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writersdrug · 5 months

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Training for Two

Chapter 2. Rules

Masterlist

Summary: Simon lays the ground rules and shows you around the house.

Warnings: Simon's email etiquette, very mild cursing, beginnings of obsessive behavior.

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

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sceletaflores · 2 months

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working it out (on the remix)

pairing: art donaldson x patrick zweig x fem!reader summary: you sit in the angry silence, gears slowly turning in your head as you look between your boys. you should have known that this wasn't going to work, clearly just talking isn’t going to get the three of you anywhere.

—or: three tennis players walk into a hotel room.

word count: 5.5k contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, smoking, fighting as foreplay, mean!reader my beloved, the patrick and art gay agenda, threesome, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all!), not quite hate sex more like angry sex, double penetration, oral sex (m!receiving), choking, finger sucking, degradation, creampies, lowkey sub!patrick coded, switch!art ofc, porn with a plot, no use of y/n. author’s note: oh em gee part three is here!!! i literally always say this but i had so much fun writing this one lol thank you so much for showing this series so much love right off the bat! i've loved loved loved reading all the ideas you guys have sent me for future chapters and trust when i say that i'll definitely be featuring as many as i can. okay bye! hope you love it! xoxo mwah.

tftw series masterlist!

Art is fuming. You keep glancing over at him to check that smoke isn't starting to blow out of his ears. It doesn't, but he's just as mad every time. Standing in the doorway huffing and puffing, arms crossed over his chest as he stares Patrick down from across the room.

Patrick is the complete opposite, all relaxed body language and easy half-smiles as he coolly stares back. You’d make a fire and ice joke if you didn’t think it would send Art over the edge.

He’s sitting in the room’s single chair, window cracked open so he can smoke. He’s practically naked, wearing an unbuttoned long sleeve and the tiniest boxers you’ve ever seen. His bare feet are propped up on the corner of the bed you’re sitting on.

You’re perched cross legged on the mattress, basically stuck in the middle of them.

You’re still surprised you even got Art to show up at all. You thought he almost flipped the table when you brought up Patrick at lunch, casually mentioning that you’ve been texting him for the past couple of days and you think the three of you need to talk. He was quiet for a long time before he finally asked if that meant Patrick was, has been, in town. You just shook your head yes.

You didn’t tell him you and Patrick slept together, you didn’t need to.

He went quiet again, stood up from his chair with an excuse of being late to class and stomped out of the dining hall. You texted him the address to Patrick’s hotel an hour later.

Art never responded, but his jeep was still waiting for you outside the biology building after your last lecture got out. He would always drive you back to your dorm since you’d get out so late, but this time he turned out of the campus lot and silently drove until you realized he was going to the hotel.

Now you’re here, and it's been almost ten minutes since you knocked on the door to Patrick’s room. And no one has said anything the entire time. No one has even moved, only Patrick every so often when he needs to flick his ashes out the window. A thick blanket of tense silence falls heavy over the three of you. It makes the room’s temperature feel that much hotter. The shitty air conditioner hums faintly in the background.

“So,” you say slowly, voice finally piercing through the quiet, “Am I gonna have to be the first to talk again or–”

“God, I don’t know,” Art cuts in tersely, not looking away from Patrick as he does, ”I can’t believe I don’t have anything to say to the guy that fucked my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Both you and Patrick ask sharply, opposing tones of shock and amusement blending together.

Art's eyes narrow, a storm brewing in the blue of them. He’s still looking at Patrick, talking about you like you’re not sitting right in front of him. "Yeah, my girlfriend. Did I stutter?" His chest is puffed out just enough for you to notice, his mouth pulled down at the corners in a deep frown.

You blink, caught off guard. Art’s never asked you to go steady with him, you’ve never even been on a date. Unless you count fucking in the back of his jeep at a drive in theater a date, then sure, you’ve been on one date. Regardless, the possessive timbre of his voice has something warm simmering under your skin.

Patrick laughs, loud and abrasive. “Well, this is fucking news to me,” he says through a chuckle, eyes flicking between the two of you bemusedly, “I didn’t realize you guys were playing house, but that does makes a lot more sense now.” He gestures to your chest with his free hand, pointing out the dark blue sweatshirt you’re wearing.

‘Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy’ is stitched across the front in thin black thread; you'd stolen it from Art’s closet when you slept over at his dorm a few nights ago. He never asked for it back.

“It’s cute that you kept my shirt, Donaldson.” Patrick teases, lolling his head to the side lazily so he can look at Art through his lashes. A plume of smoke billows from between his lips, slipping through the open window slowly. “Even after you tried to turn my girlfriend against me and fucked her behind my back first–”

“Fuck you, Patrick–” Art starts, face twisted in a scowl. His hands ball into fists at his side, jaw ticking with anger.

Patrick doesn’t look deterred, leaning forward in his chair as he tries to talk over Art, “You’re such a fucking hypocrite–”

“I’m not anyone’s girlfriend,” you cut them both off, brows drawn together in frustration, “—and I’m not going to let this turn into some weird pissing contest between you two. We’re here to talk.”

Art scoffs agitatedly, casting his eyes to the ceiling. “Looks like the two of you have done plenty of talking without me,” he says bitterly. “Do you get off on this shit or something? On sticking your dick where it doesn’t fucking belong?”

Patrick smirks, leaning back in his chair, arms draped lazily over the armrests. “God, you really do think you’re innocent in this,” he laughs incredulously, leaning back in his chair. “You’re acting like you’ve got some moral high ground, but you don’t. You’re just as guilty of playing the game as I am.”

Art’s face darkens further, anger threatening to boil over. “This isn’t a game to me, Patrick,” he spits, tone hard and low, “I’m so sick of you treating everything like a goddamn joke.”

Patrick’s smirk doesn’t falter. “I never said it was a joke,” he says with a shrug, tone easy and nonchalant. “I’m just saying, maybe you should take a good look in the mirror before you start pointing fucking fingers. I’m not the only one who’s played dirty here.”

“Patrick–” you warn, sitting up straighter. You can feel the way the air changes, the way the animosity gets turned up. The last thing you need is for them to start throwing punches.

Art cuts you off, shaking his head in contempt. “You’re so full of shit. You don’t fucking care about her. You never did. You just want to win, because you can’t stand the thought of losing to me.”

Patrick groans loudly, throwing his head back with it. “We’re really going back to this again? Jesus Christ, give it up man. It’s not like she was ever really yours to begin with.” He takes another slow drag from his cigarette, eyes never leaving Art.

The jab hits its mark, you can see it on Art’s face. In the way he physically recoils, the way he takes a ragged breath through his nose, the way the muscles of his jaw work furiously. For the first time since you fucked Patrick, you feel like a fucking bitch. The familiar feeling of guilt wraps its tendrils around you, weighing you down into the mattress like a physical force.

It gives you an idea, the guilt. It's a filthy idea, one that has heat stirring between your legs at just the thought. It’s a good way to make this whole situation up to Art, a good way to let him get under Patrick’s skin the same way he’s getting under his.

You sit in the angry silence, gears slowly turning in your head as you look between your boys. You should have known that this wasn't going to work, clearly just talking isn’t getting the three of you anywhere.

You sigh, overly dramatic and long suffering, scooting down until your legs are hanging over the edge of the mattress. Art and Patrick watch you the entire time, eyes finally leaving each other to watch your hands settle on the hem of Patrick’s sweatshirt.

“You guys are being so difficult. Why did I think that you could behave enough to talk this out like big boys?” You tug it off in one swift move, tossing it to the side carelessly. Two sharp gasps ring out, two sets of greedy eyes roam the bare expanse of your torso. You hadn’t worn a bra today.

You smirk, standing from the mattress and hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your sweats. You push them down your legs slowly, making a show of it until you're only in the pair of light purple panties you slipped on this morning. Patrick smirks, flicking his cigarette butt out the window and yanking it closed. He goes to stand, Art pointedly takes a single threatening step forward as he does but you stop both of them in their tracks.

“No.” Your voice rings through the small room, loud and commanding. Patrick sits back down almost immediately, his brow raising in confusion. Art does the same, freezing with one foot in front of him. They’re both hard, cocks tenting the fabric of their bottoms. Their boners point towards each other, you bite your lip to hide your smile.

“You’ve been so bad, Ricky.” you scold softly, voice syrupy sweet as you lean back on the bed. “Dressed up like an easy whore in here waiting for us, being so mean to Art, fucking his girl…” You trail off boredly, palms braced flat on the bed behind you so you can lean back as casually as you can muster. You let your legs fall open, spread enough to let Patrick and Art see the wet spot slowly seeping into the fabric.

You can hear Art’s sharp inhale from across the room at your words, his girl. You’re still careful not to say girlfriend, that’s a whole other talk. Patrick squirms in his chair, practically itching with the need to say something. You level him with a hard look, a firm shake of your head keeps him quiet. When you finally turn your attention to Art, he meets your gaze easily, eyes already blown out and glassy. Even from here you can see the way his pupils swallow the pretty blue color.

You smile, lips curling up in a wicked smile. “Art,” you coo softly, reaching your hand out in offering, “come here.”

Art’s walking towards you without a second thought, crossing the room in just a few large steps. You smile at him, patting the spot next to you. The bed creaks as he sits down, the mattress dipping under his weight slides you closer to him. ”I think,” you say slowly, resting your hand high up on his thigh, so close to the hard line of his cock straining against the fabric, “that we need to teach Patrick a lesson on manners.”

“What! No fucking way, that’s bullshi–” Patrick fusses from the corner, sitting up straighter in seat, the armrest gripped tight in his left hand.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, whipping your head to the side to glare at him. “This isn’t about you.”

He frowns, pushing out his bottom lip like an actual child. You just barely fight the urge to roll your eyes, an evil smile spreading across your face as you watch him honest-to-God pout.

“This is about Art,” you slide your hand up higher, cupping him through his loose shorts. You can hear his sharp intake of breath, a quiet ‘fuck’ falls from his lips as you apply more pressure to where your hand is steadily rubbing him up and down. “Plus, you’re already in the cuck chair,” you aren’t able to stop the small chuckle that falls from your lips, “you’ve got a perfect view.”

His pink lips part ever so slightly, eyes going wide and hungry at your words. You throw him one last devilish smile before you’re sinking to your knees in front of the bed. The scratchy carpet digs into your knees but you don’t care, not when Art is towering in front of you with the ceiling lights shining around him like he’s an angel.

You smile up at him, dragging the palms of your hands up and down his thighs. “Take your shirt off,” you encourage, slipping your hands up to toy with the hem of his shorts.

He complies beautifully, pulling his shirt up and over his head and tossing it aside, revealing the lean, toned muscles of his torso. You let your eyes linger on him for a moment, appreciating the sight before returning your attention to your task. Your fingers deftly undo the drawstring of his shorts, and start tugging them down. Art lifts his hips enough for you to drag them all the way down his legs, taking his boxers with them to free his hard cock.

Again, you slide your hands up the bare skin of his thighs, inches away from where he wants them. He’s so hard, cock standing straight up in an angry red line against his stomach. The tip drools pre-cum that leaks down the length of him slowly.

Art's breath hitches, his eyes locked onto you with a mix of anticipation and desperation. Your fingers brush lightly over his upper thighs, before you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, feeling the heat of his arousal pulse against your palm. His gasp is sharp, and you silently revel in the power you hold over him in this moment.

You glance over at Patrick, who is staring wide-eyed, his earlier irritation replaced with a raw, unfiltered hunger.

Your lips curl into a smug smile at the sight of his flushed cheeks and the way his chest rises and falls with each heavy breath. “See something you like, Patrick?” you taunt, giving Art a slow, deliberate stroke that has him groaning softly. Patrick’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching, but he stays silent, his gaze locked on the two of you.

Art's hands grip the sheets beneath him, his knuckles turning white. "Fuck," he breathes out, his voice strained, "you're killing me."

You laugh softly, a dark, melodic sound, and lean forward, letting your tongue flick out to taste the bead of precum at the tip of his cock. Art moans, the sound vibrating through you. You glance up at him through your lashes, seeing the way his head tilts back, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure.

You slide your lips up the length of his leaking cock, teasing and slow. Art stares down at you, not breaking eye contact as he breathes raggedly through his nose.

“Tell him how it feels,” you whisper against the pink tip of his cock, sliding it back and forth across your lips teasingly. Art swallows hard, skin flushing in embarrassment.

“So good…” he whispers, eyes still locked onto yours. His blush goes from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, spreading pink and warm across the strong muscle of his pecs.

You smile, shaking your head softly. “Don’t tell me, tell him.” You jerk your head in Patrick’s direction once before you sink down until your nose is nestled against the soft blonde hair at the base of his cock, working your throat around the length of him.

Art moans loudly, his hands coming up to tangle into your hair. You keep going, fighting his grip on you as you start to bob your head over his cock in a steady rhythm, working your hand in time with your mouth.

He forces himself to look at Patrick, catching his eyes.

Patrick looks fucked, lips slick and dropped open as he stares back Art, hungry gaze not wavering. His cock is still hard, pressed against the seam of his boxers and leaking a steady patch of wetness around the head.

A silent challenge seems to pass between the two of them.

We doing this or what?

Art refuses to back down, hardening his resolve. “Feels so fucking good,” he groans, not looking away from Patrick, “her throat’s so tight, so– God, it’s so good. Best I’ve ever had.”

He’s rambling, not even making any sense but you hum in approval all the same, your tongue curling around the crown. Patrick doesn’t look like he minds too much either, pink tongue coming out to swipe along his bottom lip. "Please," he whispers, almost too quiet to hear. "Let me..."

You pull off Art with a wet pop, turning your head as best you can with his hand still tangled in your hair to fix Patrick with a steely gaze. "You don't get to make requests," you say, your voice hard. "You get to watch and learn."

Patrick's eyes darken, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he doesn't protest. Art lets out a low growl, his hand tightening its grip on your hair and dragging your mouth back to his cock.

“Stop fucking talking to him,” he demands, hips thrusting to fuck back into your mouth. You choke on the sudden fullness, wetness floods your panties as you moan around him.

Yes, you think, eyes squeezing close as you force your throat to relax around his cock, this is what I wanted.

You were waiting to see how long it’d take Art to snap, he lasted longer than you thought he would. The head of his cock punches against the soft, spongy part at the back of your throat. You fight to not gag around him, hands scrambling for purchase on his thighs. His balls slap against your chin roughly, sticking wetly to the drool that's starting to fall from the corners of your lips.

Art meets Patrick’s eye again, a smug smirk on his face as he jerks his head in a clear invitation, “Come here.” He grunts simply, dragging you up and down the length of his cock by his tight grip on your hair.

Patrick practically sprints from the chair, ripping his shirt off while he tries to kick his boxers off before he reaches the bed. He sits next to Art, chest heaving as he stares down at where your lips stretched obscenely over his best friend's cock.

Art pulls you off by your hair, holding your face a few inches away from his spit covered cock. He tuts at you sympathetically, tilting his head to the side with a tiny frown at the sight of you all teary eyed. “Bet you feel real empty, right?” he asks sadly, shaking your head back and forth like a dog. “That greedy pussy wants our cocks stretching her open, doesn't she?”

You whine loudly, nodding your head as best you can as the meaning of Art’s words sink over you. You feel far away, like you’ve already been fucked six ways to Sunday. You cunt clenches around nothing, aching for Art and Patrick’s cocks bullying their way inside you. You’ve never done anything like that before, taken two guys at once, but God do you need it.

Art nods back, brows pulled together in faux pity. “Pat and I will help baby,” he says sweetly, “You just gotta get nice and stretched out first, need to fuck yourself open on Patrick’s cock so you can take us.”

“Fuck yeah,” Patrick breathes, already moving up the bed to lay flat on his back agasint the pillows. His cock sticking straight out from his body, pointing to the ceiling desperately.

Art lets go of your hair, cupping the side of your face tenderly. His thumb rubs against the soft skin of your cheekbone a few times, you know it’s a question.

Do you want this?

You smile, nuzzling his palm and giving his thumb a playful nip. The answer to his question written all over your face.

Fuck yes.

Art smiles back, nodding his head once. You take the hint, rising from your knees to climb onto the mattress. You slide your panties off, tossing them aside as you crawl up the length of Patrick’s body, straddling his hips and wasting no time in sinking down on his cock.

Art settles next to the two of you, hand loosely gripped around his cock as he starts to lazily stroke himself to the sight of you and Patrick.

“Fuck!” Patrick hisses, his hands coming up to grip your hips fiercely as you start to ride him, not giving either of you anytime to adjust. The stretch burns, the lack of prepping before hand makes it sting. You don’t mind, too worked up to care.

“God, you’re such a fucking slut,” He tries, but you cut him off bringing your free hand to wrap around the column of his throat just like he did to you back in the shower.

“You’re the slut,” you growl, fingers digging into his skin roughly. His eyes widen, plush lips going slack. You speed your hips up, the loud smack each time you drop down onto him echoes through the room. “You’re the easy fucking whore that soaked your panties watching your best friend fuck my throat."

Art huffs out a breath, hand slipping over his cock faster as he watches you ride Patrick. His eyes are trained on the way your hand is wrapped against Patrick’s throat. He slips his free hand down, pressing two fingers against Patrick’s cock so you slide down onto them on the next bounce.

“Fuck!” You keen loudly, grip tightening on Patrick’s throat. Art’s fingers add to the sting of your cunt, but your hips don’t stop moving, even as he slips in a third just as fast.

You get lost in it, in the feeling of Patrick’s dick fucking into you so deeply you swear he’s hitting your cervix with every roll of your hips, Art’s fingers stretching you that much wider.

Suddenly, Art drops his cock so his free hand can latch onto your hips, his strong grip forcing you to stop your desperate bouncing. His fingers slip out of you, you immediately miss the stretch.

Patrick groans in displeasure, his hips buck up like he’s trying to slide back into the warmth of your fucked open cunt. His leaking head bumps against your sensitive clit a few times before Art’s dropping his hand down, gripping Patrick’s cock to line it up with his own.

Art slides up behind you, his sweaty chest pressing firmly against your back. “Should be stretched out enough,” He whispers into the nape of your neck, pressing both tips against your fluttering hole.

The shock of it has your hand slipping off Patrick’s throat to anchor onto his shoulders in a feeble attempt to brace yourself. He sucks in large gasps of air, chest heaving as he stares down to where his cock is pressed snug against Art’s, his hand big enough to almost wrap around them both. He throws his head back against the pillows, eyes screwed shut, “Fuck, I can’t watch,” he gasps, voice low and ragged.

Art laughs smugly, but it’s breathy around the edges and you can feel the way his hand shakes on your hip. “Close already, Pat?” He asks condescendingly, as his fingers dig in a little tighter. “You’re not even doing any of the work.”

You try to focus on the sensation of Art’s grip, but your mind is a haze of overstimulation and the throb of Patrick’s cock against you. Art’s mocking tone sends a shiver down your spine, making you acutely aware of how close you are to the edge yourself. Your greedy cunt clenches around them, trying to suck them in you.

Patrick’s breath stutters, his hips jerking up involuntarily, making a strangled noise that’s half-groan, half-whimper. “Fuck you, man,” he manages to grind out, but his voice is trembling and strained, the bite in his tone gets undercut by how wrecked he sounds. You can feel the barely there twitches of his hips, like he’s physically pained from having to wait any longer.

A sharp cry rips from your throat as they finally start to slide in, both heads popping into your tight hole all at once. Your eyes screw shut at the stretch, thighs shaking where they’re spread over Patrick’s hips.

“Someone kiss me,” you gasp desperately, chin lowering to your chest. Art’s moving before the words finish leaving your mouth, gripping a fistful of Patrick’s hair and dragging him up to your lips. You whine into his mouth, letting his tongue slide between your lips to claim your mouth.

The familiar feeling of his lips on yours relaxes you the tiniest bit, letting Art lower you down a few more inches. It feels like hours as you sink onto them, Art’s big hands gently massaging your hips while Patrick’s greedy fingers pull and paw at your thighs.

It’s the quietest you’ve ever heard Patrick. His lips going slack in awe against yours as Art’s cock slides up next to his, moaning into your mouth when your hips go flush with his.

They feel so huge inside you, so thick you swear you can feel them in your stomach. Bullying your insides into making more room for the both of them.

“Fuck," you gasp, nails digging little crescent moons into Patrick’s shoulders. Every inch of you is alive with sensation, a burning mix of pleasure and pain. Art’s breath is hot and ragged against your ear, whispering sweet encouragements, “It’s okay baby, you’re okay, taking us so fucking good–”

You nod, slowly starting to grind your hips back and forth, gasping when they rub up against the soft spot inside of you that has you clenching in pleasure– practically choking them off at the base. A high moan falls from your lips, hips swirling the tiniest bit faster that have both Art and Patrick growl out matching groans of approval.

“Just like that,” Art whispers into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “Gonna make him come first, or are you gonna beat him to it?” The challenge in his voice sends a jolt of heat through you, your thighs starting to shake with every pass of them over that spot.

“God, ah! Art– fuck, mh, Patrick–” You slur, head already starting to go fuzzy

“Fuck,” Art gasps out your name sharply, pushing you down onto Patrick’s chest so he can start fucking into your loose, sloppy cunt. “God, you’re so fucking tight,” his hand grips the back of your neck to pin you down, throwing all his strength behind the snap of his hips.

“Shit, look at you,” Patrick chuckles weakly pinching your hips hard, trying to seem less affected than he really is. “You’re so fucking gone. All that attitude needs is some dick to fix it, huh?”

You crack your eyes open, blearily searching until you zero in on his face. He’s smiling smugly, eyes blown out and hazy.

“Shut the fuck up,” you spit weakly, raising your hand to shove your index and middle finger between his parted lips. You push back far enough to feel his throat constricting against your fingers, letting him gag on you. Your eyes trace the side of his face, down the slope of his nose to where his cherry red lips are lewdly spread around your fingers.

You can distantly hear Art groan behind you, his hips speeding up impossibly faster. His hand squeezes your neck, fingers digging into your sensitive skin meanly. You hook your fingers behind Patrick’s teeth, dragging his face to the side to meet your eye. Patrick moans around your fingers, gazing at you pleading through half lidded eyes. Drool leaks from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, drenching your wrist. His hot, wet tongue sliding along the pads of your fingers feels scalding.

Patrick's hands are everywhere, pulling, pinching, caressing, his touch a maddening mix of rough and tender. The feeling of him inside you, alongside Art, is almost too much to bear, making you gasp for breath. Your moans are a symphony of pleasure and desperation, each one a plea for more, more, more the closer you get the edge.

“Shit, ah, Art, ah!” Your feet scrabbled uselessly against the sheets, the fingers of your free hand twist Patrick’s hair roughly. “I’m gonna come— Mm, ah! I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” Art goads, the rhythm of his hips not faltering, “Come on baby– fuck yeah– fucking soak these dicks–”

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you come, your vision whites out around you as the entire world shrinks down to the stretch of your gushing cunt around Art and Patrick. The slight burn of them, the fullness, the unrelenting pace of Art’s hips stinging the skin of your ass on each thrust.

Patrick bites down on your fingers with a broken whine just as Art sinks his teeth into your neck, both of them groaning so loud it’s all you can hear. That and the faulty rhythm of Art’s hips snapping against the meat of your ass in loud ‘cracks’.

They come together, and you can feel it.

You can feel every twitch and jerk of their cocks inside you as they spray the walls of your cunt with their releases. Spurt after spurt of hot come claiming you as theirs, filling you to the brim. Art doesn’t stop, working the three of you through your orgasms. Each thrust fucks more of their come out of you, the lewd squelch of it leaking from of your loose hole to gather around the base of their cocks in two matching creamy rings makes your ears burn.

Just as it gets to be too much, when the pleasure starts to give way into biting overstimulation, Art stops. You’re slumped against Patrick, shaking like a leaf when Art starts to pull out as gently as he can. You hiss when the head of his cock slips out, thighs clenching together.

“Sorry,” he whispers sweetly, giving your shoulder a gentle kiss. He practically man handles you off of Patrick’s cock, lifting your hips up and off of him.

Patrick groans, stomach twitching in oversensitivity as your slick walls slide against his spent dick. Finally he slips out, his drenched cock falling to slap onto his stomach. There come rushes out of you, dripping sticky and thick down your inner thighs.

There’s sweat dripping down your temple when you fall onto the mattress, your back sticks to the sheets but you’re too out of it to care. Art collapses next to you, sandwiching you between him and Patrick. The three of you are quiet, chests heaving as you catch your breath. Patrick’s hairy thigh is pressed to yours, firm and toned. Art’s got an arm slung over your waist, his breath puffs hot against your neck.

“It doesn’t have to be one or the other,” you say breathlessly, voice raspy and hoarse. “It could work. We could make it work, the three of us.”

Art and Patrick are quiet, their silence heavy with contemplation. You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling, more nervous bringing this up than you thought you’d be. The room is filled with the sounds of your collective breaths, mingling with the lingering scent of sweat and sex.

Patrick chuckles, you can feel his curls brushing against your shoulder as he shakes his head in dry amusement. "Yeah, because everything about this screams 'healthy relationship,'" he quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Art lets out a soft, exasperated sigh, his grip on your waist tightening just a little. "We don't have to decide anything right now," he says, his voice low and steady. "Let's just...see where this goes."

You feel a rush of relief at his words, but Patrick’s hesitancy still gnaws at the edges of your mind. Patrick shifts beside you, his hand skirting lightly over your arm in a rare moment of tenderness.

"Guess we're in uncharted territory, huh?" he murmurs, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

You laugh, finally daring to glance at both of them, a tentative smile forming on your lips. "Yeah, but maybe that's not such a bad thing."

Art and Patrick look back at you with matching grins wide enough to show their teeth, blonde and black hair fanning around their faces like halo’s under the room’s shitty fluorescent light. Your heart swells under the intense stare of two pairs of eyes, one blue and one green. You can feel the room start to fade away until it’s just the three of you and nothing else seems to matter.

Art leans down, giving your right shoulder a quick kiss. “If we’re doing this, we have to be honest with each other.” He looks between you and Patrick pointedly, but he’s still smiling. “No more bullshit games.”

Patrick snorts, letting his head fall back onto the pillows, “Yes sir.”

You nod, not bothering to hide your smile. "No bullshit, no games," you agree, moving to squeeze Art's hand. He squeezes back in a silent promise.

The three of you lie there in a comfortable silence, the weight of your decision settling over you. It's definitely not going to be easy, but maybe, just maybe, it could work.

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hoe-for-hopper · 7 months

Text

A Crush On Eddie

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Part 2 is HERE

WARNINGS: kind of a slow burn, unprotected piv, masturbation (f & m), drinking (reader is drunk, not during sex), vomiting (reader vomits)

Word Count: 4,983 (idk how that happened)

Summary: You've got a crush on Eddie Munson, so you drag your two best friends, Steve and Robin to Corroded Coffin's show. When Steve is too drunk to drive you home, Eddie offers.

A/N: I swear this was supposed to just be a one and done Eddie fic, but oops I got carried away and there's gonna be a part 2 (steddie) sometime in the next few days. Partially unedited, ends on a cliffhanger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SMUT BELOW THE CUT~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You, Steve, and Robin pull up to the shitty little dive bar that Corroded Coffin is playing tonight. You’re nervous, but you’re not sure why. It’s not like Eddie is even going to notice you. You’re just here to enjoy the show and have a fun night out with your best friends. Besides, you haven’t seen Eddie since you were all in high school and you hardly spoke with him then. He probably doesn’t even remember who you are.

Steve has no clue about your little crush on Eddie Munson. He has no idea that he’s the only reason you dragged them to the Corroded Coffin show. Robin, on the other hand, has been forced to listen to your lust filled rants about Eddie on more than one occasion.

“Alright, I’ll grab the drinks, you guys go find us a good clean spot to watch them.” Steve shook his head as he made his way to the bar at the back of the room.

You and Robin found a small table against the wall to the side of the stage. As you two placed your purses and jackets down you looked up and saw Eddie walking towards the bar and your heart skips a beat. He was cute, more than cute, really.

“Oh God. Why don’t you just go talk to him? It’s not like you two don’t already know each other.” Robin is rolling her eyes as she follows your line of sight to Eddie.

“Because. What would I even say? ‘Hi Eddie, remember how we hardly talked during high school and weren’t even friends? Well, I’ve actually got such a huge crush on you that I dragged my two best friends to your show tonight.’ I mean, come on, Robin.” You let out a heavy sigh and sit down on the stool.

Robin finishes draping her jacket over her chair and sits down, “Well, maybe don’t say that. I was more so thinking of something along the lines of ‘hi.’ You know, something normal.”

“What are we talking about?” Steve says as he sets down the drinks.

You catch Robin’s eye and give your head a subtle shake. “Oh, we were just saying how I think that girl over there at the bar is so cute. Y/N was saying I should go talk to her, but I’m just way too nervous.” Robin winks at you as Steve cranes his neck trying to see what girl she’s talking about.

“I didn’t see a cute girl at the bar.” Steve says.

“Oh she must have left already. Anyway thanks for the drinks, I think they’re about to start soon.” Robin spins around to face the stage while Steve is still scoping out the venue for girls.

As all three of you sip your beers and continue talking, the lights dim and Eddie walks onto the stage. You’ve got butterflies already. Robin turns back to look at you, she’s got a knowing smirk on her face. You roll your eyes and take another swig of your drink.

After the first few songs, you start to loosen up a little bit. Steve has gotten you your second beer and you’re almost ready for your third. You really weren’t planning to drink a lot tonight, but you have been wanting to talk to Eddie and you figured the alcohol would make it a little easier.

The next time Steve goes to the bar, Robin pulls you towards the front of the stage. “Robin, what are you doing?”

“Trying to help you get a closer look at your future boyfriend.” Robin is giggling so hard that a few drops of her beer splash over the rim of the bottle.

“Please.” You’re rolling your eyes again, but you’re definitely enjoying the close up view of Eddie. You rake your eyes over him and you can’t help but linger on the spot right below his belt buckle.

“I see you guys are getting in on the action!” Steve comes up behind you and hands you and Robin another beer. “I’m gonna go hang at our table. I’m trying to get this girl’s number, told her to meet me over there.” He walks off towards your table.

You turn back around to face the stage, and notice Eddie is looking right at you. Eddie Munson is looking at you. Your breath catches in your throat as he looks away towards the other side of the crowd.

Robin nudges you and says “Oh my god! He totally just looked right at you!”

You punch her arm and laugh, but a tingly feeling flows throughout your body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Corroded Coffin’s set, you and Robin head back to your table to find Steve deep in conversation with a girl that Robin apparently knows.

“Well, I’ve got to run to the bathroom, I’ll be right back you guys.” You head to the bathroom in the back corner of the venue.

You fix your hair in the mirror before walking back outside. As you make your way back to the table, an arm reaches out in front of you to stop you.

“Hey, didn’t we go to high school together?” It’s Eddie. He drops his arm and steps in front of you.

“Wow, you scared me. Uh yeah, we did.” Your voice is a little shaky. You can’t believe Eddie is talking to you. You knew it was probably no big deal. It’s not like he was actually famous or anything. His band played at a few dive bars around town and that was really it.

“I’m glad you came out to the show. Did you have fun? I gotta say, I didn’t think this would be your scene. From what I remember, in high school you were in a different crowd.” He’s smiling down at you.

You look past him to see Robin staring at you with her eyebrows raised. Steve is also staring at you, the girl he was previously talking to had left. You raise your eyebrows back before turning to look up at Eddie. “Yeah, I remembered you had the band in high school and saw you guys were playing tonight. I thought we’d come check you out.”

Eddie looks over his shoulder and you see Robin and Steve quickly glance away. “I see you’re still friends with Steve Harrington.” He says his name with an annoyance in his voice. Eddie and Steve didn’t exactly get along in school and it seems like Eddie hasn’t forgotten that.

You chuckle nervously, “Yep. We’re still friends. So, the show was good. You were really great up there.”

“Thanks. That means a lot. I’m glad you had fun. I’ll let you get back to your friends. Maybe I’ll see you around some other time? We’re playing here again next weekend.”

“Maybe we’ll come watch you guys again.” As you walk back towards Steve and Robin, you try not to overthink too much about your conversation with Eddie.

“Didn’t know you were friends with The Freak.” Steve is saying as you all start gathering your things.

“Oh shut up, Steve. We’re not in high school anymore. Can you at least try to act like an adult?” Robin elbows Steve in his side earning a little “ow” from him.

As you all walk to Steve’s car, you’re telling them about Eddie’s band playing here again next weekend. It takes some convincing from you and Robin, but Steve offers to drive again next weekend.

“Do you like him or something?” Steve is asking you as he drops you and Robin off at your apartment.

You roll your eyes at Steve and say, “No, I just think it would be fun. And maybe next time you’ll have a little more luck getting some numbers.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Steve says before he drives off leaving you and Robin giggling at the door.

You and Robin spend the night overanalyzing the conversation you had with Eddie. Or rather, Robin spends the night listening to you ramble on and theorize your outfit for next weekend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the next weekend rolls around, you’ve spent countless hours going over how you’re going to talk to Eddie again. You’re still too nervous to approach him first, but you know you can’t leave the show without speaking to him.

You hear Steve honk his horn outside and you make your way out front with Robin trailing behind you. Robin had been helping you get ready and listening to you freak out over what you should say to Eddie tonight.

“You girls ready to go? I hope this time is better than the last time.” Steve puts the car in drive and heads toward the bar.

Robin snorts and says, “Steve, you can’t base the fun you have on how many girls’ numbers you get. There’s more to life than girls.”

“Yeah, you’re one to talk.”

When you arrive at the bar, Steve grabs your drinks again and you and Robin head to the same table as last time. Robin nudges you, “Look who’s over there.” She’s smiling and you follow her gaze to the side of the stage where Eddie stands holding a guitar case and surveying the bar.

When he spots where you and Robin are sitting he walks up to you. “Hi guys. Excited for the show?”

You’re too nervous to speak, luckily Robin chimes in with, “Oh yeah. You guys were great last time.”

Eddie turns to look at you. You notice how handsome he is when his smile stretches all the way to his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be a lot of fun.”

Just then, Steve returns and sets the beers down on the table. “Hey man, how’s it going?”

Eddie just gives him a little nod and says, “I gotta get up there, but I’ll catch you guys after the show.” When he says it, he’s just looking at you. You feel a tingling go through your body. You feel electric and you can almost feel the blush creeping up your face.

Steve stares after Eddie before turning back around to say, “Jeeze. What’s his problem?”

Throughout the show, you catch Eddie’s eyes a few times. Of course, Robin immediately notices and nudges you each time. When it’s Steve’s turn to grab the drinks, Robin is asking you if you’re actually going to make a move on Eddie tonight.

“I have no idea. I mean, I want to, definitely. It’s just, I don’t know, we’re total opposites.” You gulp down the last of your beer. Robin assures you that Eddie would be interested just as Steve reappears with the drinks. You notice he’s swaying a little bit as he sets them down and you’re worried he won’t be able to drive home.

Corroded Coffin finishes their set and starts packing up, but Eddie breaks away and heads straight to your table. You stand up to greet him and that’s when you realize just how drunk you actually are. How many beers had you had? At least four, maybe even five? “Hi Eddie.”

“Hey. Like the show?” He’s still only looking at you and you’re not sure if it’s because he has something against Steve and doesn’t know Robin all that well or because he wants to look only at you.

“Yeah it was really great!” You’re excited and slurring your words.

All four of you talk for a few minutes longer before Eddie excuses himself to help the band finish packing up their equipment.

Eddie is only gone for a few minutes when he returns just as you’re all gathering your things and getting ready to leave. Steve stumbles as he stands and he grabs the table for support. Eddie sees this and says “Hey man, you all right? If you’re not good to drive I can drop you all off.” Eddie offers.

Steves starts to protest saying that you’re all going to different places, but Eddie cuts in with, “Really, it’s no problem. I’ve got the van, you guys can just pile in the back.”

Robin and Steve turn to face you and your eyes are wide. Eddie Munson driving you home after his show? Of course, he’s also driving Robin and Steve home. And it’s because you’re all too drunk to safely get home. It’s nothing exciting. “Yeah, yeah. That would be really great, thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie leads the three of you out to his van. He offers you the front seat which you happily accept and the other two climb in the back.

You can hear Steve and Robin giggling in the backseat. You’re hoping Robin isn’t drunk enough to spill your secret longing for Eddie. You know this is just a little crush and you’ll get over it.

You give Eddie directions to Steve’s then to Robin’s house. Eddie pulls up in front of Robin’s and you get out to walk her to her door. “This is your chance, Y/N. You better go for it.” You whisper at her to shut up as she slips inside.

Not much is said on the way to your apartment, but you’re filled with an electric buzz throughout your body. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that you’re sitting next to Eddie.

“Thanks so much for the ride. I really appreciate it.” You say as you start gathering your things. Eddie responds that he’s glad to give you a ride. You’re not looking at him, but it sounds like he’s smirking and you blush at where your mind goes.

You try to get out of the van, but you can’t seem to grasp hold of the door handle without dropping all your things. You laugh as you realize the alcohol is catching up to you.

“Okay, hang on, sweetheart.” Eddie notices you struggling, gets out of the van, and walks around to the passenger side. He opens the door for you to help you out. “Let me walk you in, I’ll carry your things.”

You hand over your things in silence as you process that Eddie just called you sweetheart. You watch as Eddie fiddles with your keys before finding the one to unlock the door. “Ladies first.” He has one hand on your elbow and the other is pushing the door closed behind you.

As he sets your stuff down on the entry table you catch yourself saying, “Do you want to stay? I mean, just have a cup of coffee or something? Unless you’re tired. I know it’s late.”

Eddie says that he would love to, so you head to the kitchen and start preparing a pot of coffee. When you turn back around, you’re hit with an overwhelming sensation in your stomach. You’re going to vomit now. There’s no way you can make it to the bathroom so you lean over the sink and heave.

The next thing you know, Eddie is there behind you. He’s taking out the hair tie that had been holding his long hair in a loose bun and pulls your hair away from your face to tie it back. You’ve never been more embarrassed in your life. You’re vomiting in your kitchen sink in front of Eddie Munson who is currently rubbing small circles between your shoulder blades. Through your noises you can hear him saying, “It’s alright. I’ve got you.” Despite your current situation, a rush of heat shoots down to your core.

Eddie helps you to your bed, leaving to grab a glass of water. When he returns, you’ve slipped under the blankets and are almost asleep. “There’s a glass of water on your nightstand. Call me in the morning and I’ll take you to get the car.” He says before turning to leave.

“Wait. You can stay here, it’s late.” You call out to him from your half asleep state.

Eddie stands in the doorway, debating on what to do. Part of him wants to leave to not make things awkward for the both of you in the morning. He’s not sure if you mean he can sleep on your couch or your bed.

As if reading his mind, you tap on the bed and roll over sleepily. He doesn’t need any more insistence and takes his jacket off before tossing it on the ground and crawling into bed next to you. He leans up to look at you and realizing you’ve already fallen asleep, he lays back down. As he does, he catches a glimpse of lacy black underneath your skirt that’s crept up your thighs.

Eddie is completely still on his back next to you. He’s never told you this, but he had a huge crush on you in high school. He was more than surprised when he’d noticed you while he was on stage last weekend. During the entire set, he had been thinking of ways to talk to you before you left. He was a little disappointed when he realized you were friends with Steve and he’d been hoping Steve wasn’t going to talk you out of coming to the next show.

When he’d seen you again tonight, he couldn’t wait to talk to you. He’d been hanging out at the side of the stage, waiting for you to walk in. He spent the entire show trying not to stare at you the whole time. He felt like he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He loved the way your short skirt flowed around your thighs.

Eddie felt you shift, as he looked over he saw that you had kicked off your half of the blanket. With your skirt almost completely up your thighs, he had a perfect view of the lacy black underwear you were wearing. He felt the bulge in his pants grow.

He knew it wasn’t right to stare, but he couldn’t help it. As quietly as he could, he undid his belt buckle and unzipped his jeans. Slowly, he pulled his pants down just enough to free his hardened cock.

As Eddie began stroking himself, he imagined what your hand would feel like wrapped around him. He thought about you staring into his eyes as your hand went up and down. He wondered what you would taste like.

Eddie continued to pump his hand up and down while alternating between staring at your ass and imaging all the things he could do to you. He lifted his shirt just as he spilled onto his stomach. Carefully, he got out of bed and made his way to your bathroom to clean up.

When he returned, he draped the blanket back over you and laid down next to you. He wasn’t sure how he was going to fall asleep with the knowledge that he’d just finished himself off a few inches away from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you’re awoken to the sound of a voice coming from your kitchen. It takes you a second to remember that Eddie Munson spent the night.

“Oh, you know what, here she comes now.” Eddie hands you the phone as you walk sleepily into the kitchen. You see he’s already made a pot of coffee and is now cooking breakfast.

You know it’s Robin before you put the phone to your ear, you can already hear her voice. “Y/N, was that who I think it is that answered your phone? Was he there all night? What happened!”

“Yes and yes. I’ll call you later okay?” You hung up before Robin could say anything else. “Hey, thanks for the coffee. You really didn’t have to make breakfast though.”

“After what you did last night, I figured you’d need some energy this morning. Don’t worry about it.”

You’re shaking and it’s not from the alcohol last night. You’re still trying to piece together what happened. After what I did? What did I do? And then it all comes rushing back to you. You vomited in your kitchen sink right in front of Eddie Munson. And then you invited him to bed. And he accepted the offer.

Eddie sets a plate down in front of you and leans against the wall sipping his coffee. “I figure we can pick Steve up, take him to get his car. And then…” He pauses, unsure if he should say what he’s thinking. You raise your eyebrows and he continues, “And then I was thinking later tonight, you might want to grab dinner? With me, of course.”

You almost choke. Is Eddie asking you out on a date or are you reading way too much into things? “Yeah, yeah sounds good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Eddie drops you back off at your apartment after taking Steve to pick up his car. As soon as you’re through the door, you’re calling Robin. “Robin, oh my god.” You gave her a recap of exactly what happened the previous night - vomiting included.

“You threw up in your kitchen sink and he still slept in the same bed as you. Wow.” Robin is laughing hysterically. “Steve, did you hear that? She threw up!”

“STEVE is there? Oh god, Robin I don’t want more people knowing about this. It’s embarrassing enough that I have to know.” You groan and slide down the kitchen wall to the tile.

Steve has grabbed the phone from Robin. “Are you dating Eddie now? Because if that freak can get a date easier than I can, I swear…”

“Shut up. No, we’re not dating. Nothing even happened. Sure, we slept in the same bed, but that’s it. Okay?” Even as you’re saying it, you still can’t believe it happened. You tell Steve and Robin bye before you hang up and start getting ready for your date with Eddie.

As you’re in the shower, you think of all the things that could have happened had you not passed out. Your hand slips down to your folds as you slide your fingers around in small circles. You’re imagining it’s Eddie’s hands touching you. As you climax, you’re imagining Eddie’s fingers pumping in and out of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re just finishing getting dressed as you hear a knock on your door. “Come in! I’ll just be a minute!” After trying on almost everything you own and calling Robin countless times for advice, you’d settled on a short flowy black dress.

When you emerge from your room, Eddie is sitting on the couch. As he looks up at you his eyes go wide and all of a sudden you feel self conscious. You look down at yourself and smooth your hands down your dress. “You look…incredible.” Eddie finally manages to choke out.

You smile at him and he almost melts. He rakes his eyes over you and without meaning to actually do it, he licks his lips. “You ready to go?” He stands up and grabs your hand, leading out to his van.

You feel an electric buzz that flows throughout your body, centered on where your hands meet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You can hardly remember dinner as Eddie opens the passenger door to his van, helping you inside. You spent the entire time trying to think of ways to invite Eddie back to your apartment after dinner. You also spent quite a bit of time staring at his hands and imagining what they could do to you. So by the time you’re settled inside the van, your core is already pulsing with need.

When Eddie arrives at your apartment, you’re surprised when he gets out of the van to follow you inside. “I thought we could hang for a little longer? I’ve been really enjoying talking to you.” He says shyly as you set your things down.

The two of you sit on the couch and continue the conversation you’d been having about Steve. “He’s really not so bad once you get to know him, I promise.” You’d been trying to convince Eddie that Steve was actually a great friend.

“Well, I’ll believe that when I see it.” Eddie shrugs his shoulders.

Neither of you have mentioned the previous night. You know it’s probably not a big deal, nothing happened and Eddie was just taking care of you after you’d drank too much.

“Want a beer?” Eddie nods his head ‘yes’ so you head to the kitchen to grab two beers from the fridge.

When you return to the living room and hand Eddie the beer, your hands brush and neither of you pull away. When you sit down next to him, Eddie leans forward to set his beer on the coffee table. He turns to look at you, “You know, you really do look incredible. Thanks for going out with me tonight.”

You can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you set your beer down next to his. “T-thank you. You look pretty handsome too.” And he does. He’s wearing dark jeans, black shirt, and a dark leather jacket. You can’t help but think what he looks like under his clothes. As you look him up and down, your eyes stop on his lap. You can see a bulge, a very big bulge, under his jeans.

Eddie sees you notice and lets out a little chuckle. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you reach towards him and run your hand from his temple to his cheek.

Eddie stills, shocked. After a second, he grabs your waist and pulls you on top of him. Foreheads touching, you stare into each other’s eyes for just a split second before your lips meet.

Eddie’s hands are roaming up your back now, your hands tangled in his hair. “Fuck. I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you at the bar.” He says into your mouth.

“Mm. Me too.” You breathe just as he rolls his hips hitting your sensitive bud and you let out a moan.

This is better than he imagined in your bed last night while he pumped himself. “I touched myself last night thinking about this. I was thinking about all the things I want to do to you.” He licks a stripe up the side of your face.

His words and the friction make you moan into his ear. You tell him how you fingered yourself in the shower, imagining his fingers inside you.

Eddie swears he could cum just from hearing you talk. He scoots you back so he can pull his jeans down before grabbing your hips and rolling them across his cock. Eddie lifts up your dress and pulls your panties to the side. “Is this what you want?” He asks as his finger brushes your clit.

“Mhm. Yes, please, Eddie.” Your hands are pulling his hair and you place kisses down his face before sucking a mark on his neck.

Eddie lifts you up so he can swipe himself through your folds before lining himself up with your entrance and sliding you down. You gasp as you take the full length of him before tugging his hair even harder.

He gives you a few seconds to adjust to his size before bucking up into you. You can’t hold in the moans that escape from your mouth and your entire body is trembling. You’ve never felt so full. You weren’t a virgin, but it felt like Eddie was stretching your walls as far as they could go.

“Yeah? Is this what you thought about in the shower?” You can’t speak so you just nod your head ‘yes’. “Use your words, baby. I want to hear you.”

“Y-yes, this is b-better than what I imagined.” Eddie moved his hands from your hips to pull you to his chest. He cradled your head with one hand with his other resting on your lower back.

Kissing your head he murmured praises into your ear. “You’re doing so good.”

“Eddie.”

Still inside you, he lifts you up and carries you to your bedroom. Placing you down on the edge of the bed and kneeling between your legs, he continues to pump in and out of you. Pulling your dress up he groped at you while using one hand to pull your legs to his neck. “Oh, you’re so wet for me, baby. Gonna cum soon?”

You can’t form words, you moan in response. But remembering what Eddie said earlier you manage, “Gonna cum.”

“Cum on me, baby.” he moves the hand from your tits to circle your clit. In seconds, you’re gushing around him. “That’s it, show me what you’ve been thinking about.”

Incoherent words and moans fall from your mouth as Eddie fucks you through your high. His thrusts become erratic and he’s moved to holding both your legs up against his chest. He’s gripping your calves so tightly, you know you’ll have bruises.

“Where do you want me, sweetheart?”

Shakily, you whisper, “Inside me. Please.”

“All mine.” Eddie pulls you towards him as he thrusts and releases himself deeply inside of you. “Fuck.” He whispers as he lets your legs down and helps you into the bed. His jeans still around his ankles, he takes them off before climbing in beside you.

You turn to face Eddie, your eyes glazed over, “I guess our date went well.” He laughs and pulls you in tighter.

Eddie is tracing shapes along your back, “We’re playing at the bar in a few days. What do you say if you come as my girlfriend this time?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” You nuzzle your head into his chest.

Just as the two of you are drifting to sleep in each other’s arms, there’s a knock at the door. You both sit up and listen to the person knock again, louder. “Hello? You guys in there?”

You look at Eddie with wide eyes, “It’s Steve.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 is HERE

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you

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vivwritesfics · 9 months

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(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Five - One Step Further

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.4K

Warnings: blowjob, masturbation, cum swallowing

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Lando Norris was incredibly frustrated.

It wasn't fair, that he had to live with her, in this perpetual state of frustration because she was comfortable enough to walk around in pyjama shorts now.

It wasn't fair, the way she sat almost close enough to touch but he couldn't. He wasn't fair, the way her shirt rode up, revealing everything when she reached for something in the kitchen.

He had to do something about it, because he was suffering.

As he was racing on the sim, on his shitty set up, there was a knock on the door. Y/N pushed it open, holding the doorframe as she leaned forward, into the room. "Want something to eat?" She offered and Lando ended his race several laps early.

He followed her into the kitchen and she passed him a plate of whatever she had made. The two of them sat on the sofa, watching a mindless sitcom as they ate.

This was their normal.

Except, Lando couldn't stop himself from watching her. Shit, she was something else. But Lando didn't want to make any mistakes. As soon as he had eaten, he was back in his bedroom, crashing his McLaren on the sim.

Y/N looked towards his bedroom door, which was partially open, whether he knew it or not, she didn't know.

But she got on with her evening, having a shower, cleaning her teeth and getting into bed.

Oddly enough, the only time Y/N slept well was during a race weekend. When she should have been out of her mind with anxiety, she slept like a baby.

But, in her apartment, she couldn't sleep. She could hear everything from Lando's bedroom, his angry shouts as he gamed, even though he was loud, they were somewhat comforting and did help her to sleep.

This time, though, it wasn't the gaming she was hearing. She knew exactly what it was, but she didn't let it phase her.

There comes a time most nights where Y/N would notice how little she had to drink that day. She was an athlete, staying hydrated was important. But it was so easy to forget to drink, especially with how busy she was.

She pulled herself from beneath the warmth of her covers and walked towards the kitchen. She reached into her cupboard and pulled a large mug from the cupboard.

As she filled it with water, she couldn't hear anything from Lando's room.

But then, as she sipped, she turned on her heel as she sipped the water, and nearly spat it out.

There he was, head thrown back as he gripped his cock. His eyes were shut as he pumped his hand up and down his length and, if she was just a little closer, she was sure she would have heard him moaning.

She placed her water onto the kitchen table and moved closer to his bedroom door, trying to get a better look. She leant against the doorframe, keeping herself hidden from sight.

Not that Lando would have seen her. His eyes were squeezed shut, throat bobbing as he swallowed around his moans.

From her place by the door, she could hear what he was moaning, hear as her name left his lips in breathy moans. "Holy fuck, Y/N," she heard his whisper, gripping himself tighter.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took a brave step forward into Landos room. He seemed to hear it as the door squeeked open and the floorboards creaked under her weight.

"Holy fuck, Y/N!" He cried, although his time it wasn't sexy.

With a panicked look in his eye, Lando rushed to turn away from her, to hide his erection. "What the hell are you doing?" He hissed, unable to hide his embarrassment.

But Y/N didn't seem to care. As if in a trance she walked over to him and grabbed a hold of his gaming chair, turning it to face her. She continued looking in his eyes as she got down onto her knees and placed her hands on his thighs.

"W-what're you doing?" He asked again, his voice shaking.

There was no resistance as she pulled his hands away from his erection, letting it spring free. "Are you okay with this?" She whispered, reaching towards him.

Lando nodded his head, letting out a breathy confirmation. His eyes followed her as she reached towards him, her fingers wrapping around him. She pumped her hand once, twice, and moved her face forward, licking him.

He let out a shuddering breath as she wrapped her lips around his tip, swirling her tongue around him. She sucked, just the tip, and Lando uncontrollably bucked his hips, trying to get her take more of him into her mouth.

She obliged, taking him further into her mouth. Her eyes shut for a moment as she choked on his length, but she pushed through it, determined to bring him pleasure. She pulled back, staring into his blue eyes and she licked him again, her tongue following the vein.

"Fuck me, don't stop," he said, his head thrown back as he reached for her head, holding her head as she sucked him again.

Her eyes were shut as she continued to suck, bringing him closer to the edge. Lando couldn't stop himself from lacing his fingers through her hair, moving her up and down as he bucked his hips forward, out of the chair.

Drool ran down her chin as she continued, her hand moving at his base, working in tandem with her mouth. "Fuck, I'm gonna..."

He held her hair, trying to pull her off of him, but Y/N stayed where she was. She continued to suck, bringing him to orgasm.

She held him in her mouth as he came, spilling onto her tongue. Releasing him, Y/N met his gaze, staring at him as she swallowed. "I..." Lando began, but no words came out.

Standing up, Y/N brushed off her now aching knees and left the bedroom. She closed the door behind her, grabbed the mug of water from the table, and walked into her own bedroom.

With her bag against the door, Y/N let out a breath. Holy fuck. Holy fuck, had that really just happened?

He was her roommate, her fucking teammate, and she had just sucked him off. She'd watched him, listened as he moaned her name, and she'd joined him. She'd swallowed his fucking cum.

It was a line that never should have been crossed, but they had crossed it. It should have been mortifying, but she had loved it, every minute of it. She wanted to do it again.

Before she walked over to her bed, Y/N opened her door slightly. She threw off her clothes as she sauntered over to her bed and crawled under the covers, her fingers travelling down to her cunt.

***

"You did what?!"

It was the early hours of the morning and Lando was out at the gym with his trainer. Y/N hadn't said hello to him that morning, but she'd watched through the crack in her bedroom door as he left the apartment.

As soon as he was done, Y/N sat against her bedroom door and called her best friend. She chewed on her nails as she waited for her best friend to pick up.

"What's up love?" Her friend asked.

Y/N gave her a rundown of everything that had happened the night before, leaving out some of the more intimate details. Even when she had said it, it didn't feel real, didn't feel like it had actually happened.

When she was finished, her friend let out a laugh. "No fucking way," she said, her hand clamped over her mouth. "You're not serious. You actually sucked off Lando?"

"It's not funny!" Y/N insisted. "What the hell am I going to do?"

"Well, what do you want to do?" Her friend asked slowly, carefully. "Like, do you want to forget it ever happened? Or, do you... want it to happened again?"

Y/N swallowed thickly. How was she ever meant to admit that she wanted it to happen again? He was her teammate, her rival, her roommate.

"Okay, well I got a plan," her friend said, knowing her answer. "Listen closely," she said and Y/N did just that.

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool @hollie911 @topguncultleader @annispamz @carlossainzwho @spideybv28 @wherethefuckisthething @fangirl125reader @minkyungseokie @marialovesf1 @kitixie @i-wish-this-was-me @bborra @formula1mount @charlotte1697 @formulaal @eviethetheatrefreak @lordpercivalcharles @venisvendetta @marie0v @tbsloneely @laur20a23 @formulas-bitch @cmleitora @marvelavengers000 @gills-lounge @andydrysdalerogers @demipatterns @holy-macncheese-balls @jule239 @aexitizen-ln4 @landosgirlxoxo @allinestarr @starmanv @st0rmzi3 @random-human02 @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog @happymeal777 @ashy-kit @juniper-july19 @im-an-overthinker @haylenxx @kapsylia @prettiest-at-the-party @urfavnoirette @norassimpingzone @thehufflepuffavenger1

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starkwlkr · 4 months

Text

the sound of my voice will haunt you | mark webber

part 1 part 2

Grace sat in a chair watching you and Mark talk. She was so bored that she started to imagine herself as you. She found a head set and slipped them over her ears. While she played pretend, you were facing reality talking with Mark.

“Does she know about me?” Mark asked.

“She only knows your name. I never talked to her about you. Why would I? You threw it all away so easily, Mark. You broke my heart.” You snapped at him. You had to calm yourself since your daughter was just a few feet away.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness and the amount of times I say I’m sorry isn’t going to fix it.”

“If this is you telling me you want to be in Grace’s life, you have no right.”

Mark knew that. It absolutely broke him that he had a daughter and he couldn’t be with her, but he had fucked it all up. He looked over at the young girl and saw how she played with the head set. She was a miniature version of you.

“I know and I won’t ask for forgiveness of any kind, not from you or Grace. You’ve done an amazing job raising her.” He continued. “Maybe one day you could tell her about me? If not, i understand.”

“As if you told anyone about me in your book. Mark, I did everything for you. I got in trouble for driving you to races, my parents almost took away my keys! I worked day and night in a shitty restaurant, I almost missed my own graduation because of you! A little note would’ve been nice, but it’s as if I never existed in your world. It hurt me.” You held back tears. Suddenly you’re a teenager again hearing all the loud yelling coming from your parents for driving Mark to his races.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to mention you at all. . . ” He said quietly.

“You’re my past now, I would love to stay away from the past. So when you do attend any of the upcoming races and Grace is here, don’t talk to her. It would be better if she didn’t know about you. Please.” You stated.

My own daughter won’t know about me

Mark understood. It would be better after all.

“Okay.” Was all he managed to say. He nodded and lanced one last time at Grace. “Goodbye.”

Before he could leave, Grace looked at him. She wondered why he looked sad. “Why are you sad? Is your favorite team not winning?” She asked Mark.

“Grace. . . It’s time to go.” You hoped Mark wouldn’t start a conversation, but he did. Of course he was making it harder for you.

“Actually, I used to drive for the team that’s winning and I was okay for a number two driver.” Mark crouched down to talk to Grace.

“Did you win lots of races?” She asked.

Mark let out a chuckle. “I won nine races.”

Grace gasped. “My dad won nine races too!”

At that moment, you wished you were anywhere else. Why couldn’t Mark just leave? Why did Grace have to be nice to everyone and be so curious? And why did you tell Grace that her dad was a driver?

“Your dad? He drives?” Mark questioned.

Grace nodded. “Well I think he doesn’t anymore. Mom said my dad was a driver and that he won nine races, but that’s all I know. I had to make a school project about my family and I asked mom about my dad. Do you know my dad?”

Before Mark could reply, you stepped in. “Sweetheart, it’s time for him to leave. Come on, we’ll get ice cream on the way back.”

“Bye!” Grace waved to the unknown man as you grabbed her hand and walked away from Mark.

He felt a little okay knowing his daughter knew something about him. Maybe one day you would change your mind and let Grace know the truth.

MIAMI 2024

Mark wouldn’t see you or Grace until the Miami Grand Prix. He honestly didn’t feel like even going, but Oscar insisted. At least he wasn’t going to be alone, Jenson was also going, but the British man would be conducting interviews. He kept busy looking at his phone until found him in the Mclaren hospitality. He wasn’t sure why you were even looking for him in the first place.

“Can you look after Grace? My friend couldn’t make it and she was the only person I trust to look after her. I wouldn’t ask if I had another option.” You sighed.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of her.” Mark nodded, putting his phone away. “Where is she?”

“She’s with Oscar in his driver’s room. Just please don’t mention the obvious.” You demanded.

“I won’t, but can I ask one thing?” He stared at your eyes that he still loved after many years. “Why did you tell Grace that her dad won nine races and that he was a driver? You could’ve lied.”

You didn’t want to lie to your daughter, you just couldn’t so you told her part of the truth. Technically, you didn’t think she would even meet Mark ever.

“I can’t lie to her. She knows when I’m lying anyways.” You said.

“What’s her favorite color?” Mark suddenly asked. “I want to know at least some stuff about her so I can talk to her. What if she gets bored halfway through the race?”

You hesitated even telling Mark, but you did anyway. “Her favorite color changes everyday, but today it’s purple. She loved coloring with chalk, she wants to have a puppy and name it Goose like the character from Top Gun, her favorite book series is Junie B. Jones and she tells everyone that she’s tall for her age.” You listed several things.

Mark smiled as he listened to you. “Top Gun? We watched Top Gun on our first date, you know?”

“You’re so annoying.”

You and Mark walk back to the Mclaren garage, which obviously made several people confused. Were you back together? No, you couldn’t be . . . right? By the time the race was close to starting, photos of you and Mark were everywhere. Even Sebastian had texted Jenson wondering about you and Mark.

Grace was sitting next to Mark when the race began. She occasionally glanced at him then grabbed his paddock pass and read his name.

“You’re here with Oscar?” She asked.

Mark nodded. “I’m his manager.”

“So you’re like his dad when his dad is not here?”

“That’s one way to put it.” He chuckled. “Your mum told me you like want a puppy.”

Grace’s eye lit up with joy. “Yes! The puppy is going to be named Goose and they’re going to sleep in my bed.”

Mark hardly payed attention to the race. He kept asking questions in hopes that he could learn more about her. Once in a while, you would look back only to see Mark and Grace laughing.

“One time, my mom almost lost her necklace because she was dancing too hard to her favorite song. It fell and we looked everywhere for it but we couldn’t see it because it was a small letter. But I found it!” Grace said which made Mark question if it was the same necklace that he had given you years ago.

“What letter was it?”

“I think it was M?”

The ‘M’ necklace was a gift from Mark on your first anniversary. It was old, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of it. If anyone asked what the M stood for, you lied saying it was your middle name or for someone in your family.

“Does your mum always wear it?” Mark asked.

“Not anymore. But I think it’s pretty.” Grace replied. “Your name starts with M!”

All Mark did was nod.

The race had finished and soon you were back to your daughter. She had told you how Mark has dogs and invited her to meet them.

“Grace, can you go sit over there for a little while? I need to talk to Mark.” You pointed to the seat that she was sitting during the race. She obeyed and now it was just you and Mark. “Thank you. I really hope she wasn’t too much to handle.”

Mark shook his head. “She’s very talkative when it comes to her favorite things. She’s a great kid.” He debated whether to tell you about the necklace story that Grace had told him. Finally, he decided he would keep that to himself.

“I wanted you to hear this from me instead of the media. I’m leaving the team after this season.” You said only loud enough for him to hear.

“But you’ll be back, right? I mean the team is doing well, Lando just won his first ever race, obviously it could’ve been better for Oscar, but you are the heart and soul of this team.” Mark could see a frown forming on your face.

“I love this team, but it’s time for me to be a mom. Grace needs me, Mark. I already told Zak and it’s final. They’ll announce my departure soon. Thanks again for looking after Grace, this is the last time you’ll see her.”

He was glad that he could at least spend some time with Grace. She was a joy to be around. Their time together was something Mark would cherish forever.

For the rest of the 2024 season, Mark stopped calling you the Mclaren team principal and, instead, used your name. He praised you, gave you the credit you deserved and defended you any time. Mark had even made a statement about the person who had leaked the information about you and him when he talked with Fernando. It was rumored that a photographer had leaked it. He knew nothing was going to change, but he needed to correct his wrongs. It all started with an instagram post about you.

INSTAGRAM

(this is just for fanfic purposes, you can use any faceclaim)

liked by oscarpiastri, f1 and 837,377 others

aussiegrit everyone i meet will have to know you, to understand me. anyone that truly knows me, knows your name.

comments are limited

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#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber imagine #mark webber fanfic #mark webber #mclaren team principal!reader #f1 instagram au #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic

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step-on-me-khun · 3 months

Text

Soshiro Hoshina Boyfriend Headcanon's

Wanted to do something Kaiju no.8 related. Both sfw and nsfw. I could've written a fic or smut but plot always escapes me. My ask box is always open. No taglist as this is my first attempt at anything related to Kaiju no.8 - also, due to a shitty laptop, this may be written on a phone. Might do an NSFW alphabet depending on how this does

Warnings: Nsfw content under a cut

Word Count: n/a

Taglist: n/a.

Depending on recs and ideas, I might continue with writing for kn8, but that does depend on multiple things

SFW

If there was any hint that you liked him, platonic or otherwise, he would tease you relentlessly. Small comments here and there, and quiet enough for no one else to hear them.

A sucker for any reaction you give, whether it be a small look you give him, or red face. All the better if someone asks what's wrong - if you're introverted and not too forward, he likes seeing you struggle to answer. If you're a bit bold and don't mind being snarky back to him, expect a lot more teasing and possibly being a little louder with him comments.

Protective, but tries not to be, he had to be distracted by the fight he's fighting otherwise worry floods his mind.

Not particularly clingy but can be as an act.

Shows up to save you from situations at the right time, you don't know how or why.

Offers to train with you, mainly so he can be alone with you, but also so he can train with you. Uses this reason to see how much he can push you, not in a mean way, but so he knows how scared he should be of you.

Ticklish? Expect surprise attacks out of nowhere.

Listens to you talk calms him down after dealing with Kaiju, especially is you can sing, it's one of the rare times you see his eyes gleam with love for you. Also would love it if you're a good listener.

Can be intimidating and scary, but is a big softy and a cuddle bug.

Hides things behind his back, either with his back against the wall, or sitting on a chair - intentionally of course - so you can try to get it back, it's a good way of slyly getting a kiss from you.

If you're short: you'll be teased. If you're taller than him: also teased. If you're short he'll use that to his advantage.

Loves giving you small pecks on your face - nose, cheek, eyelid, jaw, forehead. If you return them he'll be smitten.

Loves being the big spoon when sleeping, but isn't opposed to being the small spoon. Like I said, a hug bug.

Most of the time you wake up with his head on your stomach. If you're not awake and his head is still there, expect a surprise awakening.

Your arms and legs often get tangled together.

Loves seeing you in his uniform.

Also loves you putting him in his place - or at least attempt to.

He wants you to laugh with him, he has an infectious laugh, and doesn't want you to get overwhelmed with your job.

Very affectionate and loving, and persistent if he can tell something's bothering you

Tells you he loves you everyday and night.

Loves holding your hands and kissing your knuckles

NSFW - under the cut

Good with his hands and fingers, probably due to the clutching of his swords. Very much liked using them during sex - stroking your in your intimate areas, teasing you, anything to get a reaction

Tends to be clingy in intimate situations too

Isn't really all too bothered about positions, but mostly missionary to be closer and loving or doggy/prone so he can pin you down

A bit more of a dom than a sub, it's the only time he likes being in control of you

Not all that fussed about giving our receiving oral, but morning surprises are to be expected

Has a high - but not too high - sex drive, enough to keep you satisfied but not enough to drive you insane, unless that is what you want

Put him in his place. But expect to be put on yours after, if he's feeling generous

When he's rough with you, he'll use his hands to either choke you, pull your hair or spank you, even pinning your hands behind your back.

Choke him if you're in control

After care is something he would be good at, especially when he's rough. His hands caressing in areas where had gripped hard on your skin

He likes praising you, and your body, and enjoys it when you do the same

Talks dirty to you when fucking you or getting oral, and will pull on your hair too. He's really good at it too

Edges you a lot, just so he can make you flustered and needy, if he wants you to take control later on the day, this is how he'll do it

Loves looking you directly in your eyes, you look so beautiful to him while you're coming apart

Bites you. Anywhere and everywhere, mainly your neck, collarbone, nape inner thighs and ear lobes

Is vocal, but not overly loud. Whines and groans a bit, hisses when you give him head, and moans softly into your ears if he's fucking your from behind

His favourite part of you is your lush thighs - not so much an ass or tits, but will grope them when he feels like it

Will take risks and try to edge you anywhere that he can

Anytime he senses something's wrong, he instantly slows down or stops so he can care for and reassure you

All in all, he's a loveable asshole

Please don't steal or translate

#kaiju 8 #kaiju n8 #kaiju no. 8 #kaijuu 8 gou #kaiju number 8 #hoshina soshiro #hoshina soshiro smut #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina smut #hoshina soushirou #hoshina smut #hoshina x reader

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roanniom · 1 year

Note

feeling absolutely unhinged tn just wanna be eddie’s little HOUSEWIFE more than i wanna BREATHE

Come Home

Mechanic!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV sex / unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), titty fucking, recreational drug use and alcohol consumption, dirty talk

It’s a role playing thing more than anything else. You are a teacher and, as such, are very busy and a far cry from a stay-at-home anything. Hell, you’re not even married to the man.

But ever since you and Eddie had moved into the little third floor walk up in what could laughingly be called Downtown Hawkins (really just the overgrown main street), Eddie had been jokingly calling you his little housewife. It’s a title that sends shivers down your spine and a smile spreading across your face any time he utters it. And he does so jokingly, of course. You know how much Eddie respects your ambition and your hard work, so you’ve never had to worry that he truly wanted to see you barefoot and pregnant, stuck in the kitchen for the rest of your days.

But some days that idea is way more appealing than you’d like to admit.

On this day in particularly, you find yourself fantasizing about it more than normal. In the morning you’d woken up earlier than usual, roused by the loud thunk of a garbage man tossing a can recklessly back into place. Unable to go back to sleep, you’d extricated yourself from Eddie’s arms and tiptoed into the kitchen where you’d whipped up a batch of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh coffee. Way more than your usual weekday toast or cereal, mainly because you wanted to give your tired brain something to focus on in order to wake up more fully before work.

Eddie had stumbled into the kitchen, stretching and in his mechanic coveralls, with a massive grin on his face.

“What has my little housewife been up to this morning?!” His voice had bellowed through the small space and you’d dropped the spatula in order to walk over to him.

“Thought my big strong man could use a hearty breakfast before he has to go to work for the day,” you’d said with a humorous lilt, wrapping your arms around his neck just as his hands come to rest on your waist, pulling your body to his. Your words and actions made his grin grow even bigger.

“You’re so beyond good to me, you know that? What’d I ever do to deserve a babe like you, huh?” he’d asked, sliding his hands down and around to squeeze your ass. You’d squealed and pushed yourself further into his body.

“You treat me right in the bedroom, so I treat you right in the kitchen. Those are the rules.” You’d said it primly it as if reciting a gospel. He’d laughed and shoved his face into your neck, peppering kisses against your throat and cleavage till you’d screamed about not wanting to burn the last batch of pancakes.

The two of you had sat together at your shitty linoleum dinette set eating breakfast way too fancy for a Thursday. Eddie had insisted on pulling his chair right up against yours and keeping his hand on your thigh even while he devoured forkfuls of eggs and pancakes with abandon.

By the time you were driving home from work, however, the phantom feeling of the weight of his hand on your thigh from the morning still hadn’t dissipated. It had been a half day, allowing the students to leave early in order to theoretically study for finals (but you heard tell of a bonfire that was going to be happening down by the lake so you held no delusions that the free time would be utilized by any for actual academic purposes). So this meant you were going to be home way ahead of Eddie today.

Your first thought upon waking through the front door is that you should masturbate. You’d been feeling so confined by your clothes all day and had been feeling needy since you’d kissed your boyfriend good bye on your way out the door.

So you march right into your shared bedroom, strip down to your sensible underwear, light a candle, and lay across your bed. You hadn’t had to get yourself off in a good long while. Eddie kept you good and satisfied, the insatiable man that he is. You do your best to get in the right mindset, breathing deeply running your hands along your body.

You catch a glimpse of yourself, however, in the mirror across the room and you frown. Maybe your underwear is too sensible. Gliding to your dresser you dig in one of your drawers and pull out the lingerie you’d been planning on surprising Eddie with on his birthday. It’s lacy and see through and your heart rate kicks up just at the thought of the way you know his jaw will drop and his eyes will widen at the sight of you.

Once your curves are encased in the fine fabric, you lay down on the bed once more. Hands slide up to you with your nipples through the fabric and you sigh. It feels good. Not as good as it would if it was Eddie touching you…but good.

You roll onto your stomach and look at the clock. 2:00 pm.

Fuck.

Eddie wouldn’t be home for hours. The injustice of that fact makes you pout and roll petulantly back over onto your other side. This new position gives you a straight line of sight to Eddie’s old black lunch pail and you perk up. This might be your best bet to loosening up and finding pleasure on your own.

~*~

It’s 2:45pm when the shop phone rings. Eddie doesn’t look up from the car that he’s working on, instead ducking his head further under the hood and squinting at the engine that’s been giving him a hard time.

“Eds! It’s your girl calling!”

Eddie stands up straight so fast he bangs his head hard on the underside of the hood.

“Motherfuck,” he mutters to himself, rubbing a grease-stained hand on the part of his head that was sure to soon form a bump. He makes his way over to the little office of the mechanic shop and takes the phone from his uncle’s outstretched hand with an appreciative nod.

“Baby? What’s up? Is everything okay?” Eddie’s apprehension is clear. You never call him at work. Not because you don’t want to but because your days are usually both so busy there’s barely any chance to do so.

“Eddie!” you cry out over the phone, your voice high and bright. “I miss you. Come home.”

Eddie’s a bit startled by your demand, immediately checking his watch. Just as he thought, it’s still really early in the afternoon.

“Why are you home so early? Are you sick?” His heart starts thudding over the possibilities when he hears your musical laugh.

“No it’s a half day at work, silly. Remember?”

Eddie shakes away his fears and laughs along.

“Oh sorry sweetheart, completely forgot.” He tosses a glance back into the shop at all the cars he still has to get to. “Must be nice. Getting into any trouble with your free time?”

He asks the question lightly. Joking. Fully expecting you to say you’re about to go grocery shopping or you’re watching a shitty movie on tv or reading one of your paper backs. But then you mumble.

“Well...maybe just a little.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and a huff of a chuckle escapes his lips.

“Oh yeah? What’s my girl up to, huh?”

There’s the rustle of fabric over the line and then your voice is low.

“I’ve needed you since you left this morning Eddie. Can’t take care of myself as good as you can,” you say, practically moping. Eddie’s stomach flips and he slams his back against the wall next to the phone, making sure he can no longer be seen in the doorway from the shop.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart are you...are you touching yourself?”

“I was trying to. It’s getting a little easier now that the edible is kicking in,” you say, sounding far off for a second like you’re thinking real hard about it.

“Now that the…” Eddie’s face splits in a massive grin and he rubs a hand over his eye. “So you’re telling me you’re high right now?”

“It’s kicking in, yeah,” you whisper cheekily and he can guess you’re smiling.

“So you mean to tell me that you’re high…and horny…and calling - begging - for me to come home and fuck you?” Eddie closes his eyes and squeezes the phone cord so tightly that he’d worry it would snap if he actually gave a fuck. His low, almost growling words cause you to moan over the phone and his knees go weak.

“Yes, Eddie. Need you so bad. Can you come take care of me? Please?”

Eddie doesn’t reply, not directly to you. Instead he turns toward the shop and cries out, loud enough that you hear it and descend into giggles.

“Uncle Wayne, I’ve gotta go. Gotta…take care of something at home!”

~*~

When Eddie thunders up the stairs to your shared apartment, he doesn’t know that you can hear him coming from inside. You laugh at the way you can hear his enthusiasm in his rapid steps and adjust yourself, waiting for him to reach the door.

When you hear him step onto the welcome mat you wrench the door open and lean against the frame dramatically. Just on cue, Eddie’s jaw drops to the floor.

“Welcome home, baby,” you coo handing over the glass of whiskey you have in one hand. His eyes are so fixed on your lingerie that he barely notices what you were holding in the other hand until you busy yourself with it.

You bring one of his pre-rolled joints up to your lips and light it with his favorite lighter, puffing a bit to bring the burning end to life. The lap of Eddie’s mechanic coveralls immediately tightens as he watches your plush lips work around the joint.

“Fucking Christ…” Eddie mutters to himself before knocking back the entire glass of whiskey in one go. You pull the joint from your lips to laugh at his reaction, squealing when he slams the door and grabs you around the waist, dragging you into the apartment. “Where have you been all my life?”

You giggle and bring the joint up to his lips, delighted when he takes a grateful drag.

“I’ve literally been right next to you your whole life,” you respond, referring to the friendship you’d shared since grade school, long before you both admitted your feelings for one another.

“Well fucking stay right next to me, okay?” Eddie gruffly asks, burying his face in your neck. You hum your approval and wrap yourself around his tall, lanky frame.

“That depends.”

“Oh? On what?”

“Can you fuck me now?” you ask breathlessly. Eddie pulls back to look at you, laughing, but you’re not joking.

“Of course, baby. But I just got in the door. Let me shower and - ,”

“No!” you say petulantly, holding onto him as he tries to step out of your grasp. “I want you like this.”

You begin kissing up his neck and he attempts to extricate himself.

“Sweetheart, I’m covered in grease and sweat...” Eddie shakes his head but you’re nodding so profusely he stops in his tracks.

“’s what I’ve been fantasizing about all day,” you clarify, biting your lip and looking up at him through dropping eyelashes. Eddie’s cock hardens that much more and soon you’re pressed up against the closed door to your shared bedroom, his thigh fitted between yours in a way that has you panting.

When Eddie finally pulls away from the act of devouring your mouth, you sag against the door to catch your breath, watching as he pulls from the joint that he must have miraculously continued to hold onto as you’d made out. He looks like sex on a stick as he stands there, propped up by the arm against the door beside you, joint between his lips, tousled hair sticking up in every direction from the impatience of your hands. His coveralls have been zipped open and pushed askew by those same impatient hands and he smiles under your scrutiny.

“What brought this...enthusiasm on, babe?” he asks lowly. “Not that I’m complaining of course.”

You wriggle under his gaze. A little embarrassed, but also wholly aware that it’s Eddie. Your Eddie. So you’re honest.

“Wanna be your little housewife,” you admit shyly. His features crumple for a split second as he is entirely unable to handle how fucking adorable you are. But just as quickly he’s grinning.

“Of course you do,” he says confidently. He places the joint back between his lips and presses his thumb against the plush of your lower lip. The tip of your tongue darts out automatically to lick at the pad of his thumb and Eddie’s breath catches. Your pupils are blown wide. You’re properly horny (and properly stoned) and a deep seeded desire to care for you bubbles in his abdomen. “Can you get on the bed for me, princess?”

Like a gentleman, he opens the door you’d been pressed against and bows you inside. You do as you’re told and immediately drop down onto the mattress, looking up at him expectantly like a puppy who is awaiting further trick instruction. Eddie wants to laugh, but his dick also twitches impatiently in his coveralls, reminding him action is probably the best next course.

“Undress me?” he asks as the next part of his plan. You get up on your knees on the bed and drag him to you by the fabric of his coveralls. Tongue placed between teeth, you stare him in the eyes as you zip him down all the way, pushing the sleeves over and off his shoulders. The garment drops to gather at his hips where it tented at the crotch, catching on his hard dick. You whimper and reach for it but Eddie grabs your arms and winds them around his neck, pulling you in for a kiss.

When he pulls back, he has a smirk on his lips.

"Alright. Time for a shower."

Your brows knit together immediately in betrayal and your arms tighten around him, trying to keep him grounded against you.

"But I - !"

Eddie shushes you and steps out of his coveralls. His boxer-covered dick prods insistently against you and it makes you whine more, rubbing into it as much as you can. But Eddie's having none of it. He pulls you off the bed, dragging you alongside him on his way to the bathroom.

"Shhh, sweetheart. You're gonna help clean me up. That's what a good housewife would do, yeah?" He comes to a stop in front of the sink, leaning you against the counter so he can pull back the shower curtain and turn on the water. You brighten up a little at his words.

"Yeah..." you agree tentatively. Eddie rewards you with a massive grin and before he can stall any longer, you strip down his boxers and nudge him into the shower. You tear off your lingerie and step in behind him as fast as you can, pushing your way into his waiting, dripping arms.

"There's my baby," he coos. The longer the two of you stand in warm embrace beneath the steaming shower head, the more his erection flags into a contented, semi-hard state, however, and you aren't having any of that. So you are the one who pulls away and gets to work.

You clean your man. Well.

Soap up and down the length of his body. Shampoo in his hair - which you can only access efficiently once he leans down to help you reach. He hums and groans as you massage the shampoo and then the conditioner into his scalp and the sound makes your entire body sing. There's so much intimacy in the act, and if you weren't so turned on that every nerve in your body felt like a live wire, you probably would have enjoyed it more. Once he's started rinsing off, however, you attend to your favorite part. Running your hands up and down his abdomen and tugging at his cock without preamble.

"Baby..." Eddie reprimands, his eyes closed against the spray of water as he rinses conditioner out of his sopping curls. He doesn't open his eyes or move to stop you so you take that as your cue to continue. You get him nice and hard again, aided by the shower water and saliva that you spit into your hand.

"Sweetheart," Eddie tries again, chuckling this time and grabbing at your wrist. "I'm supposed to be getting clean."

"I don't care," you answer petulantly. "You've kept me waiting."

Eddie's laugh is full-bellied this time. He turns the water off and slaps your ass lightly, stepping around you to get out of the shower.

"I know, baby, and that was cruel. Why don't you get dried up and put on another one of those little get ups for me. I'll get us another drink and we'll do whatever you want, okay?"

You fight the urge to groan in frustration that you're being made to wait yet again, but a good housewife wouldn't do that. So you nod and wrap yourself in the towel he offers you, bouncing back to the bedroom on impatient feet.

~*~

Eddie had gotten the upper hand on you, that much he knew. Making you wait had been cruel, but he knew it was better then getting you - and the bedroom - all covered in grease. He makes a mental note, however, to fuck you on his work counter at the garage one evening next week after closing time when Wayne was out of town. He's nothing if not attentive to your wants and needs.

He whistles as he walks back to the room, a glass of water and two cold bottles of beer in hand. He's expecting you to be waiting patiently - maybe even already at the door. But he stops short the minute he sees you.

You're spread out on the bed in a different lingerie set, this one somehow even sexier than the last (the second part of the birthday present you're giving him early) and he feels his entire body flush a deep red. You watch it spread down his neck and chest and rub your thighs together.

"Eddieeee," you call out, letting the second syllable become a whine. You might still be begging, but you're the one in power now, as far as Eddie is concerned, as he moves on autopilot towards you. You get up onto your knees and accept the bottle of beer from him, wrapping your lips around it lasciviously. Eddie chokes as he takes his own sip.

"Can I have it?" you ask, gazing up at him from beneath your eyelashes. Eddie swallows thickly.

"Can you have what, princess?" he asks. He knows what you want. He's just a teasing asshole and needs you to say it.

But you are tired of playing the game so you don't play fair. Instead of answering him you pull at the towel tied around his waist till it falls to the floor, exposing an erection so proud your mouth positively waters. You make eye contact as you reach for it, practically daring him to get in the way of what you want again. But Eddie's resolve is completely gone at this point, and he lets you have it, letting his eyes fall closed at the sensation of your hand wrapping around him.

You tug at him. You let your thumb ease over the thick vein that you so enjoy licking. You flick your wrist when your fist encases his mushroom head, coaxing a bead of precum out the slit just as you'd hoped.

Eddie takes one final swig of his beer before grabbing your bottle from you and placing both it and his on the night stand. You whine when the motion pulls his cock out of your grasp, but you’re placated when he climbs onto the bed and grabs you by the thighs, pulling you roughly under him.

“How do you want it, baby?” He asks, kissing a trail down your neck from your ear to your clavicle. “What’s my girl been fantasizing about in that little head of yours?”

A tiny half sober part of your brain finds humor in the phrasing of the question. You happen to know Eddie finds you to be the smartest person he’s ever met, so the diminutive nature of his words tickles the part of you that longed for role play like this. Tired of being the smart girl, the serious girl, the strong girl, right now you just want to be this. Eddie’s girl.

“I just want to make you feel good,” you coo. You can see the conflict play out behind his eyes at your response. On one hand he’s so fucking turned on by you wanting to please him. Like he can’t fucking stand how turned on he is. But he also gets off on you getting off, so he’s not sure how to proceed.

And you know this. You know your Eddie is the most selfless, generous lover you’ve ever had and you know that it must kill him to think of putting his pleasure first. But you furrow your brow and give him the biggest puppy dog eyes possible in an attempt to telegraph the fact that you need him to play along. That him taking what he wants will be giving you everything you need.

It’s clear the moment this clicks in his mind because Eddie’s features go soft. He rubs a knuckle lightly against your temple and smiles.

“Of course my baby wants to make me feel good." The kiss he places to your forehead and then the tip of your nose makes your eyes slide closed. So it's soft he wants, you think to yourself. Your heart rattling around in your ribcage doesn't exactly feel ready to slow down enough to match a soft tempo, but you'll work with what he wants to give you.

At least that's what you're thinking when suddenly you feel the bed shifting away from you and your world upended when Eddie flips you over onto your hands and knees. You scramble for purchase against the sheets and yelp in surprise, but you don't even have a second to get situated before Eddie is dragging you back against him by your hips.

"Gonna do so good for me, aren't you baby?" Eddie asks, deep and low from behind you. His voice makes you shiver, as does his hand which slides from between your shoulder blades, down the line of your spine, ultimately delivering a light slap that has your ass bouncing. He groans at the visual of his own making, gripping your hips with two hands again. "Fuck that's the ticket right there, huh?"

"Let me be good for you - oh!" You start off trying to incite him to finally do something but break off in a gasp when his cock begins sliding through your pussy lips, getting your slick all over his hardened length. The tip prods your clit and you buckle inward, so turned on and edged from the events of the last few hours. Eddie laughs and the sound goes straight to your core.

"My little wife that sensitive? Worked yourself up so much for me, huh sweetheart?"

The whimpering inhale to take in in response to that statement makes his cock pulse.

"Need you, Eddie," you whisper. Eddie hums behind you before pushing at your hip to flip you over once again. You're more disoriented this time, even more so when Eddie moves from his place between your thighs in order to straddle your stomach.

You gaze at him above you from your new position on your back and...fuck it is glorious. You try to make grabby hands at him but he ignores you, leaning over instead to the nightstand where you'd left his other pre-rolled joint. He lights it and resituates himself over you, taking a deep drag and dropping his head back as he holds the smoke deep in his lungs while stroking his cock over you with his free hand.

"Jesus Christ..." you mutter to yourself at the debaucherous image above you. You lift up onto your elbows to get closer and he rolls his head back toward you, opening his eyes half mast to blow smoke in your direction. When the cloud clears you see his lazy grin, red-rimmed eyes sweeping up and down your figure.

"This do it for ya?" he asks, playfully. You nod forcefully, unable to take your eyes off the head of his angry red cock disappearing and reappearing in his fist. The slide is loud and fast and wet. Wet from your own slick, your realize with a lurch of your stomach. Fuck you want him inside you. Reaching out a hand towards him, you tear your gaze away from his dick and bring it back up to his overly amused face.

"Can I help?" you ask, way too innocently for the context of the situation. Eddie pretends to mull it over, joint elevated in his free hand as his tongue slides over his teeth.

"Yeah, I think there's something you can do..." he says vaguely. You're unsure of the implications until he moves forward, pushing the straps of your lingerie off your arms, and it is suddenly abundantly clear what he is angling for - and you couldn't be more excited.

As Eddie brings the underside of his cock to rest against your sternum, you lift your breasts up on either side to sandwich his length between. Eddie watches you from above, his grin indicating how proud he is that you're playing along so quickly.

"There you go, that's perfect. Now could you just - oh fuck." Without him even having to complete the request, you spit on his cock, adding to the wetness still present from your slick, reaching up and spreading it over his erection in a way that has him biting his lip in seconds. "Look at you, knowing just what I need."

You smile up at him and push your breasts together again, moving slightly to let him feel the drag of your plush skin against him. Eddie places the joint back between his lips and leans forward to grip your shoulders for leverage. This allows him to fuck his hips back and forth, creating the friction he was seeking.

Though this act doesn't directly stimulate any of your erogenous zones specifically, the sounds it pulls from his lips and the look on his crumpled face as he watches what you're letting him do to you - it's got your pussy practically weeping.

"You're so fucking hot, princess," Eddie says around the joint before taking one last long hit and reaching over to stamp it out in the ashtray on the bedside table. With both his hands free, he returns to you with renewed attention, dropping his palms to circle lightly over your nipples. Your eyes widen at the stimulation and Eddie grins. "Like it when I fuck your tits?"

"Yes," you breathe out in response immediately.

Eddie pinches your nipples as a reward and your hips stutter upwards into nothing behind him. Eddie laughs and begins thrusting a bit harder, wrapping his big hands around your smaller ones to help crush your tits even tighter around his cock.

"Fuckin' yeah you do. My perfect girl. Oh shit, just look at you," he practically grunts. You stare heart eyes up at him, watching him take pleasure from your flesh in the most selfish way while still somehow making you feel like you're god's gift to earth. The image of him - eyes blown black and lips red and swollen from biting as his cock moves in the valley of your breasts - has you letting out an unfiltered moan. Eddie's brow twists in mock sympathy. "Need something, princess?"

Your hips buck again and Eddie chuckles, reaching a hand behind himself and down between your legs to play with you where you need him most. He jaw drops at the feeling of your excessive arousal.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're soaked. I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" he frowns down at you in faux commiseration. You shake your head but your eyelids flutter at the feeling of his fingers against your clit.

"No this is - oh. This is about y-you," you respond, squeezing your breasts tighter to try and get him to fuck them faster. Eddie ignores your statement and instead sinks a two fingers into your heat. Your body tightens and your eyes slam shut. The feeling of his fingers inside you and his thumb on your clit have you neglecting your goal and after a few minutes your hands drop entirely from your breasts in favor of fisting the sheets. Eddie's dick slides up and down your slicked sternum along to the rocking of your body. Watching it rub against your wet skin, watching your tits bounce freely while your cunt squelches loudly around the in and out motions of his fingers - it all has Eddie feeling higher than any strain ever could.

After a few minutes more of the best show Eddie's ever seen in his life, he eases his fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, pulling the bottom one out from between your teeth. The action has you opening your dazed eyes to peer up at him, breathless.

"Let's take care of that pretty pussy now, alright?" Eddie prompts, easing himself back to sit on the bed between your legs. You seize the moment, however, and disentangle yourself from him, dropping down to take his cock in your mouth. Eddie's hands immediately find your hair and he chokes on air. "Hey, hey, stop that, I said we're taking care of you."

"This is what I want," you try to say, but your mouth is a little preoccupied with his cock. You run your tongue up the vein you love so much. You let his fat tip tap the back of your throat, gagging eagerly when you feel his hips press forward just that tiny bit more as he loses himself in the feeling of you.

It's messy. Absolutely filthy, exactly how you like it. Exactly how you know he likes it. With your hands on his balls and elbows and knees digging into the mattress, you arch your back and make sure your ass sticks up that much more with each bob of your head. Eddie certainly takes note. You know because eventually his hand slides back to get a big handful of one of your cheeks before raining down a slap on your backside that has you slamming forward and choking on his length even more. Your eyes water and your throat burns. The guttural moan he lets out in response, however, is priceless.

You're more than a little disappointed when he pulls you off of him finally, holding you back with his hands under your arms like you're a child he doesn't trust to behave correctly.

"Now are you going to let me fuck you or not?" he asks, his voice absurdly tired as if he's suffered some great inconvenience.

You feel inhibition-less, both from your nice high and the result of being absolutely cock drunk at this point, so you giggle and draw a line down from his jaw, over his neck and clavicle, and down to circle one of his nipples.

"You've already fucked me," you tease with a voice hoarse from his dick. You lean forward in spite of his hold on you and lick a stripe from peck to peck, kitten licking his other nipple and up the expanse of his tattoo. "In two different ways, actually."

Eddie, now fully riled up and aching, has had enough of your teasing (though to be fair he's done much worse to you so far today). He pulls you back into sitting position and grips your jaw lightly to force your roving eyes to focus on his.

"I want to fuck you properly now," he enunciates dramatically. You nod his grip and he nods along with you, trying to hide the grin growing on his lips. "What'll it be? Back or hands and knees?"

Before he's even finished asking, though, you've pulled out of his light grasp and scrambled around on the bed, dropping to your forearms and presenting your ass to him. Eddie groans, deep and low, and squeezes at your hips and waist almost too tightly. Almost. Instead you moan at the bruising feeling and wiggle your ass to beg for more.

The sight of you in front of him, primed and ready and all covered in lace has Eddie's mouth positively watering. He realizes, however, that you're still trussed up in your lingerie. The straps are down and your tits are out, and he'd moved the gusset of your panties to the side to finger you, but there are still parts of your body obscured by fabric. And that just doesn't sit right with him.

There are a few ties in the back that he attempts to fidget with, but his impatience gets the better of him after just a few moments. He grips two handfuls of the material and wrenches the body suit in two, straight down the middle.

"Eddie!" you chastise, high and loud. It ends on an incredulous laugh because, regardless of how absurd and immature the action was, it's also incredibly hot. "This was supposed to be a birthday present for you!"

"Well fuck, baby. I had to unwrap it first, jeez," Eddie laughs right back. He pulls the tattered remains of the ruined garment off, tossing it away from the bed, before grabbing you by the front of your thighs and slamming your body back against him. The two of you let out twin moans at the impact. His cock slides around in your slick for a moment, but you're no longer waiting around. You reach down and guide him inside you without any further preamble.

The stretch is still immense, regardless of the excessive foreplay. He's always been a lot to take, and your body is somehow always still shocked by his sheer size. But Eddie anticipates this, of course, so his finger is on your clit within seconds, working you through the initial ache and bringing you quickly into a throbbing, expectant pleasure.

"This pussy's been waiting for me, hasn't she," Eddie whispers right in your ear. His chest is on your back as his hips begin rolling, bringing him in and out of you.

"N-needed you for so long, Eddie," you whimper, cheek pressing into the sheets. Eddie tsks and places kisses to the base of your neck and shoulders.

"I know, baby. You've been so good, waiting for me to come home and take care of you."

“Always waiting for you to come home,” you whimper. Eddie knows it’s just part of the role play. He knows you have work and your own hobbies and friends and a life on top of the one you share with him. Realistically you aren’t sitting around at home waiting for him. But the memory of your voice so sweetly begging him on the phone and the memory of you greeting him at the door in lingerie mixes with the sensory overload he’s experiencing inside you. It makes his cock twitch and his fingers grip your waist with a bruising pressure that you love.

“I know, princess,” he hums, dropping down over you again so that his chest is to your back, hands propping him up on the mattress on either side of you. With one hand Eddie pulls your hair aside so he can pepper light kisses to the back of your neck. A stark contrast to the unforgiving, pendulous thrust of his hips.

“Maybe I should just keep you here,” he says breathlessly after a few minutes that are silent save for the wet slap of skin on skin. He feels you shudder beneath him and continues, lips catching your earlobe. “Keep you naked and wet and waiting on this bed for me at all times. Filled with my cum. Covered in it.”

You inhale sharply at his words and your lips pull into a dramatic o. Eddie feels you clench around him and is more than aware of what this is doing to you.

So of course he continues.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be my pretty little thing?”

You nod your head erratically into the mattress, practically beside yourself at this point. It’s exactly what you want, at least for the purposes of this fantasy. The weight of Eddie against you and the steady way his cock pummels that sweet spot inside you has your eyes rolling back in your head as your lids drop. It has your toes curling and your brain going fuzzy, like static with an untuned radio station. Every nerve ending in your body has evaporated save for the ones between your thighs which receive all of the attention they could ever need.

“Tell me you’re mine, baby,” Eddie says abruptly. Your hazy mind struggles to comprehend his words but understanding seeps through, as does the memory that for as much as you love praise, your man feeds off it as well.

“I’m yours, Eddie Munson,” you gasp, the words twisting in a whine. His finger has found your clit again and it’s just unfair how ducking good it feels. You arch your back into the feeling, widening your legs to encourage him even deeper. The sight and your words has Eddie gritting his teeth.

“Oh fuck this,” he says suddenly, abruptly pulling out and flipping you onto your back. The sudden motion and the unwelcome emptiness has you dazed and your stare at the ceiling in confusion, blind to the way Eddie adjusts you. He lifts your hips up to slide a pillow under the small of your back, elevating you and extending your legs. In this new position the backs of your thighs meet the tops of his, your knees hooking on his hips while his knees dig into the mattress.

Hearing a shick shick shick sound that doesn’t correspond with the feeling of his dick re-entering you is both disorienting and upsetting, so you tip your chin to your chest in an effort to get a glimpse of him tugging on his slicked cock. However, that’s the exact moment that Eddie leans over you and fills your field of vision with his beautiful face.

“Sorry, princess. Needed to see your eyes while you said you were mine.” His words are so sweet, but he subverts the sweetness by choosing that exact moment to breach your entrance again.

“Oh god. Eddie - oh.” Your eyes slam shut to keep from crossing while you struggle up fathom the deliciousness of his first inward thrust. When his rhythm picks up, however, you feel his big warm palm press against your cheek before giving it a feather light tap to gain your attention.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” Eddie coos. You do as he says, squinting up at him to take in his massive, pleased smile. His hair is stuck to his temples, whether still wet from the shower or sweaty from exertion you’re unsure. All you are sure of is that fact that he is gorgeous. His eyes that shine down on you with so much love, the dimples that sink into his cheek to make space for his joy, his lips that move as they say your name. The whole picture has your brain screaming mine mine mine mine.

“That’s right, pretty girl, all yours,” Eddie agrees with a smirk. Your brain and drug addled brain must have caused you to speak your thoughts out loud but you can’t bring it in you to care. Not when Eddie is hoisting you up even higher against his elevated lap, causing your back to arch off the bed, your head and shoulders pressing down against the mattress for leverage as you bounce in his grasp.

“Jesus Christ, I want it. I want it, I w-want it Eddie…” You’re positively rambling now, scrabbling against the sheets for purchase. Seeking out your organs with legs that shake as the squeeze against Eddie’s narrow hips.

“And I want you. Wanna fuck you on the washing machine. Bend you over the - fuck - the kitchen counter while you wear one of those aprons and nothing else.” If you’re rambling, so is he. He’s so far gone in the fantasy at this point, so overwhelmed by everything he never thought he, the town freak, could want let alone have, in any capacity.

The gravel tone of his voice and the fucked out look on his face are what do you in ultimately. You squeeze down on his cock and cry out, wide eyes blind with pleasure and fingernails digging into any part of him you can reach.

“Oh god, oh Eddie!”

“Fucking shit, princess. You’re so tight, that’s - fuck!” Eddie has lost all intelligibility at this point. But that’s just fine by you, because you’re miles high now. Body tingling and seizing and floating, both from the weed and the strength of your climax.

You fall boneless back to the bed and register the fact that Eddie’s still teetering on the brink, every muscle tensed and shaking as he chases satisfaction. Your body is pushed higher up the bed with each of his escalating, punishing thrusts. He seems lost, and that’s what gives you the instinct to ground him.

Grabbing at his neck and shoulders, you pull Eddie down to you, causing him to catch himself on the mattress on either side of your head while you kiss him. It’s extremely one sided with his fat gone he is and with how much energy he has focused on pistoning into your soaked pussy. But it feels good nonetheless and you know it’s doing something for you to slide your tongue into his slack jawed mouth because it causes him to let out a groan from deep in his chest.

When you pull away you place your hands on both sides of his face and hold him there to make eye contact. His gaze is incredibly unfocused, and his brow is twisted in agony, but you keep the eye contact and make sure to enunciate when you speak.

“I’m yours, Eddie Munson,” you repeat the earlier sentiment, this time staring straight into his soul. Eddie’s entire body convulses then, just like clock work, and he buries his face into your neck and clings to you while hot ropes of his cum paint your walls. You hold him through it, even as his hips continue to rock. “There we go. That’s it.”

It takes him several moments to come back to earth, aided in his return only by the gentle feeling of your hands caressing his back and sliding through his hair. He hums into your neck, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin there before finally pulling back to look at you.

Your kiss swollen lips are still wet. Your eyes are much to bright and your hair is positively bedraggled. All surefire proof that you have been well and thoroughly debauched. Pride swells in his chest at the sight, but it also swells in his dick, causing it to twitch inside you in spite of softening, and you inhale sharply at the feeling. Your features settle back into a relaxed smile though and Eddie kisses beneath your eye.

“That do it for you, baby?” he asks, voice ridiculously smug. You reward him with a massive smile, but your shrug throws him.

“Yeah, but we’re just getting started handsome. We have the rest of the day. Thought you wanted to keep me in your bed, filled and covered in cum?”

A deep blush stains Eddie’s cheeks and chest as you quote the dirty talk he’d spewed in a moment of passion. But, not one to back down from a challenge, he pulls his softened cock out of you slowly, pleased by the way your smirk crumples st the loss.

“You’re right, princess,” Eddie says with a grin. He drags the reddened head of his cock up from your slit over your pubic bone and to your lower belly, sure to catch it on your clit on the way up to elicit a gasp from you. He smears the mixture of your cum and his there on your belly before leaning down and licking a stripe up through the mess that has you clenching around nothing.

When Eddie looks up to find you gazing at him with mooning eyes, he takes pity on you and leans back up for a kiss. A sweaty, salty, cum-flavored kiss that’s everything you, the freak’s lover and a freak in her own right, could ever want.

It doesn’t take long before wandering hands and massaging tongues lead you to feel something stiff digging into your hip again. You reach down and graze your fingers over his leaking tip and bite your lip.

“Make me yours again, handsome, and if I can still walk afterwards I’ll make you dinner.”

Eddie shakes his head deviously at your proposal.

“We’ll be having take out.”

You frown up at him.

“But I thought you like it when I make dinner,” you begin to argue, but then you’re crying out because Eddie sheaths himself back inside you with one thrust. Your pliant, wet, satiated body welcomes him without protest this time. Eddie grasps at your curves and nudges his nose against yours before moving.

“I do love it when you make dinner, baby. But the way I intend on fucking you, you sure as hell won’t be able to walk tonight. That’s a promise.”

And your Eddie is a man of his word.

~*~

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Hope you enjoyed ♥️

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #mechanic!eddie Munson #stranger things smut

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jeon-ify · 6 months

Text

| quit staring - song mingi |

synopsis: it wasn’t the cologne or the grey blazer he put on this evening before the show, nor was it the slight gloss in his lips that made you fall into a craze for the entire night. it was the way his blazer was unbuttoned with nothing underneath. it was the way his chest was so plump with pretty muscles, the crevices and slight contours in his collarbones that made you weak in the knees— weak between your thighs.

warnings: sexting, dom!mingi, sub!bratty reader, reader starts staring hella hard at mingi, degradation (slut, whore, bitch), orgasm denial, fingering, car sex (slight), swearing, if i missed anything, you know what to do!

there mingi was; stood over you, reaching to grab something on either side of you. the quick scent of his fresh cotton and sandalwood scent sends a rush through your nostrils, as well as the body oil he’d rubbed on his chest. he knew what he was doing tonight— using your favorite products to get you into bed all over him later.

he leans over to whisper something in your ear that you almost didn’t catch, but you force yourself to understand for the good of the group. “keep staring at me with your jaw on the floor so people won’t think something of it,”

you didn’t realize how hard you’ve been staring, but mingi felt your eyes burning holes through his torso all evening. you can’t help it when all you can think of is his hands around your throat while you ride him all through the night.

“i wasn’t staring. and you smell good so its hard not to look,” you whisper back. departing with a smirk, he takes his assigned seat across from you. your thighs nearly clench on their own, unaware of your surroundings.

the conversations and soft music continues to flood the room, as your thoughts continue to flood your brain and trying to control yourself becomes harder by the minute.

you finally decide to make a move on your boyfriend because it can’t keep going on like this. at this rate, if you stand up someone will find a patch of your juices on the chair and a wet stain on the back of your dress.

you turn on your phone and look to your left and right, making sure no one is looking at what you’re about to send.

to: my man

please

i need to go home

my man:

Stop staring at me

No im jp

Whats up? Talk to me

to: my man

i want you inside of me

like all the way inside pls

want u to bend me in half and fuck me

knock my lights out im so fr

with the last of your foul messages to mingi, he looks around and glances at you, smirking before shooting his next few texts.

my man:

Yeah? Do i look that good?

Think u deserve a good pounding from how you controlled yourself all night

Dont u think?

your thighs clench and your heart drops to your ass at the texts mingi just typed back to you, your cheeks turning a flushed berry red, and your nose becoming shiny from the thin layer of sweat hugging your skin.

to: my man

my god mingi

pls lets go home come up with a shitty excuse

say that ur brother just called

say he needs a ride somewhere

my man:

Needy girl

Okay. I’ll let hwa know.

Can u start my car? My keys are in ur purse

*seen*

your hands fidget with your purse on autopilot, rushing to remote start his car. you cannot wait to get home— the feeling is building up and you hope it’s mutual just so you’d get the fucking of your life tonight. you see mingi talking to seonghwa about wanting to go home and somehow it works. whatever he says makes seonghwa look worried for a second, but mingi ends up fleeing in faux worry. you get up and greet everyone with mingi behind you, watching everyone say their good lucks to mingi. hiding a laugh in your throat, you walk out of the door and hurry to the passenger seat of your boyfriends car. mingi follows suit, sighing the moment he closes his door.

“what’d you tell him that made him look so worried?” you begin.

“i told him my brother got sick and i had to drive him to the hospital. i don’t even have a brother,”

“as long as it worked. now let’s go home please, mingi.” the car doesnt move, mingi’s tongue pokes through his cheek as he smirks at you, watching the way your thighs clench and your breathing picks up. he breathes out a small chuckle, almost mocking your neediness. “you just can’t wait, can you?”

“no, baby. i can’t, i’ve waited all day.” your breath hitches in your throat when mingi’s long fingers graze through your inner thighs and up your skirt. he tips his head up to face you, planting a kiss on your chin. he moves his fingers up, pushing your panties to the side and sliding a finger between your folds. he rubs up and down, eliciting a couple gasps and moans from you.

“this what you wanted, y/n?” he stares lasers into your face, distracting you from his thick index and middle fingers plunging into your sopping hole. he curls them, pulling the strings of your orgasm and threatening to ruin his expensive custom leathered seats. “oh my g- slow down! i can’t—“ his fingers move at an ungodly pace, making you oh so overwhelmed with how powerful your orgasm is about to be from his fingers alone. when he doesn’t get the response he anticipates, he lands a harsh slap on your clit making you yell.

“that wasn’t my question. is this what you wanted so bad in front of my friends? what if someone saw the dirty texts you were sending me, hm? would you want that?”

just when you’re about to cum, mingi snatches his fingers out of you, pressing the brake and shifting gears to begin driving home. “if you complain about not cumming, you’ll never see the end of it, am i clear?”

“yes,” you breathe out, fixing your panties and trying to calm yourself to the best of your abilities.

the ride becomes slower and more dreadful, waiting to get home to finally reach an orgasm.

after what feels like hours, you arrive home and rush up the stairs to your bedroom, quickly undressing, waiting for mingi to see you ready for him. you hear his footsteps walking up the stairs, inching closer to the bedroom. he locks the door behind him as if anyone were to walk in.

“if you weren’t my girl, i’d think you were a whore. take your bra off.” the words mingi says to you never fail to make you feel like the smallest of the small, and never fail to make your panties wet. you almost drool on yourself, feeling how his sharp cat-like eyes watch your body move and your tits bounce with the moves you make. he undresses himself and hovers over you, grabbing your leg and putting it over his torso. he plants kisses on your neck, up to your jaw and beginning a hot makeout. your tongue explores every inch of his mouth, sucking and breathing in his venom.

“fuck, mingi. please do something.” he continues to grind over your heat, rubbing against your black laced panties. your wet cunt is visible to him through the lace, making his breath pick up. he leans down to suck a generous amount of skin on your right nipple, making your back arch upwards. he sucks and sucks like his life depended on it, blowing on the spot and sending chills through your chest.

“yeah? want me to be rough with you? think you deserve a good pounding after what you did to me at dinner today?” he brings his fingers down to your clit, rubbing quickly before unnoticingly pushing his fat cock into your hole. you try to answer him by apologizing, but you need a moment to adjust to his size.

“fuck! fuck!” you scream out as he straightens himself upwards and has your legs on his shoulders. he pounds into you quicker, not giving you a moment to relax. it’s skin on skin and it’s raw. his tip is kissing your cervix, making your thighs shake on his chest.

“there you go, pounding you like the good bitch you are. gonna knock you up, yeah? wanna walk around with my babies in you?”

beads of sweat begin to form on the base of his chest and the corners of his forehead, making you clench around him. he feels your orgasm approaching, making him slow his thrusts just to bother you.

this fucker.

“faster, mings.” you moan and cry in hopes that he’ll let you cum, but…

“you’re not cumming yet. i’m cumming first tonight, i deserve it.”

“i can’t hold it mingi please please please!” his pace quickens at an ungodly speed, making you fall silent and mingi groaning and whimpering at the feeling. your stomach clenches and mingi continues his abuse on your pussy.

“fuck, oh my god, baby. should have a gangbang from how good this pussy is. wanna share my bitch with my crew, yeah?” he leans down and lands a slap on the right side of your face, making your eyebrows furrow and your lips out from how fucking good your boyfriend is pounding you. the thought of a gangbang makes your pussy clench again around him, making his eyes darker and his chest heave.

“what a whore. wanna fuck my friends and show off what’s mine? you’re not even ashamed?” he grabs your jaw and makes you look into his eyes.

“n-no, just w-want you to fuck me. i live for you, i’m yours to use.”

“good girl, finally your brain works,” his cock throbs in your heat as his thrusts become shallow and slower. your eyes roll back as you try to hold your orgasm again.

“can i cum? please please please can i cum?” you beg, holding his hand and begging for a release.

“cream on my cock, pretty. let me feel you.”

“th-thank you! fuckkk,” it feels like you’re floating when your orgasm finally reaches and you let all go. mingi stops while he’s still in you, waiting for you to calm down before he shoots his load into you.

“gonna take a picture of my cum in you and send it to the groupchat. how’s that sound?”

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#kpop smut #ateez #kpop #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez san #mingi ateez #ateez mingi #song mingi smut #song mingi x reader #song mingi #song mingi x y/n

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vaporwavebeach-writes · 1 year

Text

Kinktober Day 3 (Hate Sex)

Kevin Moskowitz (The Deep) x Reader (NSFW)

(900 words)

Summary: You hate fuck The Deep

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, rough sex, a little bit of biting, hair pulling, degradation, penetrative sex, hate sex (duh)

Notes: I hate him so he was the perfect choice for this one LMAO anyway I think I kinda slayed with this one, I’m proud of it. Enjoy the fic!!!

“Jesus, you are so fucking stupid,” you scoff, pushing Kevin onto the chair. He flinches as he hits the back of it, truly a pathetic sight. “A dolphin? The fuck is wrong with you, you fucking idiot?”

After Stillwell held a meeting this morning about covering up The Deep’s dolphin-train track fiasco, you knew this was the final straw with your shitty job at Vought, especially with The Deep. Not only was he a grade-A douchebag, but also completely moronic, which often caused you two to butt heads on numerous occasions regarding his behavior behind the scenes. This afternoon when you dragged him into an empty office, you took your chance to reprimand him- personally.

“Fuck you, I was doing the right thing!” He rubs the back of his neck, “I’m part of The Seven, it’s my job to save people AND my ocean friends, without me, you wouldn’t even have a fucking job, so don’t you dare tell me what to do you stuck up, little-”

Trying to get himself back to his feet, you push him down again, this time straddling him to keep him down. You can feel the heat of his erection pressing into you. You feel it, and he absolutely can feel it too.

You look down at him with disbelief, “You’ve gotta be joking.”

His dropped jaw momentarily comes back up. He snaps his eyes up to you. “Okay, but you’re the one straddling me here.”

For as stupid as The Deep was, he actually had a point here. Of course, you couldn’t let him know that. Without thinking, you plant a rough kiss on his lips and making sure to bite his lip when you pulled away. Letting out a pained yelp, he comes back to his senses. The Deep grips your hips tightly, painfully almost, keeping you pinned to his lap as your mouth moves down to ravage his neck.

“Y-yeah, nothing to say now, do you? You fucking sl-“

“Finish that sentence and I swear I’ll make what happened to your little dolphin friend look like a fucking joke,” you grit out, your hand flies up to take his chin between your fingers. Not wanting Kevin to get the upper hand on you, you start grinding against his erection. This seems to shut him up perfectly. Seeing him like this was driving you wild. Sure, you hate his fucking guts, but God, if it isn’t hot seeing him under you like this. Your arousal continues to spike. Not wanting to waste any more time, you ease off of him, undoing his belt quickly and pulling out his hardened cock.

Now you understand why The Deep was so incredibly arrogant when he had no reason to be. His cock was huge, it would inflate anyone’s ego.

“Like what you see?” Kevin says loftily.

“Well,” you sigh, “at least you’re good for one thing.” Pulling out a condom from a nearby drawer, you tear off the wrapper, rolling the rubber onto his cock. “Wouldn’t want to leave any traces, or else it’s both our jobs on the line.”

Rolling his eyes, Kevin grips your thighs as he slips into you roughly. You wince at his intrusion, so you decide to retaliate by yanking a fistful if his hair. Kevin lets out a loud and completely shameless whine. Barking out a cruel chuckle, your pace against him is fast and hard, wanting to get yourself off as soon as possible.

“G-God you’re pathetic,” you huff. “You think… you’re h-hot shit?” You ask, continuing to slam yourself down on his massive cock. “No, y-you just whine, and beg, and c-cry like a girl, wanting me… to fuck you.”

Letting a harsh moan escape from your lips as you spout your degradation, Kevin’s hand winds up in your hair, taking revenge from earlier. You hold in a grunt, refusing to give him any satisfaction of the fact that what he’s doing to you is making you extremely turned on.

“F-fuck off, I know… you like this,” he groans, “…just as much as I do.” Kevin bucks into you harder, making your knees shake ever so slightly. You can feel yourself getting close. The chair below you two seems to wobble a little.

Not wanting to be around him any longer, your eyes slam shut as you ride him out furiously, chasing after your release.

Kevin grips the arm of the chair and your hip, attempting to steady himself at your quickened pace. “There you g-go…” he chides breathlessly, “Fucking yourself on me like… like the w-whore you are-”

“S-shut…” you grab the back of his chair. “The fuck…” your hand wraps around Kevin’s throat, you pump yourself onto him as much as you can. Your grit out the last word with a harsh, ragged gasp and you feel your orgasm tear through you. “Up.”

With the ferocity of your climax, Kevin nears his peak as well. But, by the time he comes, you are already off of him, straightening out your clothes and hair. He looks over to you, who is now already walking out the door.

“Don’t forget to clean yourself up,” you toss a small box of tissues over to where he’s sitting which he pathetically tries, and fails to catch. Before leaving, you glare at him icily. “You speak a word of what happened here, and your funeral will be next after Translucent’s.”

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #the deep x you #the deep imagine #the deep x reader #the deep smut #the boys smut #the boys imagine #kevin moskowitz x reader #mia writes the boys!!!

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rempewiththetempe · 2 months

Text

Is This Off The Record? — Quinn Hughes⁴³

Chapter One

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Summary: Y/n gets a job as a rinkside reporter for the Vancouver Canucks, befriending many of the roster members, but one player (who just so happens to wear the C on his chest) is rather against the idea of becoming friends with the girl.

Warnings: use of y/n, cursing, I think that’s it?

w/c: 3,198

a/n: I haven’t written anything in what feels like forever, so I hope this isn’t too bad. I started writing this at like 6 in the morning without sleep the previous night and finished it up after i finally slept so I apologize for any mistakes. I’m also not very educated in the world of reporting but I tried my best. I hope you enjoy!

You weren’t new to the world of reporting. Not in the slightest, actually. You had dreamt of being a big-time journalist since you were just a girl. You’d had it in your head for a while now that you wanted to be a sports reporter. It was kind of niche, sure, but you were going to do everything you could to achieve that goal.

Your dad originally fueled your love for sports, and while you never played any sports competitively, you loved watching them nonetheless. There were a few sports that you didn’t enjoy watching at all. You didn’t have a “favorite” sport per se, but if someone asked you what sport you pictured yourself covering, you would say football. Of course, he made it clear that no matter what you did, he would be infinitely proud, but once your dad had learned that you wanted to work in sports reporting, he brought up how cool it would be if you could be a sideline reporter one day. Since then, that was the picture you’d had in your head for what you’d be doing in sports. Things don’t always work out the way you want them to though.

When you’d gotten the call that you landed a job as a rinkside reporter for the Vancouver Canucks, you were beyond excited, but part of you felt a bit disappointed. It was the part of you that always wanted to be perfect at everything, the part that always demanded the best of yourself, and the part that never accepted failure or defeat. You had been dreaming about your future job for years, and it wasn’t working out exactly how you’d planned. It was fine though. Lots of people would kill to get a job like this, so it had to be fine.

You’d lived in the Seattle area for your entire life, so you’d been hoping to land a job with the Seahawks. It didn’t work out that way, but you still landed a job with a major sports franchise within five hours of most of your immediate family. You were glad about that. Family was one of the most important things to you. Well, your family and your job.

It didn’t take you long to pack up your things, preparing for your move to Vancouver. You’d lived in that small studio apartment for the last 4 years and it still didn’t feel like home. It still felt empty and barren. No marks on the floor from the constant dragging of kitchen table chairs. No residue of crayon low on the wall from where you and your brother had drawn on it and done a shitty job of wiping it off the wall afterward. No crack in the porcelain of the bathroom counter poorly covered by whatever the fuck kind of glue concoction your mom had tested out on it. It wasn’t home. And now it really would never be considered home.

You’d already found a place to rent in Vancouver, a one-bedroom apartment with suspiciously low rent, and even though you’d seen it in person once, you were still slightly skeptical because of the price. Despite the stress of trying to move and find a place quickly, you were happy. Stressed, but happy. And that’s what mattered.

You didn’t want to take a plane when you went to Vancouver, for obvious reasons, so you drove your car. Well, technically you didn’t drive your car, your brother, Brock, did. He insisted on driving up with you, even if it was only a two-and-a-half-hour drive. He had a friend who had moved up to Vancouver about a year ago who he hadn’t seen since. He came up with the idea that he’d drive you up to your new home and make sure you were settled in, and then he’d have his friend pick him up from your place so they could hang out for a few days before he took a bus or a train home or something. He didn’t really have a fully formulated plan. He often didn’t. It annoyed you to no end sometimes. It somehow always worked out okay for him though.

“I’m just a little worried about you is all,” Brock spoke from the driver’s seat, glancing over at you momentarily before turning his eyes back to the road ahead of him. You were sat in the passenger seat of your car, absentmindedly scrolling through social media to pass the time of the could-be-worse drive. Brock’s words broke the comfortable silence that had hung in the car for the past 30 minutes. You lifted your gaze up from your phone to look at your brother who was two years your junior, yet was protective of you nonetheless.

“I don’t know what you’re getting so worried about,” you said with a faint smile and a fond shake of your head. You turned your phone off and set it face down on your thigh as you heard him sigh at your words.

“You’re gonna be all on you’re own, Y/n/n,” Brock let out with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, not taking his eyes off the road this time. His words didn’t exactly make a whole lot of sense. You moved out over four years ago and here he was talking about you living on your own.

“I’ve been living on my own.” An exasperated chuckle escaped you before your sentence had even left your mouth. You found Brock to be a little funny sometimes, even when he wasn’t trying to be.

“Shut up, you know what I mean, dumbass,” he said, a little laughter making its way out of his throat as he spoke. He shoved at your shoulder lightly. It was kind of hard to have a serious conversation with a boy whom you once saw eat an entire pack of Oreos within five minutes, then vomit everywhere, and proceed to try again with a pack of Nutter Butters.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you said, giggling slightly at the random memory that entered your mind. The car fell silent after that, but the silence was short-lived as 10 minutes later, Brock decided to play any and every Kidz Bop song on Bluetooth to annoy the ever-living shit out of you. It worked tremendously. You flipped him off and popped your headphones in, curling up on the seat in a way that you knew would have your back hurting later. You somehow managed to fall asleep, even with Brock brake-checking you about 10 times.

Brock had helped you settle into your new apartment, staying there for a day to help you get your stuff unpacked. There was only a box or two left to unpack by the time his friend came to pick him up. You hugged him tightly, knowing it would probably be a little while until you saw him again.

That night, you’d wanted to go to bed early, since you had your first day on the job tomorrow, but, of course, you couldn’t stop tossing and turning until about three in the morning when your alarm was set to wake you up at 6:30. You were sure that snooze button would be pressed at least a few times the next morning, and you were right.

You’d finally gotten out of bed at around seven in the morning. Something like that. You weren’t entirely sure. It didn’t affect your morning schedule too much though. You’d given yourself extra time so you could unpack the rest of your stuff. That part of your schedule had been replaced by you lying in bed and repeatedly pressing the snooze button. You could always unpack your stuff when you got back to the apartment, so it wasn’t a huge deal.

The Canucks’ practice technically started at 11 AM, but most of the players arrived at ten, so that’s when you wanted to be there. That meant you had to leave your apartment around 9:30. You wanted to be punctual. No mistakes.

You walked into your very empty bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. You cringed slightly at the barely noticeable dark circles under your eyes. You knew that they would go unnoticed for the most part and that concealer would probably cover it, but you were still pissy about it. You hadn’t gotten any quality sleep, after all. Well, that’s that, I suppose, you thought to yourself.

You stripped and stepped into the shower, grabbing the mini shampoo, conditioner, and body wash bottles you always kept in your toiletries bag, since you’d forgotten to buy some yesterday. Your family always teased you about carrying those bottles with you, but they actually came in handy so who’s laughing now? Probably still them. Eh, you can’t win every battle.

You took a long shower, washing away the drive from the day before and the shitty sleep you got last night. You closed your eyes and let the warm water hit your face, finding comfort in the feeling despite just barely being able to breathe through the stream of water.

You eventually turned the water off reluctantly and grabbed the towel off the rack that you’d put there just yesterday. You shivered as you opened the curtain and the cold air hit your wet skin. Warm showers were great until you had to get out.

You went through the rest of your routine, brushing your teeth, blowdrying your hair, finding an outfit to wear, etc. The morning felt like it passed by in slow motion. The suspense was killing you. You were restless as you waited for the clock to tell you it was time to leave. When it did, you practically bolted out the door.

The drive to the practice arena was anxious, to say the least. The excitement had turned into nervousness as soon as you put your key in the ignition. No music played through your speakers. The Bluetooth never connected to your phone, but even if it did, you wouldn’t have turned anything on anyway. Silence was what you needed to collect your thoughts and prepare yourself.

You got to the rink early, but you were glad you’d gotten there early. Better than being late. You sat in your car for a few minutes, before finally taking a deep breath and getting out. You must have made sure you locked your car at least ten times as you walked up to the arena, which was most definitely unnecessary.

Once inside, it was surreal looking at the environment. It was their practice arena, nothing incredibly special about it, but it was what the whole thing meant. It meant that you were doing what you loved, what you’d wanted to do for so long. You absolutely couldn’t wait.

It didn’t take long for all the players to arrive. Most of them arrived around the same time, pretty much all within a span of about five minutes. You had a few words with some of them, mainly just quick questions that didn’t really get you anywhere, but, hey, progress is progress. You actually had a relatively long chat with J.T. Miller, you know, considering the circumstances. The conversation didn’t last nearly as long as you would’ve liked but he spent longer talking to you than the others did.

The last one to arrive was none other than the newly-named Captain of the Canucks himself, a whole ten minutes after everyone else did. He wasn’t technically late, but still. It didn’t seem very Captain-like, but you guessed that you weren’t quite in the position to judge, seeing as you didn’t even play sports, let alone captain an NHL team.

“Hi, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to ask-” You began cheerfully but cut yourself off due to the fact he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. He just…walked right by. You couldn’t tell if he actually didn’t hear or see you, or if he was just really fucking shameless about ignoring people. You could hardly believe either one, but at least the former option would be a misunderstanding. The latter was just plain fucking rude.

You stood baffled for a moment but recovered as you saw him disappear into the locker room. You blinked a few times to clear your head of the weird interaction, before going over to take your seat next to the rest of the reporters and journalists.

The practice went smoothly from what you could tell. It didn’t seem like a whole lot was going on, just routine drills. You made sure to take lots of pictures anyway, essentially documenting the entire practice, sometimes focusing your camera lens on the fan favorites. You were certainly better with your words than with a camera, but they say a picture is worth a thousand words, so you tried. Your photography skills weren’t as good as you would’ve liked them to be, but you were getting better.

As their practice came to a close, most of the reporters and journalists gathered outside the door to the locker room, waiting for the okay to enter and ask their questions. Of course, they wanted their questions answered. It was the first official practice of the regular season, after all. You tried to wriggle your way to the front but to no avail. It seemed kind of counterproductive. Once the limited amount of media reps had begun filtering in, you certainly felt like a small fish in a big pond. Forget the pond, you were in the fucking Pacific Ocean. Everyone else seemed to know exactly what they were doing, exactly who to go to, and which questions to ask them, and you didn’t. You were sure you looked like a lost puppy in here.

Someone seemed to notice that too. The fellow you’d had a friendly chat with earlier. The 30-year-old center was already answering some questions from another reporter, but as he answered a question you hadn’t quite heard, he jerked his head to the side, inviting you over. You gladly went. You probably wouldn’t have been able to work up the courage to talk with anyone in here alone. You made your way over to where he stood, a microphone held in front of his face by the middle-aged male journalist who stood directly in front of him. You stood slightly off to the side, waiting for the other reporter to finish up with his questions.

Once he finished his questions, you made room for yourself in front of the man who had thankfully granted you his kindness. He chuckled as you awkwardly stood in front of him. His presence was somewhat comforting.

“Don’t sweat it, Kid,” He said, flashing you a comforting smile. The way he spoke the words reminded you of the cool teachers in school after you’d fucked up so badly that you’d just barely gotten by with a passing grade.

You laughed a little self-consciously at his comment, now knowing that your shortcomings were also apparent to others and not just you. You took a deep breath before speaking, attempting to calm your nerves.

“Would you wanna answer a few questions?” You managed to ask and it felt like a big step for you even though it was just a seven-word sentence. He nodded wordlessly, a reassuring smile on his face as he did so.

You actually shook off some nerves and asked him a few run-of-the-mill questions. Simple ones like, What aspect of play do you think your team has improved the most in over the off-season? What aspects of play have you improved in individually over the off-season?, and Do you think your team possesses the necessary chemistry between teammates to be a Stanley Cup contender this year? All of the questions either came with easy answers or came with no direct answer at all. You didn’t mind all that much though. Not right now anyway. You were asking the right questions, and knowing that made things just a little bit easier.

After you had finished your short interview with J.T., he led you over to where his Captain stood, stating that you just had to ask him some of your questions. You weren’t entirely keen on the idea after your, for lack of a better word, odd interaction with him before practice had even started, but you begrudgingly obliged.

“Are you sure he’s up for more questions?” You asked almost nervously as a sort of last-ditch effort to get out of talking to this guy. You knew it was a stupid question that wouldn’t get you anywhere. These people knew how to talk to the media and they knew that it was part of their job to do such, of course,, he’d answer some questions. No harm in at least trying to get out of it though, right?

J.T. just laughed at your question and the insistence in your tone at first. He either didn’t know or didn’t care that you didn’t want to talk to Quinn and you didn’t know which one made you more annoyed.

“He won’t mind,” He finally said said after a breath. You didn’t care if he minded, quite frankly, you did not want to go through another awkward interaction. You’d already gotten the answers that you’d needed anyway. You were screaming internally.

Quinn was finishing up some questions with some other journalist when you made it over to where he stood. He had an intense gaze as you could tell he carefully thought about each one of his answers. He glanced over at you as the woman in front of him asked what you simultaneously hoped would be her last question and her first question, wanting this to be over with as quickly as possible but not even want it to start in the first place. His eyes weren’t on you long and you weren’t exactly sure what to make of the way he looked at you for that short time.

The question the woman had been asking had actually been her last question and you let out a breath when you realized such. With a smile on his face, J.T. nudged Quinn and it looked like he was about to say something, but he was cut off by the woman who had just been interviewing Quinn.

“Could I ask you a few questions as well?” She asked J.T. with a rather confident smile on her face and you didn’t know how one could even be that confident in a situation like this.

“Um, sure,” He said after a moment and you could see that he didn’t exactly want to, but he knew he kind of had to.

You silently begged him not to leave you alone, but it was part of his job and you knew that. You still let out a long sigh as he was led a little further away from you and Quinn as to not interfere with your interview.

You turned back to Quinn after a moment and he was also watching J.T. being virtually dragged away. It seemed that he saw you look back at him through his peripherals, and he turned to face you.

“Can you answer some questions for me?”

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