#pamela anderson x reader

[marvelobsessed134]

Delicate flower blurb- Pamela Fingering you over the washing machine

Delicate flower masterlist

Pairings: Lily!Pamela Anderson x Innocent!Reader x Seb!Tommy Lee

Warnings: smut obvi, fingering, light degradation, mommy kink, praise, short cause it’s a blurb

You were bent over the washing machine with Pamela’s fingers deep in your drenched cunt. Tommy was out for today doing promotions for the new album or whatever it was. You can’t even think straight right now with the way she’s fucking you.

“Take it, slut. God I love when daddy isn’t home so I can have you all to myself.” She growled in your ear she pumped at rapid pace.

All you could do was cry out in response. Her thump was rubbing circles on your clit sending you over the edge.

“Please mommy. Let me cum!” You cried pathetically .

“Okay, baby. You can cum.” The blonde said, biting your ear lobe. You clenched around her fingers and squirted your release all over them.

She took her fingers out and licked them clean, moaning at the taste. “Good girl.” Pam said, smacking your ass lightly causing you to jolt. She laughed before saying, “Make sure you get those clothes hung up sweetheart.” And walked out of the laundry room.

You pulled up your panties back under the short maid skirt and started to do laundry like nothing happened.

[sixxrock666]

can someone PLEASE FOR THE LIFE OF ME write a pamela anderson x f!reader

I AM BEGGING 😩😩😩

Hdkshfkshdjs look at her🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

[cheetahsixx]

Can you write a smut with soft dom Pamela Anderson? If you’re comfortable

this is my first time writing pure smut so sorry if its not the best!! thanks for the req:)

Not So Classy ~ Pamela Anderson x f!reader

sypnosis: Pamela and you are in a limo driving back from a long night of promoting her new photoshoot at a party. She has eagerly shown signs of wanting you all night but you just can’t take a hint… and she just can’t wait anymore.

The air seems to be filled with tension as you both enter the limo but you were confused, what kind?

Pamela seemed a bit frustrated but you two haven’t gotten into an argument and it was beautiful night, what was up with her?

you decide to break the silence, “what’s up with you? did I do something?”

she stares at you for a bit and as you open up your mouth to speak again- she locks her lips with yours

When Pamela kisses you, the least thing you’d wanna do was pull away.

The kiss started out passionately, then it just got messy. You turn and realize the little limo window between you and the driver is still open and close it. As you do this, Pamela gently swifts you on top of her.

You giggle at this and she goes to whisper in your ear “i’ve just wanted you all night is all”

You smile and then lean down to continue kissing her. Suddenly, she grabs your hips and rubs you agains her left thigh. You groan slightly at this, as she begins to leave sloppy kisses on your neck.

This goes on for a few minutes and you feel pretty close to a finish. Then, Pamela lifts your hips off her thigh. “not so fast, my pretty little thing” she whispers as she lays you down on the limo seat and goes above you.

She starts to kiss your neck again, as you grow wetter with more anticipation.

“you know I love you right?” she says as she begins to move her hand closer to your inner thighs and continue to kiss your neck. All you can do is nod between soft moans.

“please pam, I need more” you manage to let out. She smiles as she moves her head away from your neck to between your thighs. She uses her mouth to remove your blue lace panties and drop them on the limo floor.

“you look so pretty from down here” she whispers and before you can give her a reaction, she has her mouth on your puffy clit.

She gently sucks, like youre a spoonful of honey and she’s trying to get every last drop. “oh god- right there pam, right there…” you moan as you put your hands on her head to create more friction.

Without warning, she puts two fingers in you at once and continues to eat you out. You moan loudly as she starts to move her head and fingers at a faster pace.

She adds in another finger and you’re sure that if the limo driver couldn’t hear you before, they sure could’ve now.

“Oh pam- faster pleaseplease im so close” you say loudly. Pam pulls away from your cunt to readjust your legs to fully go around her head at an angle. Before she did, you could see your own wetness glisten in the moonlight on her chin.

She goes back to swirling her tongue inside you and motioning 3 fingers of hers into you at an abrupt pace. You could barely make out words at this point and you would think you were back there getting murdered the way you were screaming. Pamela pulls away for a quick second “cum for me princess” she says, which immediately sends you over the edge.

You ride her face out as she holds your thighs in the air while you finish. As you start to catch your breath after, she removes herself and goes up to your face again. You immediately go to kiss her upon seeing her face in front of you and you can taste yourself on her lips.

“god- I love you” you whisper and she chuckles “I love you too honey.”

she looks at the ground and smiles as she picks up your blue panties. “want these back?” she smirks and you laugh “I think that’d be a good idea.”

————————————————————————-

hope this was good guys 😅😅 please boost :)

[ghouljams]

Feel free to ignore, but got anymore ideas for cowboy!alejandro or cowboy!rudy?

A million yeah. I think I said their darling was the local vet, and I'm going to include that they're locally known as sort of a hot mess. But what are you gonna do? Go to another vet? What other vet?

Heads up I am going to have a very short mention of the reader being able to tie their hair up, and I am sorry for that but it is essential to me being horny right now. I want Alejandro to wrap my hair around his hand and pull me back like it's a leash. Moving on.

You soothe your hand over the side of the cow as you press your stethoscope against her ribs. She sounds alright, nothing that would need your attention. You check how her abdomen sounds, fine there too. You pull back to give the lady a cursory once over. She's laying in the grass looking sad and sorry, and according to the new ranchers she was makin' all sorts of noise about not gettin' up.

Said ranchers are hovering behind you while you're crouched next to the cow in question. New fellas tend to get protective of their herd, but usually you don't have to feel their eyes on you like this. Still, this is a lot even for you. They've been shadowing you since you got here, watching you a little too close to call friendly. You glance over your shoulder at Alejandro and Rudy, watch Rudy lean closer to Ale and whisper something. You choose to ignore it, and turn back to your work.

You scratch your head, feel a few hair slip loose of your bun, another annoyance to ignore. The cow seems healthy, and she's not making a fuss, she should be alright to move around. Still, you do your best to check her joints, move her legs and test mobility. You inspect her hooves and check for anything stuck between the two halves. She could use a trim up, but otherwise you'd call this a fine bovine.

You blow your hair out of your face and elect to just retie the damn thing. You tug your elastic out of your hair and wrap it around your fingers without thinking, scooping your hair up and out of the way, you loop the lacey material tight around your bun and stop. You'd lost your last hair tie this morning, forced to use the tried and true Pamela Anderson method. You're tying up your hair with a thong in front of two men you don't know.

You feel your face heat up, the warmth spreading all the way to the tips of your ears as you stare frozen at the cow. You snap your thong's elastic into place and get your hands away from your hair as fast as you can.

"I lost my hair tie this morning," You turn to explain to the men, unsure what you're expecting to see when you do, "and they're clean, I mean I wouldn't tie my chongo with dirty chonies, y'know." You laugh awkwardly, trying to avoid the heavy stares as you pack up your kit. "Cow seems fine, so why don't we just call this good and you call me if this happens again." You stand and check through your bag to be sure you got everything as you attempt an exit at lightspeed. "I wont bill you for this so let's just, uh, not mention that I flashed you or that I do this, or that I even really exist or am alive as a person."

"Oye," Alejandro clicks his tongue when you don't respond, "Mira me." Your eyes dart to him, your hand still dug into your bag. He tips his head with a crooked smile, and all the warmth in your face drops to settle between your legs. He leans close to Rudy and turns to mumble something to him. Rudy hums, and you think the heat in his eyes might be more dangerous than the wolf's smile beside him.

"Finish your exam," Rudy tells you, his tone low and commanding. What did these guys say they did before ranching? You glance back at the cow, who seems perfectly happy chilling in the grass.

"I really think-" Another click of Alejandro's tongue cuts you short, you turn to look at him and Rudy catches your face. His fingers grip your chin as he tips your to look at him.

"Finish your exam," He repeats, and you have the strangest feeling that this is the last time he'll repeat himself. The warmth between your legs pulses.

"On your knees," Alejandro's voice is thick with something you don't want to put a name to, but it drops heavy in your stomach when he finishes, "be a good girl."

[polydeuces]

𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐭?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫: dylan jagger lee x fem! pregnant reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: dylan and reader are expecting! but how will they announce it to the world?

requested by @hallecarey1 <3

- requests are open!

liked by tommylee, enews, brandonthomaslee

dylanjaggerlee: on the phone. dad to be. 📞❤️

view all 7,394 comments

babybruss: officially milf and dilf 😌

clubhouseband: new band member on the way!

antonkhabbaz: wow man so happy for you!

people: baby lee! congratulations to you both!! 🎉

y/nlee: I’d say pop the champagne but…

pamelaanderson: my baby is having a baby

im so very proud of you both

love you with all my heart and soul

[ 9 months later ]

liked by lilyeaston, brittanyfurlan, and 2.5 million others

y/nlee: our sweet baby entered the universe surrounded with love. no matter life’s uncertainty dylan and i knew that being parents to pure sweetness and light was something we wanted. dyl is the best partner and best father anyone would have and need. i adore my family and can’t wait to watch our little one grow up. xx

creator limited comments

dylanjaggerlee: i love you and our family forever

parisjackson: oh my gosh! sending peace and health to your cute little family!! i adore you!! ☮️🌙

brandonthomaslee: ❤️❤️

lilyeaston: can’t wait to meet the baby squish! auntie lily is going to spoil them

mileycyrus: my favorite family everrrrr

liked by thespacewitch, tommylee, y/nlee, and others

dylanjaggerlee: every day is heaven with you.

view all 5,384 comments

y/nlovesdyl: gonna do a hop and a skip off a bridge honestly

pamfan: someone pinch me there's no way this is real

devonleecarlson: tell your girl that her and i have to have a girls night soon

y/nlee: i love you & our little dove 🤍🕊️

ditavonteese: i must hold the cutest baby in the world ♡

pamelaanderson: My loves

[emsgoodthinkin]

he looked so wet(dreamy) as Tommy lee

[heyitslilingpage]

love story ✓

ᵗᵒᵐᵐʸ ˡᵉᵉ : ᵖᵃᵐᵉˡᵃ ᵃⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵒⁿ : ᵃˡᵉˣᵃⁿᵈʳᵃ ᵈⁱᵃᶻ

just two beautiful girls falling in love with a lunatic drummer

ᵗᵒᵐᵐʸ ˡᵉᵉ ˣ ᵖᵃᵐᵉˡᵃ ᵃⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ˣ ᵒᶜ

ᵖˡᵒʸ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ

*

ᵈⁱˢᶜˡᵃⁱᵐᵉʳ

So to anyone that knows the story of Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee. It’s a very complicated story. Both sides of the story are very valid. The adaptation of Pam & Tommy on hulu, that’s what my fanfiction is going to be based off. I also want to mention that I’m totally want to change the storyline a bit because I have my own OC character. I want to put them as a poly relationship with my OC. Like I kind of want to rewrite history in the way. Which means I am not going to ignore the troubles that they face. Also like anyone that has any suggestions or ideas are welcome. I want to treat the storyline with respect I want to treat Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee with the most respect I can. I also know that on Hulu they try saying it’s a drama series but it’s based on a true story. So far I have my storyline and if people want to start mentioning their ideas for it go ahead you know definitely they are welcome.

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ

substance abuse, alcoholism, toxic relationships, sexual abuse, emotionally abusive, emotional trauma, sexual interactions, violent language, violent tendencies, weapon usage, nudity, etc.

story is complete to read on my wattpad account.

wattpad @ LITTLE-ING

[1onelypoet]

sweet tooth (for you) pt3 || lando norris smau

a/n: sorry this took so long lmao.

pairing: lando norris x singer! ex-leclerc! reader

fc: reneé rapp

warnings: cursing

taglist: @drunkinthemiddleoftheday, @kapsylia, @i-wish-this-was-me, @minkyungseokie, @toasttt11, @namgification, @whyraspberries

disclaimer: this is completely fictional. no hate meant towards anyone mentioned.

part one, part two, part four

vanityfair October 20

liked by yukitsunoda0511, charlottesiine, landonorris and others

tagged yourusername

vanityfair Y/n L/n joined us to talk about the release of her new album Snow Angel, how she's evolved from her debut EP Everything to Everyone, coping with insecurity, and the possibility of another tour.

Watch here.

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charles_leclerc Beautiful ❤️

user1 jumpscare ↳ user2 no cus i literally had to double check it was his acc

user3 NAH THIS ISNT REAL ↳ user4 what isn't real is his fucking audacity

user5 give my girl recognition for her good tits n big heart!!

user6 I VOLUNTEER I CAN DO IT HI HELLO

yourbff SO. FUCKING. PROUD.

user7 so um great pics but uh r we all seeing the comment..? cus um!

October 23

manonsworld added to their story October 29

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yourusername October 31

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yourusername happy halloween bitches 🦇

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user9 charles foaming at the mouth rn

landonorris ...who are you supposed to be?

yourusername UR FUCKING KIDDING ME RN ↳ landonorris barbie? ↳ yourusername no 😭😭 ↳ landonorris that lady from fleetwood mac? ↳ yourusername IM PAMELA ANDERSON???? ↳ landonorris idk who that is 😋 ↳ yourusername im done.

honeymoon it's great to be a blonde ✨

lola.tung on my knees 4 u

user10 @charles_leclerc dude you gotta see this

user11 YOU DID NOT JUST TAG HIM 💀

yourusername November 13

seen by lilymhe, landonorris, f1gossip and others

f1 November 19

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f1 McLaren driver, Lando Norris, is out in Lap 3!

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user13 is he okay????

user14 he got out of the car himself so it can't be that bad ↳ user15 didn't he have to go to the hospital though? ↳ user14 yes, but that's most likely a precaution

user16 unsurprising considering the las vegas track is shit

user17 agreed

user17 a few days after his birthday too 😭😭😭

user18 well there goes another win...

November 19

yourusername added to their story November 21

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landonorris added to their story December 3

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maxfewtrell added to their story December 6

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yourusername December 8

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tagged yukitsunoda0511, landonorris, yourbff, alex_albon, lilymhe

yourusername lil change of scenery 🏖️

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lilymhe NOT THE MID YAWN PIC

yourusername im always watching 📸

heidiberger_ stunning as always ✨

user19 babe wake up new y/n pics just dropped

alex_albon lando looks like one of those people who got pranked while they were sleeping and had their mattress brought out to sea

landonorris mate... what? ↳ yourusername why is this kinda true ↳ landonorris IT IS NOT ↳ alex_albon whatever you say 🙄

user20 STEP ON ME PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU 🙏🏻

landonorris December 10

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tagged yourusername, maxfewtrell

landonorris island life

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yourusername so funny how max gets a cute pic and i get... whatever that is

landonorris you don't like the picture? ↳ landonorris I think you look really good ↳ yourusername ... ↳ landonorris 🙃🙃 ↳ yourusername never going anywhere w you again

maxfewtrell 🔥🔥

user21 um y tf is charles's ex on vacay with lando 😐

user22 she has a name ↳ user21 ok well why is she with lando ↳ user23 there's this craaaazy thing called friendship 🤯 ↳ user21 it's giving attention seeker... ↳ user24 girl stfu

mclaren Recharging 🔋💪

landonorris You know it 👊

lilymhe added to their story December 19

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yourusername December 21

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tagged yukitsunoda0511, heidiberger_, danielricciardo, maxfewtrell, pietra.pilao, carlossainz55, yourbff, landonorris, alex_albon, lilymhe

yourusername amazing views w even better company 💗

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yourbff ahhhhhh this was so much fun <333

lilymhe we should do it again sometime ☺️ ↳ pietra.pilao ^ ↳ heidiberger_ ^^ ↳ yourusername ^^^

user26 YUKI IS AN ADELE FAN????

zendaya gorg

danielricciardo who's that hottie in the 8th pic? 🥵🥵

yourusername i can and will block u. ↳ danielricciardo 😨

user27 oh to be in this friend group

landonorris December 22

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tagged maxfewtrell, yourusername, carlossainz55, alex_albon, danielricciardo, yukitsunoda0511, pietra.pilao, yourbff, lilymhe, heidiberger_

landonorris emptying out the camera roll 😎

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user28 CARLANDO GOLF ERA IS BACCK YESSSS

team_quadrant who won in golf?

carlossainz55 Me, of course. ↳ landonorris this is slander ↳ landonorris I will sue you ↳ carlossainz55 I will win that, too. ↳ user29 CARLOS LMDAOO

mclaren That form 👌

yourusername just one good photo of me. that's all i ask.

landonorris the photo is great??

user30 shirtless lando in a helmet is my life now

December 23

[marvelobsessed134]

The basics

This is part of the Delicate Flower series

Pairings: Seb!Tommy Lee x Fem!Innocent!Reader x Lily!Pamela Anderson

Warnings: mentions of smut, mommy and daddy kinks.

Summary: Essentially headcannons about how you met them and your dynamic

You met Pamela and Tommy at a club believe it or not. Your ‘friends’ had dragged you there and you weren’t interested at all. They noticed the way you sat alone in your pink dress that reached your knees.

“Mind if we sit here?” Pamela asked. You looked up to see two of your favorite people. “Holy cow, you’re Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee! I- I’m a big fan of both of you guys.”

Tommy chuckled, “Glad to hear it.” The actress and drummer both sat down without your consent but you weren’t complaining.

“So, why are you all alone?” The blonde asked in a sympathetic tone. “Oh, well my friends who aren’t really my friends brought me here but I don’t even like this kind of stuff. I prefer to read and stay in the house with my cat.”

And did they love that response. They wanted to add a third in their relationship for awhile, wanted a girl who was quiet, shy and meek. Since Tommy is a dom and Pam is a switch, they needed someone submissive. And they found you.

That night you ended up dancing in between the two of them, hidden away from lurking eyes.

A few weeks later they convinced you to move into their Malibu mansion. Along with your cat, Lucy, of course.

All three of you sleep in the big bed together. Usually it’s you in the middle but sometimes Tommy’s in the middle.

They’re both very protective of you especially out in public. To the public eye you’re just a very close friend.

During sex you call them both mommy and daddy since you all share pretty much the same kinks.

You help clean up around the house and feed the animals (your cat and their dog, Star)

You’re basically just their live in girlfriend

But you love it and so do they.

Pamela likes to finger you a lot, she loves the feeling of your tight little pussy clenching around her fingers.

Tommy of course loves receiving head from you and loves to fuck you from behind.

He likes when you ride him while Pamela sits on his face and vice versa

He just likes to have both of his girls at once

The three of you like to have movie nights all snuggled up on the couch with blankets and snacks.

You’re just their spoiled princess

Pamela always buys you the last est fashion trends. Tommy likes to buy you lingerie and silly gag gifts

All in all, you’re happy to have found two people who love you.

[sixxrock666]

I saw your post about Pamela and I was wondering if you could write some smut for Pamela with a female reader

Warm cinnamon nights

summary: you and Pam take a break in a cozy cabin

Pamela Anderson x f!Reader

words: 1516

warnings: wlw, lesbian smut; fingering, oral nicknames

this one is for all the Pamela lovers :)

Yours and Pamelas relationship was still pretty fresh and as much as you two enjoyed each other's company you wanted to keep things on the low, away from all the media, magazine headliners and radios.

Therefore you two decided to spend a week in a snowy cozy cabin up the mountain, away from the press, away from the world.

You have just entered through the door of your tiny wooden cabin. Stepping inside, the snow from your boots flaked to the ground as you two were greeted by the warmth of the small space.

You watched Pam in her pretty fluffy sweater trying to remove her chunky boots. As she was untying her bootlaces you couldn't help but notice how her cheeks and nose were tinted a slightly pinkish color from the cold breeze, that was nipping at her milky skin just a few minutes ago.

When Pamela finished removing her winter layers she took a hold of her messy hair and placed it a somewhat messy bun, letting a few strands of her blond hair to fall down and frame her face.

She caught you staring and a small smile formed on her lips. She placed her cold hands on both sides of your cheeks and pressed a sweet wet kiss to your lips.

Her lips, cold from the winter wonderland outside felt perfectly against yours. Pamela felt like a warm hug despite her cold hands and lips.

"do you want some hot cocoa dear"

"I would love that"

you answered all smitten because you couldn't believe this woman was yours. You couldn't help the smile that creeped onto your face at the thought. Pamela fucking Anderson was yours.

You watched as Pam moved to the tiny stove in your cabin and put on the kettle of milk. The way she moved around in those leggings of hers with that big sweater made your heart ache. Pamela was so so sweet and good. You just wanted to embrace her, snuggle up to her and never let go.

She mixed in the cocoa powder while leaning against the kitchen counter. Her gaze was focused on the cup in front of her so you could take your time admiring your girl.

Pam finally placed the cup of the warm beverage in your hands and settled beside you on the couch. She leaned into your frame as she held her own cup with both of her hands and brought it close to her face, so she could warm herself up.

You two sipped the cocoa for a while just enjoying each other's presence in the tiny room filled with the smell of delicious cinnamon and fireplace wood. You could see the snow pick up outside the window but you couldn't care less as you were cuddled up to Pamela with fuzzy socks and blankets.

When you two finished the drink you placed the empty cups on the table, now fully warmed up. You placed your elbow on the top of the couch and leaned your head in the palm of your hand, while looking up at Pammy.

Pamela immediately noticed your gaze and turned towards you, a smile decorating her beautiful face. The dreamy eyes you looked at her with, were full of emotion and adoration and Pamela was so greatfull

she got the chance to call you hers.

So she pulled you closer and placed a slow kiss to your lips, hoping she could convey her emotions clearly. You could feel the warmth radiating off of her body as you pulled her closer.

The innocent kiss full of love quickly turned into a kiss of passion and lust. Pam lightly tugged at your bottom lip as she pulled you on her lap. Her hand slowly caressed your thigh while yours were lost in her hair, messing up her bun even more.

The kiss deppened as you two couldn't keep your hands to each other. Pamela was leaving kisses all over. All over your lips, cheeks, face, and eventually moved down towards your neck. Each kiss was more aggressive until the kisses turned into light nipping and bitting.

She sucked the skin on your neck and kissed it after, causing a soothing sensation, while her hands were tracing your breasts.

You were trying your best to hold back the moans that were on the brink of escaping but some soft , rather loud breaths were still released.

You held onto Pamela, with your needyness increseasing as seconds went by. You could feel your skin prickle at her touch, causing you to released a needy moan.

She pulled away for a second to look at the state you were in and smirked lightly.

“Wait don't pull away...not yet" you hurriedly said, needing her right now but she just chuckled.

"Don't worry sweetheart you'll get what you want"

Pamela placed a light short kiss to your forehead before sneaking her hands underneath your sweater and pulling it over your head.

Pamela backed up a little so she could admire her gorgeous girlfriend. Her hands started tracing up from your stomach, slowly with her fingers barely touching your skin, all the way up to your breasts.

Pam caught your eyes for a second and smiled

"You are beautiful sweetheart"

At that comment you couldn't help but look away from embarrassment. Sure you were used to it at this point but something about this moment just felt so intimate.

"Don't hide baby" Pamela whispered as she traced her fingers across your nipples. You whimpered at her touch but looked at her figure regardless.

Pamela was breathtaking, her hair was a mess her blond strands flowing everywhere, no longer secured with a hair tie. The big sweater slipped off her shoulders exposing a bit of her skin.

If that wasn't an invitation for you to remove the  piece of clothing you don't know what is. So you pulled the sweater off to reveal the curve of her breast. But Before you could reach out pamela gently pushed you down towards the couch and hovered over you.

She nestled herself between your legs before kissing her way down toward the hem of your sweat pants. She gently tugged the pants down along with your panties dropping them somewhere on the floor before focusing back on the meal in front of her.

She placed your legs over her shoulders and then lightly kissed the top of your clit before giving it a cat like lick. You shuddered at the feeling as your hands found their way to her hair once again. You were so impatient you couldn't help yourself but tug her face closer to you cunt.

Pamela immediately understood and dived in, gaining a loud moan out of you. Your legs closed around her head, locking her in place but your sweet Pammy continued the heavenly work down there.

She licked and sucked on your clit while her fingers started teasing your dripping entrance. You on the other hand were a shaking moaning mess with your fingers tangled in her blond locks.

"Pammy baby please, you know what i want…don't make me spell it out for you"

you whined hoping she will understand and stick those teasing fingers in already.

You could feel her smile again your cunt as she finally slid in two of her fingers. Your body pushed forward, immersed in pure pleasure. Her fingers started pumping in and out, hitting the perfect spot every time.

You hands were still buried in her hair tugging and pulling as you were chasing your high.

Pamelas other hand found her way to your belly where she pushed down to keep you in place. Her tongue sped up the constant sucking and licking while her fingers arched just the right way.

Your body leaned into the pleasure and orgasm you knew was coming. It seemed like Pamela could feel it as well.

“Cum for me sweetheart”

Her voice came out as a bare mumble since she was so preoccupied with you. With the last few licks the overwhelming feeling finally snapped as you came all over Pammy face.

She let you use her face as you went through your high.

Pam finally peeled herself away, her mouth glistening with the remains of your cum. Pamela looked up at you and smiled sweetly.

The scene before you was so arousing, with Pamelas breasts pressed against the couch and her gorgeous gorgeous face covered in your juices. It got you aching for her all over again.

You pulled her upwards and kissed her hard. The taste of your cum was still lingering in her mouth as you pressed your lips together.

You pulled away after the short kiss with your forehead still against hers.

“I love you Pam” you whispered, still holding her close.

“I love you y/n”

You couldn’t help the bubbly feeling you felt whenever she said those words and as much as you would like to reminisce in the feeling you had other feelings at the moment that seemed more important.

“now it’s my turn” you smirked as you kissed her hard.

☆彡⁂𐬺✩★𐬿

[cheetahsixx]

Valentine’s day kisses (Pamela Anderson x f!reader)

It was a dream to be with Pamela Anderson.

Waking up next to her everyday was a blessing some people couldn’t even begin fathom and yet, it was linked to your everyday routine.

Valentine’s day was coming up. You used to dread this day, but for the past two years you and Pam have been together, she has turned that upside down.

The first year you were together she covered your bedroom in roses before you awoke and she cooked you a valentine’s day themed breakfast. Last year, she burned a cd of songs that remind her of you and bought you a vintage leather jacket you had your eye on for years.

Of course, for those two years you gave her gifts too, but this year you wanted to outdo her and yourself.

Pamela loves the garden in the back of your now shared home. She spends a lot of her free time there and you watch as she delicately cares for it everyday. Soft and gentle, like with everything else she does.

So for her gift this year, you wanted to create things out of her garden…… and maybe a new diamond necklace for good measure.

On the morning of February 14th, you rush out of bed attempting not to wake her. You take in her relaxing figure in the warm sunlight, before making your way downstairs into the garden.

You pick veggies for a home cooked lunch and flowers for a home made bouquet. Pam was at a shoot all day yesterday, so you knew she’d sleep in until lunch time. This gave you time to prepare the festivities.

You began to prep the veggies before throwing them in the oven and then you began to dice some tofu. While those things cooked, you started cutting the flowers you picked into a beautiful arrangement. There were roses, daisies, and pink orchids. Finally, you pull out a red box that contained a beautiful necklace inside. It was a regular silver chain with a scripted P pendant, covered in diamonds.

Almost magically, you hear small thuds on the steps as the food finishes cooking. You look up to see your girl.

“hey you” she smiles as she struts her way over to you in the kitchen. “what are you up to?”

You can’t help but smile at her. She’s in a baby blue night gown and her hair is a bit messy, but she is still oh so beautiful.

“you’re breathtaking” is all you can manage to say

she just laughs her enchanting laugh and her cheeks get covered in a light blush

You take this opportunity to hand her the bouquet of flowers “happy Valentine’s day my love, these are from the garden and our lunch will be too. I know you love utilizing it so I thought why not include it in your gift.” you smile at her, awaiting her reaction

she frowns and her eyes seem to have tears that threaten to spill

“oh god im sorry did you want the vegetables saved for something else-“

she cuts you off by embracing you as tears fall down her cheeks and you stand there stunned for a second before embracing her back.

“no its just- its perfect- you’re perfect” she says as she looks up at you with her icy blue eyes

you shake your head and wipe her tear “you worry me too much.” you chuckle “but this is what you deserve. Theres also one more thing…” you say as you reach over for the red box and hand it to her

“oh you shouldn’t have- this is too much, really.”

“nonsense, im doing too little if anything” you smirk as she smiles at you and begins to open the box

she delicately pulls out the necklace, admiring it and beginning to get emotional again

“Pam don’t cry” you reach over and hug her again before pulling away “want me to put it on you?” she nods and you smile as you take the necklace from her and get behind her to put it on.

When you finish, you turn her around gently and smile as the necklace perfectly sits on her chest. “it looks wonderful baby”

she smiles as she moves forward towards you and whispers “I love you” as she locks her lips with yours. Everytime she kisses you, thousands of fireworks always explode in the background in your head. Thats how magical her kisses have always been. As you continue kissing, it seems to get rather passionate as she makes you lean against one of the kitchen counters. You chuckle as you pull away “As much as I’d like to have my first Valentine’s gift right now, I don’t want you to eat your food when it’s cold”

she laughs but nods before pecking your lips one last time “I said I love you right?” you laugh as you begin serving her a plate of food “yes you did, I love you too.” she smiles at you as you hand her the plate. You can’t help but admire her as she walks to go sit at the dining table.

You find it hard to believe this is your life but, you would never wish for it to change.

(dt @sixxrock666 <3)

[ransprang]

Christian Bale (OOC) x Fem!Reader

Y/N and Christian Bale had recently gotten married, and her parents hated that. Christian and Y/N had been super clingy, and, to be honest, they felt he was a bit controlling. He would often ask her to do something, and Y/N would simply comply. Christian and she slept while hugging each other with their noses touching, and it turned out she couldn't sleep without him at all. To the extent that Y/N's parents noticed, the two would get upset even when leaving each other alone for a few hours. Her parents weren't sure, but maybe the main problem was that they were scared he would hurt her.

Recently they all had been invited to a party and y/n was super excited to go. Christian went out to buy her a sexy yet elegant dress of his choice that would make his beautiful wife glow. He gifted her the dress and y/n's eyes sparkled. She tipped toed up to kiss him and Christian wrapped his arms around her, as she melted into them. He deepened the kiss and groaned into her mouth as y/n pushed her chest against him. Christian looked at the clock and decided they both could be late...by alot. He pushed her onto the bed and got on top, he always loved being on top and restraining his little girl. Y/n moaned and tried to push against him but his sheer power turned her on. Y/n wrapped her legs around Christian's waist as he unzipped his pants and letting his thick pink cock free. He rubbed the tip before he slid it into y/n entrance. He began thrusting and as he caught speed he put his veiny hand over y/n neck and said "Say my name", but y/n moaned. He tightened his grip at her defiance, gritted his teeth as he pounded harder "say my name.", y/n looked at him "Christ...Christian". He loosened his grip and caressed her hair as he softened his thrusts "good girl, I like it when you listen to me". Y/n smiles back at him and closes her eyes in pleasure as she could feel his dick inside her as her husbands big arms held her down into place. As Christian neared climax he grunted and laid on top of y/n softly sliding in and out as they both laid chest to chest while he kissed his wife while releasing his warm cum inside of her. Y/n's parents happened to be invited too, as they waited out in the hall for their son in law and daughter to come with them they grew more and more agitated. They were already 30 minutes late, how could Christian be this irresponsible. Suddenly the room's door opened and both of them walked out, y/n was a bit nervous. Christian looks at her and said "head up high for me.." as y/n nodded and walked towards the front gate with pride. The drive was long and quiet as Christian sat with her in the back seat and caressed her hair, she was prettier to him than the view. She was his everything.

The party was lavish with many people, y/n separated from her husband to speak to other people. A while later a smaller group of people formed and a beautiful blonde woman with blue eyes, with the body of Pamela Anderson stood across and remarked "Chris, wanna have sex?", Christian looked visibly confused as y/n ears perked up. "I mean come on you're hot I am hot, lets do it. No one here will tell your silly little wife, I bet she's ugly". Everyone quickly realized that she did not know y/n was his wife and standing right next to her. Y/n's eyes were welling up but she held it together, Christian was visibly enraged with his hands in a fist. "Keep your filthy mouth shut." He said through his teeth, she looked a bit scared but nonchalant "oh please don't get worked up about this you know if you were unmarried you would've done me in seconds". When it came to y/n Christian knew no ethics he lunged forward to hit that woman, as a few of their mutual friends held him back in urgency. Y/n sprinted towards him and held his face "Christian look at me, you're not like this. you're better than this. Lets go". he calmed down at the sight of y/n and let it go instantly.

Christian held her hand tightly and stormed off towards the car holding onto the keys y/n's parents had passed to him. As they walked towards the door, her parents gave him a nasty look which said 'I knew you'd hurt our daughter one way or the other'. Christian disregarded it and as they reached the car opened the door to the back seat and rather aggressively pushed y/n in. He sat next to her and closed the door as he held her by the back of her head and kissed her passionately. He deepened it while pulling her closer and getting on top of her. "y/n let me make love to you", y/n hugged him tightly digging her nails into his back. "I love you Christian" as he made love to her and then calmly waited for her parents to say their goodbyes and drive them back home. She was his and he was hers and no one was to come in between them. Your Batman,

Admin Sav

[sophiemariepl]

I think we need to talk about fetishizing celebrities, or more precisely, about borders of it.

It's something I recently spotted among fans of my new favourite actors, that is, Ewan Mitchell and Tom Blyth.

Like, I can get that many people (including myself) find them attractive rn. I get that many people feel h0rny because of them. I can get lots of smut being written about their characters (in case of Ewan it's mostly Aemond Targaryen, and in case of Tom it's predominantly Coriolanus Snow). Heck - I can even get smut fanfics being written about these people as themselves (e.g. Ewan Mitchell x reader or Tom Blyth x reader fics).

But damn, I have recently seen some very unhinged comments and discussions under their photos in which people comment on… Tom’s and Ewan’s actual p*nises.

Like, people, are you okay? Like, do you even understand how disgusting and degrading it is? Or even dehumanizing?

If you don’t understand what I mean, ask yourselves how do you respond to such comments being said about female celebs, especially by a predominantly male audience.

For instance, men commenting on Pamela Anderson’s, Salma Hayek’s, or Florence Pugh’s breasts. Or commenting on someone else’s butt or other body parts. Or even publically describing what they would do to these women.

These celebs may not even read all of the comments about their bodies, or they may not be reading them at all, but what matters here, is the other message.

Such behavior sends a message that it's okay to dehumanize, degrade, overly sexualize, and fetishize the people we find attractive.

And it has to be stopped.

[deadboyfriendd]

𝙑𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙤 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡. E.M.

Summary: Eddie isn't in college, but he sells drugs at college parties. He usually isn't into these kinds of girls, cokeheads home for the long weekend, but what happens when he meets you?

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader, obvs a lil canon-divergent, fratboy adjacent!Steve, wingman!Robin, drug use, angst to fluff, smut included

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 9.1k

Author's Note: This is secretly based off of a Fall Out Boy song. Spear me please.

Also this is 100% for @dr-aculaaa , Drac helped me out with a TON of the dialogue and plot in this and she deserves 100% of the hype for this. PLEASE go read her work.

Eddie isn’t in college, but he sells drugs at college parties. 

He’s overstimulated. Both by the heat of the girl grasping and gripping his arm that was turning it unpleasantly raw and by the lack of anything substantial that he could focus his senses on. He can’t remember her name, and it wasn’t because of the seventeen other things distracting his senses, either. She was inherently unremarkable. Another cokehead from The Hideout. College girls home for the long weekend. Love does not occur in dive bar bathrooms, Eddie knew that much. 

He could tell her apart immediately, a Pamela Anderson wannabe with all of the intuition to sniff out anyone remotely Tommy Lee adjacent. The glorification of hard drugs and dysfunction. This would not go anywhere but possibly the bathroom, where she would emerge with a misty ring of powder white around her left nostril and blown pupils. He would taste the drip on her later that night when she would kiss him in a grotesque masquerade of her own cold comedown, denial dripping from her lips with a sticky sweetness disguised with L’Oreal Colour Riche Rich Brown. There were a thousand more like her, some here at home, others in Indianapolis, even more in Chicago. 

She was pretty for a cokehead, but not nearly as pretty as you. 

He spotted you through past the popcorn ceilings, under the fluorescent kitchen lights that were not particularly attractive for any given reason. You were the only girl here who didn’t know how he was. He had been stuck in the pipeline of town deviant to Indiana’s metal microcelebrity. His eyes locked on the kiss of your lashes as the aforementioned date dragged him through the density of other sweaty, coked-out bodies. You swung your legs back and forth as the scuffed rubber from the heels of your sneakers thudded against the hollow cabinet beneath you, rattling the pots behind it. 

She shrieks your name like a birdsong, and you whip around with wide eyes. She drags him along, pulling uncomfortably at his fingers. She bounces up and down in a way that she thinks is attractive, but to everyone else, the jingle of bangles and sequins and squealing is inherently annoying. 

You are not her friend. 

You had become acquainted with the girl before you in an entry-level introductory course for environmental design. It was offered as an elective across all majors but was also stupidly a requirement for all design-specific majors. And, even more unfortunately, the majority of the class was group work. This is how you met her. And she attached to you like a fungus— roots buried in branches that grasped your bones and made her impossible to remove without the inevitability of spawning again. She was a roach of a friend, not even nuclear warfare could rid you of her. But you were too nice to her, in fact, you were the only person that had given half a shit to include her. 

“Oh my God!” There’s a resonant tenor screech that reverberates off of the tile floors and pitches in your own ears so high that it could shatter any champagne flute within a ten mile radius. The guy— poor bastard– being dragged ruthlessly behind her like a content stray cat that had been claimed by a small child twitched an eye nearly shut at the pitchy shriek that plagues him as much as you. 

She explains how you met in an effortful, but drawn-out and utterly painful, story. It was a class. You were assigned a group project. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. 

But his hand was warm when it encased yours in an entirely professional handshake. You shook the thought from your head before it was even allowed to form. You desperately needed to kick the habit of falling in love with strangers in passing. You would not find the one at a party— at least not this one. 

It wasn’t long until she had gotten distracted, an old friend, as she had put it. There was no friend. Only powder on a mirror in the next room over. You questioned why she lied, because she wasn’t even discreet about it. 

“How can you be a nurse and do so much blow?” He asked, face twisted up in a sickening scowl. She had long forgotten about him and he tried his best to forget about her. 

“Girls like that usually are.” You deadpanned back, your face mirroring his own disgust. 

“Nursing majors?” He questioned, her major the only thing he could remember about her at this point. 

“Yeah. It’s the safest option. It keeps their parents happy while they put their financial aid up their noses.” You watched her try to discreetly gum some remnants off of the mirror sitting on the coffee table, pinkie finger dragging alongside the glass and disappearing behind her bottom lip. 

“I’ll bet she won’t finish off the semester.” You stated bluntly after a few seconds of spectating. 

“What about you?” He asked, in reference to your major. 

“Basket weaving. It’s really not much.” You didn’t want to come off as judgmental, or a prude. Especially not after admitting you were a design major. You cringed at how pretentious it sounded.  

“I like baskets.” He said, plopping himself down on the barstool across the island from you, toe thudding against the exterior to stop him from spinning too much. 

“Design.” You said, more of a mumble than a statement. You felt stupid. People usually thought you were stupid when you told them you dropped out of nursing school to be a design major. He didn’t need to know that part of you. After all, he was just some guy at a party and not the love of your life. 

“Of what nature?” He questioned, laying his head tiredly against his folded arm and looking up you you through thick lashes. 

“Of the graphic nature.” You were thoroughly surprised when he stuck around, head tilting to the side in curiosity — a stray curl bouncing from one side to the other. 

“What, like Chip Kidd?” Your head shot up. Sure, he was one of the hottest names in design this year, but who cared about design outside of designers? Next to no one. You forced yourself to play it cool. 

“More like a Stefan Sagmeister.” You grinned, bringing you knees to you chest and folding your arms over them. 

“You’re a Stones fan?” He questioned, brow cocked. 

“Who isn’t?“

“You’d be surprised.” 

“Well, surprise me, then.”

+

Eddie isn’t in college, but he knows a girl that frequents college parties.

This time it’s at some kickback in the woods, and this time it was to sell drugs— but seeing you was like a reward as you folded and contorted your own softness into comfort in the back compartment of his van, legs leaned against his side in search of warmth against the brisk nip of the reminiscence of winter. He draped his arm over your knees as he stood casually in wait, wondering how women could fold their bodies into strange statutes of comfort in only the ways they know how. 

You were good for business. Everyone and their mother seemed to know who you were. Probably because you were sweet. Especially to him. 

You’ve been casually sleeping with each other for a few weeks now, only when you can catch each other through hushed communal dorm phone-calls or whenever you come home for the weekend. No-strings attached, no commitment. But this outing sure felt like commitment, in the same way it felt like commitment when he held your hand earlier, and the same way it felt like commitment when he pressed his forehead against yours during your last entanglement. 

He leans over to you, alabaster skin of his neck stretching over bone and artery so he could whisper to you, 

“This is kind of lame. Let’s get out of here.”

You weren’t one to refuse him, especially not when he looked at you like that. 

“I’m not losing out on high school drama. I’m down.” You whisper back to him, pulling the end of an unruly curl just to watch it spring back up into place. 

While he’s watching the road, you’re memorizing the features of his face. If he could sparkle right now, he would be, even as the only light catching his face was from the too spaced-out street lamps. He drives in near-silence, whatever cassette buzzing hushedly over the radio but quiet enough that you could hear the vapid spinning of the tires and his occasional slow breath. 

You see the headstones before he has a chance to speak. 

“You’re gonna murder me.” You breathed out, joking mostly. 

“Yeah, right here, in the cemetery. Then I’m gonna bury you in a fresh grave.” He said to you, between eye rolls, getting out of the van to go pull the back doors open and straighten the woolen saddle blankets so you could sit. 

He pulls an acoustic guitar down from a makeshift bungee-cord rack fixed to the sidewall of the interior of the van, This Machine Slays Dragons crudely scrawled across the face to mimic Guthrie’s own. 

“I didn’t know that fascists breathed fire.” You said to him through a halfway-crooked sort of smile, pushing yourself up to lean against the sidewall of the van, facing him. You let one  leg swing back and forth, the rubber toe of your shoe tapping mindlessly against the seemingly useless tow hitch. 

“I knew you were more than just pretty.” He said, mouth turning up at the sides of his mouth. He was pretty, peering at you from beneath lashes before turning his attention back to the tuning knob. He strummed a calloused thumb across the tight string, listening to it upturn until he thought it sounded right.

It was a foreign ritual to you, his own prettiness being the catalyst for your own destruction before his vapid excuse at being a boyfriend ever could. . You watched silken curls slip over his shoulder and brush over the neck of his guitar. You watched as pretty deft fingers strummed a progression you would never understand. You desperately wished it was you, instead. 

It was like you were experiencing him through a macro lens, and it only made him more beautiful. His eyes came up to meet yours, dark and rich in the twilight that fell over you. You couldn’t have stared at him for more than a few seconds, but it was enough for your own giggles to bubble over. 

“Oh god.” You say through cupped hands, burying your face in your palms. You knew he was looking at you like you were crazy– all in good humor. 

“What?” He asked, unable to contain his own chuckle at this point. 

“You are literally the guy at the party that brings the guitar.” You managed through your bouts of giggles. 

“I don’t see much of a party here, sweetheart.” That smile curled again at his lips, this time with more teeth. You didn’t want to stare more, despite his fingers strumming the beginning cord of a song with all of the tenderness he could muster.

“Then who are you playing for? The ghosts?” You giggled again, looking around at the eeriness of the headstones. Had it been cooler, it would have been more off putting, but the swelling heat of summer that had settled over Indiana almost gave it some comfort. 

“You. Five regulars at The Hideout. Any ghost that wants to listen.” He laughed back, stopping his strumming to look back up at you. 

“Are you actually good?” You folded your knees upwards, turning yourself fully towards him. You rested your folded arms on top of them, pressing your chin against them to stare at him. 

“Would you just shut up and listen? I wrote a song about you.” It wasn’t hurtful, never was it hurtful. He said this towards you through pretty lips and even prettier winks. 

It wasn’t anything great. Three cords and two lines, but you wished you could record it and play it on a loop over and over again until your walkman caught fire. His voice wasn’t smooth, but it wrapped around you like a blanket, and, suddenly, it was your favorite sound. There was one thing you knew for certain, you wanted Eddie to sing to you every day for the rest of your life. 

“So you actually are good.” 

He rolled his eyes at you, casting the guitar aside as quickly as he had gotten it down. His lips met yours in a rapid staccato of haste kisses, first long, then followed by the plethora of short. You felt calloused fingers dig into the plush of your waist. 

It usually ended up like this. You’d laugh, you’d fall in love with him over and over and over again. You would have sex, and then it would be weeks. Weeks of trying to get your life back together and weeks of trying to remember yourself before him. But, God, when he kissed you over and over like that you would gladly break your heart for him. You wanted him to break it– if it meant that you could have him for this moment. 

“This technically is a party, you know?” You whispered a breathy giggle against his lips, peeling an eye open to peer at him. 

“What?” He asked, pulling back slightly. His lips were still glossy with the taste of you, but his eyes peered down at you in a way that made your stomach flip. You debated letting him take you in a cemetery. 

“Earlier, you said that you didn’t see much of a party. But we are here… at one, I mean?” Eddie looked around, eyebrow raised in utter confusion before clueing into what you had meant. 

“What with… them?” He asked you from behind the back of his hand, as if the bodies beneath you would be offended if they had heard. 

“Yeah. With all of the people buried here.” You stated, matter-of-factly. 

“I don’t think they’re much partying anymore.” Eddie explained to you, looking around the cemetery with raised eyebrows.

“Look… you know how the saying goes: one's company, two’s a crowd, and three’s a party? Well, this is a lot more than three. They don’t specify if they’re of the living disposition or not.” You argued back, trying your hardest to contain your own smile. 

“I’m saying no one here is having a good time.” He argued back in mock frustration, palms jutting out towards the headstones around you in confusion. 

“Besides us?” You asked him, with wide eyes. 

“Yes, besides us.” He said to you, reaching out to grip the opposite side of your waist and pull you into his side. 

“I can see it now. Here lies Edward— what’s your middle name?” 

“Not a chance.”

“Edward ‘Not a Chance’ Munson. He partied so hard he died.” You said, holding your hands out in a picturesque fashion. You couldn’t contain your own giggles. 

“Are you always a wise-ass?” He said, from behind a forward chuckle. 

“I don’t know, am I?” 

“Yes.” He looked down at you from beneath his shoulder, his eyes meeting your own endearingly. 

Eddie had a really bad habit of completely derailing your life with a single look. Once your eyes met the ambergris bourbon of his, you swore you could see the next ten years of your life. You swore you would ever be domesticated– at least not by any frat guy you met at a party. You hoped you were never domesticated. You hoped you never learned the subtlety of wifelyhood of motherhood. You never wanted to be reduced to that. But Eddie wasn’t in college, and Eddie could reduce you to that with one soft glance. 

“ –What about him?” You asked, averting your eyes from his. You would not let him derail your life again. Not tonight, at least. 

“Who?” He asked, genuine confusion registering across his once-soft features. 

“The guy buried there.” You specified. The headstone read a barely decipherable name, followed by 1902. 

“Was he a wise-ass?”

“No, stupid, how did he die? What kind of life did he live?” You said, bringing up your hand to deliver a soft slap to his chest. He wished you would do it again. 

“Tuberculosis.” You stated, bluntly, looking back down towards you with a smile. 

“Not everyone in 1902 died of tuberculosis.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah, but a lot of them did.”

You figured he was right, your microbiology prerequisite failing to regurgitate within your brain. A silence settled over the back of the van, but it was comfortable. You allowed yourself the comfort of leaning your head against his chest, and rested his against your own. You tried to hear his heart from here, wondered if he had one at all. Surely he didn’t, if he could break your heart and put it back together all over again. Part of you hoped he did, and an even bigger part of you hoped that you had a place in it somewhere. You wouldn’t allow yourself to dwell on that fact for long. 

“Hey, Eddie?” You asked, barely above a whisper. Yet, breaking the silence felt like breaking glass. Had you been talking too much?

“Yeah?” He asked, in an equally quiet tone. You wonder if he felt it, too. 

“Why here?” You asked, without needing to elaborate further. 

He thinks about it, silent for a second, and then breaks the glass again. 

“I feel more like a ghost than anything– makes me feel less alone.” He says, finally. He refuses to let his eyes meet yours. It made sense. 

Some of the girls you went to school with still talked about it. Still talked about their friend, Chrissy. You understood that he had been a key suspect in a high-profile murder case. 

Well, as high-profile as Hawkins, Indiana, population: 2000, could get. 

They had found their suspect— apparent suicide. It happened all of the time. Kids try drugs, and drugs end badly. You had seen it before, and you’d see it again. It wasn’t Eddie, nor was it his Uncle– the man with the kind eyes and the gruff exterior that sometimes waved at you from outside Eddie’s van. You tried not to wonder if he thought you were a skank. You should introduce yourself, sometime.

A lot of people forgot about it after the Earthquake, their own lives crumbling enough to where they didn’t have to speculate the downfall of someone else. 

It made sense why he would think that. The same as the ghost that inhabited the loft above The Hideout where he played. 

It must have been exhausting having someone vilify and formulate your existence all the time.  

You decided not to pry. Instead, you read the headstones in front of you, children, the elderly. You focused on one elongated headstone fixated into the ground in front of you. William and Helen Lester. Born in 1910 and 1912, respectively. Died the same year as each other, 

“What about them?” You asked him.

“They were madly in love, they reserved their plots together before they died so when one joined the other they could take comfort in knowing that they would stay together.” He answered, without hesitation. You wondered if he knew them personally. 

“Do you believe that they did?” You asked, instead. 

“Stay together?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess that depends on what they believed.” He shrugged, rubbing his hand up and down your shoulder a little bit. 

“Well, what do you believe?” 

He lets out a long sigh, more joking then not.

“Well, way back when my uncle first got custody of me, he thought it would be a good idea to start taking me to church. Save me before it was too late… or whatever.” He raked his hands through his hair, sitting up a little to look at you before continuing, 

“ -Wayne wasn’t much of a church guy, either, but the nice lady that lived next door to us was, so we started going to church with her. They told us that if we did everything we were supposed to do… tried to live by the book, and that we found our person, that it would be an eternal binding after marriage, or something like that.”

“Do you really believe that?” You questioned. 

“If there’s anything from my churchgoing days that I hoped would be real, I hope it’s that.” He sighed, pulling his arm off of you to lean back . 

“Why?”

“I don’t think I could ever stand to be alone like that again.” He shrugged, and you knew you had struck a nerve. 

“Well, what about us?” You questioned. 

“What about it?” 

“Do you think we’ll stay together?”

“We’re not really even together.” 

It was then that you realized that maybe he did have a heart, but you didn’t have a home within it. There was one thing for certain, however, and that was that he had made himself a home in yours like a fungus. It was then that the introductory biology courses you could never remember remained heavy on your brain. 

Mycelium

Mycelium are incredibly tiny threads of the greater fungal organism that wrap around or bore into tree roots. Taken together, mycelium composes what's called a “mycorrhizal network,” which connects individual plants together to transfer water, nitrogen, carbon and other minerals—

Eddie was a fungus in dormancy. He had a mycelial network, and its threads had wrapped and wound their ways through the finest intimacies of your life. Their hairline structure filled their place between any gaps you weren’t careful enough to seal. Even when he wasn’t in your life, he was there. 

You can’t be heartbroken over him if you never had him. 

You know he is talking. You know he continued with a backstory in some form or another. Your guess would be something about spending every waking moment alone after the incident. How no one’s mothers who were kind enough to give him the benefit of the doubt in the first place would no longer let their children— his friends, around him. Something about how he wouldn’t blame them. 

“Hey, are you okay? You went all silent on me there.” He finally asked, tugging on a strand of your hair, playfully. You felt like crying, but you wouldn’t. Not until he was gone. 

“Yeah, just tired I guess.”

Tired of getting attached, tired of derailing your entire life for him. 

“Oh. I guess I should probably get you home, then.” He said, beginning to slide out of the van. 

You were thankful he didn’t pry, but a part of you wished that he would. You had him for weeks, it was commitment-adjacent at the very least. It felt like you had him tonight, and it felt like you had him in all of your spare time. It also felt like you had him in class, doodling his funny little devil horns all over your notes. It was the subtlety of this heartbreak that was the worst– or maybe the fact that it wasn’t really heartbreak in the first place. 

You still let him sleep in your bed. 

+

Robin is a textbook lesbian, which also makes her the best wingman on the face of planet earth. She assessed the situation over a pre-roll, as someone who was both a woman and someone who pleasured women. 

Steve isn’t a frat boy, but his relentless good looks and halfway dumb demeanor are wasted on that fact. He assessed the situation as such. 

Eddie swore they both only hung out with him for the pot. 

It had been weeks since your last call, in which you had mentioned something about a final or something before the line went dead. Maybe you were actually dead. Killed in some freak accident that the news didn’t even know how to cover so they just… didn’t. Eddie’s dignity thought it would be preferable if you were. 

“ — Boys are stupid. Hence why I date women.” Robin stated bluntly from Steve’s bedroom floor, between clumsy, fumbling lighter flicks. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, did he have to do everything? He plucked the lighter from her hands, lighting the pre-roll in one swift motion before looking back at her. 

“Some of us aren’t as lucky.” Eddie said, throwing his body back against the side of Steve’s bed, causing Robin to bounce alongside him. 

“To be of the homosexual disposition?” Robin questioned, turning to face him. 

“To understand women.”

“Again, you don’t need to understand them, You’re just stupid.” She waved her hand, dismissively. 

“God, I know I’m stupid, please just help me.” He said to her, dragging his hands down his face with a vigor. 

“Okay, run the cemetery scenario by me again. Word. For. Word.” She said back, joint tucked between her pointer finger and thumb, elbow rested atop the comforter. 

“Okay—”

Eddie can remember everything about that night. He remembered what you were wearing. He remembered seeing the smattering of new freckles across your shoulder as it peeked out from under your summer sweater– a reminder that the heat of summer was quickly settling over you. He remembered the rhythm that the rubber toe of your sneaker tapped out as he strummed against his guitar. He remembered how you knew Gutherie and batted your eyes at him in that pretty— so fucking pretty– way and how you batted your lashes at him when you asked too many questions that he was suddenly inclined to answer. 

Eddie remembered what he said. 

“And then I said, ‘well, we aren’t really even together-”

“There!” Robin shouted finally, hands splayed out, smoke continuing to roll from between her fingers, 

“What?!” Eddie jumped, running his hands from the crown of his head and down his t-shirt, in search of whatever bug Robin had screamed at him about. 

“That’s where you fucked up!” She clarified. 

“ — really fucked up.” Steve chimed in from his desk chair, sunglasses slipping low on his nose despite the approaching twilight, using the toe of his sneaker as traction in order to spin himself in half-circles from his corner. 

“How?” Eddie asked, raking his fingers through his hair and giving his roots a soft tug. 

“You totally took everything you had with her and threw it right in the dumpster.” Robin continued, fully ignoring him. 

“ — and lit it on fire!” Steve chimed over his shoulder, chair spun backwards towards the wall. 

“Shut up, Steve.”

“Just saying…”

“Anyways, you implied that you didn’t want a relationship with her.” Robin said, finally softening a bit. 

“No, I wanted her to say something like, ‘Well, then can we be?’”  He explained back to her, almost on the verge of tears. 

“That’s the problem, dingus.” She rolled her eyes, delivering a soft smack to the side of his head. 

“Ugh,” Eddie muffled out loudly from behind his palms. 

To him, you were pretty, and smart, and entirely too good for him. You were right for ghosting him, he would never blame you for that. You had all the reason in the world to hate him and you still didn’t— until he gave you one. 

 To you, he was just a boy– one who harbored too much heartbreak that makes him meaner than he anticipates. Eddie wasn’t mean by nature, but right now, he sure felt like it.

He pulls his temples back with the heels of his hands, “She’s just so smart and she has to think I’m the dumbest human being on planet Earth.”

“You are the dumbest human being on planet Earth.” She snuffed out the roach into the ashtray, twirling around for slightly too long. 

“Gee, thanks.”

“But not for that reason.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, turning to face Eddie, “You’re stupid because you expected her to read your mind. You had the upper hand. She was prompting the love confession from you and you probably shattered her heart into a million tiny pieces.”

“Can I even fix this?”

“I’m a wingman, not a miracle worker, dude.”

“Steve? Anything to chime in?”

“You fucked up.” 

“No shit.” 

+

Eddie isn’t in college, instead he plays guitar. 

In the midst of his own suffering, he still has to perform. He isn’t one to pass up the money or the attention— especially since they’re crowds now exceeded into the double digits. They had graduated from the Tuesday-night noisemakers, to the Friday-night headliner, a few people even making their way over to bar-crawl from the next town over. 

Eddie leaned his weight on the speaker, tuning and strumming in a half-assed, absent-minded routine. There was a decent group tonight, people grouped standing in the back once the tables and bartop had been promptly filled. 

Jeff approached him, bass slung heavy over him, “Don’t look now, but I think you might know someone here.” He peered at you over his shoulder. 

Eddie looks anyway, met with your eyes. 

You looked pretty tonight. You looked pretty always. 

You had your toes propped against the bottom rung of the barstool, knees pulled tight together, and a drink in hand. He didn’t recognize the people you were with, but he didn’t know very many people anyway. Not like you did. You were likable, and he liked you a lot. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting you to look like after a month, but he was stupid thinking you’d look dramatically different. You were still soft— still glowed even in this not-particularly-flattering light. You looked happy and he hated it. He hated that you could smile at a time like this. It was selfish, he knew it. He wanted you to be a wreck over him. He wanted the comfort in knowing that you were the same mess that he was in over you. 

Jeff gives him a nudge to say something into the mic once they got the go-ahead to play. He tells Jeff he can do it tonight. The tether that binds you together is made of water— the softest vibration would break the surface tension and it would splash on to the concrete. He wanted to watch you be pretty for just a few more seconds, even if it meant giving up his ego for tonight. He wanted to remain unseen on stage, but the pinch harmonic of his opening riff sent your head snapping towards him. 

Your look made him want to crawl beneath the floorboards. 

Your acquaintance, a girl that was a friend-of-a-roommate who had invited you out, placed a hand on your shoulder, warm and too-friendly,  “This band is really good!”

“I know!” You shouted over the music, too warm already. Maybe it was the bottom-shelf peach schnapps. It was most likely the bottom-shelf peach schnapps. 

“Oh, you’ve seen them before?” She asked, pulling her chair up closer to yours. 

“Something like that!” You had explained, pulling the strap of your purse from your neck where it dug in too harshly. 

You felt underdressed for the occasion. Despite definitely having people to impress, you didn’t feel the need. But now, with Eddie’s eyes that you tried desperately to avert yourself from, you’d felt your skin in a way that you never had before. Maybe you were drunk. 

You were most definitely drunk, enough so that it was teetering off the edge of pleasant and dipping into the waters of uncomfortable. The music was too loud and there were too many people and your purse strap kept digging into the crevice of your neck in a way that was both painful and overstimulating. 

You couldn’t remember how many songs Eddie’s band had played– fuck— you couldn’t remember what they were called. Had been playing for a while, enough for the lines between songs started to blur and it felt like forty-five minutes of continuous time signature. You couldn’t decipher a lot between the hum of the nearly-blown speaker anyways. 

Eddie’s eyes met yours, shiny beneath the bar stage lights. He looked angry. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the genre of his song or because of you. He isn’t insatiable or anything, and he had hoped to God that you were still paying attention. By the look on your face and the way you craned your neck to look at the girl next to you, you hadn’t been for a while now. Your nonchalance had poured the gasoline, your smile lit him ablaze. 

The next line of the song was about you, an ode to the women he’d loved before– which weren’t many– conveniently placed as the last song of the setlist. He wrote it with the fantasy that you would stroll through the doors and hear it, but now that you were here, he didn’t know if he had the heart to be mean to you. He didn’t want to be mean to you. It was vaguely written enough so that the other girls that looked up towards him would think it was about them, a heartbreak anthem, a sorry anthem. An ode to the cemetery and the ghost that he had become without you. 

You understood it, though you chose not to act like you had. You didn’t think you had been in his life for long enough to warrant a song– at least one with more than three cords and fifteen seconds of play-time. Why would he? You were never even together. Your ears rang with the remnants of sound, yet you watched your party— the greek bar-crawlers, get ready to head to the next location down the block. You couldn’t even remember what bar it was. 

The girl next to you– fuck— you couldn’t remember her name either, was leveling with your tipsiness. Maybe she hadn’t teetered over the edge of drunk like you had. You let her take your hand anyways, pushing through the double doors in your party of eight. 

The familiarity of the van backed in front of the entrance haunted you, like it had brought a ghost back with it from the cemetery. Maybe Eddie was the ghost. Maybe he was haunting you. Maybe you were haunting yourself. 

The party discussed some form of game plan. You thought it was stupid, hockey practice was over. Yet they were drunk, and they were rowdy, and they were a spectacle. Suddenly and all at once, unfamiliar lips were on yours, violent and sloppy. You tasted cherry, sticky against your own peppermint chapstick. Soft feminine hands gripped your jaw, pretty tuberose and jasmine on the girl from earlier filled your nostrils in a way that was not quite suffocating, but all encapsulating. It was an Estee Lauder Eau de Parfum. You recognized it from the yellow bottle you had gotten for your fifteenth birthday. 

Kissing a woman was a different ballpark, kissing a woman drunk was an entirely different sport. She was softer, less volatile. She had a languid softness to her waist where men were typically more solid. Her hands were more graceful. You relinquished it, both in the spectacle of the others in the group and the fact that she was what Eddie wasn’t.

From behind the van, Eddie watched you. The floral passion in which you sloppily tangled your manicured hand into the blonde mass of the girl in front of you. Isn’t it unfair? He desperately wished it was him. Wanted to be the reason for the surrounding wolf calls. Eddie wasn’t particularly introspective, but he was dying to be her. A notch in your bedpost, a one night stand, a lover. 

Eddie wanted to be her. 

+

Eddie isn’t in college, and it's mostly because he’s stupid. 

Robin let him know it, too. 

There is an afterparty, or, at least, the loose adjacent to one. The band, some friends of the band, and communal alcohol strung loosely across the island at Gareth and Jeff’s condo. Donated pot courtesy of a combined effort of Rick and Eddie. He didn’t feel like partying, but he did feel like getting really, really drunk. Lecture be damned. 

MD 20/20 Red Grape Fortified Wine tasted a little like alcohol and a lot like feeling sorry for himself. 

The grave was already dug, all he had to do was sit in it and wait for someone to backfill. 

Robin stood, arms braced against the island across from Eddie. The fluorescents in Gareth’s unrenovated kitchen burned his eyes, “I can’t help you if you don’t want it.”

“I don’t want it,” He specified, pulling a long drink from the glass bottle, “ –but I have a feeling I’m gonna get it anyways.” 

“I thought you wanted her back, dude.” The fluorescent lights casted a downwards glow across her forehead. Eddie thought it gave her a Kubrick stare. 

“I don’t know what I want, I thought I did but then I got up there and I sang about her and she didn’t even care.”

In one swift motion, she hopped onto the counter, crossing her legs beneath her, “Well, obviously you care.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“If you don’t care about her then why do you lose your shit every time you see her?”

“Because, Robin, who the fuck else is gonna love me after all of the shit we’ve been though?” He slammed the bottle down on the table. It was enough to rattle the cabinets beneath it, “She was the one good thing that’s happened to me in a long fucking time and I couldn’t even let myself be just content with that.” 

He’s angry, suddenly. With himself, with the universe. The alcohol didn’t help. The feigning headache was more annoying than it was painful. Robin wanted to roll her eyes, to call him stupid and dramatic– but she figured he knew it already. It’s not like he wasn’t warranted in his anger, he was, but she wondered why he had been so pent-up lately. Maybe it’s because there was no Eddie way for Eddie to deal with this. After a bleating silence, she spoke:

“Have you even talked to her yet?” She asked.

“No, and I’m not planning on it.” 

“Why not?”

“Because, dude,” Eddie played himself out across the tile island, trying to ignore the way his t-shirt just mopped up the sticky sweet liquid on the counter, “ – you know why.”

Robin did know why. 

“And?” She asked. 

“They were all over each other, like, like…” He was getting frustrated now, unable to string words together in a cohesive sentence. 

Robin finished for him, “Like you were?”

“Yeah. Like she didn’t even care.” He leaned his head down on his folded arms, 

“Maybe she wanted you to think that.” Robin asked him. She thought she sounded more like his mother than a lesbian wingman. This is what he needed. “Maybe she wanted you to chase her.”

“I don’t understand why.” He groaned, “She’s unpredictable. And pretty. And smart. And fun. And everyone likes her. Do you know how many friends she has? How many people like her?”

“Because maybe you’re not as bad as you think you are.”

And he isn’t. Eddie isn’t inherently bad– albeit a little bit dumb. Maybe that just came with age, or the nature of him. Actually, behind the external composite disposition and his defensive nature, Eddie was the opposite of bad.

That first ‘surprise me’ reverberated in his mind like a crescendo. He was feeling brave that night. It was all ego, and most likely a touch of golden whiskey courage. He could still taste it on the back of his tongue when his mouth met yours in a clumsy, quick, spur-of-the-moment kiss. He didn’t have time to be insecure about it, the afterthoughts of gum or mints being pulled from his mind by your fingers as they combed through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. As he moved down to press pillowy-soft kisses in the soft of your throat, he took in your scent– like the citrus groves just outside of town in the spring, when the little white flowers covered the expanse of the rich green rows. 

It was fast and sweet, his hands pushing your summer cotton t-shirt up your waist with warm, rough hands– encasing the ribs where they curl to meet with your spine in a vice. You were eager, not that you were easy– you almost didn’t care if he thought of you that way– in the way you slid his vest off of him. He threw his arms back quickly, shaking it loose from his wrists as he came back up to meet you. The chain of his bracelet was cold against the plush of your stomach as he dragged it down towards the button of your denim shorts. 

“We don’t have to do this now,” He separated from you in hesitation, “I can take us back to my place, use my be—”

“No, ‘need you now.” You insisted, your kiss more pressing than before. You clung to him fervently. 

You aren’t confined to your softness. You are vocal, grip on his shoulders and his heart like a vice. You were soft in the right places though, in your waist and beneath his hands coming undone, soft in the way you spoke to him behind closed van doors. Pillows over sharp corners, a guard to balance your too-loud laugh or the frequency in which you found yourself too drunk. 

You were stone-cold sober that night, and he thanked whoever was up there looking out for him that you were. You wouldn’t have been here, otherwise. 

You were a painting, and not one of those stupid ones that he had to talk about in history class. Like a real, in-your-face, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. Not quite like a centerfold, better than anything he’d counted pennies for at the drugstore, ethereal beyond words. Soft for him and only him, bumps and curves and dips and folds in places you didn’t see in those. Real, right in front of him. His for the taking. 

The night had turned already to that imperceptible pivot where midnight turned to early morning hours. This moment has come and gone, yet you are not yet willing to concede that you have crossed the line beyond which is all gratuitous damage and the play of unraveled nerve endings. 

He plunged his middle and marriage fingers within you with a vapid expanse for pleasure, reaching in deep and curling upwards, gathering slick between fingers and back out again. You could feel every ridge within yourself, your softness pulling him back in once he had pulled out again. 

You allow him, no, encourage him to line himself up within you, and you are warm. Warmer than anything he has ever felt in his life. Tight like a hug. The flavor is vaguely tribal– pendulous guitar-pick necklaces and ritualistic moans of endearance. A gathering drum of heartbeats and a bonfire lit within your core. 

His chest is hard above you, expanding with deep breath and soft cries– the softest cries you had ever heard from a man in your existence. There is a small patch of hair in the center, that follows down his navel in a thin line. You tried to hold it together, but you loved it so much. You could love him, not like the novelty it was right now. Like, really love him. 

If he could tell you he loved you without scaring you away, he would have. Now, he wished he just did. 

Clumsily, almost enough for you to tell he was still new to this, whether the van or women in general, he thrust into you, chasing his own rhythm while still finding your own high. His wrists radiate heat where they brace him on either side of your head, caging you between them. 

“Fuck– I– I,” he begins, looking for his thoughts.

You look up at him through low, sultry eyes. Your own release nearing in moments. “Together.” was what you could manage. 

He cringed looking back, he probably looked like such a virgin. He had been so previously wound with the Pam Anderson wanna-be and the post-show adrenaline that his release was feigning. He took comfort in knowing that you would later find out that he is not that inexperienced. 

It was the after that he remembered. How your little manicured finger traced over the raised ink of the tattoo, now disfigured by the purple fibers of scarring. 

“They’re from the accident.” He explained to you, knowing you were wondering. Everyone wondered. You had been too afraid to ask. 

“The earthquake?” You specified, looking up at him. 

You watched the way his stomach flexed as he pushed himself up, taking your body with him, “Yeah, sorry they’re not pretty.” He sighed, holding out his arms to look at the ones there. 

“You are pretty.” You reiterated, and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“You’re prettier.” 

“You wanna see mine?” 

“Your what?”

“Scars.” 

You were going to show him anyway. 

That patch where the hair grew wonky across your eyebrow from where you had fallen as a child. You cracked your eye socket and they had to reconstruct the tendons in your eyelid. 27 stitches including the internal ones. He laughed at how you claimed it like a trophy. 

The small white line on the side of your knee you got trying to pet a feral cat. You wanted to be it’s friend so bad and it didn’t return the sentiment. 

The blown out tattoo on your ankle, done by your friend who worked at the cafe with you. It was the second one she had ever done on another living person. Your mom had flipped when you came home from college that first weekend with it. If you weren’t too old to ground, she would have done it. 

Your stretch marks, in which you didn’t dwell too much on. They started happening the summer you turned thirteen and you remembered the palsy of lotions and topical ointments your mom made you smear over the expanse of your body in order to reverse them when you we’re too young to recognize that there were nothing wrong with them. The scars they left on your psyche. 

The ones on your hands and knuckles, burns from your barista days. He remembered your giggle as he pressed soft kisses to every burn scar. 

Eddie was not bad. 

+

Eddie isn’t in college, but, for you, he’d at least brave the college housing. 

This was also not Robin’s plan, instead devised by Steve while he was crossed— and at his most authentic self. Despite her best efforts, they persisted. You roomed in a smaller house with several other girls in Indianapolis— a three hour drive as the crow flies. All in their girlish forms, all soft skin and little shorts and effortless beauty. Sometimes you wondered if you looked the same way- or if they even knew what they looked like. 

All of whom were gathered out the window, ogling at a relic unknown to you. 

A familiar face, the hometown heartbreaker, Steve Harrington himself stood in your freshly mowed grass, boombox held over his head like an idiot. Slovenly waving at the girls through the window. You sighed, palming your face tiredly. You knew who he would have in tow. He is a shadow of either Eddie’s best self of his worst self, you couldn’t tell which quite yet. You are awed by his strict refusal to acknowledge any goal higher than the pursuit of his own pleasure, haphazardly balancing the expensive boombox blasting Head Over Heels on a loud, obnoxious loop. You wouldn’t have been more annoyed if Roland Orzabal was here playing the song himself. Robin stood at the entrance of the small white picket fence, face in hands. 

When you meet with the man that has not quite et. cetere’d you, you are slumming the door open, visiting your own 7:00 A.M Lower East Side with your soul on a lark. He is stepping nimbly around gardenia pots and little happy concrete garden gnomes as if they will bite his ankles if he gets too close– if only you’d trained them sooner. More un-nimbly, he trips up the stairs, and you’ve caught him red handed. He stands there wide-eyed and apologetic, a dog kicked. You lean against the frame, nonchalant, unimpressed, arms crossed. 

“Ew. You like Tears for Fears?” You speak before he can. He seems taken aback. 

“I should have played The Cure.” He speaks truthfully, rubbing the skin on the back of his neck where an itch did not occur. 

“That was my second choice!” Steve called from the one-man show happening on your lawn. You feared if it went on for longer, it would turn to a strip-club.

“Shut up, Steve.” Eddie barked towards him. 

The tension feels like being at the bottom of a swimming pool. Eddie’s drowning in the deep end but the bowl’s empty. He drained it himself. He doesn’t know quite what to say to you. He didn’t think it would get this far. 

“Come on, please just hear me out–” He starts, yet it’s overused. You decided then to drown him in the pool yourself. The door closes in his face. 

Almost immediately, the knocking persists. Your roommates watch from beside the door, half still fixated on Steve, the others watching you ascend the stairs towards your bedroom. You choked down your embarrassment, suffocated in it. You needed to be alone. 

“Ladies.” Steve nods from the front lawn, watching his friend scale the old lattice attached to the stucco on the front of your house. 

“Ladies.” Robin parrots, coming to watch with a hand shielding her eyes from the sun. 

There is a commotion down the stairs, a door opening and footsteps quick. You don’t get the chance to look because there is a body, an apparition of scarecrow limbs and embarrassment parallel with your second-story window. You might be mad, but you definitely aren’t heartless. 

This isn’t what he expected your room to look like. In his wet dreams, he pictured more pink. More coquette lace abundance and stuffed animals. Save for the raggedy menstrual bean-bag bear, it’s relatively neutral. In hindsight, every girl’s room is pink coquette in a wet dream. This felt more like you, the twinkle lights, stacks of old books holding plants, moroccan-patterned pillows lining the daybed. Plush, white bedding. It’s natural, like you. 

Your glare is like a mother’s reproach. He doesn’t know how to react. He didn’t have a mother. Only Wayne and only teachers, the latter of which he had a certain amount of push before they let him do whatever he wanted. You, he could not push further. 

“Please don’t kick me out,” He begs, hands together like a prayer. It’s cheesy, you avoid laughing. 

“I’m waiting.” You say. It’s rude. You sound like a bitch. He thinks you’re warranted. You try not to think of the ears against your bedroom door. 

“I love you.” He said it like a plea instead of a declaration. It was the first and only thing that came to his mind. 

Of course he did.

You rolled your eyes at him, folding your arms and jutting your hip, “You don’t love me.” You corrected, “You just think you do now that you’re lonely.” 

He takes a few more pacing steps towards you, frantic and panicking “Jesus Christ– Yes, I do. I could’ve slipped and broke my neck trying to climb up here for you.”

“Well, I didn’t tell you to climb up here,” You placed your hand over your chest, then turned your finger towards him, “You don’t love me, you love this version of me that thought Tears for Fears would work.”

He stared at you with wide eyes, pleading and sad. 

“ —For once in your life think, idiot. What song would I have really liked?” 

“I– I don’t know.” He said. It came out like a whimper. He was more broken now, softer, yet still desperate. 

“Exactly. You don’t love me.”

“You know what? You’re right.” He stood, closing the gap between your bodies in a few strides. He wanted to touch you, but was too afraid to ask, “I don’t love you.“ 

“I hate all of your stupid questions.” He started, and you didn’t speak, “I hate how all of my clientele comes from you now. I hate that I only get you when you’re home for the weekend. I hate that stupid little scar on your eyebrow. I hate the way your hair gets in your mouth when you laugh. I hate that dumb little scar on your forehead. I hate that you’re so goddamn perfect for me and I hate myself for letting you walk away like that.” He finished, breath heaving. 

You felt the tears pull at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t warrant them to spill. 

“I hate that you’re a grown man with fucking bangs.” You said, unable to finish. You felt stupid, two stupid little tears slipping from your eyes and streaking down your face.

He opened his arms to you, prompting, and you took it. Part of it so he couldn’t see you crying, the second part of you desperately needing to feel him. 

“I’m so mean.” You wailed into his chest. You felt the rumble of the laugh he couldn’t suppress. 

“I know, so mean.” He said, not as an insult or an agreement, but in endearment. He pressed a sympathy kiss to your crown. His hand was warm as it pulled up the expanse of your back. 

“I’m sorry.” You pulled away, wiping your face furiously with the heels of your palms. 

“No- no. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to get caught up in my hot and cold like that.”

Your feverance prevails, “I should have asked what happened.”

“I should have asked you out.” He counteracts, pulling back to smooth down the wiry hairs at your crown, his hand heavy against your skull. 

“Can you do it now?” You plead, and he laughs. 

“Will you stop crying?”

“Yeah.” 

He pulls away from you for a second, you want to whine at the loss of contact. He crouches down on one knee, keeping your hands squeezed tightly in his calloused palms. 

“Then will you do me the tremendous honor of being my girl?” He runs his hand up the back of yours, trying to feel for an electric pulse of an answer. The seconds that you take nearly kill him. 

You stare down at him, eyes still red and puffy, but wide, “And not just like at parties?” 

“No, like the full weekday thing.” His smile is warm. You take great comfort in it. 

“Yeah.”

You think you look stupid, crying in your bedroom while he holds you like this. But he burns this memory in his mind. Even when you’re crying, you’re still the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. 

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Beach Baby (Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

A short, fluffy summertime drabble based on this text post by @sunflowerdaydreamer

Word Count:701

Authour’s Note:I even went to the trouble of looking up beaches in Indiana for this one lmao. Also we’re ignoring the canon that Eddie died in 1986 because of course we are and that he lived long enough to see Baywatch.

Masterlist

“Alright, you kids got everything you need, now?” Wayne asks just as you and Eddie are about to head out the door.

“Yeah, I think we’re good, right babe?” Eddie turns to you, a wide smile stretching across his lips.

It was a warm summer day and Eddie decided that instead of being cooped up in that hot tin-can trailer he called home, he was going to treat you to a day out at the beach.

“Yeah, we’ve got everything, Mr.Munson” 

“How many times do I gotta tell you, call me Wayne” he tells you, a soft smile pulling at the older Munson’s features. “Alright you kids go have fun now” he shouts as he waves you off, before quickly pulling Eddie back for one moment “..and son, you look after her, take good care of your girl, now, you hear me?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, now be off with you” Wayne laughs as he ruffles his nephew’s hair and gently pushes him out the door.

Eddie opens up the passenger side door to his van, offering you his hand as you step in

“Your chariot awaits, M’lady” he jokes, bowing in a grand gesture as he helps you into your seat.

Eddie rushes around to jump into the driver’s seat next to you, before turning to you with a smile.

“TO THE BEACH!” he cheers as he twists the key in the ignition.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you at your boyfriend’s antics. He never failed to make you laugh.

_______

The drive to the beach, although filled with comfortable silences, soundtracked by the sound of one of Eddie’s Metallica tapes playing on low in the background, was a lot harder than you had first anticipated. A lot harder. Eddie was sitting there, one  hand loosely gripping the steering wheel, the other hand resting on your thigh. His long, dark, unruly curls tied back in a little bun at the nape of his neck. He’s wearing his Black swim shorts that have the little skull and crossbones on them (which you had told him you found  incredibly adorable) and an old loose fitting Black Sabbath t-shirt which had been on the receiving end of Eddie and his scissors, turning the t-shirt into a crop top. He looked so good like this, in your eyes he was so effortlessly handsome, with his dark sunglasses perched up on his head, and a growing cluster of freckles spreading across his button nose and rosy cheeks. 

Wether or not he was aware of the effect he had on you, he had you slyly squeezing your thighs together to ease the tension.  

You finally reach the warm soft sands and welcoming ocean breeze of Whihala beach, and despite there already being a handful people there, it wasn’t overly busy. Eddie pulled up his van into the car park just outside the beach, and then you both made your way down to the beach.

Setting your towels and bags down on the perfect spot, you shimmy out of your high-waisted denim shorts and throw off your baggy white t-shirt to reveal a perfectly fitting red one-piece swimsuit.

Eddie rarely found himself lost for words, but he was not ready to see you, every inch of soft skin and delicious curves perfectly covered by a bright red swimsuit. He felt his mouth water, and his swim-shorts tighten ever so slightly. If you asked Eddie, Pamela Anderson had nothing on you. 

His idea of spending a fun-filled beach day with his girl, turned into him thinking of all the ways he could get you alone. To spend some quality, one-on-one time with you away from prying eyes. How he so badly wanted to hold you close to him whilst he showed you just how sexy he thought you were.

He’s immediately brought out of his daydream of beach sex with his girlfriend, by the sound of your voice.

“Eddie! Are we getting in the water or not?” you laugh.

He immediately tugs you by the hand towards the sea.

“C’mon Sweetheart, the sea’s waiting for us!”

Yeah this was a good idea, Eddie thinks to himself. The perfect way to cool down on a hot summer’s day.

______

@mcbeanzontoast @munsonology @penguinsandpotterheads

[coltrainbat]

Can I get a sweet fluffy Andy like anything Andy no Laurie (I ignore she exists anyway lol) but sweet Andy couple stuff

Yes! Yes! Yes! Hope this is exactly what you needed angel. ✨💕

What to Wear

Summary: You cant find a shirt that fits but Andy's always there to help. BigChested!Reader X Andy Barber

Warnings: Fluff

Too tight. Too loose. Too small. Too… awkward.

You huffed in mirror, trying to find a top for your date night with your boyfriend, Andy.

“Honey you ready yet?” Shit, he was going to find you in the wardrobe, a sweaty mess with clothes thrown everywhere.

“Just a second!”

You could feel the tears forming in your eyes from frustration. Nothing fit over your chest properly and you simply just wanted to look classy and cute for your date, but your only choices were Hooters waitress or Grandma muumuu.

“Honey, is something wrong… I’m going to come in, okay?” the door slid open to Andy with a look of concern on his face. He looked gorgeous as ever in a button up with the sleeves rolled up, his take on casual was taking off his tie and rolling up his sleeves after work and God did it look good on him.

“Oh, baby what’s all this?” He looked at you slouched down in the chair, in the only comfortable lace black bra you own, clothes and hangers strewn over the floor. You covered your face with your handing hoping he wouldn’t pick up on your tear-stained cheeks.

“Nothing fits Andy! Nothing unless you want to take out Pamela Anderson...” You pulled up the red bodysuit that was barely a top and more loke a thin piece of fabric. “…Or Paula Dean!” in your other hand the overly floral button up that looked like a sack on you, was far too big and managed to cover any sign of curves on your body.

He moved closer crouching down at the chair in front of you “Well if its ok with you, I’d like to take you out and I don’t mind what you’re wearing now.” He traced a finger over the lace covering your breast.

“This is a bra, Andy!”

“Well, it’s a very nice bra.” He inched his face, putting his palm on your cheek washing away any residue of tears.

“Hey, I don’t care what you wear, I know what you look like, and I love you… hell I think you look good in one of my shirts – why don’t you try one of them on?”

You had worn Andy’s button ups before around the house from time to time. The expensive shirt was soft against your skin and the buttons didn’t gape over your chest.

Andy hopped up and started sifting through the racks of shirts, pulling out an off white slim fit button up.

“I’m no fashion stylist but this will go with your jeans… try it on.”

You were hesitant but took the shirt from him, his eyes never leaving yours as you slowly pulled it across your shoulders. Your arms weren’t tight within the fabric as they usually catered to Andy’s large biceps.

“Here let me help.” He buttoned up the shirt starting from the bottom, one by one, grazing the skin of your stomach ever so softly.

“I think it’d look better without the bra but that’s just me.” He smirked

Bra-less was not an option for you given the fact your breast weren’t naturally perky but it warmed your heart that he didn’t care.

“Ok let me finish it off” Once the last button was done showing a hint of cleavage, you tucked once side into your jeans and zipped them up. Readjusting the gold necklace Andy got you for your birthday so the pendant sat in the valley of your chest.

You finally got a good look of yourself. You looked amazing.

Andy came up behind you as you admired your figure in the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I think it looks better on you.” He whispered in your ear lips grazing your lobe, eyes never leaving the reflection of you two in the mirror.

You smiled at yourself in the mirror for the first time in months.

“I think we should leave now before I decide I want you to myself for the rest of the night.” Andy’s grip tightened around your waist as he turned you around to face him.

“Ok let’s go.” With a quick kiss on his lips, you finally found something to wear. As well as a new favourite shirt.