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bunnys-kisses · 23 days

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can i order belgian waffles and soda served by max verstappen? thanks bunny <3

bakery menu

want to submit your own order?? then hit up the menu! there are tons of items available! i'd love to hear from you! as for this lovely anon, thank you for such a nice order! it's rather short, but i love, love, love it! jealous!max my beloved! thank you!!

belgian waffles ("i cum in that every night.") + soda (jealousy) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, jealous!max, jealousy, dirty talk, missionary sex, motor home sex

"you're a jealous man, max verstappen." you said one night in the garage. your arms crossed and you gaze heavy on him.

he mimic your stance and replied, "i don't want the likes of piastri trying to take my mechanic."

you snorted through your nose, "right." you shifted from one foot the other, "because that weekend in lisbon and that christmas present last year really were because i was employee of the month.... that and somehow my supposed contract with alpine fell through."

max wasn't jealous. he was just concerned.

there should be an age restriction on mechanics. they should be old guys who can still work like they were in their twenties. because if max caught sight of you in your coveralls, looking like a total mess.

you weren't just some cute thing in the garage, you moved with the rest of your team. you were strong for all your time lifting and moving things. but yet carried such soft features that yanked on max's heart like a chain. you seemed so dedicated to getting max his fourth championship.

which was why he was curious why you were in the mercedes garage. he stayed a fair distance with his hat low to keep from any unwanted attention. he wanted to see where this was going.

"this is crazy, george! you really shouldn't be showing me this! oh my god." you said. then you starte to ramble about the aspects of the car. you were practically on your knees to get closer to it.

george tried not to think about you on your knees to hard. he didn't have ill intentions with you. and afterwards, you thanked george before you left, telling him you 'owed him one'. you were impressed by the car, if one red bull had the same specs. the team was pushing you to your limit at times, it didn't help that you had the golden boy of the team stalking in your shadows.

"have a good nice." george said before he watched you walk off.

max caught up with george after you both left the garage, a jealousy coiled in his chest. "george!"

the other man looked over, you far ahead now. he waved to max, "hey, mate."

"what are you doing out near the garage? race's over, man." that press smile hung on max's lips. he could see that you were gaining distance. but if max doesn't set a boundary now. george might get the wrong idea.

"ah, ya know. keepin' busy." max was soon in his personal space, "what are you doing around here?"

"aw, well. looking for my mechanic." he smiled as he placed a hand on george's back, giving it a firm smack. he leaned in to the other man and said, "i hope you know, george, i cum in that every night. it's not right to touch what belongs to another man. we're friends, right?" george nodded and max nodded in response, "so just back off, okay? she doesn't need to be poking around in your garage. and tell toto that she isn't interested in that contract either." then flashed the other man one of his winning smiles before he pulled away from him and went to go find you.

max wasn't a jealous man, he just knew your skills were suited better for the build of red bull.

in the room of his motorhome the night before you had to pack up for the next weekend. there was a fair bit of privacy in the place. it was probably more spacious than your apartment. even though max keeps suggesting you move in with him (the cats would love you). it felt nice to be out of your mechanics clothes, it could be sweltering sometimes. but it was needed when handling such dangerous machinery.

you didn't stray from red bull for long. you were in a shirt that had the logo across your chest, your breasts warping the image in the process and a fresh pair of cotton panties.

max loved the sight of you, how sweet you looked in his space. he remembered the first time you were in his home and your mouth went slack from the sight of it. your first comment was the view, which max let you get a closer look when he fucked you up against the window.

but, he'd have to reign it in a little tonight.

you were curled up with him in bed, your head against his chest while he played with your hair. you lifted your head a little to look at him and he kissed you.

"i saw you were with george today."

"oh! that wasn't anything. he just wanted to show me the car. i was interested in the specs that we could use in red bull... if anyone listened to me."

he smiled, "well." he kissed your forehead, "i always listen to you." he got you onto your back and in between your legs. he was able to move you so easily, for a woman who spent her days lugging around heavy materials, max could easily move you.

you were soft under his touch. in the low lighting of the bedroom. his hands on your hips as he admired you. you blushed a little bit, "i promise there was no funny business. plus george has a girlfriend!"

he got your legs around his waist and chuckled softly, "you think so little of me. i know you wouldn't break my heart that way. only being a team switcher. plus, if george tried to put his hands on you... we'd have a problem." he pressed his clothed cock against you, "but you're my good mechanic, right?"

you swallowed, "you're insatiable."

he pulled at the shirt on you, "only for you. i don't want you getting involved with teams that are less than. you only deserve the best."

"and what's the best?" you asked as the shirt was pulled over your head.

"me."

the two of you got out of your clothes, and max grabbed a condom out of the nightstand drawer. you had already gone through half of the pack that weekend. his hands on your thighs as he gazed at your nude body.

the only thing better than red bull or max's logo across your tits was them being bare for his eyes only. he licked his lips as he brushed his bare cock up against your slit.

"hey!" you yelped.

he chuckled, "quiet. i don't want a noise complaint from the other team. i know you want to scream my name, but tonight we have to keep quiet." he put on the condom and laid you out on the bed. he kissed your jaw as he shifted you hips up against him for a good angle.

he got into you, and shuddered at the feeling. being intimate with you was like a breath of fresh air. even on the days where the smell of car lingered on you and sweat was caked to his skin.

he loved your curves, your smile. how you lit up the garage and were a hard working. your knowledge of cars and how excited you spoke about them. he remembered a time where you could point out cars that passed by when you were having lunch together.

"you feel so good." he said softly, "you just feel like a dream. thank you for taking good care of my car and taking better care of me." he peppered your face with kisses, pushed your hair out the way to access more skin.

you glowed at the touch, it was so simple but yet it left your soul on fire. even when max was a jealous man, you still yearned for his closeness. his kisses and touches, his soft words and how he looked at you. he could have a day from hell, but when he saw you it was like the skies opened for him.

you held his face and brought his lips to yours. his lips were soft, a little raw from his biting while driving earlier in the day. his body felt good against yours. when you pulled away, you smiled at him.

it was like being kissed by sunshine.

he moved against you, your legs around his waist. your nails up near the back of his head. the kisses were passionately. the bed shifted a little with max's movements, but it made your heart leap in your chest.

you then cupped his face and ran your thumb across his bottom lip and smiled. heat in your cheeks as he thrusted. "of course max, a champion only becomes one when he has a championship worthy mechanic."

a shudder went through him, "i like when you talk like that." he said with such affection, "seeing that ego of yours inflate."

you giggled and pressed your forehead to his, "it's warranted. just keep getting those podiums." then kissed him once more.

the rhythm max had was steady and made pleasure circulate through your body. your soft moans were highlighted by the creaking of the bed. the heat inside of you bleed into your hands and feet as he rutted against you.

your nails dragged lazily across his broad shoulders. you panted heavily as max shifted your hips to get a better angle.

"so good for me."

"and you're good for me." he replied. he could feel the wash of warmth in his face, probably staining his cheeks pink. like when he finished a race. but having sex with you was not a race.

"max."

he knew you were getting close. he could feel the shudder through his body. it was like a inferno that he fed into.

you covered your mouth as to not get loud. but max pulled them away from you and pinned you to the soft covers. he silenced with you a kiss as he jackhammered into you. your back arched more, stopped by max's wider chest.

you held onto his hands as he pinned them down and kissed him deeply as you climaxed. your legs tightened around his waist and he continued to move against you. he was close behind you, giving you another searing kiss as he finished in the condom.

his pace slowed to a stop and he felt the heat on his back. he pulled out of you and went to go get rid of the condom. you curled up on the bed and pulled the pillow under your head as you eyed him throwing it out with the others from the weekend.

he got his briefs back on and got you back into his arms. you melted into his touch. in all fairness, you had very little intention of running off to another team. even if red bull drove you crazy, to feel close to max as often as you did felt nice.

if you put your soul into that engine, then he gave his soul over to you.

max wasn't a jealous man, but the only thing that could sate the throb of emotion were two things. a multi-year contract with red bull with your name on it and the thin gold chain with a small 'm' pendant. something you could tuck into your uniform while you worked.

he smiled at you, and you wiped grease off your cheek with your gloves, "going to make me win tonight?"

you nodded, "of course." you smiled at him before you pushed hair out of your eyes, "win like always, verstappen. and don't." you pointed at him, "damage my car."

he pulled you by the waist for a soft kiss, "of course." he wasn't a jealous man, but he'd be a fool if he let you go. <3

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cherrycolored-punk · 19 days

Text

still frames - bestfriend! e.m. x fem! reader

author’s note: reminiscing about the friend I had in high school, the one who I’d create playlists with and who’d call to play his guitar for me every night. and you can’t tell me that Eddie isn’t the same type of dude. the sweet bits are based on the reminiscing. the rest is pure fiction with our favorite goof. anyways, enjoy!🧡

w/c: 5k

warnings: angst, pining, smut (oral - reader receiving, protected p in v), spanking, teasing, uhhhh let me know if I forgot anything

‼️ THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI ‼️

Raindrops race down your living room window in lines, and you watch them from your spot on the floor. It’s fall, and the lush greens of summer have begun to change color; their leaves now varying hues of orange and yellow. They create a coziness in your apartment, a warmth that feels like it envelops you and is amplified by the scent of your favorite candle; crisp apple, nectar, and warm clove spice fill your lungs with each breath you take.

Eddie lays beside you on his stomach, focusing on his phone and the playlist you created for him.

The playlists were a tradition since middle-school, a way to introduce each other to a new sound or a band the other might not have heard of. For some time, though, you’d been using it to send cryptic messages, and he hadn’t caught on.

Your crush on Eddie came suddenly but was felt all at once.

It was a spring morning nearly two years ago, and you’d laid dying in bed, except not really. You just had the flu, but you felt close to death and had texted him as much.

Eddie: what do you need?

You: hit me with your van, stab me in the face…please end my suffering.

He, of course, didn’t grant your wish, but he’d shown up at your apartment after work with a grocery bag full of supplies. Eddie was still wearing his navy coveralls covered in oil and smelled like grease. From what you could smell, anyway. You could barely breathe through your nose.

“I got you theraflu tea, and I don’t want to hear you complain about the taste. You just need to drink it,” he scolded before you could even complain.

Your jaw snapped shut.

“Also got your favorite soup, four cans,” he held his fingers up, “orange juice, Vicks, popsicles in case your throat hurts, those saltines you like, and,” he turned, “I brought Scream for us to watch since I know it’s your favorite.”

It hit you like a ton of bricks, made your heart stutter, and nearly stop.

It was the way he was smiling, the familiar excited gleam in his eye as he looked at you. It was the fact that he’d shown up after a twelve-hour shift with all your favorite sick foods in tow.

Your eyes traced over his face like you were seeing him for the first time. The sharp edge of his jaw, the plump of his lips, the freckles that dotted the slope of his nose, and when did Eddie become so beautiful?

You’d tried blaming it on the fact that less oxygen was getting to your brain and a virus was wrecking your immune system, but now you didn’t have the same excuse. Now you couldn’t look at Eddie without noticing the pinks of his cheeks or the different smiles he had. Couldn’t be around him without yearning to hug him or hold him in a way that didn’t scream just friends.

The past year and a half had been overwhelming, the yearning making you feel hollow. Like if you didn’t say something, it would continue to eat you alive, but telling him ran the risk of ruining the friendship and that was a fate worse than being alone.

You glance over to the playlist he’s listening to, at the song playing, and clench your eyes shut.

Despite the music in your ears, you can hear the song reverberating off the walls of your skull. The one you heard that made you think of him. It plays in your head, having memorized every lyric and the way the singer’s voice influxes with certain words.

Bet you never knew it

Think you’d suit me just fine

And you know he’ll never get it, never know you’re hopelessly in love with him.

You close your eyes and focus on the song, one he chose specifically for you.

Good Riddance plays soft, a break from the heavy metal he always added but not a song you hadn’t heard before. It brings a sense of nostalgia in the form of a lump in your throat, and you swallow hard, images of high school flashing through your mind like a retro view-master. It feels like yesterday and another lifetime all at once. The plays you were in, the various games you cheered at, going to Corroded Coffin’s shows, staying over at Eddie’s house, the first time he’d convinced you to join a campaign…the face of “I told you so” when you told him you had actually enjoyed it.

Eddie pulls the earbud from your ear, auburn hair tickling you where it meets your bare shoulder and interrupting your reminiscing. You turn to him, curious eyes meeting his steady gaze.

“What is it?” you question with a quirk of your brow, unable to decipher the expression that colored his features.

“Curious choice of songs here,” his voice carries a teasing lilt as he turns onto his side, facing you.

You could feel his gaze on you, searching your features for the answer to a question he hadn’t asked yet.

“How do you figure?” you turn, matching his pose, and rest your chin on your palm.

Eddie thought for a moment, his eyes turning up and to the left as he searched for the words.

He looks handsome as ever, pale skin glowing from the light of your candle. Cinnamon eyes lit with a hint of mischief and something you couldn’t name.

His eyes shift down and meet yours, a broad dimpled smile slotting into place.

“Something tells me you have a crush on someone,” and your heart practically drops into your ass at his words.

“A crush?” You ask, half-laughing at his accusation in an attempt not to vomit.

“Oh, don’t play coy. Every song on here drones on about love,” he points to his phone, his eyebrows pushed into his bangs.

“They’re just good songs, Edward,” you shove his head and lay flat on your back, but he follows your movements, hovering over you. Close enough that you can smell the spearmint of his gum and the cologne he wears; musk and smoked suede. It makes your mouth water, his proximity making your heart lurch in your ribcage.

“I never said they weren’t good, Princess.”

Your hand reaches out to push his face away at the nickname, but he catches your wrist in his grasp, a cocky smile spreading wide on his lips.

“What happened to us not questioning the playlist, Munson? Isn’t that rule number one since day one?” You attempt to fight your wrist out of his grasp, but it remains firm.

“Let go,” you grumble, and he shakes his head.

“Not until you tell me,” he counters.

“Tell you what?” you stop fighting, and your arm falls back near your head, his fingers still wrapped around it as though he were pinning you there.

“Who is it?” he shrugs, but you don’t miss how his adam’s apple bobs as he asks.

You wonder if Eddie can hear how your heart hammers, your senses overwhelmed by his sudden inquisition.

“There isn’t anyone,” but your gaze turns from him, and he knows you’re lying.

“Not good enough,” he shakes his head.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I need to know,” you look back at him. The need you’d felt for the past year reflected in his gaze.

Time slows.

“Why?” your voice is softer, barely above a whisper. Breath held as you wait for his answer.

He lets go of your wrist and settles back at your side, reaching for his phone as you watch him. The anticipation of his response pushing you closer to cardiac arrest.

Eddie pulls out your other earbud and places one of his own in your ear.

I Want You plays, and you recognize the familiar sound of Mitski’s voice. One that is full of yearning and a palpable sorrow. You look at him with a curious upturn of your brow, a silent question, and he turns the screen of his phone towards you.

It’s a new playlist, one you hadn’t seen, and it bears a simple title: your name.

A million thoughts race through your head, but you can’t find the words or the right question.

“Mitski?” You decide to tease, your cheeks warm as the feelings rush through you. The realization that maybe, just maybe, he loved you too.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, but it’s full of affection, and his face leans closer—his gaze darts between your eyes and the swell of your lips.

Your mouth parts in anticipation, eyes fluttering shut as your head lifts to meet him halfway.

A small gasp escapes your lips at the first contact, his lips softer than you’d ever imagined. Slotting perfectly together with yours. He tasted like the gum he chewed and the soda he’d had; sweeter than you thought he’d be.

Eddie’s hand cups your face, gently holding your jaw as his thumb rubs the apple of your cheek. Holding you almost reverently.

The kiss deepens as he pulls you on top of him, his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom lip, asking for permission. Your tongue swipes against his in response, and you swallow the moan he feeds you - fingers tangling in the fabric of his black t-shirt as he holds you to him.

His large hand wanders down your back and over the curve of your ass, gripping the dough of it. You can’t help the circle of your hips as you grind against his thigh. Chasing the friction you so desperately need.

Your lungs begin to ache as the kiss deepens, desperate for oxygen but more so for his touch, and you roll over, pulling his weight on top of you. Enjoying the feel of his body pressed into yours, and his knee slotted between your legs.

Eddie pulls away, taking a deep breath to fill his burning lungs, and you chase his fleeting lips - eyes still closed. He chuckles, rubbing your cheek affectionately - memorizing the softness of your skin and the warmth of your body underneath him.

You breathe in deeply, gaze finally meeting his, and the first thing you notice is the flush of his cheeks. Then the way his brown eyes are almost obsidian; darkened with need. His nose brushes yours as he leans in for another kiss, just as soft as the first but quick so he can look at you again.

“Are you finally going to tell me who it is?” He questions, lips hovering over your jaw, and you can barely breathe. Anticipating his touch.

You shrug your shoulder, not ready to admit to defeat.

“Couldn’t tell you, just some guy,” you play with the collar of his shirt, acting aloof.

“Just some guy,” he repeats with a shake of his head, pressing a kiss to the space between your jaw and your ear.

Your breath comes out shaky, and you can only nod.

“Was hoping it was me, Princess,” he kisses down your neck causing goosebumps to sprout along your arms.

His lips press against the skin of your shoulder, pushing at the strap of your dress with his mouth to nudge it out of the way.

The curve of his lips is a whisper above your skin, his head dipping down and tracing the tops of your breasts. You arch into his touch, desperate to feel his mouth over every inch of your body.

He stops abruptly, his head lifting back to hover over yours with a mocking grin. Enjoying how he already affects you, the way you whine when you don’t get what you want.

“As if you don’t know the answer,” you gruff, and he leans in, shaking his head.

“I want to hear you say it,” he whispers, face inches from yours—a dare.

The stubborn part of you wants to deny it, wants to keep the secret close in case this was all in jest, but there’s another part that yearns to hear him say it too. To hear him say it back. For it to be more than a private playlist with your name attached.

“It’s you,” and you almost want to disappear. To sink into the floor or to be swallowed whole. Despite the kiss, despite the way his body presses closer to yours when he finally hears you say the quiet part out loud. Saying it out loud made it real, the threat of losing him as a friend more imminent.

But his mouth is back on yours, more fervent than before. His hand traces up your thigh and grips the soft flesh. Pressing himself against you.

You kiss him back with just as much need, an eager hand pushing at the hem of his shirt until you feel his skin. The curve of your nails drags lightly down his abdomen, stopping just above his belt. Enjoying the way the coarse hairs that lead into his pants feels against your fingers. Your other hand curls in his hair, holding his face to yours.

Eddie shudders at the sensation, a small gasp spilling from his lips as they leave yours. You look at him through hooded eyes, a slight grin slotting into place when you notice his flushed cheeks and hair slightly disheveled.

Energy thrums through you, making your heart pound. God, you want to make him gasp like that again.

“Was that so hard?” He questions, his expression a little cocky despite his breathlessness, and if you weren’t so eager to kiss him again you might just push his face from yours.

“Shut up,” you say affectionately and kiss him again.

Soft, sweet. Relishing in the feel of his lips until it isn’t enough. Until the carnal hunger can’t be ignored.

Your tongue swipes against his lower lip, and you suck it between your own. Swallowing his low moan. The palm of your hand trails lower, small fingers wrapping around his handcuff belt. Breath caught in your throat until it makes your lungs burn, and you pull away.

Eddie watches you, your slow, languid movements causing him to hold his breath in anticipation. His long, callused fingers push up, up, up until you feel them beneath your panties, matching your pace, creating a line of fire wherever they meet your skin.

His belt falls open with a rumble of metal, and he presses his forehead to yours; hand gripping your ass, fingers spreading you apart, and edging closer to your center.

Your palm rubs against his coarse pubic hairs as you slide your hand further into his boxers, a small gasp escaping your lips when your fingers rub against the warm length of his arousal. Eddie is bigger than you had imagined, and you’d spent plenty of time picturing him while in bed. Legs spread and fingers working you over the edge. But this is better than a daydream.

His cock jumps against your palm as you wrap your fingers along his shaft, exploring the soft skin and the thick vein that lines his length. Your thumb brushes against his tip, collecting the pre-cum that leaks from it.

Dark eyes watch as you remove your hand and bring your thumb to your mouth, tongue swirling against your digit before sucking it clean.

A groan escapes Eddie’s lips, his jaw slack. Eyes hooded with need.

His next movements are fast, quicker than your mind can keep up with.

He flips you onto your stomach, mouth racing down your back eagerly; needy hands pushing the fabric of your dress up until your ass is exposed.

“This okay,” he questions, fingers hooked on the lace of your panties, and you whine, ass wiggling eagerly beneath him in response. He slaps the fat of it, a cocky laugh falling from his lips, but he wastes no time.

Eddie tosses your panties over his head absently; gaze focused on the swell of your butt. He hooks an arm around your waist and drags you up on all fours until you’re bared to him. His hands are on your ass like an anchor as he dips his head closer.

The scruff of his beard scrapes against your soft skin, his warm breath felt against your spine. Each kiss is slow and deliberate, felt in your core as his lips trail down the small of your back and over the valley of your ass. He grips your cheeks and spreads them, revealing the rim of your ass and your glistening cunt.

“So fucking pretty,” and he practically whimpers at the sight, grabbing his cock to adjust the strain against his jeans.

He traces his middle finger over your slit and to your bundle of nerves, creating a circle around the bud; a sensation that makes your hips jolt, a soft moan escaping your lips.

You breathe in sharply when you feel the nudge of his nose against your sex, his tongue swiping along your folds. Savoring the way you taste.

He teases you, tongue flicking against your clit before swiping towards your aching center and stretching you over his tongue. A guttural moan escapes your lips, your nails digging into the plush of your carpet at the sensation.

Eddie buries his face deeper, pushing his tongue further into you with a groan that vibrates through you.

“Oh my god,” you keen, reaching behind and knotting your hands into his hair. You grind against his face, eyes rolling as his tongue darts in and out of your sopping cunt. Fingers pressing into your clit.

“Fuck,” he moans, voice gruff.

His tongue laps at your arousal, middle finger prodding your entrance. You release his head, bracing against the carpet. He stretches you inch by inch before adding another, his digits curling inside you. Slowly, he begins to pump them into you, hitting a spot that makes your breath catch in your throat. You clench around him, the orgasm already building.

“Eddie,” you whine, spurring his movements to quicken. For his mouth to wrap around your clit and flick his tongue against it, eager for you to come undone.

You ride his fingers, desperate for the release and out of your mind with need. Body humming, warmed over from the intensity of your arousal.

“Gonna come for me, Princess?”

You nod your head, pushing your pussy back against him. Desperate for his tongue on your sensitive bud.

“S-so close,” you stammer.

Every muscle in your body tenses, and you bury your face in the carpet as the feeling crashes over you. For a moment, you can’t breathe. The moan trapped in your throat and eyes clenched shut until, finally, your center unfurls.

Your cunt flutters around Eddie’s fingers, and you moan his name as your legs begin to shake, but he doesn’t stop. He continues to pump his fingers into you, groaning at the noise it makes and the way your pussy grips him. His tongue flicks wildly against your clit, eliciting a loud groan to escape from your lips. Your legs shake more intensely as tears spring to your eyes. Bordering overstimulation.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you beg, and suddenly, he pulls his fingers from you. Fat tongue dragging against your wet heat and savoring every drop of your essence.

He slaps your ass once. Twice. Leaving kisses where his hands were before and trailing them up your back, pushing the fabric of your dress up with him until he pushes it off entirely.

He’s bent over you, torso pressed to your back. Hard arousal pressed to your sopping center. Warm breath felt against your neck as he whispers.

“Sound so fucking pretty, want to hear you again. Want to watch you.”

He presses closer to you so you can feel just how badly he wants you, and you shudder. You match his movements, pushing your ass back against him, turning to watch the way his eyes close and his jaw clenches.

“Do you have a condom?” You whisper, and his eyes open abruptly, searching yours.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, nodding his head late as though his body was just catching up with his thoughts.

But he doesn’t move, and it makes you feel shy. A little unsure of yourself. You squirm beneath him and flip over so that you’re face-to-face.

“We don’t have to,” you rub an absent hand against his face, trying not to think about the fact that you were mostly naked and he was hovering inches from you, fully clothed.

Eddie shakes his head and leans closer.

“I want to,” he says with more conviction and kisses your cheek, brushing his lips along your jaw.

“You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to,” he whispers against your neck.

His tongue swipes along your neck and nips at your soft flesh. A free hand wanders down your side, creating goosebumps in their path.

“Have you thought of me?” You ask, dragging a hand down his sternum to the top of his still-open jeans. Your voice is teasing, heavy with a flirtation he’d never heard before, and he nods. No longer cocky, hovering above you but entirely at your mercy.

“What have you thought about?” You push your hand back into his boxers and begin to stroke him, jaw going slack as you watch his eyes flutter shut.

Eddie groans, the fingers at your side digging into your skin.

“Y-you in my bed,” he stammers, mind occupied by the feeling of your hand wrapped around his dick. Your grip tightens around him, your grasp firm as you pump his cock faster.

“Is that it?” You whisper against his mouth, nipping at the pout of his bottom lip. He follows your mouth as you pull away, and he shakes his head.

“Thought about how good you’d look as I fuck you,” his words are a little breathless, but they cause your thighs to clench.

The movement isn’t lost on him. It spurs him on, the familiar cocky grin slotting into place—a glint of mischief in his eye.

“You’ve thought of it too, haven’t you?” His nose brushes yours, lips hovering over your mouth as he waits for your response.

The shudder that runs through your body gives you away, and you nod. Hand still pumping his cock.

Eddie kisses you more tenderly than you expected. His lips soft against your own, relishing the feel of you.

“How often?” He questions, mouth still hovering over yours. Hand tracing down your thigh and up again.

You try to concentrate, hand still working him but your rhythm unsteady as you debate to tell him the truth.

“Every day,” you stroke him again, “sometimes twice a day.”

His mouth crashes against yours, all teeth and tongue. Your hand reaches from his boxers and begins to push at his jeans. He helps you, one hand next to your head, holding his weight above you, and the other helping push his jeans until he kicks them off. Eddie sits up and tugs off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his torso—the dark lines against his alabaster skin. You trace your fingertips over them, lips pressing against his chest as he reaches behind you and unclasps your bra. Eddie tosses the fabric aside, eyes fixated on the curve of your tits.

“Fucking hell,” his voice is low, appreciative, and he reaches out to trace his fingers along your newly exposed skin. Your back arches into his touch, watching his thumb roll against your nipple and pinch the sensitive flesh between his fingers. A moan falls from your lips, and your head rolls back, legs closing around him.

His head dips to your neck, and he kisses down your chest, over the slopes of your breasts.

Eddie’s tongue flicks and sucks, pulling your nipple between his teeth. One hand gripping your hip and leading you back down until you’re lying beneath him.

He reaches for his jeans and grabs his wallet, pulling a condom out.

You stop him before he can unwrap it, “Wait.”

“Are you okay?” He stops and watches you with worry.

“Can we,” you pause, “can we go to my room? To the bed?”

“Afraid of a little carpet burn, Princess?” He teases, and you swat his bicep, pushing at his chest so you can move past him.

“Shut up, Munson,” you push his face, but he grabs your hand, standing and pulling you along with him.

You turn from him to walk to your room, and he slaps your ass, causing you to yelp as you run away from him, your giggles filling the apartment. Eddie chases you, hand reaching out to slap your butt cheeks every so often until you reach the room and suddenly turn to face him.

His chest crashes against yours, and your chuckle dies when you look at him again. The desire in his eyes, the blush that’d crept into his cheeks, and the state of his hair. You reach between your bodies and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him as he leads you to the bed.

Your back plops against the soft mattress, and he drags your ass to the edge, legs spread wide for him.

He unwraps the condom and rolls the rubber down his shaft, one thumb drawing circles against your clit. Gathering your slick.

You pant as he works you up, whining when he stops, only to jolt when his wrapped length rubs against your slick folds. Your fingers wrap around his wrist as he inches into you, his eyebrows pushing together as your cunt wraps around his cock.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, gripping your hip with his free hand.

Eddie is a stretch, but the feel of him pushing into you is delicious - every inch making your toes curl.

“Oh,” you moan, and it’s all you can manage. Words turning to nonsense once he’s fully seated inside of you.

He leans down and kisses you, lips hard against yours as his hips roll into you. His rhythm starts slow, pumping into you at a languid pace. Savoring the way you feel, the way your moans sound, and your naked chest feels pressed to his.

His movements quicken, the snap of his hips growing louder as he juts into you. You pull away from his lips and dig your nails into his bicep. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes focused on where your bodies are connected. Watching the way your pussy sucks him in, clenches perfecting around his shaft, and the image of you draws him closer to the edge.

Eddie pushes off the mattress, straightening your legs until they’re pressed against his torso, one foot resting on either side of his head. He has the perfect view of you; the bounce of your tits as he ruts into you, the way your mouth hangs open, and your eyes are entirely focused on him.

He pounds his dick into you, one hand moving between your legs and drawing circles against your bud.

“Eddie, ahh, oh fuck-” you grip his forearm as he continues to thrust every inch of his cock in and out of your sensitive cunt.

“You like that, baby?” and you nod.

“Say it,” he groans, hips stuttering as he nears his pinnacle.

“Feel so good, Eddie,” you moan, and the way you say his name makes him clench his jaw. Trying his best to maintain composure until you come.

“Going to come for me, sweetheart?” and it sounds like a demand. Your nails dig into his skin as you nod.

Your eyes trace down his body, watching the movement of his hips and the way your ass reverberates with each movement. The image of him, the erotic sound of skin on skin, bringing you closer.

“Please,” you beg, back arching off the bed as you get closer. The rubber band at your center stretching thin and ready to snap.

Your legs fall from his shoulders and hook around his waist, pulling him closer. Deeper. Exactly where you need him. The tip of his cock nudges your spongy center, the orgasm building with each rock of his hips until it’s enough.

His name is on your lips like a prayer, vision white as the intensity of the orgasm pulses through you.

“Baby,” he groans, the grip your pussy has on him causing his hips to stutter and the muscles in his abdomen to tighten as he reaches his peak. His hands grip your thighs, his dick twitching inside you as he spills into the condom.

You come down for your orgasm and watch him through hooded eyes—the flush of his pale skin, the sharp edge of his jaw.

So fucking pretty.

He releases his grip on your thighs and slowly inches out of you.

You whine at the loss, already needy for more, and he gives you a cocky smirk. Eddie presses a quick kiss to your lips before disappearing down the hall, and you listen as the faucet squeaks, then off before he returns.

He approaches you with a warm washcloth, and wipes your center before discarding it into your nearby hamper.

You pull him forward, resting his weight against your body. For a moment, the two of you sit in silence. The only sound filling the room is your heavy breaths and the faint thrums of your hearts.

“That was-,” and he can’t finish the sentence. Unable to find the right string of words.

Eddie pushes his weight off you, balancing on his hands and meeting your gaze. He leans closer, his nose tracing yours, and he kisses you softly—a hum vibrating against your lips when he releases your mouth.

“Decent,” you shrug and roll your eyes affectionately. Falling into your usual teasing.

“That was some of my best work, babe,” he gasps, feigning shock. Hand to his chest as he stands straight.

Your heart skips at the nickname, but you try to hide it. Babe.

“Guess you’ll have to show me again,” you shrug and push yourself further onto the bed.

Eddie raises a devious brow and follows your movements, his body inching forward as yours inches back.

“I can show you again,” he kisses you, “and again,” he kisses you once more, “as many times as it takes to convince you,” he promises.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson #eddie musnon x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things au #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x fem oc #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff

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cherubfae · 7 months

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how they cuddle || slashers x reader

With Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Billy and Stu, Art the Clown, Vincent, Bo, Lester, Sal Fisher, & Patrick Bateman, Thomas Sawyer

tags: AFAB reader (not specified), cuddling, affection, rz!Mikey, art is his own warning lmao, terrifier 2 spoilers, little spoon!slashers, nightmares (Sal), comfort, poly!Ghostface, I low-key rant about art in Vin's lmao

Michael

Exhaustion isn't something he's used to feeling so heavily in his bones. He feels the heavy weight rippling across his broad shoulders and spiraling down his spine in white hot pain. He's not a tame being, but he is a bit more docile in the months before and after Halloween. His knife doesn't thirst for blood quite as much as on the 31st.

Seeing you in your bed is a welcomed sight. Michael doesn't say much more than the soft grunt of acknowledgement as he sheds his coveralls from his dirt-caked skin. He has a lovely warm bath that loosens all the tight muscles of his lower back. You'll have his head later for leaving a ring of grime in the tub; Mikey doesn't care about that right now.

The fresh sheets are so comfortable, accepting them fully as Michael tucks his face into your side. His recently cut hair is still long enough to form a fringe curtain over his grey eyes.

Jason

Softly leans his chin to your shoulder. Depending on how far along you two are into your relationship, Jason might feel comfortable enough to have his mask removed. He's aware the material probably doesn't feel too pleasant being pressed to the side of your face or lightly digging into your skin.

His arms wind around your waist, happily sighing as he leans himself against you. Jason also doesn't mind if you switch things up and hold him in return, stroking the top of his head softly.

Brahms

If there's a way where he can wind his body around yours, Brahms will find it. He definitely likes keeping you away from all of the noise of the world, and while he's not mega happy about it, he knows you need trips into town sometimes. He likes seeing what kind of food items you bring back because the meals you make are simply delicious!

After dinner and bathing, Brahms snuggles beside you, clinging to you like you've been gone for ages. The chill of his porcelain biting into your skin as he happily huffs behind it. He's so glad to have you. <3

Billy and Stu

The pair are constantly together, if not with you, then they're almost always flanking each other's sides. The other is often not far from the first. Adding you into their duo to form a trio didn't change much of their dynamic. Instead of the two boys slinking around, they've got you as their third and final confidant.

Billy isn't the most touchy-feely person-- that's what he likes to claim. He doesn't really know how to ask for the things that he wants. He's different to Stu in the way that he's silent when you press your hand to the brunette's cheek, smiling as his eyelids flutter closed. Subconsciously leaning into your touch, chasing the feeling when you pull away.

Stu likes to be what he calls the mega spoon. It's him behind you, snuggled at your back, and with Billy pressed close to your chest still too proud to say that he enjoys being taken care of as the little spoon. You three make a nice, lovely three-person sandwich. Even when lying down, you're in the center with the boys wrapped around you like snakes. There is no them without you; you are their missing piece.

Art

This man is mostly, if not always, within your personal space. 'It's not yours, it's ours'. Art is rarely a being ever to break character or change out of his damned costume, and his hygiene is quite questionable sometimes; though he does in fact bathe and wash his suit. Just not often.

He's a man of very few words, especially when he's deep into his clown character and doing what he does best. Being immortal has its advantages, but his fight with Sienna really put him through the ringer. Art was decapitated! What a riot.

With his strength slowly returning to him, Art is always almost underfoot. In your bubble, seeing what you're doing. Snuggling up to you in a rare moment where his costume is off, leaning his head into your chest with an exhausted expression. It seemed that Pale Girl was allowing him some respite with you for a bit.

Vincent

He is a busy man, constantly sculpting and creating. His sketchbooks are filled to the absolute brim of beautiful works of art in all sorts of mediums: charcoal, graphite, watercolor, and ink. You're his muse, his favorite subject of which his art circulates. There's something so breathtaking about you, minute details that only an artist can see within people. An eternal, everlasting beauty.

Vincent is quick to jot down the rough outline of your sleeping form resting against Jonesy. He's smiling behind the wax mask, skilled fingers shading the crease of your eyelids then moving to sketch the curve of your Cupid's bow. When he felt it was finished enough for now, Vincent sets his book aside in favor of crawling into bed beside you.

His broad frame dwarfs yours as he curls his body around yours, his large hands slide beneath your sweater pressing across your tummy. Vincent really adores you, you know?

Not much of a cuddler, but if you get especially pouty about it Bo will roll his eyes and tug you to him. He can be a major asshole but he doesn't like seeing his baby upset.

He tucks you beneath his strong arm, his mechanic's hat resting on top of the back of the sofa. Waiting for you to settle down doesn't take long as you're soon drifting off with your head on his chest, focusing on his hand placed on your knee; gently stroking the skin there. His eyes begin to droop, feeling heavy. Cradling the back of your neck, Bo allows himself to drift off, too.

Lester

Long days certainly do get to him sometimes. Tiring him out something awful. He's prepared enough roadkill and deer for his brothers and you, enough to satiate any hunger for the time being until he finds time to run into the nearby town again.

Lester finds you lounging in his bed with Jonesy, Vincent must be working hard and the pup sought out attention where she could. He had no idea where Bo was or whatever the hell he was up to.

Collapsing onto the bed, Lester sighs deeply when you immediately comb your fingers through his messy short hair. He's out like a light soon after.

Sal Fisher

Poor guy has so much going on that sometimes he just wants to crash and sleep for one-thousand years. He doesn't sleep well on the best of days, plagued by frequent nightmares that not even the warmth and comfort of your sleeping form beside him can quell.

Another nightmare yanks Sal out of a fitful sleep. One that has him patting the sheets, searching for you. The heat of your skin against his hands sends a calming peace over him. He's scooping your sleeping form in his arms, his face hidden in your neck. Sal gives a weak smile as you snuggle into him. He focuses on your even breathing, allowing himself to fall asleep soon after.

Thomas

It's incredibly hot on the best of days in Duller County, the Sawyer family set up several oscillating fans that constantly work overtime without a proper functioning air conditioning unit.

Even the lackluster cool breeze and the sweltering Texan heat aren't enough to have Tommy pulling you into his lap and nuzzling his masked face into your hair.

You're much smaller than him. It gives Tommy a sense of pride knowing that he's your big, strong protector. :)

Patrick

He is such an enigma, a contradiction. Patrick isn't much of a cuddler or snuggler but he wants to play the role of being a dutiful partner. He is quick to become a jealous lover if you were to find someone else to give you attention while he's fretting over what sort of shade of cream or white Paul Allen's next business card will have.

A prideful, vain being such as himself would never admit how much he truly does enjoy having your curl up next to him. The warmth your body exudes is a comfort, one he finds him seeking out more and more even though your relationship is still within its earlier stages. Patrick hates that he finds himself being so undone by you, but he can't find it within himself to stop either. There's something inside of you that his fervent bloodlust can't be satisfied by.

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

#slashers x reader #slasher imagines #slasher x you #michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #billy x reader x stu #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #thomas sawyer x reader #art the clown x reader #cherubfae 2024 #patrick bateman x reader

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tj-dragonblade · 4 months

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[FIC] Customer Service

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 4460 Tags: Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, class dynamics, as a kink perhaps, sweat is sexy, so is automotive grease apparently, scent kink, oral sex, no deep throat, just normal skill-level bj, face-fucking, not rough, coming in mouth, facial, dirty talk, hand job

Notes: Originally inspired by this post and also for the Day 5 prompt 'dirty' for Dreamling Week 2024 organized by @mr-sadman

Summary: Mechanic Hob's just trying to fix the rich guy's Porsche but the rich guy is looking at Hob like he's a five-course meal

On AO3

It's hot, in the garage.

Hob's got the windows open, fans at strategic points to stir the air, but it's still warm enough he's stripped off beneath his coveralls and left them open to the waist, only his underwear beneath. It's just him in today, replacing the clutch on the rich guy's Porsche; technically he could be working naked if it weren't for the possibility of customers dropping in. And it's warm enough he's tempted.

The Porsche is secured up on the ramps and he's on his back on the creeper half underneath it, singing along with the retro rock he's got playing on the shop speakers as he works, when suddenly there's the sound of a throat being loudly and deliberately cleared and a nudge to his foot.

"Bloody—" Hob starts, fumbling the wrench without dropping it and grabbing the side of the car to scoot himself out. "What—?"

It's the rich guy, Mr. Ateleíotes, and Hob is abruptly conscious of the figure he cuts, sprawled on his back with a wrench in one hand, legs splayed and his coveralls open, no shirt, sweat and grease smears all over him and his clothes.

And his greasy fingers planted on the pristine smoky-grey paint job of this guy's car.

Oops.

"Don't worry, I'll give her a good cleaning 'fore I give her back to you—"

But the guy's not even looking at where Hob has dirtied his Porsche. His eyes are fixed on Hob, or rather, they're sweeping over his body, lingering on his exposed chest, the grease smears on his torso and the sweat-damp trail of hair disappearing into the open vee of his unzipped coveralls. It's a tangible gaze, and Hob can feel his body responding as the guy sweeps it back up to his face.

He's as pretty as Hob remembers, prettier with that hungry look in his eyes; porcelain-pale skin, artfully-messy black hair, casual tailored black suit with the jacket open and Hob swallows, feels his body flushing under the attention.

"I am sure you will." That voice is as pretty as Hob remembers too, deep and melodious and captivating. He speaks, and Hob wants to drop everything and listen. "I was in the vicinity, and thought to stop in, to see how the repairs are progressing? No one was at the desk."

"Uhm." Get it together, Hob. He sets the wrench aside, sits up, which puts him eye-level to the guy's crotch and oh, hello, he's not the only one with a growing 'problem'. "Yeah, 's just—just me today. Repair's coming along as expected; should be ready for you tomorrow." He stands as he speaks, grunting with the effort. "Clutch replacement will be done before I leave tonight and then I'll do the full tune-up in the morning, so. Like I said—by tomorrow afternoon." His eyes drop to the guy's lips and he jerks them back up, licking his own lips briefly. He shifts his stance, cocking one hip, acutely aware of his open coveralls and how the zip doesn't come together until a good three fingers beneath his navel; he drags the back of his arm across his face, shoving sweaty hair off his forehead and leaving a smudge of grease behind, not blind to the way that blue eyes darken as they follow the movement. "Is there something else I can do for you today, Mr. Ateleíotes?"

He only half-meant it to sound like a come-on; it's a perfectly plausible customer service question, but he's also seen half a dozen pornos that start just like this and Mr. Ateleíotes certainly seems interested. Hob's a professional and not about to proposition a customer outright, but if possibilities are on offer, he's not one to let them pass him by.

"There is, indeed, Mr. Gadling," Mr. Ateleíotes purrs—and Hob's dick jumps as the guy reaches to touch him, one pale fingertip tracing through his chest hair, through the grease smear just below. "The mechanic repairing my car, he is absolutely. Mouthwatering." He casts a molten glance up through his eyelashes. "And I would very much like. To suck. His cock." He rubs his thumb against his finger, spreading the grease between the two, and smiles at Hob, simmering and invitational. "Might your shop accommodate such a request?"

Fucking hell— Hob takes a sharp breath; the heat of the shop and the concentration of blood away from his brain are doing him no favors and he fears for half a delirious second he might pass out, but he rallies quickly. "Absolutely," he grins, dick throbbing. "We are a full service garage, after all. Did you want to see about that now, or make an appointment?" He winks.

"Immediately, please," Mr. Atelíotes replies, and there's a spark in his eye, a glint of delight at Hob's carrying of the customer-service bit, and Hob is giddy with it all.

"Right then, let me just clean up real quick—" He's pulled a greasy rag from his back pocket, which won't actually do much but take off half a layer while he heads to the shop sink, but a slim pale hand on his arm stops him.

"No. As you are now, please." The guy steps closer, hungry and intent; Hob's pulse trips into double time.

"I'm kind of filthy though?"

The guy's blue, blue eyes glitter darkly. "I am aware, yes." And then those slender hands are curled in the open edges of Hob's grimy coveralls and the sinful pink of his mouth is pressed up against Hob's.

The sound Hob makes is a little embarrassing, but then there's a supple tongue slipping in next to his own and Mr. Atelíotes gives his own little moan and that's alright then, the guy's a damn good kisser and Hob finds it's really easy to stop caring about dignity in the moment. He surges into the kiss, hands coming up and hovering, painfully aware of the dirt and grease that clings to him and the probable price tag of that tailored suit.

"Touch me," Mr. Atelíotes says, flush against his mouth before kissing again, and it is very much not a suggestion.

Hob pulls away just enough to answer. "Sorry, my hands—don't want to mess up your clothes, love—"

Mr. Atelíotes grabs both of his hands by the wrist and, much to Hob's shock, plants them firmly on the pristine white of his shirt under the suit jacket, guides Hob's grease-stained fingers to clench in the fabric. "Touch me," he repeats, low and heated, winding his hands back beneath Hob's sweaty hair. "Dirty me, dirty my clothes, my skin; I wish to be. Marked by you, stained, with your ardor—"

Hob whimpers, just a little, clenches tight around the fistfuls of now-sullied fabric and pulls him back into a kiss.

Mr. Atelíotes makes a sound of approval, maneuvers him around the front of the car and presses forward, backing Hob against the bonnet. His hips push insistently into Hob's and the feel of his hard-on in those tailored trousers is so fucking gratifying; Hob grinds against him in return, still kissing fiercely, and fumbles at the placket of the ruined shirt.

"Can I unbutton you, love?"

"You needn't ask permission," the guy pants, both hands around the back of Hob's head, his mouth dragging wetly along Hob's jaw. "The shirt will not be salvaged." His teeth latch onto Hob's earlobe, joined next by his tongue, and then warm lips ghost over the shell of Hob's ear, a low murmur following after. "Tear it from me, if you like."

Hob would like, very much, and so he does. He realizes that he has perhaps made a mistake as he hears the buttons pinging and bouncing in every direction; he will never find them all and in the back of his mind he imagines Matty returning from his trip home to the states, asking why he keeps finding these pearly buttons all over the shop, staring Hob down with his beady little all-knowing eyes while Hob burns with the mortification of being Known.

But that is a problem for future Hob; present Hob is occupied with reverently smoothing his unclean hands over the snowy-white skin exposed beneath the torn-open shirt of the gorgeous man who wants to suck his cock. The shirt took a lot of the surface grease but there's still enough on Hob's hands to leave grey-black smudges across the guy's smooth chest that seem to turn him on as much as anything else Hob is doing, which. Okay. Not even close to the strangest sex thing he's ever encountered, and he can definitely work with it.

"God, you look good, sweetheart—" He smooths his hands around bony ribs, smudging dirt and grease and grinning warmly as the guy's eyelids droop almost imperceptibly. "Bit of grime suits you, I think—"

He's cut off as Mr. Atelíotes kisses him again, hot and wet and demanding. Hob's very sure that he's been slotted into this rich guy's fantasy of slumming it with the working class, and that's more than okay too. He'll gladly play it up; not like he's never entertained that sort of idea himself.

He sucks in a breath when the kiss breaks at last. "How am I so lucky that a posh pretty thing like you wants to get your knees dirty for me, hmm?"

"It was not my intention when I arrived," the guy says, panting, forehead resting against Hob's. "But then you rolled out from beneath my car. Gleaming, and. Dirty. And I could think of little else."

Hob chuckles, shivers as slender hands delve back into his sweat-damp hair. "No complaints from me, darling. Delighted that all my natural glory does it for you."

"Dream," Mr. Atelíotes says, fingertips scratching lightly along Hob's scalp.

"Uh?" Hob blinks, not sure quite what he's meant to do with that word.

"My name," Mr. Atelíotes clarifies, leaning in to mouth wetly beneath the corner of Hob's jaw. "Call me what you wish, I am not averse to your endearments—" his tongue takes a path down the sweat-damp curve of Hob's neck "—but should you like to use it. My name—" his lips drag up Hob's throat, over the cleft of his chin "—is Dream." He plunges his tongue back into Hob's open mouth.

"Dream," Hob manages, when he's let up to breathe a moment later. "Beautiful name for a beautiful man—"

"Silver tongue," the guy says, nipping hungrily, helpessly at his mouth. "Such uses I have in mind for it…"

"I'm game, love, anything you like," Hob breathes, enchanted with the possibilities. "Sure you just wanna suck me off? 'Cause you talk like a bloke who'd like to get proper fucked."

That earns him a full-body shiver and a sharp inhale. "I would very much like to be fucked by you, Hob Gadling, in this garage, over this car. But as I did not have the foresight to prepare for that possibility, I will content myself with having your prick in my mouth and your hands in my hair and my name on your lips when you spill."

"Fucking christ," Hob swears, as Mr. Atelíotes—Dream, as Dream slides to his knees in his neat tailored trousers on the dirty shop floor, lips dragging down Hob's stomach as he goes, hands following behind. He glances back up as he reaches the zipper, smiles coyly as he grasps it and draws it all the way down so the coveralls flag completely open down past his crotch. Hob makes no move to take them any further off; Dream has shown no hesitation to tell him exactly what he wants up to now and Hob figures if he wanted them off-off, he'd say so.

Dream curls his fingers in the waistband of Hob's underwear and pulls it low, reaches around to tug it down past his arse cheeks so it stays put and dips into the front with both hands to draw Hob out. Hob shudders at the touch, bites his lip with a stifled sound and leans back on the bonnet. Dream just smiles wider.

"You are as magnificent as I had hoped," he murmurs, cradling Hob's cock to his face, delicately kissing the tip. He grasps it underhand and pulls it down, laves the flat of his tongue along the thick vein on top from crown up to base in a long slow lick, exhales his pleasure on a decadent moan. He reverses his grip, points Hob's dick skyward and nuzzles into his balls, breathing deep. Hob has a flash of self-consciousness—he's been working all day in a shop with no AC, he's got to be a bit ripe—but Dream doesn't seem offput in the least. Rather the opposite, in fact; he buries his nose in Hob's sweat-damp crotch with another moan, mouths wetly at his testicles and sucks each in turn. "Exquisite," he declares to the base of Hob's cock, and drags his tongue lovingly up the underside all the way back to the tip.

Hob's never had his dick worshipped quite like this, he thinks feverishly, every muscle in his thighs and buttocks tensing and flexing against the car as Dream mouths and licks at the head of him with all the enthusiasm of a kid on a melting ice lolly. The heat of the shop and Dream's attentions to his dick have him panting, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, trembling with anticipation as Dream finally opens wide and takes him in.

It's so fucking good, the soft wet warmth enclosing him, the slide of plush lips down his shaft and back up, again, and again, and Hob is so, so grateful to be in the right place at the right time. Never had he imagined he would find himself here, leaning back against the bonnet of some rich guy's Porsche with that self-same rich guy on his knees on the dirty shop floor, pretty pink lips stretched around him. Dream sucks with skill and enthusiasm and his tongue is positively magical and he's really into the eye contact, gazing up adoringly like having his mouth full of Hob's prick is all he could have wished for when he woke up this morning. It's heady and exhilarating and he's so fucking beautiful, looking at Hob as he glides up and down, hands wrapped around Hob's hips beneath his coveralls, and Hob. He's not always the brightest but he's definitely caught on to the theme of this tryst by now, and Dream's face is entirely too clean.

He lifts a thumb to his chest, smears it through the grease still adorning him there, lowers it to Dream's face. He watches as Dream's eyes widen, rubs a light smear of black across Dream's cheekbone and smiles at the way Dream's pupils dilate, the way Dream whines around his cock. He strokes his other hand through Dream's hair, gently holds him still, drags his greasy thumb down along the corner of Dream's mouth stretched wide around his girth; that earns him a whimper and Dream shivers, eyes fluttering briefly closed. He sucks harder, tongue flicking delicately against the tip, eyes pleading now with Hob, and he takes Hob's free hand, guides it to rest in his own hair like the other. Hob takes the hint, holds Dream's head still in both hands and gives a gentle roll of his hips; his cock slides out of Dream's mouth and back in and that's. Yes. Another roll of his hips, out and back and Dream whimpers and fuck, but it's good—

"God you're gorgeous," he moans, carefully combing his fingers through Dream's hair, heat blazing in his belly as he watches his dick sliding between Dream's luscious lips. Dream is making the sweetest little sounds now, cheeks flushed beneath the grease stain, eyes heavy-lidded as he gazes up at Hob like this is everything he could have wanted; he drops his hands to undo his belt, to pull himself out and start stroking, and that's just. That's it.

Dream splays his free hand across Hob's thigh over the coveralls and Hob fucks, careful and shallow, driven by the view before him and the thought of how they look together and the hungry eager noises Dream makes around him. He can feel himself climbing, soaring up to his peak, sweet and steady; the hot-wet slide in and out of Dream's mouth and the way his tongue wriggles along the underside on every stroke are making short work of the journey and Hob is panting out sharp desperate grunts and moans as it looms closer and closer. His balls are drawn up tight and full and he's close, so close, and he can't just—he's got to give him warning—

"Dream, sweetheart, I'm about to pop—"

But Dream only moves his hand from Hob's thigh to wrap around Hob's cock and doubles down on whatever he's doing with his tongue, and Hob moans, hips stuttering, Dream working him masterfully up to the crest; helpless, with a breathless grunting cry, Hob tips over the edge.

Dream takes the first shot of his come with a delighted little moan and then quickly pulls off of Hob's dick as he spurts again. It lands across Dream's face, white against the black smears of grease; the next shot falls a little shorter, half on his cheek and half in his open mouth and then Dream is diving back onto his cock for the rest, sucking hard with a desperate needy little whimper. The tip of his tongue worries at Hob's slit in search of every last drop and Hob groans, body clenching and spasming again and again to give this insatiable hungry creature everything that he wants.

But at last he has nothing left to give and his cock is shrinking from Dream's ravenous mouth, overstimulated by the way Dream still nurses at the tip, the grip Dream's got around the base of it. Firmly but gently Hob flexes his hands in Dream's tousled hair and eases him back, off. Dream gazes up at him, flushed and heavy-eyed, panting with his shirt and suit and trousers open, stroking himself steadily.

His tongue curls out to lick Hob's come from his upper lip, and his smile is sultry, hungry.

"Get up here, beautiful." Hob pulls Dream to his feet, slides a hand around the back of Dream's neck, smears his come liberally across Dream's grease-stained cheek with his thumb on the way. Dream's mouth opens and Hob plunges in, kissing him fiercely, tasting himself with a heady sort of satisfaction. Being wanted feels so good, whatever the reason.

Dream is still stroking himself, his easy rhythm speeding up, fist bumping against Hob's hip each time, and Hob breaks the kiss after a moment. "D'you want me to suck you off?"

"No, no—but touch me—" He seizes Hob's hand, brings it down to his own dick.

Hob hesitates for half a second—scrubbing automotive grease off your chest or hands or even your face is one thing; scrubbing it off your dick would be quite another and he's not interested in putting Dream through that sort of grief. But his hands have touched enough in the last fifteen minutes that all the easily-transferable grime is gone; it's really just the deeper-level staining going on and a bit of heavy petting shouldn't create a problem. So he takes Dream in hand, slides his other arm around Dream's back for support and strokes his lovely cock with relish, claims his sticky mouth in another kiss.

Dream whines into it, eager and open, and brings his hand to Hob's chest. He plants it in that grease smear that's still got some substance to it and splays his fingers wide, spreads it around like it's lotion and okay, maybe it is kind of hot Hob decides. Maybe it'll be a bitch to clean up but he's not about to stop the gorgeous creature in his arms from making a bigger mess of his body hair if it's getting him off. He's enjoyed being the fantasy this pretty posh thing needs, is still happy to play his part until the end.

He starts stroking a bit faster and breaks the kiss, drags his lips across Dream's messy cheek to his ear.

"God I'd love to fuck you, spread you open and pound you senseless, leave my dirty handprints all over your pretty white arse—"

Dream makes a raw little sound of want and buries his face against Hob's throat, panting open-mouthed. He smears his greasy hand down Hob's torso again, slips it around beneath the open coveralls, fingertips sliding into the sweaty dip of Hob's spine, hanging on as Hob works him up to the edge. His other hand clings to the grimy fabric at Hob's shoulder.

Hob flicks his tongue along the shell of Dream's ear, a soft tease, speaks again. "I would make such a sweet sweet mess of you, darling, fuck you until you've had enough and then pump you so full of my come that it runs down your beautiful thighs—"

"Hob—"

"Sure I can't get my mouth on you?" Hob tightens his fingers around Dream's cock, stroking faster, caught up in the thrill of the fantasy he's spinning. "I'll bet you taste amazing, Dream, especially after I've had my filthy hands all over you—"

Dream is tense in his arms, breath shallow and rapid and he shakes his head, trembling. "Hob—ahh—Hob—" He dips, pulling the shoulder of Hob's coveralls aside and nudging desperately beneath their edge until he finds Hob's armpit; he mouths at the crease of it, wet and open with the most wanton little sound. He inhales and whines, high and sharp and short; he gasps out another whine, and another, higher and more urgent each time and then he is coming, head lolling back with a broken cry as he throbs and pulses in Hob's hand.

Hob pulls his cock tight, lets Dream shoot all over him, his arm and his belly; he keeps his other arm around Dream as he sags a long instant later, forehead falling against Hob's shoulder, panting, spent. Dream's hand twitches against Hob's spine and his fingers drag sensually slow around the curve of Hob's waist.

Hob wipes his messy hand on the side of his coveralls—best he's gonna get right now—and then curls his knuckle under Dream's chin, tipping his pretty face up.

"Alright then?" he asks, as those gorgeous blue eyes blink open, and Dream gives the faintest nod into Hob's gentle touch.

"Mmh." His face is soft, sated and open and inviting what with the way his lips are parted, and Hob can't quite stop himself dipping in for a kiss.

Dream welcomes it, meets him halfway with mellow eagerness and Hob sighs into it, awash in his own post-orgasmic high. This kiss. This kiss. It's sweet, and languid, and god but Hob could lose himself in it, in the thought of keeping this guy.

Dangerous, that.

So he breaks the kiss at last with a grin, then steps back and pulls his underwear up where it belongs again. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up here." He moves toward the shop sink, hums a little distractedly along to the music on the speakers that has just filtered back into his awareness.

Dream follows, but makes no move to clean the smeared grease from his skin.

"No, I think not," he says, in that low effortlessly-sensual voice that plucks quivering notes of interest all along Hob's spine even now, in the aftermath. "I should like to carry your marks home with me." He takes up his pristine shirttails and wipes his hands deliberately on them, eyes on Hob all the while.

It's not his business if Dream wants to show up at home dirty and disheveled with his shirt torn open and looking absolutely debauched; maybe he lives alone and there's no one to comment, maybe he wants to flaunt his dalliance in the face of a parent or sibling or servant or who knows—no concern of Hob's at all, he reiterates, but damned if the idea of Dream proudly showing off the mess Hob's made of him doesn't turn him right the hell back on again.

"As you wish," he says, but plucks one of the many sample-sized bottles of Matty's favorite Orange Goop off the shelf and holds it out. "But take this with you; whenever you are ready to clean up, it'll be a big help."

Dream takes the bottle, slides it into the pocket of his trousers, which he has just re-fastened; he draws his suit jacket together over the ruin of his shirt and buttons it, making himself semi-presentable for his drive home. His eyes linger on Hob, however, on grease-smeared chest hair and the remains of his own orgasm on Hob's belly, on the shape of Hob in his underwear where he still hasn't bothered re-zipping his coveralls.

Dream's eyes flick up to Hob's, dark with banked heat.

"I really ought to learn more about the proper care and maintenance of this vehicle," he says, ostensibly about the Porsche, but his gaze stays fixed on Hob. "Will you be working alone tomorrow, as well?"

Hob hooks his thumbs in the pockets of his flagged-open coveralls, lets his hip jut forward just a little. "Yeah, Matty's out all week, so it's just me for a couple more days."

"Then perhaps I will. Arrive early, to pick up my car, and you can show me your best techniques for finishing the job."

The warm weight in his tone, the smouldering heat of his gaze, the way he'd talked earlier about getting fucked over the bonnet—his intent is crystal clear, and Hob is one hundred percent on board.

"Brilliant plan," he says, with a broad smile, and Dream's lips curl sweetly in response.

"Should I book an appointment, to ensure your availability?"

Hob waves a hand dismissively. "If you like, but it's not necessary? Just show up when it's convenient and I'll fit you right in." He winks.

"Truly, you take excellent care of your customers." Dream's smile is positively feline at this point.

"I'm just delighted I can help you out with all your maintenance needs." Hob lets a hint of mischief seep into his own smile, just enough to promise this pretty posh thing that coming back is definitely worth his while.

Dream's eyes lower and he inclines his head, an old-fashioned little bow of farewell that suits him perfectly. "Then I will see you tomorrow, Hob Gadling. My thanks for your…irreproachable service."

And he sweeps back out of the shop, Hob watching him go every step of the way.

= Started: 5/4/24 Drafted: 6/1/24 Posted: 6/4/25

#TJs Fics #Dreamling #Sandman #Dreamling Week 2024 #wip: turbo lover

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ao3usermelancholyhues · 9 months

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𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞

steve harrington/eddie munson for @steddiemicrofic's january prompt: hole, 404 words. ft. flirting, sexual innuendo | T rating read on ao3

“That’s just perfect.”

Steve stares at his rapidly flattening tire, and the culprit just behind the car. He loosens his tie, irritated.

It’s not that Steve can’t change a tire—he doesn’t have a spare.

Robin’s house is a couple of streets over. Sighing, he begins the walk there to call his mechanic.

“No answer,” Steve announces dejectedly as he walks back into Robin’s livingroom and flops down in her armchair, huffing.

The dramatics are a little much, but Robin bites her tongue. No need to kick the man while he’s down (not a rule she always conforms to).

“I know a guy who could help,” she says instead. “My cousin’s friend.”

Steve perks up. “Is he good?”

Robin bites her tongue again, this time fighting a grin. “Oh, he’s somethin’.”

Thirty minutes later, there’s a mechanic named Eddie in her livingroom. Steve supposes he looks exactly as expected—grey coveralls, arm tattoos, hands stained but washed (Steve knows, he shook one, with the hand that wasn’t clutching a cup of tea).

However, Eddie also has long hair tied in a loose bun, and the warmest smile. It lights up his eyes and Steve barely knows where to look.

Robin’s in the kitchen doorway, both hands on her own tea mug.

“So. Popped a tire?” asks Eddie. “How’d that happen?”

“Hole.”

Steve flushes when he hears Robin snort.

Eddie’s grinning from ear-to-ear. “Hole?”

“P-pothole,” Steve clarifies quickly. “I went over a… a big pothole.”

Eddie contemplates that, tongue between his teeth and looking Steve up and down, before he says, “Yeah, it’s amazing what a hole can do to you.”

Steve splutters into his tea. It goes up his nose a little, kind of fucking hurts. Robin barely keeps a lid on her laughter, knowing Steve won’t thank her for it.

“Eddie, you’re gonna kill him. Quit flirting.”

“Sorry! Right. Where’s the car?”

He keeps his comments to himself throughout the tire change, even though he really wants to wind up the cute guy in the nice suit with the nice car.

Steve pays him there and then, cash plus tip, but Eddie rejects the tip.

“Keep that. Since I almost killed you back at the house.”

Steve blushes. “You caught me off-guard.”

Eddie can’t resist. “I tell it like it is! Gotta know your way around a hole or you might blow, big boy.”

There’s no tea this time, but Steve still manages to choke.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie microfic #steddiemicrofic #i absolutely give up w the line break thing #anyway i wasn't planning to do this but i did it anyway!!!#happy first steddie to me #read it/comment/whatever on ao3 tho pls pls #fic

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littlelioncub43 · 2 years

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Come On, Come On, Darling

Summary: A late night out with friends, and an uncomfortably deep talk has Eddie thinking about you. He just hopes you're thinking about him the same way.

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Warning: fluff, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, best friends to lovers, drinking, Eddie being an absolute angel and a gentleman, reader does Eddie's make up (you're welcome), pet names ( I overuse "princess," sue me), the rest of the ST gang all being happy, season 4 never happened here, Wayne being oddly insightful and a good uncle, more plot than anything, but smut will happen in part 3, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Word Count: 4,039

A/N: I started this a while ago, hated it, took a break from it, came back and finished it — bon appetit. Bahaha! No, the break from it was much needed. I think I was tired when I said it was awful, because upon review it wasn't that bad. I love this one, you guys. I'm jealous of them. I'm jealous of the fictional couple that I created. I hope you guys like this one! Part 3 will have ze smut, so you have to be patient and polite as you wait for it hehe. Let me know what you think! Reblog, comment, send an ask, a carrier pigeon, a singing telegram— really anything. Ok! I love you!

Kisses 💋

—K

Part I. Series Masterlist Part III

The sound of random tinkering and a distant radio at the end of Mack’s Auto Garage welcomed you with a familiar warmth. Cars and trucks littered the parking lot and garage, random parts and pieces that made absolutely no sense to you sprawled out over the work benches. Eddie had a morning shift today, much to his dismay, but when money calls— he answers. Parking next to his decrepit van, you fiddle with the strap of your bag as you meander through the concrete workspace looking for him. You hear him long before you see him.

“Where did I put it? Son of a—“

“Missing something, Munson?” You interrupted Eddie’s nearly frantic search of his locker, his head snapping up in surprise. His normally untamed hair was pulled back into a low bun (with a scrunchie that looks suspiciously like the one you misplaced two weeks ago) with his favorite bandana tied around his brow to keep the sweat off. The dark blue coveralls with his name etched in red thread on his left chest were unzipped at his waist, a plain white t-shirt adorning his chest, oil and dirt smeared into the fabric were he wiped his hands clean on his thighs.

“Yeah, my freaking lighter. That thing must have finally grown legs and ran off or some shit,” he rambles and resumes to pat down the pockets of his leather jacket. “What are you doing here?”

“You left this in my car,” you slip the silver flip lighter from the back pocket of your black jeans and wiggle it between your thumb and index finger, “figured you’d need it sooner than later.”

“Oh, you’re a beautiful, gracious, and kind woman,” he groans dramatically with relief, happily taking the lighter from you. You chuckle and lean against the hood of the car at his bench, Eddie following suit. He pops a cigarette into his mouth and lights it swiftly, taking a long drag, his eyes shut as he holds it in at the top, and slowly blowing out a wispy cloud of smoke.

“Jesus Christ, you have no idea how badly I needed that,” he grumbles before bringing it back to his lips, “you’re a lifesaver.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh. Yeah, you, too, Sweets, thanks,” he teases with a coy smile. You playfully shove his shoulder, making him laugh around the cigarette. “We still on for drinks later with Steve and them?”

“7, right?” He hums an affirmative, “yeah, that sounds good,” you glance at the clock on the wall, “Shit, I gotta go, my shift starts soon.”

“Okay,” he nods, crushing out the partially spent cigarette in the ashtray on his bench as you fish your keys out of your jacket pocket. “Wear that cute top, the black one that hangs off your shoulders,” he calls out after you as you walk away.

“Why?” You chuckle and turn to look at him while you walk backwards, the move alone made Eddie think you were the coolest fucking chick that ever graced this floating space rock.

“It’s pretty,” he shrugged casually as he slung the arms of his coveralls back on, but you noticed the soft dusting of color along his cheeks.

“Fine, but only if you tuck your shirt into your pants,” you bargain and point at him from your spot at the mouth of the garage. He groans, making you laugh.

“I’m going to look like a loser!” He whines, failing to hide his smile at your giggling.

“That’s the point! I’ll see you then, Gomer,” you tease and finally get to your car, if you stayed any longer you’d definitely be late for your shift at the record shop.

You heard his van pull into your driveway just as you were finishing the last bit of your eye makeup. You always went light with the mascara and eyeliner for the sake of being comfortable, and it made washing your face a lot easier at the end of the night. The sound of Eddie’s keys jingling was followed by his bright voice calling your name. When you came out of your room, you found him sitting on your counter, munching on a bag of chips.

“Oo, look at you all prettied up,” he coos around a mouthful of Doritos. You feel your face heat up ever so slightly at his words, you did feel pretty. The knit, long sleeve black top that Eddie had requested clung to your shape deliciously, precisely the reason he loved it so much. The neckline was low enough to show off your collarbones and bits of your shoulder, and gave you the perfect opportunity to show off the pendant necklace that Eddie got for your graduation present years ago. Tight ripped black jeans matched Eddie’s own pair down to the black studded belt, except you swapped out your comfortable pair of converses for a chunky black boot. Eddie was positive: you were the coolest chick to ever live.

“I was going to say the same thing about you, Munson,” you chuckle and take him in, he does a little twirl. He wore his classic black jeans and handcuff belt, a staple in Eddie’s uniform. A black AC/DC t shirt hugged his sturdy torso and was neatly tucked into his jeans, just like you asked. You gotta admit: he did not look like a loser. He never did.

“Ya think so? I was worried that my jacket didn’t match my purse,” he jokes.

“No, no, they do, don’t worry,” you soothe and try to hide your smile. Suddenly, you speak before your mind can catch up with what you’re saying. “Do you want some eyeliner?”

“What?” Eddie chuckles, licking the Dorito dust from his fingers. You swallow and decide, fuck it, you already asked.

“Do you want some eyeliner? I think it would… look nice,” you stutter out as smoothly as you can. He thinks it over for a brief second before he nods casually.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Eddie manages to sound calm, much to his surprise. His heart may have skipped a few beats at your small compliment.

The next thing he knows you have him sat at your vanity, facing you as you stand in between his legs. One hand gently cups his jaw while the other wields a stick of your favorite black eyeliner. You try your best not to get lost in the feeling of his stubble scratching at your palm or the warmth of his hands on your outer thighs, and focus on drawing in the darkness around his eyes. Eddie sits as still as he can, the last thing he wants is to lose an eye. He trusts you completely, it’s his fidgeting that he doesn’t trust.

“Ok, close your eyes for me,” you say softly, the closeness brought your voice to a hushed whisper. Eddie shut his eyes without a second thought, he listened to the steady inhale and exhale as you stood in front of him. Eddie was unfairly gorgeous, his sweeping eyelashes, the placid expression that soothed his face coupled with the calm trust that surrounded you both made your heart flutter and your knees buckle. Steeling your nerves, you carefully applied the makeup along his upper lashes. “Alright, open. Look up, please.”

Eddie stared up at the ceiling, trying his best not to flinch as you brought the product under his lashes. He wished so badly to be able to watch you, you were so cute when you concentrated on things. Your eyebrows furrowed, drawn together in concentration, and your face set in an oddly serious expression. With one last smudge of eyeliner, you pulled back with a smile.

“All done. What d’ya think?” You ask and put your makeup away as he turns to look in the mirror.

“Not bad, not bad. What do you think?” He quirks an eyebrow. If you were honest, he was the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and that was without the makeup on. With the dark circles rimming his gorgeous brown eyes, he was deadly. But you couldn’t exactly say that.

“I think you look super cool,” you say honestly and grab your purse.

“Metal?” He stood up, following you out of your room.

“Very metal, but if we don’t get going soon, we’re going to be very late,” you chuckle and hand him his leather jacket and keys. Eddie nods and slips one his jacket with ease, the full ensemble complete, and, fuck, did he look hot. He locked the front door after you, skipping quickly ahead to open the passenger seat door for you.

“M’lady,” he bows, grinning like an idiot when you curtsey back and hop in.

It was going to be a fun night.

And it was.

Steve, Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy were sat comfortably at the table when you and Eddie arrived. Jokes were told, laughs were shared, and drinks were poured. Lots and lots of drinks. By midnight, the whole table was on the heavier side of tipsy, if not drunk. Steve and Robin were neck deep in a debate on whether or not Michael Myers was human or not, with Jonathan acting as moderator while Nancy fought through the spins. At some point, you ended up in Eddie’s lap, your arm slung around his shoulders with his own circled around your waist while you both listened and weighed in on what you have dubbed “The Great Halloween Dispute of 1987.”

Eddie had slipped his jacket off after his second beer, revealing his toned arms (all those shifts at the garage were paying off in more ways than one), the short sleeves of his t shirt rolled up ever so slightly. You toyed with a strand of Eddie’s hair like always and sipped on a glass of water, one that Eddie was quick to swipe from your hand. He took a good gulp without much thought and set it on the table.

“Well, Princess, what do you think? Should we call it a night?” He slurs his words as he rubs the length of your outer thigh absentmindedly.

“Yeeaah,” you drawl, your head was starting to spin even from the safety of Eddie’s lap. Looking down at him, you were struck again with the overwhelming feeling flooding your heart. Even in the low light of the seedy bar, he looks like the perfect man that God, or whoever is up there, made just for you. You bring one hand to rest on his forearm, your thumb stroking the bat tattoos you love gently. Eddie tightens his grip on you before giving you that million dollar smile, one that you can’t help but return with drunken ease. He pats your leg, signaling for you to stand, and you do, much to your objection (you were quite comfortable in his lap).

“Alright, gang, as fun as it’s been, the missus and I gotta head out,” Eddie announces as you slip away to pay for your drinks before he can. A chorus of slurred but friendly goodbyes send Eddie on his way to the bar just as you finish forking over the money for both his and your drinks. “Noooo, you don’ pay for drinks,” he scolds as you put your wallet away, his face scrunched in a pout.

“Yeah? Who said?” You playfully tease as he slides his leather coat over your shoulders, one glance outside and he knew that you’d be chilly on the way to the van. You subtly breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne, the same one you got for his birthday 2 years ago.

“Pretty girls don’ pay for drinks, everyone knows that,” he casually answers, he was much bolder with about 4 glasses of liquid courage warming his blood. You laugh, not bothering to hide the bashfulness in your voice and he smiles at the sound, leading you out to the van at the far end of the parking lot. He saw the way you shivered and pulled the oversized jacket around you tighter. Fishing his keys from his pocket, he opens the back doors and quickly starts setting up the blankets he had stored in the back. You must have made a face because Eddie’s soon laughing and shaking his head. “M’not drivin’ you home drunk, Princess. Could get ya hurt, s’too dangerous. Now, com’on.”

Your heart does a summersault at his words, but that’s just who he was. Caring, sweet, understanding, reliable, trustworthy. That’s Eddie Munson. He sees the fondness in your smile again, his stomach erupting in butterflies. If he wasn’t such a chicken shit, this is where he would tell you how gorgeous you are and kiss you, if you’d let him. But he doesn’t. Instead, he hops out of the van and holds out his hand to help you inside.

The old mattress he keeps tucked away in the back is draped in blankets, folded as neatly as a drunk Eddie could get them. You sit at the end of the makeshift bed, your legs hanging out the doors to take off your boots. Without a word, Eddie starts untying your laces, carefully undoing the knots, slipping the shoes off your feet and setting them neatly next to the mattress.

“Thank you,” you meekly reply, the sweet gesture having stolen your voice.

“You’re welcome, Sweets,” he pats your leg, “scoot over.”

He hops in, shutting the doors behind him before double checking that all the doors are locked. You hide a yawn behind your hand as he settles down on the other side of the bed, kicking off his shoes unceremoniously. You slip off your belt and other jewelry, opting to stay in your jeans for the night. Eddie does the same, slinging his belt into the pile with his shoes before crawling under the questionably clean blanket. He sighs and settles in with a groan, his eyes shutting for only a moment before he’s watching you tuck your earrings into the pocket of his leather jacket. You turn around to find Eddie making grabby hands at you, smiling, you crawl in next to him, letting him pull you into his chest and tuck the blanket around you both snugly. The chill of the van made cuddling a necessity, even under the blanket you could feel the stagnant bite of cold of the coming winter. Letting out a content sigh, you relaxed into the comfortable silence, the world around you only slightly spinning now as sleep began to descend on you. Eddie stares up at the metal roof, his eyes slowly getting heavier and heavier as the moments tick by.

“I like when you tuck your shirts in,” you sleepily confess, your voice was hushed as you whispered your little secret to your best friend. He can’t help but chuckle tiredly at your words, the sound more akin to a deep rumble as opposed to his normally bright laughter.

“Yeah?” Is all he can think to say, his face burning even in the chilly van.

“Yeah,” you shyly confirm, tracing the bats on his forearm once more, the action sends Eddie into a tizzy.

“Y’like when I look like a dweeb?” He jokes with a yawn, sleep fast approaching.

“You never look like a dweeb,” you mumble just before you drift off, your fingers slowing to a stop on his skin, If he wasn’t tired, he would have teased you to hell and back about it, but all he can do it chuckle lowly in his chest and hold you a little tighter. Why do you have to be so cute?

“I like when we sleep like this,” he rested his cheek on the top of your head, letting one hand stroke your arm tenderly, the action only pushing you quicker towards sleep. He hears you hum in acknowledgement and agreement.

“Me too, Eds.”

There’s a few moments of silence before Eddie realizes you’re asleep.

“Goodnight, Princess,” Eddie whispers with a smile and kisses the crown of your head, the sound of your even breaths fill the van and lull him into his own peaceful slumber.

Eddie wakes up to the sound of your soft snores and the growl of a stray truck chugging down the street. Your back is pressed to his front as you both lay on your sides, his arm under your head like a pillow and out stretched, his other arm was strung across your waist. The warmth of your body pressed against his had fought off the cold of the night exceptionally well, it drew him in for more, so he buried his face into the crook of your neck. The smell of your perfume mixing with the scent of his own cologne had Eddie groaning softly, this was the life. Nothing could bring him down, not even the soft thudding in his head or the dryness of his mouth.

You stirred next to him, your eyes still shut as you reached out for Eddie’s hand on instinct. When your smaller hand found his, you immediately laced your fingers together. Eddie looked at where your hands were joined and gave a small incredulous scoff and smile, his arm around your midsection squeezed you into him hard enough to force the air out of you.

“Why are you so damn cute? Huh? Who said you could be this fucking adorable?” He rambled on in a groggy whisper, his morning voice was just as glorious as you remember it being. You giggle as consciousness fills you.

“It’s a curse, really. Doctors have been studying me for years, it’s a medical mystery,” you joke and carefully rub your eyes with your free hand. You were surprised to find that you felt well rested for having slept in the back of your best friend’s van after a night of drinking with no pillow, in a pair of tight jeans, and no fan. You peek over your shoulder to find Eddie’s puppy eyes already staring back at you. The smudges of eyeliner looked even better in the morning sunshine. You could only imagine how you look right now. “Wanna get breakfast?”

“God, yes,” he mumbles with a smile. He was starving, plus he wanted to pay you back for covering his drinks last night. Reluctantly, he peels his hand from yours to reach for his shoes and keys. You hum and stretch out a little, cracking your back before getting your shoes back on as well. You’re both quick to fold the blankets and get into your seats, the pits in your stomach rumbled and demanded to be satisfied. The drive to the nearest diner was thankfully short.

Before long, you and Eddie find yourselves tucked into a booth with plates of hot food and even hotter coffee in front of you. The looks you receive from the other patrons did nothing but amuse you both. And what a sight you both were: strolling in at 9am reeking of the drink that Nancy accidentally spilled, last night’s makeup smeared across your eyes, bed hair, both dressed to the nines in black. Compared to the lovely elderly couple on their weekly Sunday morning date, you both looked like bats out of Hell. When you offered the old woman a polite smile, she was quick to return it, her husband was busy staring Eddie down, clearly not a fan of his tattoos or makeup. Soon, the plates were cleared and the cups were emptied, and you both meandered your way back to the van.

“Alright, Sweetheart, back home, it is?” He asks as he backs out of the parking lot, you scroll through the radio stations, hoping to find something good on.

“Yes, please, I need to shower,” you groan, the longer you stayed in your makeup the more grimy you felt. A hot shower would solve all your problems.

“Oo, no chance you’ll let me join, would you?” Eddie half jokes, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You roll your eyes with a smile and shake your head. “Damn, next time, then.”

Quicker than he’d like, he parks in front of your trailer. You gather your things, double checking that you have everything before hopping out of the passenger side. With a quick goodbye, you’re bounding indoors, making a beeline for the shower. Eddie watches until you’re inside then makes his own way home. He’s surprised to find Wayne’s car parked in its spot in the yard.

“You just getting in?” Wayne asks as soon as the door opens, Wayne sat at the kitchen table, eating whatever leftovers were in the fridge before heading to bed. Eddie sets his keys aside on the table and nods. “Out with that girl, again?” Eddie gives him a look as he sought out a glass of water, Wayne knew your name but he just liked giving Eddie a hard time, especially when he stays out all night.

“Yeah, we had some drinks with some friends, it ran a little later than planned.”

“Did you and her…” Wayne trails off, tilting his head to finish his sentence.

“Oh God,” Eddie sighs and hangs his head. Wayne would ask from time to time, and it never ceased to be awkward as balls.

“I’m just askin’. If you are, I’d rather you be safe about i—“ he defends calmly.

“I know how to be safe about—“ Eddie cuts himself off with another sigh, rubbing his face with both his hands. “I know how to be safe, but no. We did not… do things.”

“Ok,” Wayne nods, throwing his hands up in surrender to show that he dropped it. Eddie relaxes and finishes his water, happy to escape the awkward conversation. Or so he thought. “It’s obvious you like her, so I thought it would have happened by now.”

Eddie sputters a few words, each sentence of denial dying on his tongue. Wayne gives him a look and Eddie just knows that denying it isn’t any good. He flops into the chair on the other side of the table, looking up to his uncle through his lashes.

“How obvious is it?” Eddie asks softly. In that moment, Wayne sees the years fall away from Eddie and what’s left behind is what Wayne saw all those years ago: his kid nephew, lost and needing guidance. He smiles warmly, a rare sight, and scratches his head.

“Well, it’s not super obvious,” Wayne grumbles gently, resting his forearms on the table, “but I’m sure some of your friends notice it too.”

Eddie curses under his breath, his face hot with embarrassment. If other people could see how bad he has it for you, then that means you might see it too.

“Do… Do you think she knows?” He asks shyly, fiddling with the rings on his fingers for comfort. Wayne leans back in his chair, giving a small shrug.

“She might,” that answer weighs heavily on Eddie but Wayne is quick to try fix it, “but, would that be a bad thing?”

“Yes! No! I-I don’t know,” Eddie rambles, bouncing his leg as he does the mental gymnastics of trying to figure out if you knew.

“Personally, kid, I don’t think it would be. Knowin’ that you love her, how could that be bad?” His words knock around in Eddie’s head for a few moments before he speaks in a small voice.

“It could ruin everything,” Wayne couldn’t help but laugh at those words.

“Kid, lovin’ someone doesn’t ruin a damn thing,” he smiles and crosses his arms. “If it’s right, then it’s right. If not, then it’s not. But that doesn’t mean that it’s wrong.”

Eddie took in his words again, chewing his lip nervously. He hated when Wayne was like this, all insightful and wise. It was unnerving, but at the same time, he always knew exactly what Eddie needed to hear.

“You do what you think is best, Eddie. I’m gonna go to bed now, I’ll see ya tonight,” he stands and pats Eddie’s back as he makes his way towards the pull out sofa. Eddie mumbles his goodnights and makes his way to his own room, Wayne’s alarmingly wise words knocking around his head as he gets ready for a shower.

Would it be so bad if you knew? He was going to find out.

Part I. Part III

Reblogs and comments are appreciated! 💖

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apothe-roses · 1 year

Text

I Wanna Ride

Modern Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Part 3

Previous Part | Next Part

Summary: the deal is struck between you and Aemond

Warnings: none, really

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I’ve been really busy with work, and this part was kinda hard to write. That’s also why this is shorter

Word Count: 1.6k

“And he didn’t tell you what he wanted?” Aly looks over at you while adding a slice of turkey to the sandwich she’s making? You shake your head. It had been a few days since everything went down, yet you were still trying to wrap your head around it all. The fact that Aemond would consider helping you at all—foreboding debt aside—just didn’t make sense to you.

“Why does he have to be so cryptic and spooky,” Aly asks, adding a generous amount of mayo to the sandwich.

“Beats me,” you reply. A shout startles you both out of your conversation. You and Aly turn your heads to the living room area. Benji Blackwood and his two friends Kermit and Oscar Tully—“the muppets” as Aly likes to call them—are sprawled across Aly’s couch, cursing at a video game they’re thoroughly engrossed in.

“Oi! You tryin’ to wake your dad up?” Aly calls to them. Currently, Aly’s brother Sam was down the hall, trying to sleep off a migraine. The boys cringe slightly.

“Sorry,” one of the Tully boys stage whispers back to Aly. She sighs. “Anyways, lunch is ready.” In a flash, the boys were on their feet, making their way to the kitchen. Aly pushes the sandwich with the mayo mountain towards Benji.

“Would you like some sandwich with your mayo?” She teases. Benji scowls back, but his expression quickly morphs into a grin. The boys make their way back to the couch. Aly turns to you.

“Listen, if he tries to pull anything with you, just say the word and I’ll kick his ass. Then I’ll call Cregan and he’ll also kick his ass.” You laugh in response. “What’s his deal with them anyways? Are they friends?”

“Acquaintances is more like it. They get along well enough, but Creg’s friendship with Jace sorta puts him on thin ice.”

“…Yeah, I still don’t get it.”

“Look, rich people friendships are weird, okay?” Aly explains. “Sometimes it’s better if you don’t ask questions and just go with it. I find the truth usually comes out on its own time.” She starts resealing containers and putting them in the fridge. You follow suit, deciding to take her advice. You two clean in silence for a couple minutes, until your phone buzzes. You look at the name on the screen, suddenly feeling very nervous.

You show the conversation to Aly. Her eyebrows raise, and she notes the tense expression on your face. “You know you don’t have to do this right? I’m sure I could find some time to give you lessons.”

You think about it for a moment. Aly would certainly be a nicer teacher than Aemond. But her Raven is much different than your Meraxes. Plus, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking for an excuse to learn more about the enigmatic, handsome Targaryen.

“I don’t want to cut into your time with your family. I know how important it is to you,” you tell her. “Besides, we’re all adults. I can handle a little tough love.”

“Alright then. Lemme know if you change your mind,” Aly relents, leaving the kitchen. You turn back to your phone to text Aemond.

Saturday morning comes far too soon, and you find yourself heading back to Aemond and Aegon’s shop in the passenger seat of Aly’s truck. One of the doors is rolle up, and you can see Aemond working on a bike. He lifts his head when he hears the engine.

“Well,” you breathe, “here goes nothing.”

“Remember, I’m only a text away,” Aly reassures you. You grin then exit out the passenger side door. Before you turn away, you see Aly glare at Aemond, pointing at her eyes then at him before making a u-turn and driving off. You take a deep breath, then walk over to Aemond. By now, he’s standing and wiping his hands with a cloth. He’s wearing the same outfit as when you two first met, only this time the coveralls are unzipped with the sleeves tied around his waist. The white singlet he’s wearing does nothing to hide the definition of his chest or arms. A few streaks of grime decorate his body, along with a few tattoos. He’s not overtly bulky, but he’s definitely in shape. His biceps flex slightly as he cleans his hands; you try not to bite your lip.

You both stand in awkward silence, waiting for someone to break it. You decide to bite the bullet yourself.

“Where’s Aegon,” you ask, peering into the garage, but there’s no sign of Aemond’s brother.

“He doesn’t typically come in on weekends,” Aemond answers. “Prefers to sleep in.”

“Oh.” You’d hoped he’d be here; his easygoing nature could’ve served as a good mediator.

“So I take it you’re interested?” It takes a moment for you to realize he meant the training.

“Oh I’m yeah. But I want to know what exactly you’re hoping to get out of this,” you reply quickly. Get your shit together you mentally chastise yourself. He’s not worth it.

“Hmm, yes. I’ve been going back and forth on what I want from you,” he starts, setting the rag on a nearby workbench. He turns his back on you.

“And you’ve decided on…” you prompt. He drums his fingers on the table, silent. Then…

“The Conqueror’s Gala. I need someone to go with me,” he states. That’s it? He needs a date to some fancy event? You thought you’d have to do something like clean his house or shine his bike for a month. Not this.

“If you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend, Targaryen-“

“No. Gods no. Nothing like that.” Aemond hastily replies. “My mother is always on my as about bringing a date. Normally, I’d just go with Helaena, but this year she’s decided to side with mum. They want me to prove that I’m capable of spending time with people I’m not directly related to.” His mouth presses into a thin line, and he averts his gaze. He starts drumming his fingers again. It looks like that’s something he does when he’s agitated. You let the silence simmer, silently enjoying the way his jaw clenched.

“Hmmm. I suppose I could spare one evening to get all dressed up and rub elbows with the Westerosi elite,” you sigh in pretend annoyance. He gives you a disgruntled look. “Trust me. It’s not the fun time you think,” he says sharply. Of course a cryptic like him wouldn’t enjoy social events. You try not to laugh at the thought.

“Well, fun or not, I’ll take it,” you tell him. His shoulders relax a little.

“Good,” he says stiffly. “Shall we?” he gestures his hand towards the bike. You realize it’s his own, the bronze coloring of the Vaghar catching the late morning light. You make your way over and take your seat. The bike has the same controls as your Meraxes, but his has extra side mirrors affixed.

Aemond leans over you, one hand on the handlebar and the other on the seat behind you. It takes all your willpower not to gawk at his arm.

“Alright,” Aemond says softly. “Now I want you to start the engine.”

You turn and look at him, incredulous. “You think I don’t know how to start a bike?”

Aemond levels a flare at you. “I’m just being thorough.” You scoff and roll your eyes, but you do as he says.

“Good,” he muses. He’s inches from your ear. The soft timbre of his voice sends a shudder through you. “Now what?” You choke out. You hate the effect he has on you.

“I want you to shift to first gear,” he instructs. All you can do is obey blindly.

“Good. Good,” he praises. He has you go through all the gears and how to break, giving a little praise each time you do something correct. It’s all painfully easy, and you should be insulted he’s making you prove such basic knowledge. Instead, you silently relish the rush of warmth you get with each praise. Hell, you’re almost tempted to get something wrong on purpose just to see how he’ll react? Would he gently explain the correction, or would he go back to being rude and insult you?

“Well then,” Aemond says, pushing off his bike. You mourn the loss of his warmth on your shoulder. “It seems you really do know the basics.” He drawls the last part. Oh yeah, that’s what it’s like when he insults you. You get off the bike, and he starts to wheel it into the garage. “But the Dragon Rally isn’t for the feint of heart. You’ll need to be able to ride long distances in potentially rough weather. You need to be adaptable, ready to make a decision at a moment’s notice. And that’s not even including the Rally itself.”

“What happens at the Rally?” you ask.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Aemond replies, turning his back on you. You scoff. “Yes. I would. That’s why I asked”

He smirks. “All you need to know is that you need to build up your endurance. I’d like to take you on a ride through the Kingswood when you’re next available. Once you’re comfortable, we’ll take more challenging treks. Sound good?”

You nod your head. At least you won’t have to have weird conversations with him when riding.

“Good. Check your schedule, and give me your next available date,” he says before pulling the garage door closed in your face.

You stand there in stunned silence. What the fuck is up with this guy?

You text Aly, and a few minutes later her truck pulls up to the sidewalk.

“Well that was quick,” she observes as you put on your seatbelt.

“You’re telling me,” you reply, looking back at the garage as Aly pulls away.

You were confused. You were intrigued. Something told you this was only the tip of the iceberg that was Aemond Targaryen.

Previous Part | Next Part

Taglist: @valeskafics @carriellie @let-love-bleeds-red @wintrr13 @queenofshinigamis @seabasscevans @fangirlninja67 @toodlesxcuddles @almostpurplelady @goldenpanda16 @aemonds-fire @yentroucnagol @tssf-imagines @n4tforlife @mooncalvin @julczimozart @kezibear

Bold means I couldn’t tag you

#Aemond Targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #modern aemond x reader #modern!aemond x reader #I Wanna Ride Aemond x Reader

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americas1suiteheart · 6 months

Text

Weird Science | Chapter IV

Egon Spengler x Fem! Reader (But can be read as NB)

Summary; Basically just a timeskip to when Y/n actually becomes a Ghostbuster. I don't know what else I could've put here because it's that simple.

Notes; I literally started writing this an hour after I saw Frozen Empire (it was great, watch it if you haven't already). Really happy about this though and that it got me to write out another chapter.

Warnings; Mentions of smoking and foul language, as always.

Chapter 4/? | <Previous Chapter Next Chapter>

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦︶︶︶꒦꒷

You stood in the laundry room, now covered in slightly dry ectoplasm from the suits that you just put in the wash. The boys went out on a mission and all three of them got slimed by a class 2 apparition, leaving all three of their suits soaked.

It was just a joy that being part of the Ghostbusters means that you get to wash and scrub off slime off of coveralls, the Ecto-1, and some of their equipment as your own suit and Proton Pack were still in the making.

The whole proton pack thing was partially your fault that it wasn't done yet.

Since you'd been working with the boys, with nothing to do you would just tinker around and put the Proton Pack together, of course other than having to take care of all of the ectoplasm. With you being in the lab so often, you got to know Egon a *little* bit more.

Him and you were both quiet, so conversation wasn't really a big thing especially when you were trying to concentrate on something that could go wrong when a small thing is misplaced.

"Hey, Y/n. Me and Peter are going to get some takeout, do you want anything?" Ray asks, leaning on the door frame.

"Awesome! I'll just have what I usually get. Do you guys need any cash to help pay?" You say, getting off of the washer to pull your wallet out.

"No, it's alright, don't worry about it. You've been cleaning off all of the ectoplasm off of everything you don't have to worry about it."

"Alright, thank you, Ray."

"Of course, we should be back in 10 minutes. Don't have too much fun doing the laundry." Ray shouts as he leaves the laundry room.

Right.

You head up into the lab so you could try to get more progress on the Proton Pack, only to see Egon working on it, too.

"Hey, Egon."

Egon quickly looks up, dropping one of the tools that he was using out of his hands, earning a small grunt of frustration from him.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to alarm you. Here." You apologize, going up to him and pulling a crunch bar from your pocket.

You had quite a sweet tooth yourself, so carrying around sweets with you was common. Ray had always poked fun at you about it, saying how I'm a scientist and was eating all the junk that people advise you not to, but he couldn't really say anything, or maybe he could, as both of you smoked regularly.

Egon looked at you and took the candy bar from your hands and putting it into his lab coat pocket, maybe not the best place to store it. "Thank you."

You nod and bend down to pick up the tool that fell on the ground, handing it to him.

"So, what are you working on, now?" You ask, putting your hands on your hips as you look at the machinery.

"I was working on the motherboard. I'd misplaced one of the wires going into it. That's why it wasn't making the proton wand work correctly, but it's an easy fix that will only take a few minutes."

"Okay, well do you need any help with it?" You ask leaning on the table.

"No, it's fine. But thank you." Egon says, continuing on what he was fixing.

"Okay then. Ray and Peter went out to get takeout for us, so they'll be back in a bit. I'll be in the garage getting that slime off of the Ecto-1 if you need me." You walk away.

"Hey, Y/n!" Egon called out.

"Yes, Egon?"

Egon hesitated for a second and went back to his work. "Nothing, sorry."

You knit your eyebrows in confusion. "Alright. Let me know if you need anything." You say, leaving the lab and going down to the garage.

I wonder what that was about? You thought to yourself.

"No, it was your fault, you're the one that didn't ask." Peter says, clearly sounding annoyed.

"We go there all the time, and the meal even said it came with peanut sauce! You can't blame me for it!"

Peter always seemed to like to argue, and about the stupidest shit, too. You shook your head, walking to the source of the bickering.

"What are you two fighting about this time?"

"Ray forgot to ask for peanut sauce." Peter says, crossing his arms like an upset child.

"It's not that big of a problem, Peter. Calm down so we can eat." You sigh, making your way into the "dining area" or "living area". Though, you couldn't really consider it that, it was only somewhat close to that because of the couch and small table inside.

You take a piece of small machinery that you were working on off of the table and place it on the couch, hoping that no one would sit on it.

Ray was unpacking the contents of the bag and placing them onto the table.

"This is your stuff, Peter. Then, Y/n, yours is over here. This one's mine, and then this one's Egon's. Okay, lets chow down." Ray says, looking into each box individually.

You sit in your seat and open your boxes of food and grabbing a fork to eat.

Egon walks in and everyone else sits down and eats their food in silence.

Today wasn't really eventful, the boys surprisingly didn't have a single call today, so they either worked on something else or lazed about.

Egon took the candy bar out of his lab coat and began to unwrap it.

"Did someone give you a little treat, Egon?" Peter says in a singsong tone.

Egon shoots daggers at him, you doing the same as Peter looks at you.

"I'm going to head off now. I'm tired of the events of today. Goodbye now!" Peter says, getting up and cleaning up after himself.

"Oh, you're tired from doing nothing?" You say.

"Yup! See you guys tomorrow!"

Peter still managed to be just as obnoxious as he was in college, if not maybe a little less. You have no clue how Ray and Egon managed to handle his antics and overall personality for all these years and counting. You were barely able to handle him for more than a couple of hours.

You sigh and get up from the table. "Okay, well I'm gonna head out now, too. Thank you for the food, Ray. Don't miss me too much."

"Alright goodnight, Y/n. Be safe!" Ray says, waving goodbye to you.

"Will do. Goodnight, guys."

After you had walked out of the firehouse and at least a block down you realized that you had forgotten to put the laundry into the dryer.

Shoot! I'll just go back and put them in, I'm not that far and I don't want it to get all weird overnight.

You make your way back into the building and head into the laundry room and take out the suits, then put them into the dryer and turn it on.

"Y/n? What are you still doing here? You left 10 minutes ago."

You turn around to see Egon standing in the doorway with a laundry basket in his hands.

"Oh, I forgot to put your guys' suits into the dryer so I came back to put them in." You say, rubbing your hands on your pants to get rid of the slight dampness that came from transporting the laundry.

"You didn't have to do that. I could've put them in myself."

"Well I guess it's a little too late for that now, huh? Thank you though, Egon." You laugh lightly.

"Uh, yeah. I fixed that motherboard by the way, I think the only thing left to do is connect all the wires of the proton wand to the pack. If you don't mind helping me with that tomorrow.." Egon says, adjusting his glasses up on his nose.

"Yeah, of course. Thank you for fixing it by the way. I'll have to get you another "treat" for tomorrow." You say, quoting what Peter had said earlier.

"Right. Well, goodnight, Y/n. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Egon." You place your hand on Egon's arm and leave. You could've sworn you heard a sharp inhale coming from him.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦︶︶︶꒦꒷

I think I got this done in like four or five days and I think it came out okay. Thank you for the comments and stuff that I got from this, it makes me really happy to hear that you guys like it!!

@dragonashtray (Here's that reminder!!)

#egon spengler #Harold Ramis #ghostbusters #ghostbusters 1984 #peter venkman #ray stantz #janine melnitz #egon spengler x reader #bill murray #dan akroyd

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jamdoughnutmagician · 21 days

Text

Three Minutes (18+)

Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Fem!Hairdresser!Reader

Set in the A Cut Above The Rest universe, because I was missing them. I really want to write some more, smaller one-shots for this series about some of the milestones in their relationship, but until now, have this!

Word Count:2,098

Warnings:Unplanned Pregnancy, mentions of illness/being sick, little bit of smut, unprotected sex, Eddie being a two-pump chump (but we love him anyway), fluff. I think that's it for warnings, but if you want something tagged, don't hesistate to shoot me a message.

Masterlist // Eddie Munson Masterlist

Waking up feeling the same as you had going to sleep the night before was not how you wanted your day to go. The previous night you had gone to bed earlier than usual, your body tired from being on your feet all day, and a headache from the radio playing the same songs on repeat in the salon. Not to mention you had been feeling really sick all evening, that even eating dinner had been a struggle that night, to the point where Eddie had very graciously held your hair back whilst you emptied the contents of your stomach down the toilet.

After very kindly bringing you some painkillers and a glass of water to wash them down, Eddie held you close in his arms all night, laying soft kisses against your forehead as you drifted off to sleep.

Waking up to your boyfriend already half-dressed in his work's dark, grease-stained coveralls, a white tank top underneath, whilst the suit was unbuttoned and the arms of the sleeves were tied around his waist. The scent of coffee drifted in as he made his way over to where you were still very much cocooned under the duvet.

“Figured you might want this.” He says holding out the steaming hot mug, as you begin to unravel yourself from your bed sheets to sit up and take it off his hands.

“Thanks Teddy,” you smile weary as you take a sip before setting the mug on the bedside table, “Suppose I better start getting dressed or I’m going to be late for work.” you huff as you start to fling the sheets off your body.

“Ah ah ah, oh no you don’t.” Eddie shushes, as he gently eased you back into bed. “I called the salon, I told Madison you weren’t feeling too hot, and now boom! You’ve got yourself the day off!”

“Eddie!!” you cry but he’s quick to silence your worries with a kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t worry about it, she told me that Naomi could cover your appointments, and you’re clearly not well enough to be on your feet all day.”

“I’ll have to give Naomi a bunch of flowers when I see her, I was supposed to be doing Mrs. Truman’s hair today, and you know how much of a nightmare client she can be.”

“..But you don’t need to worry about that for now,” Eddie assures you, picking up the mug from the bedside table and handing it to you once more. “I just need you to focus on feeling better.”

You roll your eyes at him, as you take a sip from your coffee.

“Yes, Doctor Munson.” you begrudgingly agree.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear. I’ve got to head down to the garage for a few hours, but I’ll try to get home early today. Don’t do anything crazy today okay? I love you.” and with a final kiss pressed to your lips, he was out the door.

You allowed yourself the time to finish your coffee in bed before deciding to get up. Throwing on one of Eddie’s old Black Sabbath shirts, because wearing it was like being hugged by Eddie, the all too warm and familiar smokey scent of his cologne clinging to the fabric .

Deciding that one solitary cup of coffee was not a substantial enough meal for yourself, you head off into your small apartment's kitchen to make yourself some breakfast. A few slices of bread are popped into the toaster and sure enough as they pop they are then promptly spread with a quickly melting layer of butter.

However, no sooner than the two pieces of hot toast are eaten is it before you are rushing to the bathroom once more, bending over the porcelain of the toilet, only for your breakfast to make an appearance for the second time this morning. The bitter taste of bile burning in your throat as you stand up, flushing away the evidence with a groan.

You reach for your toothbrush in the cup on the counter next to the sink, smiling to yourself for a moment at how domestic you and Eddie had become in the short few months of you two moving in with each other. You vigorously brush your teeth, in a desperate attempt to rid your taste buds of the vile taste stinging the back of your throat, before rinsing your mouth with a swill of mouthwash.

It’s only when you look up, that your eyes land on the small hamper of pads that you keep in the bathroom, that you suddenly realise that you don’t actually remember getting your period last month, and suddenly everything feels way too overwhelming. You couldn’t possibly be pregnant, right?

As your reflection stares back at you in the mirror your thoughts rush back to the annual Harrington Halloween party…

With enough alcohol in your system to make you gleefully giggly, and Eddie wearing the same rogue pirate costume that he wears to every single one of Steve’s Halloween parties, you let him tug you by the hand away from the hubbub of chatter coming from all the other party-goers.

“C’mon, they won’t even notice that we’re gone.” he purrs nosing into your neck with soft kisses. “You’ve been driving me crazy all night with this fucking costume too y’know?”

Truth be told, that was the plan with your choice of Halloween costume all along. A matching bright yellow plaid outfit, with a skirt that was just short enough to enticingly flounce around your thighs. White thigh-high stockings and white kitten heels complete your costume, a near perfect recreation of Alicia Silverstone’s costume.

He leads you upstairs, away from the party, away from where the music pounds from the stereo below.

He takes you down the hallway, checking to see if the coast was clear before ushering you into the Harrington’s master bathroom. Locking the door behind him he all but pounces on you. His lips colliding with yours in a sloppy clash of tongues eagerly sweeping into your mouth, tasting the sweet mix of alcohol and fruit punch. His strong arms easily pick you up and sit you on the ledge of the bathroom counter, your legs wrapping around his narrow hips desperately trying to draw him closer to you.

HIs wandering hands creep down your body, roaming underneath your skirt, whilst your fingers unbutton the few buttons holding your yellow cardigan together. You were just about to slip off the offending item of clothing when Eddie voices his protests.

“No, no, leave it on, you look so fuckin’ sexy” he growls against your lips.

Your own hands wander down between your bodies, and sure enough there’s the insistent bulge pressing eagerly against the fabric of his tight dark denim jeans.

Eddie shudders with anticipation as your nimble fingers drag down the zipper of his jeans, before digging into the waistband of both his jeans and boxers. His ruddy cock surges forward, the tip already glistening wet underneath the dim bathroom lighting.

“Don’t think I’m gonna last very long this time, Sweetheart.” He murmurs as he hooks your panties to the side and his fingers skate across your folds, slippery arousal coating his fingertips. “I promise I'll make it up to you later, I just gotta have you right now.”

And in one swift push of his hips, he fills you to the brim with every inch of him. Hips drawing back enough with a shallow thrust before angling back towards you again and again.

Your heels are digging into his back, as his thrusts get sloppier, eager to chase his high.

And when he feels your tight heat clenching down on his throbbing cock, he’s done for, muffling his moans in a deep kiss pressed to your lips as his hips stutter out his release, spilling rope after rope deep inside you.

The bright fluorescent lights glare down on you from above as you stand in the ‘health and beauty’ section of Melvald’s general store.

You were thankful that today it seems pretty quiet, and as far as you can see, you’re the only customer in the store.

It always sounded like an exciting thing to do with your partner, heading to the store, buying a pregnancy test, and waiting together to find out the results.

But here you were, by yourself, buying a can of orange soda and a pack of Oreos to make buying a pregnancy test seem less conspicuous.

With your items in hand you make your way over to the cash register.

Fuck. Joyce is working here today.

“Just these items please.” you say as calmly as you can as Joyce begins to scan all three of your purchases. She gives you a knowing smile when she scans the pregnancy test catching your nervous features.

“Don’t worry your secret's safe with me. I hope you get the results you want, either way.” she says reassuringly, putting your items in a small plastic bag

You hand over the money and take the bag from her with a nod and a small smile.

Three minutes.

That’s how long the instructions had said it would take before you had your results.

But three minutes suddenly felt like an eternity when you were waiting for potentially life-changing news. Three minutes was enough time to have your mind spinning with all the thoughts that came with taking a pregnancy test.

You hadn’t even really thought about what you would do if the result turned out to be positive. Did you want kids? Eventually yes, but it wasn’t something that you had planned as soon as now. Did Eddie want kids? You’d never talked about this with him, so whatever he thought about this was a mystery to you.

Just as your thoughts spiral there’s the sound of Eddie unlocking the door and letting himself into the apartment.

“Honey, I’m home!” he calls out cheerfully. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the bathroom.” you call out to him.

He knocks on the closed door of the bathroom with a cheery knock.

“You alright in there, Sweetheart? Can I come in?”

You tell him to come in and the door swings open, he sees you ducked down with your head in your hands, and soft sobs shudder your body.

Worry fills his chest immediately as he’s quick to rush over and wrap his arms around you.

“Sweetheart what’s going on? Are you okay? Talk to me, please.” he asks with a shaky voice as he tries to tilt your face to look towards him.

Opening up your hand you reveal the pregnancy test to him.

Something akin to shocked, and scared pulls at his features, his big brown eyes unblinking nervously.

“I-is this real?” Eddie manages to stutter out with a suddenly very dry mouth.

“I haven’t looked at it yet, I’m too scared too.”

“Do you wanna look at it together?” He offers, taking your shaking hands in his.

You nod and as you turn over the test in your hands there it is, clear as day, two little pink lines.

“Is that…are you..Are we having a baby?” Eddie asks softly, his voice full of emotions.

You didn't trust your voice not to crack so you give him a silent nod of your head, and as soon as you see how excited he looks you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of joy. The tears start to flow freely from your eyes.

“We’re having a baby..” you breathe. “We’re having a baby!” you repeat, with giddy enthusiasm as the fact of the matter starts to sink in.

He’s quick to pick you up in his strong arms and whirl you around in a tight hug.

“Oh Sweetheart, this is the best news ever!” he babbles with a peck to your lips.

He settles you down on your feet, and his big brown eyes flicker down to your stomach as if asking for your permission.

“It’s okay, go ahead.” you smile.

He kneels down gently placing his work-hardened hand on your stomach.

“Hi baby! It’s your daddy here, I know your mommy and I have only just found out about your existence, but we’re both very excited to meet you.”

“You know the baby’s probably only the size of a grape right now.”

“I just want them to know how much I love them already.”

You rake your fingers through his dark curls as he rests his head gently against your stomach, smiling to yourself when you hear him let out a small contented sigh.

“Baby steps, Teddy. Baby steps.”

@penguinsandpotterheads @mrsjellymunson @eddiesxangel

@aphrogeneias @ali-r3n @seatnights

@munsonsbtch @keeksandgigz @xxbimbobunnyxx

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x female reader fluff #eddie munson series

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captainlondonman · 7 months

Text

Car Repair Bear

There was something about the local car repair garage that made Danny look in every time he passed. Above the door was a dirty sign saying Bear Repairs. In fact it was not something but someone. There was only ever one guy there but almost every time Danny slowed up enough to look in, if the guy was in full view Danny could immediately start to feel his cock swell. Christ it was not as if the guy was some hunk, in fact he was quite the opposite. He was at least 185cms high thick set ,in fact more that that he had a good sized beer belly and he was hairy as hell. He was always in a dirty and oily blue overall which was invariably open almost down to his navel , probably because it was too tight on him but it made his hairy belly bulge out through the wide gap. He had a thick silver chain around his neck and tattoos around his neck. His hands were real mechanic hands thick fingered with dirty ingrained nails and such hairy hands. He wore thick toe capped boots up to his knees with the top part folded over. His neck was as thick as his head and he had a real bruiser face as if he had been in several street fights. Hair closely shaved with a heavy 3 day growth. There was always a ciggie hanging out one side of his mouth.. An oily rag stuck out from his rear pocket.

Danny got so turned on by this large bear bellied man, a real man that he often had to cover up his boner and then wank furiously when he got home. It reminded him of Mr Barton the school teacher. He was large with his shirt buttons always ready to split and his trousers belted tight so his belly poured out over his trousers. He obviously wore no underwear as when he walked down the classroom Danny could easily see the outline of his thick cock swinging in the baggy trousers. Every time Mr Barton passed by Danny’s hand went down to his cock under the table and stroked himself until he had a stonking hard on.

As Danny passed by the repair shop one day he saw a car driving in and a large guy in a suit, shirt and tie get out. Christ it was Mr Barton. Jesus how could he and the repair guy be together it was almost too much. He decided he had to get closer and managed to get in whilst they were talking and hid behind a machine.

He heard Mr. Barton say ‘I’ve come for a service’.

‘Sure mate, I’ve been expecting you but it ain’t the car that’s needing serviced is it? I’d better close the door while we deal with your servicing.

The owner walked so close to Danny that he almost could have touched him. He closed the doors and as he turned to look at Mr. Barton he said

‘I knew you’d be hot. I can see that thick dick of your hard as anything from here. Don’t worry I’ll give you the full service.’

As the two men came together Mr. Barton put his hand out and grabbed the owners coverall pulling him in and then putting his hand down inside to grab hold of his cock.

‘Tell you what Les that cock of yours I dream off when I’m fucking the wife. Let me get it out and admire before I get my mouth down the shaft. I love sucking your dick and feeling all that hair on your belly rubbing against my mouth.’

Danny could now see Les’s fully erect dick. It had a thick vein on the underside and was clearly circumsized with a huge head. It must have been a full 9 inches and more like 10.

With his legs wide apart Les said

‘Well Barton as you like it that much get down on your fucking knees and get a whiff. Nice and oily and I know you like me to not have washed any piss off. You like it dirty eh?’

Mr Barton got down in front of Les to look at the boner in front of him.

‘Shit that’s some cock. No wonder I keep coming back for a service.’

‘Look you faggot this is just the start’ and with that Les got hold of Mr Barton’s tine and yanked him up so his mouth was level with his cockhead.

‘No softly’ softly today mate, I need to feel that mouth of yours go the whole way down.’

With hand still pulling on the tie Les took his other arm and placed his beefy hand behind Barton’s head.

‘That’s it now open wide and start to get it down you. I want to feel you take my whole dick and have your lips in amongst my thick pubes so you can feel my belly pressed against you. That’s it mate let me help you and I’ll push it down yer throat.’

Barton started to gag slightly as he tried to fully open his mouth.

‘Quit the gagging you pussy and take it like a real man.’

With his hand still behind Barton’s head he pressured more and more guiding with force so his cock sunk more and more into his mouth

‘That’s it let me feel all your spit around my shaft.’

Letting one hand go from the tie Les then put both hands around Barton’s head and started to move it further in and then out.

‘That’s fucking better. You’ve got the hang of it. Jesus you so love cock. So you want the full service. So we’d better sort out that arse of yours. Get off the ground and lean over your car.’

Barton stood up the saliva from all his sucking was running down his chin.

‘Get your jacket off and I’ll do the rest’ Les snapped.

As Barton leant over the car Les took his hand and slapped hard three times causing Barton to jerk.

‘Christ careful man I can’t have the wife see me with weal marks on my arse.’

‘Well she might well be seeing all my cum running out of your arse anyway.’

Les put his muscle d arms around Barton and undid his belt. ‘You’ve been putting on a few pounds recently. Just how I like my men. Nice and beefy with a good hairy belly and bulging arse. No matter how much it bulges I love getting my cock up through the depths and into the hole.’

Les pulled down the trousers so they were set at the ankles.

‘I can feel that precum of yours on your trousers. You’ll have to something about that before you get home.’

‘You’ve a great big arse on you man. Just perfect and all that spit of yours has my cock ready to thrust right into you.’

From his position Danny could see Les’s thick cock which he had his hand around ready to enter. Danny cock was oozing precum. He had never see two big bellied bear men have sex together but had dreamt it. Now here he was a voyeur watching one man about to fuck the living day lights out of another , his ex teacher and his own cock was straining to get out of his joggers, in fact it was tenting to such an extent that he looked as he had a pole down inside and there was a large precum stain just as his cock head rubbed against his nylon joggers.

He watched Les take hold of each arse cheek and pull them wide apart so he could slip his cock int between to force his arse head open.

You’ve taken this dick a few times Barton so that hole of yours is ready for my prick. It’ll slide up a dream once I get past the opening and you can feel me force it right up to the hilt. Shit you have one great hairy arse. Your arse hairs and my pubes rubbing together eh?’

And with that Les sank his cock right in letting go of the cheeks as he did so the hairy arse sprang back over ’Les’s cock.

‘Bet you love being taken on your own car. Now let me grab that cock of yours while I fuck and well get that juice of yours over the bonnet nice and thick.’

With his hands firmly around Bartons belly and grasping his cock Les started to ram his own dick in and out faster and faster but each time making sure he forced it in the whole way. Barton’s arse started to react and he moved his fat arse back and forth so he could feel the full thrust

‘Fuck me man, go the whole way with your service and let me feel that spunk of yours shooting so far up I a can almost feel it in my mouth. I already have that salty taste of your precum in me.’

‘Shit Barton you’re a great fuck. Always has me coming big time so lets finish this off as my balls are ready to break and shoot my cum up you. I can feel that cock of yours pulsating and ready.’

Danny had his own cock out his hand firmly working the full length of his shaft. He knew he was going to cum, he was almost breathless with excitement watching these two guys humping. Les’s thrusting was even causing the car to move.

‘I’m fucking ready to spear you Barton so get ready to take my spunk. It’s coming. Fuuuuck.’ and with that he shot his cum forcing his body tight into Barton’s cheeks and with his final lunge Barton let out a long moan as his spunk shot through Les’s hands and over the bonnet of the car in thick creamy wads.

It was too much for Danny who had to put one hand over his mouth to stifle his orgasm and as he arched his body his spunk shot out across the machine leaving a thick white stream running down the shaft.

Les let his cock slide out and as he tucked his dick back intohis blue coverall he wiped his hand over his cock head to remove the final bit of cum and then smeared it over the coverall.

‘Now get those trousers belted. That was a hell of service. I needed that and by the way your body was wobbling around you needed to shoot your bolt.

Just as well the car doesn’t need much servicing.’

‘Better get back to school so open up and let me out .’

Still wiping his coverall and giving his hairy chest a rub, Les opened the doors just a meter away from him. Barton got into his car and drove out giving a wave.

‘It won’t be long until I’m back for more,’ he shouted out the window

As Les turned round to walk back to his workbench so Danny was quietly able to slip out

Like anything that gives you such a turn on once you have watched just one time you need to see more and your cock tells you that you need to cum again. He could not believe that he had seen his ex teacher being fucked and his cock erupting with spunk. In bed that night he started dreaming and he was back at school and Barton was walking up and down in the classroom almost brushing his pot belly against Danny’s shoulder. Every now and again the teacher would stop and slightly bend over Danny’s book so his belly rubbed against his head. At these times his eyes were staring right at Barton’s crotch. He could see the outline stretching down one inside leg and now that he had actually seen it he knew what was going on in his inside leg. As Barton bent over to ask a question so Danny’s hand came up and started to stroke his cock and balls through his thick trousers. As he did so Barton pushed himself closer into Danny and he could feel the softness of his chest. The more he cupped Barton’s cock the more Barton let his belly push in to the point that Danny could almost feel his body vanishing into the thick mass. Barton’s cock grew bigger and bigger and by now it was positively erect pushing against the fabric needing to be taken out. Danny unzipped and let his hand in to fondle the stiff prick and heavy balls. He had to force Barton’s cock out such was its length. It seemed even bigger and thicker than he had seen at the garage. Barton’s cock was now staring at Danny’s mouth the massive head gleaming with precum.. All Danny wanted was to take the full length and feel his head totally buried in Barton’s chest. Barton took hold of Danny’s head and directed his mouth to the tip forcing his mouth open pushing his heavily veined prick into his mouth so Danny could take the flow of spunk, Danny could feel every thrust but he could take it all and wanted every inch his saliva juicing around the shaft. He could feel the heat from Barton’s body and the smell as a couple of buttons popped open and his hairy chest deep into Danny’s face. Danny could feel the throbbing, he knew Barton was ready to shoot.

Suddenly the dream finished and as Danny woke up breathing hard his body arched upwards and without even having his hand over his cock, it spewed cum all the way up his chest. What a dream but sadly not real.

The next day Danny was immediately drawn back to the garage and he decided that he could still hide and at last watch the horny guy in his oiled stained overalls. As he worked on a car so the ciggie still hung out one side of the mouth and every now and again he would take his hand and shove it down the open front to give his balls a rub.. That alone made Danny’s trackies tent with his stiff prick.

Suddenly Danny heard a noise behind him and outside the door the local council workie was parking his cart. He was a big guy, his hair shaved at the sides but the top part gelled back into a ponytail. He had a thick droopy moustache and his whole body looked as if he had done very little exercise. Wide shoulders but with a thick protruding beer belly. His dirty white T shirt was too tight and had risen up to show an expansive hairy belly which hung over his yellow thick belted Hi Viz trousers. He has a yellow matching nylon sleeveless jacket and then a thick yellow dirty HIViz jacket and was kept open to show off his massive body.

As he walked in he said ‘Hey Les it’s Thursday you know I always drop by for a blow job. By the time I get here I am always stiff as a poker thinking of that mouth of yours around my cock.’

‘Christ man you should not be walking around the street looking like that. Your fucking cock is sticking out a mile in those Hi Viz. And don’t worry I know the day of the week and have just been giving myself a nice rub waiting for you. So close the door and lets get on with it.’

The binman walked up to Les and putting his arm around his neck pulled him in to tongue him.

‘Shit where have you been today mate you’re stinking.’

‘Thought you liked that.’

‘I fucking do and whatever that it is it’s sure making me even hornier. Hope you’ve not washed yourself in a couple of days as I always like that cock of your stinking of dried piss.’

‘Don’t worry I make sure its rank for you.’

Les rubbed his hands up and down the HiViz nylon crotch.

‘Christ you are really hard today.’

‘So what you waiting for,’ the binman replied undoing his wide leather belt and letting his HiViz trousers slide over his erect cock and balls.

‘Jesus I didn’t think you have washed your prick for a week. What a fucking great smell.’ As Les let himself sink to his knees so he opened the remaining couple of buttons of his overall and brought out his own cock letting his heavy set balls flip out.

‘Big man, big cock’, Les said as he took hold of the binman’s balls and squeezed them firmly yanking them down so he could feel them both. As he did. so did the binman’s cock sprang up so it was almost vertical. Bill let his tongue lick over the binman’s head allowing him to savour the dried up piss.

‘Christ you are fucking high. Love it man.’

Holding the binman’s cock Les let his tongue travel down the full shaft making sure he savoured every inch until his tongue had licked the thick bushy pubes. As his tongue worked around the shaft so the binman’s cock reacted waving around. It had a nice banana shape making it look even more erect. Les brought his tongue back to the glistening head having now covered the shaft with his spit. He was ready to suck. Still holding the full length of the prick Les opened wide and let his mouth take in the head pausing to fill his mouth with more spit and little by little he let it slide down the shaft and all the time breathing in the pungent smell of stale piss. Once his mouth was taking in the full length, Les let his hands reach up to rub over the nylon of the HiViz. He loved HiViz gear and would often lounge about it at home when he felt horny. He let his hands move over the binman’s belly and ruck up his T shirt more so he could feel the full expanse. And tangle his hands in the mass of chest hair.

He started moving his head in and out, the spit drooling down his chin and the quicker he did it so he took one hand away and brought it down on to his own shaft. The binman was clearly ready to explode and so Les wanked himself faster and faster while feeling the guys cock throbbing for his orgasm.

‘I’m ready Les so swallow that cum of mine all the way down. The binman gave a final lunge into Les’s mouth and reached his orgasm, the spunk coming out too fast for Les to swallow so it gurgled out of his mouth and rolled down his chin on and onto his coverall. Feeling so much cum in his mouth mixed with the smell of piss was too much and Les let rip with his own cum across the floor some shooting onto the binman’s dirty worn boots.

‘I love fucking Thursdays man working on that cock of yours’

‘If you fucking love them so do I, getting rid of my cum. I always like to save some up for you mate.’

The two guys sorted them selves out and the Binman opened the door to go out . Danny had been so excited and transfixed that he had not managed to get his dribbling cock out for a wank. He could feel his cock tight against the machine and as he moved so a small part fell to the floor. Before Danny had time to figure anything out Les was across and dragged him out.

‘I fucking knew someone had been in when I saw spunk marks on the floor around here. And now you’ve been getting off watching me do a blow job, you little cretin. Get off on all this do you? Of course you fucking do look at that prick of your’s tenting in your trackies. Didn’t manage to cum then, though you’ve got a bloody large patch of precum on you. So what am I going to do with you. I’m not into skinny lad like you so not much point in wasting a fuck.’

‘I’m not into skinny lads either. I love real men with lots of hair and bellies. The bigger the better. I so often wish I was a bear as you always go for each other which leaves me out of it. I so wish I was a a hairy bear and had the life you guys have. Feeling a bears pot belly would be perfect for me.’

‘Christ you are a horny little runt and its clear you would prefer to be a nice stinking hairy bear instead of your miserable little self.’

Les took hold of Danny shoulder

‘Right come with me. Time to sort you out.’

Danny was dragged across the floor and Les opened a door into what looked like a car spray booth.

‘Get yourself in there,’ as he threw Danny inside and then locked the door.

Danny was terrified. He was locked in a windowless room with the garage owner furious and clearly wanting some form of revenge. How long was he going to be kept inside and he had no phone to get a message out. He was stuck and there seemed little point in shouting due to the thick walls. As he huddled himself in a corner he was suddenly aware of some steam coming into the room. Just at first a little stream of steam but it quickly started to build up until he could feel himself enfolded by it. It seemed only steam as he was not choking or felt as it he was being poisoned. In fact it felt warm and comfortable. However as the steam became thicker so he was aware that his clothes seemed to be almost melting and sliding off his body. The steam had removed them and as he put his hand over his body he realized that he was totally naked. The steam continued to build up around him and he then started to feel a change to his body which he could not understand. It was as though he was being pulled apart, being stretched. He felt bigger, wider and yes even much taller. Even his face was being pulled apart. He could feel the blood rushing around his body surging warmth. It felt good in fact it felt bloody great to the point he was almost getting aroused. He wanted to understand what was going on to his body so in the thick fog started to let his hands move over himself.

‘Christ was this me. Is this really my body?’

The first thing was his whole body seemed covered in a thick mass of hair, from his belly all the way up to his neck and as he put his hands behind him the hair seemed all over his back. Not just a little covering but curly thick hair. But as he brought his hands back to his belly he realized that he no longer had a cute waist but he seemed to have a large extended belly also hairy. There was no waist.

In shock he put his hands up to his face. Where was that smooth face that rarely needed shaving. Instead his hands fondled a thick beard all the way round his mouth and even thick into his neck. It was as if his body hair had come up and spread all across his head but wait, his head was bald. Smooth, all his head hair had gone. He started to feel his hands where were the long slender fingers. It was as if he now had slabs as fingers, thick with hair. He didn’t know what to think but the feeling kept changing because slowly he was no longer feeling naked. He put his hand to his chest and was aware he was now wearing a rubber vest which was making him sweat, it was tight against his body showing every outline. But there was more, he was now in something that seemed like an coverall all open at the front with rolled up sleeves and his feet were clearly in heavy boots.

His head started to go blank and he felt dizzy. He knew there was a change but could not figure it out. But something was erasing all his thoughts, he could hardly remember his name and what his history was. He struggled to regain himself but it was too late. For a moment there was a blank and then he could feel himself rough, tough and wanting to get out, his throat felt different, harder, and he knew his voice had changed.

‘Get me out of here you fucking moron.’ He suddenly shouted his voice much deeper and with a strong local accent.

The steam stated to evaporate and leave the room. The door clicked open and Danny stormed out.

‘What has fucking gone on’

‘Jesus’ Les replied ‘I didn’t ever expect you to look this this. The way you look is only because it’s the person you have wanted to be and bloody hell man what a fucking great bear you make. Have a look at yourself.’

Danny stood legs apart staring at the dirty mirror.

‘Fuuuucking great man. Shit what a hairy bear I now am and look the part of your mate in my coverall. I’m no longer Danny, what a fucking boyish name. I’m Dan from now on and I ain’ going back.’

Dan could not take his eyes of his new look. His black rubber vest had inched up his hairy chest which was pushing out from his half open coverall, the sleeves were rolled out to show off thick hairy and tattooed arms, both arms totally covered in tats. His neck was as thick as his head and looked more so with the black curly bushy beard. Dan rubbed his hands over his shaved head.

Again he shouted ‘Fuuuucking great.’

His hand then moved down to his crotch as seeing this image of himself had started to make feel so horny.

‘Just as well my dick is the right proportion . It feels thick and meaty and by Christ its inching down my leg needing release and you Les are gonna give me that. Get over here As Les approached so Dan picked up a knife and then quickly turned Bill round using the knife to make a hole in the rear of his coverall just at arse level.

‘I wanna fuck you in your coverall. I know you have a great cock and I can get that up me later but now its my turn to shag you good and proper.

Dan undid to last two buttons and thrust his hand down his coverall leg giving himself and good rub before yanking it out. Les could feel the massive head rubbing against his cheeks.

‘Think you need some lube man to take this big prick of mine.’

Dan got hold of the oil can from the bench and smeared a great dollop over his cock rubbing it in.

‘We’re both dirty bear mechanics so you might as well have some of your gear up you. Get your legs apart. I wanna fuck you upright. Jesus that’s some fucking great thick prick I have. Nice thick vein and love it way it gets thicker and thicker up to my pubes. Means I can get inside you not too badly and then you can feel it more and more as I drive up to the hilt.’

Spreading Les’s heavy hairy cheeks apart Dan started to ease his well oiled cock deep into Les’s arse. He could almost hear it pop as it got past the entry and as he pushed more and more so Les groaned more heavily.

‘Shit if you wanted a big dick then you certainly got one. If feels fucking great. What a fuck.’ Dan sank his cock in until his coverall was rubbing against Les’s arse. He stopped when fully in and brought his hands around to Les’s chest opening up his coverall more so he could start massaging Bill’s nipples. They were big brown and stuck out just like a real bear of a man. Les groaned even more.

‘Don’t just rub them mate give me a good going over and nip and pull, sends me crazy.’

Dan started tightening his grip on the nipples and feeling them stretched made Dan feel even hornier.

‘I fucking love working a mates tits.’ Dan started to slide his cock in and out at first slowly almost to the point of taking his dick fully out and then rather than gently sliding back in he rammed. Les was loving his tits being worked so he started letting his arse move in rythnm to Dan’s cock lunges. Dan could feel himself sweating with his rubber vest and his chest hair was glistening underneath and he could smell his manly odour form his armpits. Good strong and what a bear should smell like.

The smell , Les’s tits and the feel of his cock tight in Les’s arse was working Dan up to a frenzy. Les could feel the throbbing cock and put his hand over his own thick dick taking some oil from the same can so his hand slid up and down as the oil dripped onto the floor but his cock glowed with oil and precum.. He was forcing himself back onto Dan;s cock as though he wanted to be speared.

Dan shouted,

‘I’m about to let my load right up you. Just hope it shoots out your bloody mouth mate.’

‘Go for it Dan my own cock is ready to burst.’

With a final shove dan shot his load up Les’s arse and Les shot his spunk out over the floor, with creamy white stains all over the floor.

The two men took their greasy hands over their faces to wipe off the sweat.

‘Now I know what it’s like to be a bear and I never want to go back. Fucking great man.’

‘Well Dan you might as well stay on as a mechanic I could do with some help so I’m not shagging all the time but at least getting some car repairs done.

‘Suits me mate. Mind you after that fuck it will be difficult not to keep wanting some more sessions and having seen you own cock I fancy that up my bum.’

‘Don’t worry I’ll give you one soon enough. It might also make it a bit more fun for some of our customers if there are two of us.’

‘Make sure when Barton is back I get to fuck him. That’s a dream to come true.’

‘Forget the dreams Dan its now reality, you are bruiser of a bear.’

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bug66 · 6 months

Text

Full vesper lineup that I super gave up on u_u I’ll finish it one day…

Some Design Notes under the cut

I did these before really looking at the SVT data log. I do what I want no one tells knuckles which way is north

I need to make Rusty’s hair less orange but I fucked around too much with the colours and I have no idea how to fix it anymore

Everyone is tired and has been fucked up from previous sorties. Except for Snail because he's on so much augment juice.

I need to properly design their body glove suits but they’d be made of a surprisingly thick material- probably made of some crazy patent material that’s protective and can store and purge heat well so it can be worn in all climates.

Since they looked kinda naked with just the skin suit on I liked the idea that they can put a jacket or coveralls over it when not piloting. So all those regulars don’t have to be looking at their caked or cakeless squad leader

Freud- Has the JD Denton sunglasses because my bf just imagined Freud looking like him.

Snail’s getting his own post. Snail containment, but also I draw him as a middle aged man who looks like a 30 year old twink because that’s funny.

O’Keeffe crumpled and old. I also draw him as a trans man but I’m not brave enough to post old man coochie yet…

For Rusty, I originally focused his scarring around the mouth to fit with the muzzled wolf thing, with him using an oxygen mask while piloting as well.

Hawkins dilf. That’s it.

Maeterlinck shaved head because I’m no coward

Swinburne should be giving Patches but I couldn’t make him bald… bro looked like an adult baby…

Pater small. Normal lad :)

#abandoned wip #armored core #ac6 #vespers ac6 #v.i freud #v.ii snail #v.iii o'keeffe #v.iv rusty #v.v hawkins #v.vi maeterlinck #v.vii swinburne #v.viii pater #my work #armored core vi #the gang's all here #rusty ac6 #my art #digital art

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ereardon · 4 months

Text

At Sea [Bob Floyd x Reader]

Chapter 2

Overview: I’ll be home in five weeks. That’s what naval aviator Y/N told her fiance before leaving for deployment in the Atlantic. But time ceased to stop when she met Bob Floyd, the ship surgeon. Shy and honest, Bob quietly slipped into Y/N’s life, creating a complicated dynamic on an already intense mission. Falling for Bob was not in Y/N’s plan, and as she continues to weave a web of lies, she must make a choice: return to the life she left on land, or forge ahead into the unknown with Bob. But before Y/N can decide, disaster strikes, leaving Bob to make the decision that will alter their lives forever.

Chapter summary: Y/N and Bob have their first heart-to-heart; Y/N reminiscences on how she met her fiance

Pairing: Navy Doctor Bob Floyd x Female Aviator Reader

Warnings: Implied emotional cheating, lots of Naval inaccuracies

WC: 2.5K

Masterlist here

In the air, everything else gets stripped away. Fears, concerns, chores, anxieties, conversations. They all stay on the ground.

Or in this case, on the deck.

When you’re in the cockpit, your brain splits in two. One half shuts down – the half that controls emotions, everyday life. The other half, the aviator half, roars to life. It’s the part of you that instinctively knows when to dive or call for backup, when to evade, when to approach. That part works practically autonomously.

The first time you sat in a cockpit, it was an extension of yourself.

The jet dipped low, the ship just ahead. A quick flight, in and out on a search and rescue that yielded negative results. You jumped out of the seat onto the waiting ladder, pulling off your helmet. The late September wind whipped at your face as you shrugged on a pair of sunglasses and looked up toward the other incoming jets. Daiquiri and Johnson landed a few seconds later, the drop of the jet onto the runway causing a thump in your chest.

“See you in the ready in ten,” you called out to Chevy, your backseater. He waved his hand in acknowledgement and you jogged out toward the cabin door, quickly descending down two decks. As you rounded a corner, helmet still in hand, you smacked into someone.

Bob had his arms outstretched in apology before he could even see who he collided with.

He was wearing navy colored coveralls and carrying a small clipboard, glasses seated low on his nose bridge.

“Y/N,” he said, surprise lacing his features.

“Hey you.” You looked to your left down an empty hall, tilting your head and beckoning him to follow you into the darkened hallway. The two of you turned the corner out of the main walkway. “What are you doing?”

He raised the clipboard. “Filling out patient intakes and supply forms.”

“Spicy.” He laughed.

“Did you just get off of a flight?”

You nodded. “Search and rescue that got called early.”

Bob’s eyes roamed over you, slowly. “It’s weird to see you in uniform.”

You frowned. “Weird?”

He shook his head vigorously, a small blush creeping up his neck. “Not weird, sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I just mean, I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that you’re an aviator. It’s really impressive.”

“I guess. I don’t really think about it too much.”

“It’s not every day that you meet a beautiful aviator.”

This time, you blushed. “You obviously don’t get enough deployments, sir. We’re crawling all over this ship.”

He laughed and stepped closer, reaching out and touching the collar of your flight suit between his thumb and index finger. As Bob rubbed the fabric slowly, you felt your breath turn choppy at his proximity. “I think you’re selling yourself short.”

You opened your mouth to respond when the thunder of footsteps crashed down the main hall. You and Bob broke apart like magnet poles. A few aviators stormed past, laughing, not noticing the two of you in the darkened hallway. “I have to go,” you whispered. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight.”

Bob’s eyes twinkled as you turned, falling into step with the other aviators.

***

You and Connor met at a museum opening your friend Sally had dragged you to. While standing in the corner, nursing a glass of wine as Sally pressed her chest against some stranger’s arm, Connor appeared at your side in an almost magnetic way. He was extremely tall with dark hair and tawny skin and the widest brown eyes you had ever seen.

“Are you a fan?” he asked, motioning at the painting you were lingering in front of.

You tipped your head, pretending to be an expert, before letting out a little caught. “Would you judge me if I said I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between this and something from the Goodwill bin?”

He laughed. It was throaty, catching at the end, and reached out one strong hand that slid into yours perfectly. “Connor Bennett.”

You told him your name. “Anyways, I should probably get back to my friend.” You whipped around but Sally was nowhere to be found.

Connor hadn’t let go of your hand. “At least let me show you one thing that doesn’t look like a donation item.” Before you could refuse, he was walking you confidently toward a lifesize painting on the far back wall.

“This is an O’Keeffe,” he said. Your eyes rolled across the canvas. Soft swoops of vivid colors. It was pretty, but nothing to write home about.

Instead, you lifted your eyes to Connor. He was mesmerized. His eyes were soaking up the canvas, drinking it all in, and you found yourself turning back to the painting, trying to see what he saw. The first time around you had missed the delicate but deliberate blue from one color to the next. How sensual the lines were. How confident.

“So what do you think?” You liked that he gave you enough time to develop a thought without interruption. Most men couldn’t stand even a millisecond of silence. They wanted to be the smartest in the room. And if they weren’t the smartest, then the loudest. Connor was comfortable simply letting thoughts fill the empty space.

You smiled up at him. “I’m a fan.”

The two of you went on your official first date a week later, and you slept with him that night. At twenty five, you wanted to know what you were getting into. He was tender, but dominant. He stayed the night, even though he hadn’t asked. It had been years since you had let someone break that barrier.

Later, you found out he was a curator for the museum. He worked normal hours and grew up in a two-parent household, went to Yale and was in a fraternity. He had an insanely good memory and could recite every Lords of the Rings movie on command.

A talent that was not often used.

Being with Connor was easy enough, in the way that other relationships never had been. So the day he proposed, you said yes. It wasn’t that you couldn’t picture a future without him.

It was that he was the only person who had ever made you think that maybe a future with them wouldn’t be so bad.

***

When, for the first night in almost a week, you got caught up writing reports and didn’t make it to the deck after hours, you wondered if Bob even noticed.

How was it possible that the two of you had settled into a quiet routine in the span of only a week without ever acknowledging it outright?

But every night, without fail, he showed. You met on the deck long after the sun had plunged into the horizon. Bob snuck out a thermos of coffee and the two of you would sit and talk long into the night. He was shy and unassuming, with a clear and keen eye for his surroundings. He chose his words carefully, often mulling things silently in his head before breathing life into words.

He folded used tissues into near squares, loved James bond movies, his favorite candy flavor was lemon and he had a cat named Whiskey growing up.

In turn, you told him about yourself. How your favorite feeling is coming in from a day at the beach, drinking a cocktail and getting ready for dinner after a shower. How when you were five, you tried to feed the ants that swarmed the cracks of the driveway with leftover birthday candy, almost giving your father an aneurism.

Somehow, Bob’s fingertips landed on your leg, eliciting goosebumps as you told him about the day your childhood best friend and her family flipped their sailboat in the lake and how you and your parents were the first ones to show up at the marina and watch them pull the four family members to safety.

Bob asked questions, peppering you with small prompts that made you feel like not only was he listening, he was truly hearing what you were saying.

Who your favorite musician was. Kacey Musgraves. What your favorite meal is. Breakfast, followed closely by dessert. How old you were when you had your first kiss. Fourteen, but the first one was nineteen. Your go-to drunk snack. Cold pizza and a Diet Coke. Why you became a pilot. It’s in your blood.

He’s good people, as your mother would say. It was clear that after spending only a handful of hours with Bob, he respected people and treated them with kindness. In your head, he opened doors for old ladies, stopped traffic to scoop up a turtle crossing the road, helped little kids find their parents in a crowded mall.

You had yet to see a crack or flaw in his demeanor. And that terrified you.

After the first day on the run, you stopped wearing your ring. It was a hindrance for everyday life – helping out in the dishroom, exercising, flying – and you were now more understanding of why so many people opted to forgo rings in service.

By the time you made it on deck, it was quarter to eleven. Darkness spread as far as the eye could see, except directly beneath the flood lights. Small beacons of light in a literal sea of black. You were somewhere deep in the Atlantic, and there was a nagging thought in the back of your mind of how cold it would be if you were to fall in.

And how quickly the waves would overtake you.

“Didn’t think you were going to make it.”

You jumped. Bob was lingering just outside the flood light ring.

“Jesus Chris, you scared the shit out of me.”

He gave a shy smirk. “Sorry. You didn’t show last night, so I thought maybe you were rethinking our arrangement.”

The thought of him waiting for you put a pit in your stomach.

“Oh yeah? And what arrangement is that?”

He held up the thermos. “Contraband barista and customer.”

You chuckled and he placed a cup of coffee into your hand, lingering for a second as your fingers brushed over each other. When he pulled away, even though the cup was steaming, your fingers felt cold wrapped around the mug. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“I’m just lucky you showed up tonight.”

He sounded relieved. Like he really thought you wouldn’t show. Guilt clouded your mind. The good part of you, the part that volunteers at the food shelter and cuts up six pack plastic rings so fish don’t get stuck and the part of you that wore a white confirmation dress under the scorching Louisiana sun screams at the rest of you to tell him. As your bare finger taps against the mug, in the deep recesses of your mind, she screams at you that you owe him that.

“Are you alright?” Bob leaned toward you, propping one elbow on the wall behind your seat. You tilt your head back against the wall, his arm only a few inches away. His bicep is muscular, and you know that’s carting around a truly excellent body beneath his uniform.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You seem a bit off.”

“Do you really know me well enough to say something is off?”

Immediately, you saw he was taken aback and guilt seeped into every cell of your body. Kindness is not one of your strengths. You’ve had to bite your tongue more than once growing up in the south with the alphabet of the Navy always ready on your lips. Honesty is a philosophy you lean too hard into at times, to your detriment. And one you ignore all too often as well.

“I’m sorry,” you added quickly. “That was rude of me.”

Bob dropped his arm and straightened. “It’s alright. I overstepped.”

“It’s just, I mean we’re strangers, right? Kind of. And saying something like that makes me think you see this as more than it is.” You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, hating yourself the moment the words leave your lips. You’re not sure why you say it at all. It’s sour as it exits your mouth.

“Trust me, I am very aware of the situation, Y/N.” His voice was bone chillingly calm.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Your heart began to jog in your chest. He knew. He had spotted the ring that first day and had been pretending otherwise ever since. If anything, you were pissed at yourself. An anxious blush crept across your throat, combating the cold of the ocean wind.

“The mission is only a few weeks,” Bob said and your pulse instantly began to even out. “You’re young and smart and absolutely beautiful. I know that if we were anywhere else, this wouldn’t be happening.” He waved one large hand in the space between your bodies. “If I had met you at a bar somewhere, you wouldn’t give me a second look. But here, on the ship, it’s a limited dating pool. It’s limited everything. I’m your default.”

Dating pool. The elephant in the room. The whale on the ship. You weren’t imagining the electric current running between the two of you.

You let out a sigh of relief, not even realizing that you had been holding your breath, and laid one hand on his thigh, gently. Bob looked up, the vulnerability across his button nose and pink cheeks making you flush.

“Stop it,” you whispered lightly. You wanted to tell him the truth. That you had noticed him that very first day in the mess. That talking to him felt like talking to an old friend, but also stimulated a nerve you didn’t even know you had. That touching him felt natural. That you had waited all day, rushed through your duties, to make sure you made it to the deck on time, just hoping he would still be there.

He glanced down at your hand. You started to feel insecure about it, but as you went to lift it, you changed your mind.

“Y/N.” That was it. Just your name rolling off his lips in a quiet whisper that got picked up and sailed away in the cold wind. Instead of pulling away, you rubbed your thumb across the thick material of his pants a few times. Slowly. A reassurance. So without saying it, he knew. Through the silence, you hoped he read you.

“It’s not like that, OK?” you said. He nodded. “I need you to know that you’re a choice. I’m here because I want to be. Simple as that.”

The words hung in the air, dense like the thick fog rolling in. Bob glanced over at you, his gentle face slowly relaxing.

You sat there in the darkness and the silence, your hand on his leg, until the coffee in your cups ran cold. Until the wind picked up so high it felt like tinnitus. Until you both realized how late it was and how tired you would be the next day.

Until you both knew, deep down, that tomorrow would be different. That everything had changed.

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