#dick tried to help him get it open
tanglepelt · 8 days
Dc x dp idea 11
More of a funny shenanigans one.
Danny has been chasing his rouges all throughout the country. Whatever city he is in some form of shenanigans occur. Due to the GIW he decided to do it human. He has his parents travel devices and inventions so it will be easy peasy.
Metropolis he steals some kryptonite and feeds it to cujo. Obviously cujo is coming as a guard dog. Danny can’t control him plus the dog could smell the ecto candy. Danny is munching some as well all while he soups whichever rouge it is.
Central city he bugs the flash about how he could mess with the flow of time. He thinks it’s cool and clockwork allows it cause it’s funny. (Clockwork let’s ppl figure out not to mess with time themselves. Danny leaned when vlad ended up with his mom and jack had ecto acne flash would figure it out) But he just tells it to Barry no care that he isn’t in costume.
Runs into wonder woman and is just an absolutely fanboy. Gushing. About everything she’s done. He drops knowledge about feats he shouldn’t know cause pandora told him stories about her.
Runs into Constantine and just praises him for his soul selling. It’s just chaos whenever the ghost council meets. Danny is a gremlin he got in a prank war with vlad he absolutely would think it’s hilarious. He knows a few beings who bought his soul as well and name drops them.
Youngblood wants to do an underwater adventure. He’s been a cowboy and pirate so why not underwater diver. So now Danny is in the ocean dealing with an enemy aqua man can’t see. Aqua lad is just describing Youngblood with googles on. Danny has a fenton work product letting him dive in the sea. Anything with Youngblood is a shenanigans enough said.
In Gotham he wasn’t expecting a not quite a halfa, red hood. Now when his rouge goes to cause property damage he goes to soup them. It sucks in red hood. Danny didn’t want red hood soup.
Danny then panics trying to release the thermos. All while the batfam are watching the exchange. Danny is frantically apologizing and just failing to open it.
By the time he gets it open he is just embarrassed. His rouge is free and took off. So Danny goes invisible forgetting he was supposed to act human and pretends it never happened.
The next justice league would be hilarious
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laundrybiscuits · 7 days
The officer leans close, jabbing a finger into Steve’s chest. “You’re damn lucky it ain’t ten years ago or one state over,” he growls. “You could be looking at a felony charge, serving 15 to life. We didn’t stand for this kind of thing in Hawkins when I joined the force.”
Steve just folds his arms and gives the officer a bored look. “Okay,” he says. “Good talk. Can I see my boyfriend now?”
The officer sneers, but he steps aside to let Steve through. They’ve got Eddie cuffed to the hospital bed with another gun-toting guard in the corner. 
“Jesus christ,” snaps Steve. “He’s not gonna escape, he can’t even walk right now. Why don’t you clear out and give us a little privacy, huh?”
“Sorry,” says the guard, not sounding all that sorry. “It’s for his own protection.”
Fuck. He’s gonna have to hope Eddie can follow his lead. All that practice pretending to be a wizard or whatever has to be good for something, right?
He perches on the side of Eddie’s bed and takes his hand. He can do this. “Hey, gorgeous. How’re you feeling?” 
“Uh,” says Eddie, eyebrows doing something hilarious. “Steve?”
“It’s okay,” says Steve. He rubs his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles. This is the most they’ve ever touched, he thinks—the most that was just skin, no layers of denim or leather in between. Not even a layer of blood and dirt. 
He swallows and keeps going, willing Eddie to develop freaky mind-reading powers all of a sudden. “I know you didn’t want to tell anyone about us, but I had to, baby. I’m sorry. I had to tell them you were, y’know, with me when…when Jason killed Chrissy.”
“You didn’t have to tell them about us,” says Eddie slowly. He’s giving Steve kind of an intense look. “Honey-pie. I’m sure there’s gotta be another way. One without as many consequences for you that you might not have thought all the way through.”
“There really isn’t,” Steve says. Thank god Eddie’s so quick on the uptake. Sure, he’s being a stubborn dick about it, but at least it doesn’t seem like he’s going to let anything slip. 
“Fucking hell,” sighs Eddie. “Don’t suppose we can put that pesky little cat back in the bag. Okay. Darling angel, light of my life, corndog of my soul, who else knows?”
Corndog of my soul, Steve mouths to himself. “Just the cops. And Robin and Nancy, obviously. And—oh, remember Hopper?”
“Do I remember Hopper, he asks. Oh, pudding-pop. The late Chief Hopper and I spent so, so much quality time together over the years; he was practically a father figure to me. And just as with my actual dear old dad, his departure was cause for great rejoicing in Casa Munson.”
“Sorry to break the bad news, then. Hop’s alive, and he—uh, he knows everything.” Steve tries to communicate the scope of everything by kind of tilting his head back and forth. “He’s been…helping.”
“Huh. No shit,” says Eddie. Steve can’t tell whether or not he’s getting it. To be fair, there’s a lot to get. “Okay, gallant knight errant of mine, any news on whether or not I’m getting sprung from this charmingly appointed dungeon?”
“We’re…Hopper’s working on it. That’s why I’m. Y’know. Here. To tell you that they know about us.” 
“Cool, right, understood.” Eddie closes his eyes, leaning back on his pillow. It’s so strange to see him in nothing but a hospital gown against white sheets. He looks like a wrung-out dishtowel. 
There’s a commotion from outside, raised voices saying something like you let him what and haven’t even interrogated the Munson kid yet and not a legal status you fuckin—
“Time’s up, sweetheart,” says Eddie, mouth quirking up into the ghost of a smile. “Anything else you wanna say before they decide to upgrade my security?”
“Uh,” says Steve. He’d mostly been focusing on getting the basics of Eddie’s alibi across in a convincing way, and he can’t remember if there were any other details Eddie should know. 
He hears the door slam open behind him, and panics. “Love you, bye,” he says, and ducks in to brush a quick kiss across Eddie’s chapped lips. The last thing he sees as he’s hauled bodily out of the room by a pissed-off detective is Eddie with his eyes gone enormous and shocked, lifting his uncuffed hand to his mouth, looking and looking at Steve like something is always going to be different from now on, forever.
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writersblog20 · 2 months
Pedro Pascal x (curly hair) reader
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Credits to the gif maker!
Summary: After a very shitty day, your neigbour, Pedro helps you to relax in every way possible
Warnings: Smoking weed, drinking alcohol, age-gap, sexual tension, reader gets picked up, smut, p in v, no condom (please do use a condom), mention of panic and anxiety (just one sentence or so)  oral Female receiving, squirting, daddy kink, dirty talk, pet names, Pedro being called: Papi, creampie, blowjob, soft sex, soft Pedro, overstimulation, aftercare and fluff
Words: 4K
You angrily placed your bag on your table when you arrived home. You were beyond pissed. You were finally done with some part of the exams for now but god did your professor test your patience today. This was your final exam and you’ve been preparing very good for it but you had to give a presentation with two of your teachers and your professor tried everything he could think off to dismantle your arguments and it worked. He got right underneath your skin, pissing you off to no end. There was no winning here for you. You did well though, very well even but you and that professor always buttheads together. So you came home, pissed out of your mind and couldn’t wait to smoke a joint and drink some wine or well, anything will do if it has alcohol in it. You quickly put your oversized hoodie on before going outside.
You let out a deep, frustrated sigh, got your joint and sat down on your porch as you put some music on. You lit the candles that were on the table of the porch. It started to get dark outside and you were more than ready to forget about this day as if it never even happened.
You inhaled the smoke and let it rest in your lungs. You started to feel the tension loosen up a bit until you heard the door open from your neighbour, the one and only Pedro Pascal. The daddy of the internet, the famous actor and your neighbor. You had a crush from the moment he moved in the house next to you. Yeah it wasn’t helping your daddy issues in any way here. You panicked a little because you didn’t want him to know that you smoked weed. He walked up to your porch with a bright smile that already made you forget about your day as you smiled back. You could say by now that you and Pedro were good friends.
“Hey neighbour!” he said with a smirk. You smiled but felt your heartrate pick up. He held up a tray of corona’s and a bottle of tequila. “Want to have a beer with me? Heard you had a bad day.” He told you, awaiting your answer. “Sure why not.” You smiled. “How do you know I have a bad day?” you asked him once you realized what he said. “Your mom texted me, asking if I could check up on you. Besides, it gave me a reason to see you again.” He told you with a teasing smirk which made you feel flustered. Pedro’s charm always worked on you and made your crush grow stronger.
He sat next to you. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her that you smoke weed.” He told you casually and your face fell from being caught but you also felt the tension leave your body “As long as you share this one with me.” he told you with the same smirk and held up his own joint. You chuckled slightly and relaxed back into your chair. “Deal.” You giggled as Pedro handed you a shot of tequila and clinked it together “Salud” Pedro said, making you repeat him. You took the shot and groaned slightly when you finished it. Pedro opened the corona bottle and handed it to you and lit the joint after.
“So… Want to talk about it?” he asked you a bit more serious now as he handed you the joint. You took a big hit and held it in your lungs for a bit. “It was my teacher. He tried to fuck me over in every way he could find.” You told him and Pedro frowned, not liking what he heard. You told him about your day and let out a deep sigh when you were done. “He sounds like a first class dick.” Pedro told you, making you nod and stare in front of you while taking another hit before passing it to Pedro.
You were finally high and relaxed, not really wanting to talk about your day anymore. You started to get more comfortable in the chair. You looked at Pedro who already looked at you with his big brown eyes. You couldn’t look away as a rush of excitement went into your tummy. You see, you weren’t used to this weed and some have a… well an effect on you. You were horny let’s just keep it on that and the hot man sitting next to you, who you had a big crush on wasn’t helping this case at all. But you weren’t even sure if he ever thought of you in that way because of the age gap.
You looked in front of you again, feeling the heat creeping up. Some curls fell in front of your face, placing them back behind your ears only for them to jump back in place so you just blew them out of your face, not noticing how mesmerized Pedro looked at you right now. You heard the familiar tune of The Weeknd with Lost in the fire and got did the air around you two tighter.
Pedro got the shot glasses and poured another shot of tequila in it, giving it to you, looking directly into your eyes. You saw something in his eyes that you haven’t seen before, it was a lustful look yet adoringly. For some reason you started to feel very confident and gave him your best flirt look. A soft smirk with siren eyes as you leaned towards him a bit. “Salud.” You told him seductively. Pedro swallowed and looked away from you, shifting in his seat a bit, making you grin. “Salud.” He cleared his voice before he spoke and looked at you again as you took the shot. His eyes scanning every feature on your face, the way your curls were bouncing a bit while his heartrate started to pick up and his pants got a bit too tight for his liking.
You heard the familiar tune of the neighbourhood with daddy issues and all of your confidence flew out of the window while you felt your whole face heat up and a bit of embarrassment flowing through your body. You felt too embarrassed to put on a different song at this point. You tried to take a sneaky look at Pedro but was met with his brown eyes. He had a smirk, feeling that your confidence passed on to Pedro. His eyes were darker and filled with lust. You quickly looked away. You were wondering if this was the effect of the weed or if he was always just like that.
Flashes of that TikTok edit came to your mind with all of the sinful thoughts you had right now. You couldn’t shake the images out of your head. You would never tell him that you watched endlessly TikTok edits of your hot older neighbor that was at least 24 years older than you. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours sweetheart?” he asked you. You realized that you were deep, very deep in thought.
You played with the label that was placed on the corona bottle. You shook your head slightly. “Nothing important.” Pedro took a sip of his bottle, keeping eye contact with you and you felt the heat moving somewhere else as you squirmed just a bit in your chair. The silent that Pedro put in the conversation was unbearable as the air thickened around the two of you. “That’s good weed.” You commented with a slight chuckle. Pedro chuckled  “Yeah definitely” he looked at you and you couldn’t get enough of his eyes as you felt butterflies. “Oh I love this song! Dance with me!” Pedro’s excitement made you chuckle as he was already standing and held his hand out for you.
You giggled and took his large hand in yours and stood up. Pedro’s smile was contagious while his arm was around your waist and the other holding your hand. You felt like you were going to black out at this point. Your heart beating against your chest and it felt like your skin was on fire where he touched you. You grew very shy and couldn’t even look at him focusing on your shoes. “Hey, look at me, I’m right here.” He told you and placed a finger underneath your chin, looking up at him. His kind brown eyes connected with yours and you felt yourself go into a trance, all mushy. He smiled adoringly at you. “There you are.” He told you softly with a smile. “use your hips more baby.” he commented “I know you got it in you.” he told you with a slight wink.
You were officially a puddle in his hands right now. Did he know about your crush? Does he like you? He must if he says these things. And the pet name? Are you kidding me?!! You were completely lost in your head but yet still very much in the moment.
You knew how to use your hips but you didn’t feel that confident yet. “I’m afraid I need more tequila for that.” You giggled slightly, embarrassed while you looked at his chest, not able to make eye contact. Pedro let go off you with one hand, the other still tightly around your waist while he grabbed the bottle. He took a sip straight from the bottle while looking at you with a grin and passed it to you after he was done. You took some good gulps, hoping that it would work soon. Pedro probably mistaken your nervousness for uncomfortable and he let go immediately off you, never wanting to make you uncomfortable. You frowned a bit and looked at him confused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I thought…” He told you and shook his head not wanting to finish his sentence and was ready to take his stuff and leave but you stopped him by grabbing his arm and letting your other hand rest on his chest.
Pedro looked at your hand that was on his chest and back to you. “I didn’t feel uncomfortable… I felt nervous…..” you told him shyly. It was silent and you looked up at him, a bit of fear visible in your eyes and Pedro’s eyes soften at you, turning his body completely towards you. His fingers softly going over your cheek before placing a curl behind your ear (or tried at least). “Nervous for what?” Pedro almost whispered as the air started to tighten around you again while his hand covered yours on his chest, taking your hand in his. You tried to look down but his finger was underneath your chin again, pulling you up. “I…. I ehhh think you now why.” Pedro’s eyes held more lust again. “I want you to tell me.” his voice still holding that gentleness.
You looked up, goosebumps covering your body. You made eye contact with Pedro and felt a rush of confidence going over you and you quickly placed your lips again his. Pedro knew it was going to happen but was still a bit shocked. You sighed in the kiss and held his shirt in your fist. Pedro sighed in the kiss as well. His arms around your waist, pulling you against his body while his other hand found your cheek, cupping it while he deepened the kiss. His hand that was resting on your hip dug into your skin causing you to moan in the kiss.
Pedro walked backwards, his hand searching for the doorknob without breaking the kiss as you both stumbled inside your home. The kiss turned into a lot of lust while your hands went over his body as well. His hand found your ass and he tightly grabbed it and you jumped into his arms as a reaction. “Bedroom?” he broke from the kiss, his lips plump just like yours from the heated kiss. You pointed to the door while you started to attack his neck and your hands going through his soft hair.
He opened the door, letting out a shaky breath as you sucked a spot in his neck. He carefully laid you down on the bed, hanging above you. You were both out of breath while you held intense eye contact. You wanted to grab his face so you could kiss him again, it was addictive but Pedro pulled back, making you frown. “Are you sure?” he asked you, looking intently into your eyes. “Yes” was all you could say as you lips crashed against yours again.
Your hands were in his hair and your body started to move on its own, pushing your hips up so you could grind against him. You were completely intoxicated by the man above you. He attached his mouth to your neck while his hand went over the curves from your body. God this man did things to you that he had no idea of. Finally Pedro let his body go closer to you and you grinded against his still growing bulge in his pants. You whimpered slightly, you were so needy for this man and he knew it.
His hands going slowly over your clit over your pants, making you whimper. “Daddy please.” You murmured, whines evident in your voice as you begged him. He stopped sucking the sweet spot in your neck and you felt shame and panic growing in your stomach. “what did you call me Chiquita?” his eyes looked amused by your sentence. Shame and panic left your body but shyness got in their space. “Come on, repeat it baby. What did you call me?” he had a smirk on his face as you whispered out “Daddy.” Pedro’s eyes went darker again while he leaned towards your ear, his breath on your cheek. “That’s right. I’m your daddy.” You turned your head a bit so you could kiss him again.
His hand going where you needed him the most but still over your pants. “Please daddy please!” you pleaded. Pedro had a smug smile on his face, fully enjoying this. His hands roamed over your body again before his hand finally disappeared into your jeans. Your hips grinding against his hands. Pedro felt how wet you were and groaned into your ears and he could feel the reaction his moans had on you while you clenched on his finger. He smiled and softly bit your ear lobe while you whimpered. His hand coming from your jeans and showed you how wet you were. You felt the heat creeping up your cheeks. “Is this all for me Chiquita?” He whispered in your ear. Your brain was so mushy that all you could do was nod.
He smiled and kissed you passionately before Pedro took your jeans off gently. His lips on your leg slowly going up while his hand caressed your leg. When his mouth got attached to your thigh, he made eye contact with you, his hot breath against your thigh while he torturously slow went up to your core which was covered by your panty. His thumb over your panty, circling your clit. You moaned out and arched your back. You wanted him, needed him. “Tell me what you want baby girl.” He whispered his voice still laced with comfort and softness. You whimpered out almost beggingly “I want you, papi.” The moment called him: “papi” his grin grew like you’ve never seen before and he took off your panty.
He placed a delicate kiss on your clit while looking at you with mischief. You let your head fall on your pillow, moaning out. You were sure that you were dripping at this point. You felt his tongue over your whole pussy, giving it a good lick before sucking on your clit. Your hand went through his hair, holding it carefully while he held your other hand, letting it rest on your stomach while he intertwined his fingers with yours. He looked up at you with his big brown cow eyes while he ate you out was enough to make you cum.
Pedro noticed that you were close and slowly put his finger in your entrance and curled it, playing with your g-spot. You gasped out and squeezed his hand tightly, your other hand clutching on his hair, making it messy. “Daddy, I’m close, please don’t stop.” You begged him. Pedro let go of your hand and held your hips a bit up in a tight lock, making it unable for you to move while his eyes watched your expressions close and intensely. Before you knew it a rush of ecstasy washed over you as Pedro kept going, almost overstimulating you.
His grip loosened and Pedro hang above you again with an adoring look as you tried to catch your breath, looking mesmerized at Pedro, his hair all messy from your hand in it. You pulled him for a kiss. His hands roaming over your body again. You pushed Pedro softly on his back and sat on his lap, kissing him again. Pedro gently cupping your cheeks. Some of your curls fell onto his forehead and he pulled it back. You started to grind on his dick through his pants. Your orgasm left a wet spot on his pants while you kept grinding. Pedro held your hips tightly and let his head fall on your pillow, letting out a groan. “There you go mamacita. Keep doing that.” You felt your stomach flutter from the nickname. “I had some other things in mind.” You told him and got off from his lap.
Pedro looked at you while you undid his pants. “Let me take care of you now daddy.” You told him, knowing it got to him. He groaned when you pulled his cock out and didn’t waist a second before going down, slobbering all over. God this man was build differently and it made your mouth water and your pussy clench by the idea of him in you. It definitely was a sloppy blowjob and from the sounds Pedro made, he enjoyed it very much so. He cursed underneath his breath with gasps. His hand found your hair and held your curls in his hand, holding it away from your face. You made eye contact with Pedro and he let out a moan and let his head fall on the pillow from the amount of pleasure that you were giving him.
“Fuck…., Baby if you keep doing that I’m going to cum.” He told you and got you off from him, carefully laying you on your back again and Pedro above you. He kissed you passionately like he had never done before, taking your breath away as you both moaned in the kiss. “I need you Papi, please, please.” Your eyes begged him and Pedro had to control himself so he wouldn’t cum by just your begging already. “God you are something else baby girl.” You crashed your lips against his again.
You took his sweater off and he took your oversized hoodie off as well, softly undoing your bra and the moment you were completely naked in front of him, he looked mesmerized at you with a smile before laying above you again and pulling you back in a passionate kiss. Your hand slowly going over his chest, belly and towards his cock. You held his cock in your hands and Pedro gasped slightly when you guided it to your entrance. Pedro stopped kissing you while you guided him into your entrance. His thumb softly rubbing your cheek for comfort. You put the tip in and you were dripping on the sheets when you pushed him in slowly before Pedro took over.
You whimpered, your eyes tightly shut from the pain and pleasure. He was stretching you out but he did it slowly while he groaned out as well. When he was fully in he waited so you could get used to his size. “Look at me mama.” He told you and you opened your eyes carefully. You saw Pedro looking at you with all the love radiating from his eyes. “You’re going to be okay. If it hurts, you tell me okay?” you nodded and Pedro kissed your forehead, making you feel all fuzzy and clingy. “Please daddy, I want to feel you. I want you close.” You begged and Pedro slowly started to move while he kept looking at you to see if you were okay.
His cock was coated by your juices, making him moan out. You put your arms around his shoulder, pulling him closer to your body. You craved the skin to skin contact. He sat up with you still hanging on him as a koala. He sat up straight, his cock deep buried inside of you. “Ride me baby, show daddy what you can do.” He told you, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders while you started to grind on his dick. His hands on your hips, pushing you deeper on his cock. You started to grind faster, feeling the euphoric feeling coming closer. “Papi…” you whispered out, followed by moans as you clenched on his dick. Pedro placed his arms tightly around you, pushing your chest against his in a hug. You started to shake on his cock, Pedro moaning out as a reaction while you clenched on his cock. “There you go princesa” Pedro grumbled out.
He laid down on his back, you still on top of him. You kept riding him while he took in every part of your body. “My god, your angelic.” He told you and pulled you down as he cupped your cheeks and kissed you deeply before putting his arms around you again and started to pound you out. You gasped at the sudden speed and the way it hit your g-spot perfect. Pedro cursed underneath his breath when he felt your juices flowing out of you. You were squirting before you could even realize that it happened. Pedro moaned and tried to catch his breath, feeling you shake above him.
You collapsed on his chest and kissed him while you were still out of breath. His hair sticking to his forehead from sweat and you brushed them gently out of the way while
Pedro’s eyes followed you, completely intoxicated by you. His hands caressing your waist and curves. Pedro moved his hand to the back of your neck and pushed you down so he could kiss you. You heard Pedro moan in this kiss which caused you to clench around his dick again. Pedro grumbled and pushed you softly over so he could fuck you on your back.
His eyes were a bit darker, connected with yours as he pushed his cock back into you, causing you to gasp. Pedro held your legs as he pounded into you. Pedro was close to while you chased your own orgasm again. “Come in me, please come in me, daddy” Pedro grumbled out and laid on top of you, holding you close. The way he moaned in your ear, pounded you out and held you so gentle at the same time made you cum in no time again. “That’s it baby, come on papi’s dick. Clench on my cock Chiquita” You felt his own cum shooting deep inside of you. Pedro cursed in between grumbles, getting down from his own high. His head buried between your neck and shoulder until he calmed down and let it rest on your shoulder while you went with your hands through his hair, trying to catch your own breath.
Pedro rolled on his back, pulling you with him so he could hug you. You went with your fingertips over his chest, Pedro kissing your head and massaging your scalp. “So I was right? You really do have a crush on me.” Pedro said chuckling as you pushed him away as a joke and rolled your eyes but your smile said enough. Pedro pulled you back into his chest while laughing. “I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry. If it helps, I have a crush too….” Pedro whispered the last part in your ear, making you look at him. You both just watched each other for moment until you both chuckled. “Can you please stay tonight? I don’t want to be alone right now.” you told him and Pedro smiled lovingly at you. “I’ll stay as long as you want and need me to, princesa” you smiled from all the butterflies in your stomach.
Pedro held you tighter and you let him, craving his comfort. “Let’s stay here for a bit longer.” He told you, making you look up and kiss him gently. After a gentle and loving make-out session, both clinging to each other as you closed your eyes, happy that the shitty day didn’t end shitty
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lemmetreatya · 1 month
librarian!eren who knows he’s being sinful every time he watched you come in; his eyes always drawn to the extensive collection of oversized hoodie and biking shorts you wore.
how librarian!eren quickly realises that you’d only come at vacant hours, where the benches are cleared and the library finds itself void of other occupants — bar librarian!eren of course.
or how you occasionally make conversation with librarian!eren because he’s the only one there. even worse, because he’s a night shift worker and they only need one person on staff for ratio (okay but who the fuck keeps a local library open past six?! — it’s not like this was NYPL for people to be coming in at ungodly hours) but alas, there were budding learners, like you, who always seemed to make good of the toxic hours and used them accordingly.
well, on most nights, that was.
as librarian!eren is packing a few of the return books back to their rightful place, he peaks past a pillar and almost drops the 1st edition fantasy book that was over 150 years old.
because no fucking way were you doing what he thinks you were doing.
automatically he feels his dick jump within his boxers and he panics, because librarian!eren still has four hours of his shift to go — theres no way he could get through it bricked up. for the sake of his own sanity, he has to think chaste thoughts; like cute bunnies and purple frogs.
but no matter how many times he looked and tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, he couldn’t deny your hunched over position, cocked leg perched onto the bench and the sound of petty moans mixed with sizzling vibrations.
librarian!eren thinks to himself how on earth he’s going to go about this. ignore it and save your pride? or enforce justice and escort you out. it doesn’t help that he’s warring within himself but after a heated mental debate, he enters the battle field.
“sorry, but that counts as public indecency.”
and you gasp up at eren, startled, because never did you think you’d ever be caught — especially concerning all the other times you’ve gotten away with it. but now you panic because you couldn’t get a criminal offence to your name, not this term!
but despite that, librarian!eren has a different tactic to how he can implore justice.
someway, somehow, you end up with your toes hovering adjacent to your ears as librarian!eren wets his dick inside your squidgy pussy, his smile demonic as he presses your adorable rose bud to the meaty bean of your clit.
it’s disgusting and it’s weird because at some point you’re begging your local librarian to spit in your mouth and for him to make out with you whilst possessing a cum filled mouth, but he complies all the same. at the end of the day the both of you won.
you tell librarian!eren that you enjoyed the time and would definitely do it again, but apparently you had a thing against the familiarity of second times. either way, librarian!eren doesn’t care. he’s more than happy to go back to doing his work.
librarian!eren can’t believe what’s transpired tonight, but either way, he knows it wasn’t no scenario any book could make up.
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wroteclassicaly · 7 months
She’s Trouble
(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)
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Summary: Tired of trailing behind, feeling like you don’t matter much, you decide that 86’ isn’t only going to be your bestfriend’s year.
Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader
Word count: 16,185
Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of drug usage, blood, NSFW, smut, drinking, Eddie is angry and sad in this, masturbation, slight voyeurism, breeding kink, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, angry sex, creampie, angst, fighting, rough sex, Dom!Eddie, and MORE!
A/N: I started writing this based off the scene of Eddie smirking at the cheerleaders he lets by after his cafeteria speech. And, well… it’s spawned itself a new life and turned into a whole lot more than I planned. But so is the life of an author, am I right? ;) Eddie is a dick in this, Reader is a lot more vocal than I’ve written before. I wanted to do something a bit different and I hope this accomplishes my mission?
I wanna thank @littledemondani for helping me out of my brain fart on which direction to take this! Also, do check out her masterlist, which is pinned at the top of her blog (it won’t let me link it here). She’s an incredible author and a fellow Eddie Munson slut, and one of my longtime best-friends! ♥️
Side note: I’ve also shifted a few things in the timeline of the show, for obvious reasons. The whole Eddie/Chrissy thing doesn’t happen on the same night as in the series. Chrissy and the reader have a good interaction and Eddie is a dickhead, but his reasoning will be explained. Also, while the reader is wearing a bustier top, this is an all inclusive fic, where the reader can be anything you imagine! I believe anyone can wear anything that they choose to—regardless of their size, so don’t let that bit of the story deter your perception, as I’ve left it open-ended! ;)
Enjoy! I’ve got a lot coming up soon! Part twos of multiple fics, prompts, plus other goodies! <3 - Kristen
You watch the way that he tries to be cute and coy towards them, attempts to impress with a dramatic wave through of his hand. Short skirts, tight little tops, bouncing ponytails, and a shitload of generic gossip on their painted lips—they pass by, everything included but those damned pom poms. Apparently they are giddy at his little show of calling out every group but your own in the cafeteria. Your eyes roll so hard that you feel a protesting sting, ignoring it to stab your fork into whatever creation is wiggling on your lunch tray. All the guys—freshman to seniors, and you—the only girl since founding, and Hellfire Club’s treasurer/manager to Corroded Coffin—make up the outsider table.
This year, however, you’ve felt so fucking off base with this group and their antics that you’re getting exhausted pretending to care about their shit when they don’t respect you or yours. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are always the sweetest to you, even with Lucas joining a sport, he’s still quick to always give you a smile and a nod whenever you pass him in the halls. They’re young, unlike Eddie and the older guys. You’re finally a senior this year, but still behind your bestfriend by a year in age. All this used to be okay, Eddie multiplying how much he repeats the grade, you trailing behind him like a lost puppy without any brain of her own, but now—it’s unbearably smothering.
And thus, it’s been building. You’re over bringing chips that are from your personal stash and using your gas to go buy smokes with your small work paycheck, or clean equipment for Eddie’s band, or stay up all night just to design campaign posters for Eddie, only for him to be so fucking stoned that he doesn’t even appreciate it, nor remember it.
“Fucking fake losers,” Jeff mutters.
“So fake,” Gareth agrees, both looking towards Eddie as he settles himself back down, wiggling his brows at you.
It’s an unsettling pressure that boils inside you, crackling, and as soon as you look into your best-friend’s brown doe eyes—it all comes apart. “You wanna talk about fake?” Your chest pumps a rush of adrenaline, helping careen the words off your tongue before you can stop them. Everyone’s attention snaps quicker than you’re prepared for, eyes wide and shocked. Sure, you’re vocal and sassy, but never outwardly angry. “The fact that all of you will condemn the basketball players, but would give up any of your seats at our table for one of the bitches in a skirt that they chase, if they popped their gum or batted an eyelash. You’d all be a bunch of drooling, little horndogs.” You can feel your heart racing with each pronunciation of a word, rising from your seat, knuckles white from gripping the edges of your yellow tray so hard.
You hear Dustin whisper a ‘whoa’, but your vocal vomit doesn’t stop.
“Frankly? I’m fucking sick of all this.” You pick the tray up and slam it down for good measure, unwrapping your messenger bag from around your seat, and you leave the table of gaping young men behind you, not even indulging yourself in Eddie’s bugged out, concerned stare.
You don’t even have time to throw your bag across your chest, when Jason Carver shouts out from behind you, “Damn, look at Munson’s slut go!”
It seems your group aren’t the only ones taking an interest in your outburst. Your breath is engorged in jagged pants of pitiful air, a fire coursing through you faster than you can handle, your skin singing, prickling with goosebumps. Your cheeks redden in humiliation, your feet swiveling and carrying you, fast and quick to their table, you throw your bag off, body like some damned slow motion track. Everyone notices Eddie’s antics, but you’ve never garnered any attention. It’s a surreal high.
Your combat boots click across the cement flooring, your hair like a dead weight across your back. Carver and his entire group are expectant, chairs scraping across to get out of your way. It’s all such a blur that you don’t even know your fist has collided with Jason’s face until you feel the pressure bite into your knuckles, a crunch beneath your force. He shrieks, his friends jumping to his aid, your stance shifting, ready to take anyone on. Your ears are bubbling with a murky static, applause in some direction, shouts in others.
Your name is being shouted from two different directions, the one you see stomping angrily towards you belonging to principal Higgins. He’s calling for help, shoving his finger in your face, motioning to your shirt. “This Hellfire Club does nothing but cause trouble!”
You snort, completely coming off your hinges, shaking the ends of your shirt, before stepping back and flinging it over your head, leaving you clad in your jeans and a leather bustier top no one could ever picture you owning. You’ve always kept your shit to a minimum to draw less attention, but you liked the support it provided your breasts with. You spin around, hands in the air, using the shirt as a lasso, tossing it at your old table. You begin to giggle, honestly wondering if you should visit the school nurse, but uncaring. Higgins is literally sputtering, making you snort, waving a hand. “I’m a slut, I’m trouble. Anyone have anything else to add? No? Yes?”
You bend back over to snatch your nap sack up, motioning to Higgins. “Lead the way to your office, Sir! Please fucking do.”
The pep in your step as your principal is angrily leading you from the masses is such a euphoric feeling, you’re sure you’ll never feel again in your life. You can taste the drama on your tongue’s tip. You don’t even spare your friends a glance, not wanting Eddie to have a morsel of satisfaction. This is your moment. Not as Eddie Munson’s best-friend, not as his groupie. As Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.
Eddie Munson has been clutching your discarded Hellfire shirt, doused in your perfume that is brimming his nostrils full, damn near trembling for the past twenty minutes that finish up lunch. He can’t move, that swelling between his legs keeping him glued to his seat, all the images of your fist soaring into Jason Carver’s face, ripping off your clothing in front of Higgins and the entire damned school. He went from concerned, angry at how you acted, to so fucking turned on that his stomach knotted up, sucking him to where he’s seated, his cock throbbing in his jeans. He’s never seen you like this.
The guys are silent, unsure what to say, how to even go about comprehending the you they just saw, that even Eddie himself has never heard of. He knows one thing for sure—okay—two. He has to find out if you’re okay and what’s going on.
You roll your eyes at the lovely note, signature of a three day suspension secured by Higgins at the bottom. Crumbling it up, you slide it into your back pocket, rifling through your pin tattered bag for a cigarette. You already know where you’re gonna go, and it sure as hell isn’t home. No one is there and no one is gonna care about your minor indecency. You can forge your mom’s signature, much like you do every good grade you bring home that she’s never around to see, or every comment from a teacher about how your folks are missing out.
It’s quiet at your house, your space. You parents more or less sleep there when they’re not gone on business. Pinching the filter, you cup Eddie’s stolen Zippo, that ashy hiss helping beckon that sweet bitter taste in past your lips. You don’t desire that home front solace right now, craving different scenery.
Maybe I’ll get lost…
You feel like Hawkins is your oyster, and you’re eager to explore on your own terms, by yourself. You’ve got your smokes, your pocket knife, and a pen and paper. That’s enough for you to make a decision.
Skull Rock it is.
One thing about Indiana is the ever predictable bite of hot weather that March brings. Spring is automatically Summer in the Midwest, and this is no different. Your leather top had stuck to your skin in an uncomfortable crunching press, making you eventually discard it, leaving you topless, your only accessories a chain with your birthstone pendant and a thicker silver chain, with a cheesy little guitar charm (a present from Eddie) nestled between your breasts. Your form is shaped against the rock behind your bare shoulder blades, a cool sensation that has you tilting your head back, stretching your neck, treetops breezing above you—tall and luscious. You smile softly, undoing the flap on your bag and seeking out your Walkman and sunglasses.
In moments your eyelids are fluttering closed, shielded from sun rays, your Walkman clicking in place, readying Heart’s Barracuda to nick your ears, coasting in welcomed caresses. It’s not thick heavy metal, but it’s you. And in the serenity of these woods, another cigarette you allow yourself—you begin to drift off in a galactic solitude that is solely your own. You’d learnt how to count beats, read sheet music, even sing a few notes from Eddie, so getting into your song’s groove isn’t hard for you, your fingers wrapping around your chain, tapping underneath the swell of your breast along with the chorus. You’re off the precipice and gone, demolished to the point you don’t hear the familiar footsteps, the sound of your name, or leaves and dirt crunching beneath white Reeboks, nor do you hear a throat-deep groan at his discovery.
Eddie and you always share this in synch kinda shit, which creeps a lot of people in your circle out. Eddie, however, welcomes it today. When he couldn’t find you after abandoning his lunch, spent what was left of the day attempting, only for Henderson to tell him he’d heard you’d been suspended for a few days—he made it his personal goal to find you. Your parents are gone so he knows the times you do and don’t like to be at home by yourself. And with the way you lashed out at everyone, you won’t go anywhere he has easy access to.
That leaves one place. Skull Rock.
The drive feels shorter to Eddie this time, but the walk longer. He has to shed himself of his denim and leather, tossing it over his shoulder and clambering up the path towards finding you, keeping your club tee in his back pocket. The more he walks, the more he wishes he brought a drink or his smokes, which remain on his dash. If he’s wrong and you’re not here, he isn’t sure if this is reality anymore. This day has been one big mindfuck.
Thankfully, as he hears a loud tone droning over the clearing, a soft hum, his heart patters in his chest, nostrils inhaling sharply. He rounds the corner’s pathway, already calling your name, his eyes widening, jaw unhinged, fists clenching at his sides. You’re reclining against the boulder’s curve, black shades perched over your eyes, hair draped across your neck, your boot clad ankle crossed over the other, a cigarette perched into your puckering pair of lips, your layered chains swaying, slumbering against your skin, and fuck—your tits, Eddie winces, gripping himself to adjust—frozen.
He can’t not notice how your nipples are reacting to the air. He can’t not detail your shape, how your waist is formed, zeroing in on the baby bat you’d gotten to match his larger ones, inked into your ribcage, and he certainly isn’t forgetting your jeans that are settled over your hips. His eyes glaze over, heat prodding his flesh, shrouding him a veil of desire and raw ache. You don’t notice him, calls of your name falling on mainstream rock’s ears. He doesn’t think approaching you is smart, like a cat and mouse, your behavior for once—unpredictable.
Has Eddie just not been paying attention to you that much lately?
Suddenly, when he’s debating a cowardly retreat, baiting his internal monologue for an excuse, your audible gasp is heard, his name crushed between your gritted teeth.
In all of his glory—stands your best-friend. He’s balling and un-balling his fists, eyes darting rapidly, tongue sucking against his teeth, feet ready to carry him far away. And the more he avoids your stare, the angrier you get. So what, you’re not good enough to look at because your breasts are out? Modesty to a back burner, you take your crossed arms off your chest, scraping your smoke out on the rock, pushing your glasses into a perch upon your head, body facing Eddie as you stand.
I dare you.
Your eyes complicate a challenge—craving him in your proximity, and hating his grunge blanketed sight. Eddie’s neck is a really pretty thing when he tenses, his jugular agitated against a harsh gulp of air. He answers you by meeting you in the clearing, palms sweaty, scrubbing over his back pockets. It’s a cool damned drink of water, as if you’ve been without, making thee Eddie Munson squirm. But he’s still your best-friend, and you are half naked.
Covering yourself back up so he will look you in the eye, you tuck your arms into a push beneath your sternum, forearms shielding your nipples. It’ll have to do.
“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?” You snap before he can voice a concern or a question.
Tethered to deep breathing techniques, Eddie is insulted, and is biting back in his acidic response. “After your own personal talent show antics at school, I was worried about you. Excuse-the-fuck-outta-me, Y/N.”
A bitter laugh comes from you. “Oh, you’re focused enough on my shit to actually be worried about me? How kind of you, Edward Munson.”
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be worried about you?” Eddie is raising his voice, sizzling in a cautious rage. He’s usually happy-go-lucky with you, but you’re pushing these fucking buttons he isn’t aware he’s been hiding.
“You really need a list of reasons? Wait,” you say, moving to circle him, pinching your thumb between your teeth, “you’re probably, completely oblivious, because I’m just Y/N. I’m not your club, not your band, not one of your groupies that flounce around for an ounce from you, then leave your ass for their jock boyfriends.”
“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raises a hand, rings clattering together. “When the fuck did all this start, Y/N?”
Your arms fall back at your sides with a loud ‘thump’. The heating has settled, your high wearing off, truth remaining as to why you’ve been upset in the first place. A caverning hurt carves its place into your chest, igniting an anguish that drowns you. You’re defeated. “It started when my best-friend forgot that I’m my own person and not his servant. Or maybe it began when my person was so stoned that he barely acknowledged a test I fucking flunked to stay up and make his campaign posters—which, may I add—he also gave zero fucks about-“
“So all this is because I didn’t kiss the very ground you walk on for some posters that you practically begged me to make, and wow—your A+ average went to an A. Curse me into the deepest depths of hell, please.” His bracelet slides down his wrist as he palms his heart.
Maybe you’re not the only one who is changing. Eddie hasn’t ever disregarded you in such a crude manner. Your tongue is practically salivating in need to layer on biting and cruel words, things you won’t be able to come back from. You remain silent, mulling over what to say, glaring, docked, stinging prickles of tears. It’s an elating elevation when the words do come. “I’m your best-friend, Eddie. Not your little groupie. I’m tired of you preaching about conformity, when all I do is conform to you. You don’t ever let me pick music, you always take for granted I’ll give you and the guys rides when your van isn’t working, despite if I might have something to do that doesn’t involve an all male ensemble. I spend my money to buy you cigarettes and snacks for the meetings. I manage gigs, I clean your band’s equipment.”
Eddie sniffs, looking pointedly at you, doe eyes dark and growing increasingly fed up. “Didn’t know you were keeping a tally, Y/N.”
“That’s… That’s all you’re taking from everything I just said to you, Eddie?” You can’t keep that hurt out of your tone this time.
Eddie shrugs, crossing his arms, coldly spitting out, “Seems to me like you’re sick of me. And that’s not my problem, that’s yours.”
Your head is swimming in turmoil, all your acting out and emotions swirling into a mindfuck. He doesn’t care. You’re standing here finally pouring your entire soul out in heaps and your person is pouring gasoline on the pieces, dangling a match.
“I’ve never kept a tally, Eddie. I do these things because they make you happy, and that makes me happy, but it fucking sucks when you don’t appreciate them or care about anything in my life, either.”
“That’s what you really think, Y/N?” There’s a flatline in how he’s speaking to you.
“No,” you murmur, “it’s what I know.”
Eddie’s jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He kicks at the ground with the toe of his shoe, brows raising. “Breaking Jason Carver’s nose and my cold, dead heart.” He splays a hand across his chest. Those rings, which are always a comfort to you, reflecting off the sunlight, dripping in judgement.
Your trembling wavers, crackling sentence structure falling apart. “Eddie. Don’t.”
“No. Fuck you, Y/N. Seriously, fuck you!” He shouts, snapping a finger in your direction.
Your hands rub up and down your goosebump soaked skin, finalizing what you need to do. Heaving in a deep breath, a sentence escapes your lips. And you pray, pray Eddie will heed this warning and value what you have enough to understand, to work it out. “Maybe it’s time to fess up to the fact that 86’ needs to be a bigger year for us both.”
Mind reader. A power you’ve never wanted more than in this moment as you claw at the cusp of your best-friend’s reaction. Outwardly, Eddie shifts, Adam’s apple bobbing, thumb swiping underneath his nose. Your mouth waters, throat reflexes threatening a fountain of vomit. And Eddie takes your warning, slaying through it, every bit of ground beneath your boots threatening to cave in.
“You’re right. Hell, Carver is right. You do act like my slut. And you have every right to change it, because it’s only holding us both back. And it probably has been for a long time.”
Kicking you would’ve hurt less. You’re unable to see Eddie’s form longer, muddled to a watery silhouette, your brave bravado dissipating. You won’t beg him. You’re nothing to him anymore, he’s just confirmed. You try not to think about the first time he taught you how to dance before your first snowball, or how you both snuck Jim Hopper’s cigarettes when you’d get in trouble at school and be sent to see him for minor misdemeanors, or Eddie’s pride when he managed to get you on stage to sing one song with the band, rubbing circles on your back the whole time you both sang to a trio of drunks, or splitting beers on his van’s roof and nearly breaking limbs when it started raining and you had to climb down, how he taught you to drive in the fancy neighborhood and you knocked over the mayor’s mailbox, when you watched him buy his ‘sweetheart’, tears in his eyes at a possession so gorgeous and all his own, his hands gentle as they held you the nights you cried from one stupid thing that felt massive to you, when he was your person and you were his.
Your wet, quivering breaths are what you hear. Birds chirping, wind rustling, even Eddie’s heavy breathing drowned out. It takes what feels like eternity, before Eddie is slashing the quiet, guarded and stoic. “You need to put a fucking shirt on.”
Your jeans are covered in tear drops from a bowed head, fingers shaking hard enough that your knuckles roll into a crack at the motions. You wipe your tears in time to see Eddie hold out your Hellfire shirt—second edition—his being the first. His reverie breaks briefly, and you think… maybe. It’s gone in those brown eyes that you can no longer read or recognize. Filled with loathing and disgust at you, his last words imprinting on your psyche, a physical recoil.
“On second thought. You won’t be needing this anymore.” Eddie makes his way around you and finds his lighter atop your bag, flicking a flame to life and nudging it at the end of your shirt. It catches quick, burns fast, like every fiber of friendship with Eddie Munson.
Eddie tosses the tattered, charred remains to the forrest floor, pocketing his lighter, walking away from you and out of your life.
He can’t stay any longer and watch you fall apart, not when he’s running away from his cowardice. And he does, run. He moves and clambers, stumbles until he’s from you and the cries that he hears pour off your lips. His chest is thumping sporadically, pulse in his blurry vision. His five fingers catch a tree, slamming, splintering, a sob breaking free of his tear soaked lips.
Eddie Munson forces himself to remember how unsure you looked in your dress when he held you around your waist, never feeling more himself in his entire life than he did with you— at thirteen—during some cheesy school dance, how you entertained his tunes so he could teach you the counting method he uses for his music to move your feet to the beat, all your encouragement every time he hit a new note, or your midnight phone calls to ask what he’d like on his posters, your body trusting him to keep you safe on those nights when everything became too much for you in your life, but you had tried to hide it, or when you both snuck in to see Carrie when you were pre-teens and you couldn’t sleep without him, so he made a makeshift mattress next to your bed for a month, about that time you were so tired from an all nighter that he had walked into his room and found you curled up in his bed, using his vest as a makeshift pillow, your nagging him to study more, because he’s always capable of anything he sets his mind to, and those cookies—the only thing you can bake without having to call for Hawkins fire department—a container you’d brought for him and his Uncle, still sitting on his kitchen counter.
He was your person and you were his. And now? You’re gone. Eddie runs away. He keeps running, leaving you to your own miserable anguish, drowning in his own, getting himself in his rust bucket and going back to his trailer to get completely fucked outta his not-so-right mind.
By the time your suspension is over and you can no longer barricade yourself into your room and finish off another bottle from your dad’s liquor cabinet—it’s sheer dread. You’re not only the freak who broke Hawkins Highschool’s Prom King’s nose, but you’re the freak without anyone by your side—a true and thorough outsider. As you stand outside your school, nails pinching into already weakened threads dedicated to your bag’s strap, you’re really regretting those couple of drinks this morning and how you’d poured more vodka into a flask to take your Tylenol with. Hell, it’s not like you can get a fix from the school dealer anymore, is it?
Those damned double doors are louder, a jolt to your already throbbing headache, fluorescent lights sparkling in your retinas through your shades that cover a nursing hangover and distraught, red and puffy eyes from a three day sob fest. Each step your boots make sounds like you’re walking to your death, your outfit—sans any Hellfire related attire—is all yours. Your two chains limited to one, Eddie’s gift waiting in a cardboard box you’d half-assed assembled, and tossed in random shit he’d given you. The deeper you get into every hallway, making simple turns you know like the back of your hand, your nausea grows as to what might be awaiting around each corner. Or who. It’s a short lived relief upon arrival at your locker.
You pinch your shades off, raw eyes protesting the moment fresh tears staple your skin in brushes. In red letters, diagonally capitalized across your door contains what you haven’t wanted to face since it happened.
The freak got dumped
You choke on your salvia, throat wet and enduring a suffocation strong enough to have you gagging on the piece of toast and water you’d forced your famished form to consume this morning. You barely make it into the toilets before double over and expelling everything, diaphragm on fire, bones vibrating through tosses. Hair dangling in your face, plastered to your mouth, you sniffle and tremble, vision blurring. You ponder getting yourself fucking expelled, but you made this whole ordeal about it being your year. If you retreat now, what will that do? Mustering all your strength, your courage, you flush your bile, clean off your mouth and face, pop a mint, take a swig out of your flask, and make your way to your first class.
By the ever popular lunch time, you have managed to clean your locker and pinpoint the culprit (an ashamed that a girl broke his nose, Jason Carver), but neither of you speak on it. You keep your head down, you focus on your school work, you take your Tylenol, and you sip on your vodka. Enough to keep an edge off, but not enough to send you down a despairing hole filled with regret and torment. You know you’re being stared at as soon as you hit the line to get your tray. It’s fake smiles and refusal to acknowledge it that gets you in search of an aisle, and hopefully out of sight. You aren’t so lucky…
“Hey, Y/N! Over here!” You hear an all too cheery voice belonging to Dustin Henderson. It halts you in your tracks, a wince causing a physical recoil.
It’s not his fault you and Eddie no longer have anything resembling a relationship, and he apparently has not told them, and they’ve not seen Jason Carver’s masterpiece.
What isn’t good is that Eddie is very much at your old table and you know it’s unavoidable. You wished you had borrowed some concealer for your under eyes, but it’s too late. There’s a grand staircase cloaked in invisibility beneath your feet, your stomach knotting in crushing vices, your cheeks stained with red. You walk to your former friend group, trying like hell not to side eye Eddie Munson. Keeping a steady focal point without blinking against your scratchy lower lids is damn near impossible. And guys are going to be guys—much to your chagrin. Gareth is drawing further attention where nothing needs to be, popping off with a, “Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”
“A week long bender,” Jeff chimes in.
Biting the inside of your cheek between your teeth, you shrug a shoulder. Better them having knowledge of your binge drinking celebration than knowing about how messed up you are.
Don’t look at Eddie. Is your mantra for today.
He, on the other two hands, is not prioritizing that same aspect.
“So what if I did? I know of about ten girls who can drink your asses under the table, myself included.” You smirk, gripping your tray’s edge.
“Been holding back on us?” Gareth is grinning from ear to ear. It eases your shouldered weight tremendously, breaking tension in your table’s ranks.
“You gonna have a seat or what?” Mike Wheeler interrupts, his hands flipping towards a desired target, one that you wish you could keep pretending you never knew.
Fuck it.
You really crave for some divine intervention to help you, because meeting those chocolate brown eyes that are distraught, angry, and rimmed red—your heart constricts to painful blows, windpipes crushed beyond speaking capabilities. Eddie’s been somewhere off planet earth with that kinda high, you remember seeing his demeanor that way only a handful of times, including this one. Maybe he does care? No, doesn’t matter, don’t go there. It’s over and done.
Still, that idiotic, massively moronic part that Eddie owns of you—it’s billowing hope. Eddie Munson dashes it in seconds flat.
You glance away, jaw twitching to control an automatic quiver. Dustin is laughing it off as a joke, someone else asking why. Eddie reclines his legs in your empty chair, loud enough to get your attention back. He wants me to see.
“No traitors.” It’s a simplistic answer, aggressive, no room to argue.
Ever-the-curious-freshmen, Dustin and Mike peg their leader for questions. You halt it, tone breaking apart, fingers tucking into your shirtsleeve as you balance your lunch on one hand and wipe across raw flesh to clean fresh tears from your eyeline. That’s when Eddie does look away.
“It’s okay, guys.” Is what you say.
“What’s going on?” Gareth asks.
“I won’t be around meetings or practices anymore, but I’m still here if anyone needs anything, okay? You know where my locker is, and where I live.” You pat yourself on the back for that robotic but truthful statement.
“Unless you’re sick of everyone else too…” His deep voice rumbles.
Like a deer in headlights— you’re frozen, a blinding rage of hurt and red hot anger pouring over you in a storm. You explode. Picking up the first thing in your sight, which happens to be on your plate—a glob of some chocolate goop (possibly a brownie)—it’s slung directly at your former best-friend’s crisp white Hellfire shirt. Your second cafeteria incident that, yet again, everyone notices. Eddie yelps, shouting out your name in brisk spits.
You further it, abandoning your food in a repeat of days ago, floating to his side and shoving him back two steps. Eddie stops his rapid shirt swipes and immediately presses his form into yours, chests smashed, food squishing through your top. His hair is frazzled from the humidity, his toffee colored irises slowly polishing into a thick black gloss of dilated pupils. He sucks his tongue against his teeth, swaying into you, not touching you with those hands, an air about him that is beginning to swarm your initial reaction and bend it over, fucking it into the next decade. He’s taller than you remember, but you latch onto your own, tasting that cigarette soaked breath, lips hovering over his, hot tears matting your lashes.
Whether it’s regarding his inability to respond to your reasoning for this whole situation, his lack of expression, your self-disappointment for something roused inside you at his huffing proximity, you crown him with a title off a jagged voice box, damp in her sorrows, just as Dustin steps between you two, gently prying. “You’re a fucking coward, Eddie Munson.”
Teachers are starting to flock in, and you shake your head, hand over your eyes briefly, before sprinting in strides from the room in search of a place to collapse.
If you had told yourself at the beginning of the school year that you’d be in a camaraderie with the girl’s bathroom—you would have laughed. And if your mind had convinced you otherwise, you’d have expected Eddie to be right beside you, arm around your shoulders, sharing his lunch, making stupid jokes, coming up with lame ideas to make you feel better, but in that endearing Eddie Munson kinda way. You let out a soft cry, giving up on that stinging beneath your lids. You’re a hot mess and the whole building probably knows how alone you really are now. When the outcasts cast you out, where else can you go?
Clenching onto the sides of the ceramic sink, bag slipping off your shoulder and onto the floor, you keep your head bowed between your shoulder blades, not noticing someone come in and approach you, a gentle set of fingers laying upon your shoulder. Through foggy vision you can make out the green colors of her uniform and her perfectly straight ponytail, her face seemingly concerned. Your laugh is exhaustion on steroids, expression bombarded with emotion. “Okay, what the fuck is next? A girl craves some independence and the whole school turns against her. Let me guess, your boyfriend sent you to get even? Why don’t I make it easy for you and you can call your friends in here, and… and—“
Your lungs start to burn, your ribcage pounding with an erratic heartbeat, throat feeling like it’s been dusted with a thick blanket of ash. You’re panicking in front of Chrissy Cunningham. That alone has you feeling more pathetic than ever before in your life, and it worsens your heaving sobs—broken and unguarded. Chrissy’s eyes are drinking you in, irises glossing over with tears of her own. She grasps your other shoulder and squeezes, not releasing her hold on you, her soft voice strong when she speaks, but gentle enough between the expanse of your shared airspace.
“One, two, three, four. Okay, now deep breath in, and release it for me, Y/N.” She’s actually calming you, keeping you steady on your feet, which feel as if they’re sinking into the flooring below like led weights.
“Chrissy…” You aren’t sure how to articulate, still alarmed and attempting to breathe with her.
“I’m right here. Just keep breathing and counting with me.” And you do. And that’s when it hits you.
She has experience with this mind numbing panic too. That otherworldly anxiety. You feel a connective pull towards the cheerleader—seeing—not this persona you’d imagined, but her calming features, her easy going manner towards you, how she lets you find your lifeline, but also lends you her own in case you need it. When your breathing slows, she gives you a look, a silent communication of question. You may be able to breathe a little easier now, but it doesn’t stop the weight of your situation from crashing down and demolishing what’s left of you.
“Can I… I’m gonna hug you, is that okay?” At this point, if she’s going to put a sign on your back you don’t care. You need the human connection, the comfort. You agree and your schoolmate takes you into a light grip, but folds her arms around you and lets you bury your cheek against her perfumed sweater.
You both stand in the embrace, no trace of awkwardness, a sense of kinship and knowing. It’s when you pull back that hint of a questionable concern with her, wiping your sore eyes with a hiss. She notices.
“Are you here because of Jason? I just need to know.”
“Jason was a dick, Y/N.” Her language shocks you, having only heard her be proper before.
You laugh, your first genuine giggle in days. It’s contagious, as she joins in, hip jutting against the sink. “No, I’m here on my own terms. I promise. I saw what happened with your friends…”
“Yeah, I can imagine how everyone must be amused right now.” You bite your lip, facing away.
Chrissy gives you a saddened smile, but attempts to reassure. “I know this is gonna sound incredibly lame coming from me, but you’re stronger than all this, Y/N. The way you’ve stood up for yourself these past several days… I admire it.”
You frown deeply, wondering if this is a trick, because no way is Chrissy Cunningham admiring someone like you.
“You admire a loser that can’t even manage her own newfound independence?”
“No,” she says with a pause, looking down at her French tip manicure, before facing your curious gaze once more. “I admire your ability to stand up for yourself, despite what everyone is saying or doing to you. It’s a good quality to have, one that many of us are afraid of, you know?”
There’s this hollow pain in her eyes and your continued recognition has you pulling her in for another hug—this time for her benefit, rather than yours.
“Looks like we’ve fallen into the cliché trap, Cunningham.” You grin, pulling back.
Chrissy tilts her head, curious. “What do you mean?”
“A freak and a cheerleader thinking the same as what their peers think, and getting each other totally wrong.”
Her sweet eyes light up, her head nodding. “That’s exactly it.”
You share a knowing smile, a newfound bond forming. Chrissy situates her small shoulder bag, pulling out a compact and tugging you by your sleeve. “C’mhere. Let me fix that.”
She takes a gentle hand, not rushing as she speckles your sore under eyes with her own stash of makeup. After she blends it with soft fingertips, she snaps the lid closed and places it back in her bag, turning you to the bathroom mirror, brushing some of your hair through, giving your back a rub. “Is that any better, Y/N?”
Your circles are mostly covered, puffiness disguised enough where you won’t be embarrassed. You look and feel much better, and you’re overwhelmed with gratitude for the blonde at your side. You incline yourself into a swivel, leaning in her direction. “Chrissy Cunningham, I think you’re one of the sweetest people I now kinda, sort of know.”
Her giggle is infectious, and she gives you another squeeze. You drop down to swoop your messenger bag into your arms, grabbing out a your notebook and a pen, scribbling your home phone on it, hesitating, before handing it over. “If you ever need to talk to someone about all the bullshit, whatever it is, consider me your new confidant.”
She holds the simple sheet paper as if it’s another lifeline and you’ve just given her a treasure. Going back into her own bag, she has a cute little pink embroidered stationary paper that she jots her number on, and uses a smiley face to dot the i in Chrissy. Seconds later, her friends and a group of other girls burst into the bathroom, gossip on their lips. You and Chrissy flash each other a secret smile, and you make another hasty retreat.
Eddie had to hear a bunch of shit from the guys, overly bearing questions sounded off by Henderson and Wheeler. The eventual revealing by a passerby group of cheerleaders about your specially decorated locker, had surprised him too. As if there’s not already a weighted dagger wedged into his ribcage, one interlocking into his heart muscle—he lost control with his bitter mouth again, and it fueled your temper. But deep down, deeper into those subconscious recesses, you both felt that ignition start, a kind of coercing heat that is waging an internal war in Eddie’s head. His sole reason for blocking you out and refusing to talk about anything with you in the woods.
Eddie Munson is in love with you. Eddie Munson needs to fuck you.
It’s something he’s always done—built walls, got high, stayed drunk, coped with humor, hid behind his guitar or his campaigns. And without his right hand woman, he feels naked, too vulnerable to all the bullshit he’s tried to keep out. And your absence has become a set course for his weakening concentration on anything that isn’t you. His ultimate warrior princess is also his Achilles heel. Your feelings in wanting to branch out, they scare Eddie.
His brain is flipping logic into thinking you are seeing what everyone else sees in him: freak, failure, piece of shit, a nobody, a criminal. He pushed you out before he could pull you back in—easy, abrupt. And it’s not just changing him—no—he could smell your vodka soaked breath across the table, see your eyes swollen and glazed—absent. For the first time in years you weren’t wearing your limited edition shirt (thanks to him), and Eddie isn’t sure why he expected you to still have his chain around your neck. It fucking hurts.
As the room slowly falls back into their daily routine, Eddie loses his appetite and leaves his herd behind, urgent to get the fuck outta this building, out of Hawkins. Hell, maybe even the country. Like you, however, Eddie Munson’s retreat isn’t one that is unscathed. In his urgency, he smacks straight into you, stumbling over his own clumsy ass feet, gripping your forearms to keep you both steady. He’s processed your scent before he even takes in your beautiful features.
You look less like you’ve been partying all weekend, but Eddie knows better. Your pupils are dilated to the bright overhead lights of the hallways, making your sclera more visible. It’s bloodshot red, lower lids swollen and tinged a rough crimson beneath the fresh makeup that Eddie now sees. He swallows and looks away, but he doesn’t let you go. His grip isn’t harsh, it’s simply what it’s always been with you two. Easy and sturdy, safe.
You’re the first to downcast your gaze, focusing more on your shoe wear than on Eddie. It kills him. Even through these notions, this fear, whatever anger you’re both harboring, it’s as if this whole damned school and everyone passing you two are mere bodies, Eddie Munson and Y/N Y/L/N floating, tethered. His stomach churns its lunch contents, teeth clenching tightly. You make a brisk dart off, but Eddie attempts to catch you, instead tugging too hard on your shoulder strap, causing your bag to dump and spread out its contents at his sneaker clad feet.
Eddie’s eyes are quick to see it before you realize. Shining underneath hallway lights, scattered amongst notebooks and pens, is a small flask. His brows perch, he crouches first, scooping it away from your jutting hands. Gareth’s words rewind and play on repeat in his head.
“Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”
The way his heart rate spikes, hostilely spitting that acid all over his lungs, battering his throat muscles with a pummeling storm. He’s already sure what he’ll smell if he presses the lid to his nostrils, but Eddie has to feed his anxious curiosity, unscrewing the cap with nervous hands, sniffing, shrugging off your grabs. It burns his mouth from its strength, his distraction giving you enough leeway to wrap your hands over his fingers and pull. Eddie locks your digits within his own, second thoughts gone. Against everything inside him he is getting angrier by the second, the anger masking itself, easier than being petrified and scared in front of you.
And Eddie is scared. Is he really so fucking stupid to think you weren’t at all affected by any of this?
“What the fuck, Y/N?” Your fingers sliding through his own, flood him, prickling every vein running beneath his skin, cutting off his blood flow—scorching.
Having Eddie’s hands on you again, his body so close, despite your shame at his discovery, it’s a feeling that comes more natural than breathing. You avoid his question, feeble grasping docked.
“Why do you have a flask full of fucking vodka?”
“Will you keep your voice down!” You hiss the words, finally breaking off him and retrieving the rest of your items on the scuffed up floor, and securing them back into your bag, Eddie holding back your liquor.
“Did you drive to school drinking this crap? Tell me you didn’t, Y/N, cause’ I swear to god—“
You chortle, a humorless boom smacking across your chest.
“Eddie, this faux best-friend act is getting old. Your on and off switch is enough to drive anyone to drastic measures. But don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’d be an idiot and drive drunk. Not even for you.”
His irises that are glossy with concern, they cave to dilating pupils, an animalistic rage priming them. “Oh, you have got to be the most clueless bitch alive, Y/N.” He steps towards you, frame towering slightly. You’re not afraid, never fearing if he’ll do something, because that is not Eddie, no matter what. But, you are very much dripping with rage at his words.
He pockets your flask in his left back pocket, rings clinking against it as he pats it for good measure. You try to dive around him, beneath his arm, but he swoops in on his own, using that strength for his slender frame, literally scooping you into a half bring-away, only discarding you back onto your feet once you’re both outside. You try to shove at him, palms resting on his stained club shirt. The bell has rang to signal your free period, but you don’t give two fucks, giving up and being the one to leave.
“Who’s the coward now, huh? You’re gonna walk away from me when I call you on your shit, Y/N?”
You spin on your heel, dirt and gravel specks crunched beneath your step. “I thought I was a clueless bitch, Eddie? A traitor? Or, your slut.” You scoff, crossing your arms.
Guilt briefly flickers across his features, but he shuts it down tenfold. “Just because we’re fighting doesn’t mean I want you to destroy your fucking liver or your life. Jesus Christ, you really think I’m that big of an asshole?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore!” You fling your hands into the air. “One minute we’re at each other’s throats, the next you’re up my ass. I don’t know what to do here, Eddie.”
“Thought you craved some individuality and independence.” Though there’s meant to be flare behind the words, Eddie’s tone has splintered across each word, voice breaking apart. Your guts sink into your ass, as does a particularly pointed swallow that stabs at your jugular.
“Didn’t say I wanted to be completely independent from my best-friend.” Your own response is gentle, voice soaked with impending emotion.
Fuck. Stupid fucking tears burning again. Not right now.
Eddie’s attention snaps back on you, proximity closing in. His jaw clenches, he moves it from side to side with a closed mouth, sniffing, whistling air through a wet breath. “Feels like you’re leavin’ me and I can’t do anything to stop it…”
It makes sense suddenly. A catapult of truth slamming right into your chest, spreading throughout your body.
He thinks I’m leaving him. That I want to leave him.
As if the last seventy two hours haven’t happened, better yet, as if they haven’t mattered in the grand scheme of things—you’re the one that meets Eddie, reaching to push that curly hair from his eyes, his head downcast and posture sullen. His brown eyes are brimmed with tears that spill over his lash line, a permanent frown creased between his brows, mouth red and spit slick. Those freckles on his nose are suddenly very prominent to you. You’ve never seen Eddie Munson this vulnerable. Your heart shatters, the ache so physically strong that you have to remain close to him to hold on and find that strength again.
How could you have gotten this so monumentally wrong? Maybe if you’d have expressed what you meant more instead of feeding off Eddie’s anger. His communication and yours both need nurturing, but your sudden shift in mood must’ve made him feel like you wanted to abandon him, not just do things for yourself. He may not realize that yet, but you do. And it fucking sucks.
“Eddie. I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say in the seconds that your heart heaves into your throat.
He shakes that shaggy mane. “Don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me, especially you.” He backs away from you and you see his entire expression crumble, tears spilling onto his cheeks.
That pain drowns your throat, seeing him cry because of your lack of explanation and mutual avoidance. You chase after him, running around to block his view, unable to let him go, gripping onto his waist beneath his jacket to keep him planted. Another familiarity. He tenses beneath your touch before relaxing.
“Eddie, will you please listen to me? I think I know what’s going on now.”
“And look who is the one flipping her emotions this time.”
“Because, I… Eddie, I—“
“What lame ass line do you want me to buy, Y/N? You think I’m not used to worthless promises or idiotic reassurances? Yeah, good.” His sentence is fragmented, voice rough and breaking apart on each word. “You know I still care about you, but I don’t need you to lie to me, you don’t owe me a damn thing, I promise you—“
You press a finger to his quivering lips, halting him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a pause in the universe, your legs heavy, fingertip stroking along the plumpness of your best-friend’s full, lower lip. Eddie’s chest is moving up and down swiftly, tongue against his teeth, that warning look. You fail to heed it and Eddie’s hands tremble at his sides before he gives up and cups the sides of your face, bringing your foreheads together. His lips part to speak, your finger still on them. “Think we’re in trouble here.”
You can do nothing but nod as his declaring statement, inclining your head further, nose nudging his own. It doesn’t feel as if you’re standing any longer, every mean thing that Eddie has said, every disproportionate attempt of yours to communicate—obliterate, shrouding you both in the process. His breath is hot as his mouth opens and he sucks your finger inside, tongue licking its tip, biting the digit between those milky white teeth. It sends that throbbing nudge, snapping between your thighs, making you arch into your best-friend. You whisper his name and his fingers move along your jaw, across your ear, sliding through your hair and rubbing a pathway to your necks’ nape, sending an army of goosebumps across your flesh, the coolness of his rings stimulating your skin.
“Yeah, you feelin’ it too?” Your lids flutter closed, Eddie using his thumb pad to brush the corners of your lashes, signally for you to open them. “Didn’t say you could stop looking at me, did I, sweetheart?”
You grind against him, unable to stop. Your last several days, everything between you both is on hold, these buried urges able to finally win out. This dominant side of Eddie Munson has you an inward and outwardly quickening pile of mush and hormones, of fucking need. Eddie about loses his cool when you obey him, pupils blown, mouth looking parched and in need of his kisses. He leans, walls starting to slip, resolve crumbling, his pouting mood long gone.
Years of built up tension and confusion, being rightfully by one another’s sides, it all comes apart, the seams, begging to be repaired into what it has to be now.
You envelop his hold on you, hands sliding into slips beneath his jacket, around his waist, tracing over his back, before dipping under his armpits and grasping his shoulders, knuckles pushed down by his leather jacket. One more step and he’ll kiss you. He’s closing a gap, no more breaches, you tapping his shoulders right down to the blades in encouragement. It’s parted mouths hovering over one another, cigarettes and vodka, school lunch and weed, it’s—
“Hey, guys! Higgins is so pissed off right now… After that shit went down in the caf, he’s ready to expel you, Y/N! Pretty fuckin’ sure.” You hear Gareth approach, and just like, Eddie releases you.
You have to steady yourself, want simmering into a slumber in your belly, not yet gone, but still reminding you where it lives. Your glare is directed at your mutual friend. Eddie, feeling as if he’s been doused with ice cold water, and the moment is shattered, you see those walls rebuilding rapidly, and she shrugs off your hand, leaving you and Gareth, and that slickness that has collected in your panties.
You aren’t sure just exactly what Eddie is feeling, but you’re very aware of what you are. So driving to his place once you know Wayne has left for the night shift—it’s a no brainer. You’d debated bringing Eddie your box of treasures, even your necklace, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe, maybe your best-friend doesn’t want you to…?
A dynamic shift in your relationship, or what it used to be. You can barely sit still as you wrack your brain through all the levels of hazy blurs. So much has happened in three days, but… today, with Eddie nearly kissing you on the mouth, and you nearly grinding against him in the Hawkins High parking lot—yeah, you two have to talk about all of this. As you squirm in your seat, hands tightening around the wheel, that approaching trailer park sign signals your arrival to his residence. You can’t stop the way your heartbeat feels as if it’s ping ponging around in your throat, or that anxious twitch of your mouth’s corner—forget even attempting to deny your cascading memories of the way his chocolate irises wore an expression unlike anything you’ve ever seen on Eddie Munson.
His trailer comes into your sights, that tickle swooping your guts and holding them hostage. You swallow a thick ball of anxiety, parking next to his van, cutting your engine. The lights are all on and you’ve got no excuse to chicken out. It’s your year too, right? Fucking fuck it.
With your keys clutched in your palm, you make your way to Eddie’s trailer, rasping on his door lightly. You don’t hear his music blaring, so he might be reading, planning a campaign, writing some music he’d mentioned wanting to practice with the guys soon, get a feel for its sound—just last week. You have given about three octaves of knocks and are about to give up, head pressed the door, thinking he was just lost in lust earlier, and maybe you’d fucked up on your end beyond repair. Exhausted by the stampeding pain that brings your insides, you flip the Munson’s spare key off your key ring and unlock the door. A bold move—albeit—a very stupid one.
That familiar scent of Eddie and Wayne’s shared carton of cigarettes hits your nose, along with the leftovers from dinner you see sitting out on the stove. Your cookies, which have been devoured, are missing their note. You panic, briefly thinking Eddie probably trashed it, only to come back from that brink seconds later. It’s not what you’re here for. You glance at the couch and it’s empty, not even Eddie’s usual indent on the cushion is there.
Swinging your keys from your pointer finger, you peek down the small hallway to Eddie’s closed door, light spilling out underneath. He could be sleeping, possibly ignoring you, or he snuck out the back door…
Your feet make an echoing squeak across the trailer’s flooring structure, your fingers twisting the knob and pushing, pausing, deciding to go ahead. If he wants you to leave then you’ll go, if he’s asleep, you’ll go, if he left… You can’t fathom that thought, another ignorance that you partake in. You aren’t sure exactly what you expected, but seeing your best-friend’s tallish frame, with his back facing you, lean leg propped atop his mattress, right arm bent at a very clear angle, his left propped on one of his many amps he’d apparently moved since you’d been here last—is sure as hell NOT it. Eddie’s curly hair ruffles and is jostled across his shoulders with each movement his arm makes, his delicious ass clenching as his body thrusts into his rhythm, the outline of his chain on his perspired neck and damp strands of dark hair—clear. You don’t have to hear the thick, slick and wet stroking to know what he’s doing to himself.
You cross an ankle over the other, squeezing your legs together tightly, trying to bounce on the balls of your heels to get relief. Your fingers white knuckle his banged up door handle, your mouth parting. Whether it’s that bond you two share, or your very visible labored breathing, Eddie’s shoulder blades pinch together, his motions abruptly cut. He turns as if caught doing something he shouldn’t be—definitely something you aren’t prepared to handle. It’s like your mouth is speaking for you, eyes in a trance, enslaved to your lustful abiding.
Fucked out, blown up pupils shave off the color of your irises, your tongue gliding across your teeth, that take a turn to sink into your bottom lip, your toes curling in your shoes. You feel hot, body battered in melting flames that won’t cease, won’t let you get in a normal burst of air flow. You know without having to fix your posture that you’ve made a mess between your legs, panties soaked to hell—completely ruined. You’re honest to fuck not sure if you can make it out of here in an upright position, that painfully strong ache tackling your cunt, breaking off your common sense, leaving you Eddie-drunk. Helping yourself to a swiping look between his legs, he’s still got a ring clad hand wrapped around a very generous girth—shiny—a length that leaves saliva pooling on your tongue’s tip.
His chest is slick with sweat, tattoos glossed beneath, nipples hard from the cool air let into his bedroom. Which, you note, is really fucking hot, and the window is steamed up. Your eyelids flutter in rapid blinks to help you reign yourself in, but all you see are glimpses of Eddie’s fist around himself, that creamy and swollen head, full balls on either side, trimmed curls at the base of his shaft. You want to die. And oh, what a sweet and sinful death that would be.
“Mhm… fuck.” You say through the gap between your panting mouth, words take the opportunity to bust free, joining a high pitched whimper.
Eddie’s chocolate eyes are completely black, leaving no room for anything else but purely raw desire. They widen, a sharp heave in his inhaling chest, abdomen flexing as he holds himself tightly. When you don’t move Eddie takes the initiative, slowly approaching, a softness there beneath the want and knowing. He reaches your space, still giving you enough, but you’re able to still feel that radiating body heat. Neither of you speak, because what is there to say right now?
You’d be a pleading mess of profanities, apologizes, and begging to be taken and used.
Thankfully, Eddie makes another move before you. His spare hand joins your own on the door knob, fingers brushing your knuckles, encouraging, giving you one more opportunity if you’re in distress or uncomfortable. You hook onto his offer and you surprise you both by finding something to say after all, throat parched, yet still damp with wanton rasp. “Start touching yourself again, Eddie. Please?” Fuck, well there’s a beg.
Eddie, assuming you want a show, nerves being dipped in lava and left to forever sizzle and smoke—gives in, both of you shutting his door and closing the two of you off from the outside world. He doesn’t wait for you to back away, pushing his hips to a rise, his cock gliding through his closed fist. You let him lean over you, frame against his door, watching his legs spread to widen his stance, obeying your plea. He almost asks, but assumes it would be too hopeful if you would want to touch yourself in front of him too. You’re out of your mind, common sense obliterated for all eternity, watching your bestfriend practically pin you to the door and fuck himself in front of you.
Those sounds you’ve imagined, pictured, they’re even more pronounced in person. Some low enough that it’s a stifling whimper, a needy sobbing. If you don’t do something about the gnawing throbbing between your thighs, it’ll be total combustion. There’s an empowerment that winds itself around a pulsating set of nerves in one’s decision to masturbate in front of their best-friend. That coolness works itself in your palms, your fingers tossing your keys over and onto Eddie’s dresser, toeing off your shoes, his eyes steamy in their grasp on your every move.
You’d wished you had brought your camera to photograph his expression when you walk over to where he stood in front of his bed, turning to face him, your fingers undoing your jeans and the zipper, a resounding echo in the room, Eddie’s tongue poking out on his upper lip, he holds himself around the base, the urgency to fuck his hand as you take your seat on his mattress and scoot with your back to the wall, hips lifting to help you pull off your jeans and panties. You struggle momentarily, but neither of you are saying a word, gazes steady and unwavering.
Discarding your clothing with a soft thump onto his floor, you’re heartbeat thumps in your throat, ribcage taking an unsteady hammering of its resounding drumming. You heed Eddie’s silent command to continue, agreeing to this turning point between you two. Your thighs fall open and that sticky want strings to your swollen folds, glistening in the creases of your thighs, your cunt sopping wet. You’re dripping, and Eddie isn’t missing it when your arousal finally does drizzle from your neglected pussy and onto his bedsheets. You shift to get comfortable, hand cupping yourself, immediately smothered in your own juices, legs falling into a drop, toes finally able to curl without the barrier of your shoes, bunching Eddie’s sheets.
Eddie watches you from where he can see, still eager to be closer, but unable to stop himself from stroking along his length, teasing that vein that runs alongside his cock. You do it again, rubbing your palm up and down your lips, a crude squelch causing Eddie to almost black out, and you shiver. He releases himself, heavy and hot between slim thighs, and he’s moving. He puffs out a gravelly hiss from pursed lips, stalking towards you and giving a cat like crawl across his own bed, planting himself shoulder to shoulder with you to your left. He must be feeling the overwhelming change that is occurring, as he reaches for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.
You gravitate towards your hand, fingers slipping through your slickness, your head bowing in embarrassment. Eddie grips your chin and tilts you his way, shaking his head, that same hand dropping to your thigh and lifting to pull up and to the side. And he looks. He fucking memorizes you between your legs with these little mewling coos of appreciation that cement themselves into your subconscious. You do the same, helping yourself to an up close and personal view of what he’s been hiding.
Eddie leans forward and cups the nap of your neck, his other hand taking your wrist and removing it from your self-touches, shushing your protesting whine. He brings it up to his mouth, which is hovering close to yours, your own fingers pressed against your lips, and he licks a straight stripe up your creamy covered palm, humming underneath his breath as he does so. You want to slap him and ride him on every available surface in this trailer. You’re the one to speak, having to.
“Eddie…” It’s a meek little trail-off.
Eddie lets go of your wrist and uses that hand to pull his cock off his stomach, a wet patch left behind in his happy trail. He still doesn’t let your neck go, his fingertips tapping an invisible beat, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He’s laughing, tufts of air settling across your mouth. You narrow your gaze, moving to shut your legs, Eddie’s hand quickly preventing the action, stroking the meat of your inner thigh. “Only fair if I’m exposed, sweetheart.”
“But… you’re laughing.” And it hits you then, why he’s really chuckling in that Eddie Munson way. It’s an incredulous and mind boggling turn of events. Best-friends that broke up when they were never together, now side by side and in a very compromising situation.
You grin and falter into his embrace, your hand working its way into a wind around his neck, taking sweaty strands in scoops between your fingers, his pick chain draped across your knuckles. Eddie licks across his bottom lip, tapping your hips as he moves, your hands falling, and sprawls his legs into a propped spread, cock neglected and flushed, much like the rest of his skin, that you’ll die if you don’t put your marks on. He’s motioning for you to turn in a slow facing position in front of him, and that’s how you end up—vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable. He’s muttering words, huddled and unintelligible, reaching out and tugging you to him by your ankles, stopping, resting, eyes dark as they do a once over to gauge your mental stability. When you don’t protest, palms splaying out to keep yourself upright behind you, Eddie lets his legs flatten against his sheets, a smirk pattering his lips, indenting its knowing presses beside his mouth.
His exhale catches on a ragged breath, a passionate declaration signing off on what’s about to occur, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he pulls you close, your ass resting on his hairy thighs, waiting, held, his arm wrapping around your lower back and lifting you completely into that ink splattered, silk-slick chest, his skin sticking to your long sleeved t-shirt, ruining it with sex-soaked perspiration. You think that there’s nothing—no—you know that in this entire world, no matter what, that whatever will happen to you is never going to compare to the moment when Eddie’s maneuvering hands glide your wet cunt over his cock, using your drenching heat as his own personal lubricant. Your ankles lock around his waist, no choice from the close band that your best-friend has re-tethered you to him with, leaving no room or space where you’re not touching or breathing in the other. Your arms curl around Eddie’s neck, hands draped down his back as you help yourself to pinching and clawing the flesh beneath, relishing every little grumble and groan off his pretty lips. Your face takes solace in his neck, nosing your way through his curly hair, nose bumping his chain to lift so that your mouth can claim him.
“Fuck.” His throat constricts around a swallow, your teeth sinking into a piece of Eddie’s flesh and biting, releasing, lips closing over that angry spot to soothe, tongue tasting salt, licking it off, indulging.
He lets your have your way with his neck, a particularly harsh slap landing on your ass in following of your mouth on his jugular, letting your tongue following that curvature into his jawline. You don’t stop his wandering hands, you don’t dare fight off his vice grip on the globes of your ass, his kneading, using as them leverage to place you right where he wants you. You let him take control, an unspoken agreement, a having to have. Your head falls back as Eddie rolls his hips beneath, rocking his lap, solid presses that drag his fat cock over your embarrassingly wet pussy, scattering your thick arousal and smearing it across his happy trail, getting caught in that patch of curls at the base of his shaft. You’re dripping all over him, quite literally. Caught on a trapped hum, hung in its hisses between your clenched teeth, you croon into Eddie’s neck, your stomach tightening, that velvety drag of his dick through your swollen folds making your lids flutter closed, colors dotting in their dances—translucent.
You aren’t sure where to move your hands, comfortable with having them shred Eddie’s back and empty out the past few days of frustration and desperation. Eddie encourages, palming handfuls of your ass, creating a cresting twist, a thigh trembling rub of sopping wet desire. He’s merely whimpering, appreciating, not overly vocal until his swollen head catches your neglected clit, and his head drops back, fingers pinching so tightly into your skin that it burns.
“Oh, shit. Dammit, baby.”
You’re simpering on a series of whimpers, agreeable and speechless. Eddie is feeding off it. “Yeah? You needing this too? Little clit feels so good rubbing on my dick, sweetheart. You want me to do it again?”
When you’re not immediately able to be vocal, Eddie pulls back a little, shoving his hand between your thighs and drags his rings directly through your arousal, coating them in a glittering shine. His first real touch where you need him the most. You both inhale sharply. It’s the pain from the cool metal of his jewelry that makes it feel so fucking good. He curses, telling you how messy you’re being, flinging his hand in your sights, dragging you in a pry off of his neck, holding your jaw and flashing his knuckles.
“See what you did, messy little angel. You gotta clean em’ now for me.”
His eyes are so fucking demolished, brown crushed beneath a midnight sea of black and insatiable attraction. You’re mewling, tongue lolling out, licking that metallic onto your tongue, sloppily sloping around his knuckles, lips suckling what your tongue can’t catch, your own taste fresh off your mouth. That’s when Eddie brushes a calloused thumb across your bottom lip, tugging it down to expose your teeth, and he brings your lips to his, a feral groan stealing your breath, sharing your juices in your first kiss. It’s a shift in the energy you share, a no going back, no running away, a fate sealed. Eddie loses all control and flips you off his lap, pinning you beneath him, kissing you with such feverish vigor that your hand tangles into his messy curls, and you pull, hard.
His tongue licks your lips open, greedily removing what’s left of your taste that remains. It’s noisy and nasty in the expanse of his small bedroom—diabolically sinful. One hand caresses your throat’s expanse, the other dropping down with a snapped wrist between your thighs, palm smacking your cunt, a guttural groan vibrating from his mouth into your own. Saliva strings on the break away, Eddie’s gaze switching to watch the hand on your cunt, out of it.
“Your pussy always this wet, baby? Or is it just for your best-friend?”
“Only for you, Eddie. Always you.”
Fallen into the depths of satisfaction, Eddie permits a slender digit to drag down your slit, taking that thick honey with it, a squelch echoing in the room when his finger wiggles its way inside of you. You clamp around him, chest heaving with shaky breaths.
“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna drown my dick when you let me fuck you, aren’t you?”
You’re incoherently babbling, tapping the hand that’s on your throat, hungry for it. “Tighter.”
Eddie’s brow raise is comical, a surprise coating his features. “So miss Y/N likes it rough? Never woulda guessed.”
You gulp a pump of air that vibrates across his hold, trying to gain more depth from his finger. It’s moving in exploration of your softly wet walls, an excess of arousal being pressed out upon that squish. Eddie tightens his hold on your throat, before he taps his fingers to your jugular and releases, hand toppling down your side and caressing, bringing. “Fuck, my best-friend’s got such a perfect little pussy. S’ made to be destroyed and used.”
You’re nodding so hard that the motion causes a cracking pop in your neck, Eddie laughing that noise under a cute breath. He’s thick with it, wiggling in a second finger and causing you drop your hands back behind you and push into the sensation, chasing, hunting it.
“Desperate to get away from me all week, now look at you. What a whore.”
Eddie has a mouth on him, something you’d always wondered about in your daily daydreams and nightly fantasies. As vocal as when he’s singing with his band. He’s saying words to you, snapping your attention, you’re whining as his fingers leave your cunt, and he’s pulling you into him so hard your lips split apart, cushioning his cock, cradling him in that overwhelming slick. He must not have meant for that action to cause it, as he jumps when you do, this feral look flickering behind those heated orbs. You know… it’s time.
Eddie is barely able to stand, clumsily bringing you with him by a laced grip in your hands. He gets you upright and you’re dizzy, his hands taking purchase on your shirt (the only remaining piece of clothing on you), and rips it with gritting teeth and anger, as if he’s pissed it’s not the club shirt, or sickened with himself for destroying yours—you’re not sure. Spit pools at the corners of your mouth as you let him tear off your tattered tee and yank your bra down, impatiently yanking the clasp apart and discarding it, helping himself to your tits, closing those plush lips over a nipple. Your hand wraps around his throbbing cock, fingers barely touching around the width, squeezing him—tugging. His hips stutter and he whines against your breast, teeth biting the flesh with a harsh precision.
Your other hand works its way through his wet curls and massages his scalp, tenderly altering in beckoning strokes, ones that switch off into root tugging pulls. Eddie’s hands keep your breast cupped, switching off to the other, whilst you dip lower and fondle his balls, letting your pinky drop off and scratch into his inner thigh. He’s doing that humming thing underneath his fucked out tone again, and you’re focusing your attention on his cock, thumb pad stroking that weeping slit, spreading it around and over that vein, enchanted with how it causes a thin bright shine over him, your own cream matted into the curls at the base of him, pathed up his stomach. His mouth leaves your chest and those big hands grip your cheeks, both of you watching as you jack him with a sticky tug.
Fuck me.
“Who’s the whore for his bestfriend now, Eds? You gonna admit that half the shit I’ve done this week has gotten your dick so hard you can’t decide what you’ve hated me for more,” You say, pausing to twist your grip, making him fold into your holding hand, “my smart mouth or how much you need this.”
Your powering dominance is short lived, hand falling off his erection, with Eddie kneeing you into a shove until your back collides with his desk, his arm reaching around to push most of its contents off and onto the floor, not caring where any of it goes. He nudges your thighs apart and slots his lean frame between, thumb catching the corner of your mouth, his instruction clear, yet awaiting your consent to cross this no back-stepping boundary. “M’ gonna fuck you right here, and you’re goin’ to watch me take you, Y/N.”
You’re pretty sure you’re gonna pass out at any given moment.
“I’m gonna watch you, Eddie.” You agree, zoning out and sprinting after your pleasure.
“Good girl.” Eddie breaks briefly, mouth on your shoulder, hand winding your hair around his fist and tugging it back so hard that the ache inside of you becomes an inferno. He finds the underside of your chin, voice honey-hot. “Because you’re not leaving this room until there’s a puddle of me running back out of your cunt.”
You launch forward so fast that Eddie falls into you, chest smashing against your breasts, your lips crashing into his for a brutally intimate kiss. You sink your teeth into his bottom lip and tug, biting down so hard you taste copper—licking it up and making Eddie’s cock jump. His ring covered hand attaches itself to your throat and he drags you off your prop against the desk, spinning you around and securing you to it, those hairy thighs pressing into you, wet cock so close to where you need him the most. His hand wraps around your hair again and lifts your gaze to that small opening in the mirror where posters and his most prized possession hangs. You’re flushed and soaked with sweat, mouth swollen and streaked with red from biting into Eddie’s plump lip, your pussy dripping thick strings of your creamy essence, slowly slithering in dangles from your pussy and onto the floor.
“You’re so fucking messy, Y/N. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, baby?” Eddie is like the devil on your shoulder, and you, you’re his angel of eternal damnation.
You’re about to beg, but Eddie saves you the trouble, his fingers tapping in tips down your spine, caressing, stroking, before they spread your lips apart and dip inside, palm flat. “Should fuckin’ split you open, do it raw. Cum so deep inside that you end up pregnant with my baby and have no choice but to always think of me, be around me.”
Though there’s a tease behind his passionate words, there’s this primal exclamation that overtakes you and you clamp down on his fingers. A series of fast paced images are vivid in your mind. Your tummy swollen and breasts heavy, Eddie having you bent over like this—one hand on your belly, the other on your throat, feeling your pulse galavant beneath his touch.
“Y/N… Fuck, sweetheart.” He’s so fucked in his descending tone that the depth is gruff and tipping off his diaphragm, you imagine. He presses his cheek against your own, chin resting on your shoulder as you drink each other in, in the mirror’s expanse, Eddie’s tone weak. “You really willing to carry my kid?”
You meet his eyes in the cluttered mirror, nodding, a softness carving out permanent residence in your features. It’s a topic you’d never shared with anyone else, never banked too much on thinking about, but beyond the idea of how hot this all is, you can’t imagine a scenario like this that doesn’t involve Eddie Munson. Vulnerable and barely above a brisk whisper, you’re answering him with, “Yeah, Eds. Want a family with you.”
At your admission, he lets his hand go in languid thrusts. You groan and let your head shift, but Eddie is jerking you back to stare into the glass, both of you panting and on the cusp of an out of body experience. It causes you to grin, licking your lips as your best-friend pumps those experienced digits to cause a purposeful squelch, his rings clinking together. His hard cock is pressed between his own stomach and your back, that pre-cum pooling onto your lower back and smearing in streaks down your ass. You’ve had more than enough teasing and you’re well aware that Eddie has too.
His look briefly falters, turning to mouth at your chin, a silent question. It’s you who uses your words, or rather, trembles in your feeble attempt. “Eddie, just put your cock inside me, or I swear I’ll—“
He’s smirking wildly at your slack-jawed expression when his fingers slide out of you and stick together with your cum, to which he helps himself to and coats his cock, then lines himself up and presses the thick head into your opening, leaning down to bite at your shoulder and leave an exposed imprint. Your legs feel like jello and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. He’s going to ask you to beg, and you’re an all in willing participant. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t. He inhales sharply, you hold your breath, and both of you watch him sink into your slick and soft cunt, inch by inch, until his balls rest against the globes of your cheeks.
You’re still holding your breath, releasing it when you feel him sigh, grip on your hair loosening a little, too caught up in the fact that he’s where he belongs, after so much time doing without this. Your legs are about to buckle, jerking, toes curling against the carpeted floor, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, and by your best-friend’s cock throbbing in your aching pussy. “E-Eds…?” It’s a pathetic cry of a question.
Eddie’s brows pinch together, sweat beaded between. He grips your jaw and his fingertips tap you back to meet his mouth, hovering over your lips. “S’ okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” He briefly drops the playful gimmick, reassuring you that he’s right here with you.
It’s more than enough to have you arching back into him, a brash pummeling of his hips that sends you into the dresser, having to reach out and catch yourself. Eddie is quick witted, gripping your wrists with one hand and pinning them behind your back, stepping with you in toe, elongating his arm to snatch those handcuffs on his wall, that cold metal biting into your wrist, that dull noise presenting itself as the cuffs lock you into place, Eddie gripping onto the chains’ excess expanse, using it as a leverage. A sliver of a chalky moan trickles off your kiss-swollen lips, appreciative. The way Eddie is manhandling you has you so fucking euphoric that you’re sure you’ll be in a comatose state before either of you can cum. Your best-friend’s large hand finds purchase in your hair again, drawing his hips back, the other on the chain of the cuffs—steadying himself into a rhythm, riding you like all that matters is your destruction and his ultimate ownership.
Eddie Munson has owned you since the very moment that you two met.
The way he’s executing such precise and rough thrusts, making sure you’re high on the bring up, toes pressing into the carpet, that you’re stuffed full of his fat cock until it hurts, twitching in overstimulation, sore and fluttering walls eager to be soaked in everything he has to give you, that you are taking in every inch, catching every ridge, leaving you a shambled, panting mess, in pieces only being put back together again when Eddie will allow your release. His hair is tickling your shoulder blades, his fingers leaving the cuffs to press into your mouth and curl over your tongue, relishing in how you gag around the digits. You’re weak, so fucking weak for him, and he knows it.
“Can’t wait to hear you gag on my cock, Y/N. If you have trouble with these bad boys?” He puts an emphasis, wiggling his fingers against your tongue, giving them a secondary push to over extend your gag reflexes, his dick twitching inside you.
You bite down on his fingers, sucking them in, accepting his challenge, willing it to happen. His balls slap into your ass, heavy and hot, every movement causing the metal to rut into the skin of your wrists. He’s got a steady tempo going, alternating it by dipping his hips to bring you with him, letting you nearly collide with your chest flush to his desk. He reaches up and shoves that poster back by peeling tape, revealing more of your fucked out forms. Your eyes widen at your disheveled and unrecognizable appearance, Eddie using your cuffed hands as reigns. Riding you so hard that you can’t breathe anything but his hot air curling around the shell of your ear.
“Dammit, you are such a good girl for me, Y/N. Always pictured you takin’ my cock, but you’re not even crying yet, just taking what I give you.”
Yet… Fuck me running.
Your scalp is tingling with a prickling crowd of flames from his harsh grip, his other hand reaching to smack your ass, using some mechanism on the cuffs—albeit—struggling with his spit soaked fingers that were just in your mouth, to unlatch them and discard them at your feet, and he watches the flesh of your ass cheek redden and jiggle beneath his biting palm. You fist your fingers into a strewn pair of his blue denim jeans left on the desk top, dipping your forehead down and arching your back, trying to look between your own legs from this new angle to see Eddie’s cock cradled in your puffy lips. He tuts at your unsuccessful action, forcing you back into watching him doing his hard work—the hardest he’s worked at anything (sans his band or the campaigns, if he’s being honest with himself)—to make this unforgettable for you. He hits that spot located inside, the one you have to strain an arm to barely graze, and you lose all coherent capabilities.
“Eddie… that’s, oh my god, oh FUCK. Right there!”
Eddie’s throat crumbles under a weak pant, which ends up coming out as a whimper. He remains firm, however, still using your hair to keep you right where he wants you, his other hand reaching around to pet his own shaft as he slides out just enough to make you wetter.
“Yeah, baby? That spot gonna make somethin’ happen for you?”
You don’t answer, mumbles and babbling gibberish. He shakes that precious head of his, curls tickling your back and shoulders, a sigh breaking free. “Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t believe we’re doin’ this in front of you. Both my girls right here with me, one of them at my fuckin’ mercy.” Your attentions snap over your shoulder and you see Eddie looking at his fucking guitar, that is one of the only things remaining on the mirror. You gape, but aren’t surprised in the slightest.
He continues on, pretending he doesn’t see your partial seethe. “Makin’ a mess all over me, but I bet you like to see it too, don’t you?” He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, still talking to the inanimate object. “Both my sweethearts are such sluts for their owner.”
You can’t help that rattle that clamps around your bones and slices through your spinal cord, seizing your abdomen, right down into your cunt. Owner? You have zero time to warn him, ask if you can, alarms unprepared, skin slapping on skin, his taste on your mouth, his breath on your flesh, that slippery glide that has cum running down your thighs, and it’s a sudden wave crashing over your insides and drowning them in your painfully interstellar-esque orgasm. Your eyes burn with tears as you watch your best-friend feel what’s happening, realizing. He’s covered in your release, and instead of being mad, he is influencing you like the little devil that he can be, plump lip pressing to your ear lobe with one continuous command. “That’s it. C’mon, Y/N. Drench my dick.”
You wish you could bottle the feeling of your first orgasm with Eddie Munson, your best-friend—forever. Finding yourself growing into that vulnerability that comes with the high, you seek to find solace in Eddie’s arms, whimpering at the overstimulation of his thick cock. With that connection still in tact, Eddie is spinning you around, dick sliding out with a messy mixture of arousals covering you both—his member completely doused in your cream, painting the trimmed curls at the base of his shaft with even more of you, slicking back some more of that happy trail. You want to be embarrassed, but as he’s red faced and struggling to breathe, you know that there’s no need to be. He steers you back onto the bed, falling easily between your spread thighs, drawing them up and around his waist.
He presses his forehead into your own, kissing each corner of your mouth, rings circling in dusting sweeps on the apex of your thighs. His voice is a shivered whisper. “Fuck, baby. You okay?”
There’s words on your tongue, Eddie’s taste on your mouth, things you’ve known for years, but are unsure if Eddie has, or if this is something he needs because he’s afraid you’ll abandon him, but that he doesn’t feel what you do. Your head is spinning and Eddie brushes sweaty strands of hair off your forehead, taking his cock through your swollen folds, pressing that spongey head into your clit—both of you crying out. “Y/N, m’ right here. Care to join me?”
And god help you, the way that you look at him. Really allow yourself to see him this way—unabashed—it stirs all those feelings Eddie has bottled down since forever. You press your thumb into his mouth, your other hand sliding down to grip onto him, gliding your hand back and forth, relishing in how his abdomen tenses, muscles flexing, body gravitating towards whatever you’re willing to bestow. He doesn’t let you touch him much longer, taking what your hand isn’t around and guiding it back into your cunt, that scrumptious burn brimming you, making your thighs drop open, back arch, only to tighten your ankles around him, digging your heels into his ass. He suckles your fingertip into his mouth, licking the digit in until it’s down to the knuckle.
Your head presses sideways, cheek on his pillow, inhaling his shaving cream and that spicy scent. He pauses his movements, making you frown in displeasure. He lets go of your spit tainted finger, gripping your chin, a possessive fire overcoming him. His irises remain completely black, putting you deeper into that comatose trance of agonizing sin. “I want you to fucking say it, Y/N.”
You start a beginning questionnaire, Eddie shaking his head and pressing in harder on your chin, fingers splaying across your jaw, rings pinching your chin in the most delightfully painful of ways. “Say you want me, tell me you fucking need me. That you’re not tired of me, and that you’re proud to be the freak’s slut.”
Your hands wind around his back and you sink your nails in as hard as you can, bearing down on him, sucking him in deeper, both of you in a state of no return. His hand tickles down from your face and grips your neck. “Still sick of me, baby?” He situates your gaze, lifting his hips to a raise so that you can see where you’re connected. You’re inconsolable, that fire already blazing your gut, turning every sense into nothingness.
When Eddie starts back up again, he slams himself into you so hard that your vision goes dark and you shred your own bottom lip open, body moving closer to his wall due to the force. He’s licking beneath your jugular, words sensual and filthy, making your entire body spike in a sudden electricity. “Gonna cum in every hole you’ve got, so you remember that they’re mine.”
This time you’re more than ready to give him a warning, body beginning to shake beyond your control, breaths stuttering in your chest. Eddie reaches down between you, calloused thumb flicking your clit. Everything is so fucking wet and the way it sounds in the expanse of Eddie’s small room, it has you opening your mouth, out of control and greedily begging for more.
“Eds, harder. Please? Almost…”
He’s grinning in that special way that weakens you—heart and soul, body and mind. “So much more than a slut.” His thrusts become choppy, his own babbling tone turning into Eddie-speak. “You are way more than you know, Y/N.”
You fondle his pick chain and bring him into your immediate airspace, mouths hovering. He’s nearing his end, cock getting fuller inside you. “Need you to tell me how much you love me.”
You both completely go slack. Eddie stops himself all together, body trembling, head bowing. Your heart rate increases, feeling as if you’ve skipped a staircase thousands of feet in the air and you’re now free falling.
Love… You don’t have to think twice.
Your hands move to cup his face, holding on, your eyes shining with tears at all overloaded emotions and senses. “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”
At your admission, those beautiful eyes—dark with remains of passion—they fill, and he gives you his all, driving his cock into you in calculated presses, trying like hell to get you to cum first. When he speaks, his voice cracks apart. “Let me know that you’re right here with me, Y/N.”
“I’ve always been here, Eddie.” Is what you manage, thumping your hand against his wrist and helping him bring his fingers back to your clit.
He doesn’t let you look away, noses smashed together, sticky foreheads pressing, hair curtaining the apples of pink, sex stained cheeks. Your eyes widen as that knot begins to tighten in your stomach, unraveling so violently that Eddie has to grip your quivering thigh in one hand, the other keeping steady on your clit. You dig into his back, other hand tugging on his hair, and Eddie is giving a throaty seduction. “That’s it, be my good girl and cum again for me.”
And you’re coming apart at your very core, every cell exploding and rebuilding, gluing yourself to Eddie to seize the ache that scrambles your insides and leaves you breathless. He’s cursing, keeping his finger on your clit to help you coast over the high, immediately following you with the lowest, sweetest, whimpering moan that you’ve ever heard. Both of your eyes still drinking in the other’s pleasure, tears spilling over your lash line as Eddie’s hips cease and he holds, his cock swelling and that soft, creamy warmth coating your sore walls in spurts. He collapses onto your chest and you hold him there in a vice hug, his hand still trapped between your exhausted bodies. He gently eases it out, groaning around the wetness that he’s all too eager to sample until the layer of shine is off his fingers.
Holy shit and fuck me…
Your legs fall to the side, unable to stay upright any longer, Eddie keeping a hovering hand to soothe your shaking. He kisses your neck with a plush mouth, his chain dangling between your breasts. You’re petting his hair—which is so soaked it’s as if he’s been in the rain or come from the shower—off his forehead, wincing as he slides out and keeps himself by your side. You gasp and he joins, fascinated by your cum and his own seed pouring from your cunt. He raises up a little. “Mhm. Let me see?”
He props your thigh, sliding his fingers back and forth, zoned in on his bedsheets being ruined from the literal puddle of your shared cum that runs from you. Seconds pass and he grins widely, plopping onto his back, his fingertips caressing your shoulder, down to your arm. It’s a comfortable quiet, even with the intense meaning of the words that were spoken, until Eddie starts with a, “So..?”
And you cut him off, trying to get your uncomfortably hot body closer. “So I love you. And I have never stopped needing you, or wanting you, Eddie. I just hope all this wasn’t because we were fighting and you got scared I would leave, and —“
He doesn’t let you finish this time, that chocolate-ly brown ring swinging back around his pupil in a brisk develop, showcasing the moisture in his eyes. “I was scared because I love you so damn much that I would charge headfirst into Mordor, or some alternate dimension without any weapon or any shield, just for you. You gotta know that, Y/N.”
His softness, that glittering fragility, it makes you seal your mouth to his, kissing him full of your feelings. He cups the nape of your neck, drawing in closer, thumb coaxing a shiver from you as it passes over a certain spot behind your ear. On a wet break away, you’re nodding your head. “Guess we spent all week fighting when we should’ve been fucking and talking about our feelings.”
Eddie smirks, then is serious. “Be that as it may, I’m sorry I’ve been shit at showing you I appreciate all that you do for the guys and me. And for forgetting that you are your own person too. S’ not like I meant to, I swear. I just get so fucking caught up and I shouldn’t take for granted anything that has to do with you or with us.”
“Have I ever told you that you’re my best-friend, Eddie Munson?”
While it’s still true, you’re wondering when the words leave your lips. Eddie just fucked you so hard you probably won’t be able to sit down for a week or walk upright for hours, so friendship isn’t exactly the most appropriate term anymore, is it?
Eddie taps his fingertips to your temple, drawing your dazed expression, clinging to the cosmic connection once more. “M’ yours, Y/N.”
“Oh yeah, Munson?” You’re so high that you could fly out of here right now and make rounds around the whole globe. Your chest is aching with a tempo that promises new hope and ease.
Eddie is giddy too, that wide set smile, cheesing. “Just gotta get you a new shirt.”
The memory of your old club attire being one with the forest floor seems like so long ago. Eddie knuckle grazes your cheek, apologetic. You shush him. “I ruined yours, so we’re even.”
There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes and he’s tackling you beneath him, pinning your hands in a lace above your head. “Nah, we are just getting started on bein’ even, baby.”
Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @gothbitchshit @thisishellfire @ethereal27cereal @likedovesinthewnd
-I really need to form a bigger tag list! I’m sorry :/-
Lemme know if you want on my general tag list, please! :)
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usedtobecooler · 4 months
Fic idea: virgin!Eddie whos best friends with the reader. It's the night before his 20th birthday and he admits to the reader he's embarrassed he's going to be a virgin in his twenties (🎶he's an adult virgin🎶) and she's like... maybe I could help with that?
I've seen many things that are similar with the rolls reversed but I've yet to see it with Eddie and I think, with you behind the keyboard, it has the possibility to be very hot.
Pairing | Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), loss of virginity, cunnilingus, unprotected piv sex, praise kink, bullying, mocking, fluff, angst, mention of eddie's estranged parents.
Word Count | 3.9k
A/N | this ended up being more than just smut lmao i apologise - this request has been in my inbox for ages so i hope you see this anon!!
Let it be known that it was no secret that Eddie Munson was a virgin. Not only did he openly admit to it, but he was also permanently being mocked for it by his own friends, who at this point had all at least had an awkward fumble with another person.
"Yeah, but this girl after a show touched my dick through my jeans once," Eddie had said one day at lunch, as if that made it any better.
"Yeah, and you came in your pants right away, dude, we all saw." Gareth had bit back, causing a loud eruption of laughter from everybody at the table.
You would sit back and watch it all happen in amusement, covering Dustin's ears in the process; Eddie always took the gentle bullying well whilst he was in front of the group. He was loud and weirdly kind of proud about it, he owned it in a way that most other teenage boy wouldn't.
You could sort of see through the facade, though. The way that his face would fall when he'd once again become the butt of the joke. Sometimes he deserved it, he could be mean and take his ranting antics a bit too far, which in turn would leave him wide open to the ridicule. You never said anything, though. Would laugh along when it genuinely was funny, pout at Eddie and rub his back in solidarity, but you never felt right using something like that as a way of mocking him.
As the days neared closer to Eddie's twentieth birthday - May 15th, he was a Taurus and you never let him forget it - the roasting amped up a little bit, specifically from Steve Harrington, of all people. He and Robin would hang around the trailer park with the group outside of school hours, they'd graduated before you even though you'd been in the same class throughout the years.
You never were good in school and never claimed to be, head in the clouds and always daydreaming, hence the second-year repeat. And how you came to know Eddie Munson, after all you were the only two people 'dumb enough' to not graduate with your respective classes, so you had to stick together - or so Eddie had said.
"C'mon, Eddie. There's no way some chick hasn't tried getting in your pants yet, you're literally in a rock band." Robin was flapping around, looking pointedly in Eddie's direction as she bounced off the walls, always unable to stay still and annoyingly full of energy.
"Robin, be real. Munson has no game, the only reason he can actually sit in a room with you and her," Steve nods towards you without looking, and you open your mouth to make a noise of protest, "is because he doesn't stand a chance with either of you. You're gay and she's, well, normal."
You balk at him, scoffing under your breath, ignoring Eddie trying to argue in the background, all three of you acting like he wasn't even there, "Steve, you can't talk shit. When was the last time you got laid? I'd be inclined to say your virginity is back intact after this long."
Eddie and Robin erupt into laughter, and Steve (for his own good, you think) lets sleeping dogs lie, doesn't bring it up again for the rest of their visit.
Days went by and it was finally Eddie's birthday. You'd taken it upon yourself to invite him over to your house so he could open his gift whilst you were on your own. Eddie was always the type to be embarrassed and flush dark when he was the center of attention in ways that he didn't want, so birthdays were weird for him, and he preferred to keep to himself.
He arrived in his usual manner - climbing through your window. Your parents never did like him, even though he wasn't much different from you. Munsons were always bad news, had been for decades, and sadly for Eddie he had to carry that burden, so when it came to making friends it was expected that their parents would try to warn them off.
You'd never taken your fathers word for it, anyway. What would he know of Eddie, other than what he had heard from other people. Other than what he knew about Eddie's estranged dad who'd been in jail for years, his mom who had tragically passed when he was young. He knew nothing.
"Get on with it, then." Eddie snaps you out of your daydream, clicking his fingers in your face with a silly grin. You smile in return, stretching to the side to pull the little box out of your bedside table drawer, the present finished off with black and red ribbons.
"It's not much, but when I saw it I thought of you. Thought maybe you'd like it," You're sheepish, cheeks tinging as you hand it to him. It had honestly cost you a fair bit of money, you'd even mowed the neighbours lawns the previous week to earn the last few dollars you needed to buy it. But what you said was true, you'd thought of him when you saw it in the mall and you wouldn't rest until you got it.
Eddie furrows his brows, smile faltering a little as he unravels the ribbon and pops open the lid of the box to reveal a rope bracelet. It's leather, thick and intricately braided together, with a solid silver skull perched perfectly in the middle.
You notice Eddie's face fall a little and you panic, "Do you not like it?" You ask, hands clamming up where they lie in your lap, "I'm so sorry, Eddie. If you don't like it I can return it, it's okay."
Eddie shakes his head no, pulling the bracelet from its velvet holder and popping the clasp, sliding it onto his wrist. His mouth feels dry, for the first time in his life he's left speechless. This was easily the most well thought, well-meaning gift he'd ever gotten in his life. He wasn't too sure how he'd ever wound up earning you as a friend.
"I - I love it, sweetheart." Eddie says eventually, voice quiet as he stares at it in awe. You visibly relax, reaching a hand out to touch the bracelet where it sits perfectly on his bony wrist - it really was made for him.
"Good, good," You breathe, he doesn't look at you and you don't look at him. You don't push it, Eddie was always awkward and didn't know how to take being looked after or thought about by anybody other than Wayne, so you didn't want to ruin this moment by saying or doing something stupid and causing Eddie to flee.
A moment goes by before he flops down onto the bed, breathing out a loud, shaky sigh. You flop down next to him, both of you staring up at the ceiling in a comfortable silence, not touching and not looking at each other.
"Did you make any birthday wishes?" You say eventually, voice teasing, "After all, you only turn twenty once."
"If I told you then it wouldn't come true, right?" Eddie chuckles softly, shuffling his shoulders until he's buried into the mound of pillows you always kept on your bed, "It won't come true anyway, but."
"Eddie, you can't do that! You can't tell me you made a wish then not tell me what it was, that's not fair. How am I meant to sleep tonight?" You're being dramatic, hand over your heart to fake a chest wound. You were nosey, you needed to know what he wished for.
"I technically didn't wish for anything," Eddie laughs a little louder this time, amused by your childish ranting, finally turning his head to look at you so you take that as an okay to do the same, "I just want the guys to back off about me being inexperienced."
"Oh," You huff out a sigh, internally cringing at the topic coming up in conversation yet again, "I know they don't mean it, Eddie. You're always picking on them for stuff and it's the only leverage they have on you."
"Sometimes the constant jokes about me being a virgin actually hurt, though," Eddie admits into the cool air of your room, voice sounding quieter as your fan brrrs in the background, drowning him out, "I didn't want to still be a virgin at twenty. Chicks just don't line up around the block to take a ride on the town freak, y'know?"
"I really don't believe that, Eddie." You're being honest, you truly don't believe it, you'd heard girls whispering at school about him when you still went, before Eddie was a super senior, and they were interested. Just quietly. Afraid to admit it.
Eddie huffs out a big sigh, sadness taking over his features, "There was this one girl, one time... I really thought she liked me. I think she maybe did, actually. But, I think I scared her off, not anything I did myself but my reputation. She ended up with a real nice guy, he was probably what her parents envisioned her with, and I'll never be that for anybody."
Your heart ached. Maybe what Eddie was saying was true, maybe he would never be husband material for anybody. But he didn't have to be, not right now anyway. You slip your hand out and grab his own, slotting your fingers together, giving him a tight squeeze.
It's quiet for a moment, a thick air between you both as the words weigh heavy. You chew the inside of your lip, caught between saying what you want to say and staying totally silent, unsure if you'd be crossing a boundary.
"Hey... I'd be more than happy to be the one to take your virginity, if you want. Think of it as a birthday gift." Your voice is wavering as you bark out a little shaky laugh, nerves kicking in as you lie there refusing to look at him. You can feel his big eyes staring at you now, scoping you out.
"Stop fucking with me, what did the guys put you up to this?" Eddie scoffs, narrowing his eyes as he scoped you out, trying to figure out what your game was.
"The fact that you think they'd put me up to this and I'd go along with it is shocking, Eddie," You roll your eyes, finally flopping onto your side, tucking a hand under the pillow and gazing at him, "my first time was shit, don't you want yours to be good?"
Eddie also turns onto his side, so you're both almost chest to chest and huffing in each other's faces, "Dude, I really don't want to disappoint you with how bad I'd be, I'd never be able to look you in the face again."
"Don't think of it like that, Eds. At least you know me and you're comfortable with me, if you blow your load in five seconds I'm not gonna make fun of you, I won't tell anybody either." You hazard at placing your free hand on Eddie's chest, just sitting there gently to calm him down. You can feel his racing heartbeat, thudding away under your touch.
Eddie slips a hand up your waist gently, grazing your skin and eliciting goosebumps in return, littering down the expanse of your arms and tummy, "You'll tell me what feels good for you, right?"
He means it innocently, you know he does, but you can't help the way your thighs clench at his words - the deep, gravelly way in his voice making you feel things you'd never really felt for him before. Maybe it was because you'd never been this close to each other before, not even when you'd shared a bed to sleep, distance had always been kept.
This all felt different - you'd made things different. But it was too late to question yourself when Eddie leaned forward and captured your lips with his in a gentle, slow kiss.
You moan a little, the unexpectedness of him taking the first step catching you by surprise, but his kissing skills being not terrible were the main shock. His plump, chapped lips met yours in a perfectly timed fashion, the tip of his tongue sliding along your lower lip to wet them.
Your hand fists into the front of Eddie’s shirt, tugging him impossibly closer so you can throw a leg over his hip and push your crotches together with your heel dug into his ass.
A deep growl emits from Eddie's throat, the animalistic urge to pin you down overtaking him, as he flips you onto your back and crowds in between your spread thighs, your leg still hoisted over his back. You can feel the thick outline of his cock straining in his jeans, rubbing up against your clothed pussy as he buries in close to you, still kissing you fiercely.
"Tell me what you want me to do, I'll do anything," Eddie whispers, breaking the kiss with a string of spit still connecting your lips, his fingers going to the waistband of your pyjama shorts, "Wanna make you feel good, sweetheart."
You gawp up at him, his eyes wild and blown out with lust, and you'd never seen him like this before, so determined and eager. You don't reply, just nod your head and let your legs untangle from his back, until he's pulling the material down your thick thighs and taking your panties with them.
Eddie throws them behind him on the floor without looking, and you find yourself spreading your legs for him properly, letting him get a good look at your puffy, wet cunt in all of its glory for him to see.
Eddie's eyes go all wide, glistening as he drinks in the sight of your sopping folds, so pretty and perfect. He shuffles forward, grabbing big handfuls of your thighs and spreading you impossibly wider, ducking down so he can nuzzle in and hazard a tentative lick, right up the seam and gathering your wetness on his tongue.
You gasp out loud at the unexpected intrusion, hands flying to grab at his hair and tug a little, "Eddie," you positively squeal, a choked noise coming out right after as he breaches your entrance with his tongue, sliding in swiftly and running back up to catch your clit just as quickly.
You'd had sex before, of course you had, but no man had ever gone down on you, much less without any sort of encouragement. It took you aback, the way that Eddie was more concerned about your wants and pleasures than his own, and it did something to your tummy, had it flipping.
His tongue swirls over your swollen bud, the pointed tip creating the perfect friction that had your legs shaking. You can't help but wonder if he'd maybe watched porn before or something, because he was unusually good at everything for having zero experience or coaching.
It'd be a conversation you'd have to have another time, when his face wasn't buried deep in your cunt, and you weren't moaning his name quietly.
You can tell Eddie is using the alphabet technique, absolutely ridiculous and completely typical of a virgin, but it was working. Your hands fist in his hair tighter, which in return have him groaning too. You hazard a glance down at where Eddie is nestled in your cunt and automatically wish you hadn't, because the sight was glorious.
He was staring up at you from where his nose was perched prettily on your mound, glassy orbs searching for you and relaxing as your gaze caught his own. He was not so subtly rutting down into your mattress, clearly looking for any sort of friction he could get. The fact that him doing this to you turned him on, too, had the coil in your belly tightening.
"You're so good at this, Eddie," You sigh, unable to keep your eyes off of him as he licks and sucks at your clit in the most delicious way, "if I hadn't known any better, I'd have thought you'd done this a million times."
Eddie keens at your praise, eyelids fluttering shut as he doubles down on his efforts to make you cum, fingertips digging into the insides of your thighs. It was becoming too much, you could feel him everywhere, his tongue and spit making you impossibly wetter, the purchase on your clit making you dizzy.
You could hear how wet you were, too, the way his tongue lapped at you eliciting the most disgusting, filthy sounds that filled your ears and made your tummy quiver. The coil in your tummy wound impossibly tighter, heat radiating through your body.
"I'm cumming," You gasp, clamping your legs around Eddie's head as you let your orgasm wash over you, whole body shaking as you held him in place with your thighs around his ears, rocking your hips against his face as you rode it out. Eddie let you, too, moaning into your cunt as you used and abused him.
It takes a moment for you to come down, to finally release the chunks of his pretty hair from your hands and let your legs collapse onto the bed. You throw an arm over your eyes, suddenly so aware of what just happened and mortified by the way you held Eddie prisoner in your pussy.
You feel him rise from his position between your legs, running his hands up your shirt and rucking it up your sides, placing wet kisses to the skin as he travelled up towards your face. Your whole body feels hot, prickly as desire overcomes you, the wanting for more apparent now, the need to be filled.
"Was that okay?" Eddie asks eventually, hand pulling at your arm so that you could look at him. You nod, sitting up a little to reach out and pull at his belt, in a desperate attempt to free him of some sort of clothing and see him.
"Woah, holy shit," Eddie groans, watching you in awe as your fingers expertly rip at the material, letting his hard, needy cock spring free and slap against his belly. You gulp, the thickness making your mouth water and your pussy clench. It was beautiful, flushed dark pink at the head and weeping precum, curved slightly to the left with a vein running perfectly up the underside.
You grab a hold of his thick length with nimble fingers, wrapping around the base to tug him towards your entrance. You make a show of it, rubbing the fat mushroom head along the dampness of your cunt whilst maintaining eye contact, just sliding back and forth until you work up enough courage to push the tip inside, the breach making you dizzy.
Eddie's mouth hangs open in a silent moan, head bowed as he watches his cock slide into your wet pussy like it was made to be there, guzzling up every last inch of him until he's nestled up against you tightly, thatch of pubic hair rubbing at your exposed, tender clit.
He exhales a shaky breath, cock pulsing inside of you, enough that you could feel it, "Fuck, you're so fucking wet, God, are you always this soaked?"
"Shh, gotta keep quiet, Eds, my mom might hear," You gasp, pussy spasming around Eddie's thick cock sporadically, the stretch and intrusion overwhelming your senses.
"Please, need to fuck you, m'begging," Eddie whines, fingers gripping your hips impossibly tight as you adjust to the sheer size of him. It was blissful, burning in a way you'd never felt before that teetered on the right side of painful.
A few seconds go by before you nod, giving him the go ahead, and Eddie nuzzles his face into your neck to muffle his whimpering as he pulls out a few inches then ruts back in, head of his cock brushing your spongey spot perfectly.
Your fingers dig into his waist, a moan escaping you as Eddie kisses and nibbles at the expanse of your neck, finding a rhythm with his hips as he fucks you, "You're so big, fuck. Stretching me so good, Eddie."
Eddie mewls at the praise, groaning into your skin and panting, fucking into your cunt a bit harder, the abuse on your g-spot making you feel hot all over, tummy stirring with a need to orgasm again.
The slapping noises of skin connecting with skin invade your senses, Eddie's hips snapping into your ass and rippling so deliciously it makes your head spin, you're moaning in his ear, enough so that he knows he's doing a good job, small 'uh uh's escaping you with every thrust.
Eddie finally pulls away from his place in your neck in favour of placing his forehead against yours, sweaty fringe sticking down and soaking your skin, and he's so pretty with his cock in you, glistening big eyes and puffy red lips, panting against each other in a feral way that you never expected.
"You feel so good," Eddie whispers, a moan leaving him as he fucks you a little harder, hips beginning to stutter in a telltale sign that he's close, "your pussy is fucking heaven, sweetheart, oh god."
Your body prickles with heat at the words leaving his mouth, one of your hands coming up to wrap around his neck and pull him in for a kiss - it doesn't last long before you're panting into each other's mouths and nothing else, "Cum in me, Eddie, please. Wanna feel you cum in me."
Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, mouth opening in a mixture of a gasp and a moan as he shoves into you impossibly deep and cums, cock pulsing inside your fluttering walls. You can't help but clamp down deliberately to milk the last spurts out, Eddie sucking in on his breath at the feeling.
He collapses on top of your clothed tits with a grunt, your hand finding his hair to gently sooth his scalp and rub it until he comes down from his high. He keens into your touch, mewling at the feeling as his cock starts to soften in your drenched cunt.
"Was that - was that okay?" Eddie asks eventually, when he begins to worry that the comfortable silence maybe wasn't comfortable on your end. You huff out a little laugh, fingertips stroking at his scalp still.
"Yeah, it was more than okay, Eds." You whisper, your heart fluttering when he wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles up closer. You always thought he'd be the type to want cuddles after sex, and you were absolutely right.
"You know things can't go back to the way they were now, right?" Eddie says, and you tense up a little in his arms before relaxing again, nodding your head even though he can't see you.
"Yeah, I know, but that's okay. What do you want us to be now?" And the question sounds ridiculous, because his cock is literally slipping out of you along with a load of his jizz, but you ask just to be sure anyway.
Eddie huffs against your chest, looking up at you with his big doe eyes, "Want you to be mine. Can't have you running off with another man now I've gotten a taste of you."
You bark out a laugh, smiling down at him, "Okay, then. I'm yours."
You'd figure out how this was going to work out later, you were sure of it. But having him cuddled up against your chest felt right, your heart swelled and your tummy did flips for him, and that's how you knew it was clearly meant to be.
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evandarya · 3 months
Prompt fill from the Discord server. This one is courtesy of @tourettesdog
Prompt where Danny keeps showing up like a stray cat at various hero's houses. He just comes and goes and they never know when he'll show up next. He's just this like pseudo-adopted child who will come over for dinner, crash on the couch, and he's gone by morning. No amount of research will tell them who he is past the limited information he's given them
The various heroes are unaware that his stray cat range wanders so far until someone mentions him at a JL meeting and all hell breaks loose.
There's eventually an intervention
Stray Cat Danny
Clark had just got home when he noticed the heartbeat on the fire escape two floors above him. As far as he knew, that apartment was empty, so it couldn't be the residents going out for a smoke. It was weird, very strange, and not his business.
He tried to leave it alone, but the heartbeat stayed on the fire escape for a few hours. Every now and again Clark would hear whoever it was shift, but other than that they stayed quiet. Again, weird, but not his business.
Until it started to snow right when Clark was about to start dinner.
He was just going to make sure whoever it was had somewhere warm to stay. Maybe direct them to a shelter. Clark opened the window and looked up, there was a dark bundle, worryingly still, on the fire escape.
"Excuse me?" Clark called. The bundle shifted but whoever it is didn't respond. Clark grumbled and made his way up to them, squatting down a few feet away.
"Are you alright?"
The bundle shifted, revealing one blue eye and a tuft of back hair.
"''m fine" a young male voice answered. The blue eye closed.
"You know it's going to snow tonight. I'm sure you'd be more comfortable in a shelter than on a fire escape."
"They're full." The boy answered. "All both of them."
Only two shelters for all of Metropolis? That can't be right. Clark looked up to the sky, the snow was starting to come down and he could swear it had gotten colder since he'd been out here. He couldn't leave the kid out here to freeze.
"How about you stay the night at my place? My couch is pretty comfortable, and I'm making beef stew for dinner, Ma's recipe." He let a bit of his Kansas accent show through. Hoping the country accent would put the boy more at ease. He was watching him now with both eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Did your Ma ever teach you about stranger danger?" The kid asked.
"Not exactly. She taught me to help people out if they need it. Did your Ma teach you stranger danger?"
"No," the boy said, "my mom taught me to put a full-grown man on the ground if I needed to."
That surprised Clark into laughing. "Well, you won't need to with me. What do you say you come inside?"
The boy watched him for another second before shivering violently and glaring at the sky.
"Yeah, alright. Just one night."
"I'm Clark, by the way," Clark said as he closed the window behind the kid.
"Danny." The kid said. He was rooted to the spot just a few steps into the apartment, eyes scanning the room.
"It's nice to meet you, Danny." Clark held out his hand to shake, but Danny didn't take it. After an awkward second Clark cleared his throat. "Uh. The stew is going to be a little while. You're welcome to the laundry and shower if you need it." Danny was pretty clean, but there was visible dirt on his face and clothes. "I might have some clothes my nephew forgot that you're welcome to." Dick was bigger than Danny for sure, but he was closer to Danny's size than Clark was.
Danny gave him a long look, before shrugging off his backpack. "Sure. Might as well."
Clark left to go get the clothes while Danny loaded some of his clothes and blankets in the washer. Once he presented the tee shirt and sweatpants Danny disappeared into the bathroom. When he reappeared he was scrubbed clean, his cheeks rosy either from the hot water or scrubbing.
Danny was even smaller than Clark was expecting. He was downright scrawny. Dick's shirt hung off Danny's shoulders, and Clark could clearly see his collarbones. This kid was not getting nearly enough to eat. Well, he was going to tonight if Clark had anything to say about it.
"The stew should be ready in about half an hour. Feel free to make yourself at home." Clark said. He expected Danny to sit on the couch and watch TV, but instead, Danny found his home office. it wasn't more than a desk with his work laptop on it and some of Clark's better pieces and awards framed and tacked to the wall above it.
"You're Clark Kent, the reporter?" Danny asked, eyes switching between the wall and Clark.
"That's me," Clark said. "You know my work?"
"I read your piece on metahuman and alien rights last year. It was good."
"Thanks. I really liked working on that piece."
"Did you always want to be a writer?"
"uh. No. When I was a kid I wanted to be an astronaut." Clark said, stirring the stew. Danny snorted. "What's funny?"
"Nothing," Danny said, taking a seat at the little kitchen table. "I wanted to be an astronaut, too."
"Yeah? You still could." Clark said.
"Nah. It's hard to be an astronaut without a high school diploma. What made you change to writing?"
"I went through a few different career paths before I landed on journalism."
"Do you like it?"
"I do. I like uncovering the truths people try to hide." Clark said. "You'd make a decent journalist, I'd think. Half of it is just asking the right questions."
Clark served up the stew into two bowls and brought them over to the table with some rolls and butter. "I don't have much in the way of drinks, is water okay?"
"Water would be great, thanks."
They ate in relative silence, Danny was too focused on his food to ask more questions. After they ate Danny nodded off on the couch almost as soon as he sat down. Clark couldn't bring himself to wake him up, so he just covered him with a blanket from the linen closet and headed to his own room.
Maybe in the morning he could make Danny pancakes or waffles and get him some new gloves and a jacket. The question was what to do after that? He didn't want to drop Danny off at a shelter, and taking him to the police would only destroy whatever trust he had gained with the boy. At the same time, he only had a one-bedroom apartment. He couldn't keep Danny here. Clark sighed. He'd have to talk to Danny in the morning and see what he wanted to do.
When Clark woke up he was greeted by the silence of the apartment and it took him a few minutes to figure out why that was wrong. There should be another heartbeat. Fearing the worst, Clark rushed into the living room to find it empty.
The blanket and clothes Danny had used had been neatly folded and placed on the back of the couch, along with a handwritten thank you note.
How did Danny leave without him hearing? Moreover, how'd he leave with the doors and windows still locked?
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spideyyeet · 2 months
plzzzzz do an mma!toji and reader comes to his penthouse tired but can’t help and wanna suck off toji as he’s sleeping
✵ mma!toji fushiguro x fem!reader ✵
✵ tags — nsfw content + age gap + fem!reader + consensual somnophilia + petnames + cock worship + cum slut + mocking + pillow humping + spit kink + crying kink + praise kink + soft toji +
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you were exhausted. completely and utterly wrecked. but the moment toji told you to come over after work, you were energized through the rest of the day. now finally going up the elevator of his building, you were bouncing on your feet. it’s been a little over a month since you’ve started dating the fighter.
he always wanted you to come over, wanting to make you comfortable around his annoyingly spacious penthouse. it was quite intimating. but you couldn’t get enough of him, so you always came.
dropping your bag and the Korean takeout you bought by the door, you kicked your shoes off walking further into the open living room.
“toji—“ your words fell off once you noticed the older man sprawled on the grey couch. your face was warm as you looked over him, shrugging your jacket off. you could never get tired of his large body. his hair was a bit damp, and a towel loosely wrapped around his waist.
he looks so cute. you thought, seeing his peaceful face resting on the pillow as his chest rose and fell calmly. you moved closer to the sleeping man as you put your scarf down, holding the couch as you slipped off your leg warmers. his lips parted as he sighed. you felt your cheeks heat as yours eyes continued down his body. your fingers delicately touching his collarbones, moving down his chest. to his perky nipples from the cold air.
“what am I doing,” you whispered to yourself, taking a step back as you tried to calm yourself, feeling the slow pool between your legs. you rubbed your face moving to the kitchen to grab some water. your eyes falling back on the couch as you chugged the refreshing beverage. he looked so peaceful, so calm, the usual teasing fighter seemed to disappear. the bruises from his training and fights were visible, red peeling knuckles were there, but…but
you pulled the cup from your lips, some droplets falling on your chest as you slowly went back over to the man. the couch was quite spacious and wide, allowing the man to be sprawled out, one arm propped behind his head as the other was sprawled out beside him. his legs open as he shifted. your face was pink, heart hammering as your fingers played with the happy trail that disappeared into the towel. you could see the tent further south sending a wave of blood flooding between your legs and cheeks.
your mind wandered to the morning hours when toji would kiss your pussy as you woke. the low whispers of him telling you to do anything to him whenever you pleased. the reassurances of the marks he leaves on your body as he tells you he wants to be the only person to make you feel good. he wanted you to have everything, and also be his everything.
but you’ve never been in such a relationship. yet…yet when his body shifted once more, the towel accidentally hooking under your finger, loosening the material. you couldn’t scurry to cover him as it fell open, exposing his resting dick.
you swallowed thickly, lips parting with a bit of drool at his semi-boner. his pretty hairs only accentuated his pretty dick. you bit your lip as you slowly moved to kneel between his legs on the couch. digits strumming down his pelvis before feeling the thickness of his length lazily hanging between his legs, too touching the towel underneath. his dick rose slowly with each feather light touch.
your body moving on its own as you leaned down. warm breath hitting him as you took a small lick down the front. your eyes seemed to ignite once you saw his cock bounce up a bit. toji wasn’t teasing you, or brushing your hair. he wasn’t rushing you or telling you how much of a cock slut you were. as much as that sent your pussy clenching. having him laid out before you was making your mouth drool.
the man’s chest rose and fell the more you slobbered on his cock. his eyelids fluttering as he groaned softly in his sleep. goosebumps ran up your body at the thrill. your fingers holding up his cock as you spit down on his leaking tip, salvia slipping down the sides of his dick lubricating him. sat up, you stroked him with your palm. Your legs unconsciously squeezing the pillow underneath your body, your skirt rising up as you felt jittery the more toji’s fat cock twitched.
“so pretty,” you gushed to yourself, cheeks bright with arousal as your eyes fluttered as you kissed the bruises that decorated his stomach from his last fight. his stomach rippled under your lips as you smiled, gently stroking down on his cock as your lips continued on south. your nose nuzzled the hairs above his cock, tickling you as you smelled his clean body. a pool was sent south as you rubbed your wet panties down on the pillow.
your heart was pounding as you thought how long it would take for toji to wake up. you wanted him to see you like this. the shameless pleasure and thrill you wanted from toji praising you. what would he say? you wanted his piercing eyes on you. you moaned around his thic length at the fantasies that danced in your mind.
toji’s stomach was clenching as he shifted. tears filled your eyes as you tried your best to take his full length in, but it was impossible.
panting over his cock as you rocked your hips on the pillow. sweat accumulating on his chest as the man began to wake. his grogginess was a bit confusing as he felt a sharp pleasure rush over him. legs moving to close, but feeling a body between him. wet dreams wasn’t something that usually occurred to him, no…not at his age…someone was triggering this.
your drool slipped down his balls, as you stroked his base, swallowing more and more. your moans ran through his cock as his arm came under him, feeling how wet and warm his dick was.
y/n. you were panting, cheeks flushed as you rocked your hips a bit faster on the pillow. your moans quiet as your heart hammered in your ears. not realizing the man had woken.
“would’ve been such a great surprise if you’d woken me,” toji looked at you leaning up on his elbows. a thrill running further into his cock as he saw the state you were in. your lips covered in saliva, completely clothed but face a flushed pink, your skirt hitched up your thighs allowing a clear view of the pool between your pussy and pillow. you licked your lips, letting salvia slip back on his cock as you went back down, cap utterly drunk on his cock. “ah fuck, sweetheart.”
“so mmm good,” you kissed the front of his cock as he dripped on the towel underneath him, your tongue swirling his fat tip, pushing your tongue in his slit, as toji let out a deep moan. your pride was swelling.
“couldn’t hold it in,” toji clenched his jaw as he groaned, “just had to suck my dick like a spoiled brat?” fuck you were really going at him. you always begg him to let you suck him off. you struggled and gagged and cried and he fucking loved it. but this was another level, you were getting much better than the times before.
your other hand making work on his base as you struggled to fit more of him down your throat. gagging as drool fell down your chin. toji felt a knot building up as his balls tightened. you were working on him for some time when he was asleep, now the pleasure felt so sudden once he’d woken he couldn’t help himself.
“puppy….fffuck—“ Toji’s hips jump as his brows knit together, releasing in your mouth. “ugh,” toji heaves, eyes clenched as you pant trying to swallow his warm seed, your breath tickling his cock as he shot more cum into your mouth. but you weren’t letting up pumping more out as you lick his cock clean. toji was struggling to sit up, groaning at the overstimulation, your eyes were foggy as you squeezed some more cum out of him.
“always get like ah this,” toji groans at your greediness, his breath shaky as his legs tremble. caught off guard by the pleasurable awakening. cum leaking out of his tip as you sucked him.
“shit, puppy…you’re gonna mak—“ toji held the back of your head pushing your head further down, no longer able to hold back as he shots more cum into your mouth. your eyes are filled with tears from the sudden thrust in your mouth. panting as you swallow over his twitching dick. toji’s chest was heaving as he grabbed your jaw, pulling you off him as his cock bounced, shooting some excess cum in your open mouth and chin.
“always get so fucking greedy,” toji panted, wiping the cum on your face into your mouth. “better clean it all up, selfish brat,” toji sighed, trying to calm down. you sucked his thumb clean as toji settled down. wet cock hanging tiredly between his legs.
“why didn’t you stuff yourself with me?” toji raised a brow, leaning his head in his palm, elbow perched on the backrest beside him. if you were so desperate, you should’ve taken him inside you. especially with how you are right now. his eyes looked down at your rocking hips. your hands holding his thighs for leverage as you rocked a bit faster.
“didn’t wanna wake you,” you whimper, as toji hums, lifting your skirt up, eyes locked on the wet patch of your rocking pussy.
“lying now are we?” toji tsked, fingers grabbing your panties as he pulled them up, your breath hitched feeling him pull up against your clit.
“ah toji,” the man smiled watching you whimper.
“no…you wanted to be a brat and suck me dry so I can wake up to see you fucking yourself,” toji leaned closer to you as he watched you moan at his words. “ahh that’s it,” he concluded. his little baby needed his attention to cum herself and got carried away with his dick.
“toji, help,” you whisper, lips parted with each breath. Toji’s lips curled up.
your eyes filled with tears. toji slapped your panties back letting go as he opted to watch you struggle.
“toji,” you whined, causing the man to suck in a breath, looking down at the bruising he’d received in his last match, noticing the two hickeys that you marked on him when he was sleeping. a smirk pulling at his lips as he clicked his tongue, lifting his head back to you.
“don’t cry now,” his hand brushed your cheek, cupping your damp face as you leaned into his touch. “you’re gonna rub your drenched little pussy on the pillow and cum, or I’m not touching you,” he said simply, your lip quivered as you drove your hips harder stimulating your clit as toji watched.
your hands fell on the cushion between his legs as you swirled your hips, head down as you did your best, toji’s thumb came under your chin. pupils blown, he wanted your eyes on him.
“don’t want me getting mad now, do you?” toji rubbed your lip as you opened your mouth shaking your head. toji smiled seeing your legs start to tremble, he only needed to touch you for you to cum. your drool slipped down his wrist as he pressed his thumb on your tongue, your eyes fluttering as you moaned. “then be a good girl n cum, now,” a shiver ran down your spine as you stilled on the pillow, reaching your high.
“ah ah…touch me…now,” you rocked your hips as toji smiled.. waiting. “please.”
“there there…that’s it,” toji’s hand slipped to cup your drenched panties as he rubbed you through your orgasm. your face buried in his chest as his arm held your the back of your neck, gently massaging your skin as hekissed the top of your head. “spoiled little pup,” he whispered, as you whimpered.
your body leaned on him as he pulled you for a kiss. his tongue slipping in your mouth as you allowed him to play with you. his fingers brushing your hair as you arched into him, toji laughed, pulling back seeing the trail of saliva that connected your lips.
your eyes were dazed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, his back hitting the back rest. “like being all needy?” he teased, pulling you into his lap as his arm wrapped around your waist as you sighed against his ear.
“long day?” toji brushed the back of your head, as you hummed.
“very long,” you mumbled back, chest rising and falling as you let toji engulf you in his warmth. nuzzling into his neck. after a few moments, you spoke again. “I bought some korean food…it’s probably cold now,”
“from which place?” he asked, looking over your shoulder, eyeing the take out bag beside the door.
“the one you liked from last week?” you answer, toji smiling as he stood up, arm under your ass as he lifted you along with him.
“wait—I can get off,” you yelp, as toji goes to grab the bag.
“don’t act like you don’t like it,” toji teased, your brow twitching. as you struggled in his grip.
“I don’t…so stop assuming things,” you scoff as toji settles you on the counter as he opens up the bag.
“alright,” toji brushes you off as you roll your eyes. the man begins unpacking the small boxes.
“wanna go change while I heat up the food?” he asks, you hum, hopping off the counter. toji’s eyes flickering up watching as you walk over to his bedroom, already pulling off your shirt. “cute.”
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another mma!toji request here
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maryses · 3 months
— featuring . alatus / xiao, shikanoin heizou, kaedehara kazuha, wanderer / scaramouche, albedo x fem!reader (all separate)
— warnings / content warnings . nsfw. titplay (scaramouche), scaramouche loves titties foreal, fingering (kaedehara kazuha), slight dacryphilia (kaedehara kazuha), vaginal sex, oral (f!receiving, alatus / xiao n m!receiving, shikanoin heizou), pussy!drunk xiao is my reason to live, mentions of breeding, use of nicknames, overall suggestive content. please let me know if i missed a few ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა || 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
ੈ‧₊˚ oh my, they’re all getting lost in the feeling n the moment they’re having w you!
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there was nothing xiao wanted more than to keep you all to himself, only him. there’s nothing he craves more than you, he’s never felt this way before with anyone, nor has he ever wanted to feel this way towards anyone else, but you managed to change all of that. archons, it’s something about you that just frustrates him, his mind does this to himself. there is nothing xiao loves more than sliding your cute panties down your legs, or even pulling them aside to get his tongue deep inside licking and providing you with pleasure, running your hands through his hair, pulling and tugging at it. it’s just so so good.. he can’t seem to stop no matter how much he tries telling himself to do so.
“x—xiao..!” you sobbed, opening your thighs more for him, knowing exactly what you wanted. he wanted this as much as you do, so eager whenever he eats you out like this, hands keeping a firm grip on your thighs and keeping them spread out for him. he felt your wet juices on his chin, too lost in pleasuring you that he didn’t even notice the harsh grip he had on your thighs. “x—xiao.. please! too much.. hah!” your legs shook under his grasp, starting to give in so easily until xiao kept them up, sucking and licking at your pussy at a more quicker pace. you sucked in a short sharp hiss of breath, whining as you threw your head back, reaching your orgasm. he pulled away, licking his lips clean before leaning over to caress your cheek. “you.. you do all sorts of things to me, [name]. you make me feel things. you have no respect for the ways of the adepti, do you?” leaning back down once more, giving your pussy a few kitty licks. “closer. i haven’t.. gotten enough of you yet.”
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“that’s it, good girl.” heizou’s chest heaved, running his fingers through your hair as he tugged on it lightly, pushing you more down on his aching cock, mouth engulfing him completely. your mouth worked wonders on his dick, licking him at all the right spots, bobbing your head up and down, taking him deep in your throat. “slow down there, princess. wouldn’t want you to struggle now, do we?” you couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows at him, you just wanted to shut him up right then and there. fuck.. you felt and looked so good though, mouth wrapped around his cock and taking him so well, archons if only you could see what he was seeing right now.. you looked so hot under his gaze, he wanted to push you off and place you on the table, fuck you completely stupid, breed you and fill you up to the absolute brim.
you pulled away from him, a string of saliva connected from his cock to your mouth. pressing a thumb on his tip, you licked your lips clean as heizou’s body shivered at the cold air. you laid on his thigh, grinning ever-so innocently at your boyfriend, stroking his cock at a painfully slow pace, planting kisses on it as you went on. the detective chuckled, taking your chin in his hand bringing you up to him, stealing a kiss from you before shoving you down on his cock, thrusting himself in your mouth. “that’s right mhm.. thats fucking right, taking it so so well like a good girl you are, huh? fuck.. hn. you feel s’good.” you whimpered, fingernails digging into his thighs before he reached his point, cumming inside your mouth as he pulled away, finishing on your sweet tits. “there you go princess, not that hard wasn’t it?” “mmnf.. m’mad at you.” “now now, don’t give me that.”
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“k—kazuha.. zuhaaaa mmh—“ you moaned as kazuha continued to fuck you with his fingers, pumping them rather quickly, leaning down over to you, pressing his lips against yours as you whimpered when he slid his tongue inside, moaning into his mouth. kazuha devoured your lips with passion yet he was still so rough, he couldn’t get enough of you, the way you sucked his fingers inside, creating more discomfort in his boxers. fuck.. you were so beautifully laid out on the mattress, his eyes wandering around your body, pretty tits displayed infront of his eyes, just for him to see. archons.. your whines and moans are like music to his ears, he’s always loved them, he’s always loved wiping tears away from your eyes. he loved seeing you cry from the pleasure he provided you with. “k—kazu.. more! please.. m’close!” “only because of my fingers? aren’t you a sweet one.” archons.. he absolutely loved the way tears streamed down your face, begging him for more like that.
he chuckled, “you look like a goddess, dearest. so perfect, spread out and lookin’ all pretty for me.” kazuha rubbed his thumb against your bud, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his fingertips reached the deepest parts inside, it felt so so good.. you let out a loud yet cute whine as your cunt clenched around his fingers, juices coating his fingers. swiftly, he took them out of your soaked pussy, red eyes making direct contact with yours as he licked the mess off clean, a deep red blush spreading across your face, pressing your thighs close together, refusing to make direct eye contact with the samurai. shifting closer to you, he eagerly took his dick in his hands, stroking it himself before grabbing your thighs, spreading your legs as much as it could. “no! kazu! m’still sensitive..” you wiped your tears before feeling his hardened cock sliding against your dripping slit. “cmon sweet princess, one more for me. i’ll take care of you, okay?”
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“fuck, you’re pretty.” scaramouche whispered under his breath, reaching forward and cupping one of your tits in his hands, cheeks flushing at his stare. your head titled back as you let out a soft whimper, hands on your boyfriend’s shoulders. his thumb teased your nipple, shifting forward as he traced his warm tongue over the other nipple of your other breast. he sucked tenderly on your breasts, every lick and moan you let out making it difficult for him to hold himself back as dick hardened in his shorts. he loved and wanted every single part of you, he wanted you.. no.. he needed you. he loved the way you feel, he loved the way his hands would always engulf your tits, he loved the way you squirmed underneath him, archons.. you’re driving him crazy. he pinched one of your nipples with his fingers forcing a loud whine out of your mouth as your back arched slightly, eyes fluttering open as he smirked against your flesh seeing him enjoy himself, what a jerk.
“why are you s’mean to me, quit that!” he shook his head, a small whimper fell from you as he moved slightly above your nipple, biting onto your skin. “s—scara..” he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, his hands ran through your back, then your stomach, then.. inside your panties. “you’re such a slut.. so wet for me, just from all that sucking. are you that desperate for me?” he suckled on your tits while rubbing your aching cunt, arms wrapping around his neck. “cmon, tell me. tell me that you only belong to me. say it.” your voice shook, struggling to bring yourself to say anything due to the pleasure scaramouche was inflicting onto you, suckling at your tits as he brought his hand back up to pinch your nipple, a bit rougher this time. “i—i belong to you.. mnf!” “that’s it, that’s all i wanted to hear from that dirty mouth of yours.”
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originally, the plan was you let your boyfriend examine you so he could have more better and advanced understandings of human anatomy, well that backfired. “archons, bedo.. calm down!” your cheeks tinted in dark red, your insides sucking him in which managed to get a groan leave his lips, continuing to thrust into you as his cock was buried deep inside of your cunt, moving in and out so smoothly. “m’sorry, darling. i can’t— ah.. you feel amazing.” he ran his fingers through his hair, wanting to feel more of your warmth around his cock. he stared at your stomach catching sight of a small bulge, turning him on even more as he picked up the pace, slamming his hips against yours roughly biting his lip to hold back moans that were threatening to leave his throat. every roll of his hips against yours made your eyes roll back, tongue lolling out like the desperate sweet girl you are. “fuck, bedo..”
“archons..” the blonde moaned throwing his head back as he held his chin covering his mouth with his eyes shut, loving the way your pussy sucks him in so easily, making it easier for each snap of his hips. he hid his face on your neck, planting a couple kisses on there as you whined like a desperate bitch in heat at the sudden change in position, albedo pushing and locking your legs on the mattress beneath, allowing him to easily slide his dick inside you. your pussy dripped and soaked in your juices as sweat ran down your body, feeling albedo release inside of you. “fuck.. fuck.. more of you, darl’, give me a few more minutes..” “o—oh!” albedo forced himself deeper in your pussy, cock twitching at the beautiful sounds you were making, pounding inside you a few more times before cumming inside of you again. “bedo..—“ “i am aware you want this more than i do. one more for me, darling. m’gonna make you a mommy, i’m gonna keep filling you up until i’m absolutely certain you’ll carry my children, is that alright?”
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I’m gonna be a bit honest with you all, Albedo’s part was my favourite one to write — Maryse
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jsuli · 3 months
avatar!jake sully x human!reader smut
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this is my first time writing smut. ever. so its probs horse shit <3
afab reader, stomach bulge, size difference, horny reader, slightly ooc jake, praise.
this is the drunk smut i was talking abt <3 i tried to give reader an actual personality because i am sick to fucking death reading brain dead husks :]
Jakes left hand holds your hips in a bruising grip while his right practically rip off his sweatpants, lining up his thick cock with your cunt.
You hadn't exactly planned to fuck Jake Sully when he visited you at the lab in his na'vi form, but you could not resist his small waist and sinfully toned thighs. He had made it even harder for you, dressed in grey sweatpants and a much-too-small t-shirt which hugged his broad shoulders and ever so slightly protruding hip-bones.
When he had first clambered in through the door to the lab which was much too short for his na'vi body, you had peered up at him from your desk and waved him over. You both quickly fell into conversation like usual.
"I mean, this body is great and all, but I dont think I'll ever get used to ducking under doorways" he grumbled as he looked up at you through thick, black lashes.
"I like it. you're like every girls monster-fucking fetish come true"
He barked out a laugh at your crewd words. One of the reasons you two had made fast friends was because of your lewd humour.
"Oh, so you'd fuck me like this?" he questioned playfully, a teasing sparkle in his big puppy-dog eyes.
"Absolutely. ten outta' ten. would fuck". You eyed him up while you spoke. You where teasing him back, but you couldn't help but wonder what fucking him would be like...
Was it big? Could you even take him?
Tuning out what he was currently saying, you thought about him stretching you out with what you assumed to be a big, blue juicy dick. You thought about the stomach bulge that would probably form, not realising your name was being called.
A big blue hand waved itself infront of your face.
"You still with me? mesmerised by my exotic beauty?" his head shook playfully as he looked down at you, shifting to sit back fully which gave him even more height over you.
Without even realising you where speaking out loud you asked, "Do you even have a dick?"
There was a pregnant pause before he looked at you, unbelieving of what you had just asked. "Arent you literally a scientist that specialises in all things Pandora?"
"Actually, I only specialise in plants and animals. So, do you have a dick? yes or no"
"For fucks sake, of course I have a dick" Jake sighed while running his hand down his face, exasperated by your question.
"Was just doing some research before I stake my claim"
"stake your claim? wha-" Jake was cut off by you pouncing forward and grabbing him by the shirt, smashing your lips into his.
And thats how you ended up on your back, papers and expensive equipment swiped onto the ground. Jake stood between your spread legs while lining himself up to your needy hole.
You huffed in and out as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit, teasing you.
"If you dont put your dick in me right now I am going to scream" you glared up at him. His familiar cheeky grin graced his face. "You'll be screaming either way, babes"
Right before you went to complain again, his grip on your hips became tighter and he began to ease himself in to you. Your breath caught in your throat as he slowly began stretching you.
His lust-filled hooded eyes peered down at you while his voice deepened. "you're taking me so well baby, fuck! just like that"
The stretch of his girthy cock burned but it was worth it to see Jakes jaw wide open and his eyes squeezed shut. You had never been so turned on in your life, the size difference making you all the more needy. His hand wrapped around your entire waist.
Finally sinking into you fully, he leaned down to you and buried his face in your neck. The new found closeness allowed you to hear his breathy whimpers which made you drip even more.
"Please fuck me Jake, jesus I'll do anything, just fuck me please" you hissed out.
Hearing your cries of need, he began an agonisingly slow pace, pulling all the way out and back in. you moaned like a whore straight out of a porno, self control be damned, especially when you had a thirteen-inch prick drilling you.
The bulge of his cock protruded out of your lower stomach, creating a shadow.
"Jesus christ your so fucking tight! look at that big bulge baby, yeah thats me, 'feel good sweetheart?" he smoothed his hand over your stomach and pushed down, making you release a squeal.
"yeah, feels really fucking good Jake" you rutted against him as you moaned out.
His arms slithered to fully embrace you while he started pummeling your cunt. You cant begin to imagine what someone would think if they where to walk in on you two in such a lewd embrace. Jake fucking into you while standing, your legs on either side of him with curled toes and his spasming tail made quite the scene.
His thrusts became erractic and shallow as he nipped at your neck. His deep, cat-like purs vibrated against the skin of your neck while he gripped onto you for dear life.
"your fat cock feels soooo good jake, god please, I cant take it, 'feels too good" you slurred, drool falling down the side of your face while you almost sobbed from pleasure.
"you're such a good fuck, cute little pussy gripping me, im gonna cum, can I cum in you babygirl?" Jake groaned out while slamming balls-deep into you. You couldnt speak from how good you felt but your shaky nod assured him.
His hand rubbed circles on your clit as he felt you tighten even more around him. His thrusts began to stutter as his balls tightened and he shot his big, thick load into you. The full, warm feeling triggered your own orgasm. You let out a shriek as your vision went white, pure ecstasy pulsing through every nerve in your body. After riding out the waves of his own orgasm, Jake slumps down ontop of you, purring into your neck while his tail whips around. You pant for a few seconds before asking, " 'ye think you could go again?"
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mothdruid · 3 months
Concerned Neighbor
pairing: bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader
summary: Bradley and you are neighbors, sharing a duplex owned by Mav. But Bradley never realized how paper thin the walls really were until one night. He learned the difference between your moans, from true pleasure and fake pleasure. He makes it a point to show you true pleasure when with someone.
wc: 4.5k
warnings: 18+, smut, mdni, protected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), oral sex (male and female), vaginal fingering, jealousy, listening through the walls, possessive!Bradley, degradation and praise kinks
a/n: this idea was brought to you by @emerald-chaos and it's also unbeta'd, so don't mind my mistakes pls. and yes, I'm using the same Bradley gif I use for all my Bradley fics.
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When Mav first brought up renting out the other half of the duplex, Bradley was hesitant. He had been reminded that it was Mav’s decision and to 'play nice' with the other tenant. And how could Bradley not 'play nice' when you were the person he was sharing a wall with. He would never forget the first time he met you, your smile bright as you awkwardly tried to open your door while carrying a box. That's where Bradley came in, offering to help carry the box. And that was where your friendship began.
Bradley did admit it was nice having you there. You watched his cat while he went on leave, making you its mother practically. Him mowing your side of the lawn, you collecting his mail while he was gone. It created this odd relationship, which created your now bi-weekly dinner date the two of you had. Sharing your company for a little while every so often made him not feel as lonely. Reminding him he still had the proper skills to interact with more than just fellow aviators.
Everything was just going swimmingly until he heard it one night. That's when he started to curse the fact your bedroom was next to his. Only a thin wall separating the two rooms. Bradley assumed that his room lined yours, but this was a confirmation. At first he wasn’t sure if it was all just in his head. He hadn’t been physical with anyone for a long time, so maybe it was his brains way of saying he needed to get a fuck in. But then he heard it again. And again.
It was the sound of you, moaning in pleasure. Bradley wasn't quite sure when his hand had drifted down to his grey sweatpants, palming his growing erection. He hadn't realized how paper thin the walls were, your breathing was almost audible to him. Hearing every moan and gasp you had to offer.
The thought of you touching yourself, vibrator on your clit, or maybe even a dildo inside of you had Bradley biting back groans. It wasn't like he never thought of you as attractive, cause God you were to him. The image of you laid out for him, touching yourself or eagerly taking his cock had him fisting his dick. Your mouth would be hanging open, those moans he was hearing falling past your lips.
It was obvious when you crept closer to your orgasm, moans getting louder and more frequent. So he timed it perfectly, thrusting into his hand and groaning when eventually he heard you hit your climax. He followed suit shortly afterwards, hot spurts of cum covering his stomach. Bradley laid there staring at the ceiling with his hand still wrapped around his cock, wondering how he would ever face you again.
A few days passed and he didn't see you, not really leaving the house in all honesty. Even though he wasn't seeing you, he was still hearing you. Every night he would hear your moans. Bradley couldn't help but take advantage of them every night, fucking his hand and wishing it was you instead. Then one day, he was greeted by a new car in your driveway. He assumed it was a friend, until later that night.
It was almost like a schedule. He would get in bed at 8pm every night, wait about ten minutes, then hear your moans, signaling it was time for him to shuck off his sweatpants. But tonight wasn't like that. He didn't hear anything from your side of the wall until about 8:40pm. He knows because he checked his phone. And the noises he heard tonight weren't the same.
The sounds he heard tonight were a different pitch, not sounding like you. They sounded forced, fake. Bradley even got out of bed to check the driveway, still seeing that unfamiliar car in your driveway. He honestly couldn't bear the thought of it. You fucking someone was fine, but not being pleased and full of pleasure? Hell no, you deserved more than subpar sex. He hadn't even heard the usual climax ending you had every night.
Bradley didn't know how to approach the situation though. It's not like he could just bring it up to you, explaining that he could hear you through the walls. You would definitely move out after that confession he figured. So, Bradley decided not to ignore you anymore. He would come over daily and ask how you were and if you needed my help around the house. Hell, he even mowed your half of the yard. But it got him nowhere.
Bradley was yearning for your bi-weekly dinner, only a week away. He wanted something to happen that night, hoping you'd give him some form of opening. He saw that same unfamiliar car five days before your dinner, making him irritated. Bradley knew he wouldn't be able to take another night of your fake moans, so he left and went to the local bar for a few hours.
When he came home the car was gone and the lights on your side of the duplex were still on. Bradley slipped into his own side, finding his way into bed quickly. He laid there for a few moments, ruminating on the idea of you getting fucked by some random man that didn't even know how to please you properly. After a few more moments he heard it though. Heard you.
It was those soft and pleasure filled moans he loved to hear. They immediately went to his cock. His hand palmed at the front of his boxers, as he listened. Every moan was something angelic yet sinful. Bradley craved to hear them without the barrier of the wall so bad. His hand pumped his cock as he heard your moans pick up.
A heat was rising in his chest and cheeks, his mind thinking about how good you would look splayed out. Legs spread wide, one set of fingers working your clit, while your other hand pumped a dildo in and out of your greedy hole. Bradley bit back a groan, thinking about what it'd feel like to be inside of you. Bradley paced himself with your moans, waiting until the last moment to follow you over the edge. As he laid there on his bed with his spent cock resting against his abdomen, he wondered how he was going to face you at dinner.
The bi-weekly dinner came faster than what Bradley expected. Five days passed in the blink of an eye. But he had heard you every night, and that car never showed back up. He hoped that the car would never show back up again. He wanted you to be taken care of, hoping he would be the one to do it.
You were currently on his living room floor, twirling a stick with ribbons attached to it across the floor for his cat. His cat, Twix, aggressively chased the blue curled up ribbons back and forth on the floor. Twix was a stray that Bradley had found, the short haired tabby keeping him company and not completely lonely. Bradley watched the two of you play as he continued with dinner. He wasn't sure when you noticed him watching, but he couldn't help but smile when he caught your gaze.
God, you were going to be the death of him.
Bradley got out a can of cat food, distracting Twix from the toy you had. After Bradley plated Twix's canned food, he made up both of your plates and took them to the table. There was just small talk through the entire dinner, Bradley not wanting to ruin it with the main topic on his mind.
"You okay, B?" Bradley nodded with a small smile.
"Yeah, I think so." You tilted your head.
"Think so?" You shot him a questioning look. "You know you can tell me." Both of your plates were empty, signaling to Bradley he could finally bring up the subject.
"Who did you have over this week?" Bradley didn't mean for it to come out so demanding. But it did, and there was no way of taking it back.
"What do you mean?" You narrowed your eyes at him.
"There was a car in the driveway."
"Why does it matter?"
"It doesn't matter."
"I can see who I want to see."
"I know you ju-"
"Sorry, I'm not like you." Bradley's eyebrows knitted together, his hazel eyes staring at you intensely.
"I'm sorry, what?" You knew you ticked a nerve.
"Bradley, you know what I mean."
"No, not sure I do. Explain. Now." The tone in his voice sent a chill down your spine. You straighten your posture, interlacing your fingers and placing your hands on the table.
"Well you just. All because you don't bring anyone home doesn't mean I don't have to." You thought it'd be awkward, but it wasn't. Something in his stare had changed, it wasn't intimidating anymore. It was something more playful. A smirk pulled at one side of his mouth.
"Even if he can't get you off." Your eyes grew wide.
"You think I don't hear you?" You stared at him. A heat started to rise in your cheeks, as well as between your thighs. Bradley had been listening to you? The thought of him fisting his cock while listening to you fuck someone else plagued your mind. "Hear your little moans every night?" That's when it dawned on you. Your room shared a wall with Bradley's.
Bradley took notice of the way your face changed. It wasn’t shocking, more akin to something else. He watched as you took your lower lip between your teeth, gaze looking away from him for a moment. You took your hands from the table, placing them in your lap. Your thighs squeezed tightly as you felt his eyes crawl over you. You had always found Bradley attractive, but never considered the possibility of him coming on to you. The thought of him jerking off to your sounds plagued your mind, showing you just how desperate he actually was for you. Your eyes flicked up to meet his blazing hazel orbs. A surge of courage ran through your veins.
“How many times did you hear me?”
“All of them.” A heat blazed through your body like a forest fire. “You should fuck someone who actually makes you feel good.” Bradley leaned across the table, playful smirk on his lips. “Someone that has you moaning like when you finger fuck yourself.” Your insides clenched at his words, thighs squeezing together once more.
“Is that what you want?” A tension was swirling between the two of you now. The both of you knew exactly what each other wanted.
“Just a concerned neighbor is all.”
“If you’re so concerned about this problem, then fix it.” You emphasized the T at the end of the sentence. Bradley quirked an eyebrow. The two of you stared at each other for a while, only the small bell on Twix’s collar filling the silence.
“You sure you want that?” Bradley asked. “Want me to ruin you for anyone else? Make you come crawling back?” Bradley stood up, taking a few steps until he was standing next to you. You turned and looked up at him, eyes unwavering as you answered him.
“Show me what a ‘concerned neighbor’ can do.” Bradley’s hand moved to your chin, taking it between his thumb and pointer finger. A smirk adorned his face, eyes scanning your face.
“God, you’re so fucking pretty.” Bradley’s fingers started pulling on your chin, hinting at you to stand up. You made your way to your feet, a fire surging underneath your skin. His fingers drifted down your jaw, hand moving to cup the back of your neck. Bradley leaned down, lips barely touching your earlobe. “I can’t wait to hear those pretty moans. The ones you make while you touch yourself.”
Teeth and lips clashed together, neither of you sure who kissed the other first. Bradley’s fingers tightened around the nape of your neck, pulling you closer towards him. His hand grabbed at your hip, kneading the flesh underneath your t-shirt. One of your hands threaded into his honey locks, tugging lightly. They were softer than you had ever imagined.
“Fuck.” Bradley whispered, his hot lips traveling down your jawline to your neck. The hand on the back of your neck disappeared, ghosting down your side to your hips. Rough hands grappled with your waist, kneading at the flesh under your shirt. The tiny hairs of his mustache prodded at your skin, urging you to keep up with him. It was as if Bradley wanted to consume you, know everything your body had to offer.
Bradley needed to know the exact things that made you moan. One of his hands grabbed your ass, pulling you flush against him. A hardness pressed against your abdomen and pelvis, letting you know Bradley was enjoying this. Your hips rocked against his, the hand on your ass trailing to the small of your back. He kept you pressed against him like that as he backed you up towards the wall.
A hand was now pressing on your core, rubbing you over your pants. Bradley pulled back to watch you, listening to your gasps and moans while he provided you with minimal pleasure.
“Must have thought about this for a while, with the way you’re moaning.” Bradley sneered. It wasn’t a lie, ever since you had moved in he plagued your mind. He was your main source of masturbation material, the idea of him being more than just your neighbor.
“What if I have? Thought about this before.” The words were like honey to Bradley, sweet and just what he wanted. Both of his hands went to the front of your body, one moving to work at the button of your pants while the other kneaded your breast.
“Is that what you thought about when you fucked yourself? Wishing it was me deep inside of you?” His hand slipped down the front of your pants and panties, fingers slipping between your folds. A groan tore through Bradley’s throat. “Fuck, how are you this wet already? This wet and we still have our clothes on.”
“It’s been a serious problem.” He covers your neck with hot and wet kisses, fingers circling your clit. They were tight and quick circles, ones that made your abdomen tense up. You knew you would last long, especially at this pace. It’s like Bradley already had a map of your body, with each sensitive spot marked with an ‘x’.
“Should have let me fix it sooner. Not have those useless dudes try to fix it.” Bradley’s tone had your insides melting. All you could do was stare at him, lips parted while moans fell from them. Without warning he removed his hand from your pants, turning you around and pressing you against the wall. His hands hooked into your pants and panties and pushed them down to your knees. His hand returned, this time his fingers tracing your entrance.
“God, this hole is so needy for me.” Bradley pressed two fingers into you, filling you up just the way you needed. He draped his body over yours, pressing your chest to the wall. His mouth nursed at your neck, nipping at the tender spot below your earlobe.
“Only for you, Bradley.” A soft growl came from him, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, stretching you open. A wave of pleasure ran over you as his fingers brushed that special spot inside of you. “Fuck! Ri-right there.”
Bradley added another finger at your words, zeroing in on that one spot inside of you. He could feel your walls clenching, tightening around his digits. He knew you were close and so did you. The tightness in your abdomen was almost unbearable, waiting for the tension to snap. A mix of swears and his name were pouring out of your mouth.
“You sound so fucking good moaning my name.” Bradley’s cock twitched every time you moaned his name. He never realized how much of an effect it would have on him. “Only my name, nobody else's. Nobody can make you feel like this, only me.” Bradley whispered in your ear.
“Only you, Br-Bradley!” You stuttered at his name as you came. The tension in your abdomen finally snapped. Your walls tightened around his digits and he helped you ride out your high. A groan came from him, his forehead pressing tightly to your shoulder as he just felt and listened to you.
A shaky breath passed your lips when he removed his fingers from you. Bradley’s hands found your pants and panties that were still around your knees, pushing them down and helping you fully remove them. He pressed kisses all the way up the back of your legs, biting at the meat of your ass eventually. As your legs regained consciousness, he gestured for the two of you to go to his bedroom.
“If I’m fucking you right, I’m fucking you in my bed.” You nodded, still a little blissed out from your first orgasm. You took the hand he had held out and followed him.
You immediately climbed onto his bed, not waiting for him to direct you. He shucked his shirt off once reaching the bedroom, just in time to watch you. Bradley stood at the foot of the bed, watching you put on a show for him. The skin of your back slowly became more exposed and you dragged your shirt up your body. His eyes scanned your skin, taking it all in as territory that he finally was able to claim. He couldn't help his hand drifting towards his pants, rubbing at the strained fabric covering his cock. He saw the bubblegum pink bralette, making him wonder if your panties were matching. He didn’t pay much attention to them when he took them off you. Your hand trailed up your sides, grabbing at the band of your bralette and tossing it to his floor.
Bradley bit his lower lip, coming around the side of the bed to see you. You turned to him, letting him see you completely bare. Bradley started to kneel at the edge of the bed, his hands moving out to grab your legs. He pulled you closer to the edge, pushing your legs apart and putting your cunt on full view for him.
“Look at you.” Bradley said as he dove between your thighs. He drug his tongue up and down your slit, flicking it against your clit. He brought a hand around your thigh, using his fingers to open your folds even more. You propped yourself up on your elbows, moaning and whining as he feasted on your cunt.
It was as if he was a mad man and this was his only purpose. His mustache rubbed against your clit as he licked lower, your hips stuttering at the sensation. Your back arched when you felt his fingers prod at your entrance again, pushing inside of you while his tongue worked over your clit. Shivers ran through you as the tension in your abdomen returned. Bradley groaned against you, the vibrations making your legs shake. You brought a hand to his locks, threading your fingers through them.
“You taste so fucking good.” Bradley groaned as you tugged at his hair. The tension in your abdomen was tight, threatening to snap at any moment. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking just enough to push you over the edge. His tongue never left your clit, flicking as your body shook with pleasure.
“Bradley! Fuck!” Your legs went to squeeze shut, the sensation becoming too much. But Bradley stopped them, grabbing the inside of your thighs and forcing them open. Your entire body was tight, your orgasm feeling like it was never going to end. “It’s too much! Bradley, please!”
Bradley pulled back after you begged him to stop, letting you finally catch your breath. You laid on the bed, chest heaving from each breath. This was the first time you had ever felt like this, this blissed out from a man. You had enough trouble getting off once during sex with most men, let alone twice. But here was your neighbor, easily pulling to orgasms out of you because he was jealous. That’s when you heard the sound of a zipper, pulling you back from your post-orgasmic thoughts.
Bradley was standing up now, jeans low and open on his hips. His hand was pushed down past his waistband, working his cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs. Steadily you sat up, legs draping down off the side of the bed. You reached out, pulling at the waistband of his jeans. You pushed them down his legs, him kicking them off to the side. Next your fingers trailed around the waistband of his boxer briefs.
“Don’t get all shy on me now.” Bradley joked as he watched your fingers slip into the waistband. You flicked him a glare as you pushed them down his legs. His cock was red and angry, standing at full attention. You had always assumed he was big, but this just confirmed your suspicions. You wrapped a hand around the base stroking lightly. Bradley watched with his mouth agape, tongue running over his lips.
You pressed your lips to the tip, licking softly before taking the tip into your mouth. Bradley let out a deep groan as he watched your lips part, taking him into your mouth. He let his head fall back, trying to focus on the feeling of your hot mouth wrapped around his cock. This was a moment he had dreamed of since hearing your moans. But he didn’t know if it was enough. He wanted to be in you, fucking you until you couldn’t take it anymore.
“I can’t.” You gave him a curious look, pulling off of him. Before you could ask him he spoke, “I need to be in you now.”
Bradley pushed you up the bed, draping his body over yours. He reached over into his bedside table, grabbing for a condom. You watched as he tore the wrapper with his teeth, tossing the wrapper to the floor. He rolled the condom down his cock, running his cock between your folds. Every time his head rubbed your clit you quaked, shocks of pleasure rolling through you.
“God, you’re gonna look so good taking me. Letting me ruin you for everyone else, making sure you only want me.” Bradley settled between your legs and lined up, pressing the head of his cock in your entrance.
A moan fell from you as he pushed in you, stretching you with only the head of his cock. Inch by inch he eased into you, rocking his hips slowly. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, kissing at your clavicle. When he was fully seated inside of you he paused, listening to your breaths. He pulled back to look at you, a look asking for permission on his face.
“Fuck me, Bradley. Make me yours.” Bradley groaned. His hips pulled back, slamming back into you in an instant. He set a brutal pace, heavy deep thrusts as he filled you. He kissed down your neck and chest, kissing at your breasts before taking a nipple into his mouth.
“You’re so fucking dirty, fucking other men while wishing they were me.” His words were intoxicating, speaking truth that you didn’t know he knew. You clenched around him at his words, letting him know he was right. “What a fucking slut. But that’s okay, I have you now. Gonna fuck you so good.” Bradley continued to babble on, talking about how you were made for him and that he was made for you.
“Bradley, you- fuck!” Bradley adjusted, changing the position slightly. He sat back on his heels, grabbing the underneath of your knees and holding your legs out. He thrusted inside of you, immediately hitting that spot inside of you. Your back arched hard, walls clenching around him. Bradley didn’t like to be a two minute man, but the way you were squeezing around his cock was making it hard.
“You feel so fucking good! Fuck! It’s like you’re sucking me in.” Bradley pushed your legs together, leaning over you. He practically had you folded in half as he pounded into you. “Say it, please say my name.” It was almost like a plea when he asked.
“Bradley! Please!” Bradley knew you were close, he could feel how close you were. He was close too, had been close for awhile but was trying to hold out for you. It was all becoming too much for you. You were on the edge of your third orgasm, the spot inside of you being hit over and over again. Bradley let your legs fall apart, finding your clit with his fingers and rubbing it. That was it.
His name was all you said as you came, clenching his cock impossibly tight. Bradley held out for a bit longer, helping you ride out your orgasm. He leaned down and captured your lips with his, a small taste of you still noticeable. You moaned as he pounded into you a little bit more, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.
A groan ripped through him as he came, his thrusts stuttered as he unloaded into the condom. He rested his head on your chest, the both of you trying to catch your own breath. You started tracing small circles on the expanse of his back. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you for a moment. Bradley was the one to break it as he shifted, pulling out of you.
“So, problem fixed?” He asked. You rolled your eyes and rolled onto your side.
“I think so.” You responded while yawning. “But I would like to keep it fixed.” Bradley smiled as he stood up, taking the condom off and tying it. He leaned over, placing a kiss on your temple.
“Good, cause I don’t think I can give you up now. Plus, I think Twix would be mad if you stopped coming around.” He helped you stand, the both of you making your way to the bathroom. You sat on the toilet as he cleaned himself with a wet washcloth, leaving it sitting in the sink when he was finished. Twix mingled in between your feet, meowing at the both of you. You gave him a small scratch on the head before leaving the bathroom. You went back to Bradley’s bedroom, crawling into the bed and under the covers. Bradley followed shortly afterwards, cuddling you from behind.
The next thing you knew you were waking up, a heavy weight on your chest. You looked up to find a cat on you, Twix specifically. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you and Bradley must have. Which made you look over, seeing your neighbor in bed next to you. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open as he slept. A warmth spread in you, knowing that all your problems were fixed.
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Ghostwriter was really asking for soup time at this point.
He had apologized for his first Christmas truce before, last year he even convinced Clockwork to help him make a copy of the original work he had ruined.
So why in god’s gracious earth did he wake up to Amity Park being in a hallmark movie.
Danny glared as the people milled about the center of town like they haven’t since the portal opening.
It was unnerving, the only thing really missing from the equation was some out of town love interest or something.
“Hey, excuse me.”
Tall and built with black hair and blue eyes.
Oh you got to be-
Dick tried to make himself look more charming as the guy he approached turned around.
When he heard that the justice league were getting concerning calls about a town In Illinois, he saw an out from the Christmas gala.
Sure Dick enjoyed the season, but the fact that he has to spend a large amount of the winter season putting up a front as the perfect firstborn was not something he wanted to do unless he had to.
That being said, the town was a bit unnerving. He hadn’t seen anything supernatural per say but the constant cheer is something he had only ever seen on the silver screen of his home. He had tried to approach several different people only to be met with seasons greetings and promptly ignored when as they ran off to do whatever small towns do for the holidays.
This guy at least wasn’t plastering a smile on his face.
“Hey, excuse me I’m new in town and looking around, my name is-“
“Let me guess, Rupert or Orlando or some shit.”
“Well it has to be pompous and annoying. It’s kind of a trend and shit last time I checked.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about man I just wanted to ask-“
The man snorted as he left, throwing over his shoulder with a large amount of snark,
“For a tour around town? A place to stay? A friendly face? Sorry man, man but I’m not interested. The town square is full, ask someone else I have a date with a caffeine addiction.”
Dick watched a bit stupefied as the guy weaves into the ground and out of his eyesight.
“Well he seemed charming.”
Dick raised his phone to the earpiece and sighed,
“Yeah well, he’s the first person who didn’t sound like they weren’t on a script so far. I didn’t even know that midwesterners took Christmas so seriously. How long until you reach town Jay?”
I’m reaching midtown just about now. It looks like Santa took a shit on every-“
There was a sudden squeal of tires as the line cut.
Oh no.
Jason gasped as he tried to calm his breath glancing at the guy he almost hit on his bike.
Jesus Christ that was close.
“Shit man are you alright?”
“Peachy. Always liked pancakes and all that.”
Danny felt a blush hit him as the behemoth of a guy let out a snort. It was embarrassing that he didn’t notice the guy until he almost became a smear, the dude was built like a tank and wearing a red helmet.
“I shouldn’t’ve taken that turn that quickly.. sometimes forget I’m not at home.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s home for you?”
“Gotham if you believe that.”
“Explains why you drive like you’re chased by death.”
“You have no idea..”
He took off his helmet with another snort and shake of the head. A white wisp in a sea of black shook out while mirthful blue eyes met his.
“Name’s Jason. You are?”
The guy raised a brow mildly confused.
Danny took off before he was done with the sentence. He could feel eyes on his retreat for the second time today.
‘Jesus, smooth recovery Fenton.’
Tim rubbed his eyes as he listened to his older brothers bicker over the coms.
He couldn’t understand the issue with the surveillance! All the cameras and mics are properly functioning but for some reason everything is corrupted and it’s driving Tim up a wall!
A break, Tim needed a break from this Airbnb and something caffeinated.
‘Just ten minutes, ten minutes and he could get his drink, he could rant to his friends on the group chat afterwards and wait out the story. ‘
And with as much bravo as any tired young adult, he entered the shop.
Danny almost left the cafe as he heard another unfamiliar voice bellow out.
“What do you mean you don’t have coffee, it’s a coffee shop!”
Blue eyes, black hair, surprisingly smaller than the first two and eye bags that could rival Danny some nights.
Danny was done.
Fuck the treaty this was war.
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pathsofoak · 10 months
Newt recognizing Thomas is in a place comparable to where he has been with his mental health and keeping him close with the very kind of hope Thomas gave him first so he can't sink further my beloved
#I am in love with this arc#like Thomas gave Newt hope to keep going and now Newt gets to help him (and Frypan) with the skills he learned from them both#Next with the arc where Brenda and Teresa get 'I'll wash your hair for you while you're too sick to do it by yourself'#and 'I'll hold you while you recall the second-most terrifying experience in your life and gently rock you back to sleep' kinda close#(first one is Teresa helping Brenda the second is Brenda helping Teresa)#oh and I mustn't forget about Chuck's coping mechanism arc because he 'grows up' while at WCKD but he follows Minho Gally and the#guards's leads#so he just ends up becoming very angry all the time because he is under the impression that Minho and Gally have an easier time#ignoring all of it when really they're just both repressive#he also ends up lashing out at Newt Fry and Brenda because they aren't which is when Gally sits him down#by the end of part four he'll have a healthy cry he hasn't had one of those yet#and hugs they all get lots of hugs#I'm on holiday so I can't write which is why I'm spamming Tumblr#by the way that arc with Newt and Thomas reaches a turning point when the only adult person Thomas trusts in WCKD turns out#to be a dick (they think) and Thomas enters a spiral#Newt sits next to him in bed and holds him while he tries to get him to cry it out#(Thomas actively wants to feel miserable so WCKD can't get in his head again but crying makes him feel better so he doesn't)#when Thomas won't cry he simply begins to scratch the back of Thomas's head while Thomas lies against his chest#Thomas has to try really hard to keep it together until Newt tocks him to sleep#Once they're in the Safe Haven Newt watches over Rhomas when he refuses to open his eyes and accept that WCKD is over#he doesn't push him to wake up at all he just describes the beauty of the place#which Thomas can't see when he DOES open his eyes because he only sees danger everywhere#but Newt takes him under his wing and has him help out in the gardens#(as much as he trusts the Right Arm he wants to keep a close eye on Thomas himself for as long as Thomas is unstable)#where he goes by everything one by one to show him (covertly) that it's all safe and nice and he doesn't have to do anything to deserve it#and slowly Thomas mental map of safe spaces (which starts with his hammock and his hammock only then expands to the entire beach camp etc)#grows and he has less and less flashbacks and panic attacks especially when he lets Vince introduce him to the equivalent of a therapist#and starts to learn who he is outside his blood#because WCKD always defined his identity with it#even him becoming a Runner was in part WCKD's game
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charnelhouse · 4 months
Ok, I'm sure you're already writing something with Red, Ghost and Soap, BUT in that public smut you wrote... she somewhat flirted back / agreed to Soap with his offer to cuddle. I wonder if Ghost was murmuring some stuff (while balls deep) to arouse her further about inviting Soap... like along the lines of having Soap open her up, so she can take his {Ghost} larger member etc. Is that what the giggle was about? And morning after now that Soap has suspicions confirmed about Ghost and Red... can he be chill? Will he be chill if he got an invite? Anyway, musings in anonymous.
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A/N: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader. Mentions of anal. Smut. A dash of soap. Parallel to subtle.
“Cuddle with Soap?”
“Cuddle” is full of grit. Ghost spits it out like a dirty word as if allowing Johnny to hold you would have been akin to anal sex.
You palm his cheek, thumb digging under the edge of his mask. His cock is inside you, thick and searing. He drives forward in long, sharp strokes. “You know - oh fuck - you know I wasn’t - wasn’t going to.”
“Do I?” he rumbles, lying flat on top of you, hips rolling between your spread thighs, insistent.
It’s raining outside the safe house. A full, swollen storm pelting against the one window. The trees are swimming together, branches and dead leaves making music. Price is out front on watch. The others are asleep in the corner and Ghost had reached for you in the dark.
“We can’t.”
“The storm’s too loud. No one’ll hear.”
"I don't think-"
"I need you, Duchess."
He braces his weight, his eyes glinting in the holes of his mask as he appraises you. You clutch at him, holding tight even though he’s got you pinned. You can smell him every time you bury your nose in his soft sweatshirt: a lit tobacco pipe in the rain. He rocks forward and rows back at a consistent rhythm, soaking in the warm, slick clutch of your sex. He might do this until morning, until dawn slinks gem-red over the room. He’s tried it before. He’s succeeded.
You should have been a porn star with that stamina. I need a wheelchair.
If you think that will get you out of training, think again, Red.
No matter how subtly he fucks you, he’s still heavy, his cock so big that every plunge aches like an old burn. He punches the breath from your lungs, his bare hand finding purchase over your mouth when you whimper or grunt. The pleasure is debilitating. He blankets you, holding you down, stabbing deep, but careful not to make any noise that could awaken the others. 
You’re so wet that you hope the shift and graze of his pants, his boots creaking on the floor is enough to mute the crude song of him claiming your pussy. 
“We could ask him to join, hmm?” He nuzzles his covered nose along your jaw. “Should I have him stick his prick in you, open you up for me?”
You clench. It’s totally not your fault, but you lock up, choke his cock. “Shit,” you whisper as he sinks deeper and groans against your throat. 
“Dirty girl,” He grasps your hip, squeezes until it’ll bruise, which you wouldn’t mind. You love the marks he leaves on your skin since he’s so careful about publicizing his desire for you outside of these moments. “You fuckin’ liked that.”
His tone is etched with slight bitterness.
“I didn’t,” you murmur, but his dark eyes glisten like seal skin, they’re full of a longing that pinches your nipples - your spine - every branch of nerves. You feel so on display. The attraction for Soap can’t be helped. He’s gorgeous and hilarious, ripples like a white-yellow sun. He’s flirtatious and thrilling and you have the gut feeling that Soap eats pussy with an unreal enthusiasm. 
He’s not Ghost, though. 
He’s not Simon.
He peers down at you, the weight of him in your cunt swelling and pulsing. You’re stretched to your limit, your knees clamped against his muscular torso. The fabric of his under armor is silky against your bare skin. He’s staring so intently that you feel awkward - nervous as hell.
You giggle. A reflex. 
No. No. I don’t want to get dicked down by Johnny. 
“Liar,” Ghost finally accuses as he grinds his pelvis into your clit. You arch, nails stabbing into the nape of his neck. You can feel the strain in his tendons, the bunching of his shoulder blades. He’s balls deep, crushing your body but keeping his hand firmly planted beneath your head to protect it.
“I’d-I’d only let him if you were there,” you confess. “Inside me…fuck…holding me while-“
“Inside you?” Ghost rumbles. “You want Johnny to fill somewhere else, then?” He slides one broad hand beneath your ass, lifting your hips and thrusting down so sharply you choke. “Could you handle it, love?”
He’s in your lungs. Your guts. He’s embedded in your nervous system and you can’t remember human language. 
“Shit,” you hiss.
“Aw,” he murmurs, audibly impressed with himself. “That’s my girl.”
You bite your lip, eyes rolling back when he delivers another deliberate stroke, his length drags through your walls, ridged and colossal. It hurts just the right amount.
“I could handle it,” you answer hoarsely. “You know I could.” 
You tug him down to press your lips to the skull’s teeth, desperate to kiss him, but no that you can’t right here, right now. Ghost goes easily, allowing you to manhandle him. That’s the thing about Simon. He can toss you around, lift you against a wall and fuck you dumb, but he’s always ready to be delicate or subservient when you need him to be.
Your head falls back as you blink up at him, offer him a pointed flutter of your lashes. Ghost actually stiffens, grows harder, massive thighs forcing your knees apart. “Don’t you look at me with those bloody fuckin’ eyes,” he husks. “Tryin’ to distract me.”
“We were talking threesomes, Simon.”
“If you think I’m gonna let that cunt taste you tonight-“
“Tonight?” you echo. “So then tomorrow?”
He pauses, dropping his head and shaking it. He laughs softly. “You’re impossible.”
“You love it.”
“You’re a pain in my arse.”
“You are in mine.”
“I’m not in there yet,” he mutters as he slides one leather-covered finger along the crease of your ass. “But we’ve got a long time ‘til morning.”
You smirk, contracting your lower muscles until his pace stutters. 
“Fuck, Duchess.”
“You’d break me if you tried that.”
“Nah,” he assures you, circling his pelvis before pushing further as if he could hit your womb. His mouth is right against your ear. “You know how good I’d make it, yeah? Use my fingers…my tongue…until you’re so fuckin’ ready-“
“Mmm maybe Soap can help. Double-team, yah know?”
His fist slams against the floor. There’s a snarl behind his mask. 
“Okay, okay,” you soothe him, petting his burly shoulders. You press a soft kiss to his covered cheek before you lie back and let him continue. “No more Johnny talk.”
You’ll table it for later. 
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dragon-chica · 5 months
"I Want To See My Little Boy!" Batmom
I ALMOST did angsty on Damian's. I almost did. But I'm not.
It's a time honored tradition that if Batmom calls for one of her children, one will be received.
Dick Grayson
It first started with Dick.
The mansion had gotten much more lively since his arrival, but at the moment, it was far too quiet. Moreso than you're used to in the past few months, and even if you were peacefully reading, it feels far too quiet without the small boy's talking, or humming, or singing, or general noise just being in your company.
You set your book down, glancing around the otherwise empty room with a displeased hum.
"I want to see my little boy!" you said loudly, voice carrying out of the room. You felt foolish, it was random and you didn't know what you expected out of it, but before you thought too much, you could hear the patter of small feet running down the hallway.
"I want to see my little boy!" you call again, a grin now on your face hearing him almost at the door.
He slides in, sock covered feet skidding him a good eight feet past the door on wooden floor.
Dick's smile is one that could rival the brightest sunshine, eyes closed and crinkled with joy and his arms stretched up as if to say "ta-da!"
"Here he is!" he sees you sitting on one of the couches and somehow his grin still widens at seeing you. His pace quickly picks up again, fully launching himself off the floor and into your arms, laughter bubbling from him as you return his hug with glee.
"My little boy" you coo as he can't stop laughing yet, making himself perfectly at home on top of you and your book.
Jason Todd
P.S. Jason is a tiny little child and you are strong.
It had been years since you had called your little boy, it had been years since you had a little boy to call to. Even if Dick did humor you doing so well into his teens. (he got quite a kick out of doing so, and always threw his full weight onto you for a hug each time.)
When you got Jason it wasn't really something that had been on your mind, it was just something you did with Dick that you figured was over as he grew up.
Jason was sat on top of his covers looking through his homework. It wasn't a great day, nothing especially bad but after greeting Alfred when he got home he'd gone straight to his room, quietly closing his door and wishing the day would be over sooner than later.
What Jason didn't account for, and never would expect, was for you to have seen how downtrodden your little boy looked getting home and decided to bring a plate of Alfred's cookies up after him.
When you see his door partially open, and a sad little boy emptying his backpack you set the cookies on his dresser and just wish there was some way to cheer him up.
You knock on his door once to alert him, and as he looks up Jason finds you with a big smile on your face and arms open towards him.
"I want to see my little boy!" there's an infection energy in your tone and you surge forward, lifting him beneath his arms and tossing him lightly in the air with a flourish.
"I want to see my little boy!" you repeat, catching him in a hug and twirling you both around, Jason's laughter fills the air as he swings around in your warm hold.
"I'm here! I'm here!" the words are blurred with laughter and it takes you both a minute to calm down enough to eat your cookies, but not without squeezing him in another hug before you let him go.
Tim Drake
Being honest, it was unfair how you were around Tim at times.
You were miserable, very much depressed and hated that at times you couldn't hide it. Being too quiet and letting your mask slip at times, and you hated Tim seeing that.
Little Timothy, a sweet and bright boy who you adored and always tried his best to cheer you up when he noticed your sadness.
And he did, Tim helped you so very much and could make you smile on a terrible day.
Dick also tried to cheer you up. Often coming to the manor to spend time and keep you company.
It Occurs to him before it occurs to you, he remembers how much fun he would have whenever you called out "I want to see my little boy!" how he would come running from anywhere into your arms. He also remembers the first time he saw you go after Jason the same way, the small boy's giggles and a joyful squeal being scooped into a hug.
You're not doing much when Dick calls you. It's a quiet day and you're in the kitchen debating doing anything when his face shows up on your call screen.
"Hey ma! Tell me real quick, do you want to see your little boy?"
"Huh?" You're confused, Dick hasn't done that in years, and you're not quite sure if you could handle him tackling you anymore.
"C'mon, c'mon, tell me you want to see your little boy!" You can hear the pep in his voice and a confused commotion behind him, you think he might have switched on speaker when it suddenly gets louder.
"I want to see my little boy?" You phrase it as a question, but it doesn't take more than seconds for the large kitchen doors to swing open, Dick holding little Tim below his arm and swinging him upright in both hands offering him like the lion king as he runs around the kitchen, small boy yelling in protest.
"Here he is!" They finally stop in front of you, Tim looking rather distraught and ruffled, hoodie bunched struggling in Dick's grip, who has a large smile giving you your prize. You wouldn't be surprised if he'd just grabbed poor Tim off the ground and ran with him here. Actually, you'd bet that's what he did.
You snort, Tim looks like a very scraggled kitten in Dick's arms, being swung back and forth a little in front of you for a reaction. You smile, opening your arms to catch him and Dick eagerly drops the poor boy onto you for a hug.
"Here he is." your words are muffled against the collar of his jacket hugging him, and Dick decides to join in, this time lifting you both from off the floor in the hug and laughing at your surprised squawk and Tim's further complaint.
Damian Wayne
Damian HATES this. With a burning passion, spewing death threats and curses to fill his swear jar every time it happens.
And it happens far too often for his tastes.
It happens at least once every time Grayson stops by, it happens every time Jason decides to grace the manor with his presence, Roy Harper even once had the nerve to join in on their 'imbecilic fun' when feeling especially bold once.
His father, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, even betrayed him by doing it once because "he wanted to see you smile". A ridiculous reason, not justified, and may or may not have put his father toward the bottom of his list of 'lifelong enemies'.
But he can't fault his father's reason. You did smile. Rather brightly at that. And while he wont say being swung around indignantly and "looking like an angry, murderous little kitten" as his brothers have called it, is worth his suffering, he does receive a hug each time and grumbles quietly before returning it.
The first time it happened to Damian is certainly memorable for everyone at the manor.
You had never expect Damian to join in on your boys' "I want to see my little boy!" tradition. Though all your other sons found great fun in doing so, all in their own fashion and happy to answer you call for company and a hug, despite how much Damian as grown in your time with him, you did not think this would be a line he would cross.
And he didn't, willingly.
You also figured if anyone tried this with him, it would've been Dick. Not only had he tossed airborn Jason and Tim at you in the past, but he was one of the few people Damian tolerated to a moderate extent, liked, even.
So when Jason came running down the hall with a screaming, murderous Damian flailing in his grip while held at arms length yelling death threats and promises of pain, it grabbed everyone's attention.
"Ma say you want to see your little boy! Ma say it quick!" It's urgent as he tries to dodge a swift kick without dropping Damian, leaping over a couch toward you as you finally snap out of your shock and laugh breathlessly.
"I want to see my little boy!" You can hardly contain yourself at how ridiculous and wonderful it is as Dick narrowly swipes a lamp out of Damian's grip just in time.
"Here he is!" Jason quickly dumps him onto your waiting arms, you hurriedly wrap him in a hug before he can lunge at Jason with fury.
Once Damian realizes it's you who's holding him back, both arms wrapped around his chest and trying to hide your snickering in his jacket, entire body shaking in effort, he slumps. Looking even more like a disgruntled little kitten accepting his fate. He can't risk hurting you, to kill his idiotic 'brothers', but he certainly wont admit he doesn't mind your hug either.
Tim managed to get the whole thing on camera, his sniggering in the background the entire time. It's one of your favorite family videos.
This is not a rare occurrence. In fact, anyone with the guts to try it (a few friends who may or may not have been dared into doing so) have brought you your little boy against their own safety. Damian is just so small, and carry-able.
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loaksbitch · 27 days
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stepbro!loak telling you to shut the fuck up so you won’t get caught while fucking in the hut you two and kiri shared? argh. — no, because i instantly wrote this when i saw this anon's inbox.
warnings – buckle up girls it’s our bitch lo’ak coming, p in v, dirty talking, missionary, deep stroking, lo’ak covers your mouth to shut you up, praising, licking, lo’aks pullout game is strong unlike neteyam (ifykyk), tw: stepcest!
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“shut up, we’ll fuckin’ get caught.” — lo’ak sully (⨳)
your both hands are pinned next your head, lo’ak rutting into you with a desperate need and lust, he takes all the pleasing sight you give him.
“aren’t you such a needy little whore, baby.” lo’ak nudged your nose, making you whine a mess in his hands. “lo’ak.” you moan, your hot breath hitting his lips and making him smile. “that’s right, i’m lo’ak, the one who got you pinned here and fucking you, yeah?” he was so full of himself.
with every thrust lo’ak was giving you, your moans were getting louder. “shh,” he tells you, his right hand pulling on your left leg and pushing it wider. your jaw flies open, eyes screwed shut and teary when he sinks until his pubicbone is touching your pelvis.
he leans forward, one hand that was holding onto your ass sliding up to your hips then to your waist. “this cunt was made for me, wasn’t it?” you’re too focused on how his girth-y tip hits the opening of your cervix.
as much as you wanted to answer, your words only came out as a breathy moan. lo’ak clicks his tongue, groaning when your walls grip his dick, hands sought to your jaw and turning you to face him. “answer me, princess.” he slows his thrust, deep strokes getting delivered into your sopping cunt.
“this is mine, isn’t it?” he snaps his hips, letting you know he was talking about your pussy. “i own it, don’t i?” you look into his amber eyes and nod. “then take it, fuckin’ take it all.”
you winch with every slip of his cock in you, shutting your eyes when lo’ak slowly fucks you and stretch you. “oh,” you gasp, back arching and holding onto him. lo’ak chuckles, your reaction is too cute for him but then again you need to lower your voice, or you both will get caught.
“i know how vocal you can be, baby,” as much as lo’ak wants to hear you scream his name, he can’t risk this. “but i need you to be quiet than that, i know you can do it.” he brushes off your hair from your face, literally wiping the beading sweat from your forehead.
you suck a deep breath, trying to keep it all in and take his cock like a big girl but the way his heavy balls was leaving a soft patting sound against your folds makes it hard for you. “more, i need more.” you hiss and lo’ak bites his lower lip, eye taking your naked body shining under the moonlight sipping through the hut curtains.
“you need more?” he lets a breathy laugh out, leaning to you and placing a kiss on your forehead. you whine when his two braided hair comes in contact with your skin, the beads too cold for your hot cheeks. “gonna give you what you want then, pretty girl.” your stomach tingles at his choice of words.
lo’ak doesn’t miss how your breath accelerates, excitement feeling your heart when he lets go of your legs. he places them down, eyes locking with yours when he is laying on you, chest pressed against the swell of your breast. lo’ak taps on your thighs and you instantly wrap them on his slim waist.
“need you to hold on tight.” you nod, feeling lo’ak sliding his hand under your back and hold onto your shoulders. right when your arms are secured on his neck, lo’ak resumes his cock to keep drilling in your cunt.
the change of position helping him hit home, literally fucking your walls and making you quiver. “be quiet.” he tries to say in a calm tone, moaning when your warm walls grip him tight.
lo’ak curses when you get louder. “shut up, we’ll fuckin’ get caught.” he curses at you, making you cry even more with his rough thrust. “i can’t.” you nearly whimpered. lo’ak quickly lets your shoulder go and braced himself with his one arm, keeping him up from crushing you down.
his other hand came to your face while his eyes bore a hole to yours, covering your mouth and shushing the sinful sounds that will get you both caught if he won’t stop you. lo’ak picked up his thrust, right from where he stopped. “is this better?” he asks but you only moan onto his hand, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
“this what we have to do? you can’t shut the fuck up and i must do it for you?” he mocks you. “always making your stepbro take you out of trouble?” it was as if an old lady was spitting shame on you. he could feel every rapid hot breath against his hand, hot breath fanning on his skin.
lo’ak exhaled, grinning at your state. “tap on my hand if it’s too much.” he tells you, now being selfish to chase an orgasm out of you. you only give him a knitted brow and slight crossed eye, your hand fisting on the hammock under you.
you liked what he was giving you, not even nothing to process his words. the way you rhythmically clenched on lo’ak told him you are about to cum. he hisses when your arousal squirts out of you, milking him down to his balls. lo’ak only fucks you through your orgasm.
“oh fuck fuck fuck.” he quickly pulls out, not missing how you pushed his hand away from your mouth and told him to pull out. you use your elbows as leverage, holding you up to see lo’ak fist on his cock and jerk off. his exhale was harsh, especially when you kept eyeing his tip like it was your favorite candy.
“come here.” he tells you, using his finger to beckon you and you obligate, kneeling in front of him. lo’ak curses under his breath, your sweaty blue skin and fucked out face sending him to the last push. “i’m gonna c-cum” his voice hitches at the end, shamelessly whimpering.
you let a soft gasp out when ropes of cum paint your chest, drawing thin messy lines on your skin. when you look up to lo’ak, he only stares at you with blown pupils. “this was so fucking amazing.” you hear him say and smile cheekily, “we’re not doing that again.” you murmur.
“no?” he asks, teasing behind his tone. “but that’s what you said last time princess.” he chuckles, bending to you and leaning to your face. he doesn’t bother how his own release touches his skin when he presses himself on you.
“this time it’s— lo’ak!” you whine when he gives your lips a bold lick. “what? i know you like it.” you look away, not wanting to admit. oh and? you’re definitely doing it next time.
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ajskqxm here you go pretty anon, i gave my best in this!! like + reblog + thoughts are super appreciated!! i love each and everyone of you sm! mwah <3
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