#like i really want to throttle this dude. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bettyfrommars · 1 year

Text

I'm on Fire//biker!older!Eddie x fem!Reader//90's au

Part 12: For Whom the Phone Rings

WARNINGS PLS READ: 18+ONLY, MATURE THEMES, violence, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), creampie, jealousy, threat of violence, homophobic slurs, threat of sexual violation (does not actually happen), threat to someone's family, foul language, derogatory slurs in general, mention of a gun, financial struggle, bribes, mention of blood, ANGST, biker MC, mention of violent past, hurt and comfort. WC: 8.2k

Summary: You and Eddie take another leap in your relationship and get cozy together, while Steve rolls into high gear with the MC, biting off a bit more than he can chew. Robin takes matters into her own hands to protect Oliver, and past relationships come back to haunt. Playlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: I rarely go into these chapters knowing what will happen, and this story in particular definitely has a mind of its own now. That being said, you won't ever read about the act of sexual violation in these or any of the main characters getting killed or detrimentally hurt, because I just can't stomach writing about it. This part is definitely angsty, but I hope you enjoy ❤️

pls NO MINORS beyond this point

--------

For Whom the Phone Rings

--------

You decided that making it through the rest of the dinner with John would be too painful knowing that Eddie was in love with you and he was out there on his motorcycle waiting like some Cool Rider dream out of Grease 2. Knowing that you were also in love with him and all of the endorphins that went along with that feeling made your body tingle. You didn’t want to let go of his hand; you wanted to just walk right out with him. Yet, the business side of you didn’t want to lose John as a contact, or Richard Gere for that matter. No need to burn unnecessary bridges.

You went back to the table and gave John a reluctant, sad smile, and told him the phone call was an emergency and you had to run. He got to his feet and insisted on driving you, but you assured him that your boyfriend was coming to pick you up. You realized in that moment that’d you’d never referred to Eddie as your boyfriend out loud before, and it felt really fucking good.

Eddie was straddling his motorcycle and smoking a cigarette when he caught sight of you coming out the front door, and you both grinned like idiots at each other.

“That was quick,” he swung his leg off, taking hold of your hand so he could yank you toward him faster, cause he couldn’t wait to get his lips on you again. He pulled his leather jacket out of one of the saddlebags and opened it up for you to put on. “It’s cold out on the road, baby.”

And so you let the heavy jacket with all of it’s zippers and buckles envelope you, smelling his cologne and a hint of nicotine in the leather. You of course hadn’t brought the helmet he bought for you, so you wore his again, buckling it under your chin as he revved the bike, throwing one of the body guards a dirty look for keeping his eyes on you for too long.

The only problem was your dress. Eddie anticipated the slit that went all the way up to your hip when you mounted behind him and the material fell back, exposing your entire leg. He instantly swung his arm back to block the view of your limb from the other dudes present, palming your knee. “Scoot in as tight as you can, baby,” he said to you above the growl of the engine, his wrist working at the throttle. During the ride home, his hand kept returning to the same spot, and you rubbed his chest with your hands, pinning your cheek to his shoulder, liking the way the ends of his hair flew back and tickled your nose.

Back at the garage, neither one of you could keep your hands off of each other after Eddie parked the bike. He actually tossed the helmet skidding to the pavement when you handed it to him because he didn’t want to miss a moment of being able to cup your ass and pull your mouth to his.

“God, I love you,” Eddie breathed, parting ways only to get the key out and unlock the door, and then you both stumbled in, laughing as you playfully bit his arm. You shrugged out of his jacket and he threw that over his head to the bottom of the stairs, just as your fingers hooked into his back belt loops and you stomped up the old wood stairs behind him.

This was one of those moments you knew you would cherish for the rest of your life. Even as it was happening, your body was registering it as one of your favorite memories. This new love with Eddie, this intense urgency to get somewhere to worship each other in peace.

He tugged you inside his apartment, pushed you back against the door, and held your hands above your head, kissing you as he braced you there. Tongues were quicker to touch than lips, and then his forehead pressed to yours; adrenaline surging.

Eddie’s hands released yours and slid down to feel you, pulling your breast free from the front of your dress so that his thumb could graze your nipple. His other hand found your bare leg beneath the slit of the dress and dipped down between your legs.

“Shit, baby,” he hissed, fingering your arousal as his cock flexed in his jeans.

“See what you do to me?” You slid your hands around the back of his neck, fingers into his hair, and picked your chin up to find his mouth again.

His knuckle dragged along your damp underwear, and you had your hand down his jeans now, palming him through his boxers. Your pussy throbbed as you got a hold of the bare skin of his length, tip leaking for you.

“Get me out of this dress,” you begged against his mouth, knowing that you couldn’t reach the zipper in the back by yourself.

“I hate this fucking dress,” Eddie added, blocking you against the door, slipping your underwear aside, dipping his finger into your pie, making your breath catch. “I hate that he bought it for you.”

You pushed away from him only to try and pull the dress up over your head, but the material was too stiff, and you were only able to wiggle the lower part of your ass out.

“Stop right there, baby,” Eddie mumbled. He came up behind you to pull your thong aside and press his cock up along the warm wet silk of your slit. “Fuckkk,” he groaned, cupping the front of your throat and pulling you back.

You shivered as his tip got close to entering you; the need pulsed at your core, and you whimpered as his tongue found your ear, flicking around the outside. With his cock stiff and lifted enough to ride between your legs without assistance, both of his hands pushed the front of your dress down, cupping your breasts, pinching and twisting the nipples, making you drop your head back with a gasp. You were only wearing the dress around your mid-section now, knees weak, sighs hot and heavy.

“Are you my girl?” He grumbled it, and then blew air on your neck where his saliva was, making you shiver.

“Mhmmm,” you responded. His pelvis was bouncing off your ass as he worked his length along your dripping slit.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me who you belong to.”

You reached a hand up to grab his head, ass pressing back against his thrusts, pussy clenching. “You, baby, only you,” It was urgent; the hole between your legs begging to be fed and filled by this man, and this man only.

Eddie reached down to finger your core with his big hand, cock kicking up at the mess he found there soaking through. “I love you so fucking much. You’re killing me.”

He ducked back to try and find the zipper, but it stuck at the top. In a moment of passionate fury, he took hold of the material with both hands and ripped the back open with a grunt. The threads spit open at a jagged angle, exposing the soft skin of your back, and then he just kept pulling, yanking the material away. “Fuck this dress,” he hissed as it met the ground in pieces.

He ripped your underwear off with a single yank, the sensation of breaking material hot against your hip, and you yelped at the surprise, but then he had you on the bed, pulling his shirt up over his head to expose the wash of tattoos, and pushing his jeans and boxers down. The length of his cock bounced up, showing the thick vein underneath, the upper shaft still glistening with your juices.

He crawled on the mattress after you and you urged him closer, sealing his mouth to yours, brushing his hair out of his face. “I need it so bad right now baby, please,” you mewed, a desperate whine in the back of your throat. You felt the head of his cock knocking at the swollen folds above your entrance, and you spread your legs wide; dripping and begging.

“I need it too, baby,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to yours. “So fucking bad.”

You looked down to watch him hold his huge cock at the base so he could run the tip along your slit; preparing it for duty. “Tell me if it’s...too much?” He whispered it just before he kissed you again. You were sure it would just melt right in.

But then he buried the tip and your body stiffened, a tiny squeak escaping your throat. Eddie’s hand clamped onto your hip as his lips parted and his eyebrows cinched together. “Fuck, you’re so tight baby,” and he rose up a bit to look down at the way he disappeared inside of you, working the tip back and forth, taking his time. “This is all mine, yeah? No one else.”

“No one else, baby,” you gasped grabbing his neck, meeting his eyes. He searched your face, flexing his hips to sink in another inch. He had one hand braced on the bed while the other cupped your jaw, and then his thumb sank into your mouth and you sucked it.

Eddie glanced down again at your beautiful body open for him, and decided he couldn’t wait another second to own you, and buried himself the rest of the way in, cursing, feeling like he might cum right then and there. You cried out, exposing your throat for him to paint with his tongue.

He sat back on his knees briefly to thrust in hard a few times, base deep, needing to know he was deeper than anyone had ever been inside you before. Needing to look at what he did to you; the way you unraveled for him.

But then his eyes snapped to yours, needing something else.

You could see the ask in his soft dark orbs as he braced his hands at your hips, locking his length inside of you for a few breaths as the gravity of emotions vibrated in the air.

“I love you,” you told him. And then the dam broke and you said it over and over and over, and he dropped his body close, bucking his hips, his own affirmations of love flowing with each breath. You clung to his shoulders and wrapped your legs as he stretched you out, digging heels in, needing him to be as close as two humans could possibly be.

The intensity of the experience mounted a quick release and soon Eddie’s face was right above you, taking your chin to turn your face. “Look at me,” he said. “Don’t look away, okay?”

His pace quickened, forehead tightening, and a warmth started to spill through your body like liquid sunlight until all you could do was search his eyes and babble, “fucfuckfuckIloveyou...fuck.”

Eddie slowed for a moment. “I’m gonna cum so hard inside you, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes baby please,” you whined. “Fuck, please, all of it.”

And then he was down close to you again, slamming into you with purpose, one hand on your throat, headboard banging the wall. Your eyes locked and then you were cumming, hard, seeing white, velvet tugs rippling at your core.

Eddie felt your walls clench like a heart beat around his cock and watched your eyelids flutter, sending his release into action, the bark of an exhale in his chest.

You were riding the wave of your orgasm when you felt him tremble, his hips stuttering, pupils blown. The feel of his warm seed pumping extended the ripple affect, and you both clung to each other with aching breaths as Eddie dropped his head to find your mouth.

You palmed his cheek as he finished, eye clamping shut for the first time to take in all that had just happened. He brushed his lips on your palm, your eyelids, your cheeks, all while buried inside you; nurturing a desire in his belly to curl up and live there forever.

His jeans and boots on, denim pooled at his ankles, too ripe with eagerness earlier to even consider the seconds it would take to remove them. It was a while before he pulled out of you, and the tender way he brushed his lips across your face and neck had your ears ringing, skin buzzing. It wasn’t fair that you would automatically think the worst in a situation such as this, but you were afraid of how much you loved this man. Already considering the rejection or the thing that would inevitably go wrong, and how bad it would break you. How you might never recover from this one.

He officially had your heart and he could do whatever he wanted with it. There was no longer a decision to be made or pros and cons to consider: you were completely, utterly gone.

---------

“I hope you rot in hell you greedy cunt!” Steve said as he slammed the phone down on the receiver with a clang.

Robin rushed into the kitchen from the living room, eyes wide, hoping that Steve’s outburst hadn’t woken Oliver from his nap. They both froze for a few seconds, ears perked to listen for the sound of his tiny footfalls or a door opening.

“I hope that wasn’t your mother,” Robin chided, throwing the dishtowel in her hand over the side of the sink.

“Think bigger cunt,” he said in a much lower voice, throwing on his leather Coffin Kings cut. “They’re staying at that seedy motel over on Chestnut.”

Robin bristled, knowing it has been Tina, Oliver’s biological mom. She crossed her arms. “Do we need to get a lawyer?”

“With what money, Rob?” He braced his hands on the back of one of the dining table chairs, facing her, rolling his neck.

Robin was taking on more shifts at the hotel and Steve at his two jobs, but it felt like they could never dig out of the hole they were in lately.

Steve took a deep breath and straightened, rolling his shoulders. “Don’t worry, okay? I got some things lined up. We’ll have enough to make that pickled whore and her dog-faced pimp go away for a bit. Hopefully they overdose and fucking die---”

“Steve.”

“What? I hope they die. I’m not afraid to say it.” He snatched his sunglasses off the table and slid them over his eyes. “I won’t be back till late. I got a thing with the Kings, and then I’m at the Hammer tonight.”

He said it all over his shoulder as he was crossing the distance to the door and opening it.

“Wait,” Robin called after him. “What thing with the Kings?” He’d promised her numerous times that he wasn’t doing anything illegal or detrimental to his health for Oliver’s sake, but the Coffin Kings weren’t ones to just meet up for a casual cheese and wine picnic in the park.

He stepped outside into the early afternoon sunlight and shut the door behind him. “It’s nothing,” he told her through the open window. “Kiss my boy for me when he wakes up.”

--------

Earlier that morning, around 4am, you were tucked close to Eddie as he spooned you, the fingers of one hand intertwined with yours, his warm breath on the back of your neck. His cum sticky between your legs. You were out of the habit of sharing a bed with someone, and so your sleep was a bit restless, but every time you snapped awake and remembered where you were---a warmth came over you, and you nuzzled against him, kissing his hand.

Eddie, on the other hand, was sleeping like a bear. Knowing you were safe in his arms was like a sedative for him. He stirred briefly a few times only to squeeze your hand or kiss your shoulder, but for the most part, you listened as his heavy breathing turned into a rattling snore in the back of his throat, and it made you smile.

You jumped when the phone rang loud and shrill, and Eddie’s head popped off the pillow with a grunt, his eyes closed.

“Whoever it is, they are dead fucking meat,” he mumbled out of the side of his mouth after dropping his cheek back to the pillow.

You moved as if you were about to get out of his way so he could reach the phone that was on your side of the bed, but Eddie’s arm held fast, locking you in place. “Let the machine get it, baby,” he whispered, tongue clicking in his dry mouth, already halfway back to dreamland.

It was so cute to think about how he ran out and bought an answering machine because you asked him to. You knew he hated them, and it was something he’d done just for you, so that he would never miss a message if you called.

It rang three times before you heard beep and the machine click on, and then there came a woman’s voice you didn’t recognize:

“Um, hey Eddie baby, long time no talk…”

Behind you, Eddie stiffened. Your eyes blew wide open.

“...I can’t believe you finally stepped into the modern age and got an answering machine. Maybe people do change, I know I have,” there was a shuffling and the sound of ice clinking in a glass. “I’ve really been missing you lately and thinking about that time we went to Sturgis and we missed Steppenwolf because we were too busy fucking in the back of the…”

Eddie started to crawl over you, ready to yank the phone cord out of the wall, but you put your hand up to stop him, and he paused there, one hand braced on either side of you, hair hanging down. “This is nothing, baby, she’s--” he whispered, but then the message continued.

“...and then on the way home ate burgers in the park. Fuck, those were good times. I know you never sleep, so I figured you’d hear this message and pick up, but maybe you don’t want to talk to me anymore? I can’t say I’d blame you. Anyway, I’m coming to town this weekend for a wedding and I’d love to see you if you want to see me. I’m staying at Chrissy’s moms house, I think you still have the number.”

Eddie fell back on the bed, gnawing on his bottom lip, one hand on your thigh, waiting for the nightmare to end so that he could explain to you that it was all ancient history. He hadn’t been with Melanie in almost 5 years, and he hadn’t from heard her for at least 2, and he didn’t want to hear from her, not ever again. If he had to guess, he’d bet that she’d dumped another one of her boyfriends and was looking for comfort; the likes of which he had none to give. God, why was this happening to him? Why now of all the times in the fucking world for her to call?

He wanted to pick that answering machine up and break it in half with his bare hands.

Meanwhile, you were trying to push down the discomfort rising in your throat. This was clearly someone from Eddie’s past, someone he hadn’t spoken to in a while, but you couldn’t help the jealousy that tightened your flesh over your bones and made your tongue push against the back of your teeth.

“Anyway, maybe if you’re up for it, we can get a drink at the Hideout for old time’s sake? Well, now I feel stupid talking to this thing. Call me, okay? Same number as before. Oh, and this is Melanie by the way, remember me? The one you were supposed to grow old with?” Melanie took a moment to giggle to herself before she finished. “Okay, miss you lots. Bye bye.”

The phone clicked on her end and the message beeped again to announced that it was finally over. You and Eddie lay in the loud silence for a few seconds, and then Eddie swallowed hard.

“Let me explain? I haven’t talked to her in---”

But you cut him off, rolling over on your other side to face him, nudging his arm to open up so you could slide into his armpit and put your head on his chest, your leg stretching over his, hand palming his bicep, thumb grazing his nipple.

“We can talk about it later,” you hushed.

He pulled you close, kissing the top of your head, “she means nothing to me, baby,” he reiterated, and then it wasn’t long before you heard the purr of his snores again. His arm went lax and slipped down to the bed with a flop.

But you, you were wide awake. Blinking ever so often with the rhythm of the red light on the machine cast on the ceiling, announcing that there was a new message.

---------

In the dark corner of an abandoned warehouse in the industrial district, Steve’s fist cracked into the jaw of a guy tied to a chair with duct tape over his mouth. This was not the first punch, and his knuckles were raw. The guy in the chair was a snitch who’d tried to run, but Steve and a few of the others caught up with him. He had a shaved head covered in tattoos, his eye was now swollen, and nose broken, so he was struggling to breathe through the snot and the blood.

Steve stepped back, kicking his chin up, signaling to two of the Hell’s Belles that were there. “Take his Kutte,” he told them.

One of the two women slipped a knife of of the sheath at her hip and twirled it in the air before slicing the leather of his cut off at the arm hole so that they wouldn’t have to untie his hands. They cut and yanked on both sides until the material opened up and The guy screamed inside the duct tape, drool dripping down his chin from a tiny gap in the tape.

Steve’s tattooed hand was seeping watery blood from one knuckle as he pinched a cigarette between thumb and forefinger and took a drag. “You know, Jerry Dog wants your head. He told me to bring it to him in a bag with a pretty bow on it.”

The guy had stopped trying to battle the restraints, but he glared at Steve with hard, dark eyes, shouting something that only came out as muffled noise. Two of the Coffin Kings were standing at Steve’s back, legs braced wide, hands resting on the hilts of weapons at their sides. Steve turned on his heel, following the Hell’s Belle with the torn leather vest out of the damp building and into the sunlight. She had shoulder length, orange hair with one side completely shaved, and she went by the name Ratchet.

Ratchet made sure to put the cut in the saddle bag on the back of her bike and tighten the buckle closed before she turned around to address Steve again. “I thought you and War Machine were taking a step back from the life? That’s the rumor, anyway.”

War Machine was Eddie’s nickname, and had been ever since they were young and he was always getting into fights with kids who tried to pick on him or others. Steve had been known as Taz around the MC, in honor of the Tasmanian Devil, because if he was in a mood, he’d fight anyone--even if the odds were stacked against him. The gold tooth he had was to replace one of his incisors due to the original one getting knocked out when he was 21 by a guy with metal rings on. Steve’d spit the tooth out at the time and started laughing, blood dripping down his chin like a mad man. He never though things through like Eddie did. Back in their school days, Wayne would come around the corner to the principals office with that tired look on his face as he removed his hat, and there’d be Steve and Eddie; bloody noses and swollen lips. They were both never far from each other, and neither one let the other go into battle alone.

But Eddie hadn’t gone by War Machine in years; he’d grown to hate it, actually. The things he’d done in the name of the MC as War Machine were some of the things he hated most about himself.

“I got a son now, ya know,” Steve sucked hard on his smoke, cheeks caving in, and then he exhaled to the side. “And Eddie’s just, a good guy I guess. Just cause you grown up in the life doesn’t mean you’re made for it.”

Tiger Lily—the other female biker with Ratchet--and the two Kings with Steve were also wandering around, having a smoke break and taking a piss, while they let the guy inside sweat, wondering if these were his final moments.

Ratchet tucked the long side of her hair behind her ear, her nickname tattooed in cursive on the side of her throat. “How’s Robin?”

Steve hadn’t seen Ratch in a while, but it was standard procedure for her to ask after his best friend. The two had a thing many years ago, but Ratch was a dog at the time and went sniffing too many other butts for Robin’s liking. Fucking things up with Buckley was still one of her biggest regrets.

“We’ve got our share of the shit pie,” Steve assured. “But we’re making it work. I couldn’t do it without her.” He tapped his heel on the toe of his boot and flicked his cigarette. “I’ve got a gig lined up with some rich bitch. Easy bag, some lame body guard gig. It should get our heads out of water, at least.”

“Who’s it for?” Ratchet squinted, exhaling smoke out her nose, down the piercing in the middle of her bottom lip.

“I don’t really know,” Steve shrugged. “She seems to have a lot of money to throw around, that’s all I give a fuck about.”

“Careful, bro,” Ratchet held the two fingers up holding her cigarette, chipped black polish on her fingernails. “There’s a wealthy cougar in town who likes to hire MC’s as body guards and she’s been pitting different clubs against each other. Three of Lucifer’s Own got the piss beat out of them the other weekend trying to defend her fortress. Put Donnie in intensive care.”

Steve’s mind flicked to the night Eddie was stabbed, and the way Eddie wouldn’t tell him who did it because he knew Steve would go off the rails.

“Like I said,” Steve rolled his neck, crushing the end of this cig into the mud with the toe of his boot. “I don’t care what the drama is, long as she pays.”

Ratchet respected this, offering a twitch of her brow.

“Let’s get this over with,” Steve motioned to the rest as he opened the aluminum door to head back into the building. “I got shit to do.”

The guy in the chair was struggling to breathe through some miracle opening in his inflamed and bleeding nostrils. His broad chest heaved, nearly popping open the buttons on his black and blue flannel, gasping for air, cheeks puffing out, his bald head slick with sweat.

Steve took position in front of him again. The whole cutting his head off thing was a bluff. Jerry Dog had never requested such a thing. The other two Kings, Rooster and Emmett, would toss him in the back of the utility van and dump him down at the train yard and wait for further instructions.

The guy in the chair barked something at Steve through the tape, eyes narrowing, but it only came out as a strangled mumble.

“You trying to say something to me, Inky?” Steve cocked his head, referring to the man’s nickname.

Steve reached across to rip the tape off in one quick swipe, taking some of Inky’s mustache with it. The guy wheezed, bending his head to take a few deep inhales through his mouth, coughing a few times at the greedy pulls of air his body was taking.

“I got good news, man,” Steve’s tone was sarcastic as he rested his hands on his hips. “You get to keep your head. For now.”

Inky spit. He’d clearly intended the projected saliva to land on Steve, but it hit the ground next to his boot instead. Steve looked down at the spit, and then back up at Inky. “To think I thought you’d be grateful?”

“Fuck you, Taz,” Inky sneered at Steve, his voice full of vitriol. “I never did like you. Jerry Dog is gonna let me walk, and then you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna come to your house and fuck the gay right outta that dyke roommate of yours, and I’m gonna make your kid watch.”

If Steve ever had a voice of reason that spoke to him in his head, it wasn’t about to change the impact those words had on him. There would be no more talking, no more negotiation, and no one in that room would dare to try and stop him, even if they wanted to, as he started pummeling his fist over and over into Inky’s face. At one point, Inky lost consciousness, jaw broken and slack, and the chair fell sideways, landing his head to the cement with a thunk. Steve followed, dropping on top of him, seeing red, unable to stop his fist from working, smashing, breaking.

When the other four were finally able to pull Steve off, it was too late for Inky.

---------

“Who is this Melanie bitch?” Katie came to visit you that night during your shift at the Velvet Hammer because you felt like you needed a pep talk. You’d just come up next to the bar where she was having her whiskey sour, and the ask was loud enough for Shanna, the longtime bartender and manager to hear.

Shanna had on a platinum blonde wig shaped in a 1920’s bob cut, a row of 6 tiny hoops curving up one ear, and a long, red upside down cross dangling from the other. She squinted at Katie while she squeezed fresh orange juice to make a screwdriver, and then her eyes shifted to you. “Melanie. You mean Melanie Drake? Your old man’s ex?”

You knew Eddie had a past, and you were glad for the most part. He was in his early thirties, for godsake, and if he hadn’t at least tried to commit to someone before you, it could easily be seen as a red flag. And it didn’t matter how much in love you knew you both were, or how devoted he clearly was to you—there was something unsettling about the girlfriend before you coming to town. Not just any girlfriend or one night stand, but someone he’d clearly had deep feelings for. Not only was she coming to town, but she explicitly wanted to see your boyfriend.

“Yeah,” you moved your jaw and absently straightened the little black pocket apron around your waist. “She left a really flirty message early this morning on his machine while we were in bed together.”

“Nooooo,” Katie blanched, making a yuck face. “What did you do? What did you say? What did HE say?”

Shanna passed the screwdriver and two pints of beer over to Jackie who loaded them on her tray. The dancer in the back was giving a wild show to the tune of Unsung by Helmet, sliding down the pole slowly, both legs spread wide, dropping to the floor in the splits with a head bang.

Shanna was clearly invested in the story now too, waiting with baited breath for you to answer Katie’s questions. “We just...went back to sleep. I told him we could talk about it in the morning. But then we woke up late and he had to rush out.”

Shanna and Katie exchanged a look.

“He loves me, we are good, I trust him,” you moved the four tequila shots and limes to your tray as Shanna passed them to you, and you couldn’t tell if you were trying to convince yourself or them.

“Of course he loves you, but is he planning to meet up with her, though?” Katie asked, taking the two tiny red straws out of her drink. “Cause, I don’t like that idea. Feels wrong. Sends her an encouraging message.”

You didn’t have a chance to answer before Shanna spoke up. “Melanie won’t show her face in here if she knows what’s good for her,” she paused only to rim a margarita glass with salt. You and Katie both directed your attention to hear the rest. “Years ago, she was hired on as one of the dancers for a couple months. Found out she was stealing from the other girls and giving blowjobs to customers in the bathroom.”

You blinked a few times, not liking the fact that she’d also had a job there. Katie lifted her glass to her lips but paused there, giving you a side eye.

Shanna raised an eyebro, smoky eye makeup rimming eyes that were so brown they were almost black. “And that was when she was still supposedly with your old man. I’m not even sure if he ever found out about it. Probably would’ve killed someone if he had.”

The news of Eddie being blatantly disrespected and cheated on like that didn’t sit well with you, either, and you realized that you knew nothing about this woman, how long they’d been together, and why it ended. You had to run your tray of drinks over to a table, and Katie ordered another whiskey sour while she waited.

You checked on other tables, and then on your way back to Katie at the bar, you saw Steve come in. He was an hour late, but he’d already called to let Shanna know, and one look at him told you why he was late.

While normally Steve had a charming, cheerful disposition, tonight his jaw was set at a hard angle, his eyes cold and weary. He was favoring his right hand, holding hit against his stomach. It was wrapped up, but poorly, as if he’d done it himself in a rush, red/orange seeping through at the knuckles. Normally, Steve would saunter over to see what the girls were gossiping about at the bar, and be eager to give his two cents. But, that night, he found his stool, and prepared to do nothing above the bare minimum required for his job. He lit a cigarette and checked ID’s, but made no move to add any banter to his interactions.

And no one bothered him or asked any questions because they were all realizing, perhaps for the first time, how scary he was once all of the casual, jovial exterior was removed.

----------

The rain was drizzling that night as Robin sat in her car facing the seedy motel on Chestnut, planning her words. She dropped off Oliver with Wayne for the night, and when they got there, Wayne already had cartoons on and some pigs-in-a-blanket in the oven; his face lighting up in a way they all thought the cancer had long ago removed.

Behind the wheel, facing room 11, here were two manila envelopes in her lap: one was full of cash and the other contained official government paperwork. She had a private savings account she’d been trickling money into for years. Even then, it only had about six grand in it. She pawned some of the gold jewelry her grandmother passed down to her, and a few other keepsakes she’d been saving to pass down to Oliver, and the final product was the best offer Tina would ever get from them. They were usually able to buy her off for a year or so with a grand or two, so ten grand should make her eyes sparkle long enough to sign away her rights to Ollie.

Steve and Katie had no idea what she was up to. Steve would’ve tried to stop her. He would’ve showed up and caused a scene, and his temper would get the best of him. Robin was calm. The only endgame that mattered to her was keeping Oliver safe and in her arms, and she didn’t care how broke she was or how low she had to grovel to make that happen.

She could see them through the window between the break in the curtains. Tina with her curly black hair, long and wild, wearing a tight, red spandex dress, and then her fiance Louis, shirtless, wiry muscles littered with prison ink. They appeared to be in the middle of an argument, but that was nothing new; they both thrived on chaos.

Robin also had a gun.

She strapped her bag across her body and reached in to palm the cool steel of Steve’s protection piece he usually kept in a safe in the closet. There was always the chance that Tina and Louis would try to jump her and take the money without following through on the paperwork, but she wasn’t going to let that happen; her plan was solid.

This bullshit would end tonight.

---------

It was so early in the morning when Steve’s bike rumbled around the corner to Astrid’s house that it was still dark. He dismounted right next to the dilapidated picket fence with the chipped white paint, and looked up to see that she was already on the porch in her nightgown, arms wrapped in a shawl, waiting for him. He hadn’t called to tell her he was on his way, in fact, it had been a last second decision as he idled at a stop light on his way home after work.

Steve needed comfort, and for some reason, Astrid always knew how to give it without him needing to ask.

“How’s your hand?” She asked across the lawn, even though he’d taken the bandage off and, from that distance, in the dark, there’s no way she could’ve known it was swollen and fleshly with raw patches.

He didn’t answer, he just came through the gate and made his way at a tired pace toward her, clomping up each step in his heavy boots, wallet chain jangling.

“Let me see,” she said, holding out her hand, palm up, for him to oblige. She hissed at the damage, and when she tapped his middle finger, he winced. “Honey, we need to get this cleaned and bandaged properly. It might even need a splint. Come inside. I put a beer in the freezer.” She always moved a beer from the refrigerator to the freezer when she had a hunch he was on his way so that it would be extra cold for him. She also had leftovers heating in the oven because it was typical of him to forget to eat.

Once inside the house, while he followed her through the candlelit living room to the kitchen, Steve caught her elbow and spun her around. Astrid’s eyes sought his, trying to anticipate his needs, but then what she found there was exhaustion, both emotional and physical, and a palpable sense of dread. Of fear that life would always take and never give. That time would continue to accomplish nothing but to wear us down and break our hearts.

He bowed his head, and then he dropped to his knees, arms wrapping around her legs, cheek pressing into her thigh, a sob hitching in his chest. He loved the fullness of her stomach and hips, the way his fingers sank in. She used both hands to comfort him, one stroking his cheek that was already damp, while the other combed through his thick head of hair, gently tucking strands behind his ear, tracing down the back of his neck.

She lowered to her shins and met him on the hardwood floor, scooping his head against her bosom while his shoulders jerked and the tears rolled. She was the only person Steve let himself cry in front of. Maybe only once or twice it had happened around Robin, and he always left the room to pull himself together. His father had drilled it hard into his head that crying was a weakness and it made you less of a man. It turned you into a sissy boy or a faggot, as if that were the worst thing, and set you up to be bullied and teased for days to follow. Better to yell, better to hit things, and make other people afraid so that they could be just as sad as you.

Wordlessly, they held each other there for a long while, as Steve choked on sobs and Astrid kissed the top of his head over and over, content to stay like that for hours if that was what he needed. After a bit, there were tears streaming down her cheeks as well.

"You're safe with me," she hushed.

-----

Eddie extended you an open offer to stay with him whenever you wanted, he even casually mentioned that he planned to have another spare key made so that you could come in and make yourself at home even if he wasn’t there.

Giving someone a key to your place was no small step in a relationship, and your heart swelled at the sincerity of the gesture.

But, you decided to go back to your place after your shift at the Hammer. You were tired, needed a shower, and some time to yourself. Plus, your cat Charlie had a lot of questions about where you were the night before.

Just as you were getting home, Katie was headed back out, her pajama bottoms still on. Apparently, she’d received a call from Robin that spooked her a bit, and made her want to go and check on her girlfriend, even though she had to be up early for work. She was in such a hurry, you didn’t have time to ask any questions, but you hoped that Robin was okay.

After washing your face and getting into something more comfortable, you were just about to sit on the couch to let television numb your brain for a bit when the doorbell rang.

Eddie’s head was bowed when you opened the door, one knee cocked out to the side, thumb hooked in his belt loop while the other fingers fanned out on his thigh.

“It’s a little late to be visited by a Bible salesman, isn’t it?” You teased.

Eddie met your eyes and leaned forward to brace his forearm on the door jam, white tee straining against his muscles just under the cut of his Coffin Kings leather. Not for the first time, you noticed the War Machine insignia on the front and realized you kept forgetting to ask him about it.

“I waited up,” he mumbled. “I hoped you’d come over tonight.”

“Work was exhausting, and I needed to feed my cat,” you explained. “But I’m glad to see you. Come in?”

Eddie couldn’t get what had happened that morning out of his mind, and the last thing he wanted to do was give Melanie any more of his precious air, but he also didn’t want you to think he had any residual feelings for her.

The living room was dark, but for a soft light from the kitchen and glow of the TV, when you tilted your chin up to meet his lips with yours. You didn’t stay there to kiss him, though---you didn’t linger with hungry sighs like you were prone to do—you just spun on your heel to head back around the couch.

Eddie let the screen door shut behind him as he grabbed your waist with both hands. “Hey now, don’t run away from me,” he came up behind so that your body was flush with his. His mouth came down to graze your ear, “tell me you fucking missed me.”

“Of course I missed you,” you tried to shrug away from him, albeit playfully, but he was too strong; you were completely locked in place. “I always miss you.”

He released you only so you could turn to face him again, reaching up to cup your hands behind his neck, fingers dipping into the downy hair behind his ears. The kiss that came next was the kind that sent emergency bells off in your loins; tongues twirling each other, tight groans on the exhale.

You pulled back to meet his eyes before you were completely incapacitated again. “Please tell me you’re not planning on meeting up with your ex this weekend?”

“Hell no,” he responded quickly, a tightness in his brow as if it were ludicrous for you to even ask. “Believe me baby, if I never see her face again, it will be too soon.”

“What are we even doing?” You asked, throwing your hands out to the side as you stepped back to rest your hip on the back of the couch. “I mean, look at us. We’ve barely known each other for two months and everything that possibly could go wrong has. It’s just one stressful situation after the next. I’m exhausted, Eddie, and I’m sure you are too.”

Eddie brought his chin back and crossed one arm over to hold his bicep. “Are you breaking up with me? Is that what this is?”

“No,” you coughed a laugh. Surely he didn’t think he could get rid of you that easily. “Believe me, I couldn’t stop being in love with you at this point even if I wanted to.”

A smile twitched on Eddie’s lips, and he came close, straddling your hips between his legs, taking your face in both of his hands. He kissed the tip of your nose, the look in his eye was tender but serious. “She never had my heart like you do. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, ever. I’d kill or die for you, baby.”

Clothes started to come off right there at the couch, but then you remembered that Katie might not stay at Robin’s and could be home any moment, and so you moved the party to your bedroom with Eddie’s belt undone and your shirt bunched up around your neck.

Eddie was on his knees with his head between your legs in a flash, flicking his tongue right where you needed it, making you fist his hair and bite your lip as you watched.

After the first orgasm, you were on your side while Eddie held your leg up and sunk his cock in over and over, hips clapping at your wetness. You turned your head to take his mouth while he stretched you out again and again, making you whimper, and your wrist flexed at your swollen nub, another release mounting.

“Oh godohgodohgod,” you whined. Eddie’s cock slipped out briefly, and when he thrust it back in, you began to see stars.

You looked up at him as your body rocked from the impact, “no one has ever been so deep, baby,” you promised, and the admission brought Eddie to the edge, twisting you to piston his hips faster.

He barked a groan of pleasure as he emptied himself inside of you, holding one of your legs up by the crook of his arm, and your walls clenched around him, producing a mingling of cum on his shaft.

Still inside of you, Eddie grabbed your chin so that your blown pupils could meet his. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you,” he said, sealing the words in your mouth with a kiss, hoping to bury them deep in your heart.

-------

Hundreds of miles away, a phone next to a full ashtray and a tumbler of whiskey was ringing.

Before the second ring, a guy with a military insignia tattooed on his forearm picked up.

“Yo,” the voice on the other end greeted. “This Craig?”

“Yeah, dumbass, who else would it be?” Craig answered gruffly.

The other guy cleared his throat. “It’s Gopher. Hey, listen, that chick you’ve been trying to track down? I had my guy look her up at the database over at the station. She ain’t in no Oregon, man. She’s in some podunk town in fucking Indiana.”

Craig sat down on the bed next to the gun he was cleaning, eyes hooded, blonde hair in a buzz cut. “You sure it’s the right girl? My girl?”

“No doubt about it man. She just had her license renewed.”

Craig pulled a notepad and pen out of the top drawer. “You got an address for me?”

“She’s got a roommate. Katie Clayton I think her name was.”

“Fuck, of course,” Craig worked his jaw, excitement edging in his veins. All this time he’d been nosing around in the pacific northwest while you were only a state away, right under his nose.

He should've known you’d never want to be too far away from him. A love like the two of you shared never died.

Part 13

Thank you for reading! xoxoxoxo

-------

Taglist: @notsobubblybaby @eighty6babyyy @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer @manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare @hellv1ra @chaoticgood-munson @ms1oftheboys @emxcast @rhirojo @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @lma1986 @falling-solar-system @secretdryrose @kurdtbean @whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @dandelionnfluff @lilpotatobean2 @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @munsons-mayhem28 @eddiemunson95 @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @onegirlmanytales

#eddie munson #eddie munson series #eddie munson smut #older eddie munson #biker eddie munson #biker!eddie #biker steve harrington #older steve harrington #smut #angst #eddie munson angst #90s #90s au #eddie munson fic #Spotify

506 notes · View notes

madelynraemunson · 10 months

Text

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club Series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ minors don’t you even dare

Chapter 013: Accept The Risk

“Are you ready for a good pounding, baby?” — Beat it Upright by Korn

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012*, 013** , 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

NSFW — aggressive!dom!eddie x submissive!shy girl, eddie’s daddy kink alive and well, size kink, spanking, dirty talk, overstimulation/crying, slapping, biting, hair pulling, choking, degrading, praise, wholesome fluff if you squint, unprotected p in v (unless you want a crotch goblin in this economy, WRAP IT TF UP), cream pie, squirting

word count: 2.8k words

“Don't pretend you're not fucking freaky, baby.”

♡

The door to the dressing room bursts open shortly after you shut it.

In storms an enraged Eddie, appalled that you shut the door in his face after he had walked so closely behind you. You attempt to act clueless, counting your tips and separating them to help tip out the staff in the back.

"Here's uhh, 20 percent for Argyle," you announce. "20 for Nance, 20 for you. I’m sorry, I almost forgot to tip you guys out.”

Eddie crinkles the money in hands, eyes refusing to leave you at this point in time.

His tear-ridden stare is all-telling. First, he’s had to hear you get fucked senseless by Steve, one of his best friends. Now, he had to watch you dry hump Henry into literally the next day — another best friend of his — in an outfit he chose for you and bought with his own money.

You really did it this time.

"And that just leaves me with my tips," you add tossing your tote bag over your shoulder. "Also helped Johnny close the register. Everyone else dipped out to bar hop.”

"And you're clocked out?" he musters.

"Well duh, if everything's done."

You're given no time to react when Eddie lunges at you, causing your bag to sulk to the floor, the straps burning your forearms on the way down. You begin to levitate upwards by the virtue of Eddie's throttling grip.

"OW!" you yelp. "What the fuck, dude?!"

Eddie cinches his arm around your waist and hoists you over his shoulders. His breathing is hard, audible grunts escaping from all the tossing you around like a rag doll. You don't attempt to wriggle free, because if you did you feel like your forehead would meet the hard floor.

You smack Eddie’s shoulder blade.

“Put me down, Munson!” you order. “I’m not playing.”

“Yeah?” he grits his teeth. “Well neither am I.”

It's like a carnival ride in the dark. You can't see in front of you or off to the side. You just know the room is spinning. Fast strobes of light shooting across your periphery as you try to make up the orientation of the room.

It is when you hear beads being pushed to the side, that you know Eddie has brought you into a private show room.

Without mercy, but ensuring you landed safely, Eddie drops you from his grasp. You flail recklessly onto the couch. It’s not until you’re out of his grip that you realize how freeing his restraint felt.

You prop yourself up with your elbows, blowing loose strands of your hair away from your face.

"Ow?" you repeat, this time flatly.

"You're insufferable," Eddie hisses, berating you with his injurious glare. His gaze fixes on you as one of his hands ventures about his own body, undoing his belt with just one quick swipe.

"Says the one who literally just tossed me into a dark room," you snap. "Have you any etiquette?"

"Shut up," he demands.

If Eddie was hard to read before, he’s certainly not hard to read now. Now it’s time for him to get even.

The silver parts of the accessory clinks as he chucks it onto the floor, eyes glued on you the entire time. You gulp as he edges closer.

He stops in front of you.

"That set was for my eyes and my eyes only, by the way,” he hisses. “Thought I told you that.”

“Hm, was this before or after you told me you didn’t want to commit?” you challenge him. “I don’t belong to you, Eddie, remember?”

“You got me there,” Eddie shakes his head bitterly.

He stoops down to your level, getting down on his knees. Eddie's unbelievably close now, a strand of his curly hair dangling in your face as he exhales hot air down your neck.

"Do you really wanna play that game?" he asks. There's a riddle in his question. "Do you?"

Your eyes meet his. They're darker than usual, not that you believed that such thing was possible. Dark. Longing. Frustrated. Forewarning.

And for a second, they flicker back to the gaze you're used to again. Loving. Careful. Respectful. Like the look of concern he flashed you when you were cross-faded in his van, asking for him to stay a while. Like the time he made sure you were good enough to dance after being assaulted by a customer. Like the time Billy came storming in, causing you to spiral into a full-blown panic. THAT look of concern.

Are you sure this is what you want?

It is.

"Yes," you gulp, consenting to whatever wrath of his you’re about to face. "Yes, I do actually."

And just like that, the animalistic gaze returns.

His throat bobs when he swallows as he verifies with you one last time.

"Yeah?"

You nod. "I said what I said."

Back to the scheduled programming it was.

It’s not long until Eddie throws himself on top of you, smacking his eager lips onto yours like it’s oxygen. You hungrily bury your hands in his hair, moaning as your tongue inserts itself into his mouth to lock itself with his.

Eddie groans and moves a hand to your throat, issuing a light squeeze while he grinds himself against you.

“Fuck,” you mewl, the second your lips break apart. “Needed you so bad, Eds. Needed you all night.”

“You aggravate me, you know that?” Eddie sighs, burying his head into your chest, kissing along your tits as he does so. He strokes your bicep lovingly as he kisses you.

“Yeah, well the feeling’s kinda mutual,” you attempt to giggle as tears of overwhelm trickle down your face. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“Do you,” Eddie pants as he unbuttons and tugs at your set. “Remember Heather? My lady friend.”

You nod between breaths. “Mhm. Why?”

“She — never ended things with me.”

There’s a slight pause on your end. “Oh?”

“She never ended things with me,” Eddie continues. “I ended things with her. All cuz I wanted to get to know you and it wouldn’t be fair if I kept her around.”

Your bottoms are off now and the top of your set hangs loosely at your abdomen. You chuck it off of you instantly, refusing to look away from Eddie as you do so.

“Wh-” is all you can get out.

“Why do you think I was so grumpy and irritated that morning?” Eddie questions, moving his lips up to press against your neck. “Huh? I was upset that Harrington got to you first. Didn’t wanna get in between you guys though…”

“Eddie…”

“And inviting you to BYOB night?” Eddie pants as his free fingers curl around your inner thigh. “I only ever invite the people closest to me. You were the only outlier that night. Feel like Steve knew right then and there something was up. But he chose to ignore it.”

His fingers trace your entrance but he keeps them there, kissing up and down your neck as you breathe deeply under him. You pout and tug at his jeans, aching to have him inside of you this very instant.

“And I didn’t intend on fighting your brother that night, and for that I’m so sorry,” Eddie sighs. “But I saw how scared you looked and how aggressive he was being with you, and I knew if I didn’t intervene it was going to be the last time I saw you.”

Eddie hands cup your breasts as he nibbles at your ears, sucks at your temples, and leaves gentle bites at the crook of your neck.

“I’m avoidant, and stupid, and dismissive, and a fucking idiot,” Eddie admits to you. “But I care about you so much. Believe me, Hargrove. I know how this shit looks. I’m just so scared.”

“Eddie…” you soothe him. “Eddie. Just shut up and fuck me already.”

His eyes nearly pop out of his head when he hears you say that. Eddie shakes his head in disbelief to oblige.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Grabbing you by the hips, he shifts to reposition you, sprawling you out on top of him. You grind yourself atop his stiff erection as his hands caress every inch of your body. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you unbutton his jeans and pull them down with his boxers, exposing his throbbing cock right underneath your already soaking cunt.

A small string of pre-cum leaks from his scarlet tip.

“How bad do you want me baby?” Eddie coos.

“So bad,” you whimper. “As bad as I was tonight.”

He can’t help but laugh. When you say that, Eddie’s tongue rolls sneakily around in his cheek.

“That’s really bad,” he comments with a shit-eating grin.

“Mhm,” you nod innocently.

“You know what happens to really bad girls though, right?”

“They get punished?” you guess. “AH!”

You’re given absolutely zero time to react again when Eddie slams himself into you. God, he’s huge. God, he burns. You wince in the most pleasure-filled pain you’ve ever been in your entire life as Eddie shushes you, thrusting slowly into your heat as he fingers your mouth.

“Good girl,” he encourages you. “That’s a good girl. Being so brave for Daddy, huh?”

You struggle to even nod, diverting all your focus to accommodating Eddie’s length and girth. He proceeds to rock into you slowly, intertwining a hand with yours with one hand, and letting you suck hard on his fingers with the other.

Slowly, Eddie slides them out of your mouth so they can enclose themselves around your neck. You whimper as he does so. And slowly but surely on your end, you feel yourself stretching to make room for him, the slickness of your wet, and already sore pussy aiding in the process.

“I need to piss you off more often,” you joke. “If it gets me punished like this.”

Eddie groans. “Please don’t. I hate seeing others have you.”

He pulls you into him and repositions you onto your belly, and lining himself up behind you.

“My two best friends?” he demands in anguish. He swoops in to plant gentle kisses against the back of your neck. “Baby, really?”

“I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

“Yeah, we’ll see how sorry you’re about to be.”

“FUCK!” you squeal as Eddie deals you a rough spank across your asscheek.

He smiles grimly as you moan into him, arching your back as you beg for his cock to ruin you some more.

“I need you Eds,” you groan impatiently, grinding against him like a cock-drunk whore. “Eddie? Daddy? Master? What do you want me to call you?”

“Sweetheart, you can call me what you want,” Eddie kisses up your jaw. “I’ve been yours since the day I met you.”

He shoves his fingers back into your mouth as he inserts himself into you from behind. You mewl as you take in that familiar stretch, surrendering to Eddie as he proceeds to drill into your cunt relentlessly. The screams you let out as you unravel underneath him are like music to his ears.

No one has ever been able to hit it this good. No one ever made you feel this good. Not your first love. Not your last boyfriend. Not Henry during the lap dance. Not even King Steve.

"Who does it like me?" Eddie asks. "Huh? Who fucks you better than me?”

"No one," you admit as you wail, hands gripping tightly onto the throw pillow on the couch. You pull it towards your chest to hug it for comfort. It’s like you can feel Eddie in your stomach. “N-no one — FUCK — no one does it like you, Eddie."

He twists your hair in his hands and pulls you upwards towards him.

“Who does this pretty little pussy belong to?” he demands. “Hm?”

“Y-you,” you answer. “It belongs to you.”

A shockwave spreads across your body as Eddie quickens his pace, making sure to hit the spongey part of your heat with every thrust. He stops at the last one, making sure it stays there just a while longer.

“Oh, shit!” you moan, digging your nails into the couch. “Fuuuck, Eddie…”

“I know…I know…” he soothes you. Eddie sarcastically shakes a head at himself at the crook of your neck. “That was a mean one, huh?”

Tears well in your pleasured-filled eyes.

"Aw, she's crying," he mocks you before giving your hair another firm tug. "Can't take me, sweetheart? Can't take my cock?"

Eddie's words, albeit cruel, were deemed just for the moment by his reassuring touches. The delicate rubbing was all you needed to know that it was him asking, "Are you okay? I can stop if you'd like."

But despite being fucked out, you couldn’t find it in you to tell him to stop. You wanted more, you needed more. To make up for all the ‘almosts’ that there had been. And there were a lot.

“Don’t stop, Eddie!” you chant. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop. Oh FUCK, right there…”

You feel him smiling to himself as he places you in a headlock between his forearms. With the newfound leverage he acquired, he pistons himself into you sloppily, a pleasure-filled groan escaping from his mouth as well.

“Oh fuck!” Eddie moans. “Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart. Jesus fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Suddenly he pulls out.

You whine at the sudden retreat, turning and staring up at him with disapproving eyes. He chuckles.

“Don’t worry,” his kind smile reappears, only to be eclipsed again by that same dark gaze. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He releases you to pin you onto your back so he can pound you in missionary.

As he pistons his hips into you, Eddie whispers to you sloppy somethings, saying how much of a brat you’ve been all day and how he’s nowhere close to being done with you yet.

You feel a euphoric stretch as the crook of your heels dangle over Eddie’s shoulders. He reinserts his fingers into your mouth to muffle your screams. The overstimulation of all your senses are sure to drive you over the edge.

“Wish Henry could see this,” he tuts. “He’s probably fucking his fist right now at the thought of you.

“Ah!” you whimper. “You’re gonna make me cum, Eddie.”

Your core starts to tighten and your walls follow suit, suctioning themselves tighter around Eddie as your muscles squirm and pulsate against him.

“Little does he know his best friend and boss is fucking your brains out instead,” he heaves. “Fucking drilling you into this couch hm?”

He chokes you as he sneers, fucking you deep with a pace so fast you’re sure you’re seeing stars. Was this really happening? The air fills up with profanities and the sounds of skin slapping together, wet sloshes accompanying said slaps. You continue screaming Eddie's name as your legs dangle in the air. Eddie cups your breasts for maximum leverage.

"So fucking needy," he comments. "Never seen anybody get so dumb over some cock.”

"Fuck," you mewl. This was it this time. His words are going to send you over the edge. “I’m gonna cum, I’m really gonna cum. FUCK, EDDIE!”

"I am fucking, baby," he smirks down at you smartly. "Daddy's got you. All you gotta do is take me."

“Shit,” you squeal. “Holy fucking shit, I’m cumming!”

"Take it," he orders. "Take it like the slut you are."

"Oh, god,” your vision starts to blur. “I-I’m Daddy’s Little Cumslut.”

"Yeah, you are," he agrees, kissing your tear-filled cheek. "Mine and only mine.”

And suddenly, your legs tremble profusely as your body gives out on you. Eddie fucks you through your orgasm, not seeming to care when you drench his abdomen and thighs with your pleasure-filled juices.

“Holy fucking shit, I just squirted,” you gasp.

“Fuck yeah you did, baby!” Eddie chuckles. He kisses your forehead one more time. “Fuck, I’m getting close too.”

And soon Eddie’s moans fill the air as he finishes inside you. You grind your hips against his and ride him from underneath, milking him of the last of his seed. Eddie’s dick twitches inside of you in pleasure.

Eddie shoots you a hazed-filled look, one of adoration and lust.

“I’m really gonna let you ruin my life, huh?” he says as he shakes his head.

“It depends. Do you accept the risk?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” he stares down at the puddle you two created have created on the couch. One mixture was already dripping down from the couch to the floor, and the other mixture is just now oozing out of you, now that he’s pulled out. “And did.”

You two help each other up from the couch and scatter to find the clothes you’ve aimlessly tossed around the room. When you’re fully dressed, you scan the room for some paper towels, so you can wipe away any evidence of you and Eddie staying behind long past closing.

"Might as well clock in," Eddie banters. "We've got a lot of cleaning up to do."

🏷️ tag list: @battymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @munson-magic , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck

#smut #Eddie munson smut #Eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson #Eddie #hellfire club #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #Eddie x reader #reader x Eddie #aggressive!eddie #aggressive!eddie x reader #Spotify

353 notes · View notes

nectardaddy · 3 months

Text

full throttle | sakusa kiyoomi

chapter five | painfully awkward | 🏎️

note: more written parts than smau for this one oops, kinda long so strap in I didn't want this to be in multiple parts

masterlist

He swallowed hard when he heard his passenger door open, a small "thanks for taking me," hitting his ears before the door closed. He didn't know what on earth could've possessed him to do such a thing as this. Not minding at first, offering as he was tired and only wanting his friend to stop texting, but now that she sat in his car he realized the space felt all too cramped. Seemingly caving in on himself as he averted his gaze and let out a hum of acknowledgement.

But the woman next to him, although riddled with anxiety of her own, was all too quick to notice his white knuckles and tightened jaw. He had tendencies peculiar to those who didn't know him; and although she wasn't chummy, she caught on quickly. "I'm kinda invading your space, sorry." Trying to make herself, almost, smaller in the seat genuinely made him feel a bit bad.

If he didn't know her habits from high school, he would've never agreed. Always tidy, well kept, and never coming to school sick. Ticking off boxes in his mind before he felt like he could breathe again. A quirk that was difficult to overcome, but he had learned to dial down, only ever so slightly, in recent years. "It's alright," speaking in a breath, "let's just get going."

Breathe. The woman told herself internally, shifting in the seat uncomfortably as tension was thick and silence loud. Just be yourself. An inner monologue of thoughts hammering her head as all she could do was keep her eyes glued forward. "So," she began, cringing at herself before sighing. This is so stupid. He's never been talkative.

"So?" He repeated, brows furrowing. Eyes flicking over only for a split second before returning to the road in front of him. Another pregnant pause, making both of their skin crawl from uncertainty and pressure to speak. "Where'd you learn to drift like that?" A question that left his lips without grace; where he usually took his time to think before speaking, but wanted something to replace the dreadful silence.

"Oh, uh," caught off guard, the woman sat up in her seat more and looked over to him. "I taught myself actually, more or less," shrugging as she continued, "youtube helped a lot."

"Christ," he mumbled aloud, "are you serious? You can drift like that and you taught yourself?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing," she grumbled. "You don't believe me?"

"I never said that," he corrected. "I just remember you had no clue how to even do a donut in high school. It's surprising you actually beat me a few weeks ago." Nonchalantly leaving his lips with a twinge of, very dry, humor.

A humor that was unique to him, a coarse humor that she didn't pick up on right away. Moreover, not at all. "Excuse me?"

"What?" He asked, once again flickering his eyes over to her. "I'm telling you that you really improved. You sucked in high school."

Closing her mouth as words fell short for her and letting a breath out of her nose, she shifted her gaze. "Well you haven't changed at all," mumbling under her breath as she rolled her eyes. This was a terrible idea, why did I ever like this asshole.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You were a dick in high school," she admitted, stubbornly refusing to cast her eyes towards him again. "I always thought you were just broody and wanted space, but you're actually just an asshole."

Taken back by her statement, he inhaled deeply, fingers once again gripping the steering wheel tightly. "What are you talking about?"

"Dude," she groaned, not grasping that the man genuinely couldn't see his own actions. "You were always so short with me in high school, like it was annoying to even talk to me at all. And, you just said I sucked at drifting. That's like, peak asshole behavior."

"Oh," realization hitting him abruptly, slamming into him like a derailed train. Had he really been that callous? Did he not realize that his words would force her back rather than forward? "Sorry. I never knew that. And, I didn't mean it to come off rude. You've genuinely gotten a lot better, I'm impressed. Really."

Brows furrowing in confusion, she now found it within herself to look at him once more. He was serious. A strange, nonconforming, way of complimenting someone she almost found herself enjoying. Pulled in opposite directions of what to feel because neither the man himself knew what emotion swirled in his brain. "You're impressed?"

"Yeah?" Asking as if it was a given. But the man wasn't usually one for compliments, they were used sparingly and very few and far between. "I'll be honest, I haven't seen someone drive that aggressively in a street race in years. It was cool."

"I'm so confused," she blurted out, a nervous laugh following suit to try and break up the obvious tension. What she didn't expect; however, was him to match the anxious laughter. Neither party not knowing exactly what the other felt, but somehow, someway knowing that the back and forth had fizzled out. "But thanks, you're like the best driver I've ever seen, so that means a lot."

omi does not know how to talk to people like a normal person (same). he's way too blunt majority of the time but he's working on it

this man actually feels so bad. he didn't know she thought he was being an asshole

omi has really dry, basically sahara desert level, humor. he actually thought she would laugh or at least chuckle at what he said

he did the same in high school and didn't realize until just now he had done a HORRIBLE job at flirting with her

HE DIDN'T MEAN IT

this was painfully awkward for the both of them

both of them will pretend this situation never happened and never bring it up again. but they're in a silent agreement that everything is fine now.

yn will not be telling the group chat about this and will be taking it to her grave. this was peak level of both confusing and mortifying for her

hmmmm his laugh was probably so hot I gotta say it

the rest of the time was just spent talking about drifting and qualifiers

"you're the best driver I've ever seen" will be playing in his head the entire time he is in his car at qualifiers and he doesn't know what this means to him

taglist under cut

@wyrcan @hilichurl-lover @neuviloved @mayariviolet @wqnsho

@chosugarplum @dontmindtheevie @ilyless @phoenix-eclipses

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #haikyuu!! smau #haikyuu smau #hq smau #hq sakusa #sakusa smau #formula drift #series: full throttle

135 notes · View notes

changingplumbob · 26 days

Text

CW: Low level sim spice & Language - Guide to Content Warnings

Coleman: Was he making fun of my name or was that an old person joke

Jackson: Fucked if I know. Hey Glenn, Glenn, did you get a prize for second place

Coleman: Don't worry if you didn't because we know just what to get you

Glenn: And what would that be...

Jackson: We'll... throw you a pity party!

The twins burst out laughing but Glenn finds it easier to shrug off than he thought he would. Hey if their taunting was going to help him move on, bring it!

Glenn: Wow, did it take you all day to think of that? Or did you need to workshop it the entire time I was busy

Jackson: *laughing* A pity party! Watcher I'm hilarious

Coleman: I'll play you a moving ballad on my violin so everyone can cry as much as you

Jackson: And I can write a special poem on the death of your relationship, it'll be all poignant and stuff

Glenn: Because you know all about relationship death right

Coleman: Oh, want some ice for that burn bro

Jackson: At least I get laid. You went for how long and didn't get any tail? Embarrassing

Glenn: Not really. Some of us are looking for more than just physical connection

Coleman: Unlike those guys that got it on in Grayson's bed

Jackson: *chuckling* Dude that was so funny

Glenn: Actually that was beyond a violation of privacy and trust

Coleman: What do you think? Glenn's mad because he wasn't invited to join them for a threesome

Jackson: Like he'd even know what to do with a dick other than faint. First or second loser probably still has his cherry

Coleman: If you're nice to us Glenn maybe we'll let you practice on us. But one at a time because we're queer not incesty

Glenn: Thanks but infant is not my type. Neither are people who make up words like incesty. A real vocabulary is attractive, you should think about investing in one sometime

Jackson: You're just mad we're young and fresh faced

Coleman: And depressed you're going to be single forever

Glenn: I survived far worse than your taunting when I was growing up you know

The twins smirked and stood up. For a moment Glenn thought through what shielding spells he knew but it turned out that they were just refilling the food bowls for their dogs who were coming in. Thrash was white with a blue harness, and Throttle was black with a red collar.

Jackson: Thrash! Throttle! Food!

Coleman: Oh hey Glenn, why didn't you pet Olive? The challenge for that day was literally interact with Olive. Did the producers not tell you

Jackson: Are you like anti dog or something

Coleman: Even idiots know if you want in with the owners you spoil the pets

Jackson: But not so much that you're stealing their affections. One time I tried befriending this girls cat and she said she'd rather I sleep with her sister so I did

Glenn: Look, I'm not actually here to talk to you two

Coleman: Oh no, we've been slighted. I'm gonna die from that blow

Jackson: How will my social life ever recover if Glenn the first or second loser won't talk to me

Glenn: Phoebus said Henri would be here

Coleman: He'll get back from the bakery in a bit unless he's shagging another customer

Jackson: He can't stand to be without us for long

Coleman: We're his favourite people

Glenn rather doubted it but it seemed in poor taste to criticize legal orphans for claiming to be beloved so he let them carry on.

Previous ... Next

#sims 4 #the sims #simblr #my sims #ts4 #active simblr #GWG #GlennSutherland #JacksonDavis #ColemanDavis

31 notes · View notes

skyloftian-nutcase · 20 days

Text

Forsaken AU PLOT

Ok, usually I’m like “nah I don’t want to share because I want it to be a surprise!” But let’s be real. Given how many other obsessions I have, and my attention span, and time and energy… who knows if this will ever get written. So I’ll share so we can all be excited about it :)

Anyway. So the basic premise of the Forsaken AU, of course, is that impending doom is coming and Zelda, being the overconfident and eager princess that she is, tries to claim the Triforce for herself to defend her kingdom, and it fractures as a result. She has to find Link, but there are eighty thousand Links in Hyrule, so she has to sort through all of them and she finds Gerudo Link and Mystery Link.

The impending darkness, of course, is Ghirahim, because he’s just goofy and ridiculous enough to fit the vibe of this plot. Mystery accidentally revived him a year or two ago and has been trying to rectify that ever since. Ghirahim, of course, is trying to revive Demise. At first he seeks to do so through Gerudo Link, recognizing that Ganondorf often willingly hosted Demise’s malice. Gerudo’s just like “…dude. No. Why are you being weird.”

Eventually Zelda manages to haul Mystery and Gerudo back to her family, whether it’s before or after she’s realized they both bear Triforce pieces, idk, probably after, maybe they had a confrontation with Ghirahim and it revealed it or something. But the Queen remembers Mystery, of course, and asks him to take up the mantle of Hero once more to save Hyrule from impending darkness.

Mystery. Does NOT. Want to get back into Main Plot land. But he knows he can’t stop it, especially since he freed Ghirahim anyway. He hates it. But he tries to take the Master Sword. But he’s too terrified. So he asks Fi to allow Gerudo to wield the sword as well, and he has Gerudo help him pull the Master Sword from the pedestal before handing it off to him.

Zelda is thrilled, of course, because she was right on BOTH accounts for the Links. The queen is bemused but will accept the sword’s decision. Gerudo is horrified that he got tossed into this “WAIT A SECOND YOU ASKED ME TO HELP YOU PULL IT OUT NOT JUST HAND IT OFF TO ME HANG ON—“

But Mystery? Suddenly he is Full Throttle. He starts training Gerudo Link as hard as he can. They spend a month drilling, and he tells Zelda she better have her magic ready.

And then he vanishes. Zelda’s stunned - surely… surely he didn’t actually just Nope out of there after dumping his responsibility on Gerudo??

In reality, Mystery went to seek out Ghirahim himself. Mystery knows that his own magic is powerful in controlling spirits. He started this mess, and he’ll try to finish it himself, in a way where nobody else is involved. He knows this is either going to work or backfire spectacularly, which is why his backup was to train Gerudo to know exactly how to fight him so he’d kill him if something went wrong.

Instead of being able to confront Ghirahim, though, Mystery comes in as the demon lord is about to sacrifice an entire village to try and resurrect a piece of Demise. Instead, Mystery decides to really take a gambit… he offers himself as a host for Demise.

He has magic to control spirits. He has a piece of the Triforce. Let’s play a little.

Possessed Mystery Link is a terrifying sight to behold, but it saves the village, because Mystery is fighting Demise’s control with every fiber of his being. Unfortunately, Zelda and Gerudo came to confront him about leaving, and now they’re stuck with Demise trying to control Mystery.

Good news is that Demise isn’t the same strength he was when Ghirahim used Hylia to resurrect him - he’s a ghost of his former power, even if that’s still extremely formidable. As such, Mystery does fight Gerudo and Zelda for a while, but he eventually wrestles control over himself enough to kick the malice out of his body, earning himself the right to the full Triforce, and then the real battle begins, with Gerudo using the Master Sword, Zelda using her light arrows, and Mystery using his magic to essentially lasso a leash onto the demonic Ganon form to reel him in. I suppose Ghirahim’s in the midst of this too, maybe Zelda took him out during the initial fight because she deserves to kick his butt >:)

Anyway, the image of Dark Beast Ganon going toe to toe with Zelda, armed with her bow and arrows, Gerudo, armed with the Master Sword, and Mystery, eyes glowing gold with the Triforce on his left hand while he uses a golden leash to bring the beast to heel so the other two can fight it was too cool an image to not mention >:D

#Forsaken au

27 notes · View notes

thanotaphobia · 7 months

Text

“I don’t want to capitalize on Deacon’s feelings like that,” Arthur grits out. “What about your feelings?” Emizel cuts in, and Arthur wants to throttle him. “I don’t have any feelings,” he says, digging his thumbnail into the pad of his forefinger. “Deacon and I shared a blood bond, but not a strong one. The effects are gone anyway.” “But they were there,” Shilo says. “And they could help us. Even if you just have to pretend, Arthur, it could be worth it. Imagine having the sheriff on our side for this. It would be just what we need.” He reaches down and slides a card across the bed, resting it gently by the side of the three kings. “It’s manipulative,” Arthur says. “It’s politics,” Shilo fires back. “Do you really want Edward Twilight to win this?” Emizel asks, raising a brow at him. “Come on, dude. We’ve all got our parts to play. Doesn’t seem fair if you get to sit yours out.” “I just think–” Arthur pauses, inhaling. Then he grits his teeth, his jaw aching from the tension. “I just doubt he’ll listen to me, is all.” “We can agree to disagree,” Shilo says coolly. “So, will you do it?”

little snippet before the new ep drops today............ it probably won't be canon but imagine .

#shilo is such a manipulative guy btw #jrwi the suckening #jrwi #arthur bennett #shilo bathroy #emizel tucker #deacon keller #mild vampistol??? ??

60 notes · View notes

monzamash · 2 years

Note

ooh boy, no36 w/Daniel?? 😳

36. “you sent me pictures of you naked while i was in a work meeting!” rating – mature (sexual references, mentions of nudity, coarse language) word count – 1.1k a/n – i went smut free on this one and made it a little less shouty because i can't imagine a world where danny ric would be angry about a cheeky nude. js xo masterlist

You were bored. Dying behind the eyes kind of bored. And it was raining in London, torrential so everything you would normally do to cure the boredom, like take your pups out for a walk or pop down to the café on the corner for a coffee were a no-go. To make matters worse, Daniel had sworn he’d be home by 2pm, promising to pick up food and your favourite flavour of ice cream too.

It was nearly 6 now and pitch dark outside, street lights bellowing into your lounge room. You hadn’t so much as heard a peep from him since he left you in bed this morning, begging for him to stay curled up under the warm sheets with you. The same frown on your face that you had when he kissed you goodbye, unintentionally leaving you high and dry because he was running late had reappeared. He was ghosting you.

Ignoring your wife is rude. You typed, fingertips hovering over the send button before a mischievous though intrusively broke through.

You were up like a shot, tossing the orange texas state t-shirt that you’d stolen from Daniel on the floor and posing in front of your bathroom mirror. The photos weren’t too scandalous, just a tasteful mix of come hither and this is what you’re missing out on with the beauty lighting smoothing out all the shadows. And if Daniel were so miserably caught up at work then maybe this would be a nice distraction, you thought as you pressed send, nervously awaiting a response.

Being needy wasn’t really you. In fact, the reason your marriage worked so well was because both of you were independent, happily travelling through life waiting for the other patiently. That was the type of love you had and cherished with every part of your being. But when Daniel was home, so close you could reach out and grab him, you wanted him with you every second of every day. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to waste a second of the time you had together, or if you let go for too long he’d disappear again. You weren’t sure what possessed you when you sent that message and those photos and Daniel definitely didn’t expect it when he opened your message and saw you, perky, needy and fully naked.

Fuck. He coughed and quickly closed his phone, hoping Michael hadn’t glanced over but knowing his audible gasp probably caught the attention of everyone in the room.

“Yo, was that…?”

“Was what?” Daniel snapped wide-eyed, shoving his phone into his pocket and staring his best mate down. The deer in headlights expression on Michael’s face confirmed to Daniel that he definitely knew better than to comment on whatever he just saw.

Michael shook his head and averted his eyes to the laptop in front of him, “Nothing, mate.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Daniel grumbled, maddened but internally thanking his lucky stars that it was Michael who saw the pictures and not one of the other ten dudes in the room. At least he knew that he wouldn’t mention it again, respecting you too much to pay it any mind and knowing if he did, Daniel would throttle him. A young lad from the engineering team probably wouldn't have been so generous with his discretion, especially when you looked like that.

The meeting finished up not long after your lewd text came through, Daniel’s mind officially turned to mush as he packed up and bided everyone goodbye. As furious as he was about you interrupting such an important meeting and getting caught, he couldn’t stop thinking about you sitting in your shared home, lounging around wearing nothing but a smile on your angelic face, desperate to be appreciated the way you deserved.

The front door clicking open caused you to sit up and immediately start nervously chewing on your thumb, anticipating. You were feeling uneasy because Daniel hadn’t messaged you back, giving you nothing to analyse while you waited for him to get home and deep down, you knew it was precarious sending a photo like that. But you were willing to risk it all for whatever his reaction was going to be. And boy, were you in for it.

“Where are you!?” Daniel yelled out, searching the kitchen first before appearing in the living room archway, tired eyes and an unreadable expression present his handsome face, “You.”

Hey. You blinked, small grin threatening to give you away but you managed to suppress it, waiting for any semblance of a reaction from the man standing in front of you. Anything more than the silence you were drowning in.

“You’re in trouble.”

“Why?” You asked, feigning innocence and causing Daniel to scoff loudly as he threw down his backpack – stern faced but soft spoken.

“Don’t fuck with me. You know exactly what I’m talkin' about.”

He was weirdly calm as he stepped forward, towering over you gazing up at him from the couch, “You sent me naked pictures while I was in a work meeting – a very important one, in fact. And on face value, loved ‘em. Love you. You’re hot – I know it, you know it but…”

You were smirking now at the compliment and Daniel couldn’t wait to wipe the smug look off your face, “Michael accidentally saw them…”

“What!” You shouted, gasping and covering your mouth with your hand. Mortified.

“Tits and all, honey. That’s what you get for trying to distract me from my work.”

"Nooooooo! No, no no!" You wailed.

You shrivelled up into a fetal position on the couch, wishing the ground would just swallow you whole and take you away from the humiliation, “What did he say?”

“Well, he was shocked to see my wife, his friend, naked on my phone. Like I said, you’re so unbelievably hot but you’ve gotta give a guy some warning before dropping nudes on him. Just a little like, ‘warning may contain titties’ or something – anything”

Daniel’s voice was slightly strained, and faintly humoured as he started to peel you out of your shame, little by little. You chuckled into his chest as he pulled you up into in his strong embrace, kissing your neck and brushing his hands under the hem of your his shirt.

“I was so turned on that I forgot to pick up food and your ice cream.”

His confession was quiet and you hummed before snaking your arms over his slumped shoulders and carefully dragged yourself into his lap, “S’okay. I knew would be so I got sushi delivered after I sent you the message.”

Daniel tilted his head back against the couch and cocked an eyebrow, “You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t ya?”

And of course you nodded, baiting him and hoping to be put in your place. Even he couldn't deny that you had him figured out, down to a tee – every whim had been accounted for as you made him groan with pleasure, pressing down on him, teasing.

“You started all of this so you’re gonna be the one who finishes it, yeah? So fuckin' cheeky.”

“You’re going to wish you left that meeting hours ago, baby.” “We’ll see about that,” Daniel winked. Eyes wide, desperate to see it all.

+ + + let me know what you think!

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #smut prompts #requested #monzamashmasterlist #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 blurbs #monzamashprompts

903 notes · View notes

fincalinde · 2 years

Note

for your ask meme: wei wuxian?? 👀

Since I've got some new followers over the past couple of days (who knew what branching out from Xiyao would do for my reputation!), I'll once again add the disclaimer that I write MDZS meta and not CQL meta. I'm aware that in CQL, WWX is characterised somewhat differently. I have thoughts on that too, but I'm not immersed enough in CQL to commit to sharing them publicly.

Since WWX is the main character and appears in almost every scene, I won't attempt to write a thesis statement on him. (You cannot afford my hourly rate.) Instead I've decided to focus on an aspect of WWX that I feel is often overlooked or sanitised. That is to say:

WWX is extremely annoying.

He's not just irritating, or overly exuberant, or a touch too arrogant. He is infuriatingly obnoxious.

Obviously WWX is also brave and often well-meaning. He loves deeply, even if he consistently lets down the people who care about him. He's strong-willed enough to abide by his own sense of morality in the face of overwhelming disapproval and danger, and arrogant enough to make unilateral decisions when it would be better for all concerned if he took a step back. He's bad at big picture thinking and rarely considers the full ramifications of his actions, but he's also incredibly adept at getting out of scrapes, and he has an admirable if also somewhat depressing ability to shrug off pain and suffering that is the result of his difficult days on the streets and his mistreatment by YZY.

And he's obnoxious.

I do think it often gets forgotten, because Wangxian is intended to be a love story and it's much more tempting to write sweeping romance and charming banter than hark back to all the canonical moments in which characters, including LWJ, genuinely want to throttle him to death.

He never shuts up! He's constantly laughing far too loudly and for too long. He's the sort of person who thinks it's funny to pull the rug out from under someone in a conversation so they end up discomfited and embarrassed. I fully understand that a large part of his hectoring LWJ is a precursor to his later romantic interest and is in line with his flirtation style, but the fact remains that he goads LWJ beyond the point of endurance on multiple occasions. LWJ just happens to be a weird dude who's really into it.

A good example of what I mean is when Wangxian encounter each other at Phoenix Mountain. WWX asks LWJ if he's ever kissed someone, then proceeds to speculate that LWJ has never been kissed and will never be kissed. LWJ doesn't seem to mind this at first, and only becomes angered when WWX lies about having been kissed before himself (oh LWJ), but it's important to remember that WWX has no idea that LWJ has any interest in him whatsoever. From WWX's perspective, he's just having fun belittling someone else over a topic that for most young people is a sensitive one. I don't want to oversell this moment and claim that it's bullying, actually, but I do want to use it to highlight that WWX is not always a considerate person and this type of behaviour is teeth-achingly thoughtless and cringeworthy.

I could go on, but if you pick any given scene including WWX you're likely to see dialogue in which he's being actively annoying to other characters, intentionally or otherwise. This isn't an attack on him, just an observation that in order to write him in a canon consistent manner he should be not just witty and chatty in a way where other characters simply roll their eyes and keep going. He should genuinely actually aggravate them and it should have consequences within the scene. Characters such as JC and WQ care about WWX but also find him infuriating, and that's with good reason—never mind the juniors, whom WWX takes pleasure in messing with. There are many characters who feel great respect and affection for WWX, and every single one of them also regularly feels deep frustration and irritation towards him too. There should be some meat on the bones of any back and forth between them.

#ask #thatswhatsushesaid #roquen meta #i consider wwx an extremely difficult character to write #capturing this aspect of him without alienating your audience #is quite the tightrope #it's not surprising that it's often watered down #or just generally made more palatable

228 notes · View notes

littlepetbee · 24 days

Text

i've had the house to myself this weekend so i decided to marathon a bunch of movies that have been on my watchlist for aaages. here they are ranked bc i love making lists lmao:

Game Night: this one was far and away my favorite...it's a fun, clever mystery that's also funny as shit. rachel mcadams is the queen of comedy and also waving a loaded gun around like a crazy person. fuckin 10/10, you guys

I Love You Phillip Morris: listen. i avoid jim carrey like the plague - it's nothing personal, his face just irritates the shit out of me. but i'm SO glad i gave this one a try anyway...it was so cute and touching and gay little ewan mcgregor with his gay little earring is genuinely the softest, sweetest thing to ever exist. it makes complete sense that someone would become a conman for him lmao. 10/10

Bullet Train: thee action comedy lbr!! shoutout to @seeinhindsight for reccing this one to me. it was so well done...with all the winding storylines and running gags it easily could have been a tonal mess, but i feel like they knocked it outta the park. also the steady stream of "oh shit this guy's in it too???" was fun as hell. 9/10 just bc some parts made me sad and my movie ratings are based solely on how they Make Me Feel, not any objectivity lol

Attack The Block: my brain the whole time: YEAH BOY(EGA)!!!! an alien invasion movie with a Message and pre-star wars john boyega?? that was always gonna be a slam dunk for me. though i do gotta say watching british movies as an american is always jarring as hell bc there's no guns. it feels like the weirdest kind of unreality. anyways 8/10

This Is Where I Leave You: slowing things down and getting way more Serious here but i was surprised by how much i liked this one (though maybe i shouldn't have been, since dysfunctional families/siblings are kinda my bread and butter lmao). the surprise lesbianism-slash-lowkey-polyamory definitely elevated it, too! 7/10

Shattered Glass: 100% the movie you gotta show people when they try to say hayden christensen sucks at his job bc uhhh he ate that shit up. not to be #me about it, but if that dude can be that fucking cute the whole time and still make me wanna throttle him within an inch of his life, you know he was doing something right. 6/10

As Above, So Below: i was bummed at first when i realized it was one of those found footage horror dealios, but i actually ended up really liking it. and honestly for the setting, i think found footage really was the only way to go. the concept was super interesting and the horror aspects were sufficiently creepy without being enough to give me nightmares, which is about all my babyass can handle. 6/10

Everybody Wants Some!!: yeah the hoechlin 80's movie lol. it was fun! the characters were likable for the most part! the vibes were good! but B's cannot live on vibes alone (that's a bible verse, i'm p sure) so i was left wondering what the Point was. i am not the target audience for hangout movies, i'll tell you that lmao. 3.5/10

so that's the list!!! all in all a very great way to spend a weekend <3

#personal #i really repped the genres pretty good here too...that's character development for the person that usually just sticks to action movies lol #anyways i highly recommend the first four and medium recommend the next three and don't really recommend the last one at all #(sorry ameet i'm glad you love it!)

7 notes · View notes

batsplat · 4 months

Note

sometimes casey throws a like on posts about valentino's wins on four wheels, got me wondering how he really feels about vale's retirement life. back in the twilight of vale's career, casey was kinda sad seeing vale content with just hitting top five. but end of last year, he said he's happy for vale's new life vibe. (https://www.tumblr.com/kwisatzworld/735598710184165376/casey-stoner-talks-about-valentino-rossi-in-an)

but man, they're like poles... casey's rebuilding his storm-hit home on the gold coast, swinging golf clubs. meanwhile, valentino's still going full throttle—aside from a vacay in ibiza, dude's been all over the map this year with car races, bike races, tests, and coaching at his academy.

I'm gonna be honest, I have zero awareness of what any of these men do on social media... don't really keep up with them post-retirement in general unless they're literally at the races, giving interviews about their careers and whatnot. so whenever someone on here mentions something like this it's very... I didn't know that but it sure is interesting!! very sweet of casey lol (also link to the gifs)

though, quick note, I wouldn't say valentino was content back in the day with just being in the top five (or lower) - it's just the idea of stopping for a long time felt worse than carrying on. from that same giornale interview, -

And what is it like to live with the idea of leaving? "It's difficult to accept. I didn't give up until the end. But you understand that at forty you no longer have those homicidal instincts that you had when you were twenty-five. But it was hard. At a certain point in my career, about ten years ago, I asked myself: do I stop when I'm on the crest of a wave and retire as a world champion, or do I race until I can't stand it anymore?" Answer? "I race until I can't stand it anymore. And so I did."

it's something he had to decide for himself... of course, both marc and casey have said something along the lines of how they could never have done that themselves, how for them it's only worth it if they're winning. and, y'know, there is something about that for valentino... for all that obviously he is obsessed with winning and desperately wants to do so... he really doesn't just thrive in a fight - he needs it. and it's so interesting, in a way, when you think about just how early in his career he was flirting with the idea of walking away... and then think about how long he ended up sticking around. sure, he was always pretty clear that he would have just done something else racing-related like f1 rather than retire, but still! and in a way, it's probably the fact that he started losing that made him so determined to stick around... the malaise was at its strongest whenever he was winning, or rather, winning too easily... a motogp without valentino might have made it likelier that casey would stick around for longer, whereas a motogp with casey made it less likely that valentino would leave

but yes, casey did say motogp would be better with valentino close to the top:

casey's opinions on what counts as 'good racing' are a whole other thing I'm not going to get into right now, but, I don't know! it's fun! it's fun that casey looked at the 2013-18 period and then what came after that and went 'yeah it'd be better if valentino were involved in this'! "battling it out with these guys" - not even casey stoner is immune to the good old fashioned joys of watching valentino getting himself involved in a dogfight! very compelling of him. I don't think it's just lip service either, not least since it's not like casey is massively inclined to shoot random compliments in valentino's direction (yes, even during valentino's swansong casey did have some rather less friendly hot takes he needed to get off his chest). and... y'know, before the feud really got going casey did talk about how much he'd enjoyed watching valentino, went out with his mates to observe valentino in all his sessions and all that... given you're generally not watching valentino oohing and aahing about him hooking together a quali lap, he must have also enjoyed watching valentino race! happens to the best of us I fear

a persistent problem for a lot of valentino's rivals is how closely associated valentino has become with the very idea of motogp, which, y'know, is the thing they've dedicated their entire lives to. now, for casey this is particularly gnarly and complicated and painful because he has a severely strained relationship with the whole sport, in some ways that come back to valentino and in some ways that go beyond him. and post-retirement, it's not like casey has completely eschewed that active connection to the sport - he was a test rider, he wanted to race again in 2015 as a replacement for dani, he's worked as a rider coach. so again *wiggles hand* complicated. fundamentally though, yes, two very different outlooks. valentino was desperate to race in motogp until he couldn't any more. whereas casey? he's not even missed the racing itself:

can you imagine something more foreign to valentino than this... who loves nothing more than the thrill of the hunt, of the chase, of the kill... that is not a man who was showing up every weekend for the qualifying sessions. it's a way in which they could not be more different - and of course that's further reflected in what they've chosen to do with their time since retirement. valentino is so eternally restless, casey needed to ground himself again. valentino will not stop racing for as long as is physically possible, whereas casey is spending his days fishing... or swinging golf clubs apparently. wait a minute, you say his house was destroyed? by a tornado? ah

anyhow, that's the bit I love about them (not the tornado bit)... how they're both extremely similar and extremely different at the same time - that's the kind of tension through which the narrative juices flow... they're similar in ways you kind of have to be if you want to be very good at a sport, and very good in that sport specifically. in their commitment, their will, their passion for what they do. their competitive instincts, their need to win. how interested they are in preserving the 'soul' of their sport, how they were both firmly on the anti-electronics train for years and years... valentino being told about casey's comments in 2013 pressers and being like 'yeah I'm with him on this'... casey saying in 2018 that valentino is, and I quote, "like me: if it weren't for all these electronics that manage the bike, if the power was controlled only by the rider's right wrist, rossi would still be number one on the track". by the way, and this has absolutely zero relevance to this post, I do need to bring up this comment from the same interview because it makes me laugh:

so real, casey. I wanted drama too. anyway, that comment casey made about the 'stunning blood red' ducati being contaminated by luminous yellow or whatever - obviously in context it was anti-valentino, but it was also revealing that this is even something he cares about because he loves this sport... he wants it to remain true to itself... he regrets not having had the chance to ride the 500cc bikes that valentino was the last guy to be able to win a title on, which obviously valentino is also insanely proud of. there's little things that stand out when you cross-read their autobiographies - like for instance the deep preoccupation with the 'bike or rider' question, partly because they'd both been accused of owing their achievements to something else other than their actual ability (and of course, because they're funny like that, they do both absolutely do this to each other) (also to some extent literally every champion gets put through this, they sure do have a lot of opinions about it though). their thoughts on the importance of being honest to yourself and being honest about what you owe your success to... about not deluding yourself, of not blaming the bike when you are the one to make an error... there's plenty of interesting overlap in what they write y'know

they are both incredibly capable of holding grudges, they are both petty to a fault and will remember any offence you committed even if it was about seven years ago (genuinely casey might be even worse on this metric). and they use this to motivate themselves... they are both so so determined to prove people wrong. if they think you've wronged them, they openly admit that they use that as fuel to spur themselves on. it's the power of spite - yamaha rejected casey so he wanted to show them, nobody thought valentino could make the yamaha switch work so he wanted to rub it in honda's faces. they love to get even. they can be quite suspicious of others to the point of paranoia; there's a world in which they combine their powers to be extremely accomplished conspiracy theorists. they both have a temper - it's easier to get casey angry, but valentino is downright vicious when effectively provoked. plus, and this bit cannot be stressed enough, they are both insane. different flavours of insane, but, still, insane. if you spend enough time thinking about laguna 2008, this kind of becomes one of the key takeaways - because, okay, valentino's riding was. eh. but casey's riding? also very! eh! valentino started it but casey joined in! casey always talked about how much that race changed for him, how it taught him to be more selfish, to just race for himself... and even if it made him feel bad, the thing about casey is that he was willing to do that

but at the same time, of course they're both very different, in all the deeply obvious ways. their respective relationships to publicity, to media, to fame - valentino does struggle with it, does hate it a lot of the time, but at the end of the day he still shines in the spotlight and is an incredibly effective communicator. he's willing to play the game a lot more than casey is... although casey can play it too, if in a different way, when valentino forces him into it. casey's still willing to play it now, which is why you hear him constantly offering his commentary on that rivalry - he's selling a story, a narrative that he may genuinely believe in but that also is of course supposed to flatter him. at the end of the day, however, casey doesn't quite get why all of this has to be such a big part of the sport, why it's necessary to even have anything apart from the racing... whereas valentino has always understood why all the other stuff exists and why it's worth engaging with the public-facing side of the sport, even when he hasn't liked it

valentino loves the sport in its entirety, immediately embraced the entire circus of the paddock and found it endlessly exciting and exhilarating from the very first moment, whereas casey has often wished he could escape all parts of the sport that aren't the racing itself. valentino is someone who has spoken at length about the bonds of friendship with his team and how important they are to him, whereas casey is a man who has said his only friend in the paddock is his wife. the very strong but different connections they both have to their place of origin, and how meaningful those are to both of them, how important it is to their sense of identity... somewhere they'll always come back to. and of course there's a ruthlessness to valentino that is mostly alien to casey, if not entirely. valentino relishes the battle, whereas casey would prefer to avoid it. there are things valentino is ready to do, lines he's ready to cross, where casey doesn't even understand why you would do any of that. valentino loves having... if not an enemy, then certainly a target - and while casey is hardly a stranger to the motivating power of spite, he is more or less happy to complete his track times on an empty bit of asphalt. relatedly, he also wishes to believe that he is completely immune to any kind of psychological tactics... and sometimes he's more right than he's given credit for and sometimes he's wrong. casey is a lot more preoccupied with this rivalry than valentino is - and of course it has a far more defining role within his career than vice versa. casey walked away so much sooner than valentino did because he had grown estranged from the sport he had so loved. whereas valentino never stopped loving it, even when it hurt him, even when it could have killed him... and he never will stop loving it

this post is going to take a bit of a left field turn, sorry. but there's just something about. idk. athletes trapped in a rivalry that's so intense and so meaningful for at least one half, but that's also so about the kind of... gulf between them, the mutual lack of comprehension, where it feels like the divide is so big it might be unbridgeable... anyway, it always makes me think of a specific bit of andre agassi's autobiography where he talks about his rivalry with pete sampras. so here:

Walking up to the gate, who should I see but Pete. As always, Pete. He looks as if he's done nothing for the last month but practise, and when he wasn't practising, he was lying on a cot in a bare cell, thinking about beating me. He's rested, focused, wholly undistracted. I've always thought the differences between Pete and me were overblown by sportswriters. It seemed too convenient, too important for fans, and Nike, and the game, that Pete and I be polar opposites, the Yankees and Red Sox of tennis. The game's best server versus its best returner. The diffident Californian versus the brash Las Vegan. It all seemed like horseshit. Or, to use Pete's favorite word, nonsense. But at this moment, making small talk at the gate, the gap between us appears genuinely, frighteningly wide, like the gap between good and bad. I've often told Brad that tennis plays too big a part in Pete's life, and not a big enough part in mine, but Pete seems to have the proportions about right. Tennis is his job, and he does it with brio and dedication, while all my talk of maintaining a life outside tennis seems like just that - talk. Just a pretty way of rationalizing all my distractions. For the first time since I've known him - including the times he's beaten my brains out - I envy Pete's dullness. I wish I could emulate his spectacular lack of inspiration, and his peculiar lack of need for inspiration.

obviously the specific details of the rivalry are very different, and the two rivalries don't map neatly onto each other at all. but I don't know, it's always felt a good way of summing up that! disconnect!! the whole world might want you to be distinct from your rival for narrative purposes and you're aware of how artificial the whole thing is... but sometimes it can still be true... casey's always talking about how he never got obsessed with his rivals, how he always treated them all the same, how it was all just externally imposed onto him... which, okay, we could perhaps question the supposed lack of obsession, but it still comes back to how you don't want it to just be about you and that other guy. always you and them, them and you - and maybe you can't actually escape it because it's the truth... it's your legacy, it's fundamentally interwoven into the fabric of your career, it's why you will never truly free yourself from that narrative. "the gap between us appears genuinely, frighteningly wide, like the gap between good and bad"... you're bound together in your shared passion for this sport, but your biggest rival is also somebody who you feel like you'll never truly understand

casey may feel alienated from valentino and in doing so feel alienated from the very sport itself. whereas for valentino, casey was just what he needed. having casey was something motivating, something exciting for valentino - however annoying he found that man, he always needs something to inspire him and for a while there that something was casey. it's a rivalry that wore away at casey while at the same time it lit a fire within valentino... the 'cordial' mutual hatred they exhibited towards each other, wrapped up in this sense of mutual estrangement, it weighed more heavily on one of them than it did on the other... all these similarities between the two characters that exist alongside the violence of the contrast between them. that underlying and inescapable sense of alienation. on some level, they were always perfectly clear on who the other man was when they were fighting each other - and tailored their approach to the rivalry accordingly. but knowing doesn't quite equal empathy, it's not the same as understanding, and the distance between the pair of them inevitably remained. hey, maybe a dinner will fix it, maybe casey can explain where he was coming from to valentino and get the chance to interrogate valentino on the same. because that's what casey's expressing there, right, when he's talking about telling valentino his 'challenges' from his 'point of view'... it's not even as much about understanding as much as it is about being understood. it's about getting valentino to comprehend casey's side of things. maybe even getting valentino to care. of course, more likely than not, the dinner hasn't happened and will never happen. more likely than not, that gap will remain unbridgeable. perhaps it's too much to ask for, to ever truly know your foil. perhaps it's even more impossible to expect to be known