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aetherraeys · 3 months ago

Text

hands-on lesson

poly!marauders x afab!reader ⊹ 5.5k

direct continuation of visual learner (so no plot) mwah!

cw ⟢ smut 18+ mdni, swearing, lots of kissings, inexperienced!reader, praise, dry humping, fingering, lots of petnames, usage of "pet", aftercare

summary: it started out with a kiss but now youre well and truly in the deep end, and the boys think a hands-on approach is more effective.

a/n: two smuts in a row, no one call me a slut. this sinfully long and theres basically no plot and idc, theyre hot. i feel no shame! without a doubt doing a pt3 bcs this would be like 8k of fucking otherwise not proofread x

“Should we stop, or do you wanna keep learning?”

If your brain was anything other than a gooey mess in your head, you’d have been able to answer him, instead, all you could focus on were the soft kisses that Sirius planted against your skin, eyes shut—basking in his touch.

You’d forgotten he’d even asked when his questioning hmmm reached your ears, inhaling deeply through your nose, searching for the air to support your voice—but when your lips parted to answer, the words couldn’t seem to find their way out. Mind too foggy, the remnants of a shuddering breath falling from you as your response slipped away—the way he worked his way back up your jaw, pecking and nibbling at the skin—your head was all but spinning.

His hands had snuck under the hem of your top, the backs of his nails lightly dragging over the curves at your side, leaving goosebumps in their wake—a harsh shiver running through you, spine forming a delicious arch that made James’ throat dry. And as Sirius’ lips inched closer to yours again, you found yourself instinctively chasing after them, connecting your lips with a quiet, content sigh.

His grin against your lips was positively wolfish, though it didn’t last long—pushing back into the your lips with a feverish want that was palpable, to everyone.

James forcibly rubbed his palms against the fabric of his trouser, restless in his seat as he watched the way your fingers tangled in Sirius’ hair, room filling with your soft mewls—blending so prettily with the low groans you pulled from Sirius’ throat as he tilted to his head to deepen the kiss. James caught a glimpse of Remus, adam’s apple bobbing—gaze locked on the exposed skin of your torso that Sirius had so graciously bared, pads of his fingers dimpling the flesh.

Sirius had a way with his lips, undeniably intoxicating, dizzying you longer you stayed connected, a warmth burning low in the pits of your stomach. He was overwhelming every one of your senses and you couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away.

One of Sirius’ hands trailed up, palm resting over your throat, fingertips holding your jaw in place, taking your bottom lip into his teeth as he pulled away, eyes dark and lips stretching into a mischievous grin. Melting into his palm against your neck, letting him tilt your head back to nip at your collarbone again, small pants falling from you.

Words spread between the wet, open mouth kisses pressed to your skin, he huffed out a small chuckle—

”I’ll…take that…as…a yes…”

The quiet content hum you produced was barely a response, but it wasn’t your fault, Sirius had effectively turned your brain to goo and you weren’t going to stop him, savoring the warmth of his lips. He opened his eyes to sneak a peek at you, when his sights fell on James—cheeks almost as flushed as yours. Practically at the edge of his seat, fingers twitching at his sides, and Remus—he was no better. Shifting and fidgeting beside James, lips parted, gaze dark and intense as he watched.

He hadn’t meant to so self-indulgent, but you were all but putty in his hands and Sirius wasn’t going to deny himself such a luxury.

Though, he did feel a bit bad for poor James, he looked like he was about to combust from his efforts to restrain himself and remain seated.

Letting the hand that was delicately wrapped around your neck drift and join his other—cradling your face slightly, your eyes opened to find Sirius’ directly infront of yours, the tips of his nose brushing over the skin of your cheek. His lips were only just ghosting over yours, something glimmering in his eyes as they ran over your entire face—and though he held your head in place, he could feel the way you leaned into his touch.

Draw to his lips.

And it did nothing to quell his already inflated ego.

He was tempting—teasing you with another kiss, tilting his head when his tongue darted out to wet his flushed lips. Voice so low the vibrations sent a shiver through you—

“Mmmm, think Jamie wants a bit of your attention, sweetheart,”

Only then did you remember it was more than just you and Sirius in the room together, turning your head to find both James and Remus’ eyes already on you, burning so hot and intense you felt the air catch in your throat.

James’ self-control was already teetering on the edge, unravelling, thread by thread.

He was on you before you could even react, fingers slipping under your thighs as he pulled your onto him and out of Sirius’ lap. The smallest of gasps escaped you, fingers curling into his shoulders—your lips still buzzed with the remnants of Sirius’ kiss, and the heat of James’ palms as they gripped your thighs only added fuel to the small pit burning in you.

An amused chuckle sounded from beside you, Sirius, watching as you melted so easily against him, watching the way James’ eyes scanned you, as if sizing you up, like a predator evaluating his meal before pouncing.

James didn’t acknowledge his watchful gaze, or Remus’. He couldn’t take he eyes off you, not even for a second—his lips were so close to yours, almost touching, almost connected. Your breath fanned over the surface of his skin, leaving you in small huffs before you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, looking up at him through your lashes, innocent—bleary.

"You’re coming with me," he purred, voice honeyed, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

He adjusted his grip, one arm secure under your legs, the other braced against your back as he lifted you up both up and off of the sofa forcing the air left your lungs in a startled gasp—carrying effortlessly through the dimly lit corridor.

"Jamie!”

He cut you off with a kiss. Slow, deliberate, his lips pressing to yours as he’d been starved of touch this whole time. His steps never faltered, even as your fingers found the tufts at the nape of his neck, tilting into him. He hummed into your mouth, tongue flicking teasingly against yours before pulling back just enough to grin at you.

Behind you, Sirius let out a low groan. "Now he’s just showing off."

Remus swallowed thickly, eyes tracing the curve of your throat—James’ mouth against it—the way your lips were still parted, dazed from the kiss. Before he worked his way back to your lips, you saw the way Sirius leaned in to murmur something to Remus, a smirk playing at his lips as they followed after you.

You barely heard the way the door shut with a soft click behind you, the loud ringing of your pulse thumping in your ears—James' lips were still on yours—harder this time, fiercer, as if the kiss in the hallway had only stoked something raw—desperate inside him.

A startled sound left you as he backed you against the edge of the bed, his hands tightening where they held you. There was nothing soft in the way he kissed you now—nothing patient. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that stole your breath, a bruising kind of want that left no room for uncertainty.

A snall whimper built in your throat, fingers curling into his shirt, and he almost growled—a low, frustrated sound against your mouth.

"So pretty," he muttered, words hot against your lips before biting at your bottom one, pulling until you gasped. "Don’t go shy on me now."

The bed dipped beneath you as he settled between your legs, hands bracketing your hips, thumbs pressing into the bone. He kissed you again, tongue sweeping into your mouth, deeper this time—searching, devouring. When you hesitated, overwhelmed, he rocked against you once, slow and deliberate, his hips pressing into yours with enough pressure to make your head spin.

A gasp slipped past your lips, and he smirked, pulling back just enough to drink you in, his pupils blown wide.

“Thaaat’s it,” he murmured, dragging a hand up your side, slipping beneath your shirt to press his palm flat against your ribs. “You’ll let me teach you, won’t you, sweetheart?”

Your heart hammered beneath your chest, breath coming quick, body alight with something new—something ovewhelming an addictive. Setting the surface of your skin alight—you struggled to find air—nodding dazed, and James leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Atta girl.”

From the doorway, Sirius let out an appreciative hum. “Bloody hell, Jamie, and you were worried I’d break her,”

He only smirked into your skin before tilting his head back up, claiming your lips again, leaving no time for you to catch your breath. His lips moved against yours, rough, insistent. His hands travelling along you wildly, unable to stay in one place for long before he moved it, grasping and groping—leaving goosebumps in his touch’s explorative wake.

He kissed like he wanted to ruin you—like he needed to, like every ounce of restraint had snapped the moment he had you beneath him. Almost every part of James was pressed against you, not even a slither of space between you, his palm curling around the under side of your thigh, hitching your leg up to his hip. Molding your body against him—fingertips digging into the flesh as he essentially manhandled you.

His hips rolled against yours, slow at first—taunting, teasing. The friction sent a jolt of heat straight through you, a soft, unbidden whimper falling from your lips. James caught it with a groan, teeth scraping your bottom lip before he tugged, drinking in the sound like it had gone straight to his head.

“Yeah?” he rasped, pulling back just enough to watch your face, to see the way your brows knit together, the way your breath hitched and shuddered with every shift of his hips. “You like that, sweetheart?”

You could only nod, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, trying to ground yourself as he rocked against you again—harder this time, his hips pressing down with delicious precision. The pressure was overwhelming, each slow grind setting your skin alight, winding something unbearably tight in the pit of your stomach.

"Words," his voice was hoarse, muffled against your jaw.

A breathless gasp tumbled out, but James didn’t let up. His hands slid under your shirt, thumbs brushing the bare skin of your waist, pressing into your ribs as he pinned you down, lips ghosting over your pulse—your body burned hot against his

"Come on, love," he purred, voice like silk, laced with something mean. "Let’s hear it."

Your nails dug into his arms, breath shuddering as he rocked into you again, dragging a strangled moan from your throat.

“James—”

“Mmmm,” he purred, pleased. "Knew you'd be good for me."

His praise made your head spin, warmth pooling low in your stomach. He kissed you again, swallowing every desperate noise that left your lips, his movements growing more insistent. Your thighs trembled beneath him, and you barely registered the low curse from beside you. Both Sirius and Remus had settled on either side of the mattress—watching in dark amusement, backs flush against the headboard.

Remus leaned over slightly, running his hand gently over your hair, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. ”This is more bullying than teaching, Prongs,”

James didn’t stop. Didn’t even acknowledge him. Instead, he smirked against your lips, eyes hooded as he murmured, “She can take it.”

Remus just swallowed thickly, exhaling a slow, hitching breath. His eyes wandering over both your figures, locking where James was grinding against you, discipline fraying with every moment because—fuck, you looked so good together.

Sirius was no better in his observation, joining Remus in his inclined position—breath tickling your ear, michief flickering wildly behind his eyes “Can you feel Jamie, sweetheart? Making you feel good?” his voice was teasing and syrupy, a perfect contrast to the way James’ hips moved with rough, calculated force.

Your head rolled towards him when James finally gave your lips a break—focusing on your neck.

Half-lidded eyes, blinking slowly as you tried to focus your gaze on Sirius, mewls still spilling from your lips with each mean buck of James’ hips against your core.

Gods, could you feel him.

Not just his lips—frenzied, nipping and sucking at the jaw, not just his hands—rough in the way they pawed at every part of your, from the curved of your ass to your hips and breast. You could feel him, the outline of his bulge, harsh and merciless in its rocking against you—making the saliva pool in your mouth, mind racing with lewd thoughts that sent even more heat rushing to the tips of ears.

He forced out a gasping whine when his hands came to pull you closer, bringing your hips up to meet his rough grinds. Your eyes were still on Sirius, you were nodding to him almost frantically—words breathy on another shuddering exhale.

“Yeah…mmph—’so big,”

Sirius’ brows cocked up into a suprised arch, always quick with his words until now, lips parting while he searched for a comeback and failing—a chuckle of disbelief falling from his lips, spreading into a grin.

If the combination of your moans and the delicious friction didn’t have James’ head spinning, your breathy little admission surely did the trick. His groan was deep, reverberating through his chest as he dropped his forehead against your shoulder, breath hot and uneven against your skin—rocking into you harsher, with more vigor, each rough grind sending little jolts of pleasure through you, making your body jolt lightly up the bed with the force of it.

The rough drag of his body against yours had you gasping, back arching as he set a pace that was utterly devastating. Each grind sent a pulse of pleasure through your core, stoked the warmth curling deep in your belly, made your thighs tremble where they bracketed his hips.

Sirius let out a low chuckle beside you, shaking his head in amusement. “Fuck, Prongs. You’re really set on breaking her in, aren’t you?”

James didn’t answer—too focused, too caught up in the warmth of you beneath him, in the way you gasped and clung to him with every deliberate roll of his hips. He was consuming you, and you let him, losing yourself in the sensations, in the deep pull of desire, in the way James knew exactly how to pull you apart.

Remus, lounging beside Sirius, exhaled a slow, measured breath. His eyes were sharp, intense, tracking every little reaction you gave, each quiver of your breath—your dazed expression. Letting out a half-exasperated sigh, the hint of a smirk curling at his lip, he shook his head. “James,” he chided, voice laced with amusement, “you shouldn’t ravish the poor girl.”

James groaned into your shoulder, pressing his weight against you one last time, rolling his hips in a way that had your breath catching in your throat. "I don’t hear her complaining," he muttered smugly. The warmth in his voice sent another wave of heat rolling through you, had your fingers tugging at his shirt like you wanted him closer even though there was no space left between you.

And yet, reluctantly, he pulled back, shifting onto his knees between your legs. His gaze flickered over you—your parted lips, the dazed, needy expression on your face, the way your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. Your legs were still spread around him, your skin flushed, lips swollen from kisses and your own unrestrained biting, top rucked up to expose the smooth expanse of your stomach.

You were wrecked—and they hadn’t even truly touched you yet.

Sirius made a sound low in his throat, something between a chuckle and a groan, dark eyes flicking over your form like he was committing every little detail to memory.

James swallowed, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip—maybe he had got a bit carried away. Exhaling a breath, he sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck, before finally shifting off you.

You barely had time to mourn the loss of his warmth before Remus moved, adjusting the pillows behind him before gently coaxing you up, guiding you to settle back against his chest. His arms around you, solid and warm, and the moment you leaned into him, a small gasp caught in your throat.

Because you felt it.

The hard, undeniable press of his arousal against your back, heat searing through the layers of fabric still between you. Your breath hitched, body going stiff for a fraction of a second before you melted against him, fingers unconsciously curling into the material of his trousers.

A deep hum rumbled through Remus’ chest, and his lips brushed the shell of your ear as he spoke, voice low and thick. “Y’alright, dove?”

He only felt you nod against him, still drinking in small breaths of air.

Chuckling softly, his hands smoothed over your thighs in slow, soothing motions, giving you time to come back into the room fully. After a few moments your breath evened he spoke again, “Wanna keep going?”

The question sent a fresh rush of heat flooding through you, but you nodded again, significantly more eager. He hummed lowly, palms still kneading your flesh, before slipping up, ghosting over the skin of your stomach. Tilting head to look down at you, he could see the way your lips were still flushed, a huffed chuckle punctuating his sentence—

“How about…we give your lips a bit of a break, love?” his lips just barely grazing your temple.

You still couldn’t trust your voice, humming in approval, tongue flicking lightly over your lips.

Sirius, who had settled beside you on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, let his fingers ghost over your leg, the touch barely there—teasing, absentminded touches that made your breath hitch. His gaze was dark, intruiged, dragging over your form with something keenly observant—like he was watching very closely for every little reaction you gave.

Remus shifted slightly behind you, hands sliding under the hem of your top, coaxing you to lift your arms. His movements were slow, patient, giving you time to stop him, but when you didn’t—when you let him—he hummed in approval, slipping the fabric up and over your head, baring you further to their hungry gazes.

The air kissed your newly exposed skin, raising goosebumps in its wake, and suddenly, you felt so aware of yourself—of the way their eyes were drinking you in, of the way Sirius’ tongue swiped over his bottom lip, of the way James’ breath hitched just slightly.

Sirius let out a low whistle, a slow, easy grin tugging at his lips. “Damn, sweetheart,” he mused, voice teasing but dripping with appreciation. “You’ve been hiding that from us all this time?”

Heat rushed to your face, but before you could stammer out a response, Remus exhaled a quiet chuckle against your skin.

Letting his palms smooth over your sides, murmuring his approval into your skin, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your ribs, his touch feather-light, teasing. Sirius and James just watched, fascinated, as Remus took his time, dragging his fingers over the delicate lace covering your chest, gaze flickering over your figure.

Remus’ voice was softer now, a quiet murmur, honeyed and lightly laced with desire.

“I have something I want to learn, too.”

You almost didn’t notice the way his fingers trailed down your body, skin prickling at the back of your neck when Remus started toying with the waistband of your trouser. Only just slipping the pads of his fingers underneath the edge before pulling away again, testing, and each time his did—air catches in your throat.

His lips brushed against your ear, voice patient but filled with quiet intent.

“Do you want these off?”

You swallowed thickly, your gaze flicking downward, watching the way his fingers played with the fabric one again—waiting, asking.

Answering with a trembling breath, “Yes…please.”

Sirius hummed in approval, his grin slow and lazy as he sat up, his fingers joining Remus’ as they worked together to ease you out of the fabric, their touches warm and reverent.

“Hmmm, such good manners,” His praise was a murmur against your temple, a quiet rumble of satisfaction that had a shiver running down your spine.

Remus’ gaze never wavered, his fingers tracing along your newly bared skin, watching, studying, soaking in every little shiver, every sharp intake of breath, every unconscious tilt of your hips. His thumb ghosted over your hipbone, over the top hem of your panties and them under the one that hugged the seam of your thighs.

Touches slow and tentative, so much so that your almost forgot to breath—eyes following his fingers just as much as James and Sirius’.

Remus’ other hand skimmed lower, teasing at the inside of your knee, coaxing your legs to part just a little wider, making nonsense patterns into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. The pads of the fingers on his other hand, just barely grazing over the front of your clothed core. And though he couldn’t see it directly, he could feel it—the small wet spot the had formed, spreading and darkening the colour of the fabric.

Your eyes had already shut at the contact, hairs on the back of your neck standing on end—teeth sinking into the flesh of your barely settled, swollen lips. Hands by your sides, balling into small fists as Remus lightly glided over the fabric for what felt like forever.

Already squirming restlessly at the ghostly touch.

And when he finally—finally—dipped his hand under, you sucked in a sharp, trembling breath. Body tensing, ridgid in his hold, his palm was so hot against your skin and your mouth felt impossibly dry when you tried to swallow—rid yourself of the lump that had formed in your throat.

Remus was still careful, watching each twitch of your thighs, each skipping rise and fall of your chest—viligant. He’d still barely done anything. Just cupping you, hums of approval rumbling in his chest at the way your core practically drooled over his fingers.

The steady pulse of your heartbeat sounding in your ears almost drowning out his words, “f-fuck dove, you’re soaked,”

Your muscles burned from the strain, using every cell in your brain to not buck helplessly into his hand. It was torturous really. The way he kept his hand firmly pressed against your folds, unmoving, the way he muttered against your neck, “so wet,” pausing between each word to press a kiss to your skin.

Relishing in the way your body shuddered against his, burning hotter at the moments pass—he hadn’t originally intended to tease you so, but the small whimpers that built in your throat with each squirm just tempted him too much.

The way you chewed at your bottom lip, brows arched and pinched on your forehead as you melted into him—relishing in how sensitive you were, how responsive your body was to his words.

“y’this messy just for us, dove? Mmmm, we’re so lucky,”

Both James and Sirius hum appreciatively from beside you, your eyes were still screwed shut, but you were sure their eyes were stuck on your middle—watching attentively as Remus finally moved his hand, just slightly dragging a finger through your slit, twitching in his hold. Thighs instinctively shifting to close when Sirius’ hand caught you, hand coaxing your thighs to part further.

Your head fell back onto Remus’ shoulder the second he moved his hand, even the slightest bit of friction sending waves of pleasure over your body. A gasping whine rushing past your lips, “rem,”

His other palm was pressed flush against your skin, comfortable under the hem of your panties—massaging lightly into your hip bone. Smirking into your skin as your hips raised off of the mattress slightly—pushing into his touch, pads of his fingers just barely gliding over your swollen bundle of nerves.

Sirius’ smirk widened, fingers dragging feather-light over your thigh, gaze flickering from your core to Remus as he mused lowly, “Didn’t realise you were such a sadist, Moony,”

The corners of Remus’ lips split into a wolfish grin as he finally decided to relent, ending your torment by making a single pressurised flick over your clit—your body jolted in his hold at the feeling. A soft whimper of his name leaving slipping out, and it had him twitching shamelessly in his trousers.

With each deliberate, languid roll of your bud against his fingers had your hands gripping harshly at the sheets beside you, walls spasming and clenching around nothing. And Remus could feel it, the throb of your core against him—smirking against the dip of your neck. Drinking in the small pants that fell from your lips, each heave your chest—letting one of his hands trail leisurely up your torso taking a mean handful of your breast.

Kissing a path up to your ear, lips ghosting over the shell—earning a particularly sweet gasp when one finger circled your entrance, the low, candied cadance his voice took had you struggling to swallow the saliva that pooled in your mouth. Nipping gently at your earlobe between his words—

“Wanna learn…how…to make you…feel good, pet.”

He’d effectively turneed your brain into mush, sucking in a shuddering breath when his pushed in a finger, producing an obscene squelch that had Sirius’ adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Your head rolled slightly, brows twitching in the arch high on your forehead, unable to focus on anything other than the slow drag, the in and out and in out of his long strokes—

”G’na let me take care of you?”

God you could barely breathe, every sense overwhelmed, pressed firmly against Remus—splayed out on the mattress surrendered, at his mercy. And you could feel the pressure, the way all the eyes in the room were on you, trained to where you Remus’ hand pumped, tantalisingly slow.

Remus chuckled lightly behind you at the delirious little nods you made, followed by a satisfied hum—drunk on the way you clenched around him, practically gushing around his single digit. Walls fluttering around him when he pushed all the way in, knuckle deep—and it knocked almsot all the wind out of you.

Body slumping into him, squeezing your eyes shut impossibly tighter as your mewls bounced and echoed off the walls, “f-fuck—rem, ngh,” almost overshadowing the lewd wet sounds coming from your middle.

Thighs trembling forcefully when he worked another finger past the tight ring of muscles, jaw hanging loose—moans spilling uncontrollably from your lips. Unable to keep your body still, grinding against his hand. The stretch was immaculate, dizzying and it had the coil in the pit of your stomach twisting even tighter.

You barely heard the groan from beside you, just feeling the cold air against your folds, Remus had uncovered you, panties pulled lazily to the side. And you had no time to feel shy at the sudden exposure, because his was back to bullying his digits into you, fingers curling into your plush walls, searching for that one-

“Mmpfh! Hngh-”

Spine forming a delicious arch, jaw falling slack as Sirius inched closer to you, pressing small nibbling kisses into the flesh of your inner thigh, “—shit, so gorgeous, love,” taking his time to suck a small mark into your skin. Gaze shifting to James, who was just as breathless as you, palming his own tented trousers beside Remus, a smirk splitting onto his lips at the sight, “Look,”

Remus was reeling his two fingers back, all the way, just barely leaving them kissing the surface of your folds—spreading them slightly—a clear sheen of slick coating his fingers. Giving them a meer moment to admire you before plunging back in.

Rough pads of his finger prodding ruthless against that spot—over and over, like he was addicted to the fluttering clench of your walls around him. High on the sweet whines that spilled from you.

Muttering against your pulse, “Yeah, sweetheart? Right there?” grinning into your skin.

Your mind was scattered, chanting your hips up into his hand, desperate—feverish. The steady curling push push push had your eyes rolling into the depths of your skull, Sirius’ voice sounded far away, muffled—vaguely computing his words, “fuck, thaaat’s it, angel—you close?”

It was so overwhelming, the invasive heat that spread beneath your skin, the room practically spinning around you when you forced your eyes to open just a slither. Immediately met with Sirius’ hooded gaze, his smirk spreading wider across his lips, your fingers twitched endlessly at your sides.

Body jittering as the coil in your stomach wound tighter as the seconds passed—it wasn’t until Remus brought his thumb over your throbbing bundle of nerves, rubbing tight little circles in time with the rough prods he pushed against that spot—that your thighs threatening to clamp shut around his hand at the stimulation.

A sinfully sweet cry forcing its way out of your mouth, Sirius watched as tears sprung in your eyes, prying your thighs apart—and you heard Remus’ voice distantly in your ears, taking his own leg over yours to keep you in place,

“No, no, no keep them open, pet. Wanna make you feel good,”

He could feel the way you squeezed and pulsed around him, hips bucking wildly into his palm, choked incoherent whines filling the room. Sirius still littering marks over your thighs—his eyes flickering between you and James, who was desperately fisting his length in time with Remus’ hand—jaw slacked, huffing out breathless pants.

Tears clung to your lashes, teetering dangerously close to the edge, writhing in Remus’ hold—mattress creaking lowly, a lewd little staccato with the squelches from below.

Eyes rolling into the back of your head before squeezing shut—pushing tears out the corners of your eye. Desperately scrambling for purchase, anything to keep you tethered to the room.

Sirius interlocked one hand with yours, the other—clawing at Remus’ forearm as he worked to push you over the edge, words hypnotising and honeyed.

“you’re okay, sweetheart—that’s it, taaake it,”

Bringing his lips to suck a small bruise into the thin skin behind your ear, body seizing in his hold, forming a delicate little arch as your jaw slacked. Wanton babbles leaving you as the coil in your stomach snapped—high washing over you, stars clouding your vision. A string of strangled gasps “hngh—rem, so—remus,” spilling out.

Your eyes snap open, a broken little sob leaving you when his fingers didn’t stop—hips bucking away from his touch while he worked you through your high, muttering against your temples, “Goood girl, keep cumming f’me,” shuddering in his hold, the mantra of his name heavy on your lips even after you slacked into him.

Aftershocks wracked through you in quiet tremors, your body boneless against the mattress as your heartbeat echoed like waves in your ears—loud and steady and a little unmoored. Remus stayed holding you, murmuring soft praise as he slowly pulled out, careful and gentle with every motion.

He pressed small, fluttering kisses over your shoulder, the corner of your neck—reverent and grounding. One hand brushing hair from your damp forehead, palms warm and steady.

“Did so well,” words low and soothing as he whispered “Just breathe, love. I’ve got you.”

You let out a soft, trembling exhale, too far under to say anything yet, but the way your fingers curled around his wrist was enough.

Sirius inched up beside you, head resting lightly on your stomach, thumb grazing the edge of your temple as he took you in. “Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured softly, “Y’alright? Still with us?”

You gave him the smallest nod, blinking up at him with glazed, half-lidded eyes. Sirius sighed, all fondness, and leaned in to kiss your cheek, the corner of your lips.

James murmured something about water and padded off to the kitchen, returning a minute later with a warm cloth in one hand and a glass that he helped you sip from carefully, brushing his fingers under your chin as you drank.

Remus took the warm cloth, gently tending to you—every swipe over your skin tender and attentive, whispering praise into the crook of your neck, your hair, your temple. Eyes fluttering closed as you basked in the warmth of their touch.

pt 3

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atxchiphxbix · 4 months ago

Text

Content. mdni afab + f! reader, unprotected sex, swearing, caleb finishes in reader, he does call you pipsqueak like once, caleb is called gege once, handjob, overstimulation, slight size difference, grinding and humping, making out, and slight religious imagery (mentions of heaven and sinners)

a/n: inspired by his affinity 85 secret times: lover's whisper. bro had my knees buckling and everything so I had to lock in and write this. infold is cooking w caleb

Caleb is a desperate man. With desperate thoughts and desperate needs, but when you’re in bed with him — it seems he has all the time in the world.

With naked and sweaty bodies, he presses his hips oh so gently against the soft, weepy folds of your cunt as his lavender hues admire the gooey strings of slick that connect you both together (created by his dexterous fingers when buried deep inside you). He drinks in all of you, from your tits that heave up and down with heavy breaths to the swallowed lump in your throat, bruised by his kisses.

His warm hands run up the sides of your body reverently, lavishing your skin in angelic kisses while his hips buck feverishly against the soft flesh of your warm pussy. Your own hips buck and lips part in light gasps and moans whenever the pearly mushroom tip of his hard cock kisses your sensitive bundle of nerves — so close to just dipping into your wet warmth like you want.

But Caleb is a patient man, years of yearning and devotion are nothing compared to his last few minutes of mounting and humping your body under him.

“You’re so wet.” He murmurs, lips pressing gentle kisses to your burning temple. He isn’t even condescending about it. It’s a simple observation, one he finds great joy in when he pulls away, watching bands of your wetness keep the flesh of your cunt connected to his leaky tip, you’re begging for him not to leave even if you don’t say it. Your achy hole and twitchy clit say it all — flushed with need and desire.

Caleb swears to himself that only he will ever see you in this state. If anyone else got a glimpse of you with your legs hooked over his shoulders, teary-eyed, and weeping pussy all spread out for him — he’ll tear them apart.

A wave of embarrassment washes to your cheeks at his words before you’re reaching down and wrapping your hand around the thick girth of his length, giving him experimental pumps and listening to the erotic squelch whenever your dainty hand slides down. Caleb can’t help the way his hips twitch and he bucks, a heavy blush settling over his pale cheeks. His ears somehow get redder as he involuntarily fucks himself into the palm of your hand, purple irises looking desperately down at where your soft palm domes over his sensitive tip, thumbing over the slit of his cock and collecting pearls of pre-cum to fuck it back over him.

“Fu—ha, shit, pipsqueak,” he whines, catching your wrist in his hand and pulling you away from his pulsing cock. The expression on his face is cute, flushed redder than an apple, and embarrassed that he could cum from the feel of your warm palm wrapped around his hard, throbbing dick. He aches to be flesh to flesh in the depth of your tight hole but he holds himself back, wanting to tease and torment you for just a bit longer — like he has all the time in the world.

“Caleb,” you pout, bottom lip jutting out into the sweetest expression he’s ever seen on you.

What he doesn’t expect though, are your lithe fingers, snaking down to your thighs, using your middle and ring finger (that he will definitely put a ring on), and spreading your wet, sticky folds, open for him — presenting yourself to him.

He doesn't think you know the effect you have on him. Or perhaps you are aware and he's being played like a pawn, wrapped around your little finger — Caleb decides he's happy in the palm of your hand, settled into your heart.

“Gege,” you plead, and he swears he’s just gotten harder to the sound of your pleading voice. And he knows it’s over for him when you bat your pretty lashes and look up at him with the eyes you know he just can’t ignore, “Please put it in. Look, ‘m so wet and achy for you.”

Caleb loses it. Of course, how could he not fold when he sees you look up at him with such wanton need, begging him to bury into the deepest part of you? When you’re presenting yourself, whispering coos into his ear, and pressing sinful kisses to his hot skin.

Once the words leave your lips, the pilot is immediately pressing himself into your sopping cunt, and bullying his girth into you, stretching your velvety walls to accommodate his heavy length. His hips twitch, eager to fill you up with thick ropes of his hot seed and admire you as it pools in filthy globs underneath you, seeping into his dark sheets. He wants to lay in his bed and be reminded that you were here in that moment, in all waking moments.

Your lips part and a sharp breath is sucked into your lungs when you feel his tip notch into your entrance, but then you feel his entire cock splitting you open. The stretch is more than you expect and you’re suddenly crying out and clawing at his broad shoulders, twirling the cool chain of his necklace in your fingers with pleasured whines and pleas that grow in pitch as he sinks in your velvety walls inch by inch.

“Oh, fuc-” You swear he enjoys the way that you’re squirming around his thick length, takes pride in the way you’re writhing and moaning and eating your words as he folds you into a mean mating press.

“Oh, fuck… don’t stop, please. ‘s too deep, too good.” You hear yourself whine out, head falling back onto the plush pillow. He takes the time to kiss down on the glossy sheen of your neck, pink tongue darting out to taste your salty skin and the drool that trickles from the corner of your mouth.

“It’s too deep? Okay, I’ll be more gentle.” His voice is hot and gravelly against your ear, nibbling and suckling deep marks into your skin that'll last for days to come, each a reminder of this night.

His finger latch at your hips, pinning you down as his hips pull back until his tip is just barely lodged in the warmth of your cunt, fucking you gently with just the tip like the teasing bastard he is. He can’t tear his eyes away though, enraptured at the way your cunt flutters so greedily around him, trying to suck more of him into your desperate pussy.

“It’s my fault,” he croons, licking and suckling at your pebbling nipples with his mocking voice, “I should’ve made sure every part of you accepted me.”

You love Caleb, you truly do. But when he’s like this, making you eat your own words and fucking you with his sensitive, leaky tip, you just want him to fold you until your ankles hook over his shoulder and sink his entire length into the walls of your pussy until you feel him in your chest.

So you pull him closer by the cool chain of his dog tag, whining and pleading incessantly again to sink into you, to have his cock kissing your cervix, and flooding your womb with white ropes of his hot cum. It's really the least he could do. Slurred pleas of “gimme more” are pressed to his throat, a pitiful attempt to lull him into sheathing himself into the warmth of your pulsing walls once again.

And though it seems pathetic and pitiful, Caleb is Caleb. He is a man who can never deny you, no matter how absurd, minute or simple a request is; he wants to be the only one to complete it for you. The only one you turn to, the only one you need.

“It can't be too deep or too shallow. Can't be too rough or too gentle either. You're so hard to please.” He mumbles hotly against your ear but he relents, mounting himself on top of you and sliding his thick length into the warmth of your clenching cunt once again. He falls onto his forearms, palms cupping the top of your head to prevent your head from hitting the headboard. His deep strokes are punctuated when the bed knocks against the wall with a repeated thump, thump, thump and it only serves to remind you of his need.

The air feels like it’s been knocked out of your lungs and you whine into the kiss he captures your lips in — hot and flushed with need as his cock repeatedly bullies your g-spot. Your lips part and his name falls like a mantra, the only coherent thought in your head being Caleb and how good he’s making you feel.

It’s erotic, lewdly so, the way his skin on yours reverberates in the room and yet swallowed by the obscene squelching of your soaked cunt every time the man on top of you bottoms out, chasing his high and desperately bringing yours to you. Your whines and moans of his name sound sweeter than any harmony he’s ever heard and he swears that heaven opened its gates to a sinner like him. His name falls from your lips and yours from his, a swearing of devotion in your hazy minds. Born from a desire meant only for each other.

When his hand dips lower, thumbing at your sensitive clit, you find your lower stomach coiling and growing taut quickly — too quickly that you’re pushing at his sturdy shoulders with a throaty cry, back arching, legs trembling, and toes curling when he doesn’t stop his unrelenting rhythm.

“Cal-Caleb, stop. ‘s too much, I—”

He cuts you off, devouring your lips in a sloppy, languid kiss, globs of his saliva blend with yours, tongues tangling, and salacious webs of saliva connect your lips when he pulls away with a smug smile.

“My name isn’t a safeword.”

His teasing words instantly cause the tightness in your stomach to snap and you cum with a pleasured cry. With nothing to grasp onto, your nails rake down his back, reddening lines trailing in wake of the lingering crescent marks.

“Shit, shit, fu—”

The dull pain is barely registered when he feels your walls fluttering as you cum, surging his own orgasm through him. His eyes screw shut, bursts of white flashing behind his lids, and a raspy groan of your name rips from his vocal cords, hips erratically bucking until he’s overstimulating the both of you and painting your walls white with fat loads of his seed.

He collapses on top of you, burying his face into the sweaty crook of your neck, and laying kisses to your collarbone and neck, laving his tongue over the lovebites left over. He hums in contentment when your hands card through the damp strands of his dark hair, tracing the red lines on his shoulders and back — proof that you’ve laid claim on him.

His fingers rub soothing shapes into your hips and thighs, allowing a few shared beats of your hearts to pass before he's looking up at you with a spark in his eye. Still buried inside you, he flips your positions so that you’re on top of him, hands secured around your waist, and peppering kisses to the lavender bruises that’ve bloomed on your chest.

“Think we could go for a round two?

Caleb’s words send a light laugh through you and you’re wrapping your fingers around the silver chain of his dog tags, pulling him impossibly closer, and nosing the skin of his cheek with a teasingly glint in your eyes.

“Think you can handle me for another round? You seem kind of wiped, Caleb.” You tease, scattering light kisses along his jaw and your lips curl into a smug smile when his hands tighten imperceptibly on your waist.

In a second, he’s flipping you onto your back again with a raised brow and a light smirk. His violet hues look down hungrily at you.

He won't be satiated for a while.

“I guess we won’t know until we find out, will we?” He leans closer, his breath hot on your lips and silver chain cooling on your burning skin. “This time, you can’t tell me to stop.”

to the person at infold who is in charge of Caleb’s secret times… 🫡

#lads caleb #lnds caleb #caleb #love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb love and deepspace #crescent.creates #caleb smut #caleb x mc #caleb x y/n #xia yizhou #xia yizhou x reader #divider by cafekitsune #lads smut #lnds smut #c.caleb

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yameoto · 7 months ago

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being caitlyn’s lil stress-relief toy

tw; dom!caitlyn, fingerfucking, girlcock, cumdump, lots and lots of cum, she literally pounces onto you

caitlyn has a stressful job. even with passing her seat on the council over to sevika, she’s almost always swamped; whether it be with cleaning up the streets, piltover’s (her own) messes, or this that and the other. she can get as tightly coiled as a wind-up toy.

you could already tell she had a shitty day today; what with the way she roughly kicked her boots off at the door, slamming it shut with more force than you’re accustomed to. all of caitlyn’s movements are executed in that fluid, patented grace of hers—almost more subconscious than calculated.

today? caitlyn is pissed off, overworked, muscles screaming and the beginnings of a migraine throbbing at the left-side of her head. the only thing that’ll fix her?

her dick, inside you. effective immediately.

the moment she catches sight of you; gorgeous and lazily sprawled out on the sofa, legs kicked up behind you as you idly flick through that novel of yours—caitlyn is shameless to say, her more debauched instincts completely overcome her.

“oh, love,” your eyes crinkle, head tilting upwards at the sight of your lover, “you’re home. you wouldn’t believe—“

that’s all the time it takes, for caitlyn to wrench you up with ease and thrust you on top of her desk, hands clasped tight on your waist, pupils blown and breathing shallow. “wouldn’t believe what, dear?” her voice is rough as teeth drag down your shoulder. your body tenses in startle, though it relaxes almost just as quickly. caitlyn is clumsier than usual in jerking down your underwear. hastier, still.

your knees widen, like the good little girl you are. hers. all hers. caitlyn loves you. loves how easily your legs spread open for her cock. loves how your pussy takes her when she sinks inside you with an almost rabid groan. your walls tighten; briefly resisting the throbbing intrusion of her length before she pushes. a ripple of satisfaction throbs though her body and pools in your cunt, as she drives herself as deep into you as she can. her nails dig into the working muscles of your shoulder blades, and she pushes you right down against the desk, knees splayed far apart. an audible whimper escapes the both of you.

“so tight,” caitlyn gasps, a full-body shudder of relief thrumming through her body as she slumps forwards, lithe figure cacooning your trembling back, as she fucks you full. “like you made for—my cock.” gods. she’s needed this.

her grunts are low, echoing deep and breathy. you can feel it rumble against your back, though it’s nothing compared to the excruciating jolt of white-hot pleasure as her hips thrust, fucking into you. she cums, twice, before you do.

“mm. you smell so good,” caitlyn slurs, nose pressing against your nape. she breathes you in, hands sliding up your shirt, each slam of her hips sending a disgustingly, deliciously wet slapping sound reverberating about the room. “is that my perfume?”

you can’t respond, mental space particularity preoccupied by trying not to buck back wildly into your girlfriend like some fucking animal, the sounds of sloppy fucking resonating loud enough you’re almost sure the whole estate can hear. caitlyn muffles a sharp moan into your shoulder, before drawing out. you whine, urgent and despairing at the loss, and caitlyn’s eyes almost roll back at the strings of cum trawling from your pussy to her head, coated and shiny.

you’re the most beautiful sight she’s ever laid eyes upon. balanced precariously at the edge of her desk, pussy wide and wet and begging for her. caitlyn’s never been able to deny you.

she plunges two fingers into the your pulse, gaping open on her desk, clenching around a grand total of nothing as you bend, jutting your ass out like a mindless slut. yearning to be filled up again. caitlyn’s chuckle ghosts against your nape. she scoops out the gooey remnants of her cum, eyes hooded and glittering as thick, milky liquid drips obscenely from your hole to the likely very-important, extremely-life-altering documents filed meticulously upon her desk. the heavy lids of your eyes briefly widen.

“cait—“ you sound so pretty when you whine, “we’re—hnng—we’re makin’ a mess—”

it’s cute that you care. caitlyn certainly doesn’t—but she’s not above using it to fuck with you.

“i know. aren’t you terrible?” she teases, mildly, like she doesn’t delight in seeing wood darken with the splats of cum trickling down your thighs, her fingers coming away coated in the evidence of her. “leaking all over my paperwork.” your hips jerk, strangled noise elicited when caitlyn yanks her fingers out and replaces the curl of her knuckle with the familiar thickness of her cock. you swallow her back in, easily now, and the pressure pushes out another spurt of whiteness that oozes out from your pussy like a shockwave. your hands scrabble against the edge of the desk, moaning in reckless abandon.

caitlyn muffles a sharp cry, burrowing her face into the crook of your neck as your lower torso digs into the table, and the both of you cry out, at once. you’re ruining about a week’s worth of paperwork, reglazing mahogany. caitlyn only moans, louder, fervent and breathtaking.

she bites into your skin, and you release the most deliciously eye-rolling croon as her hips roll and she cums, once more, stretched to your limits. you’re hers, and she’ll damn well let everyone know it.

#yam talks #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn kiramman smut #caitlyn kiramman drabble #caitlyn x reader #arcane #arcane smut #arcane x reader #half feverish typed in 30min eyes rolled to the back of my head

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sturnmeovr · 5 months ago

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♡‧₊˚ Neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader - No Sex in the Elevator

MDNI - 18+, long ass word count, strong language, p in v, unprotected sex, public sex, elevator sex, oral m receiving, face fucking, squirting, daddy kink, praise kink? walk run of shame

The day was cold and dreary, gloomy clouds took over the sky, making your afternoon drag on. Recently you had been getting out of the house more; avoiding your upstairs neighbor at all costs was a newfound mission for you. You feared that your one-night stand – resulting in Matt placing an order on Instacart for a plan B and half a gallon of orange juice the next morning before he nonchalantly slipped out your front door – would cause an awkward encounter the next time you spoke to him. It was something you didn’t want to go through, so you ran from it, and you were pretty damn good at running from any problem that was bound to confront you — unless you had alcohol in your system, it was a different story then.

“Stairs are out of order, Sweetie,” the building maintenance man pulls you from your daydreams as you walk through the entrance of your apartment building. The potent smell of wet paint wafts over you, your nose crinkles as the smell makes its way to pierce your brain, leaving you lightheaded and gripping the banister to keep you from falling out.

The building you lived in was old and ancient, taking the elevator was something you dreaded doing. In fact, you hadn’t stepped one foot on it the whole time you had lived in your building. The old, creaky staircases were enough to convince the place was haunted, riding in a barely functioning elevator was the last thing you wanted to add to your shitty day. A huff leaves your lungs, and you pull your sweet seductive charm from the bottom of your gut, as much as you didn’t want to, “I can’t just slide past you?” a few bats of your lashes were sure to get the old geezer to compromise to your wishes, “promise I’ll be real quick.”

You knew any man was quick to crack under pressure when it came to your convincing demeanor, “just be —,” his words come to a halt, a familiar voice that always leaves a pit in your stomach speaks up, “since you’re letting her up that means I can sneak past too, right?” There was no need to spin on your heels to look the person in the eyes, you knew exactly who the deep, husky voice belonged to — your upstairs neighbor, Matt.

Squeezing your eyes shut as the maintenance man stutters over his words, “no can do, you and little lady r’gonna have to take the elevator.” The best way you could describe it; he sounded like a man who got caught red handed flirting with a young check out cashier by his wife. It was pathetic. You push out another breath, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms over your chest and make your way to the prehistoric elevator. Seriously, it looked like it was one of the first ones invented.

A low chuckle echoes off the hallway walls, making you increasingly more irritated as you jam the button repeatedly, wanting to summon the elevator to your floor so you could end this nightmare as soon as possible. No matter how much he got under your skin, his presence made a gooey arousal form in your panties each time he was near you; almost like your pussy sensed when he was close. She couldn’t resist him if your lives depended on it. It was hard to believe a guy you knew nothing about – other than his habit of late-night video gaming and how big his dick was – had this type of effect on you after only sleeping with him one time.

Hooking up with him wasn’t something you wanted to continue, it was dangerous. Any guy you hooked up with never failed to get too comfortable and you’d be damned if you had your obnoxiously sexy upstairs neighbor pounding on your door because you weren’t replying to his texts or calls. You weren’t ready for a relationship, and it seemed like every guy you thought about giving the pussy up to always forced some type of commitment on you. It was better not to get involved with anyone at all, which is one of the reasons why you had been practicing celibacy for the last few months – up until he came along.

The chime of the elevator breaks your gaze that was glued to the door as it slides open, taking a deep breath before stepping on. Anxiety rose in your chest, making your heart thump vigorously, the saliva drying out of your mouth. You gulp down what seems like air as you press the button to the fourth floor. As Matt leans in to press the fifth floor button, his woodsy cologne takes over the air, sending flashbacks of that rainy Saturday night running through your head. You didn’t budge from your spot, instead a smile unknowingly pulls at your lips, “what r’you smiling for, kid?” he asks in a hushed tone. The rawness of his raspy voice makes your eyes gravitate towards him, his icy blue arctics piercing deep into you like they did every time he came across your path. Something about his gaze was so intense, so captivating; it was hypnotizing.

“Nothing,” you mumble, taking a step back and tightening your grip on the railing that outlined the inside of the small, enclosed room. Your breath hitching once the elevator jolts upward, a quiet squeal slips from your lips, making Matt look at you, confusion sunk deep into his expression, “scared?” he asks, a chuckle following quickly behind his question. Your face crunching in irritation once more, “no!” you spit out defensively, “m’not scared – I just don’t like elevators.” You watch as a mischievous smirk makes itself known on his lips, “ahh, I see,” he takes a step back to the middle of the elevator, looking up at the sign that illuminates the number ‘2’, and back at you. “Since you aren’t scared – you wouldn’t care if I do this,” he teases, making one big jump that sends the small, enclosed room rocking.

A gasp escapes from your lungs, “Matt, stop!” you snap, clinging onto the railing for dear life. His laughter bounces off the walls, your jaw clenched tight as you scowl at him, “it’s not funny, Matt! This elevator is old, it can —,” your angelic voice gets interrupted by the elevator jolting to a stop, the lights cutting out abruptly. You push out a panicked squeal before flinging yourself towards Matt's dark silhouette, colliding face first with his chest as you do so. His arms wrap around you in a matter of milliseconds, and he pulls you into his strong build, “shhh – it's okay. Jus’ a lil’ malfunction, yeah?” His voice is soothing if anything, but it doesn’t help much because the thought of never getting out of the cramped space hits you like a freight train, the paranoia placing itself deep in your gut. Your chest heaves up and down as you manage to get out staggered breaths, not attempting to form any sentences because you knew it was pointless when you were in a mental state like this.

Matt’s grip tightens around you, rubbing a hand down your back, trying his best to calm you as hot tears stain his t-shirt, “s’gonna be okay – you have to calm down,” his words are as comforting as your favorite goose feather, satin covered pillow you slept with every night. You could tell he was trying his hardest to pull you out of your panic. You had to give him credit for trying, most men would be trying to pry the elevator doors open by now. You struggle over your own sobs, managing to get a few words out, “I ca – can’t. I can’t.” In a way, you were relieved it was pitch dark, he wouldn’t be able to see the fugly facial expression your face unwillingly made when you cried, and that saved you a lot of embarrassment.

“Yes, you can, Y/n. Deep breaths, okay?” he soothes, Matt pulls you from his grip, keeping his hands firm on each side of your shoulders for a few seconds before he does something you expected the very least; he smashes his lips into yours.

Your lips move in sync against his so passionately; like two lovers who had been parted for a lifetime, like they had been missing each other their whole lives. Matt hands cup the sides of your face, his thumbs collecting your left-over tears as he holds you in place, your hands balling fists into his shirt the whole time. Unbeknownst to you, you hadn't left his mind since that lonely Saturday night when he came knocking on your door in hopes of calling a truce, instead he ended up biting off more than he could chew, having you pinned to your mattress with his cum leaking out of your pussy by the time he was done with you.

Every encounter since, whether it be a small wave when passing in the stairwell or an eye roll when he'd 'coincidentally' get the mail at the same time as you every day. Every interaction always left him struck for words, his heart pounding harder than it ever had over any pinch of attention you'd give him. Lately, he went out of his way just get a reaction from you – hence why he broke the fucking elevator.

Matt glides his tongue across your bottom lip, pleading for access as his thumbs strokes the sides of your face. You hold out on him for a second, trying to be as teasing as you possibly could, but something about the feeling of his hands on you made you fold too quickly for comfort. You part lips slightly, allowing his tongue to dance with yours. You muffle out a moan as Matt walks you backward, the wall brings your bodies to a standstill, the cold railing prodding into your back.

Static sounds over the elevators intercom, making Matt disentangle himself from you, “Hello, this is New York City Fire Department, is the elevator you’re currently in malfunctioning?” You can feel the warmth of his body radiate off yours as he pulls away, making sure he doesn’t stray too far, “y-yea, we’re stuck,” his voice shaky, but not from what anyone would assume.

He wasn’t shaken up from being stuck in a tight space that felt like it was running out of oxygen, he was overwhelmed from having you this close to him again, his lips on yours like he had been manifesting since the first – and only – passionate sex session the two of you shared. He knew he couldn’t miss the opportunity of having you come undone on his cock one more time. He digs his fingertips into your hips, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses from your ear to your neck, and finally to the exposed cleavage spilling out of your shirt.

“Excuse me sir,” the lady on the other side of the intercom chimes in, “is the elevator experiencing a power outage?” A groan flees his mouth before he gives your breast a light nip. The sting of his teeth sinking into your skins earns a whimper from you, “Matt — Matt,” you stutter, trying to pull his attention away from your breasts.

“Y-yeah the lights — the lights are out,” his hands roam your body, spending the most time in the right places until they’re on your shoulders, guiding you down to your knees. Given your prior sexual experience, you loved taking control; seeing a man whimper under your own dominance always did something for you. Matt made you want to throw your celibacy and your dominant habits out the window, you couldn’t deny his touch if a million dollars was on the line. The way he fucked you was like nothing you had ever experienced before, and the best way you could describe coming on his dick was like an outer body experience; like a night out of partying and unknowingly stumbling across your soulmate on the street of New York City. Any time you were with him it felt like a movie, you and him being the main characters of the steamy rom-com. It was ecstasy to you. And him.

You fumble with his belt, tugging on it impatiently until you feel it come loose. The loose end coming back to pop you in the face, earning a hiss from you. The darkness makes you move primarily off touch as you yank his boxers down. You can feel the heat emanating off of his cock as it springs free, “fuckkk,” Matt drags out his words. You wrap a hand around his shaft, making him jump at your touch, too sensitive to the feeling of your ice-cold hands on him.

You give him a few pumps before taking his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his most delicate part as you stroke the rest that didn't fit in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down slowly, and coating his cock in your sweet, sticky salvia. A string of soft grunts spill from his mouth each time you take him further down your throat, only giving you motivation to please him more. The operator rudely interrupting over the intercom once more, “Sir, how many occupants are in the elevator with you?”

“Ju — wait, wait,” he laces his fingers through your hair, gently caressing your temple to let you know he’s talking to you. “Nuht uh,” you mutter, coming back up for air with a popping noise at his tip, and running your plump, kiss swollen lips down his length in a teasing manner. Matt was folding under pressure sooner than you expected. Much like you, he was used to being the dominant partner when it came to sex. He knew what he was doing and what he liked. He recently noticed when it came to you, he found himself being a bit too possessive – if it was up to him, he'd be fucking you until you were sprawled out on the carpeted floor of the elevator, temporarily paralyzed in a puddle of your own juices.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t pissed that you had been avoiding him after how good he fucked you two weeks ago; he put his all into it, so he was quite shocked, and disappointed, when you didn’t send a simple text the following days. He wanted to put you in your place for all the times you bitched him out at random hours of the day and night for being too loud, for coming in every other weekend too drunk to walk up the stairs or unlock your door, for rejecting him after he fucked into oblivion. Matt knew you needed a man to put you in your place and he intended to do just that. His grip tightening on your hair as he bucks his hips forwards, pushing his cock deep into your mouth.

His actions pull a gag from the back of your throat, his hips slowing their pace as he throws his head back. When you show no reluctance, it only gives him more reason the pick his pace back up, “s'fucking good,” his voice lewd from the mind-spinning pleasure you were gifting him with. Wet squelches slip from the back of your throat, drool dripping from your chin, forming sticky ropes to your breasts that were spilling out of your shirt. Matt continues to fuck himself into your mouth at a steady pace, making sure to keep his grip tight on your hair so you don’t pull away. Your hands place firmly on his thighs as you try your hardest to take his full length.

“Sir?” the lady over the intercom chimes in for the fourth time, at the same time you break free from his grasp, gasping for air. “Fuckk what?!” he spits out at the operator, irritation and dominance weaved around his hoarse voice.

“How many occupants are in the elevator with you?” she repeats the same question from before. You sit on the floor, attempting to collect yourself as he replies, “jus' me 'n my neighbor,” his tone was shaky and scattered. You’re surprised at how easily he finds you in the dark, snaking a hand around your arm before pulling you to your feet, spinning you around, and pressing you against the railing of the elevator. It was impressive how he didn’t care to ask; no questions – just do it. It was exactly what you looked for needed.

A fervid moan rolls off the tip of your tongue as he pushes your jean mini skirt up, letting it sit loose around your waist. His long fingers smooth over your clothed heat, making a throbbing sensation increase in your cunt, your slick arousal coating his index and middle finger as it seeps through your panties. His voice fiery as he groans out in awe, “already s’wet f’me, babygirl.” You didn’t know if it was his touch or his words, but one of them causes a carnal cry to erupt from your chest, rocking your hips towards him impatiently, “mph — all f’you, daddy.”

You push the words out in such a pornographic manner, making it impossible for Matt to hold back any longer. The operator's voice comes out muffled thru the intercom, “sorry for the inconvenience, we have the fire department en route to get you out. Please remain calm and don’t panic.”

Matt digs his fingertips into the lacy fabric that make up your panties, a faint ripping sound fills the room as he yanks them to the side roughly, causing a heaven-like moan to fall from your lips. He runs the tip of his cock along your folds, collecting as much of your juices as he can before lining himself up with your entrance, “ready, baby?” he asks lowly, not giving you time to reply before he thrusts into you with one long stroke. A gasp filled with a mixture of pain and pleasure creeps from the back of your throat, Matt leans forward to press a kiss to your shoulder, burying himself deeper into your pussy. “Fu — fuck, Matt,” you whine, flinging a hand back to push against his stomach. To your dismay, he’s intertwining your fingers in a matter of seconds, using your weight as leverage to catch a certain rhythm, not giving you much time to adjust to his thick size as he continuously plows into your sopping wet cunt.

You let out a string of soft, submissive moans, he keeps his pace steady, your still fingers laced together while his other hand fists your jean skirt that pooled at your waist, “M — att, Matt, Matt,” you chant out in a lascivious mantra. The feeling of his long, girthy cock teasing your cervix each time he thrusts in and out of your wetness has you ready to come undone at any given moment. It amazed you how well he could manipulate your body when he was barely acquainted with your mind. He fucked you like he knew your body, like he had studied for years.

You fall forwards once Matt unlocks his death grip on your hand, using the elevators railing for more support as he bucks his hips against you. His strong grip making its way around your neck, he gives it a light squeeze as his own way of signaling you to lean back against him. You do just that, letting your small figure melt into his tall build. His opposite hand slowly inches down your stomach until it's placed between your thighs, teasing circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves, earning soft whimpers from you, “what’s my name, baby?” his voice is dark and raspy like before, salacious if you could describe it. It only made you want to hear more. Arching your back against his frontside and bringing a hand up to lace through his hair, you tell him exactly what he wants to hear, “da — daddy,” you stamper over the moans refusing to let you form full sentences or even get a complete word out.

The magic title triggers him, each snap of his hips makes him bury his cock deeper inside your cunt, earning loud repetitive mewls from you and low, raspy grunts from him, “Matt — daddy I — fuck!”

Matt keeps you pressed into his strong build, his grasp tightening around your neck as your thrash in his arms. He leaves a trail of wet, sloppy kisses down the nape of your neck as he places your orgasm in front of you; quite literally handing it to you like a present wrapped in a pretty pink bow. “I know, baby — mph! — me too.” His thumb still works tight circles onto your clit, applying just enough pressure to make those blissful moans roll off the tip of your tongue. He loved every minute of it – his cock ramming into you at a rapid pace, your sweet, sacred moans echoing off the ancient walls, the rocking of the box-like cubicle as he fucks you out. He thrived off every moment he shared with you, sexual or not.

The little ball of bliss piling up in your gut finally dares to break loose, making it unbearable to ignore or to keep quiet. Your knees go weak, and your body convulses uncontrollably as you collapse against him fully, “oh my god! – I'm cum –,” your chest vibrating as another lewd mewl erupts from it, cutting your words off as a small stream of fluid squirts out of your fucked out cunt, coating the carpeted floors of the elevator. Your body goes limp, your chest heaving while Matt gives you a few more thrusts.

Your mind spun at the feeling of your annoyingly handsome upstairs neighbor making you climax, in a matter of minutes, under his control again. He releases you from his grip, only to push you forward, his grip firm on your waist to hold you in place, he pulls his cock out of your stretched pussy as quickly as he can before painting your ass cheek with his own cum. Heavy pants from the both of you fill the room, “fuck — d’you jus' squirt?” You can feel the redness creep up to your face almost immediately. You weren’t sure if you did or not, but you knew it was something you had never done before. With that being said, you’d rather not talk about it, “mphh — I don’t know,” one last moan flees your lips as he gives your ass one final squeeze, the ghosting of his hands leaving a burning sensation on your skin.

After collecting yourself, using one of Matt’s extra t-shirts he had stashed in his bag to blindly clean off the leftover residue of his cum; you just prayed you got it all. You and Matt sit in the darkness, your phone light reflecting off your face as the two of you sit in awkward silence. He clears his throat, his voice softer than before, “y’mad at me?”

You let out a sarcastic chuckle, “am I mad at you for ruining my night and getting me stuck in a scary death trap of an elevator?”

“Huh,” he spits out, matching your sarcastic tone, “I think the way I fucked you was a pretty good apology,” even though you couldn’t see his face that well, you knew a sly smirk was engraved deep in his expression. You look up at him, trying to make out the figure of his face in the dark before remembering you have a phone light to blind him with. You turn you flash on with one swift tap of your finger, shining it directly in his eyes, making him squint as you glare up at him, “savor it while you can because I will never fuck you again.”

Matt rolls his eyes, not taking you seriously at all. You furrow your eyebrows at him, colliding your phone into the side of his thick skull, “and if you even think about telling anyone you fucked me, I will —,” your sweet, honey-like voice gets cut off by Matt pressing his lips to your once again. What was this kids problem?

He pulls away with a goofy smile plastered across his face, “I love it when you get aggressive,” he coos lightly, earning a forced groan from you as you fight back a smile that tries so badly to make itself known.

A few moments later, the doors to the elevator gap open, allowing the bright hallway lights to peer through. You can see the fireman’s face as he peeks through the gap, “everybody alright? Nobody’s hurt?”

Matt keeps his eyes stuck on you like glue, “yeah we’re both okay,” a goofy smile pulls at his lips, making the one you had been biting back the whole time finally let loose. You smack at his arm, “it’s not funny, Matt. You got us stuck,” snapping at him as you desperately try to wipe the ear-to-ear grin off your face, your cheeks tinted a light shade of pink as you look away from him.

The firemen work on freeing you from the dark prison you had been trapped in for the past two hours, queuing the both of you to crawl through the gap one at a time. Of course, your upstairs neighbor — being the true gentleman he is — made sure to give you a boost. He also made sure his hands stayed on your ass as he lifted you up through the gaped doors, “get your hands off my ass, you perv!” you snap at him as the two firemen in front of you help you to your feet. Your comment earns a muffled, “jus’ trying to help, geez,” from Matt who was still trapped in the dark space below.

Once you're finally on your feet, you can see the group of firefighters, along with Matt’s two brothers and the maintenance man, standing close by with knowing smirks etched on their faces. You can hear one of his brothers mumble something like, " there should be a 'no sex in the elevator' rule from now on," which leaves you running for your apartment like a deer caught in headlights. Your head hangs low, you don't dare to make eye contact with any of them as you do your walk run of shame up the stairs. Matt’s deep voice bouncing off the hallway walls once you’re on your designated floor, “m’never leaving you alone, y/n!” You fumble with your keys as his footsteps patter up the stairs, weighing in on you quickly, muffled laughs falling close behind as you unlock your door.

‘At least he didn’t cum in me this time,’ was the only thought running rampant through your mind as you entered your apartment. You let the heavy door slam shut behind you, pressing your back against it, dropping your bag as you slide to the floor. “What the fuck jus’ happened?” you murmur to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose of out stress. You had mixed emotions about the whole ordeal, being imprisoned in an ancient death trap the last two hours. Wendy doesn’t allow you to stay distraught for long since you were late feeding her dinner, she prances up to you, her repeated meows bringing serotonin to your soul. A smile makes its way to your lips as you give Wendy a few pets, pulling yourself to your feet to prep her dinner and place your doordash order in the process

♡‧₊˚ Cheys Note - I'm making it a new goal to give you guys a longer fics every once in a while!! I feel like this add a lot of character development to Brat and Neighbor!Matt's dynamic. Let me know what you guys think?! And as always, thank you to my girl @sweetshuga for her expert opinions ❤️‍🔥

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rebelfell · 2 months ago

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Welcome to your appointment, @mugloversonly Eddie’s so happy to fit in you you in his schedule.

18+, MDNI┃1.4k

cw: drug use (weed), hand job, a little bit of begging 😈

Clouds had emerged as a theme of the evening.

It started with the rainstorm that had rolled in seemingly out of nowhere, dark and heavy clouds in the sky blotting out the sun and effectively nullifying your plans to go camping with the rest of the group. It hadn’t been all that disappointing, truth be told. The only reason you considered going was to see how poorly your not-remotely-outdoorsy boyfriend fared in the wilderness.

No matter, though. You and Eddie were good at making the most out of any night together.

You settled for ‘camping’ in his living room—building yourselves a blanket fort to hunker down in while this freak rainstorm raged outside, the sound of fat raindrops relentlessly hitting the roof drowning out the movie Eddie had put on, the flickering static TV screen acting as your bonfire.

Hazy clouds of smoke filled up the tight, cozy space as you and Eddie passed a joint back and forth, ostensibly to test out the new strain he’d gotten special from Rick for the trip. It certainly got the job done—making you feel all giggly and floaty, the muscles in your cheeks burning from smiling so much. Your body turned loose and slack, almost gooey you felt so relaxed.

And it made Eddie look especially delectable.

As if that was hard.

Really, you’d have taken any excuse to lay with him like this, his lanky limbs and yours entangled, his head nestled in the crook of your neck so he could plant and dot kisses along the curve of your collarbone and run his fingertips up and down your spine leaving tingles in their wake.

You nuzzled the top of his head, blowing gently on his bangs to fluff them up and then tittering softly when they tickled the inside of your nose. He snickered along with you, belly shaking.

“Hungry,” he groaned, all rough and raspy with smoke, “shoulda foraged for berries or some shit.”

You unwound yourself from around him and crawled out of the fort, clouds of weed smoke billowing out with you as you scampered into the kitchen. Pickings were slim considering you were meant to be gone all weekend, but you struck gold in one of the junk drawers.

“Ooh!” you exclaimed, prompting Eddie to poke his head out the top of the fort like a meerkat.

“That’s not food,” he snorted at the translucent pink bottle you held in your hand.

“It’s better, it’s bubbles!”

Your face split in a grin as you twisted off the cap and blew into the end of the plastic wand. A flurry of iridescent spheres mingled with the dissipating clouds of smoke that lingered in the air, swirling over and under one another when they got caught in the draft from the slightly cracked window at the far end of the room. Eddie’s mouth fell open and he craned his head back, trying to follow their paths until all of them had popped.

“Hey, bring ‘em over here,” he said, ducking back into the fort and then scrambling out of it.

Another one of the joints he had pre-rolled sat between his lips and he flicked his zippo clumsily in an attempt to light it. Realizing what he was doing, you held the wand up for him.

He took a drag and exhaled the hit, sending a slew of bubbles filled with opaque clouds bobbing through the air. One of them hovered in front of your face and you reached out a finger to pop it, releasing the little puff of smoke inside that you sucked down eagerly while Eddie watched.

He beamed as he placed the joint between your lips, taking the bottle for himself. You took turns trading off the joint and wand, seeing which of you could blow the biggest bubble so the other could pop it, your hunger quickly being replaced by mutual delight in your new game.

At least until in one over-eager attempt, Eddie fumbled the bottle and it spilled down your front.

Clouds of steam now fogged up the bathroom mirror as you ran the hot water, not realizing that Eddie had followed you in until he slid his hands around your waist from behind. He helped you to peel off your top that was suctioned to your skin where the bubble solution had soaked through, and he rubbed his ringed hands across your bare chest, reveling in the sliding sensation.

You stood under the water for a while just feeling one another. Your hands running up and down his chest, his smoothing over your hips and arms.

Everything just felt so good like this—the hot water at his back rushing down the planes of his shoulders, your warm and slippery body pressing up against his, the cloudy feeling filling up his head like the steam filling up the room.

His cock hardened without him even realizing, not feeling it until you two squeezed together. It dug hard into your hip and he smiled bashfully, eyes rounding when yours twinkled with mischief.

You wrapped your hand around his length and his whole body jerked forward. He let out a ragged breath, slapping one of his hands up on the tiled wall in a meager attempt to steady himself.

Shoulders shaking with a shudder, he groaned at the idle flick of your wrist, your palm full of body wash slowly—too slowly—sudsing up his cock.

It lit his brain on fire, the feel of your hand moving around him, soap frothing with every sinful slide.

“Sw-sweetheart, can…fuck…can you go a little bit f-faster?” he whimpered.

Pure evil danced behind your eyes as your motions slowed even more, dragging a pained whine from his throat. Your grip on him tightened, closing around his head and swiping the soft pad of your thumb over his slit, his knees shaking under him and threatening to give way.

“I don’t know, Eddie,” you said, dragging out each word to match your pace. “M’ kinda worn out.”

It wasn’t a full lie—the weed really did a number on you. But you and him both knew if you wanted to power through, you could. And you might have if only he wasn’t so much fun to torture.

“P-please, I’ll do anything,” he gasped, letting his head fall back and giving you a pristine view of his chest flushed red from a mix of the hot water and the blood rushing under his skin. “I’ll do-I’ll do all the work—just let me have your hand, yeah?”

Honestly, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen him this needy. Maybe it was something in the strain.

When he tilts his head back down, he’s staring at you with round, wet eyes that pierce directly into your soul. He begs you silently, his plush bottom lip trembling as droplets of water drip off it.

At long fucking last, you nod.

He wrapped his hand on top of yours to squeeze his own dick within your grasp. Your hand stilled as he held it in place, literally fucking your fist as he carefully drew his hips back to thrust.

The pace he sets is blistering, his face screwed up in what would seem like agony if it wasn’t for all the distinctly pleasurable sounds pouring out of him. Deep grunts and growls mixed in with the wet schlick of soap on his cock that only allows him to thrust that much harder and faster.

You let your hand hang there, mesmerized by the sight of him letting his basest instincts take over, almost animalistic in how he chases his end.

And when he comes, it’s practically explosive.

“Ohhsshhh…fuck, that was…shit, that was good…goddamn…”

Eddie barked out a laugh of relief, throwing his head back again so the water hit his face and ran down his chin and neck to the top of his chest. He loosened his hold on your hand, but doesn’t drop it until after he’s brought it to his lips to kiss all the way down the inside of your arm.

“Oh, thank you,” he breathed, chest still heaving, “thank you, thank you, thank you…”

You slid your fingertips into his sopping wet curls, scratching them lightly over the top of his head.

“Ed, I didn’t do anything,” you chuckled.

“You did everything,” he insisted, slowly yet surely catching his breath. “I wa…I wanna get you back, but I think the hot water’s about to run out.”

He gives you a patented, adorably forlorn look as he glances over his shoulder, the stream hitting his back steadily turning lukewarm.

“You can owe me one,” you giggled, making him laugh back with a shake of his damp hair.

“For that?” he smirked, “I owe you like twenty.”

Thank you so much for visiting the spa, we hope your services were satisfactory 🌿

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie stranger things #stranger things eddie #eddie munson fanfiction

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enkvyu · 2 years ago

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7:02pm — gojo satoru ; part two to this imagine

"gojo, your hair is in my mouth."

"you're lucky i washed it a few days ago."

you peer up at him over your phone. "a few days? how many? gojo, tell me."

gojo hums to himself and you hate that it might be serious consideration that he's under. "like maybe seven?"

you gag, flailing at your mouth and spitting out the few strands. you faintly hear gojo complain but it's overridden as you deal with your dilemma.

the two of you were curled inside the stomach of one of getou's curses as it flew across the ocean to arrive back at jujutsu high. the cramped space and gooey flesh makes you shiver, effectively increasing your poor mood, but perhaps the biggest detriment was the person you were stuck with.

sure, public transport was a viable option but yaga had specifically emphasised on the "top-secret" and "classified" written in big bold red letters on the mission file. this meant no one was to know, not ordinary people, not curses and not even other sorcerers.

granted, the school had access to one private jet which they were willing to offer, but that jet only had space for one.

the three of you had sat down and played a game of scissors paper rock to determine who takes it, and while you were lucky to win it for the trip forward, getou ends up victorious for the way back.

and now, you were stuck in close proximity with gojo inside the gut of a flying dragon.

"why are you in such a bad mood anyway?" gojo has the audacity to ask, as if he wasn't the sole reason why you were uncomfortable. you keep your mouth shut though, nothing good will come out of admitting your undying, and unfortunately unrequited, love for him.

"i'm in a perfectly fine mood."

"why do you look like that then, all constipated and everything? did you not go to the bathroom before we left?"

you curl your fingers into a fist and punch him in the chest. it hits his uniform, smearing some of the curses' stomach juice. "of course i did! i'm not a newbie sorcerer."

"ouch!"

"that didn't hurt you."

"how are you going to tell me how i feel?" gojo jabs back. "because it did hurt, it hurt my feelings."

"oh boohoo."

"so you are mad."

you bite your lip and turn away, finding the abdominal wall of the beast easier on the eyes than your own friend. "i'm not."

"you're sulking."

"i'm not." you hiss before taking in a deep breath. "look gojo, can we just stay quiet until we get there?"

gojo keeps staring at you through his glasses and his face fails to give his thoughts away. the suspense is killing you, but before you can relent and ask what he has to say, he clears his throat.

"i have something to tell you."

you sigh, rubbing at your head. "what is it?"

"wait, don't turn around and keeping looking at the wall. hey, what did i just say?"

"gojo, the view isn't really the best to sightsee. why can't i look at you?"

"because if you do, i don't think i can tell you after all."

you close your mouth. "is it that serious?"

"yeah." he clears his throat again, adjusting the collar of his uniform. "look, i know you've been weird around me the past few days and i don’t think it’s because i stretched out your uniform when i wore it last weekend. i don't know why you’re being mean to me, and shoko and getou won't tell me either."

you resist the urge to look at him. "you're having this kind of talk with me now? here? seriously?"

"you won't even stay in the same room as me for more than a few minutes! getou may call this curse his bad-luck curse but for me right now it's the only way to get you to listen to me." he stays quiet for a few seconds. "this is really serious, okay, so don't make any comments. i know you're practically brimming with them."

it was true you had a lot to say, but gojo's serious attitude was putting you off. still, having him call you out made you more aggravated and you let one slip. "well, this is really bad-luck for me."

gojo clicks his tongue and you can see the irritation on his face before his words are even coloured with it. "i'm not telling you this so you can feel the same way but—"

the curse suddenly tilts to the side, throwing you into gojo as the four walls of its stomach becomes a wheel, rotating you around. you yelp as your forehead hits him hard in the chest, tears springing to your eyes at the pain.

“what’s going on?”

the two of you spin round and round, and you can't distinguish your screams from gojo's as gravity plays you like a toy, throwing you around.

the movement makes you sick. "gojo, do something! blast it!"

"getou'll get mad if i kill another one of his curses!"

"are you kidding, we're going to die!"

gojo swears, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you into his chest. with his other arm, he holds out his hand and presses it on the flesh.

you tuck your chin in, squeezing your eyes shut when you realise he hadn't started chanting his technique. "what are you doing?" you look up at him and find him staring at the exit of the stomach through all the goo and chaos.

with a trembling finger, he points to it. you stare into the abyss, squinting your eyes to make out its indistinct shapes. what was that pulsing thing, attached to the side? and was it just you, but was it getting bigger?

with a start, you realise that the curse was about to throw up. and coincidentally, so were you.

"it's going to throw us up!" you share your realisation with gojo but the look on his face tells you he already arrived at the same thought.

he opens his mouth to say something, or scream you're not too sure as the walls of the stomach contracts. distantly, you feel gojo slide his other arm around you and his infinity takes over, shielding the two of you as you're forcefully ejected from the curse's mouth.

a scream escapes your throat as you escape the curse's, wind rushing through your ears. gojo swears again, bringing his arm up to protect your head.

you only know you're safe when you feel air again, the real kind, not the gas built up in the curse's stomach. a thud tells you gojo has landed on solid ground again and you've never felt more grateful to be alive, your entire body relaxing as your soul leaves.

gojo sighs with you, his hold slightly loosening.

getou watches as you're spat out, stepping out of the private jet with a big smile on his face. "you guys look rough."

you feel gojo tense his jaw rather than see it. "what was that for?"

getou shrugs, throwing a bag over his shoulder. he starts digging through it. "i told you that curse is some serious bad-luck. at least you both arrived in one piece.” he looks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “literally in one piece, are you guys going to stay like that forever?"

your mind slowly pieces together your position, still curled up in gojo's arms as he is sat on the pavement, before you leapt out. gojo makes no move to stop you, though you think he might have tsked.

"here, this is for you." getou finally pulls out what he was searching for from his bag and throws it at the two of you.

you catch it instinctively, studying the object in your hand. "a can of soda?"

"for surviving."

"that curse of yours is a safety hazard." you mutter, but accept the can. you crack open the lid and tilt your head back, taking a long, cool sip.

gojo stares down at the drink. "i told you i don't like this flavour!" he complains and you roll your eyes at his antics.

"then don't drink it."

"no. give me your one instead."

getou pauses, halfway to opening his own iced coffee. "huh? i got this for me. and you don't even like coffee! you should be glad i even got one for you in the first place."

"let's play a game of rock paper scissors to decide who gets it."

"no. i just told you i got this for me."

gojo stands up, taking a step forward menacingly. "huh? after what you put me through, you think i'm just going to take no for an answer?"

getou's eyes flicker to yours before he takes up gojo's challenge, activating his cursed technique. black liquid opens up the air beside him, a peering red eye on the other side. "can't handle rejection, gojo? because you better get used to it."

you take another sip as you watch the boys, absentmindedly wiping at a stain on your sleeve. you remember the feeling of gojo's arm around your body and you blush despite yourself.

"are you feeling sick?"

you look up to see that gojo had stopped fighting with getou, his entire attention on you.

"huh?"

"you're red in the face. you look like a tomato."

ignoring the last part, you hide your face behind your drink. "i'm fine."

getou looks between the two of you and there's a glint in his eyes that you've seen before, one that you've grown to dread.

he throws back the rest of his coffee, grimacing as it gives him a slight brain freeze, before crushing the can in his hand. gojo mutters a quick, "show off" that he ignores, instead chucking the can into a bin a few metres away.

"what a time." he starts saying, the words static. "that was great. well, now that i've finished my drink, i should head back inside."

“i should head in too. i smell real bad.” you sigh and give gojo a glare when he agrees.

“actually, can the two of you stay here? i think my curse isn’t feeling too well after eating you two. just until i come back, okay?”

you think there might be an ulterior motive but glancing over at the curse, you find that it did look greener than before.

"where are you going, and for how long?" you ask and hope the look in your eyes will make him stay.

"i need to tell yaga we finished the mission. you guys can just stay here, i've got it." then to you, he says, clenching his fist in support, "you got this."

you want to break his arm.

getou hurries away despite your silent plea, leaving you in an awkward silence with the one person you wanted to avoid most. you take multiple quick sips to busy yourself, but you can’t ignore the person standing by your side.

gojo shifts his balance to his other foot and the sound of his shoe against the pavement breaks the silence. "so."

"so."

"it's really bright, huh."

"you're wearing sunglasses."

"and do they completely cover my eyes? no they don't. i can still complain about the sun."

"just push your glasses up then."

"no." gojo huffs. "i look cooler this way."

"who told you that? because i know for a fact it wasn't anyone whose opinion actually matters." you jab back.

"your mum said that, actually."

"are you a child?"

"what, are you too cool for old jokes? they're iconic for a reason."

"and there's a reason why 'your mum jokes' died and should stay that way."

the natural way in which you banter with gojo gives you confidence. maybe it didn't matter that you liked him, or that he didn't like you back. it was enough that he was here with you now, joking around. perhaps you could even live with knowing that your unrequited love had come to an end, perhaps you could even pair them up yourself without a sense of bitter jealousy.

"i know you like getou." gojo says in one breath.

the peace you had come to, shatters.

"what?" you say in an inhale, and it comes out sounding weird.

gojo pouts, crossing his arms. "i'm right, aren't i? you like getou. i heard what you were saying to shoko that one time."

"don't eavesdrop on other people's conversations!"

"you were saying it pretty loudly, what was i meant to do? shut my ears?"

you wave away his whining. "stop, hold on. you think i like getou?"

gojo nods. "i don't think you do, i know. you said you like people like him."

"when did i ever say that? also, i'm not the one who likes getou, you are!"

"what?"

"what, what? you do, don't you? you told me yesterday that you liked getou."

"i never said that!"

"then who were you talking about?"

"who were you thinking about?" gojo shoots back. "because you didn't even hesitate when you explained your type to shoko. you were thinking of someone, weren't you?"

you gulp. "i asked first."

he looks at you long and hard and you stare back at your reflection through his glasses. his mouth opens and there's a mixed sense of dread and anticipation brewing in your stomach.

"tch."

"did you just click your tongue at me?"

gojo faces away. his jaw is tense as he blatantly ignores your question. "you're really annoying."

"huh? speak for yourself!"

"you have a problem with me?"

"i have a problem with your stupid attitude."

when gojo closes the distance between the two of you, you take a step back out of instinct. it doesn't matter though because gojo steps forward again, pushing you up against the curse getou had left behind. he slams a hand into the flesh of the curse and it makes a startled sound. the both of you ignore it. "it's you, idiot, i like—"

the force behind his slam is frightening, but the thought is torn from you when the sound of regurgitation grabs your attention. with a start, you turn around at the curse and find your phone on the ground at the entrance of the curse's mouth, covered in goo.

"my phone!" you exclaim, bending down to pick it up.

gojo backs up and groans loudly, but you don't care, wincing instead when the item is sticky.

"i didn't even know i lost this! thanks gojo, i think." your voice trails off wearily, holding up the phone and watching as viscous liquid slowly drips off it.

gojo rubs his face with his palm and you wonder why he looks so distressed. "that curse is seriously bad luck." meeting your eye, he points a finger at you. "listen to what i have to say!"

you raise your eyebrow at him. "damn okay, gojo's arrived." you mutter, wiping down the phone and pocketing it.

the clouds overhead parts, sunlight shining down in rays. the trees whistle in the summer breeze and light filters through the gaps in the leaves and branches. it hits gojo perfectly, adorning him in a golden light and you've never seen him so beautiful. guilt fills you at the thought and you hold your soda tighter.

he breathes in one more time. "i don't care that you like getou." he says. "because it doesn't matter to me. it just means i have to work harder to change your mind and get you to notice me instead."

"it's kind of hard to not notice you." you say. "i mean, look at what you're wearing."

gojo hisses. "don't ruin the mood, you're throwing me off. like i was saying, it's not your fault you like getou but i had to tell you this anyway, because it's been making my heart feel all prickly and stuff. so shut up and just stand there looking pretty, or whatever." his last few words trail off uncertainly, as if he never intended to say them at all.

"what are you even saying?" your heart picks up. was he about to confess?

"i'm saying that i think i like—"

"there you guys are!"

your head whips around at the voice, scanning the familiar landscape before settling on a single person. shoko stands metres away, waving a hand to grab your attention. "over here!"

"shoko!" a grin splits across your face. "i haven't seen you all day!"

"am i interrupting something?" she yells to get her voice across the distance.

you don't even look over at gojo as you shake your head. you had a feeling he was just going to tell you something you already knew, that he liked getou, anyway. “no! hold on, i'm coming over."

before you can run up to her, gojo grabs your arm, a deep frown etched on his face. "wait, you still haven't—!"

without another thought, you hand him your half-finished can of soda and wriggle out of his hold. "you can have the rest of that. i'll hear you out later, okay?"

"but the mood was so right!"

"look after the curse until getou’s back, later!"

gojo stands there in front of the bad-luck curse, one arm limp by his side and the other holding a can of blue soda. he watches as you fling yourself into shoko's arm, already listing all the things you've been saving up to tell her.

there's that prickly feeling again, gojo realises, noting the way the sun lightens the shade of your hair, the way your eyes curve up as you smile, and the way you hold onto shoko's hand, wishing that he had enough courage to hold yours.

defeated, battered and drained, gojo looks down at the can in his hand, and notes the slight lipstick stain on the rim.

with a red on his cheeks that didn't come from the sun, he presses the aluminium to his lips and takes a sip. it tastes sweet.

gojo decides that he'll just have to settle for this.

i hope this was okay considering i had no intentions of writing a part two. sorry for all the descriptions of stomachs and throw up, i was studying the digestive system 👎 if this isn’t what u guys expected feel free to leave a request !!

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo fluff #gojo imagine #gojo drabble #getou suguru #ieiri shoko #gojo satoru x you

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val-made-a-mistake · 1 year ago

Note

Currently imagining a scenario where you and Eddie have some sort of split custody arrangement for Venom, and you have some sort of NSFW dream about Eddie, and Venom sees the whole thing because of brain link or whatever, and then shares this exciting development with Eddie the next time he's bonded to Venom

venom is definitely not one to keep a secret, for sure 😭 thank you so much for your request, i hope you enjoy. :) smut-wise, it's a bit more focused on eddie than my previous fics where it was either symbiote-focused or an even split, hope that's okay. this was SO much fun to write!

warnings: brief smut, mentions of oral f receiving, mentions of "striking" the reader but it's totally a misunderstanding, loneliness, mentions of eating people/murder

word count: 3.3k

//////

It had been six days since Eddie had left for Seattle, and honestly, you hadn’t been expecting to fall into this loneliness so quickly. Venom might have been keeping you company by providing you with an endless stream of commentary in your inner conscience, and the chickens were constantly squawking and squabbling and wandering the length of the apartment as per usual, so it wasn’t like the space was totally silent, but still, Eddie’s absence was more saddening than you thought it would be. Over the course of the six days, you struggled to busy yourself. Of course you preferred Eddie having a job as to being without one, but one thing you particularly hated was how vague investigative jobs were, so as a result, you had no idea when he would come back or how long the work would take to be done.

For the time being, it looked like you were stuck here.

Before he’d left, Eddie had asked you to babysit Venom and his apartment, and now that you’d been here for an extended amount of time, you felt horribly restless.

Feeling the weight of the quiet apartment settling in, you cast a glance around the room. The hum of the refrigerator seemed to amplify in the sort-of silence, and you found yourself drawn to staring at Eddie's belongings scattered around.

Your gaze fell on a framed photograph on the shelf – Eddie with a carefree grin, arm slung around your shoulders. The memories flooded back, and a bittersweet smile touched your lips.

As if sensing your thoughts, Venom's voice rumbled in your mind.

EDDIE IS DEFINITELY MISSING OUT WITHOUT US AROUND.

The symbiote's attempt at comfort was appreciated, but it only deepened your sense of solitude.

Sighing you folded yourself into a ball on the couch, tucking your chin into your knees. The TV in front of you was off, and you had no intention to turn it on. For now, it was okay to mull in the quiet.

You mumbled into your knees, “What do you think he's up to in Seattle?"

CATCHING BAD GUYS. KICKING BUTT. EATING SEATTLE FOOD. ZOOMING AROUND. ACTING PATHETIC WITHOUT US THERE.

“V, you and I don’t know anything about investigative journalism,” you put in gently.

Venom was, of course, offended.

I KNOW A LOT ABOUT EATING BAD GUYS!

“Yeah, but Eddie won’t let you eat bad guys in Seattle any more than he does here.”

It was at that moment that Venom popped out from your shoulder blade, miniature head scowling.

HE SHOULD!

“Wanna go get a bite to eat?” you interjected, effectively ending the conversation. “I’ll even let you drive, if you want.”

Venom grinned much too wide for his intentions to be anything but nefarious, so you quickly added, “No eating people.”

You turned fast and pointed to the pizza box sign in the kitchen. “Eddie might not be here, but that rule’s definitely still active while you’re in my body, okay?”

Venom, for lack of a better word with his gaping mouth full of super-sized fangs, pouted.

YOU ARE NO FUN!

I just don’t want to be involved in any murder, you wanted to say, but slimy, black, glittering goo was already wrapping and contorting around your middle. Venom was enveloping you, taking over.

It was a bit of an unpleasant sensation as Venom’s monstrous gooey head locked into place over where yours used to be, and rows of impressive fangs unfolded in your suddenly super-sized mouth. It felt like somebody had cracked an egg over your head and the yolk was dripping down your body. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it. You had no idea how Eddie put up with it.

For how quickly his annoyance started, Venom seemed to get over it pretty quickly. He grinned and licked his lips.

I WOULD LIKE TO GO TO MCDONALDS.

//////

The room was shrouded in the quiet stillness of the night. The dim glow of a bedside lamp cast a warm pool of light on the walls, creating a cozy haven within the four corners of Eddie’s bedroom. You were in bed. Venom, for the first time that day, was quiet.

Under the soft blanket, your eyelids were growing heavy with the weight of the day's endeavours. You still missed Eddie, a lot, so much that your nightly FaceTime call almost wasn’t enough. Seeing his face on your laptop screen was just a further reminder of how far two states away felt, and how binded you felt to him since you met him — he pulled at you without even realizing it, like you’d been sewn together with invisible thread.

Hopefully he wouldn’t be in Seattle for too much longer.

The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to synchronize with the slowing pace of your breath. As the minutes ticked away, you found yourself on the threshold of the dream world, caught between wakefulness and the gentle pull of slumber. Not even the distant murmur of passing cars was enough to distract you now.

Closing your eyes, you surrendered to the sensation of falling asleep, gently gliding down into the abyss of dreams. Eddie’s bedroom, once familiar and defined, now blurred at the edges, transforming into a surreal landscape of colours and shapes.

As you drifted further into the realms of slumber, a sensation of weightlessness enveloped you. It was as if you were floating on a sea of tranquility, carried away by the ebb and flow of your own breath. The boundaries between reality and imagination began to dissolve, and the world outside melted.

//////

Sometime between now and then, you’d ended up bent over in Eddie’s lap, on a couch that felt just like his couch, but was ambiguous enough that it could’ve been anywhere. Things were slightly blurry around the edges, surreal enough to have you breathless, but real enough that you weren’t questioning your surroundings.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed as he tilted his head, carefully examining the swelling ass on his lap. Your pussy was dripping, there was a dribble of arousal forming, but in all honesty, he was a little scared to touch you, he didn’t want to hurt you. “I don’t think I’m getting a finger in there, girl. Wow.”

“Luckily, I’m not that fragile,” you responded playfully as you arched your back for him. Eddie bit his lip as this only accentuated the curve of your ass.

“God,” he whispered as he ran a hand up your thigh: he was able to break them apart easily, and he pulled one leg over his lap, wedging you firmly between his legs.

Even though you were already soaking wet, Eddie’s fingers ran over your dripping slit for a moment, as if he were admiring the way your pussy fluttered at his touch in front of him.

God, you could just feel how wet you were, and you bit your lip, anticipating for Eddie to lean forward, and—

Y/N!!!

In an instant you’d jumped awake: you’d sprang to attention without really realizing how you’d done it, scrambling for the lamp. “What’s going on?”

Venom was protruding from your shoulderblade again, bouncing even more than normal, very clearly in extreme distress.

SWEET GIRL. WE ARE RECEIVING VISIONS.

You stifled your yawn with your hand. “V, do you mean, like - like a dream?”

WE ARE RECEIVING VISIONS! RECEIVING VISIONS OF EDDIE EATING YOU! THIS IS VERY SERIOUS! WE NEED TO KEEP YOU SAFE!

Your cheeks instantly warmed, and you froze, scrambling for something to say. “Oh - oh, shit, Venom - that - I’m so sorry, but I really don’t think that was what you think it was.”

HE WAS STRIKING YOU! Venom snapped.

Oh my god. He really saw all of that.

You reached for the water bottle on your nightstand. “V, you seriously don’t need to worry about this. It wasn’t real. It was a dream. Nothing bad will come from it."

Venom was, of course, still hysterical.

IT WAS A PROPHECY! THIS IS BAD!

I wouldn’t mind if it was a prophecy, you thought selfishly before you could stop yourself, but you shoved it down. “Everything’s alright, Venom. Okay? Everything's fine. Let’s just go back to bed.”

I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE FOR CARING ABOUT YOU, Y/N.

You were already sliding back under the blanket. “I’m not asking you to, V. I appreciate it.”

You hesitated.

“Just, uh, next time you’re bonded to Eddie, please don’t tell him about this, okay? It could make him - I don't know, uncomfortable. You know, I - I don’t know how he’d react to the prophecy of him supposedly hurting me, that’s all. I don’t want to worry him.”

(You were hoping wildly that he would accept, and you and Venom would never talk about this again.)

In a move you’d never seen before, Venom raised one gloopy, black tentacle towards you, and recognizing the movement, you extended your pinky towards him. Your pinky and the black goo linked together for a moment, signifying your trust.

Venom grinned, now bouncing significantly less.

I NEVER BREAK A PINKY PROMISE, SWEET GIRL.

You raised your eyebrow.

I TRY NOT TO.

You were much too tired for any of this, you simply turned over to switch off the lamp and finally return to whatever remnants of that dream was left. “Okay then. Goodnight, V.”

//////

It was satisfying to have everything fall back into the natural order once Eddie returned home from Seattle. You returned to your own apartment on the opposite side of town, but of course visited frequently, and Eddie was grateful to be back in a low-stakes environment once more, with a snarky symbiote that would terrify anyone who would try to harm him. Seattle had been thrilling, and he'd recounted the adventure to you several times, but now he was back to something familiar.

The job was done. He was covered for the time being. Freelancing was difficult, but for now, everything would be okay.

In the intervening time, Venom talked about you, a lot. Ever since he met you, he’d taken to mentioning you. But ever since you’d agreed to split custody of the symbiote, and especially since Eddie had disappeared for Seattle, he was talking about you even more.

I AM WORRIED ABOUT Y/N, he said one day.

Eddie was idly clicking through TV channels, watching everything from the news to a police drama to a basketball game zoom past, finding none of them interesting. “Why?”

I DO NOT WANT ANY BAD OMENS TO BE FOLLOWING HER. WE NEED TO KEEP HER SAFE.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, a bit confused.

Venom suddenly popped out of his shoulder, howling.

SHE - SHE HAS -

Before Venom could get any actual words out, Eddie was lifted from the couch as the symbiote rose and slammed his head into the ceiling, denting it severely and sending bits of drywall raining down from the heavens like it was a form of self-punishment.

As quickly as it started, Eddie had been dropped on the couch, red in the face and gasping for air.

Venom hardly noticed: he seemed to be in extreme distress.

I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO TELL!

Eddie put a hand to his throat, still sweaty and gasping, forcing an inhale. “V - what?”

Venom was beside himself, now.

Y/N IS RECEIVING VISIONS! VISIONS OF YOU!

"Visions? What do you mean, visions of me?" Eddie asked, his concern deepening. Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling half-strangled anymore. His mind was racing, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and worry. "What kind of visions? Is she in danger?"

He couldn't fathom what could be causing you to have distressing dreams about him.

Right after Seattle? Right after he thought the work was finished?

I DO NOT KNOW. BUT WE MUST PROTECT HER.

Without waiting for further response, Venom oozed off Eddie's shoulder and began slithering around the room, agitated.

Eddie remained on the couch, trying to process this information. "If something's going on, then we need to talk to her, right? Figure out what's happening."

I AGREE. SHE IS PART OF US, AND WE WILL NOT LET ANY HARM BEFALL HER.

He paused, awkwardly.

BUT PLEASE LET HER KNOW I AM SORRY. I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO SHARE THIS WITH YOU, EDDIE. SHE SAYS SHE DOES NOT WANT TO WORRY YOU. SHE DOES NOT SHARE THE SAME CONCERN I HAVE.

It didn’t matter: Eddie was already grabbing his phone and dialling your number, fingers tapping nervously against his screen.

After a few tense rings, you picked up.

“Hey, Eddie!”

"Hey, we need to talk," Eddie said urgently, glancing at Venom, who was now wrapping himself around the coffee table, sticky and pulsating, in deep despair.

Concern filled your voice. "Is everything okay?"

“Oh, I mean, yeah, right now it is,” he responded wildly, vaguely aiming for nonchalant. “I was just talking to V, you know, and he said something, and - I just kinda wanted to call, y’know, see if you were alright-”

“Oh, I'm fine,” you confirmed, but you still sounded confused. “I don’t have anything going on today, so I’m just spending some time to myself. What did V tell you?”

Across from Eddie, Venom moaned in despair, a mere gooey black glob of depression on his sitting room floor.

SWEET GIRL, I AM SORRY!

“He said you were getting some disturbing visions, and not gonna lie, it kinda freaked me out a bit,” Eddie said sheepishly, hoping you hadn’t heard that. “I just wanted to call and see if you were okay, that’s all. I know this is random. Sorry. Just, with the nature of the last case, y’know, up in Seattle-”

It didn’t take long before he realized he was rambling again about the Seattle case, so he stopped. “Sorry.”

"No, it's okay."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then a sigh.

Of course this was happening.

“Eddie, there’s been a misunderstanding,” you said. “Just, look - do you mind coming over? I’ll explain everything to you once you’re here. This might be better in person.”

Eddie was on his feet in an instant. “Sure, yeah.”

//////

Eddie rushed through the city streets, a mixture of worry and curiosity gnawing at him. Venom was bonded to him again, because he’d rather not think about the consequences of a depressed Venom lingering around the apartment while he was out, and the symbiote seemed to writhe within him with impatience. Or maybe that was just the motorbike rumbling underneath him. Whichever it was, he felt nauseous.

The symbiote had a tendency to jump to conclusions, but Eddie definitely couldn't shake the unease that settled in his gut.

Upon arriving at your apartment, Eddie knocked hastily.

To his surprise, you opened the door with a small smile.

"Hey," you greeted, ushering him inside. "Thanks for coming over."

Eddie nodded, glancing around your living room as if expecting something unusual. Venom, still on edge, clung within him like a sentient black backpack.

He didn’t want to come off as too eager, or too worried, so he just shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and hoped he looked casual despite the storm of questions brewing inside of him.

“So - what’s the deal?”

Deep inside of him, Venom was quivering with fright. As his gooey molecular form had to be closely intertwined with several of his most important organs right now, it was very hard not to notice the sensation.

You winced. “He’s just freaking out about nothing. There’s no bad omens or visions. I just had a dream, and you were in it. Simple stuff. Nothing to worry about.”

“It wasn’t a bad dream?” Eddie said, cautious.

You were definitely closer, now. “Actually, I’d say it was a pretty damn good dream.”

Eddie’s breath was caught in his throat. Out of everything that could’ve happened tonight, he definitely hadn’t been expecting…this.

He was a little confused, honestly. What was going on? The hairs on the back of his neck were raised, but he didn't feel as though he was in danger. On the contrary, he felt quite warm.

“Let me show you?” you offered.

"Okay," he bit out before he was conscious of making the decision, and you were stepping in front of him, and realizing, he closed his eyes on instinct--

The kiss that followed was absolutely dizzying.

There was something so particularly desperate about this: you were kissing, gasping against his mouth and pulling at his jacket, which made the two of you blindly scramble backwards into the apartment, messy and needy. The kiss quickly turned into a battle of control, with Eddie being the one to guide you forward, his hands on your hips. You bit his bottom lip in response, forcing him to open up and then the kiss was all about tongues, wet and sensitive.

You were on the couch when you finally broke apart, gasping.

"Baby," Eddie wheezed, his eyes darting across your face in disbelief, "I - what was that?"

"Is V with you?" you asked, instead of answering the question.

He was apprehensive now. "Yeah?"

"He needs to know I'm not in danger," you whispered, and you leaned forward to kiss him again.

It was much too chaste, and after you pulled away, Eddie was in mute astonishment for a moment.

His voice was scratchy when he spoke. "Disturbing visions, huh?"

You just smiled. "In my dream, we were on a couch, like this."

Eddie still couldn't believe this was happening. The anxiety in his gut on the way over had been completely forgotten now, blurring out of his memory, the future was an impossible thing, there was just this. This was all he had; this was all he wanted. "Were we, now?"

He didn't know what to do, but that didn't seem to matter, you were leading.

You nodded. "It was kinda hot."

"Kinda?" Eddie repeated dumbly, breathless. His voice sounded like a stranger's.

Before he could embarrass himself, Venom's voice rumbled within him, frustrated.

EDDIE, STOP BEING A PUSSY!

Wondering vaguely if this had been a trap all along, Eddie grabbed the nape of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. Your mouths roved together, and he took the opportunity to pull you over, closer to him. The curve of your bare spine was warm from under your sweater. He kept his hand there, roaming carelessly, drifting up to the clasp of your bra.

You seemed to get what he was going for, and then suddenly you were straddling him, and with you on top of him, he could no longer ignore how interested his dick was in the proceedings.

Slightly, just slightly, you rolled your hips against his clothed crotch, and Eddie choked out a moan.

Oh, fuck. He could feel the sweat materializing and running down his back. This was better than good.

(Venom was definitely going to tease him about this later.)

"What happened next?" Eddie mumbled, looking up at you, his eyes blown black.

You smiled, then crossed your arms and peeled off your sweater. Eddie shifted his grip, holding you by the hips again, and you tossed your sweater elsewhere.

Venom was going absolutely insane from inside him: it felt like he was rumbling somewhere around his large intestine.

DO NOT MESS THIS UP, EDDIE!

Meanwhile, you were, of course, oblivious to the commentary in Eddie's mind.

"I mean," you said, and your voice wasn't smoky like it had been before. It was just curious, with a note of teasing, like this was an everyday conversation. "You ate me out."

He pressed a light kiss to your throat. "Then flip over, baby."

Inside his head, Venom seemed to be having some kind of meltdown. Maybe he had just realized what the dream was. Maybe he was jealous. Either way, he was rambling in Eddie's mind.

SWEET GIRL - SO FRAGILE - SO SWEET - SO DELICIOUS - I NEED TO TASTE -

#venom #venom smut #eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock smut #eddie brock x reader smut #venom x reader smut #tom hardy #venom 2 #venom movie #venom let there be carnage #venom symbiote #venom imagine #venom 3

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