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theoldsports · 20 days

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SPONTANEOUS.

Art Donaldson x Reader

oops. it’s gonna be a series. i’m developing Lore. let me know what you think and where to go next.

warnings: 18+ please, drug use mention, drinking (underage), kinda sexual content.

LINK TO SORRY SERIES

Fancy parties were loathsome. [Y/N] thought so, at least. She hated being told to stop calling them fancy parties and shindigs and to call them by their proper names: galas, benefits, balls, whatever. It was exhausting. Her feet weren’t meant to be elegantly jammed into spike heels. [Y/N] liked the height she was, thank you very much.

Did supporting charitable causes have to feel so degrading?

Capitalism at its finest.

[Y/N] had been attending these things since she was a little girl. Seven or eight years old. So young, in fact, that she now can’t remember what demographic or ailment-research, or political party this goddamn yearly spring shindig was for. Mr. and Mrs. Zweig were always nice to her when she was a child. She wasn’t just a family-friend, she (and her parents) felt like friends that were family.

What made the lavish Zweig parties tolerable was Patrick Zweig. She had known Patrick as long as there had been parties to get dressed up for. He had scraped her off a marbled staircase step as a little girl when her polished pleather mary janes didn’t have the traction to keep her upright. She had cried when she fell. He had said: “you’re really loud, you know that?” And she had laughed. So they were doomed to spend eternity hiding in coat rooms and getting tipsy together at these things.

Patrick was never one of those boys that felt the need to turn his back on [Y/N] during the cooties years, or the so-she’s-your-girlfriend? years. The pair of them always managed to be simply themselves and that was enough. He was merciless and unapologetic, but he made a hell of a best friend.

[Y/N] was two months older than Patrick, and had been taller for their first two years of friendship. When his shift in stature occurred, it happened fast.

Patrick went away to boarding school and came back a gangly beast. [Y/N], though they hadn’t spent every waking moment (weekends and school days) together since he had left her for a racket and a tennis ball, was always pleased to see Patrick was still himself every time he came home. Louder and stupider each time, but still Patrick.

Though, one spring break was different. Eleventh grade, if [Y/N] recalled correctly. Patrick came home, tall and stupid as ever, toting a boy named Art Donaldson.

Art Donaldson was considerably smaller, and debatably less stupid than Patrick Zweig. [Y/N] understood that day why all the girls in her grade giggled about boys. [Y/N] could never tell Patrick that. He would have been insufferable about it.

Actually, [Y/N] felt jealous. That was also a secret. Because Art, unlike she and Patrick, was nice. Everybody liked him. Nobody ever talked shit about him. Adults loved him and his small-town boy manners. He actually was a rambunctious little jerk, but nobody else saw that. Everyone else got yes sir, yes ma’am, I’m well, how are you? He could turn that charm on and off like a faucet. Infuriating, right?

[Y/N] was also jealous because it was clear she had been replaced.

Patrick lit up like a Christmas tree when he was with Art. He never looked at her like that. Art must have been a better friend to him then she was. Patrick called her once a week to talk for years, but Art slept, like, six feet away from him. It simply wasn’t fair.

Because of that, [Y/N] remembers spring break was really hard. [Y/N] was acutely aware she had lost something she didn’t know she could lose to the human version of a fucking beagle.

[Y/N] couldn’t remember the grade they were in exactly, but she did remember the dress she wore to the Zweigs’ party that year. It was light green and had spaghetti straps. It was longer and more form-fitting than what she was used. Most of the girls her age had settled for lots of tulle and cheetah-print so [Y/N] looked more mature by comparison. It was the first time [Y/N] remembered feeling grown up at all.

To think she thought that all her excitement and contentment was wasted. [Y/N] sat in a plastic pool chair in the backyard curled up with her cork wedge platforms resting dangerously close to the water. She nursed a bottle of vodka she had swiped two months ago from her parents liquor cabinet to surprise Patrick. Meticulously, she had waited for them to be out of town and found the key to the liquor cabinet. A whole bottle just for [Y/N] and her best friend. [Y/N] had barely managed to keep it a secret that she had taken it. She had been so proud of herself and thought Patrick would be too.

Now, she was the only one around to drink it.

Patrick had put his warm, familiar hands on her shoulders and told [Y/N] to wait right there and that he and Art would be back in a sec. The two boys had vanished upstairs presumably to Patrick’s room with laughter spilling from their mouths. [Y/N] sat at the base of the stairs alone for twenty minutes.

According to the garish clock on the wall, at twenty-one minutes, [Y/N] disappeared to the pool. She officially hated Patrick too. He had left her alone at parties plenty of times, and she him. They’d dance with others, or sneak off for a makeout session with a pretty stranger. It had never been a big deal either way. This felt like deliberate abandonment for no good reason. That was a first.

“Whoa, save some for the rest of us.” A reedy voice called out. Art Donaldson. [Y/N]’s head glanced over her shoulder so fast at the sound that she almost made herself dizzy. It took little time to realize there was no Patrick with him.

[Y/N] pulled the bottle closer. “That was a really long one sec,” She replied. She planned to say that eventually in the wasted minutes she waited, but it sounded less cool now than it did in her head. [Y/N] sounded plain mopey and that was a shame. “What’d you guys do anyway? Where’s Patrick?”

Art shrugged and walked further into view. He looked a bit sheepish. “Being Patrick,” He didn’t answer the first question she asked. There was a half-smile tugging at his lips. Art looked nice. Brown dress shoes, navy jacket, white shirt. No tie. She could have sworn that had been a tie at some point earlier. His shaggy blonde hair was mussed, but she had yet to observe it being neat. It was fustrating how effortlessly nice he looked. [Y/N] thought that everyday from day one. “It’s getting kinda cold. You wanna head back inside? I was looking for you—“

“I’m alright here, but thanks,” she slurred slightly. “You head in. I’m not here to ruin your fun.” It had sounded bitter. She hadn’t meant for it to.

Art sighed and glanced away from her. He paused a moment and sighed. “I’m not here to ruin yours either, y’know.”

“You don’t have to make this into a thing. It’s fine.”

“Well, too late. Patrick’s being an ass. I don’t want you out here feeling like I’m some homewrecker. I’ve been on the receiving end of shit like this from him, too. He’s not trying to be nasty to you, ‘promise. Come on, I’m not gonna let you freeze out here.” Art said, stepping in a bit. The glow from the pool left green and white wiggly lines across his cheeks.

“It’s spring, It’ll warm up. Get back up to that party, man. Patrick’s waiting for you.”

“You’re being impossible.”

[Y/N] set the half-empty bottle down beneath her chair. “Nuh-uh.”

“Jesus… if you’re gonna be a jerk about it, at least take this.” Art frowned, shrugging out of his suit jacket. He seemed disappointed.

“Oh, Art, please—“

“No, no! You made your choice. Don’t let me spoil your fun with you and the… the vodka,” Art said, making a show of taking the jacket off and throwing it over to [Y/N]. The balled up lump of fabric landed in her lap with a soft thud. Her stomach churned. “All hunky dory now,” He said, holding his hands out to show he was no threat. Art’s brows were lowered protectively close to his eyes in what [Y/N] thought was an effort to mask slight hurt or rejection. He turned to walk away as [Y/N] clutched the fabric of his jacket between her fingers. Art turned back to to look at her for a moment. [Y/N] didn’t know what that expression was meant to mean. “Be careful, okay? For what it’s worth, you—you look lovely tonight. It would be a shame for such a, uh, such a pretty girl in a pretty dress to end up face down, stuck in the pool drain. ‘Night [Y/N].”

[Y/N] was glad for the dark because she felt her face heat up and dopey smile start to form at the compliment. Maybe she was drunk, but that had to be flirting. In the most fucked up way possible, but still. Why? Art Donaldson didn’t even like her.

Art had only managed to take a few steps into the dewy grass when [Y/N] begrudgingly called out: “Art, wait!”

She hated that she liked the smirk on his face when he turned around. He could tell what she wanted by her tone. What kind of fucker takes no for answer happily and still sets himself up for a yes in the end. “Yes?” He asked, trying not to smile.

“Listen, you’re right—“ [Y/N] stood up confidently, sliding Art’s jacket around her shoulders. And she stood up too fast and knocked her sandals into the pool. “Shit!” She cursed. She was still an age where cursing felt cool and unfamiliar. [Y/N] stood on her unsteady feet and watched her sandals bob out to the middle of the pool, propelled by her kick. She was embarrassed now as well. The stakes of everything felt so much higher than sandals in the pool of her best friend’s backyard. Booze will do that to the sanest of folks. [Y/N] dropped her face heavily into her hands. Great.

Quickly, Art cut his eyes between her and the shoes and back again. “Where do they keep the pool net?” Art asked calmly, without missing a beat.

“The shed.” [Y/N] said miserably and pointed a few feet away. Art bounded across the pavement around the pool to the shed. He tugged once, then twice.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “It’s locked,” He reported to [Y/N] from practically halfway in the pruned hedges. Art started the walk back to her. Once he was beside her, Art placed a hand gently at her elbow. “Come back inside with me. Please. Patrick may be able to get us a key and we can…”

But [Y/N] looked so sad from behind her hands. Even though all of this was so childish. She was also wearing Art’s jacket now and that did things to his brain. Her dress wasn’t not low cut and he froze for a second. All he could do was stare.

“Just do what I would do,” Patrick said. “It’ll be fine, man. She’s already into you, I can tell.”

“Well, if she’s into me, why would I do what you would do? That’s an awful suggestion, Patrick.” Art protested.

Patrick spun around in his desk chair to face Art as he rolled a joint. “I’ve known her since before I knew you. Just, like, be spontaneous. That’s what I mean. Spontaneous. She’s into that because she’s like that too. And she’s… wicked mean, so don’t start shit. She’ll surprise you, but like, in a good way. What I said before makes me sound like a jackass,” Patrick paused to laugh. “Be in the moment. Don’t get in your head about it. Which you’re doing right now— I can tell, Arthur…” Patrick drew out Art’s full name (which he hated) to get under his skin.

Art stood up from the floor in frustration. He glanced at his watch. Too much time had passed. The window was metaphorically closing. Hastily, Art dashed to the door. “I’m going down there. Poor girl’s been waiting all this time because you, my friend, are a shitty advice-giver.”

“Spontaneous!” Patrick called after him with a grin.

Art stared at [Y/N]. Then he blinked. Then tilted his head to the side. Spontaneous. Before he knew it, he was tugging his shoes and socks off and diving into the pool. Art had been right, it was getting decisively cold and the pool water reflected that. Art swam out to where the wedges had floated too, which had actually been fairly far. He wasn’t sure if the net would have gotten them that easily. Art nicked the shoes by the ankle straps and shook his wet hair out of his face. As he paddled back, he glanced at [Y/N]’s expression. She smiled wide with joy and surprise at Art’s sacrifice.

“Art! Thank you so much!” She said when he flopped the waterlogged shoes onto the concrete. Art looked up at her from the water and he only looked up her skirt a little bit.

“It’s no trouble. Repayment’s in order, though.”

“Repayment…? What do you—“

Art wrapped his wet, callused hands around both of [Y/N] ankles and flipped her into the pool. She screamed as she splashed into the pool. Then laughed hard. Art wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of his life.

“Wait, fuck, you can swim, right?”

Fortunately, [Y/N] could, and that’s the move that won Art Donaldson his wife.

—

“Honey, you have to get up so you can get ready…” Art’s mouth moved against the shell of [Y/N]’s left ear. His arm was tossed over her middle. Normally, it was Art that dreaded getting out of bed, but clearly they enjoyed switching roles once in a while.

A nap had turned into two-and-a-half hours of [Y/N]’s soft snores while Art held her. He couldn’t sleep much, but luckily he had something beautiful to look at. She ripped into him about his staring problem all the time. Art couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. “No.” She mumbled.

“Please…” Art’s hand trailed under her shirt and climbed up, up, up.

“No,” she sighed. Art’s hands groped her left breast and [Y/N] didn’t particularly mind. She shivered at the contact. Art had known every inch of her body over years. Neither was bored yet, though.

“It’s one night. One party. We don’t have to stay all night… He’s not going to be there, Lenora told me when I RSVP’d.”

They had an unspoken rule. They did not name Patrick in conversation when sober. The wound was too fresh still.

“Don’t talk about him, or his fucking mom when you’re touching me like that,” [Y/N] all but moaned as Art’s left thumb circled her nipple. “‘Thought we had to get up…”

Art smirked. “We do. At least you’re awake now.” He teasingly withdrew his hand entirely from out of her shirt and scampered out of bed in one agile zip of a motion.

“Art!”

She groaned. Rolling on her back to look at the ceiling, she glanced over at Art walking through the master bathroom doorway in his briefs. What an incredible ass that man has. “Motivation to leave the party early.” Art said and popped off into the shower.

Maybe it was selfish. Patrick and [Y/N] and Art hadn’t spoken in almost a year. It was no surprise to the Donaldsons that Patrick was an addict. He had been addicted to almost everything and everyone that crossed his path. What they hadn’t expected was him becoming so out of control that he missed the wedding of his two best friends and was sent into rehab once he was declared medically stable. The one person that both Donaldsons had fought to have in their own personal half of the wedding party. And he wasn’t there. And the wedding was expensive enough to go through with it amid all the bad feelings over Patrick.

Still, they were invited to the Zweig family’s charity or whatever gala. They would go like they always had, too. But it would be their first time alone, so to speak.

[Y/N] regretfully got out of bed while Art showered. She moved to the closet and unzipped her paper thin dress bag. The gown itself was beautiful, but not all too expensive. The year had been tight in terms of money. The wedding and the honeymoon were pricey enough before you added in rackets and competition entry fees and coaching. Art was an expensive husband to have. He made up for it. He was playing at his best too, so [Y/N] hardly cared. Who could put a price on seeing Art smile like that?

[Y/N] cringed if she had to pay more than two-hundred dollars for shoes or a dress anyway.

The dress was green. She’d worn a lot of green since she met Art. [Y/N] dreaded wiggling into shapewear and spending too long on her hair. Art had it easy. A tie, a jacket and trading his nasty watch for his nicer one. It wasn’t fair. It never was with Art.

She got ready all the same. The straps rested on her shoulders, thicker than the early 2000s straps she had been dumped into the pool in. It was longer than that dress. Almost floor length instead of mid calf. It was elegant for its price tag.

Once the dress was on, [Y/N] tumbled into the bathroom to do her makeup. The shared counter was way too small for both of their shit to sit nicely on. She would complain about that when there was more money in the bank account to do something about it. Art was taking longer than normal in the shower. Boner, [Y/N] thought.

As she started to put her face on, she could see Art’s face in the foggy mirror behind her. The sound of the water stopping and the shower curtain being tossed back had gone unnoticed. He was smiling slightly. “You look nice.” He said softly. Art toweled off his shaggy hair harshly behind her. He kept looking at her.

This is how Art was. He made these remarkable heart eyes at her every time he saw her. [Y/N] could be wearing a potato sack and she would feel beautiful. That look, that staring problem, was worse a hundredfold when she was dressed up. He kept glancing at her. She could see him in the mirror. He wanted [Y/N] to see. The blue and brown of his eyes cast further and further down her body.

“Staring.” [Y/N] said simply. She didn’t even look away from her own face in the mirror.

“Yeah. And?” Art smiled cheekily. His face was bright red not from the warm shower water. He wrapped his towel around his slim waist. [Y/N] applied too much concealer and less blush. “I, of all people, am allowed.”

“Idiot.” [Y/N] said. Art dried his hands profusely on his towel, knowing she would squawk at him if he left wet handprints behind on her dress.

Art’s hands wrapped around her waist. Great pains were taken to prevent other wet spots from splopping up her dress. So, so gently, he kissed the left side of her neck from behind. “I was thinking—” Art was always gentle in his own way.

“Ooh, dangerous.”

“Shut up. Y’know, this is the first Zweig party where your placecard is going to say Donaldson on it…”

[Y/N] nodded softly. “Huh. Yeah. That’s true.” She said, smiling a bit.

“I’m really, really excited about that. On the seating chart, we’re the Donaldsons. Isn’t that so crazy…?” Art whispered into her plush skin. “Plural. Two of us.”

Teasingly, she nudged him back with her elbow. The smile was still wide on her lips. “You’re being such a girl about it.”

Art didn’t let go or relent. He pressed feather-light kisses between [Y/N]’s ear and collarbone. “Am I? Hadn’t noticed.”

“We’re going to be late to this thing you want to go to so bad, Mr. Donaldson, if you don’t stop.” [Y/N] whispered, incapable of doing more. She did set down her makeup sponge and pot of foundation with a clack.

“Would that be such a bad thing? Only a couple minutes, right? We could-we could cut out some of the boring small talk and…” Art said, daring boldly to drag his tongue up her throat as the steamed up mirror cleared some. He never finished his sentence verbally.

[Y/N] gasped at the feeling. That was a brave move for Art. “You drag me out of bed early so we can be late anyway. You don’t make any s-sense, babe.”

He huffed impishly. Art spun [Y/N] around to face him. His face and shoulders were damp from the water collected in his hair, which desperately needed a trim. Carefully, Art brushed [Y/N]’s hair away from her face. “You’re right… I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you?”

“How?”

Then, Art’s mouth quirked into that crooked smile she loved so much.

“Please.” Art said in a hushed voice and boosted [Y/N] smoothly onto their rickety counter. “Give me ten minutes.”

“You can do better than ten.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Clock’s ticking.” When she said it, she heard Art’s knees hit the tile in front of her.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson #challengers movie #challengers #patrick zweig #tashi duncan

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foldingfittedsheets · 4 months

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I’ve always been a pretty good liar. As an adult I’ve come to a moral place in which I don’t use that skill set unless it will explicitly benefit someone. But when I was a kid all bets were off.

I think tiny child me was doing their little autistic best but recognized that some situations would be best navigated by lying as telling the truth never netted positive results. Whether it was because my needs often went unmet or ignored, or because I didn’t see any reason not to lie if it would be more favorable, I’m not sure.

This is the story of my proudest lie. The best lie I ever did. A lie that looking back I still go, damn, I was eight.

Our story begins in second grade. I was eight. My school was having a book fair and I spent my small stipend on Gulliver’s Travels. No idea why. Lacking further funds I wandered the fair and came upon the greatest sight known to man. Frog erasers. They were so cute and I was extremely into animals of all kinds.

The whimsy. Who could have known they made erasers in such wonderful shapes? I mourned that I’d spent my money already, and played quietly with the little frogs in their bin. That’s when I was approached by a few other kids from my class.

I didn’t know most of them very well, but enough that it was civil when they asked me, “Are you going to buy those frogs?”

“I’d like to,” I admitted, “but I spent all my money.”

“Why don’t you steal them?”

“I thought about that, but I don’t have pockets.” Indeed, stealing had crossed my mind but it had been a brief temptation. I wasn’t even scandalized that the other girls suggested it.

“Caitlin has pockets,” the leader of the pack said. And indeed, Caitlin in her purple overalls did have pocket space for two frogs. So Caitlin and I became partners. My role in the escapade was just... wanting frogs and walking out with her. We stole two frogs, a yellow and a purple, and united by the misdeed we played together with them at recess despite not really being friendly prior.

After lunch I was called from class to the library. The principal herself was there waiting for me. She had a somber air, almost mournful that she needed to punish me. It was self evident to me that I was here for frog crimes. Caitlin had cracked and taken the fastest route to forgiveness- snitching on an accomplice. Despite the fact that my role was just: wanted frogs, I knew I was going to be in trouble.

Now, I could have told the truth. Pulled a Caitlin and ratted on the girl who told us to steal them. But clearly I’d still be in trouble for having gone along with the morally bereft plan. I was mad at Caitlin for telling but not enough to foist the onus back into her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The principal asked kindly.

“Is it about the frogs?”

“Yes, Caitlin told us you stole the frogs.”

I quivered my lip and drew myself up indignantly. “I didn’t steal them!”

She blinked at my vehemence but since I looked near tears she carefully asked, “What happened?”

“I really wanted the frogs, but I didn’t have any money. So I asked the librarian if I could take them and bring the money tomorrow! But she was really busy and lots of people were talking to her, and she said yes! But maybe she was saying yes to someone else? And I thought it was to me but Caitlin didn’t, but I was going to bring money tomorrow!”

The principal. Was flummoxed. This was a situation in which I clearly thought I’d done no wrong, in which she couldn’t prove I had done anything wrong, and which the librarian would almost certainly not be able to weigh in. She regarded me not with suspicion but rather vaguely confused as to how to handle me.

I got off with a slight warning that I should pay for things before taking them, despite not having been the one to take things in the first place, and the frogs were confiscated.

I was vaguely worried they’d call my parents but years later when I admitted the story to my mom as an adult she laughed herself sick and said she’d never gotten a call.

#ramblies #funny #ffs foibles #writing #story #funny story

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wordsarelife · 3 months

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—starlight

pairing: soft!mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: mattheo had been liking you for years and when you loose your cat, it's finally his time to prove how good of a boyfriend he would be

warnings: really small mention of a loved one dying

notes: y/n is a bit luna lovegood coded

the morning was hotter than the days before, even though it was slowly becoming fall. mattheo and his friends had decided to stay inside for the first time in weeks and were now sitting in the Iibrary, busy understanding their potions homework.

"so" enzo mumbled, the words a bit harder to recognize, because he had the tip of his quill between his lips "what is the answer to number eight?"

"if i tell you, you won't learn anything" theo, the only one who was really understanding the task at hand, groaned.

"yeah, but we would stop wasting our time" mattheo mumbled just silent enough so theo wouldn't hear. blaise, who sat next to him, laughed.

"come on, mate" draco started pleading "you know i normally get these, but it's so hot outside, i'd rather swim in the lake"

"well, you have to earn that first" theo was not budging under the pleading of his friends. blaise, draco, enzo and mattheo groaned simultaneously

"where is pansy? shouldn't she sit here with us and be annoyed at you?" blaise asked, while his eyes wandered to the empty spot next to draco, that was normally occupied by the girl.

"she's got detention with mcgonagall, i'm copying the answers for her" draco answered

"well, now that's unfair" mattheo shook his head "why don't you say anything about that, theo?"

it seemed like theo hadn't even listened to what his friends were talking about. he was busy reading the next number and looked up confused. "what?"

"forget it" mattheo hid his face in his hands, while blaise and enzo exchanged a look, rolling their eyes

"woah" blaise suddenly made next to him "isn't that y/n?"

mattheos head turned, so did the rest of his friend's.

it was indeed you. the slytherins watched in confusion how you climbed the ladder leaning against the shelf. their confusion only grew when you didn't stop climbing at the highest shelf, but used your arms to pull you up on top of the shelf.

"what is she doing?" enzo mumbled

“i have no clue” mattheo watched you closely, following your every move.

he had been kind of in love with you since the third grade. his friends found his crush on you quite interesting, considering you were a bit curious and weird, but somehow all of them agreed that it was in a cute way, a bit too stubborn, a bit too much in your own world.

maybe the carelessness and constant happy mood you were spotted with only added to their confusion. mattheo wasn’t normally the guy to go for girls like you. and it was out of the ordinary to see him as nervous as he was around you. girls normally didn't make him nervous, but you did.

they all gasped simultaneously, as one of your hands hit the shelf a bit too far left and almost made you fall down.

“oh” you said, both at your close call and their presence, you had only noticed them now. “hi” you used the hand that had almost caused you to fall to wave at them

“hey, y/n!” theo raised his hand, copying your greeting, while his eyes were still fixated on the potions book on the table in front of him. he was the only one of his friends who was also friends with you, a result of your similar interest in astronomy.

mattheo watched you closely. he had stood up to catch you, in case there was another close call. him and the rest of his friends watched you as you crawled along the shelf.

“what are you doing?” enzo asked, louder than he had planned which resulted in madam pince shushing him. "sorry" enzo cringed, but it was already too late.

his voice had been so loud and sudden, that it had made you shriek. like mattheo had predicted, you lost your balance and fell down the shelf. luckily, he caught you before you could hit the ground.

“thanks” you smiled, patting his chest and climbing out of his arms.

mattheo was stunned at how relaxed you still were after almost falling to your death. well, maybe not death but you still could've gotten hurt really bad.

“i was looking for my cat” you smiled as if it was the most logical explanation, answering enzo’s question, without any hard feeling about him causing you to fall. “but she isn’t up there”

“ahh, alright” enzo nodded, acting like he understood what you were talking about, but he looked as lost as mattheo felt.

“see you later” you waved your hand at the boys before you turned around and left the library.

mattheo quickly grabbed his potions book, ready to follow you.

“what are you doing?” theo looked at him with narrowed eyes, almost sounding offended “we haven’t finished number nine yet”

“i was trying to..” mattheo trailed off, pointing at where you had last stood

“go” draco directed, pushing theo, who was ready to get up and discuss things with mattheo, back down in his seat.

blaise plastered a hand over theo’s mouth as he started protesting. mattheo nodded at his friends, silently thanking them, before he ran out of the library, hoping to still catch you.

to his luck, you had enough time on you to walk through the halls slowly.

“hey” mattheo breathed, matching your step “do you need help looking for your cat?”

“sure” you seemed happy enough about his suggestion “her name is starlight, but she doesn’t really answer to that, so there’s no point in calling her”

“okay” mattheo nodded “and she normally spends her time on top of the library shelves?”

“sometimes” you shrugged “she mostly spends her time all over the castle”

“do you often do things like that?”

“what?” you smiled “climb on top of shelves and let pretty boys catch me? not really, no” you shook your head laughing, while mattheo was still stuck on what you had described him as.

“how does starlight look like?” he tried a different approach as he followed you through the halls, almost sure you were heading to the astronomy tower.

“she’s a ginger cat”

“well, that’s explains a lot” mattheo laughed and you joined in “why doesn’t she answer to her name?”

“she belonged to my grandfather, she would only ever answer his calling, or react to his voice in general” you explained “he died a few months ago and my parents thought about giving her away, so she's now staying with me”

“that’s sad” mattheo frowned “i’m sorry about your loss”

“don’t be” you smiled up at him with big eyes and he almost missed a step on the way up. “he wasn’t the nicest, i don’t think he even liked anyone apart from his cat, but she’s nice enough most of the time”

“i get it” mattheo nodded understandingly “so where would she normally hide?” he looked around the room, trying to spot the orange fur of your cat. now that he thought about it, he remembered you chasing her around the halls a few times.

“you mind helping me up?” you pointed at the wooden beam over both of your heads

“seems like she prefers the higher spots, huh?” mattheo asked sarcastically, before he picked you up without another word of protest

you climbed on top of the beam, turning your head, before you finally shook it and mattheo helped you back down.

“where could she be if she isn’t here either?”

“i have one last spot in mind” you nodded, thinking “if she isn’t there, then i don’t know where she could still be”

“well, hopefully she is”

“as long as she’s fine” you smiled

mattheo followed you back down the steps of the tower, pending what he could still ask you. he wouldn’t waste any time he could spend with you, he would make the most of it.

his mind was racing, trying to come up with something, but the only thing he could remember was the list of thirty six questions blaise had shown him the day before, swearing that those were the best icebreakers at a first date.

well, this was far from a first date, but it did not hurt to try

“given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?” he muttered, recalling the first question.

your face lit up at his sudden question. “that’s a fun question” you smiled “let me think about it. does the person have to be alive?”

mattheo shook his head

“well then i would pick my grandmother, i think” you smiled, deep in thought “she was a great woman. i remember my grandfather being a decent person back when she was alive. she used to make these crocheted hats for me. i have them in almost every color”

“that sounds nice” mattheo smiled as he noticed how your features lit up while talking about your grandma. he followed you into the great hall, not even questioning it.

“what about you?” you asked him, taking a quick turn and walking up the steps around the wall of the entryway.

“what about me?” mattheo repeated confused

“yeah” you laughed at his forgetfulness “who would you have dinner with?”

“i don’t know” mattheo shrugged

“i don’t accept that answer” you shook your head “i can't believe that no one comes to mind at that”

there was someone coming to mattheo’s mind. but he couldn’t tell you. right now, he only wanted to have dinner with one person and that person was you, and maybe your cat, because not finding her would probably mean that you would be sad otherwise.

“merlin” mattheo answered quickly and you raised your eyebrows

“fan?”

“the biggest” mattheo grinned and cringed the moment your eyes left his face. he was ready to turn around and run away, but your sudden calling kept him from it.

“starlight!” you laughed, holding out your arms and catching the orange cat that had been about to fall from the highest shelf.

“hey” mattheo cooed, softly stroking the cat’s head. the cat hissed at him and he quickly pulled his hand back.

“she likes you” you smiled brightly despite starlight proving the opposite.

“you really think so?” mattheo asked unsurely.

“of course” you were pulling the cat close to your chest “she’s smiling at you”

mattheo wasn’t so sure about that. starlight looked like she was ready to claw his eyes out if left unattended in the same room.

starlight settled on top of your shoulder as you began to walk back down the stairs. mattheo was ready to follow, but starlight hissed at him over you shoulder and it took him a second longer to catch up to you.

despite anything you had previously said, he was sure that that cat absolutely loved you, even if she often spend her time sleeping in the most ridiculous places and making you search for her. he was sure you loved her just as much, even you had so casually talked about the cat's situation he had noticed that you couldn't have endured your parents just giving her away. he had also noticed the worry in your eyes when stalright hadn't been in the astronomy tower.

additional to that, he was also sure she already hated him. maybe she could sense the inappropriate thoughts he sometimes had about you.

“thank you for your help” you had walked mattheo back to the doors of the library, after he had claimed that his friends would probably appreciate his return to finish the homework.

“no problem” he smiled and he had almost sighed at the how pretty you were, just simply standing in front of him “i’d do anything” he mumbled under his breath.

“what?” you laughed, not having understood a sound of what he had mumbled. starlight was busy playing with a strand of your hair. mattheo had to smile at that and you mirrored his expression.

“doesn’t matter” mattheo shrugged and his smile grew brighter as he watched you laugh at him.

you softly held a hand in front of starlight's eyes, before you stood on your tiptoes, softly kissing mattheo's cheek. “thank you, maybe we could have dinner some day” you said, before you waved him a final goodbye “say goodbye starlight” the cat hissed at him once again and you smiled pleased, before you turned around and walked back in the direction of your dorm.

“i’d do anything” mattheo repeated his earlier words when you were far enough away. his cheeks were red and his hand touched the spot on which your lips had rested a few seconds ago. “anything”

#mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #slytherin group #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #luna lovegood #mattheo riddle fanfiction #benjamin wadsworth #hufflepuff x slytherin #soft!mattheoriddle

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bimbobaggins69 · 1 year

Text

dial-a-thrill (part 2)

Phone sex operator!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you finally meet up with Eddie, the phone sex operator you’ve been spending your nights talking to.

⚠️warnings: smut 18+ mdni, very light angst, Eddie is in love love, pierced!eddie, reader is insecure due to her last relationship, a few uses of y/n but mostly nicknames (baby, sweet girl, angel etc.), reader gets high for the first time, dom/sub dynamics, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, first penetrative orgasm, the smallest daddy kink (mentioned once), creampie.

notes: thank you to my babes @lofaewrites @corrodedcorpses @mysticmunson @dearest-readers @inkluvs & @take-everything-you-can for all your help with beta reading <3

wc: 14.2k

“Would you like to maybe meet up sometime?”

Those eight words took residence in your brain the whole week, hardly being able to focus at work with the thought of finally meeting Eddie. Your nerves were jangled to say the least and you were nervous he wouldn’t like you or feel the same connection in person, or what if you didn’t like him? No that didn’t seem like the plausible outcome, you knew you’d like him. So your nerves continued to eat at you.

You had talked to him almost every night, after he gave you his personal home phone number. But even he with his calming voice and sweet words couldn’t mellow your mind

Finally when Saturday night rolled around, you were a mess of butterflies and sweaty palms. Your one saving grace was your best friend Lauren insisting she help you get ready, you hadn’t gone on a date in more than six months, said date being with your boyfriend at the time, so this was a completely new set of feelings. This almost felt like a blind date, which had never been your forte. Your mom tried to set you up on loads of them with the sons of men she worked with, you’d always tell her it felt too impersonal to not know a guy beforehand.

But Eddie was the exception, although in a way you did somewhat know him, the thought still did nothing to ease the fluttering in your abdomen.

“Alright” Lauren says with a clap of her perfectly manicured hands. “You go get in the shower, make sure you shave! And I’ll pick out your outfit.” She commands as she waves you off.

Lauren had been your best friend since grade school, and although she is now in a fully committed relationship, she had her fair share of dates before she met Paul. You could trust that she’d have you looking close to perfection when she was done.

While in the shower you exfoliate, wash and shave. Once your hair and body had been completely rinsed of your strawberries and cream body wash and rose petal shampoo and conditioner, you step out and cloth your body with your pink robe.

You make your way back into your room after wrapping your hair in a towel—

Eyes catching on the very revealing outfit that was layered out across the foot of your full size bed.

You scrunch your face up in distaste for the garments, Lauren notices and rolls her eyes with a sigh—

“you’re going to a bar y/n, not church okay? This is a perfectly acceptable look for the occasion.” You couldn’t disagree with her there.

“I know Laur, I just- I don’t know if I can pull that look off.” You say as you cross your arms over your chest.

“What are you talking about? Those legs and boobs were meant to be shown off.” She says as if it was common knowledge.

“Plus, these are all your clothes, if you didn't think you could pull them off then why do you have them?” She asks with a shrug of her shoulders as she sits down in the green tufted vintage chair opposite your bed.

“I bought them because I was working up the guts to eventually wear them someday.” You say in an almost defensive tone

“And what better time than now? C'mon, you’re meeting some guy you met on a phone sex hotline, if that doesn’t call for the sexy revealing outfit in the back of your closet you’ve been working up the guts to wear, then I don’t know what does.” She huffs out a laugh.

“Ya’ know what, you’re right!” You say with confidence.

“Damn right I am.” Lauren says back, making you both fall into a fit of laughter,

“thanks babe, I can always count on you to make me feel better.” You say with complete admiration for your best friend.

“Yeah, you owe me lunch. Now, try this shit on.” Lauren says with no real malice behind her words.

You left your apartment in the city at about 6:05pm making it into hawkins by 6:30pm.

You decide to roll down your windows as soon as you pass the ‘welcome to Hawkins’ sign, it had been a beautiful spring day and as the sun was setting the sky illuminated a pinky orange hue. The town smelled like hints of cow manure and fresh grass clippings. You could tell this was one of those small towns where everyone knew you and your business, that was something you were grateful you never had to worry about in the city.

You made it to Rips bar on the east side of Hawkins with five minutes to spare before Eddie and his band were to be on stage, the plan was for you to watch him play as he does every Saturday, and after you’d maybe play a couple rounds of pool before getting a bite to eat.

You didn’t mind the idea, and after learning that Eddie was in a band you were pretty excited to see him in his element, it also gave you some time to get a couple drinks into you before the initial meeting.

Before you turn off the ignition, you flip down the visor to inspect your makeup in the mirror, winged eyeliner still intact and red lipstick not yet smudged. You play with your voluminous curls, as you try to perfect the hair framing your face.

Stepping out of your red Acura legend, your platform Mary janes crunch on the rocky gravel of the parking lot while making your way into the bar.

You run your fingers down your black pleated skirt to smooth out any wrinkles that may have formed during your drive, adjust your white strapless corset top, almost making a split decision to grab the knitted cardigan in your back seat to hide the amount of cleavage you were presenting, but Lauren’s voice rings out in your head, the way she screeched “you’re a hot ass bitch!” At you, as you admired yourself in the mirror before leaving.

The recent memory making you chuckle as you grab the big golden handle attached to an even bigger red door. Swinging it open you’re hit with the different scents of cigarettes and leather.

you pull the white thigh high socks you almost protested against wearing, higher up your plush thighs before making your way inside.

The bar sits at the back, pool tables to the left surrounded by booths. The jukebox on the far left wall catches your eye, before you see a figure walk out onto the stage that sits front and center.

His long wavy brown hair flows beautifully past his shoulders, his guitar hangs off the side of his body, black ripped jeans, bullet belt, and a sepultura band tee that you only notice because your older brother is also a fan. His leather jacket hugs his biceps perfectly and his feet are adorned with high top Adidas.

You make your way over to the bar and take a seat on the round black leather chair, spinning around to continue ogling the man you hope is your date.

His whole being made the room feel almost unbearably hot, your mouth began to water as you fought against the need to clench your thighs.

The rest of the band struts on stage, settling in front of their respective instruments.

Eddie had told you all the members names and what they played:

Jeff on rhythm guitar

Grant on bass

And Gareth on drums

So that only leaves the man standing in front of the mic with his guitar now pulled closer to his chest to be Eddie.

He was fucking hot.

As you came to this revelation you had noticed a group of girls gather at the front of the stage, all of them eye fucking each member of the band.

It makes your stomach feel queasy, so you turn in your seat and order a Jack and coke from the very nice bartender, as an aide to calm your nerves and as a distraction, for now.

As the band starts playing, you recognize the song almost immediately—

Megalomania by Black Sabbath.

Eddie begins to sing into his microphone while simultaneously strumming his guitar.

I hide myself inside the shadows of shame

The silent symphonies were playing their game

My body echoed to the dreams of my soul

It started something that I could not control

Where can I run to now, the joke is on me

No sympathizing God, it’s insanity, yeah..

You sway in your seat to the music, singing along as you sip from your drink. Your eyes catch on the silver that decorate his fingers, your thoughts going to some really filthy places.

Eddie keeps his eyes closed for majority of the song, his playing must be full on muscle memory by now. Once he finally opens them, they scan the whole bar, finally falling on you.

They don’t leave yours, as the song crescendos to an end. You swallow harshly as all of his attention now seems to be on you, he looks over your frame with a shy smile before he sends you a wink.

The whole display makes your heart swoon. You could be any woman in this bar but his eyes chose yours.

That has to count for something.

Eddie’s eyes catch yours a few more times, and as you’re on your second drink you’ve gained a newfound confidence.

You wave to him with a wiggle of your fingers as you take the straw between your plump red lips, seductively taking a sip while never breaking eye contact.

Once the band's set is finished a younger man walks over to the jukebox and before you know it, shot in the dark by Ozzy is being played loudly throughout the bar.

Eddie and his band mates begin packing their equipment up, but as Eddie is putting his guitar away in its case, one of the girls from the front row walks up to him, she’s all big smiles and flirty touches.

He begins talking with her, you can hear her loud laughs even over the music. It makes your eyes roll and leaves a permanent scowl on your face.

The display makes your stomach turn. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe, Eddie didn’t really feel the way he said he did. Maybe, you should just get up and go home.

But before you know it the girl is headed to a booth that is now occupied by her friends.

Eddie’s eyes are back on yours, he's noticed you watching him out of his periphery, since the girl walked up to him.

He shoots you a knowing smirk, as he heads towards the exit with the rest of his band, you assume they’re going to put the instruments away, so you turn in your seat and begin to down the second jack and coke you’d been babysitting.

About 8 minutes pass and you’re convinced he took one look at you and left, your eyes begin to burn at the thought.

That is until you hear the deep rasp of your name being called behind you as he taps you on the shoulder, you swivel around in your seat to find the colporate.

Your eyes meet a set of beautiful brown doe ones, you stare into them for a second before he’s calling your name again.

“You’re y/n, right?” He asks, now not so sure he has the right person.

“Y-yeah, im y/n.” Your confidence wavers as Eddie stands before you.

Wow, he’s even more beautiful up close.

You both continue to keep eye contact as if breaking it would end your air supply.

But before you can continue to make a bigger fool out of yourself, you are hopping off the bar stool.

Eddie doesn’t miss the way your tits bounce as you do.

Now he was able to take you all in, and boy did he do just that. His eyes roamed your body from head to toe.

You hold out a hand for him to shake, accompanied by the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

He slid his calloused, ringed hand into yours and lightly shook it, never once breaking eye contact while shooting you a toothy smile, showcasing his pearly whites.

“Let’s sit.” He suggests, as he gestures to the bar stools.

Now seated, Eddie waves a hand to get the bartender's attention.

“How many of those have you had?” Eddie asks, closer to your ear in an almost whisper.

“Oh, um this is my second one.” You timidly respond.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for tonight, I want you to be coherent during our date, alright?” Eddie says in an almost commanding tone that makes your face heat up and an ache form in your belly.

“Two waters.” He says to the bartender as he holds up two of his ringed fingers.

Fuck, those rings were really doing it for you.

The bartender puts the waters Eddie ordered on little napkins and scoots them in front of you both, the condensation already leaving the napkin wet, you continue studying it before Eddie breaks the silence.

“So, how’d you like the show?” He asks sheepishly, as his right thumb circles the rim of his glass, you could only assume it was out of nervousness, or at least you hoped.

“I loved it, you guys are really good!” You beam, “got quite the fan base too.” You chuckle, Eddie can read the jealousy in your eyes, from a mile away.

“You jealous, baby?” He teases, making you roll your eyes at his cocky words.

“Yeah right.” Is all you say back before you take a sip of your water.

He chuckles before he speaks again.

“Can I be honest with you?” He says while trying to catch your eye, as you continue to observe the drink in front of you.

“Sure.” You say as your heart begins to race, your eyes finally meet his as you slightly turn to him in your chair.

“You’re not what I expected.” He says with a side smile

Ouch

“I’m sorry I didn’t live up to your expectations.” You snap with a slump of your shoulders.

“Whoa whoa, princess” he put his hands up in defense, “you exceeded my expectations.” He says with a wide smile, moving in closer to your exposed ear “you’re fucking gorgeous.” He whispers

“And this little outfit,” he tsks “is this for me?”

“Maybe.” You reply shyly, as you bite your lip.

You and Eddie sit at the bar a little longer; chatting, flirting and getting to know each other.

You find out he’s been at his hotline job for almost a year, he enjoys playing dnd in his spare time and he was raised by his uncle who he still has a great relationship with.

You also learn all the basics: his favorite color is red, his favorite food is Chinese and pizza, he’s a cat person and he collects vinyl records and comic books. You’re pleased to find out he’s essentially a nerd, like you.

You were even able ask him the ever daunting question of ‘what made you pick up a phone sex gig?’, which to that Eddie answered ‘eh, I knew it’d be easy money and I’d get to do what I do best, which is talk.’ That got him a very pleasing chortle out of you.

You both continue talking about your common interests of comics, horror movies and music for a bit longer, until he orders you both a beer and suggests moving to the pool tables, as they’re now empty along with the majority of the bar.

You step off the stool, platform Mary Janes sticking to the bar floor as you make your way to the tables, Eddie’s eyes are glued to the backs of your thighs and your ass in that little skirt.

You were absolutely hypnotizing and he knew keeping his hands off of you was going to be a challenge, all he wanted to do was run his fingers through your hair and pull your lips to his, rub his hands up your thighs and play with the waistband of your panties. He bet you wore some cute little lacey ones, maybe you didn’t wear any at all? That prospect made Eddie swell in his jeans, instantly.

You grab two cue sticks off the wall and hand one to Eddie, you rub the blue chalk on the tip before you pass that to him, too

Eddie removes the triangle from around the pool balls before he’s gesturing with his hand “ladies first.” He asserts, making you giggle before bending over directly in front of him, you hit the white ball with the tip of your stick making two solid balls into one of the pockets, before throwing a cocky smirk—

“guess I’m solids.” You proclaim while moving around the table to where the white ball is now sitting. You take the shot and the ball you had your sights on ricochets off the side missing the pocket by a hair.

Eddie smiles at you before taking his turn. You admire him as he bends over the table, his butt looks way too good in those black levi’s and the way his leather jacket hugs his body makes you bite your lip. You’re deep in thought before Eddie is calling your name.

“Y/n?” you respond with a huh as your cheeks heat up, “I said, let’s make this interesting?” He turns towards you, both hands placed over the top of his pool cue, he has an insatiable grin on his face that you just want to kiss right off.

“Okay, what do you have in mind?” You warely ask

“Everytime one of us makes a ball into the pocket, the other has to tell a secret.” He proposes with a sly grin.

You think about his words for a second, you didn’t have very many secrets, you were for the most part a good girl. You didn’t have any raunchy sex stories or a rebellious phase, so there wasn’t much to be revealed, but you figured Eddie had a ton so of course the smart thing to do was to agree, you would be an idiot not to.

“Okay, let’s do it!” You decide as you beam up at him, he nods his head in satisfaction before he’s moving out of your way for you to take your turn.

You make one ball into the pocket before you’re turning to him with a raise of your eyebrows, “spill, pretty boy.” You say before you could really think about your words, but before you can shy away and apologize, Eddie’s moving closer towards you with a smile on his face and a look in his eye you couldn’t quite read.

“Pretty boy, huh? That’s a new one… I like it.” He says in amusement, before he’s moving closer to you.

“My secret is, I’ve never had a real girlfriend.” He whispers closer to your ear.

“Ha-ha, yeah right! You have to tell an honest secret Eddie.” You roll your eyes as you move to grab your beer to take a sip.

“No, I’m being honest.” He says as his face slightly falls, you could tell from the look in his eyes that he was being genuine, but the confession took you completely off guard, there’s no way this sexy man never had a girlfriend. Also why was that the first secret he confessed? The whole thing made you beyond curious.

“It’s still your turn.” He says, making you file those questions away for later.

You walk back up to the table stone faced and in deep thought, you take your shot and miss before moving back to where your beer was, picking it up and taking another sip.

Eddie bends over the table, one arm stretched out at the front of the pool cue while the other grips the back, tongue out and in complete concentration.

Your eyes catch on a little silver ball-

Your breath hitches when the realization hits you.

His tongue is pierced

How have you missed that? The new information made your mind run rampant, what it would feel like to have it brush up against your tongue, your clit-

Stop

Before the thoughts could completely take over, Eddie walks around the table towards you with bouncing eyebrows.

“Tell me something good, sweetheart.” Your body almost goes slack at the nickname, god anything he calls you makes your head spin, or maybe it was these drinks? You think to yourself.

“Well, ummm, I’ve never gotten high before.” You confess, as your face grows hot.

“Is that a secret?” He asks with a squint of his eyes.

“I guess, my friends all think I got high with them once but I didn’t actually smoke it right, so I told them I was high cause I didn’t want to have to try again.” God, that’s such an embarrassing confession and you can’t believe you just said it out loud, you really are a complete loser.

“Wow princess, that’s some top secret stuff.” He howls, as you tense up at his teasing.

Eddie notices the look on your face, making his smile falter.

“Hey baby, I’m kidding!” He says moving in closer until the tips of his sneakers are touching your mary janes.

He grabs your chin, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes, they roam yours for a few seconds before he continues—

“I’m sorry, that’s a totally valid secret, okay? I didn’t mean to make fun or anything.” He says with sincerity.

“You're just a good girl, huh?” He says with a little smirk, “my good girl.” He whispers

You think for a second that he might make a move and kiss you, but instead he pulls away.

“Ya know what? Let’s get out of here, go grab some food and I don’t know, see where the night takes us.” He prescribes as he takes the pool cue out of your hands and hangs both back up on the wall.

He walks towards you and downs his beer, “you want this one too?” You ask as you motion towards the less than half full beer bottle in your hand.

He takes it from you and downs it too, before grabbing your hand and guiding you out of the establishment and into the crisp night air.

Eddie was definitely someone who was used to taking charge and that subtle dominance was making the blaze in your belly spread like wildfire.

You decide to leave your car in the parking lot of the bar, Eddie suggesting he drive you back to it when you’re ready to head home.

You agree, as he opens up the passenger door for you. Eddie takes your hand and helps you up before he places a sweet and tender kiss to the top of it, before letting it go to fall in your lap.

The van smells like cigarettes and woodsy cologne. You take a peek in the back seat before Eddie’s swinging the driver door open and hopping in.

The band's equipment takes up the majority of it, but you could see a little mattress pushed up beside one of the side windows, you wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in the back of his van after one of his shows. You turn to look at him as he puts the key in the ignition and turns it, the engine roars to life and before you could get another thought in, the tape Eddie is playing booms through the speakers, making you jump up a foot in your seat.

Eddie quickly turns the knob down before shooting you an apologetic smile.

“So what do you feel like eating, angel?” He inquires sweetly

Angel

Well, you definitely felt like you were in heaven, being with Eddie, so it was fitting.

You and Eddie had decided on burgers, fries and milkshakes— he drove through the drive thru of his favorite burger joint, handing you the food to secure on your lap.

You weren’t sure what plans Eddie had in mind, but you were all for following his lead.

You and Eddie both sang along to rock hard ride free by Judas Priest, as he drove around Hawkins.

He’d occasionally look over at you with a sweet smile, as you mouthed the words.

Finally, after the third or fourth time and out of pure curiosity you turn to meet his eyes, he’s looking at you with a glint in those big pools of brown.

He sends you a wink before his head turns back to the road in front of him.

God, he was gonna be the death of you.

Eddie parks in front of an unfamiliar lake, the glow of the moon illuminates off the water, making what would be a pitch black area in the woods, gleam.

You begin opening the bag and taking the food out, ready to hand him his burger and fries before he turns down the music and clears his throat.

“Do you wanna sit on the hood?” He suggests, before opening his door and leaping out.

“Yeah, sure.” You nod as you grab the food and make your way out of the door that was just opened for you.

Eddie helps you up first, platforms stomping all over his front bumper as you try to catch balance on the big hunk of metal below you.

“You got it?” Eddie asks as your knee hits the hood, you pull yourself into a seating position, you now worry if Eddie caught a glimpse of anything under your skirt as you struggled. He hands you the food, before he’s easily pulling himself up onto his hood, he scoots closer to you, arms and legs touching as he leans back against the front window.

You begin to eat your fries while you stare off, eyes darting from the lake to the bright stars hovering above.

You pass Eddie his greasy food “So, you come out here a lot?” Your voice felt so soft coming out of your mouth, almost like you didn’t wanna break his daze.

“To lovers lake?” He says in surprise “yeah, I actually do.” He smiles while taking the food out of your hands.

He unwraps his burger and takes a bite as you begin to repeat, ‘lovers lake’ to yourself in your head.

“Why do they call it lovers lake?” You ask without much thought.

Eddie swallows his bite a bit abruptly before he begins to speak, “honestly, it got its name because it’s a pretty big hook up spot.” He nonchalantly says.

“Mmm” is all you give him with a tight press of your lips, you can’t help but to wonder how many of his hookups he brought to this exact spot, to fuck on that exact mattress pushed against the window and band equipment.

You knew this was part of it, you didn’t meet him in any conventional way. You both had phone sex already for Christ sake.

But you still couldn’t help the ache in your chest and the way your belly burned ablaze at the thought of him bringing you somewhere he brought someone else.

I’ve never had a girlfriend before.

But surely he’s had hookups? You assume lots of hookups, Eddie exudes sex appeal. He’s like a sex god while up on that stage, so there is no doubt in your mind he has hooked up with a number of women after his shows.

It shouldn’t matter, that was his past and it doesn't concern you. But the knowledge that he’s as experienced as he is and you haven’t even been eaten out yet makes you nervous and insecure.

“You must really like that milkshake.” Eddie laughs at the way you’re lost in thought why simultaneously downing the strawberry flavored malt.

You nod in agreement but Eddie notices the way you’re slouched with a seemingly sad look in your eyes as you continue to stare out at the lake in front of you.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asks while moving in even closer to you and putting his hand he first wiped off onto his jeans, on your knee.

He begins to play with the fabric of your thigh high, while he awaits your answer.

“I’m fine, I’m just too in my head.” You say as Eddie takes the almost empty shake out of your hand and places the cup on the top of the van, behind you.

“Talk to me, baby.” Eddie continues rubbing at your knee, slightly working his way up to your unclothed thigh. Before snapping the fabric of your socks into your skin, making you slightly shriek with laughter.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just nervous.” You say without looking at him.

“Nervous? Why would you be nervous?” He says it as if you shouldn’t have a care in the world, as if you were someone who should exude nothing but confidence.

If only that were true.

“Well, there’s a lot of things I haven’t done before.” You say as your eyes finally find his. “I’m not as experienced as you are, and I mean you taking me to a lake you’ve hooked up at probably multiple times, isn’t really helping.” You practically word vomit.

“Hey whoa, relax sweet girl.” He whispers while grabbing the meat of your inner thigh gently, his metal rings contrast the temperature of your skin perfectly.

His touch towards your more sensitive skin, draws goosebumps along your legs and arms. His affect on you is clear as day, even in the low light of the moon.

“I’ve never brought anyone out here. To be completely honest with you, I come out here alone to think and smoke. I’ve never hooked up with anyone here, baby. I can promise you that.” He continues—

“Now I would be lying if I said I didn’t have random hook ups in the back of the van, or in the parking lots or bathrooms of the bars I perform in.” You drop your head from his heated gaze to look down at his hand that is continuing to paw at the squishy skin of your thigh.

“Shit- look baby, just because I have some extra experience doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. I mean how else am I gonna treat you nice and make you feel good? I couldn’t do that if I didn’t have some experience, right?” He says so close to your ear you can feel his breath.

“Yeah I guess you’re right.” You nod, “I just don’t wanna be like the worst person you’ve ever been with.” You say with a somber laugh.

“Hey, you know this isn’t just about sex for me right? I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m very much looking forward to it.” he says before licking his red plump lips. “But this means so much more to me than that. I really like you sweetheart and I promise you, I will show you all the things you’ve been missing out on, okay?” He says with a deep set tone to his voice, one that could make you just fall to your knees for him.

He was oh so tempting.

“So, you’ve had plenty of hook ups but why is it you’ve never had a girlfriend?” You ask out of nothing but pure curiosity.

Eddie takes a deep breath before answering your loaded question.

“Believe it or not, I’m not too popular among the residents in this shit hole town.” His voice comes out equal parts dejected and vexed.

“What do you mean by that?” You ask as you put your hand on top of his, the one that still lays on your thigh, you lightly squeeze as an encouragement that you’re here, no matter what.

“Well, because of the way I dress and the music I listen to, oh and the fact that I play dnd.” He rolls his eyes before continuing “those are the reasons this town has labeled me a freak.” His jaw clenches slightly before he brings his chocolatey pools of brown to meet yours, the look he’s giving is so vulnerable, almost as if he’s giving you an out, a chance to run away from all the baggage his life brings.

“A freak?” You hiss as you scrunch your nose up in distaste, “and what’s so bad about that?” You ask innocently, too innocent.

“As far as I’m concerned, being different or a ‘freak’ isn't a bad thing, I mean to close minded people, maybe. But there’s a whole world out there of like minded people who like the same shit you do, just because this small town can’t value your differences doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.” You say honestly, the words pour out of you like a waterfall and just as peaceful to Eddie’s ears.

He rubs the light stubble on his chin, as if in deep thought but really he was just letting your words sink in. Nobody has ever said something like that to him; he wanted to savor them, write them down to read over later when he was alone, something to come back to when the adults of Hawkins stick their noses up at him, a reminder.

“You’re really something, you know that?” He settles for those words instead of what he really wants to say and do in this moment.

He might be in love with you, he might be in so much deeper than he thought.

“Me? No” you say with a nonchalant shake of your head, cheeks heating up under the glow of the night sky. “I’m just being honest.” You remove your hand from his, to push some of your hair behind your ear in a shy manner.

Eddie scoots even closer, his hand that was gently rubbing at your thigh, now around the small of your back, his fingers settling into the exposed flesh of your side.

He moves in closer to the ear you had just exposed to him, “don’t get shy on me now, baby.” He whispers, his voice so easily makes your thighs clench and your body stiffen all in a matter of seconds.

Eddie’s cocky, knowing laugh rings out but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. You feel embarrassed at how easily your body gives up control to him. As if you’re a puppet on a string, and him the perfect puppet master. He could make you do just about anything in this moment, more so with his husky voice pressed up against your ear. You want him to whisper the dirtiest things to you, call you his little slut. All things your ex wanted to do that you never wanted to entertain.

Eddie brings out a side of you, you never even knew existed. A side you are more than ready and willing to explore. If only with him.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute and sexy.” Eddie says while pulling out a half smoked joint he had tucked behind his other ear, he puts it between his lips before digging in his pocket for his lighter, a silver zippo with a skull in the middle.

“Mm, I don’t know about that.” You say with a laugh that shakes your shoulders.

“You need to stop selling yourself short, angel.” He says while lighting the spliff, smoke immediately bellows from his nose and mouth. God how could someone be so effortlessly sexy?

“You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for, you’re so much more y/n.” The way he says your name makes your insides twist in the best way. You’d never heard your ex talk about you like this, it was always what you could be better at, never that you were just good enough. Eddie made you feel good enough.

And in that moment you made it your goal to make him feel good enough, too.

After plenty of banter and deep conversation, Eddie hops off the hood, making his way to his side of the van. He flips down the visor retrieving something before making his way back towards you.

“So, I know you said you never smoked, but would you do me the honors of being the first person to get you high?” His eyes were hopeful but his voice was calm, as if to say no pressure without needing the words.

“I said I smoked, I just didn’t do it right.” You chuckle as you playfully roll your eyes “what the hell, why not?” You say after a quick deliberation.

“That’s the spirit, baby.” He says with a loud clap of his hands before climbing back onto his spot on the hood.

He does the same routine of pulling out his zippo and lightening and puffing with ease.

He blows the smoke up and into the crisp night sky, his neck on full display as he tilts his head back, the purplish blue veins making their appearance as they bulge ever so slightly out of alabaster skin.

You reach out and tuck his curly strand of hair behind his ear, a gentle gesture that pulls a smile from Eddie’s lips, his glossy red eyes meet yours for a second before he holds out the joint for you to take.

“You ready, beautiful?” His smile grows even wider as he notices the nervous look in your eyes.

God, you were the sweetest fucking thing.

“I guess as ready as I’ll ever be.” You retort with slight sarcasm.

“You know you can say no, right? I would never pressure you into doing something you don’t want to, okay?” His tone was so gentle and understanding, it made the nervousness that had plagued your body a second ago vanish in an instant.

“I know, but I want to, with you.” You whisper the last part, so low it would be a miracle if he heard you over the sounds of the crickets chirping off in the distance, but he did and those two words made his heart soar more than anything he’s ever experienced.

After a couple attempts of hitting the joint, you finally inhale correctly, the quick burn of the grass instantly making you cough manically. Your face grew hot at the thought of Eddie hearing you almost hock up a lung.

But there was no judgment behind his eyes, just a look that could ease even the most anxious of souls. His hand rubbed in between your shoulder blades, gently back and forth.

“You okay, baby?” You gave him a nod before bursting out into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

“What’s so funny? Huh?” Eddie inquires as he bumps his shoulder lightly into yours, he’s now laughing at your cute hyena cackle.

He thought you looked the most beautiful like this, head thrown back, laugh echoing off of the lake probably scaring off any wildlife in a 20 mile radius, eyes glossed over and watery as you wiped them away. He wanted to make you laugh like that all the time. Keep you happy and laughing, forever.

“I think I’m high!” You squeak out between laughs, Eddie can’t help but to let out a hyena cackle of his own at your revelation.

“Yeah, sweetheart I gathered that.” He says, while not breaking his gaze from you; eyes filled with complete adoration.

“Hey Eddie, can I ask you something?” Your high has brought on a whole other side to you, a bold side.

“You said people here consider you a freak, right?” You say while trying to keep your train of thought with this new feeling of brain fog settling in.

“Why don’t you move somewhere else? You’d love Indy, there’s a ton of metalheads and punks and nobody gives them shit, it’s different in the city, people are much more open minded.” It comes out much more rambley than you meant for it to.

“I guess.. I’m just too chickenshit to move somewhere where I don’t know anyone, I’m not really sure, I mean I’ve thought about leaving, it just never seemed possible.” He huffs out, slightly dejected.

“Well now you know someone.” You say before grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together, his palms were sweaty and his rings were warm despite the light spring breeze that had you holding the hand that wasn’t in Eddie’s grasp between your thighs for warmth.

Eddie brings your interlocked hand up to his face and lightly kisses the skin on the back of yours, before he’s letting go and hopping off the hood, once again.

“So what do you want to do? The night’s still young.” He says while fixing the crotch of his jeans, like they were too tight.

“Let’s go swimming in the lake?” You suggest with way too much enthusiasm, it makes Eddie chuckle with amusement.

“That lake has to be fucking freezing, it was iced over all winter and it barely melted last month, so no thank you.” He says with a definitive wave of his hand.

He looks over to find you looking down at your feet in disappointment. You were such a brat, Eddie thought to himself, he knew exactly what you were doing with that shy little pout of your lips, he could just bite into the plump skin.

“But I do know of a heated pool we can sneak into.” He says, making your pout turn right side up into the most perfect smile.

“Yes, a heated pool sounds amazing!” You squeal

You and Eddie pull up to a big gray two story house with a bright red door, the maroon BMW in the driveway catches your eye and you wonder how Eddie knew whoever it was that lives here.

In your eagerness you didn’t wait for Eddie to open your door, instead you quickly jump out, closing it as lightly as possible behind you.

“Cmon.” Eddie whispers as he comes around the van, grabbing you by your hand and practically dragging you to the side of the house.

Eddie makes a big show of jumping up onto the gate, he turns back to grab your hand to hoist you up but instead you flip the latch up and the side gate swings open. The look on Eddie’s face is priceless as he jumps down from his awkward position.

“Are you training to be a gargoyle?” You huff out a laugh trying not to be loud enough for the occupants of the big house to hear.

“Ha-ha” he mocks, but you could tell he wanted to laugh along. A smile broke out across his reddened cheeks. You wanted to pinch them and give them all the kisses but the sight in front of you broke you from that trance. Eddie was removing his leather jacket and pulling his band tee over his head, the tattoos that graced his torso up to his chest, neck and arms now on full display now.

They were beautiful, he was beautiful. There wasn’t an inch of skin left visible and fuck did that make you throb.

He begins toeing off his shoes and removing his jeans before he’s left standing in a pair of red plaid boxer shorts.

You swallow hard when you notice the tattoo above his lower stomach, the words “choking hazard” written in what looks to be the same font as those warning labels.

“You gonna go swimming in your outfit, baby?” Eddie taunts.

You shake your head before you start removing your platforms and thigh highs. The buzz must still be present in your body because the insecurities you would normally feel in this moment are null and void.

You remove your skirt, leaving you in a pair of white lace panties that match the corset top too perfectly. You had no choice but to go swimming in the top since you weren’t wearing a bra underneath, but at this moment you didn't care.

Either this weed made you far less uptight or Eddie brought out your adventurous side, either way you were gonna enjoy it and live in this moment with him.

You stalk up to where Eddie is sitting, his feet already dipped into the pool as he swings them back and forth. He wanted to give you privacy, didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with him watching you as you undress, which you thought was sweet.

You put your foot onto the first step to get a feel for the temperature and once you realize it’s perfect and warm, you bring your other foot in to join.

You continue on to the second, gaining Eddie’s attention now. He looks over and his eyes fall to your ass and the practically nonexistent panties you’re wearing, you turn around to face him and he can see the outline of your pussy making him swallow harshly. You look like an angel, he wanted nothing more than to corrupt. He stands up onto the step, he’s facing you while letting his eyes shamelessly roam your body.

A devious smile twists upon his lips, but before you can take a step back, Eddie is grabbing you by the waist and pushing you both into the deep water of the pool. You gasp as you come back up for air still in shock from the look in his eyes and his sudden actions. The smell of chlorine, now heavily stuck in your nose from the intake of chemical water.

Eddie swims up to you laughing, the devious smile now replaced with a smug one. You splash him while paddling away with hysterical laughter, you totally forgot that you were in someone else’s pool therefore not holding back the laughs and screams of Eddie's name as he swam towards you like the shark from jaws.

“Eddie please stop!” You cry out as you grab the side of the pool, your laughter making you too weak to keep yourself afloat.

Eddie finally grabs you, maneuvering your legs around his hips while he holds you by the backs of your thighs. He’s able to stand in the almost 6 foot deep end of the pool, water still hitting underneath his chin while you now willingly wrap your arms around his neck, palms placed flat onto the exposed skin of his back.

“Shhh, you gotta be quiet, baby.” He whispers seductively into your ear, it makes a shiver run down your spine. You can feel his hardness as it lines up perfectly with your core. Eddie’s hands move higher up, now grabbing two handfuls of your ass, making you buck your hips into his.

You moan into his neck as his hard cock catches against your barely covered clit. “Fuck.” Eddie growls into your ear while you continue to buck your hips.

Eddie begins to push your ass forcefully against him. He picks his head up from where it’s placed on your shoulder, to look at your face.

Your brows are furrow as an “o” shape settles on your beautiful lips. Eddie moves in closer but as you notice and before you could even begin moving in to meet him, a light from the back porch is turned on, making you and Eddie freeze in place.

A head pops out of the sliding door, a guy who looks to be around you and Eddie’s age, begins to shout—

“What the fuck?! What are you doing in my pool?” The guy with what you had to admit was a beautiful head of hair, shouts. Eddie hops up onto the ledge and pulls you out before rushing over to grab all of the clothes that sit scattered around the concrete.

“Run!” Eddie hisses at you, while picking up the last garment.

The guy's voice gets louder as you and Eddie begin to run; he shoves open the gate as you both make your way into the dimly lit street. You hear some shuffling behind you and can only assume the owner has begun chasing after you both, only making you run faster and your adrenaline skyrocket.

You both jump into the van with preparations to take off, but when you look out the window and observe your surroundings you notice you weren’t being followed, there was no one out on the street, but you and Eddie.

Once you both caught your breath and let your rapid pulses mellow out, you couldn’t hold it in; your hyena cackles were back and in full force as you began laughing so hard you had to hold your stomach from the dull pain.

Eddie couldn’t hold it in either, he throws his head back as he hysterically laughs at the events of the night. The fact that you both had to run in the street in your underwear was what had you wiping the tears from your eyes. It was one of those laughs that was good for the soul.

Once the laughing died down, your eyes were full of tears and your cheeks sore, an almost tense silence fell upon Eddie’s van. To someone else it would look as if you and Eddie were playing a round of who could stare the longest without blinking, but in reality the come down from the adrenaline and the tension from the pool had caught up and you and Eddie weren’t going to let another opportunity slip through your fingers.

Eddie’s eyes caught your lips first before doing a couple more glancing shifts from eyes to lips; you matched him by gawking at his full plump set, his tongue swiping over his bottom one, the tongue ring you forgot about now at the forefront of your mind, again.

You would do anything to feel it up against yours; up against any part of you to be perfectly honest.

You make the first move, throwing your patience out the barely cracked window; you move in closer, to Eddie’s surprise.

He slowly moves in to meet you, his patience must’ve left with yours because he grabs the back of your head, ringed fingers taking agency in the nape of hair on your neck. He pulls you in; lips clashing and tongues dancing together in a harmonized manner.

The silver ball against his tongue continues to roll against yours. Although he’s rough with his lips his tongue is gentle and precise, you’ve never kissed anyone and it feel this sensual and downright erotic.

Before you can overthink your next move, you climb into his lap, straddling his hips; your knees resting on each side of his tan leather bucket seats. The kiss grows more heated, his strong hands move across your body. One hand holds tightly onto your hip while the other explores your skin, once he gets to the fabric of your white panties, Eddie pulls the tiny elastic fabric, letting it pop back into your flesh making you groan out in pleasure.

“Mmm, did you like that sweet girl?” Eddie purrs into your ear, making you swiftly nod your head to confirm his suspicions.

“Fuck, you like a little bit of pain, baby?” He asks as if he’s ready to haul you over his middle console and spank your ass black and blue.

Is that what he’s into?

The thought made your body heat up like a furnace fire, you’ve never done anything like that before all of your sexual experiences had been vanilla at best, so the idea of Eddie inflicting pain on you for his own sexual gratification lit a match under your ass, you wanted to experience it all with Eddie. You wanted to use him as your own personal guinea pig, find out exactly what it is that was missing in your last relationship, what made you tick, what made you cum.

Eddie breaks the kiss leaving you to whimper at the loss “do you wanna head back to my place?” He inquires while reading your face for any signs of uneasiness at his admission.

“Yes, please.” You whisper into his lips, voice dripping with desperation. Eddie couldn’t help but twitch in his pants because of it.

The drive to Eddie’s apartment was unnerving, not only because of the very unpredictable sex you were about to have, but because Eddie was swerving in and out of lanes like a madman. His one hand effortlessly held the wheel while the other possessively grabbed at your thigh, your skirt right back in its rightful place.

Although Eddie’s grip on you could’ve made you melt into your seat, you couldn’t help but wish he would keep both hands on the wheel if he was going to drive like hell-for-leather.

Finally he pulls into a sparse car park, bringing the van to a full stop. You could’ve swung the door open and fell to your knees kissing the floor, beyond grateful to get to your destination in one piece. Your tight grip on the door handle falters and you move to make a bee line out of the death trap.

“Oh c'mon, I don’t drive that bad.” Eddie chuckles at your less than thrilled face. He puts his arm around your shoulders, leading you up some stairs and to a dingy white door.

Once you step through the threshold and into the very decently sized apartment, the smell of pumpkin hits your nose. You look around at all of the metal memorabilia displayed around his home; from the band posters to the vinyls and tapes, to the array of band tees laying around. You slip off your shoes before you make your way deeper into the living room, and just as you suspected a half burned through pumpkin candle sits on a large speaker/stereo combo that holds a large stack of tapes—

A vast collection of metal: exodus, metal church, massacre, sodom, venom and overkill just to name a few.

Eddie haphazardly throws his keys into a rusty dish near his entryway and stalks up behind you as you continue to take in the decor. His hands fall on your hips, as he rubs over the fabric of your skirt, inching down closer and closer to your exposed thighs.

Resting his chin on your bare shoulder, Eddie whispers tauntingly, “something catch your eye, angel?”

You take in a shaky breath before you’re able to answer, “just looking at your tapes, you’ve got quite the collection.” You smile as you turn around, now facing the object of your desire.

“Mm, see anything you like? I can put one in, just for you.” He whispers suggestively.

His hands make way under your skirt, slowly sliding up until their back on your ass, almost mirroring the same position you were in when you got caught in that guy with the nice hairs, pool.

“I see a lot of things I like.” You whisper back as you bat your lashes up at Eddie, “oh you meant put a tape in, I thought we were talking about something else.” You giggle at the way Eddie’s eyes widen a bit and snorts out a loud howl of laughter, his head tipping back at the suggestive joke.

“Oh, so little miss good girl can crack some naughty jokes? I didn’t think you’d catch that.” He presumes while rubbing at his hairless chin, as if stroking an imaginary beard.

“I said I wasn’t as experienced, I never said I was a virgin.” You challenge with a raise of your eyebrows, this was a side of you that you felt comfortable with around Eddie, the playful flirting. Although Eddie was much better at it, it was still fun to play along.

“Mm, I distinctly remember you telling me you’re a virgin at having your pussy eaten though, am I right?” Eddie practically growls into your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck and causing a herd of goosebumps to raise on your skin.

His crude words nearly make a whimper slip out of your mouth, you gracefully swallow it back down not wanting Eddie in on the effect he was having over your body, but judging by the changes on your skin and the slight chill you weren’t able to compose, Eddie was very much aware of said effect. His sly grin were the unspoken words you needed to egg on all those pretty noises he’d heard for the first time on the hotline, the ones Eddie couldn’t go to sleep without dreaming of, the ones he couldn’t even jerk off without thinking about.

“Isn’t that what you told me? No one’s ever showed your little pussy what it’s been missing.” He tsks before continuing “that’s a real shame baby, but I’d be damn happy to show your sweet peach how it’s supposed to be eaten, cause I do it really well.” His cocky boyish grin is making you flood your panties and the dirty words aren’t doing anything to help.

You’re stunned into silence, you had given Eddie all of your sexy flirty material. You were at your proverbial limit. You had run out of characters.

He was a phone sex operator, of course you couldn’t keep up with his dirty talk, this was just like another normal working night for him.

Eddie grabbed at your chin, gently tilting your head up towards his, he could tell you had checked out and were now in your head, something Eddie noticed that you do a lot.

“Hey, baby. You okay?” The concern in his voice made you snap out of whatever foggy daze you were in.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just you’re really good at that, too good, if I’m being honest.” You light heartedly confess with a titter.

“Do you not like it? Should I tone it down?” You could tell by the rasp in his voice that he was nervous, the last thing he’d want is to overstep or make you feel uncomfortable.

You realized in that moment that reassurance was key with Eddie, he needed you to be more vocal, let him know what you like and dislike, and he’d do the rest.

That sentiment finally made your shoulders drop, the tension and nervousness dissipating from your body in an instant, you could trust him, give yourself to him in a way you never felt comfortable doing with anyone else.

“No, I meant it in a good way. I really like it, Eddie.” You purred up at him with a shy smile.

He beamed down at you with a look you could only describe as complete adoration.

His hands continued roaming your hips, thighs and ass, before he spoke up again.

“Lay your pretty ass on the couch, let me take care of you baby.” He asserts with a harsh slap to your barely covered behind.

The moan you’ve tried so hard to conceal finally found its way out, making Eddie release a breathy laugh into your neck.

“I knew you’d like that,” Eddie shook his head in utter disbelief “now get on the couch princess, I don’t wanna have to punish you, okay?” His assertive voice grew soft, as if trying to scale your reaction to his little game.

You practically pounced on the couch, not having to be told twice. You were a ready and willing participant in whatever game Eddie wanted to play with you, as long as he continued touching and talking to you, you’d do just about anything he wanted.

You laid back on the black leather couch, your head touching the cracked armrest. Eddie stalked up like a predator to prey. “Nope,” he said with a pop of the p, “I want you like this..” he manhandles you into position. Your head on the lower backrest of the couch, your ass slightly hanging off the cushion as he lifts your legs up while simultaneously pulling them apart.

Your skirt now hiked up to your belly and your white panties on full display, along with the quarter sized wet spot in the middle of your center.

“Stay right there.” Eddie commands with a wag of his finger.

He saunters over to the stereo, grabbing for a cassette to slip on, most likely to hide your wails and moans that he’s going to gladly pull from you.

He doesn’t ask you what tape you want, again. Choosing one he knows will conceal your cries of pleasure.

You continue to do your best by holding yourself in place, not wanting to move and disobey what Eddie had asked of you.

It takes you a while to place what song he’s chosen to play, and in that moment you couldn’t be anymore grateful that you have an older metalhead sibling.

Dragon time by Saint Vitus booms through the speakers. The slow melodic voice, heavy shreds of the guitar and overall trippy work of the instruments was the perfect soundtrack for fucking.

Eddie wastes no time, before you can even comprehend what’s going on; he’s kneeling in front of you, face so close to your dripping wet pussy.

He makes quick work of pulling your panties off of your body, like he’s unwrapping the gift he’s been waiting ages for on Christmas morning.

His eagerness makes you giggle.

Eddie flashes you a warning look, as if to say “be quiet or I’ll make you be quiet.” You got the message loud and clear. He grabs at your thighs, once again pulling them back; your knees now resting on the leather of the backrest above your head, your pussy open and on full display like a beautiful painting just for him.

“Wow,” Eddie whispers to himself in complete and utter fascination, “you’re a fucking dream.” He utters again, while moving in closer to your glistening cunt.

He nudges your clit with the tip of his nose, making you whimper at the swift shock to your bundle of nerves.

Eddie smiles up at you through his lashes, offering you a cocky grin before he sticks his tongue out and kitten licks at your clit, the silver ball on his tongue adding the most perfect friction. His eyes never leave yours as he gently gives it a few more flicks.

The whole thing was so intimate, yet downright filthy. You loved it, loved everything Eddie was willing to give you.

“Fuck!” You groan, as his lips gently wrap around your sensitive nub and begins suckling. It felt like heaven, you couldn’t help but throw your head back in complete ecstasy.

Eddie continued lapping at your pussy while occasionally sucking or fucking you with his tongue.

He was right, he’s really fucking good at this.

Once Eddie slipped two fingers in and curled them up, you were a goner. Your body shaking and writhing as he sucked your clit while fucking you on his heavily ringed and tattooed digits. His left hand slowly rubbed up and down on your right thigh, while continually repeating how tight you were for him.

As you were cumming the hardest you’ve ever come, Eddie slipped his drenched pruney fingers from your sopping hole and grabbed both thighs hiking them up higher. He continued to suck on your clit, but this time it was with more pressure as he shook his head back and forth, for what you could only assume was for maximum pleasure.

“Holy shit! I’m cumming so hard!” You shouted over the music still playing in the background, “please don’t stop!” You began repeating to yourself like a prayer.

Once your body stopped shaking and your moans died down, Eddie popped his head up from between your thighs. He assed your face before asking “how was that?” As if your screams and cries weren’t enough of an answer.

“That was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You say with a serious yet fucked out face, Eddie snorts at your words while letting go of your legs, they softly fall to the floor and you’re convinced if you tried to use them in any capacity, they would completely fail you.

“Do you need help, baby?” Eddie sweetly asks while holding out his hand for you to take.

You tentatively place your smaller hand in his, pulling yourself up on shaky legs. You flush with embarrassment when you feel a combination of Eddie’s spit and your juices spill down your inner thighs.

Eddie swiftly throws you over his shoulder, as if you weigh nothing, practically skipping off to what you presume was his bedroom, “Eddie, I could’ve walked!” You yelp.

“Well, your legs were shaky and what better way to thank you for letting me eat your sweet pussy, than to escort you straight to my bed, hmm?” He grunts as he slaps your exposed ass before lightly throwing you down onto his black silky sheets.

Eddie begins removing his leather jacket, harshly placing it over his brown wooden desk chair that was off to the side, then he makes quick work at removing his band shirt, haphazardly tossing it somewhere in the mess of his room, to be dealt with later. His tattoos once again capture your full attention, but this time you didn’t shy away from letting your eyes roam, you let them venture from his chest and arms to the “choking hazard” that made your heart race in your chest; you needed him, you needed him like the hot needs the sun.

As Eddie moves in closer, you notice the only thing left on his body are his damp red boxer shorts, your eyes selfishly roam his body, again. Finally meeting his chocolate brown orbs, as he hovers over you. A shaky breath is released from your mouth, a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in.

“Is this okay?” Eddie asks, sensing your nervousness. You nod as your doe eyes stare up at him, Eddie could’ve exploded; both heart and another organ, at the look you were giving him, so sweet and innocent, he fucking loved it.

“Yeah, it’s more than okay.” You reassure with a whisper, while studying Eddie’s face; his dark glazed over yet caring eyes, the light freckles on his nose and his beautiful swollen, kiss bitten lips.

He moves in closer rubbing his nose against yours, you close the gap for a second time tonight by bringing your lips to his in a hungry, lust filled kiss.

Eddie sucks on your bottom lip before his tongue makes entrance into your mouth. It’s sloppy and messy and spit filled and the pleasure of it goes straight between your legs. So much so, you cannot contain the desperate moans and whimpers that slip out, especially as Eddie begins to rub his rapidly growing cock against your very exposed pussy.

“You sound so pretty for me, baby.” Eddie whispers into your neck, “don’t stop making those noises okay? If I’m making you feel good I need to know, I don’t give a fuck how loud you get, understand?” He says as you both now realize the tape has stopped playing in the living room.

“Okay.” You shyly whisper back before biting at your tender, bottom lip.

Before Eddie has the chance to kiss you again, you speak up; still rather shyly. “Can I um, can I ask you a question?” Your voice is almost as low as the humming of the refrigerator in his kitchen, but thankfully Eddie hears you.

“You can ask me anything, sweet girl.” He says in a tone almost as low as yours.

“This is stupid but um have you ever gotten t-tested before?” You stutter out as your chest warms with embarrassment.

“Like for std’s?” Eddie says louder this time, almost in mild disbelief that you’d bring that up in the middle of what was happening, as that’s a question you usually ask beforehand.

You nod your head, feeling slight mortification while looking at everything in the room but Eddie.

“Yeah actually, I just got tested a few weeks ago.” He says while reaching in his night stand, a crinkle from paper could be heard as he whips the results from a test he had taken exactly three weeks ago out and in front of your face. “I don’t keep it in there for times like this, cause I know that’s where your mind will go.” He says with a huff of laughter.

You laugh back, playfully swatting at his chest.

“You know me too well, already.” You quip as you shake your head in disbelief that he has read you so well in just mere hours.

“What about you?” He asks, making your smile slightly falter into something more serious.

“Yeah, I actually had to get tested after Troy cheated on me, just to be sure. Ya know?” You said with a hint of glumness to your words. “I'm clean, and I haven’t been with anyone sense, so…” you trail off, while uncomfortably shifting underneath him.

Eddie studies your face for a few second before his head moves in closer to your ear, “are you asking because you want me to fuck you raw, sweetheart?” His words alone make you whimper, a little from embarrassment but mostly just because he’d picked up on exactly what you were trying to put down.

You nod with a “mmhm” that sounded more sexual than intended.

“Want to feel every inch of my cock in that tight little pussy, don’t you?” His cocky words and smirk to match made you want to cower away while simultaneously wanting to flip him over and ride him until your legs were sore. But you did no such thing. Instead you nod your head, again. This time with a seductive bat of your lashes as you bite at your bottom lip.

“Dirty girl.” He playfully snides before taking a chunk of skin on your neck between his teeth and gently biting, before sucking and soothing with the ball of his tongue ring.

You moan out into the dim light of his bedroom, your head falls deeper into his silk sheets as your back arches, pushing your clothed breasts into Eddie’s chest. The position allows him more access to leave all the marks he so pleased.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull out once I’m inside you, angel.” Eddie growls into your neck, before biting and sucking at more of your sensitive skin.

“You don’t have to.” You exhale with the sweetest most feminine moan Eddie has heard by far.

“Oh?” He chuckles before placing a few more wet kisses along your jawline to make you squirm.

“You want me to cum inside you too, sweet girl?” He shakes his head with a tsk, “Angel's not much of an angel at all, is she?” Eddie smirks at his teasing before going back to his work of leaving wet kisses across the skin of your neck.

You continue to moan and writhe at his provoking words, the burning in your belly feels like it’s rapidly spreading, and the only thing that can put it out is him, inside you.

Eddie begins to grow slightly impatient at your lack of words; his fingers make quick work at grabbing your cheeks with a little more force than you’ve been used to, tonight. “I asked you a question, baby. Do you want me to cum inside your pussy?”

Your eyes widen while his bore down into yours as if he’s so enamored by you, like he was genuinely looking at you for the first time. Not just a girl he wanted to sleep with, no. A girl he wanted to be with, a girl he wanted to grow with.

“Say it.” He growls. His fingers tighten on your cheeks, but not hard enough to cause pain. Even if they did you wouldn’t tell Eddie to stop, this side of him was one you were curious and enthralled to see more of.

“Yes. I want you to cum inside me, Eddie.” You whimper into his lips as they hover over yours, before continuing your desperate plea. “I’m on the pill.” You finish, before grabbing the back of Eddie’s head and crashing his lips back into yours, but before you could settle into the kiss, he pulls away.

Your eyes are still half lidded from the kiss before you realize his tattooed fingers are making work at removing the clips on your white corset top.

Your best guess would be around close to 40 small clasps, but Eddie’s dexterous fingers remove them all in under minutes.

He flings the white top open after the last obstacle has been removed. Gently pulling it from around your back and throwing it to meet his shirt and jeans somewhere scrawled on the mess of his bedroom floor.

He removes his knee from its kneeling position between your legs, standing up on both socked feet to take in your form. His eyes look dark and hungry while they explore every part of you that you have so gracefully exposed to him.

“You’re so beautiful and gorgeous…just fucking perfect, sweetheart.” He coos before moving back into his previous position of hovering over you, both hands taking place on each side of your head.

His arm tattoos, protruding veins and muscles are now eye level. You take in every tattoo from a flock of bats, to an “HF” in some old English font, to the name ‘Wayne’ in a heart tattoo on his chest. There were so many; you’d have to explore them later.

“Can I see all of you?” You ask, too timidly for your own liking.

Eddie’s warmth leaves yours, again. He works quickly, thumbing his boxers down and clumsily kicking them off of his left leg.

You chuckle at his uncoordinated actions, before your breath hitches in your throat; his cock now your sole focus and you couldn’t look at anything else in this moment if you tried.

It’s fat, long and the silver jewelry on his tip makes you clench your thighs together, but also kind of terrifies you at the same time.

His head is an angry red, some beads of precum have worked its way onto the jewelry. Everything about him has you salivating.

“It’ll fit, baby.” He sighed, you were surprised at the lack of cockiness in his voice. You wondered how many women’s eyes bulged at the sight of him, for him to be so used to having to quell away worries.

Not important, you’re here now.

“With the piercing too? Will that hurt?” You scrunch your nose up at the thought of it hurting your insides. No one you’ve ever been with had piercings, hell they didn’t even have tattoos, so this was all so new.

Eddie snorts “no, I promise it won’t hurt, the whole point is to bring you extreme pleasure. That’s all I intend to do.” He admits while moving to lift your skirt up, giving him a better view of your still glistening sex. The manicured hair on top of your mound now wet and shiny, too.

“How do you want me?” He asks as his fingertips ghost over your still sensitive clit.

“Can I be on top?” You hesitantly ask, you figured the position would give your body more control, or maybe that’s just what you’re telling yourself so you feel like you have some semblance of jurisdiction.

“Yeah baby, you can be on top.” Eddie nods while licking at his lips, he pulls you up so he can lay, now mirroring your previous position.

He sits up, pulling off your last article and letting the skirt meet the same fate as the other garments.

Eddie grabs your hips with both hands, moving you closer to straddle his lap. His cock lays flat upwards towards his belly button, so big you couldn’t help but to sit on the shaft. Warm skin on skin making you and Eddie moan out, as you maneuver yourself to get comfortable.

You’re still a soaked mess from Eddie’s earlier ministrations between your thighs, making the glide against Eddie’s shaft that much more delicious. “Fuck, angel!” He groans as his jaw tightens and his head falls back in complete and utter bliss.

“I need you inside me, Eddie.” You whisper into his jaw before you begin your trek down his neck to his chest. Leaving sloppy kisses of your own.

Eddie harshly grabs your ass with one hand, fingers prodding roughly into the fleshy globe while reaching down to wrap his other hand around his cock, giving it a few slow but forceful strokes before he begins lining his tip up with your dripping hole.

Once he’s finally breached your entrance, Eddie steadily holds your hips as if to keep you from taking too much at a time. His girth is stretching you open, so much that your eyes begin to slightly water and your breathing gets ragged. You can feel the silver jewelry sliding against your walls, you can feel it as you take him inch by mouth watering inch.

“Oh my god!” You and Eddie both groan in unison, as more curses slip out of Eddie’s mouth, yours drops open in a silent moan. Everything almost too much; while simultaneously not being even close to enough.

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking tight, baby.” Eddie whimpers.

You remove your hands that were digging harshly into Eddie’s shoulders, replacing them onto his sticker littered wooden headboard. The way he continued to split you open slowly, methodically had you gripping the wood so hard your knuckles began to whiten. The action brought your chest closer to Eddie’s face, he wasted no time before he began kissing, sucking and licking at your hardened nipples, his tongue ring gliding ever so sensually over the stiffened buds.

Finally, after your slow work of sinking down onto Eddie’s cock, it’s now sheathed entirely inside of you, along with the help of Eddie’s thumb rubbing small circles into your clit.

Your whole body was buzzing, you felt high and drunk off of Eddie, not only with having him inside of you but by the sounds that were slipping out of his pretty mouth, too many “fuck, babys” and “holy shits” to keep count.

Your hands grip the headboard even tighter as you use it as leverage to help you begin bouncing up and down on Eddie’s painfully hard cock, while he begins to lose it below you.

His hands move from your hips now that you’re fully seated on him, down to your ass. Taking two handfuls, fingers grabbing so tight his nails are breaching your skin, almost like he’s afraid you’d disappear.

“Fuck yes, baby. Keep bouncing on my cock!” He growls before slapping one of the cheeks he’d been clutching for dear life. Your skin easily heats up at the force, the spank brought you more pleasure than you ever thought it would. You had decided right then that you wanted Eddie to be rougher with you.

“Please—” you begin, already too fucked out to string together a simple sentence.

“Hmm?” Eddie hums with a teasing lilt behind his words “what was that, angel? Please what? Huh?”

Your eyes begin to water again, not from the teasing but from the rapidly growing fire in the pit of your stomach, one you’ve never had the pleasure of feeling, until now.

You swallow away the spit that is now coating your tongue, before you try speaking again.

“Please, don’t be gentle. I n-need you to fuck me.” You do nothing to hide the shaky rasp in your sweet voice, Eddie can already feel you squeezing him, he knows you’re close.

So he takes matters into his own hands, regaining the control he so often enjoys.

He quickly flips you both over, deja vu of the position you’d first been in when Eddie threw you on his bed.

He makes haste work of grabbing his cock and slamming it back into you, this time giving you no warnings or slow thrusts. No, he’s giving you exactly what you so desperately begged for.

Eddie hikes your legs up by the backs of your knees. The position pushes him in deeper, so deep you can feel him in your abdomen.

“Fuck!” You whine “you’re so deep!” You can practically feel Eddie’s piercing drag against your spot, a spot you’ve only ever been able to reach once with your fingers at a time when you were particularly too horny, but it didn’t feel like this.

“I know I am, baby. I can see my dick in your belly.” He titters before he removes one hand from your leg, placing it on top of your lower stomach where his cock is protruding from, he rubs it as if he’s trying to jack himself off through your skin.

“You feel that?” He says while slowly thrusting in and out of your aching pussy. You glance down to get a better look, nodding your head with the smallest “mmhm” to follow.

He smirks at you with a wink before he’s back to the hard rough thrusts you so shamelessly begged for.

“Mmm, pussys so good princess. Can’t wait to fill her up, have her leaking my cum for hours.” He huskily groans into the skin of your neck.

His thrusts are relentless, and the fire in the pit of your stomach, returns with a vengeance.

“Oh fuck!” You wail as you feel the beginnings of a very intense orgasm, “I’m gonna—” you continue your shouts of pleasure. “Oh my god, Eddie!”

“That’s it, Angel. Cum for me.” He growls into your lips before moving in for a searing, passionate kiss.

“I’ve never—” the words die on your tongue, as the overwhelming sense of contemptment grips your body.

“No one’s ever made you cum on their cock, baby?” Eddie questions

His eyebrows are pinched as he stares into your eyes. His thrusts slow, making the semblance of a sweet release dissipate.

“No, no one’s ever made me cum but myself.” You bashfully confess.

Eddie’s thrusts come to a full stop, his eyes feel like they’re burning holes into your sockets. He clenches his jaw before shooting you a look of empathy, like he’s so sorry no one’s ever taken care of you before, but he’s here now and that's all he wants, to continue taking care of you, forever.

“Hold on to me, sweet girl.” He softly mutters “I’m gonna make you feel so good, okay?” It’s not said in a cocky, ‘I know I can make you cum’ kind of way, but more so in an ‘I’ll do anything you need to make you cum’ kind, and if he was thrusting any faster, those words would’ve been the thing to pull you under, deep into that ocean of orgasmic bliss.

You wrap your legs around Eddie’s lower back while throwing your hands around his neck, clinging on to him like some kind of koala to a tree.

Eddie smirks at your actions; fuck, if you weren’t the cutest fucking thing in the world.

His thrusts begin to pick up, gradually until they’re fast and unforgiving. He begins kissing and sucking on a spot he’s found that makes you squirm and moan.

He brings his thumb up to rub along your bottom lip, the calluses on his finger glide so smoothly on your spit soaked skin.

“Suck.” He demands into your ear, his words willing you to open up, taking the digit onto your tongue before closing. You make a little show of ‘how deep will it go?’ before finally popping off and leaving it drenched with your spittle.

He brings his saturated thumb in between your bodies and begins rubbing small gentle circles on your clit, making your body jolt at the shock of pleasure.

Your legs begin to shake and your limbs begin to tighten around Eddie, your head falls back and the words you wanna scream that are on the tip of your tongue, just won’t come out.

“That’s it, that’s it, Angel.” Eddie whispers to you with his head in the crook of your neck, “squeezing me so fucking tight, baby.” He tenderly growls, “you’re doing so good for me. Just let go, let go and cum on my cock.” He mumbles those last words before giving the spot on your neck a particularly hard suck.

His praise mixed with his pierced cock stretching you out and the attention to your neck; throws you so hard over that precipice, you’ve just been aching to fall from.

This orgasm was life changing, earth shattering, all consuming.

Once you’d fully come to, Eddie begins planting little kisses to your face and neck, repeating how good you did, and what a good girl you are for him.

“It’s my turn, baby.” Eddie whispers before he's pounding you into his mattress, deep hard strokes and filthy words.

“I’m gonna ruin your sweet little cunt for anyone else, you hear me?” He practically snarls “Tight fucking pussy, just for me.” He continues, “you ready baby? You ready for daddy’s cum?” His body stiffens before he begins groaning and babbling incoherently.

As he cums you treat his neck as he treated yours, leaving sloppy kisses and sucking little purple marks into his ivory skin.

Once his body has relaxed, you can feel his release dripping out of you and onto his silk sheets, but he makes no effort to move, his knees stay planted on the bed so as not to completely squish you while his head burrows into your breasts.

He sighs like he’s the most comfortable he’s ever been while you begin rubbing your nails gently across his scalp and playing with his brown curly strands.

The silence is comfortable for a few minutes as you both come back into your bodies from such intense climaxes.

Eddie’s body stiffens a bit as he looks up at you from between your chest.

“Can you be mine?” He timidly asks, as if a kid asking for candy.

“Yes, I’m yours Eddie.”

🏷️ list

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#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie munson series

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slytherinslut0 · 7 months

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Three- Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Oral Sex (M Rec), Throat Fucking, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Humiliation, Manipulation, Gagging, Spitting, DubCon, CNC.

**here’s: one, two, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen & twenty.

As you approached the door of the familiar private classroom, a subtle sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your confidence.

Admittedly you got lost in the depths of your homework after dinner, becoming absorbed in the swirls of ink on your parchment, diligently crafting your Astronomy essay due in a mere three weeks from now. The minutes seemingly slipped away, and you realized you were running late for today's tutoring session, the devastating consequence of your intense focus on your academic obligations.

However, considering Mattheo's habitual tardiness--one of which he has mastered as well as any given art form--you assumed your delay wouldn't be at all consequential, and would most likely even go unnoticed. So without really thinking twice about it, you gently pushed open the door, expecting the room to be empty, the usual silence welcoming you as you stepped inside.

But then, to your astonishment, the room was not vacant. There he was, Mattheo Riddle, perched on the chair with an air of casual authority. His long legs were stretched out before him, feet confidently resting on the desk's edge, displaying a newfound confidence that sent a shiver down your spine. His arms were folded, his posture exuding an almost predatory assurance. His eyes, dark as the night and twice as intense, followed your every move as you stepped inside. The atmosphere crackled with tension, the weight of his gaze pressing upon you.

You closed the door with a deliberate slowness, the soft click echoing through the room like a gunshot in the silence, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently challenging you.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up." He taunted, his voice laced with a poisonous charm. The room seemed to shrink in the wake of his suffocating arrogance. "Guess Ravenclaws little good girl isn't so perfect after all...who would have guessed."

You rolled your eyes, a flush of embarrassment staining your cheeks as you awkwardly dropped your gaze to the floor. The weight of being late for the first time in your life was almost palpable, but you made an effort to play it off, attempting to regain your composure despite the lingering discomfort.

"Save the mind games for someone who's willing to play, Riddle," you said, slowly making your way toward him. "You have no right to talk, you're late every single week."

"Yeah but I'm not the one who turns into a sobbing mess over a less-than-perfect grade," Mattheo sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "I don't have mental breakdowns just because I'm not the class's golden child in everything, and I'm definitely not the one who's about to graduate in merely a few months while still a fucking virgin-"

Your jaw dropped in astonishment at his audacity, a surge of indignation propelling you to slam your bag down on the desk in front of him. The force of your action knocked his feet off the desk, abruptly interrupting whatever sentence he had intended to finish, leaving him silenced in disbelief.

"At least I'm going to fucking graduate without needing someone to hold my hand like a child." You hissed, the words slipping past your teeth before you even had a chance to process them. "For someone who needs me so much, you sure don't act like you appreciate my help."

Mattheo's eyes darkened, a storm of arrogance and anger swirling in their depths, transforming his usual stoic demeanor into a deep scowl etched across his face. He rose from his seat, his tall frame looming over you, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the room.

"You think I need you, Raven?" He purred, wetting his lips. "You really think that?"

You steeled your jaw, strengthening your stance, ignoring the fact that your fingers were trembling like leaves in the autumn wind.

"Where would you be without me, Riddle?" You whispered, kinking your neck back to catch his dark, hungry eyes. "How many tutors did you have before me? How many other students tried to help you but couldn't stand your arrogant, no-fucks-given attitude, hm?"

Your words draped the air with a palpable gravity, silencing Mattheo completely--an unprecedented reaction, given his usual quick retorts. The revelation ignited a fierce ember within you, fueling your resolve and lending a sharp edge to your words, as if each syllable carried the weight of your determination.

"That's what I thought..." your voice was low, reverberating as a mere whisper in the air, something flickering behind Mattheo's eyes that made your lips curl into a devilish smirk. "You know that without me, you'd be here forever...maybe you've managed to manipulate me into being your little toy, but that doesn't change the truth about this whole thing...you need me, Riddle, you fucking need me..."

Mattheo blinked, the ensuing silence lingering for what felt like a painful fucking eternity--time seemed to come to a standstill, everything around you fading into insignificance, leaving just you and the cunning, arrogant boy with tousled hair in your presence.

When he finally spoke, You couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach, understanding all too well that his words were laced with an arrogant twist, a prelude to something manipulative and cunning yet to unfold.

"You're right," he finally said, stepping closer. "I do need you,"

His voice dipped into a low, sinister register, and the corners of his lips curled into a sadistic smile, sending a chill down your spine.

"I need you to watch your fucking mouth," the touch of his fingers on your arm nearly made you jump, his hand grazing up and over your shoulder. "I need you on your knees begging for my forgiveness," the pads of his fingers grazed your collarbone, and before you could even comprehend it, his large hand clasped around your throat, the other finding the small of your back as he pushed you up against the desk. "And then, I need you swallowing my fucking cum like the good little whore I know you are."

Without wasting a single second of time his plush lips attacked yours, his tongue delving past your teeth with a passionate urgency. You were painfully aware of Mattheo's manipulative tactics, understanding that he was using your vulnerability to his advantage, and the rational part of your mind screamed warnings at you, reminding you of the toxicity in his actions.

Yet, beneath the surface; as his hands roamed your curves, his tongue explored your mouth; an unsettling, exhilarating feeling lingered, a strange sort of affection for the very dominance that should have repelled you.

The awareness of his exploitation only intensified the rush, a twisted form of affection blossoming amidst the wrongness of it all. It was as if the knowledge of being used had become entangled with your desires, forming a paradoxical bond that you couldn't sever. In the midst of the moral turmoil, a dark, irresistible thrill coursed through your veins, leaving you helplessly drawn to the very thing you should have despised.

"You've been a very naughty girl, Raven..." his lips fell to your jawline, hands groping your curves, bunching the fabric of your uniform within his battered fists. "You've been swearing far too much...you were late...and now you want to act like you have power over me?" When he sunk his teeth into your earlobe, you yelped, flinching as he tightened his grip on your hips. "Don't get it twisted, princess...I hold the fucking power here...look at what I do to you..."

Your entire body was tingling, your fingers latching onto the fabric of his white button up dress shirt for dear fucking life.

"Mattheo-"

His lips fell lower, rough hands gripping your hips and shoving your ass back onto the desk behind you, parting your legs on either side of his strong body as he pulled you against him.

"This is what I do to good girls like you...I turn them into naughty little whores..." he purred, licking a flat line up the side of your throat, your lids involuntary fluttering shut at the breathtaking sensation. "...naughty little whores who take my cock and swallow my fucking cum."

His hands slid up your sides, taking the fabric of your skirt along with them, and you gasped as you felt it hike dangerously high up your thighs, trembling fingers tugging it back down to keep yourself covered.

Mattheo huffed, releasing the fabric. "You're not used to being bad though, are you, princess?"

His teeth sank into your collarbone, creating a tantalizing blend of pleasure and pain that sent shivers down your spine. Strands of his tousled hair caressed your cheek, the faintest whisper of a touch sending tingles across your skin. Your lips parted involuntarily, releasing a soft whimper, while Mattheo's response echoed in a deep, guttural groan that reverberated through the air, intensifying the charged atmosphere between you.

One hand gripped your jaw as he pulled back, meeting your eyes. "Answer me when I ask you a question."

Your breath hitched, flames roaring in your veins. "No, Mattheo...I'm not..."

"Mm," he purred, wetting his lips as he stared. "Do you know what happens to bad girls, Raven?"

Your stomach twisted as he tugged you closer by the hold on your jaw, his eyes darkening with desire as they darted across your face, seemingly examining your features as though they were precarious and new.

Your voice trembled. "No..."

"They get fucking punished."

Before you could respond, Mattheo shifted his hand, shoving two rough fingers between your teeth, reaching for the back of your throat and forcing a gag. Your eyes watered, beads of salty fluid threatening to spill down your cheeks, but he was unyielding, gripping the back of your neck with his other hand to force himself further down your throat--holding you in place while he did.

Your entire body was in flames, your thighs begging, fucking screaming in a need so disgustingly dirty you'd never experienced anything remotely close to it before.

Mattheo groaned, low in his chest, his dark eyes watching every single ministration of your face as you gagged on his fingers. The hand behind your head relented as he brought it to his crotch, palming the insistent bulge in his trousers as he watched you; seemingly not having blinked once.

"Unbutton your shirt," his voice was a hoarse whisper, laced with primal desire. He pushed his fingers deeper, clearing his throat. "Seal those filthy lips around my fingers, and unbutton your fucking shirt, princess..."

You cursed the fact that his body was separating your legs because all you wanted, more than anything on the face of the planet, was to squeeze your fucking thighs together--to give your cunt any sort of friction possible. Every word from his lips was doing inexplicable things to your body, and the need between your thighs was growing so insistent it was almost painful.

Following his commands, you sealed your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue and bobbing your head painfully slowly as you teased him, trembling fingers moving to the buttons on your blouse and undoing them one by one until your chest was entirely exposed to him--your lungs stalled, pussy clenching as you watched his eyes darken with desire while they scanned your chest covered only by your navy laced bra, the hand on his crotch moving more insistently now.

"My fucking God, Raven," he breathed, jaw tensing so tight it looked painful. "I can't believe you've been keeping all of that hidden this whole time..."

You mewled involuntarily as he grazed your chest with his free hand, pushing his fingers deeper down your throat with enough intensity to make you cough as his demeanour switched and he palmed your breast with enough force to illicit an exasperated groan. He was possessed now, something swarming his pupils that made your entire body convulse with unfamiliar and unabashed need; you were almost certain there'd be a pool of your desire on the desk between your thighs at this point.

Without warning, he abruptly removed his hands from you. Your lips, parted in anticipation of a breath, yearned for air before his mouth enveloped yours once more. In a frenzy, his hands hurriedly reached for his belt, driven by an almost desperate urgency as you both inhaled sharply through your nostrils. Your lips meshed together in a way that seemed to consume each other, as if you could breathe in one another during the kiss.

Once he'd successfully freed himself, he pulled back, shoving his fingers back into your mouth and yanking you off the desk, his throbbing length pressing against your belly as he shoved himself against you; fingers forcing another gag from your chest, watching you with a primal fervour in his eyes so intense it was intoxicating.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth again, he cupped his hand out in front of you. "Spit."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, your brain buffering in attempt to process his words until his free hand shot into your hair, tilting your head until your lips were parallel to his palm.

"Spit, Raven," he repeated. "Spit into my fucking hand."

Your stomach contorted with a mix of disbelief and unfamiliar desire, your entire being thrown off balance. Each word that fell from his lips felt like a jolt, causing your heart to stutter in your chest. His eyes bored into you, searing your skin into flames, and without another moment's hesitation, you gathered the saliva he had coerced from you and spat it into his hand.

"Mm, that's it...good little whore..." He purred, bringing it down to his cock, rubbing it into his shaft as he stroked himself, eyes never once leaving yours. "Now, get on your knees for me, pretty girl."

Your breath caught in your throat. He, of all people, had just called you "pretty," and you were certain your ears were playing some sort of trick on you. It was a compliment you never expected from him, someone you had never imagined would see you in such a way. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you did as he said, squeezing your thighs together as you situated yourself in front of his feet.

Mattheo's hand remained in your hair, firmly gripping a fistful as he stroked himself. "Hands behind your back, Raven..." he muttered. "Let me see those delicious fucking tits of yours."

Your entire body shuddered, immediately clasping your hands together behind you without a second thought.

"That's it...fuck-" he was stroking himself faster, the veins in his hands tensing with every movement. You weren't sure who was enjoying this more, him or you. "You want this, princess? You want this cock in your dirty little mouth?"

Your throat was drier than the desert, each swallow a struggle against the arid emptiness within. Fingernails dug into your own flesh with a fierce intensity, the pressure threatening to break through the skin, mirroring the internal turmoil that gripped you. Holy fucking shit.

"Yes..." your voice was a pathetic whisper.

"Don't be so modest, Raven," he sneered, slowing his pace, twisting his wrist as he stroked his shaft, eyes never once leaving yours. "Beg for it."

Your stomach was in your throat. You'd never done anything like that before, you weren’t even really sure how. "I...um-please, Mattheo..."

His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment, a flicker of amusement dancing across his features before he locked eyes with you once more, his arrogance wrapping around the room like a suffocating cloak.

"Bloody hell, I said beg for it...does the prissy little princess not know how to fucking beg?" his voice was a hoarse growl, his vocal cords strained with lust. "Tell me how bad you want my cock, Raven, tell me how much you need it."

You couldn't believe your ears; the turn of events in your life felt utterly surreal. Never in your entire existence could you have imagined that this is where you'd find yourself right now--merely a few months away from graduation, on your knees for the most suffocatingly arrogant delinquent in the school who was making you beg to suck his fucking dick. A man who only last year wouldn't have paid you an ounce of mind, who probably didn’t even know you existed.

Your cheeks burned, but you fought through it, the arousal in your lungs fuelling your words. "Please, Mattheo...I want your cock so bad, I want you in my mouth, I want to choke on it, I want you to fuck my throat until you cum-"

His grip on your hair tightened, simultaneous with the grip on his cock as he cranked your head back, leaning down to meet your eyes; his lips hovering mere inches above yours.

"My God, you're a dirty fucking slut, aren't you?" He purred, smirking so wide it reached his eyes, his fingers bruising your scalp. "A dirty fucking slut whose sole purpose is to let me use her mouth whenever I want, yeah?"

You swallowed, wincing as he jerked your head back further, fucking into his fist faster, harder. "Yes, Mattheo..."

He sneered, clearly loving every fucking minute of this. "Imagine if anyone saw you like this...fuck-you're fucking filthy..." his voice was breathless, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was about to make himself cum before you had the chance to suck him off. "Apologize for being such a nasty little slut and I'll let you swallow my cum."

Your thighs clenched in need, your wetness seeping through your panties at this point. Gods, you wanted him so fucking bad you thought you were going to die.

"I'm sorry," you pleaded, eyes wide as you peered up at him, nearly-speechless. "I'm sorry for being a nasty little slut."

"That's right..." he purred, directing the head of his cock toward your mouth, groaning as your pressed your lips to it. "Good girl...fuck-so good for me..."

Your entire body was in flame, hands still clasped together behind your back as both of his thrust tightly through your hair, absentmindedly sealing your lips around his shaft, revelling in his skin's heat, dragging your tongue along the throbbing, pulsing underside. Riddle growled, bucking his hips, and you took him further into your mouth, gagging as his tip slammed the back of your throat.

"You take me so well, Raven..." he breathed, head falling back on his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as his hands urged your head along his length. "Can't believe a mouth that annoying can feel this fucking good."

You groaned in assent, sucking hard at his cock as he slowly started to fuck your throat. You were both struggling to breathe, both losing control, both lost in an ocean of primal, urgent carnality. Pleasure was straining your seams, ready to explode inside of you, drool dribbling in globs from your chin, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you tried to hold the boundaries of your sanity together.

"Mm, fuck..." Riddle's grip was crushing your skull. "I changed my mind…I'm gonna' cum on those perfect tits, princess..."

Your bones almost liquefied at this--but you steadied your knees, gagging as he started fucking into your throat faster, thrusting deep, your eyes disappearing into the back of your head as you allowed him to use your mouth as a helpless hole for him to fuck--singlehandedly loving every fucking second of it.

"Shit-" he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck."

Your thighs clenched, brain fogged by a hurricane of lust, but when he pulled out, abruptly, your cognition returned--your vision clearing to an image of Riddle, red-faced, fucking his fist. Snarling, he jerked your hair, and choked on his moan, the sound stuttering while he shot the hot loads of his cum onto your chest and neck. He sucked down air in long, heavy breaths, waiting until the end of his release had dissipated, and then dropped you, stepping back to marvel at his masterpiece. You swore steam was wafting off your skin.

"Beautiful," he murmured. He pieced himself back together, buckling his belt. "Tell me how I taste."

Every inch of you tingled, chest heaving, jaw slack in an open pant. Keeping his stare, you brought a trembling hand to your chest, swiping his sticky cum off your tits and trailing it past your lips, slowly sucking it off your first two fingers. The taste melding with the mere prospect of what was happening elicited a low moan from your chest, and you shuddered, trapped in his gaze until you were finished.

"Salty." You teased, smirking up at him.

"Salty, huh?” He huffed, a devious grin on his face as he helped you up to your feet, rough palm grasping your forearm. "Important mineral for a balanced meal, yeah?"

You chuckled, heat swarming your skin as you stammered up to your feet, meeting his darkened eyes as you began buttoning up your shirt, taking in his newly flushed features--curly brown hair slightly sticking to his forehead before he ran a battered hand through it, brushing it back.

“Smartass,” you grumbled, turning toward the desk. “Next week we have an exam, so there won’t be a tutor session, you know that right?”

He released a breath, throwing himself into the usual creaky wooden chair beside yours. “Guess that just means you’ll have to do that again before the nights’ over,” he said. “You know, to compensate for next week.”

You rolled your eyes, failing to hide your smirk. “In your dreams, Riddle.”

“Oh, definitely not, princess.” He breathed, glimpsing you briefly. “In my dreams you do a hell of a lot more than that.”

——————

Chapter four->

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macfrog · 2 months

Text

san angelo | one shot

what happens when joel miller meets his star-crossed lover?

big love to @mrsmando and @5oh5 for cheering me on with this one, and @bageldaddy for being my eyes, my ears, and - only sometimes - my brain.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: it's the summer of two thousand eight. after two weeks following his little brother cross-country on the back of a harley, joel follows him through the doors of a dive bar - where fate delivers him to you. warnings: story is inserted into canon, so cordyceps outbreak happens, sarah dies (off-page), joel dissociates, doomed love, lots of mention of fate, alcohol consumption, reader is a smoker, cursing, drunken one-night stand, oral sex, unprotected piv, joel's cock is massive, a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lil smut to tie it all together. enjoy! word count: 9.8k

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Palm lines.

It’s the first thing he thinks as soon as she stops moving in his arms. The second her little whimpers cease, the moment her chest stops heaving and her eyes glaze over. Suddenly, Joel’s little girl weighs more than he can bear.

Palm lines. And he has no fucking idea why.

He closes his eyes and there you are. The whir of the ceiling fan, the tinkling of bracelets loose on your wrist. You have sorta earth hands, you told him. Or, well – they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way. I don’t really know. I’m still learning.

You told him that air hands were long, spindly. And Sarah was always a lanky kid – tallest on the soccer team, head and shoulders above the other girls by the third grade. Her hands, he thinks, must be air. They must be.

Her fingers are still twisted around his right now. Lifeless, slippery with the blood still wet and quickly cooling.

Joel cradles her, squeezing so hard that he wonders whether he might be able to fuse their bodies together. Lock them in some white-knuckle grip so that he never has to let go of her – never has to leave this hill covered in dirt and blood.

His palms are ruined; a maroon river carving its way down his heart line, dirt deep in the groove of his life line. Why does he even fucking remember what they’re called?

Why the fuck are you what he’s thinking about, right now?

“Tommy,” he says, opening his eyes again. “We gotta…we gotta get to…”

She’s limp, draped over his thighs as though she’s nothing more than a stretch of crimson curtain. He looks down at her and begs her to come back, begs her to open her eyes and look up at him again.

But the night is passing and she’s still not breathing. Dawn is breaking and Joel’s daughter is dead.

He sucks in a shattered breath. “…to San Angelo, Tommy.”

The younger Miller stuffs his gun into the back of his jeans and paces over, soles coated thick in shit and grass. “I hear you, Joel.”

“You ain’t listenin’ to me, I –”

“I’m listenin’ fine, Joel.” Tommy hooks his hands under his niece’s arms. “Now, help me lift her. We can’t…” his voice strains, fighting the death grip his brother has on the girl, “…we can’t leave her here.”

Joel’s frozen to the spot; sinking further and further into the earth. Staring at his open hands, the stains like rust on his palms. He says to San Angelo again, and Tommy snaps.

“Jesus, Joel, enough! I’ve heard enough goddamn it! I see your hands, now – we gotta fuckin’ bury Sarah.”

Your fate line, your nail tickled, and Joel held his hand steady, It can change, if something big is coming.

Somethin’ big? he asked. A little younger, a lot more naïve. Still a healthy dose of belief in the world, an echo of the god-fearing faith that raised him.

His hand felt so light, cradled in two of yours. He half hoped he’d never have to let go – just lie there with you forever. Your legs tangled with his, the sheets disturbed; the room injected with amber from the streetlights outside.

You nodded. A big shift, or something.

And he scoffed. He actually scoffed, right there and then. Incredulous. The hell kinda big shift is comin’ our way? he asked, laughing.

You just smiled back, shrugging. You were so fucking casual, that whole night. It would’ve unnerved him, if he hadn’t been so swept off by the sparkle in your eye, the glowing cherry of your cigarette.

Guess we just gotta wait ‘n see.

It’s August thirtieth, two thousand eight.

Almost five thousand miles on the back of a Harley, and Joel just wants to go home.

He arches his aching back, palms flat against the crests of his hips, and blinks in the light from the food mart in front of him. Twenty-six, he thinks to himself, only twenty-fuckin’-six.

It’s ninety degrees out. An uncomfortable heat, for a man who feels ten years older than he really is. For a man who hasn’t had a decent shower in almost two weeks. For a man who’s spent the last six hours tailing the brake lights of his little brother’s bike.

The sweat gathers sticky between his shoulder blades, prickles along the nape of his neck. There’s dust spattered down his bare arms and buried in the grooves of his knuckles.

He’s tired. He’s tired, he’s dirty, and goddamn, he wishes he was back home.

He holds a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, the yellow sky melting to a purple haze. Squinting, he follows the soar of two swallows overhead, looping through the sky, until he’s rubbing the image from his eyes with the back of his wrist.

He’s gotta remember to call Sarah before she goes to bed.

The door opens with the tinkle of a brass bell older and rustier than Joel feels. A swaggering figure splits the glow from the store in two – a figure with a pack of Marlboros in one hand and an already half-empty bottle of water in the other.

Tommy holds them both out to Joel, who swipes the water with a scowl.

“Ain’t killed you yet, brother,” Tommy scoffs, stuffing the cigarettes into his back pocket. He swings a frayed-denim leg over the seat of his Harley.

Joel drains the bottle, panting as he crushes the plastic in one fist. “Damn near tryin’,” he mutters, tossing it in the trash. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip.

“Where are we?” Tommy asks. He glances over his shoulder, staring from the cracked roads to the telephone wires overhead. A Syclone pulls into the lot; a dehydrated squeal as it rolls to a halt.

“San Angelo,” Joel says. “Only a few more hours to go.” He settles on his own bike, pulling his leather jacket over his shoulders. “We passed a Super 8 coming into town, if you feel like restin’ up. Or – we leave now, be home around midnight.”

Tommy chuckles. “What’s the rush? We ain’t gotta be anywhere anytime soon.”

And Joel agrees – for the most part.

His mom is watching Sarah while they’re gone, and he reckons she’s hardly missing him. Too smart for her own good, Joel’s realizing: plotting and scheming her way into staying up past her bedtime, drinking Pepsi at dinner, watching Curtis and Viper – and swearing that her dad lets her do it all, too.

But, still. He misses his kid.

It’s the most they’ve ever been apart – time or distance. The longest he hasn’t had her climbing up his back or hanging off his arm. The least he’s been called Dad since he was eighteen years old.

He just…misses his kid.

He sighs, drumming his fingers on the body of the bike. “Tommy, I gotta get back home to Sarah.”

“Look,” Tommy says, and Joel knows that the argument is lost already, “By the time we got back, she’d be asleep anyways. Let’s leave in the morning – first thing, I swear – and we’ll be home in time for breakfast. Deal?”

They stare at one another, a stand-off in the parking lot. Both waiting for the other to break. The swallows gather on the roof of the store, basking in the weak wash of flickering fluorescents.

“Come on, brother,” Tommy pleads, “It’s one more night.” He lifts his helmet, punching it over his mop of shaggy hair, and kicks the bike to life.

Joel growls to himself, watching it drift over to the side of the road.

He considers heading to the Super 8 alone, grabbing a room only to shower and get some food, then hitting the road and leaving his little brother in the dust. Waiting for him to stumble through the door tomorrow morning – tired, groggy, probably hungover – while Joel, fresh as a daisy, drizzles syrup over Sarah’s pancakes and pours her orange juice.

He’s a pragmatic man. He’s a grown-up. Scares away the ghosts and ghouls and monsters of his daughter’s nightmares. Shushes her back to sleep in the crook of his arm, tiptoes as lightly as he can out of her room so as not to wake her.

Things like God, like the universe, things like horoscopes and laws of attraction…for the most part, Joel can do without them. Has done his whole life.

But then – the glow of indigo overhead, and the mysterious shadows lurking behind the buildings. The birdsong tittering in his ears, the twinkle of the sun in Tommy’s helmet – something distant in the dusty sphere.

Something, someone, winking at him from far away.

Something a little heavier than the breeze nudges at his spine, and Joel’s arms lift – fitting his own helmet over his head. He swings the heel of his boot into his kickstand and revs the bike, Harley roaring as it joins Tommy’s out on the boulevard.

Murphy’s is a small, green bar on the corner of an intersection. All peeled paint lettering and buzzing fluorescents – the y burnt out and pulsing.

Joel doesn’t think Tommy picked it for any reason other than the huge Lone Star mural on the side of the goddamn building, the way he tosses his thumb to it as they park up. A squint smirk on his face, muttering something like ‘s good to be home, big brother, as they hook helmets over handlebars.

Tommy leads Joel inside, their boots tacky on the wooden floor. Walls paneled by aged frames and sun-bleached photographs; air hanging thick with a smell like vinegar. The babble of slurred conversation is pierced by the sharp crack of pool balls breaking.

Metal-plate belt buckles snaked through strained jeans; low eyes which shift to size-up the two strangers. They all turn back to their fingerprinted glasses when Joel and Tommy settle into an empty booth.

It feels hotter in here than it is outside, stuffier. A thick humidity which clings to Joel’s bones, humming like the string lights draped from beams above his head.

Tommy reclines between the creaking leather cushion and the wall. He pokes at a yellowing poster of some Western, hums to himself, and then looks across the table.

Joel’s eyes loop once around the room before they meet his brother’s. “What?” he asks.

“First round is yours, old man.”

“Oh, is it, now?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Thought this was your idea?”

A weedy grin stretches across Tommy’s lips. He needs to fucking shave, Joel thinks. Whiskers poking from around his small mouth like pine needles. “’s my birthday trip,” he reasons.

And can Joel argue with that? Does he have the fucking energy? Will it get him out of here and back to Austin any quicker?

“Goddamn it,” he grumbles. He pushes himself to his feet, heels of his palms against the tacky wood.

He wanders over to the bar, tugging on the front of his tee to unstick it from his damp chest. Slots in beside an ivory cowboy hat with a pair of jeaned legs. The man fixes his bolo tie and watches Joel’s hand as he flags the bartender down.

And then he feels it.

You.

Then he feels you.

First, the weight of you – crashing some into his back. He shunts forward from the suddenness of it, knocking his ribs against the bar, and lifts a hand to brace himself on the ledge.

And then – heat, like an iron. Like every hair and freckle on your skin is branded into his the second you come into contact with him. A feeling like the roll of a wave against his spine, a hand hooked around his forearm when he begins to turn.

“Shit,” you hiss, steadying yourself on the curve of his shoulder. You glance down at your feet, clicking between your black boots. “I’m sorry, that was…that was my bad.”

“’s alright,” Joel says instantly. He holds his arm still until you let go and he sidesteps – though only a little. He watches, dumbstruck, as you rest your elbows on the bar and lean forward. His eyes linger on your back, trailing the crisscross straps wrapped tight over your spine.

You squint up at the menu pinned above shelves of crystal bottles. Your eyes move back and forth across the chalkboard, slowly descending until they’re meeting his in the speckled mirror opposite – a sweet smile growing on your lips.

It runs like whiskey through Joel’s veins: warm and dangerous.

And the way his head spins, the way the world blurs for a moment into one swipe of color around you; the way your cooing laugh echoes between his ears long after he’s heard it –

Joel’s already intoxicated.

He’s still staring when you pull back and motion to the bar. “You can go first, by the way,” you say, waving a hand. “I wasn’t cuttin’ in line. Just trying to read the drinks.”

“I’ll wait,” he replies, remembering how to be polite, how to be charming. Old cogs long out of use jerking to life inside him again. “Can’t read any of ‘em, either, anyways.”

It draws from you that same little laugh, a puff of air from your nostrils. You nod, biting your bottom lip.

He’s quickly forgetting why he’s stood in this room, why he’s in this city. He’d probably forget his own fucking name if you asked him right now what it was.

“’nother drink, darlin’?” a low voice interrupts, and you’re turning away.

Joel’s eyes follow you – a moth chasing something golden and radiant – as you face the wiggle of a snow-white mustache poking from beneath the brim of that ivory cowboy hat.

You shake your head, lifting two fingers with a bill slipped between them. “I’m good, thanks, George. Maybe next round.” You wave to the kid behind the bar – some name that Joel’s too fucking mindless to hear. Too distracted by the glint in your eye, the sparkle of your crescent moon earrings in the light.

If only he knew this feeling. If only he could put a name to it. As familiar as the sun and yet, brand new like dawn. His stomach swirls in a fleet of butterflies – as though he’s fifteen again, bumping elbows with his high school crush.

You nudge him, thumb pointing in the direction of the bartender.

Joel shakes his head. “Ladies first,” he says, heart skipping when you hold his stare.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, “Told you I ain’t jumping in.”

He asks the guy for two beers, barely taking his eyes off you. “Alright,” he leans in, lowering his voice, “Then let me buy you a drink. Make up for gettin’ in your way just then.”

You prop your chin on your knuckles, grinning as you push your twenty around the wooden bar top, dodging pooled rings of alcohol like it’s an arcade game. “I don’t do that,” you say, eyes tracing the slick trail left by the bill.

“Do what?”

“Accept drinks from strange men in bars.”

His tongue presses against the back of his teeth, the taste of humor honey-sweet. “Yeah? ‘n how long have you known…” he nods to the – what is he, sixty? Sixty-five? – year-old on your right, “…George?”

Your gaze lifts, eyes wide. Apparently as impressed by Joel’s confidence as he is himself. “We’re actually in a very serious relationship. Marriage proposal imminent.”

“Damn,” he mutters as the bartender reappears with two Coors, “And here I thought I had half a chance.”

You hum to yourself, studying him. Looking from his jaw across the span of his shoulders, his wide-knuckled hands and then back to his lips. Curious and wary, judging the strange animal stood before you.

And he knows he’s weathered from the weeks on the road, and all the years before that. Dirt under his nails and the light sheen of sun on his forehead. The flecks of gray through his thick, brown beard.

You take a deep breath, eyes twinkling, and tell him, “I’m here with my friend.”

“Ain’t that lucky?” Joel glances at Tommy. “I’m here with my brother.”

You look across to the dirty blond, sat tilting a glass candle in his hand. “He single?”

Joel nods. “Is she?”

You nod.

“Alright. You wanna come sit with us?”

Your smirk answers his question. You take the beers, rings clinking off the glass. “Rum,” you call over your shoulder, wandering off, “I drink rum.”

Joel’s gaze lowers to the sway of your hips. “Rum it is,” he says, turning back to the bar.

“So…a cross-country bike trip, and you wound up in San Angelo?”

You’re on your fourth drink, the first one Joel hasn’t paid for – and he only allowed it because it’s a Diet Coke (and maybe you got to the bar first, held his wrists with one hand so he couldn’t stop you from slapping your own money down).

“Yep,” Joel replies, pinching the lime from his drink and dropping it onto a napkin. “Just passin’ through. Shower, sleep, then head on home.”

“Where’s that, then? Home?”

“Austin.”

“Austin,” you pout, “Nice.”

Joel smirks, licking citrus from his fingertips. “Is it?”

“I’ve never been to Austin,” Brooke chirps, fiddling with the umbrella in her piña colada. She twirls the paper canopy and glances up to Tommy.

He snaps out of his slack-jawed gaze when he realizes what she’s implying. “Oh – yeah, well…” his head wobbles as he stutters, “…you two ever come down that way, we’d be happy to, uh…show ya ‘round, huh, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply, staring back at his brother with the same amused expression you are.

You’ve been an inch apart all evening – doused in the dive bar darkness, the shrouded conversations and muffled TV static. The tip of your nose and curve of your shoulders lit only by the luminous signs dotting the walls.

Tommy and Brooke are already deep in conversation again about the best car Tommy ever owned. Joel watches as your eyes flit between the pair, entertained by the way they trip over each other’s sentences. Your cheeks lift when Brooke lays a hand over Tommy’s, and he squeezes her fingers back.

Where did you come from? Joel’s thinking. He takes a swig of his whiskey, feeling your eyes on him. As he lowers his glass, you lift yours. When he turns in his seat towards you, you’re already facing him, back against the wainscotting. He smiles, and so do you.

Every movement feels choreographed, some merry dance only you two know. You’re in your own little world.

Where did you come from, again, and where have you been my entire fucking life?

“So, what about you?” Joel asks instead, swallowing – all warm-bellied and brave. “You grow up here?”

You shake your head, taking another sip. “Nope. Just liked it enough to hang up my coat for a few months. I grew up in Phoenix.”

“You travel a lot?”

“I’ve been around. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid.”

He thinks of home: of Austin and its silver-snake river, burnt-orange jerseys and the pleated bunting lining Sixth Street. He thinks of late nights on lawn chairs, nursing a beer and shooting the shit with his brother. Keeping their voices lower than the buzz of the cicadas, looking more at the dusky sky than at each other.

“You don’t ever get tired of it?” Joel asks. “Of moving around so much?”

You scoff, breath clouding the inside of your glass. “Three weeks on a motorcycle starting to get to you, huh?”

He breathes a laugh, loose again. The cicadas fade from his ears.

Your head tilts in a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess the universe keeps on surprising me.”

Joel doesn’t do this. At least, he hasn’t done this since he was a teenager – crate of beer under his arm and a chest full of courage. He’s long forgotten the feeling of heat blooming in his cheeks, the twitch of his heart anytime you look at him.

But fuck, if there isn’t something about you. Something in the way you move, the way you look at him. Something in the way you play with your straw, knocking ice cubes around and chewing on the plastic once you’ve drained the glass.

Something – though it’s a little too early and Joel’s a little too tipsy to tell just what. He tries to remember that he’s pragmatic. A grown-up. He chases away the monsters in his daughter’s –

“Oh, shit,” Joel says suddenly, scrambling to pull his cell from his pocket. It’s nine thirty. He was supposed to – “I forgot…”

A miserable tone from his Motorola cuts him short. The screen flashes an empty battery before fading to black. He jams a thumb into the keypad a couple more times, cursing at the winking symbol.

“Someone you gotta call?” you ask.

He meets your eye and winces. “Yeah, I’m…I said I’d call an hour ago.”

“You wanna use mine?” You twist around, fishing in your purse for your own. “We can go outside.”

“No, no, it’s…it’s alright, I’m sure she won’t mind, she –”

You shake your head. “Shut up. Come on, let’s go. I could use some fresh air, anyways. Be back in a minute,” you tell Brooke – who nods and turns straight back to Tommy.

Joel extends his hand to help you out of the booth, then follows you to the door. The cool air tugs every nerve in his body to attention, pin-sharp when he steps out of that lazy heat. Under the emerald glow of the Murphy’s sign, he settles his glass on a window ledge. “Next round’s on me, alright?”

You roll your eyes, pushing the phone against his chest. “Just call, Joel.”

One last apologetic glance, and then he’s dialing. He makes to wander along the curb, the tone already pulsing in his ear, when he notices –

“You ain’t brought a jacket?”

You’re sitting on the ledge, clutching your elbows. Swatting midges from the light you’re bathed in, charms on your bracelets jingling. “Hm?”

He tuts. “A jacket. Here.” He shrugs his own off, sitting it around your frame. It’s warm from the bar and from Joel’s body heat, and you sink into it – letting the dark leather drown you as you rummage through your purse again.

“Nice,” Joel’s eyes narrow, “Fresh air.”

You hum into your hands, flicking your lighter. The cigarette trembles when you murmur, “We all got our skeletons, I guess.”

He turns on his heel when a familiar voice picks up.

“Hey, hey, M–Yeah, sorry it’s late…Yeah, we got held up. My phone died, so I’m using…Is she still–? Can I–? Oh, Sarah. Hi, baby.”

His little girl begins chattering down the line immediately, telling Joel everything she’s been up to since they last spoke this morning.

“…and then, Emily thought I was one of the Armadillos – I don’t even know how, ‘cause they play in red, remember Dad? – but she did, and she slide tackled me so bad that Coach Thomson had to sub in Akari for me so I could ice my ankle. Grandma was kinda mad about it, but she took me to Burger King after to cheer me up, and…”

Joel wanders back and forth, smiling to himself and scuffing the heel of his boot along the concrete – barely able to squeeze more than two words between her chirping. It’s all, Yeah, baby? and Wow, sweetheart; all uhuhs and mhms until she finally quietens, excitement plateauing again.

“Alright, well. You know what time it is, right?”

“Yeah,” Sarah groans. She knows it all too well.

Bedtime.

“…But you didn’t call when you said you would, Daddy, and it’s Saturday, it’s –”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry. Just…somethin’ came up. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Where’s Uncle Tommy? Can I talk to him?”

Joel turns to face the bar. “He, uh…I’m not with him right now, sweetheart. I’ll tell him you asked after him, though.”

Sarah concedes, and then begins asking questions Joel knows she’s only asking to stay on the line a little longer – to stay awake a little later. But still, he answers each one – humoring her and, at the same time, letting himself listen to her voice just a little more before he has to let her go.

He thinks of scooping her up in the morning; thinks of being slumped on the couch after dinner with her head on his stomach – fast asleep with whatever movie she chose droning on in the background.

Despite the thousands of miles and close to two weeks between them – she makes him feel closer to home. She always does.

When Sarah asks where he is, he glances your way. Clocks your flat expression, the half-burnt cigarette hanging from your fingers.

You flick ash to the ground. Eyes unreadable beneath low brows, a tiny crease between them that Joel’s only just seeing for the first time.

“Uh…” he clears his throat, “…just a little – a little north of you, baby. Home first thing, I promise.”

He tells her he loves her and she says it back, and he tells her to sleep well and she says that back, too. And then he’s hanging up – Alright, see you soon, bye, Sarah, bye-bye, byebyebye – and pressing his thumb into the red button.

He wanders back over to you – ears flat like a guilty dog, though he isn’t quite sure why. He mumbles a quiet thanks as he passes the phone back, then stuffs his hands in his pockets.

You lean back, ankles crossed, studying him. Swirling what’s left of the cigarette in your fingers – the smoke lifting like a winding snake to the dark sky. “So,” you pout, “What are you doing flirting with me, if you got a wife and kid back home?”

His jaw ticks, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. “I don’t have a wife,” he says.

You stare blankly, filter back against your lips. “Okay, then – a girlfriend. Does she know you’re out tonight with us?”

He shakes his head. “No wife, no girlfriend. I don’t have an anything.”

“But you have a kid.”

Joel nods once, tongue in his cheek. “Uhuh.”

And then the penny seems to drop. A small oh; your jaw slack and eyes wide. The cigarette smolders between your fingers. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, hey,” Joel steps closer, “You didn’t know. It’s alright.”

He straightens the jacket on your shoulders. When you finally look at each other again, you snort.

“Sorry,” you repeat, shaking your head. “Is she okay? Your daughter – is she…?”

“Sarah,” Joel says. “She’s…she’s fine. Thanks.”

You look down, stubbing your cigarette against the brick. Voice quiet, you ask, “Her mom’s not around anymore?”

Relief settles in his chest: you’re softening to him again.

Joel slots onto the ledge at your side. Shoulder to shoulder. He reaches behind and lifts his drink. “Not since she was a year old.”

Your mouth pulls in a wince. “Jesus. That’s rough.”

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to – you’re not asking him to explain – and he doesn’t want to, either.

You’re not stupid – you’ve seen enough of the world to hear what he’s really saying. The darkest, dustiest corners of it – all the places no one ever wants to look.

You don’t seem disturbed, barely even moved by the reality that…well, shit happens. People leave, families break; a two-car driveway is suddenly taken up by just a pick-up truck and a little pink bike with tassels.

He figures you get it. You don’t need to know how can that be? – you just…know that it can.

“So, uh…” you look up at him again, “…my apartment is, like, five minutes away if you wanna…you know. You can charge your phone, can shower – if it’s bugging you that much.”

Joel’s eyebrows lift. “Oh, really?”

You simper, eyes thin. “Really.”

“Charge my phone ‘n shower?” He stands, palm flat against the wall above your head, and leans in. His face is inches from yours.

You look up, mirroring his expression. “Yes,” your voice curls in a half-truth, “What’s the big deal?”

“What a goddamn line,” Joel says, smirking. “How long you been sittin’ on that one for?”

His blood thrums faster, harder, louder in his veins when you stand up, hands on your hips.

“It’s not a line, I’m serious –”

“I didn’t take you as the type, baby, I really didn’t – but if that’s how you wanna play this, then –”

He feels you before he sees you moving, like he’s stood at that bar all over again. Your hands on his jaw, your chest pressed to his. Your lips – soft as satin, with a tinge of sweet rum and smoke – against his.

Joel barely misses a beat. He closes his eyes and lifts a hand to the back of your head, kissing you back. It’s dizzying, the taste and feel of you so close; the wet of your tongue on his. The little scratches of your nails in his beard, the moans caught in your throat.

Dizzying – and fucking perfect.

You break apart and lean in to each other, catching your breath. Joel’s hands slip beneath the heavy leather of his jacket onto your waist.

“Unless…” you whisper, pulling away from him, “…you don’t want to. In which case, I’ll just…” You twirl back towards the door, batting your eyelashes.

Joel smiles. He catches your wrist and reels you back into his body. “I want to,” he breathes, kissing you again. “I want to.”

“Let’s go.”

You make it to your apartment door, fumbling with your keys – and Joel’s hands are glued to your waist.

You miss the lock over and over as he kisses your neck, grazing the skin with his teeth. Anything to satiate the hunger quickly taking over, the tightening in his jeans.

He pulls you against his hips – rough denim grinding into the curve of your ass. He can smell your flowery perfume, a strange melding of peony and menthol sharp in his nostrils.

It’s the hungriest he’s ever felt, he thinks – a starved animal pinning his prey to her flecked apartment door. He pauses, bottom lip damp against your neck; breathing a liquor-laced laugh over your skin.

You jam the key into the lock. The door finally shunts open and you spill inside, dragging Joel with you.

Your place is dark. Angled strips of streetlight thrown high up the bare walls and across the ceiling, splintered by tilted shades. The spill of a blanket draped over an empty couch; a pair of sneakers left on the rug. Joel’s knees brush by a houseplant guarding the door – heavy leaves which pfft when they sway out of his way.

It’s half-decorated. Temporary. Caught somewhere between home and away. Little fragments pieced together into something the shape of home: a mosaic vase that scatters light across the surface of the coffee table; a beaded curtain pinned around the closet doorway.

Like you’re a little magpie, collecting trinkets of silver and gold until your nest feels like yours. Bags dropped long enough to keep a Monstera plant alive, not to put nails in the wall for the frames propped against the skirting board.

You shrug Joel’s jacket off, dropping it over the back of the couch. When you spin back around to him, he lifts your chin with two fingers and presses his lips to yours. You lead him down the hallway, tumbling into your room.

He follows you over to your bed, collapsing onto a tousled mess of sheets with his hips between yours. The hem of your dress rides up your thighs, bunching around your hips and revealing a flash of pink lace underneath.

The world around him seems to sober up for a second, sharpens into focus. It begins to seep in: the realization that he has you – some girl he met no more than two hours ago in a bar – pinned to your mattress. A slick gathering in your underwear and a weight building in his.

Right now, he should be sinking into squealing bedsprings in a Super 8. Bathing in the flicker of a television set twenty years too old. He should be showered and rested – ready to head home at sunrise, if not sooner.

But then something led him to you, and – well.

There’s no fucking helping him now, is there?

Joel’s fingers hook around your panties. He pulls down, leaving a trail of kisses along your bare leg, until that same pink lace is dripping from your ankle.

His eyes flash up to yours, love-drunk and sparkling. He pushes your knees apart, watching your velvet folds open for him, and – oh, he thinks, staring at the glistening arousal smeared around your cunt. Such a slick little mess for him already.

“Goddamn, darlin’,” he licks his lips, “She’s so pretty.”

You hum, hands lowering. Your fingers separate, spreading your pussy for him. Your middle finger swirls around your clit, dips along your seam. And the n, silky and shining, you lift your hand again and slip your fingers into your mouth.

“Tastes even better than she looks,” you murmur, dappling your fingertip along your bottom lip.

Joel growls. He pushes down on your thighs, ignoring your little yelp, and drags the tip of his tongue through your slit.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, back arching. Your fingers knot in his hair, twisting and tightening. “Shitshitshit.”

“Mhm,” he hums against you, tongue pushing inside.

Fuck, you’re just so perfect: so soft and warm and fucking dripping for him. He laps at your sweet center, wet already spreading all over his mouth and beard.

A dampness blooms in his boxers. He’s throbbing, fucking aching the longer he goes untouched. He grinds against the mattress, denim rough against his solid erection.

He lifts his chin, panting – satisfied by the way you squirm under the weight of him. “You like that, huh?” he asks, a sodden kiss to your mound. “Fuckin’ love it.”

He spits a thick bead of saliva, watching it dribble down your folds to your ass. His tongue swipes it back up, circling your clit, all slippery and swollen.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, tugging on his hair. Your legs spasm, hips lifting.

He loves the sound of his name when you say it. Broken in two, a lilt to it as it rolls from your tongue and down his spine. Like it’s yours as much as it is his, now.

He sucks hard on your clit, his tongue flicking. And he can tell you’re close; can feel your hips starting to lose rhythm, see your back desperately arching higher and higher.

Joel groans, pushing up to hover over you. He cups between your legs, dabbing two thick fingers at your entrance, and pushes in.

Your pussy draws him in knuckle-deep. Your chest lifts, the loose neckline of your dress exposing more and more. You grab your breast, pinching your nipple – a roll of pebbled flesh between your fingertips.

He lowers his lips to your ear – watching as you toy with yourself. “Come on, baby,” he grits his teeth, “Give me one. Let me feel this pretty cunt.”

Your head rolls back into the pillow; a high sob as your orgasm crests. Clamping tight around him; a warm flood down his fingers.

Joel kisses you as you come. You look so pretty, he thinks, with ecstasy behind your eyes and his fingers between your legs.

Christ, he wants to be inside you so badly. Wants to feel your cunt do all this around his cock instead.

The blood rushes between his hips.

His fingers slip in and out, bringing you back around. Joel’s lips are on your neck, murmuring, “Good girl, that’s my girl,” as you resurface.

Your eyes open again – glossy, glazed with the aftershock of your high. “Fuck,” you breathe, playing with the hem of his shirt.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean. Whips the tee over his head in one motion; another kiss tucked under your chin as you peel your dress from your body. He tosses it to the floor.

Still dazed, your body still trembling, you ask, “Do you have a condom?” All dreamy and distant, your hands trailing along his belt.

Joel pauses. Tilts his head, frowning. “I’m on a road trip with my brother, baby – the hell would I bring condoms for?”

You roll your eyes, sighing. It’s the cutest thing Joel thinks he’s ever seen. You thread the belt through the loops of his jeans. “In case you meet a really cool girl at a bar and wanna take her home, maybe?”

He lifts his eyebrows, impressed. He slips his salty tongue over yours again.

You moan at the taste. “It’s just I’m…I’m all out.”

His belt drops to the floor; buckle clinking against hardwood.

“Well, shit,” Joel whispers.

It’s not exactly a scenario he predicted, setting off from Austin. Meeting you wasn’t on the bucket list for the trip. It’s another three, four, probably five things to add to the list of shit he doesn’t do, shouldn’t do, wouldn’t fucking do if it hadn’t been for you.

No, Joel thinks, groaning as you palm the solid shape of him – he didn’t bring a goddamn condom. Jesus, the most he has in his pockets right now is fifteen bucks and a stick of gum.

You unzip his pants, shrugging the denim loose. “We can just do it…without,” you offer.

Joel stares down at you. “You sure?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Just pull out, right?”

“Just pull out…” he echoes. Your hands are cold on his heated skin, but he’s not about to fucking stop you.

You tug his underwear down with his jeans, following the darkening hair from his navel down. Another quiet pull out passes your lips – your voice dissolving when you spot the thick base of his dick.

Joel’s shaft springs free, heavy against the inside of his thigh.

“Holy shit.” You push yourself up on your elbows, eyes flooding black.

His tongue runs along the bottom of his teeth. He thrusts forward into your hand, a glassy drop of precome dribbling from his slit.

Your thumb swipes across his flushed tip, fingers wrapping around his width. You roll his balls in your other palm, massaging and squeezing just the right amount.

“Easy, easy,” Joel whispers. Too much, too soon. He can’t come yet, not until he feels your fluttering cunt around his cock.

Instead, you reach up – snaking an arm around his neck. You pull him back down, his naked body flush against yours, and hike a knee over his hip.

He grinds into you, his cock nudging between your legs. They fall apart for him – pliant and keen, like petals unfolding. He covers himself in your slick, his tip catching below your clit.

“Pl-ease,” you whine, scratching at his shoulders.

Joel nips at your damp neck. “Please, what?” he taunts.

Your breath is hot against his cheek – a stifling request which curls up in the shell of his ear. “F-fuck me.”

And his hips roll into yours.

“Jesus f…” your face buries into his chest, “…you’re…you’re so fucking big, Joel, I can’t –”

He nudges between your walls, groaning into your skin. You’re even tighter around his cock, even cozier. “I know,” he pants, “I know. Take it, baby, know you can take it.”

You stretch around him, opening up the deeper he pushes. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, the thick hair at his base finally brushing against your clit. “Fuck, Joel.”

“Look at me,” he taps your jaw, “Hey. Look at me. Breathe.”

You exhale, hot and shaky across his lips.

“Good, that’s good.” Joel nods. He holds you by the waist, lets you adjust to his size.

He pulls back, your cunt clamping around him. Halfway out, and then in again. Feeling you open up, inch by inch, until he builds a steady rhythm.

“Jesus, baby, she’s so…” he moans, “…she’s so goddamn tight.”

You drape an arm over his shoulders, a hissing pain where your nails dig into his skin. Yelping each time he bottoms out, your leaking cunt wrapped snug around him. “So – goddamn – big,” you whine, a ruined smile on your lips.

He slams his body into yours again, watching the way your tits bounce. Nipples hard, skin tacky and shining with sweat. Your pussy pinches, and he starts to unravel.

Fuck the road trip, Joel thinks, fuck all of it. This is where he should be: in the middle of your bed, burrowed deep between your legs. This is the only place he wants to fucking be, right now.

So he fucks you harder; the headboard hammering against the wall. A fistful of the pillow, his knuckles whitening. He guides his cock when he slips out – a filthy sound as your clutch sucks him back in.

“Fuck,” he growls, gripping your hips so hard he worries he might bruise you. His thrusts become sloppy – quick and desperate.

“So close,” you gasp. You’re squeezing him so tight that he sees stars. “I’m gonna – I’m…”

Perfect, Joel thinks, watching you bloom. You’re so fucking perfect.

He coaxes you through it. Slows enough to feel you come around his cock, your warmth as it gushes all over him. “That’s it, baby, I got you. Shit, you’re gonna make me come.”

He pulls out just in time to coat your stomach; a throaty groan as he comes. He pumps his shaft, covering from your sternum to the plush of your tummy. It dribbles down your waist, spurts between your breasts.

He collapses over you, pressing his forehead to yours. His dick, soaked and softening, smears the ejaculate across your skin.

You giggle, leaving sticky kisses along his beard.

“You okay?” he asks, breathless.

You nod, and his tongue dabs at the inside of your lips. You taste like sex and sweat – sweet and salt.

Joel shifts to the edge of the bed. He feels you follow, your lips featherlight on the curve of his shoulder.

You make to stand – going to clean yourself up, he reckons, your tummy dripping with his semen – and he locks a hand around your bare thigh.

“Stay,” he says, voice low and rough – sex still smoldering. “Let me get you a towel.”

You smile, resting your chin on his shoulder. Your fingers link around the other side of his waist. “I’ll get it. Just relax.”

And for a minute or two, you stay like that. Hooked onto one another, tired eyes closing over, breathing in rhythm. Your cheek on his shoulder, your knee brushing against his tummy.

It’s simple; quiet and still. Joel feels like half a person – the other half tracing her chipped nails along his bare thigh. Eyelashes fluttering, teeth holding back a grin that she thinks might give her away.

Eventually, you move. Shimmy yourself down the mattress, swipe a crinkled tee from the ottoman – and slink off to the bathroom.

Joel lies back against the headboard, body sticky hot. He watches the shadow of your figure stretch across the open door. His eyes drift upwards to the looping ceiling fan – only half as dizzying as the sound of your humming in the next room.

And just when he starts to think he might be fucking missing you, you reappear in the doorway. Leant against the frame, some worn band tee hanging from your shoulders. Arms crossed; smiling back at him.

A rush of words floods to the tip of his tongue. You look beautiful. Your makeup’s smudged, chains of your necklace twisted; your shirt is frayed and splotched with faded stains – and you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

He holds his arms out and you prance over.

You crawl over his figure, kissing your way up to his lips, and then turn in his lap. Cradled against his broad chest, your head nuzzling into the dark threads of hair between his pecs. You clasp one of his hands in two of yours.

“Offer’s still there for a shower, if you want it,” you whisper, kissing the pads of his fingers.

Joel tilts his head, mumbling against your temple, “Will you be in there with me?”

You answer something shaped like a tease, just as sharp with wit – but he’s too busy watching your nails trace his open palm. Too distracted by the sweet scent of your skin: a fresh burst of fruit, singed with the edge of tobacco.

“What do you do for work?” you ask.

He makes some sort of sleepy sound – a grunt, a hm? into your skull. “Oh, uh – I’m a contractor,” he says.

Your chin lifts. “That why your palms are all…?” Your thumb strokes light as lace against his worn skin.

“Probably,” Joel admits. He draws shapes on your thigh with his free hand.

“Do you sand the wood with your bare hands, or somethin’?”

Joel scoffs. “Alright, alright. You liked my hands plenty, twenty minutes ago.”

Your cheeks lift, a low hum caught in your throat. You angle your head to let his lips trail along your shoulder, pressing into the hinge of your jaw. A dark nail following the landscape of Joel’s skin – each score and divot, the callused pads at the bottom of each finger.

“You have sorta…earth hands, I think.”

It sits in the air for a few seconds before Joel turns to you. “What?”

“Earth hands. Or, well – I guess they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way.” You open up his hand, fingers stretched. “I don’t really know. I’m still learning.”

He looks down at you. Feels the now-steady pulse of your heart on his sternum. “Learnin’…hands?”

You snort. “Palm reading, Joel.”

His brows draw tight. He licks the inside of his whiskey-stained cheek. “You’re into all that hippie sh…stuff?”

You knock your knuckles against his chest, still staring at his hands. The hills and their valleys, the ravine-like lines; the worn skin and hatch marks.

“Let’s see…Your heart line,” you whisper – more to yourself than Joel, but he’s listening all the same. “It’s pretty deep, which means the relationships you’ve had have been…important. But it’s kinda…it tails off right here, see? It’s broken. So…I guess they didn’t end too good.”

Joel raises an eyebrow – playful, encouraging your timid smile. Keep figuring me out, he thinks, stoking the curious flame behind your eyes. “Alright,” he says, “Now tell me something you didn’t already know about me.”

You gawk, holding his wrist up. “You don’t see that? The way it breaks up? I’m not bullshitting you, Joel, it’s –”

“Naw, I see it,” he nods, squinting a little at his palm, “Just – tell me more. What’s all these other lines mean?”

“Well,” you adjust between his hips, “you got your life line right here. Short, which means –”

“Don’t tell me that part.”

“No,” you roll your eyes, “It just means you’re independent. You never needed much from anyone. And it runs past this mount – these are called mounts – right here. Venus: all to do with love and sexuality.”

Joel holds your open palm next to his, comparing them. He takes less than a second’s look, lines his lips to your ear and says, “Seem like a pretty good match to me.”

You wriggle when he tickles your ribcage, trying to twist out of his grasp. You’re laughing again – the same laugh he’s been hearing all damn night. The same giggle that’s had his stomach somersaulting since he first heard it.

The room seems to light with it, this glow he feels from you – as if you’re the sun. Spent and still half-drunk; lazing with a stranger in the middle of her bed. Tracing the lines and scars on his palm, telling him how logical and grounded he’s supposed to be.

As if the world orbits around you – everything you touch turning to molten gold. And for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, Joel looks at you and wonders: Where the hell did you come from?

You hold your hand against his, folding your fingers perfectly together. The evidence of your night flaking from Joel’s knuckles; sweat still simmering on the nape of his neck.

He hasn’t done this for years. Hasn’t felt this gentle aftermath. It’s usually a rush, a hastened zip and clink of his pants. An awkward dance, plucking clothes from the bedroom floor and pacing back to his truck.

It’s never like this. Talking and laughing, holding and kissing. Questions about his parents and yours; his biggest dream as a kid, or the time you broke your arm falling out of a tree.

He tells you stories about growing up with Tommy; tells you Sarah’s favorite flavor of cake. He tells you about the time they tried to make it for a school bake sale, forgot to turn the oven off, and almost burned the damn kitchen down.

You snicker and tell him that never would’ve happened if you were there.

Yeah, well, Joel smiles, I wish you were.

He notices you’re drifting off, despite your slurred protests and your weak grip on his wrist. He pulls you under the covers, curving his body around yours, praying that the quickening drum of his heartbeat won’t wake you.

His nose nuzzles into the curve of your skull, his hands link in front of your tummy. And he wonders whether his body was made with yours in mind.

He glances out at the sky – light starting to bleed from the horizon – and wills the turn of the sun to slow. Only a little; just let him stay here a little while longer.

Just a little while.

Dawn forces her way in eventually – more unwelcome than ever before.

There’s a throb between his temples which swells to life when the light floods past his pupils. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, face turning back into the pillow. He gives you a gentle squeeze and then pushes up from the mattress.

You roll to the middle of the bed, still sound asleep. The sun spills golden all over the valleys and crests of your body. The bedsheets carve pathways up to your hips, dipping at your waist.

Last night, there was something so mystical about you – so otherworldly. Joel felt himself drawn towards you like a compass needle shooting north, the second he felt your weight crash against his spine.

A figure behind a cloud of smoke, like the mountaintops disappearing into a thick mist. And now, blood drained of alcohol, you’re just you.

Your shirt is twisted around your shoulders. Your lips puffy, mumbling to yourself in your doze. Makeup smudged like chalk under your eyes, and still – just as beautiful. Just as radiant as you were ten hours ago.

Joel rubs his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. He blinks down at his bare feet, the morning sharpening into focus. As he lifts his phone from the nightstand, the cable drops – hitting the wooden floor with a snap.

He pauses, shoulders hunched. Hears you stir over his shoulder, and turns around.

The earth of your body shifts beneath cotton hills, clouds of sleep clearing from behind your eyes. “Hey,” you whisper, voice pretty and broken.

A little bird in the palm of his hand – that magpie curled up in her nest of gems and trinkets.

“Hey.” He leans down and kisses your cheek. “Sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You wrap your arms around his wrist, tugging. “Are…are you…leaving?”

Joel feels a pang in his chest, and he doesn’t know why. He takes a deep breath. Your scent fills his lungs and steadies his heart. “I…” he sniffs, “…I gotta go home, baby.”

You give a slow and heavy nod. “S-Sarah…”

He strokes your head with his thumb. “Yeah. Shh, go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

He glances at his phone – it’s just after six. He knows Tommy will be waiting for him, parked outside the Super 8 and wondering where the hell Joel is. He knows Sarah will be, too – sat by the living room window, listening for the rumble of their bikes.

And still, he thinks – How do I fucking leave you? Leave this?

He shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought. He has a kid waiting for him back home; soccer practice, packed lunches, homework and bedtime stories. He has work to do, bills to pay, a roof to keep over their heads. It’s all waiting in Austin, two hundred miles away.

As though you can see the question flipping in his mind, you pull him closer. A weak finger in the palm of his hand, drawing circles. Your bleary gaze meets his, and you whisper, “In the next life.”

Joel smiles. Twelve hours ago, he’d have laughed at the idea of it. Now, he’s not so sure. He kisses your knuckles, muttering, “Promise.”

Another wave of sleep washes over you, and you’re gone again.

Joel pushes himself from the bed, reaching for his clothes. His back twinges as he stretches, pulling his T-shirt over his shoulders. He steps into his jeans; pinches his belt between two fingers and lifts it from the floor.

He leans over and tilts your shades the opposite way, dulling your bedroom. He unplugs the charger, neatly winds the cord, and sits it on your nightstand. He fixes his side of the sheets: folds them over the mattress, tucks them in at your back.

With a deep breath, he makes for the door.

His jaw turns, eyes still low. Your dress is in a heap at the foot of the bed; a tube of lip gloss lying next to it. He looks up, following the landscape of sheets – the slope from your ankle to your hip. Your hunched shoulders, your cheek smushed into the pillow.

If he looks too long, he’ll never leave.

The image burns golden into his eyes. He hopes for half a heartbeat that you’ll wake again and pull him back into bed. Kiss him all over, whisper something sharp and sweet in his ear. Touch him and graze him and wrap yourself around him – anchoring him right here and now.

But you don’t.

And Joel slips out of the room.

Jackson stirs to life over his shoulder.

A white lump in the snow-covered valley, the settlement seems so far away now. Tommy sets off up ahead, leading the way to the outpost. The blizzard is picking up – it almost swallows the silhouette of him whole.

Joel had tried to warn him: the weather would be too bad to see five feet in front of them, never mind any infected. But Tommy argued with the same determination that dragged the pair of them into that dive bar thirty years ago, and Joel didn’t have half the energy nor the will to argue back.

He’s thinking about you. He always is.

Your searing gaze over the rim of your glass; the weight of you against his chest. The tickling of your nail on his palm, severing each line and changing him forever. You and your palm lines.

You were just learning to read them. Joel didn’t know a thing about any of it, and he told you so. You took his hand in yours and said, Here. Let me see.

He runs a thumb down his fate line, swaying in time with his horse. And he shakes his head with a little smile – he still remembers which one is fate and which is heart.

He still remembers all of it. He has earth hands. All salt and soil and solid as stone. His earth hands have gotten him this far, right? Twenty-five years and he’s still here. Gray and grown; stiff joints and sewn-up scars.

His head line has channeled more strangers’ blood than Joel can count. Mounts that’ve stopped breath in the throat of any man who crossed him. He doesn’t think you’d recognize his hands anymore, if your fingertips traced over them again. Broken and bruised and bloody.

And he doesn’t think he’d want you to – doesn’t want you to meet the shadow of the man you knew back then. He’d prefer you remember that same brown-eyed, soft-touched stranger with enough charm and naivety to survive anything. No need for bone-breaking fists or bloodstained hands.

Where are you, he wonders?

The answer knots deep in his stomach: the same old rope twisting into the same old shape. A fist of anger, of guilt. Some terrible cocktail of both, spilling poison through his veins.

He’s terrified to wonder what might’ve happened if he had ever made it back there. What he might’ve found in your apartment – what he might not.

Where would you have gone, that day? Would you have fled, or would you have stayed?

You were smart, he knows that much. He saw the cogs of your mind turning right in front of him, standing opposite each other in that bar. Barely thirty seconds in and he could’ve sworn you had him all figured out.

But – oh, Jesus, you were kind. Open and willing to help a stranger with a dead phone and a tired smile. Would that kindness still glow as bright against the flicker of a world on fire?

A lone hawk swoops down before him, shooting straight between the pines. Joel slips his glove back over his freezing hand.

He thinks about you every day. Every fucking day, and it never eases. Never loosens. It keeps him up some nights – the truth he’s too afraid to look square in the face.

You live now in the back of his mind like a little ghost. His little ghost – still floating around that dusty city; the warm light of life and innocence still bright in your eyes.

Tommy glances over his shoulder. He gestures ahead as if to say, Would you take a look at this goddamn storm?

And Yeah, Joel thinks, I’m lookin’, brother.

All he wants is to go home. Jackson, Austin, the bedroom of your apartment in San Angelo. Just let me go back.

He blinks, and the snow melts to cracked asphalt under a lilac sunset. Tommy’s holding handlebars instead of reins. The horses’ hot puffs of breath darken to clouds of smoke, choking from the exhaust pipes of the Harleys.

You’re somewhere on the other side of town, waiting for him in the faint glow of a jukebox. Sipping what’s left of your rum and Coke, fishing a twenty from your purse for the next round.

Just let me go back home.

He tugs on his horse’s reins and pulls off after his brother.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #san angelo

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 2 months

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Miguel’s and reader’s meet cute (baby daddy AU: College days prequels)

Baby Daddy Masterlist

Not proofread.

Word count: 900

Taglist is closed!!

—

Miguel had always been told from his elders that college was going to be a fresh start. A new school, a new roommate, new possible friends, new opportunities, a new path to his future. He had been preparing and planning how his freshmen year would go the second he finished walking the stage at his high school.

So far, things were going to plan, he made it to his first set of classes early to get a good seat, although not in the front due to his height (he didn’t want to be an ass to the people behind him), was able to get up early in the morning to go to the gym, his relationship with his roommate Peter was even going well. Although he was a bit more of an extrovert then himself, they still got along fairly fine. So far everything has worked out for him.

His third day of classes was going just like the first two did, waking up around eight a.m, working out till ten, getting a protein shake and some breakfast, then be at his first class by twelve. To his surprise though, the lecture hall was already almost filled despite him being ten minutes early. Making sure to take a mental note to try arriving a bit early as he took one of the few lingering seats in the back row between a girl and another guy.

The girl next to him shot him a quick smile when she saw him sitting in the empty seat to her right, one to which he returned before going to quietly set up his laptop for note taking. She was quite pretty, her hair clipped up into a ponytail, long-sleeve cream top and some flared leggings, a black backpack hanging off her chair and a metal water bottle covered in stickers next to her laptop, also covered in stickers. But despite her warm and welcoming presence, Miguel decided to pay her no mind as he idly waited for class to start.

After another few minutes, the professor finally began. Droning on mostly about the course expectations and grade requirements, before he starts his actual lesson. The room was mostly quiet except the professor and the occasional murmur from other students talking between one another about the subject. Miguel was so sucked into the lecture, he barely noticed the quiet tapping of a finger on his desk.

“Hey. Excuse me.” The quiet whisper pulled him back to present time, turning to the source of the voice, the pretty girl who’s sitting next to him. “Hey sorry, I didn’t pick up the last thing he said, it’s kinda hard to hear him from up here. Can I…” you trailed off, pointing towards his laptop. Usually, Miguel would scoff at the implication of someone asking him to take a glance at his notes, telling them to ask someone else or maybe pay better attention. But for the pretty girl in his statistics class…

“Yeah here.” He whispered back, turning his laptop to his side so she could see better, giving her a moment to write it down before turning it back to its original spot.

“Thanks.”

“Course.”

That’s were the conversation should have ended, he should have left that be and just focused back on the last twenty minutes of class before walking out to his next one. Leaving this be a passing moment, a barely acquaintance that he’d nodded at when you’d cross paths in the courtyard until he simply didn’t anymore. Instead though.

“I like your water bottle.”

“Hmm?”

“I like your water bottle. It’s cute.”

“Oh.” God that sweet, sweet smile, made his heart melt a bit. “Thank you, I was hoping it doesn’t come across as childish or anything.”

“Oh no it’s fun, I just have one of those plastic Gatorade ones.”

He didn’t even notice that he ended up making conversation till the lesson was over, finally realizing when he saw the guy to his left get up.

“Guess class is over, huh?”

“Oh-yeah, looks like it is.”

Miguel set his laptop back in his bag, and got up, waiting till you did the same before walking out of the lecture hall.

“Thanks again for letting me glance at your notes.”

“Of course, if you ever need help with notes, just let me know.”

“Yeah totally, I’ll try to catch you after class or something if we don’t sit next to each other next time.” Oh, he was definitely planning on sitting next to you next time. But he wasn’t going to admit that, instead he shook his head and waved his hand to play it cool.

“No, that's too much of a hassle, let me give you my number, so you can just shoot me a text.” Wait till his younger brother found out he already gave a girl his number during his third day of class.

You both took a second to exchange numbers, Miguel was about to create the contact when he realized he never got your name.

“I’m sorry , I don’t think I ever actually introduced myself. I’m Miguel.” He said as he stuck his hand out towards you.

“I’m (Y/N).” Pretty name for a pretty girl. You quickly took his hand in yours, shaking it before putting it back to your side.

“Well I hope to see you around, (Y/N).”

If only he knew his faith with the pretty girl from his statics class.

—

Taglist is closed!!

Taglist: @scaleniusrm @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @ginnysculture @mishaglass @wusyanmee @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @bunnibitez @miguelzslvtz @migueloharastruelove @dahehow @sinners-98-world @othersideoftheparadise @toyfortoji @yeshajane @yvesbi @hanjisgf @deljojeisbackagain @safixiovi @emmalandry @maxinemus3 @lauraolar14 @aaaaslaaaan @kenz-ee @esmedelacroix @whattheshock @syler-griffin @comeonatmebruh @xwonderlandresidentx @m4dyy @mcmiracles @the-pan-liquid @lilbrababe99 @jxstanemo @badbitchhour @freehentai @sillysillygoofygoose @nj452896 @jadeloverxd @faretheeoscar @ce3stvu @scorpihoooe @blossomofbismuths @nxxav3rs3 @ilovespiderverseeee @ghost-lantern @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiiira @lavenderslemonade @rinnako @reirain @nommingonfood @miguelsfavwife @tomalymme @farrowroyale @beckberin-xo @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @reader-1290 @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @chrishy973 @amberpanda99 @fruityfucker

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv spiderman 2099 #astv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 fanfic #bd!miguel #baby daddy!miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel o hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara spiderman #spiderman 2099 #college days prequels

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xhoneygirlxx · 9 months

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Watermelon Sugar

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

summary: Eddie shows you the eight wonder of the world. his mouth.

warnings: reader and eddie are 18+, established relationship, fluff, Eddie being a munch. nicknames/pet names used (baby, honey, sweetheart, etc.) MINORS DNI 18+ smut: fem oral receiving, blowjobs mentioned, talks of past sexual experiences, praise/body worship, swearing. *Skin Color/Ethnicity not mentioned! not proofread, spelling errors and horrible writing.

if I miss anything plz lmk!

a/n: hello my loves! thank you all for the kind words and reactions on my last couple of posts! as you all know smut is not my forte but I felt the need to write this. am I projecting??? maybe but we’re gonna pretend that i'm not :)

The low hum of Steve Nicks’ voice plays through Eddie’s room, the soundtrack of your makeout session with your boyfriend. Orange glow from the late afternoon sun comes through the window, an angelic glow casting around the frizz of the mentalhead’s hair.

It started as an innocent day, hanging out together in a comfortable silence in his room. Him doodling in his notebook and you flipping through one of his old comic books. Somewhere along the way a featherlight touch turned into shared giggles, sitting in his lap turned into a chaste kiss, and it ended up with him in between your parted knees, kissing like his life depended on it.

A curtain of curls block out the skylight, tender lips on yours like melted honey, and big hands roaming down the expanse of your body. When Eddie moves away from your mouth, he takes the oxygen from your lungs with him and you whimper at the loss.

"Gonna let me have a taste of you, pretty girl?" Big doe eyes shine down to you, way too eager and excited. Your stomach twists into knots, the training you put yourself through in case of this moment, has all been for nothing. What do you say to the man that hovers over you with so much love in his eyes?

"How about I suck you off instead, hmm?" You try to come off as sensual but instead you sound scared.

It's an offer that you've made so many times over the short course of your relationship with Eddie. This was your first real relationship besides the eight grade love affair you had with Simon Willard. That only lasted a week.

You weren't anywhere near a virgin, that so called sacred part of yourself is now in the possession of a random boy you met on vacation before your senior year. Hookups weren't uncommon to you but what was uncommon to you was the affection you received during the sex.

People you've hooked up with never really cared to get you nice and ready the way Eddie does, prepping you with two or more fingers, working you open so that it doesn't hurt going in. Guys didn't care if you got off or not, they were just looking for a hole to fill and someone who wouldn't get clingy.

You had guy friends, including Eddie before you started dating, and you heard the horror stories they had of going down on a girl. It was never in mean spirit, although the discussion should've stayed in the bedroom, but it still scared you shitless. How one girl didn't properly take care of herself, causing the smell to be rancid. This girl didn't wipe the right way, leaving scraps of toilet paper down there. And the one that really settled itself into your brain, was how good or bad a girl tasted.

Of course you, and all of your guy friends, knew that girls didn't taste like ice cream, or strawberries, or candy. It was made up, another bullshit beauty standard for woman to worry about.

You had paid attention to the way guys would ask you if you wanted it done. The way they would sigh and roll their eyes like it was the biggest task of their lives. You would end up telling them that you're more of a giver than receiver, and that you just weren't interested in that whole thing. When they would release a breath of relief you would fill with shame, almost like you were the one who requested it to be done and had been turned down. The embarrassment of rejection you didn't even ask for.

So when you and Eddie first had sex as boyfriend and girlfriend, you made it your mission to never let that horrid question come from his mouth. You always made sure to offer him head first, and if it looked like he was about to ask, you'd simply tell him you couldn't wait anymore.

Now here you are, under him, ready and willing to take him in your mouth, and he's gotten the question out before you could beat him to the punch.

"Ya know I will never say no to that, sweetheart. But-"

Uh oh. That's the word that comes before a life or death sentence. It's hanging heavy over you, the once comfortable silence is now killing you. Squeezing all of the air out of your body, limbs going numb with the loss of circulation, all the while your ears ring like an explosion has gone off.

"I want to return the favor." It's so sincere when he says it and it makes you want to cry. A boyish smile taking over his mouth, deep dimples appearing on the fat of his cheeks.

You must look like you've seen a ghost because the pretty smile that was written on his face is now taken over by worry.

"I mean, I don't have to. It's just- I feel like," Eddie's a panicked mess, backing his face further away from your own. The small bubble of love that the two of you created has now been popped with your own doubts and fears.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I just thought I could make you feel good s'all." The confident man that you know all too well is now reduced to a fumbling and anxious person. His fingers work at the chunky silver ring on his finger, twisting and twisting and twisting it around.

"You just always, I don't know. It just always seems like you never ask for head and I just wanted to offer it to you, I guess."

The whiskey eyes that never left your gaze won't even look at you anymore. Focusing on that damn ring that goes faster and faster the longer you wait to respond. You want to run and hide. Dig a deep hole and never come out. Your lovely boyfriend who's done nothing but treat you like the queen of the goddamn universe, now thinks he's made you uncomfortable.

Embarrassment rushes through your veins, throat closing with the grip of shame making it harder to breathe. Tears prick your eyes, hot and heavy, ready to fall at the drop of a dime. You feel so guilty for not just telling him the truth, for not saying all the concerns that you had. Even before you started dating Eddie always confided in you, telling you the deepest secrets that kept him up at night and you couldn't even tell him this one thing.

"I'm embarrassed." It comes out in a sniffle, lip wobbling beneath the teeth that hold it down, trying to make it go away.

"I'm just embarrassed I won't be good. That I'll be another conversation for you and the boys to drink to. Will I taste good? Do I smell weird? Does it look pretty? All of these questions circle my brain and I'm so fucking scared that you won't like me anymore." It comes out like word vomit, so fast and uneven in tone that you're not sure if it even made sense.

You don't have time to think it over anyway, Eddie's too quick putting his hands on your cheeks, gently making you look up at him. The same kind eyes that you always see meet yours. Thumbs gentle swipe the fat tears off of your face, his cold hands extinguish the flames of your skin.

"Honey, I promise you I would never, ever do some dumb shit like that. What the guys and I talk about is irrelevant, half the time they don't even know what they're talking about. I felt the same way when you wanted to suck me off the first time, every single question you ask yourself is what I ask myself." Eddie's eyes are searching yours, looking and waiting to see the dread leave your head.

"Like I said before, I would never want you to be uncomfortable but if you're okay with it, I'd really," He places a gentle kiss on your forehead, "really," he continues to place more delicate kisses around your face, "really love to make you feel so fucking good."

When he's done, he looks back down to you with a dopey smile, he's low and hazy drunk off of you. A smile tugs on your own lips, so warm and fuzzy off of him. You know he means it and you feel sad that you even questioned him. Childish laughter rings out between the two of you when he pinches your sides, tickling out the stiffness in your body.

When the laughter dies down, he asks you again by cocking his eyebrow up in question. Nodding your head, you give him a confident yes, something you didn't feel the first time he asked.

Moving down your body, trails of kisses are left on your skin, mapping out his journey to your center. When he reaches the hem of your pants, he looks up to you once more waiting for a reply. Encouraging him to go further, his chilled fingers douses the warmth radiating off of you.

Leaving you only in your polka dot designed panties, Eddie teases you by running his fingers up and down your thighs.

"I gotta say bub, I love the pink dots. Top notch fashion if I don't say so myself." Eddie jokes and it makes you giggle. Swatting lightly at him, he returns the laughter.

"I'm not lying, I swear! If only you know what you do to me." As much of a joker Eddie is, he was never one to joke about your beauty. He found everything you did, said, and wore so fucking breathtaking and flawless, he'd probably get hard from the sight of you in a Tin Man costume.

"If you, at any time, want me to stop just tell me. I won't get mad, just let me know, okay?" Eyebrows scrunched with seriousness, Eddie makes sure to be loud and clear with his instructions.

"I promise, Eds." You say and he takes that as the green light.

Eddie's index finger teases your cloth slit, running up and down so slowly it feels like torture. When you lift your hips looking for more friction he snorts lightly.

"Patience, my love." His fingers continue to dance over your panties, running back to the top of the band and pulling them down in a swift motion.

When the cool air hits your wet seat, you whimper slightly at the feeling. Eddie has seen your pussy multiple times, but when he spreads it with his fingers, you can't help but feel shy, closing your legs around his arm.

"Don't go shy on me, baby. I just wanna see the prettiest picture I've ever seen." His eyes are still trained on the glistening of your sex, glimmering like bright pools of water.

It feels like an hour of no movement from Eddie before he goes to change his position between your legs. Shuffling back on his knees, he picks your thighs up to place on his shoulders as he lays on his stomach.

Still having doubts, you lean up on your elbows, watching your boyfriend to see what his reaction is. To your surprise, he looks like a kid in a candy store, awe and wonder swimming around in the big brown pools of his eyes.

When an obscene sniff rings through the air, you can't help but cringe a little. Waiting for him to look repulsed, you're again astonished when all your met with is a feral look.

Very tentatively, he runs his flat tongue from your hole to the top of your clit. Moaning deeply, he moves his gave up to you. A smirk breaks out on his features, so devilishly and mischievously.

"Oh baby, you have no fucking clue how good you taste." There is no questioning in his cadence. It's smug and cocky and it makes you shiver with need.

Repeating his motions from before, you mewl at the feeling, lifting your hips again. The chuckle that comes from Eddie vibrates off of you, make you move you squirm. Reaching his strong hands around your thighs, he holds you in place with his firm grip.

When the wet muscle breaches your needy hole, you fall back onto the bed moaning out in pleasure. He works your open with it, flicking it in and out efficiently.

Pulling out of you, he moves up to your bundle of nerves. Starting slowly, he circles around once or twice, before working it in figure eights.

You melt into the bed like a popsicle on a hot summers day. There's not a single thought in your head other than the feeling of his mouth. You're a livewire come to life, so sensitive and lost in the haze of pleasure.

You think this is the precipice of ecstasy but then one of his thick fingers enter you and his mouth sucks hard on your pulsing clit.

It feels like fireworks on the fourth of July, bright and explosive, big loud bangs ringing out into the night sky. It's like the feeling of going down the big drop on a rollercoaster, tingling deep in your belly and a rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins. It's like winning first place, heartwarming and shocking all at the same time.

You feel all these things at the same time, every single one of them caused by the actions of your boyfriends mouth. It's overwhelming and so fucking delicious but you can't say anything than cry out in bliss.

Letting go of your clit with a pop, Eddie's head pokes up at you like an excited puppy. "S'it feel good baby?" You want to answer, you really do but the way he sneaks a second finger into you and crooks them at the perfect angle makes you lose all motor skills.

"Awe, honey" he coos mockingly, "Is it that good?"

"S'good Eds, so good." You're a blubbering, crying mess. So hooked on the feeling of him, hooking on the feeling of how he made you feel.

He doesn't say anything else, too busy pushing his face back between your legs. His motions go faster, fingers hitting that sweet spot inside of you that he only managed to find, his mouth switching between motions, driving you closer to the edge as he does.

The string in your belly is pulling tighter and tighter, barley hanging together by a thread. You're a thrashing, sweaty mess on his bed, gripping the pillow underneath your head that your knuckles will probably be stuck in that position. You don't care, not when he's moving his head back and forth, slurping up your wetness like a handmade milkshake.

It's filthy, down right dirty the way it sounds. The noises that carry out into his room echo so loud the neighbors could probably hear. The squelch of your wetness being pounded into by his hand, the way he's drinking you up like a dehydrated plant, the moans that escape out of your parted lips.

"Eddie, please. FUCK, please." You're blathering at him, not even sure at what you're asking for.

Separating himself from you again, he continues working his fingers deep into you.

"You wanna cum, pretty girl? S'that it? Wanna cum all over my fingers?" You moan louder in response, clenching around him harder as you do.

"Go ahead, be a good good and cum for me. Come on, honey. Cum for me." That's all you need to hear before you're hurtling off the edge of your release.

You release with a silent cry, all the air being punched right out of you. Your body feels weightless, like you were thrown up into the clouds and not being able to come down.

Your whole body shakes, tears streaming down your face, all while your hole pulses and quivers around Eddie's fingers. A gush of wetness coats his fingers, a big puddle under your ass, leaving another stain on his bed seats.

He watches in awe as you hit your peak, how your back arches off of the bed and how you look so fucking perfect like this. The shy girl that never got experience this kind joy, now swims in the ocean of euphoria of the climax. He feels so lucky to witness this, to be the first and last person to ever see you this vulnerable.

Eddie wishes he could paint this moment, make a portrait of the way your kiss bitten lips form the perfect O, make the brushstrokes of your hair and some of it sticks to your sweaty face. You're so beautiful and he doesn't know how blessed to be yours.

When you float back down to earth, to the springy mattress of Eddie's, you take a moment to catch your breath. When he removes his fingers from you, you weakly hiss from movement and he offers a quiet sorry.

Moving back up to his knees, he hovers over you and smiles brightly down at you. Smiling weakly back at you, he uses the hand that's not supporting his weight to place it on your jaw. His thumb brushes back and forth and you melt right into it.

"How was that?" Pink tints his cheeks, grinning ear to ear.

You chuckle weakly, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I think I went to outer space for a second there."

A booming laugh leaves his chest and it makes you smile even harder. Your heart feels so full and so happy. You're so in love with him and it makes you delirious. You want to see him like this for the rest of your life, big smiles and even big laughter, so pretty and delicate only for you.

"Well I'm glad you enjoyed yourself there, space cadet." Leaning down to press his lips to yours, your soak in the feeling of it. When he moves away you pout at him, and he bops you on the nose with his finger.

"I was thinkin' I could return the favor, big boy." You whisper seductively.

"Oh baby, that sounds wonderful but-," He makes eye contact with you, "I need to be in you like yesterday because that, right there was the hottest thing I've ever witness."

"I happen to be a romantic. So I shall wait until my fair maiden is okay to resume our activities." Closing his eyes with pride, he places a hand on his heart.

Hiding your face with your hands, you bust out laughing at his little antics and when you peek between his fingers you see his teeth flashing back at you. Removing your hands from your face, you tuck a loose tendril behind his ear.

"You're a dork, but that sounds good to me."

Thank you all for reading! I loves you all and hope you enjoyed!!!

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic

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gyuvxx · 2 months

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From the start ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

Anton x fem!reader

Wc:4644

friends to lovers, angst, eventual fluff, mutual pining, Anton is kinda stupid whoops

synopsis: after years of loving her best friend, YN just can’t take another heartbreak from him. Anton soon realizes that he feels more for his friend than he initially thought. ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

There was something so heart pounding about falling for your best friend. The moment you feel the butterflies, you know you’re in for trouble. Reading into the smallest actions, wondering what everything means.

But there’s something so heartbreaking when they don’t feel the same.

YN met Anton when she was eight. They were playing at the same playground, and YN had gotten her stuffed cat stolen by some older kids. Naturally, the girl Cried. Maybe ten minutes later, someone tapped on her shoulder. She looked up, big eyes glossy and red with tears, and saw a boy standing above her, holding her plushie. She looked up at him, lip quivering, taking her plushie. He had gotten it back for her. She got to her feet and threw her arms around the boy, sobbing out her thanks as she hugged him tightly.

From that day forward, the two were inseparable, two best friends, their bond went beyond the playground and a plushie. The two balanced each other out, Anton’s quiet nature paired with YN’s energy made the two the perfect pair. They were each other’s missing half.

They grew up together, having playdates and sleepovers, getting to know the other through their years together. They went through their firsts together, played at recess together everyday and walked home together after each day of school. The two were as close as they could be, joined at the hip since that fateful day at the playground.

At some point, YN’s feelings grew as both of them grew up. She realized how happy she was when anton was around, how her cheeks would warm when he’d look her way, how handsome he looked when he wasn’t even trying.

YN realized she liked anton in 7th Grade. Middle school hormones running wild, she still liked him. So when she was in eighth grade, she told him.

“Anton,” she took in a breath. “I like you, a lot,” She stuttered but Continued. “I don’t want to lose what we have, but I can’t pretend I don’t feel anything for you,”

And that same day, YN experienced her first Heartbreak.

“I don;t feel the same, I’m sorry.” He apologized and watched his friend look down. “But I do care about you. We can still be friends, right?”

YN gulped back tears that threatened to spill and agreed, letting Anton walk her home before letting her tears fall. She said a brief goodbye, and practically rushed up the stairs into her room, sobbing until her parents called her down for dinner. Regardless of what Anton wanted, she knew things would never be the same. But for his sake, she’d pretend to be okay.

It had been for years.

Their friendship continued, and though YN tried letting her feelings go, she found she was still head over heels for her best friend. Yet he never felt the same, never looked her way. There were times she thought he may feel the same as she did, but just when her hopes got up, he shut them down.

When he had another girlfriend, or had his heart broken, he went to her. He’d hold her close when he needed comfort, let all his emotions go in her arms. But when he got over the heartbreak, and found a new girlfriend, he’d shut her out. Dry responses, rare hangouts, and walks home filled with silence.

When he would finally hang out with her, he’d tell her how much he loved the girl he was seeing. Or he’d cry about hw heartbroken he was that his relationship ended. She was the one he went to, the one he trusted enough to be vulnerable with.

But YN didn’t know how many more girls she could hear about without crying. How many more times could she listen to Anton profess his love for another girl he’d break up with in a couple months? How many more of his heartbreaks could she listen to him lament.

One day, the two of them were sitting in Anton’s room, YN laying back on his pillows while Anton sat on the foot of his bed, texting someone. They’d been sitting in silence for a good ten minutes. YN was beginning to feel fed up, being invited over to sit in silence.

“Did you invite me over just to text your girlfriend the whole time?” YN asked. She hadn’t been around Anton much since he made it official with his new girlfriend, wanting to respect their relationship. But Anton insisted he come over this weekend, saying he wanted to spend time with her.

Anton blinked and then scooted to lay next to her. He wrapped his arms around her, hands resting on the skin of her waist while his head laid on her chest. YN hated how much comfort she got from this. She knew he shouldn’t be that close.

“Toni, you can’t do this. You have a girlfriend,” she reminded him, ruffling his hair lightly.

Anton hummed for a moment. “We broke up,” he mumbled, arms tight around her waist, breathing in deeply.

There it was. YN went still. SHe moved her hand from his hair, sighing as she laid flat on his bed, going silent in response to what Anton just said.

“What’s wrong?” anton asked, letting go of her and propping himself up to look at her. He saw her expression, unreadable, foreign to anything he’d seen from her before. He usually could read YN like a book, she was his best friend, he could tell what she was thinking. But at that moment, he was lost.

“Nothing,” YN sighed and sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. She didn’t look at him, fiddling with the hem of her shirt instead.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Anton pressed. “Come on, just tell me,”

Yn turned to him, debating her words. Though part other wanted to salvage the relationship she knew would probably end eventually, the stronger part wanted to finally say her mind.

“How many times are you going to come to me about your heartbreaks?” she asked, voice quiet.

Anton looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?” he tilted his head, not knowing where this was suddenly coming from.

“I mean that’s all I’ve been good for,” she sighed. “You get a new girlfriend you ignore me for a few months until you break up and need someone to cry to. You just come around when you need comfort,”

“No, I don’t,” Anton sat up. “It’s not like that, YN,”

“Then what is it like?” she asked. “You only come around when you need me to comfort you, or when you find another girl, and you just have to tell me about how much you like her and how you just get butterflies thinking about her!”

“As my best friend, you should be happy for me! You should listen to my feelings, you should be there when I need you!” Anton scoffed, feeling defensive of his actions. There was no way she could be serious.

“Yeah and as someone who’s been in love with you since seventh grade, I don’t want to hear you talk about how much you love another girl, how you found your new soulmate, blah blah blah. I don’t want to hear you talk about how much your heart hurts when you broke mine!”

There was silence. YN didn’t register her words until anton spoke.

“You’re in love with me?” he asked and YN stood up, needing to leave.

“I’m gonna go home,” SHe muttered stumbling a bit as she grabbed her hoodie, quickly putting it on.

“YN, no, wait, let’s talk, please,” Anton got up, walking towards the door to stop her from leaving.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” YN muttered, voice heavy, tears falling before she could stop them. “Please get out of my way, anton,” she didn’t dare look up at him.

“No, yn please, talk to me-” he felt her push past him, hurrying downstairs to get her shows on. He followed hopelessly. “Please, come on, just talk to me!”

He heard the slam shut, and ran to the window, watching as his best friend stormed away.

He texted her for the whole week after, blowing up her phone with texts asking to please talk, missed calls and voicemails of him saying he missed her and wanted to talk things out. He even emailed her a few times for good measure, but got no response.

A week later she finally answered his texts. They agreed to meet at a park- the park they first met at. Anton was nervous. What would he say to her? What would she say to him? How were they going to recover from this?

She sat on the swingset, hair loose around her shoulders, feet dragging against the mulch. He called her name as he approached, and watched as she looked up at him. She stood up, and he could tell the breath she took in was shaky.

“I’m sorry for getting upset,” she said first. “I was frustrated.” her voice was soft, almost inaudible.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t important to me. It was shitty for me to use you.” Anton admitted. “I want you to know, I really value our friendship, you mean the world to me,” he gave her a gentle smile.

YN felt her heart shatter, his words crumbling the little hope she had left. There was silence between them, anton looked down at her. YN knew what was about to happen.

“Just get it over with,” she looked past him, breathing deeply.

Anton bit his lip. “I’m sorry, I just… don’t feel that for you,” he told her. “But I want us to be friends- i’ll be better I swear, nothing will change between us-”

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” YN had tears in her eyes. “I tried, anton, I really tried, but I just can’t,”

Anton shook his head softly. “No, YN, please,” He took her hands in his, kneeling down to try and get her to look at him. “Don’t do this, you’re my best friend,”

YN pulled her hands away, shaking her head. “It’s not fair to either of us,” she wiped her tears with her sleeve. “I’m sorry-“

Anton grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving again. He wrapped his arms around her, not wanting to let her go.

“Please YN we can figure it out, don’t-“

“Let go of me Anton,” she said through her tears.

He pulled away slightly, holding her face in his palms, eyes pleading her to stay. She brought up her shaky hands and pulled his away.

“Let me go, Anton,” her tears ran down her cheeks, stepping back away from Anton before turning around, and went away, not looking back as Anton stood there, tears in his eyes, waiting for her to come back.

A month passed and Anton held onto the hope his best friend would come back. In the halls he’d wait near her locker, trail behind her in hopes she’d turn around and see him. But she never did.

She was absent for a week after their last meeting. When she came back, Anton felt like she never saw him. She looked past him when he was nearby while his eyes would linger on her. She’d ignore his many texts and calls. When he’d try and talk to her after class, she’d just brush past him before he could get a word in. It was like she forgot him.

One day, he saw her with seunghan, walking down the halls happily. He watched her laugh at his jokes, and saw the bright smile on her face that he hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. The smile he would do anything to see again. The smile she used to give him everyday, that was now being made at seunghan and not him. He felt something pang inside him.

He felt… jealous? There was no way he was jealous. Maybe a little. Maybe he just missed her. That could justify why he felt this way, why he wanted so desperately to whisk her away and hold her close once more, bring her back to him, be the girl he always knew.

Anton sat with his friends, poking at his food while staring across the room at YN, who was eating with seunghan, laughing like they used to when they were together. His friends noticed his demeanor, how his gaze was fixed across the room at YN, how his brows furrowed more and more as she and seunghan got closer.

“Anton,” Sohee called his name and snapped Anton out of his daze. He looked over at the older boy. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Anton looked down. “Just thinking” his gaze went back up to YN, looking happier than she looked in a while. Anton hated it.

Probably the worst thing about this was how close the two lived. They grew up in the same neighborhood, lived a few blocks away. Anton would always walk YN home, sometimes coming inside for a snack or staying for dinner. Now they always walked an awkward distance apart, silence thick between them.

His friends went home with him, they agreed to play some video games before, and just wanted to hang out with Anton, who had seemed out of it for a long while. Anton had one earbud in, listening to his friends ramble. He noticed YN wasn’t in front of him as usual, and began wondering where she was.

Anton realized how his friends went quiet, and then heard her laugh. The sweet laugh he loved so much. He turned, and saw her walking with seunghan, who carried her bag for her. He’d normally look away, resign to their broken friendship, but this time he couldn’t, not bothering to hide his gaze as she passed.

He felt it again. That feeling in his chest boiling up as she and seunghan walked ahead of him and his group. He felt his jaw tighten, clenching his teeth together and watched as Seunghan walked YN to her door, ruffling her hair lightly before bidding her goodbye.

When they got to his house, Anton slumped onto the couch, resting against the cushions, not knowing what to do with this odd feeling. Even as his friends began playing their games, relaxing and having fun, anton felt his heart pang against his chest, a pain erupting from the part of him that couldn’t let YN go.

“Anton?”

“Yeah?”

“You look pretty out of it. You okay?” Wonbin asked, head hanging off the couch.

There was a beat of silence before anton answered.

“I don’t like that seunghan guy,” anton sighed. He didn’t know why, he had no reasonable reason.

“Why? He’s actually really nice,” sohee told him, confused why anton didn’t like the boy.

“I just get a bad vibe from him,” anton explained, not noticing the looks his friends gave each other. They knew his reasoning was bullshit, so it was time they point it out to him.

“Or Do you just not like that he’s been hanging out with YN a lot?” Sohee asked, and watched as anton’s ears grew red, jaw dropping slightly, trying to laugh off the accusation.

“What? No! Maybe a little but-” he paused, putting his head in his palms as he sighed. “Why did she have to leave me?”

“It wasn’t good for her to stay,” Sohee shrugged. “She was valid in her feelings, you know,”

“Yeah, but i wanted to fix things. We shouldn’t have ended things like that, we should still be friends,” Anton thought of the last time they spoke, how she left before he could beg her to stay.

“I think you’ll just need to let go,” Wonbin suggested gently.

“I don’t want to let go,” Anton shook his head like a petulant child. “SHe’s my best friend, i can’t lose her, I can’t let her go,”

“Anton-”

“And now there’s another guy with her, who’s in the place I used to be. He’s with my best friend, laughing and getting close with MY YN, while i’m here wishing she’d come back!” anton was flustered as he spoke, his friends coming to a realization he hadn’t come to himself.

“Anton, do you like-like YN?” sungchan asked and Anton furrowed his brows.

“No! I’m just… upset because she’s my best friend and now I've been replaced with some guy!” he tried to explain, cheeks getting slightly pink at the thought. “Oh you’re in love with her!” Sohee laughed, and Anton shook his head frantically.

“No I’m not! If I was, we wouldn’t be having this problem. I’m just upset, okay?” He got defensive, trying to brush off Sohee’s words.

“No, Anton, you really like her. And you’re jealous that she moved on and you’re still hung up on her,” Sohee raised his eyebrows, trying to convince Anton of his own feelings.

“Oh my god, no, I'm not in love with her! Of course I’m upset about this, I’ve known her for ten years. It’s nothing more than that, so drop it!” Anton raised his voice more than intended. Sohee only smirked at the younger.

“Okay anton, just let me know when you figure it out,” he sighed.

The rest of their visit, Anton sat in silence, mulling over everything in his mind. When his friends left, he went to his room to stare up at the ceiling. He replayed every word Sohee said. He remembered YN’s words when she ended their friendship. His head began spinning.

He remembered the day they met, her big eyes looking up at him, how he ignored the butterflies when she threw her arms around him, how he savored the scent of her shampoo. That was the first time he felt it, the first time something in his heart panged.

He remembered the day she first confessed, how her cheeks got pink and voice shook a bit. He always tried to ignore how his mind raced with the idea of them being more than friends. Anton never would admit to himself how he wanted to say yes, to be her lame middle school boyfriend.

He remembered her most recent confession, how his heart panged once more. She took him by surprise, made his head swirl with his past childish thoughts how after she left he weighed all possible answers, everything he could say to make her stay.

He thought about his words the last time they spoke, how he was so sure he felt nothing romantic for his best friend, though now his resolve was breaking.

He remembered all the times she’d hold him, how warm her embrace was, and how she’d play with his hair while he breathed her in. he remembered the times they’d stay up too late laughing about stupid things, how she’d do his skincare and make him wear a fluffy hello kitty headband to match hers. He remembered how pretty she looked all the time, how there would eb times he genuinely couldn’t think straight when she was with him.

Then it hit him. Sohee was right, Anton was jealous, because the girl he denied his love for was now gone, and with another man. He now let himself admit what he’d been suppressing, what he was so scared would ruin their friendship. He had been in love with YN since they were little kids, since the moment she hugged him.

He would do anything to get her back.

The next week, anton tried everything to get her back. He would wait by her locker, sat next to her in classes, bought her chocolate milk and left it on her lunch table with a note on it.

Each time, she’d ignore his advances. Seunghan would come to her locker with her, reaching for what she needed before handing it over to her, YN never had to look at him. In class she’d scoot further away from anton and crumple up the notes he’d slide over to her, and ignore when he’d poke her arm. When he left chocolate milk for her, she’d rip off the note, crumple it up and throw it away, and give the drink to another friend.

Anton still refused to give up. He knew he’d have to step it up.

The rain pounded against the window, YN sat on her bed, listening to the storm outside. She was coming to peace with what was going on, though she couldn’t deny her heart still pounded when she thought about her time with Anton. She did her best to ignore the boy who stole her heart, but it got increasingly difficult when he was annoyingly persistent.

She heard a light knock at her door and furrowed her brows, standing up and opening the door to see who it was. There he stood, tall figure looking down at her, hair soaked from rain, and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. She stood in silence, trying to process the sight in front of her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, looking up at him while trying to keep her

emotions in order.

“I uh, wanted to talk,” He cleared his throat, pushing the bouquet forward a little more.

YN just sighed. “What part of not wanting to talk do you not get?” she asked, propping the door open a bit more, walking back in and grabbing a towel. Anton took this as a silent affirmation to walk in.

He took the towel and dried off his hair, sitting down on the bed while YN sat on her desk, studying him. Her heart pounded as she looked at him, she tried to ignore it, push down how much she wanted to just throw her arms around him. She couldn’t, not after what they went through. She had to be strong.

“Are you here to talk, or just sit on my bed in silence?” She asked, frowning a little. “If you’re not gonna say anything to me then just go home-” “I’m in love with you,” Anton blurted out.

YN went still. She felt her heart pounding even harder, felt the heat rush to her cheeks as she attempted to process his words.

“What?”

“I’m in love with you, YN, and it’s driving me insane,” he sighed, looking up at her hopefully.

She shook her head. “No,”

“No?”

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to pull the ‘i love you’ card. Not now, not after everything.” She looked down at the ground.

Anton stood up from her bed. “I know,” he whispered, taking a step toward her. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner, i shouldn’t have pushed you away,”

YN didn’t respond and Anton took another step towards her. He pushed a strand of her hair away from her face, gently bringing his hand to tilt her head up to face him. He looked at her for a moment, fingers playing with her hair idly before speaking again.

“I think I was scared,” He sighed. “I got caught up in the What-ifs of what would happen if something went wrong. I didn’t want to lose what we had, and I ended up losing you anyway. I realized I loved you too late. I never meant to hurt you, I swear,”

YN folded her arms, moving her head out of his grip. “You can’t justify using me for your comfort, anton,” She reminded him, and Anton nodded.

“I know, I was selfish, and wrong, and I’m so sorry,” He apologized once more, moving her cheek lightly to get her to look at him again. She slipped away from him, pushing his chest lightly as she went to sit on her bed. Anton followed, crouching down, eyes begging for her to look at him. “Let me make this right,” he gently held her hand. “I’ll do anything to get you back, please, don’t shut me out,”

YN Scoffed a bit, trying to look away, but he brought her back to look at him once more, eyes pleading as they looked into hers. She sighed, shaking her head a bit.

“How could I trust you?” Her voice shook. “How do I know I won’t regret letting you back in? How will I know you won’t break my heart again?” anton saw tears well in her eyes, and he moved to sit on the bed. He took her hands gently, moving so they’d face each other as they sat.

“Because now I know I was wrong, and I won’t let that happen to us again,” He brushed his thumb against her knuckles gently. “I swear,”

He didn’t get a response, and when YN looked down at her lap, he decided he’d let her. And he would just speak his mind.

“I’m so in love with you,” he laughed a bit, and YN glanced up. “And it’s driving me crazy. I fucked up, and I can’t stop regretting what happened, I can’t stop wanting to make things right. I can’t stop wanting you,”

YN looked at him, resolve slowly breaking as his eyes stared into hers. Every emotion she tried to keep down was rising through her system. She felt warm, unable to ignore the effect anton had on her, his words being all she ever wanted to hear him say. There was silence between them, something unspoken.

She felt him brush her hair behind her ear and brought in a quiet breath, watching as he gazed softly at her. He began to lean towards her, slowly, giving her the time to push him away. But she stayed still. So he continued. Their noses brushed against each other, lightly grazing each others skin as YN let out the breath she was holding in. Then she felt his lips press against hers, soft, gentle, as if anything more could break them.

Their kiss was quick, both of them pulling away to take in breaths through their shock. When Anton saw YN’s expression, he wasted no time, pulling her back in closer. YN’s hands rested on his chest as Anton deepen the kiss, shifting more towards her, pulling her in more and resting one hand on her waist, the other in her hair. YN pulled him in more, one arm resting around his neck as she kissed him, letting go of whatever was holding her back.

“Let me take you on a date,” He muttered between kisses, hands massaging her skin. “Let me try again,”

“Okay,” YN agreed with a smile, feeling his lips trail across her skin, kissing her jaw too. “But we should still talk more about-” her thoughts trailed off as they continued kissing.

Anton grinned. “Tomorrow,” he just wanted to enjoy the moment. And to kiss her more. “I tried to be all romantic, you know,” he pressed a kiss to her neck. “My mom even helped me pick out flowers,” he moved up to her lips. “I was prepared to get on my knees and beg,”

YN pulled away, laughing at the thought of the tall boy on his knees begging for forgiveness. She looked at him, his shoulders heaving, trying to catch his breath, hair messy. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to lay on her bed with her, anton quickly moved his arms around her, resting his cheek on her head.

“You should stay,” YN requested. “I missed you more than I let on,”

“Oh thank god,” Anton grinned. “I was worried you actually hated my guts,”

“I tried my hardest,” she smiled up at him.

The two Spent their time together snuggled up close, anton not willing to let her go further than an arms length away. They fell into a peaceful sleep, together at last, no regrets to keep them awake any longer. ౨ৎ

the next week, they walked around school together, holding hands and smiling, back to a new normal. Anton didn’t have to tell his friends anything, they figured it out. sohee and seunghan watched them from their table, laughing about everything. Unbeknownst to Anton and YN, they had a little bet that they’d be back together. Sohee actually never thought it would happen, but seunghan knew better.

“Ten dollars,” seunghan held out his hand.

“yeah yeah, whatever,” sohee grumbled defeated. Why did he have to be so good at using common sense?

౨ৎ LETS GOOOO ANTON ONESHOT!!! Lmk if u wanna be added to my new taglist!!! You’ll get to know all I do going forward!!

taglist: @oftenjisung , @vhuteryh , @skzhoe4life , @cheederzchez

#gyuvxx⭐️#riize #anton x reader #anton lee #lee anton #anton imagines #anton fluff #riize anton #riize imagines #anton oneshot #oneshot #riize x reader #fluff #angst #anton fic #anton angst #lee chanyoung #riize chanyoung #riize fluff

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