#he has a few short solo songs too

[riality-check]

DILF!Steve concert saga, featuring Eddie POV for this part! part 1, part 2

"I have to open it."

"Nope."

"Gareth. I need to open it."

"The vault is sacred," Archie says.

At the same time, Jeff chimes in, "The vault was your idea, Eddie."

Eddie thunks his head against the wall. "I know. But I need-"

"They're on the last song," Archie says, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder. It's probably meant to be comforting, but it feels patronizing as shit.

Eddie is a good friend, though. He doesn't shrug him off.

"Once they're through, I'll unlock it," Jeff says, dangling the key slung around his neck.

"But you could do it now," Eddie protests.

Gareth sits protectively on top of the black lock box. "Absolutely not."

Eddie sighs and waits for the guitar solo onstage to end, nodding his head along to the beat.

It's what he usually does when they're backstage, but this time, it brings a smile to his face. Miss Anna was a natural yesterday for her first time headbanging, and her dad is the reason Eddie wants to break the sacred vault tradition.

He wants, no, needs to know if he got the note. If he decided to write something. If he wants to go a little further than PG flirting.

Eddie for sure wants to go further than that. God. Steve's handsome face and his big hands and his thick thighs (deliciously exposed by his shorts in the summer heat) are all wonderful incentives to skip a few steps and go straight to ramming him into a mattress.

Or, with how that shirt clung to Steve's biceps and how his shorts clung to his ass, let him ram Eddie into the mattress. He isn't picky.

(He isn't desperate, either, thank you very much, Gareth. And no, he won't admit how long it's been since he got laid.)

From the house, the audience roars, and Eddie jumps off the arm of the couch he was laying on.

Gareth sighs and gets off the lock box.

"Jeff, open it," Eddie says, staring at the vault and subconsciously making grabby hands toward it.

"Is that how we ask?"

"I could always yank the key off you."

Archie sighs and, ever the peacemaker, takes the key from Jeff and unlocks the vault. The second it's open, Eddie snatches his phone and turns it on.

Please please please let the DILF text back, he thinks to himself as he waits for this stupid metal brick to turn on and give him a resolution to this whole ridiculous situation.

Because, first, Eddie doesn't really jive with kids. Sure, they flock to him in the same way they flock to every other vaguely cool-looking person, but aside from asking if he has to draw his tattoos on every day or if his mommy is okay with him having his hair that long, they generally leave him alone.

And that's okay. Eddie easily made his peace with not having kids about ten years ago. Between his strong preference for men and the way that significantly decreases those odds and the choice to not pass on his truly abysmal family history of mental illness and addiction, it seemed obvious and a lot more selfless.

But Anna was cool as hell. Smart as hell, too, in a way that made Eddie feel like he was looking back at a time before school punished him for being bright and verbose and energetic.

Anna didn't make him want kids. Again, the whole family history thing is a real vibe killer. But she did give him enough fuel, for just an instant, to think that dating someone with a kid might not be a deal breaker anymore.

Or maybe Steve was just that hot.

He whined a lot yesterday, in the hotel, about how hot Steve was.

His phone turns on, and, front and center, is a text from an unknown number:

I guess I don’t have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we’re even on that front, I’m a teacher, and Anna’s full time job is preschool.

Eddie grins so hard he feels like his face will split in two.

"Is it him?" Jeff asks, trying to look over Eddie's shoulder.

"Of course it is," Gareth scoffs. "Look at his face."

"What did he say?" Archie asks.

Eddie takes the easier way out and lets him have the phone.

Gareth and Jeff crowd over Archie's shoulders, and Eddie watches their faces change as they read the message.

"Oh, he's bitchy," Gareth says.

"That means he's perfect," Jeff says, with a pointed look at Eddie.

Eddie shoots Archie a clear "back me up" look and gets a shrug in return because all his friends are assholes who know his type way too fucking well.

"What do I say?" he asks.

Archie tosses him the phone. "I don't know. Flirt back."

"I don't know how!"

"You ground against a guitar-"

"And kissed me onstage," Jeff continues. "But you don't know how to flirt?"

Eddie puts his head in his hands. "I didn't have enough sex in high school to know how to do this!"

"That's not an excuse when none of us did!" Gareth says.

Jeff barks out a laugh.

"Just ask if he's free tomorrow," Archie says, like the rational, wonderful friend he is. "This was the last stop of tour. It's not like you have to get anywhere else at a specific time."

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that," Eddie says, hyping himself up. Before he can second guess himself, he writes back.

Since it's summer, I'm assuming you both have off. Can you fit it in your busy schedule to have dinner with a humble musician tomorrow night?

"Oh, shit, did you send it?" Gareth asks, snatching his phone.

"Wait," Archie says, like the rational, horrible friend he is. "Do we know if he's single?"

"Oh, shit," Jeff whispers.

Eddie takes his phone back and refuses to look at it. He wants to shut it down. He wants to drop it. He wants to drive to nearest river and throw it there.

"Am I a homewrecker?" he asks absently.

"Only if you succeed," Jeff says.

"He might have a wife," Archie muses. "He might be straight."

"Okay, dude, enough," Gareth says. "This was supposed to be exciting! Eddie was supposed to get ass!"

"He might be ace."

"Archie, shut the fuck up."

He holds his hands up in surrender, and Jeff pats his shoulder, a little comfortingly, a lot condescendingly.

Eddie sits down on the couch. Puts his head in his hands. Breathes.

He's flirting with a married man. He's absolutely flirting with a married man. This is a new low. This is worse than the time he licked the floor of a restaurant, drunk, for five bucks. This is worse than when he greened out in the parking lot of a Chuck E. Cheese. This is worse than when he accidentally told the gas station cashier that he loved them and immediately walked into the glass door behind him.

This is. So bad.

And then his phone rings, so it'll get worse. It has to. That's how these things go.

Eddie has always been self-destructive, so, of course, he looks at the screen.

I can't swing dinner, but how's lunch? Fair warning: it might be a playground picnic if my babysitter bails.

"Holy shit, I'm not a homewrecker," Eddie says.

"I didn't think you had it in you," Jeff says.

"He's single!" Gareth cheers.

"Can I talk now?" Archie teases.

"I'm not a homewrecker!" Eddie says, and he launches off the couch to hug the nearest person, who happens to be Jeff.

They have to get out of the venue. He has to figure out the logistics of the date and how to be normal by the time he gets there and what to wear and everything else.

But, right now, Eddie is over the fucking moon that Steve is even giving him a shot. And he hopes, giddy as all hell and hanging off of Jeff's shoulders, that Steve feels even a little bit like this.

He writes back, once he's calmed down:

Lunch might just become my new favorite meal.

[muntitled]

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃: 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐢 𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲!?

Didn't anybody tell him being back in the booth will leave him singing solo?

Pairings: Lee Jihoon x Fem!reader | Slight!Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A kink confession in couple's therapy might just save your relationship

Warnings: Established Relationship, Insecurities, Gender Roles, Slight!Toxic Relationship, Fluff, Slight Angst, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Masturbation, Dom/Sub undertones, MeanDom!Jihoon, Sub!Reader, Innocence Kink, Slight DDLG, Ownership Kink, Hair Pulling, Spitting kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Slight Humiliation, Submission Kink, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Oral Sex (Male rec), Breeding Kink, Slight!Hate sex

Word Count: 3.9k

Song: Mine | Beyonce

Woops

"I'm aware that I'm on this mission to get my boyfriend to actually want to fuck me again but why does it feel like I've already failed on the very first step?" A whine so childish, and so petulant rips itself from the depths of your throat but Jihoon's running shower silences the pathetic noise.

While he showers, you're left sitting on the floor surrounded by a graveyard of designer lingerie. A too small Victoria's Secret set is immediately abandoned in its box, leaving you howling into the phone as you wriggle yourself into the complicated underwear.

Your confidence wanes as you adjust to the intricate bows and string of the set, wincing as you pull up the pink garter belt until it's clasped around your thighs. Soon enough, you're padding across the floor of your walk-in closet, hesitantly approaching a mirror.

"I mean, this says 'slut' but what if 'slut' isn't what he's attracted to?" Your hand curls tightly around the width of your phone, "Jihoon is an anomaly! What if I end up making a complete and utter fool of myself?" The mirror is nestled between Jihoon's clothing rack harbouring all his neatly pressed designer pieces. You let the sight of his intimidating fashion waver your already fragile confidence. 

"Are you hearing yourself?" Scoffs Mingyu through your phone's speakers, "What man has ever in the history of the universe not been attracted to 'slutty'? I feel like that might be a prerequisite in terms of the origins of the word." He says in a lax, calm manner, "Woozi'll just be happy to see boobs and ass becuase that's usually how a guy's brain goes. Or how mine goes at least."

Despite Mingyu's assurances, your arms are still folded over your scantily covered breasts while you cradle your phone in the air. "I don't know," your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. "You didn't hear him today at counseling, Mingyu. I feel like our therapist might actually hate us." You continue to cradle your torso, forcing yourself not to flinch at the memory of your earlier session of couples therapy. 

How far away Jihoon had felt despite being seated right beside you, like a gleaming, stoic-faced monolith. You feel as though you have been living in nothing but a perpetual winter, forever trying to please Jihoon, your boyfriend, but always falling short in front of Woozi, the entertainer. Work, work, work, on his mind meant that you were left to entertain your own wants by your lonesome. Even more harrowig, is the excuse he had given your therapist.

"She's always in boss mode," Jihoon's tone was as cold as ice, refusing to spare you even a single glance as he faced the therapist ahead, "And that's one of things I love about her, yes. Her drive and determination makes us compatible because I know I'm the same-"

A scoff slips past your lips at that point, making Jihoon's fist clench on the arm rest as you snootily interjected, "Don't misconstrue." You said, "He works more than me," and it was the truth as far as you believed it. Yes, you would gladly admit to neglecting a few key elements of your relationship in the face of your career, but never had you ever made Jihoon feel microscopic in your pursuits. Not like how he made you feel.

"It's important to listen to each other without interjecting." The therapist calmly scolded, leaving you grumbling in your seat, "You'd be surprised at how much could truly be accomplished by simply listening to each other,"

You were truly ready to tell that old lady to go to hell but something strange happened, and Jihoon finally opened his mouth, unburdening himself with what has truly been bothering him in his relationships as of late.

"It's just," He swears lightly under his breath, which does a terrific job in garnering yout attention. You peek up from underneath your lashes and you're stunned to hear him say, "I just wish she'd understand that it wouldn't burn down the foundations of feminism if she'd just," Jihoon's jaw ticked as he displayed the very first signs of emotion, "-Just let me take that load off for a bit…"

"In what way?" The therapist asked, sensing the nearness of a eureka moment. She treaded carefully, in fear of scaring Jihoon back into his shell. Thankfully, he made himself clearer because by now, you needed to know as well.

"She's the boss in her day to day and I respect that," he says, "But all I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt to leave all that shit at work..."

The therapist nodded with grave understanding, although even you could see the trepidation easing onto her face. There is no hiding the conflicting emotions displayed on your face.

"You're asking her to become more…" The therapist cleared their throat, "Submissive?" Jihoon had not responded after that, letting the pregnant silence act as his megaphone.

"I'm submissive," you had whispered, nodding as if trying to convince yourself of your words. "I'm like… so submissive," before you could decorate your lie with even more lies, Jihoon finally turned towards you. 

"Really?" He asked, "Where?"

You let an incredulous chuckle escape from your throat as you shot back, "Where what?"

Jihoon did a show of looking around the therapist's clinical office, delving deep into his petty theatrics as he calmly, "Where are you being submissive, because it hasn't been with me?"

The session had ended with you wracking your brain at Jihoon's admittance of what you suspect to be a kink. His words haunted you on the silent drive home. They had piqued your interest considerably, filling the atmosphere with a tense warmth, as if a tempest was brewing. One that neither of you was quite aware of how to deal with yet.

It was a feeling that led you into the deepest confines of your closet, until you pulled out the Savage x Fenty lingerie box, immediately calling Mingyu in a fit of panic while Woozi was in the shower. He was, after all, your best friend way before you even knew of Lee Jihoon.  

Ripping your arms away from your torso is a mission on its own, one you succeed with immense reluctance as you finally gaze at your reflection in all her half naked glory.

You commence a hesitant twirl in front of the floor to ceiling mirror.

Very hesitant. 

The lace bralette is digging into your ribs, and the matching pink garters are cutting into the skin of your ample thighs. It is all so painfully uncomfortable that you're threatening to take it off, no matter how much of a wet dream you may look like.

But there is excitement there too, bubbling beneath the surface, awakened by Jihoon's confession. You are almost excited to try this with him. Submission, sexually, was never on your cards previously but maybe this is something you should have noticed long ago. You pride yourself on being observant so why didn't you notice it before?

The soft affirmations of "Say my name," while he was steadily bringing you to orgasm with his fingers alone. The unmistakable need to have his hand locked around your throat whenever he was on the verge of cumming.

Even the non sexual stuff.

Ordering for you. Making sure your hand was always locked inside his when you found yourselves wandering the city. Forcing you to pay with his card despite knowing you made more than enough to sustain your lifestyle. 

How didn't you know?

Keeping a hesitant grip on your satin nightgown, you tilt your head at your reflection skeptically.

"Imagine how embarrassed I'll be if he just ignores me," The insides of your mouth is bleeding non stop from the way you've been gnawing at it, "Maybe I should just accept that work is the only love in Jihoon's life."

Mingyu's voice is diabolically soothing as it bleeds through your speakers, "No, no," he says, and you can imagine him swatting away at the air in the process "Jihoon acts like a prude but he's one of the biggest sluts- if not - the biggest slut I know."

"Besides yourself of course," you murmur,

"Besides myself of course" Eventually, Mingyu comes up with what he suspects is his big master plan.

"Perhaps you should send me a pic of you in it, that way when the little guy gets out of the shower and sees you, then you'll be far more relaxed in the knowledge that someone else has already seen you in it." 

It truly was Neanderthal mathematics. 

However, there is an underlying veneer in Mingyu's tone bleeding in through the phone's speakers that makes you believe your best friend is far from joking. Despite it infuriating Woozi to no end, Mingyu might never stop flirting with you ever. In respect of your dynamic.

"Surely, I shouldn't have to tell you that I'm not sending you a pic of me in my lingerie for you but I guess I have to put that into words you would understand maybe?" You hold up your fingers and clear your throat as you monotonously say, "how dare you," 'have you no shame, Mingyu," You ask, "Need I go on?" 

In the midst of Mingyu's petulant whines urging you to just 'leave your man' Jihoon's shower silences, and you right your bad posture immediately. You suddenly have no idea what to do with the drawstring of the nightgown. Somehow, this seemed like the make it or break it moment. The moment where you would decide to dive headfirst into your plans of winning back your relationship despite the possibility of being met with Jihoon's hostility and coldness that you had grown so accustomed to.

The pool of dread and anxiety is deep, and your hands are nearly shaking as your fingers gloss over the lacy pink garment. "I have to go," you whisper into the receiver, vaguely aware that you've already clicked the button to sever the line before your sentence even ends. All while you awaited the footsteps from Jihoon. But they never came.

Courageously abandoning your fear for the sake of actually getting laid, you walk up to the door of your shared bathroom and knock hesitantly.

"Jihoon? Honey, are you okay?" But he is not okay, in fact, Jihoon might venture to believe he may never be okay because your voice is just so pretty, even when muffled by a closed door. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his forearm is leaning against the shower glass, and you just called him honey and fuck, if he didn't start tugging at his dick faster. He feels pathetic, having to get himself off when you were right there but the nuances and complexities of fighting with your partner introduced the need for such things. 

Jihoon's jaw is locked tight as he succinctly and suspiciously responds with a rumbling and groaning "Fine."  His brows are furrowed, and his teeth locked tightly together as he fights to get off easily and succinctly.

He hopes that you would take the hostility in his voice as a sign to make yourself scarce. Jihoon already fucked up when he let the 'submissive' thing slip but he cannot bear to imagine the utter humiliation he would be subjected to if you swung that door open right now, catching masturbating in the shower, as if he did not have a girlfriend able to meet those needs… It bruises him like nothing else could. He did not want you to see him like this. He did not want you to know that even in the midst of your fights, you were the only woman he ever really thought of.

His palm skates over his soaked cock as his mind is filled images of you on your knees in front of him, head tilted back and tongue sticking out like a-

"Good little slut," It was intended as a whisper to fuel the violent pool of heat bubbling in his abdomen and make him cum quicker. A whisper that you weren't supposed to hear but your ear is on the door now and you shout back, 

"Did you say anything?"

He cannot reply because his cock is aching and heavy with the weight of his fantasy. A fantasy in which you were his to hold, his to fuck, his to cum inside of until you were completely and utterly full of his load-

"Fuck-"

He rushes to squeeze the base of his dick, edging himself even though he's not quite sure why. This had been his moment to just cum all over his hands, wash off his spilt seed and be done with it, but you're knocking much more fluidly on the door, and you're becoming impatient. 

"Honey, you're scaring m-," You venture to say, despite already pushing the bathroom door open. You're both left momentarily stunned by what the other is seeing in front of them. He is left paralyzed by seeing you in so little clothing… and wearing pink. 

While you did not anticipate seeing Jihoon naked in the shower. Why had you not anticipated that? That’s so silly. Your mouth hangs open with the shock of his beauty perhaps.

Has it truly been that long? 

In the same breath, Jihoon's lungs are wiped clean as he stares at you through the glass. His breathing is heavy, ghosting over the glass while his broad chest rises and falls. He is nothing but darkened hooded eyes. Eyes that ravage the sight of you in your lacy pink underwear, underwear that he had not seen anywhere. Where did you get that? When did you get that? Myriad thoughts swirl in Jihoon's mind, each more sinister and lustful than the last because you look so completely innocent and so soft standing by the door, arms at your side while the dressing gown hangs lazily off of your shoulders.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon decides to stop this nonsense by leaning back slightly. His long black hair still dripping down the sides of his face and his tongue skates over his bottom lip as he says,

“We should not be this surprised to see each other naked,” He says, a deep voice ringing out through the acoustics of the bathroom, “We are a couple, last I checked.”

When you do not respond, he tilts his head downward, letting an even deeper shadow cast over his eyes as he scans you from head to toe. For an innumerable amount of minutes all is quiet. It feels as though the world had been rid of noise, like you had teleported back in time, to a Charlie Chaplin motion picture. A world of absolute silence. 

You begin to wonder how you might respond because surely, you cannot stand here, gawking at him for the rest of your merry life.

Before you could even think of adding to the silence with anything, anything at all, Woozi keeps his ice cold gaze on you, as he leans his head against his forearm, the one still positioned against the shower glass and he resumes his movements of languidly stroking his thick cock buried in his tight fist. 

Your mouth runs dry as your eyes betray you, finally venturing down to watch him. You seem to have forgotten just how beautiful your boyfriend truly was, taking in his damp locks kissing his shoulders. He is all solid lines with a sculpted torso and you feel as  if you never even knew him at all.

"Jihoon," Your voice quivers with immense passion but he silences you immediately. 

"Don't ruin this. Please don't-"

"I wanna help." His mouth snaps shut but he can feel himself twitch in his palm. Jihoon's breath grows hot as you step closer and closer and he squeezes his cock, as the overall scent of you forces its way through his nose and into his brain. You're so utterly addicting, Jihoon's hand strokes almost instinctively, his hips even venturing to push his cock into his palm as he follows your every movement.

"I want you to tell me what to do," You finally say, letting the silk gown fall to the floor as you step into the shower, lingerie and all. Jihoon's mind has completely descended into lechery while his hooded eyes watch you with nothing but adoration.

"Your knees." Is all he is able to force out, "I need you on your knees," He whispers an incredibly hoarse, "Please," that has you falling to his feet automatically. The movement immediately had Jihoon's reeling. 

"Fuck," He whispers, the sound of complete awe rushing straight to your core as he finally let's all his inhibitions wilt away with the rest of his manners. Jihoon is quick to bury his fingers into your hair with a roughness you're surprised to see. Surprised but far from disappointed.

"Open your mouth," He instructs, despite already prying your mouth open with his thick fingers, forcing your teeth open as if you were his plaything all while craning your head backwards. 

Once he gets your mouth open, Jihoon is insatiable. He immediately bends down and crashes his lips into yours, letting his tongue invade the inside of your mouth like his life depended on it. It's a manic, passionate and domineering kiss, neck that had you moaning into his open mouth as your tongue wrestled with his.

"I'm gonna fuck your mouth now, okay?" His tone however, lets you know that he is not asking, not really, but you nod anyway, unsure of who or what has come over you. All you're really sure of is that you want to make him feel good. The goal, the satisfaction of it is building so fantastically inside of you, pushing through your arteries, steadily soaking your panties with arousal and eliciting a slightly wayward kind of dizzying emotion inside of you all at once.

"Tell me," he says, and you're forced to crane your head back as he straightens his form. "Tell me to fuck your stupid little mouth. Tell me it's what you want." His jaw is locked tight as his hand once again encloses around his sensitive dick. He refuses to give you anything, however, unless he hears you submit to him fully and completely. He feels like he needs to hear the words. Some part deep in his monkey brain needs the confirmation from the source, as if hearing you say such nasty, horrible things would increase his already heightened arousal.

"Please, Fuck my mouth, Jihoon!" In any other instance you might have been shocked at the words flowing out of your mouth, but your cunt is absolutely dripping through the fabric and your hand immediately dives down to cup your pussy through your panties as you look up at him and say, "Please fuck my slutty little mouth, Jihoon! I fucking want you to, pleasepleaseplease-"

"Such a slut- such a pretty little slut-" you'd never heard Jihoon's voice crack the way it just did and you really wish to hear that beautiful sound again. His hand is once again in your hair while his other hand is on your jaw. He pushes a finger inside until he's flattening your tongue and craning your neck even further back. You're momentarily confused, trapped in a haze of stupid lust before Jihoon hovers above you and spits directly into your mouth. 

You're moaning, and keening and Jihoon is already forcing his cock all the way inside your mouth.

"Your mouth-" His voice is hoarse as he eases his cock inside the warmth of your mouth. He cannot take his eyes off of you, his beautiful, brilliant girl taking his cock so far into your mouth while you had taken to humping your own hand like an insatiable little slut.

"Fuck baby," He murmurs, letting the tip of cock meet the very back of your throat before inching out again, "is my little girl really getting turned on from sucking cock?" His humiliation is punctuated by a sharp and powerful thrust, one that has you seeing stars and your vision blurring as you fight to keep him inside your mouth. "You don't even have to do anything," He says through gritted teeth, "I'm doing all the work fucking this tiny little mouth of yours, aren't I?" You can feel how turned on he is. He's fucking huge inside your mouth as he slides himself to and fro like his life depended on it.

"God you're so beautiful like this," He whispers, "You're so fucking beautiful taking my cock like a good little whore."

Jihoon's gaze lowers down to where your hand has taken to pushing aside your panties and rubbing swift wet circles on your clit.

"You're not gonna cum like that," He says, almost immediately stilling his frantic hips, "when you cum, it's gonna be because of me, understand?" His grip on your forearm is solid as he pulls you up from off the shower floor. You're absolutely limp in his hands, breath heavy as he brings you close to him. There is a silent, almost tender exchange, with him breathing heavily in your face while you stare wide eyed up at him.

Soon, he's spinning you around with his hands digging into your sides as he presses your front against the fogged up glass. Letting your tits push against the cool, wet surfaces, he draws your hips to his. 

Before he sinks his cock into you, a very strange thing happens. Soft pillowy lips brush against your shoulder blade, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

"Thank you," He whispers before sinking his cock into you with determination. He bottoms out faster than you anticipate, all while you've taken to moaning and whimpering like a mad woman. Your sounds egg him on, until he's rutting his twitching cock inside of you, desperately searching for the alleviation of a budding and aching need inside him.

"You feel so fucking good, you know that?" You hear him behind you. Feel him behind you. Your walls stretch and contract around his cock who continues to bully your insides.

"F-Fuck, Jihoona-" 

"Fuck, you're squeezing me, Princess," Your orgasm sneaks up on you pile the devil himself, stripping you of your dignity as you push your hips backwards, almost instinctively forcing his cock deeper as you fucked yourself back onto him. Jihoon's mind is absolutely deranged with lust. He sinks his nails into the softness of your sides and he pulls your hips impossibly closer. He fucks you like a madman, his cock is fluid and quick, pushing against that particular cushion of nerves that has your orgasm feeling like an absolute lifetime. Your panties that had been carelessly pushed aside creates a second later of friction that has him so dangerously close to the edge.

"I'm going to cum inside you." He states while never letting himself stop fucking you, "Fuck- I'm going to cum inside you-" It's the hardest you've ever seen him cum before. His hair is messy and a darker shade under the wetness of the shower, his eyes are hooded and glossy and his body is shuddering against you, overcome by a wave of vicious shocks as he stutters and empties his balls deep inside of you. His cock is forced deeper than it's ever been and you're made completely full of his load. Jihoon is utterly spent as he lowers his weight onto your back. Letting a sea of kisses reign down on your back as your heavy breathing fills the warm and damp air.

"You look so fucking beautiful," He says, never letting his pecks against your back stop, "so fucking gorgeous." That seems like apology enough, on both parts.

[imaginesandsmut]

So Good

Paring: Ethan Landry x fem reader

Summary: You and Ethan had hated each other since you too met, but when you're at a party dancing with a frat boy, Ethan takes it upon himself to show who you really belong to.

Warnings: Alcohol, smutty smut smut, and some fluff at the end.

Writers note: This was requested by @kianachampion and was definitely a great idea. Don't be shy to send fic ideas my way, ya'll. But anyways, enjoy xx

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

You laughed whilst trying to steady your hand, the mascara wand shaking from your movements. The music in Tara’s bedroom was louder than any concert you have ever been to, pounding in your ears and causing you to go slightly deaf.

“Okay but I’m serious,” Tara yelled over the music, “if you don’t wear this skirt, I will kill you. You’ll look so good.”

You turned in your seat at Tara’s desk, turning to see her hold up the shortest skirt of your life. It was tiny, denim, pleated and with a chain dangling from one loop to another. It was cute but you didn’t know if you could pull it off, your ass would definitely be seen if you so much as lifted your arms.

“Please.” Tara tried her puppy dog eyes, pouting her lip in an effort to win you over. “I can’t be the only one wearing something slutty.”

“So you admit it’s too short!” You laugh at her attempt at playing cute.

“It is!” Tara walked over to her bottle of vodka and took a swig, swaying to the music. “But no one will care, it’s a frat party for god sake.”

You both were getting ready for the next rager at whatever Kappa Kappa Fi house it was at, most likely filled with the same people but during this exam season, everyone is looking to blow off some steam. 

You could hear Mindy and Anika singing to the song through the walls, they were both in the living room preparing drinks for everybody. Chad and Ethan were somewhere in the apartment, probably hyping each other up by calling each other snacks and grunting.

You turned back to the mirror and inspected your makeup, satisfied with the results you got up and took the mini skirt from Tara’s hand. She clapped her hands dramatically with glee as you took off your sweatpants and replaced them with the skirt, suddenly feeling very cold. 

“You look hot.” She pushed you towards the mirror to inspect yourself. The skirt looked nice, your legs looked nice too. You paired it with a graphic baby tee and your beat up tennis shoes.

“You look good too.” You turned to Tara and took the bottle from her, taking a swig as she smiled and twirled her short dress for you. 

You enjoyed these moments with your best friend, just smiling and happy. You both met in your first class of University, you were nervous because you hadn’t made any friends in the city yet but the spot next to Tara was empty and you were feeling bold. She smiled at you when you sat down, you smiled back and it was the beginning of your friendship. 

“Can you two hurry up now!” Mindy yelled from the kitchen, her voice much louder than the music.

You and Tara giggled at each other, both already buzzed from the few swigs of alcohol. You both left her room and joined the group in the living room, they were all drinking and laughing together. It was moments like this that made you really love your friends.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Except for one.

Ethan was taking in your appearance, a red solo cup filled with whatever alcoholic slushie Anika has made for everyone. His outburst caused everyone to look at you, all of them looking you up and down.

“Damn, you’re hot.” Mindy 

“Thank you, Mindy.” You send a scowl at Ethan, the boy sipping his drink with a crease between his eyebrows.

Ever since you became friends with Tara, you became friends with the rest of her friends. The only person you can’t get along with at all is Ethan, he annoys you to knew end and he lets you know that the feeling is mutual. Constantly bickering with each other and fighting over anything possible. Anything that he could make a snide remark about, he does.

“You’re gonna get cold.” Ethan’s voice was a mumble, like he was annoyed with your own choice of clothing. 

“I’ll be fine.” You cross the room and grab a drink from Anika, downing it in one go. With just a few words, he managed to get on your nerves and fill you with a need to punch him in the face.

“I’m just saying that it’s just a frat party, not a fashion show.” Ethan continued his attack on you.

“Oh my god, It’s not like you have to wear it.” You turned to look at him, crossing your arms defensively. 

“If you bend over everyone is gonna see your ass.”

"So what?" You ask, annoyed and confused as to why he would care.

"God why do you need to be so uptight about everything?" He takes a swig of his drink whilst still taking in your appearance. "You need to loosen up."

"I would if you weren't around."

“Okay!” Tara claps her hands loudly, shutting you both up. “Let’s go.”

The whole walk towards the frat party was filled with you and Tara laughing over something whilst Mindy rambles about the newest Stab movie. But all you could focus on was Ethan walking behind you, way too close behind you. He kept bumping into you from behind and not even apologising for it, just shrugging when you told him off. It wasn't long till you reached the party, pushing your way through the crowd and towards the drinks table, shaking Ethan off your tail.

"Go find some boring person to talk about movies with." You shout at him over the music as he tried following you through the crowd. It was annoying how much he fought with you yet still followed you around, an endless torture cycle.

"I'm just waiting for you to fall and show your ass to the entire party." He shouted back, his frame towering over you.

"God I don't care, just leave."

"I'm not leaving." Ethan looked around the party, obviously trying to find a place for you both to go so you could fight even more. "Let's go to the kitchen over there."

Before he could turn back to face you, you slipped away from his sight and hid behind a group of people. You watched Ethan turn back to where you were supposed to be, the wildy look around to find you. He gave up after a bit and huffed in annoyance, walking over to the kitchen and talking to Chad.

You walked over to another area of the house, hoping to be free of the ever irritating Ethan Landry. The pool table came into your sights and was loaded with bottles, ice and cans. You grabbed the first closed cap you could find and cracked it open, taking a swig and almost gagging at the taste.

“They’re not very good.” A voice behind you spoke, it was slurred but confident. You turned and took in the most stereotypical looking frat boy in your life, complete with the unbuttoned shirt and backwards cap. 

Normally, you would wave boys like him off. But you were tipsy and looking to have some fun tonight, so you played into his trap.

“Then what do you recommend?” You put on your most charming smile for him, completed with a slight tip of your head.

“I would try this.” He beamed at you, reaching over and grabbing a bottle from the table. “It tastes like Fanta.”

You take the drink from him and take a sip, nodding your head at the taste. He take your approval with a grin, nodding his own head. 

“I’m Luke.”

“I’m Y/N.” 

“Do you wanna dance, Y/N?” Luke seemed nice and charming, and he wants to dance with you which gives you a big ego boost. “You look so good, I just have to ask.”

You take his hand and let him guide you to the dancefloor in the centre of the house, bodies upon bodies push up against each other in momentum to the song. Luke pulls you close to him, his hands on your hips and moving them with his own. You put your arms around his neck and pull him close, your faces close enough to feel his breath on your cheek.

You look around the room whilst dancing to see what everyone else is doing; Tara was talking to a girl from your classes, Chad was playing beer pong, and Mindy and Anika were already making out on the couch. You looked around subconsciously for Ethan, trying to find him through the crowd.

It was then that you caught his eyes, an ever present scowl across his features. Ethan was sitting on the nearest couch, someone was talking to him but all he could do was focus on you and how close you were to this random frat guy. The drink in his hand long forgotten, the red solo cup gradually getting squeezed harder and harder with every sway of your hips against the guy. 

You don’t know what came over you, maybe it was the drinks in your system or the dark look Ethan was giving you, but you decided to put on a show. You turned around in Luke’s arms and pressed your back against his chest, moving your ass against his crotch. The infamous short skirt began riding up with every movement you were making, letting you get bolder and bolder. 

You threw your head back and rested it on Luke’s shoulder, looking to the side to make eye contact with Ethan. You could see him shaking his head at you, obviously annoyed about something like he always is. He was leaning back on the couch, arms crossed against his chest, manspreading like owns the place.

Luke was gripping you harder, his breathing heavy as he groaned at your movement in your ear. You smiled to yourself for doing this to him, but you felt like it was all wrong, like he wasn't the person you wanted him to be.

“Can’t believe I haven’t seen you around before.” Luke’s voice was low, distracted by everything you’ve been doing. 

You don’t reply, you felt mechanic against Luke, like his very touch made you feel wrong in every way. Your eyes kept drifting to Ethan, trying to peek at his reaction. The boy in question was now resting his elbows on his knees, bent over and giving every bit of his attention to what you were doing.

His jaw was tense, like he was going to crack a tooth from the pressure. His eyes were dark and focused, like nothing else in the world cared to him but watching you. The person next to him kept rambling on about whatever conversation they were previously on, but Ethan didn’t care. 

Ethan didn’t know what was coming over him, it was like he was taken over by a force of anger and jealousy. Everytime he was with the group, you annoyed him to no end and he made sure you knew it. He never once thought of you in any way but the annoying girl in the group. But now, seeing you dance with another guy, all he wanted was to grab you and pull you onto the couch with him. 

Luke’s lips attached themselves to your neck since you already had it stretched out trying to get a look at Ethan. His breath was hot and his lips felt weird on your skin, like he was trying too hard to make it sensual but it felt rushed and timid. You pretended to lean into it, like it was what you wanted.

That’s what set off Ethan.

He pushed himself off from the couch and made his way through the crowd, not even looking at the people he moved out of his way. You could feel him getting closer, like there was a pull he had on you and you could tell when he was away or too close.

A hand reached out and pulled you from Luke, earning a gasp from you and an annoyed yell from him. Ethan was gripping onto your arm like you were going to disappear, his eyes stared at you with disgust. 

“Hey, what the fuck, man?” Luke threw his arms up, confused as to why someone would interrupt him.

“Don’t touch her.” Ethan stopped looking at you and turned his attention on the frat boy, yet his grip on your arm never ceased. 

“Why? You her boyfriend or something?” Luke laughed, pushing Ethan’s chest.

“No, he’s not.” You tried to wiggle your arm out of Ethan’s hold but with every movement you made, his hold on you tightened. You’re sure that you’re gonna get bruises soon if he doesn’t let go. 

Ethan sent daggers your way at your outburst, like it was anything far from the truth and he was surprised by it. Luke laughed at your reply and stepped closer to Ethan, challenging him. 

“So what are you? Some sad friend that couldn't get any from her?” Luke’s voice was mean and his demeanour was scary, different from the charming way he was talking to you. It reminded you why you steer clear of guys like him at parties, and now Ethan’s hold was feeling a little more comforting. 

Ethan didn’t say anything to Luke, instead he just turned to look at you. You looked back at him but you couldn’t describe the look in his eyes, like he had someone to tell you but couldn’t voice it.

“Let’s go.” His voice was small and quiet, but demanding.

“She’s not going anywhere.” Luke was looking at you expectantly, like he was waiting for you to shrug off Ethan.

You looked back at Ethan, he wasn't waiting for you to say anything, probably preparing to drag you away no matter what you said. You could feel some eyes on the three of you, watching to see what would happen. You turned to Luke and apologised before pushing on Ethan’s chest and taking him into the nearest private room.

You shut the door behind both of you, effectively shutting out the party and the music. You looked around the room, a small study with books lining the walls. It would be nice if you weren’t pissed off.

You looked at Ethan who could only look down at his feet, a wave of nervousness overtaking the confident facade he just had on.

“What is wrong with you tonight?” You tried to keep your voice down but the anger was bubbling over the surface.

Ethan didn’t even look at you, just shrugging his shoulders in response.

“You have been acting like a total dick all night, more than usual.” You continue, running your hands through your hair. “And now you’re being a dick to others, seriously? Why do you have to ruin everything good in my life?”

Still, no answer.

“Are you going to say something?”

It was a quick decision for Ethan, one that he's been wanting to do for ages but had only seemed to have gotten the courage to do it now. He made the few steps towards you, closing the gap and reaching up to cup your face, all before crashing his lips onto yours.

It was sudden, him pressing his lips onto yours. You wanted to fight, to push him away and tell him off. You wanted to tell him off for the whole night and all of his antics, but you stayed still and let him kiss you. It was hungry, feverish, like he was expecting you to push him away and he knew it was going to be the last time.

It wasn’t until you slipped your hands into his hair and pulled him closer that he finally relaxed, moaning into your mouth and pushing his body closer to yours. He backed you up against the door, pressing his hips to yours to cage you in.

You hated yourself for what you were doing, knowing that you might hate yourself in the morning. But right now, kissing Ethan, it was all you wanted.

“Couldn’t handle seeing you with that other guy.” He whispered against your lips, kissing you between almost every word.

You didn’t say anything, just wanting to live in this moment forever because you didn’t know how long it’ll last, he might start fighting with you as soon as you back away. You tugged on his curls, earning a groan from him and a thrust of his hips against yours. It was getting hotter and heavier every moment that your mouths were on each other, losing all thoughts of how much you were supposed to hate him. 

“The only way I thought you’d look at me was if I was mean to you.” Ethan’s lips latched themselves onto your neck, sucking and biting every bit of skin he could get to. “But seeing you with him, I just wanted him to know that you’re mine.”

“Ethan.” It was like you were dumb, you couldn’t think of anything else but his mouth on your neck and his hands on your hips, gripping them as if you were going to run away.

“If you knew how much I wanted you, you would have ran away.” He was rambling, speaking to you as if you weren’t listening. 

“I wanted you too.” Maybe it was the drinks or the dancing, but your tongue felt loose and you split every thought you had to him. “I did all of that for you.”

He couldn’t say anything else, too turned on by your words and your hands tugging on his hair. His hands moved down to your thighs, gripping the exposed skin and chuckling at how you were trying to stifle your moans. His hands trail upwards underneath the skirt and to your underwear, caressing your hips with his thumbs.

“This fucking skirt.” His mouth moved to hover just above yours, your neediness made it almost impossible to focus on his words. “I wanted to rip it off you the moment I saw it, tried blocking you from everyone on the street during the walk here.”

“Is that why you hate it?” You chuckled, caressing his cheeks and taking in how pretty he really was for the first time. “Because you love it so much?”

“I wanted to take you back into Tara’s room and show you a reason why you shouldn’t wear it.” His eyes were laser focused on you, you were almost scared to look away. “Now I guess I’ll have to show you here.”

“What do you mean?”

Before any more words could leave your mouth, Ethan’s thigh wedged its way between your legs, the rough material of his jeans pressing against the flimsy fabric of your thin underwear. Your moan caught you by surprise, Ethan grinned wildly at it and was determined to hear more, 

“Want you to get off on my leg.” His voice was low and hesitant, like he was waiting to see how you would react to him being demanding with you when you would normally tell him off. But all you could do was nod and start grinding on his thigh, the jean material rubbing against your clit and causing you to go a little hazy.

Ethan was much taller than you so his thigh between your legs caused you to stand practically on your tippy toes, the only anchor you had was his shoulders. You nails dug into his skin through the fabric of his shirt, using them to help you drag your pussy over his thigh. The sensation was making you desperate, you could feel him flexing his thigh every time you moved your hips forward, making then feeling on your clit so much better. 

“If only the group could see how needy you are for me.” Ethan’s hands were on your jaw, holding your head up so he could see your face properly, grinning to himself at how your face scrunches up every time your clit feels a particularly good part of his thigh. “They would be so surprised to know that all that hate you had for me was just masking your true feelings.”

“What feelings are those?” Your voice was breathy and almost silent, you had never felt like this before.

“The feeling of wanting to fuck me, wanting me to fuck you.” Ethan’s lips ghosted your cheeks, kissing them after every moan you tried to silence. “If only you told me earlier, baby, that you wanted me. I would have helped you out, I will do anything for you.”

You don’t know why but those words spurred you on, causing you to pick up your pace and grind yourself on his thigh faster. Ethan could see you needed help and placed his hands on your hips, ready to help you. But before he did anything, he stopped you, much to your dismay as you let him know with a needy whine.

“Tell me you want me.” His voice was no longer cute and joking, he was serious. 

“Ethan.” You whined and tried to move your hips again, but his hold on you was too strong and bruising. 

“Tell me that you’re mine.”

You looked at him, his eyes dark and tough. As much as you two bickered and fought, he had never looked at you like this, it scared you a little. But the way he was holding you, the words he was speaking, it was all so hypnotic that all you could do was follow his instructions.

“I’m yours, Ethan.” It scared you more that you knew you meant it, you had known it for a long time but this was the first time admitting it. “I have always been. Now please, make me feel good.”

The last part was what got Ethan, the desperation in your voice and the way your hands clung to his hair like he was all you needed in the world, it felt him with a sense of pride. His hands started moving your hips for you, helping you drag yourself over his thigh. It was all so delicious, the feeling of your own lace underwear and his rough denim on your sensitive clit, the groans he was letting go in your ear, his lips on your shoulder blade.

“You look so good, baby.” 

You smiled at the compliment, biting your lip as your eyes closed. The sight made Ethan almost cum there, how happy and hot you looked riding his thigh. He could look at your face all day.

Then, Ethan picked up his pace, dragging your hips over him with a new found speed, added to the sensation of him flexing and bouncing his knee to stimulate your pussy even more. One of his hands left your hip and went under your top and bra, groping your boob and tugging your nipple. 

It was all too much; the feeling of him on your clit, his cold fingers pinching your nipples and his mouth sucking hickies on your neck. You swore that if you had any thoughts apart from you and him, you would be embarrassed that the party was hearing how loud your moans were.

Ethan could tell you were getting closer from the tugging on his hair to the stuttered motion of your hips, you were starting to lose all control. Ethan crashed his lips back onto yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth in a messy show of dominance, wanting you to know who was making you feel this good.

“Come on, baby.” His breath was hot against your lips, and you couldn’t wait till he kissed you again. “I know you’re close.”

“Mhmm.” All you could to was whine, the feeling within you getting tighter and tighter the long you grinded on him. It wasn’t until Ethan took his hand from your hip and dipped it into your underwear, rubbing your clit in lazy circles and you feverishly thrusted against him

“Good girl.” He almost laughed at how whiney you were, so different to how mean you are to him in front of your friends. “Let go for me, let everyone know who’s making you feel good, yeah?”

The band within you snapped and you came with a cry on Ethan’s thigh and fingers, their own assault on you never ceasing and he continued to rub your clit and help you move your hips on him, allowing your orgasm to drag out. 

He took in your face, so blissed out in ecstasy, he kissed you hard. You smiled into the kiss, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him closer, not wanting the moment to end. You were scared about what was going to happen when you got off his thigh and left the room; would you two go back to fighting as usual or did this spark some change within him.

“Come back to my dorm?” Ethan’s tone was now nervous and unsure, and yet his demeanour remind confident. “I wanna see you in my bed, naked. Be away from the crowd so you can chant my name.”

Ethan watched your face, waiting for you to say something, anything. He was nervous too that you were going to push him away and act like this was a one time thing, he wanted it to be more, for both of you to be more. Fighting with you was the only way he was able to get your full attention, and so he did it because he had no other choice. But now, knowing that you like him back, he wanted you to be his. 

“Okay.” You looked up at him and touched his lip with your thumb, a soft gesture but it caused him to melt. 

“Yeah?’ His smile was contagious, causing you to grin yourself. 

“Yeah.”

[ghulehunknown]

Undressing Papa Backstage,

A Drabble - Dom Copia x GN Reader

Warning - adult themes ahead!

NSFW below!

Tags: blowjob, unprotected penetrative sex, dom Copia

Word Count: 1.3K

Just imagine undressing him after a show backstage. He’s sweaty and he’s just told the audience to go fuck themselves, and he has similar plans in mind. You watch as he takes the final bow. His brow is glistening with beads of sweat, and his hair is a little damp. There’s a hunger in his gaze, his bottom lip falling slightly open as the lights go out.

Performing has him especially riled up this evening. He’s already pitching a tent in his painfully tight jeans by the time he turns to go backstage. And he wasn’t kidding about that violent shower. You had always wondered what exactly he meant, and envisioned him painting the walls in his ecstasy and making a mess of himself only to wash it down the drain.

And where was the fun in that, imagining? And what was the fun in doing it solo the whole tour, Copia wondered as well. You got to know him pretty well, in the quick changes in between songs. Small chatter, but mostly silence as you focused on your task at hand. But all the touches, feeling his body as you put his robes on and took them off, carefully smoothing his hair each time… it built something inside of you. And you think it did for him too.

“Excellent job, Papa,” you remark as he runs backstage again for the final time of the night. He’s out of breath and chugs the water bottle you hand him as you start to take his red jacket off one arm at a time.

“Mm-!” he mumbles while drinking. “Grazie, dear.” He’s still trying to catch his breath but slowly it returns to normal. “You eh, catch my line?”

Oh yes, of course you had. Since the start of tour you began keeping a tally of all the different ways he would tell the audience about fucking each other or themselves, and how he intended to do the same…

“Of course, Papa, I think the audience liked it,” you say with a smile as you hang up the red jacket for dry cleaning later on.

“And…what about you?” he says with a small smirk, looking at you as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

You blush. “I…” you begin, stepping forward to help him with his buttons as he fumbles around.

“You…?”

“Please, Papa…you’ve put me in a rather…precarious situation. I - I have a job to do, and I can’t be distracted. Don’t make me choose between what I want to do and what I have to do.” You look up at him, his shirt collar in your grasp. But you don’t sound convincing. Nor do you want to.

“I know tesoro, but you don’t have to worry about any of that. I want you. I’ve wanted you since they assigned you to me.” He’s touching your elbow now, gingerly brushing your arm with his thumb. “All this touching and no fucking, I can’t stand it.”

“Papa, I -” you start to say but before you can get the words out, he shoves you off him while undoing his pants in a hurry but tugs at it hopelessly just like the buttons on his shirt.

He curses in Italian and slumps his shoulders a bit, looking at you pathetically, giving up. “That was supposed to be seductive,” he said, frowning.

You can barely contain a smile. “This is why you need your wardrobe assistant,” you say, unlacing his pants and unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. Your fingertips brush his sternum, feeling the few coarse hairs sprinkled across his chest.

Your breath catches in your throat. You kneel down to start taking off his pants past his waist before you realize - of course, how could you forget? These jeans don’t leave much to the imagination, and he forgoes undergarments just to get them over his hips.

“Something the matter?” he asks, looking down at you and wondering why you paused.

You shake your head and continue, this time yanking the jeans halfway down his thighs in short tugs. The tight fabric combined with his sweat doesn’t allow much wiggle room.

Finally his erection springs forth, completely hard and in your face. Your hands trail up the back of his thighs, until you’re cupping his supple ass. You give his cheeks a squeeze, eliciting a little chuckle from him. You bring one hand to his front, grabbing his cock in your fist and tilting it upwards towards your mouth.

He sighs and grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back. Then he spits directly onto his shaft, saliva pooling around your hand. You work him up in your grasp, his spit giving you allowance to glide your fist around him smoothly.

You lean forward until your lips touch his flushed tip. You part your lips and kiss it gently before taking him in your mouth and sinking down on him fully, until his tip hits the back of your throat. You can smell his natural body odor mixed with his cologne at his base. He tastes salty from all the built up perspiration.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, clutching onto your hair harder. His eyes are closed as he rocks his body against your mouth, feeling every part of his cock enrobed.

You gag at first, but his thrusts don’t wait for you to catch your breath. He’s using you for his own pleasure, like his own little fuck doll.

Before he finishes, he pulls you off him roughly by the hair. You choke and sputter as he utters a gruff command.

You nod and obey him when he says, “I want you bent over the vanity.”

You quickly clear the scattered mess of things on the surface - his face paints, makeup brushes, tissues, setlists, water bottles - as he comes up behind you and yanks your trousers down your hips. He throws them to the side once your legs are free.

He pushes you flat against the vanity, your head turned to the side and your cheek laying down flat. He kicks your legs apart so they make a wide V shape. You hear him spit again, then again, this time in his hand. He reaches down to your core, massaging his saliva like it’s lube at your entrance.

You both moan in sync as he pushes into you, and you feel the initial stretch. Oh fuck! You had thought of this moment so many times while alone backstage with him, but truthfully never even knew how big his cock was until now. You had an idea, sizing the bulge in his pants. But he usually put his pants on by himself before shows, and took them off himself afterwards on his way to the shower, so you never saw this part of him. You wince as your walls contract around him to accommodate his size.

“Ah - fuuckk, s-so good -” he murmurs, thrusting in and out of you.

You lay there atop the table, feeling him pound into you over and over. You moan every time he brushes up against your little sweet spot deep inside you.

“You like that, mm? My little assistant,” he growls in your ear, and as you look up into the mirror you see him smirking and looking into your eyes. He spanks your ass, leaving a red handprint.

You yelp as he bends your left arm behind your back, keeping a firm grip there to steady himself as he continues drilling into you. Your body bounces on the table as you watch both your faces contort in passion in the mirror. The hairspray bottle and his cologne are dangerously close to falling off the table.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum -” he says breathlessly, pulling out of you quickly. You peer up into the mirror again and see him looking down and just when you wonder - warm, thick liquid splashes all over you, painting your backside as he coaxes out his seed.

You lay there in a daze as he pulls some tissues from the box next to you, cleaning himself off and aimlessly cleaning you off too, though it’s more of a smear.

Then he says, “Undress. Get in the shower. We’re just getting started.”

[fairyofshampgyu]

Now Live ! Stream: 3

Genre: smut, camboy au, college au, crack

Pairing: camboy! Beomgyu x gn reader (afab when smut)

Warnings: camboy, sub! beomgyu, dom! reader, solo beomgyu, jerking off, humping

Synopsis: Every Thursday night at 8pm, you tune into your favourite camboy: Angel313. What you don’t know is he even goes to the same uni as you, is in the same class as you and is Choi Beomgyu, the campus fuckboy but will you keep his secret?

Word count: 2.2k

You’d been meeting up with beomgyu a fair amount now, going to each other’s dorms or library to sort out the christmas performance. You’d finally chosen 5 songs to arrange and had already finished arranging 3 of them. You both would arrange a song each and then show it to the other for feedback and then work on it together.

It’s not that horrendous working with him surprisingly. And you’d thought he’d be an actual ass but he hasn’t. He was actually pretty quiet and not that talkative most of the time. It seems that even Beomgyu realises the opportunity to be the only two picked in the music department isn’t something to be taken lightly and you guys really had to live to expectations or raise the bar higher this christmas concert because you remember all the previous years before and they were always so amazing.

Beomgyu’s not bad at all at music like how you thought he was. You’re beginning to understand why your professor chose him as well. Honestly, you’re impressed. You almost feel bad for making assumptions about him. He still is definitely the campus playboy though, flirting incessantly with people and even jokingly to you at times to which you completely dismiss, having people gushing and whispering and giggling about him whenever you guys are at the library and sometimes he can’t meet up with you because he has numerous parties to attend and get drunk and fuck people at.

He can be a bit dense at times but he isn’t all that bad. He’s tolerable. It’s clear one thing he’s good at and passionate about is music. And so are you. And so with that, you can get along with him on a surface level in the small time you’ll be working together. After that, you won’t need to talk to him again.

You’re currently on the way to beomgyu’s dorm, needing to know his opinion on the brass section of a part of one of the Christmas songs you’ve arranged. Arranging isn’t too hard and doesn’t take that long since you’re not necessarily composing a whole new song but you want even the most famous and basic Christmas songs to have a really unique style and so you’ve been changing up lots of parts and adding more instruments, changing chords and keys, reharmonising and adding virtuosic solos that didn’t already exist or extending and cutting short on them.

And right now, you weren’t quite sure if the brass section worked, needing the critique of your partner. Laptop in hand with your music software that’s saved your life countless of times since first year for your compositions and made you want to smash your whole laptop and rip out your hair, ready and open.

Just at that moment, you get a notification that Angel313 was going live. It wasn’t his usual time but you’re guessing he decided to do a surprise/bonus one this week. No one was around whilst you walked and if you put your headphones in? You’ll just watch the very first few minutes whilst you make your way to Beomgyu’s dorm. No harm. Then you’ll stop.

Today, he’s humping his bed, brutally and un-rhythmically. Rutting against the sheets like a desperate puppy in heat, one hand tightly gripping and fisting at his sheets, and the other on his mouth, trying to conceal the noises he’s making, whimpering adorably, prettiest moans coming out of him. The sight making you want to run back home so you could enjoy it properly. You loved the sounds he makes. You could probably get off to just that. His bed seems a little familiar though but you can’t put your finger on it. It looks like just another university dorm or something to be honest.

You’ve made your way to Beomgyu’s dorm, knocking on his door, still watching the live from your phone. You hear a knock on the live too. That’s funny. You knock again since you don’t think he heard you the first time and you hear the exact same sound of a knock from the live again. That’s quite strange. You press your ears to the door trying to make out any sound and that’s when you hear it, moaning. The same ones coming from your headphones from Angel’s live. Your eyes go wide in shock. From the second knock on Angel’s live, their own eyes widen and they hurriedly switch the live off. You can hear beomgyu shout from the door “in a minute!” immediately after Angel stopped. He sounds distressed. He also sounds exactly like Angel’s voice.

But this is all just a really funny coincidence right now. You’re not even sure what Beomgyu’s actually doing behind the door. He could be doing anything. It’s just a weird coincidence. How could Beomgyu and Angel be the same? That’s not possible at all and makes absolutely no sense. They’re both completely opposite people. Out of everyone in the whole world, both of them would be the least you’d expect. It makes you laugh because of how outrageous it is. Why would you ever think that? It’s a coincidence. Yeah, yeah.

Beomgyu finally opens his door for you, looking like he ran a marathon.

“Y/n?”

“Hey-” That’s when you see it at the back in a corner stuffed with other piles of clothes, pink and white thigh highs. Identical to the ones Angel wears. But maybe that’s just someone’s he’d fucked recently and they accidentally left it there. Then beomgyu reaches his hand up to lean higher on his door frame, attempting to be nonchalant but in doing so, and from the already quite short shirt he was wearing, you have a clear view of beomgyu’s stomach. It had a pink piercing. Identical to the one Angel has.

You don’t have anymore excuses. It’s beginning to make sense yet absolutely no sense in your brain, gears turning in your head, about to drop your laptop in shock on the floor but you regain some sort of conscience. The hair, saying he’s not free Thursday nights, the piercing, the thigh highs, his voice, even his physique you realised, were the same.

“Y-you’re-you’re…Angel???!!!”

And then you zoom out and make a quick exit with a horrified expression. Beomgyu equally as horrified.

Fuck.

Beomgyu is absolutely fucked. He’s done for. You saw. You fucking saw. You know. You know he’s a camboy now. And you’ll tell everyone and everyone in the whole universe will know about it. What will happen to him?! Everyone on campus will ridicule him, especially with his ‘reputation’ to ‘uphold.’ He may as well start digging his grave now whilst he still has the chance.

But how did you even know? Sure, he didn’t hide his thigh highs that well he figures, just trying to stuff them anywhere and also the nearest shirt to put fast just so happened to be quite cropped so you could see his piercing. He curses that shirt. He doesn’t even know why he still has it. It’s ugly. But even then, that didn’t give away he was a camboy! The only way you could figure it out is if you watched him and he highly doubted that. So how did you figure it out? He’s been constantly freaking out about it, the essay he hasn’t done due in a few hours not even crossing his mind once.

He’d tried looking all over the place for you but you’ve been avoiding him like the plague, only increasing and adding on to his fear day by day. Did you think he was a freak now? It kind of hurt. How many people had you already told? You’d think it’d be easy to get to you if you’re both in the same class but apparently not. Beomgyu is so stressed. By now you could have told your whole music class.

You sigh as you applied to yet another job this week. Why was finding a job so hard? You didn’t even care at all what it’d be, you just need some money. You are broke. Maybe you shouldn’t have spent most of your student loan on eating out pretty much every day at overly priced restaurants with your friends. But you’re a foodie.

You think back on a few days ago when you found out Beomgyu was actually Angel313, you can’t get it out of your mind. It just feels so wrong. For the longest time, you watched every one of his streams, completely infatuated. You always wondered who he actually was and what he looked like. Now that you know, you wish you didn’t. To think that he actually was in the same city, in the same university as you, taking the same major and someone you talked to just seems so impossible. Really, what a small world. And for them to be the choi beomgyu?! Goes to show really just how little you know of people on screens.

You still get notifications of whenever he’s live but it feels so incredibly wrong to watch them. You could never watch them again. You feel kinda disgusting, knowing you’ve watched beomgyu jerk off and jerked off to it as well multiple times. You can’t look him in the eyes knowing you did that. You haven’t talked to him since, avoiding him at all costs, sitting far, far away in the lecture room and then making a speedy beeline to the exit before he even has the chance, avoiding him around campus as well and ignoring the texts he sent you. He must think you’re an actual pervert or something. You don’t know how on earth you’re supposed to arrange and direct this whole Christmas performance yourself but you’ll try.

It seems the universe is not in your favour however because whilst you were in the library, searching for a book your professor recommended, the place where you least expected beomgyu to step foot in and so felt less of the need to be wary, he happened to be there. You were just about to pick up the book off the shelf since you finally found it, but someone else swipes the book off you before you can. Beomgyu. And then he’s blocking your way of escaping, forcing you into a corner.

“Y/n! Please! Just listen to me! We need to talk!” He pleads.

It’s not like you can really run away now, pent up thoughts bursting out. “I just-HOW are you Angel313?! I don’t get it at all! You’re completely different. You once knocked someone up and forced them to get an abortion! You’re literally a-a….manwhore!”

“Excuse me…?”

“Yeah! You’re literally just another dumb fuckboy who drops people as soon as you’re done with them! You’ve probably knocked so many people up! You probably have so many like….like STDs!”

“That’s not even possible!”

“Yeah? Why isn’t it?!” You cross your arms.

“Because! B-because…-I AM A VIRGIN!!” Beomgyu’s eyes go wide and his hands smack his mouth. He cannot believe he actually just admitted that.

“WHAT?”

The librarian restocking books gives you both an appalled and scarred look, not even bothering to tell you to be quiet, scurrying away. Beomgyu puts his head in his hands in humiliation, ears turning red at that.

“What?!” You whisper shout. “That’s probably the biggest lie of the century.”

“I’m being serious…I’ve never had sex…” He winces, embarrassed at his own words.

“But—but you’re literally known just for that. Even I have seen you with multiple people at parties!”

“Making out and flirting with people are different things! I’ve done some stuff! But I’ve never…fucked anyone…”

He’s supposed to be the notorious player on your campus and an absolute douchebag to everyone he came in contact with, hated by many but also wanted and wanted to be fucked by many. But the boy who was shying under your gaze right now did not fit that description at all.

“I genuinely cannot believe this…”

“Look, you can’t-you really, really can’t tell anyone that I’m,” His voice lowers, “a camboy! No one else can know. I’ll do anything, anything you ask just please don’t tell anyone! My life would be ruined!”

Now, you’re not an asshole. You weren’t planning on telling anyone he was a camboy at all. You know people aren’t that accepting of anything to do with sex work. He’d most likely get humiliated. He might not even be able to get a job since people care so much for stuff like that for some reason. You’re sure everyone would go mad especially if they found out Choi Beomgyu was a camboy. But him saying he’d do anything if you didn’t reveal his little secret intrigued you so much so, that he didn’t need to know you were never going to tell anyone in the first place.

“I want in.”

“Huh?”

“Your camboy business. I want to be a partner. I’ll be your manager, I’ll help you film stuff and get more money. As long as I’m getting some too.”

Please actually reblog and comment if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated tysm !<3🙏💕😊 It’s discouraging when fics have such little reblogs 🤨👎Feedback is always appreciated it makes me happy :)

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[sinnerlillith]

teenage dirtbag

Summary: “I got 2 tickets to Iron Maiden baby, come with me Friday, don’t say maybe.”~ you and your boyfriend finish your record store date late at night. The van doors are open, Iron Maiden is playing, and the empty schools parking lot is in view. and thank goodness it’s empty [10k words]

Includes: van sex, pervy eddie, masochist eddie, power sub eddie, (he’s in a submissive position, but he’s in charge sometimes. so semi-switch eddie too) eddie has scars from ST4, reader smokes a cig, finger sucking (reader), briefly choking eddie, praise kink, some nipple play, some dirty talk, safe sex, slight exhibitionism, eddie being a dorky metal head

The proof that summer is ending in Hawkins shows in the cool night air. Tonight really is cooler than most nights, which is why Eddie made sure to bring an extra blanket for the van. You’re both sitting across from each other with the 2 large back doors swung wide open, letting in the crisp air and exposing the starry night sky with the yellow glow of street lamps. 

Your legs are straight, and slightly parted on top of his, one ankle on each side of his hips. His lean and black ripped jean covered legs are also parted, letting you sit between them as his back rests against the inside wall of the van. His scuffed white rebook shoes occasionally tap your sides as he rolls his ankles open and closed, side to side. He really can’t keep his whole body still at all.

The blanket stretches across both pairs of legs, while a picnic blanket is laid out underneath you both. The van smells of cigarettes and weed, and the sounds of metal guitar solos from Eddies portable radio, on his left side, fill the occasional short silence. You two have a lit up cigarette in-between your pointer and middle fingers, chipped with black nail polish.

And if you didn’t think Eddie could get any hotter while smoking something, you were very wrong. He’s even hotter when he can have a cig in his hand, paired with a well done outfit, his glittering accessories, and dark messy hair falling down his broad shoulders. 

He’s wearing a white diy cut tank top made from and old Megadeath graphic tee, underneath his leather jacket and battle vest. The neckline is cut so low that you can see all his chest tattoos clearly, and the deep line between his pectorals that his pick necklace dangles over. Every time he inhales the smoke from his cig, his chest expands into the cloth of his shirt, pressing up against it, making it look 10 times tighter than it really is.

Makes you want to drag your tongue over his chest, but instead, you just take a drag of your cig and exhale the smoke out your lips. You hear Eddie take out the new Iron Maiden cassette he just bought and flip it to the other side, closing the tape holder to his portable radio with a click.

A new tune fills the smoky night air of the van, and you listen to it closely.

“Alright, so which song is this one?” Eddie questions you, brown eyes watching your thinking face. He’s been quizzing you like some sort of gameshow host, asking you to name each song being played.

You sit and ponder, noticing the familiar lyrics and instrumental. Your face changes from thinking, to noticing, to realizing.

“Number something, uh... the beast? No- number of the... The Number of the Beast!” you finally say enthusiastically, eyes looking up to meet his with a big, confident smile on your face.

Eddie claps multiple times, flattening his lips into an excited smile and scrunching his eyebrows together. He’s careful not to drop his cigarette as he celebrates your mini victory.

Cute.

“Yes- yes! Finally! You got it,” he says excitedly, but also exhaustedly because you finally guessed right after being wrong about some other songs. “took you long enough.”

You roll your eyes at him, “It’s not my fault you’re playing songs I’m not familiar with!”

He chuckles at your argument, shaking his head a few times, hair swaying side to side with each shake. “Yeah, whatever.” He brings his cigarette up to his pink lips, circling his flattened mouth around the butt taking another drag with a smile.

He talks with smoke coming out of his mouth, “Just wait, the guitar solo is gonna come up, it’s-” he mimics the noise of an explosion, both ring adorned hands coming to the side of his curly head, gesturing his mind blowing up. His chain bracelet falls down his wrist as he brings it up next to his face, and the smoke from his cig clouds around him. 

You sit and wait. About 2 minutes later, the familiar guitar solo comes up and he’s right, it’s as intense as you remember. It only got better and better.

“Damn.” you mutter appreciatively, barely audible over the music.

Eddie turns the volume up, music sounding even louder now, and he starts doing a cute air guitar solo with the cig dangling from his lips. His head bangs and shakes around, making that long hair of his move wildly and the smoke from his cig leaks all around him, and fuck does he look hot.

A little dorky, but very hot.

His chain bracelet dangles and glimmers with every flick of his wrist on his air guitar strings. His chipped, black, painted nails, finger the pretend neck of the guitar, dancing along the air frets. 

You laugh at him, but then realize its a little too loud, and its late at night. You don’t want to draw any attention to you guys this late. The wrong person could see you both, and then the police would soon show up.

You motion for him to turn it down, and he shakes his head, taking his cig out and mouthing the word “Nope!” to you, with a dimple showing grin. He returns to his solo, shaking his hair around with his cig now in his ‘strumming’ hand.

“Stop- you dork!” you shout and giggle, failing to be serious because he’s too cute. 

“Make me, sweetheart!” he yells over the music, lifting his pretty head up to you before turning away to finish his solo.

You snuff out your cig and pull your legs off him, moving the blanket off you both. You crawl up on your hands and knees, getting to the side of him that the radio is on, bending to the right and turning the volume of his radio down. You can still hear the music, it just plays much quieter.

“Aww babe, c’mon-” he fake whines, turning his head to you and ceasing his strumming. His hands drop, falling to rest on the curve of your knees. You ignore his whine, smiling as you move your legs to the sides of his hips, spreading your thighs to straddle his knees. You sit on his lower thighs, far back from the crotch seam of his black jeans and lift your head to look at him.

“Not trying to have the police called on us, Ed.”

He shrugs a ‘fair enough’ type of shrug, and brings the hand with his cig off your knee and up to his lips, taking another drag. You watch the lit end of it burn brighter with his inhale, and die down when it’s pulled from his lips. He holds the smoke in his mouth, not letting it into his lungs yet.

His other hand lifts off your other knee, gently bringing your chin towards him as he leans his torso forward so your lips are less than centimeters away. He then blows the smoke into your parted mouth, and you start to inhale what he gives you. Your lips barely touch, ghosting over each other, but it still gives you a flutter in your stomach at the intimacy.

Your hands slide onto either side of his neck, and one sneaks to the back of his skull, resting in his frizzy hair as you finish inhaling. Then, you lift your chin to blow the smoke out above his his head, making sure his face doesn't get a load of your puff.

He looks up at you licking his lips at the sight, finding you incredibly attractive when you smoke for some reason. Bringing his head forward, his hot lips meet the warm skin of your exposed neck under your lifted chin, planting a kiss. He pulls back and your head turns down to look at him with a smile, which he silently returns.

You feel his large palm of his empty hand now grip your clothed waist. The heat from his hand is felt through your shirt.

“Come closer,” Eddie mutters, “you’re so far away.” he whines, referring to you straddling his lower thighs, rather than his hips.

You smile, deciding to tease him a bit. “But Eddie, I’m right here-”

“Oh c’mon, princess,” he tugs at your waist, attempting to pull you closer. He brings his voice down to a cliche flirty tone, “I don’t bite...” You raise an eyebrow at him. “I mean, not unless you want me to.” he corrects himself.

You scoff playfully, “Oh my god, Eddie. Whatever.”

“Ok ok, no biting.” he raises both hands in a surrender, and you slide forward. You sit on his crotch area and place your hands on his broad shoulders, over his vest and jacket. 

“I lied.” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. He giggles cute boyish giggles as he leans in and playfully bites your shoulders and neck, grabbing your waist tightly with both hands, not letting you escape. He’s still holding the cig between his fingers, careful not to burn anything as he holds your squirming body firmly in place. 

His head tosses around your frame, feeling his teeth gently nibble at you over and over. You can’t help but giggle and snort at his ridiculous way of flirting. You feel his shoulders shake, and his chest vibrates with laughter. 

But then, you feel a particular bite that has your breath hitching. He bites at the spot under your jaw and just above the column of your neck- the soft spot that always makes you react when his mouth shows it any bit of attention.

You try to bring yourself together before he can notice.

“Ok- ok! Eddie-” you say between airy laughs. You lean back, pushing his denim and leather covers shoulders forward. This stops his biting, and he licks his lips to re-moisten them after moving all over your skin. His hands still rest over your shirt, gripping your waist.

You grab both sides of his face and squish them, making his lips puff out and the eyelids of his dark brown eyes wrinkle closer together. He looks weirdly cute like this.

“Stay still.” you tell him, no hint of seriousness found in your voice at all, hands still squeezing his heated cheeks. 

He tries to speak to you, but with his mouth and cheeks all forced together, his words come out funny.

“yesh ma’am.” he says, lips unable to actually touch- earning a chuckle from you and a muffled one from him.

You release his face, smoothing your hands back to his ears, both thumbs in-front of them, while the rest of your fingers are resting on his scalp. You rub the pads of your thumbs back and forth on his face as he brings his cig up to his mouth for one last drag.

He’s careful when he exhales, not wanting to blow smoke into your face. His head turns away from to blow the smoke out, and you notice how his pale neck is now exposed to you. 

You lean in to place your lips on the thin pulsing skin, giving him a gentle kiss. You pull back, hands still cupping his warm face while he turns his head and looks into your eyes. A smile slowly creeps onto his face while he stares at you, looking as if his eyes are thanking you for your sweet gesture.

Eddie puts out his cigarette, tossing the butt across the van and bringing his hand back to your waist. He looks at your lips, and then back to your eyes.

“So, uhh...” he says, and you can feel his breath hit your face at your close proximity. It smells like cigarettes and his all-too-familiar toothpaste. “..how about a kiss here, huh?” he smiles, and brings his hand off your waist to point a ringed finger at his mouth.

You smirk, “Real smooth, Ed.” 

“What? Did it work?”

You ponder. “Close your eyes and find out, charmer.”

He immediately closes his brown eyes, patiently waiting for your lips, cutely trying to hold back his smile. The corners of his lips have faint wrinkles as he attempts to not let them curl up into a grin.

You lower your eyelids half way as you lean into his mouth. The moment your lips touch, you close your eyes completely, slowly kissing him. Feeling his warm lips layer onto your own- which his are just barely chapped, but still as pillowy and welcoming as ever- draws a silent hum from you.

Your lips move slowly against his, setting a gentle and intimate pace, which he follows. Your body feels Eddies hands glide down your clothed torso slowly, inching more and more after every heart beat. Automatically, your heads tilt to give eachother more access to your mouths, both equally thirsting for one another. 

Eddies hands have now moved down to the bottom hem of your shirt, slipping his fingers under the edge of the fabric, and placing them on your bare waist. You feel his warm thumbs brush over your skin in a back and forth motion, while the hot air from his nose exhales over your joined lips.

When his tongue slips out to glide over the tip of your own, you lean into his body more. Instantly, your hands become desperate, wildly smoothing around his scalp and accidentally tugging his knots in his wavy hair. He silently chuckles against your mouth at your sudden passion.

Your wet tongues slip over each other even more, opening and closing your mouths but never breaking the kiss. You feel him match your sudden greed by biting your lower lip and tugging it back before immediately putting your lips together again. Your hands push back further into his hair, pulling his body closer to your own, making your chests flushed against each other, and his large warm hands move up from your waist to your back, brushing over your bra strap. They rest somewhere near your shoulder blades.

Your body reacts to his roaming hands and needy kissing by sliding your hips forward, gently grinding on Eddie. With your breasts pressing up to his chest, your hips rolling on his semi under his black denim jeans, and hands smoothing all over his hair and face, he groans into your mouth. 

Anytime your breasts press into him, it makes his head spin, even if they’re covered. His perverted thoughts run rampant, picturing how they bounce when you ride him, or how they squish and mold into his hands when he palms them. He remembers the noises you make when he puts his wet lips around your nipples, or the way your hands tug at his hair while you whimper from the harsh hickeys he gives to the swell of your breasts. 

All of those thoughts make his face heat up as he kisses you, all just from your covered chest pressing into his barely clothed one.

Another roll of your hips, another second of your chest against his body, and he’s groaning again. He has to pull back and break the kiss, catching his breath and trying to collect himself. Your hips stop moving in response, and you feel his hands come down your back to your butt, resting over the back pockets of your shorts.

“Aw. Can’t handle it, Ed?” you tease, even though you’re equally as out of breath as he is.

His dark eyes peer up challengingly at you, lifting an eyebrow under his messy curls for bangs. His open mouth twists into a teeth showing half-smile.

“And if I can?” he asks with sudden confidence.

“So what? You want a medal, big boy?” you mock him, smiling at his pretty face.

“No, you’ll do.” he says sweetly, leaning in to peck your lips. When he pulls back, he looks at your face and just wants to kiss you again. 

“You’re sweet, Ed.” You lean in to plant kisses on his forehead, cheek, nose, and finally mouth. His heart flutters from the affection.

Soon enough, sounds of wet lips moving against each other fill the van again, and you’re both making out. The feeling of his affectionate hands roaming under your shirt, and on the heated skin of your torso is enough to make you forget all about the wholesome moment you had a little while ago. Your own hands roam around his neck and hair. You’re both just lost in the warmth, smell, and feel of each other in his cozy, familiar van.

His hands come up to where your bra hooks together, and he struggles to unclip it, making you giggle against his smiling mouth. Mixed saliva lightly coats your lips when you pull away, lifting your hands under your shirt to unhook your bra. You keep your shirt on as you slide the straps over your shoulders, and slip it under your clothing until the warm fabric is exposed to the cool night air, and Eddies lustful gaze. He watches you like it’s a peep show, and you’re surprised he didn’t jokingly whistle at you. 

You toss your bra away, returning back to Eddies mouth, and his greedy hands go under your shirt again. Your tongues roll over each other, heads tilting, and lips entwine together lustfully. Eddies heated palms finally go to your breasts, cupping the undersides of them. 

He starts gentle, but that doesn’t last long at all. You quietly moan against his mouth as he squeezes and gropes your chest with determination. His blunt flinger tips graze up your flesh, making it to your nipples and he rolls his thumb over them. They rub side to side, before pinching them between his thumb and pointer fingers, causing you to make a pitchy sound.

You retaliate by biting down on his lower lip and tugging it out, making him groan deeply before rejoining your lips. Your hips grind on him, wanting more stimulation to your aroused body. He continues to desperately palm your chest, large hands never ceasing.

There is a pattern of groping and grinding that’s warming up your bodies quickly, making you forget all about the occasional breeze that comes into the van to lift the corners of the blankets and carry Eddies curls to your face before they fall back down. All of your joined rushed movements and kisses brings you both to a state of sexual need that you can’t turn back from.

Eddie pulls away from the kiss, just for him to put his pink lips elsewhere. His head tilts to the side, leaning into your neck and placing his wet and warm lips there, passionately. Like, really passionately. His kisses to your neck are saying ‘I love you, but I really need to fuck you. I really need to feel you cum on me, beg for me, cry for me, and to just need me back.’ 

He starts licking small lines and punctuating them with kisses or bites, making your neck crane back and drawing pleasured sighs from you. His tongue is warm and wet on your pulse, his lips are pillowy on your now shiny skin, and his teeth are strong on the skin he sucks. 

He finally reaches that sweet spot on your neck, the one that has you gripping his hair and making you groan and whimper. He gives it even more attention, smiling on your skin at your reactions. The sounds of his layered clothes shuffling as he switches over to the other side of your neck, trying to find your sweet spot there, fill your heated ears. 

Your head turns to give him access, eyes shutting close as he uses his mouth to further ignite your skin. Your stomach bubbles with lust, feeling those flutters of passion around your core, sinking down to your clothed entrance. You’re getting wet, slicking up your underwear, soon to drip to the fabric of your shorts, sitting right above Eddies hard on. 

His neck kisses feel so fucking good, but when you open your eyes and turn your head, you’re brought to the sight of the high school behind the open van doors.

His head is still in your neck, shuffling around to stimulate your saliva covered skin while you stare out the doors, not too excited about them being open. You’re not sure of you want someone to wander and see you on Eddie’s lap, his hands under your shirt and face in your neck.

“Eddie,” you whine, “the van doors..” your voice is quiet, but still loud enough to be heard over the quiet Iron Maiden music, and Eddies kissing sounds.

You feel his lips detach, and head turn up to look at your eyes locking with his.

“Aw babe, what are you worried about?” his eyes look at your face, slightly worried, slightly aroused. His hands under your shirt have moved down to your rib cage, resting there for now. He tries to reassure your nerves. “Look-” he turns his head and gestures to the empty high school. Your eyes follow, once again. “The school’s closed, and the back of the van is facing it too, so no one’s gonna see us.”

His head turns back to you, but yours is still, yet again, focused on the empty building. Your eyes dart over the windows and doors, but while you’re distracted, Eddie leans his lips towards your ear, since it’s easily accessible now that your head is turned. He gives it a sweet kiss.

Then, you feel his breath when he speaks into it, “Plus,” he gently bites your ear lobe, making you no longer pay attention to the empty school. “If some lucky soul did happen to see us- or me fucking the shit out of you-” his voice rasps,  lips moving to your jaw to plant a kiss there, “-I think it would be kinda hot.” he moves his smiling mouth down to the column of your throat, kissing you, “Don’t you think?”

You quietly moan at his perverted confession and his warm, skillful mouth.

“They’d see you moaning my name,” he speaks lowly, sucking gently on your neck, “and riding my dick...” he gently bites, hands now squeezing your waist. “...won’t they, dollface?”

He pulls back to look at you, trying to sense any reassurance in your face to let him keep going.

Your eyes are half lidded, unable to keep them fully open, now too heavy with lust. You look at his pink lips, then back to hit deep brown eyes. You’d be lying if you said what his words didn’t get your mind racing. If the images he put in your head didn’t get your face hot.

"Yeah, you would be into that, Eddie." You taunt, trying to keep your composure.

He laughs through his nose, smiling, "And you wouldn't?" He challenges.

You start to lean into his neck as you speak to him, “Let’s find out then, huh?”

His lips faintly curl at your boldness, and once your lips touch his neck, he’s tilting out to the side to let your mouth roam around his skin more. Eddie takes so much pleasure in the feeling of your mouth kissing his skin, and he sighs gently when your tongue runs a stripe from the base of his neck, up to his sharp jaw. 

Fuck, why does he feel so warm on your tongue?

You bring your hands to his broad shoulders, tugging at his jacket and vest as you suck a hickey onto his pulse point. He brings his own hands up to peel his layers off, shuffling his arms and torso around to slide his leather and denim off effectively. You feel his body torque and twist, but he tries to keep his neck as straight as he can for you. 

Your mouth continues to wetly dote on his skin, making his eyes squint shut and re-open from pleasure. His hands, which you didn’t even notice return to your body, are resting on your hips, starting to squeeze roughly every now and then in reaction to your teeth sinking down on his thin warm skin of his neck. Your love bites make a trail from his neck, to the base of it, then to the skin between his shoulders and collar bones. 

His immensely tight grip on you just edges you on even more, beginning to semi-roughly grind onto his sideways erection. You’re in desperate need to get any sort of stimulation to your soaking entrance. You’re pulsing down there, practically feeling your heart beat in your pussy just from making out and being touched improperly all over your tense body -- except where you need it most.

Eddie catches onto your fervor, moving his rough hands to the front on your shorts, letting his thumb rub over the chilled metal-like button of them, basically his way to letting you know he wants to take your shorts off. Your mouth moves from off his neck to look at his face, and before he can say anything, you’re kissing him roughly, and rolling your hips towards his hands, begging him to touch your center. 

He uses both his hands to multitask and unbutton your shorts while kissing you back. His black nail polished thumb and pointer finger pull your zipper down. Once the front flaps of your shorts are open, he impatiently tucks his heated right hand into them, sliding over your panties, not bothering to take your shorts off at all. His warm palm cups your mound over the damp fabric, giving it a loving and gentle squeeze. It makes his ringed fingers apply more pressure to your wetness, causing you to moan into his mouth. 

You grind into his soft grip, body still greedy for more. His thick middle finger begins to rub the fabric over your slit. Eddie massages it with a gentle pace, simultaneously spreading your wetness underneath. His touch sends heat up your spine and to your face, making your eyes clench tightly. Each stroke of his fingers draws moan after moan from you against his pink lips, and he’s not even making proper contact with your skin. 

You continue to kiss Eddie harder, hands gripping at his dark hair, wide neck, and broad shoulders. Anything you can grab onto as you rock your core against his fingers, huffing out through your nose. 

Eddie eventually just lets his fingers stay still, allowing you to set your own pace, rubbing yourself against him, whining into his mouth. He’s enjoying your erotic display of neediness. He loves the way you show how much you crave his touch, how much he can turn you on with just his mouth and fingers, how good any part of his body feels against you, even if you’re clothed. 

“Eddie...” you whine, tucking your head into the right side of his neck, “fingers...” your words come out as a weak plea.

He lightly chuckles. “What about ‘em?” his gentle voice travels to your right ear.

You rub your clothed entrance once more on his blunt finger. “Inside,” you speak quietly, down to his chest, too embarrassed to use your words. “want them inside me...”

He sucks his teeth, patronizingly. “Aw...” he mutters, head turning to your hair, “Can’t do that too well with these shorts on, though, huh?” He’s talking as if he isn’t the one who kept them on you. 

You raise your head slowly, soon to have your eyes meeting his sly face. Any other time, you would make a witty remark to your smug bastard of a boyfriend, but this time, you’re just beyond sexually frustrated. You’re a heated, aroused, aching mess that just seriously needs to be touched, with underwear that gets wetter and slicker with every second.

You lift off your legs to slide down your unzipped shorts, and his doe eyes watch your every move. Eddie watches the denim brushing down your thighs that he loves so much, sliding over your calves, kicking them off your feet. Your underwear follows shortly after, and you slightly cringe at the stringy globs of wetness attached, connecting your cunt to the fabric. He’s practically eye fucking you the whole time. His cute tongue pokes out to lustfully lick his lips while you crawl back onto his lap.

You straddle him once again, this time having a completely bare lower body. He wastes no time in having his hands move to squeeze your bare upper thighs, moulding them under his grip. His curly head tucks into your neck, like second nature, and he places the most passionate, wet, open mouthed kisses all over your skin. 

His hands slide from your upper thighs, to your hips, then to the bare globes of your ass. Eddie squeezes them with an aggressive fervor, then adding his teeth to your neck. He sucks a harsh hickey onto your neck, while his warm palms grope at your curves, pulling them apart and squeezing them back together, making you roll forward into his lower body.

“Eddie...” you whine and warn at the same time, but before you can get anymore words out, his ringed pointer and middle finger lift to your mouth, slowly slipping them inside until his rings touch your lips. 

“Quiet, please sweetheart.” He says against your neck, causing you to feel his hot breath meet your wet skin, sending a chill to your face. “I’m gettin’ there, I promise.” he reassures you.

His fingers stay in your mouth and you grip his wrist, twirling your tongue around them while you suck, wallowing in how thick they are - wishing they were in you somewhere else. His other hand is still on your ass, continuing to grope you as Eddie’s fingers pacify you. His mouth still roams on your jaw, neck, and collar bone, leaving marks that you’ll wear for the next few days. 

All of his attention on you makes you moan against his fingers. Your entrance is still bare and soaked, impatiently waiting for attention, grinding yourself on nothing. He notices your needy muffled moans and rolling hips. It makes him grin a self satisfying grin into your neck, feeling cocky from the way your body craves for him.

“Oh baby, you need something?” he teases, knowing well that you can’t respond with his fingers shoved into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue. You try to tell him you want him to finger you already, but your voice is muffled with the first syllable. 

“Why aren’t you using your words?” he looks at you, smiling before he turns his face into a fake sentimental one ,“What’s wrong? Don’t you need something?” he cocks his head to the side, fake worrying and driving you insane. 

Little shit.

You impatiently pout against his fingers, moving your hands into the back of his hair and gripping it pleadingly. His head jerks slightly, letting his jaw fall down to chuckle at you- and if your underwear wasn't already all off, it would be even more soaked from that damn chuckle of his. 

“Ok, ok!” he says between raspy giggles, “so damn- it’s so damn cute when you pout with my fingers in your mouth...” his fingers slide out before he finishes his sentence, “...and, I’m gonna need you to hold these for me.” he says, slipping his rings off his 2 fingers and lifting your palm. His lips feel hot as he kisses your inner wrist before sliding his 2 rings on.

“Aw.” you speak sarcastically, “Eddie baby, how roma- mmf” 

His lips are on yours before you can get all your sarcasm out, but you feel him smile against your mouth. And finally, his thick fingers - wet with your own saliva - slide through your slick folds, sending heat up your body all the way to your face. Your arms cross around his neck and shoulders, wildly griping onto his dark hair and melting into his body.

His wet pointer and middle finger tips slowly rub up and down your slit while his mouth silences any of your moans you want to let out. You grow impatient at his pace, starting to roll your hips into his moving fingers. The night air is cool but your body feels so damn warm, even when you’re practically half naked in just your shirt. You’re so wet that the noises of Eddie’s fingers moving through your folds can be heard through the van, unable to be drowned out by the quiet radio at all. 

Every time his finger tips graze over your clit, your body tenses, making your thighs clench and your kiss deepen. His other hand that was once on your ass is now moving up your body, seeking out your tits. His rough finger tips pinch at your nipple while his other finger tips rub at your entrance, stimulating your body’s most sensitive points in the way he knows drives you crazy. 

You cant hold your moans back so you tear your lips away from his, head immediately falling onto his warm shoulder. You pant and whimper into his upper body, bawling your fists into his cut up tank top while his finger tips continue to play with you. His head turns to the side to kiss your hair, muttering about how cute you are when you get overwhelmed. 

Your hips start rolling even faster, body getting warmer and needier. He eats it up, the way your body begs for him without ever having to use your words. You tug the strap of his tank top down his shoulder, bringing you trembling lips to his skin.

You feel Eddie easily sliding one of his thick fingers into your heat, walls forming around it like memory foam while your lips move over his skin. Your tongue licks up his shoulder, and your teeth mark up his flesh, pulling little groans from him with your harsh mouth while he draws moans from you with his single finger. He feels so good, you cant believe its just a single finger thats getting you this hot and heavy.

But you can believe that your body is still thirsty for-

“More..” you whine, “need more fingers, Eddie...” you finish your begging with kisses to the base of his neck. You then start to suck over the spot you kissed, letting your teeth join in.

“Only if you, shit- yeah keep biting me babe,” he huffs, rewarding you with 2 fingers now to pump you faster “fuck, you better mark me up.” Eddies demand sounded much more desperate than controlling- like he was begging for you to mark him as if he was all yours, like he belonged to you only. 

His request, along with his skillful fingers, brings you to a new type of arousal. Your body reacts by roughly gripping the back of his head and taking advantage of his exposed neck, leaving a few small bruises. His hand that was on your breast now grips your ribcage for support from your unforgiving mouth.

You can feel his throat vibrate under your lips as he groans. “ah, fuck-” he hisses when he inhales, “s-shit, there it is...”

His hand on your rib moves down in-between your thighs, letting his thumb circle your clit while 2 thick fingers move in and out of you, making you gush around them. 

“Fuck, Eddie! Oh my god..” You moan into his wavy hair.

Your palm comes down to cup his very evident erection, squeezing at his firm shaft under his denim. You want to tease him as much as he’s been teasing you. The noise he lets out is soft, but it still drives you crazy. You can hear and feel how turned on he is, it makes you moan right back.

Your ears begin to heat up from the noises your pussy makes, thinking it sounds obnoxiously wet. But, like the pervert Eddie is, he grins at it while you feel almost embarrassed by it. 

“You hear that, huh y/n?” he teases, and you can really hear the shit eating grin in his voice, “Fuckin’ love the sounds you make.” Eddie groans, getting off to his fingers in you, your hand on his jean covered dick, and your mouth leaving dark hickeys on his upper body. He is especially getting off to the wet sounds of your begging pussy.

“I lay awake at night trying to remember this exact sound.” he confesses, lips leaning towards your ear. “Wanna know how many times I fuck myself to it?”

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

“How many times I made myself cum from it?” his raspy voice continues, giving you butterflies as you feel his breath on the shell of your ear. “How badly I want to make it leak on me? I mean, shit- it drives me fuckin’ crazy.”

You can barely handle his fingers stimulating both your clit and your entrance, and now you have to hear his incredibly hot perverted thoughts too?

You whimper, starting to feel deliciously overwhelmed. “hnng, Eddie...”

“And that too,” he rambles, arm still pistoning between your legs “the way you say my name, like it’s all you know how to do,” he pants out a curse under his breath, letting his head fall back, sticking his chin up. “It’s enough to make me blow, like right now.” 

You head tilts up, smiling before tugging on his earlobe. “Don’t tease.”

He scoffs.

One hand of yours tugs at his scalp while the other still palms his jeans. Your back begins to arch from his fingers working your clit and walls. Your voice trembles when you moan, telling Eddie how good it feels, begging for him to keep going.

You feel heat pool in your stomach, muscles contracting all over your body. You turn your head to Eddie’s lips, kissing him and pathetically moaning into his mouth. Both your hands slide under the hem of his tank top, fingers gliding over the textured groves and marks of his healed skin.

Scar tissue. 

Your hands move over them, rising up to seek out his already hard nipples. Your eager finger tips graze them and roll them under your thumbs. You feel him exhale shakily through his nose at your teasing to his sensitive pink buds. You then put them between your pointer and thumb fingers, slowly squeezing more pressure, bit by bit, waiting until he makes a noise against your mouth. Once he makes a small, high pitched noise, you know you’ve struck gold.

You roll your finger tips together at that pressure, beginning to make him squirm into your kiss, lighting his body into a fire of arousal. You bite at his lower lip, just to drive him more crazy until you decide to continue kissing him again. You feel his plush pink lips vibrate against yours from his whimpers, and his hands between your legs stiffen every now and then from the pleasure he’s feeling, before getting himself back on track.

He tears his lips away, and they now appear to glisten with your combined spit in the van light. His fingers halt on you, thumb leaving your clit while his 2 fingers stay still inside your walls.

“Keep doing that n’ I’m gonna fuck you.” He warns, even though he’s smiling.

“Maybe that’s the point, smart guy.” You smile too.

His eyebrow raises and the corner of his lip follows.

You begin to lift his tank top over his head, dark curls poofing out once the fabric lifts over his face. They fall back onto his neck and wide shoulders, brown hair contrasting with his pale skin covered in faded black tattoos. Your eyes travel down to where the red pick necklace points to, practically guiding your sight down his lean body.

You see his healed scars, starting with small, yet deep scratches, then increasing to violent looking, wide spread marks. The scar tissue is a fleshy white color. Your finger tips slide over the bumps of tissue, and Eddie just stares at your focused face the whole time.

You hear him inhale - just a tiny bit, before he speaks. 

“Yeah.. they’re pretty gnarly huh?” he says awkwardly, trying to take your mind off of wherever it’s wandering to. His giggle is forced, but you don’t mind.

Your giggle, however, is real in response to his light hearted remark. “Yes,” you smile, “very metal.” Your eyes break away, looking up into his brown doe eyes, glinting with the lighting from inside and outside the van.

Both your hands rise up, now sitting on the sides of his defined face. Your hand with his 2 rings on your fingers cools his cheek, and you can feel the large ring bands push out, exposing the gap between the steel and your skin.

Before you can lean in to kiss him, your eyes twitch and flutter as you feel his fingers enter you again, and then wiggle in you. Your breath hitches at his naughty way of teasing, not moving them in or out, just keeping them pushed inside you and wiggling them around your stimulated walls.

“Your turn, princess.” he remarks, rasp in his voice. “Take your shirt off for me, huh?”

You scoff playfully before bringing your hands down to your shirt, careful to not let Eddies rings fall off your fingers. You raise it off your torso, exposing your naked breasts first. Your body is now completely bare while you straddle Eddie’s shirtless figure. 

Eddie eyes your chest, dark pupils switching side to side between both of your erect nipples. Before you can cover yourself, bashful from his admiring, he leans in to your chest. 

“You’re an angel,” he speaks dreamily into your skin, “so beautiful.” His lips place passionate adoring kisses all over your chest, purposefully avoiding your nipples. 

Your hands are in his thick waves of hair, resting on his scalp, while you continue to feel his hair brush over your bare skin paired with his warm lips edging closer to where you want them most. Your back arches into his affection, trying to get him to finally suck your nipples.

His face sinks lower, lips moving closer and closer to your bud. His tongue comes out first, teasingly licking it. He swirls around it a few times, adding pressure until he finally wraps his lips and sucks harshly. 

Sucking sounds fill between you both, and your whimpers come out every time he uses his teeth. He switches between nipples, and you’re left to grind onto his fingers that slowly return to pumping in and out of you, prepping you for something bigger.

His lips feel so warm, and the attention he’s giving your chest is worth praising. 

“mmm- good boy, Eddie...” The way you moan, the praise, and the sound of his name from your pleasured voice pushes him so far. He fingers you faster and sucks harder, the erection in his pants is now insufferable. 

With some final licks, sucks, and bites, he pulls away, looking at you while faintly panting. 

“Does this mean you’re gonna ride me now?” he asks hopefully. 

You grin, looking down at his jeans, hand coming back to his bulge to give it a firm squeeze. “You’re asking me like I could ever refuse.” Your eyes flicker back up to his own, maintaining eye contact as you unbutton his jeans and pull his zipper down. 

His fingers pull out of you to rushingly do the rest. He looks down, pulling his dick out and dragging his boxers and pants down to just above his knees. You watch him move quickly, showing a silent display of desperateness to be inside you.

His shaft sits up on his lower scared stomach, towering over his dark happy trail that makes you bite your lip every time you see it. His pink tip is shining in small bits of pre cum, squeezed out from your groping. 

While your eyes look at his shaft, his eyes look at your body. He grips his dick, loosely pumping it at the sight of you sitting on him. He looks at your bare thighs, admiring the way they squish out because of the way you’re sitting on him. He’s reminded of they squish and tremble at the sides of his face when he’s tucked between them, mouth about to make you cum. His eyes trail up to your exposed pussy that he loves so much, then up your stomach to your breasts that he was just giving affection to. 

“Condom, Eddie?” you ask gently. 

“Uhh, yeah- front jean pocket.” he directs you towards his pocket that has the condom in it. Once you grab it, he takes it out of your hand, even though you didn’t actually give it to him, but you don’t mind.

He eyes the square package before bringing the corner of it to his mouth, ripping it down the edge to tear it off in one swift motion. He puffs the teared side of the package between his lips away from you both, pulls the lubed ring out, and disposed the rest of the package somewhere next to him. 

He rolls the condom onto his incredibly firm shaft, making sure it’s secured all the way to the bottom. He wastes no time in grabbing your hips, aiding you to hover over his tip. 

Your hands grip the warm skin of his broad shoulders, letting your forehead rest on his. Your entrance hangs over him, wet and gaping, and you inhale as you lower yourself, connecting to his tip and slowly sinking down an inch, then 2, then 3. 

Your eyelashes flutter and your hole takes more of him in, and Eddie exhales a shaky breath of relief, finally being able to be inside you. The stretch of his dick and the tightness of your walls makes both your mouths hang open.

Eddie hums a deep noise when you rise up slowly, and then sink back down with a forward curl of your hips, repeating the process at your own gentle pace. With every new lift, sink, and roll of your hips, your breath speeds faster and Eddie gets more restless. 

He utters an occasional curse, making your ears go hot. Every time you pull your hips forward, he squeezes your hips tighter. His head falls back, gently hitting the van wall as his chest rises steadily, eyes of his closing shut from pleasure. His hands now understand your pace and pattern of movement, so he guides you firmly, and you feel the force of his hands moving you in your set direction. It feels really good, giving you more butterflies. 

Your hand with his rings on it move to the back of his neck, pulling him forward to bring your bare chests close together. You kiss him aggressively, using your teeth to bite as his lip, and your tongue to swirl over his own in his hot mouth. Your hands grip his curls at his scalp, further expressing your aroused aggression, letting your pussy clamp onto his shaft with a vice grip every now and then. 

Eddie whines into your mouth, squeezing your hips as he forces them to move faster. Your kiss takes both your breaths away, making you both pull back and catch your breath while your hips continue to fuck him in and out of your hole. You’re both panting, hair still in your grip making him shiver from the way the pain turns him on. 

You feel him buck up into you, impatiently slamming himself into you, matching the pace he set for you both. You moan over and over again, head tilting back rasing your chin up. Your hand slips out of his hair to cover your loud mouth while his half lidded eyes watch your every move, red ears hearing your every muffled noise, and hard dick feeling the pressure of your walls surround him. 

“God d-damn it,” he groans, staring at you, “let me hear you, p-please princess... let me, fuck-!” he’s begging you. How can you refuse such a good boy begging for you?

You reluctantly move your hand away from your mouth, placing both your hands back on his shoulders. Some of your fingers are touching his hair that’s sticking to the skin of his shoulder, nails digging into him while your eyes squeeze shut, overwhelmed from pleasure of being fucked so well at the right spot. 

Eddie bites his lip at the noises you make, now sounding much clearer and louder. He watches your mouth hang open, and the way you tuck your lip behind your teeth when you say “Fuck”. The way your eyebrows furrow when his name leaves your lips. They way your eyes open to stare at his inked body between your legs. The way your breasts move with your body. The way you tuck your head into his neck, panting and huffing into his hair.

“hnnn, Eddie... feels s’good-” you moan, “Don’t stop” you say, referring to the way he’s holding onto your rising and falling hips while thrusting himself into you.

You tuck his hair away from his neck, then bite into his pulse point again, just the way he loves. You lick the tip of your tongue over the divots forming into his skin, before sucking harshly. He groans loudly, head falling back once more while his eyes clench shut harshly. 

“Shiiiit-” he whimpers, keeping one hand on your hip while the other pushes your head further into his neck, his way of telling you he wants you to keep going.

You smile into his neck, “Good boy, keep making noises.” You praise him, making his abdomen clench and dick twitch in you. Each roll of your hips has him squeezing more onto the back of the part between your skull and neck. You lick and bite all the way up to his ear lobe, pulling and tugging it between your teeth, making Eddie sigh a shakey breath into your own ear. 

Your head comes back to admire your work on his pale skin, new red marks next to your older ones from minutes ago, sure to feel incredibly sore for the next few days. But Eddie being the freak he is, is going to welcome the side effects of the sadistic pain you inflict on him. 

His hand that was on the base of your skull slides to the side of your face. His thick thumb presses on your lower lip, and your tongue comes out to lick the pad of it. The look on your face is teasing.

He stares at you, his thick eyelashes blink once before he lifts his pointer and middle finger up to your mouth. You automatically open it so he can slide them in, welcoming them once again. Your tongue tastes them, swirling around his digits as you continue to fuck yourself on his dick.

Your eyes literally roll back, and you moan a relaxed moan, feeling a sense of relief from his fingers in your mouth. You feel your eyebrows slant down, sounds vibrating around his thick fingers, so turned on by his hands giving you all this attention. It makes you bounce on his dick with more motivation.

Your vision flickers down to his doe eyes, already staring at you with drool coming out of the corners of your completely stuffed mouth. You both can now feel the van slightly recoil, gently and faintly shaking back and forth on its wheels from your rough, fast paced, fucking.

His other hand that was on your hip comes down to the front of your body, sinking to where you’re both connected. His thumb finds your clit making you jolt, and he rubs weak circles on it. His tongue comes out to lick his pink smiling lips - watching you squirm on him with a cocky look on his pretty face. You’re overwhelmed from pleasure, but unable to make much noise about it due to his fingers filling your mouth to the brim.

“Aw. Can’t handle it, baby?” head tilting to the side a little, mocking your own comment from earlier.

Bold coming from someone who’s equally drunk off pleasure. You groan on his fingers, and the vibrations from your mouth, as well as the heat and wetness of your tongue and lips sends a shiver up him. Your hips shift from bouncing to gently grinding, sliding back and forth on his shaft and into his thumb tracing your clit.

You can’t stop whining, and Eddie can’t stop panting. You’re both so turned on by how good you’re making each other feel. His pleasure from your pussy and your noises drives you crazy, and your pleasure, including your muffled sounds from the way he makes you feel, makes his head spin. 

He notices how your body is reacting to him. He wants to be a little bit of a tease, he can’t help it. "Feels that good huh, sweetheart?" he taunts. “You like my fingers in your mouth, huh?” he asks, knowing you can’t speak.

You nod, eyes barely able to stay open.

“Such a good girl...” he praises, finger on your clit suddenly moving faster, making your shoulders tremble, “So responsive... it’s s’fuckin’ hot,” he groans, “I love it, give me more baby.”

Your body continues to jolt and shiver at his pressure on your clit and his dick stretching you out, filling you up. Your hips are grinding faster, rolling with a new speed and fervor. Your hand comes up to his neck, lightly wrapping your fingers around the front of it, thumb and finger tips touching your marks on his skin.

Your walls are clenching him, riding him aggressively while lightly choking him as he practically gags you. You’re huffing through your nostrils, thighs slightly burning but your pleasure motivates you to power through.

“Jesus- fuck,” he hisses, "g-good girl, ride it like it's yours."  

You moan at his erotic words. He’s so good at talking to you in the heat of the moment. Especially when his words come out shakey and weak from his arousal, it gets you going. You love how he looks like he’s about to fall apart under you. 

His fingers slip out of your mouth, heading to your hips, gripping them for support. You exhale heavily through your now free mouth. Your hand leaves off his throat and dig your nails into him elsewhere, near his shoulders.

You now switch between bounding to grinding on him, noises of both your moans drowning out his low volume radio, the sounds of your wetness around his shaft, and even the faint noises of the few cars that drive past the roads in the front part of the van. Your head falls to his shoulder. 

“hnngg, Eddie... you feel s’good...” your voice is music to his ears. He needs to hear more of it, more of your praise, curses, moans, all of it. Your voice laced with pleasure that he brings you, it turns him on much more than it should.  

“Fuck- say you love me,” Eddie groans, begging you.

Your face heats up at his sudden intimate request, stomach flipping now that you’re suddenly flustered.

Your voice is breathy and light, “I love you, Ed.” you say next to his ear.

He feels like he’s gonna explode right there. “Look at me... please,” his voice sounds soft. Your eyes meet his, trying to prevent them from closing from all the pleasure he’s bringing you. “Say it again, pretty girl” he pleads for you, out of breath. His thumb on your clit slows down, and it wont speed back up until you say it again. 

You whine once more, eyes staring into his brown, chocolate colored ones while you ride him, “Fuck... I love you,” and you really mean it. He brings your head close to his face, pulling you in for a very deep kiss, keeping his wide hand on the back of your skull.

Your try to gyrate your hips and make out with him at the same time, finding it difficult to keep your breath steady from doing 2 breath taking things at once. You feel the fat of your ass slapping against his thighs, with his fingers curling around the back of your skull, forcing your face to stay connected to his. His thumb rubs your slippery clit, bringing you more vibrations of pleasure up and down your body.

Your pussy continues to leak and squelch around him, while your tongues stay circling around each other, drawing mewls from you both. Your stomach feels seething heat, making you realize you’re not far from a climax.

Your walls pulsate with heavy arousal, and Eddie feels this through the condom. The way you won’t stop clenching around him, sucking him in, moaning on his lips, even the way you smell, it’s taking over all his senses. He’s worried now because he knows he’s going to finish before you.

You pull off his mouth to catch your breath, but when you see his face, you have to bite your lip to hold yourself back. His eyes are barely open, brows creasing above them as they slant. His mouth can’t close, lips hanging open, exhaling heavily. His bangs are messy, some of the ends attach to his shining forehead. His neck is absolutely covered in bite marks and hickeys, adams apple bobbing in the center.

His tongue comes out to lick the upper corner of his lips, following with a deep breath - at least, as deep as he can get from his overwhelmed state. 

“Please,” he half whines, half begs, “if you keep, fuck- if you k-keep going, ‘m gonna c-cum..” he says in the most pathetic way. His voice is pitchy, sounding like a sad whiny mess. 

“So tell me to stop.” you pant, testing him. His begging only turns you on more, starting to get you closer to finishing. “I know you wanna cum, pretty boy,” you say to his sweaty, pleasured face, “so let me see it.” Your head comes to his ear, letting you hear how good he’s making you feel, knowing how much that makes him squirm. He still lets you ride him anyway, circling his finger around your bud, eager to make you cum first. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Eddie hisses. “Shit-! mm- like that, j-just like that baby,” he can’t help but be vocal when you’re making him feel so good. 

His hand on your clit starts to weaken, halting sometimes too. You bring your hand down to guide his. 

“No, no, Eddie- need you to keep touching me,” you breathe out, getting closer to cumming. His thumb circles back on track. “Good boy, j-just like that, there you go...” 

He whines from the sound of you praising him, calling him a good boy right in his ear. He ruts into you sloppily, making all kinds of erotic noises with his perfect mouth. Your legs tremble on top of his own, not too far away from your release. 

Your head falls back, shoulders shaking and contracting. 

“’m close, Eddie..” you whine his name. 

His hand that’s holding your hip squeezes very tightly, fingers creasing into your hip, making his nails press little divots into your flesh. Your walls grip his shaft, tighter than ever, this time not relaxing at all. 

“You’re fuckin’ clenching.. too damn tight,” Eddie complains with a pleasured noise, “Oh jesus chr- fuck! gonna cum, gonna cu- ah-!” 

He’s spilling into the condom before he can get all his words out, and you continues to chase your very close climax with the sounds of his moans pushing you further. 

You keep his hand on your clit, letting all the muscles in your body contract one last time for you finally cream all over his dick, listening to him praise you and tell you how beautiful you look when you cum. Your hips still pulse up and down, slowing with every lift. You feel him lean forward to your rising and falling body, placing kisses to your breasts and neck.

His eyes are taking in your whole face and figure. He watched you reach your high and come back down from it, worshiping your trembling body with his lips and words, while his shaft still rests inside you.

You finally come to a halt, still sitting on his dick as you catch your breath. Your bare naked bodies grow still, with the only movement coming from your rising chests- rest of your bodies too tired to do anything else. 

Eddie realizes first before you do, that you’re very naked; more naked than he is, given the fact that his pants weren’t fully taken off. They were only pushed down to his knees. He reaches over to grab his battle vest, swinging it over your shoulders and tucking it close to your chest.

“For your modesty, sweetheart.” He smiles.

Your eyebrow raises. “Yeah, because fucking while the van doors are wide open shows how much you care about ‘modesty’.” you smile as you tease him. Your hands grab the sides of his vest, bringing the flaps closer to each other to cover your tits.

He leans in to peck your nose, then your lips, and pulls back to admire how cute you look in his vest.

“And what about your modesty?” Your eyes trail down his torso.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fully clothed soon. Did you at least have fun?” His hands come up to your side, rubbing his palms up and down you, soothingly.

“Yes,” you peck his lips, “this was a fun date.” you peck him again.

He brings his fist up, scrunching his face and shaking his closed hand in a little ‘hell yeah’ type of motion. His clenched eyes glance out the van, then open wide. “Woah- is that a person?”

Your head whips so fast towards the open doors, but you see nothing. Confused, you realized he’s messing with you. You look back at your trickster boyfriend and shove him. “Eddie!” Your little laugh has your walls semi vibrate around his semi soft erection that’s still in you. He smiles at you, trying to hold back his giggles.

“Sorry, sorry!” he jokes. “Too easy.”

                                                                                                                                                                                  ✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

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[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

here's something short and goofy for you guys bc this song has been stuck in my head all morning.

“So, Eddie?” Steve asks while he, Robin, and Eddie are lounging around Family Video on a slow Tuesday afternoon.

“Yes, Stevie dear?” “Where did the ‘Big Boy’ thing come from?”

Steve watches as every bit of Eddie freezes under his gaze. 

“Uh..”

“Yeah, I’d like to know too, what’s up with that Munson?” Robin says, leaning forward on the counter beside Steve, pushing all of her right side into Steve’s left.

Poor Eddie.

“Oh, uh, well…” Eddie’s brow furrows for a moment before something seemingly comes to him in a moment. “You know how loud the rumor mill can be, Steve-o.”

“Whattya mean?” He knows what he means, he just wants to see what Eddie will say. He also knows It’s gotta be a tortuous question for the metalhead, especially one who’s crush is the one asking him. 

That was the other thing; after Eddie’s accidental pain-med induced schmoozing of Steve and the prompt forgettening of ever saying anything, Steve (and Robin) had come to the conclusion that he’s super into Eddie too.

Now it’s just a matter of getting Eddie to admit it, and having fun flirting and making him squirm a little in the meantime.

“Well, the phrase itself is from a song, but you do know your lovely conquests would talk, right?” The blush on his cheeks just makes him look cuter.

“And you believed them?” Robin states more than asks.

“Well there’s no way I’d ever know one way or the other!” Eddie laughs, his cheeks darkening.

Ignoring the myriad of things he could say to that, Steve instead asks “What song?”

“Huh? Oh, uhm, it’s from this random tape that Wayne picked up on the road a couple years ago. Has this weird art on the cover of some guy and like, skeletons and stuff? Dan something? It’s all yellow-y orange and blue..”

“That sounds so familiar…” Robin mumbles when Steve asks, “How does it go?”

“What?”

“The song.”

“Uh…” Eddie zones off into the distance and starts mumbling to himself.

Robin is still mumbling to herself too, “That sounds so familiar, what the hell?”

Eddie presumably finds the lyrics then, because he starts singing. “Big Boy, real cool, you can tell he’s no one’s fool, And he tries so hard to come off like a star.” Eddie starts dancing around in front of the counter, “You can tell by the way he combs his hair, by the cocky grin and that moody stare. By the way he leans and juts out his hip...” He sings, pointing at how Steve is doing exactly that.

Steve laughs, waving him off, “Okay, okay, I get it! You can st—”

“Elfman!” Robin calls out suddenly.

Steve and Eddie share a look. “Who’s an elf?”

“The Dan guy from your song, Elfman? Was his last name Elfman?”

Eddie snaps his fingers at her, “That’s it! Danny Elfman!” “The guy from Oingo Boingo!”

There are a few beats of silence.

“Don’t look at me like that, he’s the singer in Oingo Boingo! My parents love their stuff, and they did that song in Weird Science!”

“Which song?”

“..Weird Science.” she says as if that was obvious.

Something clicks in Steve’s head at the name, too. “Wait, I know I've seen that name somewhere else...” He rounds the counter and toward the shelf he knows the tape he's thinking of lives; it’s a goofy movie, he’s watched it before on some of his long solo shifts and it’s honestly kind of grown on him.

He grabs up the first copy he sees, one of the Family Video plastic clamshells, and brings it back to the counter, popping the tape into their tape player.

The opening credits start up, and at the title card: “Oh hey, Pee-Wee's Big Adventure! I love Pee Wee!” Eddie says, excitedly jumping up to sit on the counter in front of the TV (and Steve).

“Yeah you do..” Robin mumbles.

“Shut up,” Steve grumbles, elbowing her a bit harder than necessary, “Look.” he points up to the text on the screen. 

“Damn, this guy’s everywhere!”

“‘Music composed by Danny Elfman’. Holy shit! Good memory, Dingus!”

“Thanks! Now what is this about Eddie loving Pee Wee?”

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?

[ashwhowrites]

I saw someone request rockstar Eddie with a groupie I was thinking maybe a groupie is all over him and backstage after a concert Eddie hates it and just wants his wife then reader his wife walks in assuming he was cheating and I trust you with the end🤍

Love it!! Here we go! I did your idea! But for some reason made it way more painful than needed so oops

⚠️angst as usual but fluff ending

Also I deleted this like three times and wrote it multiple ways. And I still hate how I wrote this so whoever requested it- if you hate it too, let me know so I can fix it babes

When her husband is a rockstar that girls have wet dreams about, she knows she'll spend a lifetime being jealous. When his fingers can work fast on the guitar while he multitasks with singing, she knows where other girls minds run off to. She was the same. She started as a girl who had a crush on the lead guitar player and singer. She watched him on stage and had dreams about his fingers, mouth, voice, and body constantly. And it was like he knew it. He'd smirk in her direction during his solos. Always standing near her side of the stage when he'd kneel down to sign girls'boobs. Eyes always flicked to hers, never even looking at who he was signing. The sexual tension got too hot and too high. Before she knew it she was in the bathroom being fucked against the mirror.

That's how they started. A bathroom fuck, so romantic right?

She never would have guessed the same man would be proposing to her years later on stage, in front of a sold out crowd in New York.

She was by his side when he was a small bar band and now he took her all over the world as he grew. Eddie was in love with her before he even learned her name. Getting to fuck her was just the bonus.

They were in love and maybe got married too young, but they didn't care. He wasn't letting her go anywhere.

Eddie doesn't even remember what they were fighting about before he left. He remembers screaming and her screaming back.

He remembers yelling, "DON'T EVEN FUCKING COME TONIGHT!" as he slammed the door.

Which he regretted the second he played the first song. Looking to his left where she stood backstage, and just like he asked, she didn't show up.

His first performance in months without her there and he felt like an asshole. He couldn't even remember who started it or why it started. And if he couldn't answer those questions, then he knew it wasn't important enough to keep being upset about it.

He collected together all of his stuff in the dressing room, throwing it harshly in his bag.

"hey Eddie, I know you are in a rush to get home but we have a fan out here who is dying to say hi" Gareth said. He knew Eddie and his wife were fighting before he came here, Eddie showed up tense and pissed off. The couple has been on short circuits. Screaming at each other at the drop of a hat.

Eddie thinks it's the stress of trying to have a baby that was taking a toll on their relationship. She was getting upset at her body for not accepting a baby and she took it out on him. She knew it wasn't fair but she couldn't stop. And Eddie, instead of understanding how hard it must be on her, he got pissed that he became her target. They both didn't talk about their feelings and that's where they kept going wrong.

"I'm really sorry dude. But I am not in the mood. Y/N's upset and I need to apologize. Just ask her to come next week" Eddie sighed. Gareth gave him a guilty look as the door opened and the girl squealed excitedly. Jumping in her dress as she screamed about the band in front of her.

Eddie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Plastering on his best smile. He could suffer for a few minutes.

~~

She was drunk in seconds. Already throwing herself on Eddie's lap.

"no no" he mumbled, unhooking her arms but she laced their fingers together.

"I'm married" he mumbled again, trying to shift his body from under her. He was not in the mood for this type of game.

But she stayed put. Not even moving a muscle. Eddie looked around the room and noticed he was alone

"if you are married ,where are they?" She asked

"she's at home. I told her not to come" he sighed. And now he wanted her to be here more than ever. He didn't want a random girl on his lap. He wanted his wife to be here.

"how come?"

"because I was stupid and she's pissed.But seriously I need you to get off of me. This isn't happening and will never happen" he tried to push her again

"I know what you can do to make her feel better" she sounded genuine but Eddie still didn't want the feeling of other girls body on him

"okay how about you tell me while you get off of me?" He asked, giving up on moving her for a slight second to hear what she had to say. Letting her absorb his words.

But she didn't say anything. She smashed her lips onto his. His brain was slowly realizing what was going on. The hands that she had laced were stuck. He was trying to pull his body away but he couldn't move anywhere

"Eddie?"

~~

She sat at home all night. Crying on the couch after he slammed the door. She hated what she was doing to them. She was ruining their marriage day after day. But she didn't feel good enough. She couldn't give him a baby, and that's all he talked about.

Finally ready to just apologize and talk things out, she headed to his gig. She knows he doesn't want her there but as a wife, she had the right.

She smiled to Gareth as she walked to the dressing room. Lance, their manager, noticed her right away and let her through the hallway. She smiled gratefully and walked into the room.

Her husband was there, but so was a girl in a tiny dress sitting on his lap, kissing him.

"Eddie?" She gasped out in disbelief. She knew she wasn't being a good wife lately, but he'd really throw it all away?

Her eyes burned as the girl pulled away and looked behind her. Eddie's eyes finding hers once the girl moved.

"hold not. This is so not" he stuttered out fast. Throwing the girl off of his lap as she landed on the couch next to him.

Y/N felt her eyes roll, turning back around and leaving the damn bar

"BABY WAIT. I CAN EXPLAIN THAT!"

But she just kept walking. Never in their relationship did she think he'd ever cheat on her. But apparently she didn't know him well.

She made it out of the bar. Gasping for fresh air.

Eddie was right behind her, arm snatching her hand and yanking her into him.

"listen you need to listen" he pleaded. He knew if he didn't explain soon enough, more damage would take place

"no Eddie I don't!" She spat back, throwing his hands off of her

"is that why you didn't want me to come tonight? So you can go screw a groupie? How many girls were there?"

Eddie shook his head at each question

"no that is not why I asked you not to come. I should have never asked that! I want you here. And fuck no, there has been no one but you. You are my wife, I wouldn't screw that up! I don't want anyone else. She came on to me. I've spent the past hour trying to get her off of my lap. I would never do that to you. I love you"

He watched as silent tears were running down her face.

"why?" She asked, throwing her hands in the air with frustration

"why what?" He spoke softly, seeing she was seconds away from crying harder. One hand held her jaw and the other one rubbed her back softly

"why do you love me? I mean God Eddie, you married me expecting a family and I can't even give that to you! If I were you I think I'd cheat on me too" she sobbed

Eddie felt his heart shattering

"baby no. Just no" he shook his head, holding her face tighter in his hands moving his forehead against her

"when I married you, I married you because I am in love with you and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I wanted us to share a name, a house and our hearts. Listen to me, I don't need a baby to make me want to stay with you. Nothing would MAKE me, I want to stay with you and that's not ever going to change. I should have been more understanding of the stress you are putting your body in. And I would never cheat on you. There is no one in this whole world that would ever compare to you. You are it for me, okay?"

He smiled and pecked her wet lips. Pulling back slowly as she nodded and sniffled.

"I love you too" she spoke just as soft. Kissing him again.

She pulled away with a small gag, "we need to wash your mouth. Taste like pure alcohol"

Eddie laughed, "yeah that girl was pretty wasted"

He smiled as he threw his arm on her shoulder, walking to the car.

He didn't need a baby to be a family.

Just having her, was the only family he needed.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid

[enviedear]

nervous neighbor ⟶ ben solo

description ⌙ you're back at home from university, living with your parents for the summer because it's cheaper than trying to pay for an apartment while on a student's salary. but after you meet the new neighbor's son, ben solo, you're not so sure it's worth it.

pairing ⌙ neighbor!ben solo x f!reader

warnings ⌙ inebriated reader & ben, they're smoking weed and being petty together, mean!ben because when do i not make him a bit mean, ben jokingly attempts to solicit reader, reader has a blatant sort of fascination with ben, ben has severe blatant yearning for reader, reader is described to need a belt to wear ben's pants (don't question me it comes up), some high kisses (they're so fun oops), somewhat getting caught, tiny little bitty cliffhanger, ben's personality is totally based off this brent faiyaz song lmao

word count ⌙ 3.5k

— request (frl especially for ben/kylo) | masterlist

i love the idea of neighbor!ben so ofc i had to put my thoughts into a little fic! if anyone is interested... i wouldn't be mad at making this a series. i love neighbor!ben!

the sun is low in the sky, casting a warm and appreciated golden glow on the world around you. you revel in the sanctity of the suburban environment as you step outside your front door. the rays burn into your exposed shoulders, spaghetti straps lightly digging into the skin.

the fragrant scent of freshly cut grass hangs heavy in the air, leaving an earthy flavor in your mouth. you pull at the hem of your shorts, feeling the soft fabric brush against your exposed thighs as you make your way to the black mailbox straight ahead.

you flip through bills and junk mail, all in your parent's name for a minute before you hear the unmistakable rev of a car engine approaching. the engine seems to purr the closer it gets, and you're all too familiar with the sound. you feel glued to your spot as it approaches.

soon enough, ben solo's sleek aston martin swerves into his driveway, coming to a stop just a few feet away from his closed garage door. you watch as he gets out of the car, his dark hair falling messily over his forehead, and meets your gaze with his severe brown eyes.

there’s something about the way he looks at you that causes your heart to race. the sensation is unwanted or, at least, you tell yourself it is.

he looks like he always does; clad in dress pants and a pristine button-up, face etched with subtle haughtiness, and pink lips curved into a deliciously heretical grin. the previous sanctity you felt dissipates as his stare beats down on you, hotter and more all-consuming than the sun above.

"neighbor." he anoints, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "how much allowance are mommy and daddy giving you for checking their mail?"

"very funny," you retort, eyes rolling, "maybe they're drawing from the same funds your parents did when they bought you that ridiculous car."

you liked playing this game with ben. where he attempts to seem as if he's got something over you, some unspoken win. as if you're not both twenty-somethings still living with your parents.

he does have an actual retirement plan type job though, so, perhaps, he has you beat in some areas.

he works full-time, a fact you learned after dinner with your parents and his. brought up by your parents so they could dote on him— effectively buttering up han and leia further. the ass-kissing earned the family privileges to their in-ground pool though.

he's pretty prestigious, unfortunately. ben organa-solo, the youngest associate at his legal firm. he apparently had over forty offers of employment before he ever even looked at the bar exam.

he's doing well, sure— but the sheer fact that he still lives with his parents is enough to quell your nuanced jealousy. somewhat.

"my db-nine can never be called ridiculous. do you know the specs on this car?" he taunts, opting to lean against his aforementioned car.

you begin to turn away from him, not willing to go into a conversation regarding his stupidly expensive automobile. you can feel your ears warming as you try to ignore him, but ben is relentless, as usual, "you know, you really should relax a little, i'm only joking, kid.."

"excuse me?" you snap, fronting him again and crossing your arms defensively, "i am plenty relaxed, solo. thank you very much."

in truth, you haven't been relaxed or even casual since the organa-solo's moved in eight months ago. wealthy and recently retired, leia and han are amusing, charming, and almost constantly travelling.

the pair managed to befriend your parents the second they moved in. bringing over a plate of brownies, the duo easily meshed with your parents, making for countless dinners, conversations, and visits between the two homes.

the opposite can be said for ben and you. when you finally met him, a few weeks after his parents moved in, it was because he was yelling at your dog for 'purposely' pissing on one of his tires. since then, you haven't exactly seen eye to eye.

"mhm, of course," he drawls sarcastically, "that's why you're always so wound up,” he’s smirking now, "you ever thought about smoking a joint or something? might help you chill out."

"really?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow, "that's your solution? drugs?" you choose to ignore his quip about you being tightly wound. as if he's not— you've seen him after work, he always looks tense, shoulders tight. at the recollection of his job title makes you almost comment on his choice of illegal activity, but you stop yourself.

maybe this was his vice after hours of listening to legal jargon?

"i'm just offering a suggestion. i've got pot and an empty house." his voice is biting, holding his hands up defensively, "take it or leave it, kid."

your mind is wrought with confusion over his words. in the few months you’ve known him, you would have never thought he’d be suggesting what he is.

ben solo, who drives an aston martin, only wears button-ups or suits, and is always willing to make you look or feel idiotic, is trying to convince you to smoke pot with him.

you worry for a brief second if you’re deluded.

you would have never suspected the famed judiciary to unwind in such a way.

no, your first guess would have been whiskey, or maybe something a bit more scandalized and indecent. you try to shake that idea out of your head.

"fine," you blurt it out before you can stop yourself, surprising both you and the arrogant figure in front of you.

"seriously?" ben questions, his eyes widening in apprehension. "you're actually going to do it?"

"yeah, solo," you shrug, drawing out the first word, trying to sound more resolved than you feel, "nothing i haven’t done before."

"okay, cheech," he mutters, grinning wickedly, "let me smoke you out."

you follow him into his house, heart pounding in your chest. you're familiar with the layout— almost identical to your own home, only nicer. everything is nicer.

the air inside is cool and smells faintly of lavender, mixed with something decadent you can’t quite place. glancing around the space, you take it all in. it feels different now that you're alone with ben. less homey and more belly of the beast.

there are windows everywhere, letting in an abundance of natural light despite the evident tint. the furniture is modern and obviously hand-picked though comfortable and no doubt, expensive.

you try to make yourself cozy on the couch, tucking your legs underneath you. ben disappears for a moment and returns with a tray, a red grinder, a lighter, and a baggie of green herbs.

your hands go clammy as you watch him grind it down. you try to wipe them on your pants, hoping he doesn’t notice.

he doesn’t seem to, instead beginning to roll a joint, packing the herb down with his thumb. his movements, precise and hypnotic. he's defiling all previous conclusions you had of him. he’s sure, magnetic, and undeniably confusing.

“ready?” he asks, holding the rolled paper out to you. you nod, and he lights up the twisted end, inhaling deeply before passing it over to you.

you place the joint to your lips, feeling the warmth of the light spark grazing your fingers. the earthy plant kindles with a soft crackle, and you inhale deeply. smoke fills your lungs, coiling inside you.

the cloudy smoke immediately hits your entire sinus system, choking you on its descent down.

you cough and ben laughs, “shit, take it slow, kid.” he huffs, before handing you a tepid water bottle, no question he figured you'd wind up coughing a lung.

you drink gratefully, feeling the water cleanse your burning throat. you look at ben, who’s watching you intently.

your eyes are watery and slightly hazy, but ben has never look better. eyes red and low, posture easy with one arm behind his head, and faint pink flush.

“what?” you ask, self-conscious. the room seems to swirl around as ben sits beside you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body.

"nothing, neighbor," his stare is mocking, "do you feel relaxed yet?" he asks with a smirk.

you give him a meager thumbs-up, suddenly lightheaded and giggly. your thoughts are wondering to ben's pretty lips, but your mouth remains whetted and silent. adorning thoughts remaining within your capricious mind.

the tension in your body melts away, and you lean back against the couch cushions, letting out a deep sigh. ben's hand brushes against yours to steal the joint away, and you feel the heat of his touch all the way to your toes. it's as if the world has narrowed down to just the two of you, and nothing else exists.

“are you cold?” he asks, taking a drag, dress shirt sleeves rolled up, leaving his arms on full display.

you look at him, bewildered for a second, and he continues with an eye roll, “you’re shivering.”

looking down at your body, you note that you indeed are. either from the weed or the proximity you have to your novel neighbor.

with a gentle breath, you reply, “i guess.”

he holds the joint with his lips as he stands to look down at you, “c’mon i’ve got blankets in my room.”

you look up at him, unsure of what to say, but find yourself bobbing in agreement. you follow him upstairs, the both of you languid in reaching the destination. when you do finally get to his room, you note the array of muted jewel tones and dim light, different than the rest of the house.

ben keeps his blinds partially closed and curtains that mostly fall in front of them. his bed is huge, pristine white sheets and an inviting navy bedspread.

you watch as he pulls out a thick woolen blanket from his closet and spreads it over your shoulders. you feel the weight of it settle over you, cocooning you in warmth.

"better?" he asks, voice low.

you nod again, feeling the hazy ardor of the drug swimming through your body. everything feels fuzzy, and for the first time you don't feel so out of place with ben.

he takes a seat beside you on his all too comfortable bed, the aroma of his pomelo-scented cologne filling your senses. you discern it's probably dangerous in some way to be alone with ben like this, but you can't seem to bring yourself to care or reason why.

you let yourself peer into his large and expansive open closet. clothes, mostly suits and dress shirts, hang neatly on identical black hangars. he's tidy. the fact feels unmistakable, and you think you should already know just by the way he carries himself.

ben's voice interrupts your absent mind, "anything you like?"

you look back at him, leaning up against the headboard of his bed, joint billowing smoke from its rested position in his fingers. he looks less severe like this, less perfect, more mortal.

you're certain the drug has taken effect now because when you move to get closer to him, it feels as if you're floating.

you take the joint from him, stealing another hit before replying, "you just have a lot of suits. i wonder if you own anything besides them. i've never seen you in anything but."

"is this one of your long-winded jokes?" he briefly closes his eyes, but you can see them roll through his lids, "because if so, i'll kick you out. i won't hesitate to send you back to your house, neighbor."

snorting, you take yet another hit of the joint, "i did see something i liked, actually." you confess, your drugged mind deciding to be just a bit genuine.

he hums, "really? i've never seen you in a suit, or anything formal."

the sentence sounds stupid coming out of ben's mouth, but you chalk it up to his tipsy state, "maybe you will. one day."

your reply sounds equally as dumb, but you feel good, and you're actually having a conversation with ben. one that doesn't involve him undermining you or snickering at what you're saying.

"really? wanna try mine on? for practice." ben is smirking, eyes narrow, searing, and bloodshot.

you give him a ditzy look, joint still dangling from your fingers, "whatever, solo."

ben lets out a genuine giggle at that, and in your inebriated state, you smile at the sound. his dimples are on full display as he leans further into his cushioned headboard, eyes glazed and focused purely at you, "i'll pay, if you do."

his face is gentle, almost winsome, but the words that tumble out of his mouth sound murky— riddled with a slight hint of hunger. for what exactly? you're not sure.

your lips contort into a frown before you reply, "you'll pay me to put on your clothes? god, ben how much did you smoke?"

you mean for your words to come off as a joke, easy and light. instead, it comes out as timid and shy. you'd normally feel a tinge of embarrassment but either the drug or ben's starved stare makes the would-be feeling detach from your mind.

"enough." he shrugs, answering your rhetorical question, "i've got five hundred in my wallet right now," he pauses, leaning over to you and grabbing the joint, fingers brushing against yours, "and i want a show."

your mind seems to blank for a second, leaving you to blink your dry, red eyes in front of him. when the small wave of shock subdues, you reply, "i don't know how to give you a show."

ben shakes his head slightly, his eyes still set on yours, “yeah you do. swear it's not hard, kid.”

“says you,” you giggle, “but i’ll try on your clothes. for the money.”

he breathes in, contented, “for the money.”

without much more thought, you rise from his plush bed and make way for the closet. it's big enough to be another room, a stark contrast from your own closet, and it smells of his citrusy cologne merged with the lavender scent throughout the home. you find it comforting.

you look back over your shoulder, ben's watching you intently from his seated position, "what should i start with, solo?"

he hums before replying, "your pick, neighbor. what's mine is yours."

you can't help the dorky smile that graces your lips at his sentiment, even though you know he's being flippant. you hastily turn away from him, hiding your weak-willed reaction.

taking a deep breath, you begin to rummage through his wardrobe. your fingers brush against the luxurious fabric of his suits before settling on a satin black button-up that looks silky smooth to the touch.

you grab it and turn around to face ben, who's now standing and walking towards you, his eyes fixed on the shirt in your hand.

"that's a good choice," he says, his voice low and husky, "you'll look better in it than i do."

you roll your eyes at his comment but can't help the warmth that shoots through your body at his words. you quickly slip it over your cropped tank, eager to see it on.

as you're buttoning it up, you feel his swarthy eyes on you, watching your every move. you can't help but feel giddy with his ardent gaze and your own euphoric state of mind.

as you finish up the last button, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the ornate mirror hung upon one of the closet walls. you look decadent in his pompous shirt.

the feeling of contentment that washes over you is startling.

it's a beautiful cut of fabric, but it's the way it represents the achieved man behind you that has you stalling. you notice ben's breath hitch as he takes in the sight of you.

"i was right. it looks much better on you." he says, his voice rough.

you grin at him, feeling a newfound confidence wash over you, "is that right, solo?" you question, your demeanor one of leisure.

without warning, ben steps forward, right hand coming to rest on your shoulder as he leans down to you, "here," he says, his breath hot against your ear, "you missed the first button."

his fingers dance at your chest, fastening the skipped button. you fight a smile at the act, keening at his rash action. high ben is certainly less sardonic than sober ben, finding a nice middle ground at graceful teasing.

"you pick the pants, and grab a belt so that they'll fit." you smile.

he hums, pulling away and trifling through his clothes. his nimble fingers card through various pairs of slacks, settling on a matching black pair.

he turns on his heels, facing you. he raises his brows, a silent request for you to take the pants. when you do, his hands begin to fumble with his belt.

your eyebrows scrunch in confusion, "what are you doing?"

"i want you to wear this one. just let me play dress up with you, doll." his black locks are falling into his eyes.

you huff out a weak chuckle, focused on his action and new endearment. when the belts slides away from him, you notice the way his slacks droop slightly.

with a curt and nervous smile, you slide up the dark pants, fitting his belt around your hips afterward.

you study yourself in the mirror, opting to tuck the shirt into the pants messily— an attempt to somewhat display your waist.

ben comes up behind you, hands resting on your shoulders, humming into the top of your head, "i quite like you this way. ever thought about getting an office job for me?"

you give him a sarcastic pout, "for you?"

he smiles, canines showing, "yeah, doll, just for me."

you're dizzy at his words, "yeah, then who'd watch my parent's house all day? it's a full-time job being a stay-at-home daughter, you know."

ben groans a bit at your words, "that makes you sound like a little brat, you know." he drawls out the last two words, mocking.

you smirk, facing him now, lips becoming level with his when he leans down to stare into your eyes, "my mom calls me a brat sometimes. she says i'm never going to find someone acting like one," you pause for a beat, "d'you agree, ben?"

at the emphasis of his first name he sighs and lets his hands fall to your waist, "i agree that you're a fuckin' brat," he cranes his head closer, breath brushing against your lips, "but i don't think i mind very much."

your eyes flutter against your better judgment, and ben takes an evident note of the fact. his hands tighten at your waist, fingers digging in possessively. you feel a beat of caution before it flies away from your resolution. you press forward just as he does the same, lips meeting in a slow, heady, absolutely exalting kiss.

ben's fingers dig into you, timidly pulling you further into him. you crumble at his touch, hands fisting into his hair as he deepens the kiss further. he tastes of sweet honey and sunlight that fills you with warmth and affection.

you're both weakly fighting for more— an incessant craving for each other that quickly overtakes your common sense. the looming man continues to cast an unbreakable spell with each aching kiss as his gentle hands caress every inch of exposed skin on your body.

you let his hands fumble with the buttons of the borrowed shirt, slowly slipping it away from you. it brushes past your shoulders, and ben breaks the hungry kisses to trail sloppy ones on your exposed neck.

you're lost in the feeling of him— all-consuming. neither one of you willing to be pulled back to reality— but eventually you both have to break away from one another with heavy breaths and flushed cheeks. ben looks down at you with an amused grin on his face before planting a chaste kiss on the top of your head.

you hum and he mutters against you, "you like that? hm?"

"duh," you steal a glance up, "feels s'nice." there's a stupid grin stuck to your face.

"you taste so good, doll," he places a teasing kiss at the dip at the bottom of your neck, "and your lips are so fucking soft."

you give him a questioning look, lips upturned, "really? sounds wild coming from the same man that just called me a brat."

he hums darkly, "you being a brat," he places another kiss to your exposed neck, "just makes this little game of ours more interesting," one of his hands lifts your chin, pulling you closer, "c'mere, kid."

his lips are back on yours, less languid and with much more fervor. you feel so full in his arms. divinely entangled in the coveted luxury of ben organa-solo.

suddenly, you hear commotion from downstairs, drugged mind abruptly anxious.

"what's that?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

ben growls, "fuck— i'm sorry doll, i think my parents are home." you catch the faint flush on his cheeks.

you bite your lip, concerned, "but... i'm high. and wearing your clothes."

ben is about to say something else when the deep baritone of han solo's voice booms from behind his closed bedroom door, "come on out, son. the neighbor's are over for dinner. their daughter should be here soon," han's voice drops a bit, "and try to ease up on the flirting this time, okay?"

you stifle an uninhibited giggle, earning a glare from ben.

"yeah, sure. just let me get out of my work clothes," he peers down at you, eyes wicked, "don't want them to think it's all i own."

your eyes widen at his subtle dig, and he seems to revel in your amusement.

han grumbles something back before leaving. your breathing is erratic for a good few seconds. ben's hands remain on you, gentle grin on his lips.

"you heard the man. dinner." his voice is low, and you fight the urge to pull him into another kiss. the thought of more than kissing weighing heavily on your stoned mind.

your reply knocks the smile off of his face, "how are you going to explain the fact i'm already with you and high off my ass?"

he groans, head falling into the crook of your neck, "shit."

[rallamajoop]

Did Ethan play the piano?

There are a bunch of little hints scattered through these games about Ethan's character. He seems to have a love for the retro ‒ at least, his drawer is full of jazz CDs and he drives a 1971 Dodge Challenger. As Rose notes, he's clearly a wine drinker. And he may have played he piano.

I don't want to overstate the hints RE7&8 give us on that last part. Resident Evil is, after all, a universe where apparently being able to bang out a full sonata at a moment's notice is just a basic life skill for anyone who might want to infiltrate a suspicious facility (though just jamming a few bars of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star may also do in a pinch).

There's a piano in the Winters' home, but then, maybe Mia's the one who plays, or maybe the BSAA set them up in an already-furnished house ‒ who knows? You can't actually interact with it as Ethan, nor does Rose comment on it. But Rose does wonder out loud if her Dad played any instruments (after he jokes about whether baby Rose banging her spoon to the Miss D. record suggests she's going to grow up to be a musician) ‒ and that at least primes you to notice that piano, if you hadn't already.

There are also two different pianos you can interact with in the Baker property ‒ one in the guest room, which will slam shut if Ethan reaches for the keys, and a second in Lucas' room that merely prompts the message 'it's broken'.

It's not until Dimitrescu's castle that Ethan himself finally gets to make like all those other Resi heros, and bash out a quick solo to open a mini door in the piano, in which you'll find a key that will open another door... look, you've heard this one before.

There's an argument to be had whether any of the puzzle solutions in a video game like RE should be taken as truly diegetic. But if nothing else, this does at least suggest Ethan can read sheet music. Here's the asset for the sheet, by the way (and again with the bit you actually play highlighted). You can hear someone play the full song ("Sogno" ‒ which means 'Dream' in Italian ‒ by Francesco Paolo Tosti) here.

There's even a version with lyrics, though I doubt they necessarily meant much to whoever picked this piece for the game: more likely it was chosen for being a song with a very simple treble clef (so the player doesn't have to do too much work to solve the 'puzzle') but a much more complicated bass (so it still sounds sophisticated when played). Regardless, you can hear it sung here.

There's also one other little clue that might suggest that someone in the Winters' household has some real musical leanings: one of the CDs you can find in that drawer is titled 'Jazz Standard Theory'. Which sounds a lot more like an instructional CD than easy listening (though they're certainly not winning any prizes for those other titles).

Actually, while we're talking Ethan's CD collection, here's the asset for that Miss D & the Pallboys CD too! Surprisingly, it has a back as well, suggesting that at some point you might have been able to pick it up and examine it. The text is all pretty illegible, however.

(I've talked before about the theory that 'Miss D' is actually Lady Dimitrescu, but if you want the short version ‒ given that she's not from the village and is 'descended from a fallen noble', this one's surprisingly plausible!)

Hilariously, a love for jazz might just be one thing Ethan has in common with the Bakers, given you can find some records lying around the rec room upstairs.

Mind you, even RE2R managed to work a jazz festival flyer into this one puzzle solution...

Does someone in the team at Capcom have a thing for Jazz? Evidence is starting to stack up...

But getting back to our original topic, does Ethan play the piano? You can make a case either way, as the game never tells us explicitly. But there's enough here to point that way that I'd like to think he does, anyhow.

Which only makes the implications of this so much more tragic.

[helloporcelain]

Hot Blood

fandom: cyberpunk 2077  pairing: johnny silverhand/fem! v  rating: explicit (18+)  tags: pwp, piv, thigh riding, light choking, happy ending au where johnny has his body/v is not dying summary: car sex on an extremely hot summer day in a cramped car before a gig to shoot up some wraiths? bad idea, probably. ∘°∘♡∘°∘ READ ON AO3 ∘°∘♡∘°∘

based off a prompt from @seeingstarks

The heat was relentless out in the Badlands when September rolled around. 

The temperature easily pushed over 103°, and sun rays were beating down aggressively on top of Johnny and V through the top of his car. A Porsche wasn’t made to be driven around such rough, uneven terrain, but Johnny had insisted on it. He loved his retro car as if it was a long lost daughter he finally had been reunited with. A little whirring, mechanical child on wheels from 50 years past. 

V typically vetoed no to the Porsche for gigs, but it had been a while since Johnny had driven them both and the job didn’t seem like it would be too driving heavy, so she relented and let him take the wheels. He really wasn’t the best behind the steering wheel, at least not since he had gotten used to an actual body (not that Johnny would ever admit it) and V preferred that Johnny got some practice out in open land and not run over innocent jaywalkers in the city. 

It was, however, definitely not V’s car of preference.

For one thing, it was a small car. V wasn’t a large woman, so why did she feel suffocated in it, especially if she was packing heat? It felt as if there was barely room for her to stretch her legs out, nevermind hauling a bunch of gear, guns and grenades around in there without setting something off and blowing them both to sorry bits. 

But Johnny didn’t seem to mind – it was one of the few times the muscles in his shoulders relaxed, which made the decision to let him drive it worth it in the end for V. Johnny had carried around a tenseness in his body ever since he came back, always on edge. He did his best to hide it, and if V hadn’t shared a brain with him, she might not have noticed. Johnny hadn’t fully believed he was worthy of a second chance, but V had believed nothing else more intensely. 

Still, she regretfully contemplated the decision as sweat dripped down her forehead, onto her bare lashes. He rolled the front windows down to get some kind of breeze because the AC was weak. V had been bugging him to get it fixed for weeks but Johnny had stubbornly snapped that he didn’t “want some fucking Night City idiot fucking around with his car.” 

V wiped her damp forehead with the back of her palm and let out an annoyed huff, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She had picked out some denim shorts that day, yet it was still too hot and now she had to experience the displeasure of her thighs sticking slick to the leather material. 

“Toughest solo in Night City,” Johnny drawled, looking at her over his sunglasses. “But she can’t handle a little heat.” V pulled a loose bra strap back up on her right shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I get that you’re already going to hell Johnny and okay with this heat hellscape, but some of us would like to not be slowly cooked to death.” She paused, reading something on her holo and continued, “I already messaged Claire and she’s going to fix it and you’re going to let her do it without complaints.”

Johnny grunted in disapproval but didn’t put up much of a fight. Instead, he looked out the window and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm to an old rock song she was not too familiar with. Everything that mattered to Johnny was rooted in nostalgia, and V was included in that now.

He pulled up to an abandoned gas station just outside of Rocky Ridge and parked the car behind the building just slightly so that they would still have a view of any cars coming down the road. The gig would have Johnny and V wait around 30 minutes before the targets – Wraiths – rolled in as sundown approached. 

Kill them all and make out with some equipment that Saul needed. Simple gig.

V groaned, tossed her seatbelt off and reached towards the dashboard of the car to tinker with the AC settings – with no luck. The little bursts of air coming through felt like pathetic little hiccups, and her entire body was dripping in sweat. Johnny leaned back and watched as V jabbed her fingers at the console for a solution.

“You wouldn’t have survived a day in Texas, princess,” he muses, shifting his seat back. “Get used to it, we’re going to be cooking here for a minute till those motherfuckers roll in.” 

V gave him a cranky scowl. “Your obsession with this car is concerning on a fundamental level.”

Johnny opened up all the windows and pulled out a cigarette to light up, and V took a deep breath in preparation for the smoke that was about to cloud her senses. After a deep drag he let his left arm hang out over the door and she continued on her rant. 

“You have the most advanced cars in the world at your fingertips, and yet you prefer…” her arms flung wildly around the little space available. “…this stupid broken car!”

V caught a glimpse of how she looked in the mirror and she definitely looked a little crazed. Her cheeks were flush with pink and her usually pin straight hair was turning frizzy. Johnny was right, she wouldn’t have lasted even an hour in the humid Southern summers. She looked back at him and took in his appearance. Sure, Johnny was sweating too, but he looked unbothered. He had chosen to wear his leather pants regardless of the weather that day and he didn’t even look like he was struggling with them. 

At that exact moment, she resented how good he looked.

“I take offense to that V. I’ll have you know…” Johnny took another puff of his cigarette before offering it over to V. “This was a fucking chick magnet.” She accepted it and begrudgingly started to smoke. He wasn’t a part of her anymore, but the cravings still hit her if she saw Johnny smoke first. It was exactly what she needed, and she felt herself relax slightly after the first exhale.  

“Oh boy, here we go. Gonna regale me with stories of your drug addled sexcapades?” She took another long hit, quickly put it out, then tossed it out the window on her side of the car. “I know they were desperate for some rockstar dick, but I highly doubt they actually enjoyed the cramped experience. Only teenagers fuck in cars.” 

Johnny gave a crooked smirk. “Au contraire, V. Au fuckin’ contraire.” His hands went to the sign of his seat to pull it down, taking up more of what little space was left in the backseat. He leaned back and put his arms above his head, and closed his eyes in a show of shush, I’m daydreaming now.

“Fucking preem experience having a chick bounce up and down on me in here. Such a compact space means you’re forced to fit all up against each other, and it’s tight. Doesn’t get old.” 

V fiddled around with her rifle, making sure the bullets were all loaded. She rolled her eyes at him, but her curiosity was piqued slightly. It was an automatic reaction, something she couldn’t control even when her mind signaled: not now ! The second Johnny started being suggestive at all – V couldn’t help it – her body would react without her brain’s explicit permission. 

They had already fucked twice that morning; sleepy, leisurely sex in bed, then he had come up behind her in the bathroom while she was drying her hair and had bent her over the sink. Not that V was complaining. Johnny had been insatiable ever since they had settled into “normal life”, but she never entertained anything during a job. She was a professional, after all.

“Sure,” she said, giving her gun a wipe down. “I bet they loved bumping their heads and getting thigh cramps.”

Johnny responded by taking the rifle out of her hands and pulling it out of her reach. She made a noise of surprise and tried to rustle it out of his arms but no luck, her arms were short and he was leaning back with it. “You won’t get it back from there,” he commented.

“Not funny Johnny,” she scolded. “The Wraiths could be here any second. Give it back.” 

“We know when they’re coming, V. Saul has their routes down to a fucking T.” 

His eyebrows wiggled annoyingly in the direction of his lap, signaling for V to climb on top of him  to retrieve her gun. Her lips went flat in disapproval for a beat, before she twisted her body around, scaled over the drink holder and gingerly into his lap. “You’re so pea-brained,” she said. 

The space was cramped, though it did help that his seat was leaned back a bit. She could feel the heat against the thick material of his pants permeating against her legs. Her brain paused on the sensation against her, before reminding her why she was on him in the first place and she leaned forward to grab her gun. V failed to grab it – Johnny quickly tossed it behind the back of his chair, too out of the way for her to retrieve it in the current position.

“Dick,” she grumbled. V tried to move over him to reach behind, but his hands found their way to her hips and he squeezed down firmly, keeping her pressed against his right thigh. 

“I think I might love summer,” he said. She squirmed against his hold but he just held her down tighter. Johnny’s cock hardened and strained against his pants. “Know why? Because you wear these hot little shorts like the fucking cocktease you are.”

V’s eyes glazed over briefly as she checked the clock out of nerves – they still had 20 minutes before any of the Raffen Shivs were due to show up, but she wouldn’t apologize for being too sure. She snapped out of the thought as Johnny groped at her tits, rolling his thumb over a hard nipple through her white tank top. “One hell of an outfit to wear to a possible shootout, V.”

He leaned forward to kiss her mouth, before trailing down to her jaw and neck. She looked down at him, her heart rate increasing quickly at the thought of fucking him. It would be stupid. It would be reckless. 

“I didn’t wear this to get your dick hard idiot,” she breathlessly replied in between his wet kisses. “Earth to Johnny. Normal humans dress appropriately for the weather.” 

“Then take it off,” he shrugged, tugging at the cotton material. V let him pull the top off over her head, tossing it over to her seat. Johnny didn’t have her take off her bra, instead opting to pull it down so that her tits popped out over the cups. He leaned forward to take a nipple in his mouth, sucking and twirling the nub in his mouth, all the while palming his cock through his pants.

If V was pink earlier, she was full on lobster red now between the heat of the car and the flush of the grind against his leather pants. She had opted out of underwear that morning, mostly due to having put off laundry for so long that she ran out of panties. And now that decision had come back to haunt her as every twitch against him ran a shock through her clit, begging her to roll against him harder.

Johnny let go of one breast and moved onto the neglected side, biting down on the nipple. She let out a whining sound of pleasure as she held her arms against his headrest and rocked against him faster. “Fuck. God damn it, Johnny.” Her clit was growing swollen against the denim fabric of her shorts and the clumsy pace of her fucking his thigh. 

He pulled away from her chest and a hand moved up to finger his old dogtags that she wore, which were now jingling in rhythm with her grinding. “That’s my girl.” 

His fingers wrapped around her throat and gently squeezed. “Yeah, that’s right, baby. Use me. Make yourself feel good.” She let out a choked moan when her clit passed over some kind of raised, ridged material in his pants. 

She rolled her hips against him, angling to make sure her clit continued to hit the same spot again and again. Johnny wanted to fuck her, badly, but wanted to watch her come apart like this even more. V’s body was slick with sweat, and he knew she would find it annoying in the aftermath, but Johnny loved how completely natural of a state she was in. 

Something organic, something real, and something only his to witness.

“So fucking sexy baby. Should see yourself right now. Making a mess on me. Could cum just looking at you V.” 

“Idiot,” she gasped. V worked herself at a frantic and shameless pace, and he pulled her face closer to his so he could kiss her. She could feel the pressure building in her soaked cunt, letting out moans that were muffled by Johnny’s mouth. The kiss was messy as he sucked on her tongue and their saliva dribbled down her chin. 

V lurched forward when her orgasm came crashing down like a lightning bolt, her climax shaking throughout her whole body. V’s hips bucked against his leg as she rode out the rest of the wave, completely engulfed in the embrace of his arms, face buried into the crook of his neck. Johnny was drenched in sweat too, smelling vaguely of soap, but mostly smoke. 

After a few seconds, Johnny chuckled and brushed V’s damp hair away from her forehead. She was distinctly aware of the painful erection he still had straining against his pants. “My stupid broken car still has women creaming their panties 50 years later.” She nipped at his neck and shifted her body up against him to press on his hardon. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Johnny. I’m not wearing any panties.” 

Johnny let out a groan and his hands squeezed her shoulders, pushing her back down on him. One of his arms shot to her shorts and pulled at the zipper ungracefully. “Get these off,” he growled. V leaned back and looked beyond the car towards the road. Still empty, but her brain issued a huge red flag at the thought of rogue nomads popping up behind them and popping one in their heads…

She could picture the tombstone – RIP V, she died doing what she loved most: Johnny Silverhand. 

Ugh. Bad idea, V chided herself silently. 

Then she said it out loud too, still not entirely used to him not being able to hear everything she thought. “Bad idea, Johnny. We don’t have time.” 

Johnny went to work on his zipper, tugging his cock free from the restraints of his oppressive pants. He started slowly stroking and she couldn’t see his eyes through the lenses of his dark glasses. “V, you can either ride my cock now or I’ll jerk off and you can walk back to camp with cum on your shorts. Your choice.” He stroked faster and his eyebrow furrowed as she considered the decision with 15 minutes left on the clock in her head.

It was awkward to lift herself up from him to take her shorts off but she managed to peel them off and fling them to her seat. She wasn’t confident it was very sexy to watch her do this, but Johnny was still intently watching her as he masturbated, and she suddenly was very aware of the hot air on her naked lower half. 

V tried to look down between them as she lined his cock up with her entrance, letting the tip slide between her folds. Johnny was already leaking precum, and before V got the chance to lower herself, he grabbed her waist and yanked her down to sit on his cock. Her eyes popped wide as he sat her down all the way, no space, not an inch in between them. 

“Johnny,” she gasped. 

“Ride my cock V, need to feel every fucking inch of your pussy.” 

One of Johnny’s arms curled around her waist, the other one landed on her thigh as he slammed her down onto his dick. V readjusted the angle so her legs weren’t caught in any tight crevices, and when she was finally comfortable she started to move quickly against him. Johnny groaned when he felt the fullness of her weight, the tightness of her cunt fully engulfing him. 

“Love how needy you are for my cock V, fuckin anywhere, anytime, my fucking girl.”

Johnny was barely holding it together. His glasses were rocking about, threatening to fly off with each violent slam that V pushed down on. Her wetness was soaking through everywhere, mixing with their sweat, making the car smell like a hotbox of pure sex. 

“Fuck, Johnny, you know I can’t say no to you,” V panted, holding herself steady. “You’re– so fucking deep.” She spread her thighs a bit wider, as much as the space allowed, Johnny clutched her tight as he continued his rocking pace against her, so profoundly deep inside she thought she may have felt it in her stomach.

His hands were digging into her so hard it was going to leave a bruise after. V was so tight, Johnny groaned like a man who was in the process of losing his mind. “Fucking made for my cock. My fucking perfect cocksleeve.” 

V leaned in to capture his lips, biting down on them to make them bleed.  She had to admit: no matter how many times they fucked, she still got the same butterflies that lurched in her body with how they fit perfectly. As if it was proof that there was a God somewhere and he did actually craft their bodies with the intention of them finding each other, somehow, half a century apart.

She held him against her as she began to rock her body, her clit rubbing against his body with every roll of her hips. Johnny groaned as they kissed, and V knew he was close to coming. His hands wandered down to grip her ass tightly, impaling her down on him with more force than she could hope to do on her own. “Johnny,” she gasped. “Need your fucking cum in me.” 

Sweat rolled down their bodies like droplets of rain. The combined body heat was making it hard to breathe, but she let her hands wander to his throat anyway. V didn’t do the choking too often, but thought herself a giver sometimes. Johnny was close, his fingers were digging a death grip into her and his pace was becoming erratic. She closed both her hands around his throat and squeezed, holding her gaze on his face.  “What’s taking so long, you want them to see me riding your cock babe?”

A grunt of approval resounded deep in Johnny’s chest. V’s toes curled as she felt him impale into her once more, a sudden and violent rope of cum shooting into her core. She choked Johnny a bit harder as she slowly rocked against him, taking in the feeling of her pussy milking his cock for every drop. One hand left his neck and wandered down to feverishly rub at her very swollen clit, her orgasm crashing down quickly in sparks. Johnny and V clung to each other, skin sticking to skin; neither one wanted to be the first one to get up from the mess they’ve left. “Eight minutes,” she finally said, breaking the silence.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you were constantly checking the clock the whole time, because I did, you little control freak.” Johnny replied, fidgeting with his glasses. She leaned back to put her tank top on and laughed. 

“One of us has to try and keep us alive,” she smiled. They both looked at each other with soft eyes until a loud sound in the distance caused them to stiffen up. “What the fuck was that?” They both whipped their heads around and craned their necks to see a gaggle of trucks looming back in the gas station. A couple of heads were pointed their way, some shouting and pulling out their guns. Johnny sheepishly watched as V frantically hopped over to her seat to pull on her shorts.

“Fuuuck me. What did I say, Johnny? What did I say!? Any second!”

V was in a fit of panic, and all Johnny could offer up was a shrug. "Saul was wrong." 

She slapped his forehead (to which he simply responded: ow) and haphazardly threw out a grenade in the distance, hoping it would buy them another few seconds. 

“Pass me my rifle. Now.”

[miasmaghoul]

Don't think about Rain's strong fingers plucking at Dew's hard nips. They're so puffy and red and sore and Dew's whining so loud and needy. DON'T DO IT, MIASMA. DON'T THINK ABOUT IT.

oh no cait

i thought about it

(heavily ft Dew's hand kink because of course it does)

For Dew, watching Rain during practice might as well be foreplay.

He's theatrical as a rule, but Dew swears Rain puts on even more of a show when he feels him staring. Always caressing the neck and body of his bass with deliberate touches, long fingers dancing over the fretboard. Taking a minute between songs to stick his pick between his lips and pluck the strings instead. Every move is intentional, fluid and graceful as Swiss's hips.

Rain's hands, so skilled and precise, work those strings with a sort of ease you can't help but be impressed by. Even in his own time as a water ghoul, Dew had never quite felt at home on the bass. His guitar suits him much better, he thinks, so watching Rain treat his instrument as an extension of himself is nothing short of entrancing.

But mostly it's a thinly-veiled excuse for Dew to stare at his fingers. Dew used to be subtle about it - stealing glances between bridges and solos, letting his eyes wander during a water break, maybe sneaking a peek around Mountain's kit if he stood in one particular spot. That had lasted all of four practice sessions - Rain caught him every time, giving intentional flexes of his fingers to watch Dew gulp - and now he simply leers to his heart's content.

He swears he can feel Rain's phantom touch when he does this. Can feel rough but delicate fingers drifting over every inch of his skin - grazing his pulse point, ghosting over his chest and stomach, kneading his thighs. Wrapping around his cock and curling deep inside him. It's work to keep a straight face as his mind wanders, but he tries. Sort of.

Dew licks his lips as Rain picks out a handful of notes, adjusting his own guitar. He's been watching for a solid few minutes now, leaning against the wall opposite Mountain's kit while he and Rain chat. Practice is winding down and he has no reason not to. Sure he could put his guitar away and help straighten up, but where's the fun in that? Besides, today is a rare occasion.

Today, Rain can't seem to stop staring at him either.

Dew had picked up on it hours ago, when they'd met up in the dorm hall on the way to practice. Rain's steps had stuttered for a no more than a second when Dew had greeted him, but it was just enough to notice. His eyes had lingered a little too long on Dew's chest before he'd resumed his casual saunter, but Dew hadn't had the chance to ask about it before they were joined by a very loud Swiss.

The other two struck up a conversation while Dew looked down at himself - did he have cum on his shirt again? No, not that he could see. He'd shrugged and carried on, but the weight of Rain's gaze had been palpable the whole afternoon. Any time they were facing one another, Rain's focus was on him. Dew couldn't deny the tingle in his dick at the attention.

He strums out a few chords as the others pack up, calling out see-you-later's to Aether and Swiss when they head out together. Rain bids a similar goodbye to Mountain and Cirrus, sitting cross-legged in his chair. Their eyes don't travel though, Dew's caught on Rain's fingers and Rain's on Dew's shirt. It's only when the door clicks shut that Dew pushes off the wall, shrugging off his guitar and moving to put it away. Rain tracks his every motion, and by the time Dew is done the other ghoul is craning his neck to keep a hungry eye on him. Dew snorts.

"You should take a picture," he snaps the case shut, setting it in it's place on the storage rack, "it'll last longer." Rain hums in assent.

"I would if you'd let me," he replies, smiling around the words in a way that makes Dew's stomach warm. He's still staring when Dew makes his way back across the room, the little ghoul raising an eyebrow.

"Is there any particular reason you're drooling over my shirt? I promise it's too small for you." Hell it's practically too small for him, one of Mist's shirts he'd absconded with years ago. It clings to him like a second skin, the hem resting just above his belt.

"It's white," Rain says simply, tilting his head. Dew blinks, glancing down. Yes, it certainly is white. "You never wear white."

"I guess not," he shrugs. "Is that-"

"It's so tight," Rain murmurs, halting Dew's line of questioning. "I can see them." Dew's brow furrows as he looks back down.

"See wh-"

He's interrupted by Rain reaching out and pressing two of those long fingers to the center of his chest. Directly between his incredibly noticeable nipples.

Dew doesn't know how he hadn't seen it before, but the shirt is so thin that the outlines of his piercings are very obvious. As is the way the little pink nubs themselves are hard and peaked, poking through the old, soft fabric. He's tempted to cross his arms, to cover up, but then Rain drags the pad of one finger over his chest, circles a nipple, and the urge rapidly fades.

"That's why you've been staring?" Dew watches Rain's bony digit slide over the shirt, dimpling the fabric. His own hands twitch at his sides when Rain hums again.

"Maybe." He sounds so amused. His other hand leaves the neck of his bass and comes to rest on Dew's hip. The little ghoul looks up from his chest to finds Rain smirking, eyes sparkling. "What's your excuse?"

"Fuck off, you want us all to stare," Dew grumbles, leaning into Rain's lazy touch. The other ghoul barely grazes one of his rings and Dew can't hide the little shiver it brings. There's no point anyway, they both know how sensitive he is here.

"And you don't?" He rubs his thumb over a nipple and Dew feels himself flush, feels the way he's already starting to chub up behind his zipper. He groans low in his throat when Rain tugs the ring.

"I- I didn't realize," Dew mutters, watching Rain's handsome face. It's true - he's gotten so used to the look of the jewelry over the years that he barely notices it when he doesn't have a shirt on. Unless, of course, someone is paying his chest the attention it deserves.

"That's a shame," Rain says, nonchalant as can be. "Such a pretty sight shouldn't go to waste." He gives a sharp pinch and Dew lets out a surprised chirp. He swallows when Rain drags his knuckles featherlight along his jaw.

"Gonna fix that?" Dew sighs when Rain lays a callused palm over his heated cheek.

He expects more teasing. A playful smirk, a quick, flinch-inducing flick, maybe some choice words about him being an attention whore. Rain always seems to have them at the ready. Instead, the other ghoul flashes him a grin filled with too many teeth.

"Until you're begging me to stop, pretty boy."

Dew's legs carry him from the room before he can think of a comeback.

Dew snarls and Rain snickers, patting his cheek. He takes his hands back and stands, setting his instrument in its stand and not even bothering to look back over his shoulder.

"My room. You know how I want you."

One day, he'll figure out how Rain does that. How he uses that stupid assertive tone so effectively, the one that kills any desire in Dew's brain to do anything but listen. He's tried to work it out on his own, to school his own voice into something low and threatening, enticing, but he can never quite get there. It ends up on just the wrong side of bratty. Whiny, even. He knows he'll manage it one day, and when he does, Rain will be the first one he forces to obey.

Dew squeezes his half-hard cock through his jeans as he steps into Rain's room. It throbs at the pressure, Dew letting out a pathetic little groan as he kicks off his boots and flops face first on the bed. The sheets smell like Rain - like sea salt and soft citrus - and the groan Dew looses into them is decidedly more wanton. He ruts against the mattress, burying his nose in a pillow. He could cum like this - he's done it before, at Rain's behest - but that's not the game today. Today, he forces himself to crawl up the mattress and settle against the headboard. To stare at the dresser against the wall before him.

The one with the massive, silver-framed mirror resting on it.

Dew swallows hard as he shifts, getting himself centered. He can see the twin points of his still-stiff nipples poking through the thin fabric of the shirt. How had he not noticed? Seems impossible not to. Now that he thinks back on it, Aether had been much redder than usual during their mid-practice shit-slinging...Dew settles into the nest of pillows with a huff and waits, eyes stuck on the pressure behind his zipper and wishing a certain set of elegant fingers was helping to relieve it.

It's maybe ten minutes before Rain comes gliding into the room, a dark look in his eye. He's all smiles, overly pleased at the sight of Dewdrop exactly where he told him to be, and the little ghoul shudders under the weight of it. Rain's eyes remain glued to his chest even as he crawls up the mattress, Dew caught on the way the muscles in his forearms shift. He's panting softly by the time they're nose-to-nose, a wordless exchange of breath the only communication they need. Dew is certain Rain can smell how worked up he is. The way the other ghoul's sweatpants are tented says he is too.

Rain slots himself behind Dew, wedging that lanky form between his sight body and the headboard. He hooks his ankles around Dew's knees and drags those legs open nice and wide, one arm around the little ghoul's waist holding him close. Dew bites back a whimper at the feel of Rain's rigid cock pressed against his lower back. He wriggles a little, unable to resist teasing, and it pulls a wonderfully satisfying noise from Rain's throat. The other ghoul hooks his chin over Dew's shoulder, staring him down in that oversized mirror.

"Look at you," he breathes, nosing at the sensitive spot behind Dew's ear. Dew tips his head with a sigh, giving Rain all the access he could want to fuck up the pale column of his throat. But Rain doesn't so much as lick at his delicate skin, choosing instead to run one hand over Dew's clothed stomach with a soft sigh. "You look so good like this."

Dew takes in his reflection with heavy lidded eyes. The simple presence of Rain, the weight of him against his back, is a sensation he doesn't have words for. He's not all that much bigger than Dew - long and lean, but not broad - and yet the little ghoul still feels dwarfed by him. Rain's eyes shine with something mischievous and bright, something that makes Dew's stomach twist and his cock pulse. He licks his lips, voice thick when he speaks.

"Like this?" He shivers when Rain huffs a breathy laugh over his throat.

"At my mercy."

Dew can't hold back the groan in his throat when Rain's fingers glide up to his chest, circling his nipples through soft cotton. It always goes the same way when Rain gets in one of these moods - slow touches, but not ones meant to tease. Firm, massaging presses of his fingertips into what little meat Dew has there. Thumbs catching his rings, tugging and shifting the metal threaded through those little pink buds. Dew doesn't bother being quiet - Rain would only chastise him for it anyway - instead letting a sweet stream of breathy encouragement escape his lips. His eyes never leave the mirror, bouncing between Rain's skilled hands, darkened eyes and his own crotch.

The other ghoul's touch is practiced, intentional. Minute after agonizing minute filled with the intoxicating drag of fingertips over eager flesh, the sensation barely hampered by the thin shirt. He toys with them, twists and pinches until Dew can't help but push into Rain's groping hands.

He doesn't beg for more, though. Doesn't demand. There's no point, they've done this enough times that Dew knows better. He can whine and plead all he likes, but it won't matter. Rain will take as much time as he wants. Will drag this out until Dew is a writhing mess, sweaty and desperate and so far beyond words that all he can do is shake.

"So responsive today," Rain purrs into his hair, nipping at the pointed shell of his ear. Dew huffs out a soft uh-huh, tipping his head. Exposing more of his throat to the predator at his back. Willful submission, a display that has Rain throbbing against his spine. The other ghoul gives an appreciative sigh, breath cool over his heated skin.

Rain mouths at his jaw, his throat, nimble fingers drifting down his sides. Dew gasps when callused digits slip beneath the hem of his shirt, dragging over soft skin. Rain lays his palm against the flat plane of Dew's stomach, huffing out a soft laugh at the way the little ghoul's muscles jump. He slides that hand up, lifting the shirt with it, and Dew moans low in his throat as inch after inch of pale skin is reveled to his own eyes. Rain meets his blown-out gaze in the mirror, his other hand coming up to gently grip his jaw. Dew's mouth drops open on instinct, Rain's thumb grazing over his plush lower lip.

"You're taking it so well, pretty boy."

Rain yanks his shirt up fully, gets him properly exposed, but before Dew can so much as whimper his mouth is made busy. Rain gathers the fabric in one hand and shoves it between Dew's teeth, the little ghoul powerless to do anything but bite down. The sight of his reflection - pink cheeks, pinker nipples, glazed eyes and straining zipper - sends heat flooding through him. He's so hard, rocking his hips with a pained whine.

"Please," he tries, the word coming out muffled and stupid around his makeshift gag. Rain chuckles, watching the way Dew ruts up into nothing. He licks at his ear just to make the little ghoul shiver, and when those fingers find his nipples again Dew writhes, throbbing in the confines of his jeans.

"Does that hurt?" Rain peers over his shoulder with a downward nod, voice light. Dew gives a frantic nod, pleading eyes locked with Rain's. He hums. "Looks like it." Rough fingertips flick over those taut nubs and Dew makes a vague gurgling sound, melting back into Rain's chest and struggling to keep his head upright. "Take it out, let me see how hard it is for me."

Dew's hands shake, knuckles stiff from how tightly he's been gripping the sheets below. He fumbles with his zipper, sucking air through his teeth when he fishes his aching length from his boxers. It pokes so perfectly out of his fly, stiff and arched up towards his belly, foreskin rolled back just enough to expose the slick, pink tip. The little ghoul moves to wrap a quivering hand around it and Rain tuts at him.

"Hands off, sweet thing," Rain murmurs, low. "I'm the only one who gets to touch. You know that."

Dew makes the saddest little sound, but he can't hide the way his cock kicks. The way a pretty pearl of pre beads up at the slit. He drops his hands to the bed in defeat, resigning himself to Rain's ministrations.

"Good boy," Rain lilts, giving the little ghoul a full-body squeeze. "Let's see how much you can handle."

Rain attacks his chest and neck with renewed vigor, plucking at those tight nubs as though they were his strings and sucking dark marks into the pale column of his throat. Dew whimpers even as he sags further into the other ghoul, watching nothing but the way those strong fingers toy with his nipples. It never takes long for Rain to get them all dusky, tender flesh swollen and overworked. His neglected cock twitches constantly, every pinch Rain provides drawing more and more pathetic noises from Dew's lungs. His whole body burns with it, and Dew feels himself starting to drool around his shirt.

"You're making a mess," Rain croons, grinding into the little ghoul's back. Dew whines through his nose, squirming as best he can. Desperate for friction. He tries to squeeze his thighs together, but Rain's legs don't allow it. Dew chews on his shirt, sniffling and fixing Rain with empty, pleading eyes.

"Rain-" he tries.

"Look how wet it is," Rain coos into Dew's ear as he ignores him entirely. His fingers are so rough, or maybe Dew is simply too sensitive now, but every flick over those reddened buds has the little ghoul wincing. Rain tugs at his rings and Dew cries out around the shirt, tight and pained. He's shivering constantly now, dizzy with sensation.

"Rainy, please," he slurs through wet fabric, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Hurts."

"Think you could cum like this?" Rain grinds against him again, watching Dew's suffering with genuine amusement. "Sure looks like you could."

Dew hisses and shakes his head vehemently, even as another glob of pre drips from his swollen tip. He can't. Rain knows he can't, they've tried before. Rain knows he cant. Dew drags his eyes away from his flushed, twitching cock just long enough to meet the reflection of Rain's predatory gaze. The smile he wears is knife sharp at the edges.

"Well I think you'd better try."

[beautifulpersonpeach]

bpp lemme be sappy and incoherent for a min…

i saw this tiktok of bts’ solo era so far and i just wanna say that i’m glad that they know army doesn’t expect anything from them but music. GOOD MUSIC. like historically so many idols have gone on to do non music things after their peaks but bts knows that the core of their fandom are music fans. fans of THEIR music especially. bts as a whole prides themselves as being musicians and army prides ourselves as being fans of musicians.

idk. i guess i just wanted to appreciate how diverse this era has been musically and how proud i am of them doing the music they want even if i dont always enjoy it cuz someone else is bound to, yknow? i’m so freaking proud of their output. they’re amazing

***

It just tugs on your heartstrings doesn’t it? Even Jin who doesn’t have a full album yet, the song he made with Coldplay in only a few months doesn’t feel rushed or half-assed. It feels like a (sappy) sweet letter (in Chris Martin’s ink) from a friend you’ll be seeing before too long.

From Hoseok producing the beauty that is Jack in the Box; to Joon’s archive of his 20s with some of the best collaborations for a Korean artist in Indigo; to Jimin’s episodic processing of the personal struggles he dealt with during the pandemic in FACE; to Yoongi’s culmination of the AGUST D trilogy in D-DAY; to Taehyung’s expression of the music that most feels like him in Layover; and finally, Jungkook pushing himself out of his comfort zone to make a full album in a language he doesn’t speak, showcasing his skill set of ever-improving vocal ability, in classic pop songs in several genres that he’s selected to showcase his personal taste.

All the boys have done well. The assignment was to serve music, and they’ve all delivered. Some songs are more my taste than others, but I can acknowledge the work they’ve all done and I respect it.

And this isn’t really what you’re talking about Anon, but please let me go on a short tangent here.

I’ve seen chatter here and there about how Jungkook isn’t mature in his interview answers. About how he apparently comes across as a clueless puppet who can’t articulate his views eloquently, but like I said about the discourse around Jimin’s apparent lack of contribution to BTS, or Jin’s apparent lack of skill - sometimes that criticism is warranted, but most of the time people who say things like this frankly have no idea what they’re talking about.

A few of you have sent me asks months back, to give my view on Jungkook the way I’ve done about Jimin, Yoongi, Hoseok etc recently. I didn’t answer because I was waiting for Golden. Now that the album’s out, I’m sitting with it and will respond to those asks before too long.

But before that, I want to draw attention to this excerpt from Jungkook’s interview in The Atlantic.

*

In my draft reply to the asks wanting me to talk about Jungkook, I start with saying he’s a very simple person. That’s both his charm and the thing that confuses a lot of people about him, because many of us are anything but simple, so when faced with a man like him living the life he’s living, some people respond with suspicion or bewilderment.

Simple motivations, simple words, simple considerations - this is what I’ve observed in JK for the past 10 years. He’s younger than all the members but no less intelligent that the rest of the guys on average. He knows how to communicate what he means, he just usually has a preference to do it simply, and that’s what he did in that paragraph.

I’m excited to see how he’s going to become a global pop star, even bigger than he is now, because he’s certainly got the talent and skill to show real results. I’m proud of all the projects the boys have put out so far.

By their own words, one point of Chapter 2 was to showcase their individual colours, to show the world who makes up a group like BTS, so people could more clearly see what each member brings to the table, while the guys push themselves to learn new things, expand their skillsets, and hone their individual artistry to create a stronger, more nimble group.

*

So far so good. It seems to be going according to plan despite everything lol. I’m excited to get Joon’s next work, PJM2, Hobi’s release, Jin’s album, and all the other goodies lined up for us in Chapter 2. It’s been a trip and it’s only going to get wilder.

[rushingheadlong]

Today is the 30th anniversary of Brian’s concert at the Palace Theater in New Haven, CT, USA. And since this is my favorite solo show Brian has ever done, I wanted to finally put together a proper post about the concert and why I love it so much.

First, a bit of background about the tour in general… For about 40% of the shows on the tour, the Brian May Band was not the main act at all. From late February to early July 1993 Brian was touring almost exclusively in support of Guns’n’Roses; they had some shows during this time where they were the headlining band but those were (generally) few and far between. It wasn’t until October 1993 that Brian set out on a tour that was exclusively his, with the Brian May Band as the only headliner and with no other support bands joining them.

It’s also important to remember that nearly everything about solo touring was entirely new to Brian, and while he can look back on it all with fondness now that ‘newness’ did cause legitimate issues during the tour itself. One of the biggest recurring problems was the new wireless system they were using for the Red Special.

(Brian, sans curly lead, at Brixton Academy)

The lack of cable meant that Brian had the freedom to move around that he needed as a frontman, but it also meant that they were dealing with constant signal issues and interference. And by “they” I mean Brian and a temporary guitar tech, because this tour took place after Jobby left but before Pete Malandrone came along.

So, with that out of the way… Why is this my favorite Back to the Light concert?

Well for one thing, it’s the best quality bootleg we have from the tour. Really the only video that’s in better quality is the professionally-filmed Brixton Academy show, and that one was edited for release to remove the explicit ending to Love Token and Brian’s cover of “God (Dream Is Over)”. In fact for the longest time the October New Haven show was pretty much the only source we had for “Dream Is Over” at all because it was never performed when they were touring with GNR.

So even though there weren’t any special one-off songs during the New Haven concert, this is really the only easily-available (i.e. on youtube) bootleg we have that includes the original full setlist and the complete encore. Some sections of video are missing, but they’re generally short moments between songs; very little of Brian’s actual performance is missing, and even better the audio quality is fantastic as well.

That's not to say that it's a perfect bootleg, or even a perfect show for that matter. The technical issues that were endemic to this tour are absolutely present here too, from Jamie’s guitar not coming in on his solo to major tuning problems with Brian's acoustic. But IMO that doesn't detract from things too much at all, because the band is far enough into this whole production that they know how to work around these things. You can see those moments when Brian gets frustrated but it doesn't get the best of him, not like it did in South America:

(Brian frustrated by technical issues in Chile)

By the time October 1993 rolls around the Brian May Band is a well-oiled machine. They know how to brush off the mistakes and cover for the inevitable problems that happen during any live show. And when things are going alright for the band and Brian looks more happy than not during shows, it's sometimes easy I think to forget how very not alright Brian still was on a personal level.

Because this final stint of touring kicked off less than two years after Freddie's death. The therapy that Brian found through Back to the Light wasn't in the making of the album, which was nearly finished before Freddie died, but in the touring specifically. Which means that by the time the band rolls into New Haven, Brian's been working through his grief onstage for less than a year. After knowing Freddie for over 23 years and spending 16 of those almost exclusively performing live with Queen.

Saying that Brian was still "not alright" in October 1993 is actually a massive understatement. The worst of his depression, anxiety, and grief is absolutely still there, but Brian keeps working through it - both literally, as he continues with the tour, and figuratively as he uses that tour as his therapy.

But as anyone who’s been in therapy can tell you, it’s not always linear. So when your therapy is performing with your band and you have a momentary backslide…

Well, you pretty much get this exact concert.

I’ve talked about some of this before, most recently in this post where I talk about Brian’s visible reaction to the audience participation in Love of My Life, but honestly I did that moment a disservice by stripping it out of the context of the rest of the show. Because yes, he’s reacting to the audience there (and I'll talk more about the audience later) but critically Brian has been off his game since the start of the show.

(Brian already looking Over It™ after only a few songs)

If you haven't watched (m)any of the BttL concerts, it can be hard to pick up on a lot of this without the additional context of Brian's behavior during other gigs. Brian has always been the most confident while performing and he's comfortable with this band now, so on first watch it’s easy to see him enjoying himself and think that the few moments of overt discomfort are outliers born out of Brian’s unfamiliarity with being a frontman.

But once you start watching more of his concerts, you realize that Brian only seems so comfortable because he’s avoiding going “off script” in his interactions with the audience whenever possible.

The first time this is really apparent comes at the start of Love Token. The introduction to the song is pretty standard across the tour, but what's missing is Brian talking to the audience before launching into things. He tells them, "You guys are great." but the rest of the typical chatter and comments about not having been to New Haven in a while are turned into part of the Love Token opening monologue.

(New Haven, before Love Token)

In contrast, a week later in Milwaukee, Brian does the happy-to-be-back bits entirely separate from Love Token and he explicitly mentions when he was there before with Queen. He's having a genuine moment with the audience outside of the music, and you can tell from his tone of voice and how he’s talking that he’s not doing this on autopilot.

(Milwaukee, before Love Token)

That's something that seems simple, but it still requires talking off-the-cuff to a theater full of people. And if you're already having a rough night, why put yourself through that if you can simply roll it into part of the song and make it a bit more routine for yourself instead?

Then we get into Love of My Life, and I know I already talked about some of this before but amazingly that moment where Brian physically curls in on himself during the song is not the only tell that this isn’t a good night for him.

Again, we have to take a look at Brian’s interactions with the audience because LoML is one of the parts of the show where he can’t avoid talking to them even if he wanted to. What he specifically says can vary wildly from one night to the next, but there are three main beats he usually tries to hit:

Asking the audience to sing along

Telling them that this song is for Freddie

Acknowledging that he wasn’t the one who originally wrote the song

I say “usually” because Brian doesn’t always mention that 3rd point. Often he just says that this is for Freddie and launches into LoML, without any commentary on the song not being “his”.

Sometimes he does mention it but leaves it a little vague, like in March 1993 in New York when he said, “This is something that I don't usually sing and to be honest I get doubts as to whether I should or not.” And sometimes he laughs it off a bit, like he did in Milwaukee in October 1993 when he said, “And it isn't because I was thinking that I have the right, it's just because I really wanna do it."

Regardless of how it’s said, Brian’s emphasis is still on the song being for Freddie. Any comments he makes about his “right” to perform it are almost always secondary to his assertion that he’s doing this in memory of his friend - but not when he gets to New Haven:

(New Haven, before Love of My Life)

In New Haven, Brian (accidentally) puts the focus on the song’s ownership. His slight hesitance and fumbling over his sentence inadvertently puts the emphasis on his own anxieties and mental state, so when he does mention Freddie his grief seems to come through stronger than it may otherwise have done.

Then Brian starts playing and although we have to acknowledge again that he’s having technical issues here, you can still tell the difference between his background emotional state on this night and his frustrations with his guitar. Because when Brian’s problems are external, he reacts and emotes to them externally - but when his problems are internal, he reacts by turning inwards on himself.

(New Haven, during Love of My Life)

Both of those gifs are from LoML. On the left he’s clearly frustrated by the guitar and/or his playing. He’s making a face, shaking his head, trying to adjust to fix it… He’s not exactly going out of his way to hide that there’s an issue there.

But on the right, when the audience sounds a bit too much like they would have with Freddie and their singing is starting to get to him, Brian’s reaction is to close off. He goes still, his face becomes blank, he turns the mic away from him so it can’t pick up any noises if he starts crying again…

(Yes, again, because I’m not going to swear on my life that that’s what’s happening earlier in the song…. but Brian does wipe something away from his face and sometimes that’s enough to make you wonder…)

(New Haven, Brian wiping his face during Love of My Life)

A few songs later and we arrive at Too Much Love Will Kill You. It’s another moment for Brian to talk to the audience, although he usually doesn’t say anything. At both Milwaukee and Brixton, Spike starts playing and Brian just comes in singing. But in New Haven, Brian feels the need to give the audience a little “warning” before they start…

(New Haven, before Too Much Love Will Kill You)

This is Brian’s anxieties coming through again, plain and simple. There’s no need to tell the audience that this part of the show “terrifies” him. If anything there’s a stronger argument to be made that the better, safer option would have been for Brian to say nothing rather than priming the audience to expect this to be imperfect.

Except the audience has already seen the imperfections. Even if they aren’t picking up on every little tell that Brian is having an off night, at this point they’ve already gotten through LoML. Everyone in that theater has already beared witness to his small come-apart during that song, and you know that Brian is absolutely still thinking about that moment as Spike starts the opening notes of TMLWKY.

Here he is, about to sing another slower and more emotional song, only this time he doesn’t have the familiarity of his guitar to fall back on or to hide behind if something goes wrong again. If he’s remembering LoML then surely the audience must be thinking of it too - and surely they must be waiting for him to fuck up again, so clearly the best thing for Brian to do is to preempt this song so the audience knows that this is difficult even on the best of nights.

That’s obviously all speculation but, as someone with an anxiety disorder myself, sometimes it just makes you want to apologize for everything. Whether you’ve actually done something wrong is irrelevant, because the anxiety will always find ways to make it feel like you’re “failing” in some way.

Brian can’t outright apologize to his audience. He’s stuck in his frontman role with a certain script to follow and he can’t break kayfabe to say “Sorry” without ruining the entire atmosphere of the show. What he can do is to admit to the things they should already know - in this case, that being onstage without his guitar is unusual and uncomfortable for him - and let them infer the rest.

He does nearly the same thing again when he talks to the audience at the start of the encore. He always thanks them for coming out to the show, but it feels a little more heartfelt at New Haven.

This part is impossible to gif but the first thing Brian says is, “Let me tell you, this is no bullshit, you guys are amazing. Because there's not that many of us here tonight and I appreciate you guys turning out and making that kind of noise.”

And I promise I’ll get more into the audience in a bit, but the fact that this wasn’t a well-attended show is SO important here as is Brian’s acknowledgment of that. This is really his last chance to say anything to the audience and he decides to specifically thank them for being loud enough to make up for the lack of attendance.

If that doesn’t say something about where his anxieties may have been focused - and what moments from the show struck a genuine chord with him - then I don’t know what does.

After that, Brian only has one more thing to say before he starts introducing “Dream Is Over”...

(New Haven, before the encore)

This is as close as Brian can get to saying, “I’m sorry but I’m doing my best.” He’s saying that he’s giving the audience everything he can and it sounds like an apology anyway. And then he has to steal himself to start the intro to the song, which he always has to do, but it hits a little harder when it’s preceded by that and not by something more like this:

(Milwaukee, before the encore)

And if you’ve made it through this nightmarishly long dissertation about every reason this show is heartbreaking and all the ways you can tell that Brian is having a rough go of it, you’re probably wondering “Rushing what the fuck is wrong with you that THIS is your favorite???”

Which, valid. But it’s my favorite because I think it’s both incredibly important and, honestly, very humbling to see Brian like this.

This isn’t the Tribute Concert, where everything is still so raw and performing hurts as much as doing nothing at all. This isn’t 1992 in South America where Brian can channel his grief into his frustration and push it out on the techs every time something goes wrong. This isn’t an opening show for GNR, where Brian’s time is more limited and even if he gets emotional he’s (probably) not the reason everyone in the theater is there.

This is Brian, not quite two years on from Freddie’s death, still mourning and still extremely depressed and anxious. And this is what it looks like when Brian has to push through that and put on a show anyway. The ways in which he both pulls away from the audience and tries to open up to them give insights not just into the state of Brian’s mental health at the time, but how that affected everything else about him from the way he carried himself to his mannerisms to how he followed the script of his own concert.

The October New Haven concert is a stark reminder of the depths of Brian’s depression and just how much time it takes a person to claw their way out of that.

And the other reason I love this concert is that you absolutely can also see the progress that Brian has already made.

Because despite the 2,500 words dissecting all the ways in which Brian was not fine during this show, there are still plenty of moments where it’s abundantly clear that he was enjoying being able to perform his music with this band.

(New Haven, Brian looking happy)

He’s visibly delighted every time he realizes that Jamie has shimmied over to join him without him realizing. He keeps looking over to everyone on his right and grinning. Whenever he really nails a difficult guitar line you can almost see the confidence boost that it gives him.

Yes, Brian is depressed and struggling but when he’s onstage he’s still Brian fucking May. He’s in his element and he is nailing it, despite the technical hiccups and emotional moments and everything in-between.

I love this concert because you see the depths of who Brian is as a person: his musicianship and how he uses that as a crutch to keep himself moving forward, the love he has for both the friends he’s performing with and those who are gone, his fears and anxieties and moments of deep self-doubt, the guitar legend he grew up to be and the incredible frontman he didn’t realize he could be, and the tired person simply trying to find himself anew after 20 years spent as someone he can’t return to anymore.

And there’s one final, very important reason that I love this show so much: the audience. (I promised we’d talk about them eventually, didn’t I?)

Brian has always been someone who thrives on the atmosphere of a live show and by god was New Haven determined to give him everything they could. They were loud, they were enthusiastic, and you can see Brian responding to that.

(New Haven, Brian looking happy because of the audience)

Brian pulls himself back together after the audience starts cheering for him during LoML. During band introductions they applaud for him long enough that it bleeds into the next song, and despite himself Brian smiles at it. And every time they recognize a Queen song you can see Brian responding to something familiar to him again.

Do you know how hard it was to get even these three gifs? Not because finding the moments was difficult, but because this audience is enjoying themselves so much that their arms are blocking the view more often than not.

Look, I am stupidly biased about this show because I’m a CT native - not from New Haven, but this is still a “home” show for me. Brian walks out wearing that tank top and I get why he wore hometown shirts for the encores even though I fucking hate Yale. This show could have been the most run-of-the-mill, routine concert imaginable and I would still find some way to write 3,000 words waxing poetic about it.

But this wasn’t a routine concert - or maybe a better way to put it would be, this was an incredibly routine concert made remarkable because of far Brian’s mask has slipped and what that inadvertently reveals to us. It’s incredible because the quality of the bootleg means we can actually see the little details of expression that otherwise are often lost.

The October New Haven concert is my favorite from Brian’s first solo tour because it proves the entire point he was making with the album. It’s a performance that shows us that Brian was finding his way Back to the Light - and that even when he was still in the dark, he was “still the same old [him] inside” despite everything that changed.

[onyourhyuck]

I just want to get high with my lover. | L.DH

— Prologue: “I just wanna ride, get high in the moonlight.” + “I just wanna get high with my lover.”

— Summary: Your boyfriend asked you to sing for him and you did.

— Genre: Romance. Smut Minors DNI. Boyfriend!Haechan x Girlfriend!y/n. Short fic.

— Notes: Inspired by the song Moonlight Kali Uchis.

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Your boyfriend is a lyrical genius no doubt about it. He is a world rising super star who can out sing this earth ten times more, and no matter how many singers you like, your ears always belong to Haechan. Everytime he opens his mouth to say something or to sing out one of his own songs they will never betray him.

One thing Haechan knows about you is that you can actually sing. He loves that your voice was soothing and sounding almost so magical, no one has ever heard you sing, only him. So when it came to a solo album he was preparing to release he asked you to become an anonymous feature.

You couldn’t believe it at first that your boyfriend asked you. It was like a moment of bliss. You were anxious, yes that’s not a question, but you were equally excited and thrilled to sing some songs with your boyfriend.

Now you guys are inside your apartment lounging on the same bed together in each other’s arms, the laptop with haechan’s unreleased songs and files were sitting on the far edge on the bed, but he was so far lost inside you when he is breathing in your loving scent and your soft silky hair touching the top of his bronze beautiful skin. He was just laying with you, but it felt so healing to his heart and body. Without you he would be stressed all the time but when you are around him he is so much calmer. You don’t even realise it though, how much you help and get him through this difficult work everyday.

As you were relaxing in each others arms your lips softly hum a tune that was stuck in your head for a few longing days now, this song truly engulfs your brain taking over it. It was such a pleasuring addictive song too. The lyrics were enticing. Your words came out like a whisper as you sang quietly. “just wanna ride, get high in the moonlight.” You tap your fingers on to your little quiet singing to yourself in the quiet bedroom in your shared apartment.

Donghyuck looks up as he hears you gently sing as if it were a mythical siren serenading him for all of the eternity. The subtle breathing to your chest as you sang echos throughout the rest of your curves and body your head swirls to the left and right continually as you sing some more of the song. “I just wanna get high with my lover.”

He smiles pushing a few strands away from your face as you sang to him made his heart skip so many beats too many to count. “What song is that? It sounds good.” Your eyes smile up at him leaning closer to place soft kisses on his neckline. The kisses you put on his soft neck made him blush internally as you had a habit of doing this. All the time you go for the neck to kiss. He can never get used to such affection from you, it will always make him feel happy but blush like a small teenager.

You reply back softly looking up at him now. “It’s called Moonlight by Kali Uchis. You like it?” Donghyuck wore his glasses and a basic white tee shirt yet he still looks like an outright model — he made everything so simple look so attractive. It was insane. You could stare at him wearing anything.

He’d nod smiling at you. “Sing it to me again darling.”

When your boyfriend asks a nicely how could you refuse and deny his tiny request? You couldn’t. You were at his mercy to please him as much as he asked you to. You sat up a little where your back was supported by the bed frame. Donghyuck sat up with you where his arm stays around your waist pulling you closer awaiting for you to start singing again. You softly push your vocals out relaxing in his arms.

“Forget the small talk, the surface level ain't much that I care for. Putting on my lipgloss I saw you stare from my peripheral. Yeah, baby, it's been a hell of a day but I know a place we can escape.”

Donghyuck smiles hearing you pleasantly sing as if this were nothing but all for him to hear and relax to with his ears. That’s right you were only singing for him and only him. It made a sense of happiness and proudness for you. He surrenders with pride to you. He knows exactly how much of an amazing singer you are — and only he knows this but that’s enough for you. You only need your boyfriend’s acknowledgment in this.

His hands interview with yours to intertwine their fingers together like an envelope nicely folded. His stare was so deep in your eyes it made your breathing become unstable as you were falling so deep into them — his eyes were a dark brown to the point it was pure black. It was a void you wouldn’t mind falling too deep into.

Your bodies were speaking on their own as were your eyes lowering them to his soft heart shape lips that were aching to be kissed right there and then. You couldn’t hold back the urge and your head leans down giving it a soft peck at first. You pull back softly to see his reaction, in which Donghyuck could only smile at how you were careful. Even if you are dating you are always asking for permission, it was a refreshing sight.

He gives you a small nod. No words were needed to say when he held you so close pulling on your strings. When he gave you the answer for a consensual kiss again you pull yourself up from the seat and crawl on his lap straddling him with your legs where he sat in middle of the bed. The kiss you place on his lips was a long stream of light and love; it was a passionate yet sensual kiss that he returns back instantly to you. As you were making out your boyfriend’s hands crawl at your waist pulling under the shirt running his cold fingertips on your warm stomach and hips. You momentarily gasp at the coldness from his hands touching you in the kiss, and a little jolt on your skin turning to goosebumps.

Your shirts made their way off your bodies leaving yourselves to be completely nude in your own presences. Donghyuck’s mouth travels everywhere as it pleases going down your naked chest. The collarbones had wet kisses on them placed letting you shiver in the bedroom’s cold air touching your spine enough to make you arch in the hold. You were closing your eyes shut at each kiss he was putting in your body felt like a randomly bullet piercing your skin — it felt unbelievably good. He was only kissing you but it felt ten times more than that. Eventually his lips met your chest where he gradually plays with your nipples.

The sensitivity always amazes him truthfully. This was like your soft spot he couldn’t help but tug or softly tease you this way and even a single touch to your chest you were squirming in the hold softly moaning. Even your voice coming out as a whimper or a moan was music to his ears.

He carefully kneads your thighs squeezing him where you were sitting on his lap sometimes rubbing and grinding on it when he would teasing you so much, his deep voice trails on your skin like a train on the tracks riding it. “God you’re beautiful. Why don’t you sing for me some more?” His question came out as a surprise to you wondering if you could be able to do it under this pleasuring scenario.

You murmur softly a moan following it after. “You want me to sing… right now?” Donghyuck nods with a hum against your stomach boobs his breathing was poking at your skin when he casually goes to lick your nipples. You squeeze his bare exposed shoulders. “Okay… i’ll sing.”

It made his skin irk unfinished by how well you were obeying him even though you had the choice not to do so. You could easily say no and he would be okay with that answer, but you were constantly doing things to please him. One was your voice that made him pleased to feel and hear. If he only could bathe in your voice everyday he would. If you were the only person on this earth stuck with him he would listen to only you nothing else ever again.

“You’re so good to me.” He pleads looking up at you giving you a soft pleasant kiss on your lips which leaves you stunned for a moment or two. “Let me hear you sing as you ride me then.” He adds as he would push you down into the lap further. You sigh out with your moans, wrapping the arms round his neck.

“Only for you.” You whisper to him.

Who would’ve thought a song you took a liking to could lead to your boyfriend becoming like this?

NCT SMUT FICS

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank you! Reblog and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out.