hug each of them, pressing a kiss to their cheeks. "Be good, ok? Tell Papa I said hi."

Your eyes met Eddie's, a beat of silence between both of you, nearly challenging the other to speak first, to admit defeat. Neither of you did.

Eddie gave a curt nod, turning in the opposite direction with your children through the ever growing crowd.

You felt incredibly lonely, walking to your car silently, a sinking feeling in the pit of your tummy.

"Fuck-" Your fingers brushing the tip of the box, pushing it further back onto the shelf, away from your grasp.

Your annoyed huff echoed off the concrete of the garage walls, settling back on your tip toes. "Are you fuckin' serious? Ed-" Your words were strangled in your throat, heart dropping with sudden realization.

He wasn't here.

You should've been used to it by now. The house was empty, quiet even with the stereo playing. You'd turned it on, shoved a worn Christmas cassette tape in and tried to drown out the miserable silence that filled the house.

It used to be a tradition, just for the two of you. You and Eddie would drop the kids off at Wayne's going back home to wrap all the gifts you'd hidden. Eddie was always in charge of that, hiding them in the hard to reach, clever places around the house. You'd make hot toddies on the stove, Eddie would put on your favorite Christmas cassette without asking, and you'd spend the evening wrapping gifts.

Your first Christmas, Eddie had been so excited, positively beaming as you wrapped little onesies and teething toys- small gifts for Jude, but Eddie still boasted with pride. "Can you believe we're really doin' this? We're parents. Real parents wrapping real gifts for our real kid. Isn't- That's just fuckin' insane."

Now, you were alone, wrapping gifts for your kids and filling out the gift tag just to them for the first time in years.

The feeling was anything but joyful, sitting on your couch alone while Rudolph played lowly in the background. The hot toddy you'd made didn't nearly lift your spirits the way you hoped. No, if anything, it only made you feel worse.

Maybe it had been a mistake- the divorce. The thought had consumed you since you'd heard about Trina. Maybe Eddie was right, maybe the divorce was too much. Maybe you should have gone to therapy instead. Why else would you be feeling like this? Alone and miserable and full of regret. Were you just jealous? Was it the longer, darker days and colder weather messing with your mind? Or was it really that you-

"Hellooooooo!" Jude's sing-songy scream had you jumping, the hot liquid sloshing over the edge of the mug, splashing on to your reindeer printed pajamas.

"In here." Your voice was tight, not passing for the cheery tone you were hoping.

Two sets of feet bounded towards you as you set down your mug. Jude and Lucy came in, babbling with excitement about their day with Papa Wayne, still in their snow boots and coats.

"Mama, we saw Papa today an-and he asked me if I could make him some extra reindeer food so he can have some for his roof too, so Santa doesn't miss him." Jude jumped in your lap, eyes bright and wild as he told his story with excitement.

"Did he?" You grinned, unzipping Jude's jacket gently. "We'll have to make him some, won't we?"

"Yeah." Jude nodded, looking over at the tree. "Are those for us?" His eyes widened.

"Not until Christmas." You pointed at him. "Or I'll take them all back."

Jude pouted, eyes darting towards the screen. Your eyes cut towards Eddie as he helped Lucy out of her little snow boots, shimmying them off carefully and putting them by the door. The ache in your chest only grew.

You stood, crossing the living room towards the entry way. "Hey, Luce," You cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head when she flung herself at you. "Did you have fun today with Papa?"

"Yeah," Lucy giggled, hanging off your leg. "We gotta see the lights."

"The neighbors," Eddie muttered, his gaze not meeting yours, looking at Lucy instead. "They have a bunch of light displays now. Decked out the whole trailer. She really liked it."

"That sounds like fun." You smoothed a hand over her head. "Why don't you go see what Jude's watching? Let me talk to Daddy for a minute. Ok?" You tracked her as she bounded towards the living room, plopping next to Jude on the couch.

An uncomfortable silence filled the space between you and Eddie before you even turned around.

"So, um," You swallowed, rocking back and forth on your slippered toes. "Sounds like they had a good time." You lifted your head, looking up at Eddie.

"Yeah, they had fun." Eddie shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, eyes flickering from you to the frilly garland over the door. That same dreaded pause came back, filling the space between you.

"I'll head out," Eddie broke the silence, your heart lurching at his words. "I'll, uh, be back tomorrow morning, if that's cool? Stop by and-"

"-Wait," Your tone was fiercer than you meant it to be, Eddie's eyes told you that. "I-I just-" You turned towards the kitchen, heart hammering with a steady thud in your ears.

"I, uh, I made hot toddies." You swallowed your hammering heart. "Why don't you- I mean, if you want one, yo-you could stay for a while. Put the kids to bed, ya know, if you don't have plans or whatever." You muttered, cringing at how juvenile you sounded. You sounded like you were back in high school, stammering the same way you had when Eddie first asked you out.

Eddie's lip curled in a small smile, running a hand over his face. "Sure." He shrugged, shedding off his worn leather jacket. "Thank you."

You shook your head gently, turning towards the kitchen, ears ringing with the dull beating of your heart, barely registering the squeals of laughter from Jude and Lucy in the other room. You ladled the steaming contents into a festive mug nearly robotically, brain numb with the same swirling thoughts that made you feel like you were underwater- washing away in the strong current of your own mind.

Your slippers felt like weights, dragging your body across the hardwood floor towards the living room, passing Eddie the steaming cup. His hand brushed yours, sending your system flooded with electric excitement.

As you settled back into the cushions, your body relaxed- just for a moment. The kids were squealing, babbling and giggling about their afternoon with Papa. Rudolph still playing lowly in the background. Eddie next to you, sipping out of his mug. For a moment, the lights strung on the tree felt brighter, warmer.

For a moment, it felt like home again.

That sickening realization had your stomach lurching, pulling you back into the cruel reality that none of this was permanent. Eddie, the lights, the happiness- it was all temporary. It would be gone tomorrow.

You wished it wouldn't.

Your mind at war with itself, filled with conflict and regret as you tried to mask it, giving fake grins and exaggerated coos that half heartedly passed for truthful.

"They're finally asleep." Eddie's voice had you jumping, the mug slipping through your hands into the sudsy water.

You turned, chin hooking over your shoulder to face him. "You were probably right. All that candy wasn't the best idea." Eddie gave a tight grin, his eyes sparkling dully, just enough to have your heart skipping. "They got even more at Wayne's too."

"I told you," You sighed softly, a playful hum in your tone. Still, it wasn't convincing enough, not for Eddie.

Eddie frowned behind you. "What's goin' on with you?" He didn't miss the way your spine went rigid.

"What?" You voice pitched, high like it was when you were lying- when you were hiding something. That hadn't changed since high school.

"Don't- c'mon." Eddie gave a soft huff, accompanied by an eye roll. "Just tell me what's goin' on."

"Nothing's goin' on-"

"-Don't lie to me." Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. "I've known you too long. You think you can lie to me and I won't know? Please."

Your lips tugged in a smile you tried to hide, turning back towards the dishes you were finishing up. Eddie moved beside you, hip leaning on the counter next to you.

"What's on your mind, baby?" His voice was so gentle- you hated that it was exactly what you needed, that he knew it was exactly what you needed.

You swallowed the ever growing lump in your throat, fighting the swell of tears that was already forming.

"Hey, c'mon, sweetheart," Eddie's hand pressed to your cheek, cupping it sweetly, his rings pressed to your skin. "Talk t'me, baby. What's goin' on?"

"Nothing." Your voice was as strained as the words you struggled to get out.

"Baby," Eddie eyed you playfully. "I know we're not together anymore, but I still know you and you can- what's wrong?" He froze, his hold going rigid at the first shake- a tremble of emotion that was a telltale sign you were about to break.

"Did I say something? I was just- hey, don't cry. Don't cry." Eddie cooed, gathering your face in his hands, pulling you towards him.

Your lip trembled, biting back a sob that tore its way through anyways, vision flooding with tears that built on your waterline.

"Is this- Is this about Trina? Because I didn't- Nothing happened, we just went out. Well, I mean, she kissed me, but I didn't- I really didn't-" Eddie's voice rose in panic, rambling, frantic at the watery sob you let out.

"Please, hey, please don't cry? I'm not- fuck, baby, I didn't- I thought it would be ok, be-because you'd been on a few dates, and I thought it would be a good thing."

"It is." You blubbered, sniffling wetly, wiping your eyes with the back of your rolled pajama tops.

"Then why are you crying?" Eddie frowned lightly, pads of his thumbs wiping over the apples of your wet cheeks catching your tears.

"I just..." Your eyes pinched shut, jaw clenching to keep in another sob. How could you tell him? You couldn't. You knew you couldn't, even though you wanted to so badly.

"Just what?" Eddie's voice dropped. "Tell me."

He could feel your trembling breath, his own heart squeezing with constricting fear before you spoke.

"I just... I miss this." Your voice cracked, eyes squeezing shut. You couldn't look at him, couldn't bring yourself to see his reaction.

"I-I didn't know how much I would miss just... just us all being together, and I really fuckin' miss it, and I think," Your breath hitched, heart stilling entirely with hesitant fear.

Eddie held his own breath, eyes wide, looking at you with a wild gaze like he knew what you were going to say.

"I think," You swallowed around your words, strangled in your throat. "I... I made a mistake."

Eddie's heart leapt so fiercely he thought it tore through his rib cage. His body eerily still, unable to move.

"I didn't know you going out with someone else w-would make me feel... this bad, and," Your eyes shone, the strung lights in the kitchen catching in your tears. "And I've really missed you."

"I've missed you too." Eddie's lungs constricted with those words, feeling breathless and light headed.

"I don't like spending the holidays without you." Your voice squeaked, teary and upset, face crumbling with the admission you'd been holding in for too long. "I don't- I don't like being without you, an-and I think I made a really bad mistake and I-I'm sorry, Eddie, I'm so-o sorry-"

Your teary face pressed to the soft material of his t-shirt, your cry muffled into his chest. Eddie held you close to him, as tight as he could, his own head spinning now.

He'd dreamt of this, longed for this moment since you'd fist served him the papers. The day had finally come, one he thought he'd only see in his head- you coming back to him, taking it back, taking him back.

Only it didn't feel as triumphant as it did in his head.

Not with you sobbing into his arms. Not with his head spinning so fiercely he thought he might still be dreaming.

"It's alright," Eddie soothed nearly robotically, staring ahead out the window towards the darkened street as he soothed your sobbing apologies. "We'll- We'll figure it out, baby. We'll be alright."

Every time you both felt like you found your footing, finally on stable ground, you were back here- falling with horror back into uncertainty.

Even as Eddie held you in the kitchen, or later when he slipped into bed with you, both of you whispering and sniffly under the sheets, it wasn't new but it wasn't the same as it was before.

You weren't sure if it would ever be the same as it was before, if you'd ever have what you had before. Even if you replicated the same traditions, hung the tinsel in the same place, retraced your footsteps exactly as you did the year before; it would never hold the same feeling as it once did.

[baytpwk]

baby, you're a haunted house |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: eddie is horrified to find out you don't decorate for halloween, and is determined to fix that. based off this ask request sent in by @harmonib for the spooky stories series :) thank you!!

contains: mentions of shitty parents/ shitty childhood. nothing extremely graphic but touched upon. really the rest is sweet sweet fluff. alludes to smut bc it's them, but nothing graphic. for timeline purposes, set after the engagement.

"That's it?"

Eddie's brow lifted so high that the silver hoop piercing disappeared under his curly bangs.

"Yep." You gave a short nod, hands resting on your hips, looking down at the large plastic bowl, covered in an array of Peanuts characters all in various costumes.

"That's- Baby, are you serious?" Eddie's eyes widened, lips pulling in a look of shock, maybe horror.

You frowned, looking down at the bowl resting on top of the counter. You thought it was cute, you thought Eddie would find it adorable too.

"Yeah, I mean, I know it looks small but I don't get a lot of trick-or-treaters, honestly-"

"-Probably because they think no one's here." Eddie scoffed before he could help it, grimacing at the frown you gave him. "Sorry, but... Sweetheart, this is it? This is all you have? All your Halloween decorations?"

You wrapped your arms around yourself, scowl only deepening on your features making Eddie cringe. "So what? It's a candy bowl. That's all kids care about anyways." You muttered, eyes darting from his gaze back to the bowl.

"But what about you?" Eddie twirled the bowl around, examining the wrap around design on the lip. "You don't like to decorate for yourself?"

"No, not really." Your chin ducked down, toying with the edge of the cream fur trimmed sweater you'd bought yesterday. You had been so excited to go shopping for fall, at the first dip in temperatures. Eddie had promised you he'd take you somewhere with real seasons, back home to Indiana where the leaves actually changed.

"What?" Eddie gawked, lips curling in a soft smile, hoping it would ease you out of your own defenses. He'd grown used to coaxing you out of yourself when you got like this, guarded and snippy when you felt challenged in any way.

"That's shocking. I thought you'd be like, the biggest decorating fan. give Martha Stewart a run for her money." Your lips twitched in a smile you tried to hide, eyes finally meeting his.

"I mean, I would like to. I just... I don't know. I've never really decorated before." You admitted, twirling the puffs of fur at the end of the zipper. "My parents didn't ever really decorate so I guess I never got in the habit."

Eddie's eyes widened, blinking in shock. "Ever? They never decorated ever? Not even for Christmas or-or Valentine's Day or something?"

Your face twisted, tight the way it always did when you were talking about something painfully uncomfortable- when you talked about your childhood. "No. Well, we did a few times when I was younger for Christmas and my Dad's parents were still alive. They'd come over and spend Christmas, but my Mom would just hire one of those staging companies to come a few days before Christmas and bring decorations and make it look nice."

"You didn't even have a tree?" Eddie gaped. "Even I had a Christmas tree."

You rolled your eyes, lips pursing in annoyance. "Yeah, congrats, Ed. I had shittier parents than you, I guess." Your tone clipped, dripping in surly sarcasm.

Eddie sucked in a breath, biting his tongue to keep any sharp retorts back. It was still an adjustment, even now that you were engaged, to keep his retorts soft when they needed to be- to be soft with you.

"I didn't-" Eddie's breath huffed, a strangling sigh that kept in the rest of his words. "Go put your shoes on."

"Why?" Nose scrunched in confusion, still lingering with hints of an attitude Eddie was hoping wasn't going to be a problem.

"Because," He grinned, dimples creasing softly into his cheeks. "We're gonna go shopping."

Your eyes lit up, perking at your favorite activity- or so Eddie said since you were always shopping for something. "Shopping?" It was your turn to grin. "For what?"

"Decorations." Eddie nodded firmly, patting his pockets for his wallet, chains jingling on his jeans. "We need some for our house."

"Don't you have some we could use?" Your voice was softer than before, shoulders a little deflated.

"Yeah, but those aren't ours, those are mine." Eddie shook his head. "We need some for both of us. That we both like. So when we're old as shit and putting 'em out, we still like them." He grinned, pinching your cheek gently, heart skipping at the giggle you gave him.

"C'mon, it'll be fun, babe, I promise. You'll like it. Just like when we decorated this house, but better because this isn't boring stuff. It's actually fun." Eddie grinned, motioning towards the painting behind him- a real Van Gogh given to you as a wedding gift, bought off your registry, of the infamous 'Skull of a Skeleton with Burning Cigarette'.

"We'll go to that one store you like. The Pierce-"

"-Pier One-"

"-Right. That one. We'll start there, and we can just look everywhere. As long as you want." Eddie's hand slid down the soft cashmere of your sweater, giving your forearms a gentle squeeze that had your skin tingling with excitement.

"As long as I want, hm?" You hummed, brow quipping playfully. "That's a risk, Munson. You're sure you're committing to that?"

"Always committing to you, Munson." Eddie's lips curled. "You know that. As long as you want, wherever you want. We'll hop on a flight to New York if you want to. They might have better stuff, actually. More fall than the places here."

"Hm, that's pretty tempting." Your lips twisted in thought. "I do love New York."

"I know you do." Eddie grinned, his eyes shining with that familiar sparkle of wild that had your knees shaking. "Fuck it, let's go to New York. Go pack."

"Eddie," You gawked lightly, a breathy giggle slipping out with his name. "I- We can't go to New York."

"Why?" Eddie frowned. "I don't have anything to do. Do you?"

"No, but-but I haven't told Jacques. The jet won't be ready-"

"-LAX is still a thing, baby." Eddie teased lightly. "We'll just take the plane down there. Call Jacques and get the jet set up for us to take back. That's when we'll need it, anyways, for all the Halloween stuff we're gonna buy." Eddie's grin only widened, eyes getting more and more wild with the excitement of the trip.

"Go pack. I'll call Nelson, tell him to get us a hotel room at The Plaza- You want The Plaza, right?" Eddie pointed at you, walking towards the phone on the wall in the newly renovated kitchen.

You hesitated, tummy flipping with excitement and rushes of adoration, nodding gently. "I can get Jacques to call instead. He knows the manager there."

"Yeah, you know what, that's probably a good idea." Eddie placed the phone back on the hook. "Last time we stayed there, we kinda fucked the place up. Don't know if they'll let us back. Good call, baby. You call Jacques, and I'll start packing."

Eddie walked past you, ringed hand skittering across your waist, stopping to pull you into him, lips smashed to your in a sweetly steamy kiss.

He pulled back with a wet smack of his lips, grinning wide and bright back at you. "This is gonna be so fun. I can't fuckin' wait."

You giggled in response, brain fuzzy and gooey with a warmth you'd never felt before, not with anyone other than Eddie. Love blinded, completely and utterly by him. Willing to follow him anywhere, and do anything with him, which is why you dialed the phone, feeling like you could float on air as you leaned against the counter, chatting with your family's personal assistant about the spontaneous plans. Jacques' snarly tone of disapproval when you mentioned Eddie couldn't even soil your mood, too stricken with excited affection to be anything other than giddy.

"Oh, what about this one?" Eddie lifted the metal Jack-O-Lantern, spinning it by the painted stem towards you. "This looks like you."

Nearly two hours after landing, you and Eddie hadn't wasted any time. Throwing your bags in the presidential suite before stepping into the chauffeured car, hauling to 5th Avenue.

"I do like that." Your lips curled, running a hand over the smooth surface. "That's really cute. Do they have two?"

"Yeah, they've got a bunch. Look this one has a different face." Eddie beamed with pride, grabbing the other pumpkin, a little taller than the others, making a more shocked face rather than smiling like the other. "Do you want the exact same one?"

"No, I like the different ones. I think that would be pretty by the mantle. On the ledge?" You looked at him, and though you didn't say it, he knew you were looking for approval. Still a little apprehensive at the newness of decorating, unsure that you were doing it right, and just needing that extra push of confidence that Eddie always gave you.

"That would look amazing, yeah." Eddie grinned, curls bobbing as he nodded. He handed the two back to the eager sales person behind him, nodding with a muttered thanks as she took it to the front.

"What about some ghosts?" Eddie reached into the shelf, turning a stuffed ghost holding a stack of pumpkins around to show you. "That looks pretty cool."

"Can you... Do you think it'll match the other?" You bit your lip, fingers twirling the small pumpkin coasters against your palm nervously.

"Yeah, sweetheart, it's all Halloween." Eddie grinned softly, a hand on your hip, giving you a sweet, reassuring squeeze. "That's the great part about it, it's all on theme because it's all Halloween. Can't mess it up."

You relaxed under his touch, giving a quick nod. "I do like that." Your head tilted lightly, reaching out to feel the felt ghost. "It's cute."

Eddie nodded with a wide smile, picking it up and curling it against the leather of his jacket. "What about witches hats? Feel like you'd really like the witchy stuff."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You frowned playfully up at him, swallowing back a smile.

His hand moved to the small of your back, rubbing the skin that peeked out gently. "I dunno, you seem like a witchy woman, I guess." Eddie grinned playfully, giving a small shrug at your exaggerated gasp. "Seems like you'd really like that kinda stuff."

"Are you calling me a witch?" You pressed your lips together, slipping down the aisles towards the brooms and pointed hats.

"Nah, you're definitely more of a vampire vibe. Like Camille from Undying Love." Eddie snorted lightly.

"Why? Because I suck the life out of you?" You rolled your eyes, manicured nails raking over a pointed hat covered in stitched beads that made a sparkling spiderweb.

"Well, I mean, you're pretty good at sucking. Give amazing head, baby." Eddie snickered, his own cackles growing watching you squirm, eyes darting around to make sure no one heard.

"You're gross." You rolled your eyes, lips curling in a smug grin you couldn't fight back.

"Yeah, I think you like it." Eddie's hand dipped lower, squeezing your left ass cheek hard enough to have you squealing lightly, ducking down and nipping at the tip of your ear.

"Put it on." He nodded towards the hat your hand was still lingering on. "Wanna see you in it."

You scoffed lightly, picking up the witches hat. "Thought I was more of a vampire type."

"Yeah, I think you are, but I can't know for certain." Eddie shrugged, stepping back. "Lemme see you in it, then I'll make up my mind."

You snorted lightly, situating the witches hat on your head, spinning it so the long sheer fabric was in the back. You threw your hands out gently, pivoting from side to side sillily so Eddie could see, exaggeratedly modeling for him.

The loud wolf whistle he let out took you by surprise, had you jumping and snatching the hat off with a glare. "Ed-"

"-No, baby, that's definitely a keeper." Eddie laughed, uncaring about the others who turned towards the two of you. "I was wrong, you're definitely more of a witch. That looks so good on you."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "You're relentless."

"And you're hot." Eddie grinned, tossing you a wink that had you bristling with excitement, turning and hoping he didn't see how flustered it made you.

"We'll be taking this, and definitely this too." Eddie turned to the sales associate, passing off the finds.

"Why are you getting the hat?" You lifted a brow, hand running down the bark of a 'witch broom' that hung on the rack. "Are you going to wear it?"

"Shit, I will if you want me to." Eddie flirted, smoothly sliding his hand back over your waist. "Was thinking you could wear it later tonight. Stop at Vivienne Westwood and pick you out something black and sexy. Really put you into costume."

"Is that right?" Your tongue ran over the inside of your cheek, trying to still yourself, hide your fluster.

"Yeah, c'mon, you know how I love when you dress up for me." Eddie's breath was hot on the shell of your ear, leaving you shuddering.

"Thought we were here for Halloween decorations?" Your voice was tight, far squeakier than what you were hoping.

"We're here for that too, but that doesn't mean we can't have some fun." He teased, fingers tickling up your waist. "Dressing up in a costume is apart of Halloween, anyways."

You hummed, grabbing at the ceramic bottles of potions, each etched with a different deadly name. "I like those, get those." Eddie nodded, grabbing one of each.

"I like the broom too." You tilted your head over to the one hanging. "And the cauldron. It says it turns on and makes sound."

"See?" Eddie smiled, chin hooking over your shoulder. "Knew you'd like the witchy stuff."

You giggled, turning so your noses were nearly touching. It was nice to be open and affectionate, not have to worry about sneaking around any more or saving the love for behind closed doors.

"It's more fun than the other stuff. Don't you think?" Your eyes batted sweetly at him. Eddie didn't know how to tell you that he'd agree with anything you said in that moment. Instead, he leaned forward, lips pressing against yours, a short but sweet kiss that had you both reeling.

"I love you." Eddie muttered, eyes rounded with affection, nearly drunk off his affection.

"I love you." You giggled, pressing your cheek to his. "This is a lot of fun. I can... I can see why you like it so much."

"Yeah, told you. This isn't even the best part. The best part is when you get to put it all up, ya know? Putting stuff where you want and makin' it all spooky and weird and Halloweeny." Eddie gushed with excitement.

"Yeah." Your tone dropped, looking down at the cauldron in your hand. "Guess I really missed out, huh?"

Eddie frowned, pulling back to look at you, his hand sliding over your jaw, cupping your cheek softly, pulling your gaze up to his. "Hey, c'mon, it's alright." He muttered, voice low in case others could hear.

He leaned forward, tip of his nose to yours, heart aching at the way your lip jutted lightly in a sad pout. "You're never gonna miss out again, alright? I promise you. I'll make sure you never miss out, and when we have our own kids, they won't miss out. Promise."

You moved into his hold, lips beginning to curl in a soft smile. "Thank you." Your voice barely a whisper, taking a slow, steadying breath in.

"I mean it." Eddie nodded fiercely. "You're locked in for life with me, baby, and I swear we'll decorate every single fuckin' holiday until we're a hundred years old."

You held his gaze, locking eyes in such a passionately fierce yet soft way, like you two were the only ones in the store- on the planet, maybe. It felt like that, it always did when you were with Eddie.

"Um," The timid voice of the sales associate brought you both back to reality. "I-I'm sorry, are you still finding everything ok?" She hesitated.

You pulled away, chin ducking with light embarrassment, but Eddie didn't seem bothered. "Yeah, we're gonna take these too." He nodded, passing her the ceramic figures and broom. "Oh, and this." He took the cauldron from you, passing it to her with a muttering of thanks.

"Let's keep looking. I think they said the outside stuff was over here." Eddie's hand found your back, pointing towards the next aisle.

"Outside? I thought you said you had your own outside stuff." You looked at him.

"I do, but I don't think it's really... you." Eddie looked at you with a small smile. "It's kinda scary shit. Not sure that's what you want."

"Do kids like it?"

"I don't know, actually. Never really had trick-or-treaters. I always have a party on Halloween, you remember." Eddie nodded lightly. You did remember, the infamous Halloween rager he had just a year ago. How you'd shown up in a skimpy little costume, resting on the arm of his sworn rival just to piss Eddie off. It had worked, of course, much to your discomfort. Your tummy flipped with heat, hairs raising on your spine at the memory.

"That's right. Are you doing that again this year?" You asked, passing by the plastic graveyard signs.

"I can, if you want." Eddie shrugged. "Up to you."

"Maybe have it start after trick-or-treating is done." Your eyes lingered over the costumes in the corner, a tiny bat onesie that had your heart swelling. "I want to pass out candy this year."

"Done." Eddie nodded. "Usually doesn't start until ten or eleven anyways. Gives us time to change. Shit, that reminds me, we gotta figure out a costume."

"I thought I already had a costume." You nodded towards the front where the witches hat was waiting behind the counter with the rest of your things. "Isn't that why we're going to Vivienne Westwood after this?"

"Nah, that's just for me, baby." Eddie grinned, pulling you close to him, pressing a kiss to your head. "That's your costume for me. We need something for the party. Somethin' cool and weird. Gotta be a good one, ya know? Our first Halloween together, together."

You giggled, shaking your head lightly. "I'm sure you'll come up with something good. You always do."

"Needs to be perfect." Eddie nodded, picking up a plastic headstone with Frankenstein's Bride etched on the front. "For my bride." He droned dramatically, leaving you laughing.

"Oh shit, wait, that's actually a good idea." Eddie's eyes lit up. "Bride of Frankenstein and Frankenstein- oh shit!" Eddie exclaimed, a little too loudly, other patrons glaring at him with cutting eyes.

"I gotta call Ricardo, see if his costume guy can make somethin' happen. Oh man, this is gonna be so good, babe. Gonna be the best fuckin' Halloween ever." Eddie babbled, excited and bubbly with ideas.

Your heart swelled, squeezing his hand in yours as you pulled him down the aisles, letting him ramble about his ideas, decorations, Halloween traditions- everything. You listened, just as excited as he was. You finally would get to have traditions of your own, with a man you loved, in your own home that you decorated with items you both picked out. No longer would the holidays feel meaningless and boring. You finally had what you always wanted, finally found with Eddie.

[baytpwk]

all dressed up |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie won't come to a halloween party with you, so you decide to go by yourself... in a costume you know he won't approve of. based off of this prompt :) thank you to whoever sent it in! you can read the rest of my spooky stories series here!

contains: smut. minors dni. language. dom/sub themes- really dom/brat themes lol. all pre-consented ofc. spanking, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex. daddy kink. eddie's a little more of a hard dom in this. mafia themes but nothing graphic.

You saw the mess of curls move behind you once, then again, snapping towards your frame with a fury that had you fighting back a shiver, trying to remain casual and unbothered, applying your lipstick on in the large vanity mirror.

"What are you wearing?"

Your lips pursed, rolling them to keep your own triumphant grin back. His tone, the sharpness and snapping of his words, eyes still boring at you through the mirror; you had him right where you wanted.

"A costume." You hummed, so casual it made Eddie's head spin. Your eyes finally met his in the mirror, calm and vacant of the usual bratty, defiant glare he was expecting. "It's Halloween, Ed. You're supposed to wear a costume."

Eddie's snort follows before you can finish your sentence, posture straightening just enough to look menacing, his own expression still calm but entirely unimpressed. "So you chose to wear that, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, dramatic enough that you were sure he saw it- you wanted him to. "What's that supposed to mean?" You eyes narrowed, meeting his challengingly through them mirror, though you didn't turn around to face him.

Eddie nodded slowly, no signs of aggravation, or irritation even at your snarly mood. "Stand up f'me." His voice hardened, slipping into commanding that had your body jolting, eager to please. "Let me get a good look at you. See the whole thing."

You scoffed, despite the rush of excitement that was flooding red hot through your entire body, pushing your small stool back from the vanity. The dress barely covered your ass, resting just below the swell- dangerously short. Eddie's chest roared with possessive furious heat at the thought of you bending over, showing anyone what was between your legs, what belonged to him.

"You look pretty, baby." He didn't miss the way your shoulders fell, slumped with shocked disappointment. "What are you supposed to be?"

"I'm an angel." You batted your eyes sweetly, a purr to your tone that had Eddie's heart jumping.

"You sure are." Eddie matched your tone, effortlessly flirtatious, lips curling in a half grin.

"I don't have my wings and my halo on yet." You smoothed the white material of your dress down, smoothing out a wrinkle.

"You don't have your dress on either, do you?" Eddie cooed, his tone soft and light. You almost missed his question.

"Yeah I do." You frowned, looking down at your dress. "This is what I'm wearing."

"Oh, baby," Eddie laughed softly, shaking his head. "That's cute, but you're not going out in that."

"Yes, I am." Your voice was fierce, already snapping with fight.

"C'mon," Eddie scoffed with a slight smirk, rolling his eyes lightly like you were so silly, like it was a teasing joke you were playing on him. "You're not wearin' that out, sweet thing. Especially not with me not around. Go on and change into something else."

"I'm not changing." You huffed, nose scrunching with annoyance. "I'm wearing this, and if you don't want me wearing it without you, then you should come. Like you said you would."

Eddie nodded slowly, tongue rolling down the side of his cheek. "I told you, baby, I can't come tonight-"

"-You don't want to come tonight." You snapped. "There's a difference."

"Hm," Eddie hummed, exhaling slowly, eyes still on you so fiercely you were beginning to squirm.

"You said you would come, Ed." Your voice teetered off into a whine, turning to him with pleading eyes.

The same fight you'd had for the past week, since Eddie pulled out of going to Nancy and Jonathan's Halloween party with you, claiming he was "too busy". You knew the truth. That he was uncomfortable being around your friends, people who might judge him, side eye him with fear when he came in.

"No one's going to care that you're there. You're coming with me." You pleaded, trying to rationalize with him.

"I told you, I'm busy." Eddie's tone clipped with harshness, eyes scanning over your frame.

Your lips pressed together, arms crossing over your chest in fury. "Fine." You snapped. "But I'm not changing."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not." You growled. "I like what I'm wearing, and I think other people will like it too." It was a low blow, one that you knew was risky, might send Eddie over the edge and break his calm exterior- which was exactly what you wanted.

He knew that, which is why he swallowed back the commanding bark in his throat, though you didn't miss the way his nostrils flared.

Nails tapping against your folded arms, your lips twisted. "I thought you'd like what I had on, too." Your tone was still harsh, but filled with an edge of a sultry purr at the end, hands sliding down your hips suggestively. "I thought you liked it when I dressed up for you."

You were definitely playing dirty now, you both knew it. But Eddie allowed it, allowed you to walk towards him, straddling his lap, legs spread and on either side of his spread thighs so your dress rode up, exposing the tiny, lacy white g-string underneath.

"Thought you liked it when I wore a little costume, hm?" Your nose was brushing his, lips tickling when they ghosted over his.

His jaw clenched to keep himself from breaking, to keep from kissing you and pinning you to the mattress, fucking you until you were a pliant mess under him, knees knocking when you walked afterwards, still leaking him down your thighs.

"I do like it." Eddie's voice was strained, swallowing back a flustered shake. "Love it when you dress up f'me, you know that."

You hummed, soft and airy, your hands wrapped around his neck, nails raking over his skin. "So come with me tonight. See me all dressed up." Your lips brushed over his, just light enough to drive him wild, have his hands twitching.

"You don't even have to dress up, Ed. Just come with me." You grinned, nipping at his bottom lip, smug at how his breath hitched. "I'll be dressed up enough for the both of us."

"Not in that dress, you won't." Eddie's eyes met yours, hard with challenge. "Told you, you're not wearing that dress out."

You blinked at him, scoffing before pushing back, sitting back on the tops of his thighs. Eddie couldn't help but look under your parted legs, lacy panties fully on display and barely covering your slit.

"Yeah? You won't be there to stop me from wearing it." You snarled, pulling your legs down onto the red carpet beneath you with a stomp.

"I'll wear whatever I want." You growled, standing between Eddie's legs, pushing the dress back down and into place, smoothing out the wrinkles. Your gaze met his, eyes narrowed with anger, a gentle snarl on your lips that told him your were about to say something mean.

"Maybe I'll find someone there who actually appreciates my costume." You turned with a scoff, barely stepping out from between Eddie's legs before a strong hand caught your wrist, yanking you back towards him.

A gasp tore from your chest, shocking realization flooding your system as Eddie hauled you over his knee, pinning each of your wrists to the small of your with his hand effortlessly.

"Wait! Wait! Eddie-" You squirmed frantically, trying to loosen his grip while he wasted no time shoving your dress up, leaving you bare in your tiny panties.

"Wait, no, I-I'll change, Ed. I was just- oh!" You squealed at the impact, his hand leaving a stinging impact on your left ass cheek.

Eddie didn't lecture you, didn't coo at you until you were sniffly and babbling while he spanked you. Instead, he stayed silent. delivering thundering hits to your backside, heavily focusing on the underside where your thighs met your ass- where he knew people could see the lasting handprints in your dress. It was calculated and mean, left your sniffling and wailing with each hit, shamelessly soaked and grinding onto his leg.

"I'll change! I'll change my outfit!" You wailed, hips lifting and thrashing to the right, trying to twist and avoid his burning assault on your ass.

"Stop it, Ed! I said I'll change!" You huffed, stomping your foot onto the ground, bratty and demanding. Eddie's cock strained behind his dress pants at the sound, delivering another hard spank to the center of your ass, that echoed through the room with a resounding clap.

"Stooop!" You whined, high pitched and nasally, wriggling in his grip. "You're gonna r-ruin my makeup!" You could feel the prickling of a sob threatening to take over, a floodgate that would be much worse than the few tears that had already slipped out.

"I'll be good! I'll change my dress! Ok? I will, Ed!" You howled at the next two blows, leaving your spine arching, lifting off the silk sheets.

"Look at me." Eddie finally spoke in a gravelly growl, his free hand catching your jaw, holding you up to look at him. Your eyes shifted to his, blinking back tears and fighting back wet, pitiful sniffles.

"You gonna listen to me now? Ready to be good for me?" Eddie's voice still wasn't in it's usual coo, but softer than before, leaving your lip wobbling.

"Yes," Your voice squeaked, teary though you tried to fight it.

"What do you say to Daddy?" Eddie lifted a brow, sternness still in his features. "For being so mean before, what do you say? Hm? What do good girls say when they've been mean and bad?"

"'M sorry." You muttered, eyes dropping from his gaze with bashful shame.

"Look at me." Eddie growled, hand tightening around your jaw lightly. "You know better. Need me to take you in the office, hm? Go get the paddle?"

"No," You tried to shake your head, stiffened by his grasp.

"Then what do you say? Let me hear you, loud and clear. And you better keep those eyes on me when you say it. You know how you're supposed to do it." Eddie's voice was harsh, enough to leave you shaking with fear and pleasure, throbbing between your legs. He didn't miss the way your hips rocked down on his leg when he spoke to you.

"I-I'm sorry." Your pitch raised, voice wobbling when you spoke up, your eyes locked on his. "I won't be mean anymore, Daddy. I'll be good. I-I promise."

Eddie hummed, satisfied, his grip loosening on your cheeks, letting go of your hands. Your arms ached, wrist rubbed sore from the chafing of skin on skin. Eddie settled you back, perched on the edge of his thigh, fighting back a grin when you hissed at your raw backside touching his pants.

"That's a good girl. That's my good girl." Eddie cooed softly, pulling you into his chest, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. "You know I hate having to be mean to you like that, but you have to listen to my rules, baby."

"I-I know." Your hiccupy voice was soft, chest heaving with a cry you were still trying to swallow. "I just... I really want you to come with me tonight, Ed." You squeaked, tilting your head back to look at him.

"I know you don't want to, but... it would mean a lot to me if you did." You whispered, fingers nervously toying with the edge of his shirt. "I just want to be with you and my friends. I don't-I don't like it having to be separate all the time. I just want one night where- where it feels normal."

Eddie's chest ached, pulling you closer to him. He was going soft, he was sure of it. Soft and ruined completely by you- not that he minded.

"I'll go with you tonight." Eddie hesitated, eyes flickering down to yours carefully, watching yours fill with excitement, lighting up at his words. "But, I'm having Gareth and Max wait outside. In case any shit happens-"

"-It won't-"

"-Just incase." Eddie cut you off, giving you a pointed look that had you nodding, curling back into his hold. "And, you're still changing."

You bit back a smile, nodding. "Yeah, probably can't wear this now." You giggled lightly. "Kinda ruined it."

"Oh, sweetheart, I haven't ruined it yet." Eddie grinned, hand squeezing your waist just to hear you squeal before he flipped you back onto the bed, hovering over you.

"I do like this costume." His lips hovered over yours, curls from his bangs tickling your own forehead, leaving you squirming.

"But I think I want it," His lips pressed to yours, a full kiss that lasted far too shortly for your liking, eyes barely closing in pleasure before he pulled back.

"All," Kiss.

"To," Kiss.

"Myself."

You whined into his mouth, his thigh strategically moving between your legs, bumping with your clothed pussy, teasingly.

"You think you can do that for me?" Eddie's breath ghosted over your lips, dragging over your cheek, pressing a hot, wet kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Think this can be just f'me, baby?"

"Mm-hmm." You whimpered, hands sliding over his shoulders, pulling him back towards you, closer and closer. "Just for you."

"Just for me." Eddie grinned, pressing a kiss to your jaw, teeth grazing barely, leaving you jumping with excitement.

"You do look so pretty though. My pretty girl, always." Eddie praised softly, pushing off the mattress to look at you fully. You whined, fist balling around his shirt, trying to keep him close, flush to you.

Eddie batted them away gently, his hands sliding down your frame to your legs, wrapped around his waist, spreading them gently. "I do think you should keep on these," Eddie rasped, finger tracing over your clothed slit, down the seam of your panties while you arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"Please, Ed, please." You begged, mind already spacing with needy pleasure.

"Shh, I got you, baby. I'll take care of you." Eddie soothed you gently, hands cupping under your knees, pushing your thighs back to your chest. "I've got you, sweet thing. Just hold your legs up f'me. Can you do that?"

You nodded eagerly, shaking hands grabbing at your kneecaps, jerking them towards your chest in a tight grip. Eddie grinned, sliding down your frame, knees sinking into the carpet. "Good girl." Eddie growled, hands on your waist, dragging you to the edge of the bed, grinning at how you gasped.

His fingers ghosted over your slit again, pressing in and giving a gentle, teasing rub over your aching clit that had you crying out, nails digging into your skin before he finally hooked your panties to the side. Tongue tracing down one lip, down the other, then right to the middle, just a featherlight, teasing that had you squirming in frustration.

You were close to voicing your frustration, the whine caught in your throat when Eddie's face pressed into your cunt, nose brushing with your clit, tongue lapping at your folds. Your hands moved to his hair, pulling him in closer and closer, hips swiveling down, pressing further and further into him. He didn't stop until you were crying out, breathy and broken, babbling on and on, "'m gonna cum, E-Eddie, I'm- oh!" music to his ears.

"Look at you," Eddie cooed, stilling himself when he filled you, stuffed full of his cock, grinning at the glassy, love stricken look in your eye. "You are an angel, hm? The prettiest fuckin' angel I've ever seen."

Nails sinking into the mattress, you balled the silk sheets in your hand as he started to move, slow but deep rolls of his hips into yours. "I-I don't have my wings on." You babbled brainlessly, mind spinning and reeling with pleasure. "O-Or my- oh! Right there, Ed- Or my halo."

"Don't need it." Eddie sucked a breath in between gritted teeth, his strokes coming faster now, sending your eyes rolling back.

"You're always an angel. Prettiest- fuck- prettiest angel in the world. My pretty angel." Eddie reached for your chin, grabbing it so you looked at him through fluttering lashes. "You're my pretty girl. You know that? You know it, don't you, baby?"

"Ye-Yes." You clenched at his words, and for a moment, he saw stars, letting out a deep groan of pleasure.

"Let me hear you." Eddie's grip tightened around your jaw. "I wanna hear you say it. Say you're my pretty girl."

"I-I'm yours, Ed." Your head tilted back, tummy tightening as you teetered closer and closer to your orgasm.

The small slap to your cheek had you gasping, attention pulled back to Eddie. His brows furrowed, lips in a tight, concentrated line. "That's not what I said." Eddie shook his head. "Thought you were gonna listen to Daddy?"

"I-I am." You whined, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling Eddie in closer to you.

"Then do what I said." Eddie tilted his head towards you, looking down the slope of his nose at you. "Say it. I wanna hear you."

You bit back a whimper, gasping at a particularly perfect stroke that had your vision blurring. "I-I'm you're pretty girl."

"Who's pretty girl?" Eddie coaxed, the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. His breath ragged, chest starting to heave- you knew he was close too.

"Y-Yours." You choked out, tears of pleasure brimming your waterline.

"That's right." Eddie growled, folding himself over top of you, lips catching yours in a sloppy kiss. His hand slid between your bodies, circling your clit just right until you were writhing, scratching down his skin as you came undone, his own release following shortly after.

You were late to the party.

Not that either of you minded, really. And it wasn't like anyone there dared to say anything either. Even Nancy, who just gave you a wide smile when she opened the door.

"You made it!" She squealed, pulling you into a hug.

"Yeah, sorry. We had to take the dogs out." You lied easily, eyes cutting over to Eddie's with a small smile.

Nancy's brow raised gently, though she said nothing. "H-Hey, Eddie." You didn't miss the way her grip tightened on the door, opening it wider so you two could walk in. "Glad you could come."

"Yeah. Thanks for havin' me." Eddie nodded, stiff with an unusual uncomfortableness. He felt awkward being in his street clothes- ripped jeans and chains, a band tee (a Dio shirt you claimed would be perfect- "a devil and an angel!"), instead of the usual designer wear he'd grown so accustomed to. He felt truly back in high school, just as nervous as he was then.

Your hand slid down the leather of his jacket, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "Um, well, drinks and snacks are in the kitchen- you know where the kitchen is." Nancy looked at you with a nod, the music growing louder and louder as soon as you entered the house.

You followed her through the house, passing by the numerous people, ignoring how they'd stop, still, eyes wide and stare when Eddie passed, whispering in shushed tones behind your back.

"Help yourself to whatever." Nancy smiled, motioning to the array of alcohol. "I got you Bacardi Breezers, a whole pack." She gave you a teasing smile.

You laughed back, shaking your head, giving a slight shiver. "Oh, great. It'll be just like senior year all over again." You smirked. Eddie's interest piqued, though he kept his gaze nonchalant, scanning the room, making a mental note to ask you about that later.

"I'm gonna go make sure no one's broke anything, but I'll be right back." Nancy nodded, giving your arms a gentle squeeze, before shimmying through the crowds of people.

"You want anything?" You asked, reaching for the colorful glass bottle out of the pack.

"No." Eddie shook his head.

"Not even a beer?" You lifted a brow, turning back to him. "They have Miller."

"I'm good, baby." Eddie nodded sweetly, eyes catching with a guy who was staring, narrowing his gaze just barely before he looked aways. "You get whatever you want."

You looked over at him, twisting the bottle in your hand. "Can you open this?"

Eddie obliged, of course, cracking it on his belt buckle- a trick he learned from years ago, from when he still saw half of these people every day in the hell that was high school.

You took him to the living room, finding a corner tucked away from the beer pong set up in the middle, the people drunkenly dancing and chatting.

Eddie sat down in the small arm chair, hand around your waist, pulling you into his lap. You hissed, face crumpling for a moment, wiggling to a comfortable spot.

"You hurting?" Eddie frowned, head ducking towards you.

"No, I just forgot." You muttered, bashfully. "I'm fine."

"You'd tell me if you weren't?" Eddie lifted a brow.

"You know I would." You smiled reassuringly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I think I like this dress better." You looked down at the long, silk, white dress you'd swapped the other out for. "Looks more angelic."

"Anything you put on looks angelic, baby." Eddie grinned playfully, positively sweet and silly. His face fell after a moment, scanning the room, looking to make sure no one was watching- he couldn't dare have someone see him like this, boyish and silly and so, so in love.

You giggled, pressing the bottle to your lips, taking a quick swig. "Thank you for coming with me." You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, the feathers of your halo headpiece tickling chin.

"C'mon," Eddie muttered lightly, squeezing your hip. "Do anything for you, baby."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Eddie nodded, looking down at you. "You've ruined me. Made me soft."

You giggled, pulling back to look at him. "Is that a bad thing?"

"For you? No." Eddie grinned softly. "Best thing that's ever happened to me. You know that."

You beamed under his praise, hands grabbing his cheeks, pulling him into a sloppy make out right there in the corner of the party, and Eddie felt like he was sixteen again.

"You're so sweet." You hummed, starry eyed and airy when you pulled apart. "So good to me."

"You deserve it." Eddie muttered, cheeks pricking with a heat he couldn't fight off. "Plus, this isn't all bad. Better than I thought it would be." He looked around the room. You both seemed to blend in, get lost in the crowd now, everyone else doing their own thing while you watched.

"Really?" You grinned widely. "Told you it would be fun."

"Yeah, you were right." Eddie nodded, eyes rolling down your frame. "Plus you were right, I do love to see you in a costume." He growled, leaving you squealing with giggles.