#it looks so intense from the trailer

[kenobion]

I’m finally watching Boy A so we shall see

[prince-geo]

literally pleased with almost all of the new atla trailer except as per usual, Zuko's scar, idk why studios are so scared to commit to the intensity of the thing, its supposed to be shocking and obvious and textured and the first thing you see... that's the point, Zuko is supposed to struggle with feeling like it defines and brands him before finally coming to the point in his journey where he defines it.

Hollywood/big studios are known to hesitate or straight up avoid properly and honestly and unapologetically showing people with disfigurements/disabilities/facial differences etc. with the realism they deserve. Which is a shame in general for representation and humanization but ESPECIALLY in this case as its minimization actively harms it's narrative purpose as well

I promise making the scar more intense (shrivel up the ear a bit, make it intrude in his hairline, make his eye in a permanent squint due to nerve damage, for god sake REMOVE THE EYEBROW IT WAS BURNED OFF) will not make Zuko "ugly", (the actor is incapable of looking ugly and also the implication that scars make people too unappealing? yikes) but will actually do the character and his journey justice, not to mention really show Ozai's brutality, another essential narrative tool. Especially when he's bald like hello??? It should be even more stark and intense when he doesn't have hair to distract from it and cover his ear!!!

When transitioning from 2D to live action, of course some visuals are up for interpretation but that usually involved ADDING detail because the constraints of having to stay on modeling frame to frame is gone, not minimizing, removing or airbrushing. Doing Zuko's scar right to me is absolutely essential and I'm disappointed they seem just as as scared to go there as I thought they might. It doesn't have to be gory, if you've ever seen burn victims in real life or in pictures or even cosplayers/artists who are skilled in realistic burn makeup you'd know its possible to balance realism with humanity. It's possible especially with their resources to avoid the "scary Halloween makeup" route while not holding back on the brutality of the original injury.

Budget is definitely not an issue, or "scaring the kids" considering this remake is likely aiming to go a lil darker in tone than the cartoon (which was already super dark with its target audience of nickelodeon 7 year olds so no excuses) Audiences SHOULD be unsettled and upset when they see him but not because he's hard/disturbing to look at but because we are human and do not want to imagine someone doing that to a child.

It's a deliberate choice out of the all too common fear/hesitation to allow someone who is destined to eventually become a protagonist and is meant to be sympathized with to be "too ugly" while this hesitation is very rarely applied to straight up villains (again we come back to media's historic villainization of facial deformity). It's a trend that's always ticked me off in fanart too. The boy's face was melted, for gods sake. Zuko was always portrayed as an attractive boy in the cartoon (fire nation girls fawn over him) even with the intensity of his scar which is something I've always admired! People exist with scars similar to Zuko's in real life, and should not only be permitted to be represented as good guys and/or as attractive when their scars are toned down to be "palatable"

Like I said there's more that I loved than didn't love about the trailer, that can be a whole essay on it's own but I needed to get this very specific vent off my chest because it missed the mark so hard and stands out like a sore thumb in comparison to all the other visuals that hit the nail on the head to me

[littlexdeaths]

i get off - e.m.

perv eddie munson x perv fem reader

you don’t know that i know, you watch me every night…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: voyeurism, masturbation (f & m), eddie is lil peeping tom but reader loves it, they both steal each other’s shit, oral (f receiving), fingering, cum eating, choking, spanking, dirty talk, mean!dom eddie, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, squirting, they both are nasty freaks

a/n: this is another edit and repost from my old account. it’s one of my favorite fics so i had to move it over here. enjoy freaks xx. 😘

based on i get off by halestorm

word count: 3.8k

you’re sprawled out on your bed, fingers running through your drenched folds. clad in only an oversized iron maiden t-shirt and a pair of knee high socks, you’re everything he’s ever wanted. plucked directly out of one of his dirtiest fantasies.

you can feel his eyes on you, you always do.

not that he realizes that.

and while you’ve lived barely ten feet apart for your entire lives, eddie has never had the courage to make a move.

so he settles for this— watching you through his bedroom window.

fantasizing that the delicate fingers now dipping inside you were his. and the fist currently wrapped around his thick cock was smaller, softer. yours.

the first time he witnessed you like this it was a complete accident.

you had been pent up all day, and didn’t think to shut your bedroom curtains before slipping your hand inside your panties. the bedside lamp bathing your room in a muted yellow hue. eddie had been working on a new song, guitar perched on his lap.

he was frustrated with trying to string together this new melody, glancing up in utter annoyance. that is until his gaze drifted towards the window, his eyes widened and his cock stirred in his jeans.

you looked beautiful, you always did. however this was the most vulnerable state you could be in, and the fact that he got to witness it— made you all the more enchanting to him.

he’d be embarrassed to admit that watching you touch yourself made him cum in his jeans, completely untouched. and that first time you were none the wiser, not noticing the dark eyes that were trailing your figure. but once eddie had gotten a taste he couldn’t get enough.

eagerly waiting by his bedroom window to enjoy his new favorite nightly program… you.

you weren’t sure exactly how long he’d been doing it for, but the night you caught him in the act, it awoke something within you. while eddie made sure to keep his bedroom light off, the moonlight was not on his side that night.

it had filled his room in a soft white glow, highlighting his pale skin. his naked form perched on the edge of his unmade bed, stroking his shaft in tandem with each thrust of your fingers.

his moans are what gave him away, as your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure. but he’d gotten a little too carried away, thinking about how pretty your pussy would look stuffed full with his cock.

the thin walls of the trailer doing nothing to conceal his sounds. when your eyes finally opened, you were met with the most glorious sight you’ve ever seen.

eddie fucking himself into his fist, his head tilted back as he spilled all over his ringed fingers. the image alone had your eyes rolling back, body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. one of the most intense you’ve ever had, and from that night on you always kept your curtains open.

desperately chasing that euphoric feeling again.

while you didn’t always see him, you knew he was there. the feeling of his greedy eyes on you was enough to have you cumming harder than you ever have in your entire life. your whimpers were muffled but still rang through his ears as he’d make a mess all over his hand and chest.

different images of you— on your knees, on top of him, taking you from behind, or his favorite with his head buried between your thighs.

it was slowly driving him crazy, and he couldn’t seem to get enough of you. he needed more. he quickly found himself staring out his window any chance he could. gazing longingly as you floated around your bedroom.

he watched you change, get ready for the day, study with your college textbooks. your pencil resting in between your teeth. eddie knew it was wrong, that if you ever found out you would be revolted.

if he only knew it was the exact opposite, and how you couldn’t finish without feeling his eyes on you. but you also needed more, desperate to feel his weight on top of you. his mouth trailing over your skin, his cock stretching you out perfectly.

so you became bolder, going as far as to leave your bedroom window open. letting your moans drift through the night air, teasing him further.

and when you noticed some of your panties had gone missing it only heightened your desire for him. knowing he was in your room, touching your things… holding your panties up to his nose as he came all over himself.

grunts of your name escaped his pouted lips, and his left yours as you drenched your fingers. but it wasn’t enough.

you needed him.

fueled by your insatiable lust you found yourself gazing at him more and more. as he sat on his messy floor, playing guitar or working on a dnd campaign. focusing intently on his fingers, and imagining just how good they would feel inside you.

but your favorite was when he was fresh out of the shower. his dark curls were drenched, water dripping down his inked chest. the patch of hair that disappeared beneath his towel drove you absolutely mad.

so you took a play out of his own book, sneaking into his room while he was working at benny’s. or coming home late from a gig at the hideout, surrounding yourself in everything that was so distinctly eddie.

eddie honestly wasn’t concerned when a few of his shirts had gone missing. or a pair of his cum stained boxers, a guitar pick… as he lost things all the time. he simply chalked it up to his forgetful nature, either he misplaced them or lent them to someone.

that is until tonight, as he peered through your window for what felt like the millionth time. his heart was in his throat as he instantly recognized the iron maiden shirt adorning your frame as his.

the realization dawns on him that you knew exactly what he’d been doing this whole time… and instead of being disgusted or upset, you liked it. enough so that you began doing the same thing to him.

that epiphany made any reservations or fears he still had fade into nothingness. the male decided that he couldn’t sit back and only watch you anymore.

he had to have you.

the brunette rose to his feet, pulling a pair of sweatpants over his long legs before slipping out of his bedroom window. quickly dropping onto the ground as he walks the short distance to your adjoined trailer.

his large hands grip the bottom of the window sill, pushing it open the rest of the way before he’s hoisting himself through it. a small gasp leaves you as he tumbles inside and onto your bedroom floor.

eddie is quick to get back on his feet, as you eagerly eye the obvious tent in his gray sweats. licking his plump lips as he sizes you up. he stalks forward like a predator, slowly crawling onto your bed and between your spread legs.

the male grabs your wrist, coaxing your fingers out of your drenched cunt. raising them up to his mouth, slipping them between his lips with a deep groan. “such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

for once you’re speechless, his actions jumbling your already fuzzy thoughts. you never imagined he’d actually come through your window, like you’d been dreaming about for weeks.

“speak for yourself munson…” your confidence suddenly comes rushing back, pushing your fingers deeper into his mouth. feeling your wetness pooling onto the bed sheets as he swirls his tongue around them.

“guess we’re both a little dirty, huh baby?” eddie chuckles as he removes your fingers from his mouth, now leaning over you.

letting yourself fall back against the pillow, his face mere inches from yours. this is the closest you’ve ever gotten to him, now noticing the light freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose. the dimple that indents his cheek as he smirks down at you, little things that you found utterly endearing.

his hands begin drifting down your sides, his smirk only widening as you shudder beneath him. “is that what does it for ya? you like being watched sweetness?” he grips the fabric of his shirt, starting to push it up your torso.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. “i get off on you…” you slowly trail your lips up his throat, sucking harsh bruises onto his pale skin. the male letting out a husky moan as you nip at his ear, “getting off on me.”

eddie curses under his breath before he’s pinning you down against the mattress, his lips crashing against yours. your fingers tangle in his wild curls, kissing him back just as forcefully. all the pent up sexual tension and desire now spilling from both of you, as his hips rut into yours. feeling his hard length pressing onto your thigh, moaning into his mouth.

your impatience seems to get the better of you as you grip onto one of his wrists, guiding his large hand in between your thighs. a not so subtle way of telling him exactly what you wanted, the male nipping at your lower lip before he’s leaning back onto his knees.

spreading your thighs even wider, as his dark eyes zero in on the mess between them. his fingers dip between your folds, gathering your sticky nectar on the digits. swirling them around your swollen clit before moving lower.

the metalhead teases you as he circles the tip of his middle finger on your entrance. barely pushing it inside you before removing it, a wet squelch filling the room. “oh listen to her purr for me baby… you want my fingers inside you?”

you nod frantically, lifting your hips up in an effort to get him closer to where you needed him. but he pulls them away immediately, causing you to whine from the loss. eddie grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them together as he meets your hooded gaze. “i asked you a question, sweet cheeks.”

he watches as your eyes glaze over more, the dominance he was exuding turning your brain to mush. “and i expect an answer, or is that pretty little head of yours too fucked out for me?” his tone is condescending, borderline rude but it only seems to fuel the fire in between your legs.

you let out a soft whimper, the male letting go of your cheeks to trail his sticky fingers down your jaw.

“need your fingers eddie…” the male chuckles, wrapping his hand around your neck. hovering his face over yours, his thumb stroking the column of your throat.

“need them where, hm?”

you’re quickly becoming impatient, and he can tell from how your lips jut out into a pout. thighs closing in around his own, in an attempt to feel some kind of friction.

“come on now… don’t ya wanna be a good girl for me?” he can see the effect those words have on you, your pupils dilating and your breath hitching in your throat.

“put them inside me.”

while your tone is meant to be demanding, it comes out as more of a plea than anything else. your heart is racing in anticipation as his fingers trail down your stomach. cupping your cunt in the palm of his hand, “and what do good girls say?”

you now realize your mistake, the male raising a brow as he awaits your answer. “please touch me.” eddie is quick to reward you, plunging two fingers into your awaiting heat.

“see? now you’re learning,” another string of curses leaves his mouth as your walls tighten around his fingers and a high pitched moan falls from yours.

“shit sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight.” he curls the digits up, watching in awe as your back arches off the mattress.

“fuck i need to taste you,” he mumbles more to himself as he lays between your thighs. his tongue darting out, encircling your clit with an urgency you’ve never experienced with anyone else before.

the noises you’re making are music to his ears, and while he’s heard them before— you’ve never sounded quite so needy. pride blossoms in his chest knowing it was because of him, you needed him. he was making you feel this good.

your thighs begin to tremble as he increases the pressure of his tongue, pumping his fingers faster.

“m-more need more.” while eddie wanted to reprimand you for not using your manners, he’s been waiting to have you like this for far too long.

but he’d make sure you didn’t forget next time… if there was a next time. he hoped there would be.

he slips a third finger inside you, the long, thick digits reaching places you never realized existed until now.

and now that you knew what they felt like, your own would never suffice again.

“aww pretty thing, you gonna cum?” he chuckles mockingly as the sound vibrates against your core.

the feeling only aiding in bringing your release that much closer, as your eyes flutter shut. a harsh slap on your thigh has them flying back open, your eyes meeting his as he looks up at you from his position between them.

“eyes on me,” his tone is stern, commanding as his tongue returns to assaulting your swollen bud.

as you start to grind your hips up against his mouth, it pushes his fingers even deeper inside you. hitting that sweet spot that has you crying out a broken, “oh god, please.”

eddie hums against you, increasing the speed of his fingers. “i prefer master… but god has a nice ring to it.” if you weren’t on the brink of an orgasm you might have found that funny, not registering his soft laughter as he sucks harshly on your clit.

the sensation is what finally sends you over the edge, your thighs squeezing around his head and trapping him there.

not that he would ever dare complain.

once you settle back into the mattress is when he pulls away, crawling back up your body towards you. your excitement covers his chin in a light sheen, now tasting yourself as he kisses you with a bruising force.

you reach for the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down his legs. feeling his cock rubbing against the bare skin of your thigh, and you want nothing more than to feel it hard and heavy on your tongue.

“wanna taste you too eds,” you whine as he trails his lips across your jaw, sucking onto your skin. as much as he would love to have you gagging on his cock, his impatience had reached its peak.

“next time sweetness… need to be inside you.”

you clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. the promise of a next time making your heart flutter beneath your ribs.

eddie unwillingly untangles himself from you, now standing at the edge of the bed to remove his sweats. his cock stands at full attention as you sit up, eagerly crawling towards him. your mouth waters at the sight, finally able to admire him how you’ve been dying to for the last few weeks.

you wrap one of your hands around the base of his shaft, glancing up at him as you lick up the pre-cum that was smeared across his pink tip. the male grips a fistful of your hair in his hand, tugging you off his dick as a small whimper leaves you.

“hands and knees— now.” he nearly growls at you, releasing you as you continue to look up at him in a daze.

“don’t make me repeat myself baby.”

and as much as you would love to test how far you could push his buttons, that would be saved for a later date. so you do as you’re told, crawling away from him now on your hands and knees.

feeling his eyes trailing over the plush skin of your ass, “take a picture munson, it’ll last longer.”

what you don’t expect is to hear the snap of your polaroid camera, whipping your head around to see the shit eating grin he was sporting. setting the camera and picture down on your dresser once more, “just following orders sweet cheeks.” he chuckles, crawling onto the bed behind you.

eddie lands a firm smack on your ass, his chest now draped across your back. his hot breath fanning over your neck as he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “face the mirror, you aren’t gonna wanna miss this baby.”

your thighs clench together, now turning to face the full length mirror that stood across from your bed.

you glance at yourself briefly before your eyes trail upwards, now meeting his in the reflection. a cocky grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, his hands now roaming the full expanse of your ass.

feeling the tip of his cock brush against your core, pushing your hips back so you could feel more. eddie’s calloused hands grip you tightly, stopping any further movement on your part.

“don’t be fucking greedy, you’ll take what i give you.”

you squeak out a small apology, keeping your eyes focused on him as he rubs the tip of his cock through your folds. gasping once he slowly pushed himself into your awaiting heat, a strangled moan tumbling from his lips.

his eyes squeeze shut as he bottoms out, his balls flush against the curve of your ass. you feel incredibly full, the stretch so divine it makes your head spin.

“eddie please.” you mewl, watching as his brown eyes meet yours.

desperate for him to do something— anything.

eddie’s rings dig into your hips, his eyes glancing down to watch as he slides his cock back out. groaning as you’ve already coated his length in your arousal, a sight he’d only ever seen in his dreams.

“gonna give you everything,” he grunts before slamming himself back inside, knocking the air out of your lungs as you fall forward onto the mattress.

you grip the edge of it for support as he continues to rock his hips into yours, this new angle allowing him to rub against your sweet spot perfectly. keeping your eyes locked on the mirror, the image of him behind you— thrusting into you will be seared in your memory forever.

the black ink swirling on his skin, the light sheen of sweat on his chest. the veins in his forearms that are much more noticeable as he grips you tighter. he looks more like a greek god than anyone had a right to.

your jaw is slack, mouth hanging open as you continue to watch him. the little ‘uh uh uhs’ that leave your lips mix with the sound of your skin slapping together. now filling the quiet space of your bedroom.

“taking me so well— this pussy was made for me.”

eddie moans, completely distracted by the way your pussy flutters around him. the creamy ring that’s formed around the base of his cock expanding with each thrust of his hips.

“look at me,” you whine, that signature smirk returning to his features as he meets your eyes in the mirror once more.

“aww poor little baby,” he coos, slipping his hand between your thighs and landing a harsh slap on your already sensitive bud. “always need my eyes on you… don’t you?”

a string of curses slips past your lips as you nod your head. “need it,” you whimper as his calloused fingertips circle over your clit. “need you.”

your words seem to have quite the effect on him, a low growl leaving him as he fucks into you even harder.

“what do you need me to do, pretty girl? tell me.” it takes you a minute before you can answer him, the male having fucked any coherent thoughts from your head.

“n-need it inside.” is the best you can manage, but eddie understands all too well.

it’s what he had hoped you would say, “yeah, you want me to fuck you so full? ruin this pretty little pussy for anyone else?” your eyes roll back in your head, as the male wraps his other hand around your throat.

he handles you like a rag doll as he pulls you up, your back now flush against his sweaty chest. the action forces his cock even deeper inside you, brushing against your cervix. his hand that was wrapped around your throat is now cradling your jaw, guiding your gaze back to the mirror.

your half lidded eyes watch as he leans forward, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, “this pussy is mine now, got that sweetness?”

it’s suddenly all too much, the rubber band in your middle finally snaps as your body trembles in his embrace. cries of his name and ‘yours yours yours’ tumbling from your mouth.

the brunette watches in amazement as you drench his thighs, your bed sheets— the pressure almost forcing him out completely.

the metalhead curses as he continues to bounce you on his cock, the wet squelching of your pussy finally sending him over the edge. grunting as he pumps you full of his cum, your body falling limp against his chest.

you’re both panting as you come down from your highs. his touch on your hips is much more gentle than before as he coaxes you onto your back.

you hum contently, eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion hits you. eddie cradles your face in his palms, pressing soft kisses to each of your eyelids before his touch suddenly disappears.

your eyes fly open in alarm, reaching out for him as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, “don’t worry… you aren’t rid of me just yet.”

eddie chuckles as he spreads your thighs apart, his dark eyes watching intently as his cum drips out of you. pooling onto the bed beneath you, making an even bigger mess of your sheets.

his head dips lower, inhaling as he gathers the mixture of both your arousal onto his awaiting tongue. moaning before diving in deeper, “shit, we taste good together.”

“too much,” you whimper, wiggling your hips away from his eager mouth due to the oversensitivity.

eddie presses a kiss to each of your thighs before he joins you once more, collapsing next to you with a boyish grin on his face. you reach out to trace the stubble along his jaw, your fingertips brushing over his plump lips.

you feel him release a shaky breath against your fingertips, the look he’s giving you makes your stomach do a little flip.

“so… is it too late to ask you out on a date?”

[natti-ice]

dom!eddie x sub!reader

riding eddie on the couch and wayne catching them😋

Pairing: Dom!Eddie Munson x Sub!fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni, p in v, getting caught, “slut” is used once

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

Your legs are wrapped around Eddie's waist as you rock your hips back and forth, you can feel every inch of his cock sliding in and out of your tightness. You let out soft breathless moans and wrap your arms around his neck and pushing yourself further onto him. Eddie's big and rough hands are gripping your hips tightly, guiding your body with every thrust.

"Good girl, ride my cock just like that" he praises and starts to move your body a little faster, you can feel the old dated couch beneath the both of you start to sink as things become more intense. Eddie nuzzles his face into your neck, his warm breath tickles which turns you on even more. "You're such a good little slut for me" he whispers, lust laced in every syllable.

The only thing that could be heard in the trailer were your moans and the sound of skin slapping together as you began to bounce up and down on his cock. "Oh fuck, baby" you moaned out loudly, the immense pleasure started to turn your brain to mush, you couldn't comprehend anything else going on around you except for fucking Eddie. And damn, you love fucking Eddie.

Eddie moved his hands from your hips, allowing you to keep the pace, and grabs both of your tits. He squeezes them roughly, not enough to hurt you but just enough to make you go crazy. His calloused thumbs graze your hard and sensitive nipples causing you to whimper softly at just the slightest touch. "Mmm" he hums "so responsive"

You were both so caught up in the moment you didn't hear the trailer door open, it wasn't till you heard the older man's gravelly voice did you realize you weren't alone. "Dear lord" Wayne Munson spoke, your eyes widen and immediately try to get off of Eddie but he pulled you back down and threw a blanket over you haphazardly. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Wayne, seeing his face would make this even worse.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie yells out, annoyed that you two were interrupted “do you mind?”

“Um,” you can hear the shock and bewilderment in Wayne’s voice “I’ll just uh-” before he finished his sentence you could hear quick steps and the door slam shut. Eddie lets out a frustrated sigh and looks back up at you.

“So, where were we?” He says casually as if unfazed by what happened, his cock still buried deep inside you.

“What?” Your heart was beating out of your chest with embarrassment and lingering desire, you couldn’t believe you got caught but it gave you quite the rush “we can’t keep going” you try to reason with him but you knew it was no good.

“We can and we are,” he says with finality in his voice and begins to thrust up into you “I don’t care who sees, this is my pussy and I decide when I fuck it, understood?” He increases his pace and hold you in place as he jackhammers into your wet hole

The feeling of his cock stretching you out was too good to resist, you knew it was wrong but Eddie had a way of making you feel things no one else could, moans start to flow freely from you once again.

“Yes, sir”

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[crookedteethed]

18+ Thinking about giving Eddie head while Wayne's giving him a talking to.

Eddie shuts his eyes tight and lets out a long exasperated sigh as he feels your dainty hand grip the base of his cock. Your eager mouth, which had been planting delicate kisses around the supple skin of his thighs to the happy trail of his stomach, finally makes there way to his eager cock.

Wayne thinks he has an attitude, which resulted in Wayne telling Eddie:

"You keep huffin' and puffin' like that and you'll end up without a roof under your head, boy, you hear me?"

By Wayne's serious tone and stern demeanor, you would think Eddie had called him every swear word out of the book and then some, but really, Eddie hadn't said a word to Wayne from now until Wayne first angrily stomped into the trailer door shouting Eddie's name; telling Eddie that he has to take on more responsibility in the house other than sitting at home and playing his guitar all day (and having sex with his girlfriend, which he'd been doing all day).

Adults have this way of thinking (especially during lectures) where they can't differentiate the chasm between silence and having an "attitude."

Eddie knew he couldn't say anything to Wayne. Fermenting saliva had been collecting in his mouth since he first felt your hands tugging on the elastic of his sweatpants. Wayne would kick him out if drool spilled from his mouth when Eddie went to speak.

A glob of your spit coax Eddie's cock. You begin rimming your tongue around Eddie's mushroom-shaped tip, licking and sucking whatever pre-cum is leaking from his hole, occasionally taking long, bold strides from his base and back to his tip.

"I--" Eddie begins, but he's cut off when he feels your plump lips wrap around his tip and start sucking him gently. He splurges himself in the mixture of warmth and moisture coming from your mouth. He melts into the hollowness of your cheeks and the swivel of your tongue.

You splurge yourself at the effects you hold over him. Though you feel bad, not wanting to get the boy in any more trouble than he's already in.

Eddie grips his fist at the mound of pillows and blankets that conveniently covers his entire lower half.

Wayne notices and says, "I hope you're not trying to hold back a fist."

What Eddie was trying to do was hold back a moan.

"No--Wayne--I." His voice comes out in deprived little fragments-- like a scratched disc.

"Well, what?" Wayne says, agitated.

You get ballsy and attempt to deep-throat him; as you inch his swollen length closer and closer to the back of your throat, Eddie feels that particular spot where his glans slip past your tonsils, and he feels the gushes of your saliva caused by him pooling around your mouth.

"Fuck." Eddie says, almost in a whisper.

"What did you say, boy?" Wayne urges. "Nothing."

You try your best not to make any sounds, tears streaming down your cheeks from holding back, but when Eddie slightly bucks his hips up, you find yourself gagging around his length. Eddie covers the delicious sound of you sputtering with a fake cough.

It was an intense feeling of worship for Eddie, and he needed to get Wayne off his case so he could at least witness you taking his cum down your throat.

"Look, Wayne." He pauses. "I'll do more work around the house. I can--grunts—even pick up a few more shifts at the hideout, if you'll like."

Eddie doesn't know how he got through all that without blowing his cover, but he was hoping he wouldn't have to go through that again and praying that Wayne would just leave.

Wayne stays silent--not for too long, but long enough to make Eddie think he had blown his cover, and Wayne knew that his nephew was getting blown under his covers.

But with a simple nod and a "ok." (Wayne didn't need much convincing), Eddie could forget his worrying (accompanied by the excitement that came from worrying).

Wayne finds himself standing at the door of Eddie's room. Before leaving for work, he asks Eddie if he's sick or something.

"You're sweatin' buckets and you're coughin' a lot." Wayne states.

You bring yourself back to the tip of Eddie's cock and, in a bobbing motion, bring yourself down back to his base; at this point, all Eddie could do was nod his head and let out a shaky "un hun."

When Wayne announces he's leaving and you both hear the trailer's front door shut, you pull the covers over your head.

You pull him out of your mouth to catch your breath; saliva drips from your mouth onto your chin, tears prickling the corners of your eyes, and those lips, those puffy red lips, twisting into an alluring smile.

"You think that's funny, don't you? Blowing me in front of my uncle?"

"Oh, please, you enjoyed it." You tease.

And you were right; he did enjoy it, the excitement bubbling down in his stomach at the thought of getting caught. That's why every time you were at his trailer, and you two were having sex, Eddie made sure to leave his bedroom door wide open and have his windows just cracked; then he'd have his music blaring loud so he couldn't hear anyone if they were to walk in.

[theysherobinbuckley]

a little something I started but probably won't ever finish - alternate first meeting steddie! post s3, pre s4

(context: in an effort to cheer up his perpetually grumpy new neighbor, Eddie broke out his old skateboard and immediately ate shit for it. Cue Red calling none other than Steve Harrington to solve the problem...)

Red was barely in the door when Harringron turned on him, jaw clenched and fingers twitching. Having those dark eyes focused so entirely on him nearly made Eddie dizzy.

His lips were moving and- oh shit. Eddie was totally supposed to be listening.

"Uh, what?"

"What are you doing hanging around Max?"

Eddie frowned. "We're neighbors?"

"So?"

"So I'm being… neighborly? Is that illegal?"

"Neighborly is getting someone's mail while they're out of town. Not a super senior hanging around with a girl who's not even in high school yet."

"You better be fucking careful what you're accusing me of, Harrington, because to be honest, you don't look any better. Don't think I haven't heard your beemer pull up at all hours of the night. What the fuck is that about, huh? King Steve likes 'em young?"

Eddie's back hit the trailer before the last word even left his mouth. All the breath rushed out of him at once as Harrington pinned him with one arm across his shoulders.

"Don’t fucking say that," he seethed. "She's like my sister. I'm not- I wouldn't hurt her."

Eddie reached up to pat Harrington's arm placatingly, sending him as sweet a smile as he could muster.

"Hey, I believe you, man. I'm a little lost, sure, but I believe you." He sent a look to the trailer to his right. "Now can you let me down before Muriel sends Axel out to break your arm?"

Harrington followed his gaze and, upon seeing Muriel frowning from behind her curtains, dropped Eddie faster than if he'd told him he had the plague.

"We're in my kingdom now, Harrington," he said, grinning and waving in Muriel's direction. "These are my people. We take care of each other here. And Red's one of us, whether you like it or not."

Steve frowned, opened his mouth to respond, maybe even protest, but Eddie cut him off.

"I was just trying to make the kid smile, okay? So I got out my old skateboard, did a few tricks, busted my shit." He held up the ice pack he'd stolen from Red's fridge. "She called you 'cause she said you'd know what to do."

Harrington was quiet. Noticeably, he did not apologize for jostling Eddie's extremely sore wrist, but whatever.

"Did she?"

"Yeah, man, I tried to talk her out of it, but she seemed pretty confident you'd pick up. And here you are, so…"

"No, I mean- did she have fun?"

Eddie shrugged. "I mean, she didn't look as miserable as usual. Laughed a couple times when I fucked up a dismount. What's up with that, by the way? The constant dispair?"

Harrington's whole body tensed, and Eddie was almost scared he was gearing up to punch him just for asking.

"You remember Billy Hargrove?" he replied, his voice tight.

Eddie couldn't help but sneer at the mention of that piece of shit. Wayne had always taught him not to speak ill of the dead, but that didn't mean he couldn't think some choice things about him. Like the fact that he was pretty sure the guy was rotting in hell for all the things he'd said to Jeff in the school halls.

"Unfortunately. What about him?"

"He was Max's older brother. Step-brother."

"That's..."

"Fucked?" Harrington supplied. Eddie nodded. "Yeah. So I just- I need to make sure another Hargrove doesn't come around. Sorry I got all... you know. I've been told I can be kind of intense."

"No shit," Eddie laughed. "No hard feelings, I guess. Since it's in Red's best interest."

"No hard feelings," Harrington echoed. "Thanks for looking out for her."

Then, something Eddie had never even dreamed of: Harrington stuck his hand out, clearly expecting a handshake.

Huh.

It was over in a second, but Eddie's hand burned where Steve's had been.

"No problem. I'm kind of the park babysitter," Eddie replied. "Part of the job description."

Harrington lit up at that.

"I babysit too! Max and a few of her friends. 'S why I'm always around. I'm usually playing chauffeur for one of the other gremlins."

"That makes more sense than you having a torrid love affair with Susan."

"Yeah, she's not really my type," Harrington said with a smirk.

Eddie watched in shock as Harrington's eyes slowly, deliberately dipped up and down his form.

Talk about fucking whiplash. Eddie could still feel Harrington's strong arm against his chest, the brush of Harrington's nose against his own, the heat of Harrington's breath on his face. And now the king was checking him out?

"I see. Not into MILFs?"

Eddie was in the middle of making plans to staple his big stupid mouth shut when Harrington laughed.

"I'm more into brunettes."

And boy, didn't that seem pointed.

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

Please share all you can about Toa the orca calf, I think his story is very important. I don’t know too much but it seems like a case of activists being but in charge rather than actual experts.

Yeah it was a mess from start to finish. Toa was found stranded on the rocks, with witnesses saying the waves had thrown him up there. Already he would have been distressed and had been on his side on a hard surface for a few hours at least.

They got him back in the water and then videos of these interactions started to surface:

No PPE, giving Toa belly rubs and ignoring any formal rescue protocols (if you're trying to refloat a whale, you're not letting them turn upside down)

The sun was going down and DOC wanted people out of the water. Ingrid was on her way and giving instructions to her team. The decision was made to put Toa on a trailer overnight - it's unclear if that was her decision or not but it's clear that, despite not having any rehab facilities in New Zealand, people were determined to rehab this calf and release it back into the wild at any cost.

So they cobbled together a "sea pen" on a boat ramp in a dirty harbour. This is where Toa would eventually die in a few weeks time. Whale Rescue was already selling the story of a miraculous rescue and the plan to "reunite" Toa with his pod. And lying openly that orca calves had been successfully released in the wild before:

He wasn't injured, they said. He was fine. They just had to find his pod now.

When asked reasonable question about where the PPE was for volunteers, Whale Rescue immediately became defensive:

The call for PPE went ignored for about a day while people were in close contact with a sick orca. And the call went out for more "volunteers" aka anyone with a wetsuit. This sparked immediate concerns from the Advisory Group.

Photos like this started showing up - 6 people crowding Toa in a circle, no where for him to go if he wanted a break from people:

The excuse was that Toa needed help swimming. Yet he was swimming okay and avoiding the fences without any obvious issue. And so the habituation began... Despite continuing advice from the Technical Advisory Group - including Loro Parque and SeaWorld, who both have extensive calf raising experience.

"There is no need to have people 24/7 in the water when the animal is able to float and swim alone."

Finally PPE was being used but the habituation and intense contact with Toa continued. Ingrid gave it the okay and other inexperienced members of the public continued to encourage it.

Whale Rescue continued to affirm to the public that they are merely "duplicating natural behaviour" for Toa

And the cultish and unquestioning worship of Ingrid Visser allowed this to continue - note the amount of people in the water for Toa's "massage." They only started wearing PPE when people started questioning it.

If you're wondering what I mean by cultish behaviour see the comment thread below:

They actually believe that Ingrid was communicating with Toa. Because that's what she told them she was doing. And they believed it without question.

When Toa was moved into the freshwater pool due to storms, it got even worse.

This photo was quickly deleted but look how absolutely foul the water is:

There didn't appear to be any sort of filtration or pump system.

At this point volunteers and Ingrid were being fed by donated food from the local pubs, Ingrid was sleeping on site in a donated campervan and the entire community were rallying around trying to "help." Note how close they're all set up to the pool.

Putting him in the pool also made Toa a lot more accessible. Concerns were raised about the stress to the calf and an exclusion zone was agreed upon. Buuut it was immediately disregarded.

7 people! In that tiny pool! And the photos of the complete flouting of the rules continued to surface.

The comments find it all very amusing!

Roll up, roll up! Come and see the dying baby orca calf!

And then, as we near the end of this animal's torment, Ingrid brags to the press about how she's now TRAINING the animal she intends to release into the wild. Because we definitely want to be training cooperative care and making life saving feeding and hydrating procedures all about Choice.

Remember when Ingrid Visser didn't like the "exploitation" of orcas in captivity? Remember when she said that training "tricks", even husbandry behaviours, is cruel and bad? I do!

It makes me seriously wonder if she just wanted to be an orca trainer all her life.

But anyway, Toa's getting bouts of colic (gee, maybe changing the formula without permission wasn't a good idea!) and DOC is starting to get concerned about him. At this point, people are still denying that SeaWorld and Loro Parque are involved and any mention of a facility getting involved is immediately shut down.

This is what was being said in the Advisory Group:

At this point both SeaWorld and Loro Parque have provided formulas, advice ect. Ingrid Visser was claiming she knew these things all along and that the formulas were from her hand picked experts.

So these are what the comments were:

Whale Rescue thought it was appropriate to reply to comments of concern like this:

The cult of Visser continues to fuel the anti human care sentiment.

DOC starts to report concerns with Toa's health and Whale Rescue decides to double down that everything is completely Fine. Don't listen to DOC, keep giving us money.

The donations are getting up to 20k.

Because of Whale Rescue casting dispersions, anti DOC (Department of Conservation - who put in about 10k into the rescue efforts) sentiments grow.

And, only a few days later, Toa dies. I reached the end of my image limit but I still have plenty more screenshots I can share.

I recommend you check out the documents released by DOC to see the sources of these screenshots - the other screenshots were taken from news reports, Facebook groups and posts as well as videos:

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU

part 1

“Are you lost?” Munson frowns, propping his shoulder against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest. His rings glint against his jacket sleeve; he’s got new tattoos on his fingers.

Steve’s head fills with static fuzz for a second, and he stares like a mouth-breathing idiot before helpfully answering: “Um.”

“…Right. Well, this has been weird as shit, man, but, uh— pharmacy’s closed until my uncle leaves at sundown, so…” He lifts his hand to make a shooing motion, then pauses, assessing Steve with narrowed eyes. “What are you all dressed up like a good little school boy for, anyway? Didn’t you graduate last year?”

Oh, okay. Wow. (Like, yeah, he does kinda look like some goody two-shoes freshman with Robin’s forgotten backpack hiked up way too high under his armpits, but also fuck you, dude.) Steve squares his shoulders, plasters a falsely polite smile on his face and cocks his head to the side, all innocent, like he doesn’t know, like he’s just asking, man. “Sure did. Weren’t you supposed to do that, too?”

Munson glares at him like he’s imagining doing to him what Misty did to the rat. “I really don’t want to fight this early in the morning, man.”

“I’d love to see you try,” Steve snorts. “What, Munson? You gonna beat my ass? Think you can take me? Go ahead.”

He doesn’t know why he’s egging on a fight, but he’s suddenly itching for one. Feels the urge bubbling up beneath the surface. Hot under the collar. Probably this is the part where Tommy would hold him back and tell him it isn’t worth it, man, come on, but Tommy’s not around anymore.

A lot of people aren’t around anymore.

Nobody fights for fallen kings.

So Steve bows up with a sneer and a huff, and Munson does the same, and that’s… concerning. It gets a hell of a lot more concerning when he flashes a menacing grin and claps a hand to Steve’s shoulder; gets right up in his face, nose to nose, breath sharp with spearmint to cover the scent of weed.

From Wayne’s point of view they might almost look like friends.

Steve barely hears the thwck slice past his bad ear before he feels the cold press of a blade against his throat. Pocket knife, unpocketed. Munson’s smile widens, and Steve swallows hard, feels his pulse jump against the blade, the blood rushing to his cheeks. It shouldn’t be hot. (And it isn’t, because it shouldn’t be.)

“You want to try that again?”

Munson’s voice is deadly soft, a raspy whisper that makes Steve’s hair stand on end. His eyes are huge and dark. Intense. Kind of endless.

Kind of like Nancy’s when she’s staring down a loaded gun.

Steve blinks and licks the sweat off his upper lip, fingers trembling against frayed denim where he’s got his hands raised in surrender. “We’re c-cool, man. We’re cool. My mistake.”

Munson backs off with a pleased look on his face, snaps the knife shut and tucks it back into his pocket. Soft squeak of worn leather; casual shrug. “Cool. Glad we understand each other.”

Then he scruffs Steve under the chin — patronizing and quick, this humiliating little bullshit maneuver like ‘chin up, Steve-o’ before he hops down the steps and swings himself up into his van. The tires screech in the loose gravel, and Steve just stands there and stares. Gobsmacked. Pissed off.

A little stiff in his jeans.

When he looks down there’s a black cat brushing itself against his sneakers. “Misty?” he asks.

“M’row,” says the cat.

There’s a dead bird at her feet.

—

part 3

[steddielations]

nsfw, actor eddie, hair and makeup artist steve, sub top

The downside of Eddie having a bunch of tattoos is that he has to sit in the makeup trailer longer than anyone else getting them covered, along with his character’s makeup. 

The plus side is he gets more time with Steve. 

They have this game. It started on Eddie’s first day. He was all wired up with nerves because it’s his first time in a lead role on a big production like this.

Every nightmare scenario of how he could screw up was running through his mind. He couldn’t sit still enough for Steve to give him the wavy hair and facial scars that his character has. 

Eddie kept apologizing and Steve was great about it. He asked Eddie about the heart on his arm with “Wayne” across the ribbon and distracted Eddie from over-practicing his lines, busy telling Steve all about his uncle who raised him and where they’re from. 

Eddie killed it on set that day, and pretty much every day since then. He loves acting, he loves fully immersing himself in the story he’s telling. This role is the biggest of his career so far, but it’s not even about that, he loves the character he’s playing, he meshes well with the director and has chemistry with his co-stars.

But Steve is his favorite part of this whole deal.

Eddie ran out of tattoos for their little game of telling Steve the story behind a different one every day. They never ran out of things to talk about though.

But Steve takes his job seriously and he’s good at it. He explained once why he likes doing this. It’s an art, getting the right look for the right character, or the right person, connecting with and taking care of whoever’s in his chair.

He explained it all while he was running his fingers through Eddie’s hair in those perfectly practiced strokes. Steve’s very good at his job, that’s why it feels so nice when he touches Eddie, even if it’s just work, because Steve cares about this. That’s why it’s easy for Eddie to be lulled into bliss when Steve’s fingers are so gentle on his scalp.

And, okay Eddie’s not made of stone, and he has eyes so he has a thing for Steve. A crush, but there’s a line there. This is work. They’re co-workers, despite how many pretty smiles and lingering looks are exchanged. Eddie won’t cross that line.

Until he does. 

It’s an accident. He never would have done it on purpose. 

Steve’s fingers are just so talented. Eddie’s eyes are closed, he was having another fit of nerves earlier so Steve took extra time with his hair. It put Eddie in a space so relaxed that he feels like he’s floating when Steve’s hand twists in his hair with the perfect amount of tension. It feels so intentional. The moan just slips out.

Eddie apologizes like crazy afterward, he feels terrible. Steve is a picture of professionalism, he’s charming and fun but he runs the makeup trailer like it's the navy and he takes his shit seriously and Eddie crossed a line. 

But Steve just shushes him, guides him to sit back in the chair and says it’s alright. 

Eddie blinks in disbelief but Steve just looks at him. 

It’s a look. 

A look that Eddie can’t stop thinking about for the rest of production.

It’s a look he sees again on his last day on set.

Eddie already shook everyone’s hands and said his goodbyes. He's just stopping by his trailer one last time to make sure the assistants got all his stuff cleared out. 

When he opens the door, his stomach flips, finding Steve waiting inside for him.

“You wrapped filming today,” Steve says in place of a greeting. But his smile and the way his arm is languidly stretched over the back of the couch is inviting. 

Something tells Eddie to lock the door before he goes over to sit next to Steve.

His gaze is even more intense up close. Eddie feels Steve’s eyes on him everywhere, like he’s just eating Eddie up. 

“Yeah, I did,” Eddie says, a tad nervous.

He doesn't want to make a move he can’t take back in case he’s wrong about why Steve’s in his trailer looking at him like that. He doesn’t want to be one of those douchebag movie stars that assumes everyone wants him and he has a free pass to hit on the crew. He’s sure Steve’s had enough of that bullshit.

“We don’t work together anymore,” Steve simply states.

“I know, it sucks,” Eddie laughs a bit sad because he really is, “Sorry if it’s weird to say, but I’m gonna miss you.”

Steve’s eyes shift between Eddie’s and then down to his lips, making his heart stutter in his chest.

“No it’s a good thing,” Steve says and Eddie’s brows knit in confusion. “It means I can do this finally.”

Eddie thinks he’s watching his daydreams play out the way Steve starts leaning in. 

It’s only real when Steve’s lips press softly to his.

Just once, so light, long enough for Eddie to catch on that it’s happening, then Steve pulls back before Eddie can reciprocate.

Steve chuckles faintly at the dramatic frown Eddie’s pulling. 

Then Steve’s hand cups Eddie’s cheek, his thumb stroking Eddie’s face as he tells him, “We can stop there and keep it professional and say our goodbyes. Or I can climb on your lap and give you something to remember me by.”

Eddie gulps. Steve’s offer and his silky voice and his perfect touch that Eddie’s already so addicted to is such a heady mix, making it hard to form words. “Yes, climb me— I mean, option B.”

“Yeah, honey, you want that?” God, Eddie always blushed hot when Steve called him that casually in the makeup trailer, now he’s melting hearing Steve say it like this. “Well, go on and take your pants off for me.”

It happens in a syrupy warm blur. Eddie sheds his jeans and underwear like he’s told and he’s rewarded with a gorgeously naked Steve Harrington in his lap. He’s allowed to touch, only after Steve has threaded his fingers through Eddie’s hair more reverently than any time before, like something precious in his hands, and kisses Eddie deep and hard. 

Then Eddie gets to nuzzle the chest hair that’s been driving him crazy peeking out of Steve’s shirt every time he leaned over. Eddie gets to touch Steve’s soft strong thighs, feeling the smatter of hair leading up to his ass that’s been driving Eddie even more insane trying not to stare at. Then he slips his fingers in and moans into Steve’s mouth when he feels the hard bulb of a plug nestled inside Steve.

Steve pulls back from the kiss, smiling and smearing his thumb over the spit on Eddie’s lips. “Yeah, I’m so ready for you, Eddie, baby, you have no idea.”

Eddie’s practically drooling watching Steve take out the plug and get a bottle of lube from between the cushions and a condom, oiling up his hand. When his fist wraps around Eddie’s cock, Eddie helplessly bucks into it, but Steve’s solid thighs pin him down. That makes his mind lust-foggy and his eyes flutter up at Steve, who bites his lip watching Eddie as he lines up to his hole.

“Mm... you know how bad I wanted you?” Steve sounds relieved as he sinks down on Eddie’s cock. “You know how bad I wanted to climb on your lap when you were sitting in my chair. You know how starry-eyed you get when you’re drifting? Just from me touching your hair, so fucking cute.”

Eddie’s just a mess of moans, Steve is so hot and tight around him. It’s too much with all the sweet praise to really comprehend that Steve knew all those times he was getting spacy.

“It’s so easy to put you down.” Steve’s breath comes harder, not letting Eddie move as he starts to roll his hips. “Such an actor, high strung all the time but that’s okay. It’s your passion. That’s sexy. Been dying to hold you down and ride you until you can’t think about anything but me, though.”

Eddie gasps out a groan when Steve tugs sharply on his hair, being right about everything that Eddie’s into so far. It’s no secret that Eddie’s intense, just a different kind of intensity in the bedroom than with his craft. 

Steve seems to get it, seems to know that Eddie needs everything hard and relentless with the way he’s bouncing on Eddie’s dick. He can feel the strength in Steve’s hips, dying to feel them fucking into him too, mouth watering at the sight of his thick cock jumping with all the movement.

“You’d let me tie you down and use you, hm?” Steve asks, drawing Eddie by the hair into a biting kiss that just barely grazes the surface of what Eddie would let Steve do to him. “I know. I’d fuck you up so good if we had time, baby.”

“Steve, holy shit,” Eddie practically sobs, fingers digging into Steve’s ass.

“You close, honey?” 

“Fuck, yeah.” 

Steve suddenly cups his face, just a tad rough and Eddie thought— hoped for one hot moment— that Steve was going to slap him. Just the thought is enough to make him do what he's supposed to, “Can I?” 

“Mh-hm just keep looking at me,” Steve strokes Eddie’s face as he circles his hips and takes Eddie deep. “Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come inside me.”

Eddie does as he’s told, his gaze falling half-shut as he lets go, spilling into the condom like he’s pumping Steve full.

It’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him, followed by the second hottest thing when Steve kisses his slack mouth as his warm heavy spurts of come land on Eddie’s belly.

While Eddie’s coming down, he lets Steve shift him onto the couch. He gets some tissues and then pulls Eddie to lie on his chest because of course he would, he’s Steve.

“Was that enough to remember me by when you get all big and famous?” Steve asks after a while, trailing his knuckles down Eddie’s bare arm.

Eddie looks up, seeing the first glimpse of hesitance in all of Steve’s practiced smoothness.

So Eddie leans in and assures him between pecks on his lips that slowly turn to smiles pressing together. “Nope, think we gotta do it again. And again. And again.” 

[bigbabycry]

Baby

Drew Starkey x Fem Reader

Warnings: fluff, smut, drew lowkey has a breeding kink, swear words, fluffy ending

Summary: Drew adores the way you are around your three-year-old daughter and can't wait to make another one with you.

Drew had just finished his day on set of OBX and is walking back to his trailer, hoping to find his girlfriend and three-year-old daughter, Maisie sitting and waiting for him. As soon as he opens the door to his trailer, he is blessed with the view of you on the sofa with your daughter snuggled into your chest and a book on your lap.

“My beautiful girls.” It’s the cutest thing Drew has seen as he locks yes with you. Leaning down, Drew kisses Maisie’s forehead and gives you a kiss as well. You lean in to press your lips to his again which makes him smile.

“Was the shoot good today?” You ask, watching him reach over you to pick up your sleeping daughter.

He smiles at her and shakes his head, looking back to you, “It was a long one, we had to do at least 40 takes.” His voice is just above a whisper as he bounces Maisie on his hip. With his movements, you watch your daughter slowly blink her eyes open from her nap, tiredly looking at you then up at Drew. Her cheeks raise in a grin as she realises that she’s with her dad, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck in a hug. You watch her suddenly grow shy and reach out for you. Drew notices this and hands her back to you.

You laugh at Maisie and take her back into your arms. “Honey, you’ve been with me all day! Surely, you’re sick of me.” She only giggles at you and buries head further into your neck.

Drew feels heat in his body as he watches you with your daughter, suddenly proud that you both made her. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you but opens his mouth to speak, “guess I’m not as interesting.” He jokes.

You reach up and caress Drew’s cheek with your thumb and press a kiss to his jaw, making his eyes flutter shut. “How about we take daddy home so he can rest.” You suggest to the two, mainly aiming your words towards your boyfriend.

Drew smiles and tries to compose himself, nodding to you and Maisie. You rest Maisie on your hips and take Drew’s hand, your fingers intertwining so you can lead him to the car. Drew tries to ignore the intense feeling he has now as it bubbles up inside of him. Just seeing you with your daughter, so relaxed and comfortable, makes him really want another one.

Once you both reach the car, you bend over the backseat to strap Maisie into her car seat. You have to hold your breath when you feel Drew up behind you, caressing your hips and adoring the way you care for Maisie. As soon as you finish clicking her in, Drew pulls you up and makes you turn around. You gently press your lips to his and rub your hands up and down his torso. Drew chuckles into your mouth and wraps his arms around you as a response, the kiss turning quite passionate.

You can feel your body heat up as his hands roam your body. Your hips gently nudge his and you feel that familiar sensation in your lower abdomen. Drew shivers slightly from the touch and his breath heightens, his face reddening. You get a feeling that he’s getting in the mood.

“Mommy?” Maisie interrupts, kicking her legs as she sits bored in her car seat. Drew stops touching you and looks over your shoulder to your daughter, making you spin around with a smile on your face.

“Yes, baby?” You reply to her and Drew leans down so his face is against your shoulder. You can feel him smirk against your skin.

“Can we go home please.” Maisie insists and looks at you with her big blue eyes. Drews hips are still pressed into your back when you smile at Maisie.

“Yeah, we’re going home now.” You lean over to press a kiss onto her little cheek, and as you bend over you can hear Drew grunt behind you, your backside pushing intimately against him. His breath heightens as he feels you push up against him, it’s clear he’s getting turned on. You step back to close the door and then lean up to Drew’s ear, “maybe we’ll get some alone time at home.” you whisper in a suggestive way before stepping away from him to get into the driver’s seat.

The whole trip home Drew’s hand is on your thigh, and it feels like his fingertips and burning holes into the skin. Drew’s mind wanders to the possibilities of giving you another child, his fingers rubbing down to the inside of your thigh.

“Are you going to let daddy take a shower and relax when we get home?” You ask Maisie, cutting Drew away from his thoughts as he look directly at you. He knows what you’re hinting at.

She thinks before a second before speaking up, “only if I can watch cartoons with you after!” She replies with a smile before looking out of the window again and talking to herself.

Drew looks at you with a sly smile, knowing that you two will get the alone time you need. As you’re walking inside your apartment with Maisie on your hip, Drew rests his hand on your lower back as he quickly leads you inside. Once you close the front door and place Maisie on the couch, he pushes you into the hallway and wraps his arms around you tightly, kissing you on the lips.

Drew pushes you up against the hall and pushes his hips against yours, making you feel his hard on in his jeans. “All mine.” He grunts against your lips with a smile. You tilt your head back with a moan, your legs shaking with excitement as you feel yourself getting wetter as he presses into you and leaves kisses all over your body. The sensations are electrifying as Drew places hot and wet kisses to your neck.

His kisses are rough against your skin as he moves his hands and fingers around your body. “I want another one.” He groans into your ear, finding the reason why he’s been so turned on. He brings his lips back to yours and his kisses become even more urgent and passionate. He can feel you smile against his lips before he pushes you towards your bedroom, closing the door with his foot behind the two of you.

Drew picks you up and puts you on top of the bed, his fingers reaching up inside your top before pulling it over your head and kissing down your neck and down to your breasts. Before he reaches the top of your jeans, he reaches for his belt and begins to remove it, his tongue swirling around your nipple. Your back arches in pleasure and your breaths become unsteady with the need for your boyfriend. His fingers mess with the button of your jeans, his lips and tongue still trailing around your chest before he takes of your pants completely. He kisses down your panties before removing them too. His lips instantly find your clit and he can taste how wet you are for him.

The sounds of your moans and wet slick against his tongue fills the room, and Drew reaches for your mouth so Maisie doesn’t hear you. He moves as his own pace, his tongue flicking up inside you in a passionate way before he slowly trails his lips back up your body until your mouths meet again.

“You want me to fill you up?” Drew asks against your mouth as you desperately kiss him, your hips bucking upwards to meet his dick.

You nod your head quickly, obsessed with the idea of being pregnant with his child again. “Please, baby!” You moan as quietly as you can, your whole-body quivering from the anticipation. His fingers run up and down your body as he pushes his hard dick into your entrance. You immediately feel the pleasure and tension building up, a loud and lewd moan leaving your mouth. You smile at the feeling of Drew’s lips and tongue against your mouth again, small grunts coming from his throat as he pushes deep inside of you.

You try to keep yourself from getting too loud but as Drew trails his fingers down your left leg before bringing it up over his shoulder, making the tip of his dick hit you in the perfect spot, you feel the need to let out a loud moan. The pleasure is growing rapidly as you two continue kissing and touching each other, the pace of his thrusts never faltering.

“’m gonna make you a mama of two, baby.” He can feel himself getting so close to the edge now, his dick twitching every time he thrusts deeper into you. You’re almost at your climax, your belly tightening with the need to finish and your hips lifting of the bed to meet each of his thrusts.

You both can feel the building of pleasure within your bodies and your fingers curl around Drew’s bicep, squeezing and scratching at his skin as your body prepares to climax. The feeling has risen even more, the sensation so intense that the two of you are lost in the moment. Loud moans leave your lips and Drew does nothing to quiet you down, the sweet noises falling from your lips and going straight to his dick.

“I’m close.” You whisper and you feel your body quiver and your legs tense up; the pleasure reaches your climax in hot waves as you moan Drew’s name. He feels the way your pussy clenches as you cum around his dick, sending shockwaves to his core. He groans loudly into your ear as his body convulses and he cums deep inside of you, his thick seed filling up your womb.

Drew’s kisses are slow down your body and he continues holding you in that position, letting you milk him dry. Your breathing is still heavy and uneven as the waves of pleasure slowly pass.

“Are you okay babe?” He asks and rubs his hand up and down your belly, his dick still situated inside of you.

You struggle to answer, your bare chest rising and falling with each shallow breath you take. You tilt your head to the side and look up at Drew with hazy eyes. “Yeah… ‘m okay.” You smile up at him and lick your lips, “you always feel so good.” Your voice comes out as a breathy moan as he stares down at you longingly.

He chuckles slightly and leans down to press a kiss to your lips, “and you feel so good too.” You both lie there together, Drew with his arms wrapped around you and still buried deep inside. Your bodies relax as you hold each other, your heart beats slowing down. You run your fingers through Drew’s hair and sigh to yourself, thinking about becoming pregnant again.

You can hear Maisie laugh to herself as she sits in the loungeroom, playing with her toys. You turn your head to the door and smile as you hear her laughter. Drew notices your turn of attention and slowly pulls out of you, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. He gives you another light kiss and rests his hand on your breasts.

“I love you.” He whispers into your lips before pulling away completely and walking to the closet to find you both some clean pyjamas.

You stare at him with hazy eyes and smile to yourself, “I love you too, Drew.” You sit up on your shaky legs. “Thank you.”

“Just making sure your satisfied.” He replies in a jokingly way, turning around and winking at you with folded clothes in his hands. He throws your pyjamas to you with a chuckle and gets dressed himself before coming over to you while you’re still sitting on the bed, completely naked.

“Here.” He smiles to you and helps you get dressed and comfy. Once your fully clothed, he presses a kiss to your forehead, neck and then lips. “Let’s go check on our baby girl.” He whispers, rubbing his fingers over your messy hair and helping you up off the bed.

I need his children.

[usedtobecooler]

Another virgin Eddie idea - g spot stimulation with reader/squirting ❤️

anons stay giving me a reason to continue this saga on, my god. you know how to grasp me!

pairing | eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), squirting, fingering f receiving, mutual masturbation, praise kink

word count | 1.5k

a/n | as a fellow water cannon this request jumped out at me quite literally and i couldn't rest until i wrote it. this is set in between parts 2&3 of our series so eddie is currently still (mostly) a virgin.

How this began is hazy to you in your current state of pleasure, two fingers deep in your cunt and thumb rubbing over your clit lazily as your eyes drink in the sight of Eddie quickly and tightly fisting his cock across from you.

It'd started as a dare almost, you egging Eddie on to touch himself in front of you like he would watching one of his old porno tapes that you just knew he had stashed somewhere in his trailer. You just didn't expect him to actually do it.

His bed was small and you were almost knocking knees even though yours were bent up almost at your chest and he was also somewhat squashed, thighs spread slightly to leave you some kind of room.

You're naked from the bottom down, you'd made quick work of shoving down your own jeans and panties to make Eddie feel more comfortable. To begin with you'd simply done it so he had some kind of material to work with, but you got so riled up from watching him that you couldn't resist touching yourself too.

"God, even with your own hand wrapped around your cock it still looks massive," You gasp, crooking your fingers to rub against that spongey spot, keening into your own touch and arching your back.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, head thumping against his headboard, at this point unable to look at you any longer because he knows he's going to blow his load so quick. His cock looks angry and red, begging for release as it shines with a mixture of precum and your spit - you'd grabbed hold of his hand and spat directly into it, wanting to help him along.

"Hey, pretty boy, look at me." You demand, kicking Eddie slightly with your foot in annoyance and his head snaps up pretty quickly in response, wide eyes automatically looking straight at your dripping cunt, "Want you to watch me come, Eddie."

Eddie nods shakily and you double down your efforts to chase your orgasm, continuously rubbing your gspot and circling your clit in faster circles. You're a moaning mess, whining and keening into your own touch, your belly tightening and beginning to radiate an inner heat almost like the feeling of a full bladder.

The slick noises of your fingers on your wet pussy and Eddie's hand on his dick, his own throaty and strangled moans tangling with yours in the most delicious way has your back arching as you let the feeling wash over you.

It's always so intense when this happens, your own body forcing your fingers out of your cunt as you come, fingers working fast circles on your clit as your release shoots out of you, creamy and wet, dripping down your folds all the way to your ass, completely drenching the material under you.

You gasp in sharply, squeezing your eyes shut as you shudder through it, legs shaking and tummy muscles contracting. Though they flicker open once you hear Eddie cursing in front of you.

"Fuck - fuck, shit, fuck," Eddie's moaning and gasping, arching in on himself and coming hotly all over his fist not even a second after you as he watches you gush all over his comforter, soaking it. You don't miss the way his own come shoots up the front of his shirt, Eddie ever the amateur and not knowing how to aim away from himself.

"Bet your porno girls don't do that." You quip once you come back to yourself and Eddie slumps down a little, you lean forward and grabbing hold of Eddie's come soaked hand, bringing his fingers to your mouth to suck them clean.

You make a stupid show of it to rile Eddie up, looking him dead in the face, sucking his fingers down to the knuckle an slurping over them properly, licking at them like you would his cock. He's looking at you all dumb and awestruck, wet eyes glistening with admiration.

"What - what was that?" He asks quietly, nodding towards the wet patch below you, "Don't tell me I'm into you pissing all over my sheets."

You bark out a laugh, releasing his fingers from your mouth with a pop, "No, I didn't piss on your bed, Eddie. I squirted." Your tone is teasing, almost condescending as you explain yourself to him, which would annoy most men but you can't ignore the way Eddie's cock kicks up at you talking to him like he's dumb.

"How'd y'do that?" Eddie's so sincere that it makes you want to squish his cheeks and coo at him, it's so cute that he doesn't know much about the female anatomy but is willing to learn anything new that you show or tell him about.

"You wanna try?" You ask, cocking your head to the side and smirking, "I can usually do it more than once if I try hard enough, though I have no doubt your fingers will get the job done, handsome."

"Can I?" Eddie's eyes light up and his cock rises slightly, already half-hard just from the thought of touching you. You nod your head at him, spreading your legs again to let him get a good look at your cunt, glistening wet and still dripping.

"C'mere," You motion towards him with two fingers and he shuffles forward so he's situated between your spread thighs, dopey smile on his face, "you can start with two fingers. Remember the spongey part I told you about the first time?"

Eddie nods, already running his pointer and middle finger between your folds, stopping to rub at your sensitive clit before running back down to your entrance, breaching just ever so slightly with the tips of his fingers.

You sigh in pleasure, the feeling of his fingers already so much better than your own, "You just pump your fingers in and out only a little bit, keep your fingers pressed against the spongey part, 'kay, Eds?"

He nods again then sinks his fingers in to the hilt, a gasp escaping your mouth at the intrusion but god it felt good. Eddie finds your gspot rather quickly, crooking his fingers and rubbing over it relentlessly.

"You're so fucking good at this, Eddie," You cry, your own fingers slipping over your clothed nipples and rubbing at them, "please don't stop."

Eddie can't tear his eyes away from your wet cunt sucking in his fingers so well, the squelching sound like music to his ears and your moans only adding to it. He's fully hard again and can't even find it in him to be embarrassed, loving the way he could elicit this reaction from you.

You feel your second orgasm building a lot quicker than your last, Eddie's fingers a constant as he assaults your soft spot. It doesn't help that you're watching him look in awe at your pussy like he's never seen anything better, all doe eyed and sex stupid.

"M'gonna come, fuck, Eddie!" Your voice is fucked, you're louder than usual as your orgasm crashes over you, cunt clenching down on Eddie's fingers then forcing them out as you squirt again, this time somehow more than the first, shooting so far it drenches Eddie's bare thighs and his hard cock.

"'Atta girl, well done. You're so good." His soft voice has you whimpering and keening into him, shock coursing through your body at how unexpectedly dirty it is whilst he rubs at your inner thighs, soothing you through it.

"Dirty, talk to me like that again." You moan, leaning forward to grasp at Eddie's arms and tug him until he's hovering over you, hot breath fanning your face and chain dangling near your mouth, "Slide your cock in it."

Eddie furrows his brows, all confused at what you're saying, "You want me to... rub myself against you?"

"Yeah," You smile up at him, orgasm drunk and feeling a bit reckless, "it'll feel good, I promise."

You slip your hand down to grasp at his length, sliding the tip between your soaked folds and Eddie has to lean forward and brace himself on the foot of the bed, a feral moan escaping him.

He ruts against you a few times, sliding the length of his cock up and down your cunt, gliding wetly from your release, "You're so wet," his voice is hoarse and his words earnest yet sounding so dirty, "soaking me so good."

You nudge at Eddie a little and then capture his lips with yours for a hot, wet and dirty kiss and he's gone, coming hot on your pussy and you feel it running down you, mixing in with your own release and pooling at your ass.

Eddie pants into your mouth, hand gripping onto your waist tightly to hold himself up, "You're gonna be the fucking death of me, sweetheart." He groans, looking into your eyes with this adoration you had only seen a few times before, "Thank you."

"If you came that hard from just sliding it around wait until you actually fuck me." You giggle, always having to get the last word in and make it as dirty as possible. Eddie grimaces, but it gets lost when you lean up and kiss him again, pulling him down with a tug.

[teapartyprincess4two]

Omgg can u do some matt x actress!reader hc?? Love you xx

Actress- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Actress!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: SFW & NSFW head cannons

warnings: some 18+ content, use of y/n, established relationship, slight cursing

summary: head cannons of Matt with an actress girlfriend!

—

☆SFW

Matt thought he knew everything there was to know about fame; the screaming fans, the off guard photos, and the rumors. When he started dating you, though, he was shocked at the intensity of your life.

☆ Every time you’re out in public, you get recognized by a fan or paparazzi, without fail.

☆ You’re waiting in line for your coffee, holding Matt’s hand as you engage in meaningless, light conversation with him.

☆ A loud gasp interrupts you mid sentence, causing you to look in the direction of the noise.

☆ A fan stands there with a hand covering their mouth, eyes blown open in pure shock. “Oh my God! Y/n?! Can I have a picture please?”

☆ You never turn a fan down and soon, when other people realize who you are, it’ll become like a little meet and greet, and Matt becomes the photographer.

☆ When the paparazzi recognizes you, though, you’re not as quick to pose for a picture.

☆ “Matt, don’t look,” you warn, eyes darting between him and the paparazzi snapping pictures of you through the restaurant window.

☆ Matt never listens, he immediately cranes his neck to see what you’re talking about. “I said don’t look!” you squeak, trying to pull his attention back towards you.

☆ “Fuck off,” Matt groans, throwing the paparazzi a middle finger and returning to his meal with you.

☆ Matt is always excited about your newest project, whether you’re playing a main, side, or background character.

☆ You’re getting ready for the premiere of your newest film, Burn It.

☆ “Matt what are you wearing?” you laugh.

☆ “Just supporting my girl,” he replies. He does a small twirl, showing off his outfit. He’s wearing a shirt with the movie poster printed on the front, your face right smack in the middle and the title in bold letters right above it.

☆ “It’s the premiere, you gotta dress up,” you laugh, secretly enjoying the sillyness of it all.

☆ “Fine. But I’m wearing this under my suit,” he replies, exiting the room. After a while, you start hearing the trailer to the movie playing from your room.

☆ He’s equally as supportive of your small roles.

☆ “Hey guys! So Chris, Nick, Y/n, and I are at the movie theater and we’re about to watch Y/n’s new movie The Escape,” Matt says, introducing the theme of their YouTube video.

☆ “Babe, I literally played cashier #3,” you chuckle from behind the camera, holding a big bucket of popcorn.

☆ “I’d watch it if you played a piece of grass,” he replies seriously.

☆ Whenever a new movie of yours releases, you’re usually booked and busy with press tours and interviews.

☆ During these interviews, the initial questions are usually about the movie, but as the interview progresses they become more personal.

☆ “So, Y/n, have you found Mr.Right?” the interviewer asks, fidgeting with the cue cards in front of her.

☆ The question is corny, and you’ve been asked it millions of times before, but you always answer truthfully because you’ve never hidden your relationship status.

☆ “Yup and his name is Matthew Sturniolo,” you reply cheekily, sending the camera a wink. When Matt watches the interview, he feels like a fan who just got a shoutout.

☆ There have been roles that require you to kiss your costars and Matt is never a fan of those.

☆ “Beautiful take!” the director exclaims, clapping his hands loudly in approval. “But let’s get it one more time! Add a little more fire! More passion,” he instructs, snapping his fingers.

☆ Matt joined you on set today, and quite frankly he wishes he didn’t. He hates seeing you kiss another man, even if it is just for show.

☆ Once the director gets the perfect shot, you’re all sent to lunch. “Hi baby,” you hum, walking over to Matt and wrapping your arms around his waist.

☆ You go in for a kiss and he quickly leans in, wanting to claim you in front of everyone.

☆ You are no stranger to rumors and speculations, especially not when a male costar is involved.

☆ “Actress, Y/n trades in her YouTuber for a REAL celebrity,” “Y/n found a new boo?,” “What happened to Matthew Sturniolo and who is the new guy in Y/n’s life?”

☆ Matt can’t stop reading the gossip newsletters and blogs, and even if he knows they’re just rumors he finds himself becoming sad.

☆ “Matt! Where are you?” you shout through the house. You find him on his bed, scrolling relentlessly on his laptop.

☆ “Whatcha doing? Wanna play Mario Kart?” you ask, crawling into bed next to him. Your eyes blow open in shock when you see his screen.

☆ “Matt stop reading that shit!” you exclaim. “I can’t help it,” he groans, running his hands down his face.

☆ You snatch the laptop and drag him out of bed for a night full of Mario Kart and cuddling on the couch.

☆ With a schedule as busy as yours, it can become difficult for you to make time for your personal life.

☆ “I miss you,” Matt whispers through the phone. You’re on a press tour for your newest film and your side of the bed has been empty for 2 months now.

☆ “I miss you too, baby,” you murmur. It hurt to know that you still had another month of this tour left.

☆ “When you come back I’m never letting you go,” his voice is sad, but he knows 3 months isn’t forever.

☆ “I can’t wait,” you giggle, eyes falling on the digital clock across the room. It’s getting late and you have an early interview tomorrow.

☆ “I have to go baby, but I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Matt’s sad to let you go, it feels like he rarely hears your voice nowadays if it isn’t playing from his TV.

☆ “Okay, beautiful.”

☆ When you’re invited to events or award shows, Matt always joins as your plus one.

☆ “And the nominees are…” the announcer says, listing the names as she reads them from the teleprompter.

☆ Matt squeezes your hand when your name is said, a hug smile spreading across his face.

☆ “The winner for best actress in a leading role is…” the suspense is killing you, but you feel the victory in your soul.

☆ “Y/n!” The entire crowd cheers at the mention of your name and you can’t help but shoot up from your seat in excitement.

☆ “Oh my God, Matt! I won!” You exclaim, pulling him in for a kiss.

☆ You scurry on stage, nervous hands taking your award and preparing for an improvised speech. You end the speech with a special thanks to your friends and family, making sure to specifically thank Matt as you blow him kisses from the stage.

☆ He watches with teary eyes and a huge, dopey smile.

☆NSFW

Matt loves joining you on set and sometimes things can become a little heated between you two.

☆ You hated photo shoots, especially when it involved lingerie and/ or bikinis. Matt, on the other hand, loved photo shoots and he was always quick to join you for them.

☆ “I’m so cold,” you shiver, plopping onto the couch next to Matt. You’re wearing a lingerie set so small that you might as well be naked.

☆ “I know of a few ways to warm you up,” Matt replies, only half joking. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, earning an excited giggle from you.

☆ “Oh yeah?” you tease, pulling him in for a kiss.

☆ Before you know it, he’s pushed your panties to the side and is fucking you so hard the couch is moving with each thrust.

☆ Although Matt knows your relationship with your male costars is purely professional, he can’t help but become jealous.

☆ “How was work today?” Matt asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

☆ “Eh same old same old. We’re stuck on the same scene,” you reply, hoping he won’t ask any further questions.

☆ “Hmm that sucks,” he hums. “What scene is it?”

☆ You gulp nervously, knowing how much Matt is going to hate your answer. “The bathroom sex scene.”

☆ You feel his body stiffen immediately. “It’s just because the set is small and the angles are awkward,” you continue.

☆ “Mhm,” is all he says.

☆ Later, when you’re getting ready for bed and doing your nighttime routine, he pins you against the bathroom counter and fucks you dumb.

☆ “This pussy is mine,” he grunts into your ear, earning a whimper from you.

☆ When you’ve been gone for long press tours, he becomes needy and you two have to resort to phone sex.

☆ “I miss you, baby,” he murmurs. “I miss you too, so much,” you reply.

☆ “No, like, I miss you,” he reiterates, allowing his hand to travel below the waistband of his sweats.

☆ “Touch yourself,” you instruct. “Pretend it’s me.”

☆ You continue to talk him through it, not stopping until you hear his beautiful, breathy moans.

☆ “You did so good,” you praise and he swears his dick gets hard again.

☆ When you finally do return from your long trips, Matt is extremely needy.

☆ He’s waiting for you impatiently at the airport, ready to engulf you in his arms as soon as he sees you.

☆ When you get home, he attacks you with a bunch of kisses until they become more needy and passionate.

☆ His hands wander all over your body, massaging and kneading at your skin like it’s the first time.

☆ You push him back into the bed and straddle his lap, bouncing on his cock until he’s satisfied.

☆ “Oh my God!— Fuck! I love you,” he moans, bucking his hips into you as he climaxes.

☆ “Holy fuck. Maybe I should go on tour more often,” you giggle, peppering kisses along Matt’s face. “Please no,” he mumbles.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: 📸📸📸 working on Arranged Ch.2, a Johnnie fic & another Matt headcannon!

Also ily2 thank u for the request! xoxox - L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @maryx2xx @biggesthat3r @herxyzblog @getosuckers @sturnioloarchive @tillies33ssss @fratbrochrisgf @aurizp @riasturns @sturnikitty @sturnrc @sturtriple16 @sillyfreakfanparty @imwetforyourmom @mattslovelygf @stingerayyy2 @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @mimi-luvzyu @somegirlfromasgard @l0vergrlll @pepsicolapussy333 @unbruisable

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶When Eddie gets a call at work telling him Adrie is sick, he rushes to pick her up from school, accidentally leaving his black notebook behind. Being you, you find the means to return it to him. But while at his trailer, you ask him the question he's been avoiding for months.

"Let's get down to those rumors, hm?"✶

NSFW — strong tw for a dark conversation surrounding eddie's past (accusations of murder, rape), heavy angst, comfort, drug/alcohol mention/use, slow burn, fluff, flirting, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 8/20 [wc: 14.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 8: The Munson Name

Leave it to Eddie to make your day special not two minutes into work.

Upon entering the garage, the back door was ajar as usual, but instead of phantom wisps of smoke swimming in the sunshaft, a shadow moved, and Eddie’s arm curled around to knock on the aluminum siding for your attention. His chain bracelet clinked from the motion, and his rings caught the light as he gestured for you to come over.

You peeked through the opening and saw him standing against the wall, but his morning smile wasn’t aimed at you, it was elsewhere, off to the side. You wrapped your fingers around the doorknob, and followed where he was looking.

A bright red cardinal sat perched on the round side mirror of Eddie’s car, chirping and hopping while fluttering its wings, spinning around in search of something, and after several twittering singsongs, it flew away.

“That was precious,” you whispered, breath fogging in awe.

“I’m glad you got to see him before he took off.” Eddie grabbed the door from you and pushed you both inside, shaking his arms in an intense shiver, and shrugging his jacket up around his neck while he hugged his hands around himself in his pockets. “Uhm..”

The goofy smile he wore was mutual, as was the dear silence. The energy between you had changed; it was charged with a new development in your relationship. One that did not need to be articulated in words. It was there, in his well-rested eyes owning a playful gleam when you looked at him, and his need to rock from foot to foot in a measured sway, like a subconscious impulse to recreate that beautiful night.

Then, he cleared his throat. You averted your gaze to the floor.

“You, uh, you said it was one gift,” he recalled with an audible wince squeezing the oxygen from his sentence.

Unsure on how best to approach you buying his daughter a generous amount of presents, and hearing the impassive edge to his voice, you shut one eye and opted for a joke, “It was one gift.. bag.”

“It was too much.”

Your demeanor sagged. “Oh.”

“No, no! Not in the bad way–No.”

You perked up. “Oh?”

A soft laugh poured from the snuggly place he had his chin tucked behind the tan canvas. He dropped his shoulders, and drove his weight forward into jaunty little steps towards you, closing the gap between your bodies. There were affectionate nuances to his fond expression when he corrected himself, “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. The gifts were great. Like, real home runs. Uhm, she loved them, and they were really thoughtful. Just.. really sweet of you.” Immersing himself in the steady eye contact you were both proud to uphold, he licked his lips, and raised his eyebrows. “You’re so sweet, in fact, it’s piling onto that thank you I owe you at a ridiculous rate.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I just like doing things for you and Adrie. Besides, I live rent free in a tiny town with an abysmal lack of nighttime entertainment for me to waste my money on, so I figured why not spoil my favorite four-year-old.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know I don’t owe you, but” –he moved his hand around in his pocket– “I’m gonna figure out a way to repay you. Do something nice for you. Something big. Until then, your favorite almost-five-year-old made you this.”

He presented his palm to you. Cradled in it was a bracelet made of plastic beads in an assortment of colors, some shaped as stars, some with glitter, and at the middle was a name arranged in white blocks with black lettering. M-O-U-S-E.

“I had to help her spell it,” he said, tugging up his sleeve, “but it matches mine.” D-A-D-D-Y.

There was no masking the effect the bracelet had on you; breath hitched on a raw noise, chest falling on the exhale, muscles tensed on the cusp of a bigger reaction–but you tamped down the wealth of feeling wanted, and spoke beyond the heaviness in your heart, through the strain in your throat, and behind the blurriness of tears, “A true Adrie Original. I love it, tell her thank you for me.”

You slid the elastic band over your trembling left hand. He wore his on his right.

Eddie leaned in to get a better look at you, and the amusement in his face was replaced by genuine surprise. “Are you crying?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and gripped your shoulders, laughing, smiling through the embarrassment of being caught. “Maybe! It’s–It’s really sweet.”

“I’m gonna tell her you cried!”

“Don’t!” you yelped, running away from his evil fingers advancing towards your ribs.

“But it’s cute!”

“Stop chasing me!”

Luckily for you, refuge was on the other side of the glass door you managed to lock before he could grab the handle. You guarded your safe space with a glare. He pouted, and said something. You cupped your ear. He grew more passionate, flapping his lips at a rapid rate and putting his hands up in a prayer, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. You shouted you’d only let him in if he apologized for making fun of you. “I’m sorry.” The sincerity was lost on his smirk, but you gave in so you could make coffee and get to work, and so he could get said coffee and take your pen cup and put it just out of reach on the ledge of your desk while on his way out to the garage.

And unluckily for you, the first thing on your to-do list after the break was checking the flashing buttons on the phone. You picked up the receiver, pressed the playback for messages, and listened with a pen hovered over your new set of index cards.

The first one began with a startled, “U-uhm, right.”

The second one began with a confused laugh.

The third was a long pause before telling someone else in the room they’d try again later.

Dread pooled in your stomach. The recording button. The fucking recording button for an outgoing message taunted you. Faded yellow, and ugly.

With a clenched jaw, you prepared your racing heart, and pressed it. And oh God. You covered your eyes, more and more mortified as it played.

“We’re currently closed for the Holidays, and will open at 8AM, Mon–” Raspberry. “You! Why! That one was perfect. God, you are so–freaking–annoying. I swear. Obnoxious little..”

————

Standing at a respectable distance from where Eddie sat at the breakroom table with his notebook, you held up three calendars for the new year. “I’m replacing the one in the garage. Which do you want? Mythical Creatures drawn by Eric Carle, Coca Cola, or hot chicks posing on sports cars?”

He dropped his head back, and tipped his chair to balance on its rear legs. His bangs fell, showing his wrinkled forehead as he looked at you upside down. “Interesting options,” he commented.

“The mall didn’t have much left.” A lie. The calendar kiosk at the mall was stocked to the brim, you just had a hunch Eddie would go for one in particular.

“Does the mythical creature one have a dragon for a month?”

“Yes,” you said without checking.

“I’ll take that one, then.”

Predictable.

“Cool, I’ll give Mr. Moore the hot chicks, and I’ll take the Coke for me.” Speaking of–the front desk phone was ringing, and it was in your job description to answer it, you supposed.

You left him to get back to his writing, and put the receiver to your ear. The voice on the other end was politely stressed in the customer-friendly way. You left it in the cradle on hold, and called down the hallway, “Hey, Eddie, it’s Adrie’s school calling for you. I’m sure–” Stumbling out of his way, his jacket softened the blow of his shoulder knocking into you. He reached his hand back in an apologetic gesture, but his focus manifested in the flash of panic crossing his pale face. “I’m sure she’s fine,” you finished sympathetically.

He answered the woman on the line, and you waited along the wall, eyeing the scuff marks around the floorboards you should probably buff off at some point, and after his short conversation, he hung up.

“Adrie’s sick,” he said quickly, patting down his jacket. “Wayne’s not answering the phone, so I gotta go pick her up, and uh, I–” He pivoted in a circle, glancing around, fumbling for his keys in his pocket. “I–I’m sorry. She needs me.”

You drew your eyebrows in, and waved him off. “Yeah, it’s okay. You can leave. I’ll clock you out and let Carl know when he’s back from lunch.”

“Thank you,” he said in breathless earnest, leaving so quickly his boots left black streaks on the tile.

~~~

Lunch came and went. Carl came and went. The end of the hour posted under the CLOSED sign came and went. Eddie had yet to call the shop to update you, which was fine and dandy (aside from your anxiety over whether or not Adrie was okay), but in his rush, he left behind something important..

His black notebook with the devil-horned skull laid in the middle of the table like an ominous item from a horror movie.

And much like the horror movies, you as the final girl should leave it alone, right? Just.. walk away, and forget about it, and leave it for him to pick it up tomorrow, or whenever he’s able to come back to work..

But.

You were worried about Adrie, and when you went to the garage to replace the trash can liners, you saw his rings still on the black tray near the tool cabinet. Now, it’s not like he needed those either, however, what if you just.. returned them for him? And the notebook fell open while you were at it?

It was wrong. Everything about what you were doing was all so very, very wrong. Going inside Mr. Moore’s office and flipping the lightswitch, making your way to his desk in an innocent saunter, and–oops!–kneeling down to pick up a stray pen, and if the bottom drawer happened to be opened, and the plastic folder with the employee’s details from when he hired them was inside, who could blame you for taking the quickest, tiniest glance before closing it?

Yours was in there, of course, along with–

“Edward Munson,” you snorted. “Dorky name.” Duh his full name was Edward, but it was still funny to see.

You read over the top of the file where his address and phone number were. Thankfully, from your various car rides with Robin, you recognized the street name, placing it in your memories as the rusted sign next to the Forest Hills Trailer Park entrance.

The phone number you imprinted into your brain as a recreational activity, and put the folder away.

Closing the door behind you with a hefty jingle of heavy rings in your pocket, you approached the notebook, and gave it a pitied sigh. Having committed many sins in the past minute alone, you figured why not. You didn’t even feel shame opening the stupid thing after months of being teased by it. Besides, what’s the worst he could be hiding in it? It couldn’t be that embarrassing, right?

..Right?

“Okay, can honestly say I was not expecting a big tittied bird lady.” The drawing wasn’t overly detailed, but the artistry was above average. Small details etched the feathers covering her avian legs, and a gleam shone on her talons coming to a sharp point, posed to attack with milky white irises. Above her was Eddie’s stylized font: HARPY, with abbreviations and numbers in a column. His rushed handwriting filled the rest of the page. Reading it over, it appeared you opened to the middle of a story.

Thumbing through, you encountered your first dog-eared page.

IF CHEST IS CHOSEN, GO B

IF DOOR - ROLL FROM INDEX CHART POISON

Absolutely lost, you did see a box labeled B further down with a short bullet point list of what would happen, and more options to choose from on the next dog-eared section.

Flipping deeper towards the back, it was pages and pages of his handwriting. Names of characters fighting dragons. Fantasy towns housing creatures you’d never heard of. Countries with too many syllables and apostrophes. Whatever it was, you were more than happy to hop on your bike and ride it over to the trailer park, only second guessing your sense of direction three times, and releasing a grateful, “Thank God,” when you spotted it up ahead.

The place had an eeriness to it despite the slanted beams of afternoon sun gracing it in gold. Homes were tarnished with dents and algae staining the outside. Trailers slumped on their cinderblocks, buckling under the weight. RVs had permanent brush growing under their parking spots. A child’s scream echoed around the tree-less lot, but you couldn’t see them through the orderless blockade of dilapidated residences and abandoned cars. People watched you: glancing out their windows, or gathered around a charcoal barbeque. Curious eyes followed your trail down the main road. Bumping your bike around potholes, avoiding tetanus ridden nails and petrified clothes molded to the ground as if they’d been there for years.

Dogs walked their fences as you passed.

You were beginning to have some regrets when a beacon welcomed you. After a curve, an old van parked out front of a blue and white trailer came into view, but more importantly, dwarfed next to the Chevy behemoth, was a black car you’d recognize the red interior of anywhere.

The heat of parent’s concerned stares burned into the back of your neck as you rode up to the concrete stairs, leaned your bike against the metal handrail, and approached your fate.

Even though you were absolutely sure this was the correct address, you knocked with as much confidence as a dormouse. Any harder and the sound of your knuckles striking the aluminum would’ve been too loud in the creepy-quiet trailer park.

No answer.

You knocked again. Harder. Louder.

There was movement inside. Footsteps. A muffled voice. Your heart leapt. In your throat. Closer. Closer. This was so stupid. This was a mistake. This was a bad idea. The excuse in your mouth was weak, and you were about to embarrass yourself in front of your coworker by surprising him at his house, which you only knew where to find because you were snooping, and there was no amount of explaining that would help you out of your spot in hell–

Eddie swung open the door, and his heavy-browed, distrustful, annoyed, apprehensive, suspicious glare jumped to wide-eyed shock.

Your cheeks went hot.

“Nope!”

You winced at the slam, but nothing–no God’s will, no Devil’s agreement–would convince you to blink at the shuttered window where he once stood. No. No, no, no. No, never. Never would you want the searing glimpse at Eddie’s naked chest out of your sight before it was engraved into every second of every day of every night of every dream for the rest of your years.

In some part of your mind, you knew your gazes connected long enough to see the blood drain from his face, but your attention was soon urged downward, to the overwhelming amount of skin.

His hair was tied back, exposing a poetry of shadows. Hollow of his throat, to his clavicle, to the swell of his shoulders. Biceps twitching under a prominent vein when he caught himself on the trailer’s frame, and gripped the door handle. Muscles straining with fear, then soft with relief, then strong with fear again when he realized it was you who caught him in this shirtless state, discovering the beautiful line between his pecs when he flexed. Witnessing the fine wisps of softly auburn hair on his chest, juxtaposed to the wiry dark curls creating a blessed trail to the top of his sweatpants. Drooling over the eclectic collection of tattoos sporadically placed over his body. Too many to decipher in the brief encounter, aside from the dragon crawling up a sword etched into the subtle planes of his abs and curving around his slight stomach, with the blade ending at his waistband–a full picture of the tattoo you spied at the grocery store when he stretched his arms above his head.

The door creaked open again, and you’d yet to recover. But thinly obscured in the darkness of his home, he was visibly flustered as well.

Eddie hunched over, struggling to get the zipper of his tan jacket up, tugging it harshly, grinding the metal teeth in his anxious fight to cover his chest; and when it was snug to the splotchy kiss of pink on his neck, he squinted at you. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, voice gone hoarse from his dry mouth.

Knees locked, and oh so staring him directly in the eyes, you took the black notebook from under your arm (not remembering when you tucked it there), and showed it to him. “You left this at work.”

He took it from you slowly without a thanks.

“And, uh,” you continued, gathering the clinking jewelry in your jacket. “These too.” You dropped them into his cupped palm, brushing your pinky over a scratchy callus, experiencing the zing of intimacy of skin on skin.

And he felt it too, with how he curled his fingers in to seal the fleeting sensation.

Pocketing his rings, he stood meek in his doorway. The pain of expecting someone different to be knocking at his trailer had dwindled, but the tension was there in between his eyebrows, weighing on the slope of his gentle frown, painting brilliant highlights on the long line of his nose in the blazing dayglow threatening to invade his home.

The dull brown of his eyes glinted aside the honey as his mouth hung slightly open, tip of his tongue curled against the pearly dam of his teeth. The lined pages of the well worn notebook fanned out, flopping in his grip. “Did you read what was in here?”

Shifting your gaze to the sharp edge of the tin roof decorated in elaborate dangly fish hooks, you clasped your hands behind your back in a cute way, and delivered the answer he awaited with an inflection like it was a question, “No..?”

“For an actress, you’re bad at lying.”

“Or I’m being obvious on purpose so you tell me what it is.”

Working his jaw back and forth, he bided his time, each grind a consideration at his options in regards to how vulnerable he should be, and if this would be the final nail in the corroded coffin where you’d realize what a giant loser he was. “It’s..” You leaned towards him in interest, and he looked away. “It’s notes and stuff for Dungeons and Dragons,” he admitted in a mumble.

“Nerd! Nerd!” You jumped up and down, pointing, shouting, “I knew it! You’re a nerd!”

Twisting his mouth in a sarcastic sneer at your childishness, he snatched the side of the door and began shutting you out. “Okay, okay. I get it. See why I didn’t want to tell you?”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you exhaled, switching on a dime from your teasing to a serious tone. You caught the door, and pleaded for him to stop being an idiot, “I knew you were a dweeb when you held me hostage for an entire thirteen minute lecture about your song lyrics. The Dungeons and Dragons shit is the third least surprising thing you’ve ever told me.” You clasped your hand over your heart. “Truly.”

“What’s the second?”

“Your music tastes.”

“And the first?” he asked, despite his better judgment.

“That you’re single.”

He announced his displeasure in a deadpan expression. “And I’m beginning to see why you are, too–” All of him went rigid, withdrawing slightly into the trailer with his head lowered, ear angled towards the right of him, listening as his gaze went unfocused.

After a few seconds, his lungs reawakened with a relieved breath. “Just coughing,” he said to himself. Dragging his attention back to you, he gestured weakly at his jacket to indicate his lack of clothing, still embarrassed at the situation. “Adrie, uh.. She puked on me earlier. That’s why I wasn’t–uhm–dressed.”

Worry edged its way into your question, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. Kids get sick from daycare all the time. Basically just sentient germs running around, licking their hands after touching everything.”

Your eyebrows ticked up at the memory of the awful Dayquil hangovers following the weekends you worked as a clown for children’s birthday parties.

You asked, “And what about Wayne?”

“Hm? Oh.” Recognition, and the ease of a casual conversation overtook the near-permanent anticipatory hardness to his features, softening his bristly nature around you; finding you comforting when he was in the place where he was supposed to feel safest, but didn’t.

Home wasn’t home for Eddie Munson, and you felt that icy statement behind your ribs as you watched him pat his pocket as a way to check his rings were there for reassurance, acutely aware there was an hostile world at your back, and you chose to only see each other.

There was a tender innocence to his lip crooking up in a lopsided grin as he remembered you asked him a question. “Typical old man. Wayne was outside and didn’t hear the phone ring, that’s why he didn’t answer. He’s at work now, though.”

“Mm,” you hummed. “Do you have soup?”

“Soup?”

“For Adrie,” you clarified.

He glanced over his shoulder, assumingly at the kitchen, and after some mental deduction, he shrugged in vague nonchalance. “Yeah, there’s probably soup for her.” As if you didn’t know him well enough at this point to read past the nervous habits weaving their way into his fidgety unsureness.

You backed down the stairs as you spoke, “Okay. Well then, guess I’ll get going since you have everything on lock down here. Got your sick kid, got your soup, got your notebook, and your uncle’s at work. Sounds like everything’s in order.” Hopping off the last step, you swung around the handrail and guided your bike to the road, beaming. “See ya!”

“Yeah, see ya,” he replied, settling into his usual side-ways glance around the trailer park, challenging the gawkers who watched a girl willingly walk up to his home and leave it smiling. They did not dare to say anything, of course; returning to their lives with sealed lips, pretending to pay him no mind. Just how it should be.

He held his chin high.

————

And when Eddie next answered the door, it was in the low blue hue of a setted sun, and he did so in his black jeans and a white tank top. His unzipped work jacket swayed prettily around his torso, low bun at his nape loosened to a mess, short curls in a frizz over his ears, and cheeks flushed. “I figured you’d be back,” he forced out evenly, doing his best to disguise his panting breaths.

You hugged the brown paper grocery bags to your chin, and grinned.

He stuck his foot behind him in an awkward curtsy, and swept his arm for you to enter.

Walking into his place for the first time there were many things to comprehend, absorb, fawn over, and ask about until he was tired of explaining their origins–and since you were already crossing an entire notebook’s worth of lines today, you inquired about the most obvious. “You, uh, like collecting hats and mugs?”

“They’re Wayne’s,” he grunted, unplugging the vacuum he left in the middle of the living room by yanking the cord out of the wall, and dragging it on his way to the hallway closet where he kicked and shoved things aside to make room, rattling the thin door that definitely had been punched through at one point, patched and painted over, and was now a canvas for crayon squiggles along the bottom. “Before he worked at the power plant, he was a trucker. Collected them at every rest stop in every state, that sorta thing.”

“Ah.”

In a quick spin, he surveyed the rest of the trailer, and made a similar “ah” sound when he saw the cleaning products and balled up paper towels on the tiny table squeezed against the wall. He lunged for them, stuffing the evidence and other garbage into the overflowing trash can. “I still keep up the tradition by getting him a mug for Christmas.” Jerking his chin at the shelf above him, he specified the one on the end. “This year was Looney Tunes.”

“How cute.” The bags crinkled in your arms as you stood in the entryway, nodding expectantly.

“Shit–Sorry.”

You smiled. He finished clearing a space on the wrap-around kitchen counter for you to set the groceries down, scooting a candle out of the way, flickering the flame he may have burnt himself on while lighting, if the red mark on his thumb was anything to go by. And he was back to pivoting, scanning the area, desperate to latch onto the object which would jog his memory on where he was in his cleaning: dishes dripped in the drying rack, Wayne’s grilled cheese endeavor was out of sight, the bathroom radiated the nose-burning scent of bleach.

He snapped his fingers at the overflowing trash can, and almost slipped in his frenzy to tie up the bag and rush for his boots, saying he’ll be right back on his way out, leaping down the stairs.

“Alrighty..”

The steady rumble of a washing machine rattled every loose bit of metal in the museum of belongings.

You waged war with your tennis shoes, wiggling out of them with the laces still tied, and stepped off the carpet dividing the trailer in half. The bubbling vinyl kitchen floor stuck to your socks, still damp from being mopped, and heaved the groceries onto the pale blue countertop, sliding them across decades worth of scratches scarring the material. Once you were sure you could let them go without a toppling situation, you took the goods out one at a time, but your attention was nosy and undivided.

Acting as foreground to the walls of hats and mugs was the rest of Eddie’s life. Laundry baskets occupied a couch with flattened cushions. A coffee table supported stacks of his daughter’s playthings after picking them out of the vacuum’s path. There was a fold out bed in the corner, and a modest TV situated on top of a VCR. To compensate for the lack of overhead light was an abundance of mismatched lamps on each surface.

It was a hodge podge, and it was cramped, and it was incomprehensible, and it was his house.

Turning, you began to guess at which cabinets he would store a bag of rice when you spotted the artwork hanging on the fridge.

Pinned under a teddy bear magnet was a decoupaged version of your Thanksgiving turkeys, cut out and glued to a single piece of construction paper, complete with the castle in the background. And secured safely under a smiley face magnet was a stick figure drawing of two people–one in a pink dress, one in all black scribble–and dated in neat ink by someone with less messy handwriting: 5/7/92.

Eddie came back to your wide grin, and two cans of baked beans held up in a question.

“They go over here,” he said, nodding at the skinny door next to where he stood at the small green table set for three chairs, organizing today’s mail in his hand.

You opened the pantry next to the recessed oven, and stacked the rest of the cans inside. Towards the back there were two white cereal boxes with plain blue text and nothing else, leaving you to deduce no one in his family stooped to eating unsweetened cornflakes even if that’s all they had. Meanwhile, he arranged overdue bills into a ladder style letter holder hung on the wall beside the phone, periodically taking one out and placing it down a rung, ordering them from most to least important.

“I was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday, but I had to buy and install a new hot water heater,” he told you suddenly. Whether he was saying this because he was coasting on the fumes of his Christmas bonus until December’s child support arrived, or because he was simply too busy to go shopping, neither of you addressed it more than necessary. He accepted your help, and you didn’t pry.

“Unexpected shit sucks, huh?” you added for his benefit.

“Yeah,” he huffed in a short laugh, playing the same game.

And it was him who rested his forearms on the edge of the pale blue wrap-around counter, watching you commit good deed after good deed, guessing where groceries went in the cabinets, acclimating to his kitchen’s set up, and making room for a bag of grapes and three apples between his six pack of Pabst and block of Government cheese.

“Can I ask you kind of a weird question?”

You brightened at his voice, teetering on the edge of a smile just from that alone. “Always.”

He drew absent-minded circles with his finger as he tried to find the best way to word something he wondered about since the week you met. “When you saw Adrie for the first time, you had this really, uh, surprised look on your face.. Why was that?”

Your tone was dismissive in the wake of something that appeared to haunt him, “Oh, that?” You folded down the empty paper bags, and placed them on top of the fridge after he said Adrie would use them for arts and crafts. “Well, it’s like, Mr. Moore has dozens of pictures of his family on his desk, and Carl told me–approximately–ten different stories about his sons an hour after meeting him, and Kevin carries pictures of his dogs in his wallet. It just seemed like if you had a daughter, you would’ve shown me a picture too, like most dads.” You waved your hands around, and contorted your mouth in a silly manner. “I mean, it was just weird you never mentioned her.”

He took your assessment to heart, and opened the drawer closest to him. Amongst the clutter of junk was his black wallet resting on a coiled chain with clips on either end. Taking out the cheap leather, he cradled the width in his palm, and wiggled out a picture kept sealed behind a plastic window. He said, “Actually, I do carry a picture of her,” and handed it to you.

On instinct, you pored over the image of him first, prizing the crown of his head sporting the same wild haircut. He had his face tipped down to the newborn wrapped in a pink blanket in his arms, crooking her in their safety as he held a bottle to her lips. His knees were on display behind his ripped black jeans. His shirt was sleeveless. She was tiny and precious. He was decidedly emotionless from what you could see, sat on a couch that was not the same as the one across the room from you.

“That was taken at Harrington’s place,” he answered your unstated question, keen to the recognition washing over your face as you placed it as Nancy’s ugly pink floral loveseat.

You gave it back to him.

He looked over the captured moment in time, bleak gaze set on his little girl when she was so fragile, and small, and when he was so weak, and teetering on a long overdue breakdown.

“It took me a long time to carry this around,” he said, tone heavy with disappointment, regret, and shame. “Wayne and I were fighting constantly. And I mean, I don’t blame him. He gave up his life to take care of me when I was twelve, and I put so many gray hairs on his head that he went bald from my bullshit, and then there I was, bringing home a screaming infant I didn’t know the first thing about taking care of. Y’know, just proving I was a fuck-up right when he thought I was smart enough to get my act together.“ Tracing the sharp edge of the photo trimmed to fit his wallet, he placed it in its windowed slot and tossed it back in the drawer, closing the past from his sight. “I don’t have a lot of good memories from that time. Shit fucking sucked.”

“I can imagine,” was all you could say.

“I love her,” he said in the event you doubted him.

“I know you do,” you offered in return.

Steering the conversation in a different direction, you swung your index fingers at the extensive cabinetry, and asked, “Where’s a cutting board?” Right of the sink, he answered. “And a knife?” Top drawer next to your hip, he responded. But it took until you shook out the washed celery stalk, and snapped the ribs off, lining them up on the white plastic cutting board did he become suspicious.

He leaned more of his weight on his forearms, and kept his tone carefully neutral, “What’re you doing?”

Keeping your expression indifferent aside from your arched brows, you cut the celery into manageable sticks and began slicing them lengthways. “I believe I’m in Edward Munson’s trailer making him and his daughter soup.”

The crimson guitar pick at the end of his necklace swung forward, jostled from where it was stuck to the healthy sheen of sweat glistening along the top of his chest. “How do you know my full name?”

“A little birdie told me.”

He shifted his shoulders, head lowered, eyes narrowed, voice deep, “Better question. How do you know where I live?”

“A bigger birdie told me.”

“Someone told you about me?”

Rightfully confused, you pulled a face. “Huh? No. I was kidding. No one talks to me. Anyway, back to the soup.” You harnessed all your charm into impressing him by meeting his stare while you diced the celery, using your knuckles as guidance. “Are there any vegetables she won’t eat? Or stuff she’s allergic to?” Your flagrant insolence irked him: reading his notebook, inviting yourself to his residence, filling the voids in his kitchen with groceries, and now making him soup without ever asking if he wanted you to do those things.

Because of course he wanted you to do those things.

He surrendered to your kindness. “No allergies, and she’ll eat anything as long as it’s diced small–Yeah, like that–and cooked down to mush. It’s the one thing she’s always been good about.”

“And you?”

It took a few sad seconds for him to understand you were asking about his allergies and his preferences, not used to his needs being taken into consideration. “No, no, whatever you make is good. Uhm. Hey, you don’t have to do all of this. Don’t roll your eyes, I’m being serious. Adrie’s sick and I don’t want you to catch what she has.”

“Please,” you implored in thick sarcasm, “I’ve been coughed on by every disease known to man on the Q train. There’s not a cold or flu in existence I haven’t succumbed to. I’m immune at this point.”

You found a stock pot from the cabinet at the junction of the wrap-around counter and the sink, and set it on the cooktop to come to heat while you peeled and chopped an onion. Eddie dwelled in his observations; listening to you recount tales of working in kitchens because they were always hiring, collecting horror stories from being a dishwasher, a waitress, a morning food prepper; moving from title to title; birthday clown, bartender, craft store cashier. Flighty, flighty, flighty. He watched your hands move in quick chops and long sweeps down a carrot with skill he didn’t have the patience nor time to learn. He told you as much, how when he comes home he’s fucking tired, and doesn’t have the energy to make dinner.

“Now what’re you doing, sweetheart?” he asked in what he hoped was an exhausted tone, but he knew it was futile. The timidness was there, sneaking its way into his words when he made the leap to calling you an endearment in his own home. And how could he not when you pulled out a stack of tupperware, divided the piles of chopped vegetables between them, and wedged them into the freezer, still tending to the sweating mirepoix with a wooden spoon.

“It’s so next time you want soup they’re all ready to go. You don’t have to waste time cutting vegetables. Just dump a container in a pot and add broth and noodles, and call it a night.”

He made a fond noise in the back of his throat, looking at you through his lashes. “You’re really doing everything in your power to extort me for this ‘thank you’ I owe you, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who promised me something good,” you reminded him.

Water splashed, sputtered in the pot, steaming into a cloud of savory humidity, filling the living space with earthy aromatics. You added bouillon cubes, and stirred the stock together while turning the dial on high to bring the soup to a boil.

“Yeah, guess I did,” he said, petering out into a mumble, straying further from the current topic. He wasn’t finished talking about the previous one yet, and he made it known.

Tracing his thumb along his plump bottom lip, he tested a boundary, tiptoeing into a realm he did his best to ignore. “So, uh, you employ the same strategy with jobs as you do dating, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” you grinned. “Having an endless well of stories about shitty customers to pull from is perfect for stand up. Everyone loves the perpetually single girl who works in service or retail, and just can’t seem to find the love of her life, despite going on an insane amount of first dates with New York’s most average. It’s funny, and relatable.”

“And now you’re stuck as a boring receptionist in a nowhere town in a nowhere state.”

You released a sugary, syrupy, sweet giggle. “And now I’m stuck as a boring receptionist in a nowhere town in a nowhere state, and it’s the longest job I’ve ever held.”

His eyelashes fluttered from the nerves–the strong ache in his chest pressing down on him, stealing his breath. “And what about the dates? Gone on any with Hawkins’ finest?”

“Just one.” Though your back was to him while you washed and dried the cutting board, your smile was outlined in your banter. “But it was awful,” you emphasized in a dramatic sigh. “Worst date ever. He drank my Icee, wouldn’t stop talking during the movie, and, get this! He didn’t even tell me I was pretty. Not once.”

“What a jerk,” he agreed fullheartedly, scrunching his nose and twisting a curl of his hair over his stupidly smitten grin. “Sounds like a real asshole.”

“Actually, he was my favorite,” you corrected him, turning down the dial to where the coils lost their fluorescent glow. “Huge, huge nerd. Like, the biggest dork ever, but he was definitely my favorite out of any of my dates.” On your way to the green table, you bent close to his ear, and begged him in a whisper, “But don’t tell him I said that. He’ll get a real big ego about it.”

He made a zipping motion over his mouth.

“Soups gotta simmer until the potatoes are done. Might as well sit.”

He unzipped his mouth. “When did you cut up potatoes?”

“When you were staring at me all dreamy-like,” you supplied, words dipped in coy and flirt.

Undecided on which way to balk at your claim, he did them all: rolled his eyes, clicked his tongue, muttered a small “was not,” and slung himself into his usual chair at the table. He expected you to do the same, to match his silly theatrics with your own impassioned eye roll and smirk, but you didn’t. You sat across from him, poised, hands clasped together with the black notebook beside you.

The mood of the evening dipped visibly in your serious gaze set on him.

You tapped your knuckle on the metal spirals binding the worn pages of his latest campaign together. “No more secrets,” you punctuated. Three short words let go on an exhale. Three little words standing taller than the final barrier he built to keep others out. Not an ask, but a necessity if you were going to continue your relationship–platonic or not.

Your posture and expression were stern, but gentled by patience. “Let’s get to those rumors, hm.”

It was time.

No going back.

Whatever happens, happens.

Eddie took a shaky breath, and invited you over to the vulnerable truth. “Has anyone ever told you anything about me? Not like Harrington’s stories, but actual rumors?”

You shook your head. Between spending most of your time at work, or at Robin’s place, you didn’t have much opportunity to speak to random people, apart from small talk. And chit chatting about the weather was nowhere near as grave as what rooted itself in the solemn slow blink wherein he closed his eyes, and dipped his head.

“I’ll tell you everything, but can I ask you not to say anything while I explain?” he hesitated, knowing how it sounded. “I don’t know how else to word that to make it less rude, but this shit is difficult for me to talk about, and I’ll probably ramble, and go on tangents, and jump around the timeline, but, please, don’t interrupt me or say anything until I’m finished, okay? I don’t want to forget any of the details, and have to discuss this again. Can we do that?”

Digging your thumbnails harder into the flesh of your fingers, you agreed to the terms with a solid nod.

He swallowed. And when his tongue remained too thick in his dry mouth, he swallowed again, and sat up straight, pressing his back into the chair. “Okay.”

Two anxious stomachs twisted at once.

He cast his vacant stare around the room; never allowing it to land on you. This conversation was with himself and the green table and the shelf of mugs and the soup bubbling away on the stove and the washing machine entering its spinning cycle and the containers of Play-Doh on the coffee table; speaking to the non-judgemental objects instead of the person across from him.

“I’ll start with my reputation in school,” he said. “Probably doesn’t take much of an imagination to picture me as I am now with the same hobbies and opinions, just a lot louder about them. Heavy metal was the only music I listened to, and people called me weird for it. And I thought ‘weird?’ Was that supposed to bother me? I loved being weird! I wore the title ‘weird’ with pride. I didn’t want to be like everyone else. And when they saw I played Dungeons and Dragons, they called me a Satanist. Satanist? Like Ozzy, and all the bands I looked up to? Hell yeah! I thought being called a Satanist was so cool I sewed a Leviathan Cross on my jacket.” The corner of his lip jumped at a memory, smiling at something from long ago. Then, it faded. “Goes without saying I didn’t make many friends until I found other outcasts who shared those same views as me. We started a band together, and after some convincing, we made a DND club with me as the Dungeon Master. Of course people called me a cult leader for it, but being a cult leader sounded fucking awesome, so I encouraged it. Antagonized it. Weird, Devil-worshiper, cultist, freak. I wore them all like armor.”

He paused to crack his knuckles, expression falling blank as suppressed scenes unfolded in his head. “I got bullied a lot. Not that surprising. I was so aggressively opinionated about everything and never shut up. But the worst of it stopped when I got held back enough grades that I made “grown-up friends” and started dealing to help pay for my guitars and stuff.” He shrugged a single shoulder in apathy, and the tan jacket slipped down his arm, revealing a faded stick-and-poke viper above his armpit. “Unless it was Steve or someone in that friend circle, I was never invited to parties except to bring drugs. Weed, pills, whatever low scale stuff, nothing that serious, but I wasn’t very popular outside of that context.” The washing machine buzzed at the end of its cycle. “And as much as I told myself I didn’t care, I did. I did care when my friends were out on dates with their girlfriends, and I was alone, stuck in front of a record player learning a song just to give myself something to do, and something to say I did over the weekend when they all talked about the movie they saw together.. Made me feel like I was the outcast even amongst the outcasts.”

Listening, but not responding, you smoothed your thumbs over the divots in your skin your nails left behind.

Swallowing again, he faltered, “Girls didn’t like me. Even if I was the cooler, older guy who was so confident in everything he did, I was still off-putting. Or just weird in the bad way, because I didn’t know how to act, and came on too strong, or too–I don’t know–fucking dorky, doing shit like opening doors and bowing for them, laughing too loud at my own jokes when they didn’t find them funny.” It took everything you had to not to break your promise–to stay silent, and indifferent, and not gather him into a hug and assure him all those goofy mannerisms were exactly why you liked him. “I dated, y’know.. Had girlfriends here and there, but they never lasted more than a month.”

To close one chapter of his life and open another, he rubbed at his eyes, and ran a hand down his face, scrubbing over his chin as he spoke to the ceiling, “Now onto my old man.”

The hand he used to wipe the loneliness from his somber visage came to a rest on the edge of the table, and he ran the side of his palm along it as a way to fidget.

“He was in and out of jail for a number of things my whole life, but when I was twelve, he murdered someone. She was a nice lady. Well known in town, and well liked. Popular. Prom Queen, cheerleader type. Everyone loved her.. And he murdered her.”

Silence, silence, you remained in white-hot, visceral, sweat dripping, jaw-clenching silence.

“According to my criminal record, I was following in his footsteps. I had a penchant for stirring up trouble. It was fun. Stealing dumb shit, hotwiring an old car to drive us to the woods to get drunk when we were teenagers, dealing, begging Steve to throw ragers every weekend so I had an excuse to get shitfaced and run from the cops.. Yeah, it really looked like I was following in his footsteps. Following the Munson name.”

Eddie sat forward. Sleeved forearms sliding across aged coffee rings staining the green collapsible tabletop, and rubbing the backs of his fingers along the other. He was close enough for you to reach, to hold, to comfort when this was over, and the ghosts were put to rest from clouding his softhearted brown eyes.

“There was a New Year’s Eve party I was invited to” –he jumped his fingers in quotations– “on the rich side of town. It wasn’t one of Harrington’s, and I was out of my supply anyway, so I skipped out and spent the night here with my friends playing DND, and setting off fireworks in the trailer park, just having a good time.” The next inhale quivered his bottom lip, “I woke up in my bed to three cop cars blaring their sirens, and someone telling me I was being arrested for-for murder. Ah..”

You steeled yourself from blinking away.

“A girl died at that party. Prom Queen, head cheerleader. The type everyone knew, and everyone liked. And.. A-and, Jesus, I-I just need to get through this, I’m so sorry–but stuff was done to her body.”

The frankness hung in the room.

He screwed his eyes shut, and let the ugly reality spill from his mouth, “A guy from out of state went to that party with way harder shit than I sold, and she wanted to try some. They went to the bathroom together, he gave her too much, drugged her, she overdosed, and h-h-he..” His eyelids twitched with movement, and the tendons in his neck strained. You weren’t sure if he could hear the small, involuntary noise you made, but he chose the same words to avoid what you could infer. What all women could infer. “He did stuff to her body.”

His voice continued to crawl up an octave as his muscles braced in a reflexive cringe. “H-He left her there, and when her body was discovered, and the police were called, it didn’t take long before someone said they thought they saw me there, and once one person said they saw me there, suddenly everyone saw me there.” Hard swallow, palms wiped on jeans. “I was arrested the next morning, and even though I had three alibis, I didn’t have any hard receipts or any of that shit they wanted to establish where I was and at what time. And when my alibis were a bunch of Satanic cultist shithead troublemakers like me, they were brushed off. And why wouldn’t they be? It’s my friend’s word against thirty people who swore the long haired guy they saw at the party was me. Cops thought they caught their man, booked me, and had me in interrogation in under an hour from kicking down my door.”

He licked his lips.

“January of ‘88,” he said with an unsteady cadence, shooting out the sentences as they came to him, lurching faster and faster towards the horrid scars he’d never heal from. “I was so fucking lucky, so fucking lucky. DNA testing had only become a thing the year before. Mhm. That’s what saved my ass. But even then, it wasn’t like it is now. That shit took weeks to process.” He lifted his hands–fingers loosely curled, trembling. “For weeks they made me look at the pictures of her. H-Her body. The b-bruises around her neck.” He gestured at his own, and his voice swung higher pitched, “Interrogated me over and over again. For days, and weeks. Trying to get me to confess. It took weeks to prove I was innocent, and clear my name. Weeks, and weeks. A-A-And in those weeks–”

The trembling escalated to uncontrollable shaking.

“–Fuck–I don’t want to talk about this,” he said, volume fluctuating.

The air was too thick to breathe.

The wrinkles between his brows deepened, as did the lines bracketing his mouth. Red flush overtook his shuddering chest, his strained throat, his scrunched face with his eyes closed in refusal to acknowledge you sat opposite him, your expression slackened by dread.

“In the weeks between waiting f-for the DNA results,” each word wobbled worse than the last, “I found out Adrie’s mom was four months pregnant. And if I knew, then all of Hawkins knew. Everyone knew I knocked someone up, and.. and more rumors started..” He lifted his eyebrows, and his hands developed a violent shiver, hovering over the table, palms open, afraid and begging. “Because of.. what happened to the body.. People thought that she was.. That I..” each pause was a short wheeze.

Your blood ran cold with the slow realization of what word he was avoiding.

Desperation influenced his stammer, “I swear to you, w-what happened between us was consensual,” he stressed the last word in a whimper delivered straight to your dropped stomach. “She doesn’t answer my calls–but I could try, if you need to hear it from her–I promise, I promise, as soon as the rumors started, as soon as they started, she denied them. She tried to stop them from spreading. She tried. She told everyone it-it-it wasn't–that we both chose to–” he sniffed back the croaky sob, and without the grace of respite, he coughed the rasp from his throat, and ushered you into another apology you didn’t know you were owed, “I should’ve told you before we went to Adrie’s school. You had a right to know why people were staring. I’m so fucking sorry.”

In the room at the end of the dark hallway, his daughter who he sacrificed everything for rolled over in her bed, bringing the covers with her. In the belly of the trailer belonging to his uncle, you kept your feet tucked under your chair, letting the information wash over you in worse and worse crashes. In the lousy home he hated, Eddie held his breath until the aches reached their peak, and released them in a cough; and another, and another, until the pain subsided.

Deep breath, deep breath.

Your chair creaked from your uncomfortable shifting.

With time, the tension in his body waned to where his composed words could be heard in all the clarity they deserved, “I know this has been a lot to hear, and process, and I’m so sorry for unloading all of this on you at once, but I wanted you to know the whole story so you could make an informed decision.”

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to speak yet, but your whisper broke through, “Informed decision?”

Cheeks hot, but dry, and lower lashes clumped together from the rescinded tears, he answered you indirectly at first, “It took months to find and arrest the guy, and by then Hawkins didn’t care. Babe, you can be anonymous in the city, but this is how small town mentality works. All it took was one person to say I was at that party, and like that, my life was ruined. My name was stained. No one cared if I was innocent. The culprit was some other guy they’d never heard of from another state whose picture they flashed on the 6 o’clock news once. He might as well not even exist.” A pause. A change. A regret. “I want to protect you.”

There was pressure building behind your eyes, and you moved your gaze to the shelves above you in an effort to stifle the well of tears from falling–for him, for the dead girl, for what he was about to say next.

Eddie alternated between weakly slapping his hands flat on the table, then turning over to show his palms, then slapping them down again; guilt and shame and loneliness and fear working its way into every part of his gentle nature. “My name carries a stigma, and if you’re going to be coming around to my place, or be seen with me in public, you need to know there are consequences. Assumptions are going to be made about you. People are going to speculate, warn you, judge you. You don’t deserve that shit, so please, tell me, and I’ll accept just being friends at work, and leave it at that. I won’t ask questions. I won’t bother you. I won’t ask for more.”

“What?”

“I’ll understand,” he said, eyes tightening in a flinch.

“Eddie–” It came out broken. His encouragement for you to end the burden of this relationship at coworkers for the sake of your image stung like the tender throb of rejection–except, it was worse. It was him giving you permission to break things off because he didn’t see himself as worth the hassle.

Your poise collapsed. “You’re right, it is a lot to process, and it’s all I’m gonna be thinking about for the next week, a-and yeah, I wish you told me sooner, but Eddie–” His knuckles made a harsh sound when you grasped for his hand, knocking them on the table with the force of your messy coordination through the blur of true friendship disrupting your vision. “This changes nothing between us.”

Graceless under the circumstances, you took his right hand and wrapped your fingers around his thumb, fitting the meat of your palm into the curve of his. You delved your other fingers under his sleeve cuff, stroking them down, then up, slotting them beneath the stretchy bracelet. D-A-D-D-Y. He cupped his free hand over top of yours, enveloping them both, and waded through the entanglement to caress the prominent callus at the tip of his middle finger over the white blocks with black lettering. M-O-U-S-E.

“I’m with you,” you said. “I’m here. And whenever you want me here, whenever Adrie wants me here, ask and I’ll be on my bike pedaling as fast as I can.”

His face pinched in sentimental yearn. “Baby..”

Instead of suffocating the intensity of his emotions as he normally would, he slid his chair back and buried his head in the hollow of his outstretched arms; and in the pocket of space where he felt safest, he allowed himself the relief of two hot tears streaking through the fine sweat overtaking his puffy face. They clung to the tip of his nose, and dripped to his jeans in a loud splat.

He snorted, but it came out as a muted huff due to his stopped up sinuses. “Can’t believe I made it all the way through that sober and without crying, and then you just–went ahead and said something like that.”

You smiled. He probably did, too. Then as yours ebbed, his probably did, too.

The intertwined pocket where you clasped each other ran hot with body temperature, humidity, and the loaded implications of his confession and your subsequent acceptance. Heavy with the context for why people stared at him. Their significant glances at you, and the new depths and meaning beyond people thinking he was weird, and you were weird by association.

But at the same time, their stares didn’t last long. They were glances by every definition. A look over, a judgment, and then away, back to their own little world and their own little lives.

You asked, “Are the rumors still as bad as they were?”

The short curls at the crown of his head waved back and forth with his slow head shake. “I don’t think so. I think they’ve gotten better in a weird, fucked up way.” He sniffled, and wiped his nose on the inside of his sleeve before returning to the darkened confines of his arms, refusing excess stimulation until he could handle it. “Ever since Home Alone came out, my friends joke that I’m like that old man, y’know, the one all the neighborhood kids target, and turn one rumor about him into this entire narrative where he’s slayed over a dozen people, and keeps the bodies in his basement.” He laughed, truly. A warm, muffled thing. “That’s the sorta rumors going around now, I think; that I’m some Boogieman that gets blamed for every bump in the night. Adults probably know the accusations, but, like I said, Adrie’s mom did try to stop the other ones, but I guess I don’t know for sure if–when people look at you and me–that’s what they’re thinking. Uhm, I don’t know if I’m making sense anymore.”

“You’re good,” you consoled him. Your thumbs whispered sentiments on his skin, smoothing over the rough terrain from his labor, and catching on the excess sweat, wicking it away and creating more with each hindered brush across his inner wrist, trapped under the weight of his heavy hand copying you; running his fingers over wherever he could, needy, grounding himself to your presence, and seeking closure. “Thank you for finally telling me.”

“Thanks for listening,” he responded quietly.

Eddie shrugged his shoulders to his cheeks, and dried his face on his jacket to the best of his ability. Together, you sat in silence for a while longer, holding each other. Thinking. Decompressing. Plunging into the ice water of yet another development in your relationship, and emerging to the surface in unison, breaking the surface tension latched together by the same lifesaver.

You squeezed.

He squeezed back.

“I think I need a minute,” Eddie said, throwing his head towards the bathroom and letting go of you to inelegantly wipe at his runny nose. He drew further away from the table, standing up and walking in his odd, awkward way; playing with his bangs, and taking his hair out of the ponytail. “I’ll see if Adrie’s awake and wants soup, too.” The edge of the bathroom door flooded with yellowed light and a faucet was turned on high.

There was a nice moment where you nodded at the homely kitchen, lost in thought, absorbing the sounds and smells of the thick bubbling brew, and tomatoey pungence. Until it dawned on you.

“Shit, the soup–!”

Thankfully, as you stirred, the potatoes stuck to the bottom of the pot dislodged themselves, and nothing appeared burnt. Because, honestly, you couldn’t take the wound to your pride if the first time you ever cooked for Eddie Munson resulted in you burning soup.

After searching, you discovered the cabinet above the dish rack housed the dinnerware. You grabbed two mismatched bowls and hesitated on the shallow Little Mermaid one, until hearing the click of the bathroom door swinging open, and a squeak from the adjacent bedroom.

Soft footsteps announced his excitement before you could turn and see Eddie’s silly hand wave.

Come here, he mouthed, peeking from around the wall.

You dropped the serving spoon on the–had to be homemade–ceramic ashtray masquerading as spoon rest, and followed, hungry for new discoveries; the first being the (offensively ugly) pirate ship wheel chandelier hanging above the washing machine you had to have been an idiot to miss earlier. Deeper into the carpeted hallway was the coat closet with crayon squiggles, a shelf of kitschy knick knacks, and a thrifted painting of a lake scene with the curled-edge price sticker still on the corner of the glass. Passing the bathroom, you got a glimpse of a dark green shower curtain, a wet rag on a packed sink of various spilled products, and a bucket of rubber ducks next to the tub.

Eddie slowed, and you were confronted with his back. Slim shoulders on display from his oversized jacket falling further down his arms, thick canvas folding over itself around his tapered waist. The white tank top was stretched to fit him, hem of the armholes digging into his flexed lats as he eased the bedroom door open, back muscles contouring in the heavy shadows as he hunched and held his breath at the creaky hinges broadcasting his entrance. Edges of tattoos taunted you while he blinked into the darkness. And when the one who usurped his bed nearly five years ago didn’t wake, he straightened up and shook his hair out of his face.

He angled to the side, opening himself to you with his arm outstretched; an unspoken suggestion in his fingertips finding the edge of your cable knit sweater. You understood the glossy shine of unfiltered love in his gaze, and fit yourself between him and the doorway, stealing the soft filtered light brushing Adrienne’s sleeping form in tender illumination–made sweeter by the curls falling over her closed eyes, and the pale blue unicorn hugged in her arms.

‘Oh,’ you sighed in surprise, and clasped your hands on either side of your cheeks, craning to look up at him.

Just like the time he helped you hang decorations in the breakroom, your head made contact with the stick-and-poke viper, and his grin was instant.

His inhale cradled you. “She loves that thing,” he said, chest rumbling against your nape, stomach pressing to your side with an amused grunt, filling the gaps between you and him with warmth.

It was as if nothing changed. Not really.

Eddie canted his forehead to you with an expression of mild jealousy over your plush toy wrapped in his little girl’s arms when his cold plasticy ones sat at a miniature table in a pink playhouse pretending to have a tea party. His eyebrows were the same–raised, hidden beneath the wet stringy pieces of his bangs skimming his wrinkled forehead. His damp cheeks, jaw, and neck were the same after his cold water wake up call, splashing himself over the bathroom sink. His full lips were the same, pink and pulled back to show his teeth. His strong chin was the same, peppered with a recent shave. His handsome nose was the same, albeit red. The crinkles at the corner of his eyes were the same, if not slightly fuller from his recent cry.

But everything had changed.

Before, you lacked the understanding of the fear in his eyes when Mr. Moore had walked into the shop. How he had risked a painful bruise on his hip from the chair he knocked over in his scramble to get away from you. The tremble in his hands when he ran them through his hair in an urgent act to appear composed, and not like he was doing something worse with you. To you.

Everything was different, but it was felt, not seen.

The leftover adrenaline from the confrontation at his kitchen table faded, and in its place, rising from the truest, barest, rawest vulnerabilities of himself, was trust. A candid expression of respect in his palm at your back, fingers curled in to stroke his nails along the knitted design of your turtleneck. He confessed his secrets, you knew him to be an innocent man, and despite his worry for your reputation becoming infected by his, you promised him the same loyalty you always had, because there was not a lie in existence that would break the bond you facilitated months ago, born from your sheer desire to annoy the one mechanic who wouldn’t speak to you.

Felt, not seen.

A promise, and an urge.

The tingly pleasure of his nails scratching over your sweater advanced to a divine expression of affection.

He wrapped his arm around you, settling his hand in the curve above your hip. It lasted all of two seconds, long enough for him to bring you into the crook of his body for the purpose of whispering something in your ear, but it was a phenomenal improvement over the usual nervous flittering his fingers performed when in your company.

His voice was candy sweet after watching your face break into a smile for his daughter, “Maybe we should let her sleep, hmm?”

You leaned into him. “Yeah,” you sighed, rolling your head along his shoulder, guiding your silly grin from him to Adrie. “She looks so peaceful.”

“And quiet,” he observed in the wise tone of a single father after long hours of soothing his child’s headache when her cries created one of his own, and juggling the duty of cleaning up her puke from the floor, her clothes, his clothes, and bathing her while wallowing in the misery of doing it all by himself.

Eddie persuaded you into the hallway, and closed the door behind him, letting his arm fall to his side, ending the cocoon of warmth he provided with the harsh drag of the metal zipper scratching across the back of your jeans. He followed you to the kitchen and opened the fridge, muttering a string of words about deserving something as he snapped a silver and blue can from the plastic ring holding them together. “Want a beer? I don’t think you can get a DUI on a bike.”

“You actually can in some states.” You didn’t elaborate, and continued spooning soup into the bowls in questionable silence. “But no, thank you.”

Crack, tss. He held your stare over the rim as he tipped back a long gulp, pressed his lips together, and swallowed with a satisfied ‘ah,’ giving you ample time to ignore him. Finally, he moved his hand about, and asked, “Not gonna tell me why you know that?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

Moving on, you located two spoons from the absolute chaos of the cutlery drawer, and brought the bowls to the table while he reached into the pantry for an open sleeve of saltines, tossing them between the both of you and falling into his chair with a soft grunt.

“This looks great,” he complimented in earnest, voice and face alight with appreciation as he thrashed his arms to get out of his jacket, and took another sip of beer before crowding his side of the table with elbows, forearms, and hands; always holding the Pabst, or the soup, or reaching; always in motion, dominating the space you shared between your bowls, and beneath, where your legs were slotted in tight between his wide-spread knees.

His manners were about what you would assume after eating lunch with him many times, but that’s not what had you breathless.

He just.. took off his jacket like it was a completely normal thing he did dozens of times in front of you, sometimes accompanied by a hand rolled cigarette hanging from his lips, or joined by a sneer at some bad joke you told.

But it wasn’t normal. Not this time.

Hungry, hungry, hungry, you devoured the sight of his bare skin.

While he stirred the finely diced carrots and potatoes, you were afforded the time to admire the art no longer hidden by coveralls. Guessing at the older blotchy etches on his inner arm, theorizing about the origins of the souvenirs done in various stages between professional and very not professional, probably by himself or a friend. He didn’t have many, but it was easy to get caught up in the collection of motifs spanning from the top of his shoulders, and crawling in disorder downwards, to a tiny dagger at the apex of his bicep, two dice above his elbow, and a classic twist of barbed wire. Very cool and tough, but your roving stopped at one tattoo in particular.

Rather, one cluster of tattoos making up a whole.

“The bats..”

He perked up at your whisper–”Hm?”–and looked down at his arm. “Oh, yeah. These were my fourth, I think? Somethin’ like that. You like ‘em?” he asked, mouth cutting into the same delighted place a smirk originated from, but with more fascination as he too realized this was your first (technically second) time seeing his exposed arms.

Sucking in your cheeks to curb your habit of smiling at everything he said, you nodded in response, falling into a rhythmic head dip as you thought back to your first time meeting Adrie, and the picture she drew for you, and her Halloween costume, and how she chose not to dress as a princess like all her friends, but as a bat instead, because her daddy liked bats. “Yeah.. Yeah, I like them.”

He removed the twist tie from around the crackers and counted out three, stacking them neatly between his palms and, without warning, crushing them into his soup, sending a fine powder into the air.

It was obvious you were watching him on account of your untouched food, but it was beyond your control. Winter created a barrier between you and his skin. You needed to reap the beauty now while you could. Learn what you could, like the scorpion above his collar bone opposite the viper, and the eyeball monster with tentacles twisting over the bulk of muscles laying dormant in his solid forearms, and whatever the hell else was peeking out from under his tank top.

He scraped his spoon along the bottom of his bowl, and determined he needed one more cracker to make his soup as thick as he liked, and collected it from the crinkly pack. Yet another simple movement he had executed hundreds of times in front of you, and yet..

You stared. And stared. And stared. And made a sound of disgust. Rising from your chair, you loomed an impressive shadow over Eddie’s face as he gazed up at you with an expression of open confusion.

His eyes were trained solely on the pretty glint in yours. 

Shiver. Goosebumps.

He jumped at your bold finger slipping under the strap of his tank top to move it aside. You pinched your brows, narrowed your eyes, and pressed your palm to his skin, enthralled by the sensation of him existing under you, aware of the full breath he took to fill out his chest as you introduced the touch.

Humming, you studied your hand cupped over the black widow spider inked onto his naked pec, and concluded, “That one’s smaller than my palm.”

The pale saltine cracker shattered in his grip.

Acting oblivious, you scooted your chair under you, sat, smoothed your hands over your lap as if a napkin existed there, and slurped your spoonful of soup as if you had done something as natural as point out the weather.

He released his surprise in a huff, and brushed the crumbs from his palms. “You are the lamest person I have ever met.”

“Have you met yourself?” At his weak glare, you slurped more of your soup. An amicable silence followed–the sort of camaraderie communicated through full bellies–but there’d been something on your mind since he willingly opened himself up to you and shared his past, expecting his name to become a forgotten word in your mouth and nothing more. “Hey, since we’re like, baring our souls and shit tonight, do you want to know why I created my ‘yes’ policy?”

Instead of a comically over-quirked eyebrow, he showed genuine interest in listening to your story. He set down his spoon, and turned his full attention to you. “I’m intrigued.”

“I’m tellin’ ya now, it’s not as riveting as yours, but uh,” you faltered on a pause, and fostered the same sort of nervous shrug he did. “Growing up, my parents were really.. negative, I guess is the best way to put it. Like, they wouldn’t let me hang out with friends, told me I’d never amount to anything, said I was a disappointment. Y’know, normal stuff. Uhm, I wasn’t allowed to do much, only really leaving the house to go to school or go to my job when I was old enough to have one. They said I’d never live up to their expectations, I was a failure, I’d never get a boyfriend, I’d be a bad wife, I’m going nowhere in life, and I’m an annoyance and take up too much of their time, and I was never wanted.” You swiped your tongue along your top teeth, and popped your lips after perhaps sharing too much. “Anyway, I made good grades in high school, so I took a lot of electives, and one of those happened to be Drama class. This may come as a surprise, but I was really shy at first, but after a while I got used to playing different roles, and fell in love with the freedom of becoming whoever I wanted on stage. And one day my teacher taught us a lesson in improv, and yeah.. the moment she explained the concept of ‘Yes, and..’ I was hooked. Just the mindset of nothing being rejected, and no idea was made fun of, or shot down was brand new to me. And as you can infer by now, I adopted that ideology for my own life, and, uh, yeah, I’ve been saying ‘yes’ to everything since then and never looked back. Literally, I’ve talked to my parents like, once since moving out, and that was about my insurance.

“Uh, anyway,” you said, still talking a mile a minute, “it did kinda create a people-pleasing complex for a while. I wanted to say ‘yes’ to everyone because it made them happy, since, y’know, I was always told ‘no’ and it did the opposite. But it’s whatever. And, uh, while we’re doing this, I wanted to apologize for always pointing out that you’re single.” You avoided eye contact. “Kinda harsh in hindsight.”

He broke into a laugh–a loud clap like thunder, and curling in on himself–finding the humor in your flustered state.

“Well, I’m glad you find it so funny,” you deadpanned.

“No, no, sorry–” He concealed his giggles behind his knuckle crooked to his lips. “I, yeah, I’m sorry for pointing out that you’re single too.”

“Appreciated.”

The brief teasing commenced to a slight frown between his eyebrows. His gaze drifted to his soup, worry twisting at his lips as the bubbles of oil sloshed across the surface of the reddened broth, trembling in ripples from his bouncing leg.

Eddie was emotionally fatigued. Words weren’t coming to him–none that carried the weight they needed–so he offered an alternative to hollow apologies.

He brought a shaky spoonful of soup to his lips, and dribbled some off the side as he overcorrected the angle he needed to slide it into his mouth. The next dive for a potato proved just as awkward, trepidatious, but the struggle of eating with his non-dominant side was worth it.

Your fingertips brushed over saltine dust as you accepted the proposal of his hand resting at the center of the table, palm open, and fingers coaxing you to reunite skin on skin.

“I like your policy,” he said, voice gone gruff with the exhaustion of the day.

“Really? On more than one occasion you’ve called it stupid, irresponsible, absurd, the dumbest thing you’d ever heard of, naive–”

He shut you up by curling his fingers over yours, setting your cheeks ablaze with his unashamed thumb pressed to your bracelet. “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your policy.”

A powerful move, and you matched the intimacy.

You hooked your thumb around to the scars lining the backs of his fingers, and lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, giving yourself to him with each circle you massaged over his knuckles and between the joints. He did the same. Touching, touching, touching. Trusting. Melting into each other's palms. Holding hands with a man accused of so much, and forgiven so little. Holding hands with someone, just months ago, he brushed off as flippantly as her parents did.

He was sorry for the way he treated you.

You were sorry for the way the world treated him.

He squeezed.

You squeezed back.

~~~

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” you asked with a whine.

The pot of leftover soup still sat without a lid on the stovetop, and the serving spoon had a layer of scum dried to it. The dirty bowls and spoons were stacked in the sink, and Eddie hadn’t moved his wet laundry from the washing machine yet. Surely, you could help by wiping up the crumbs on the table, or cleaning up the spilled toothpaste on the bathroom sink, or–

He clapped his hands on your shoulders. “No,” he stressed slowly, “it’s late, and I’d prefer it if you got home before Buckley’s mom starts filing a missing persons report, and adding another rumor to my ass.” You cupped his elbows–barricaded from his body heat by his jacket–and opened your mouth, ready to argue. “And I swear if you don’t turn on your bike’s headlight, I’m gonna–”

You threw your head back, and groaned, “You’re so annoying.”

With the trailer’s door open, the quiet night penetrated the mix of air colliding from his warm kitchen and meeting the windless cold from the season, joining where your bodies connected on his cement steps. Your shoes dragged on the pebbly concrete in a woeful goodbye, making your effort to leave appear utmost arduous, tacking on a classic bottom lip pout when you both relinquished your holds on each other, and he shooed you off.

Not like you actually wanted to clean his house, it was just fun to annoy him into thinking you did.

Leaned against the doorway, he crossed his arms and tilted his head, mirroring your fondness in his gaze. “Yeah, yeah. Get out of here before people start gossiping about the pretty girl leaving my trailer, alive.”

The sudden belly laugh escaping you reverberated off the metal boneyard.

You slapped your hand over your mouth. “Sorry,” and after a thought, you asked gently while crouched to unchain your bike from the handrail, “Do you normally joke about what happened to you?”

His shadow shrugged over the hubcap hidden amongst the crunchy brittle grass. “Makes it easier, sometimes.”

“Noted.” You threw your leg over the seat, and made a big production of clicking on the headlight situated between your handlebars. “See you at work tomorrow, pretty boy.”

The scoff he was going for devolved into a snort. “Bye. Be safe. Please.”

Eddie locked the door behind him.

For minutes he stood at the center of his uncle’s trailer. It looked much the same as any other day when he came home from work, if not neater. But things had changed. As much as he liked eating across from Adrie, the two bowls in the sink were adult-sized, and it wasn’t the scent of stale smoke clinging to Wayne’s flannels that had Eddie throwing his arms over his head, locking his grip around his wrist, and twisting back and forth on the spot.

“Not exactly what I meant when I said I was gonna invite her over,” he informed no one but the darkness behind his closed eyes, remembering he promised Adrie that you’d come over soon.

Inhaling deep, he expelled a loud sigh and addressed the leftover soup. “But what a fucking night, huh?”

Inundated by the heaviness of feeling wanted, he opened the fridge and grabbed a tall boy stuffed behind the shelf of condiments. It wasn’t a drink of sadness as it usually was, but in celebration.

Afterall, he had much to celebrate. He held your hand. Twice.

And, not to mention, you know, how he showed you the gruesome details of the reality he lived in–his home, his reputation, his daughter sneezing into his open mouth when he was instructing her on how to take her temperature while you gagged from outside her bedroom. You knew it all, and you’d see him tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Morning smiles, afternoon laughter. Maybe he’d even ask that question he’d meant to before you left.

But for now..

He ran his fingers over the old tattoo on his shoulder, and pressed his palm over it, replicating the weight of your head resting there when you so lovingly witnessed Adrie being his best wingman, hugging her stuffed unicorn while she slept. It’s what gave him the bravery to wrap his arm around you. And what did you do in return? You leaned into him with a smile, utterly charmed by his forwardness, if his cynical eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

A voice in the back of his head whispered a seed of doubt, but after a sip, he dismissed it.

“Still fucking got it, Munson,” he complimented himself, downing a long gulp.

————

See you at work tomorrow..

You definitely didn’t see him tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next.

“Here you go, my lovely,” Robin cooed. She entered your room on tiptoes, ever so quiet, and placed your requested bottle of Nyquil on the bedside table with a glass of water. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

You broke from your nest of blankets for the lone reason of glaring at her saccharine voice; somehow sweating through yet another t-shirt, while still shivering as if you’d just emerged from an ice bath.

“Aw, don’t look so grumpy, baby,” she comforted you with a pinch to your cheek. “It’s what you get for locking lips with Eddie.”

“I did not–” You cut your own self off with a round of coughs, making your attempts at speaking scratchier, and scratchier. And by the time you’d recovered, Robin had escorted herself out of your vicinity.

Her giggles haunted you from downstairs.

“Yeah, she’s fine!” She yelled to her mom. “Just lovesick.”

You rolled over, and sighed.

Goodbye extra sick day.

[eiightysixbaby]

cruel summer

no rules in breakable heaven

word count: 6.7k

pairing: modern!fuckboy!eddie x fem!reader

summary: eddie is your summer fling, your friend with benefits - or at least, that’s all he’s supposed to be. what happens when your feelings get in the way?

cw: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI - SMUT. eddie is a fuckboy!! he acts like an ass in this, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, angst, hurt with no comfort (yet), alcohol consumption, use of pet names, reader cries, like a lot honestly, miscommunication/misunderstanding, use of Y/N, as always if I missed something feel free to lmk!

author’s note: this fic is, of course, based on the song cruel summer by miss taylor swift, so I highly recommend listening to that if you haven’t! part two will be in the works soon! no idea when it’ll be posted, but it is coming >:)

Your fingers dug into the soft material of the mattress, face smooshed against the cotton sheets. Your brain felt foggy, the alcohol in your system making your whole body buzz slightly. Your back arched almost involuntarily as Eddie’s hips snapped roughly into your aching heat, bringing you fully back into the moment. He was railing you relentlessly from behind, rough hands taking a firm hold on your hips, keeping them in place for him. If it didn’t feel so good you’d almost feel bad for fucking in a bed that didn’t belong to either of you, Eddie having pulled you into a spare room at Steve’s house, escaping the noise of the party for some alone time. This is how things went with the two of you as of late, the wild and free atmosphere of summer leaving you craving each other and crossing boundaries. He’d call you late at night or maybe you’d call him, asking the other to come over. Letting Eddie fuck you raw till your insides burned and your body was spent. Leaving his trailer at 2 in the morning with your mascara running and his cum dripping down your thighs, just to do the same thing all over again in a few days.

You knew Eddie got around, knew you weren’t the only girl he was hooking up with. But the way he’d look at you when you were riding him and the way he’d caress your face as he’d lean in to kiss you made you feel like you were the only one. Like you were his. His energy was intoxicating, the sex even better, and you couldn’t get enough of him. No matter how hard you tried, he kept pulling you back in for more. Another hard thrust into you brought you back out of your drunk haze, his cock pulling all the way out just to slam fully back in. Your pussy welcomed him, enveloped him in the warmth of your walls, never wanting to let him go.

“Shit, baby, this pussy loves me,” Eddie grunts. “Suckin, me right in, fuck.”

You bite down on your lip hard, stifling what would’ve been a rather loud moan. Eddie pulls out and flips you onto your back, pushing your thighs to your chest, folding you right in half for him. Your pussy is on perfect display for him, wide open and pleading for him to come back in. He moves his hips expertly, cock gliding into you with complete ease despite his size. Your moans are staggered as he fucks you at a brutal pace, your whole body bouncing on the mattress with every thrust.

“My favorite fuckin’ girl, such a slut for me. No one lets me fuck them like you do, baby, mmmmmfuck,”

Your head spins at the praise, his choice of words. His favorite girl. You can’t help but wonder how many other girls he calls his favorite, too. You shake the thoughts away promptly, trying to allow yourself to just enjoy this moment with him. Enjoy having him for as long as you can. His calloused fingers are pressed into the doughy skin of your thighs, gripping with such intensity it almost hurts. Before you can fully process it you’re cumming around him, walls tightening over and over in a staggered pattern.

“G’na cum inside this pussy, baby, shit,” Eddie grunts before finally letting go.

His release paints your insides, your tight cunt milking every bit out of him. He pulls out once he’s fully spent, smacking your ass for good measure. You hear him zipping up his jeans, his belt buckle clanking as he secures it. He grabs a few tissues from the bedside table, gingerly wiping you clean before tossing them in the wastebasket.

“You’re such a doll, you know that right?” he asks, bending down to give you a quick peck on the lips.

You give him a half hearted smile, but he doesn’t seem to notice there’s any sadness behind it. He cautiously opens the bedroom door, slinking out under the guise of “letting you get situated”. Just like that, the euphoria is over. Your moment with him is gone, and he’ll slink back to the hustle and bustle of the party, leaving you in the shadows. You didn’t want to fall so hard for Eddie when your whole charade started, you really just wanted a fuck buddy. It’s just that he’s so goddamn alluring, and he’s sweet when he wants to be. He makes you feel good in ways no other guy has been able to, and it’s like you get drunk on him. You’re tumbling head over heels for Eddie, and to him you’re just one of many notches on his belt.

You fix yourself up, tidying up your appearance before heading back down to the party. A song you don’t recognize blares over the speakers, colorful lights flashing in the otherwise dark house. You check your phone for any texts, reading one from Nancy asking where you went. You decide you really don’t feel like answering that right now, slinking into the kitchen for another drink and slipping your phone back into the pocket of your jeans. You pour yourself some of whatever inebriating mixture sits in the pitcher on the countertop, the bright blue liquid filling your red plastic cup. You sip the drink, probably quicker than you should, walking past groups of people - couples getting a little too friendly with each other, a shirtless guy you don’t know standing on a table, a few girls huddled together on a sofa taking selfies.

You walk out to the backyard, the noise of the party becoming too much. The night air is warm and it smells sweet, a bonfire lit in the fire pit on the opposite side of the backyard. The unmistakable scent of the burning wood clings to your nose as you glance up into the trees where fireflies blink slowly. Your thighs ache, and you swear you can feel Eddie’s cum still leaking out of you. Your stomach twists in knots at the thought of it, wishing he’d stayed to help you clean up, wishing he’d kiss you in front of everyone to lay claim on you, wishing he’d let you snuggle into him as you sat around the bonfire. Wishing so desperately that he’d make you his, the way your friends always joke that he should because they can always sense the tension between the two of you.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear a high pitched squeal and then a splash, looking up to see a girl’s head protruding from the water in the pool.

“Eddie!” she squeals, over exaggeratedly loud. “You got me all wet,” she pouts, “you’re gonna have to come in here with me.”

“No can do, sweets, can’t ruin the hair,” Eddie jokes, sitting down at the pool’s edge.

The unfamiliar girl pulls herself out of the water to sit beside him, reaching out and pretending to scrunch his hair with her wet fingers. Eddie laughs and leans away, grabbing her wrists with his much larger hands to stop her. She giggles as Eddie pulls her closer to him, slinking an arm around her waist. You feel like you could throw up, the skin of your cheeks heating up significantly. Eddie notices you standing up against the side of the house, meeting your eyes for only a moment before you turn and enter the large house once more. Your cup trembles in your hand, your stomach turning as you process the scene you just witnessed. He just fucked you raw upstairs, and already he’s got a new girl with him. He doesn’t even have the decency to wait until you’ve left, prick. You scowl, but the worst part is you know you can’t stay mad at him. You don’t actually think he’s a bad person, and you don’t know if you ever could. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when you feel a delicate hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N? Hey, are you okay? Where have you been?”

“Nance - hey. Uh y-yeah I’m just… not feeling so well all of a sudden? I think I’d better get going-” you stammer, furiously wiping the wetness from your eyes.

Nancy’s eyes are no longer trained on you but instead are gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the sun room. You turn to follow her gaze, and see that she’s looking right at Eddie, who’s now in the pool with the giggly girl, kissing her with her arms around his neck.

She looks back at you, catching the way you nervously chew your bottom lip and also catching the hickey that was left on your neck.

“You say the word and I swear to god I’ll kill him,” Nancy says, getting the sentence out just as Jonathan comes up behind her.

He doesn’t even need to ask who she’s referring to, and you see his eyes flicker up to look out the windows, becoming another witness to Eddie’s bullshit. He frowns slightly before turning his attention to you.

“Hey, kid, you okay?” he asks, patting you on the back with one firm hand.

You try to open your mouth to speak, but you can’t bring words to come out. Your throat feels thick and your lips start to wobble. You shake your head ‘no’ in favor of trying to talk and starting to sob, and your friends can tell you’re close to tears. You can hear Eddie and the girl shouting outside, and before you can turn around to look Nancy’s hurrying you out of the sun room. Her and Jonathan guide you into an empty bedroom, Nancy sitting beside you on the soft mattress of the bed, rubbing your back tentatively.

Your friends don’t know all of the details to what’s going on with you and Eddie, but they know enough. Considering most of them are your and his mutual friends, it’s not hard for speculation to go around based on the way the two of you act towards one another. And, quite frankly, they’re not stupid. You and Eddie disappearing for the same amount of time at group hangouts, the occasional flirtatious glances you share, you being visibly upset when he hasn’t spoken to you in a while, the pieces add up. They know you’re more sweet on Eddie than you let on and they know he’s a complete fuckboy asshole half the time, never quite knowing what’s going on with him and why he has to act the way he does with women. They never let Eddie in on your presumed feelings, they keep that secret guarded with their lives and for that you’re grateful. You know they know and you also know they’ll never make you say it out loud unless you’re ready to. But you have a feeling they must grow weary of picking up your pieces when he lets you down yet again, in ways they don’t have the full details on.

Nancy and Jonathan offer to get you a glass of water, both of them embarking on the rather simple task solely so they can discuss the situation at hand.

“What the fuck is his problem!?” Nancy seethes loud enough for her boyfriend to hear over the music.

“I don’t know, Nance, I don’t know. But I do know that if I have to see Y/N break one more time because of him I’m gonna lose it,” Jonathan responds, weaving past people in attempt to keep up with her.

Nancy just looks at him, her eyes sad and a little defeated. Jonathan understands the look. The look that says she knows Eddie upsets you far more than you ever tell them, a look that says she wishes she knew what to do in this situation.

She turns on the tap in the kitchen sink, filling a cup with ice and then with cold water. She jumps, spilling a little bit of the cup’s contents as Eddie walks in from outside, whooping and hollering and very intoxicated. The girl from the pool is clinging to his side, her hands roaming all over him. Jonathan rolls his eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter and facing away from the commotion.

“He’s such a fucking asshole sometimes,” Nancy says finally, having refilled the cup, now wiping her wet hand on her skirt. “Someone needs to knock some sense into him, or I’m gonna knock his teeth in.”

“Oooo, kitty’s got her claws out,” a voice purrs from beside her.

Nancy gasps, earning a roar of a laugh from Eddie. She smacks him on the arm, typically open to Eddie’s jokes and antics but extremely done with him in the present moment.

“Who’s got you so worked up, Nance?” Eddie slurs, stumbling a little before Jonathan shoves him back upright.

“He’s talking to me right now, actually,” she gives him a fake tight lipped smile, trying to push past him and get back to you.

“Me? What’d I do? You’ve barely even seen me all night!” Eddie shouts, almost knocking into a couple party goers as he tries to catch up.

“I really shouldn’t have to tell you what you did wrong, Eddie. Get your head out of your ass for once and figure it out yourself!” Nancy yells.

There’s a lull in the music as she says it, and several people turn to look in their direction, Steve and Robin sharing confused glances at the sight. Nancy storms off, leaving Jonathan face to face with Eddie.

“Think about it, man,” is all Jonathan says before he walks away, following after his girlfriend.

Eddie stands there, in the middle of a room packed with people, suddenly feeling very, very alone.

•

It’s been a week since you sat in a bedroom in Steve’s house, crying into Nancy’s shoulder as she did her best to console you. It’s been a week since you’ve had any interaction with Eddie, and your heart ached. Not because of how he behaved at the party, no, you couldn’t bring yourself to stay mad at him. Your heart ached with a longing to see him, a deep desire to have him. You’d kept the ringer turned up on your phone, hoping he’d call or text and ask you to come over, but to no avail so far. You huffed, dropping your phone down onto your bed beside you after checking it for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. Your bedroom window is open slightly, letting the soft breeze and the sounds of summer nights penetrate your otherwise quiet abode. You lay with your legs dangling off the edge of your mattress, staring up at your ceiling and trying to will yourself to get up. You finally bring yourself to stand, pulling your coziest sweatshirt over your head and slipping on some shoes. You trod down the stairs to the lobby of your apartment building, stopping in front of the vending machines they so nicely placed there for residents. You were running out of snacks because you couldn’t bear to go out and go grocery shopping, so this was your best bet. You deserved some Cheetos and maybe a chocolate bar, god dammit. You stand there for a moment, skin glowing a blue-white hue from the fluorescent lights inside the machine. Your phone chimes in your pocket, breaking you from your haze. You grab it embarrassingly quickly, almost dropping it as you hold it up to look at the screen. It’s only Robin, sending an embarrassing photo of Steve at work.

You sigh, stuffing your phone back in your pocket and letting your head hang. You take a breath, trying of make yourself feel some sort of normal right now. You’re fine. You don’t need Eddie. You’re not gonna die. You press a few buttons on the vending machine, inserting your card before it dispenses your selections. You’re trudging back up to your apartment, ripping into your bag of Cheetos when your phone rings. You manage an impressive amount of self control as you wait till you’ve fully opened your door and taken your shoes off to see who’s calling. Eddie’s name lights up on your screen, and you feel your stomach do a somersault. You answer the call with shaky hands.

“Hello?” you force out around your mouthful of cheesy snacks, trying to sound as graceful as possible.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry I’ve been a little MIA lately. I missed you,” his voice purrs into the phone.

“I missed you too…” you admit, going against your brain telling you not to give into him.

“What’re you doing right now? Can I come pick you up?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah of course. I’m not doing much of anything,” you can’t help but smile as you say it, your cheeks heating up.

“Cool, I’ll be there in fifteen,” Eddie promises before ending the call, leaving you standing in your living room with your cheese powder covered fingers, smiling at your phone like an idiot.

You hurry into your room to change, slipping on a loose little tennis skirt and a snug fitting crop top, the fabric hugging your body and accentuating your breasts perfectly. You pull a thin cardigan sweater over top of it to ward off the chill of the nighttime air. Eddie’s true to his word and in about fifteen minutes your phone chimes with a text from him.

‘Here. Don’t keep me waiting ;)’

You scurry out the door, grabbing your bag and your keys. You hurriedly apply a bit of lipgloss as you run down the stairs, knowing Eddie likes the flavor of this one. Eddie watches you from out his windshield as you come bounding towards his car, giving him a sly little wave in the process. He licks his lips as his eyes rake up and down your frame. You swing open the passenger side door, sitting down on the seat and letting your bag drop to the floor.

“Hey, sweets. You look pretty tonight,” he says, grabbing one of your hands and kissing it as he winks at you.

You blush, wondering if he’s sweetening you up to make up for the events of the party. You once again find yourself clinging to the notion that this time it’ll be different, this time he won’t leave you, this time he’ll stay the night after and you’ll make breakfast together in the morning and dance together in the kitchen. His hand squeezes yours as he drives, and he turns up a song on the radio. His stereo is tuned to the oldies station, as per usual. Hysteria by Def Leppard blasts through the speakers, Eddie tapping the fingers of his left hand on the steering wheel as he sings along exaggeratedly.

“I gotta know tonight, if you’re aloneeee toniiiiiight!” Eddie sings, off key and purposely pitchy to make you laugh.

You giggle in the passenger seat as he steals glances at you while he sings along, his right hand entwined with your left.

“Can’t stop this feelin’, can’t stop this fiiiiire,” he continues on, bringing your hand to his chest and pounding on it in a passionate performance.

The drive continues that way, Eddie singing any song he recognizes and turning every single one into a ballad somehow, serenading you. You’re a fit of giggles and stolen glances in his direction, smirking whenever you meet his eyes. You feel more alive in this moment than you have all week.

Tires crunch over gravel as Eddie’s car finally pulls into a parking spot behind The Hideaway, a local bar-slash-restaurant that leans further into the bar aspect with cheap drinks and greasy food, perfect for a summer night. Eddie jogs around to your side of the car to open the door, grabbing your hand and helping you out. He’s being much more chivalrous than usual and it makes your heart swell. This feels like a real date, and your hands tremble with giddiness. The two of you grab a table once you’re inside, the skin of your thighs sliding over the cool material of the booth. You order a couple drinks and whatever food strikes your fancy, one of Eddie’s hands reaching across the table to stroke your arm now and then as you sit and talk. You don’t miss his wandering glances down to your breasts and your lips, and he doesn’t miss the way you eye his ringed fingers and the chain around his neck.

Once you have a few drinks in you, you’ve loosened up quite a bit. Music plays loudly throughout the building and several people have gathered on the makeshift dance floor, moving to the rhythm. You’re pulling Eddie out of his seat, walking backwards onto the floor to dance with him. You pull him close till he’s pressed against your backside, letting your hips sway against him. You don’t miss the way he stiffens when your ass presses into his crotch, his body going tense and his grip on your waist getting tighter. You lean your head back a little bit, inviting him in to kiss your neck. His soft lips press into your sensitive skin, nipping at the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder. His dark curls hang in his face and tickle your skin, the cold metal of his rings digging into the soft skin of your waist left exposed by your crop top.

You dance like this for a while, touches growing more intimate and lips becoming more reluctant to leave each other’s skin. Finally, Eddie decides he can’t take it anymore. He’s rock hard pressed up against you and the way your body moves is sinful. He pulls you off the floor and into a private bathroom, locking the door quickly behind him. As soon as he does he pulls you to him, kissing you with fervor as his hands roam your body. You melt right into him, your body pliant to whatever he wants to do to you. Your tongue prods into his mouth and you roll your hips into his, taking what you want. Your hand tugs on the collar of his shirt, his breath coming out of his nostrils in heavy huffs as he kisses you like his life depends on it.

He walks you backwards to press you against the small counter for the sink, smiling into the heated kiss when you jump to sit on the counter immediately. His fingers find their way up your thighs, roaming further until they reach the sticky heat between them. Eddie wastes no time, hooking a finger under the fabric of your panties and sliding them to the side. You groan into his open mouth, and his cock twitches in his jeans at the sound. He dips two fingers inside of your warm, wet cunt, the digits being sucked in instantly.

“Pussy’s so fucking greedy for me, did my favorite girl miss me?” Eddie’s voice is a husky growl as he speaks, lips mere centimeters from yours.

All you can do is nod, a high pitched moan escaping your lips. His favorite girl his favorite girl his favorite girl. It never gets old hearing him call you that, he knows exactly what to say to get you to bend to his every whim. His fingers scissor inside of you, your wet walls squelching as he pries them apart.

“Fucking filthy, baby. Such a little whore for me, hm?” he grins, his pink tongue rolling over his front teeth.

Your moans leave your mouth in breathy spurts as he continues to pump his fingers in and out, curling them right into your sweet spot. You lean your head forward, resting on his chest as his free hand comes to rest on your lower back, keeping you close. His thumb presses to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bead with just the right amount of pressure. He knows exactly what you like, exactly how to bring you to the edge. You’re whimpering for him, his lips coming to crash against yours, teeth nipping at the plump skin. The alcohol in your system amplifies your senses, making every touch he gives you feel magnified.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me so soon?” Eddie groans, sensing how close you’re getting by the way your walls tense around his fingers.

You can’t even reply before waves of pleasure wrack your body, your orgasm hitting you incredibly quickly. You cry out his name as his fingers continue to curl inside of you, a smirk gracing his face, cockiness taking over completely.

“Suuuuuch a fuckin’ slut for me, hm? Gonna let me fuck you baby?” his husky voice fills your ears, along with the sound of his belt being undone.

He knows you won’t deny him, knows how badly you need this. You hear the zzzzzzzip of the zipper on his jeans being tugged down, watch as he pulls the black denim down just enough. Keep your eyes trained on him as he grabs his cock from beneath the green cotton of his boxers, yanking it into view. His boxers get shoved down with his jeans, resting just below his ass. The pink head of his cock is shiny with pre cum as you wrap a hand around it, lining him up with your aching hole. He sucks in a breath as he pushes the tip in, reveling in the way you tilt your head back in ecstasy as he parts your folds. Your tits are propped up perfectly thanks to your snug top and your push-up bra, swells of skin on display for his eyes to rake over. He dips down, attaching to your collarbone and sucking the thin skin, licking over the stinging bruises he leaves behind.

“F-feels so good, Eddie,” you choke out, gasping as he thrusts as deep as he possibly can, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“I know it does baby, know how much you love this cock,” Eddie growls.

His hands dig into your hips, holding you in place while he fucks you ruthlessly. The lewd sounds of his shaft gliding in and out of your soaked cunt echo off the bathroom walls, his balls slapping with every jolt of his hips. You tangle your fingers in his curls, knowing it drives him crazy. Eddie doesn’t let you in on a whole lot of the things that make him weak, but the hair pulling one was discovered involuntarily. You’d done it the first time you ever hooked up and he’d moaned embarrassingly loud before he could stop himself, and you’d been using the knowledge to your advantage ever since. He curses as you tug on his dark brown locks, his cock pounding into you even harder. Your body feels like it’s on fire in the best way, so close to release again already. Another bar patron knocks on the bathroom door, only grabbing your attention for a fraction of a second before Eddie grabs your face with one hand, turning you to look directly at him.

“Don’t worry about that, focus on me,” he instructs, his jaw hanging open in a moan as he drives particularly deep into you.

His forehead rests on yours, brown eyes staring straight into yours as he ruins you. The movement of his hips grow messy, and you know he’s close. You’re free falling over the edge in no time, your heavy-lidded eyes trying their best to focus on Eddie as your second orgasm crashes through you.

“That’s it, baby, so good for me,” he grunts, not slowing his movements even a bit.

“Cum inside me, Eddie, please,” you whine, clawing desperately at the collar of his shirt.

“Gonna give it to you, baby, gonna fucking cum,” he’s panting, rolling his hips a couple more times into your soaking cunt until he’s a goner.

You feel him twitch slightly inside you as spurts of his cum fill you to the brim. His eyes squeeze shut as he rides it out, slowly rocking in and out of you, milking himself for every drop. He pulls out of you carefully, causing you to wince at the emptiness. You hop down from the counter on shaky legs, his cum mixing with your release as it slowly rolls down your thighs.

“You’re so fucking hot, babe,” Eddie almost whines, grabbing your face to kiss you.

He situates himself back in his jeans and leaves you to clean up, telling you he’ll be at your table from before. You wipe the mess off your thighs with the horribly thin toilet paper the bar offers, sitting on the grimy toilet seat to pee. You deem yourself good to go after washing your hands and open the door, catching Eddie giving you a little wave from the booth you’d been sitting at. You bound over to him, an unmistakable wave of relief at the fact that he was waiting right where he said he’d be. The two of you are about to leave, throwing cash on the table for the staff to pick up, when you hear a chipper voice call your name.

“Y/N!?”

You spin around, searching in the direction of the voice when your eyes land on a head of strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

“Chrissy? Oh my god, it’s so good to see you!” you shout, turning to Eddie briefly. “I’ll be right back, kay? I have to catch up with her real quick!”

You jog towards your old friend, wrapping her in a tight hug. She doesn’t seem to take note of who you were with, or if she does she doesn’t pry for details, and you’re grateful for that. You hadn’t seen Chrissy much at all since high school, and the two of you get right to chit-chatting. You tell her about your job, she tells you about her breakup with Jason, so on and so forth. A little more time passes than you’d intended, so you leave her with a mutual promise to get together soon and yet another hug. You turn to find Eddie so you can leave, your brows furrowing when you don’t see him.

Finally your eyes land on him, sitting on a stool at the bar, a blonde bartender leaning over the counter with a hand on his bicep, and another woman standing on his one side, eyeing him up. The bartender leans further over the counter, her tits pressed together and on display from her low cut top, basically staring Eddie in the face. He seems to be laughing, striking up conversation in his disgustingly easy manner. Your stomach turns and your face grows hot, and you bring a hand to your mouth to muffle a cry as you rush out the door of the bar. The tears flow instantly, there’s no use in even trying to stop them. You grasp your phone in a trembling hand, dialing Nancy’s cell. The lights from the street go blurry as your eyes burn with tears, your chest heaving as the dial tone rings in your ear.

“Hello?” her voice picks up, concern evident in her tone given that it’s 11pm and you’re calling her.

“Nancy,” you sob, trying to steady your voice but it’s fruitless, “can- can you please pick me up? I’m at The Hideaway,” you stutter, wiping your nose with your sleeve.

“Jonathan and I are on the way. Sit tight, ok?” you agree and the call ends, leaving you alone until they arrive.

You tilt your head back, leaning against the brick wall of the old building, sobs wracking your entire body. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You curse yourself for believing that this night with Eddie would go any differently than the others. Your mind replays the way he sang to you in the car, the way he held your hand, the way he opened doors for you and stroked your skin at the table earlier. The lump in your throat is impossible to swallow, and you gasp for air between your cries. Nancy’s car pulls up at the curb in front of you, Jonathan in the drivers seat. She immediately jumps out and runs to you, leaning down to your shriveled frame as you curl into yourself. She all but scoops you up, an arm around your shoulder as she guides you to the backseat of the car. She gets in beside you rather than returning to the passenger seat, a gentle and soothing hand resting on your knee as Jonathan starts to drive. You catch the way he glances warily at you in the rearview mirror, face riddled with concern. Your head is pounding, the drinks you had earlier still making your thoughts slightly hazy and everything around you feel slow. When Eddie picked you up, you’d imagined yourself going home with him, making out in his van, tangling up together in his bedsheets. You hadn’t predicted yourself to be drunk in the back of your best friend’s car, crying like a baby on your way home. You mentally scold yourself, embarrassed with the way your friends have to see you, the way they have to try and pick up your pieces when they don’t even know what’s wrong. This is the second time in a week that these two have consoled you, and you feel horrible for making them put up with it.

“Were you with Eddie tonight?” Nancy asks cautiously, but there’s no judgment in her voice.

All you can do is nod, your eyes glassy as you gaze out the window. She squeezes your knee, and the rest of the ride back to your apartment is silent.

Nancy makes sure that you get safely inside, leading you into your room to help you change into some comfortable clothes. She fills your favorite water bottle and grabs your favorite blanket off of the couch, handing them both to you.

“Nance-” you go to thank her, but she cuts you off.

“You don’t have to thank me. You don’t have to say anything. Just take care of yourself, alright? Call me if you need anything,” she squeezes your hand and gives you a tight smile before leaving, closing the door quietly behind her.

The sobs that had started to subside come back in full swing once you’re left alone, hot tears rolling down your cheeks. You take shaky breaths, your heart feeling like it’s been shattered to pieces in your chest. You wanted to believe that Eddie was going to redeem himself this time, and to see that he had no shame about flirting with other women while in the bar that he drove you to stung deep to your core. What hurts even worse is that all you crave, still, is his arms around you, his lips on yours, a moment of peace in a fragile heaven. You curl into a ball on your mattress, letting all of the feelings out in the quiet of your lonely apartment.

Eddie was in a slight panic when he couldn’t find you anywhere in the bar. He had gotten bored while you were catching up with Chrissy, so he went to get himself one last drink before the two of you went on your way. He sunk himself onto a seat at the bar, where a brunette about his age was chatting with the bartender. The second he sat down, he could feel their eyes roaming all over him. The flirting was incessant from the get-go, and truly, all Eddie wanted was to take you home with him, his body craving a second round of you. He had no interest in the two women before him, but for the sake of keeping the peace he just allowed them to fawn over him, roaming hands and seductive eyes drinking him in. He made small talk, forcing smiles and even a couple laughs just to appease the crowd before he could dip. He downed his drink fairly quickly, intentionally so, so that he could make his exit and find you. All he wanted was to grab your hand and kiss you and hold you all night long and- fuck.

He shakes his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts. His brain had been overwhelmingly full of you since the party at Steve’s, and he was uneasy about it. The situation with you was strictly friends-with-benefits, nothing more. It can’t be more. Dark eyes scan the premises, searching for you but coming up unlucky. He checks with Chrissy, who didn’t see where you went after you said your goodbyes, he knocks politely on the bathroom doors to no avail. He goes out to his vehicle only to find it empty. He calls you once, twice, three times, only for the line to ring and ring. With ever perfect timing, a text pops up on his phone screen.

Jonathan: Nancy and I drove Y/N home. What happened, man?

Eddie’s brow furrows as he reads the message, why did you call them to take you home? What did happen? He curses to himself, climbing into his car and peeling out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of your apartment. His fingers drum nervously on the steering wheel, every red light feeling like it takes years to change to bright green. He finally pulls up to your building, his body feels unsteady as he walks up the stairs to your door. He knocks with a shaky hand.

You’re startled by the knock at your door, your crying having stopped for the time being and your body starting to relax. The knock comes again, urgent sounding, and you trod down your hallway and towards the door. Your head pounds and your sinuses are stuffy from your breakdown, and you wince as the loud banging sounds on your door yet again. You pull it open, met with the shaggy hair and big eyes of the man you’ve been wallowing over.

“Y/N, what the fuck!? You scared me half to death, why did you leave without me?” Eddie nearly shouts, running a hand through his hair.

His question dumbfounds you, and you almost want to laugh at the absurdity.

“Why did I leave? Why did I leave!? I don’t know, Eddie, why don’t you ask the bimbo bartender and her friend, and god knows what other women you flirted with when I walked away for maybe twenty fucking minutes!?” the words spill out of you, and you’re shocked at your ability to call him out.

“The bartender-? What? Sweets, I wasn’t flirting with anyone I was just-”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Eddie, okay? You pulled the same shit at Steve’s party last weekend! Hook up with me and make me feel sooooo special and then turn around and woo someone else right after. I’m sick of it!” your voice is raised, leaving Eddie wide-eyed in front of you.

“Oh, you’re sick of it? You’re sick of me?” Eddie no longer feels like he owes you an explanation, his need to defend himself taking over.

“I’m sick of keeping secrets, Eddie! I’m sick of not telling our friends what the fuck is going on between us because I don’t want to make you out to be the bad guy! I’m so god damn tired of watching you flirt with every woman under the fucking sun,” your voice wavers, anger trickling in.

“Why the fuck do you care if I flirt with other women? Why does it matter?” Eddie counters, holding his hands out in exasperation.

“Because I love you, Eddie! I’m in love with you!” you shout, tears streaming from your eyes now in a mixture of sadness and anger and passion.

The silence is palpable as Eddie just stands there, shaking his head a little bit. Your heart feels as though it might beat out of your chest.

“What, is that the worst fucking thing you’ve ever heard?” you challenge.

He turns on his heel and exits without a word, leaving you to slam your door shut. You sink down on the inside of it, tears flowing harder than ever before. His silent exit was worse than any words he could have said, cutting you right to the bone, leaving you to bleed all alone.

[eddiesxangel]

Stockholm Syndrom | Eddie Munson x Succubus!Reader

cw: contains darker themes so if you don’t feel comfy don’t read it. obsessive behaviours, mind control, magic, religion (nothing specific) demon!reader, cnc? (the demon controls Eddie in a way) seduction, submissive Eddie, female!demon, descriptions of the reader as a demon, p in v, oral, mild suffocation, dirty talk, cream pie, cum eating, biting, breeding!kink? (Idk reader needs cum to survive)

WC: 3.7k

Eddie was abruptly awoken in the middle of the night and felt like something was off. He looked at the clock and saw that it was exactly 3:33am. He felt a burning sensation all over his skin like he was being pricked by tiny needles. He checked his temperature, but it was normal. He felt like his clothes were suffocating him and had an intense urge to take them off. They felt unusually tight and itchy as if they were made of a different material. Eddie couldn't shake the feeling that something was different, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

As Eddie slowly regained consciousness, he noticed a peculiar smell lingering in the air of his room. It was a heady aroma, almost as if a candle had been blown out, yet none had been lit in his room for quite some time. He couldn't quite put his finger on the scent, but it was unusual and piqued his curiosity. As he lay there, his senses slowly coming back to him, he found himself increasingly intrigued by the mysterious fragrance.

He shuffled in his bed; taking his clothes off, he noticed a dim red light glowing from his closet. The more Eddie stared, the more he became hypnotized.

He wasn’t scared like he should have been. It was way too similar to the gates of The Upsidedow, but Eddie knew this was different. He felt a strange calmness and urge to go closer. He sat up, swung his feet over the edge of the bed, and suddenly everything returned to normal.

The shock in temperature jolted Eddie back into the confines of his warm bed. The February air seeped through the thin window pane of the new trailer that was graciously given by the government when his uncle was split in half during the “earthquake.”

He immediately went back to sleep, essentially forgetting about the whole experience until it happened again the next night.

3:33am, hot skin, smell of smoke, warm red light filling the closet, the need to discard his pyjama pants and boxers, but once he stood it all went away and Eddie was none the wiser.

For a week, this kept repeating, and it was no different tonight. 3:33am, hot, smoke, naked, but only this time Eddie stayed put in his bed. He had a feeling, seeded deep within him, not to move.

Eddie dared not to move, staring intently at the closet door. The trailer was empty but him; his room was dark, with only a faint red light inside the closet illuminating a small area around it. As he watched, the dim red glow started to grow brighter, casting a deeper orange hue throughout the room. The sight completely captivated him and couldn't take his eyes off the radiant light. He was so engrossed that he almost forgot to blink, and he continued to watch as the glow inside the closet continued to intensify.

Dry eyes travelled across the ceiling and down the walls, following the warm glow. Eddie's heart raced, but he wasn't panicked; he was excited to see what would emerge behind the sliding doors. Then, a shuffle emerged as if the clothes hung in the rack were being moved.

Eddie watched intently, waiting for something to happen. It felt like hours when it was merely seconds.

Then, out of the glow, slowly, the closet door slid inch by inch, your hand wrapped meticulously around the edge of the door, smirking to yourself that this silly little man finally let you out of your confines.

Your long, pointed, black nails tapped one by one against the plastic of the door before pushing it open with little effort, making the door rattle and shake against the track.

Typically Eddie would have let out a scream at the sudden loud noise but your aura was calming, almost soothing, like he didn’t have control over his emotions.

A sudden rush of blood traveled from Eddie’s heart to his cock, he hasn’t even seen you yet but all he could think about was how unbelievably turned on he was all of a sudden.

Eddie’s breathing increased as he watched the closet intently. He was frozen as his naked body lay there, cock growing hard by the second, but he knew he shouldn’t touch himself, not yet. If he waited, he would get rewarded. And god did he want to be rewarded.

You thought you’d teased your little play toy enough that you slinked one leg out, you were barefoot, lacquered black toes nails were the first thing Eddie saw, next was your dark red skin. Your smooth, thick leg stepped out from the door, and then your wide hip that bore only a dark loin cloth came into view.

You’ve waited, watched, and studied him for days to ensure he was the right fit.

You liked them slightly inexperienced, needy, desperate; you knew you could get him to beg for it, to feed you. The life of a succubus is not easy, especially for you when you have a certain type.

Eddie watched intently as you slowly exited the closet, fully showing yourself to your next target.

“W-who are you?” Eddie scanned your body, your long hair was covering your large breasts and the loin cloth was only covering so much of your middle. He was so transfixed on your naked skin that it took him a second to see your face, your beautiful face.

Your skin was a deep red; you had two blackened horns that curved up and over your head. Blacked-out wide eyes and full black lips. You opted to keep your wings and tail hidden as they would only get in the way.

“You’re asking the wrong questions, big boy,” you purred.

Eddie agreed as he took in your swollen breasts and thick thighs, your scary but intoxicating attributes, Eddie’s wet dream. He was but a stupid boy, mere human in the presence of a…you were… well Eddie had no idea but you were everything out of his wildest fantasy.

“I’m Eddie,” he introduced himself.

This made you giggle.

“I know you who you are Eddie” you purred again, slowly making your way towards his bed, your eyes locking in on what you needed from him most.

Eddie watched as your snake-like forked tongue licked your blackened lips, catching the white fangs that resembled that of a vampire’s.

“Why are you here?” Eddie spoke confidently.

“You want me to tell you? Or would you like me to show you?” You crawled onto the bed on all fours and hovered over the human. His wide eyes didn’t blink, and you moved above him. Your sharp pointed nail traced his alabaster skin on his cheekbones. A shiver ran through Eddie as this creature above him seduced him into submission.

“S-show me” he stammered.

“Good boy” you smiled showing your sharp teeth before taking his mouth on your own. Your leg swung over his hip to rest your naked pussy lips on top his already painfully hard length that was laying flat against his stomach.

A loud groan escaped Eddie’s throat as he moaned into your mouth. You rocked your hips over his cock only three times and before Eddie knew what he was happening, he was cumming.

“Oh my god oh my god” he was so embarrassed, how could this be happening?

“Mmmmm, that didn’t take long to get what I wanted.” You smirk before slinking down his body to collect the white hot cum that was leaking across his bare abdomen.

Eddie watched as your long wet tongue collected his seed, and he swore he was about to cum again just watching you enjoy yourself.

“I’m sorry I- I- I”

“Don’t worry big boy, l’ll be back for more” you wipe off the corner of your lip and walk back into your tiny portal without another word.

"Wait! What? Who?" Eddie stood up to chase after you but you're were gone.

What the fuck just happened? Eddie came from a make out and a dry hump and you, then you just disappeared?

-

The clock read 8:26am, causing confusion to Eddie, who was taken aback by how quickly time had passed. He wondered if he had dozed off and immediately awoken or had never been awake?

However, the only plausible explanation was that he must have had an exceptionally vivid dream. The kind of dream that felt real, right down to the last detail. The kind of dream that leaves you questioning what was real and what wasn't. Eddie couldn't shake off the feeling that he was still in the grips of that dream, and reality was just beyond his reach.

The whole day, Eddie couldn’t focus. His thoughts were all about you; he was consumed by you. Whatever you were?

Eddie had been gripped by a feverish obsession, unable to tear himself away from his room. He spent his days in a state of constant vigilance, scanning every corner and every shadow, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Each morning, as soon as he woke up, he would rush to the closet, tearing through the clothes in a frenzied search for any sign of your presence. He tore apart the shelves, looking for hidden doors, false walls, any clue that might lead him to you. But despite his tireless efforts, he found nothing, and his search continued without end. Everything was underwhelmingly ordinary.

Disappointment flooded Eddie as the hours passed, and you didn’t show up. But Eddie held onto hope that you would come back.

Wayne eventually started getting worried by day three when Eddie didn’t leave the room.

Three days and you weren’t back. He was held prisoner by his own thoughts and memories of you. He was convincing himself that it was just a vivid dream, but something in the back of his mind he knew was real.

He obsessively drew every exquisite detail of you, capturing every curve and line with care. He eagerly incorporated you into his Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, weaving your seduction into the magical world he had created.

As he worked to clean up the garage where he spent his days, he often found himself lost in thoughts of you, imagining your body and the sound of your voice. He couldn't resist the urge to doodle you on the workstations, bringing you to life in his own small way. He even started writing song lyrics about you, even though there was very little to go off of. It was like he couldn’t escape; you were a shadow holding him hostage. You were a whisper telling him he would never get away, and he didn’t want to.

You were now his whole world and he would do everything to try and get you back.

Eddie had been stranded in your world for three long weeks. He spent every night trying his best to stay awake, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. However, despite his best efforts, he would eventually succumb to sleep, and every morning, he would wake up feeling disappointed and frustrated.

The passing days seemed endless, and Eddie grew increasingly desperate to find a way back to his regular life. His friends noticed a change in him, he was adgitated, not wanting to talk to anyone, he only wanted you back.

Tonight was no different, Eddie watched and waiting for the light to guide him back to you. But he was exhausted, hardly getting any sleep for the past three weeks. He passed out on his bed extra early, not even seven in the evening and was out like a light.

3:33am. Eddie gasped awake like all the other times, he smelled the burnt out candel, the room temperature changed. Eddie stripped himself of all his clothing as quickly as possible and lay still, hoping and praying to whatever dark angel that you were to come to visit him once again.

The room's glow brightened as you passed through your realm to Eddie's. You could hear his heart pumping faster as you got closer. You missed your little toy, but your hunger had been satiated, and you wanted to be greedy; it was fun to tease this human.

"Did you miss me?" You ask as you step out of the portal.

"Yes," Eddie quickly answered, sitting up against the headboard.

"Good boy." You praised as you saw he was already hard for you, not that he had much choice.

"What are you?" Eddie bravely asks.

"I'm a succubus, isn't it obvious?" you cock your head.

"What's your name?" he questions as you approach the bed.

"Nice try, you're smart Eddie, you know I can't give you that." You sit on his lap like you had that first night.

"What can I call you then?" He watches you trail your sharp claws along his chest as you hypnotize Eddie with your beauty.

"Don't worry about that" you cup his chin in your dark crimson palm, tilting his head up to yours so you can taste his lips. No human before him had tasted quite like this. You've been around for thousands of years, but something was different about this one.

"What do you want?" Eddie pulled away breathlessly.

"For you to stop talking. I'm starving." Your forked tongue licked a wet strip up from Eddie's collarbone to his ear before Eddie spoke again.

"But I thought you said you were hungry?" he stupidly asked, like he was about to get you something from the kitchen.

"Exactly." you deadpaned. Annoyed that he was still questioning what was happening.

Oh.

Most men you find and haunt are more than ready and willing. You thought this one was. You watched him fro weeks waiting for your return, making sure he had become obsessed with you, and he had. But now he was prolonging his own pleasure, and you were getting hangry.

"I want your cock Eddie. Will you give it to me?" your saccharine voice pleaded as you ground your bare wet warm pussy over Eddie's cock.

Eddie found himself agreeing immediately without thinking about what that could mean.

"Good boy." You grip eddie's wrists, making sure not to scartch him with your claws before bringing his hands up your your full perked breasts. You flipped your long black hair over your shoulders exposing your nipples to the man benieth you.

"Holy shit," you hear him whimper under you.

"Oh, yes, Eddie, touch me" You fling your head back at the feeling of his hard cock graze against your clit, rocking your hips along his cock just like the last time.

This time, you may have placed a little spell on Eddie for him to last longer. You needed to have fun too, It has been too long and you were only a succubus after all, you can't help yourself.

"Oh my god youre so amazing" Eddie praised.

"We havn't even started yet, hunny" you cooed as you pressed his face into your breasts while still grinding your hips down on his shaft trying to chase your orgasm.

You stick your thin tongue in his mouth and explore his taste more. He was smoky just how you liked and earthy and a little minty.

Thank god your little spell worked because if you were on your brink of coming undone Eddie sure would’ve been long gone by now and your fun would have been over before it had started.

“Mmmmmmm Eddie you’re making me feel so good” you praised as his hands explored your body.

His calloused fingers graised your deep cherry skin, he timidly groped a fist full of your ass before you let out a moan of pleasure as his hands explored more of your body, tugging at the only piece of clothing you wore it slipped off effortlessly.

“More,” Eddie moaned into your mouth.

“You want me to sit on your face, pretty boy?” It was like you could read his mind… maybe you could.

You tuck his wild hair behind his ears before he excitedly nods his head yes before laying back for you.

“Anything for you” Eddie was at your mercy, all he wanted was to please you, to worship you, to have you, all of you.

“Mmmmmmm, my sweet, sweet boy,” you swing each knee around Eddie’s head so they are planted beside each ear.

Eddie wraps his hands around your plush thighs pulling your full weight onto his face an dyou feel not feeling a once of guilt about suffocating him. What a way to go.

Eddie couldn’t believe how you could taste so good, so sweet. It was a miracle he hadn’t come already, an act of god…or demon.

“Fuck you’re good at this for a human” you hummed as your pelvis grinds into on Eddie’s lips. His tongue was working wonders as it entered in and out of your tight hole. You were riding his face, and he was loving every minute of it.

Closer and closer and closer, you were feeling the waves of pleasure consume you, your orgasm gushing into Eddie’s tongue as he lapped at you like a wild animal who hadn’t seen water in weeks.

After a moment of taking in your bliss you sit up off Eddie’s face giving him a change to breathe.

You hear a gasp of air as your thighs unravelled from Eddie’s face. You look down to make sure you didn’t accidentally kill him but when you looked down his eyes told you he wasn’t experiencing anything but pure bliss.

He deserved a reward for pleasuring you so well so you crawl down his body to return the favour.

“Oh god!” Eddie cries as your serpent tongue forked around the head of his leaking cock.

“We don’t speak of him,” you pop back up fully serious.

“Nonononono I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Eddie pleaded reaching out for you before you could disappear, you forgave him. He didn’t know, he was a silly little human and you were still starving.

“I forgive you” and you do by showing him how your warm wet mouth could take all of hick cock. For a human he has the prefect sized cock for you. Not so small, not too tick, and you know it would fill and stretch you so good, you couldn’t wait.

Incoherent murmurs were leaving Eddie’s mouth as you bobbed, licked and lapped at his hard length.

“Fuck! Oh, baby! I'll never leave if you keep holding me this way…. Oh, shit, look what you’ve done to me…” Eddie didn’t even know he was speaking as he was so drunk over you. You could tell he was a blubbering disaster so close to coming. No matter how much magic you had over him, the power of an orgasm was always stronger.

“How do you want me, Eddie? Tell me”

“Don’t care” He shook his head no.

“You want me to ride you? You want to show me how man you are by having me under you? You want to fuck me so hard and fast my face will be imprinted into the mattress? You wanna stick it in my ass?” You trail your fingers down to your clit, getting wet again, just thinking about all the fun ways you could have with Eddie.

“All of the above!” Eddie grabs you to get closer to him, so he can kiss you. Everything within Eddie is telling him to ravage you.

“Don’t worry my pet, this won’t be the last time you see me, you taste too good to let go just yet” you twirl a tangled chocolate wave around your talon.

“Thank go-odnees” eddie stuttered and you smirk at your silly human before pushed him down, needing him now. Your hunger ravished you; it was taking over your control.

Eddie shuffles quickly before guiding your wide hips down over his weeping cock. He watches as your hot red pussy envelopes him like you were made for it. And you were. Your body can shape itself to be made for whoever you are with.

“Made f’me” Eddie moaned as your hot wet demon cunt slips over him, wrapping him in the most pleasure he has ever felt.

“You like my tight demon pussy baby?”

“Fuckin squeezing me so good!”

“You gunna let me milk your cock big boy?” your pussy flutters around his bare cock.

“Yes, fuck yes, please, I need to cum in you.”

“Stuff me full, baby!” You picked up the pace as you started bouncing up and down on his cock.

Eddie was hypnotized by the way your breasts bounced up and down as your magic was starting to wear off, the need for Eddie to cum was all consuming.

“Need your cum!” You cried as you throw yourself forwards to sink your fangs into Eddie’s neck as you broke the spell, his hot deep spurted up deep inside you.

As soon as his cum hit your cervix, your own orgasm unleashed, forcing you to cry out as your pussy fed. Your body suctioned up every last drop from Eddie, draining his cock dry.

“Holy shit” Eddie lay there, breathless even if you’ve done all the work.

“Good boy,” you sit up to go. You got what you came for.

“Don’t leave, I love you.”

“Oh my silly, silly boy” was the last thing you said before disappearing into thin air.

Eddie couldn’t believe what just happened. He lay in bed, drained in all aspects, for hours. He was dazed and confused and not in the way he usually was.

The only thing that broke him out of the haze was the knock at the door of Wayne asking him to help him out front of the yard.

Eddie's eyes flickered open, feeling disoriented and a little confused. He tried to brush off the strange interaction with you as if it were just a very vivid dream. He slowly exited the bed, stretched his arms and legs, and went to the bathroom. The cold tiles of the bathroom floor sent a shiver up his spine, but he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that was lingering in his mind.

Eddie turned on the shower, letting the water cascade down on him, washing away the last remnants of sleep. He lathered up with soap and shampoo, taking his time to enjoy the warmth of the water. After he was done, he reached for his toothbrush and toothpaste, scrubbing his teeth clean until they gleamed.

As the steam cleared from the mirror, Eddie glanced up and froze. There, on his neck, were two small puncture holes that he couldn't explain. It was the only evidence that last night had actually happened.

He belonged to you, his Dark Angel.

Tags: @seexyyprincess @xxbimbobunnyxx @voyeurmunson @impmunson @mayaluvzyou @quinn-munson @ali-r3n @tlclick73 @thepurplelovewitch @asimpforthe80s @stretchedoutonthegrass @starksbabie @ghost-proofbaby @goosterroose @thewayitalknj @hellfirehottie420 @peachysink @lofaewrites @catherinnn @dirtyhellfireclub @hereforshmut @lovinnscarletknight @basicanti-socialb-tch @hsllfirescoops @munsonsbtch @douxiesaurus @taintedcigs @splendiferous-bitch @florabells @thorfemmes @dirtyhellfireclub @remuslupingf @mouthfullofmunson @oneforthemunny @fallenxcherub @lolzskye @bamquinn @seductiveplumber-blog @yourlittleangel7777 @lesservillain @cuddle-calum-luke @munsonology @lizzylynch1 @american-idiot-jpg @take-everything-you-can @gravedigginbbydoll @purplehazed-h @corrodedcorpses @penguinsandpotterheads @urhoneycombwitch @allthingsjoeq

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

NO MORE TEASING

Pairing : Cillian Murphy x fem! reader

Summary : You’re Cillian’s make up artist and set a ‘professional boundary’. Cillian decides to take what’s his when production is wrapped.

Warnings : Dubcon, fingering, blow job, dominating,

Word count : 1.9k

“You’re staring again” he grinned at you, those ocean blue eyes eating you whole. Indeed you were. The vanity’s lights illuminated your soft features, your focused expression and most importantly your plump lips which made Cillian’s blood flow like a river.

“I have to stare” you sighed with a blank expression. Your snarky response made him pull a face and you could feel him tugging at the hem of your top, his fingertips slipping underneath to brush against your skin.

“Ouch” he murmured as you continued fanning the brush over his cheeks.

Sighing to yourself, you continued your work. The silence was poetic. Cillian loved just watching you do what you do most passionately. The way your eyebrows scrunched together, how you bit your lower lip and the slight squint of your eyes. Most importantly he loved how you were staring so intensely at him, your undefying attention was stuck on him.

Finishing with one last sigh, you dropped your materials on the desk behind him and took a step back to imply that you were done, your hip poking out to the side a little. Cillian sighed and grabbed onto your hands softly, pulling you back towards him.

“I can’t wait to take you out after production is wrapped” he admitted, a gleeful smile on his lips.

“You say that with so much confidence” you scoffed slightly, pulling your hands free of his grasp after one tug. Cillian pouted as you walked across the room and poured yourself a cup of water from the dispenser.

Context, he asked you out at every chance he got, and a few more times in between that. For some insane reason you declined every time he practically begged you to treat you like a goddess. It was still undecided, if you wanted to go out on a date or whatever it may be with him. Maybe it was the age difference, or maybe it was because you just felt too insecure that he’d let you go mid production. How could you face him after that?

But Cillian was a catch, a charming gentleman who’s succession went miles. He was kind, gentle, passionate, emotional and intelligent. Everyone on set would kill to have a shot with the Irish bachelor. Yet, he was determined to have you, and only you.

People would be able to mistake your cheeks to have red paint on them by the way you would blush crazily every time someone would comment on the way that he looked at you. All of the women were jealous of you, the small town girl that managed to whip an A-list actor with the grace of your smile. Little did they know you were whipped just as hard for the dreamy stag.

“Come here” Cillian whispered, curling his finger towards him to summon you. As you approached him, he pulled your forearms closer to him.

Almost naturally, you straddled him and he stroked your cheek as he hummed. Neither of you could resist having another sneaky made out session. It almost felt like destiny with how you two had an empty trailer together. Tugging on each other's hair and rocking your hips over his, your tongues were fighting for dominance. Cillian won, effortlessly. These risky moments were fun, but the finest moments were when you talked emotionally and intimately to one another, discovering each other’s souls, developing a strong spiritual relationship with one another.

Suddenly, there was a bang on the door and a production worker called Cillian to set. You pulled away from him, he sighed and rolled his eyes. “You should go” you mumbled, brushing his hair back and wiping his lips with the back of your thumb.

“You’re such a little tease, you know that right?” Cillian chuckled as you slid off of him.

“Guilty” you smirked and opened the door before he could try to make another sneaky move on you. Cillian sighed heavily and stood up, he stood before the open door and looked you up and down slowly, his hand brushing yours that rested on the door before leaving without another word.

Then just like that, the production was wrapped. Your work with Cillian was done, but you were still trying to figure out if your little affair with him was over as well. Liking Cillian was an understatement, you were passionate about him but the ideas of the media as well as your personal relationships frightened you. You wished you could just run away together, be free from the world, have peace with him. But that would never be an option.

There was a celebratory party with the cast and other production workers. Cillian urged you to go with him, but you declined his offer multiple times. He even offered to skip the party and take you out instead. But you forced him to enjoy himself with his friends. The idea of being with him, intoxicated, intimidated you. What if he just took advantage of you and left you without another word. No, he wouldn’t do that.

Here you were instead, comfy on your couch with an empty bottle of wine and a second half full, as you watched your favorite sitcom. Your head rested on your propped arm on the couch’s arm.

You couldn’t help but to miss Cillian despite it only being a few days. The two of you were still messaging, but he has to get ready to move to a different production set. You missed the way he’d admire you, that thick enchanting Irish accent of his, looking into his mesmerizing blue eyes. Perhaps you did want to give it a shot, give him a shot, even though you weren’t exactly sure what he wanted to offer you. But hey, when else will you get an opportunity like this?

Occasionally you’d look down to your phone and read the messages Cillian was constantly sending. About how boring it was and how he just wanted to be with you. The wine made you feel a bit cheeky.

You just want to fuck me.

The seen mark appeared immediately. But the typing box didn’t appear, you watched the screen until it turned dark. You couldn’t help but to feel anxious, and a bit hurt over being left on read. Tempted to message him again, you chose not to and turned off your phone, trying to focus on the show instead.

Almost an hour later, you were dozing off to sleep when there was a knock on the front door. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked over to the door, who was here at this hour? But then your heart raced with excitement and suspense that it could be him.

You got up, brushed your hair back and waddled over to the door. Opening it slowly, your suspicions were confirmed.

“Hi” Cillian whispered, gently swaying by the door, he leaned against the frame as he smirked to you.

“Cillian” you gasped lightly, looking him up and down. He did look charming, the way his trousers snatched his waist and how his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you” he confessed, looking at your body slowly down.

“Cillian” you repeat yourself, in a warning tone this time as he stepped inside your flat. “How did you even know where I lived?”

“I have my ways” he shrugged his shoulders, his hands caressing your hips, a gentle moan escaping his lips.

“You’re drunk” you said sternly, but he didn’t care.

“So are you” he countered, his eyes quickly darting over to the bottles of wine on the coffee table.

Exhaling, you took a few steps back but Cillian took as many forward twice as quick. Before you know it, you’re pressed up against the wall with Cillian breathing by your ear. The scent of Guinness heavy on his breath as his hands slowly but firmly run up and down your torso.

“Cillian” you whispered, slowly looking up to him.

“I like the way you say my name, but I think I’d like the way you scream it more” he groaned, a wide grin on his lips.

The passion sparked off each other as you crashed your lips together. His cold hands excited your nerves as he ran them up and down your skin underneath your top. Lightly moaning into his mouth, Cillian’s groin pressed against your abdomen, slowly humping against you. His erection was tenting in his jeans already. His hands grabbed the sides of your face as he began rubbing his groin against yours. You moaned out, eyes slowly rolling back.

“Get on your knees, love” his tone was quiet yet stern.

You fell to your knees quicker than you thought you would. Naturally, you obeyed your sexual desires and ran your palms down his crotch. He gave a gentle nod of approval as you unbuckled his belt. Assisting you to tug his jeans down enough to free his member, you gulped at his size. The room was dimmed but you could feel the veins that wrapped up his length.

“Come on, be a good girl” he encouraged you, stroking your cheeks.

Doing as he said, your lips wrapped around his size. A slow hiss echoed through the hallway as you took him inside your mouth, more and more. With your tongue wagging around underneath his cock, his hands slipped into your hair, guiding you to go at a quicker pace. You opened your eyes and he was staring right at you, his mouth ajar open as his fingers gently massaged your scalp.

“That’s right, taking my cock like a good little whore” he spoke in a slow low tone.

His words shocked you. You would have never guessed him to say such a vulgar thing so openly. Your eyes widened with uneasiness as he patted your cheek. Attempted you pulled your head back, you were stopped by his hands, holding you in place with a wicked grin on his lips.

“Always getting me all hot and bothered right before shooting. Such a fucking minx, torturing my fucking cock” Cillian growled, picking up the pace so his cock was hitting the back of your throat. It was impossible not to gag on his size, your jaw beginning to act at his thrusts.

“Almost there” Cillian mumbled. Shortly after that, he fulfilled his promise and shot his ropes of white right down your throat. You didn’t like semen, it tasted foul, so you whined at the taste as he held your head down on his size until you struggled to swallow it all.

Cillian pulled you back up and pinned you against the wall once more. A harsh kiss was planted onto your lips. “I won’t fuck you, not yet. I’m a gentleman, I want to make it romantic for you. But I do need to feel you, right now” he hissed, his hand slipping into your bottoms.

The sudden touch to your clit shocked your nerves and you moaned. There was this animalistic sound that came from him as he felt how soaked your cunt was. Easily, his digits slipped deep into your canal.

“Cillian” you moaned out his name over and over again.

“You like my fingers eh?” Cillian smirked, his thumb circling over your clit.

Biting the inside of your lower lip, you were trying hard not to come undone right there and then. But the both of you knew how quickly he was pushing you over the edge. Sucking onto the side of your neck, your thighs squeezed his hand as you screamed out his name. Your orgasm was a tsunami, you struggled to stand straight, but Cillian made sure to hold you up.

With a huff, Cillian slipped out his wet hand and grabbed onto your cheek with the same hand, making you look at him.

“You’re mine alright? No more silly games, no more teasing, no more denying me. You’re going to submit to me, you got it?” Cillian ordered.