pvtty-wh0re

[pvtty-wh0re]

I have no words (no appropriate words at least).

╰┈➤ “𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲” ◦•≫

pairing: quarterback!kirishima x nerd!fem!reader

genre: smut

warnings: slowburn smut, face sitting, eating out, penetration, safe sex, overall pretty vanilla, possessive eijirou

Summary: Having a crush on the nerdy girl in your year certainly isn't easy, especially when a game of spin the bottle results in her kissing your best friend.

A valuable lesson you've learned is that hard work is always rewarded. You've consistently achieved success throughout your life, maintaining a stellar reputation, outstanding grades, and strong relationships. Who could deny you whatever you wanted with such principles?

Someone from high up above, it seems. Because no matter how much you yearned for love and companionship, nothing stuck.

Your partners would always say you're too hard to please, too much of an overachiever, just too much. Too stressed, too stressful, too extreme. Sometimes, in the dimness of your room, you wondered if they were right. If you were truly that ambitious you couldn't understand common sense. You dared fantasize that, by some miracle, someone would accept you the way you are someday; a very driven person with clear-set goals for their passions. It sounded appealing in your head, who wouldn't want to be that way, to be that great? But then again, your past relationships begged to differ.

On the other hand, you had beautiful, long-lasting friendships with your high school friends that you were immensely grateful for. They were there for you every step of the way, lifting you from your lowest lows and making sure you were enjoying yourself amidst the efforts of remaining ‘picture perfect’. However, during this particular moment, you wanted nothing more than to slap some sense into them, a very unusual occurrence in your group. Given the topic at hand... You wonder why they even brought it up. They already knew your answer.

Mina, Ochako, Kyoka, and Momo are gathered in your dorm room, occupying seats from the desk chair to your bed, blocking off the only exit, aka the door. It's almost strategic so you wouldn't run off, already used to your antics and hatred for serious conversations. Mina speaks first, breaking the ice after you huff disapprovingly.

“Tsuyu can babysit Victor, and you can come with us to this bomb-ass party. You haven't been to one since what, like, freshman year?” the pink-haired girl scoffed and walked over to your hunched figure on the bed as you crossed your arms, avoiding her gaze with palpable pettiness. They used the excuse of making a cute study group to get you to attend some weird frat party. No wonder you were sulky.

“I can't. I told you, I have rehearsal later today,” you countered, finding any excuse not to go. It's not that you didn't enjoy parties, you just preferred private hangouts instead. Like D&D sessions, for example. Those were fun, unlike the sweaty, grimy fraternity parties.

Kyoka jumped in, “Which you can comfortably skip. Half of the marching band is coming to this either way.”

Your nose scrunches up impossibly more before Ochako adds, “Everyone's going to be there! It'd be a waste not to come with. Just this one time? Please?”

Their eyes are pleading with you to accept their invitation and you can't lie and say that your resolve hasn't diminished ever so slightly. You had a soft spot for them whether you liked it or not, often getting roped up in less-than-ideal situations... This wasn't going to be one of them, though. You had to stand your ground.

“If it helps, I'll keep everyone in check this time so you can have your fun. I'm not too keen on drinking and dancing as is. How does that sound?” Momo's proper tone has your pettiness very clearly melting away and you curse yourself for being so weak-willed. No, they had to respect your decision already and you had to look away from their infectious stares as quickly as you could.

“I have class first thing in the morning, I can't—”

“We're not gonna be staying long. Just dance, mingle for a bit, and then go back to our rooms.”

Well, shit. You ran out of excuses.

“C'mon, Y/N, please? Just this once.”

And that's how you found yourself here, spacing out in the middle of a far-too-hectic, far-too-crowded living room, practically melting into the only cushioned couch available. To your friend's surprise, you actually danced your heart out for a bit before plopping down and even downing a beer. You needed the liquid courage to get through this night in one piece and you most definitely needed to rest a bit after... that.

“Didn't know you could move like that, Y/N!” Kyoka praises between giggles, approaching the couch with a beer in hand.

You'd be lying if you said your head wasn't absolutely spinning already, shades of purple, blue, and grey mixing when the room spun. Her words didn't even register at first.

“You can't be fucked up already, can you?” A worried Mina joined the conversation, leaning against the armrest casually. God, you have such pretty friends.

“No, no, I'm okay, I think,” you groan and rub the bridge of your nose, colors then turning into shapes, “It's not the alcohol.”

“Oh, right, your stamina is non-existent. This is why we should party more often!”

“I'd rather not,” you snort, blurry shapes turning into colors as the ground stilled beneath you, eyes finally focusing on what you wanted to see most. “I can think of much better ways to increase my stamina.”

The girls follow your gaze, stopping on a familiar redheaded hunk that has your pupils nearly combusting into hearts. They were very much aware of your crush on the popular quarterback, someone you thought was completely out of your league and never tried befriending yet still admired from a distance, akin to your other likings out of reach. You didn't want to admit it, but he was one of the reasons why you accepted to come in the first place. You had it bad for him and his stupidly handsome face and his ridiculously muscular body that had you practically drooling when he was in your vicinity. And to top it off, he was the nicest man on campus — and honestly, the nicest man you've ever met, or well, knew of — it was beyond nuts how perfect he was. That explained the hoard of girls suffocating him wherever he went, but it didn't make it any less obnoxious, driving you away from interacting with him entirely. You've always had a thing for things outside of your reach, after all. Maybe that's also why you put him on such a pedestal because, surely, he had some flaws himself. You couldn't seem to find them, though.

Kyoka's gag interrupted your train of thought, “I have no idea how you go from needing a babysitter for your clarinet to thirsting over some himbo. C'mon, he's not even all that.”

“You're talking. The blond ‘himbo’ you have a crush on isn't that much different. Y/N has great taste,” the pink-haired girl countered, leaning closer to you in hopes of seeing him better, but the dense crowd obscured her vision, “It's just that he's in very high demand. He's not out of your league by any means, just... Yeah.”

You groan, crossing your arms, “I'm aware. That doesn't make me like him any less, though. Tell me something disgusting men do, quick.”

“They don't shower?”

“He literally smells like orange-scented body wash. Bet he tastes like it, too.”

“You're not helping, Mina!”

“Girls!” Momo's voice echoes from somewhere in the crowd, catching your attention. To your utmost surprise, you see the dark-haired girl linking arms with Ochako right next to your crush, jaw dropping when he turns to look at no one other than you. The man has the audacity to send your heart into a frenzy just by grinning, his sharpened teeth on full display for you to imagine how they'd feel against your skin. You realize then and there that simply saying you 'had it bad for him' would be an understatement.

Jesus, has he ever looked that good? You swear that the shirt he has on is new and much tighter, showcasing the mounds of his well-defined abs and pecs. The sweatpants aren't helping either, hanging so low on his hips that his boxers are popping out, text barely concealed by the shirt. You wonder what brand they're from... before noticing the absolute monster in his pants.

A slap on the back of your head brings you back down to earth, suddenly acutely aware of how you were ogling him. And how his gaze was fixed on you the whole time.

The arch of his brow, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards both have your skin igniting with gooseflesh, shoulders tensing as the tips of your ears darkened their color. He caught you staring at him. He caught you staring at his dick. It couldn't be that bad, right? Girls stare at him all the time.

“Come on, babe. And for the love of God, stop being so obvious. I'm getting secondhand embarrassment here,” Mina whispered, pulling you up from the comfort of your new favorite cushion.

You follow without a word due to sheer embarrassment, heels clanking along with the rhythm of the music blasting, its bass thumping within your heart. Oh, shit. It takes you a second to focus, to realize Mina and Kyoka are approaching your other friends who are — less than favorably — conversing with him and his friends. As if on cue, the circling group of girls that weirdly remind you of yourself parts, letting you guys pass and stand in the middle next to Momo. You can barely breathe, avoiding his questioning gaze like the plague, those carmine eyes of his twisting your insides. You pray to any god there is to spare you from this awkward encounter or at least erase his memories of your stare clearly outlining the bump in his sweats. Even better, you pray that the earth swallows you whole, because how are you supposed to talk to him after that? First things first, you need to find an exit. You don't think your heart can handle being in such proximity to him right now.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick,” you mutter to no one in particular, blending into the crowd without hearing the protests from your girls, before seeing a flight of stairs and quickly ascending to the second floor. There should be an empty bathroom you can lock yourself into for the remainder of this party. You couldn't believe you actually did that, needing to dig the underside of your hands into your skull to get rid of that memory. You enjoyed the sight and you couldn't tell if that made you a pervert or just... really infatuated with him? Oh, you were for sure a pervert.

“Dumbass,” you let the word slip out quieter than a whisper once you deem the desolate hallway a safe place to scold yourself.

Maybe you were exaggerating, maybe you weren't, but you couldn't help it. You liked the guy and you wanted to talk to him at some point, see if your personalities match, and maybe become friends — something you're not so sure you'll be able to do now. But you're adults, right? He'll probably understand. Right?

“That's not very nice,” a deep, rumbly voice startles you, making you turn on your heels so fast that you almost run into its owner, “Woah, there. You okay?”

The universe has got to be fucking with you right now. Because Kirishima Eijirou, the man you have a crush on and shamelessly checked out, was towering over you with the same grin on his face he bore just a few moments ago when he caught you peeping. Saying you were a little starstruck wouldn't be quite accurate; you were completely, utterly speechless.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you or anything, it's just...” he licks his bottom lip and you gape at the sight, “You're really pretty. What's your name and could I give you my number?”

What. The. Fuck. I'm dreaming for sure.

It takes you suspiciously long to answer. “Uh... Y-Yeah, sure. My name's Y/N.”

He beams at you with the most brilliant smile you've seen him make and reaches out, albeit hesitantly, to grasp your hand, thumb running over your knuckles. It's as if you're made of porcelain, the way he holds it. Or he's made of something so rough that he doesn't dare apply more pressure to his ghosting touch, the calloused pad memorizing the dips of your knuckles while you stare at it incredulously, eyes wide enough to make you question if he's noticed your predicament. He must've, but why isn't he saying anything? Why isn't he saying anything about... that?

“I'm Eijirou Kiri—”

“I know who you are.”

He pauses, and you mentally slap yourself at how eager you sounded. But he just laughs, “That's great, then. I've seen you around a few times. You're in the marching band, right?”

“Mhm. I, uh, play the clarinet.”

“Awesome! Good to know, maybe I'll pop by rehearsals whenever I have the time to see you play.” Eijirou tilts his head to the side and you're still completely out of it, believing your five senses have betrayed you. Only in your dreams has his cologne been so intoxicatingly sweet. “God, you're really pretty. May I...” he trails off, cautiously glancing into your eyes while tapping the phone in your other hand. You scramble to give it to him, almost dropping it in the process.

“Careful there,” he chuckles, making your skin all tingly when his hand departs to type in his number. “We have a match the day after tomorrow. Would you be interested in coming? I can save you a spot in the front.”

He talks as if he's known you for years. Conversing with him feels so oddly natural that your body relaxes and decides to enjoy this chat, to enjoy his compliments and bold flirting attempts. You stop questioning the authenticity in favor of living in the moment and taking in his features up close. Who knows when you'll get the chance to talk to him like this again? A nerd like you can only dream.

“I think I can come, yeah. Why? You wanna show off?”

“Something like that,” he smiles coyly, handing your phone back, gauging your reaction to the new contact.

‘Eiji <3’

You chew on your bottom lip, holding in a laugh at the contrast between his rough, intimidating exterior and cute manner of speaking. It was all you could do to not say something embarrassing, having a relatively big problem with speaking your mind.

“Thank you,” you say instead, tilting your head to look up at him, finding his gaze already studying you.

“No, thank you,” Eijirou scratches the back of his head, seemingly a bit nervous as well. You could tell that by the reddened tips of his ears, matching his faded, dyed hair. “We're gonna be playing Spin the Bottle soon. I... I want you to be there. To play with us, I mean.”

Tucking your hair behind your ear, a telltale sign of your flustered state given his proposal, you reply, “Oh. Yeah, sure, I'll be there in a bit.”

“Mhm. Alright, little lady. See you downstairs,” he bends down slightly, taking your hand in his once more to press a feathery kiss to your knuckles. He had to know what he was doing to your poor heart, right?

Then, as if nothing unusual had happened, he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his sweats and departs, but not before glancing back over his shoulder to say:

“Oh, and my eyes are up here, by the way.”

Fuuuck.

Spin the Bottle is so incredibly boring when almost the entire student body is playing, because your turn never comes. You wait, you watch people make out while your mood turns all the more sour, and you sip your juice disinterestedly.

But the redhead in front of you doesn't fail to capture your attention, like always. When he notices your gaze, he leans back on his large hands which were planted on the ground, tucking his legs beneath himself as he lifts his hips to adjust. Now, you're sure he knows exactly what he's doing, given the way he pushes up just enough to have you imagining the unholy things those hips could do. You subconsciously press your thighs together, eyes trailing the length of his body before settling on his dimly lit, annoyingly handsome face. The grin he bears is nothing short of devilish, but a sweetness lingers behind those half-lidded eyes, presenting his slightly intoxicated state. This man is going to be the death of you and you couldn't find it in yourself to care. He tilts his head to the side and you're done for. He mouths “Pretty” and you're on cloud fucking nine. Dangerous thoughts of just taking his hand and leading him to a secluded place have your mind reeling, the buzzing of the alcohol amplifying your aching need. Neither of you are drunk enough to make those kinds of mistakes, though. Not yet, at least.

But Mina hands you the empty bottle, breaking the little moment you guys had created so suddenly that you can't hide the small pout of your lips. You can't say you're not disappointed, but knowing what will come if you spin the bottle just right makes you giddy with excitement. Angling the glass bottle, you give it a rather weak spin, hoping, praying it lands on the man before you. The bore points toward everyone in the room for a few, agonizing moments in which you feel as though your heart would grow legs and jump out of its place anytime now, before it slows down. It's like time stops when you hear the clinking of it settling on the side, following its trajectory to see who you're supposed to kiss.

Your heart drops.

It's not Eijirou. No, you would've given everything for it to be him. It's his best friend, Katsuki Bakugo.

What unsettles you more than the frown on the blond's lips is the redhead's quirked brow paired with his unwavering grin. Like he's almost challenging you to make out with his best friend right in front of him. He might just be even more of a pervert than you are.

“Get over here already,” Katsuki huffs, patting his lap impatiently. Knowing the center of the offensive linemen and his reputation, you could tell he wanted to get out of here fast, but maybe someone wasn't letting him leave just yet. His friends, you assumed.

Standing up, you slowly make your way over to him, and in an instant, he grabs your wrist to pull you down into straddling his lap. You gasp, eyeing Eijirou from the corner of your eye only to see him stare intently, leaning closer to Katsuki's shoulder.

“Show him what you're capable of, yeah?” Katsuki whispers in your ear, hands coming to smooth the fabric of your dress over your thighs. “The guy is crazy about you.”

His words barely register when he presses his lips to yours, stealing the air from your lungs. He's not your type and that only solidifies from how roughly he kisses you; messily pushing his tongue into your mouth, teeth clashing while he squeezes your skin. He swallows all your little noises as you grip his shoulders, trying to tell him to slow down, but he doesn't; he does bite your lip, though, so hard you're sure it's going to bruise. The other students watch you two go at it for a while as they whoop and drink, clapping when Katsuki finally pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your tongues. A frown twists your features as you wipe your swollen lips, a deep chuckle vibrating from the blond at your actions. He licks his lips and smacks your thigh which you take as a sign to get off. You gratefully do, sparing Eijirou another flustered glance as you sit back down next to your friends.

Kirishima was fuming beneath his calm facade. He'd shared girls with Katsuki before, that didn't usually affect him, but for some reason, he felt weirdly possessive over you. Maybe it was more than a silly crush like he'd theorized months ago when he saw you on your way home, big case in hand, oversized clothes, and round glasses on the tip of your nose, and yet still thought you were the most gorgeous girl to ever cross his path. He had a feeling it wasn't only a theory when he saw you asleep at the library, drool pooling on the table and hair sticking out in odd places which pulled a chuckle from his throat and beckoned him over to close the book you were writing notes from. He wanted to test that out as soon as possible, so he gathered the courage to walk up to you during the party. He wanted to see if your gloss tasted as sweet as the fruity scent of your perfume, if your skin was as soft as he'd imagined it'd be.

What he didn't want was to see you make out with his best friend. Even so, he couldn't prevent the growing problem in his pants, having to adjust them slightly to hide it, but it honestly didn't help; the tent was very much visible. You seemed like a great kisser and the pretty shade of your lipstick had him dizzy with want. Want, want, want. He wanted so much of you — everything, if you'd allow him — but most of all, he wanted you to want him back.

And he stared at your retreating figure, wondering how to sweep you off your feet, his thoughts clouded with... less-than-appropriate scenarios. Could you blame him? The tight material of your dress hugged your curves perfectly and he wished he could just bury his face between those plush thighs of yours.

The vibration of his phone caught his attention, pulling it out to see a text had come in from an unknown number.

“It's Y/N. Wanna get out of here?”

In your defense, Mina had given you the idea after you told her about your guys' interaction upstairs, but it still didn't help soothe your anxiety. When you pressed 'send', your hands became clammy and shaky. Would he think you're only after his body? Or worse?

“Thought you'd never ask, pretty. Let's go, my apartment isn't far from here.”

That's how you ditched one of the most awaited parties to bang the most popular guy in your college. He wastes no time; pushing you back against the closed door of his apartment by your hips to press his body against yours, his minty breath fanning over your lips.

“You sure you want this?” he nudges your nose with his, thumbs kneading your waist, his hold firm and electrifying. “I wanted to take you out to dinner first, but...”

You wrap your arms around his neck, cutting him off with a breathy whisper, the clothes doing nothing to obstruct the hard planes of his body touching you in all the right places, “I'm sure. You can take me out tomorrow.”

He grins, hand coming up with newfound eagerness to cup your cheek as he parts your colored lips with his thumb, smearing some of your lipstick onto it, “Deal.”

And then his lips are on yours and you're sure you've never felt more alive. They meld with your plump ones, holding a distinctive warmth that elicits a sigh out of you, fingers instinctively tangling in his hair. It falls loose from the half-up ponytail he had it pulled into, hair tie falling somewhere on the floor but neither of you cares to pick it up. Neither of you dare to interrupt the kiss, not when you've been waiting so long to find out how he tastes like.

His tongue slides into your mouth, expertly brushing yours before pulling out and repeating the excruciatingly slow cycle for a few minutes, savoring your taste. Yep, he was right; fruity flavor. A chill runs down his spine when you subconsciously roll your hips, needing to pin you to the door in order to control his aching need. He wanted to take his time, to explore your body the way it was meant to be explored, to worship it.

Then he feels a small hand rest on his bicep, squeezing and pushing him back slightly. It takes everything in him to pull away, panting heavily with furrowed brows and a deep blush adorning the apple of his cheeks while staring down at you. His throat bobs expectantly.

“I've never, um... I think there's something wrong with my body,” you admit embarrassedly, needing to get it out of the way before things get serious.

“What?”

“I'm just saying that you won't have to focus on me,” you quickly explain, resting your delicate hands on his broad shoulders, “I've never orgasmed with a partner before.”

Eijirou looks absolutely appalled. His sharp jaw slacks open in disbelief, brows furrowing even further to the point where it looks almost comical. He looks offended, you realize.

“No one has made you come before?” his voice is just a tad bit louder than before, his hands trailing down your sides absentmindedly.

“No.” His bewildered stare turns you into a blushing mess which makes you avoid eye contact.

“But you orgasm perfectly fine by yourself?”

“Mhm.”

He pulls you impossibly closer to press a light kiss to the top of your head in a reassuring manner, “We absolutely cannot have that. Jesus, Y/N, that's got to be, like, a crime.”

In the blink of an eye, he hauls you up like you weigh nothing, cradling your knees and back with strong, determined hands. Squeaking in surprise, you cling to him as if your life depended on it, burying your heated face into the side of his neck. Feeling movement, you guess that he's leading you to his bedroom. You haven't had the chance to look at his apartment yet, though. Bummer.

“Having such a gorgeous girl all to themselves and not making her come once? Did they even try?”

You reminisce for a moment, wincing at the memories. You've had terrible partners up until now. “Well...”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Something in your gut shifts at the curse spilling from his mouth, wondering if you've ever heard him do that before. He probably cursed during his matches. It was incredibly hot nonetheless. “Don't worry, pretty girl. I'll take care of you. Even better than Katsuki would.”

Katsuki?

“You don't have to—”

“I want to. More than anything, so please, let me,” his murmur is laced with desperation and you have no choice but to give in. He'd probably get tired of it once he'll see you're not coming.

The path to his bed is a short one and you feel the soft, satin sheets against your back before you know it. He's lowering you onto the mattress of his bed, rough hands smoothing the skin of your thighs as he stands between them, his large frame shadowing you. He places a knee on the edge, propping them up onto his shoulders to keep you there while he kisses your knee. All the while, he's staring down at you, chest heaving and ruby eyes searching yours. You gasp when he bites your calf, applying mild pressure to leave a mark as his hands begin working on taking off your heels. He slides them off with ease, gently massaging your feet to calm your bubbling nerves.

He discards them next to his bed and kisses your bare ankles, before suddenly letting go of your legs and going to sit down with his back to the headboard. You prop yourself up by the elbows, sending him the most confused look you could muster amidst the fogginess of your arousal. He just sinks further, his head resting on a pillow, a smirk tugging the corners of his swollen lips.

“Sit,” he commands, the rumble of his voice making your body move by itself to straddle his waist. His hands find your hips again, squeezing the skin through your dress with a click of his tongue. “Not there.”

He practically manhandles you to sit on his face, your clothed core hovering inches above it as a shocked gasp escapes your throat, hands gripping the headboard to keep elevated.

“Wait, I'm too heavy!” But he's already pushing you down with a force you can't fight, your dress riding up as he does so, revealing your matching underwear in the process. He buries his nose into your cunt, groaning deeply when he inhales your scent for the first time. It's as if he's in heaven and he hasn't begun yet. He can't resist placing a kiss on your clit before using one hand to push the material to the side, his other one keeping you nice and snug on top of him. You feel so embarrassed your hand shoots up to cover your mouth, the position unlocking a new part of yourself. Seeing him laid out under you, admiring your pussy with wide eyes, has you already clenching around nothing. This had to be a dream.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he praises, unable to take his eyes off you, “I'll make you feel so good, baby. Sit down, please? I need to taste you. C'mon.”

Apprehensively, you lower yourself until his mouth makes contact with your folds. He easily spreads them with his warm tongue, lapping to drink the slick pouring like a man starved. The noise you let out is downright sinful; a long, almost relieved moan that makes your head loll back. You've gotten eaten out before, sure, but the guy mistook your clit for the left fold... So, it's safe to say it's never felt so good before and he barely even started.

He licks a stripe up, flattening his tongue against the throbbing bud before flicking it, assessing that might be enough to hear the cute noise you let out once more. And he's right, you immediately mewl and arch your back, trying your damnedest not to grind onto his face. But he's not having it, he sucks on your bud long and hard before releasing it with a pop, locking his lips with your folds instead. This ought to get a good reaction out of you.

It does. Your hips stutter from the intrusion of his tongue diving deep inside you, warm and eager to please. His name spills past your lips, or well, a version of it, one that makes him immediately start bullying your insides.

“Ah— Eiji, god! Ah, fuck,” hearing this, he delivers a good smack to your ass, sending your hips forward from sheer force. You whimper and he rubs the spot as an apology, squeezing it slightly.

When you close your eyes and grind particularly hard against his face, he groans into your cunt, the vibrations making you cry out. It felt impossibly good; was this what you had been missing out on all this time? Now you felt a little sorry for yourself, too.

But you can't even think with him in between your legs, eating you out like a five-star course meal. Slick and saliva run down your inner thighs, probably making a mess of his chin, the image being almost enough to send you over the edge.

“Fuck, Eiji, you're so good... Don't stop, oh my god...”

“Hmm?” he hums and you shiver, sitting straighter now to throw the skimpy dress over your head before leaning back, bracing yourself by placing your palms onto his clothed chest so you could move faster.

“God, fuck, fuck, fuck...” you chant over and over, the length of his tongue making your body turn to mush.

Not only do you melt from his skillfulness, but you also feel a familiar heat building up in your lower stomach the longer he thrusts his tongue into you, reducing you to nothing but a moaning mess. You rock your hips and squeeze your thighs, essentially suffocating him, and you see his eyes roll to the back of his head while a deep groan vibrates through your folds. Having you clench down on his tongue while you chase your high and cut off his oxygen makes him see stars right alongside you, needing to bury himself deeper, to smother himself with your taste, with your addictive scent. He can't believe he's doing this, but he knows he never wants to stop.

“Eiji, I'm, fuck, I'm gonna—” and just like that, with another thrust of his tongue, you shake as your release washes over you, coating the lower half of his face.

You learn one more thing about Eijirou. He doesn't like to waste any of your precious time.

The redhead dives right back in, not letting you recover even for a second. He's more aggressive with it the second time he makes you come and becomes completely pussy drunk the third time, so much so you have to literally push his head away and slide down to his chest with trembling thighs to get him to stop.

A growl ripples through the room, shocking your pretty fucked out self back to life. God, you really need to work on your stamina.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he pants, propping himself up onto his elbows and grabbing the back of your head, “C'mere, pretty.”

He smashes his lips with yours and you taste yourself on his tongue, core flaring with need once again. As your tongues dance a longing waltz, you find the hem of his shirt and tug at it, earning his attention. He instantly sheds the piece of fabric, reconnecting your lips mere moments later.

The tips of his fingers sneak underneath the cups of your bra, taunting you with a grin. You bite his lower lip in an attempt to speed things up, letting him know just how much you yearn for him. And who is he to deny such a nice, pretty lady like yourself? A hand circles your figure, reaching to undo the clasp of your bra.

“If you'll let me, I'll make you the happiest woman in the world,” he whispers on your lips, leaning his forehead against yours as he removes your bra, drinking in the sight with blown, lovesick pupils. “Just ask and I'll do anything.”

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, “Well... First off, I want you to fuck me silly. If you can.”

His face lights up, a boyish chuckle rippling through the air, “Your wish is my command. I gotta stretch you out first, so lay back.”

You do as you're told, lying down on the bed as he finally takes off your soaked panties, folding them neatly to place them on top of his nightstand. He crawls over to you, spreading your legs and finding purchase between them while softly squeezing your inner thighs. You take this opportunity to trace the bulging muscles on his body, realizing exactly just how big he was. No wonder he could tackle his adversaries so easily, the man was definitely a gym rat. But something catches your eye; the multiple scars decorating his tanned skin in odd shapes. You follow one on his bicep with the pad of your middle finger, sending a shiver down his spine from the clear tenderness in your touch.

“Where'd you get these from?” you whisper through the darkness and stillness of his room, adding to the intimate factor.

Eijirou glances down, placing a large palm on top of yours, “American football is very... intense, let's say. Don't worry, though. They don't hurt anymore.”

You stare as he kisses the back of your hand, trailing kisses up from your wrist to your elbow, “I see. When you come over, remind me to give you the ointment I have. It's really good for scars.”

Nothing escapes him, a smirk twisting his face at your wording, “‘When’? Damn, sweetheart, you want me that bad, huh?”

You giggle, smacking his beefy arm, “Shut up.”

“Gladly.”

Then his lips find yours again while his middle finger teases your folds, sinking into your twitching hole with ease. You were so wet already from coming three times that just a few thrusts and another finger later, you were more than ready to take him. Finally.

He hooks a finger under his pants and drags them down along with his boxers as he watches your reaction intently. Just before his manhood could spring out, you stiffen a giggle, earning a quirked brow from him.

“‘Mr. Big'?” you quote the brand written on the elastic band of his boxers, pulling a laugh out of him as well.

But then he eases them down, his cock springing free and smacking his stomach in the process, and all you can do is stare wide-eyed. He was insanely girthy, a pang of fear rushing through you at having that inside you. He must've noticed, because he leans over you to press a soothing kiss to your temple, thumb kneading your hip, other hand reaching into his pocket.

“I'll go slow, okay?” he murmurs, placing a pillow under your rear to keep you in a more comfortable position, one that he knew shouldn't hurt, all while ripping open a condom and rolling it on his shaft. “Relax for me, baby.”

You nod and wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him pressed against you as he palms his cock, lining it up with your entrance. He runs the tip through your folds once, twice, spreading your slick with breathy groans he can't bother muffling, not when the heat emanating from you has him leaking so much. And when his tip catches your hole, bending the length of his dick slightly as he pushes it in with slow, calculated strength, he nearly comes on the spot. You mewl, clawing at his back while he continues, pushing inch after inch into your tight hole.

“C'mon, angel, just a bit more,” he mutters through clenched teeth at how your pussy clenches like a vice, thumb finding its way to your clit to rub it lazily. “That's it. Good girl.”

“Ah, Eiji, s'too big— Holy fuck!” the words come out muffled because you bite into his shoulder to keep yourself grounded when he slips in so deep he's basically kissing your cervix. You feel elated, you see colorful shapes, and taste iron in your mouth, but god if it doesn't feel good. He's so deep, so warm, the rubber of the condom not doing much to contain the indents of his veins that tickle your walls enough to have you moaning every time he twitches. It's insane, you're connected and the pleasure is insane.

“Feel how good that is, baby? How my cock reaches so deep?” he whispers into your ear, nibbling on it slightly. His hands are on either side of you, making sure you're okay before gently pulling out and thrusting into you again. “Those exes of yours have no idea what they're missing. Seeing your face twist with pleasure and screaming my name is... Fuck, it's the best thing I've ever seen.”

“Ah, ah, Eiji! Faster!”

His hips snap against yours, the unholy noise bouncing off the walls and amplified when he picks up the pace. “Princess, there's nothing wrong with you. Your body is perfect,” to prove his point, he kneads your breast with one hand while the other works on your clit, “And it's only for me. This beautiful, gorgeous body, all mine. You're mine, angel, aren't you?”

The tip of his cock bullies your g-spot relentlessly, effortlessly making you arch your back and your vision blur. Pleasure like this should be illegal, you think through the haze of being fucked so good you know you won't be able to walk for a week.

“Ah, ah, yes! All yours!”

He grins, giving your breast a rest to cup your cheek instead, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. “Good. I'm all yours, too, princess.”

He doesn't even have to tell you to use him as you please, because you're already moving your hips to meet his unforgiving thrusts, searching for your fourth high of the night. Something tells you that you won't be leaving his bed anytime soon and you honestly wouldn't have it any other way. You want him to make you indisputably his, to wipe the taste of Katsuki from your lips — even though he already did, a long time ago.

“You're so tight, fuuuck,” his curse doesn't go unnoticed and you muster up the strength to smirk, knowing you were the one who made Eijirou Kirishima, the nicest man on campus, curse out of pleasure. An achievement ticked off your list.

Glancing up to see your flushed face, the smirk on your lips catching him off guard. His heart races wildly in his chest with a sudden rush of possessiveness and he digs his sharp teeth into the side of your smoot neck, deciding a few marks would look delicious on you. Sucking and licking while he pounds into you like a dog in heat, scratching his back is all you can do to stop yourself from immediately releasing, wanting to do it at the same time as him.

“Such a pretty girl,” he chants praises against your sweaty skin, marking you up without a care in the world, “My pretty girl.”

You squeeze his cock and he gets lost in your gummy walls, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his grunts become louder.

“Angel, I'm not gonna last if you do that,” he nearly whimpers and you know you're done for if he plows into you a few more times, especially with the way his cock twitches when it bounces off that sweet spot he loves to abuse.

“You're so, ah... So handsome... Ah, hng,” you return the praises, shaky hands tangling in his hair to keep his weight on your body like a protective blanket, your back arching off the bed.

His eyes drift down to where one ends and the other begins, noticing a frothy ring of your mixed juices circling his base. That, combined with your words, have the man blushing, hips stuttering as he goes above and beyond to make you feel even better.

“Baby, I can't... Fuck, I'm gonna...”

“Y-Yeah, me too...”

Soon enough, his hand rubs your clit and you soak his lower part in your juices while he spills inside the condom, both screaming for each other while doing so. And it's the most beautiful thing you've ever experienced; so blissed out you can only catch your breath quietly as he pulls out to take off the used rubber, tying it up at the top with shaky hands.

You close your eyes for a moment, basking in the aftermath of making love. This truly felt real, not just plain sex for the man's enjoyment. You don't even realize when he comes back to wipe you down with a damp cloth, lost in your imagination.

“You did so well for me, darling. I'll treat you so well from now on.”

However, you seemed to have forgotten how much stamina athletes possessed. Because you feel his breath fanning your core again, making your eyes shoot open and butterflies swim in your stomach.

“Think you can handle one more for me?”

Imagine how shocked your friends were when you showed up to his match, not only wearing his jersey, but also matching bracelets you guys made on your first date. You finally got the man of your dreams.

© chocogoldie 2024.

a/n: sorry this took longer than it should've!!! was so busy i could barely get any sleep these past few days ajjdkdkd so i'm sorry if it's rushed or just kinda bad in general 🫠🫠 as always, not proofread nor edited!

taglist: @dinorawrss @nouktis @channnee @eyesforbkg @imnotabot-ipromise @marmoney2000 @st4rlightisa @i-the-fluffo

[pvtty-wh0re]

PHEROMONE MADNESS

OIKAWA TOORU

The front door clicks open quietly at 11:42 PM.

You’re already waiting, lights dimmed low, curled up on the couch wearing one of Tooru’s soft grey shirts — the one that hangs just enough to tease your thighs. No bra. No shorts. Just skin, scent, and the knowledge that your husband hasn’t touched you in over a month.

You hear his keys drop into the bowl. Then silence.

“Tooru?” you call softly, rising from the couch.

“...Shit,” he mutters, voice rough and low.

You blink — he’s standing frozen in the hallway, suitcase forgotten beside him, jacket half-off one shoulder. Hair messy, face flushed from the flight, and eyes locked on you. Or rather… the scent of you.

He blinks hard like he’s dizzy. “What… the hell… are you wearing?”

You smile, pretending to be clueless. “This? It’s just your shirt.”

“No,” he rasps, stepping closer. “That smell.”

You tilt your head coyly. “Oh… perfume. You remember the one you got me before you left? The one you said was too ‘dangerous’ to wear in public?”

You see it — that little flicker in his eyes. Lust. Regret. Possession.

He drops everything he’s holding. Literally. Shoes still on. Bag still zipped. He doesn't care.

Oikawa walks straight to you like a man possessed, stops only inches away, his chest rising and falling hard.

“You wore that for me, didn’t you?” he whispers.

You nod slowly, your voice barely audible. “I missed you.”

And that’s all he needs.

In a second, his hand is cupping the back of your neck, lips crashing against yours. It’s messy — all teeth and tongue and groaned apologies between kisses. He grabs your waist with both hands, fingers digging into your skin like he’s checking if you’re real.

“I was gonna shower first,” he pants against your lips, breath hot. “I had this whole cute plan to surprise you, take you to bed slow, tell you how beautiful you are—”

You tug his shirt, breaking the kiss. “Then do it slow.”

He stares at you for a beat… then laughs darkly, low and dangerous.

“Oh, baby,” he says, backing you toward the wall. “You knew exactly what you were doing the second you sprayed that shit. You wanted me like this.”

Your back hits the wall and he leans in, burying his face in your neck. He inhales deeply, shuddering.

“This scent—fuck, it’s not fair. I’m jet-lagged, I’m dehydrated, I’m probably dying from airport food, and you hit me with a boss-level debuff like this?”

You giggle, but it’s breathy — he’s already running his hands under the hem of his shirt (your shirt?) and his fingers are dangerously close to finding skin he hasn’t touched in weeks.

“I missed your hands,” you whisper.

He groans, forehead resting against yours. “I missed everything.”

And suddenly, he’s picking you up — one arm under your thighs, the other gripping your back. You squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Tooru—!”

“You wore my perfume, my shirt, no bra, looking like sin itself, smelling like heaven—what did you expect me to do? Go to bed like a good boy?” he growls.

The bedroom door slams open.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

It’s been a long day.

He drops his duffle bag by the door with a grunt. “Never letting those idiots convince me to run court sprints with them again,” he mutters, already tugging off his hoodie, revealing that sweaty clingy tank top that does things to you it shouldn’t. You can see the deep stretch of his back, the taut pull of his arms, and the shine of sweat across his collarbones. The man is exhausted. And stupid hot.

You blink. You stare. You decide: enough is enough.

You’ve had a little bottle tucked away—something you ordered on a whim and hid like your most sinful secret. A pheromone perfume. Just a little spritz. Something warm. Sweet. Deep. Something that whispers take me.

You spray it once behind your ears. Once on your wrists. And because you’re a menace, once just beneath the waistband of your shorts.

You plop down on the couch like you’re innocent. You’re not.

Iwaizumi walks past you on the way to the fridge. Stops.

Turns.

Sniffs.

“…Did you change your shampoo?” he mutters, brow furrowing.

You tilt your head. “Nope.”

“Perfume?”

“Maybe.”

He hums like he doesn’t trust you. Like he shouldn’t.

He opens the fridge. Closes it again without grabbing a single thing. Then slowly turns back to look at you.

And this time—his gaze is different. He looks at you like something clicked. Like he just smelled danger and liked it.

“Babe,” he says, voice already lower, already rough, “what the hell are you wearing?”

“Just something new,” you say, stretching a little on the couch so your thighs press together. “Why?”

“…Smells like trouble.”

You smirk. “Maybe it is.”

He’s on you in seconds.

You let out a tiny gasp as he pins you to the cushions, strong arms boxing you in, heat radiating from his body like a furnace. “You know I’m sore,” he mutters, voice strained, “and this is how you welcome me home?”

“I was trying to be comforting,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his jaw. “You looked like you needed to be taken care of.”

He groans, like it physically hurts to be this attracted to you while his muscles are aching.

“You’re evil,” he mumbles as his hands slide under your shirt. “That smell—it’s like you’re begging me to lose control.”

You arch your back, let him feel the way your body responds to his touch. “That’s because I am.”

His mouth crashes into yours, hot and needy, and the second your hips shift, he curses under his breath.

“You can’t just walk around smelling like that. Not unless you’re ready to deal with the consequences.”

“Guess you’ll have to punish me then, Hajime.”

He groans again—louder this time—before lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

“Bedroom. Now.”

KYOTANI KENTARO

It’s been hours. Still no words.

He’s planted on the couch, jaw tight, gaze fixed on nothing. Not scrolling. Not gaming. Not watching.

Just... sulking. Brooding. Breathing in irritation.

You sit on the bed, watching him from across the room. The air feels thick with everything unsaid. And the silence? Colder than the AC.

You knew he was upset. The way he walked in, shoes kicked off without a word, keys dropped with too much force. The way he wouldn’t look at you— Not when you asked about dinner. Not when you leaned in to press a kiss to his temple.

He turned his head away.

And it hurt.

You didn’t even know what exactly made him mad. But you felt the ache in your chest. The hollow in your throat. And lower, where the ache turned into something else. Need. Desperation. For him. For his voice. His warmth. His hands.

You were done waiting.

Your fingers curl around the small bottle tucked in your drawer. A gift you’d been saving. A pheromone perfume. The name written in elegant script: “One Spritz, One Night to Remember.”

You spritz it once behind your ears. Once on your collarbone. And once right between your thighs—low and hidden, just for you.

Then, silently, you cross the room.

You lean against the doorway, arms crossed under your chest. And you wait.

It doesn’t take long.

He sniffs.

His brows twitch.

Then he shifts—subtle, but telling.

You walk past him slowly, deliberately, letting the scent trail behind you like a ribbon in the wind. His eyes follow. His jaw clenches again. But this time, differently.

You pause near the window, pretending to check your phone. You hear him stand.

You don’t look back.

But you feel him there—hovering close, heat radiating off his body, breaths growing heavier.

"You wearing something?" His voice is low, rough. Suspicious.

You smile. “Maybe.”

He steps in closer. “Smells like trouble.”

You tilt your head. “Are you still mad?”

A pause.

Then, voice strained: “Yes.”

You press your back gently to his chest. “Even if I said I missed you?”

He inhales. Slow. Deep. And then his hands are on your hips, gripping tight.

"You don’t fight fair," he mutters into your neck. His voice—already hoarse with restraint.

“I wasn’t trying to.” You shift your hips back just slightly—barely enough to press into him. His breath hitches.

Silence again. But this time, it’s heavy. Charged. Trembling.

Then he says, almost a whisper: “You really want me that bad?”

You nod. “I always want you.”

A long breath. His fingers slide under your shirt, tracing your skin like he’s trying to remember every inch. "Then let me remind you what happens when you play dirty, baby."

You gasp— As he turns you around, backs you into the wall, and finally, finally— kisses you like the silence never existed.

KENMA KOZUME

The click click click of Kenma’s controller has been nonstop since 9 a.m. It’s now... almost 8 p.m.

He’s in his gaming chair, hood up, headset on, mumbling into the mic with that focused scowl that makes him look ten times more dangerous than he is.

You peek into the room. He hasn’t eaten the lunch you brought earlier. Or the tea. Or the snack tray.

You sigh.

Fine. You’ll play dirty.

You disappear into the bedroom for two minutes and come back with a plan: no words, no warning — just your softest, most sinful loungewear… and a little spritz of that dangerous perfume. The one Kenma said was “distracting” last time.

You walk in.

Nothing.

He’s too locked in.

So you step closer — quiet, innocent — and lean over his shoulder, pretending to look at his screen.

“Still playing?” you say sweetly.

That’s when he smells it.

His fingers twitch on the controller. His thumb slips. His character falls off the map and dies instantly.

“...Shit.”

You blink innocently. “Oops. Was that me?”

He turns his head slowly. His golden eyes drag across your body, pausing at your bare shoulder, then your thighs, then your collarbone... then he inhales. Once. Twice.

And his brain just—blue screens.

“Are you wearing that perfume again?” he asks, voice cracking slightly.

You shrug, smirking. “Maybe.”

Kenma slowly sets the controller down. Like it’s physically painful to let go of it. He stares at you for a few more seconds — completely silent — until he speaks again.

“I need you to leave the room.”

You raise a brow. “Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to do something that’ll make me miss my tournament.”

You giggle. “So pause it.”

Kenma lets out a slow exhale through his nose. You can see the moment his willpower evaporates. He rips off the headset, tosses it on the desk, and stands up.

And now he’s the one walking toward you.

“That perfume should be illegal,” he mumbles, backing you up against the wall. “And you know exactly what you’re doing.”

He’s quiet. But the look in his eyes? That’s not quiet at all.

“I haven’t touched you in three days,” he whispers, nose brushing against your cheek, “and you walk in here smelling like that?”

You smile. “Guess I missed you.”

Kenma leans in close, lips grazing your ear.

“You’re evil.”

He picks you up — no strength training, no warm-up, just pure gamer rage turned into boyfriend strength — and carries you out of the room like it’s a mission.

The door slams shut behind you both.

Somewhere, his game is still on. But Kenma’s already playing something way better.

KUROO TETSURO

You and Kuroo haven’t spoken in two days.

Two days of passing each other in the kitchen like strangers. Two days of closed doors, cold silences, and clipped replies. Two days since that argument about something stupid — a small thing that spiraled into a storm.

He was mad. You were mad. But now? You’re just… aching.

You miss him. The kind of miss that crawls under your skin, that makes your chest feel too tight and your sheets too cold. The kind of miss that builds in your stomach, low and heavy and needy.

Your pride's still wounded, but your desire? It's louder.

You grab the bottle from your nightstand. The one labeled “Do not wear when mad at me. -Kuroo”. You smirk.

Spritz.

The scent blooms around you — warm, sweet, addicting. Like sugar and heat and secrets whispered in the dark.

You pad softly into the living room. He’s on the couch, reading a book. Barefoot, hair tied loosely, glasses low on his nose. The sleeves of his hoodie pushed up just enough to show his forearms — the ones you haven't touched in 48 torturous hours.

You stand in the doorway.

He notices.

Kuroo doesn’t say a word — doesn’t even look directly at you at first. But you see the shift. The subtle inhale. The way his fingers pause on the page.

His jaw tightens.

You take a slow step forward. “Still mad at me?”

His eyes flicker up to yours. Cool. Guarded.

But then he smells it.

And cracks.

“…What the hell is that?” he mutters, voice rough.

You blink, innocent. “Perfume.”

He closes the book slowly. Very slowly. Like he's trying to keep himself calm.

“I know that one. You wore it the night we—” He cuts himself off. His eyes darken.

“You’re cheating,” he accuses.

You shrug, walking past him — just slow enough for him to catch another wave of your scent. His eyes follow your every step.

You lean over the coffee table, reaching for a glass you don’t actually need. Your shirt lifts a little. Your skin glows. That perfume lingers in the air like a curse.

When you turn, he’s already behind you.

“You think you can wear that after ignoring me for two days?” he says, voice low, like a growl.

You look up at him. “I wasn’t ignoring you. You were ignoring me.”

“I was setting a boundary.”

“Well,” you whisper, placing a hand gently on his chest, “I’m breaking it.”

You feel it — the tension between you both, all that unsaid apology and all that bottled up want. His hands twitch at his sides, trying to behave. But you smell too good. You look too soft. And that damn ache inside him has only gotten worse every hour.

“You’re playing dirty,” he murmurs, forehead resting against yours. “You know what that perfume does to me.”

“Then don’t be mad,” you whisper. “Come back to bed.”

Kuroo exhales hard — like he’s giving up a fight he never wanted to win.

“Bed?” he echoes, grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against him. “No. I’m gonna remind you on this couch why you don’t pick fights you can’t finish.”

AKAASHI KEIJI

You weren’t trying to manipulate him. You just… missed him.

Keiji had been stretched thin lately — long hours at the office, deadlines that bled into dinner, shoulders that carried too much weight. He was still warm with you. Still gentle. Still loving. But physically?

He hadn’t touched you in days.

Every night ended the same way — him sighing into the pillow beside you, muttering a sleepy, “Not tonight, I’m exhausted,” before pulling you close and passing out.

And you understood. You really did.

But understanding didn’t stop the ache. Didn’t stop the way you started waking up wanting. Didn’t stop your body from craving the way he used to hold you — like every part of you was worth worshiping.

So tonight, you reach for the small amber bottle tucked in the back of your drawer. You bought it on a whim, weeks ago, after reading reviews that said things like “My man couldn’t keep his hands off me” and “I wore this and now I’m pregnant.”

You hadn’t touched it since.

Until now.

You spritz it once on your neck. Once at the curve of your thigh. Once behind your ear. It's warm and soft — like sugar melting on skin, with a hint of something darker beneath it.

You change into your comfiest tank top and shorts — nothing suspicious. Nothing loud. Just you.

You walk into the living room where Keiji’s typing away at his laptop, glasses low on his nose, hair falling into his eyes.

He looks up when you enter. His eyes flicker over you briefly — then again, slower.

“You smell… different,” he murmurs.

Your heart skips. “Do I?”

He sniffs subtly, his fingers hovering above the keys. Then pauses entirely.

“Yeah. It’s nice. Really nice.”

You shrug casually, plopping onto the couch beside him. “Just trying something new.”

He nods slowly, gaze lingering a little longer than usual. Then goes back to typing. For five seconds.

Then six.

Then… he stops.

You feel the weight of his stare before you look up. His eyes are darker now, unreadable. You shift slightly, and the air moves — carrying that scent to him again.

He closes his laptop without a word.

“…Come here,” he says, voice low.

You blink. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He swallows. “I just— I want you close.”

You move into his lap, surprised but not resisting. His hands rest on your thighs, sliding up slowly, like he's testing the waters.

“God, you smell like…” He trails off, nose brushing your neck. “Like sin.”

You laugh. “You okay?”

“No.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another, slower. “No, I’m really not.”

You feel him harden beneath you. His breath turns shallow. His hands grow bolder.

“I thought you were tired,” you whisper.

“I was. Now I’m not. What is that scent?”

You smile to yourself. “Just something I’ve been saving.”

He groans, burying his face in your neck.

“You’ve been walking around with this weapon and not using it? That’s cruel.”

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tilting his face up. “Think of it as a science experiment.”

He kisses you like he’s been waiting all week — like the past few days never existed, like his body just rememberedexactly how much it missed yours.

Later that night…

You're tucked under the sheets, his arm heavy over your waist, his breathing deep and even.

“…Hey,” he murmurs, lips ghosting your shoulder. “Whatever that was… wear it again. Please.”

You grin in the dark. “Not tired anymore?”

He chuckles sleepily. “Exhausted. But satisfied.”

You lean back into him, heart full.

Not bad for an experiment.

BOKUTO KOUTARO

He bursts through the door like a storm.

“BABY! I’M HOME!” Training with MSBY ran long, and Bokuto’s shirt is clinging to every inch of his muscle-packed frame, hair messy from a long day of spikes and sweat.

You peek from the kitchen, playing it casual. “Welcome back, Kou. Good practice?”

He nods eagerly, bounding over. “Mmhmm! I was thinking about you the whole time, you know?”

You hum, trying not to look smug. Because you? You had a plan.

Before he arrived, you spritzed just a little bit of that scent — that soft, warm, vanilla-spice thing that clings to the skin like honey and heat. You know how scent gets to him.

You lean in to kiss his cheek and— His breath hitches.

“…Whoa.” He blinks. “What is that?”

You blink innocently. “What?”

He leans in again, nose twitching. “That smell! You smell like… mmnngh—like sugar. Like heaven. Like something I wanna—” He cuts himself off and grabs you by the waist, eyes wide. “C’mere. I need to cuddle. Right now.”

You giggle as he tugs you onto his lap on the couch, legs straddling his thighs.

You settle in his hold, your back pressed to his chest. But then—

His hips jerk up. Once. “Ah—!”

You freeze.

He freezes.

“…Oops,” he says, voice breathless.

You turn to look at him, but he’s already burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“‘M sorry—! I didn’t mean to—! You just—! It’s the smell, baby!”

You feel him whimper, clutching your hips tighter.

“Wh-why do you smell like that? It’s not fair… You’re being unfair…”

You laugh, breath shaky now, because you feel how unfair it’s getting.

“Didn’t mean to,” you tease. “Just missed you.”

He lets out a broken sound.

“I missed you too, but—ngh—you’re gonna make me lose it, sweetheart…”

His breath is hot against your skin as he rocks his hips up again, helpless this time. You gasp, clutching his forearms.

“You didn’t even warn me,” he whines. “You smell so good, and now I’m—!” He pants, voice muffled against your shoulder. “Now I’m so hard and you’re on my lap and I don’t think I can cuddle anymore…”

You shiver, your smirk crumbling fast. “Then what do you wanna do, Kou?”

He pulls back to look at you. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, face flushed.

“…I wanna ruin cuddle time.”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

You’ve always been the one to make the first move. When it came to kisses, to touches, to taking things a little further under the covers.

Wakatoshi never minded it. He loved holding you. He loved your affection. He was gentle, patient, loyal— Too loyal, sometimes. Loyal to routine. To recovery hours. To eight hours of sleep.

You’re sitting on the couch next to him, in the oversized jersey he gave you, freshly showered and looking like sin on legs, and what’s he doing?

Reading a book.

You scoot closer. “Toshi.”

“Yes?”

You kiss his cheek. He smiles and puts his hand on your knee. …That’s it. That’s the move. That’s the entire move.

You squint at him. He doesn’t get it. He never does.

He always thinks it’s cuddle time. Like soft music and dim lights and you being all over him just means “quality bonding”.

So tonight, you’re done trying the soft approach. You pad over to the dresser and pick up the bottle.

It’s a stupid perfume. A joke gift from a friend. Labeled in loopy cursive font: “1 Spritz = 1 Baby Bump.”

You spritz it once on your neck.

And walk back to the couch.

Wakatoshi looks up, blinking slowly.

“…You smell different.”

“Mhm.”

“…You look like you want something.”

“Oh, I do, Toshi.”

He tilts his head, trying to figure it out. “You want to cuddle?”

You deadpan. Then sit on his lap. Face to face.

“I want you.”

He stills. “You have me.”

“No, Toshi. I want you to pin me to this couch and remind me you’re not just the strongest in volleyball.”

A silence. He blinks again.

Then, a pause— A very long one.

“…Oh.”

You watch it hit him in slow motion. His hands on your waist grip tighter. His eyes scan your face. Then your legs. Then your neck. Then his jaw clenches.

“This is because of the perfume?” he asks.

You sigh, dramatic. “Toshi, this has been building for weeks. But yes. The perfume helped.”

“I see.”

He picks you up like you weigh nothing and walks to the bedroom.

“Wait—Toshi—what are you—”

“If one spritz equals one baby bump,” he says calmly, “we should test the claim.”

You blink. “Wha—”

“Accurately. Scientifically. Repeatedly.”

The door shuts.

Two hours later, you’re sprawled on the bed, breathless. Wakatoshi sits beside you, rubbing your thigh gently.

“…Should we try two spritzes next time?”

SHIRABU KENJIRO

Shirabu’s been busy. Like won’t-look-up-from-his-laptop busy. “Not now, I’m reviewing a case study” busy. Grumbling at 2AM in the dark like a sexy, pissed off raccoon busy.

And you’ve been patient. Really, you have. But you’ve been walking around this house in cute pajamas, brushing past him with your soft little “oops” bumps, and what does he do?

Nothing. Maybe a glance. A grunt. The bare minimum.

So today? You choose violence. A tiny spritz of “Soft Siren” behind your ears and on the inside of your thighs. It’s floral, sweet, and just a little feral.

Then you wait.

And wait.

He walks past you once in the hallway. Pauses.

Walks back. Sniffs the air.

“…Did you change your body wash?” he asks suspiciously.

You shrug. “Maybe.”

He narrows his eyes. “You smell different.”

You lean closer, whispering, “Do I?”

The silence is tense. You can practically see the vein in his forehead twitching as he stiffens, ears turning red.

“I’m working,” he grits out, retreating to the bedroom where his laptop lives.

But it’s too late.

The smell is in his brain now, tangled in all his smart little synapses. And when you pass by the door again, he doesn’t say a word—but he follows you this time.

You feel it. That shift.

“Kenjirou,” you tease over your shoulder, “do you need something?”

You feel him grab your wrist. He turns you around, eyes dark.

“What the hell did you spray on yourself?”

You smirk. “Why? You like it?”

He exhales sharply through his nose. “I can’t think straight. I’m trying to work and you’re walking around like—like—”

“Like what?”

“…Like you want something.”

You tug him by the collar of his wrinkled scrub top.

“I do. But I’ve been waiting. Waiting for you to stop choosing your laptop over me.”

His mouth twitches.

Then you’re being shoved gently—but firmly—against the nearest wall.

“You really had to wear that smell on today of all days?”

You tilt your head. “Bad timing?”

He growls.

“No. It’s perfect.”

He kisses you hard, hands roaming your sides like he’s starved. And maybe he is. Maybe you both are.

Laptop forgotten. Case study closed. Tonight, Doctor Shirabu’s new patient is you, and he’s taking his time.

GOSHIKI TSUTOMU

It’s the same routine every night.

Door opens. Shoes kick off. Bag flops. “Hi, I’m home,” he mutters, already yawning.

You peek from the hallway. Goshiki’s drenched in sweat, skin flushed, hair messy from practice, shirt clinging to his back. And yet—he’s still stupidly cute. Exhausted, a little pouty, and already collapsing onto the couch face first.

“Dinner’s in the fridge,” you say softly, padding over.

“Mmhmm. Thank you,” he mumbles into a throw pillow. “Just five minutes. I swear. Then I’ll reheat it…”

You sigh. You love him. But damn it, you’re not dating a nap gremlin. You’re dating a powerful, kind-hearted, hot athlete—and it’s been days since you’ve had anything more than a sleepy forehead kiss.

So tonight?

You spritz.

A dab behind the ears. One on your wrists. And because you’re mean, one spritz just under the hem of your oversized shirt.

It hits him instantly.

“Mmm… What’s that smell?” he mumbles, lifting his head slightly. “You smell... different.”

You kneel beside him, brushing hair from his face. “Do you like it?”

“…It’s really nice. Kinda sweet. Makes my chest feel funny. Like…” He blinks at you. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“…Like you’re about to eat me alive.”

You just smile, soft and slow, and whisper, “Only if you ask nicely.”

He freezes. The tips of his ears go pink. “…Wait. Are you—are you—”

“You’re always tired, baby,” you coo, gently stroking his arm. “Always coming home drained. But I want you. All of you. Right now.”

He swallows hard. “I-I can still eat first—”

You straddle him. His mouth opens. No words come out.

“I missed you,” you whisper against his neck, letting the perfume do its work. “I’ve been patient. But tonight, you’re not allowed to nap until I’m done.”

He makes a high-pitched noise and grips your thighs. “Oh my God. Okay. Okay! I—I’m awake. I’m up. I’m here.”

You grin.

“Good.” Ten minutes later: He’s whispering apologies mid-thrust like “I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier,” “You smell so good I can’t think straight,” and “I’m gonna cry this is better than any nap.”

KITA SHINSUKE

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

You just… opened the coop door to help.

Just a little peek. Just to feed them real quick.

But somehow—chaos.

Feathers flying. Beaks pecking. And Shinsuke chasing every single chicken around the yard under the burning sun. Hat tipped back. Shirt sticking to his skin. Silent. Stoic. But absolutely, definitely pissed.

You tried to apologize—he didn’t snap, didn’t yell. He never did. But the way he walked past you afterward, wordless, sweaty, and slamming the hose down next to the coop?

Yeah, he was sulking.

So now you’re inside, peeking out the window like a guilty little gremlin, watching the love of your life simmer in silence.

And maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s the guilt. Or maybe it’s just that you miss him—the way he grabs your hips with those farm-calloused hands, the way he moans your name like it’s a hymn.

So you dig through your drawer.

Pheromone perfume. A risky little thing you’d been saving. The tag? “Fix Cluck-Ups With One Spritz.”

You laugh softly to yourself as you spray once to your neck, once over your chest, and one more, just beneath the waistband of your shorts. Then? You wait. Sitting on the kitchen counter, pretending to drink water. Innocent. Almost.

He walks in minutes later. Hair damp from rinsing off the dirt. Shirt clinging. Eyes tired. Lips pressed thin.

He doesn't speak. He just wipes his face with a towel and lets out a low, tired breath.

“Shin…”

“I ain’t mad,” he mutters. “Just tired.”

“I know,” you whisper.

Another pause.

Then you see it— His nose scrunches. Subtle. Curious.

And then it hits him.

He stops drying his hair. Looks at you, still holding the towel. Eyes drop to your collarbone.

“…You wearin’ somethin’?”

“Just thought I’d clean up a little. For you.” Your voice is sweet. Too sweet.

“Smells… good.” His voice dips. He lingers in the doorway, jaw clenching.

You hop off the counter, walking past him just slow enough for the scent to follow. You feel his eyes on you, heavy and distracted.

He doesn’t move until you pause in the hallway and turn over your shoulder.

“You sure you’re just tired?” It’s a whisper. A challenge.

He’s in front of you in three slow steps. His hands find your hips. His forehead rests against yours.

“You’re trouble,” he breathes. “Even after you let the damn chickens out.”

You smile. “Still mad?”

“No,” he says. “But I’m still tired…”

His hands slide lower.

“…So you better do most of the work.”

SUNA RINTARO

The second he walks through the door, he groans.

Not a dramatic, whining kind of groan.

No. A Suna groan. Deep. Flat. Laced with exhaustion and "I hate being alive after work" energy.

“Food?” he mumbles, not even making eye contact, tossing his bag near the shoe rack. His voice is gruff, scratchy from not talking the entire commute home.

You don’t say anything.

You just stand there.

Looking entirely too calm.

Too inviting.

Wearing that. The perfume. The one tucked away behind your other bottles, labeled almost too cheekily: “Dinner Can Wait.”

Just three little spritzes— One behind your ear, One over your chest, One on the waistband of your lounge shorts.

It’s warm in the apartment. The smell’s lingering like a ghost. Sweet. Soft. Sinful.

He pauses halfway through yawning. His eyes narrow. Head tilts just slightly. Still tired, but now? Suspicious.

“Why does it smell like…” he squints, sniffing the air like a confused alley cat, “…whatever this is?”

You don’t answer.

You simply walk past him toward the couch, brushing against his arm as you go. And his whole body stills like he’s buffering.

He blinks. Once. Twice. Turns his head slightly to track your movement.

“…You did something.”

“Nope.”

“…You definitely did something.”

You flop onto the couch, lazily patting the cushion beside you.

Suna doesn’t move for a second. Just watches. And then you see it—that moment his tired, sleepy face slowly morphs into something darker. Lower-lidded eyes. A slow lick of his lips. A deep sigh through his nose.

“…You know I came home tired and hungry,” he mutters, approaching.

You raise an eyebrow, smile coy.

“And?”

He kneels on the couch, hands planted on either side of your thighs. His nose hovers just above your shoulder, breath hot against your skin.

“…Now I’m just hungry,” he says flatly, eyes dark. “But not for food.”

Your breath hitches.

His mouth is on your neck before you can say a word. Slow kisses. Lazily teasing, like he’s got all night. Your fingers tangle in his hair and you feel him grin against your skin.

“You planned this,” he mumbles.

“Maybe.”

“You’re cruel,” he says, voice low as his hand slides beneath your waistband.

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” he groans. “And now I’m gonna eat first before dinner gets cold.”

“…Dinner is already cold.”

He pauses. Smirks.

“Not this one.”

It started innocent.

Really, it did.

MIYA ATSUMU

Osamu had just been teasing him. As he always does. Something about the way Atsumu talks when he’s flustered. The way his ears turn pink when you call him pretty. The way he—quote unquote—moans dramatically when he stretches.

And you?

You laughed. A little too hard. Leaned into Osamu’s shoulder, even clapped once.

It was over.

Now? Silence.

You’re sitting on the couch with a very obviously sulking Atsumu curled up beside you—arms crossed, lips pursed, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to burn a hole through the carpet.

Every so often, he glances your way.

You catch him.

He tchs, looks away again.

God, he's so dramatic.

But also? A little cute.

You nudge his thigh with yours. “Still mad?”

He doesn't answer.

You hum softly and lean forward, spritzing the perfume you’d been saving for emergencies like this. A warm, sweet, heady scent—the kind that always makes Atsumu stutter and blink slow.

It hits him before you even sit back.

“…What’s that,” he asks flatly, eyes flicking to your shoulder.

“Dunno,” you shrug, feigning innocence.

His nose twitches. He tries to pretend he’s not already shifting closer, but it’s laughably obvious.

“I said I dunno,” you repeat, biting back a smirk. “Why, is it bothering you?”

He turns fully toward you, now sitting cross-legged like a child ready to argue. “Ya laughin’ that hard at Samu was already insultin’, but now yer gonna seduce me when I’m vulnerable?!”

“You’re sulking, not vulnerable.”

“It’s the same thing!”

You try not to laugh again. Really, you do. But the pout on his face, the scrunch of his brows, the genuine wounded pride—it’s too much.

And he sees it. The twitch at the corner of your lips.

“Yer unbelievable,” he mutters, standing. “I’m goin’ to bed—”

But before he can leave, you pull him down by the wrist, guiding him right into your lap.

He startles, blush creeping over his ears. “Wha—what’re ya doin’?!”

“Claiming my right to apologize.”

He swallows hard. Because now that he’s straddling you, with his nose buried in the crook of your neck, his whole resolveis cracking.

“…You do smell real nice though,” he mumbles.

You run your hands up his back, slowly. “Mhm.”

“Like… like somethin’ dangerous.”

“Mhm.”

“Like I should forgive you but also maybe punish you a little.”

You blink. “Oh?”

“I mean… just to make it even,” he says, leaning closer, lips brushing your ear. “So I don’t get laughed at again.”

You hum. “And what kind of punishment are we talking about?”

His hands slip under your shirt, grip hungry. “I’m thinkin’…” he growls, voice husky, “a long night of me provin’ I’m no joke.”

MIYA OSAMU

You didn’t mean to.

In fact, you were absolutely sure it was your onigiri. You’d seen it on the plate, sitting there with zero post-it notes, zero name labels, zero indicators of “DO NOT TOUCH, THIS IS SAMU’S.” So how were you supposed to know it was hiscarefully-crafted, expertly-seasoned, emotionally-attached, lovingly-made snack?

Now Osamu Miya was standing in the middle of the kitchen, devastated like you’d just told him the rice cooker broke permanently and he could never make another onigiri again.

“…You didn’t,” he said, voice low.

“I didn’t what?” you blinked innocently, lips still dusted with leftover rice.

He pointed to the now-empty plate. “That was mine.”

You blinked.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” he scoffed, dramatically grabbing his chest like he was in emotional pain. “I made that for me after my shift. I had a whole mouth fantasy planned and everything.”

“I thought—”

“—You thought wrong.” His voice was so dry, it could’ve cooked the next batch of rice by itself. He was already sulking, back turned, grabbing ingredients to make another one, each motion full of silent judgment and petty betrayal. “Unbelievable. I can’t believe I live with a thief.”

You bit your lip to hold back a smile. Because… yeah, okay, you did feel guilty. But also?

Sulky Samu was kind of adorable.

His pout was prominent, hair messy from work, sleeves pushed up his toned forearms as he grabbed fresh seaweed and furikake. Still grumbling. Still muttering dramatic things like “don’t even got a lock on the fridge” and “betrayed by the one I love.”

You quietly turned and walked up the stairs.

“Yeah, run away from your crimes!” he called after you.

But you weren’t fleeing. No. You had a plan.

Because earlier that week, you bought something—something new, something… experimental. A sweet, warm, subtle perfume that lingered like temptation. Vanilla and sandalwood, musky but soft, almost edible.

The bottle had been sitting on your vanity, untouched, waiting for the perfect moment.

And if now wasn’t the perfect moment to pull out the big guns, then when?

You spritzed once—just enough. Behind your ears, down your neck, one across your chest. You let it sink into your skin like you meant trouble.

Then padded downstairs again, heart thudding a little.

He was still at the counter, shaping the fresh onigiri with slightly more force than necessary.

You walked up behind him silently, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing yourself against his back. “’M sorry, Samu.”

He paused mid-shape, shoulders tense.

“…Did you put on perfume just to apologize?” he asked warily.

“Maybe.”

He turned slightly, eyes narrowing. “Why do you smell like a warm dessert with bad intentions?”

“Because I’m sorry?” you offered with a little smile against his shirt.

He stared at you.

Then back at your hands wrapped around his waist.

Then back to your lips ghosting against his hoodie.

“…You’re evil.”

“Maybe,” you whispered, tilting your head so your nose brushed the shell of his ear. “But you love me.”

He exhaled shakily.

“You smell like you should come with a warning label,” he muttered.

“I do,” you murmured, kissing behind his ear. “It says: One spritz = kitchen counter incident.”

He groaned.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“If I burn this rice, you’re makin’ the next batch.”

“If I burn the kitchen, it’s your fault for being so hot when you pout.”

That earned you a look. But he still turned the stove off.

And without saying a word, he picked you up—effortlessly, like he’d been waiting for the excuse—planted you on the counter, and stepped between your legs.

“You smell like sin,” he muttered, forehead resting against yours.

“And you smell like you wanna kiss me.”

“…Don’t tempt me.”

“I already did.”

He kissed you.

Hungry, sweet, slow. One hand bracing the counter, the other sliding behind your waist, pulling you closer until the scent of vanilla and warmth wrapped around both of you like heat. You felt his lips twitch against yours.

“Y’know what?” he whispered. “I forgive you.”

“For the onigiri?”

“No. For making me fall even harder when I was tryin’ to stay mad.”

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

It had been a long practice.

He wasn’t even in a bad mood. Just... tired. Muscles aching, hoodie damp with sweat, mask still slung under his chin as he unlocked the front door, duffle bag slung over one shoulder. Kiyoomi stepped into the quiet of your shared home, intent on showering, stretching, maybe scrubbing himself down three times like usual before even thinking about touching you.

Routine. Safe. Orderly.

Except—

“Welcome home,” your voice called from the kitchen, soft and warm.

Except he stopped mid-step. Eyelids flickering. Nose twitching.

What… was that smell?

It wasn’t food. Wasn’t candles. Wasn’t his detergent or yours. It was you.

You… smelled different.

Soft, sweet. Sultry. Almost intoxicating. Like a honeyed whisper, rich musk and vanilla with the tiniest hint of spice—comforting, warm, dangerous. A scent that crawled under his skin and curled low in his stomach.

You poked your head out to smile at him. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer at first. Just stared.

His eyes trailed from your face down to your oversized shirt—his shirt, hanging loosely around your thighs—and back up again. He could tell by the look on your face that you knew what you’d done.

He shifted his duffle bag. Cleared his throat.

“I need to shower.”

You tilted your head. “You sure? You look like you’re struggling.”

He swallowed hard. That scent. It was in the air. On your neck. Clinging to you. Begging him to lean in. To bite. To ruin. His self-control teetered on a wire-thin thread.

“Shower,” he repeated tightly. “Then maybe.”

“Maybe what?”

You were teasing. Cruel. Smiling like you weren’t singlehandedly destroying every wall he put up.

He brushed past you—barely—but not before pausing to inhale, deeply, right near your neck. A near-growl bubbled in his throat, low and quiet. His eyes closed for one breath. One shaky, drawn-out inhale. Then he pulled back.

“Don’t move,” he muttered.

“Hm?”

“I said don’t move.”

And then he sprinted to the bathroom.

You blinked after him, hearing the rush of water a moment later. You’d never seen Kiyoomi hustle like that. Ever.

Ten minutes passed.

Then fifteen.

You were about to check on him when the door to the bathroom opened.

And there he was—hair still wet, hoodie replaced by a fitted black tee, sweatpants low on his hips, barefoot, eyes dark and sharp as blades.

You straightened, startled. “You okay—?”

“I didn’t last a minute in the shower,” he said plainly, walking toward you with slow, sure steps. “I kept smelling you.”

You swallowed.

“Had to take a cold one.”

“Oh.”

“And I still came out hard.”

Your mouth parted slightly. “Kiyoomi—”

He reached you in two long strides.

Hands on your waist. Back pressing to the counter. His scent now clashed and tangled with yours—mint and soap and pure hunger.

“You think you’re funny?” he asked, voice low. “Spraying that on and walking around my house like that?”

“…Maybe.”

His hands squeezed your hips.

“Smelling like you wanna be devoured?”

You let out a breathless sound.

Kiyoomi leaned in, pressing his nose to your neck again—right where you’d spritzed. He groaned. Actually groaned. His lips ghosted your skin, then dipped to your collarbone. “You smell dangerous.”

You smiled faintly. “Is that bad?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. And for a second, the restraint cracked.

“No,” he murmured. “But it means I’m not letting you out of this kitchen until you smell like me instead.”

And when he kissed you—deep, firm, filled with every bit of tension he’d held back since he walked in—you knew damn well that perfume bottle had officially entered your emergency-use-only drawer.

Because whatever it was, whatever magic it carried—

You’d just discovered Kiyoomi Sakusa’s ultimate weakness.

And he was going to make you pay for it.

Over.

And over.

Again.

[pvtty-wh0re]

sober (haymitch a.)

words: 3.9k

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f + m receiving) , teasing (?), too much plot 😭

notes: this is so late! i am so sorry to whoever requested, i got super busy and couldn’t post it the day i planned. also, this is my first ever smut! so i am sorry if this is terrible, i’ll get better over time. enjoy!

_

The party lasted hours. Your feet hurt, your stomach is churning, and your head pounds. You've never wanted your district bed more than now. This place reeks of wealth and lies.

Unfortunately, skipping these monthly events would anger Snow. He already dislikes you and your district, so you have to do whatever it takes to please him. If that means enduring long nights of drinking and throwing up, so be it. It's better than death, you suppose.

There's only one other District 12 victor here with you, and he disappeared halfway through the night. Haymitch, despite being a good friend and your former mentor, is possibly the worst person to rely on in these social situations. He's been sitting at the bar for who knows how long, drinking who knows how much. It's only when the host literally announces it's time to leave that you find him, slumped over the counter on a stool.

"Haymitch? Come on, we have to go," you urge, shaking his shoulders.

"What? No, let me stay. I'm sleeping," he mumbles.

"You're not sleeping. You're fine. Here, I have one of those drinks that make you throw up. It'll sober you up enough to say goodbyes," you say, handing him the glass. He pushes it back towards you without even looking up.

"I don't want that Capitol shit."

"This Capitol shit will help you a lot right now. Haymitch, get up!" You push his head to the side so you can see his face. He opens his eyes to look at you.

He's only in his late twenties, but his eyes seem older. He looks as rough as he acts. His hair is too long, and his beard is starting to come in slightly, despite him saying he'd groom himself for this occasion. Still, he looks handsome. Not that it matters; his current state reflects his antisocial night.

"Please. I'm trying to keep us out of trouble. You've been alone all night. At least come say goodbye to people with me. Then we can go home, okay?"

If harshness isn’t working, you'll try being soft with him. Sometimes, just sometimes, it works. It seems to today.

He sighs and sits up, steadying himself with his palms flat on the counter. He reaches for the purple liquid and swallows it like a shot, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing.

"Okay, I'll be back then," he says, going off to throw up.

You nod and take a seat on the stool next to where he was sitting, waiting. You can't help but feel guilty. You should have stayed with him longer that night before he went off on his own. You knew he'd go drinking, but you didn’t know it would get this bad.

Since you've known Haymitch, he's had a bit of a drinking problem. Mostly under control when he mentored you—never more than tipsy. But in recent years, as more of his tributes lost the Games, it's gotten worse. It's weighing on him, you can tell. You want to help so badly.

"Okay, let's go," he says, returning a few minutes later, running his fingers through his hair. He's clearly sobered up a bit, maybe even washed his face. His breath smells of mint.

The host and his wife are among about a dozen people remaining by the time you leave the bar and walk to the main room together. Nonetheless, you both put on a show, shaking hands and smiling, thanking them endlessly. You never know who's watching, present or otherwise.

As you make your rounds to the last few victors, Haymitch latches his arm closely with yours. The move surprises you; you realize he hasn't been this physical in a while. It seems to come with sobriety or maybe just part of the Capitol's show. Together, you almost look like a couple. It's odd.

When you leave through the doors, he doesn't let go of your arm. It's a cold night, and you shiver, but the warmth of his body next to yours feels weirdly nice.

"Thank you," you say, looking up at him on the train ride home.

"For what?" he asks, furrowing his brows.

"For taking the glass. I know you hate that stuff, but—"

"But I need to get sober," he says, looking away from you into the distance.

"I didn't say that, but it's nice when you are. I mean, it's helpful with the image when you aren't stumbling around—"

He detaches his arm from yours.

"So I shouldn't drink because the President said so?"

"He didn't say so, Haymitch. I'm saying so. You shouldn't drink because I say so."

"And why's that?"

"Because I like you better like this."

He goes quiet, then looks down at his feet, his hair falling in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, it's harder than it looks, sweetheart."

"I know that. I'm sorry," you say softly.

The rest of the ride is quiet. It's just the two of you on the train, and any sound you make seems to echo for ages. Neither of you wants to speak; too much is unsaid.

You care about him; you know that. You just aren't sure how. Though it seems increasingly clear to you in moments like this when all you want to do is tuck his hair behind his ear and kiss him softly. You have no idea how he'd feel about that, though. You have no idea how he feels most of the time.

In fact, just then, it's the first time he's seemed to feel bad about his drinking. And it doesn't seem like he cares about his health or the Capitol's opinion on his image. It seems like he feels bad for disappointing you.

When the train stops, you both get out, him first, then you. He offers his hand as you step down, and you take it with a slight smile. His hands are cold, as is the night.

Your houses are directly next to each other in Victor's Village, making the walk there excruciatingly awkward. You can't tell what he's thinking, or if he's thinking at all. Finally, after what feels like an hour, he speaks.

"That stuff is really nasty, you know that?" he says.

You look up at him. "The purging stuff?"

"No, the desserts they were serving," he says, rolling his eyes and bumping his shoulder against yours. "Yeah, the purging stuff."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You're right. What you said and stuff. That's all right. You're right."

You smile and look up at him. He looks back at you and smiles softly, then looks away. He clearly hates to admit it.

"Don't be cocky about it, though. And don't expect me to stop. It's not that easy."

"I don't. I just like you like this."

"Yeah, you mentioned that. What do you mean?"

You've reached your house, and he stops in front of your door, feet planted. He looks down at you with a questioning gaze, and his blue eyes seem to dart across your face. Your cheeks flush. You have no idea what to respond.

"You know, just... sober," you say, looking away.

"No, I know, but the 'like' part. What do you mean? Because you got all shy when you said it," he says, swaying a bit where he stands, impatiently waiting for a response.

"I don't know," you say quietly.

"You don't know?"

"No. I think we should go to sleep. You should go to sleep. No more drinks. At least wait until tomorrow."

You try to push past him to your door, but he takes both hands out of his pockets and gently shoves your shoulders back. Not hard, but enough to make you stumble. He gazes down at you and steps forward, closing the space between you.

"Whoa, you're so eager all of a sudden. Look at me," he says, tilting your head up with a hand under your chin. "Why are you so embarrassed?"

"I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. You like me?"

"Haymitch, stop. You're—" You stop, tears pricking at your eyes. He's teasing you, you're sure of it. The last thing you want is for him to figure out your feelings. Not after he's been your mentor, not after he's seen you at your worst, after he's been your friend (?) for this long. It doesn't make sense. You know that. And he knows that, most definitely. That's why you're sure he doesn't feel that way towards you. He can't.

"You're crying. I thought you were all tough?" he says.

He's right. You were tough. Crying makes you weak. You hate talking like this. So honestly.

"Stop it," you jerk away from his hand, which had crept up to your cheek. "Go to bed."

But you don't take a step forward, don't shove past him again. You just stand there, your breath heavy, looking away. He gazes at you like he's seeing you for the first time, his eyes darting from your eyes to your mouth to your body.

"I don't want to. I want to talk to you," he finally says.

"About what?" you say, still looking away.

"Us," he says softly.

"What about us?"

He takes a step forward.

"Come on, sweetheart. You're so good to me. Take care of me. Trust in me. Give me hope."

Your breathing speeds up as you feel his hand stoke your arm gently up and down as he speaks. You’d always been cautious of his words, so used to his drunken thoughts being untrustworthy and sometimes cruel. But this feels honest. Real.

“I know you feel something.” he says as you lift your head to look back at him. “You might not know what. I don’t know either. But c’mon.” 

He starts to lean closer and your eyes drift closed. Before you can even register, his lips are on yours, and you’re kissing back. Your hands hold his elbows and his hold your face. 

His mouth tastes of the mouthwash from the capitol washrooms. He’s so slow with you, like he’s trying not to scare you. You aren’t sure if he possibly could. 

Suddenly you pull away. 

“What’s wrong?” Haymitch asks, his eyes wide.

“We should go inside.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” He registers quickly what you mean. 

All along the village are cameras for the capitol to see what goes on. Although it’s unlikely you’d get in much trouble for a kiss, you never knew what would land you a meeting with snow. Or just become the talk of the next victor event. 

You push past him and unlock your door quickly, before turning back to him, motioning for him to come inside. By the time you close the door, he’s kissing you again, this time the careful act gone. He catches your lips and kisses you like his life depended on it. It’s messy and wet and you’re so turned on it’s insane. 

His hands both reach down to hold yours, and he pushes them up against the door. The motion catches you by surprise and you moan softly into his mouth. He hears you and holds down tighter on your wrists, just enough to feel but not to hurt. 

His knee starts to spread your legs apart slowly as he kisses down your neck, and you let his name slip from your mouth.

“Haymitch~”

He stops to look at you.

“Yeah? You like this?” He sounds like he’s genuinely asking. Like he needs to know. 

You nod, your brain already fuzzy. 

“Okay. Okay.” He sounds out of breath but resumes 

his task, getting down to your collarbone. 

Hes rough with his kisses when he’s below where any marks would be seen. As he unbuttons your shirt, he looks at you, smiling like an idiot. It hits you then that he seems to have wanted this as badly as you all along. He leans in to leave a soft kiss on your lips before pulling your sleeves off your arms and throwing your top to the floor. 

“Jesus…” He mutters as he looks down at your tits. 

You reach behind you to unhook your bra, and let it all forward and land next to your shirt. 

“Holy fuck.” 

You laugh quietly at his words. He looks up at you in awe and with a look of asking as he creeps his hands from your waist up to your chest. You nod and let out a sharp breath when his cold hands hold your tits and knead them slowly. 

You wonder then if he’d ever done this with a woman before. He was younger than you when he won, so probably not before the games. And after…he’d never really seemed the type. But then again, he was attractive and still young, so you couldn’t be sure. 

Besides him, you’d only been with one or two boys from district before you were reaped. They were, however, nothing like this. 

He takes one nipple between his thumb and pointer, pinching slightly. Between the pressure and his cold hands, you let out a noise of surprise and pleasure. 

“Does that hurt?” He asks

“No, just…it’s a lot.” You say through deep breaths. “K-keep going.”

He smiles and does the same with the other, and your hips jut forward slightly in reaction. He doesn’t notice, which you’re grateful for. You’re so eager it’s embarrassing. Every touch makes your stomach flip and your underwear wetter. 

Slowly he starts to kiss down from your collarbones to your chest and takes a breast in his mouth. He looks up at you as he sucks softly, his tongue swirling your nipple. His big eyes looking into yours makes you feel like you could cum then and there. you let out a moan instead. 

He plays with your breasts for a while longer before they’re nice and covered in both his spit and dark, red marks. He knew what he was doing, putting them where nobody could see. you thought of changing in front of a mirror days to come, just looking at them. Knowing it was from him. sober. He wants this. 

He gets to his knees before you can stop him, and begins to pull down your skirt. 

You’re left in your underwear, your slick having left a clear spot in the front. You turn your head in embarrassment as he touches up your thighs and leaves open mouth kisses. 

“All this from that, huh?” he asks, laughing softly 

“Shut up.” you mutter into your hand. 

“You want me to stop?” he asks, his fingers hooked under the sides of your panties. 

“N-no.”

“What was that sweetheart? C’mon, look at me.”

“Don’t stop.” you say, clearer now, making eye contact as he kneels in front of your pussy. You couldn’t be more vulnerable, and yet, you trust him with every inch of your being. 

He looks back at your core for a moment before licking a stripe up the thin fabric. You curse quietly and he pulls them down, the air hitting your heat before his tongue does. But when it does…

He laps at you like he’d wanted to for years, which you’re now sure that he has. The urgency makes your legs buckle and he uses both hands against your knees to hold them open. He switches between your folds and your clit, paying attention to both. Every so often he stops and just admires. 

At some point haymitch sucks at your clit, and your hands fly to his hair, pulling slightly. 

He lets out a groan of surprise against your core.

“Sorry, sorry…” you mutter, loosening your grip. 

“No, keep going, I like it.” he says, stopping to look up at you, his eyes nearly glazed over in bliss. 

You resume your hold on his head and tug as he continues. Between his lips and his tongue, you’re  overwhelmed. before you know it, you feel the coil in your stomach tighten. 

“Stop…stop…” you manage in between moans. 

He gives you one last kiss to your clit before standing up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“You okay?” 

“Just don’t wanna finish yet.” you say without thinking, before getting flushed. Even after all that, you couldn’t believe you were speaking to him like this. Haymitch. 

He smiles lazily and goes in to kiss you again, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. It should repulse you, but instead, it turns you on more. He's so happy right now, and it’s so hot. 

“Do you wanna go to my bed?” you ask him when you get a breath, his forehead resting against yours. 

He picks you up and carries you. 

Haymitch knows your house as well as his from all the press training, meetings, and late night conversations you’ve had there. He practically lives with you at this point (Besides the sleeping over part. Usually. Unless he’d passed out.) 

He drops you on your mattress and pulls off his own shirt in one motion. Your breath is caught in your throat. 

You knew he was in shape, at least he was when he had mentored you all those years ago. But even now, behind the big shirts he wears and raggedy jackets, soft abs trace his stomach. His arms as big as your thighs. No wonder the pressure on your neck felt so nice. 

He sees you staring and smiles, leaning down to tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“You gonna say anything, pretty girl?” 

You try, but you find no words. Instead, you kiss him, and slowly trail your hands down his chest. you can feel raised scars and for a moment, remember what he’s been through. What you both have been through. 

You reach his belt and whisper into his mouth, 

“Can i?”

He nods against your forehead and you start to undo it, throwing it to the side. You pull his pants down with urgency and run your palm against his boxers. 

He lets out a noise you’ve never heard him make before, a mix between a whimper and a moan. You smile and start to palm him faster, before taking him out of his underwear and looking between you at his length. 

He’s bigger than you expect, and definitely bigger than the boys you’ve been with before. A solid seven inches and thick. Your eyes can’t look away and your breath rises and falls. 

He takes your hand softly into his and guides it to his length. He looks up at you as he does, searching for any hesitation in your eyes. Instead, you look up at him before flipping you both over quickly, so you sit on his thighs. 

He’s strong, but so are you, and he doesn’t resist as you take charge over him. He does, however, look a bit surprised, and reaches to hold your hand again. You take it and kiss it, which he smiles at. Then, you lean down, and let a glob of spit dribble from your mouth to his cock. 

“Jesus christ…” he mutters, as you use your free hand to pump up and down. “When did you…fuck…feels so good sweetheart”

You smile and take him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down quickly. His other hand still holding yours, he grips at your hair (much gentler than you did his) and makes a make-shift ponytail so he can see your pretty face. 

Despite the view, his eyes flutter shut in pleasure, and your pace quickens. You feel him pulse inside your mouth and you’re sure he’s about to cum. 

You take him as deep as you can before pulling off, leaving his cock hard as a rock and covered in your saliva. You admire your work for a moment before he reaches forward and pulls you on top of him by your hips so you’re right against his chest. 

“C’mere” he moans, fucked out, before taking his cock in his own hand and looking over your shoulder to position himself in front of your entrance. 

“You want this?” he asks, taking your cheek in his free hand and stroking his thumb against it. 

“Please.” you whisper. 

Slowly, he inserts himself into you, catching your moans in his mouth as he kisses you slowly. He stretches you out so well, and your slick helps him move without much pain. Still, you bite down on his lip at the feeling of being full once he’s in. You let out a whimper. 

“I know baby, I know. Shhhh. Tell me when to move, okay?” he looks into your eyes. 

For a moment you just kiss him, his mouth so warm on yours and his cock so warm inside you. You could die like this. 

Then, you pull away, and lift your hips, before slowly moving back down. 

“Fuck…” he moans, before catching into the pace you set and moving you up and down on his cock. “So perfect for me, yeah? You feel that?” 

You nod dumbly at his words. He could say anything to you at this moment, and you’d agree. He feels so good. So right. 

“You wanted this huh? Is that why you want me sober? To fuck me?” he asks, and you shake your head as you bounce on his dick. 

“Hm, but that’s part of it, yeah?” he insists, “You like this. Me. C’mon sweetheart, you’re needy. That's okay, I'm givin’ it to you. I'm here.” 

You fall against him and place your head on his shoulder as he fucks into you like you’re a doll. He knows just what to say to get you so embarrassed and so wet. The words only add to your pleasure and you can feel yourself getting close. 

“Haymitch…” you moan against his shoulder. 

“M’ close pretty thing.” 

He takes one of the arms holding your hips and moves to your clit, rubbing quickly. The feeling sends you over the edge. 

“Fuck, haymitch, i’m cumming~” you mutter, raising your head to look at him as you fletch down and your orgasm washes over you. 

As you come down from your high, he speeds up rutting into you, and you put each hand on one of his shoulders for support. His eyes are closed and his mouth slightly open as he mind your name over and over like a prayer. 

He lifts you off of his cock and back onto his thighs before cumming all over your belly. You reach a hand down to stroke him as he does, but he catches your wrist. He’s sensitive, you can tell, and you laugh softly. 

“Sorry pretty girl. Made a mess.” he says, looking in between the two of you. Between his cum and yours, there’s not a part of either of you that isn’t slick. He takes a finger and swipes a bit of his own before putting it in front of your mouth. Grinning, you take it in your mouth and suck, tasting him.

“Jesus.” he says softly, as you lay down next to him, your face buried into his neck. 

You lay there like that for a moment, breathing. His hair sticks to his face in certain places, and his cheeks are rosy. The reality of what had happened hits you.

“You know, this isn’t the only reason you should drink less-“ You begin, propping your head up on your hand. 

He sighs. 

“I know. I’m too happy right now for lectures though, alright?” 

You consider for a moment before deciding that’s fair. Laying back down, you cuddle into his side.

“You admit this is part of why though, huh?” he says after a few moments, and you can hear the smugness in his voice.

“Was it worth it?” you ask

There’s a pause.

“I’d do anything for you.” he answers.

And for now?

That’s all you need. 

-

tysm for reading! like + reblog if you enjoyed :)

[pvtty-wh0re]

Yes I’m a Findom Goddess and apart of the Findom/Feetdom Community. If you don’t like it leave.

I’m 18, Dm me for my Cashapp you disgusting little piggies. Tribute is $15 (I’m just starting off btw)

Enjoy this view of my toes and you pay me to see more.

[pvtty-wh0re]

idk why but I’m imagining like a primal prey masked scene with Eddie and a reader who works part time at a spirit Halloween and is closing shop alone for the night. Maybe she dressed up in costume for work that day (never worked at a spirit Halloween, idk if that’s allowed lol) and she’s dressed as a princess or fairy or something sweet and cute. He hides among the masks, wearing one maybe and corners her in the back room? -🍔

What's Your Favorite Scary Movie?

Dark!Eddie Munson x Reader

A/N: I changed it just a smidge, hope that’s okay. Thanks for the request, you’ve got your own tag now! I made a little map of my idea for the layout of the shop–just for ease of reading and writing. For non-Americans: Spirit Halloween is a pop up shop that arrives in, like, September and stays until the end of October. They sell costumes and decor. Important to note for this fic, usually Spirit’s pop up in abandoned buildings of old businesses. Also, I listened to my ‘dead dove: do not eat’ playlist while writing this hehe. Kind of modern Eddie because Spirit and Ghostface, but I don’t like writing modern Eddie so it’s mostly obscure. Here’s a map I doodled of the store.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ mdni!!!! DUBCON verging on NONCON (don’t read if that’s not your cup of tea), smut, Eddie’s obviously very OOC, kinda primal play (mainly the chase and the hunting), a lot of manipulation, Eddie kinda mind fucks reader, fingering, dirty talk, gaslighting, gratuitous nicknames because Eddie’s so condescending (dolly, sweetheart, honey, baby?), mocking, dumbification kinda, blowjob, face fucking in both senses, spitting, forced deepthroating, forced cum swallowing, cum eating, cum pay, dirty talk, degredation (slut, bitch), dacryphilia, choking and gagging on dick, one mention of vomiting on dick (doesn’t happen), dom!Eddie, sub!Reader, Eddie basically manipulates reader into subspace, this shit is nasty guys

Asks are open, come talk to me about Eddie!!

Masterlist

The chiming bell above the door indicates the exit of your last two customers for the evening. You slam the cash register closed, grabbing the keys under the checkout counter. Idly walking over to lock the doors, preventing any last minute customers, you admire the sound of silence, finally. There’s only so much animatronic groaning and shrieking a person can take before the holiday fun turns into CIA level torture. 

Brining the keys back to the counter, you check your hand mirror to make sure your makeup is still intact after such a long day. Grumbling about last minute holiday shoppers, you wipe away a small smear of red on your cheeks. Since it’s the day before Halloween, you decided to fully dress up. You’ve worn Halloween themed outfits for work, but this is the first time you’re fully in costume. Today, you spent your entire shift in a poofy mini-dress, your face painted with gaudy makeup to resemble a doll—complete with bright red circles of 'blush' on your cheeks, now slightly smeared.

Once you’re done fixing your makeup, you look around the empty store. Eddie, your coworker, is nowhere to be seen. You’ve worked with him all season, he’s painfully attractive but he’s also equally as painfully annoying. All the other girls you work with spend their shifts watching his every move, hoping he’ll look at them just once. You, on the other hand, spend your shifts bossing him around. It’s like he gets some sick enjoyment from it because he never does his job right. Like right now…

“Eddie, come on, it’s time to close out,” you shout into the quiet store. “Also, you’re such an ass, by the way! You’re not supposed to take your fifteen right before we close!” 

His lack of response has you halting your movements, dropping the money you were counting. “Eddie?” 

Silence.

You roll your eyes, walking back to the storage room to look for him, muttering a disgruntled, “Asshole.” 

When you open the door to the storage room, it’s empty. All you see are boxes and the wall of returned costumes with matching masks hanging on hooks, waiting to be shoved back into their plastic packaging. He was supposed to have done that earlier in the day after you two opened, now you look at the wall donning at least fifty costumes. It’s like one big fabric wall, top to bottom. 

“Ugh! Eddie, what the hell is this? I told you to do the putbacks this morning,” you frustratedly grumble to no one in particular as you eye a Ghostface mask before moving on—just hoping wherever the guy is, he can feel the vibrations of your anger. 

Walking further into the storage room, you look behind some boxes, trying to expose any of his hiding spots. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s jumped out at you in this room, the douchebag. Studying the labels of the last shipment, you don’t notice the way the Ghostface mask turns to follow your figure. 

When you’re sure he’s not in here, you turn around and just about jump out of your skin—shrieking at the figure clad in black, donning the Scream mask. You don’t notice how the person is blocking your only exit, too busy bitching at what has to be Eddie—he’s the only other person working today.

“Ugh, Eddie! I was calling you, jackass. What’s with all the putbacks,” you gesture to the costumes he’s neglected to put away. 

His annoying, perpetually smug voice never comes. He just stands there before he tilts his head, observing you. 

“Look, I know it’s you.” You cross your arms defiantly, jutting a hip out as you size him up. “And if for some reason it isn’t you, I’m gonna beat your ass. In fact—if it is you, I’m thinking I’ll still beat your ass.” His silence only makes you angrier as you mutter out, “Wouldn’t be undeserved.”

The figure steps closer, causing you to back up into some boxes. Your pulse is spiking, you’re 99% sure it’s him, but you can’t help thinking of all those 60 Minutes episodes about murderers targeting poor, helpless, young girls. 

Despite your fight or flight reflex whirring, you scoff at the figure, “I can smell your cologne, dumbass.” The pungent scent of Old Spice gives the metalhead away. 

He inches closer as you maneuver to the side, avoiding being cornered. You circle around until you’re both equidistant to the only exit, his body having matched every single movement—like a predator stalking its prey. 

You nervously attempt to deflect his attention, “Stop being such a weirdo, dude.”

Silence.

Deep breaths rack through your rapidly moving chest as you come to a stare-off with the mask, a one millisecond long glimpse to the exit and back to him was apparently one millisecond too long. The moment you break for the door, he’s scrambling to beat you there. 

Managing to get the heavy door open about three inches before it’s slammed shut by his hand, you feel strong arms wrap around your body as you struggle out of his hold.

“Eddie, I’m not fucking kidding! I will beat the ever living shit out of you and I’m not talking about booty bootcamp type shit,” you scream, trying to push his body off of you. 

The threat falls on deaf ears as he forcefully throws you against the wall opposite the door, finally taking the mask off to reveal himself. He shakes out his frizzy curls as he laughs at your face—a mix of shock and anger. 

“Calm down, sweetheart. I’m just fuckin’ with you,” he placates, hands up in surrender like he’s shocked you’re as mad as you are. 

Huffing, you stand up, smoothing out your dress, “Yeah, well one of us didn’t consent to being fucked with. Now come on, we need to close up.” You walk the short distance past him, opening the door again.

Three inches of freedom before it’s slammed shut again. 

You don’t move, hands still grasping the metal knob as you stare at his large, ringed hand holding the door closed. Your back is to him as you feel his looming presence behind you, just waiting for you to turn around—but you don’t. 

“Eddie,” you breathe out slowly, pulse spiking again. “Let me out…” 

“No.” 

His tone is firm, final. It makes you suck in a stuttering breath. 

“Why?”

“Because I wanna play with my dolly,” he coos.

Shivering as you feel his feather light caress down the cheap fabric of your costume, he lifts the hem of the skirt, inspecting it as he rubs the thin material between his thumb and index finger. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You try to sound firm, mean, but he’s scaring you. He usually acts weird around you—staring, hovering, one time you caught him smelling your hair—but never this weird.  

Stepping away as you feel wandering fingers on your thighs, you lean your back against the wall next to the door—finally facing him. His arm firmly planted against the exit, he’s trapping you between the tattooed limb and the piles of boxes on your other side. 

He leans in, dark eyes almost black with desire. You shakily watch as he closes them, sucking in a deep breath, groaning at the smell of your worn perfume. His insane actions make you cringe in disgust, he’s really owning up to the title of ‘freak’ right now. 

“Do you know the torture I’ve had to endure?” He tilts his head, studying your painted face, “Watching you prance around in your little outfits, day in and day out. Taunting me…” 

You flinch as he brings a thumb up to your cheek, smearing the red paint down your face. But then, to your confusion, he presses the same red-stained thumb to his own cheek—leaving a matching mark.

“This is only natural, sweetheart. You brought this on yourself,” he whispers, leaning in close, grazing wandering lips along delicate, painted skin. 

“E–Eddie, this isn’t funny,” you try, hoping he’ll drop this deranged act. 

He only smirks, huffing an amused breath against your skin, “Good. I was making a joke.” 

Straining your neck to avoid his hungry lips, you cringe when he slobbers on your pulse point. Frustrated that you can feel your panties dampening at his attention, you knee him in the balls and shove him down. Turning quickly as he groans in pain, you open the storage room door and run to the store’s exit. The main door doesn’t budge when you violently shake it, kicking yourself when you remember you locked it. 

Eddie roars in anger, cursing you, “Women! You know, you tease and you tease and then you leave. What’s a man to do?” 

The rush of blood in your ears nearly drowns out the sound of the storage room door scraping open. A quick glance at the checkout counter tells you there’s no time—no chance to sprint over, find the keys, race back, pick the right one, and unlock the store’s exit before he reaches you.

You jump at the sudden shriek of a clown, the animatronic triggered by Eddie’s heavy footsteps a few rows back. Abandoning the exit, you dart for cover instead. The store’s shelving forms a maze, and the last thing you want is to round a corner straight into him. Your eyes lock onto the translucent tarp hanging from the ceiling—the thin divider between the Spirit store and the rest of the abandoned building. Without a second thought, you slip toward it.

“You know,” he yells out as he stomps to the front of the store, “that wasn’t very nice of you, honey. You’re supposed to be a good dolly!” 

Quietly slipping along the wall of the dim, open space, you settle around a corner. The only light in the room are the flickering fluorescents pouring in from the store behind the curtain, casting haunting shadows. Stopping to listen, you try to pinpoint where he is in the store. 

Eddie realizes you’re not at the front, not hiding behind the checkout counter like he would’ve thought. “Tricky dolly,” he mutters, shaking his head at your games. 

Trying to control your breathing, you pin a hand to your mouth to stifle the sound. Yelping into your hand as you hear him whip the tarp away, you start inching blindly along the walk, trying to get as far away from the corner as possible. 

“Dolly,” he sing-songs, “come out, come out, wherever you are!” 

Your body jumps as you run into a scaffolding ladder, the metal shaking as you quickly grab ahold of it—trying to silence the reverberation. 

Eddie grins when he hears the clang of metal in the dark room, continuing his silent prowl, coming up on the corner. When he arrives, he pauses to listen to your poorly muffled haggard breathing. Your fear has him hard as a rock, he can’t wait to play with his dolly. He deserves to, he’s waited long enough. 

You slide along the wall away from the metal structure, back to the corner, straining to listen to where he might be—but all you hear is silence. 

Eddie jumps out, rounding the arris, “Tell me, dolly–”

Screaming, you make a run for it into the open space but he’s quickly grabbing your dress with both hands, slamming you back to the wall. You hiss as you hit your head. 

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” 

Bringing your knee up to get him again, you jerk when he slams his palm down on your thigh, effectively blocking the assault. He shoves his body against you, giving you no room to try again.

“Aht, aht, aht, dolly,” he reprimands. “Fool me once.” 

Sobbing out exhausted breaths, you glare at him, “What the fuck do you want?” 

“I told you what I want, honey?” He leans in, brushing his lips against your panting mouth. You can feel his hands slither up your thighs, fingers brushing against your damp panties. “And judging by your needy pussy, I think you want it too.”

Trying to withhold the pleasured whine, yearning to escape as he digs his fingers into your cunt, you mutter out a half-hearted, “Stop.” 

“Do you want me to stop, dolly,” he pouts, pressing his erection into your thigh, deft fingers brushing against your velvety walls. 

Whimpering as he draws you closer to the edge, you don’t answer his question, ashamed that it’s Eddie—weirdo, freak, perverted Eddie—who’s got your legs shaking. 

He nips at your neck as he draws moans out of your scratchy throat. “Hm? What was that, dolly? You wan’ me to stop?” 

Unable to form words, his long fingers bring you to your peak. The pleasure doesn’t last longer than a second because he pulls his glistening digits out at the first pulse of your desperate walls—ruining your orgasm. Whining in distress as your hole squeezes around nothing, you paw at his clothing, trying to pull his retreating figure back to you. 

“W–What are y–you doing?” 

“You told me to stop, sweetheart.” He says it so simply, like he’s always respected your boundaries—never pushing. 

“B–But–,” you have tears in your eyes, pouty lips quivering as you try to make sense of this god forsaken punishment. First he scares the shit out of you, then he makes you want him, then he doesn’t allow you to have him. 

He pouts, mocking your teary eyes, “I’m sorry, honey.” He isn’t. “I just got confused,” he didn’t. “All your screaming—it didn’t sound like you wanted me all that much, dolly.” 

So desperate for true completion, you try to bring him closer to you again. “N–No, I do wan’ you, please, Eddie.” He’s breaking you down, he’s got to be some kind of wizard with the way he’s turned your attitude fully around. 

Eddie puts on his best sad eyes, shaking his head and stepping out of your grip. “I don’t know, you didn’t seem that into it,” he shrugs, cock never harder. “I just don’t wanna do anything you don’t wanna do.” It takes everything in him to keep the evil smile at bay, you’re eating this shit up—give a girl the impression it’s her choice to grant you her body, she’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand. 

“No, please! I do! I do wanna–,” you whining pauses, embarrassment thrumming through you at your words, “–wanna do stuff…with you…” 

“Well,” he shrugs again, sad eyes downcast, “we can’t do anything if you’re not good…”

“I can be good,” you hurry, the ache in your pussy needier than ever. “I can be so good.” You hesitate to say the next part, unwilling to give in but needing that sweet release he ripped from you. “I can be your dolly…if you want,” you mutter, looking up at him beneath painted black lashes. 

Eddie could cheer after hearing what you just said, you’re giving yourself to him on a silver platter. But it’s not enough…

“Maybe,” he allows, “But you kinda made me feel bad earlier.”

“No–I didn’t mean to,” yes you did, that was before he used his freaky weirdo powers to confuse your tired brain. “I–I can make it up to you,” you try, hoping he’ll give you that proper orgasm you so desperately need if you give him something first. 

“How,” he asks innocently, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

“Just–lemme–,” you gently guide him to rest his back against the wall, trading places with him. Quickly unbuttoning his black jeans, you slide down his body bringing his pants and underwear with you. 

His hard, pulsing cock sprigs free, leaking and ready for attention. You gulp at the sight of it, it’s the largest you’ve ever taken. But the sooner you get this over with, the sooner you get to cum—hopefully. 

He coos at your wide eyes, reveling in the frightened gaze you throw his massive cock. Brushing your cheek gently, he mutters out a soft, “Aw, dolly. You don’t have to, we can just go home.” 

The thought of going home aching for his touch has you scrambling, desperately shaking your head. “No! No, I wanna! Please let me, Eddie.” 

Trying not to answer too quickly, he hesitates before nodding his head, “Okay, but you stop when you need to, got it?” 

You nod your head before wrapping your pillowy lips around his leaking tip, twirling your hungry tongue across soft skin. He groans at the velvety feel of your mouth, the softness of your hand as it wraps around the base of his cock. 

Bobbing your head slowly, you attempt to take him further in. He watches your eyes fill with tears again, this time from taking his large cock. Licking his lips, slyly studying the way you struggle to stuff him into your stretched mouth, he gives his hips a little thrust. You immediately gag at the sudden force, pulling off just a bit as you look up at him with questioning eyes. He plays it off as an accident, cooing and petting your face, “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. You just feel so good. Makin’ me so hard, dolly.” 

His compliments encourage you to try again, bringing him deeper with each bob of your head. He’s groaning at your enthusiasm, reveling in the number he’s done on you, he can’t wait to reap more of the benefits. The messy slurping coming from your greedy mouth has him fighting back the urge to make you choke on his cock, but he’s gotta ease you into it or all his work will be dashed.

“Dolly,” he moans, hands brushing the tears from your cheeks, he listens for your responding moan—mouth too full to reply. “Y’wanna make me feel real nice?” 

Nodding fervently, the uncoordinated movement makes you gag more on his cock, accidentally letting it slide in further. The discomfort leaves quickly as you squeeze your thighs at the groan he lets out, your throat constricting around his tip as you try to swallow some spit—it’s no use, your chin is covered in drool, makeup smearing. 

“And then maybe I can make you feel good?” 

Another gagging nod. 

“Would you let me fuck your face?” It’s a tentative attempt, he doesn’t know if you’re really down—if he’s really got you now. He watches as you pull off of him, a string of spit connecting your panting mouth to his cock makes him want to just shove himself back in regardless of what you say, but he won’t. He’s played the game long enough, he’s not going to screw it up now. 

Huffing hurried breaths out of swollen lips, you look up at him, trying to read his face. “Will you be nice?” 

“Of course I will, sweetheart.” He strokes your cheek, purposefully smearing more makeup, loving the way you look, all fucked up. “I wouldn’t hurt my dolly, I want her in mint condition!” 

You close your eyes at his soothing fingers, “Okay.”

“Good girl. And remember, you can stop at any time, okay? Just tap my thigh and I’ll let you go, you hear me?” 

You nod as he strokes his throbbing cock, biting his lip as he looks at your melting makeup. 

“I think we need to get you a little more wet first, dolly.” You have no time to question what he means when you feel him spit on your face, flinching with a yelp as it lands beneath your eye, your jaw dropping in shock. 

The glob of saliva inches down your face as he brings his hands to spread it around, your eyes closing to avoid contamination. His hands are messy and uncoordinated, like a toddler finger painting. Then he’s pulling you up higher on your knees, resting his heavy, lengthy cock on your face as his fingers grasp each side of your head, thumbs pinning his member to you. 

He starts thrusting against your face, whimpers and gasps pour out of your mouth as you accept his unexpected motions. Groaning at the feeling the contours of your features provide, he looks down, admiring the smear of paint, spit, and now precum as he fucks himself against your face. 

“Oh fuck, that’s the shit, baby. You’re doin’ s’good for me.” 

You’ve never felt so humiliated, the coworker you thought you hated rubbing his hard, leaky cock against your face—getting off on giving you nothing, making you look ridiculous. You’ve never felt as humiliated or as turned on. Your panties are practically soaked as you try to clench and unclench your thighs, searching for some kind of relief. 

He releases your head, pulling you away from his twitching cock to get a good look at the mess he made. “Open up, dolly.” 

Opening your eyes, your entire face covered in spit and wet paint, you open your mouth, eagerly awaiting his cock. But that would be too kind. 

Gripping your jaw harshly, he leans down gathering as much saliva as he can before spitting into your waiting mouth. “Now swallow,” he demands, losing his sweet tone. 

Doing as you’re told you close your mouth swallowing, opening again to show him your empty mouth. 

“Good girl,” he pats your cheek harshly, pulling you onto his cock again.

His praise reinvigorates you. You want to do so good for him that he gives you a big treat. 

He keeps his grip on you head as he slowly fucks in and out of your mouth with ease. You appreciate the pace, he doesn’t push too far and you don’t gag as he only feeds you a little at a time. 

After he hears your muffled, desperate moan around his cock, the vibrations eliciting a groan, he decides you’ve had enough kindness. Harshly thrusting into your mouth, he grins at the violent gag the intrusion pulls from you. His hips continue pounding into your mouth, no care for the distressing sounds you let out. Tears stream down your cheeks with the constant gagging, your throat closing around his cock. It’s like he’s trying to bully his way into your stomach; he won’t let up. 

You’re having trouble breathing and you feel like you’re one more thrust away from vomiting so you tap his thighs. But he doesn’t stop, he just continues groaning. “Fuck, baby. Lettin’ me fuck your throat, such a slut. Ugh, fuck yeah, take it, bitch,” he growls.

You’re wailing and gagging on his abusive cock, repeatedly hitting his thighs to get him to release you, trying to pull off but his strong grip on your head keeps your mouth full. Feeling his taut balls slap against your chin, he starts cumming down your throat only causing you to choke more. He pulls out with just enough cum left to jerk off on your face, grinning wickedly as you splutter out choking, wet coughs. Your eyes are closed—an attempt to avoid semen in the eye. 

Coughing up his tangy spend, it dribbles down your chin. Some of it you’re able to swallow—more like forced, he shot his load right down your throat—but the shock of him cumming while you gagged on his cock had you spitting a lot of it up, frantically trying to clear your airway. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, spreading his cum around your spit soaked face. “You look so pretty like this.” 

You whimper at his words, dropping your head from his hands as more tears fall, “That was mean, Eddie.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, dolly. You just felt too good, I had to cum.” He pouts, matching your pitiful face—loving the hyperventilating breaths your sobs bring. 

“B–But what about me? I was good for you,” you whined, crying more at the fact that you won’t be getting fucked right now, he just came. 

“You were, honey! You were so good. But that just means we’ll have to do it another time,” he offers, hungry eyes roving over the mess he made of you. 

His answer makes full blown sobs come out, feeling so overwhelmed from the events of the evening. Cooing condescendingly, he smears some more cum against your makeup before lifting you up. “Come on, up you get. We gotta lock up, baby.” 

If you weren’t so upset, feeling a whirlwind of emotions, you’d be pissed at his comment. If he gave a shit about locking up earlier, you wouldn’t be crying right now with cum all over your face and an achy pussy. Instead, you’re too far gone. He guides you to the checkout counter, holding your arm tightly while you stumble on shaky legs, the world blurry to your wet eyes. 

Reaching for the rag you use to clean the glass exit, you lift it to your face. Before you can clean the mess from yourself, Eddie’s hand grabs your wrist, halting your movements. “What are you doin’, dolly?” 

“W–Wan–na b–be cle–clean,” you cry, sniffling.

“But you look so pretty like this,” he pouts. 

“Don’t–don’t wanna lo–look like th–this.” 

“How about this, how about you don’t wipe your face and I’ll bring you back to my place. We can clean you off there and then maybe you can get a treat. How does that sound, honey?” 

“O–okay.” 

“Good girl. Now close out the register, and let’s go.” 

A/N: Too much? Eh, c'est la vie...

[pvtty-wh0re]

nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby - chapter one

DBF!older!Eddie Munson x female! Harrington! reader

Main Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

You’re new to Hawkins, and your dad’s best friend helps you move in. You have…complicated feelings about each other right away.

Warnings:

(18+), masturbation (male and female) and smutty fantasies, perv!Eddie, this is just really horny tbh, pining, age gap (reader is 19 Eddie is 45), dad’s best friend trope

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N:

I know, I know, another series. But this one popped in my head and had to be written down! Thank you @punkrockmlchael for my banner and for being amazing, @the-witty-pen-name for reading over it for me, and @fizzing-imagines for pretty much talking through this whole series with me. Dividers by @/sisterlucifergraphics

Your parents divorce hadn’t exactly come as a surprise to you.

There were a lot of fights near the end. Endless screaming match fights, mom coming home late, dad demanding to know where she’d been, even though deep down he already knew. When they had sat you down and told you about the divorce, it had been a relief.

You wanted to stay with your dad. You were 19 and had taken a gap year to try to figure out what you wanted to do with your life - which you still had no idea. But this involved living at home while you worked at a local bookstore.

The worst part of the divorce was when your dad sat you down and told you you were moving - from beautiful Colorado, to…Hawkins, Indiana? Your dad’s hometown, which you’d never visited. A town where nothing much seemed to happen, just farmland and small town life. You were not thrilled.

You still weren’t thrilled as you packed up the last of your stuff into the moving truck and began the nearly 20 hour drive. Your dad tried to keep you in high spirits, telling you all about his good memories in Hawkins, and you appreciated the effort, but it didn’t help.

You stopped along the way to spend the night in a hotel. Your dad was trying his best, but he couldn’t drive that long without a rest. And you were ready to get out of the truck and stretch anyway, sending texts to your friends about how bummed you were to be leaving.

The next day you finished the drive, finally passing the small Welcome to Hawkins sign. Your new home.

“Here we are, sweetheart,” your dad said, looking at you with feigned enthusiasm. You smiled softly back at him.

“Yeah, it…it looks great,” you managed.

Your dad’s smile faltered, and he reached a hand over to squeeze your knee. “It’s going to be alright, honey. I know you’ll get used to it here. I know it’s not home, but it’s not all bad. And I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends at college.”

You wanted your old friends. You wanted to go to the same college together, the way you’d planned. You wanted to make the most out of things, find something to love about Hawkins, but it was hard when you were mourning the life you left behind.

As you reached the part of town where your new house was, your dad pulled out his phone. “Hey, Munson! We’re just down the road.”

Eddie Munson - your dad’s best friend. They had met in high school here at Hawkins, and had remained best friends all these years, even with the distance. They talked on the phone regularly. You’d never met or even seen the guy, but he was coming over to help you move in.

Your dad finished his phone call just as you pulled up to the single story white house, cute but much smaller than the one you’d lived in before. You hopped out of the truck the second it stopped, stretching your stiff limbs. Your crop top raised higher with your arms in the air, your tiny shorts not covering much but keeping you cool from the end of summer heat.

“Munson!” You heard your dad yell from behind you, sounding much happier than you’d heard him in months.

You turned in time to see the hottest guy you’d ever seen walking your way.

The first thing you noticed was his long, wild curly hair hanging down past his shoulders. He was dressed in a tight pair of jeans with a chain hanging from them and an Iron Maiden tee - his style nothing the way you’d imagined him with being your dad’s best friend. You were thinking more…boring, polo shirts and khakis. But no, the man in front of you was hot. He had a little facial hair, a strong nose, and big chocolate brown eyes that had lingered on your frame before snapping towards your father.

“Harrington!” He greeted him, and they pulled each other into a tight hug. “What’s up, man? Haven’t seen you in 20 years.”

“I know, I know,” your dad said with a laugh as they pulled away. “It’s good to be back in town. Oh!” He turned behind him, reaching for you. You moved to stand next to him, seeing Eddie up close for the first time. “Ed, this is my daughter,” he said, introducing you by name.

The second those big brown eyes met yours, you were doomed.

He gave you a suave smile, holding out a large hand adorned with multiple silver rings. “Hi. I’m Eddie.”

You took his hand in yours, feeling the rush of electricity up your arm so intense you almost dropped it. You told him your name and he repeated it back, his other hand coming to rest on top of yours. You had never heard your name sound so beautiful, as seductive, as it had when it came from Eddie’s lips.

Oh, you were fucked.

“Let’s get started, yeah?” Your dad said, already opening the back of the moving truck. “I’d like to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

The three of you stayed busy moving furniture and boxes all day, until it got dark and your dad sat down on the couch with a groan. “Okay, I think that’s good for today. Pizza and beers, anyone?” He asked, before turning to point a finger at you - “Soda for you, little lady.” You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help a smile.

“Sounds great,” Eddie said, taking a seat on the recliner.

Your dad ordered the pizzas, and before long you were relaxing as you ate, your dad and Eddie buzzing a little from the beers they’d had. You listened to them reminiscing on their years in Hawkins, updates on all their old friends, talking about their current life.

“How’s the shop?” Your dad asked, taking another swig of his beer.

“Oh, it’s going great,” Eddie said, a smile on his face as he relaxed in the chair with his drink. “I’m about ready to hire someone to help out part time.”

Your dad immediately turned to look at you.

“What?” You asked. “Me?”

“You’d love it,” he said. “Ed owns…basically a nerd store. Music, books, D&D stuff…”

Eddie huffed a short laugh. “Yeah, my nerd store.”

“But seriously. You would love it.” Your dad gave you a hopeful look. “What do you say?”

“Um…sure,” you agreed, to which your dad looked victorious.

“Cool,” Eddie said, relaxed and casual. “You can start Monday.”

After eating, Eddie helped you unpack some of the boxes. Your dad waved him off - “I’ve got it, go help her in her room.” So, Eddie followed you to your brand new bedroom, your heart thumping in your chest.

“Um, just pick any box, I guess,” you said, grabbing one of your boxes of books and opening it. You began unpacking the books and placing them on your shelves. You heard Eddie working behind you, until you heard a surprised little “Oh!”

You turned to see Eddie had opened a box of your clothes, with all of your underwear right on top - oh yeah, and your vibrator. You blushed furiously, grabbing the box from him and shoving it into the closet. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Eddie chuckled. “Hey, it’s okay.” But you couldn’t even look at him, your cheeks heated like flames kissing your skin. Of course he had to open that one box.

“You have good taste in music,” he said as he moved on to another containing your record collection. He flipped through the different artists - Bowie, Metallica, The Beatles, Iron Maiden. “I didn’t know you were into records.”

“Oh, yeah,” you smiled. “Dad gave me his old collection, and then I just started collecting them myself.”

“Cool,” Eddie said again, a small smirk on his lips. “You’ll get a discount at the shop. On records, books, whatever.”

That was excellent news. Records weren’t exactly cheap, and you loved to read, too. Working at this shop wasn’t going to be so bad.

When you’d all finished for the night, Steve gave Eddie a hug at the door. “Thanks for coming, man. You coming over tomorrow, too?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “I’ll see you guys then.”

He gave you a lingering look as he left, one you weren’t sure if you imagined or not. Maybe you just wanted him to look at you in that way.

That night, Eddie drove himself home, fingers white knuckled on the steering wheel. Fuck, this was bad. There was no denying he was attracted to you. He wanted you bad. But he could never act on it, and he knew this. You were completely off-limits. Forever.

But god, your body. When he had walked up and saw you stretching, those tiny little jean shorts, the expanse of the skin of your back as your shirt rode up - that little crop top that already did very little to hide anything - he prayed that you weren’t Steve’s daughter. He prayed that you were some neighbor, some girl he could flirt with and bring home - but of course not.

Eddie was still thinking about you when he pulled up at his own trailer. He thought of you as he walked up to the front door and unlocked it, thinking of pushing you up against it and kissing you frantically as he attempted to open the door. He walked inside and thought about having you on his lap on the couch, feeling you grinding down on his hard cock, letting him get his mouth all over your tits.

He walked into the bathroom and was still thinking of you as he started the shower and slipped out of his clothes. He was rock hard from the thought, just thinking about you in any way had his cock aching. As he climbed into the shower, he thought of the box of your sexy little panties and bras, the vibrator sitting right on top. He thought you must use it pretty often to want to keep it so accessible - maybe you were using it right now.

He thought about you turning it on, rubbing it around your hard nipples to tease yourself just like he would before moving it farther down your body. He wrapped his hand around his cock as he thought about you teasing your clit with it, the pretty little moans that would be spilling from your lips as you pleasured yourself. He began stroking his cock to the thought, hand moving slowly at first as he pictured you just barely teasing yourself, then speeding up as he thought of you bucking your hips up, desperate for more pleasure as you neared your orgasm.

Eddie placed a hand on the shower wall to brace himself, his right hand vigorously pumping his cock, legs beginning to tremble as he thought about you slipping your other hand down your body and pushing two fingers into your needy little cunt. You’d be thinking of him, thinking of how he’d fill you. Your hands wouldn’t even compare to the way he’d stretch you out with his cock.

He ran his thumb over his tip, collecting the precum there and rubbing it down the rest of his shaft. He squeezed the base of his cock, absolutely throbbing in his hand, so desperate for you. God, what if he came over and snuck through your window, found you pleasuring yourself to the thought of him, slipped inside to crawl between your legs and lick at your soaking wet pussy, tasting you-

Eddie cried out as he came unexpectedly, ropes of cum shooting out and covering the shower wall as he moaned your name. He continued pumping his cock until every drop had been spent - completely drained, he had cum harder than he had in years. All to the thought of you

He was fucked.

In your room that night, alone, you thought of Eddie. You flicked your vibrator on, thinking of how hot he had looked, the way he looked at you, what you wish he’d do to you. You made yourself cum over and over to the thought of him between your legs, pleasuring you, being the one to make you feel so good.

The next morning, you felt a little awkward facing your dad.

He made breakfast for the two of you and you sat at the small table together, digging into your eggs and bacon.

“How are you settling in?” Your dad asked. “Your room comfy enough?”

“Yeah,” you answered casually. You had been plenty comfortable last night. “So, uh…Eddie’s coming back over today?”

“Yep,” he answered. “Should be over after breakfast.”

You thought for a moment. There was much you wanted to know about Eddie, but you had to ask without raising suspicion. “How did you guys meet?”

Your dad smiled as he took a bite of bacon. “Spring break ‘86. Aunt Robin introduced us. Speaking of Robs, she’ll be over today, too.”

You smiled at the mention of your aunt, who was your dad’s other best friend. “Is he…married?”

Steve laughed lightly. “Ed? No, never got married. Did date one girl pretty seriously for a while, but never married. Single now. He needs somebody.” Your dad looked lost in thought. “Maybe I can set him up with someone.”

You wanted to say no to that, but held your tongue. “Does he have any kids?” Your dad gave a strange look to that question, so you quickly added, “You know, that I could hang out with?”

“No kids,” he said. “But you and Eddie have a lot in common. I’m sure you’ll get along working at the store.”

After breakfast, you hurried back to your room, looking for something to wear that might catch Eddie’s attention. You knew it was silly, like a crush on a teacher. It was forbidden and you knew he would never look at you in the way you wanted him to. But still…

You dressed in a sundress this time, the top low cut and the skirt showing most of your thighs. The kind of dress you couldn’t bend over in. When you walked out of your room and down the hall where you could hear voices, you stood up straight, fixed your hair, and walked into the room.

His gaze went to you immediately. Within a matter of seconds his eyes trailed over your frame, taking in your cleavage, the way the dress hugged your curves, your thighs disappearing beneath the short skirt. He wanted to bend you over and lift that skirt, push your panties to the side and-

“She’s finally here!” Your dad exclaimed dramatically, as if you hadn’t just gone to get ready. “Ready to get started?”

Your dad and Robin worked in the living room while he sent you and Eddie back to your room to unpack. You had made sure there were no more embarrassing boxes for him to uncover.

The way you’d bend over in front of him did not go unnoticed by Eddie. The slightest flash of your white lace panties, the swell of your perfect ass. He wanted to dive in, to taste that pretty little pussy. I bet it tastes so sweet, he thought to himself, practically drooling at the sight. I bet it would be so tight around my cock.

You weren’t sure if your little show was working, but you hoped it was. You wanted Eddie to notice you, badly. You wanted to know how he tasted, how he fucked. If he could make you feel like a real woman.

So you and Eddie unpacked your room together, both pretending like you didn’t want to rip the others’ clothes off right then and there. You weren’t a virgin, but you’d never been with a guy so much older before. The thought thrilled you, made you impossibly wet as you thought of Eddie and all the things he could do to you, the things he could show you.

When you were done unpacking for the day, your dad ordered out for everyone again. As Eddie left your room behind you, he spotted a pair of light pink panties on the floor by the door. He looked around, making sure no one was paying attention - then swiped them, stuffing them in the back pocket of his jeans. Something to hold onto.

Back in the kitchen, you watched your dad and Robin filling their plates at the counter as you stood back, waiting for them to be done.

“Excuse me, princess,” a low voice sounded right in your ear, making you shudder as Eddie’s hand sat right on your hip, slid around to cup your ass for only a moment before he was letting go and slipping past you. You weren’t even sure if you’d imagined it or if he’d really touched you like that. Maybe it was an accident? Your mind was swimming.

Your dad and Robin went back into the living room, bickering over the living room paint color as you moved towards the food. Eddie gave you one last knowing smirk before he grabbed his plate and beer, winking at you as he left.

After dinner, you said your goodbyes for the night. Your mind was still swimming with thoughts of Eddie as you took your shower, fingers dipping between your folds as you thought of how hot he’d looked today, the way he’d looked at your body, the way he touched you. His name was on your lips as you came.

At Eddie’s house, he pulled the panties out of his back pocket as soon as he got home. He went into his bedroom, stripped his clothes off, pushing his boxers down to release his aching cock. He laid back on his bed, wrapping the panties around his shaft as he stroked himself, thinking of you, thinking of your pussy. How badly he wished you were sitting on his face, letting him drink his fill of you, making you cum over and over again on his tongue. He thought of how you’d worn these panties, how they’d look on you - how he caught the slightest glimpse of your panties today, how he needed to see more.

Eddie jerked himself off faster, the soft material of the panties providing delicious friction against his dick. It was throbbing in his hand, he had just cum the night before to the thought of you and now he was aching to do it again. He felt like a fucking teenager again, so desperate for you, so desperate for relief. He hadn’t felt so desperate for a woman in years. Maybe ever.

He had it bad for you. And of course you had to be a Harrington - Steve’s daughter, even - you were totally off limits. All he could do was imagine the way he’d fuck you, the way tears would stream from your eyes as he fucked his thick cock into you for the first time, telling you you can take it, just a little more -

Eddie’s release spilled over his hand and all over the cute little panties, tainting them. Afterwards he felt guilty, like a real fucking creep.

Eddie was in trouble.

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@ali-r3n

[pvtty-wh0re]

[pvtty-wh0re]

pet names and looped pinkies [s.h.] 18+

hiiiii so i've never written for steve but just did a stranger things rewatch and have felt...inspired. i hope you enjoy! pls feel free to send suggestions or concepts or anything :) thanks for reading!

masterlist

summary: steve is your best friend and you have a crush on him and that's fine until one day it's not and the next thing you know you can't think or speak or breathe around him. (steve harrington x fem!reader)

warnings: loooots of pet names, fluff, pining,cursing, kissing, m masturbation, dirty talk, handjob, spitting, tiny bit of cum eating :))) 18+ ONLY!! MDNI

wc: 6.4k

part 2 here!!!!

You and Steve had been friends for quite some time now. 

Going from quietly watching him throughout high school, maybe quietly crushing on him too, to fighting monsters and trying to survive could do that to people. Make them friends, that is. 

The crush you’d been harboring on Steve didn’t go away, oh no if anything it had gotten about ten times worse in the time you’d spent growing close. That Steve you knew in high school was long gone. The, for lack of a better word, asshat you had come to blush over had turned into a protector. A funny, endearing, unnervingly hot protector that made your tummy flutter and your palms sweat. 

It didn’t help that he seemed completely unaware of your feelings, or that the things he did made your heart race and your cheeks turn pink. Linking his pinky with yours while you strolled around town, letting his thumb mindlessly rub circles on the little sliver of your stomach that was visible during movie night, giving a little tug on your hair when you said something cheeky, letting his dimple pop out when you teased him. 

And the pet names. God, the pet names! Maybe he did know! Maybe he wanted to torture you and make you squirm. They slipped from those perfect pink lips so effortlessly it kind of pissed you off. 

“Hey honey, how was work today?” 

“Sweetheart we’re gonna be late for the movie and I will not be blamed when we don’t have time to grab your snacks.” 

“Any chance you wanna pick up an extra shift and spend some time with me? What do you say, pretty?” 

He had the hair, the smile, the charm. You imagined it would be hard for anyone not to fall madly in love with him. It was surely hard for you! Steve did a good job of turning you to mush. It was hard to think around him, even harder to not think about him. 

Which is why you’re really struggling now, smushed on a far too little couch with 3 other people, your thigh pressed so tightly against Steve’s it’s making your head spin. It’s movie night, a tradition you’ve picked up and held onto tightly amidst all the craziness that happens in your small town. Steve is on your left, stuck between the arm of the couch and you. Robin is on your right with Eddie next to her and Jonathon next to him. A couch meant for 2, maybe 3, but all 4 of you packed on while the rest of your friends lounge on the floor or a chair, eyes all focused on the screen. 

Almost everyone’s eyes are focused on the screen. 

You’re staring straight ahead, sure! But while a movie that you now can’t even remember the name of is droning on, all you can think of is how your hip is touching Steve’s. Or how his pinky has somehow found yours again and they’re looped together on his lap. Or even worse, how he’s got his head resting on your shoulder and you can feel little puffs of his breath hitting your neck everytime he laughs. 

It’s driving you crazy, your hand not in his twitching by your side and your chest rising and falling a little faster than it should be while watching a comedy with your friends. You’re so distracted it takes you a few minutes to realize that Steve is no longer watching the movie, but is now focused on you and how uncomfortable you seem to be. He gives a small tug to your pinky, drawing your eyes to meet his and you’re so overwhelmed with him right now you could cry at the furrow in his brow and the small pout he’s wearing looking at you. 

“Y’alright, baby?” You can see his genuine concern at the state of you but all you can focus on is trying not to let a small whimper through your lips as you hear him call you baby. Not being able to look at him for more than a few seconds you drag your eyes away from him, a small huff leaving you while you shake your head, mainly at yourself. “I, uh m’fine. I’m fine.” Neither of you are convinced, you know that, but you can’t find it in you to care at the moment when all you can think about is taking his bottom lip between your teeth. 

He studies you once more, eyes taking you in quickly as he reaches up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His hand lingers around your neck a second longer, two fingers giving you a little pinch before he’s drawing his hand back to his lap. You find yourself staring far too long at his hand, wondering what it would feel like if he swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. Or if it would be as good as you imagined to have him slip that same thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, wearing that same smirk you’ve seen a thousand times.

Fuck fuck fuck. You’re so fucked. 

As soon as the thoughts come, they’re gone because the next thing you know you’re using his and Robin’s thighs as leverage to jump up from the couch, turning to face everyone with red cheeks and a forced smile. 

“So I, uh, I gotta go! Just remembered mom wanted me home early tonight, some, uh, some family thing going on. Yeah that’s it. Family thing!” Everyone is staring, eyes wide with confusion written all over their faces. You love movie night, never miss it let alone leave early. 

You don’t give anyone the chance to question you before you’re bouncing up the stairs trying to pull your shoes on as quickly as possible. You know he’ll be right behind you, asking you what’s wrong or offering a ride home. You both know you’re full of shit but you can’t find it in you to care right now, too focused on getting away from him before you do something crazy like kiss him. 

Steps away from the front door you think you’ve made it. Can almost feel the relief of the cool breeze cooling down your skin that seems to be burning up from where Steve was touching you. You're so close, less than a foot away when you realize you weren’t quick enough. 

A hand wraps around your forearm, a large calloused hand that you’d know anywhere. Shoulders slumped in defeat and you turn to face him, not all the way because you don’t think you could handle it, but enough to acknowledge his presence. “Harrington, I gotta go. You know how my mom is, this’ll be held over my head for weeks if I’m late.” Lies. All lies. Your mom fully expects you to sleep at Robins tonight. He’s quiet for what feels like hours but is really only seconds before he speaks, “Let me give you a ride then. You’ll be home in less than 5.”

Now you know that cannot happen. You cannot be in his car that smells like him. You cannot watch the way his hands grip the wheel, and you know you won’t be able to look away. You cannot be locked in a car with him where you know he’ll try and figure out why you’ve been acting so weird tonight. And honestly you just cannot be around him right now without feeling like you’re going to faint. 

“No, no, don't worry about it, it’s a quick walk and I could use the fresh air! I’m feeling a little…off right now anyways so I wouldn’t mind being alone. Go finish the movie! Love you, see you, have fun!” And before he can react or try to argue with you, reaching up on your tiptoes you plant a quick kiss to his cheek, lips tingling as you turn and run out the door, hoping to god or whoever is listening that Steve doesn’t come after you. 

What you don’t see as you’re running down the sidewalk is your best friend standing in the doorway with his hand hovering over his cheek where you just kissed him and a blush crawling up his neck as those quick seconds play on a loop in his head for the rest of the movie. 

 ****************************************

It’s been a few days since movie night. The night you’re refusing to think about but also the one you can’t seem to get out of your head. More specifically the sound of Steve calling you baby and the feel of his fingers brushing against your throat. 

Well you’ve tried not to think about it. 

You’re not sure why this is happening now. You’ve liked him for as long as you can remember so why all of a sudden do you feel like panting when your skin touches his? Why now are his little smirks and pet names enough to bring you to your knees? Over the years you’ve done good, so good, at keeping yourself together in front of him, letting his comments and flirting roll off your back. But now…now you can’t be in the same room without wanting to tug on his hair or leave marks on his chest or feel so desperate to taste him that it drives you insane. 

You don’t know what caused this switch to flip but it fucking sucks. It sucks because besides all of that, he’s still your best friend. Yeah, it’s ungodly how hot he is but he’s also still the guy who buys you your favorite ice cream when you’ve had a rough day, who goes to see scary movies with you when no one else will because you’re the only one that likes them. He’s saved you, cared for you, loved you for a few years now and honestly that just makes it worse! 

He’s mouthwatering AND a good guy. Fuck him for that. 

In the few days since you’ve seen him he’s called. 11 times? Maybe more. And you’ve been conveniently in the shower or asleep or anything else your mother can make up while you try and figure out what you’re going to say to him. The problem with this is that the longer you avoid him, the more awkward and hard this is going to be. 

So when you wake up today, 4 days after movie night, you decide it’s time to be a big girl and talk to him. Not about your feelings, god no! But it is time to at least try to be normal around him and to stop avoiding him. You already know he’s gonna look like a kicked puppy, big brown eyes staring down at you while you try and justify not talking to him for days. You’re fucked. So fucked. 

Walking downstairs you hear the phone ringing and your heart drops. Maybe you’re not ready for this. Maybe your family can just move! That should work. You’ll miss everyone but honestly this seems like your best option at this point. 

Your dad is gone for the day, your mom is standing at the counter with her purse on her shoulder like she’s about to walk out the door with her mouth open, ready to give Steve yet another excuse to why you can’t talk to him. But you’re brave. You’re a big girl who can handle a phone call with your best friend. Your hot best friend you're madly in love with and want to climb like a tree. 

Your hand is out and reaching for the phone before you can talk yourself out of it, a sigh of relief leaving your mother as she practically throws it at you, running for the door before you change your mind. It’s by your ear for a good few seconds before you hear him, his voice raspy and deep so you know he’s just woken up and it makes your whole body buzz. 

“Hello?” 

It’s now or never. Never sounds nice. “Hey! How ya been? How’s it going? How was the movie?” The questions pour out of you so quickly you’re not sure he can even understand what you’re saying but you hold your breath and wait anyway. 

“How’s it going? Are you kidding me? Fuckin’ Christ! You’ve taken about 12 showers in 4 days and couldn’t be bothered to talk to me, why don’t you tell me how it’s going.” So he was upset. Totally fair. 

“Don’t be mad at me, please.” It was the first thing that came out of your mouth and you knew it was stupid but you couldn’t help it. He deserved to be mad at you, to yell and cuss and whatever else he deemed fit. But now that you had heard his voice again for the first time in days, the thought of him being upset with you made you want to cry, even though you had done this! 

You heard him take a deep breath and knew he was running his hand through his hair, tugging on the ends the way he always did when he was stressed. “M‘not mad, sweetheart. I mean, maybe a little but I was more worried! That something had happened or I had done something or…I don’t know. Was just worried sick and…god I just fuckin’ missed you.” 

Had you mentioned that you were fucked? His words hit you a ton of bricks, any thoughts you had about moving on or maybe distancing yourself gone in an instant. Because he was worried. And he missed you. He fuckin’ missed you. And god you loved him so much it hurt, so much you could feel it in your fingertips and toes like little zaps of electricity when you thought of him or heard his voice. 

You were gone for Steve Harrington. 

“I..m’so sorry, Stevie. I missed you too, so much and I’m so sorry and I’m just…I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong, you never do! I’ve just been a mess and my minds been a mess and I thought some time to myself would help me but really it's just..it doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m sorry and I missed you.” 

“S’okay, bunny. You alright? Can talk to me about anything, you know. I’m not…I know I’m not always the best at this stuff but I’d be good for you. I’ll listen to ya all day, do whatever I can to help you. Wanna come over? Movie night just the two of us? I’ll order you pizza and get you extra buttery popcorn and some ice cream, promise.” 

The thought of being alone with Steve sends red lights flashing through your brain but when he sounds so…god when he’s saying all the right things in a voice you’d dare describe as whiny you can’t help but to want to drop everything and all but crawl to him. 

So at the expense of your sanity you agree quickly, promising you’ll be there by 8 o’clock and hang up the phone before he can call you sweetheart or bunny again running up the stairs to take the coldest shower you’ve ever taken that does nothing to erase the thoughts of Steve from your mind. 

  *****************************************

The walk to Steve’s was surprisingly calm. You weren’t freaking out completely, just a little nervous but that was nothing new to you when it came to spending time with Steve, especially alone. 

Unfortunately for you, that calm lasted for all of about 10 minutes. 

In theory it was a good idea to spend some time with Steve after ignoring him for days. It was an okay idea to agree to a movie night with your best friend. Was. 

But now that you’re standing on his porch and his door was just thrown open to reveal a freshly showered Steve, it seems like all of this was a horrible idea. 

An awful, terrible, horribly bad idea. 

Awful because you can see little beads of water from his freshly washed hair dropping and running down his throat. Awful because the urge to lean forward and run your tongue over them is so strong you swear your mouth waters a little bit. 

Terrible because he’s wearing that goddamn white t-shirt that is hugging his arms so tight and since when did his arms start to look like that? Awful because that same damn shirt is tight over his chest too. It fits him so well you can see it snug against his tummy and waist. It fits him like a glove and your hands clench at your sides to keep from touching him. 

And this is bad. So horribly bad because he’s wearing his favorite pair of light wash denim jeans that cling to his thighs so nicely you feel your knees wobble. One of your hands comes up to your mouth to run over your chin, subconsciously making sure you’re not actually drooling despite the way you wish you could drop to your knees and spend hours leaving marks on those thighs. You can’t see his ass and you’re praying to god he doesn’t turn around so you don’t have to suffer through seeing how his jeans hug him just right. 

While your mind is running a million miles a minute with thoughts of Steve, you realize you actually haven’t said anything. Haven’t made a move to greet him or walk in, instead just standing there with what you imagine is a slack jaw and wide eyes. Willing yourself to meet his gaze, you somehow manage to drag your eyes off his thighs and bring them up, up, up until you meet his. 

He definitely does not look like a kicked puppy right now. Those brown eyes are darker and he’s wearing a smirk that would make you do anything he asked. He cocks his eyebrow at you, amusement clear in his face as you try and collect yourself. 

“You look starved, honey. Wanna come in?” 

   *********************************

After the initial embarrassment wears off, you feel a little better. Somehow managing to brush off his teasing as if you weren’t just devouring him with your eyes, you follow Steve to the kitchen, laughing as he tries to balance all the snacks he’d bought for you in arms. He shot you a glare full of playfulness when you tried to help, insisting that he “was a big boy and could handle the snacks.” 

Now you find yourself on that same couch from last week, much more space between the two of you than there had been then, a good foot and half extra in fact. Steve laughed when he saw you practically throw yourself to the other end of the couch, hand reaching out for you with a little pout on his lips. “Think I’m gonna bite you or something?” God I wish. Please please please bite me! 

But instead you held out your hand reluctantly, fingers twisting with his as he tugged you toward him. Movie night flashed in your head. His clothed thigh just inches away from yours, arm thrown over your shoulders and a cheeky grin on his face as he pulled you into his side. A satisfied hum was heard and you could have sworn you heard him mumble under his breath, sounding a lot like “much better” but it was hard to hear anything with the smell of him clouding your senses. 

Trying to get your thoughts off of him you reach forward to grab the dvd case laying on the table, a small smile gracing your lips as you see what he had picked. “John Carpenter's Halloween. I thought you said you’d never watch this?” This time when you turned to him, he was the one with red cheeks and shy smile as he glanced between the movie and you. A small shrug and wink was thrown your way, “S’one of your favorites. You should know you’re the exception to my rules.” 

You’re fucked. 

Heart pounding in your chest all you could manage was a smile and a small “thank you” before turning away, hoping he’d get up and start the movie so you’d have something to distract you from how sweet he was, watching a scary movie you know he doesn’t want to watch just because it’ll make you happy. 

It was about halfway through the movie when it happened. 

Everything was going well! You were snuggled into his side, actually paying attention to the movie and not sitting there distraught over being so close to him. You were so invested you hadn’t noticed your hand slip to his thigh during a scene that had made you jump. 

But Steve noticed. 

Too engrossed in your movie to see how your hand was holding his upper thigh and it definitely would have been too high if you’d been paying attention. You didn’t notice this or the way Steve was now on red alert, whole body tense with his hand gripping the couch cushion and his eyes trained on your hand as if to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. 

He could do this, he could ignore your hand and let you watch your movie. It would be fine. He’ll just slip into the bathroom when it’s over or wait till you go home to take care of his now aching cock. And god was he aching. He didn’t dare move, too nervous that you’d get all weird and fidgety like you’d been. This was the closest you’d been to him without seeming freaked out in weeks and he was not about to ruin that. 

The smell of your lavender shampoo overwhelmed him, a groan threatening to spill out while you sat there so unaware of how beautiful you looked just existing. He noticed everything about you. The slope of your little button nose and the way your lips, your perfect pink lips, parted just so when you were lost in thought. He noticed how your cheeks would turn the prettiest shade of red when he called you baby or honey or sweetheart. And he loved it, craved it even. He couldn’t tell if it was because of him or if you were just a sensitive little thing in general. He’d take what he could get with you, even if he had to live off your rosy cheeks and holding your pinky for the rest of his life. 

“Fuck, honey, m’sorry but you have got to move your hand, please.” Steve’s voice in your ear so suddenly made you jump, a small yelp leaving your lips as you turned to see what he was talking about. You didn’t even realize you were touching him! But one look down at this thigh and you gasped, cheeks burning as your eyes moved from your hand clinging to his thigh over to now very noticeable bulge straining against those light wash jeans. Ripping your hand away as if he’d burned you, a string of curses and apologies flew out as you scrambled to move as far away as possible. 

If he looked pained with your hand on his thigh then he looked downright miserable now that you’d taken it away. “Don’t have to run away from me, honey. M’sorry, didn’t mean to scare you I just…fuck I couldn’t sit still with you holding onto me like that.” He did his best to tug you back and you let him. “Sorry, Stevie. I wasn’t…I didn’t, I was just watching the movie I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

He looked at you with furrowed brows, eyes jumping all over your face like he knew something you didn’t, like he knew something you should know. Neither of you said anything, just stared at each other for some time before he sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch before coming back to look at you again. 

Hand cradling your cheek he gave you a small, tired small like he couldn’t believe you could possibly make him uncomfortable. That is not the word he would use. “Silly girl, I’m not uncomfortable because your hand was on me. I’m uncomfortable because your hand on me is making me wanna pin you down and fuck you so hard you can’t think straight.”

Oh. Oh. 

Lips parted you just stared at him, not sure you’d be able to form a coherent thought let alone words right now. He wanted to fuck you? Since when? Why hasn’t he ever brought this up? Doesn’t he know you’d do anything he asked of you? 

Steve let you process, could see the gears turning in that pretty head of yours and your eyes switching from looking at him to looking at where his cock was pressing up against the zipper of his pants. Maybe he’d said too much, gone too far. He was almost certain now that you liked him, wanted him, but maybe it was too overwhelming to be so blunt with you. 

“Y’know what baby? I can see you freaking out and I didn’t mean to make you nervous so I’m gonna go to the bathroom, alright? Gonna take care of this real quick and then we can finish the movie, can start another one if you want. I’ll be right back and we can figure this out later.” It was him getting off the couch that broke you out of whatever spell you were under, hand wrapping around his arm and if you weren’t so desperate for this, for him, you’d be embarrassed by the look of panic in your eyes at the thought of not getting to see this, to make him feel good. 

“Please stay. Just…fuck just stay, okay?” 

Both of you paused, staring at each other and waiting for someone to move or to breathe or just do something. A soft “okay” was murmured between you, Steve settling back into the couch as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Fuck was this really happening? 

“Whatever you want to happen can happen, baby.” 

You definitely didn’t mean to say that out loud but now that you had, a little burst of courage hit you and you just let it pour out. “Didn’t mean to say that out loud I just..I didn’t…I’m nervous. You make me nervous. I want this. I want this so bad you have no idea but I didn’t know you wanted this so now my head is fucked and I’m rambling and kinda freaking out but you can stay. You can stay and I can watch or I can help or whatever you want just..stay. Ok?” You dared a glance up at Steve, his eyes wide and a grin broke out on his face. He looked as if you’d just handed him the moon not offered to watch him get off. 

Taking your hand in his he gave you a squeeze, “We’ll go slow. I can start and you can watch and if you wanna do more, feel fucking free, honey. But if you don’t, that’s fine. If you want me to stop, say the word. You’re in charge here,” he paused, lifting his hand to take my chin between his fingers so I’d be forced to meet his eyes, “and for the record, there hasn’t been I second I've known you where I haven’t wanted this. I’ll take anything you give me, swear it. Whatever you want, any way you want.” 

“Kiss me, please.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice, moving his hand to cup your cheek and pulling you toward him, his lips pressing against yours soft at first, testing the waters and trying to keep you calm. His lips were just as soft as you’d imagined, sweet like the candy he’d been eating earlier. You groaned against him, pushing closer and opening your mouth to invite him in, the thought of his tongue on yours enough to have you reaching your hands into his hair to tug him closer, closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. 

He pulled back first, a string of spit connecting the two of you and he cursed at the sight, “Jesus, fuck I can’t believe you’ve kept this sweet, pretty mouth away from me. S’not nice, baby. So mean to me, yeah?” If you thought you were desperate before it was nothing compared to now, now that you’d had a taste of him. 

“M’sorry Stevie, so sorry, not gonna keep em from you anymore. Promise, promise, promise.” You’re barely making sense, your head spinning and your body on fire. Foreheads pressed together you tried to catch your breath, but you couldn’t think or breathe or function when he was this close to you with his swollen, spit kissed lips just inches away from yours. 

Coming out of your post-kiss haze you move back beside Steve, eager and desperate to finally see him, all of him. His eyes widen as your hands go to the button of his jeans, tugging relentlessly and you're just so cute he has to laugh. Eager too and fuck how did he get so lucky?

“Take em off, please. Want them off, Stevie.” You’re full on pouting now and it takes everything in you not to cry. You’d do it if he wanted, you’d do anything. But he doesnt let it get that far, taking your hands off his jeans and cooing at you and it makes you feel a little pathetic but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when he’s about to finally pull down his pants. 

He does so wordlessly, eyes bouncing from his lap to your face every few seconds like he’s checking in on you, making sure he’s not missing anything and that you still want this. It makes your tummy flutter and your heart race, his caring for you. His pants pushed down to his knees is all he can manage, head too fuzzy thinking about you and how he’s so hard it hurts worse than it ever has.

As soon as his jeans were out of your way you were staring, gawking really, at the white boxers sitting so prettily on his hips that were doing nothing to hide how hard, how big he was. A small wet patch forming where you know his tip is resting and it makes your mouth water. He’s just so hot. So hot and it makes it even better that this is because of you. Fuck.

A beg was on the tip of your tongue but before you could he put you out of your misery. Lifting his hips up you had to dig your nails into your palm to keep still while he pulled his boxers down, pretty, messy, cock slapping against his stomach. “Jesus fucking Christ, Steve! You’re so…I’m…fuck.” He breathed out a laugh which quickly turned to a wince when we saw how you were looking at him, at his cock. He felt himself twitch under your stare and you swear your mouth just fell open as if it was meant to be. 

His hand drifted towards his cock, eyes still on you to make sure you were okay. You gave him a nod and the sigh of relief you both had when he finally wrapped his hand around himself would have made you laugh if you weren’t throbbing. His head fell back against the couch and you were torn between watching him touch himself or watching his face while he did it. The former won, your eyes trailing the way his hand moved slowly, teasing the both of you. 

“S’pretty, you’re so pretty…” You’re not even sure you were talking to him, more just to yourself but he heard you nonetheless. His hips jerked at that, a small moan slipping past his swollen lips as he turned his head toward you, watching you with hooded eyes. I could watch this forever, you thought. 

You couldn’t believe it. A few days ago you were thinking of ways to never speak to Steve again and now here you were, watching him stroke his cock in front of you and looking at him as if he was your last meal. He held his hand out, a silent plea for something but you didn’t know what, not until he spoke.

“So good, baby, so pretty. Can you ju-just spit on my hand for me, honey? Lick it, spit on it, anything you want, I just need you please.” His words were slurred and if you hadn’t spent the last few hours together you would think he was drunk. He seemed so out of it, but in the best way. Like he didn’t just want you but needed you. It made you feel good, better than you ever had and it gave you a spark of bravery you were missing before. 

Knocking his hand out of your way you leaned forward with cautious eyes, watching as he tried to figure out what you were doing until it dawned on him and his cock twitched in his hand. You leaned forward, face hovering inches above him and spit, both of you watching as it dropped from your mouth to his tip, covering the top of his hand as he began to stroke himself again. His lips parted in an “o”, eyes squeezed shut and his tummy clenching as he let out the loudest moan you had heard, so loud and strong you felt yourself clenching around nothing.

You were wet but with Steve looking and sounding like that you couldn’t bring yourself to care about how bad you were aching right now, far too focused on Steve and how his thighs were starting to shake a little and his hips were starting to move faster and more uneven. 

“C-can I?” 

His eyes shot open, head shaking furiously before he had even fully understood what you were asking. He knew he wouldn't last more than ten seconds if you touched him but he couldn’t care less. All he could think about was how pretty you were, how good he was feeling, how you had just fucking spit on his cock. He would take whatever you gave him. 

With a whine that you would replay in your mind for the rest of your life he took his hand off, tugging yours closer to take his place. Both of you moaned at the contact and you were almost convinced you could cum just from touching him. “Help me, I want you to feel good, please.” He looked like a bobblehead as he nodded, putting his much larger hand over yours and giving it a squeeze, helping you to stroke him just how he liked, though anything from you would feel a million times better than his own hand. 

Addicted would be the word to describe it. Now that you had touched him, felt how hot and smooth his cock was in your hand, how pretty it looked all pink and wet and coated in your spit. Steve liked it messy and apparently so did you. You thought you were addicted to his cock, and you were, but nothing prepared you for the absolute filth that started spilling from him once he finally had your hand on him. It made you dizzy and out of breath and goddamn you would have to throw these panties in the trash after this. Absolutely ruined, just like you were. 

“Fuckin’ dreamed about this, ‘bout your hand on my cock, s’good, baby.”

“Don’t think I don’t see you squirming, honey. My pretty girl all wet ‘n needy and I haven’t even touched you. Bet you’re drenched and achy, huh?”

“Gonna make me cum, gonna make a mess of us but I bet you’ll be good and clean it up for me, won’t ya, bunny?”

He was babbling now and you could barely make sense of what he was saying but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t and you didn’t want to. His cock was slick with precum and your spit one of his hands guiding yours in quick strokes while his other was gripping the couch so hard his knuckles were white. 

“M’close, honey…so so close.”

“Please, Stevie…want it, I need it, please.” And that was all it took. No warning, your words taking him by surprise and hitting him like a punch to the gut. He took his hand off, bringing it to your hair and tugging you to him. It was a messy kiss, lips pressed together while he moaned against you, just breathing each other in while he cursed and whined, his hips stilling and you slowed, looking down just in time to see him cum. Your hand and his lower stomach was covered, his hand that was gripping the couch now thrown over his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. 

Chest and neck covered in sweat, he looked good. When he finally had gathered himself enough to look at you, he instantly regretted it. Instead of his innocent best friend, his sweet little bunny, he was looking at a little devil lapping at his cum on her hand like she hadn’t eaten in days. His softening cock twitched against his thighs and he stifled a groan when you hummed happily at the taste. 

“Christ, you’re gonna kill me.” You shrugged half heartedly, not even a little bit of you was sorry. 

“Can we finish the movie now, Stevie? I’ll probably pass out soon you wore me out, but I’m too tired to move.”

He looked down at you a little confused, your cheeks still pink and thighs still clenched together tightly. “You don’t…I can…I wanna take care of you too, sweetheart. Been dying to get a taste of you, know you’re sweet.”

You giggled and even though you were a mess, in every sense of the word, you didn’t think you could handle anymore and told him as such, eyes already feeling droopy and your body sagging against him. “Next time? Promise you can do anything you want to me next time but watching you cum was enough for me.” Your cheeks flamed as if you hadn’t just licked your best friend’s cum off your hand. 

“Alright, honey. Let’s finish your movie, you little vixen. Didn’t even take me out to dinner before you were drooling over my cock. A crime!” His smile was bright as you smacked at his chest and cursed him for teasing you.

You were sure that what had just happened would hit you soon and the panic would set in but for now you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you pressed a kiss to Steve’s bare chest and felt his grin against the top of your head. 

Did I mention I was fucked? 

[pvtty-wh0re]

ik i've been more into Colby and Jake but god this is so good i love steddie x readers!

˚ · • . ° . 𝐑𝐄𝐃, 𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐄𝐓.

summary: you and your boyfriend eddie decide to have some fun in the living room, what you fail to notice is that your boyfriends roommate steve is also awake. and he can’t help himself.

warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, p in v, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up irl im so serious), kinda pervy!steve, msturbation, degrading, praises, kind of a choking kink if u squint, VERY LIGHT dom/sub dynamics (like very very light), dom!eddie, sub!reader.

pairings: boyfriend!eddie munson x reader x roommate!steve harrington

author’s note: i just love steddie. if you see me repost this a few times no u didn't. not proof-read. ignore mistakes!!

Steve wasn't a morning person.

So it was no surprise when he tossed in the bed, groaning and whining at the noise coming outside of his room.

His pillow was smushed against his ears, attempting to cancel out the noise.

“F—fuck, s—shit, angel, take it, mmpf.” He barely had one eye open, and couldn't make up most of the dialogue, so he tried to make sense of the noise coming from the living room. 

He removed the pillow from his ear, face scrunched in annoyance as he listened in.

Grunts, whines, and the slapping of skin mixed together, with Steve’s hazed state, he could barely make sense of it. But once he heard your pretty whines his eyes shot open. 

Holy fucking shit. The two of you weren’t doing what he thought you were… Were you?

He sat up quickly, hand rubbing his eyes before he carefully situated himself on the bed to look through the gap where his door had opened slightly. 

“Fuuuuck, just like that, princess, take my cock, mhmm.” Another grunt from Eddie, his skin slapping into yours, head thrown back, his hold on your waist bruisingly rough. Or at least that’s what Steve imagined, hearing Eddie’s raspy voice mixed with your silenced grunts was enough to fuel his morning wood harder than imaginable. 

He was aching already, his cock painfully caged in his boxers, he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t take a peek. He should just attempt to go to sleep again, he should give the two of you privacy. 

But, fuck, was it tempting. 

This is all he ever wanted, he knew how perverted that sounded, but this was his chance. 

The walls in the apartment were thin, so fucking thin that he would hear your mewls every night, and Eddie’s dirty talk. He would never admit to how many times he got off to the sound of the two of you going at it. It was embarrassing, outright disgusting, and he felt ashamed. 

A crimson red and disgust colored his cheeks the second he came all over his hand, sticky, always so much that it spurted all over his chest. But, god, did it feel so fucking good. 

He didn’t know what it was that drew him in this much, Eddie’s dominance, your pathetic whines, him degrading you while you begged for more, it was all of it. And he was begging to get a glimpse of it, a little taste.

“Yeah, baby, you like that don’t you?” More sounds coming from the two of you, Eddie’s cocky tone enough to have Steve feel himself against his boxers. 

He was hard, so achingly hard that he hissed, and his other hand immediately clamped down on his mouth to shut himself up, the skin slapping and the cursing didn’t falter a bit. 

He could totally get away with this. 

And he was about to burst in his pants, a little peek, wouldn’t hurt, would it? Jesus Christ, he knew it was wrong, but this was the perfect opportunity, he finally could see your fucked out face, Eddie’s cocky grins, he needed this. He deserved this.

Steve shifted quietly in his bed, concealing himself but still getting a good look at the two of you, his cock was needy, weeping, and he needed to give it attention soon. Just the look in your eyes, the way Eddie was all the way into you made him bite his lip to conceal the groans that slipped past his parted lips. 

“Ssshh, baby, I know, I know, but you gotta quiet down a little, yea?” Eddie cooed against your face, biting and nibbling a trail from your chin to your neck, a grin sitting on his lips. 

Fuck, Steve wished he could do that, have you sprawled on him on the couch, bare pussy on sight while he fucked himself into you, legs wrapped around him, while he left marks on your neck, truly owning you, like Eddie did.

Eddie squished your cheeks to quiet you down, his cock still hitting spots inside of your walls that you didn’t know existed, and you were quick to pout. “You don’t want our little roommate to wake up and see you like this, do you?”

Steve’s ears perked at that, bubblegum pink all over his cheeks, but it only encouraged him more and more, his cock engorged with blood and the need to fuck his hands was all he could think about. 

The two of you were talking about him, and he was more than intrigued. Slowly but surely, Steve pushed his boxers down his thighs, hissing quietly when his heavy erection bobbed out, plopping against his v-line, tip hot and angry, waiting to be attended. 

Eddie had you split in half, or at least that’s what it looked like to Steve, “Whinin’ like a bitch in heat, soakin’ my cock and still beggin’ for more.” Eddie grunted, Steve watched in awe, how hungrily you looked at Eddie, those doe-eyes looking so innocent yet you were anything but. Eddie was sliding in and out of your walls, harsh, quick, and making sure you could feel him fully. 

Steve bit his lip to hide the groan that dared the slip past his mouth, cock hot and pulsating in his hands, he spat on it with a shuddered breath, wishing that instead of his hands he could push his veiny cock into every single one of your holes. Drawing out those pleas and whines from you like Eddie did. 

Eddie’s cocky, domineering words also got him going, he didn’t know what was taking over him; he needed you under him, whining and begging for him, but he also wanted Eddie to dominate him as well, a fucked up dynamic that he would die to be a part of. You, submitting to both of them, while Eddie dominated both of you. And Steve in the middle, it would be perfect. 

Eddie’s hands were bruisingly all over you, cock pounding into you with such force that Steve watched open-mouthed, wishing he could get a taste of you, wishing he could feel the way your tight cunt took him in.

“Oh, shit, you’d like that, baby wouldn’t you? Such a little slut, you’d want Harrington to see you all pathetic like this?” Eddie grinned, mocking you further and further, causing you to mewl at him pathetically.

Steve smeared his spit all over his cock, using it as a lubricant while he desperately wrapped his palm around it, ungodly sounds escaping his lips, not able to help himself when the two of you started talking about him.

His sickly desires coming to life in the best fucking way possible.

“You’d want Steve to see you bein’ my personal cocksleeve?” Heat rushed to your cheeks quickly, face feeling hot both from desire and how filthy Eddie was being, and he knew you loved it. 

You shook your head shyly, gaze still on him with a pout. “Nuh—uh, don’t lie, baby, I know you like an audience.” Steve tugged at his cock feverishly, knuckles turning white with how much desire ran in his veins, his mouth hung open both from the pleasure and the words being uttered, would the two of you be into this as well?

God, he wanted nothing more than to have you underneath him as Eddie did, he wanted to get a taste of you, he wanted to feel your pussy squeezing him because he knew that’s what Eddie always blabbed about through those thin walls, how tight you were and how warm you felt.

Steve shouldn’t have listened, he shouldn’t have jerked off to his roommate having sex with his girlfriend, but fucking Christ the two of you were so hot.

How was he supposed to help himself?

“Would you want him to take a turn with you?” Steve’s ears perked, and his desperate tugs at his cock almost halted, he sat up a bit straighter, hand still rubbing his aching cock but eyes searching for you, searching for that approval.

You nodded shyly, a grin appearing on Eddie’s face  “Mhmm, I know you would, such a fuckin’ slut aren’t ya?” Steve’s guttural groans were concealed by the harsh skin-on-skin provided by the two of you, Eddie’s loud rambling, and his even louder grunts.

Steve perfectly red in the face, fucked his fist harder, trying so hard not to finish himself off this early, but the desire pooling in his tummy was nearing.

That shy little nod, Eddie’s wicked grin, fuck, he was going to keep this memory in his brain forever. 

“Love you, pretty girl,” Eddie hummed, sloppy kisses peppered all over your perky tits, mouth latching onto one of your nipples, sucking, nibbling while his fingers drew small circles around your breasts, igniting more pleasure.

Overstimulating you in every way possible, and Steve watched with an open mouth.

Both of you could not resist the grunts that left their lips, your frail body becoming mushy at all of the sensations, looking pretty as ever. 

“You look s’perfect like this, honey, did you know that? Mhmm, this cunt made just for me, huh?” Eddie cooed, and Steve’s strokes against his dick were more sensual now, it’s like he wanted to feel you too.

You sank into the couch further every time he thrust himself into you, praises making your eyes roll all the way back to your head. 

“Takin’ it so well, sweetheart, look at all the sweet noises your pretty pussy makes when I’m fuckin’ you raw, huh? God I love it when you get all dumb like this on my cock, princess.” he praised. 

“Being the prettiest, good girl f’me, thinkin’ about nothing but my cock, perfect little fucktoy,” He groaned, voice getting coarse with need. Those chocolate hues you loved about Eddie were long gone now, replaced by something more sinister, fueled purely by hunger, and it made your nails dig deeper into his back, making him hiss.

“Ed—Eds…” Steve wanted to worship you, all of his thoughts being stripped away because of how fucked out you looked. Candy gloss smeared all over your needy lips, hair disheveled, eyes barely open, and spread out for Eddie like the good girl you were. 

“Yeah, honey? What d’ya need?” Tone saccharine sweet, his hand landed on your cheeks, smushing them together, making it harder for you to register anything, he was making you feel so hot, so much… And you couldn’t bear to talk.

“N—need to, uh—” Words died down your throat when he shoved himself deeper, hitting that sweet, sweet spot that made you go all dumb on him, just like he loved. 

“You wanna cum, doll? Huh? Can’t handle it anymore? Thought you were my tough girl?” He mocked with an ‘Aww’ sound, jutting out his bottom lip, making you nod vigorously. 

“I—I’m your good girl, sir,” you muttered. Steve was trying so hard not to tug at his poor cock harder, not to go completely feral because he so wanted to last. He wanted to hear the pretty whines that left your lips, the guttural groans that consumed Eddie. 

His hands landed on your clit now, he could feel your pussy nuzzling him, could feel that familiar feeling pooling in your tummy, and he wanted to get you into that space, where you could barely talk, where you whined and trashed for him to let you cum. “B—but ‘s t—too much, need to—” You whined, struggling.

Eddie breathed out a throaty chuckle, drawing circles around your sensitive spots to earn those breathy huffs from you. “Can barely speak, such a good fuckin’ cockslut for me, aren’t ya?” He mocked, all mean and filthy.  

“And, all fuckin’ mine,” He grunted, he wasn’t forgiving, and neither was his cock, slipping out of you entirely to drive you crazy. Dark chuckles left his lips when he enjoyed your little whines, that deeper dig your nails had on his back with anger.

Steve’s lips wrapped around his knuckles, biting on them to conceal the lewd noises daring to slip out. 

Eddie’s huge length, slightly bent to the left, facing upwards was slicked in both of your juices. Steve wanted nothing more than to have his tongue lapping up at him, taste both of you.

“Speak up, slut, what do you want, you wanna cum, huh?” Vicious, and bold, his hand had a hold on your throat now, harsh enough to draw both pain and pleasure out of you, making you cry out at the emptiness.

“S—so mean,” you murmured, you loved every fucking second of it. But his teasing was driving you crazy, and you so badly needed that sweet release, and to feel his warm load filling your hole.

He pouted at your words, releasing your throat as his palm stroked your cheeks, he knew you enjoyed his mean side, but he still couldn’t resist your pretty face and that addictingly gentle tone. 

You always knew how to break him, and to get him to do what you wanted. Which was to get completely fucked.

With a sticky sweet and delicate kiss on your lips, he was quick to thrust back into you. “‘M s—sorry, sweetheart, ‘m sorry but you’re just so pretty like this, can’t help it,” he breathed against your neck, his movements getting sloppier when your moans became more pathetic and needy, he wasn’t going to last if you came.

And it was okay because Steve was dying for a release, both knuckles white, one from tugging, the other from biting into it to stifle his loudness.

“Don’t worry, honey, you can cum for me,” He cooed, lips pressed into the shell of your ear, kissing a trail down to your cheekbones.

“S—shit, fuckin’ shit, sweetheart cum for me and I’ll give you what you need,” He fucked himself deeper, slower into you.

Steve’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, blurry vision only able to focus on the two of you.

“You want my cum don’t you, baby? Want me to fill you up?” You were gone, back arched with pleasure, trying to get more from him if that was even possible.

“P—please, Eds, need you to mark me, make me yours, all over again,” you moaned, craving him, feeling that tight coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter. 

“A—ahh, shit—shit, sweet girl, when you talk like that you know you’re gonna be the death of me,” He grunted, his own voice failing him when he was all lost in you. 

“Need your cum, Eds, p—please, cum with me baby,” you begged, body frail beneath him, soft, mushy, and all ready.

“Shit, f—fuck, so fuckin’ tight when you cum, sweetheart, I don’t think I can—” His rambling got louder and louder, not caring if Steve could hear—hell Eddie wanted him to see this. See the way you were getting split open by Eddie, begging, while Steve fucked himself to the two of you, all so desperate, waiting for Eddie’s instructions. 

A newfound desire found Eddie at the thought of both you and Steve being so submissive to him, letting him take all of the control. “Fuckin’ fuck! Jesus—mmpf,” he grunted.

Steve was desperate now—as much as he was ashamed of it, he had jerked off to the two of you so many times before, he knew from the noises, that the two of you were close.

And he was more than ready to finally see your pretty face and Eddie’s mouth hung open when both of you came, his fantasies coming true. 

He fucked his fists harder, balls drawing up at the needy moans that slipped past your lips. “G—gonna fuck all of my load—fuck—into you, princess.” One final thrust rutted deep inside of you, filling you to the brim. 

“Fuuuck, fuck fuck!” He yelled out, and that’s all it took, both of your eyes squeezed shut, melting into the couch, loud moans and groans filling the room while Steve watched with lulled eyes.

Your orgasm was quick to wash over your body, pussy convulsing around his cock deliciously, ropes of his warm cum spilling inside of you. All the while Steve squeezed his cock, spurting his cum all over his hand, white beads of his warm load covering his knuckles. 

Heavy breathing filled the living room, and Steve’s room. His mind hazed, and eyes remained shut. 

“Shitshitshit, take it, baby, take it all,” Eddie breathed out, his load sitting pretty inside of you, filling you nicely.

“Good girl,” he whispered, planting a nice kiss on your glossy lips, peppering your face with small ones, a wide grin sitting on his lips.

“Fuck,” Steve grunted out unintentionally, hand planting on his mouth with a loud smack, but it was too late. 

Eddie’s head snapped backward, a grin sitting on his lips before his dangerous gaze met Steve’s dilated pupils, blown out by pleasure, and the anxiety in his system slicking his forehead. 

“Did you enjoy that, Steve?” Eddie mocked from where he was standing, not moving an inch, eyeing the shocked look on his face, fully enjoying it. 

Steve, at a loss for words, couldn’t even blabber a simple response. How the fuck was he going to explain this? 

Eddie barked a mocking chuckle, pouting. “Your poor cock must be aching from those calloused hands, abusin’ it every night. You think we didn’t hear your pathetic groans every night? The walls are thin, Stevie,” he cooed, his tone so teasing that Steve gulped. 

What the fuck was going to happen now? 

Would Eddie beat him up for being a fucking pervert? 

Would the two of you move out as soon as possible? 

Endless possibilities ran through Steve’s mind, yet he couldn’t muster a single reply, cursing himself for even fucking doing this. 

Yet, much to Steve’s surprise, Eddie’s reply was his wildest dreams and fantasies bundled up into a full sentence. “Oh, don’t be shy now, Stevie, come out, let us help you.” You hummed quietly agreeing with Eddie, too fucked out to say anything else, yet still up for more. 

Without another word Steve got up, unashamedly walking into the living room with his junk out, hand still covered in his cum, Eddie’s gaze and grin were much more devilish up close, making Steve’s cock stir against the cold air hitting his tip. 

You were quick to sit up on your knees, dragging Steve closer to you, hand gently holding up his semen-covered knuckle, giggling at the sight before your gaze met his. 

The blood rushed to his cock in an instant, your doe-eyes still held that innocence, yet there was something filthy about it that had Steve wanting to melt into a puddle. You stuck out your tongue at him, mouth quick to wrap around his knuckles, lapping up his juices. 

Your gaze stuck on him, and Steve’s thighs shuddered with need, eyes drinking you in while you wiped him clean and released his hand with a pop sound of your velvety lips. 

A lewd noise escaped from Steve’s mouth, making him grow weak in his knees, still unable to find the words to speak. You were perfect. Just perfect. 

“Stevie tastes so good, Eds,” you hummed sweetly, gaze never leaving Steve’s, and Eddie watched the two of you with newfound hunger. 

“Do you want us to help you, Stevie?” You asked with a pout, plushy lips slickening with your candy gloss, and now with both Steve and Eddie’s juices. Steve nodded vigorously, head about to fall off his neck, gulping and almost groaning at you. 

Steve wasn’t a morning person, until now. 

[pvtty-wh0re]

Dear Santa,

What do I gotta do to get this man under my tree 😩 I’ve been good this year 🥲

Like seriously. Give him to me. I’m desperate.

[pvtty-wh0re]

i need both of their hands on me and inside of me

[pvtty-wh0re]

….put me in a headlock and choke me OUT

[pvtty-wh0re]

I GOT IT YESSSS

[pvtty-wh0re]

A little Colby Brock blurb because I have writers block.

As we sat in the quiet room, only filled with sounds of the tv, Colby looked at me. A look that caused butterflies to invade my stomach. It was different, his eyes filled with something I have never seen before.

"Look," he started, "I told the guys to not come back tonight." "Why?", I asked, finding it weird that he would tell our friends not to come back to the house.

He got up from his seat and walked over to me. He put his hand on my knee and told me, "Because Y/n, I've wanted you since the first day I met you."

I was speechless. Yes, it was true I had a crush on Colby, a big on at that, but never did I think he would feel the same way. "Colbs.." was all I could manage to get out. "I love you." he said in a calm voice.

I felt as if my body was going to explode. I felt like I blacked out, my body acting on its own. I grab his face and kiss him.

Its a kiss I have never felt before, it was love and genteelness. I stopped the kiss to come up for air. "Wow.. you're a good kisser Colby." I said shakily. He let out a soft giggle, "Only for you baby."

AN: sorry this is pretty crappy but I havent put anything out for you guys! I hope you enjoyed this!

[pvtty-wh0re]

and I'll take all he can put in me 🥵

[pvtty-wh0re]

IM GOING FERAL

[pvtty-wh0re]

in love with this omfg

Summary: Anon request on tumblr - "love love love your work, some sam x colby x reader smut would be 10/10🙏🏼🙏🏼 no pressure & i have no preference for a plot so you can freestyle :)"

Plot: After an argument with the boyfriend, y/n winds up going to a party with her friends as a pick me up, and let's just say.. she definitely gets picked up.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, arguing, hurtful things being said, mentions of alcohol, reader getting tipsy, mentions of reader cheating on super toxic partner, threesome, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (all), hair pulling, biting, teasing, scratching, general filth

Disclaimer: I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING and I apologize in advance to any Stephan's that may or may not read this.

Word count: 7.1k | not edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"Why the fuck are you yelling at me?" Your boyfriend yells back from the couch. You hold your ground, "Because that's the only fucking way I can get anything across to you, Stephan."

"You know that's a fucking lie. You can talk to me like a gen-"

You cut him off with a laugh, "I have tried that. Over. And over again, Stephan. But every time I try to talk about the littlest issue, you. Let me repeat that.. You make it into something bigger."

"Bullshit." He scoffs and shakes his head, "Maybe if you didn't have an issue every single day, then maybe I wouldn't get so annoyed."

"Annoyed?" You nod your head, "Alright." You head towards the steps and he stands up, "No.. wait.. y/n.. I di-"

"Don't." You glare at him, "I'll go be less annoying somewhere else."

"Come on, you're overreacting. You know I didn't mean it." He walks towards the steps and you stop halfway up, "I'm sorry that having a girlfriend with needs is a fucking inconvenience to you."

He stares up at you, "Now you're putting words into my mouth."

"It's what you're thinking, though. Right?" You take a step down, "Why don't you think about all the times I shrugged off seeing girls in your phone,. Or the time you got a text message while you were in the shower."

"Those didn't me- I never answered them." He stumbles over his words, "If you want my phone, take it."

You roll your eyes, "Please. Like that will fix that's happening right now."

"What's happening right now?" He questions, "Because right now it seems like you're completely losing it over something that shouldn't even matter."

"But it matters to me, Stephan. It fucking matters to me because with my brand that I'm trying to launch, I need everything to be fucking perfect. You should know that, you've only been with me for how long?"

"So you're pissed at me for a lipstick shade that was a lot pinker than it was supposed to be? Nice." He laughs and sighs, "That's fucking great. I'm getting shit on. Because of a thick liquid you put on your lips. Thats awesome."

"At least you know it was a lot pinker than it should have been." You mumble, turning to finish walking upstairs.

"Y/n."

"Y/n. Where are you going?"

You ignore him as you walk into your room, packing a backpack full of stuff. Stephan walks in and stops, "Where are you going?" He walks over, grabbing the strap of your bag, "Y/n. I said whe-"

"I'm going to go stay the night at Shannon's." You snap, stepping back, "If you really need an explanation, I'm going there because she's always been there for me through shit like this."

"Shit like this? So you're leaving me?" He huffs, "Great. That just fucking great."

"I didn't fucking say I was leaving you. I need a night away to cool down and only being around you will just continue to set me off because you piss me off so fucking much sometimes."

He chuckles and moves closer, "You piss me off, too." He grabs your face and tries to kiss you but you push yourself off of him, "Wh- no. We're not doing that."

"I thought that we were-"

You cut him off with a loud, "Oh my god. No." You sling your backpack onto your shoulder and walk over to grab your makeup bag.

Times like these are where you're super glad you haven't moved in with him yet.

You turn to him, "We can talk tomorrow when we're both not so irate with each other."

"Why can't you just go home?" He shakes his head, "I don't understand why you have to go to Shannon's house. Doesn't she have people over like all the time?"

"What does it matter?" You shrug and he scoffs, "I just.. I know how she is and I don't really need you around random men all night, fuck."

You raise your brows, "What the hell does that mean? You don't, need? You don't have a fucking leash on me, Stephan. I'm not a fucking dog." You walk to the door and he reaches out, "No, I'm sorry. That came out wrong."

"It doesn't matter how it came out. You said it. You obviously meant it. It just seems like you can't fucking trust me and I'm honestly starting to get sick of it." You run a hand through your hair, "You're so suffocating at times and I just.. it won't work if you mark down how I fucking breath."

"But I do trust you, and I don't fucking mark down how you breath. That fucking psycho path stalker shit.." His voice softens, "I'm sorry.. can we just- look I do trust you. I just don't trust other men around you."

You laugh, "Yeah. Sure fucking seems like you trust me. I can handle myself. I've been to enough events to know that." You sigh, "I'll just.. I'll talk to you tomorrow because I cannot keep doing this today."

You turn, forcing yourself to ignore his yelling as you make your way out of the house and to your car. You get in, tears immediately falling from your eyes as you call Shannon.

"Hey."

You sniffle, "C-can I come over?"

"Oh my god. Yes of course. What happened?" She asks with concern, "Did he hurt you?"

"No, no. We just got into it again and I told him I needed a night away. He flipped when I told him I was coming to your house. Insisted I just go home basically."

"yeah no. You can most definitely come here." She sighs, "I'm sorry. I know he's your boyfriend, but I genuinely cannot stand the way he treats you."

"I know.." you sigh, trying to calm yourself down as you drive to her house, "I just.. I might just turn my phone off when I get there. I told him I'd talk to him tomorrow so.."

"You know what you need?"

"What?" You rest your head back as you watch the light turn from red to green. She laughs slightly, "A good. Night out. My friend is throwing a party later on, but if you do-"

"Yeah. Yeah, let's do it."

"Yeah? Are you sure?" She asks and you nod to yourself, "Yeah. I need to get drunk and figure out what I want to do."

"Atta girl. Are you almost here?"

"Yeah, I'm pulling into the driveway now." You turn onto the stretch of concrete and drive up to the house, "I'm here."

"Okay. I'll come down." Shannon hangs up and you park, staring at your steering wheel. Your thoughts are racing a mile a minute.

Arguing with yourself about whether or not agreeing to go to this party was a bad idea or not.

A part of you felt guilty because of Stephan, but the other part, the part you knew was right, wanted to go so bad just to spite him.

He couldn't control you.

You were a successful person, with an another and new line of cosmetics coming out. You knew what was right. You just needed that little extra motivation to do it.

You wipe your face and get out, meeting Shannon at the front of your car. She wraps her arms around you, "I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be sorry." You sniffle and lean back, "I know what I need to do."

She nods, "Yeah?"

You laugh slightly, "Yeah. I just need a little help from this thing called.. alcohol."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"I only grabbed my sweats and stuff. I never kept any nice things at his house." You sit on Shannon's bed and she points to her closet, "Take something of mine."

"Is there a theme?" You ask as you walk over to her closet.

"Just to look as hot as you possibly can." She laughs and you nod, "Well that won't be an issue, now will it?" You move her dresses over and tilt your head at one, "How's this?"

You hold up a solid ruched cami body con dress to your body, "I think this neon green color is gorgeous."  Shannon nods quickly, "Oh hell yes. I'll the pink one."

She glances to your phone, "Your phones going off again." You roll your eyes, walking over to it, "Take a guess."

"Mm. Do I have to?" She sighs, "Want me to answer?"

You shake your head, "No. it fine." You press the green circle and put him on speaker, "Hello."

"So what? It takes five phone calls for you to finally answer?" Stephan says on the other end. You look at Shannon and she shakes her head.

You sigh, "Sorry. Shannon and I were caught up talking. I told you I needed space for a night."

"You could have at least told me you got there okay. Even though you left like you did I still fucking care."

You fight back your laughter and close your eyes, "No. you just like to know where I am all hours of the day."

"Hi Stephan." Shannon waves to the phone and he scoffs, completely ignoring her, "I just like to know that you're safe."

You mock him silently and Shannon covers her mouth to laugh.

"Well, since you must know everything.." you pause looking up at Shannon as you brace yourself for what's to come, "I'm going to a small birthday party with Shannon tonight. It's her cousin's party."

"What? Why do you have to go?" Stephan tries to keep his composure but both you and Shannon know he's about to lose it.

"Because Avery is my friend, too? Why wouldn't I go?" You sit down on the bed and pinch the bridge of your nose, "I grew up with her."

Stephan sighs, "Avery, right."

"I gotta get ready."

"What kind of party is it?" Stephan asks quickly, "Like is it a dinner or an all out rager."

You were getting annoyed, "A small dinner at some place across town. I don't know."

"How don't you know?"

"Because my day consisted of having a screaming match that fried my brain so the remembrance of a birthday party slipped my fucking mind. I gotta go get ready." You hang up before he has any chance to say anything else.

"Look at you go, girl." Shannon smirks and turns to finish curling her hair, "I'm glad you're finally understanding that he doesn't deserve you."

You nod, staring blankly at your phone that's lighting up with text messages, "Yeah.. it's really starting to show."

You take a deep breath, blinking away the tears as you stand up, "I'm so ready to get drunk."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"This is someone's house!?" You look around, eyes moving up the palm trees that are wrapped in neon pink lights.

"Far from a little restaurant across town, right?" Shannon laughs and you nod, "oh yeah. Stephan will be pissed when he finds out."

"Sucks being lied to right." Shannon looks over at you and you nod, "Sure does." You smile and shake your hair out of your face as you walk through the doors.

Lights are flashing, the music is blasting, and you can tell that it's going to be a night that you hopefully remember.

"Alright. You need to stop thinking.. and start drinking." Shannon grabs your hand and pulls you over to the bar area.

Your eyes move over the bottles of alcohol arranged nicely. You feel someone bump into you and you turn around to find a very familiar blonde standing there pouring himself a drink.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to bump into ya." He smiles and looks up, "Or maybe I did." He shrugs and takes a sip of his drink, "I'm Sam."

You glance down at his extended hand, "As in, ghost hunter Sam?" You tilt your head with a smile as you lay your hand in his.

He nods as you look up at him, "That would be correct. Yes."

You couldn't lie, the glow of the pink neon lights made him even more attractive than you already found him.

"I guess I should tell you my name." You laugh slightly and take your drink from Shannon who wiggles her brows at you before walking off.

"I'm y/n."

He smiles, "It's a pleasure to meet you, y/n."

You can feel your phone vibrating in your purse and you sigh, "Excuse me for a second." You pull your phone out and sigh, "Sorry."

"Work call or something?" Sam leans against the counter and you take a sip of your drink, "Oh god no. More like boyfriend who doesn't understand what I need space means."

Sam takes notice as your phone lights up again, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry, but does he not want you here or something?"

You laugh and sigh, "It's kind of a long story, but we've been arguing all day and I made a decision that I need a little boost to go through with."

"You're breaking up with him?" Sam raises his brows and tilts his head, "I mean.. does he deserve it?"

You laugh, "I think so." You look up at Sam, "He's lied to me on multiple occasions and as of right now, well today.. my feelings basically annoy him." You raise your hand, "his words. Not mine."

"Oh yeah, no. He doesn't deserve someone like you." Sam shakes his head, eyes moving up and down your body, "You're way too beautiful to have someone who acts like that. He sounds totally  insecure."

You nod, sipping more of your drink. Then it hits you, "Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. We just met and I just trauma dumped on you."

He smiles and lays his hand on your arm, "No worries at all." Sam smiles and nods, "I'm going to go find Colby, take him his drink." He picks up the other cup, "We'll see you later, hopefully?"

You nod, clicking the side button of your phone to silence it, "Hopefully." You smile at him, biting the rim or your solo cup as you watch him walk away.

Shannon runs up to you, "Oh my god. You know who that was right?"

You nod, kind of in shock, "Mhm." You look at her, "Sam Golbach, and he hopes to find me later." You smirk and grab her hand, "Let's dance."

You walk with her to the dance floor and suddenly all your problems dissipate.

You no longer feel your phone vibrating in your bag.

You no longer feel the heavy set anger that was settled in your body.

What you feel, is happiness. Hope that your life will get better away from Stephan.

You also feel eyes on you. You normally have eyes on you, considering you're famous in the makeup world, but these eyes, feel different - are different.

You look up, eyes meeting Sam's and you give him a smile. He raises his cup to you slightly, nodding as he bites his bottom lip.

You tap Shannon, "I'm going for another drink." She nods as she continues dancing, "Bring me one!" You nod, walking off of the dance floor and going to the alcohol corner.

You feel a presence walk up on you and you smile slighting thinking it's Sam, but you were wrong.

"Wow, Sam told me you were pretty, but he didn't say this pretty."

You turn, a smile growing on your face as you see Colby, "You must be the other ghost hunter." You laugh slightly as he nods, "Yep. That's me, Colby."

"Y/n." You hold your hand out and Colby takes it, "Nice to meet you, y/n."

They knew who you were, just like you knew who they were.

You sigh, "I'm sorry." You reach into your purse, pulling your phone out and shaking your head as the number of messages you're receiving, keeping going up.

"Everything okay?" Colby turns, leaning against the counter and you nod, "Yes. Well, no.. but it will be." You look up at him, "I don't know if Sam told you, but I kind of trauma dumped on him about my relationship."

"He filled me in. Definitely sounds like he can't fight." Colby chuckles and you raise your brows, "You're not far off with that." You laugh and look back down at your phone.

Stephan:

Where the hell are you? I know you're not at a restaurant across town.

Whose house are you at?

Seriously. Fucking call me.

Y/n. Just call me, please?

So you leave me to go what? Whore around at some big party?

"Apparently I left him to come whore around at some party." You roll your eyes, tossing your phone into your bag, "I just.." you laugh, shaking your head, "I'm not the one who has lied repeatedly. I've missed events because he didn't want me going."

"You deserve time away from yourself and you're a big girl, you can handle yourself." Colby's eyes scan up your body, "He just needs to understand that the way he treats you, will come back to bite him in the ass."

You nod, not really knowing what he means, but you agree, "I've tried telling him that before."

"Maybe.." Colby shrugs, "I don't know.. maybe he just needs a rude awakening.."

You tilt your head, looking up at him, "What do you mean by that?"

Colby chuckles and shakes his head, "We can talk about that later.. do you dance?" You smile, nodding before taking the last gulp of your drink, "Yes, please."

Colby grabs your hand, pulling you to the dance floor. His hands move to your waist as you move your body to the beat of the music.

Little did you know, Sam knew you guys hit it off straight away. He was giving you and Colby time to click.

"Sam isn't going to get mad is he?" You look up at Colby and he tilts his head, giving you a confused look, "Why would he?"

"I don't know.. he told me that he'd find me later and-"

Colby leans in, cutting you off, "Don't worry.. We know how to share, sweetheart."

Your heart skips a beat and that is when you realize what is happening.

And you loved it.

"Oh, I see." You smirk, turning around and his hands pull your ass against his crotch as you grind against him.

Your eyes move through the crowd, landing on Sam's. He smirks and sips his drink as he watches you dance with Colby.

"So.." you turn your head so Colby can hear you. He leans down as you continue talking, "Is this like a normal thing you do?"

Colby shakes his head, "Not even close." He chuckles, moving his head in so his lips are right by your ear, "You're just different, but in such a good way."

You bite your lip, turning around to face him, "Then why don't you go tell Sam to come have a turn."

Colby smirks, eyes scanning over your face as he nods, "I think I will." He squeezes your hips before walking away and Shannon turns around, "Oh fuck, there you are."

She points, "Was that Colby Brock?"

You nod, "Uh huh." You look over your shoulder, smiling when Sam walks up behind you, "And that's Sam."

Shannon smirks, knowing exactly what's going on, "All I'm going to say is.." she turns around, playfully grinding against you as she sings, "Go bad bitch, go bad bitch go."

You smile, turning around to face Sam, "Hey."

He smiles down at you, "You having a good time?" You nod, "The best time I've had in a long time." You wrap your arms around his neck, "But I should break up with my boyfriend, soon."

"Why's that?" He asks with a smirk.

You lean in, "Because I really.. wanna do this." You close the space between the two of you and Sam wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

You lean back, smirking up at him as he smiles, "I mean.. you do whatever makes you happy."

You bite your lip, "if I keep doing that, won't that make Colby jealous?" You watch as Sam chuckles, "You'll just have to give him what you give me." He leans in, "Just as long as I can watch."

Wet. Your panties are wet.

"You can do anything you want." You turn around, ass presses against him as he holds you close. Colby is now watching like Sam was, a huge smile across his face that he uses his cup to cover.

Sam and Colby. Two men that you never thought you'd be going home with.

But here you are.

"Whenever you're ready to get out of here, let me know." Sam whispers and you nod, "I just have to go make a phone call, then we're good."

Sam nods, "we'll find you in a little bit then, yeah?"

You nod, "Please do."

Sam walks to Colby and you grab Shannon, "I'm calling Stephan." She nods and links her arm with yours as you walk off the floor.

You make your way outside and pull your phone from your purse, "Oh speak of the fucking devil."

Seeing his name has you instantly heated.

"Straight to the point, babes." Shannon rubs your arm, "I'll be here if you need me."

You answer with a stern, "Hello."

"Where the fuc- why haven't you answered me? Where the hell are you, y/n?" He huffs, "You fucking said you were going to Shannon's, then it was a small birthday party at some restaurant across town and now you're- is that music in the back? Where the fuck are you? Are you not going to answer me? Are we playing this stupid fucking game again?"

"If you would give me a fucking minute to answer instead of just screaming at me, maybe I'll tell you where I'm at." You sigh, shaking your head as you look up at the dark sky, "I'm at a birthday party with Shannon."

"Liar. You're a fucking liar. Charlie sent me screenshots of you with a group of people, so are you going to tell me who that blonde asshole is?"

You laugh, trying not to burst into tears and you turn around, "I genuinely can't do anything anymore, right?”

"You can do what you want, but I thought it was agreed on that you wouldn't party with random guys. Fuck you are literally so stupid when it comes to that."

You clench your fist, all the anger that subsided bubbling back up, "Fuck you. I am not fucking stupid with anything but choosing to stay with you when I should have left at the sign of who you really were. And also, fuck you for treating me like this. I am more than enough. You just continue to make me feel like I'm not. So just fuck you. I'm done."

You turn around, stunned to see Sam and Colby standing with Shannon.

"Oh, and since you asked about the blonde, do you want to know about the dark haired one, too?"

"You have to be fucking kidding me-"

You put him on speaker and all three of them move closer to you to listen, "You're out fucking cheating on me? That is really fucking pathetic. We have one argument and you run to the first dick you see. Nice. I should have known you were that much of a slut-"

Sam grabs the phone, "Yeah first dick that she ran to here, you honest to god need to shut the fuck up and realize that you're the fucking problem."

"no, no. Who the fuck is this?" Stephan laughs, "Of course she can't stick up for herself.”

"I believe she did when she told you that she was done. " Sam holds his ground, "You fucking lost someone good when you made her feel like she wasn't worth it. So that's your fucking loss buddy."

"I swear to god. I'll kick your fucking ass. You hear me? You fucking touch her and I will break every bone in your body you worthless dick." Stephan goes off but you laugh as Colby steps up, "Yeah, second dick she ran to tonight, if you wanna do that to him, you'll have to go through me and I know what you look like. I don't really think you want to risk attempting that."

"You don't know what I'm willing to risk, asshole. What are you guys going to tag team my girlfriend? She must fucking love being ran through. What a fucking whore." Stephan sighs, "Can I just talk to y/n? Please. Y/n. Baby. Please."

You shake your head, turning away from the phone, disgusted with how he can go from calling you horrible things to trying to be sweet.

Shannon steps up, taking the phone from Sam, "Sorry, but I believe you just got broken up with." She hits the red circle and move to hug you, "Are you okay?"

You rest your chin on her shoulder and your eyes move between Sam and Colby, "oh yeah. I'm good."

They smirk at each other and you lean back, "If it's okay, I think I'm just going to.." you subtly nod towards them and Shannon smirks, "As I said, go bad bitch, go bad bitch go."

She turns around, "Take care of her."

They both nod and you take a deep breath as you watch her walk away, "Thank you, for doing that."

"I wasn't going to let him talk to you that way. That was uncalled for on many, many levels." Sam shakes his head, "But at least you won't be cheating on your boyfriend anymore."

Colby chuckles, "Yeah, speaking of. I think you owe me a kiss."

You smirk and tilt your head, "After what just happened, I owe you guys a lot more than a kiss."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

The ride home was quiet as you thought about what just happened.

You were upset about the breakup, you were pretty proud of how you handled it.

You were just more or less thinking about what kind of trending hashtag you'd become on twitter, because if there's pictures of you and Sam, things are going to blow up.

"You alright?" Colby lays his hand on your knee and you look over at him, "Yeah." You laugh slightly, "just thinking.."

"About?" Colby asks but you now have the interests of Sam, too.

"Oh you know. What headlines our names are going to be attached to in the morning." You shrug, "Not that I care, don't get me wrong, I just don't want your names being drug down by whatever Stephan might say."

Sam rolls his eyes, "Please. I'm worth more than his house." He chuckles, "Plus. Who's to say that you didn't break up with him when you left earlier."

You chew on your lip, as you smirk and Colby leans in, tilting your chin up to look at him, "You are too good for him. You definitely dodged a bullet with that asshole."

Your eyes move from his eyes to his lips and you lean in, closing the space and giving him the kiss that you and Sam talked about.

Sam's eyes are fixated on you and Colby slowly making out, "Fuck." His voice is low and Colby leans back, "It's only fair, brother. I got to watch you kiss her."

Sam smirks, sighing as he shakes his head, "No.. I meant that in a good way."

The adrenaline coursing through your veins made you feel like you were buzzing. You were fully aware of what was happening and you were living for it.

Although it wasn't an ethical way of getting over a breakup, you can now admit that you were mentally out of that relationship for weeks.

"We're here." Sam opens the door, walking around to open your door as Colby gets out. You smile, taking his hand as you slide out, "Thank you."

"Alright." Colby shuts his door and nods towards their house, "Let's go have some fun, yeah?"

"Let's do it." Sam leads you up to the door as Colby unlocks it and they both motion for you to go first. You walk in, looking around at their house before you feel hands on your waist.

You look over your shoulder and Sam has his chin rested on your shoulder, "You sure you wanna do this?"

You turn your body, chest against his as your arms slip around his neck, "you have no idea how much I want to do this."

He smirks and nods, "Alright. Follow me." He slides his hand down your arm, interlocking his fingers with yours as he guides you up the stairs.

Your heart was racing, you were kind of anxious because you've never had any kind of sexual relations with two guys at one time.

You didn't know what to expect.

"So what do you want me to do?" You sit on the bed as instructed and they look at each before Colby walks over to you. He kneels down between your knees and gently places his hands on your thigh, "We want you.." his fingers move to the inside of your thighs, "To just lay back, and let us please you."

You bite your lip, nodding slowly as you look up at him, "Okay."

"So go on. Lay back for me sweetheart." Colby grips the end of your dress as you lay back and he pushes it up, "You're so wet."

You lift your hips, pulling your dress up to your hips. You wanted him to touch you. You wanted both of them to touch you.

Colby hooks his fingers into the band of your panties, pulling them down your legs, "The moment I saw you, I couldn't stop thinking of how good you'd taste."

You look down at him, watching as he pushes your legs open and up. You watch in anticipation as he kisses up and down your thighs, whimpering as he bites and sucks tiny marks on to your skin.

"Don't tease her too much, Colbs." Sam chuckles slightly from off to the side, "I think she's been through enough."

You look over at him, only to have your eyes flutter closed as you feel Colby's tongue slips between your folds.

Your hand moves down to lay on his head as you gasp out a slightly loud, "Fuck."

"That's it baby, tell him how good it feels." Sam pulls his lip between his teeth, tilting his head as he watching your body jolt with each nip to your clit.

Your fingers lace in Colby's hair, tugging as your back arches off the bed, "Fuck, yes." You throw your head forward, watching him.

He grips your hips, pulling you close to him and he throws your leg over his shoulder. Your eyes squeeze shut, allowing yourself to be consumed by the pleasure.

You feel the bed dip down by your head and you open your eyes, seeing Sam above you. He runs his hand through your hair, watching your face twist with pleasure.

Colby drops a hand down, sliding two fingers into you. His tongue works your clit as his fingers slip in and out of you, curling at the right moments.

Sam reaches forward, pushing down the top of your dress to reveal your boobs. His hand moves up, giving each boob a slight squeeze before toying with your nipple.

Your eyes roll back, moans leaving your lips in a constant string, "S-so close."

Sam leans down, lips connecting with yours. You reach up with your other hand, lacing those fingers through Sam's hair.

He groans lowly as you pull, leaning back slightly to turn his head so he can watch Colby.

Your hips buck slightly and you dig your foot into his back, "gonna cum." You whimper out, moaning loudly as your back leaves the bed again, "Oh shit."

You clench around Colby's fingers, moaning as he gets you to cum. He pulls his fingers out as you look down at him panting.

He looks up at you with a smirk, "I was right."

You smirk at him, resting your head back to look up at Sam, "I guess it's your turn?" Sam smiles and nods, "I guess it is." He stands up, taking off his shirt before laying down, "Come here, babe." 

You get up, moving to sit next to him. He lays a hand on your thigh, "Come on." You bit your lip as you swing your leg over his body, hovering over his face. He pulls you down and his tongue goes to work. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair as your head falls back, mouth open as you moan, "Fuck. Fuck." You turn your head, looking at Colby who is slowly unbuttoning his shirt, eyes on you. You reach a hand out, indicating that you want him to come closer. 

He smirks as he shrugs his shirt off, making his way over to you. He rests on his knees, watching as your hand moves down his chest and torso, stopping at the top of his pants. He slides a hand up your back, holding you up as Sam works on bringing you to your second orgasm, "That feel good?"

You nod, "Uh huh." Your eyes squeeze shut as you slip your fingers into the band of his pants. He licks his lips, reaching down with his free hand to undo his belt, giving you more room to slip your hand in. 

He groans lowly as you palm him through his boxers, bucking his hips at the feeling of needing more, "Fuck." He slides his hand around, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip, "Bet this pretty little mouth does a good job." 

He watches as you open your mouth, taking his thumb gently between your teeth. Your lips wrap around it and suck, popping off with a smile, "Find out." 

He chuckles and nods, "Don't worry, sweetheart, I will." 

You look down at Sam, whimpering as you grind your hips, "S-shit." You gasp, squeezing your thighs shut slightly, "F-fuck, fuck."

Sam’s hands grip your hips before he tilts his head back, letting out a pleased sigh. You move off of him and turn to Colby, seeing as you’re just going back and forth with them.

But you’re definitely not complaining.

You slide your hands down, undoing his pants. He stares down at you, watching as you tug his dress pants down.

You slide your hands up his thighs, dragging them gently over his bulge before slipping your fingers into the band of his boxers. You pull them down, looking up at him.

He glances at Sam, nodding before stepping down off the bed. You pout slightly and he grips your chin, “Don’t worry. I think you’ll like what’s about to happen.”

He winks and kicks them off before stepping to the bed again, “As you were.” He smirks and you lean down, wrapping a hand around his cock. You lick your lips before leaning in to take the head of his in between them.

You slowly work on taking him in, swirling your tongue as you bob your head to get him wet enough.

You tilt your head, closing your eyes as you moan to the feeling of Sam pushing his cock into you.

Sam’s hands grip your hips, pulling you back to meet his as he thrusts all the way into you.

“Told you you’d like it.” Colby chuckles and lays a hand on your head. You take his cock back into your mouth, moaning around him as Sam starts to slowly thrust in and out.

“Fuck, yeah just like that.” Colby tangles his fingers into your hair, moaning lowly as he watches Sam behind you.

Your eyes roll back and close as you work on getting Colby into your throat. He gasps, “Shit. That a girl, baby.”

Sam groans, “Fuck, you feel so good, y/n.”

You pull off with a gasp as you throw your hips back, “Fuck, fuck.” Your nails dig into Colby’s thigh as you use your other hand to hold you up, “D-don’t stop, Sam..” you moan, “Please.”

Sam grips your hips tighter, keeping the same pace of his thrusts, “C’mon baby. Cum for me.”

You stroke Colby’s cock, slowly as you clench around Sam. You feel that familiar build up and snap, falling forward as Sam fucks you through your high.

Your lips meet the head of Colby’s cock, moaning round him as you take him back in.

Sam pulls out, same as Colby, and they switch spots.

You look up at Sam with a weak smile and he brushes hair from your face, “Taking us so good, baby.” He runs his fingers over your cheek and you close your eyes as Colby slowly slips his cock into you.

You let out a moan, gripping the sheets because the pleasure is about to be overstimulating.

“Are we making you feel good?” Sam bites his lip as you wrap a hand around his cock. You nod, whimpering as Colby starts to thrust, “u-uh huh.”

“Good. Good.” He tilts your chin up to look at him, “You deserve it.” He moves his hand, allowing you to take his cock between your lips.

You flick your tongue over the tip, moaning as Colby’s thrusts aren’t as sweet as Sam’s were.

You work on taking him in, coating him in your saliva as you shut your eyes. You pull off, gasping out, “Sh-it.”

“Cum one more time, baby.” Sam rubs your cheek with his thumb, “with us.”

You nod, leaning forward to take his cock back into your mouth. You moan around him, causing him to gasp and buck his hips.

You push your head down, taking him in fully. He lays a hand on your head, holding it there until you move it back up.

Colby groans, “Fuck, where do you want me to cum?”

You tilt your head back, moaning out as he continues to thrust, “On me.”

Sam watches as you go back to trying to get him off. You reach up, stroking what isn’t in your mouth. He groan, “Fuck, that feels so good.”

Sam grips your hair, pulling slightly as his hips jolt forward, “Almost there, baby. Fuck, keep going.” You continue to bob your head and twist your hand, moaning as you feel Colby pull out, his cum coating your lower back.

Sam moves his hips back, taking his cock into his own hand as he strokes, getting himself to coat your face with his cum.

You collapse on the bed, breathing heavy as the tiredness from everything sets in.

“Here, y/n.” Colby bends down, wiping off your face before standing up to wipe off your back.

“Thank you.” You smile, looking up at him. He bends down, brushing hair from your face, “Sam went to get you clothes. Do you need anything else?”

“Maybe some water.”

He smiles and kisses your head, “I’ll be right back.” You roll over onto your back, slowly sitting up as Sam comes into the room, “I brought you a shirt and pair of sweats or shorts, I didn’t know what you wanted so I brought both.”

You smile, working on sliding your dress down your body, “I hope I didn’t get anything on this. This isn’t my dress.”

Sam chuckles as he hands you the shirt, “We can always wash it for you.”

“Hey, y/n. Your phone was blowing up, I figured I’d bring it up to you.” Colby hands you your phone and you sigh, “Yeah, it’s my ex. He can’t handle the fact that he’s an ex.”

“No, I don’t think he can handle being dumped by y/n y/l/n.” Sam chuckles as he sits next to you, tying the string to his sweats.

“So.. I have to ask.” You toss your phone down, “Was this just a..” you look up at him, “One time thing.. or..” you immediately regretted asking that.

You didn’t want to sound desperate, or anything for that matter.

They shrug and look at each other, “I mean..” Colby starts, “I don’t want it to just be a one time thing..”

“Yeah, I..” Sam chuckles, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for slide into those DM’s of yours.”

You laugh and raise your brows, “No I know what you mean.”

“No way.” Sam gasps, “You were going to slide into mine?”

“Well if you didn’t answer, I was going to slide into Colby’s next.” You joke with a laugh, “I’m kidding.” They laugh and Colby sits down, “We both were fans of you, mainly because of how you are. You’re a successful, powerful woman and that just..” he sighs and shakes his head.

“Gets us going.” Sam picks up, “We’re honestly just amazed by you, and you deserve someone, or you know.. two very handsome ghost hunters to show you that.”

You smile and cover your face, “Oh my gosh.” You look up, “That’s honestly so sweet.. sorry I’m just.. in a little bit of shock still.. I just never pinned myself being in a thruple with Sam and Colby.”

“Well, believe it, baby.” Colby smirks, “Because if you want, you’re our girl, now.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Thank you all for reading and being so patient as I work on getting these out. I truly appreciate all the love and support I have received and will continue to receive!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated! 🖤