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gutsby · 8 months

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Mouthful

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller thinks he’s strong enough to quit it, but something in the way you suck him says he isn’t.

Warnings: 18+. A man with a big, bad oral fixation + lots of love for a sneaky succ. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Age gap. Blowing Joel under the table at dad’s birthday dinner.

Snippet of Hating Game

He knows better than to let a moan slip at a time like this. Not when he’s sitting at the dinner table; not when he’s surrounded by the people he knows and loves the most. Not when he’s celebrating his best friend’s 51st birthday, and certainly not when that man’s daughter is perched between his thighs, out of sight from every eye but his.

Joel lifts the tablecloth. He almost unloads on the spot.

Seeing your mouth open wide and your lips curled tight around his hot, throbbing member, Joel can’t help but ache for a split-second lapse of judgment—one where he forgets all sense of decorum and simply goes to town on that pretty little face. But, as it is, the rest of the party is totally oblivious to your absence, and he doesn’t want to draw attention to it, or him, by roughfucking your mouth.

That’ll come later.

No, now he’ll let you glide your mouth gently over his shaft, leaving trails of thick spit and hints of a shiny pink lip gloss in its wake. He’ll let you bob your head softly—self-assured in a pace you get to set—and he won’t lay a finger on your face or let a thrust of his get in the way, because this was all about you giving him the pleasure.

That doesn’t mean he can’t steal a glimpse every now and then and pin you with an expectant look when he wants something done a certain way. The room is dimly lit and everyone in it drunk; Joel will gladly take the risk.

‘You can go deeper than that, sweet pea.’

‘Nope, three-fourths ain’t enough, I need your mouth around me whole.’

‘You did wanna make daddy feel good, didn’t ya, sugar?’

He doesn’t have to speak a word of it for you to know what he means. What he needs. You loosen your jaw and stretch your lips even wider, whining just a little when the head of his cock grazes your tonsils.

“Fuck that feels nice,” Joel says aloud.

You freeze.

Then, without missing a beat, you hear him continue just as comfortably, speaking to the people around him,

“Y’all feel that breeze comin’ in?”

Sick fuck. You continue to suck him anyway.

One hand braces tight against Joel’s leg and the other flits shamelessly between your own, and you try not to moan, but the sound escapes anyway. No one hears it, but Joel feels it reverberate down his shaft, and he grips his glass of Merlot like a vice. Your dad shoots him a curious look from across the table but says nothing.

“Can’t get enough’a her, huh?” Tommy grins beside him.

“What?” Joel falters. Sets his drink aside carefully.

Down below, you drag your mouth just far enough to take his tip between your lips and suckle. Joel grunts.

“The wine,” Tommy says, still smiling, “You must love it.”

Joel lets out another strangled breath that he tries to pass off as a chuckle and nods.

“Got me on my fuckin’ knees,” he admits.

And that’s the truth. Starved for air and blinking through tears as you kneel down to blow him, it’s still you with the chokehold on Joel, and both of you know it.

Try as you might to convince yourselves otherwise, the man is enrapt. It’s just that small matter of you being his best friend’s daughter that makes Joel loath to admit it. At any rate, he has your tongue licking stripes up his cock and feels a sudden, sharp clench in his stomach.

He knows he won’t last much longer. Neither will you.

Joel can’t see it now, but you’ve practically soaked your own hand from how hard you’ve been rubbing your clit—and how turned on you are from just sucking his dick, keeping your mouth wide open for a fucking whenever he wants it. While Joel reaches for another draught of wine, you bring one hand to his balls and keep the other at your cunt, triple-tasking like the efficient little slut he needs you to be: sucking, cupping, and rubbing all at once to get the two of you off in one minute or less.

You guide him down to the furthest place in your throat, then push him even deeper. You gag, just slightly, and feel a hand reach down for your cheek. A thumb starts to rub at the tears welled up at the corners of your eyes.

‘Sweet thing hasn’t felt a man this deep before, huh? Wanna swallow some more?’

You nod that you do. Can’t actually hear him now, or see much else besides the soft tufts of hair on his belly, but you can feel a light, heady warmth seep into your brain.

You rut your hips and hope no one drops a fork nearby. Buck desperately into your hand and feel the heat start to swell to a whole new feeling, and suddenly you’re whimpering, whining on Joel’s cock from under the shade of the table and cumming all over your fingers.

Joel returns a quick smile from your father and cracks a joke about the Super Bowl. Raises his hips just the slightest bit and wipes one of your tear-soaked cheeks.

‘Almost there, hon, keep that throat open for daddy.’

All you can do is cry and try your best. Wild feelings from both the slow, deep facefuck he’s giving you and the flurry of euphoric aftershocks coursing all throughout your body make it almost impossible to bear, but you obey your sweet and strong and steady-handed Joel and sense a blossoming desire crop up for something else.

You want to taste him as he blows his load in your mouth, floods your tongue with his spend, and paints every inch of your insides with that hot, sticky stuff.

You need him whole

Your Joel.

In tune with your thoughts—or perhaps just overcome with a need to see you before he reaches his peak—Joel raises the tablecloth when Tommy isn’t looking. His gaze locks on yours and his tongue darts quick between his lips. He cocks a brow. Brushes his thumb up again.

‘Ya want this, darlin’? Want all of me?’

You give one soft, wide-eyed nod, and that’s all he needs.

No sooner do you give him the green light than his cum goes pulsing out in ropes, coating your whole throat and eventually your mouth as you hold still and take it all.

There’s so much more than you thought. So much of Joel that’s been waiting to giving your mouth a proper fucking glaze that once he’s started he just can’t stop. Above the table, your dad shoots a pointed look in his direction—‘You good, man?’—and it takes every ounce of strength in Joel’s body to grit his teeth tight and nod.

He’s filled so much of your mouth it’s spilling out now.

You try to hold steady, keep your movements extra slow. You’d heard your dad’s voice and just know there’d be a lot more on the line than Joel’s dribbling seed if either one of you fuck up now. Your breath catches in your chest, and you feel too afraid to even swallow.

“I just…came,” Joel starts, and your head almost cracks on the wood surface from how abruptly you flinch back,

“—to the realization. That you are so…fuckin’ old, man.”

Your father’s laugh is the first thing you hear, followed by Tommy, your friends, and a dozen other party guests.

The next thing you feel, to your complete and utter shock, is Joel’s cock brushing your cheek. Then your lips. Then your tongue. He slides his still-hard member through the ‘o’ your mouth has made in awe and starts to move in gentle motions back and forth, like a man all but desperate to get a feel for your wet, sodden walls.

A man who can’t risk a glimpse at you now, but wants more than anything to see the mouth he’s just filled.

Your father’s words haven’t even cooled in the air.

Joel Miller, you sneaky, freaky fuck.

As the laughter subsides and Tommy scoots back in his chair, taking leave of your table, you feel a spark ignite. Whether it’s yours or Joel’s or both your perverted minds suddenly alight and insane, you can’t be sure, but you can make out a tablecloth flipping back up above you.

Joel slips his dick out of your mouth and grins. Takes a firm hold of your face under the table so his fingers are practically coaxing your jaw to unhinge before him.

It’s the lowest, slowest, menacing sort of sound you’d ever heard from him before, but it was his all the same.

Speaking to you now, softly, “Show daddy, darlin’.”

Your Joel.

#JOEL MILLER MUNCH CLUB #i will not elaborate #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel

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rebelspykatie · 4 months

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Part 2

Part 1

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie stands and follows Steve to the door as he’s pulling on his shoes. He wants to stop him, pull the shoe out of his hand and drag Steve back to the couch, but he doesn’t have any right. He’s not entirely sure Steve won’t push him away if he tries to touch him right now, anyways.

“You think I’m straight and I was convinced you were into me,” Steve leans against the door frame to pull his other shoe on. He mutters under his breath, “I should’ve never listened to Robin an-”

“Robin was in on this?” He interrupts that thought. It throws Eddie. They’re such a tight knit group, he doesn’t know how they were so far off track with him.

“We spent hours going through every stupid interaction we had. Thought we had it all figured out.” He huffs and walks back over to the coffee table to pick up his wallet and keys. “I guess we’re both idiots.”

“No, Steve,” he tries to reach out and grab Steve’s arm, but he moves too quickly and Eddie’s left grasping air, “you’re not.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it, anyways.” Steve scrambles to pull his sweater back on, the cold just starting to seep into the night air outside.

“Can you just slow down for a second?” Eddie stops trying to catch Steve and plants himself in front of the door. “What do you mean, you’re used to it?”

“Are you going to trap me here?”

“Answer the question.”

“This part, Eddie,” he sighs and gestures between them like that means anything to Eddie. “Everyone I’ve ever confessed to or made a move on has had the same reaction.” He looks off to the side, unable to look Eddie in the eye. “I’m pretty sure I’m the problem. Good ole Steve Harrington, too stupid to notice no one is interested in him.”

“Steve, you’re not stupid.”

“Feels like it most of the time.” He pinches his nose again, still not looking at Eddie, more like through him, gaze pinned to somewhere in the middle of Eddie’s chest. “Can you please move? We can pretend like this never happened and I promise I won’t make any weird moves on you ever again. I’m still friends with Nancy and Robin after everything, I can do it with you, too.”

Eddie skips over the whole Robin part of that in his head because he doesn’t have the brain power to analyze anything beyond Steve’s feelings for him. He never saw this coming. No one, boy or girl or anything in between, has ever made a move on Eddie before. He’s the local freak. There’s no way he could have predicted the town’s golden boy hero would make the moves on him.

He takes in how disheveled Steve’s become in the last few minutes. How hastily he’s thrown on his sweater. The mess of Steve’s hair from the hand that’s run through it several times since he got up from the couch. Barely laced up shoes so he could get out the door faster. He’s normally so put together and this, the sight of him so frazzled, frightens Eddie.

They were fast friends after everything happened with Vecna, leaning on each other for support. Becoming inseparable with King Steve wasn’t something Eddie ever imagined, but it was so easy. Neither of them were what each other had built up in their heads from the rumor mill around Hawkins. Eddie’s never had a guy friend as close as Steve. Sure, he had Hellfire and Corroded Coffin, but Eddie’s always been a bit of a loner.

It was impossible to feel alone with Steve as a friend. He had a way of knowing when you needed support, always just there when Eddie felt alone or needed a physical presence when the weight of the upside down was dragging him down. There wasn’t a day in the past six months that Eddie didn’t see Steve, even if it was only in passing or a quick little jaunt down to Family Video, he’s a constant presence in Eddie’s life.

To lose that? Would be like losing a part of himself. Like losing a limb. Losing his home.

And he’s scared. He doesn’t want to let Steve walk out that door, the weight of losing him forever lingering in the air. But he can’t trap him here. That wouldn’t be fair to Steve.

He moves out of the way, taking a step towards Steve, but he sidesteps Eddie and reaches for the door.

“Steve-”

“Don’t worry about me, Eddie,” he doesn’t turn around, but hesitates halfway out the door. “I’ll be fine.”

With the soft click of the door closing, he’s gone.

And that should be the end of it. Closed book. Eddie doesn’t like Steve and Steve needs to move on. There’s not much Eddie can do about that.

But it haunts him.

If you didn’t know Steve, you wouldn’t realize that anything was wrong. He’s acting normal, smile on his face when he jokes with Robin, complaining about the kids being terrors, going to his job.

But there’s something in the set of his shoulders, in the way his smile droops when he thinks no one’s paying attention to him, in the way Robin protectively hovers around him when Eddie is nearby. It’s clearly a facade he’s putting on to get by.

And Eddie aches. There’s a pit in his stomach that opened up that day and it hasn’t closed. Steve avoids his touch and the chasm grows larger, dragging Eddie further into the darkness. Casual hangouts halted. No more divulging of nightmares or fears late at night. A piece of Eddie is with Steve and he’s bereft of comfort. Unsettled.

He lies awake replaying that kiss over and over in his head. Thinking about what Steve said after. There’s no comfort in the way he handled the situation. It feels like he miscalculated, like pushing Steve away was the wrong move and now his life will never be the same again.

Maybe it won’t. Maybe there’s no way for them to move forward and for him to not break Steve’s heart every day. Steve said he was an idiot, but Eddie’s positive he’s got it all backwards. Eddie’s the idiot.

And he can’t stop thinking about kissing Steve.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #katie writes #again I promise this will have a happy ending #feel free to yell at me #angst #the comfort is COMING I swear

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soarrenbluejay · 6 months

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Supervillains for a community. (Well, except those jerks over in Gotham, insular lot, but they’re they’re one problem) Of course they do- supervillains are a group defined by strong opinions and a willingness to see them through, often with a healthy dash of societal failures and trauma as a catalyst.

The fentons, while not active even on the online message boards, are well known and explosive when they do show up, full of fascinating insights and hours long rants on mad science on hair pin turns courtesy of that ADHD attention span. Bit of the cryptids you feel honored to bump into kind of deal. Besides, like a good quarter of the community as it aged, they’d settled down and had kids (not necessarily in that order) and taken it very seriously! Out in the middle of nowhere, where even the most fearsome government outpost members, the local branch of the IRS, quake before them in fear. Out of the way.

Reveal gone okay-ish, Danny moves to Gotham still to get some air bc now things are Akward and he landed that engineering scholarship which is loads better than any other college would give him with his track record. So- the mysterious Fenton children are finally crawling out of hiding! Everyone is psyched! And roll in to Gotham en masse to witness the fireworks!

Except Danny is Determined To Be Normal. He’s had enough of the throwing himself into harms way shit for a lifetime- he wants to be free to peacefully built Rube Goldberg machines and unintentional increasingly complex bombs to his hearts content. JAZZ, on the other hand- the coveted token Normal One, has finally snapped! She’s watched her baby brother she practically raised throw himself into danger over and over and could do nothing, and now that she’s exposed to this whole network of superheroes outside of small town Amnity, some of those uglier emotions are coming out. And boy is she pissed! And can’t afford to show it much while filing the paperwork to have Arkham legally razed to the ground!

See I love this idea of like, niches in superhero society. A villain the heroes know they can plop their kiddo down with for an exciting afternoon brawl while they take care of a particularly grisly case and come back to a few hours later ranting about some new life lesson and a new move they really want to try. A villain who has a functioning moral compass despite their somewhat batshit long term goal and you can contact to fuck with another villains’s plan so they can laugh at them and you can have an easy afternoon. One who pries up hostile architecture and fills in pot holes, idk man. Get creative here, there’s such potential!

So Jazz becomes a Training villain- someone the heroes know their sidekicks will walk away from in a fight 100% of the time, usually with some new lesson to ponder and only a couple of bruises. Sometimes even snacks!

She also absolutely ambushes mentors to check that they’re worth the kiddo, which they appreciate once they get over being jumped in a dark alley by a 7 foot Amazon trained force of nature. They are not used to being on that side of the jumping, it’s a little unnerving.

(Yes, she low key adopts Shazam upon checking in with him on cursory ‘is the main hero of this city and asshole’ checkin. Yes, the super clones get yoinked out from under Superman’s negligent thumb to go have a blast with Ellie. What about it?)

This however only encourages more assorted weirdos to crawl out of the woodwork. It’s not often one of their own forfeits their potential spot for the running of the coveted Most Normal I Swear prize, but when they do it’s bound to be good! But jazz is off hounding various heroes and punching the faces in of pedophiles and shit whenever there’s no cape within easy reach, and so is a mite bit harder to contact than Danny, who has innocently gotten an apprenticeship under a clockworker for access to their workshop and is gleefully going about doing nerdy shit with great abandon.

Plus this is Gotham. No one gives a shit if someone in the Mad Alchemist uniform and still smoking from their latest experiment pokes their head in a window to bother the local shrimp teen- none of the usual social rules apply, everyone’s crazy here! So everyone drops any and all attempts at masking and just acts their genuine unhinged selves, much to the alarm of the Bats and frustration of Danny.

Bc he cannot get these mfers to go. Away. Even liberal use of the creep stick has little effect when the interloper is calibrated for an opponent with super speed or laser vision or whatever, and he’s trying to maintain his guise as a Normal College Student Do No Investigate.

So he calls in the big guns. He’s not super active in the supervillain kids group chat ever since things in amnity calmed the fuck down post becoming King and then immediately using a loophole that says he will not take the throne until he is grown, as defined by finishing learning his trade a la the medieval standards Pariah set up. So he can just take his sweet ass time with his graduate degree and out of inter dimensional bull shit that much longer! Point is, he hasn’t taken the chance to rant over there in a while, so his Crazy friends are getting a lil worried.

The change to come over and shout at their batshit crazy but (mostly) well meaning parent AND see Danny? Score!

The bats, however, are getting awfully suspicious about this one kid that villains from all over the country are flocking to, especially young and upcoming ones as of recently! And he’s acting his engineering course- all the worst rogues are known to have flown through their PhD studies prior to Cracking. They seem to have a real problem on their hands with this Fenton guy.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #mad science #supervillain community #bonus points if you can pull out some super niche comic villain #justice for kite man #local child of a crazy chemist: so you know that trick you showed me with the soda and the reaction that could turn into just like all foam #Danny: yeah and also back the fuck up #lcoacc: so it’s been like my comfort food right but like I started wondering what you could do #danny: oh no (he says while making what amounts of an overachieving smoke bomb)#lcoacc: so I was like what if I add more of a base to it so it could be solid and then maybe just like a LIL acid to see what happens #Danny: oh ancients #lcoacc: but then the killjoy supes came in a ruined everything from where I was ruining lex Luther’s day #Danny:… did you get in on camera #lcoacc: OF COURSE. oh also like everyone ever if coming over for a sleepover lol #Danny: WHAT I CANT FEED YOU MONSTERS #lcoacc: no worrries we’ll rob a bulk store or something lol #Danny: nO

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dead-girl-tells-stories · 9 months

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DP x DC Prompt: The Watchlist

Batman has a watchlist. A list that contains every individual who could become a rouge and a contingency plan for if they did.

And while they, his children, often make fun of his paranoia and him for having it, they totally understand why he did. They lived in Gotham, for Christ's sake. Where everyone’s just a pin drop away from being the city’s next big villain, forcing the bats to scratch their heads while playing cat and mouse with a sicko for a good few weeks. And while they won’t admit it, the list has helped them a few times.

But that won’t stop them from making fun of any of the list’s new developments. Because you see, there was a new list. And it wasn’t just a watchlist. No, no, no. It was The Watchlist.

It was a new development after he and Robin went on an out-of-state mission to investigate some town in bum fuck nowhere Illinois. And it was under some pretty tight security as well, so they were expecting something good, like mad scientists or evil mayors. Not profiles of the kids who lived in the town. And while there were a few metas and vigilantes that made the list interesting, by the end of it all they just seemed to be teenagers.

Until they saw Damian. They hadn’t seen him since he came back from the mission with B. He looked tired. Like ‘Tim hasn’t slept in a week and is surviving on just coffee beans’ tired.

“Ah, I see you all have found it. Good. A few of them will be arriving next week as they’re a part of Gotham Academy’s student exchange program. At least three of them will be staying in the manor with us. Father will need you all to be on standby and to be ready for any possible scenario. Please, for the love of all that is good, do not encourage them in any way, shape, or form. And please do not dismiss them either. The outcome of doing that will be much worse. Is there more that I should add? Yes. Will I? No, because you won’t understand. Not until you've seen what I have.”

The demon child sighed, then looked them dead in the eyes. “Godspeed to us all.” Then walked away.

Okay, they were scared now.

#dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dp x dc prompt #dp dc crossover #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #Batman and Robin went to Amity Park to investigate two mad scientists who were dealing with Lazuars waters #and instead #witness teenagers dealing with The Horrors (tm) like it was an everyday thing #because for them it is #Bruce KNOWS that the moment any of these kids crack its the end of the world as they know it #i like to think that all the kids are liminals and have powers but some aren't out about it as others #Danny knows that there's an outside entity in Amity but they don't seem hostile #protective even #so he leaves them be #i'm honestly not too sure what the profiles would look like #but i do know that they would look pretty normal until you either read into them too much #or was there to witness the shit he has witness #he's scared of those kids #but also want to protect/save them #cause the GIW still exist #and while not bad parents Fentons they aren't really good either #none of the parents are tbh

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callsigns-haze · 24 days

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i love your writing so much !!!! it’s kinda similar to another story you have but i was wondering if i could request your take on the twisters scene towards the end when tyler’s leg gets stuck under the debris in the town square ?? like reader is the one running over to him completely worried & stressed because her man is hurt 🥺

Not leaving

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Y/N races to save Tyler, trapped under debris after a tornado, refusing to leave his side until he's safely rescued.

Chapter Warnings: Intense storm danger, injury, descriptions of pain, and emotional distress.

The town square was a scene of devastation, the aftermath of the tornado leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Buildings were reduced to rubble, cars overturned, and debris scattered everywhere. The air was thick with dust, the scent of rain and earth mingling with the acrid smell of smoke from a nearby fire.

Y/N’s heart pounded as she navigated through the wreckage, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene for any sign of Tyler. The last time she’d seen him, he had been trying to help a group of people take cover in a nearby building. But when the tornado hit, everything turned to chaos, and she’d lost sight of him.

“Tyler!” Y/N’s voice cracked as she called out, desperation lacing her tone. She clambered over a fallen tree, ignoring the sting of a cut on her leg, her only thought to find him, to make sure he was okay.

Suddenly, she spotted him—pinned under a massive piece of debris in the middle of the square. His face was pale, and he was struggling to move, pain etched across his features.

“Tyler!” Y/N screamed, rushing to his side. She dropped to her knees next to him, her hands shaking as she reached out to touch his face, to reassure herself that he was still there.

“Y/N…” Tyler’s voice was strained, his breath coming in short gasps. “I’m… I’m stuck.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as she took in the sight of his leg trapped under the heavy debris. She could see the pain he was in, the way his hands clenched into fists as he tried to fight it.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” she promised, her voice trembling but determined. “Just hold on, okay? I’ll get help.”

She looked around frantically, but everyone else was either injured or already helping others. There was no time to wait for someone else. She had to do this herself.

“Stay with me, Tyler,” Y/N said, her voice tight with emotion as she crouched down and tried to lift the debris off his leg. It was heavy, far too heavy for her to move on her own, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let him suffer, not for one more second.

Tyler groaned in pain as she strained against the weight, tears slipping down her cheeks as she gave it everything she had. But the debris barely budged, and she could see the anguish in his eyes.

“Y/N, stop…” Tyler managed to say, his voice hoarse. “You’ll hurt yourself. I… I’ll be okay. Just go get help.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Y/N choked out, shaking her head. “I’m not leaving you here, Tyler. I can’t.”

She tried again, her muscles burning with the effort, but the debris still wouldn’t move. Frustration and fear clawed at her, and she let out a sob, her hands trembling as she gripped his.

“Please, Tyler… just hold on a little longer,” she whispered, her tears falling onto his skin. “Help is coming, I promise.”

Tyler’s hand squeezed hers weakly, his eyes softening despite the pain. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I promise.”

Finally, she heard the shouts of other rescuers approaching. Y/N turned to see a group of first responders rushing toward them, their faces grim as they took in the scene.

“Please, help him!” Y/N cried out, stepping back to let them work.

The rescuers quickly assessed the situation, then moved in with tools to lift the debris. It felt like an eternity as they carefully freed Tyler’s leg, Y/N watching with bated breath, her hands clenched tightly together.

When they finally managed to lift the debris, Tyler let out a pained groan, but Y/N was there in an instant, holding his hand and whispering reassurances. They quickly stabilized his leg and prepared to move him to safety.

“You did it, Y/N,” Tyler murmured as they lifted him onto a stretcher. His voice was weak, but there was a faint smile on his lips. “You saved me.”

Y/N leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead, her tears of relief mingling with the dirt and sweat on his skin. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t lose you, Tyler. Not now, not ever.”

As they loaded him into the ambulance, Y/N climbed in beside him, never letting go of his hand. The storm had passed, but the fear of losing him still lingered, a shadow over the relief she felt at having him alive and safe.

“Just rest now,” she whispered, her thumb brushing over his knuckles gently. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Tyler’s eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion overtaking him, but his grip on her hand remained firm. And as they sped away from the wreckage of the town square, Y/N knew that no matter what storms they faced, they would face them together.

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

@katiemcrae

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens fanfic #tyler owens #twisters fanfiction #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens smut #dad!tyler owens

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eddiernunson · 11 months

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Nice to Meet You, Where You Been? | Eddie Munson x f!Reader | 18+

Thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing, you're the best!

Summary: your college roommate takes you to the annual Harrington Halloween Party, where you expect to do nothing but get drunk and dance for a night. That was...until you turn around to the person dancing against you to Eddie fucking Munson.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, praise/degradation, hook-up at a party, daddy kink, creampie, no protection, slow ish build up, size kink? maybe?, hooking up under the influence

I had a whole ass plan to write for KinkTober but executive dysfunction took over. Hopefully this makes up for it...maybe.

I have another Halloween themed fic from last year, EddiexReader with Steve if anyone is interested

Word Count: 6.1k

You sit in the backseat of your roommate’s boyfriend’s beater, the music bumping through the stereo as you make your way to what is supposedly the biggest Halloween party of every year. Your roommate spent the beginning of your fall semester hyping up this party as the best place to be on a Halloween night. Her insistence was charming, and you were looking for an excuse to get drunk. So, now you are watching as you pass by Halloween decorations and children dressed in costumes going Trick-or-Treating.

You don't pay much attention to what they're saying, the gist of it reminiscing on the Halloween parties they had attended in the past. Your roommate had made it very clear from the start that this guy, whatever his name was, his Halloween parties were legendary in town. He has only been throwing them for a handful of years, but if you were a young adult in rural Hawkins on Halloween night, chances are you were at this party.

You start to wonder how big this guy’s house must be if a couple hundred people have been attending every year, and it sounded like he even encouraged it.

You can hear the music bumping from the house before you even see it. It's hard to miss, a cluster of cars in the neighborhood, several people walking up the lawn towards the wide-open door. Your roommate’s boyfriend parks down the street, a spot that is probably fine to park overnight due to the nature of the party.

If there is to be a single sober soul at this party, they would be a rare sight.

You tug at your costume as you walk behind the two of them, strutting arm in arm. They’re wearing a matching couple’s costume, as salt and pepper. It’s something they could come up with last minute, him wearing a black shirt for pepper and her a white dress for salt. Their costume is minimal, and certainly they’ll get asked frequently what they’re supposed to be, but when everyone’s intoxicated, you suppose it won’t matter much.

You’re dressed as your favorite iconic Batman villain, Poison Ivy. You loved the character from the DC comics as you grew up and having a year away from your parents and in a different town, you figured it might be a time to try a new daring costume. So here you walk, arms crossed in a small green dress with fake vines pinned across your chest. You opted for some dramatic green eyeshadow and bright red lips, hoping your makeup and costume will sell the look.

Your ears are nearly bursting as you cross the threshold to the front door of the massive house from the loud bumping music. The pop music is a bit obnoxious, but you’re sure you won’t care once some alcohol is in your system.

Your roommate seems to remember you exist, escaping her boyfriend’s arms for the moment and intertwining her arm around yours. She immediately guides you to the kitchen where stacks of red solo cups are sitting, surrounded by bottles of alcohol and soda. “Holy shit.” You mutter.

“I know.” She giggles, handing you a cup and some tequila.

“No thanks.” You push it back, knowing what exactly tequila does to you. “I’ll just do a vodka-sprite.”

As you’re pouring, in waddles a lanky dude with brown curled hair and freckles scattered on his pale skin. “Oh hey, Mandy!” He greets her, stumbling as he toasts his cup. “Haven’t seen you in a while! How’s that boyfriend of yours?” He asks, spinning the lid of the alcohol he’s holding absentmindedly, causing it to flick off into the distance.

“Nate’s good, I think he’s taking over your stereo, though.” She says, moving the bottles around to make Nate’s drink, as well.

“As per usual.” He laughs, pouring a large quantity of said tequila into his cup.

Mandy seems to realize something halfway through her sip. “Oh shit!” She sputters out, a drip of alcohol leaving her mouth. “Sorry, I forgot you two don’t know each other, yet. Y/N, this is Steve. Steve, Y/N.”

“Hi.” You greet him shyly, his confidence radiating, but very intimidating.

“Hello. Me casa e su casa, and whatever, whatever. Can I just ask, who are you supposed to be?” He asks you, gesturing to your costume.

“Oh, Poison Ivy.” You explain to him, sipping on your concoction and wincing when you realize you’ve poured way too much.

Steve blinks at you, seemingly trying to make sense of your costume. “You’re—you’re a plant?”

You laugh, not in the mood to explain comic book villains to someone who clearly doesn’t know anything about them. “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, cool!” Steve laughs, taking a big sip of his drink.

“Hey, Steve, you see much of Munson these days?” Mandy asks him, wiping her face from the excess drink surrounding her mouth.

How wonderful, more people you don’t know. Hawkins is the smallest town you’ve ever seen; everyone seems to know of everyone.

“Eddie? Yeah, he should be here tonight actually. Super dork, dressed as some character from Star Wars. Or at least I think it’s Star Wars.” He mutters, rolling his eyes in obvious affection for his friends. “He’s matching with Henderson and Wheeler.”

They shake their heads together in tandem at their supposedly dorky friends. As a Star Wars fan, however, you were fine, ecstatic even to hear that there were souls brave enough to dress up as dorky characters and that you weren’t the only one.

You follow Mandy into the living room, now bumping with a tape mix that Nate apparently brought to the party. It's a damn blast, everyone in the living room dancing surrounded by sweaty bodies, finally finding some joy as the strong drink makes you lose your inhibitions. As you continue dancing, suddenly you find yourself in a huddle of people, Mandy and Nate both dancing by you, but lost in their own drunken haze. You don’t care about that. However, something in your mind as you tell yourself you don’t care tells you to care about the person who’s been up against your back for God knows how long.

They have a good rhythm, and they weren’t all too touchy so nothing in your head raised any red flags. You turn around to face the stranger, and it’s like you forget how to breathe. One of his hands is placed on your hip, a smile on his face giving way to dimples that make you swoon. “Hi.” He greets you. You can’t quite hear it over the music, but you can certainly read his lips. Isn’t all that hard to decipher.

You smile back to him, letting a forearm rest on his shoulder. Who were you to deny such a pretty person? His wide smile expands even more, adding some pressure to your hip. The weight and size of his hand sends a thrill through you, and there’s a level of horniness that’s coming from you that you didn’t even know you could have.

Your drink is eventually finished, the cup dropped to the floor, forgetting to bother to throw it away. The gorgeous stranger pulls you in closer and closer as you continue to dance with him, his hands never dipping down past your waist, but you can tell by the steadiness of his grip that he knows how to use them. Usually, eye contact this intense would cause you to retract, looking away after that first glance. This eye contact only makes you want him more, his brown eyes exuding a type of lust you’ve never experienced before.

Or…were you just picturing this?

The hand that rested on your hip moves to frame your face, slender fingers brushing your cheek, caressing it for a half a moment. The hand moves down to hook under your chin, his thumb swiping across your bottom lip. His eyes very obviously stare at your lips, silently asking you for permission. When his tongue licks his bottom lip you nod eagerly, one hand moving to his black curls that you have been itching to touch as long as you’ve faced him.

Somehow, your ears muffle out the deafening music in favor of the chuckle that leaves his mouth. Before you could even register your heartbeat loud in your ears, he bends down to kiss you, and for the first time your brain computes how much taller he is than you. Any thought you might’ve had seems to evacuate the moment his soft lips meet yours. He kisses you with an expertise that makes you irrationally jealous of any other person who’s had the opportunity before you. He draws a sharp inhale as you deepen the kiss, offering more slobber and spit for him to wholeheartedly accept.

His hands tangle in your curled hair, thumbs caressing your face on either side. Something you're learning about this stranger is that he kisses with his whole body, and he knows how to do it well. His teeth graze against your bottom lip, tugging on it lightly. You whimper, shoving your tongue down his throat. A deep laugh escapes his throat as he meets your enthusiasm. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and down to your collarbone. You barely sigh into it when his lips leave your collarbone, looking at you with remorse.

Uh oh. Not good. Were you the worst kisser and he was going to go find someone else worthy of his magical skills?

“Sorry, gotta piss. Beer’s hittin’ hard.” He shouts over the music, his thumb gesturing toward where you guessed the bathroom was.

“Ok. I’m gonna go get another drink.” You tell him, noting the red lipstick now all over his lips. “You got some uh…some lipstick there…hold on…” You reach out to wipe it for him, but he deflects, ducking from your thumb humorously.

“Uh…no thanks. I wear this shit with pride.” He explains, giving you a wink. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

You nod, suddenly full of nerves. You have been all over this guy for the last…however long, you couldn’t even tell. And now you’re realizing, he might be a decent dude on top of being a fantastic kisser.

Your legs carry you into the kitchen, running into Mandy and Nate. You weren’t sure where they’d been, having been lost in your own little world.

“Hi, babe!” She greets you, alcohol sharp on her breath. Whoa. She has had a lot more than you have. “I missed you, where the hell you been?”

You giggle, deciding to go for the tequila. After all, it was your literal liquid courage. And if you wanted to get that man’s fingers down your panties tonight, you were gonna need some. “Making out with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life.” You proudly proclaim, taking a big sip of just straight tequila before adding some Sprite.

“Oh my god!” She squeals, letting go and forgetting about Nate’s existence. “Holy shit, I’m so fucking proud!” Speaking of him…he waltzes into the kitchen, grabbing a cup right by you and winking, apparently unseen by Mandy. “Shit, I’ve been looking for you!” She tells him, drunkenly tapping her hand on his bicep. “Hey, Y/N! This is Eddie. Remember? The dork Steve talked about earlier?”

Ouch. Mandy has no filter, as of course, she's drunk, but she didn’t have to be rude.

At least now you have a name for him. You were starting to feel bad. “Oh, I’m acquainted.” You tell her, sharing a smirk with Eddie.

“Seriously? Cool.” Mandy answers, not getting the hint. You gesture with your eyes alone to Mandy that Eddie was the guy you were talking about just a few moments ago. She gets it, but apparently forgets all about subtlety. “Wait, Eddie Munson is the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life?” She asks you incredulously, like it's the most unbelievable thing she's ever heard.

“Thanks, Mandy.” You grit out, teeth clenched.

“Oops.” She grimaces, grabbing Nate's hand. “We’re gonna go find a spot on the couch to make out. Sorry!”

You roll your eyes affectionately, knowing she meant no harm. Did she have to say it, though?

The smirk on Eddie’s face says everything without saying a word. “So, the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, huh?” He asks, looking incredibly proud of the fact.

You knock your tequila back, needing more liquid courage. “Yep. Hottest.”

His eyebrow raises, and he takes a big sip of his own drink. Maybe he needs his own courage. “Well, you’re probably the sexiest damn Poison Ivy I’ve ever seen.” He smirks, leering at you. His eyes blatantly rake up and down your body, giving you a surge in confidence. “You’re like a little sexy nugget of weed.” He laughs, his words slightly slurred.

“Wait, you get that I’m Poison Ivy?” You ask, finally assessing his costume. Oh, he’s Vader without the mask. “I mean I guess you are the dork they talked about earlier.” Eddie seems slightly sunken by this. “Don’t worry,” you tell him theatrically. “I’m a massive dork, myself.”

He perks up, pulling you in by the waist. “What do you say we find a room upstairs?” He asks, taking another big sip of his drink.

You raise your cup back to your lips, knocking the remainder down fast. “I say, lead the way.”

He grabs you by the hand and leads you up the stairs, pushing some people out of the way that were blocking it in the middle of a conversation. As he leads you down the hall, the music somewhat fades out and you can hear him muttering under his breath. “We better find a guest room cause I’m not hooking up in Harrington’s room, and I’ll be damned if I hook up in his parents' room.”

From that, you’re able to assess that he’s over here enough to know which room belongs to whom. He knocks on one of the doors, swearing softly when someone shouts out. He does it twice more, meeting the same result. “Ok.” He sighs, fingers crossed. He knocks twice, no answer. He knocks once more for good measure, and it can be said that there is definitely no one inside. “Thank fuck.”

As soon as you’re through the door he turns the dimmer switches on lightly and locks the door. You take off the vines, letting the pins and fake plants fall to the floor to make it easier for him to climb on you.

He watches you from the four postered bed, still head to toe in what you now noticed was the caped costume that Darth Vader wears. “So, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, by the way. If you wanna do hand stuff, we’ll do hand stuff.”

Your gut swoops at his consideration and empathy. He seems to truly care about your comfortability rather than him getting off. You walk to him, swiping off all accessories you wore, including your shoes. You straddle his lap, pushing on him lightly so he falls back onto the bed. You attack his lips with your own, attempting to show how much his consideration for you already has you soaked. “I will do” you whisper in between a handful of kisses, “anything you want me to,” you tell him, starting to grind the tent you feel poking past your dress. “Within reason.” You add for good measure, not quite that down for anything. But if he wants to fuck you, you’re down. You’re so down. You’re so down bad.

“Fuck…do that again.” He asks, holding your hips. You comply, grinding your wet heat against him, teasing yourself, but loving the expression on his face. It's ethereal. “Fuck, baby. You barely touched me, and you already have me falling apart.”

This makes you smile with pride. A huff of laughter escapes your lips, sighing deeply as you can feel his erection growing. The fact that this man is as hard as he is when he’s this good looking is the biggest compliment in the world. You wrap his lips in a kiss again, your tongue peeking out to lick across his lip, managing to tug yet another moan out of him. You relish in the tone, the whimper that follows right after it. He really isn’t afraid to tell you how much he is enjoying what the two of you are doing.

As you continue to explore his tequila-scented mouth, both of his hands cup your ass, feeling his limber fingers bunch up the fabric of the bright green dress you’re wearing. He takes his time, giving you every minute to communicate any second thoughts. You moan impatiently, encouraging him to get under there already.

He chuckles, pulling the rest of the material up swiftly. His fingers grab at the skin of your barely covered ass cheeks roughly, the friction burning in the best way. A whimper escapes your throat, your mouth filling with the taste of him as your tongues meet. You’re sure he’s gripping those cheeks hard enough to bruise, not that you mind.

An increasing need has been growing since you first laid eyes on him, the need for him to touch you in the most sinful of ways. While his touch on your ass is electric, you are ready for much more. Your whimpers echo the thought, feeling needy for more of his touch, your hip movements going from fluid and purposeful to rigid and needy.

“What do you need, hmm?” He asks in-between kisses, one hand pushing up your dress to your waist as it caresses your bare hip. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“Need you to touch me,” the thought leaves your lips without your permission. How dare your brain betray you like that?

Eddie starts to kiss at your jaw, switching between nibbles and his tongue deliciously lapping at the skin. “Like how?” He asks in intervals, his voice soft, yet demanding. “Like this?” He grabs harshly at your ass, nails digging into the soft flesh. “Like this?” He asks again, tingles radiating down your skin as he lightly grazes your hip bone. “Or…like this?” His hand that rested on your hip bone flutters down to where heat radiates off your core, getting a feel of your soaked panties. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking wet.” He mutters, putting some pressure at the top of your mound.

Your hips start desperately grinding against his fingers, needing him to touch you. “Can you blame me?” You ask him, breath stuttering through it.

“Are you trying to flatter me?” He asks, pausing his pressure momentarily and backing off to study you. You stutter through an empty response, and he laughs kindly. “Cause flattery works, sweetheart.” His fingers move past the cotton barrier he's been making small circles against, delicately tracing along the wetness of your folds. You’re so slick, it’s like a damn slip and slide. The moment his fingers make contact with you, they’re soaked and in your juices.

“Oh shit—” you stutter, grinding on him helplessly. You can barely focus, your arms weak as you’re suddenly unable to hold your weight as you collapse on him. He's not touching you purposely, but just the feel of him sends a ripple down your spine. “Feels good.”

“Hmm.” He answers, noting the way you’re writhing so beautifully on top of him. He knew he would have you in a mess. In fact, he looked forward to it from the moment he saw you. He meticulously moves you onto your back, taking in your wide-eyed stare with a smirk. “Gonna take these off.” He mutters, fingers moving to the waistband of your panties. “Need a good look at you.”

You’re not entirely sure what he means until you see the look on his face as he stares at your pussy for the first time. His darkened stare, the slack smile he wears as he stares at you. Well not you, just the most vulnerable part of you. You’ve had a bit of experience in high school, but no one ever looked at your pussy like this. Like…it’s…

“Beautiful.” Eddie whispers, licking his lips. You watch him as he takes you in, admiring how wanted he makes you feel. Without a warning he lurches forward in between your legs, his tongue licking one long strip up your slick. Your thighs convulse, the pleasure so red hot, you can’t control the choked-out moan that escapes your lips if you tried. “Oh, you’re shaking, baby.”

His tongue moves more purposely to your clit, sucking on it and tapping with his tongue repeatedly. Your thighs clamp around his face, tensing up as every goddamn nerve is set on fire. You feel a slight huff of laughter against your puffy clit, the breath tickling you, causing you to giggle from the sensation. The giggle leads into a whimper, the small movements of his tongue sending you into overdrive. “Feels so—oh my god—I—” You stutter, unable to finish a single sentence.

He tugs your legs, forcing your knees against your chest to get even closer. A fierce heat starts in your stomach, startling the hell out of you. A great build slowly moves you, pushing you step by step over a high you’ve never reached before. Your stomach has never coiled so tightly, the heat never so intense. “Too much, too much.”

“You’re almost there, sweetheart.” He encourages you, watching every muscle in your legs tighten and feeling your abdomen tighten and release. “Oh, it’s gonna feel so good, baby. Wanna see you cum for me, see you fall apart, hear that pretty little mouth make the prettiest noises.”

Eddie slips a finger in, pumping it slowly at first, building up the speed quickly as he continues sucking. There’s something in you telling you to be embarrassed at how quickly your orgasm has snuck up on you, but from the foreplay of his expert lips and the mind-numbing words, it only makes sense.

“Cl-close…” You manage out, the heat making your way through your body, even making a stop in your head.

“Let me see you come apart, sweetheart.” He tells you, working his fingers at an unmatched rate.

The sensation sends you over the edge, your extremities shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a near primal moan leaves your mouth, a sound you didn’t even know you had the capability of making.

It takes you a minute to recover, Eddie working you through your whole orgasm and gently kissing your thighs until you come back to. He’s patient, waiting until your breathing slows down, kissing his way up your half-dressed torso. Eddie rests his body on yours, the tent in his pants meeting the heat of your center as his forearms support his weight on either side of your head. His thumbs sway at your temple, slowly watching as your eyes lose their glaze.

Your vision finally focuses back on him, his soft smile on his face welcoming as he watches you. His legs tense up, his muscles spasming as he resists thrusting into your heat. It’s teasing you, your hips accidentally moving upwards to meet the now wet stain on his polyester costume. “You’re wearing too much.” You tell him, whining softly.

“I’m sorry, should I take these off?” He asks, kissing you rapidly on the face right after. “Or if you’re done, I don’t blame you.”

“Done?” You ask incredulously. “Oh no, I’m not even close to done.” You tell him, giggling when he gives you a smirk.

“Just checking, sweetheart.” Eddie replies, kissing you rapidly again.

You’re finally back on earth, your hands reaching around him to look for where his costume opens. You had a feeling it would open from the back. You pull each Velcro apart one by one, your hands telling you as you move down that he’s not wearing anything underneath. You don't know if it's odd or the hottest thing in the world. Both, definitely both.

Your nails scratch at his skin at the last one, finally taking the shoulders off. You gasp as he helps you take out each arm awkwardly, only because you could finally see all the tattoos that his costume has covered up. “Holy shit.” You mutter, hands reaching out to palm at each one.

As he mouths at your neck, you push the rest of his costume down, figuring out it was a one piece. Ok. Steve might’ve been right about calling him a dork. But with his cunnilingus skills, who fucking cares? “You wanna fuck?” He asks, making his way down your neck, one hickey at a time.

You wrap your legs around his waist, tugging him down so the thin fabric meets your soaked pussy even harder. “Please?”

“When you ask so nicely, how could I deny?” He answers, leaving one last final nibble on your shoulder. He gets up without a warning, and you whine pathetically. “Jus’ takin off my pants sweetheart. Can’t put my dick in you if it’s still covered.”

You watch him pull down his pants, teasing you as it makes its way down his torso, his treasure trail, the v-line, you start drooling the moment his cock pops out. You figured he was big from his bulge pressed against you, but the material was apparently holding him back from his true length. You spend a good minute staring at it, how pink the head is, how thick he looks, it made you nearly feral.

“Enjoying the show?” Eddie asks. You glance back up at his face, heating up when you realize you've stared a lot longer than planned.

“Mmmhmm.” You tell him, not seeing any need to deny.

He lurches forward onto the bed, yanking giggles out of you. His hands roughly move up your torso to take your dress off, moving it over your head. He throws it over his shoulder, eyes raking in your tits like they’re in the Louvre. Hell, he’d take a polaroid and hang it there, despite the risk of security arresting and escorting him out immediately after.

“You are fucking gorgeous, baby.” He mutters, leaning into one of your tits mouthing at the nipple delicately, grazing it with his teeth, turning the mound into a shade of purple.

You can’t help yourself, reaching down to grab his cock. “Need you in me.” You urge him, smiling when he lets out a surprised whimper.

“Fucking—” he stutters out, biting on his lip. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I can do that.” He laughs, and before you have a moment to admire how adorable that was, you feel him line himself up. “Shit, you’re fucking tight.”

You can feel exactly what he means, the head barely pushing in. Even with how wet you are, Eddie's having difficulty pushing into you. Your mouth drops open, panting through it at the blinding pain and pleasure. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust. “Feels so goddamn good, Ed.” You gasp, blindly reaching for him.

Blindly, because your eyes are unable to stay open from the sheer pleasure that has taken over your body.

“I know, baby I know.” He whispers, holding one hand to your face.

“Ok.”

He pushes in more, eliciting a high-pitched whine out of you. “You have any idea how fucking hot those little noises that you make are?” He asks, his voice husky and strained.

You laugh at his successful attempt at flattery, causing him to whine at the way your pussy tightens around him in sync. “Keep going.”

He pushes in a little bit more, your legs tensing around his torso as the noise caught in your throat is even louder. “You’re taking me so well, baby, what a good girl.” You tighten up at his praise, provoking Eddie to get the idea that praise is something that you desire. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you, my good girl?” You tighten around him again, Eddie twitching in you as a response.

“More.” You manage out, your voice guttural. He pushes in just a little bit more. “Oh my god, you’re in my fucking stomach, so fucking deep!” You whine, eyes closed as you pulse around him.

“Just a little bit more, baby. You’re doing so well, such a good girl.”

“More.”

He pushes the rest of his cock in, finally able to rest his body on yours. You take your time adjusting to his size, inhaling, and exhaling with purpose as the pain subsides. “That’s a girl, take your time.” He mutters, watching you carefully.

“Kiss me please.” You whisper, opening your eyes to face the intensity radiating from his chocolate brown ones. He leans in for a lush kiss, your legs wrapping around him to pull him in tightly. His hand moves to your tit, playing with the nipple between two of his fingers. Your tongues meet, somehow knowing exactly what the other needs. “You can move now.” You whisper in between kisses.

Eddie, apparently a master at multitasking, lifts his hips without so much as stuttering in the kiss. You expected him to stop, but the new mix of sensation throws you off intensely. His first thrust causes you to shout directly into his mouth. You’re much more prepared for the second thrust, however unprepared for the force behind it. “Yeah?” He asks, pulling back and staring into your eyes.

You nod enthusiastically. “So good. Cock feels…so good.” You whine to him, legs unable to continue holding onto him as tight as they were. Now they’re floating in the air aimlessly, unable to focus on much except for how good and how deep he is. “How…this good?” The question you meant to ask was how he was so good at fucking like this, but your mouth was unable to form a single coherent sentence.

“Barely been in you for a minute, and you’re already cock-drunk, huh?” He borderline mocks you, fucking you faster with each thrust.

You grunt in response, fully accepting the label of cock drunk. “So…good, Eddie!” It’s just…fucking true, which is the only rational thought in your brain for the moment. Others are So Hot, and Big Ass Cock, and finally, Gorgeous fucking body.

“Your pretty pussy is so tight, baby, bein’ such a good girl for me.” Eddie sits up, pulling your ass down to where he can fuck you in a better position where he can hit your g-spot. He rests a hand sideways on your lower tummy, putting slight pressure on it. This sends a blinding hot pleasure into you as he repeatedly hits that spot.

“F-fuck, get-getting cl-close…” you stutter, feeling your tits bounce at the sheer force he's fucking you with.

“This is fucking embarrassing, but so am I, baby.” He mutters, starting to go at a faster rate, which you would've deemed impossible a few seconds ago. “Your pussy is so fucking good, can’t fuckin’ help myself.”

You half giggle, half moan at the flattery, not minding for one moment that he would cum so quickly. After all, he spent the first half paying most of his attention to you, so you understand if he's been pent up. While that is the reality of why, you can’t help but feel like hot shit for making someone as fantastic as Eddie cum so fast. His stamina and willingness to give on top of how gorgeous he is does nothing but boost your ego.

“Cum with me.” You beg him, also on the edge. “Cum in me.”

“Oh my god—” you make his hips stutter, and you smile with pride. “You sure, baby?” He asks, trying to make sure he covers his tracks.

“Cum in me, please, daddy!” It leaves your mouth before you’re unable to stop it, the daddy kink not quite something you break out on the first fuck most of the time.

Eddie, however, is a different breed. He meets the unexpected outburst with a growl, and you swear his cock twitches inside of you. “Of course, baby girl, whatever you want.” He grunts out. “Daddy is gonna fill you the fuck up.” He lurches forward so he’s skin on skin with you again so he can whisper in your ear. “When we go back downstairs, I’m gonna keep your panties, and you're gonna dance with my cum dripping down your fucking legs.” You tighten up around him, telling Eddie this is exactly what you wanted from him. The sweet mixture of praise and degradation makes your head spin with need. “You like that, huh? Of course, you’d like that you fucking slut.” His hips rut harshly against yours and at a stupid crazy speed. “If I catch you trying to clean yourself up, you’re gonna fucking hear about it, got it?”

You nod, entirely thrilled about this.

“Didn’t fuckin hear you, slut.”

“Got it, daddy.” You answer, right on the edge.

“You gonna cum with me, baby girl?” He asks, his voice strained.

“Mmhmm. Waiting for you.”

“Good fucking girl. I’m so close…fuck…gonna—” Eddie is interrupted by his own orgasm, which sends you over the edge with him. It’s not as intense as your last one, so you’re able to pay extra attention to the look on his face. His mouth half open, a deep moan leaving his throat. Oh god, you’ll definitely be remembering this next time it’s only you and your imagination.

He collapses on you, his chest and forehead covered in sweat. The only sound in the air is you and Eddie catching your breath together. Your breath is finally back in your lungs, but your heart is still racing against his chest. He suddenly sits himself back on his forearms, petting at your forehead and hair gently. “Fuck, please go out with me on Saturday.” He whispers, quietly assessing the expression you wear on your face.

“Huh?” You ask him, unsure you heard him correctly.

“Go out with me on Saturday. Please, I can’t fuck a pussy this good and not take you out on a hot date.” He mutters softly, placing the gentlest of kisses on your lips.

“If you think I’m letting you go after this, you’re fucking insane.” You whisper back, framing his face to grab it for another lush kiss.

Eddie sighs, petting your hair. “Thank fucking god.” He pulls out of you, tugging a whimper out of you. He gives one last kiss, before moving down your torso. You almost ask what he was doing, when you feel two of his fingers push inside you quickly.

Your head jerks up, wondering what in the ever-living hell he's doing.

“Just helping by pushing the cum back in you, baby. Wanted to give you at least a fighting chance before it starts dripping down these stunning thighs of yours.” He places a wet kiss on your thigh, one last quiver radiating through it. “You good to stand up?”

“Hope so.” You laugh, scooching your ass down the plain comforter. Eddie tosses you your dress and gets dressed back into his cheap costume himself.

You assess Eddie, fixing his hair so he doesn’t look so disheveled. “You realize my lipstick is all over your neck and face, right?” You ask him, assessing him in all his post-nut glory. How the fuck is anyone this hot?

“Didn't I tell you earlier that I'm gonna wear this shit with pride, darlin?” He asks you, giving you a smile that makes you melt. “Wanna go downstairs and make-out on Steve's dad’s stupid chair?”

“If we make out I might wanna blow you.” You admit, the effects of the alcohol and the level of his hotness has still completely taken over your brain.

Eddie groans, and you swear his pupils dilate. “Fuck, I’ll take you into the nearest hallway closet if that happens, then you can get on your knees and suck my cock off like a good girl. You just tell me, yeah?”

You giggle as he opens the door and you nod enthusiastically, pretty much already in your head that hooking up with Eddie is nowhere near done.

When you reach the bottom of the steps, Eddie tugs on your hand straight to the leather chair in the corner, having you sit across his lap as his tongue makes its way down your throat again.

Eventually, after a mere ten minutes of teasing, Eddie has to lead you to a hallway closet, where yes, you worship him on your knees with his treasure trail meeting your nose.

That was the best fucking Halloween, ever.

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader

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hoshieeyewrinkles · 8 months

Text

• Nct dream as bad boys falling in love with you. •

♡ Notes. Alt. When you are the good girl who fell in love with them.

♡ Cheesy as hell.

♡ stereotypical bad boy and good girl.

♡ Fluff. Fluff. Fluff.

♡ Reader is innocent and sometimes a dumbass

♡ Not requested [ requests are open tho. Pls go through my pinned post before requesting]

Mark

~ randomass bad boy

~ spots you during recess in the hallways.

~ could not stop thinking about you after that, your cute keychain hanging off your bag, the little giggles you let out with your looser friends as he calls them. All had him going crazy

~ waits in the same hallway everyday even though he doesn't have any classes there, only to glance at you.

~ grins like an idiot after you shyly smiled at him once.

~ "you are such a creep, mark." "shut up haechan"

~ he finally asked you out one day after some great encouragement from his friends ( haechan threatening him to ask you out or else he will) . Was nervous that you might get scared because of his eyebrow piercings and bad reputation.

~ was surprised that you accepted, looking at him with doe eyes and a cute grin. He fell harder before he could even process your reply.

~ his life improves because of you. Your pouts and little scoldings you give him for not wearing a helmet or coming late. It all made him change as he avoided everything bad to make you happy.

~ "I'm sorry angel, I didn't mean to come late. Don't be mad please" Screaming.

Renjun

~ certified tsundere

~ found you so annoying at first. Why did you have to finish all the work at time and be such a good girl?

~ and why the fuck did you have you have to walk around with your gaze down? Can't you look forward for fuck's sake?

~ everything you did kinda annoyed him at first and yet he couldn't understand why he made sure no one bullied you or laughed at you.

~ glares at anyone who looks at you for long time.

~ "she is so fucking annoying, walking around cutely with that stupid banana milk like tf" "renjun you are in love with her"

~ realises he has a crush on you. Panics. Gets more annoyed.

~ walks you home one day making you confused. Carries your books. Sits beside you in every class you guys share. Lends you his leather jacket when you are cold. Brings you banana milk everyday.

~ you're confused but you can't help but feel all giddy in your stomach when he acts like that. You give him a cupcake one day.

~ he stared at it the entire class. He is not gonna eat it. He'll preserve it forever.

~ you pecked his cheek one day to calm him down as he ruthlessly punched a boy after he made fun of you

~ pulls you into a kiss in front of everyone.

~ chuckles so sweetly when you blush. You take his bruised hands in yours worriedly all while he stares at you as if you are his entire world. (Which you are)

~ "No one's ever gonna hurt you, princess. I love you so fucking much."

Jeno

~ Bad boy next door

~ you are his neighbour. All he does is blast loud music with his friends creating ruckus in his backyard. His parents are always out of town.

~ you are the new girl who moved next door with your strict parents.

~ he watches you watering your plants everyday. Notices the little glances you threw at his way and how you stammer to reply when he waves hi at you with a lazy smirk on his face. "Whatcha looking at sweetheart?"

~ he finds so you so fucking adorable.

~ throws away his cigarettes whenever you catch him smoking, you don't mind but he doesn't want to scare you. So he tries to change his appearance, hides his tattoos and piercings.

~ frankly, he doesn't understand why tf he cares so much about what you think but he can't stop thinking about you. Especially after you gazed at him with the softest eyes when he came home bruised. Asking him to come inside your home so you can bandage him.

~ he knew you had very present and strict parents (something which he can't relate to) yet you still took the risk to call him in.

~ he straight up confesses to you one fine day when you were aiding his bruises (a little routine between you guys when your parents aren't home)

~ he climbs through your bedroom window even if your parents are present. He doesn't give two fucks. All he wants to do is see his angel. "I haven't seen you since yesterday princess, let me have a look please"

~ you accept his confession without hesitance and reassures him that you don't care about his appearance and he doesn't need to change himself.

~ he falls in love with you harder than ever, god forbid if jeno even sees a scratch on you. You're his little treasure, his everything. He will fight against the world for you, will jump in the fire for you.

~ "come on baby, don't scold your nono pls" a true Samoyed.

Haechan

~ resident's bad boy.

~ has the most gaze ever, looks like he is the scariest person alive but is actually a little tease.

~ don't think he doesn't throw punches tho, beats the shit out of people just for leaning on his bike.

~ spots you in the midnight carrying a tub of ice cream in your hand, walking out of the supermarket. Yeah he thought you were a dumbass to walk alone at midnight.

~ tries to ignore you but fails when he spots creepy looking guys following you. They start to corner you and haechan sighs before stepping in.

~ takes out his pocket knife and the guys starts sprinting away. Haechan turns back expecting you to look at him with fear but was surprised to find you staring at him with jaw open and flushed cheeks. "what the fuck are you? A damsel in distress?"

~ he kinda roasted you but you didn't care, shyly thanking him. He scoffs before asking you to hop on his motorcycle.

~ drops you home and asks your name. He chants your name in his mind after that.

~ you were pleasantly surprised to find him near the same supermarket the next day, turns out he has his little garage there. "What's up princess? wanted to see me again, yeah?"

~ after that he looks forward to your little meet ups. He lifts you up and puts you on his motorcycle seat while he fixes the engine. Mentally gushing at how cute you look with your little brain trying to understand what he is doing. "Yes this definitely looks like a donut princess"

~ lets you ramble about the books you read and even tries reading them so he can talk about more stuff with you.

~ confesses to you on a random thursday under scorching heat near his garage. Kisses you so passionately when you smile at him, not needing to hear any other words.

~ "Princess, you got some grease on your nose." Literally will do anything for you.

Jaemin

~ weirdass bad boy

~ sells weed and anyone can tell that he is a high mf all the time.

~ you were dared by your friends to buy weed. (They tricked you to buy it for them)

~ you nervously went near Jaemin who sells weed in the basement of some sus building.

~ he looked so scary at first glance but gave you the sweetest smile once he looked at you.

~ he knew you were too innocent and nice to buy this shit so he tried to talk you out. Finds you so adorable as you stammer to reply. Eventually you didn't buy because he convinced you. "Good girls don't do such things, sweetheart."

~ Jaemin later wondered why he didn't let you buy it when he could have gotten some good cash but something inside him just melted when he saw your big orbs.

~ after a few days you were pressurized again by your fakeass friends to go inside his basement while they waited outside. Jaemin was surprised to see you again but the disappointment on his face was real when you asked him for weed again.

~ he goes out of the basement and gives the deadliest glare at your friends who then proceeds to run away.

~ "what did I tell you last time princess?"

~ you became friends with him after that and he protects you all the time. Picks you up and drops you home. Makes sure no mf comes near you.

~ eventually he stopped doing all the shady shit, though he didn't change his shady appearance because duh he is a bad boy. He did it all for you cause you deserve a good person and even though he is not one, he will try his best to be one for you.

~ takes you to ice cream dates every weekend and one day you confess to him. He went quiet for a few moments before looking at you deep in the eyes and gave you the same sweet smile again.

~ is the most clingy and softest boyfriend ever. So protective and treats you as if you were made of glass.

~ "No doll, don't lift such heavy things. You will get hurt, go sit there and let me do it."

Chenle

~ didn't even know people considered him bad news. He thought everyone loved him.

~ he is a brat, does what he wants and gets what he wants. Frankly just enjoying his life in the most rebellious way as possible.

~ he does illegal car races and that's how he finds you there among all the rich brats, though you weren't one. You were just here to accompany your friends.

~ realises he never saw you here before. Comes over and tries to flirt with you but was surprised to see you acting all shy and nervous.

~ knows you weren't meant to be here "You shouldn't be here in places like this unless your family is influential enough. Let me drop you home cutie"

~ drops you home in his sports car and asks for your number.

~ at first he just wanted to flirt around with you but days went by and he couldn't stop thinking about your little nerd talks.

~ you were such a breath of fresh air in his life. He didn't even want to take you to his car races because it's full of shady people and you are his sweet angel who shouldn't be in the eyes of such people.

~ but after you gave him your puppy eyes, he just couldn't refuse "Alright princess, don't talk to anyone and just stay here with jisung."

~ comes to you after every race he wins and you confess to him.

~ "what do you mean? I thought you were already mine?" Asksksk he genuinely thought you guys were

~ kisses you passionately after every race he wins.

~ he never thought he would want to settle down in life but he can't stop thinking about you as his bride, you are his future and his final dream.

~ "Do you even realise how precious you are to me?"

Jisung

~ the most quietest and minds his own business type of guy.

~ you were the one who developed a crush on him first after seeing him in the hallways with his leather jacket on and a small smirk on his face while talking to his friends.

~ all he does is hang out with his little friend group and beats people who annoy him. he was very mysterious tho.

~ you pass by the same hallway everyday to see him. You were sure he didn't even know you existed but you were so wrong.

~ he noticed your shy glances and cute nature everyday. He just ignores you because he feels he is bad news for you.

~ yet he feels himself smiling at random times thinking about your pretty smile. "Fuck she is so cute"

~ realises he should stop and one day gives you the iciest glare making you think he finds you annoying.

~ so you stop passing by the same hallway and don't look at him anymore.

~ he feels shit because he didn't mean to scare you. Asks for advice from his hyungs. They hollered and cheered because he finally developed a crush on someone. "Our jisung finally grew up awwww" "hyung please shut the fuck up"

~ he doesn't have a crush tho. He is straightass in love with you.

~ one day comes to you with a bouquet of roses and confesses in the most nervous tone ever.

~ your both faces were in the same colour as the roses. So cute omg

~ after that day you were known to be jisung's girl and everyone knew better than to mess with you.

~ you guys are the most cheesy and disgustingly cute couple. Often the target of his hyungs teasings. "I love you angel." "I could have lived my entire life without hearing those nicknames." "Haechan hyung please."

~ you tutor him sitting on his lap everyday while he nuzzles his face in your neck. "Stop kissing me ji"

~ "I'm sorry love, you are just so fucking adorable"

[That's it I have fed your guys delusions enough for today]

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bunnys-kisses · 13 days

Note

Hii, I love your works so much, so after a while of reading I decided to make a request.<3

Can I please get a mushroom pie (so preferably EtL), pull-apart bread and a souffle, along with a side of sparkling water and dark hot chocolate? For Max Verstappen please!

bakery menu

want to request an order? then check out the menu! there are all kinds of items to choose from. thank you to everyone who has submitted orders over the past almost two months i've been writing these! they're a lot of fun and what ya'll come up with is amazing! so thank you! for this order in particular, i am liking what i'm seeing. i had to google that 'etl' was because i didn't know. and it's enemies-to-lovers! so perfect! i hope you enjoy!

mushroom pie ("if you don't shut up. i'm going to shut you up.") + pull-apart bread ("i love you") + souffle (i'll be gentle.") + sparkling water (gentle sex) + dark hot chocolate (sub!reader) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, enemies-to-lovers, redbull mechanic!reader, gentle sex, sub!reader, dom/sub, praise kink, max's pace is gentle but his words are mean, car sex, misuse of an f1 car

max thought you ruined the car. and you thought max ruined the car. either way max ended the dutch grand prix in fifth. a sputtering mess of a car hauled back to the garage for you to tinker at. with horner in one ear, max in the other and the head mechanic in the back of your head. you often thought about jumping ship to anywhere else.

if you had to become a bike mechanic in some small town in southern france then so be it. because at least you wouldn't want to wrap your hands around max verstappen's thick throat.

the two of you had a tense relationship. ever since you got into the garage, he stopped winning. while it wasn't your fault, max had pinned it on you. which meant you often got a face full of his biting words.

"do you enjoy fucking me over?" he asked. it was late into the evening and the teams were gone for the night. but not you, never you. you worked yourself to the bone. so when max got into the garage and saw you bent over the car. he could only walk forward.

"if i did, i wouldn't be working for your team, huh?" you replied as you continued to tinker. your ass was sloped up as you were bent over the car, "how about you stop driving like an insane person and we'd actually win."

you could feel him behind you. your ass was enticing and soon max had himself up against you. you swallowed.

"i swear to god max-" you barked.

"if you don't shut up. i'm going to shut you up. you're supposed to make me a winner." he said, "i know you hate me, but.. one snap of my fingers." he leaned over you, pinning you further against his beloved formula one car.

"you'll have me killed."

max made a face with his chin against the back of your shoulder, "no. but, i'll send you back to the little town you grew up in and make sure you never step foot on a track ever again." it was domineering. max did hold a great deal of power. and while he was all smiles for the camera, you knew something deeper. something darker.

"then why keep me now?"

max took the leap and kissed the side of your neck, "i like things with promise. like an investment. i see a lot of potential in you. when you're not fucking me over. when you make me win." his breath was hot against your skin.

you squirmed a little bit, "max."

"shh, shh, shh. stay there. under me. let me fuck you." there was a tinge of tenderness buried underneath it all, "let me fuck you against me car and you can learn exactly how it works."

he knew that you liked him. or held some feelings for him other than malice. you blabbed about it to another mechanic over drinks. your voice loud enough the the likes of lewis hamilton and george russell heard you. which got its way back to max.

"i've never done this before."

he sighed, "of course you haven't." he felt the anger leave his chest. but what remained was a residue of how he felt about you. deep down he was still the immature teen who loved racing. so of course when he liked a girl, he was going to pull on her proverbial pigtails. he looked down at you, those blue eyes held a lot of power, " well then. i guess i'll be gentle." he said like a promise.

you nodded and started to get your coveralls off when max gave you the space. he was certain you weren't going to run off. you said, "everyone should be gone for the night. but just make sure the door is locked." it was the entrance for staff while the entrance for the car was already locked for the night. tomorrow everything would be hauled to the next location. team would pack up and it was onto the next race. max did as you asked, he wasn't a monster. at least not all the time.

as you stripped naked for him, words died on his tongue. oh. while he said you were an investment of a mechanic. seeing you out of those bulky clothes made something stir in his brain. the words that pushed forward but never came out were, "i love you". maybe a bit of a jump from words said earlier, but he admired you. when he pushed, you pushed back. when he bore teeth, you did the same.

and to have you soon naked over the hood of his stupid yet beloved race car excited him. he undid the fly of his pants and took his leather belt off. he admired your figure up against the car. there was a straight to you, but also a softness.

it was going to take a lot in him to be gentle with you.

"are you sure you're a virgin, mechanic?" he asked as he got his cock out. the sight of your slick cunt so close made him feel hot all over. he rubbed his cock up against you, "are you taking anything? or does your boss keep condoms in a drawer for special occasions."

you swallowed, pressed up against your mechanical pride and joy. about to be fucked by a man who bickering with you at every turn. you replied, "i am. i just didn't have the time to... fuck. and yes, i'm on the pill. can't trust half of your kind sometimes."

he rubbed his cock up against you, "my kind? those are harsh words there, little mechanic." he heard you groan a little at the feeling of his cock just prodding up against your pussy,

you held onto the car as much as you could, and bit your lip as he slowly pushed himself into you. you felt the air leave your lungs as you arched your back from the feeling of it all.

laid out naked on the hood of one of the most expensive pieces of machinery on the planet being fucked by the driver of said piece of machinery. you moaned a little bit as he took your virginity.

his hands on your hips as he fully sank into your sweet sex. he shuddered, he had slept with many people before, but you were different. there was something about you that scratched the right part of his brain. it was a stimulation that made him yearn for more.

you were in trouble there little one because now that max got a taste of your cunt, he was going to try and get it every chance he had. he curved over you and continued to move against you.

"kiss the hood." he said, "i want to see you kiss it. worship it like you would be." his tongue felt heavy and his words were loose as he continued to fuck you against the car. "maybe if you show it come love, you'll be less likely to abuse it."

you whimpered when he dragged against a particular spot. you tried to find your voice as you said, "maybe you should kiss it, since you use and abuse all my hard work."

"ah, ah, ah." he said as he laid a single slap across your ass cheek, "that's not how you talk to me, mechanic. you show some respect to your driver." a weird dom/sub dynamic with a glazing of car talk. it made you feel like you were burning. he leaned in closer to your ear once more, shoving every centimeter into your poor cunt, "next time

while his pace was gentle, his words were biting. he saw how you reacted to it. being treated as a little less than because you were only a faceless mechanic in the crowd while max was on every formula one poster in the world.

he kept an eye on you, for any noises of discomfort. he didn't want to brutalize you. but, your moans were so sweet that they lit up his brain like the fourth of july. and when you eventually gave two kissed to the hood of the car, he felt a tingle run up his spine.

you were just full of surprises weren't you.

you got into the rhythm of moving against him. your noises got a little louder as the two of you fucked on top of the hood of the car. you could feel its parts against your heated skin. the vehicle that you worked so hard on pressed against your bare tits as max verstappen fucked you heavily.

but it didn't last long, you didn't have much time. eventually you'd be locked in the track and have to awkwardly wait out till morning. you were the fist to finish, tensing up before you felt one last moan roll off your tongue. a sign of a good first time. max was close behind you, holding on a little tighter to you as he dragged his cock in and out of you. he kept an open ear for your soft moans and you gripped onto the car tighter.

you looked good.

he finished inside of you and prayed that the little pill you took every morning worked and there would be issues down the line. he could feel the heat in his cheeks and the sweat causing his t-shirt to cling to his back. he panted heavily over you, wanting to have more of you. but a few noises outside the garage made him pull back like you were on fire.

"we gotta-"

"go." you finished his sentence before you started to find your clothes. you thought this was a one night stand situation before max shoved his phone in your face and asked if you two could go out sometime.

your face went hotter as you tried to focus at the task at hand. you hastily put in your number and got your coveralls back on. when your were clothed once more, max leaned in and kissed you on the cheek.

he was almost tender as he said, "go back to your hotel, enough with the car. we'll fix whatever we need tomorrow." then got himself back into his jeans.

you scampered off back to your hotel, fleeing the scene before one of the janitors or whoever found the two of you. you hoped the smell of sex mixed with motor oil would be cleared out by tomorrow.

it wasn't until you got back to your hotel room to change for the night that you weren't wearing any underwear. the rush of getting dressed left the pretty cotton panties in the garage. you could picture the soft red material draped over someone's tools.

your eyes went wide. oh fuck. <3

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thetriumphantpanda · 10 months

Text

i saw mommy kissing santa claus | joel miller

Summary | Your daughter catches you kissing santa... or does she?

Word Count | 1.3K

Warnings | Mentions of traditional Christmas (A tree, gift giving ect), Joel dressed as Santa, Joel being a daddy again, Joel AS A HUSBAND, smut but not super explicit - oral sex (f) and unprotected PiV, just general fluff really.

Authors note | Firstly, I have to give a huge shoutout to @wildemaven - the Dave York piece she posted recently definitely inspired this little Drabble, along with being stuck in a car with my bestie for three hours with the Christmas radio blaring. This is just some sweet Christmas fluff for us all!

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

amazing divider by @saradika

The way the snow flurries fall outside are still a wonder to you, even after seven years of winters in Jackson. The warmth you remember from Christmas before the end of the world is a distant memory now, the open windows and the light breeze of December now replaced with the biting cold and the four layers you must wear inside your home to keep as warm as possible. It’s magical though, the way it looks picture perfect, just like the movies you would watch back then. If you could, you’d take a photo of it, use it as the family Christmas card.

Turning around from the window, the room is bathed in the orange glow from the fire you set a few hours earlier. The lamp, on Joel’s side of the couch is also helping, as are the frosty lights wrapped haphazardly around the tree, in making it feel normal. Because really it is. This has been your life for the past five years, putting up a tree, setting small gifts under it like you always had before all of this. The three stockings set above the fireplace, ready to be filled in the next few hours – the precursor of joy the following morning.

Sofia had thankfully gone to bed with little fuss tonight. Finally old enough to understand that the earlier she went to sleep, the earlier she could wake up to find out if Santa had paid her a visit. She hadn’t been planned, but then when were children ever a plan in this new world? You’d been scared, Joel had been terrified, but in the end, she had been the most wonderful thing to happen to the both of you.

You settle on the couch, letting the warmth from the fire soothe the aches that the cold now settles across your bones. You’re almost able to fall asleep, when, with clockwork timing, Joel tears open the front door, a flurry of snow and cold following him in as he closes it behind him. You struggled to stifle a giggle as you turn to look at him.

Dressed head to toe in a Santa costume that is far too big for him, not enough time for the town seamstress to do anything other than pin the sides of the trousers in. The hat on his head is almost covering his eyes, his hand pushing it back to sit properly, as he deposits the sack, once full of tiny gifts but now empty, on the ground. He’s got a fake beard on to cover most of his face so that none of the children that did see him would know it was Joel.

“Wow,” You muse lightly, standing from the couch, “I thought it was customary to wait for everyone to go to sleep before you turned up?”

There’s a slight grumble from under his beard as you step closer to him, watching as he pulls the fake beard down to sit around his neck, his beautiful face finally revealed. You set your back against the closed door, leaning against it, fluttering your eyelashes slightly.

“Did you bring us presents, Santa?” You ask, voice sultry and low.

“Depends,” Joel says, voice just as low, “Have you been a good girl this year?”

That low, southern drawl shoots straight between your legs, thighs rubbing together as you shrug at him, wrinkle your nose a little, “You’d have to ask my husband.”

You watch as he smirks, steps a little closer to you, his gloved hand wrapping around your waist, “What would he say?”

“That I can be a handful,” You bite at your bottom lip, “But ultimately, I always do as I’m told.”

Joel leans down, as slowly as possible, mouth so close you can feel his breath across your lips, your body tugged closely to his own now, “Well then,” He muses, “If you’ve been a good girl, it’s only right you get your gift.”

His mouth is on yours in no time, softly pressed against yours, his hand clutching your body close to his as you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing up on your tiptoes so your mouth is finally flush with his own. You open your mouths at the same time, tongues meeting as Joel groans into your mouth, hands pulled from your body just long enough to tear the gloves off his hands, shoving them straight under the hem of your shirt, resting at your waist to move you gently from the door to the couch.

He sets you down on your back, fumbling his big body to cover yours as those hands of his work to undo your jeans - tearing them down your legs enough so he can put his mouth on you. You feel weirdly like a teenager, fumbling with someone on the couch like this, biting down on your fist in order to keep quiet as Joel’s tongue works across your soaked cunt, drinking you down, tipping you over the edge twice with his mouth - the second, with his fingers buried deep inside you - trying to keep yourself as quiet as you can, you know the other option is waking your daughter and having to spend the rest of the night trying to get her to go back to sleep.

It gets harder to hold that noise in when Joel pulls you onto his lap, trousers pushed down just enough for you to sink down onto his cock, that stupid Santa jacket unbuttoned, pushed off his shoulders, your mouth biting down on his skin as he fucks up into you, his hands gripping the meat of your ass to keep you still.

It’s messy, it lasts probably less than five minutes, Joel spilling himself inside of you, your mouth pulled from his shoulder, bite mark evident as he moves you gently, puts himself right so he can carry you up the stairs, tuck you both into bed, his warm body next to yours as you both drift off to sleep, sated and happy.

Then, the next morning, with Sofia on her knees in front of the tree, you sat on the couch, curled into Joel’s side with a smile on your face at the elation your daughter finds in tearing the paper off her gifts, she says something no-one expects.

“Daddy?” She says, big brown eyes looking up at the two of you.

“Yes, Darlin’?”

“Mommy was kissing Santa last night.”

You almost choke on your coffee, spluttering to try and keep your composure, praying to the Almighty that it was just the kissing she saw. Joel though, is cool as a cucumber.

“Is that right?” He asks, looking down at you with a wink.

“Yeah!” Sofia exclaims, “I saw her last night.”

“You were supposed to be in bed.” You chastise her lightly, “What were you doing up?”

“I heard the door open,” She says, so matter-of-factly that it’s like having a conversation with an adult, “I wanted to meet him.”

“Well, you see,” Joel speaks, “Sometimes, to get your presents from Santa, he’s gotta ask for somethin’ in return, all that travellin’ in one night and he sees your pretty mama?” He shakes his head, “I’d ask her for a kiss too.”

She mulls it over a little, small hands holding onto an unopened gift, then clearly accepts the explanation as she tears into the paper.

“Nicely saved,” You whisper into his ear, lips pressing a kiss to the delicate skin behind it, “Christmas is saved.”

“Oh baby,” He whispers back, taking the lull in Sofia’s attention on the two of you to look down at you, “You can’t think you can kiss Santa and get away with it?” His low voice sends a silver down your spine, “You’re gonna have to make up for that later."

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ghoulbrain · 4 months

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The Cost of Flesh

18+ 4.9k the ghoul x f!reader. gif credit. dirty talk, vaginal fingering, clothed/naked, finger sucking, grinding on a cowboy boot, cooper's busted anatomy forces him to get creative, body worship, lightly established dynamic, surprisingly sentimental. a prompt from @tearueful that got wildly out of hand. thank you, friend! 🖤

When what starts off as a purely sexual arrangement with the Waste's most notorious bounty hunter–the ghoul–gradually grows into a living, breathing love, you're both forced to confront the inevitable humanity that comes with sharing your body with another.

There’s a living myth that walks the wastes, a figure known exclusively as the ghoul. He’s enigmatic, a force of nature that declares himself to the world with his every step. If you're unaware of sharing a room with him, it’s likely because he’s hunting you, in which case it’s not a matter of if he catches you, but when.

Naturally, it was the talk of the town when he made a regular haunt out of the saloon you worked in.

He watched you serve drinks all evening, his gaze a physical thing upon you. Normally you expected a degree of harassment from clientele, raiders and the like often rolling through, but it was as though everyone else sensed his attention on you as much as you did. You could tell from the tilted angle of the wide brim of his hat when he was listening to your conversations.

It was as eerie as it was intriguing. You couldn’t fathom a bounty on your head, so what did he want?

You would soon be ensnared by him, but not for a bounty. It was for pleasure. Your pleasure.

“Come upstairs with me,” He murmured in your ear, standing close behind you, a gloved knuckle rolling up your spine. “Y’ain’t gatta do nothin’. I won’t hurt’cha none. Just wanna hear a pretty bird sing.”

You shivered, caught unaware. You never even heard his approach, even though the din of the bar had quieted in the late evening.

“I’m not for sale,” you replied, testing the water. He was close enough that you felt him, but not so close you were pinned. You could move if you wanted to.

“I ain’t buyin’,” he gave back. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck. “But I’ll make it worth y’while.”

The gravel grit of his voice was nearly drowned out by the drumming of your own pulse in your ears. To this day, you don’t know what possessed you to agree, but you did. He took your hand in his, the leather of his glove soft with wear, and led you away from the bar. The next thing you knew, he was stripping you bare in one of the dark rooms above the bar.

The ceremony with which he undressed you had felt disconcertingly like meal prep. He tied your hands above your head, and your heart thundered with the understanding that there was nothing to stop him from devouring you alive where you lay sprawled out on the bed.

By the time his gloved hands were dragging away your underwear, you felt dizzy with the heady mix of arousal and fear, an unquiet ache thrumming between your thighs. Your only meager assurance was that of all the legends you’d heard of the ghoul, seducing and eating barmaids wasn’t among them.

And yet devour you he did. You were hooked from that very first wet, hot slide of his tongue against your clit. He spent hours with you that night, mapping your body with his tongue, your scars and blemishes serving as waypoints and constellations. He nipped and sucked until dark marks blossomed under his tongue, and he relished those spots more than any other.

He never took off more than his gloves, and he never let you touch him. He never fucked you. He brought you to climax with his mouth and his hands so many times you lost track of the number. All you could do was writhe and moan your pleasure. He didn’t stop until those moans turned to sobs, until you begged him to. After that, he cut your binds loose and left you a mess on the bed, aching and used.

You laid there for a long time, thinking you would never see him again.

The ghoul returned not a week later.

He wasn’t subtle about what he wanted from you, beckoning you from across the bar with a crook of two fingers. You felt your knees weaken with the memory of those same fingers in your mouth, your cunt, that hand pinning you by your throat to feel your cries against his palm. He stared at you from beneath the brim of his hat, cocked his head. You nodded, and his eyes flashed.

Hungry.

You didn’t learn his name until your third encounter. He whispered it in your ear.

“Now scream it for me, sweetheart.”

You did.

The two of you would meet several more times. He would stay a little longer after each session, and bit by bit, you would come to understand the man beyond the ghoul. He doesn’t talk about himself, and he doesn’t ask anything of your life in turn, but he reveals himself in pieces nonetheless. Beneath the ruthless pragmatism of his legendary persona, you find the manners of a shockingly tender gentleman lurking.

He’s always unhurried in disrobing you, devoted to the task at hand: taking you apart piece by piece. He treats each article of frayed clothing like a piece of paper that might tear if he pulls too hard. He makes the process of being undressed in and of itself feel like sex, every move intentionally sensual.

For you, the experience ranges from thrilling to maddening depending on your mood that day. He never heeds you, always keen to take his time regardless of your impatience. He takes a particular kind of enjoyment in your body, the likes of which you’ve never known. You’re certain he knows it better than you do at this point, and yet he’s never laid himself bare to you. Never let you bring him the kind of pleasure he brings you.

He’s never kissed you.

“Please. I wanna touch you, too,” you tell breathlessly, knelt between his legs, naked as sin. His focus breaks, gaze snapping to yours. You lick your lips, relishing the rare feeling of catching him off guard. You slide your hands up his thighs, inching towards his groin. “Taste you. Make you twist. When’re you gonna let me, huh?”

He catches your wrists as quickly as a viper strikes, holding you still for a long, tense moment. You hold his gaze without any of the fear or reservation you’d felt that first day.

Despite the warmth that’s grown between you in the time since that first night, you’re uncertain of what exactly the two of you are now. It would be romantic to think of this feeling in your chest as love. Certainly it is intimacy. Familiarity. What is love if not consistency? Perhaps it’s like masonry. Steel against stone, and the conscious choice to change something as immutable as solid rock.

For as long as he chooses to come back to you, to find his pleasure in you, is that not love? If it isn’t, it might just be the closest you’ve ever come to it.

Dumbstruck for a moment by the tenderness in your gaze, Cooper’s own drops to your hand, lifting it to his mouth. His grip is tight, but not painful. As he does with everything else, he takes his time answering.

“Won’t do much good, darlin’,” he says, folding your hands wrist over wrist. You perk up. He’s never given a proper explanation for why he seems to have no interest in your reciprocation. From his belt, he withdraws a length of rope and begins encircling your wrists. You allow it, the ritual a familiar one. “Plumbing’s long busted, but that don’t mean I don’t enjoy myself. Enjoy you.”

Like the final piece of a puzzle falling in place, understanding dawns. His initial use of you drops perfectly into context. It was like you were more an object to him than a person, a vessel for him to exact sensation upon. You understand now that that’s exactly what you were. Be it the radiation or the myriad of drugs he takes to keep the degeneration at bay, it’s likely just one more piece of him the Wasteland has stolen.

“Oh.”

“Disappointed?” He asks, fastening the rope with a sharp tug that shoots a hot throb between your thighs. If he’s apprehensive about your answer, he hides it well. If they still made movies, he’d make for a fine actor.

You pause, giving the question the thought it deserves. “Not exactly. Maybe a bit,” you say, struggling to articulate the feeling. “Kind of relieved, though. I didn’t know if you couldn’t, or just didn’t want to,” you admit, leaning into it when he brings his palm to the side of your face. Your lips part automatically for the brush of his thumb along them. “I just want to do more.”

Cooper’s gaze softens, the line of his mouth twitching in what almost looks like a smile before it’s tampered by a profound sense of sadness. However, it disappears as quickly as the smile that nearly was. His expression smooths back out into controlled focus.

“So do more,” he says in that molasses drawl, thick and sweet. It could be your imagination, but his voice sounds warmer than it did a moment ago. “Put on a show for me.” He widens the spread of your legs with the press of his boot to your inner thigh. “I got plenty ‘a things for you t’ride.”

He lifts the worn leather to the wet heat gathering between your thighs and you shudder, lashes fluttering. His boot sinks back to the ground and you follow it, grinding down against the leather with a soft sigh of pleasure. He hooks his fingers through the tether around your wrists and draws you forward by it, his knee pressing between your breasts, your bound hands resting on his thigh.

“Don’t take much t’get you moanin’, do it, sweetie?” He baits, mouth curved in a crooked smile. You roll your hips with a soft keen, shaking your head. You were already tingling all over from the slow way he’d undressed you, and now that ache is growing rapidly into thrumming need. He whistles lowly. “All that noise for a li’l friction.”

He bucks his boot against your cunt, wringing a cry out of you. You screw your eyes shut, clutching at his pant leg while you roll your hips, embarrassed by how right he is. Everything he does is electrifying, and his honied voice in your ears helps turn the curve of his boot into the most exquisite touch you’ve ever known.

With his teeth, Cooper tugs off his glove and touches your cheek with warm, rough fingers. His bare thumb hooks your bottom lip, easing it open until you taste the salt of his skin pressing down on your tongue. “Or just didn’t want to…” He echoes through a frayed laugh, sounding equal parts amused and wistful at your words on his tongue. “Y’got no idea what I’d do to this sweet mouth if I could.” He presses his thumb deeper, watching with dark eyes as you start to suck. “What I’d give t’see how pretty you cry, chokin’ on my cock.”

He paints such a pretty picture that you long for it, too. Releasing his thumb with a breathy sound, you open your mouth. “More,” you say, your breaths shallow. “I want more.”

His own chest is heaving with each breath, his tongue caught between his teeth. He slips two fingers into your mouth, pushing them all the way to the knuckle. You both moan with it, pressure creeping slowly up your spine. He rocks his fingers in and out, and you start to match his pace, grinding against his boot as fast as his fingers fuck your mouth.

Catching on, he kicks his pace up a notch, captivated by the pull of your lips, the shimmer of your saliva on his weathered skin. You can see it in his eyes, how he loses himself in your pleasure as if it’s his own, filling in the gaps with faded memories. He pushes in a third finger, teeth raking over his bottom lip. You push your tongue between them, over them, sucking and lapping as if it really is his cock in your mouth.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he hisses, pulling sharply on your bindings. You make a noise around his fingers, so close to the peak of release that your lungs begin to seize, throat quieting. It’s pure agony when Cooper abruptly hauls you up onto your knees, halting your ascension. “C’mere,” he growls, all grit and throaty need. His fingers slip from your mouth and he manhandles you up into his lap, bringing you into a straddle over him, your bound wrists thrown over the back of his neck.

The same fingers he had halfway down your throat now move between your thighs, pressing into your slick, yielding body with two wet fingers in one deep push. You groan, the burning ache of it so good your eyes roll back. His free hand skirts up the length of your torso to the underside of your breast, kneading soft flesh with a rough hand. Then, so quick all you can do is gasp, he pushes the weight of it upward, meeting pearl-soft skin with lips, tongue and teeth.

All the while his fingers sink deeper, moving faster. He adds a third and you strain against your binds, arching your back, pressing your chest into his hungry mouth. He scissors his fingers, determined to make you feel every inch he fills you with.

“C-Cooper…” You keen, shivering for the hot slide of his tongue over your nipple, how he sucks it into his mouth.

Pulling off with a wet pop, he drags his tongue up the line between your breasts, greedy for the taste of you. “Shh, shh,” he hushes, already teasing a fourth finger. His breath is hot on your damp skin. “Just a little more, you can take it,” he says, pressing his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles to soothe the burn of being filled so suddenly.

“I can’t, I can’t,” you protest, nails biting into your own hands, eyes screwed shut.

“Y’already there, sugar,” he rumbles, each word rougher than the last. He’s right, you’re seated in the crook between his thumb and index finger, so full of him that your thighs are trembling from the strain of it. He rocks his hand slowly, fucking you deep, crooking his fingers until a sharp jolt of pleasure makes you shudder. “Doin’ good, takin’ everything I give you. That’s it. Go on, pretty bird. Sing me a song.”

Your eyes meet, both bleary and wild. You could lose yourself in the darkness of his gaze, and given his insatiable hunger, you know he would swallow you whole. You moan for him, sing his praise with the breathlessness of your voice, with the sway of your hips as you pick up his rhythm. He nods absently, watching you with such voracious wonder, you feel beyond yourself. Half human, half embodiment of pleasure.

The meteoric rise back to the cusp of your climax feels like flying, your stomach tightening, the velvet walls of your cunt throbbing and squeezing his fingers so tightly, you feel their every slide.

You come hard on his fingers, crying out just before the height of your pleasure seizes you. Cooper watches every second of your release, his own lids flickering, though he never blinks. He slips his arm around your body and pulls you to him, naked skin pressed snug against leather and tattered fabric. You collapse into him, held up only by his grip and the tether binding your hands around his neck.

He holds you through the aftermath, savors every last wet quiver of your cunt around his fingers. His thrusts slow, but he doesn’t stop until–in a quaking breath–you beg him to. His fingers settle in deep, lingering a moment before he slides them free. The relief of escape from overstimulation is rivaled only by the awful emptiness that his fingers leave in you. You clench your shaking thighs on either side of him so that he might understand.

Stay.

Either he understands, or he simply isn’t through with you. His gloved hand slides up and down your back, thumb brushing the back of your neck on every upward swipe. Before long you hear a decidedly wet slurp, and you lift your head from his shoulder to look at him through euphoria addled eyes.

One by one, Cooper licks every one of his slick fingers clean, purring his approval. “Not even decades of radiation poisoning can erase the taste of good pussy,” he says, voice low and lazy. “And this, darlin'? Gourmet."

You smile, heat rushing up your chest to your cheeks. “I think you have an addiction,” you say, a slight slur to your words. You roll your fingers, which tingle faintly, the rope taking its toll on your circulation.

He clicks his tongue, hands settling on your hips. His hands are warm, and his touch erupts goosebumps up your spine. “Y’say that like it’s a problem. Gonna cut me off?”

“As your dealer, it’s in my best interest to encourage said addiction,” you say, cocking your head. Up close like this, focused only on each other’s eyes, it’s easy to forget he’s anything other than a man. His eyes are beautiful, the color of sand in that fleeting hour of sunset that turns the whole world gold. Not even the hole left from the decay of his nose takes away from the beauty of them. Truth be told, you find the whole of him entirely too handsome. “Besides, I find myself similarly afflicted.”

His lips split into a slow smile. “Y’somethin’ rare, darlin’. Fine company’s scarcer than clean water these days.”

Another wave of heat washes through you, but this time it concentrates in your chest, coiling around your heart and squeezing. “You’re just not used to talking to people who know how to read,” you say, trying and failing to swallow back the sentimentality swelling in your throat.

He chuckles. It’s a rare sound, one that does nothing for the growing affection suffocating your heart. “True, true.” He already admitted that the way you spoke is what caught his attention in the first place.

“Say…” You begin, hesitant. “You remember what I said to you when we first met? Down in the bar.”

Gently, Cooper lifts your arms from around his neck, setting your hands between your bodies. He blows out a breath and starts untying your hands. “I’m old, sweetness. Refresh my memory.”

"I told you I wasn't for sale," you remind him, blood rushing back into your hands with the removal of the rope. You rub them together.

He makes a small noise of recollection, winding the rope around his hand. “Y’did.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” you say, watching him carefully.

His gaze flickers up to yours, searches your expression. He can tell you’re guarding it, and his own sobers in response. “Dare I ask the cost?”

"Love,” you blurt out, far more graceless than you’d been in your mind. His eyes widen a fraction, caught off guard. In any other moment you’d be smug about that, but now it’s precarious. Whatever nebulous sentiment exists between the two of you, you know it’s fragile. “Love. Yours, or just… mine. The cost is love.”

“Y’don’t love me, sweetheart,” he says, but the gentleness of his words does nothing to dissuade you. It only worsens the yearning in your heart.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you say, a frown tugging at your lips.

He’s quiet for a moment, gauging you. “Y’don’t know me.”

“You let on more than you think you do,” you counter, hands braced on his chest. “I might not know everything about your life, but I know you.”

You know he read westerns and science fiction novels written by a man named Louis L’Amour, but confessed to liking his poetry best. You know the variations in his smiles. You know the sound he makes when he gets up from sleep, stiff-limbed and weary. You know him in intimacy. You know how he craves peace and grace in the warmth of your body. If blinded and deafened, you would know his touch.

Whether he likes it or not, you know him the way souls know each other.

His eyes drift away as if he’s leery about you seeing anything more than you have. “What you’re lookin’ for, y’not gonna get it from me. I’m burnt out, darlin’. All dried up.”

“I’m not asking for more than you’ve given,” you say, trying not to let the terrible ache in your chest color your tone. You could scream at him for how wrong he is. How much left of him there is to love. “I’m telling you that I have more to give, and I want you to have it.”

“I wouldn’t even know what t’do with it anymore,” he says, gazing somewhere distant.

You wish he’d at least look at you as you bled your heart. “Nothing you haven’t already done, if that’s what you want.”

“Then why say anything at all?” He asks, an edge creeping into his tone. He does finally look at you, the lines of his expression as guarded as they were the first day you met him. “If y’didn’t want t’change things, why say anything?”

You stiffen to keep from shrinking away. You want this too badly to let him spook you now.

“So that you know,” you say, choosing your words carefully. Each one feels sharp on your tongue, too honest. Too vulnerable. You’re giving him too much power with each one that falls. “I’m telling you so that you know I love you. I’m telling you because if I don’t, I might explode with it,” you say, fervency climbing in your voice, spurred on by the beginning sting of rejection. “I’m telling you for me. Is it easier to accept my love if it’s selfish?”

There it is again, that flicker across his face. Whatever he expected to hear, it wasn’t that. Slowly, Cooper removes his other glove, dropping it to the wayside. With that same hand, he brings his knuckles to your face, ghosts the heat of them down your cheek.

“Y’deserve better than half measures from a broken old man,” he says so quietly, you strain to hear each word. “Most of me’s always gonna be out in the sands, lookin’ for what’s lost. That’s no life for you.”

Taking his hand in yours, you hesitate a beat before you start to place gentle kisses on his every first knuckle. “Maybe. Maybe not,” you say between kisses, not meeting his eye yet. You’ve never been quite so openly affectionate. “But it’s like you said… Fine company is scarce,” you say, kissing each second knuckle next. “Don’t deny me the best I’ve ever known.”

His smile is reticent, tugged from the corner of his mouth as if by an invisible string. There’s something wistful in his expression. He watches you kiss the pads of his fingers next, the prints of them long worn away and replaced with thick calluses. His thumb is last. You give it a playful little nip, lest the softness of your lips scare him off.

Cooper slips his hand out of yours, the wistfulness of his gaze replaced with somber resignation. “M’sorry, darlin,” he murmurs, cupping either side of your face.

Your stomach drops, the bitter stench of a goodbye settling into the air between you. You remind yourself that you knew this might happen. You repeat the thought again and again, as if being right will make it hurt less.

His thumbs stroke over your cheeks. “If I were a better man, a stronger man,” he says, gaze dipping to your lips. “I’d walk away for good.”

Your brows furrow. “Wh–”

He kisses you with such gentleness it breaks you apart. Your hands fly to his jacket, holding him to you. It’s as if the entire world spins on its axis, your stomach flipping wildly with it. It leaves you floating, tethered only by the grips you have on each other. What begins as a chaste press quickly heats up into a gnawing hunger, his tongue slipping into your mouth, your teeth scraping his bottom lip.

“Lucky for me that I ain’t even a good man,” he says, words peppered between kisses.

The world spins again, but this time you really are moving through the air. You let out a yelp as Cooper flips you onto the bed, kissing a trail down your naked chest. You’ve felt his tongue and his teeth, but never the reverent press of his lips. As if you’ve only just given him permission to see you as something more than a tool for vicarious pleasure, he touches your body the way a superstitious man worships–full of intent and genuine belief.

“Cooper,” you sigh, smiling. “It’s my turn to touch you,” you remind him, tugging at the shoulder of his tattered jacket. The most he’s ever taken off is that jacket and his hat, but you want more.

He looks up at you from between your breasts, hesitating a beat. “You should know that it only gets uglier ‘neath the collar, sugar.”

“You’re not ugly,” you tell him. At his skeptical expression, you continue, “I’ve seen ugly. Heard it, felt it. You’re not ugly. Not to me.”

He quirks a hairless brow and lets out an incredulous little breath, adjusting himself onto his knees between your legs, swayed. “Y’might consider glasses,” he tells you, shrugging out of his coat.

You hook your legs over his and use them as leverage to sit up, reaching for the buttons of his vest. “That might not end well for you,” you say coyly, popping each one loose.

“I’m used to it,” he says, leaning down for another kiss. This, too, is reverence. He takes his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, licking the taste of you from them like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever known. With his vest open, you work on his undershirt next, tugging them loose while sucking on his tongue.

Halfway down, he stills your hand with a firm grip on your wrist. “That’ll do,” he tells you, voice little more than a rasp. You bite back a protest and nod, understanding that this is likely more exposed than he’s been in a long, long time. You push back into the kiss and press your hand to his chest, sliding slowly down.

The skin beneath is as gnarled as old tree bark, pitted in places and scarred in most. For as durable as ghouls are, Cooper’s skin has been shredded and torn and riddled with bullets enough times that parts of his body have taken hold of those memories forever, formed around them.

You treat them gently, tracing them with your fingertips. You feel unreasonably powerful when he shivers subtly beneath your touch. You press your hand flat to his heart to hold the beat of it in your palm. It’s slow, but each thud is strong. You break from him with a deep breath, dizzy from the way he makes your head spin with each kiss.

“Lie down,” you say breathlessly. You’re almost surprised when he does, unaccustomed to taking so much control. You cozy up against him, laying your head where your hand had been a moment ago, and close your eyes. His heartbeat sounds just as it felt. Steady, firm, slow. You imagine the radiation has scarred him inside and out, left his heart thick and misshapen as well. Alive nonetheless.

After a brief hesitation, Cooper’s arm slips around your waist. His thumb caresses your hip. “For what it’s worth,” he begins, his tone overly conversational, masking whatever true feeling lurks beneath. “I won’t hold you to none of it. Not if y’get sick of it.”

If you get sick of him, he means.

You tip your head back to look up at him. His gaze is affixed to the ceiling, but you can see apprehension in his distant expression. You drop your eyes, nuzzling your cheek against his chest. His hand cups the back of your head in response, stroking. You smile faintly, soaking in all these little affections. You wonder how long he’s been holding back from touching you like this, denying himself such simple intimacies in order to maintain a distance he didn’t feel, but deemed necessary.

“You’re wrong, Cooper.”

“‘Bout what?”

“You are a good man.”

He goes quiet at that. The two of you lie there a long while, his hands absently roaming your body like he’s committing you to memory. Your hands do the same, dipping under the hem of his shirt to explore further. He hooks his knuckle under your chin, tips your head back to kiss you languidly.

There’s a surreal domestic feel to the unhurriedness of it all, as if he won’t be gone to the winds come morning. You make a home of this moment in your mind, constructing four walls in which to imagine another life. The kind you’ve read about in tattered books and seen on fuzzy old screens.

All the while Cooper holds you, his lips never long from your skin.

You eventually find your way under the covers together, past the point of words. You drape yourself back down against him, your ear finding the chamber of his heart once more. You fall asleep listening to the beat of it, content for now to take each day you spend with him as they come.

#the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #x reader #fallout fanfic #the ghoul

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