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blueywrites · 23 days

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someday I'll get it

eddie munson x fem!reader eddie comforts you when the lingering memory of your ex brings shame with soaked sheets.

3.1k

cw: 18+. toxic ex, feelings of self-doubt, referenced verbal abuse, hurt/comfort, smut, squirting, first time piv with new partner, no y/n, no physical descriptions.

this is for my fellow infps & all the girlies who fall fast and hard. a bit of a departure from the other naughty nights entries - not as filthy, quite a bit more emotional. I really liked writing it! check out the original ask here.

enjoy xx

Two months after you and David broke up, you downloaded Hinge. Your best friend helped you make your profile, and after some careful crafting over brunch mimosas to soften the flaws you saw in your photos and loosen your lips to make you clever in your bio, you were happy with the facsimile of yourself you’d presented to the dating public. The nerves only crept in during the Uber ride back to your apartment. What if no one liked you? What if what David said— that you’d never find someone that cared about you like he did— turned out to be right? You knew, deep down, that David’s idea of ‘care’ was not what you wanted. But as the weeks went by, your hope began to dwindle; your heart shriveled a little more each time a potential connection faltered and died. And though you kept reminding yourself how bad things were with him, how small he made you feel and how little he truly gave you, you couldn’t help the fragment inside you that hissed in a raspy twang:

Maybe I’m all you’re good enough for. Maybe my love is all you really deserve, and without me, you’ll just end up alone.

And then you found Eddie.

His was the first conversation that lasted longer than a handful of back-and-forth messages, aside from that one rushed first ‘date’ that turned out just to be an attempt to get some dick’s dick wet. Eddie was chatty, maybe a bit excessively so, but you’d take that over the dry single-sentence replies most guys seemed capable of. It was refreshing not to be the one sending double- and triple-texts for once. And he didn’t do it in an anxious way, either, or one that made you feel you weren’t answering quickly enough. It seemed more that he just wanted to talk to you about whatever popped into his head, and that— along with his pretty brown eyes and smile, his lobe piercings and hand tattoos, and that one blurred photo of him playing guitar on some cramped bar stage, looking all sweaty and alive— piqued your interest in a major way.

Eventually, he took you on a first date, which was followed quickly by a second. And after a full month or so of officially seeing one another, now, following an afternoon spent together, you’re in your bed with him— laid out along your sheets, his weight having dipped the mattress beside you enough times that it’s just starting to feel familiar.

Looking up at Eddie above you, you’re hit again by how sexy he is, sexier than his Hinge profile would’ve suggested, even though that initial photo made your finger pause in the first place. In it, his hair was tied up at the nape of his neck; it’s loose now, hanging around his pale face in loose tangles ‘cause you’d run your fingers through it while he kissed you. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and it is again, except now there’s the pink flush of arousal across his cheeks and a sheen of sweat gleaming off the bulb of his soft nose, visible in the dim light from your lamp. That first time you saw him, Eddie's fingers were wrapped around a tattoo gun, frozen mid-stroke as he carefully etched ink into skin. Now, they’re quite in motion— just as deft and strong, but instead of using them to crawl the needle across the expanse of someone’s back, he’s plunging them into your swollen pussy, winding you up tighter and tighter ‘til you’re writhing on your own sheets.

He’s been at it for a little while now, coaxing your pleasure out with those thrusting fingers and the rough pad of his thumb swiping over your clit. You moan, letting your eyes slip closed as your orgasm starts to rush up, ready to let that wave wash over you before you happily return the favor. But when Eddie presses the heel of his palm firmly into your lower stomach, flicking his thumb faster against your clit as he fingers you, your mounting pleasure twists, thrumming into something more intense.

Oh, fuck.

The feeling is ecstasy but beneath it, there’s also panic. Because you know— and dread— what comes next.

You gasp, choking on the words of warning stuck in your throat, your hand snapping to grip his wrist. You mean to pull it off but you don’t, just clutch him tight in a way he must take as encouragement because he starts to talk you through it. “That’s it, sweetheart, soak my fuckin’ hand—”

It’s inevitable now, so you stop trying to fight it. Like a flipped switch, you release the resistance, leaning into the feeling, which triples in size the moment you do. You seize up, crying out as you cum around Eddie’s fingers— eyelids fluttering, mouth hanging open, the gush of fluid against your inner thighs a secondary sensation to the gut-wrenching orgasm wracking your body. When it subsides, your body feels wrung out in the best way, sunken into the mattress, languid and boneless and like you’re so light you might float away if Eddie wasn’t pressing kisses into your neck like praise.

The peace has to break though. It always does. The second you shift and feel the sodden sheets below you, that familiar shame triggers, quick on the heels of a cruel twang bouncing around your skull.

You draw your legs up, inadvertently kneeing Eddie in the belly. When he pulls back to look at you, you’re curling into yourself, staring up at him so mournfully his heart must twist ‘cause you can see it written on his face.

He searches your face for a moment. Then Eddie’s eyes widen and his face blanches; you see the concern give way to horror. His adam’s apple bobs on a thick swallow. “A-Are you okay?” Eddie croaks, hovering awkwardly now, seemingly stuck between wanting to reach for you and give you space. “Did I hurt you? Did you not want—?”

He looks sick, but you’re quick to shake your head, feeling even sadder now that you’d made him worry. “No, m’sorry,” you say in a small voice. “I’m so sorry, I’m— I didn’t mean to.” You take a breath that hitches in your chest. “I-I made a mess…”

Instantly, Eddie looks relieved. He even huffs a little disbelieving chuckle. "So? You think I care about a little mess?" he asks, squinting as he tips his head at you, aiming for levity. But his attempt to make light of things can't break through to you— not after all the times you've been here before, cowering in your own cooling puddle as David beat you down with his caustic words, leaving you with bruises on the inside of your ribs.

When your expression crumples further, any amusement slides off Eddie's face, leaving him utterly somber. Quietly, he says your name. "Are you alright?"

Your mouth works soundlessly for a moment before you find your voice. It feels jagged, like it’s been broken apart and splintered back together. “My ex… he used to get really mad when that happened. Said it was gross, that it was my fault now he’d have to wash the sheets.” An ache rises up your throat, and you avert your eyes. “He’d make me do it and change the bed before I could go to sleep.”

A severe wrinkle forms between Eddie’s brows— confusion, indignation, maybe both. “Wait, but— couldn’t he feel it coming? It feels different inside when a girl’s gonna squirt. Why would he keep doing it if he didn’t want you to?” He’s plain, as direct as he always is, and in the face of such a bald question, you have nothing to reply with but the barest shrug of shoulders weighed heavy under a burden you haven’t yet been able to shed.

When some seconds pass in silence, Eddie realizes you aren’t going to elaborate. He softens. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For what it’s worth, sex is supposed to be messy. And I really wanted to make you feel good. I’m glad I did.”

You can’t see them, but you can feel his fingertips brush against your ankle. When you nudge into the touch, he places a tentative hand on your foot, letting his thumb press into the center just below your toes. He raises his eyebrows, looking something like a puppy dog. “D’you wanna take a break? Can I get you some water?”

You shake your head, then open your hands to him— not quite able to extend your arms out for a hug, feeling too brittle and pathetic to make your wanting so obvious. You find with relief that Eddie is perceptive enough to know what the gesture means. Carefully, he leans over you and plants his palms beside your upper arms, sliding them under to fold you in. When he goes to lower himself in a slant on top of you, you let your knees fall open in a silent invitation instead. You’re very happy you did when, after some mutual shifting and shimmying to make yourselves comfortable, Eddie’s weight slots against you— your collarbone to his chest, his lap held in the cradle of your thighs, your arms wound underneath his to clutch his bare back as he presses you into a comforting embrace.

You focus on the feeling of Eddie on top of you— his belly expanding and contracting against your navel, his heat seeping into you head-to-toe, his herb-musk scent clinging to his shoulder when you tuck your face there, slowly letting him ease you. For a while, you breathe into him like that, letting yourself sink into the intimacy of all his bare skin against yours until the physical sensations swallow up that hissing voice, and it finally falls silent. With a heavy sigh of relief, the last of the lingering tension from the memory of David leaves you.

Finding you now relaxed, Eddie hums against your hair, a rumble that sounds like satisfaction with himself that he was able to bring you comfort. He untucks one of his hands from beneath you then, shifts his arm along your sheets so his forearm frames your head. You pull your face from his hot skin, letting your head thump back against the mattress as the final surrender to your recovery.

Eddie’s thumb strokes along your hairline as he looks down at you, his hips cradled by yours, his flagging but still present erection pressed intimately against the crease of your thigh behind his boxers. Quickly, you realize how much easier it was to be embraced like this when he wasn’t looking at you. Under his gaze, you feel exposed, almost too much to bear-- too vulnerable, your soft underbelly revealed for him to sink his teeth into. But he doesn't. Maybe, you think, Eddie never would. Where David had fangs, Eddie's teeth are blunted; capable of damage if he were to try hard enough, but more suited to playful nips, which is all he ever seems to care for anyways, at least for how little long you've known him. He's still new, and you're still learning how it feels for him to see you and decide what he'll do with what he finds.

It's thrilling and downright scary to let him, but you let him. You blink up at Eddie, deliberately resisting the urge to master your expression and hide from him. Your heart thuds and squirms as he observes you for a long moment, still stroking your forehead with his thumb like you're a skittish rabbit, kept only from fleeing by a gentle, hypnotizing touch.

After a long moment, Eddie's features ease. One corner of his lips tugs up into a crooked, dimpled smile. "Pretty girl," he murmurs, and something releases inside you. Your hands skate down the hot plain of his back, skimming slowly over its topography-- the elegant jut of his shoulder blades, the solid strength of his lats, the low, curved dip just before the hill of his covered cheeks. Those you spread your fingers over, gently pulling him in closer to you, and you flutter at the shaky breath he exhales over your lips as his shaft presses tighter between your bodies.

"You want to?" he whispers, his eyes flitting between yours. You know what he’s asking. In the month you’ve been together, you’ve done pretty much everything but gone all the way with him. You weren’t waiting for anything in particular, more just a sense that it would feel right to connect with him that way.

You feel that now.

So you respond with a kiss— firm, decisive, one that Eddie opens his mouth instantly to. His tongue finds yours eagerly, slick muscle against slick muscle, and the wet sounds of you meeting and parting have your arousal stirring up into a flurry of excitement and desire. Your fingertips ease beneath the waistband of his boxers, pushing the fabric down to bare him, and you crane your neck to keep kissing him until eventually you can’t reach any lower. Eddie helps you shimmy them off then, his lips falling still as he concentrates on wiggling his hips and kicking his legs to get them down to his ankles. You feel him kick one final time, followed by the faint shlump of fabric hitting the ground before he’s suddenly propped on his elbows and his hands are cupping your cheeks, tilting your face to kiss you so thoroughly it steals your breath away.

And you think— expect, maybe— that now that you’re about to have sex, the energy between you and Eddie will keep escalating until you’re caught up in a rush: both panting, desperate, fervent in your need for completion. But it doesn’t happen like that. Instead, your kisses slow, turning into lingering, open-mouthed presses, a sensual ebb and flow of lips and tongue and teeth— deep, savoring, as if the pleasure of what you’ll both feel when he joins with you is so certain, there’s no need to hurry it along. You raise your knee to open yourself up, and with a nudge of Eddie’s narrow hips, his shaft nestles into the slick wetness between your puffy lips. You press up to meet him, grinding slowly in time with your kisses until your abundant arousal coats him thoroughly, easing the way for you to reach down and guide his tip to catch at your entrance. And when you lift your legs, joining your ankles at the back of his thighs, you feel Eddie enter you for the first time.

There’s no resistance. It’s just a slip, a glide, and an exquisite stretch as he sinks inside, splitting you with his thickness. Eddie moans low as his cockhead meets the deepest part of you. It’s a gravelly sound, one that rumbles against your breasts when you twine your limbs tighter around him, already covetous of the feeling of him touching every bit of you he possibly can. Your pussy flexes and flutters, testing the welcome intrusion, preening when she elicits an answering twitch from his length before he draws just slightly back and rocks in again. You sigh softly, smiling as your eyes slip closed when you feel Eddie’s curved lips press to your temple.

The rhythm you find together is natural, if rather shallow— shallow because your hands are clutching at his back and his arms are wrapped tight around you, keeping you close as can be. He can’t pull even halfway out; his hips rock in the barest gap that remains as if neither of you can stand even that much distance. There’s no lack of enthusiasm, though, no lack of passion as he pushes in so tight that the pressure has your swollen clit jolting with a delicious spark on every thrust. The heat between you grows, turning you sticky and damp with sweat down the length of your bodies. The pleasure grows too, quickly for you with all the stimulation until you’re panting against his shoulder. It grows unimpeded until Eddie nestles his face down further toward you, inadvertently feeding you a mouthful of his hair.

You turn your cheek and try to spit it out, but the thick, dry strands stick stubbornly to your lips until you have to enlist his help. "Your hair's everywhere, Eddie,” you murmur, more amused than anything.

"Ah, shit.” You have to hide a smile against his jaw at how put out he sounds. “Sorry." He tries to shake it away from you, craning his neck back but unwilling to stop embracing you.

"S' okay." Gently, you extract your arms from under his, huffing a little chuckle at the tiny whine of protest that rumbles in his throat. He props himself up so you can carefully clear his face: nudging his bangs out of his eyes, then pushing back the bulk of his curls, tucking them tenderly behind his ears.

"There," you say, sweet and warm, your smile growing at the way the hair almost springs right out again. Unable to be contained, a lot like Eddie.

A lot like the way you feel about him.

"I love your hair," you tell him suddenly, your heart twisting at the way he lights up in response. Eddie rubs the very tip of his nose against yours, smiling boyish and wide, and emotion wells up inside you-- potent and poignant like the sting of happy tears, sweet like coming home and tender like a bruise all at once.

And it’s like the second you say it, you can’t stop thinking about what words really want to spring from your lips. But it's too soon, far too soon, so you cup his face, draw your thumb along his cheek, and kiss him instead, keeping yourself occupied so those words will stay inside.

You kiss him until he’s moving steadily within you again; kiss him until you’re squirming beneath him, whining into his mouth. Kiss him as he drives you over the edge of bliss and then follows you, groaning when he throbs and spills inside. You kiss Eddie until the pleasure fades into contentment, until you both are sated, until those kisses gradually slow and gentle and turn to chaste presses of swollen, love-bitten lips.

Your mouths finally part. And when you see the way Eddie’s looking at you— the curl at the corner of his lips, the subtle tilt of his brow, the warmth in his deep brown eyes— you remember what David told you before you made him leave.

You’ll never find someone who cares about you the way I do.

You knew he was wrong then. But now, you know it.

#blueywrites #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson angst

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crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington · 4 months

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yooooo!!! you’re my favorite ethan winters artist i just wanna say that first and foremost, thank you for the wholesome content of my comfort character and father figure 🥹🫶

i’m really curious bc i feel like i see a lot of people against mithan (not me personally, i’m p neutral on them!) but i’m curious to know all your thoughts on them! thoughts on their canon relationship, their fanon portrayal, the backlash against them/mia accusations, and your headcanons? i’m just really interested!!! hopefully that’s not weird :”)

have a good day!! sparkle on!!! ✨💖

i heart mithan... i think that they can be so cute...

i personally hc them t4t and i like to think that the dated in highschool before they both had fully transitioned

mia likes to bake and ethan likes to scrap book and he always likes to take pictures of mias cakes/ baked goods and has a album for them 😭

i am a multishipper so i draw a lot of ethan ships so my girl is left out sometimes and im sorry mia 😔

i actually really like their relationship, its a really complex dynamic that i like to talk about with my friends

i think the issue is that when talking about mithan or mia in general, theres just SO MUCH misinformation that its honestly a pain the butt to talk about

people still think that she was responsible for the creation of eveline, people still think that she experimented on eveline, people still use examples of her attacking ethan as if she did it on her own will instead of being mind controlled

in reality she was just someone who oversaw the transportation of evie. im not excusing her or anything because obviously she knew what she was doing, but people really try to accuse her of doing something she didnt and it bothers me alot lol

the problem with the fandom is that people either try to water her down to girlboss who did nothing wrong and fail to acknowledge the complexity/ moral grayness of her character and the other side is misogynists 😭😭😭😭

its hard to talk about her without people either going "stop trying to villainize her and make her look bad!" or people ACTUALLY villainizing her and acting like heisenberg would have treated him better 😭😭

mithan is such a sad relationship because they loved each other so much and that ended up being the reason their relationship fell apart (sort of... its not like the broke up... ethan kinda just straight up died)

i get a lot a trouble for saying this, but mia is a selfish person.

its not a bad thing! well i mean it is but it doesnt make her some evil witch who is somehow worse than the guy how made a werewolf american ninja warrior. its just a major character flaw she has! which is good! mia being a flawed person who makes mistakes and morally gray decisions make her a more interesting person!

she is selfish in the way that she wants to keep her family with her no matter the cost. even if it means lying to ethan about her job so that he wont think different of her. here is a interrogation from the re7 DLC, which is easy to miss!

she isnt necessarily trying to apologize for the things she has done, she is more of a, "u wont need to forgive me in the first place if we just forget it all and move on"

she doesn't try to redeem herself for what she has done, she tries to move on and return to the normal life that she wants so bad. which is fine! everyone copes a different way and she has to right to move on from her trauma. the problem that lies in this is that she has a shared trauma with ethan who still has no idea what went on in dulvey and still effects him till the present (he is mold! this is a important thing to know! most people would want to know if they were a walking corpse)

she played a direct part in what happened in dulvey, and im not referring to the email, she did not send that. she never wanted ethan to come in the first place. she tried her best to send a video to him, begging him to forget about her because she wanted to protect him, BUT it didnt send.

he got involved because she was involved. its honestly a series of really really unfortunate events.

THOUGH! she did know what she was getting into. im tired of seeing the narrative that mia was innocent and didnt know what was going on or was simply a bystander. she knew what she was doing, she knew eveline was a bioweapon, she knew eveline was a child. she used a MACHINE GUN! she knows how to use weapons and was obviously trained for it.

she tried her best to keep everybody out of the mess, ex: warning the bakers not to take them in, warning ethan not to find her, sacrificing herself for ethan in the later half of re7

but again, those are the consequences of HER actions

her consequences just happen to get really big and end up hitting ethan on the head like a metal sheet 😭

their relationship is really so interesting, it makes me really sad to think about sometimes 😭they both went through something that nobody else would ever understand, in the end they really only have each other. they get moved to an entire different country and the dulvey incident gets covered up with a "gas leak"

its really tragic because their marriage definitely had some flaws and bumps. and i know im repeating myself but its because people always take this in the worst way possible but just because i say their relationship was rocky doesnt mean im saying they dont love each other!!! thats the entire basis of mias character!! saying she doesnt love ethan would destroy her entire character!

you can see in the re8 DLC how fondly ethan talks about mia! he loves her so much, though im not sure if his comments in the DLC are him narrating current (post re8) or his thoughts before everything went down and he died (pre re8)

everything mia did was because she LOVED ethan. she would never do anything to intentionally hurt him, she is not a cruel person. she hides the truth of her job from ethan pre re7 because she loves him and doesnt want her job to drive them apart. she CONTINUES to refuse to tell ethan the truth post re7 because she wants to move on a live a happy normal life with him and knows something like her being directly associated with the connections would probably cause (more) problems. she refuses to tell ethan that he is mold because again, hard to live a happy marriage with your husband after you tell him hes a bioweapon.

obviously i dont think it was right that she did this, thats what makes her selfish! she did it for herself! she did it for her family! she thought it would work out, she thought that they could move on and be happy together.

the issue is that ethan didnt want to forget. he wanted to know what happened, he wanted to know the part mia played, he wanted answers! which is reasonable! he knows to some extent that mia was partially responsible for his involvement and he was always suspcious that mia was lying to him about her job which is implied when mia says "you were right, i did lie to you"

she doesnt learn, she doesnt stop lying, her lies get bigger and worse and it sucks yeah but it makes her so interesting!!! she keeps doing stupid things under the idea that this is whats best for her and her family, that if she hides this everything will work out and it will be for the better but its not!

just because telling your husband hes dead and a bioweapon is a hard subject to bring up doesnt mean you DONT bring it up. people shouldnt use that as a reason to excuse mia 😭, its a very bad excuse and honestly highlights how horrible their communication skills were. you cant just not tell your husband that he is actually infected with the mold and not tell him for the tree years between post re7 and pre re8.

im not saying these things to put mia down, or try and villanize her. these are all just actual things her character does! she isnt evil, but she isnt a knight in shining armor either. we need to be able to have talks about complex characters without crying everytime someone points out a flaw. characters have flaws! and mia just happens to have a lot of them!

im not mad at her, i dont dislike her because i think this way of her. shes a fictional character! you can like characters that are morally gray, or villains that drink blood and make corpse soldiers. they are fictional! pointing out the flaws of a character does not mean i dont like them.

i wouldnt call her "the real villain of re8" but i wouldnt treat her like a damsel in distress either. she is a competent person, she knows what shes doing, she has her reasons for doing them. she made bad descions with good intentions behind them! they can coexist and we should let them!

i like mithan! its a complex relationship because they both love each other so much but hurt each other in the process

talking about them is just a pain in the butt because talking about mia is a pain in the butt lol

i really hate how she keeps getting sidelined, its super frustrating to see mia get put in a cage in every game 😭

its even more frustrating that mia straight up just disappears???? in the shadows of rose DLC... like she just stops taking care of rose and theres nothing said about it. no reason or explanation. i dont think mia would ever ditch rosemary because she didnt care about her, but we probably will never know because capcom sucks at writing and they probably forgot the mia ever even existed.

all in all, i think the fandom is really just full of misinformation which make people either think mia is some horrible evil person, or its full of people who think that saying mia messed up is the equivalent of comparing her to wesker lol.

i really love mia, shes a incredibly fun and complex character, its just hard to enjoy her sometimes with the people in the fandom haha.

also ive got no idea what u meant by "the backlash against them/mia accusations" so sorry if i didnt answer that!

thank u for the ask! sorry for the long response!

#mia winters #resident evil #ethan winters #mithan

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andraxicated · 2 years

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fantasy, fantasy~

Pairings: Pierro, Dottore, Pantalone, Childe, Scaramouche x f! reader

Synopsis: What does he think about when he sees you? Whether you deliberately seduce him or not, he's helplessly bewitched by you.

a/n: omg fatui I'm on my knees! had a lot going on with my life these days like my neighbor's house burst into flames and stuff.

wanted to write for capitano but there's no face to fantasize about. coz i feel like a face already tells a personality y'know.

Pierro

as he's a man well into his age, he does not long for worldly desires. he simply decided he had enough of those in his youth and all he wishes is for her majesty's will to be fulfilled. being no.1 of the harbingers comes with all kinds of people currying favor with him. it's uninteresting to listen to all their blabbers but when this certain politician pulls out his daughter from the side, pierro is captivated.

you look so innocent in white and your youthful face was shining, he almost thought an angel came down to earth. but what caught his eye aside from your face was the peek of cleavage on the otherwise modest frock. you brought in an air of freshness and purity along with the blend of a subtle seductress. you were exactly his type, and yours, him.

little side eyes while you're sipping on your wine, and he's staring at you while he's talking with another. to have pierro's attention solely on you have you excusing yourself from the sudden surge of heat. he cuts off the conversation quickly to follow this maiden he had only seen today. why has your dad kept you hidden for so long? you must be the trump card that he used to entice pierro and others. just the thought makes him seethe.

you jump at the shadow of the fire, startled to see the man behind you. "lord harbinger" you bow and greet, nervous yet trained in poise. 'a well-bred lady. perfect' you were perfect in all aspects that pierro cannot find a single flaw. when he slowly removes your garments and exposes your naked body to the light of the fireplace. he simply finds it suited for childbearing. "don't cover yourself darling. let me see"

when he finally sinks into you, he's reminded of how good it actually was. "fuck it's been so long" he groans and thrusts faster to gauge your reactions and to feel the rub against your walls. plus points if you're a virgin, he'd gladly oblige to show you the ways. but when he learns you're not, you're in for a punishment. "you disappoint me" he slaps your ass while you cry at the impact, yet he pays no mind and degrades you further. "whoring yourself out at such a young age. tell me...who was it?"

after finishing inside you and envisioning you as the mother of his child, he presses an unexpected kiss to the side of your head. "I'll save you. don't worry, I have a plan." pierro says while soothing circles on your tummy. it's a pity your father brought you to a political mishap but fear not; because pierro has a plan. a plan to destroy his enemies and to make you his pretty little wife.

Dottore

during the days spent in the akademiya, dottore doesn't make or have any friends. he's labeled a freak and a madman; disgusted shunning looks were thrown in his way yet dottore doesn't mind. for he is too engrossed in his research and science to give attention to what they say. it all went too far when he's suddenly ganged up by big, burly guys who started beating him up in the corridor. he has no choice but to pathetically cover himself and curl up as they kick and kick until patches of his skin turn purple.

he had to listen to their savage mouths while bearing the pain and archons, he hated them for delaying his research. after they're done with this little fun, he's gonna turn them into humanoids that does everything he says. you, who's an important student in the akademiya and wandering about, saw this scene that had you grabbing a nearby sculpture and smashing it at their heads. the bullies scurry after seeing it was you, and dottore grimaces at you before running away.

"what are you? walking justice?" he sneers whenever you're trying to help but doesn't shake you off. after months of persistence from you; you've become 'best friends' and earned him immunity from the bullies. dottore thought it was great because there was no one hindering him. unexpectedly, he found himself falling for you and fantasizing about you. in nights when he's feeling frustrated, he takes off his pants and takes out his cock to stroke it. closing his eyes; thinking of moments where your breast would suddenly press against him, your panties inside your dorm, and the sinful actions you did in his mind.

ultimately, fate had other plans for the both of you. neither of you didn't want it but your visions of the future just didn't align, and so you parted ways with him after graduation. it was years after when you saw the familiar tuft of blue hair that had you instinctively calling for him. yet the one that turned to you was eerily masked. you're suddenly unsure of who you called but the gloved hand took off its mask and showed you a smile. you caught up with dottore over drinks that had both of you coughing in bitterness. your lips and his were on the rim of the glasses then next those lips were stuck to each other.

years of pent-up frustration are released as you two frantically take off the other's clothes. you lift your sweater off your head as his calloused hands immediately follow in tracing your curves. you could only submit to him by falling back onto the sheets, letting him have his way down when he takes off your pants. little licks transform into devouring kisses have you clenching and gripping his hair. quick orgasms came one after the other to the point you're helplessly sobbing and squirming.

he laughs inside his mind. you remind him of his subjects when he's about to tinker with them. "stop squirming" he stills your shaking thighs while taking his time in rubbing his face against your pussy. "t's too much! dottore stop I-" "let me have my way with you tonight yeah? compensation for leaving me." you didn't even know he took off his pants; you just felt the startling penetration and the scream out of your lungs. dottore chuckled at your head thrown back and lunged for your neck to nip. all you could do that night was to stare at him with glossy eyes and a fucked out face as he does all the work above you. "just spread your legs. don't worry about anything"

Pantalone

with crossed legs and a stark expression, he watches you sing and act on stage. you reserved the best seats for him as usual, he was your benefactor after all. you creating scenes with a male actor; his hands snaking on your waist as you look at each other lovingly is unbearable. pantalone knows he shouldn't be jealous as those endearments are all fake. yet he can't help but be possessive when you swore that your body belongs to him.

you open the door to your backstage room only to see him drinking with a sullen face. "my dear patron is so kind to see me personally." he chuckles at what you said and puts down the champagne flute before standing up and towering over you. "your performance is marvelous is always." he helps you take off the fur coat, gives you a rough kiss, then expertly unzips your gown down to your ass. giving the flesh a light squeeze before a hard spank.

it causes you to jolt in surprise and pull away from him. confused doe eyes staring at his cheeky smile. "that hurts! 500 thousand mora for that." you huff away to take off your accessories yet pantalone suddenly pulls you back in his arms. if you looked in the mirror you could've fooled yourself that he was your real lover. but you had to remind yourself that both of you are doing this for pleasure and money.

"love, you could ask for more and I'll give it to you." he whispers with a lilt while looking into your eyes through the mirror. there, you both watch as he fully undresses you and grips your chin to direct an open-mouthed kiss. you always find yourself anticipating these trysts as it always manages to surprise you. this time it's having sex in front of a mirror, and you're forced to watch your tear-stricken face contort as he penetrates you from below.

pantalone groans at the feeling of your tight walls while you're caged in his strong arms, moaning and thrashing like some common whore. "you see that? you see yourself?" he asks then hisses as he feels your hole flutter when you nod. he lets out an airy laugh and positions his hands on your waist while his fingers press down on your lower belly, giving a stimulating squeeze as he remembers that the actor held this earlier too. the position lets waves of pleasure concentrate on your lower half and so you're uncontrollably dripping. "please move" you beg pantalone with the utmost helpless face you can muster yet he just raises an eyebrow and smirks.

"why should I move when you're the one on top?" "...huh?" your small voice comes out as a croak as you look at him confused. his smile disappears when he suddenly lifts you up and drops you down on his cock as a demonstration. a piercing shriek echoes in the room along with breaths of surprise from you. "didn't you want to be on top? then go on and ride." his dark voice prompts you to shamelessly start enjoying yourself and using him but the burn causes you to stop moving...yet, his sinister eyes reflected compel you to swallow down the protests and keep on bouncing lewdly.

Childe

this battle maniac never thought he'd be obsessed with something other than the thrill of fighting. it's all thanks to you who's the newest recruit, dressed in a skimpy and tight uniform that seems a bit too small for your size. it's very uncomfortable that you have to make some adjustments with the mannerism of biting your lip. and oh how much childe wants to see that face underneath him. moaning, sobbing and pleading. the walk towards you was difficult with blood rushing to his groin.

"need help?" his chirpy voice startled you as you attempt to pathetically cover yourself when he already saw it. "uhm, young master I don't mean to be rude but this is highly inappropriate." just from the tone of your voice tells him that you want him badly as much as he does. childe shakes his head with a "tsk" that made you cower a bit. "do you think your stares were appropriate?" "wha-" "I saw your lustful gaze when I was changing in the open the other day."

'caught you'. your eyes were trembling and your mouth unable to utter a word. you never thought you would be found out this easily by your superior, childe thinks you forgot he was a harbinger who senses leering. "I'm sorry" 'how cute' he muses then he feels another throb in his pants that has him doing a bold move. "why don't you show you're sorry?"

plops of skin slapping, your own muffled cries, and his stifled laughs were all that was registering in your ear. childe never thought he would be this freaky by fucking you in public. no one should be able to use this room as he has instructed but you don't know that of course. so why don't he put a little fear in you?

"fuck take it all" he plunges into your wet folds with a groan, steadying himself by burying his face into your soft mounds. you could only close your eyes and bear the pain of penetration as you work on calming your breathing. once you seemed to be at peace, childe destroys it all at once. "what would they think if they see you in this position? hmm?" "ah!" your eyes snap open when he pushes the limits of your walls. thrusting beyond what you could imagine as your juices squelch and flow.

"naughty girl. leaving evidence behind." he scoffed playfully at your messed up face while slowly pulling out and harshly pushing in. "noooo. I'm cumming!" you moan out something you didn't even comprehend but childe knows exactly what you mean as he speeds up his pleasure to catch up with your orgasm. it seems like childe has another newfound obsession. your dazed look, your filled wrecked cunt, and the thrill of being caught.

Scaramouche

he never thought he would be coming back to his homeland after years. sent on an important mission concerning the gnosis yet he had other things he wanted to achieve. scaramouche deems yae's deal good enough; the traveler's safety in exchange for the gnosis and his kitsune friend's whereabouts. they say never to trust a kitsune as those creatures are sly, but scaramouche's foolish heart would always lead him back to you. a heart? he has one only for you.

did that darn fox fool him? he's been looking around the island and chinju forest for hours now yet you're nowhere to be found. just the thought of losing on a bargain makes him so mad that— *ripple* scaramouche's head turns vigilantly on the sound of a drop on the river. 'someone's here' he senses and surveys the surroundings. the area is lit enough thanks to the blue flowers but there's still patches of darkness. if he isn't careful he might get ambushed on the spot. "agh!" ambushed it is as a groan comes out of his mouth when his back falls onto the ground, amidst the illuminating flowers. his hand quickly forms a ball of electro to attack, but his vexed expression and the energy in his hand soon dwindled when he saw the beauty laying atop him.

he could only stare and you could gawk at how much this person grew. "kuni? kunikuzushi?" you call out to him yet he just lays there underneath you. he's too much in a shock to see you after so many years. you've grown even more beautiful, your voice still like a lullaby, and your body matured, enhanced with curves and chest bigger...ah, scaramouche pushes you off him to hide the flush on his cheeks. you could only giggle at him as he still has a bit of his innocence despite what you've heard. "you're still pretty" he looks at you like you grew two heads at your remark, and another tint of pink paints his cheek once again. 'he never changed'

what's unspoken between the two of you was the summer night spent in secrecy. your squirming body against the futon, his sighs of pleasure, your mewls, and the tears that he shed as he came inside your womb. now, it's all but a distant memory as you act like nothing happened. did you use him for the experience? the thought of someone other than him seeing you vulnerable could make him straight up murder. a sly grin creeps on your mouth as you try to read what he's thinking. 'oh he's so in for a surprise' you giggle inside your head.

in a fit of anger, scaramouche decides to go outside but as soon as he slides the door, he's met with your body clad in a thin robe. your nipples perked and everything was on display for him. before you could say anything, he jumps on you to hungrily ravage your lips. deft fingers pull the robe and take it off your body, all the while making out and pushing you towards his room.

he's so happy he could die as he finally thrusts the head of his cock past your entrance. the feeling of being full once again makes you whine so loud that scaramouche has to shut you up with a spit-connected kiss. "never thought you for a romantic" you tease him with a lofty smile at his slow pace and he thrusts upward in return. "I'm not" scaramouche replies while pulling out; he puts on the face he wears when dealing with his incompetent subordinates. "surely you can take a harsh fucking right?" he growled before wiping the smile off your face with a plunge that made you see stars.

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skzdarlings · 4 months

Text

sharing a bed ; seungmin ; sequel

masterlist.

original one-shot.

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers. sequel to sharing a bed one-shot linked above. morning afters. running from feelings. making reader jealous. confrontation with a creep and light violence. sexual content includes blow-jobs, hand jobs, strap-on blowjobs, 69ing, rimming, pegging, light choking. some brat seungmin and sort of brat tamer reader (kinda just likes the brat lol). word count: 7k.

Kim Seungmin, the perpetual thorn in your side and ache in your head, is torturing you.

Not the fun kind of torture, either. You had your fill of that two nights ago when a silly scheme resulted in a horny happenstance and you let yourself get carried away. Your careful control not only slipped, but fell right into the hands of someone you once disliked.

It left you befuddled in the light of the day, when you woke to Seungmin curled around you, his cheek pressing into your bicep and his leg hooked around yours. Not to mention his morning wood digging into your hip. It surfaced memories of the pretty and unexpected piercing you found there, how your idea of this guy was so so wrong. And it made you wonder what else you were wrong about, and all the ways this burgeoning something could go wrong in turn. Your thoughts spiralled.

You were no longer handcuffed, so you slipped out of bed and walked right out the front door. You hoped a walk through the brisk winter morning would help clear your mind. It did, but only momentarily. When you got back to the vacation house and ran into Seungmin, you fumbled. Badly. You meant to be pragmatic but came across dismissive. Something about how last night was the only night. Something about how you were bad at commitments. Something about being better off friends.

Seungmin was silent the whole time, letting you ramble like an idiot. Then his eyes narrowed and he laughed. It was an airy, unpleasant, and derisive sound.

“Trust me,” he said. “We will never be friends.”

“Well, fine,” you said, bristling despite the fact you were the one rejecting him. What did you care if he hated you again? You didn’t. You shouldn’t. “Good.”

It was not good. Saying it left a sour taste in your mouth and a pit in your stomach.

And despite it all, your stupid horny hindbrain did not relent, purring like a kitten when Seungmin gave you a judgemental once-over and scoffed. You could not help but remember the very different noises he made last night, again and again, in your hands and mouth, from your actions and words.

You will never look at him the same way again. You have no idea how to move forward, but you know you can never go back. Pretending nothing happened will not work for once.

It freaks you out. You are usually good at shucking attachments. His cold acceptance should not have hurt. What did you care? This vacation would end and you would go back to your own lives, right? So you let Seungmin shove past you. He ignored you for the rest of the day. When he started an argument later, causing everyone else to groan, you replied like always, but it was half-hearted at best.

Oh god, you think now, rubbing the bridge of your nose, I can’t start thinking with my damn heart.

Emotional attachments and long-term romantic liaisons never turn out well. You cut a dashing figure but your many flaws eventually find their way to the surface. It is not worth the inevitable heartbreak when someone sees under the charming mask to the real you.

Rather than suffer later, you are suffering now, brooding over a beer while doing your damnest to not look across the bar. You know you will not like what you see.

You and your friends only have a couple more nights at the vacation lodge, so you all went down to the nearby resort to drink and dance and enjoy a fun night out.

You are not having any fun, of course. You are sitting on a bar stool, all alone at the counter, in your signature leather jacket as you hunch over your drink and glare at nothing in particular.

Seungmin, on the other hand, is suddenly a dazzling socializer rather than an obnoxious stuck-up jerk like he used to be. You expected him to sit in a corner, making snarky remarks all night, but instead he has been moving from person to person, flirting with anything that breathes.

He is also wearing an obscene pair of jeans. No one else in the friend group seemed to notice, not a single eye so much as twitching in his direction, but you noticed. Oh, yeah, you fucking noticed. The second he came bounding the stairs, swinging on a stupid baggy letterman jacket like the twerpy little prep he is. His dark hair neatly combed, bangs swept off his forehead, brightening his gaze.

The jeans. The stupid fucking jeans. Straight-cut denim that has absolutely no business cupping his ass the way it does. And why does he have such a nice ass anyway? It also has no business looking that way.

Kim Seungmin. What a nightmare.

You take a swig of beer and glare at the wall. You tell yourself not to look at him. He is probably leaning over some equally prissy knob and offering to buy them a glass of milk or whatever people like them drink.

So, no. You will not give him the satisfaction. It is no coincidence that in all the time you have known him, Seungmin has never been flirtatious or promiscuous, but the second you turn him down he is slobbering all over anything that moves.

You will not let him get to you. You will not look at him. You will not react.

Except he is already getting to you. So you look over. You react.

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumble, abandoning your beer and stomping down from your stool.

Seungmin is huddled in a booth with some colossal bitch of a man. You recognize him from the other night, remembering how much time he spent harassing the bar staff. Seungmin doesn’t know that. He might be your enemy – or whatever – but you are not gonna leave the guy with that kind of jerk. And you are not secretly thrilled that you are justified in storming over there, drawing up to the table with all the aggression that has been building inside you.

You slap a hand on the table, bringing their attention to you. Seungmin gives you a once-over, then smiles that stupid smile of his, all boxy and puppyish, like you are the funniest punchline to the funniest joke in the world. There was a time you used to fantasize about swiping that smile off his mouth. You are still thinking about occupying his mouth, just not like that.

“Move along,” you say to the creep.

“Excuse me?”

He is already drunk. You can smell it as much as see it. Seungmin is looking very smug and you start to feel like he picked this guy on purpose.

Seungmin drives you crazy, he really does. One second he is all good boy, the next he is purposefully throwing himself at a creep just to get a rise out of you. You feel like he would take a running leap off the mountainside if he was inclined to a prove a point to someone. He is fearless and ridiculous and you want to hate him. You want him to be the boring two-dimensional snob you thought he was. You have no idea what to do with the complicated man in front of you.

That’s a lie, you think, meeting his gaze. You know exactly what to do with him.

You swear his eyes are twinkling. He slouches back comfortably, arms crossed.

“I told you once,” you say, tearing your gaze from him to look at the creep. “Now move along.”

“Try me.”

The guy was only bothering women and seems uninterested in Seungmin so you suspect he just wants to piss you off, but then he puts a hand on him anyway, grabbing Seungmin by the arm so suddenly that it surprises him.

Before Seungmin can shake him off, you snatch the guy by his wrist and twist. He yelps, struggling to wrestle his arm back from your iron grip. You slam him against the back of the booth.

“Touch him again,” you say, “and I will break your hand. You wanna try me?”

He opens his mouth, no doubt to spew some smelly rejoinder, but you don’t stick around for it. You grab Seungmin by the elbow and yank him out of the booth. You drag him away.

“Excuse me,” Seungmin says, not politely, ripping his arm back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m saving your dumb ass from getting felt up by every creep on this mountain.”

“Meh-meh-meh,” he mocks, dodging when you reach for him again. “I’m having fun. I don’t need you to do anything. It’s not like you’d really care if something happened to me. Bad,” he smirks, “or good.”

He knows he has you cornered. You might have the physicality over him, but he is holding this entire scene in his hands. You can only rub your jaw and shake your head, trying and failing to remember how to act indifferent.

He has the tiniest drop of cream on his upper lip, leftover from the sugary abomination someone bought him.

You say nothing in reply to his deliberate antagonizing. You plant one hand on your hip and reach for him with the other. When he tries to dodge, you grab him by the shoulder, firmly putting him in place. He does not move the second time, standing still while you wipe a thumb across the sugary residual.

Then you push at his bottom lip, press down, flicking your thumb so it bounces back. His stare is unwavering. He is not the blushing type, but he noticeably swallows.

“Come on,” you say, zipping up your jacket. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he asks.

You grab the back of his neck and drag him right up against you.

“I didn’t ask,” you say.

“Friends don’t get to make demands, dumbass,” he says, sneering the word friends. He does not wriggle away, but he does not fully surrender either. He meets your stare head-on, unmoving and unintimidated.

He is going to make you say it. He is not going to let you act sexy and charm your way out of it. He is going to stand in this bar with your hand uselessly holding his neck until you do.

“Fine,” you say. You exhale. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said all that dumb shit. I’m a moron.”

“Yes,” he says. “You are.”

“I didn’t think it would matter that much anyway.”

“Because you aren’t the romantic type,” he says dryly.

“Because I didn’t think you’d care,” you admit. “You don’t like me and we don’t get along anyway. I just—” You finally drop your hand, waving at nothing and looking away. You can feel him glaring at you. “Look, I suck, I get it. Believe me, I know all the ways I suck. I figured I’d spare us the mess when you figured that out so I just walked away while it was still good.”

“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought,” he says. He is still frowning at you. “I already know how much you suck. It was the first thing I noticed, you arrogant, womanizing ass.”

“Hey now…”

“You’re vulgar and loud and, for someone without a dick, you think with it constantly.”

“I… don’t…” You do.

“And for some reason even though you are the biggest idiot and the worst person I have ever met,” he says, still glaring, “I still like something about you. Because even though you’re determined to not let anyone see your good side, unfortunately you have one. Even though it’s buried so deep you have to walk into hell to find it.”

It did not really occur to you that Seungmin has already seen your worst qualities. Because you did not get along, you never felt a need to hide those attributes. Inadvertently, you have been more open and honest with this annoyingly handsome brat than anyone else you have ever known.

You cannot help the smile tugging at your lips. Seungmin rolls his eyes.

“You’re hopeless,” he says, shaking his head as he shoves past you. “Take me home, idiot, before I come to my senses.”

You turn to follow him, only to get bopped on the nose when he shoves a pointed finger in your face.

“If you even think about acting like a moron in the morning,” he says, “I will kill you and make it look like an accident.”

You draw a cross over your heart and nod. He huffs in aggravation, turning on his heel and stomping outside.

“You’re the worst,” he says. He swings open the door and stomps into the snowy night, seemingly unbothered by the fluffy bits of snow swirling around his face. He just swings up his hood and marches through the downy white carpet. “You better make this worth my while,” he says.

Your eyes are on his ass in those jeans, thinking about how you very much will be making it worth his while. You look up when he keeps grumbling to himself, a marked sign he is maybe more nervous than he is letting on. You remember his stubbornness before his eventual acquiescence, the way he hid his face at his most vulnerable moments.

You might be in the habit of ducking out the door, but he deflects just as much with his wit.

You hurry your pace, catching up to him. He is still muttering to himself, head down, a soft layer of snow dusting his jacket and hood. It must be all over your head but you hardly feel the cold. Your mind is on warmth, that stupid heart of yours suddenly flooded with it.

You want this to be good for him, even if he would never outright ask for you to be kind. It is all the more reason to make sure you are. You really were such an idiot.

Your grip is firm but not rough, hand curling protectively over his shoulder. This touch invites more than demands.

He stops in place, looking at you with a wary glare. It disappears when you swoop in. His hood falls as you tug him close. He goes without protest, lips parting under yours with a claiming so heated that the cold does not stand a chance against you.

You try to keep it romantic, a rare act of restraint on your part, but the supposed good boy drags the zipper of your coat down, down, down, then grabs your belt and tugs. You stumble, uncharacteristically shaky, gasping against his lips when he grinds his knuckles against the zip of your jeans.

“Tsk,” he says, lips still brushing yours. “Not prepared.”

“I was planning on sitting around feeling sorry for myself,” you say, with a helpless laugh despite his teasing. You grab his wandering hand, leading it away from your crotch. You are eternally grateful your dick is the kind you can leave in your sock drawer, because resisting him right now would have been impossible otherwise.

“Trust me,” you say. “I’ll make up for it.”

“Fine,” he says. “I will. You better not let me down.” He looks at you when he says this, as close to imploring as Seungmin ever does.

You feel the weight of that trust. You nod, swallowing, looking at his lips, full and pink from the hard press of your kiss. You lean in for more when he abruptly zips your coat again, all the way up to your chin so he smacks your jaw.

“Come on then,” he says with that mean little laugh as he scampers away, grinning at you. “Are you gonna prove it or not?”

It is a short drive back to the cabin, and a torturous one to boot. Not because Seungmin touches you, but because he doesn’t, and he won’t let you touch him either. You try to put a hand on his knee but every attempt is rebuffed. All you get is that cheeky grin or a glare, then a mere flick of his wrist as he brushes you away like lint.

Somehow it is more maddening than a direct touch. You can feel him everywhere just by his proximity. He even jumps out of the car before you unbuckle your seatbelt. He is inside the cabin before you reach the door.

You are panting from the sprint up the driveway, trying to keep up, not entirely convinced he won’t play you for a sucker and run right out the back door. It would be like Seungmin to make you chase him up the mountainside. You wouldn’t blame him for making you prove yourself, considering what an ass you were.

But he is waiting inside the cabin. Everyone else is out for the night and should be gone for hours. When you close the door, sealing out the cold and the world, this cabin feels flush with more heat than you know what to do with.

You do not hesitate. The tantalizing promise of more is like a touch on its own, heightened by his stubborn refusal to give you anything easily. It makes catching him that much more satisfying, that soft sound all the sweeter when you pull him into your arms and finally steal that kiss.

His skin is cool from the weather but his mouth is warm, the kiss searing hot. He digs his blunt nails into the arms of your jacket, pressing the whole length of his hard body against yours.

You remember his unexpectedly tender places, how just a faint stroke behind his ear will have him curling into you, how looping some hair around your fingers and tugging will deepen the rumbling sound that spills past his lips.

You unzip his coat while kissing, licking into him while he scrambles to help strip. The coat hits the floor in a damp heap. You separate for just a moment, giving him the chance to tug his hoodie up and off. You toss your own jacket over the nearby couch, then hook your fingers into his belt loops and pull him close.

His hair is in an endearing state of dishevelment and he looks flushed from the rush of warmth after the chill. Just looking at him like this has you throbbing. You try to imagine telling the old you that you would feel that way, that the annoying friend-of-a-friend who mutually hated your guts would be looking at you like he wants to devour you and let you return the favour.

You can’t imagine believing it. Now it feels completely natural, letting him walk you backwards until your back hits the wall and his chest is pressed to yours, rising and falling with the quickness of his breath.

He is looking aside, contemplatively. You cup his jaw and draw him back to you, unable to resist a breathless laugh when he nips at your fingers. You do not shy away or let go, and that seems to placate him. He practically melts against you, your hand curving around the shape of his cheek, lowering to curl gently around the side of his neck.

“We should go upstairs,” you say. The stairs are right beside you, but somehow the bedroom seems too far.

Impossibly, ridiculously far, when Seungmin flicks some hair out of his eyes and looks at you intensely.

“Don’t you want me on my knees?” he asks.

Your response is not a real word, just a rough sound. He smirks, but is still flushed and a little shaky as he sinks onto his knees. He gets your belt open, tugs it free, and tosses it to the side. The sight of him licking his lips has you seeing stars before he even leans in.

You brush some of his hair back, looking down at his face as he focusses on unzipping your jeans. He has the fly down when you catch your breath and your senses.

You gather the hair at his nape in your fist and tug, firm and sharp. His mouth falls open and his breath stutters, eyes so dark and lips so wet and plush that you are tempted to drive his face right between your legs, where is obviously offering to be.

But that’s not how you want to do this, not yet. You move from his hair to his neck, wrapping your hand around his throat and watching his eyelashes flutter with surprise. There is always a breath of panic in that surprise, adrenaline fueling the flood of desire that follows. He is visibly hard, straining in those sinful jeans, breathing harder as you none-too-nicely push him down onto the stairs.

“What are you doing,” he says, though it sounds like less like a question than acceptance. Continue, waving his hand like a prince on silk sheets even though he is sprawled on his back on the staircase.

“Making it worth your while,” you say. He is not wearing a belt because these jeans are made for his body, snug and perfect and fitted everywhere, so it is just a matter of unbuttoning—

Oof.

He plants his foot on your chest like last time, pushing you back. He blinks innocently.

“Shoes first,” he says.

You smile, though it less playful than predatory, a promise in the flash of your teeth. You nonetheless obey his silly whim as you tug off one shoe than the other. It leaves a damp patch on your shirt which he remarks on. You roll your eyes but tug your shirt off, sports bra following.

The second time you push him down, you are even less nice. You gather his hands in yours and pin them above his head, holding him there when he squirms ineffectively.

“You’re kind of a brat,” you say, yanking his zipper down. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“You,” he says, panting around the word. “Jerk.”

You laugh, then cover his mouth with yours, swallowing the moan that takes him by surprise. His hips buck towards you when you reach into those jeans to take him in hand. He wriggles in your hold, arms straining while his hips lift toward you for more, following the snapping rhythm of your hand. You trace the dick piercings that caught you by surprise last time, the metal smooth under your rolling thumb.

You only release him when you duck down, tasting for yourself, relishing in the sounds that spill out of him. He claws at your bare shoulder, spreading his legs to make room for you to lay between them. His head falls back, resting on the step above while you work him in your mouth.

“I’m—I’m—” His voice gets lighter, breathier, his orgasm hitting him all at once. He throws an arm over his face instinctively, head thrown back, hips lifting. It catches you by surprise, making you choke just a bit, but he is already coming so you ride it out.

He is still twitching when he finishes, gasping behind his arm when you roll a thumb around his piercing again. When he hisses, knees jerking, you let go.

Knowing him better than you ever thought you would, you move, stretching out alongside him. You tug him into your arms and he goes without hesitation, burying his face in your neck. You snake a hand under his shirt, stroking his back affectionately.

Once more, you are genuinely endeavouring to be sweet.

Once more, he shoves his hand down your pants.

“Hello—” It is all you manage before he is touching you, finding all that wet desire and rubbing a little haphazardly. It makes you laugh and you grab his wrist, slowing him down. “Easy,” you say, showing him a better pace. “Just like that is good.”

He learns quickly. It was the same last time. Every idea you introduced, he contemplated, experimented, then excelled. With just a nudge now, he skillfully obliges. He is breathing hard against your throat, pressed so close to your whole body, his fingers finding all your secrets and working them out. You slide a hand down his backside, squeezing a handful of his ass. The sound he makes has you coming faster than usual.

He puts his hand on your thigh, then lifts his head and grins at you.

“I’m still winning,” he says.

“It’s still not a contest,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow.

“It is,” he says. “And I’m winning.”

“I see.”

You scoop him into your arms and cart him up the stairs. He situates himself by the time you reach the bedroom, legs around your waist and arms around your shoulder.

“Still winning?” you ask.

“Obviously,” he replies.

You shake your head and sigh but with no real animosity, just like his smirk is more playful than vicious. You still whole-heartedly believe he is capable of catching you off guard, so you are prepared for the brat switch to flip at the slightest provocation.

You drop him onto the bed with a gentle thump, then cross your arms and look down at him.

“Can I leave you unsupervised for two minutes while I get my dick?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he says, blinking innocently. “Can you?”

“Probably not,” you say, but retreat nonetheless. Your equipment is in your travel bag. You left it behind when you went to the bar because you were not in the mood for a hook-up, which should have been the first sign you were hopeless. You were already in waters far too deep when you tried reaching for that shitty life preserver. Learning to swim is not easy but infinitely more rewarding.

You change into packing boxers and tuck your toy into it, buttoning up the pocket. You grab some lube and a towel, then walk back to his bedroom, certain that he has somehow caused trouble in the five minutes it took to do all that.

He’d naked. Of course he is. Sitting where you left him, perched on the edge of the bed, but his clothes are folded in a pile on the dresser and he has nothing but a bedsheet pulled over his lap. He is not wearing his usual cheeky expression, though, and you are about to ask if something is wrong. Then he says, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh,” you say. “That’s fine.” It is the unthinking response, automatic as the admission is not too surprising. You live in a world where strap-ons and gender games are the norm, so sometimes you forget that most people consider it inherently kinky or an anomaly. A lot of men are new to it. Seungmin didn’t even know what was packing was when you first mentioned it.

But then he says, “Any of it.”

And you say, “Huh?”

“I’ve never done,” he says slowly, “any of this.”

“Any.”

It takes a long minute to compute. You think about his clumsy touches and experiments followed by his quick learning. Unabashed and unjudgmental regardless of what he encountered. Testing and figuring himself out just as much as you.

“Oh,” you say. Then, “Oh. Fucking shit. I’m such an asshole.”

Because that was his first time doing anything with someone, and you just walked out the door without a word the next morning.

He does not look upset about it anymore. In fact, he laughs, though he tries to hold it back. It turns into a snort he barely catches, amused eyes gazing up at you.

“Yeah,” he says. “You are. We already knew that.”

“I really, I just—”

“Can you shut up and come take my virginity before I get beatified for involuntary chastity?”

“But you’re so fucking hot,” you blurt.

It is obviously not the retort he anticipated, because he blushes profusely, which is not the response you expected.

He clears his throat and looks away, rolling his eyes to compensate for the obvious vulnerability.

“Thanks,” he says. “Stating the obvious. I’m also picky. And apparently I scare people.”

“Scare them?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow. “Who’d be scared of you?”

“Evidently not you,” he says. His tone is snarky but he looks at you, up and down, and the look is a thoughtful one. “Not ever.”

Agh. There’s that heart again, pounding away. Who knew that thing could race so fast.

“Well,” you say, finally putting the bottle and towel on the bedside table. “That is their loss. Not everyone is built for chasing luxury, I guess.”

“Luxury,” he says with another snort, grinning despite himself. “I’m high-end,” he says it like a fact, not a question.

“Naturally,” you say, approaching where he is sitting.

“I’m going to be honest,” he says, eyes wandering your body before landing on your face. “I thought you were going to be weird and egotistical about being with a virgin.”

It suddenly pings in your head that you are his first, that there is a certain responsibility that comes with that. That the wrong person could make this terrible for him. That you want to make sure it feels better than anything he could dream. These thoughts are completely and truly unselfish.

And there is one admittedly egotistical and selfish thought, of making him irrevocably yours with one really good fuck.

He glares when he sees the look on your face, his lips pursed, though a breath of a laugh escapes nonetheless.

“Wow!” he says. “You’re a pig, go away.”

“No, no, I’m not, I swear!” you say, laughing.

He laughs too but shakes his head, pushing you away when you reach for him. “No way,” he says. “You and your ego. Gross.”

“Please, I promise,” you say, getting on your knees and lacing your hands together like a praying supplicant. “I’ll be so normal,” you say. “I have no ego at all.”

“You’re the worst,” he says dryly.

“Yeah, but…” You wiggle your eyebrows at him. “You kinda like me anyway, right?”

It is a more vulnerable question than you thought it would be. It prompts him to look at you, really look at you, before he huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Unfortunately,” he says.

You giggle and he swats your head.

“Are we just going to sit here all night and look at each other?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“No, no, of course not,” you say. You get back on your feet, standing bedside so you are looming over him.

“What are we doing then?” he asks.

“Well, you know what we’re doing,” you say, laughing when he rolls his eyes and huffs again.

You reach out, cupping his face in both your hands and guiding him to look up at you. Your heartbeat hammers away not only in your chest but everywhere else, a rapid current of heat that thunders most prominently between your legs as shiny dark eyes gaze up at you amorously from such a suggestive vantage.

“First, before anything else, this.” You speak in a lower voice, watching his spine straighten as the sound. You run your thumb across his bottom lip like you did earlier, except this time it is a bruised pink from kissing. It really makes you feel like that extra weight in your boxers is coming to life, connected to you intimately, ready and wanting as you are. Especially when you tug on that bottom lip, when he leans towards your hand like he needs it, needs you.

“Now,” you say. “Now I want you on your knees.”

There is a sharp intake of breath before he nods, subtly, then shifts. The sheets falls away from his lap, revealing he is already half-hard again. There are goosebumps along his skin, from his nudity and the chill or just anticipation.

Last time, he needed almost no direction. He followed his own instinct, logically deducing that the part of the toy you could feel was the part at the base, closest to your body. He uses his usual deductions when unbuttoning your boxers, taking a second to first press the base of the toy against you before leaning back and opening his mouth.

It is not easy to come like this, but you are so worked up that it might happen. It does not matter if you do. It is not always about chasing the perfect orgasm. This time, it is touch and sensuality. He lets you teach him, rather than stampeding like last time. You wonder if his heart is pounding given how red the tips of his ears are, blood rushing everywhere in a hurry. You hold his face and slide back and forth, taking your time getting wet, both yourself and the toy, pushing him a little further each time.

When his mouth is full and he blinks slowly, contently, every bratty remark and combative tone far from his mind, you smile and tug his hair. He moans and you push a little more, gliding back and forward again.

“You’re a fast learner,” you say. “Bet you could get used to this.”

It is a testing tease, to great success if the returned moan is anything to go by. He squeezes his eyes shut and starts touching himself, finally moving his head instead of letting you guide him. Before he gets too lost in the rhythm, you ease him back. You smile and rub your thumb across his shiny lips as he blinks up at you.

“Come here,” you say, and kiss him.

He falls into the kiss, arms wrapping around you as you lay down with him. He is eager in the searching heat of the kiss, long and deep and hungry. You get on your back and pull him on top of you, give him one more drawn-out kiss with a filthy wet lick into his mouth, then smile.

“Turn around,” you say. “Keep going.”

It takes him a second to work out what you mean, but he really is a fast learner. Soon he is laying on top of you, face where it was before, mouth wrapping around the end of your dick and his fingers searching beneath it to stroke you directly.

You snatch the lube off the table and wet your fingers then him, taking it slow and easy, using your mouth and spit then more lube until everything is slippery and he gives in so easily into you. He is breathing hard down between your legs, resting his cheek on your thigh and no longer using his mouth on you. His eyes are closed and his hips are rocking, focussed on the sensations that you are certain are overwhelming him.

You move him around, at which point he comes to attention, looking back at you. This is the quietest he has ever been, all the action in his heart as you expected; you can feel it racing when you touch his chest.

You lay him down in front of you, sidling up behind him. You lay a hand on the wildly fluttering race of his pulse, throat cupped in your palm. You turn his face to kiss him, your wet hand stroking your wet dick. You probably should have thrown that towel down before getting started. The sheets are a mess already.

“Ugh, hurry up,” he says, reaching back to smack your thigh. “You’re the worst. I hate you.”

You laugh. Oh well. No time to worry about bedsheets. You give his throat a gentle squeeze and smile at the noise he makes, strained and needy, his hips rearing back into you.

“What?” you ask, sliding the toy down his backside. “You want something?”

“I will bury you in the mountain pass,” he says. “They’ll think it was a skiing accident. And that you got mauled by a bear. And eaten by wolves. And—”

To be honest, having him distracted and rambling is for the best. It means he is more relaxed, not so focussed when you finally start pushing in. Of course, he feels it pretty fast, and instinctively rebels. You stop clutching his throat and hold an arm across his chest instead, holding him protectively and kissing that sweet spot behind his ear. His groaning turns into a whine.

“Okay?” you ask.

“Gonna kill you,” he says.

“That a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” You hook a hand under his leg and pull it up, giving yourself leverage, then fuck into him completely. His whine turns to a sharp yelp, hand scrabbling against the arm on his chest. You let him catch his breath and adjust. “Still okay?”

“It’s weird,” he says.

“Bad weird?”

“No,” he says. “It’s… it’s good. It’s just…” You move a little and his whole body clenches then loosens. He makes a strangled noise but softens in your arms, though his nails have dug a pretty picture into your skin. You are surprised he hasn’t drawn blood. “Ugh,” he says. “It’s so wet. I feel like a river rafting ride.”

“Not… what most people usually say… but okay…”

“I’m… not… most people.”

“No,” you say, kissing that spot again and finally moving your hips. “You’re not.”

You are not sure if his little sound of submission is in response to your actions or your words, but with it he seems to all at once open to you. You find a rhythm, holding his hand when his fingers search for yours on his chest. He ends up biting your arm, which you should have seen coming, but it’s fine because you leave a visible bite mark on his neck in return.

At that he gets into it, meeting the pace you set, altering it to what he wants. It is a good thing the house is empty because you are not quiet at all. If your fooling around was enough to send an aggravated Minho storming after you, then this probably would have led to him burning the cabin down.

The thought makes you snicker, which makes Seungmin ask what is so funny, so you tell him then he laughs too.

“Ugh, stop making me laugh,” he says.

“You can laugh while making love,” you say, kissing his neck. “It’s okay.”

That does not make him laugh but it does make him sigh. “Making love, huh,” he says dryly. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“It didn’t,” you say, finding another sweet spot that has his whole body rearing into yours. “I guess I’m a fast learner too.”

“Ew, you’re so annoying,” he says, but squeezes your fingers in his hand.

“I think you’re not getting fucked right if you’re still this bratty,” you say playfully, prompting him to roll his eyes.

“What are you gonna do about it? Make love at me? Sap.”

You laugh, kiss his neck, then move away to roll him onto his back. He wriggles a bit, surprised with the change and sudden emptiness. His legs part easily when you move between them, but you still snap, “Spread. Good.” Because it makes him swallow hard, his dark eyes sparkling and his mouth bruised, hair mussed and body flushed. He is already a fucked out sight, but he wants more, and you give it.

You snap your hips together and fuck into him. This time you do hold his throat, gently, not repressing air but showing control. He holds your forearm with both hands, his face scrunching up, eyes closed as he focusses in that intense way of his. He breathes hard, makes sweet sounds, and not a single antagonistic or bratty word leaves his pretty mouth.

“I think I’m finally winning,” you tease, to which he just makes a hiccupping sound of pleasure. “Yeah, that’s right.”

You hold his ridiculously pretty dick and give it the expert treatment it deserves. The combination of sensations has him throwing his head back, clawing your arm as you work him in your head. You cannot feel the end of the toy, but there is a magic in this kind of fucking, and when he comes and he clutches your arm and he screams your name, when the muscles in his abdomen clench and you know he is feeling sensation in every part of his body, you can feel him wrapped around you, wholly and completely, like you could feel him when he wasn’t even touching you at all.

He writhes almost desperately as you keep touching him until he can’t take it anymore, then you ease him down and pull back.

“Good?” you ask, sitting back, looking down at him, blissfully fucked out and dishevelled.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “I won. Again.”

“Gonna need to supply me with that rubric one of these days,” you say.

“Meh-meh-meh,” is the half-hearted retort, delving to a sleepy sigh.

“Gotta take care of yourself before you go to sleep,” you say, though you have a feeling it’s a losing battle, his eyelids already heavy.

“That’s what you’re for,” he grumbles.

That damn heart really does have a mind of its own. It has clearly decided to make its presence known whenever it damn well pleases.

You run your fingers through his messy hair, smiling when he blinks up at you.

You tidy him up then scoop him into your arms to carry him to your bed, because that one is not a filthy sex nest. He wakes a little on the journey. And when you lay down and pull a sheet up, he rolls towards you and throws an arm and a leg around you, pinning you to the bed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say. “I promise.”

“Good,” he says. “You’re too stupid to be out there on your own.”

You laugh in spite of yourself, shaking your head, but you put an arm around him and nod.

“You’re right,” you say.

“Of course I am.” He snuggles in close and sighs. “Now go the fuck to sleep. Your dick is in the sink so you have no excuse. Good night.”

“Good night,” you say with a laugh.

I think I won too, you almost say, but decide let him believe he is the only winner for now, because he is already falling asleep with his head on your shoulder.

You can tell him in the morning.

#kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin smut #skz smut #skz x reader

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apomaro-mellow · 9 months

Text

Wrong Number 2

Someone said they liked when authors put their super-specific jobs in fics so I hope ya like Steve havin a (kinda romanticized) past job of mine.

For the first time in his life, Steve felt like the stereotypical young person who was always glued to his phone. Every time it made a noise or vibrated, his arm shot out like lightning, hoping with every fiber of his being that it was the mystery number.

It had been about five days since he'd sent that first message and he'd been worried about their conversations being stale. But that wasn't an issue. The only times their talks lulled was when they went to bed.

And even that was after texting late into the night. Steve would watch the clock go from 9 to 10 and promise to get to sleep at a reasonable hour. And then it would be midnight and what was a few minutes after that? Then he'd look up and it would be 2 in the morning.

Texting this guy had become the highlight of Steve's days. To the point where he didn't even realize Friday had come until one of his students mentioned it.

Then, purely out of habit, he asked: "Any weekend plans?"

"I've got a soccer game", Zach answered.

"My parents are having date night", Belinda said.

And normally Steve himself would be thinking about going out and finding someone for the night. But the idea hadn't come to him for once. He knew why, but he didn't fully process it until he got home to Robin, who was in the middle of cooking breakfast for dinner it seemed.

Steve was in the middle of replying to a text sent during lunch.

(12:15) I just realized you know about my off the wall job (12:17) But I have no idea what your 9 to 5 is (12:18) Your legally required to tell me if ur famous (12:18) Not bc im a clout chaser (12:19) But bc I might not have a clue who you are

[4:13] Not famous. Don't worry. I'm a teacher.

(4:15) As a former student I apologize

Robin opened the cabinet, looking for pancake mix. “Are you and that girl still texting?”

“Me and the who?”, Steve looked up from his phone.

“That girl? I assume you're finally setting up a date for this weekend?"

"She-" Steve racked his brain for a good excuse. But it was hard to do when the person who knew him the most was staring right at him.

"Whatever flaws of hers you're about to make up, I'm gonna call bullshit because your phone hasn't stopped pinging for days." She started mixing the pancake batter.

Steve looked down at the words on his screen. The one flaw of this guy was that they couldn't meet in person. But maybe it was time to close the distance just a bit.

"She's shy. Might just text a bit more before she's ready."

[4:19] No need for sorries. All my kids are great. But that's probably because I teach their favorite class.

(4:21) Oooh their favorite? (4:21) It's gotta be something like art rite? (4:22) Or are you being a smart ass cuz you teach like calculus or something?

[4:23] I teach cooking 😛

(4:23) Oh shit. (4:24) You're actually the favorite

[4:25] Toldja. Hey quick question and then possibly many more questions.

(4:26) Go ooooon

[4:27] How would you feel about spending the night playing 20 questions? Like are you free tonight?

Eddie bit his lip as he looked at Steve's words. He had picked his shifts this weekend to make sure he had plenty of time to talk to Steve. Which meant he was in fact free tonight. He replied as such and Steve said he wanted a little time to take a shower and then he'd be ready.

And because he was a little shit, Eddie took advantage of him being away from his phone.

(4:35) Since you're in the shower, I'm taking the first question. Boxers or briefs?

[4:54] Cheater. And I prefer boxer briefs. My turn?

(4:55) Go for it

Eddie was curled up on his couch, tv low and in the background as he waited for Steve's question.

[4:55] What's your name?

(4:56) THATS your first question? (4:56) Wait we've been texting for days haven't you saved my number? (4:57) What do you have me as?

Steve bit his lip, wishing he could lie to this guy, but he couldn’t. Instead he sent a screenshot of his phone.

(4:59) Misty? That’s the name of the chick?

[5:00] Yeah. But I guess I should put your actual name now, right?

It was a gamble. But this guy already knew Steve’s name. And by this point they’d been texting for nearly a week. He just wanted to know his name. He pushed back the part of himself that said he needed to know.

(5:00) It's Eddie.

Eddie. The guy he'd been talking to was named Eddie. Eddie with the long curly hair and the chunky rings who threw axes for a living. He was a far cry from the soft girls he usually dated. Or the preppy guys he usually dated.

(5:02) Favorite bug?

The question threw Steve for a moment but he decided to humor him.

[5:04] Bees 🐝I like how fuzzy they are. And I like honey. [5:05] What rings do you have?

A couple minutes later, Eddie replied with an image. It was taken from above and showed his hands lying flat on a coffee table. Steve zoomed to make out the details of each ring. He was also able to see a watch and a couple of wristbands on him.

[5:08] How did you take that picture? With your mouth? 🦭

(5:09) Did you did you just compare me to a seal???

[5:09] What other animal catches things in their mouths?

'I can be an animal with my mouth'. Thankfully, Eddie's fingers weren't as fast as his brain and he didn't send that to Steve. Eddie had in fact put his phone in his mouth the take the picture, having a real 'no thoughts, head empty moment' when Steve asked about his rings.

Steve was letting his own mind wander as he gazed at the picture. Eddie's hands were...his hands were...well they were-

(5:10) Favorite youtuber?

The adoration of Eddie's hands were interrupted by Eddie himself as their question and answers continued. The picture continued as well. Steve sent pics of his favorite pair of shoes, his hair products, and of his neck when Eddie said he didn't believe he had all these moles.

Eddie had sent pictures of one arm, covered in tats, his acoustic guitar, and a super worn copy of Peter Pan.

The hour was growing late and both of them were feeling more bold but at the same time hesitant because it felt like they were close to crossing a line.

Needing an outside opinion, Eddie consulted with The Council (the discord server with his band mates) about whether or not he should shoot his shot. Gareth told him to go for it, what harm could it do? Grant said to do it because it could potentially be the funniest catfishing story. Jeff agreed that he should, if only because their guitarist getting murdered would be a great back story.

With their unanimous approval, Eddie decided to start actively flirting with Steve.

(8:37) Soooooo ya like jazz?

[8:38] I do actually. I really love the piano.

Okay, that one was just practice. Be smooth. Be suave. None of that was in Eddie's wheelhouse but thankfully nothing he said turned Steve away. He always seemed just as eager to reply back.

(9:10) What's your oldest piece of clothing?

Eddie was thinking of his own oldest article a t-shirt that had started out overgrown on his tiny eight year old body but he'd grown into and kept over the years. It was super faded but filled with the memory of the first time he spent more than a couple of days with his uncle.

[9:12] I'd show you, but I'm wearing them right now.

Steve had closed his bedroom door before sending the text. There wasn't anything scandalous but it seemed like it could very quickly veer into that territory. All Eddie had to do was ask. If he wanted to see them, Steve would show it.

'I would like to see it.'

(9:12) I would like to see it

Eddie knew it could be anything. Maybe a holey sock. Or maybe he also had a super faded t-shirt with deep sewn-in memories as well. Maybe he was wearing a class ring?

[9:14] image.jpeg

Eddie was treated (and goddamn what a treat it was) to Steve Harrington's bottom half, barely covered in shorts with a school's logo on them. Thick thighs covered in hair. And a bulge that was there. It was very there. Eddie couldn't overstate how there it was.

He palmed his own crotch before remembering he was looking at a guy's junk and about to jerk off to it in his living room. And he had yet to answer. What was the most respectful way to say 'humina humina humina-wolf whistle-awooga'?

(9:16) Are you trying to kill me Steve?

[9:17] Do you like it?

'Awooga.'

(9:18) ❤️‍🔥 🔥 🥵

Eddie tried to think of any other way to tell Steve how hot he made him but it felt like typing words just wasn't enough.

(9:19) Can I do something insane? (9:20) And feel free to ignore me if it's too much

Steve was lying in his bed, phone of his charger now. Nothing Eddie could do would be too much. He could knock on his door and he would let him in.

[9:21] Go ahead

A second after he sent that, Steve's phone started to ring. It was Eddie. He stared for about five seconds before picking up.

"Hey."

If possible, Steve melted more into his bed. Eddie's voice...he didn't know what he expected but it wasn't that. He said one word and Steve wanted to wrap himself in it.

"That was pretty naughty of you, sending me that pic. I could show up to your school."

"You'd be a few years too late. These are my oldest shorts, remember?"

"Tiniest shorts maybe."

Steve laughed and Eddie was on cloud nine. He was so lost in bliss, he miscalculated and fell off the couch.

"What was that?"

"I uh, I fell. Off my couch."

"Did you fall hard?"

Eddie beamed as he got up and turned off the tv. Now that he had his voice, all he wanted to hear was the man on the other line.

"Oh super hard."

Steve let out a sound from the back of his throat and he wondered if Eddie had heard it. It was honestly amazing how the smallest things got him going. Or maybe he was just that into Eddie.

"You still there Steve?"

....."Yeah. I'm still here."

Part 4

Tag Team (closed)

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If you were tagged but it didn't show up in your notifications, lemme know and I'll do that thing where I tag you in a reblog instead. I know tumblr can't be trusted to function XD

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #i wanted this out this past weekend #but had other things #anyway i used to work as a culinary instructor #it was for summer camps and after school programs #but my dream was to do it full time at a nice school #ohh the dreams we have in our youth

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yeonjuns-beanie · 2 years

Text

The Black Cat

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, friends to lovers?, soft dom!eddie (reader and eddie tease each other but they actually are in love with each other and hate it), hair pulling, sex on someone else’s bed, slight hand kink, begging, alcohol consumption, think that’s it

summary: you and eddie are practically in love with each other, but don’t dare admit it. When the two of you run into each other at steve’s halloween party and he catches a glimpse of your costume, the dams holding back your guys’ pride, break.

Eddie x female reader

a/n: once again the wip beats my ass by taking weeks to finish. in honor of october, we have a halloween fic! i hope whoever comes across this enjoys it. And as always, requests n asks are open rn! ~ nero

Word count: 4.8k

It was finally your favorite time of year. Ever since the end of August, you’d been preparing for a moment like this to arise. You had finally gathered all of the materials for your costume and you couldn’t wait to wear it. As you stared at yourself in the mirror, trying to get your makeup as accurate as possible, you gently dipped your paintbrush into the small dollop of paint you laid out on a paper towel.

You glanced down at your comic book one last time before committing the mask to memory and fully trusted your process. Dragging the pointed, wet, smooth brush across your cheeks and circling your eyeballs, you made the most challenging pass going across the bridge of your nose. As you made the pass to the other side of your face, you let out the breath you'd been holding since the moment the brush touched your face.

Completing the same look on the other side of your face, you made sure that both sides were even and looked like a mask. Stepping back, you glanced over your appearance in search of any minor flaws that you could fix before you left the bathroom for good. Filling out the outer edges of the mask you washed the brush off in the sink and threw away the towel with the paint on it. You touched up your eye makeup a bit more before you were finally satisfied with your outcome.

Turning the light out in the bathroom, you walked down the hallway to your bedroom. Laying on your bed was the latex jumpsuit that you had tailored with white fur around the collar and up the forearm of the sleeves. You changed into a no-show thong, wanting the least amount of your undergarments to be visible while you were in the suit. Strapping yourself in the biggest push-up bra you had, you situated your boobs so that they were on the brink of spilling out of the cup.

Walking back to the latex suit, you slithered your body into the material, wiggling the fabric over your thick thighs and regrettably over your ass. Something that you failed to think about before deciding your costume of the year. As you bounced into the suit, you finally got it over the thickest part of your body and relaxed as you pulled your arms through the sleeves.

Zipping up the front of the suit, you turned to look in the mirror.

“This has to be my best one yet.”

You were more than satisfied. The latex hugged your curves in all the right places, showing off every beautiful asset you had to offer. The material was suffocating your tits but you couldn’t care less. The spillage of your cleavage being just enough. As you grabbed your heeled boots, you ran back into the bathroom to touch up your lipstick and you went downstairs.

Sitting on the last few steps, you pulled your boots up your calves, carefully zipping them up to make sure to not catch any of the suit. As you stood up your mom came from around the corner, eyes widening at your appearance.

“Y/n! Wow, honey, I think this has to be your best costume yet.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“Seriously, you look stunning. Is that Eddie boy gonna be there?”

Your jaw dropped and you slowly turned your head to look at her again. You dramatically called out to her

“Moomm! I don’t wanna think about him.”

“I don’t know why you don’t just go up to him. You’ve been crushing on him since high school and somehow he hasn’t caught up yet.”

You sighed, mulling over the time you missed out on.

“Maybe he just doesn’t like me.”

“I don’t think that’s it. I think the two of you jump at each others throats too much that that now has become the language you guys flirt with. But, Jesus, y’all are dense.”

Your mom chuckled, having the time of her life picking on you about how long you’ve dragged out this crush of yours. It had to have been one of her favorite pastimes. While you spoke, you finished packing what you needed in your clutch and sighed once more trying to rid yourself of all your anxieties. Before you could announce your leave, your mom spoke up again.

“And! If he does happen to be there, there’s no way he’s gonna be able to keep his eyes off of you. Use that to your advantage and maybe live a little! Play into the character you're dressed as and for once in your life, flirt!”

You pressed out a small smile and giggled through your nose. You shook your head knowing that your mom was right. Holding it in wasn’t gonna do you any favors.

“Now don’t let me hold you up, have fun and be safe. If you drink just crash there I don’t wanna have to find you on the morning news.”

“I will, mom. See you later.”

As you walked out of the house, the echo of your heels followed you closely behind. Once situated in your car, you reached over into your glove box and pulled out your CD case. Flipping through the iridescent discs, you found one that you felt fit the mood of the evening. You started the car, slipped the disc through the reader and waited for the music to begin flooding your speakers.

Before you backed out of the driveway, you skipped to your favorite song. The opening guitar riff immediately threw a smile on your face and as Danny Elfman’s voice rang through your car you began your drive singing along to the song.

“I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go.”

Steve’s house wasn’t far from yours so you enjoyed the drive down there. With the windows rolled down and the air winding through your hair, you felt a certain type of new life breathe through you. You ran over the thought of Eddie being there and as much as you claimed to hate him, having him tease you every chance he got kinda made you feel butterflies. Deep down you knew you wanted more, you were just weary about your approach to the situation.

“Walking with a dead man over my shoulder!”

You sped around a few corners, screaming the lyrics to Dead Man’s Party like no one else was around in the world to hear you. Driving through the neighborhood, you finally reached Steve’s house. There were cars littered in front of his house and in the surrounding area. The music was vibrating out through the walls of the house and you were more than excited to step inside.

Before exiting your car, you checked yourself in your car mirror one last time. You fluffed your hair, making sure that there were no pieces looking unnecessarily flat and you touched up your lipstick. Stepping out of your car, you locked the door and began the trek up to the front door. As you walked through his driveway you noticed a particularly familiar van parked up front. Your stomach dropped to the pavement, and a slight bang of fear was quickly quelled by panicked excitement. Too many emotions were present but you wanted him to see you like this. It had to happen.

Ringing and knocking on the door, you swang your body back and forth waiting for someone to answer. You were about to reach for the doorbell one more time but the door opened. Standing there was Steve, dressed as a zombie, his lopsided smile turning into a full grin. Behind him you noticed a mop of brown hair dangling a lollipop over Steve’s hair.

“C’mon Harrington, I know you wanna try it.”

The long mullet came into full view and you realized it was your man of the hour. Steve moved his body to the side to let you in while trying to swat Eddie’s hand away. You caught a glimpse of the the lollipop and noticed something stuck in the middle of it.

“Munson, get the fuckin bug pop away from me.”

Eddie flicked his eyes over to you getting ready to make you his next victim. Smiling wickedly at you and showcasing his fangs. The tips of them being painted red for added effect.

When his body turned toward you fully, his eyes widened and took you in like he never had before. If it was cartoon, his eyes would’ve flown out of his head as he jumped in the air. He tried his best to cover his slip up but you caught every face he made and for the sake of his integrity, decided to keep your teasing at bay.

You shut the door behind you and came a little closer to Eddie slyly showing yourself off to him. You bent down, staring at the lollipop to see what kind of bug was encased inside the hardened sugar. Stretching back up, you caught Eddie’s eyes follow your body up. Steve laughed out loud and you whipped your head toward him.

“God damn, Munson! Your eyes are are about to pop out of your head!”

Eddie’s head turned towards Steve shooting him a warning glare that you couldn’t see behind his mane of hair. Steve motioned for all of you to walk down the hallway and into the mainroom of the house where all the festivities were taking place. You trailed behind the two of them keeping your eye on Eddie and the playful hits taking place between the two. Stopping in the kitchen, you noticed a tub of red liquid with different fruit slices littered throughout.

You pushed through the two boys and grabbed one of red solo cups stacked on the side fo the bin. Filling your cup up to the brim, you took a chug of the liquid downing at least half the cup before looking back and Steve and Eddie.

“God damn, that is strong! Who made that?”

Steve laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That would be me. Yeah, I uh pretty much just had this geriatric here grab every clear bottle he saw.”

Eddie slowly turned to Steve, eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

“Geriatric? I’ve only got a year and a half on you, dude.”

“All of that is true, but considering you and y/n are the only ones who can legally buy this shit, geriatric it is. If we get one more of you guys in here it’ll be bordering a nursing home.”

You laughed, your arm reaching across the counter to hit Steve in his arm.

“Dude, shut up. I’m not even that old.”

“I don’t know y/n, you’re inching on cougar territory.”

You rolled your eyes, amused by his antics. Letting your laugh settle, you grabbed a slice of fruit from your cup and took a bite. As you pulled the fruit away from your mouth, a bit of the liquor dripped off and rolled down the valley of your breasts. Steve was quick to turn around and grab a paper towel for you. As you set your cup down on the counter, you missed the way Eddie was gawking at you. What you also didn’t catch was the warning hit Steve gave Eddie before your eyes rolled back up to face them.

“I’m lucky that didn’t land on my fur.”

Steve was rolling his lips around his teeth and found this to be the perfect opportunity to leave you and Eddie alone. If neither one of you were going to make a move then he was gonna throw you two in a situation where you couldn’t help but be around each other.

“I’m gonna go look for Robin real quick. I told her I’d give her one of the weird suckers this nut kept waving around in my face. I’ll be back”

Grabbing the lollipop from off the counter, Steve faded into the crowd of people in his house and you and Eddie were left alone in the kitchen. You had a quick memory of your mom telling you to flirt, but you didn’t wanna make it obvious. So you went to what you know best.

“Nice costume you got there. It’s almost like it’s your regular clothes.”

Eddie looked at you cocking his head, less than amused by your comment.

“Well actually, if you took the time to actually watch The Lost Boys like I told you, you would see that I’m perfectly in character. Fangs and all.”

This was an easy open for you, you just had to go for it. You prayed that you wouldn’t stumble over you words because you knew he would never let you live it down. Almost out of character for you, the words left your mouth smoothly.

“Well maybe you should have me over and we’ll watch it together. ‘Cause you know I’m not gonna watch it on my own.”

He laughed, silently thanking you for your forwardness.

“Why are you like that, huh? Gotta be forced into doing shit. Is that a kink or soemthing for ya?”

You looked at him with raised eyebrows and gazed at him out the side of your eye, hoping that he got the hint you were giving him. Eddie looked back at you with his eyes widened, a knowing look overcoming his features. You back pedaled trying to lighten the weight of the situation, not entirely prepared for the sexual banter.

“I’m just playing…maybe.”

“Maybe, huh? Well what if you’re not playing, then what?”

You toyed with the rim of your cup debating how you were going to lead this conversation down the road you’ve been dreaming of. Looking up at him through your lashes, you bit the corner of your lip.

“I was hoping you’d show me.”

The room became suffocatingly small and the music was muffled. All you could see was Eddie and all you could hear was your heart rate and his breath speeding up.

“Me?”

Eddie’s voice pitched up, confusion clear in his tone. He couldn’t believe that you of all people wanted him. Sure, he had his crush on you but never did he think the feeling would be reciprocated. You nodded, your eyes doe-like and soft. His eyes raked over your form one last time before his hand laid over your own, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Shall we find an empty room and I can show what it’s like to take a vampire to bed.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you and suddenly you were wondering why you dreaded making this moment a reality for so long. Why you feared what the outcome would be when subconsciously you already knew. One of you just needed to play into the other because God knows, the two of you were unfathomably dense. A smile brighter than the sun lit up your face and rubbed off on Eddie, grinning at you before grabbing your hand and leading you towards the upstairs.

Scanning the doors upstairs, you both were looking for one that was open. A straight shot down the hall, you saw a room with the door wide open. You followed Eddie trying your best to keep your footsteps quick and quiet in fear of someone hearing your heels echo to the downstairs.

Once in the doorway of the room, you were relieved to find a bed in there. The room was mostly dark but you made out the silhouette of a lamp on top of one of the pieces of furniture in the room. Flicking it on you turned around only to find Eddie inches away from your face.

Eddie grabbed your hand and led you toward the bed, twirling your bodies around so that your legs hit the back of the bed first. As your body flopped onto the mattress, you scooted yourself back so that Eddie was forced to crawl to you, hover over you. Looking up at him, you were searching his eyes for any change in emotion or hesitation. When you found none, you found your voice.

“Kiss me, please?”

When his lips found yours, fireworks of adoration and lust exploded in your chest and between your legs. Your breathing became more labored and your kiss more greedy. You traced your tongue across his bottom lip and he granted you permission instantly. As your tongues battled for dominance you fisted at his hair trying to bring him closer to you.

Your grip was unexpected and squeezed a moan out of Eddie. You rolled your hips in response, the vibrations of his muffled moan going straight to your core. You could feel Eddie’s slight embarrassment at the noise that came out of him as he tried to pull away and ramble about it.

“I, uh, I don’t know why that-“

“-Don’t apologize, that was so hot.”

“Really?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Eddie paused before a smile cracked his face.

“On multiple occasions, yes. But you said it was for my benefit or sake of surprise-“

You slapped his arm rolling your eyes at him.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know. Hey, what would you do if I bit you? Ya know, like a real vampire.”

You swallowed a smile and rolled your tongue over your teeth debating on if you’d give him the truthful answer. Quickly, deciding that you would.

“Honestly, I’d prolly be more turned on.”

Eddie laughed at you before attacking at your neck, sucking small hickies into your skin. Muffled, he spoke against your neck.

“God you really are a freak.”

“Only for you Munson.”

Eddie looked at you again, his eyes and hair wild as he processed your response. Pouncing on your lips again, his hands began to wander your body. Paying special attention to the areas that were a tad bit thicker. His ring clad fingers squeezing at the fat of your thighs and feeling your breasts through your bodysuit. Your hands traveled down his body and found haven on the crotch of his jeans.

Palming him through the fabric an airy moan left his mouth.

“Shit y/n.”

Suddenly the lust you were feeling was too much to bear and you needed to feel the rest of him. You needed to see the rest of him.

“Can I suck you off?”

“Wha?”

“Please, can I suck you off? I wanna feel you in my mouth.”

“Fuckin shit, y/n, don’t beg. I’m gonna bust in my pants.”

You looked up at him still waiting for his verbal go ahead.

“I wanna feel you too, princess. Go ahead.”

You both moved so that Eddie’s back was now on the mattress. Snaking down his body, you kept eye contact until you met the waistband of his jeans. Toying with the button, you slowly unbuckled his belt and he lifted his hips so that you could drag the fabric of his jeans and underwear down.

His cock, strained and hard, flopped against his stomach. You looked up at him and he stared back at you, a shaky breath leaving his throat. Looking back at his cock, you admired him for a second. He was thick and decently sized and for a moment you wondered how were you going to fit him all in your mouth.

Flattening your tongue against his base, you dragged up to his tip giving a few kitten licks across his slit. Eddie’s head rolled back and a low groan escaped his throat. Gathering spit in your mouth, you spat a slow wad of spit onto the tip of his cock and took half of him in your mouth. The other half being handled by your hand.

Your other hand slowly made its way up to his balls, massaging them slowly.

“Y/n, baby. Fuck, you’re taking me so well. Fuck!”

The extra stimulation had Eddie writhing against the sheets. You started to bob your head faster on his cock slowly taking the rest of him in your mouth. Deep throating him, your nose was tickled by his patch of hair and his moans were leaving him more frequently.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. Oh my fuckin god. Suck my cock so well, sweetheart.”

The praise took a detour to your cunt and you were pulsing around nothing. You could feel your slick against your folds as your muscles contracted and released. You felt his cock begin to twitch in your mouth so you increase your pace once more, incorporating your hand again so that your tongue could focus on his tip.

Swirling your tongue around his head. Eddie’s hand was fisting the duvet trying to gain his composure. He couldn’t though. He knew that if you kept going the way that you were he was going to cum in your mouth and he had plans of filling you up elsewhere.

“Y/n, baby. Baby, stop.”

You pulled off of him and looked up at him, worry apparent in your eyes.

“Sweetheart, everything’s fine, I just wanna fill you up somewhere else…”

A pang of intoxicating zeal echoed in your core making you want to grind against something, anything, and suddenly your suit was unbearably tight. Strangling you from what you needed and you needed to feel every part of him all at once. You crawled back up his body to give him a burning kiss. Both of your breaths were heavy out of the nose, and your teeth were biting into his lip as you pulled away from him.

Standing at the end of the bed, you stared him down as you began to peel yourself out of your boots and your bodysuit followed. You brought your arms around to the clasp of your bra and let it fall to the floor. Eddie had messily thrown his clothing to the floor, trying to not miss the show you were putting on for him but also to not be stuck in his many layers of fabric.

Eddie got up from the bed and walked in front of you, his erection pressing against your thigh. His hands wandered your body again and the coolness of his rings created another layer of electricity between the both of you. He pushed you back down on the bed and pulled your underwear down your legs. The air creating an alarming coolness from how wet you were. Eddie crawled back over you and his hand found its way between your lips.

You were so sensitive that the slight touch of his fingers against your clit made your body and cunt jolt. Eddie smirked, amused with your reaction.

“All this…just for me? Just from sucking me off?”

You were ready to will yourself to whatever he said. Right now you needed and wanted nothing else but Eddie. You needed to feel him on you and inside of you. You couldn’t bare not having him.

“Yes, fuck! Eddie I just want you so bad. I’ve needed you, this, for so long now.”

You wrapped your hands around his shoulders, bracing yourself on him and looked him in the eyes.

“Please, Eddie. I need you. Fuck me, please, Eddie.”

“What I’d say sweetheart, you don’t have to beg me. I’m gonna give you what you want.”

Eddie placed another kiss on your lips before rolling his cock between your swollen, sensitive lips. You grinded into him, needing some type of friction to expunge the throbbing ache you were feeling.

“I’m gonna put it in now, okay?”

You nodded, biting your lip. When Eddie slipped his cock into your warm, seraphic walls, you swore you felt the seventh heaven. A moan so choked and garbled left your throat and the stretch you were feeling had you digging your nails into his pale back. Eddie was holding still, letting you adjust to his size, but you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Eddie…move. Oh my god, move.”

“Alright, alright, baby.”

Eddie chuckled before finally moving his hips. He moved slow at first allowing you to really feel the stretch of him inside your walls. You moaned out as you clenched around him, the feeling of him finally inside of you completely euphoric. You threw your head back against the bed, back arching into the feeling. You panted out as you gripped at Eddie’s skin again.

“Faster, please go faster. Fuck!”

Immediately he reacted. His hips ramming into you at a speed that had you feeling every inch of him. The tip of his cock was kissing your cervix and had you writhing against the sheets, desperate for something to cling onto besides Eddie. You wrapped your hand around the back of Eddie’s neck so that you could kiss him again. His mouth swallowed your moans only until he moved down your jawline and neck. An assault that you couldn’t have wanted more. You squeezed around him rapidly, feeling your climax on the horizon.

“Oh, you like that don’t you? Am I making you feel good princess?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Eddie, fuck! You’re making me feel so~ahh!”

Eddie rolled his thumb on your delicate rosebud and pushed you even closer to your edge. He hovered over you like predator on prey, but his eyes still held their softness. His hair hung on the sides of his face slightly curtaining your own as he got closer to you.

“C’mon. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

You couldn’t help the reaction your body had to him calling you a good girl. Your cunt fluttered around his cock, squeezing him in the most delicate of ways. He cocked his eyebrow, surprised and simultaneously amused by the effect he had on you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you rolled your face to the pillows underneath you.

“Y/n, baby, look at me.”

His voice was slightly firm but still his tone was still engulfed in salacity. You tried to look at him but you felt the heat build up and your head dropped again.

“You wanna be my good girl right, y/n? Then you’re gonna have to look at me. I want you to look at me while you cum.”

“Eddie! Fuck, okay okay.”

You found the strength within you to look at him, your eyes rolling back occasionally at the feeling of your orgasm coming. Your eyebrows furrowed as your breath quickened and you felt the warmth in your core turn into an insatiable burning.

“Eddie, Eddie, I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Me too sweetheart. Shit, where do you want it?”

“I wanna feel all of you.”

Eddie looked at you, a moment of disbelief running across his features.

“I-Inside?”

“Yes, please, Eddie. I wanna feel you fill me up. I’m on the pill just, please.”

“Fuck, baby. You love to beg don’t ya? Love being good for me~ holy shit!”

Your walls clenched around him your orgasm overtaking your whole body. You were sure your moans could’ve been heard over the music and chatter happening on the floor below you. You couldn’t hold back, Eddie made everything feel so good. Coupled with the strained moans and groans that escaped his own mouth, you were milking him of all that we was worth. He grabbed your face by the chin before kissing you again, forcing you to swallow his moans.

As you both finally came down from your high, Eddie looked at you with stars in his eyes. You felt nothing but the overwhelming urge to keep kissing him and never let him go from this moment. You pecked his lips multiple times and he chuckled pulling away from you. He moved to pull out of you but you stopped him.

“Wait. Don’t pull out yet.”

You rolled the two of you over so that you were on top now, his cock still semi hard inside of you.

“I still wanna feel you.”

“Oh, you’re a dirty little girl.”

You pouted and groaned at his observation of you.

“Don’t-”

You were cut off by the sound of the door coming out of it’s lock and the hinges squeaking. You turned around only to be met with Steve’s eyes and his hand coming up shield his eyes.

“In my room?! Seriously guys? You guys will be washing my sheets before you leave.”

Steve slammed the door shut leaving you and Eddie alone with your giggles about the situation. Eddie’s arms laid over his eyes as he laughed again.

“I can’t believe we fucked on Harrington’s bed. Kinda feel bad…eh, I’ll have to thank him later cause now I have you.”

“Shut up, Munson.”

You laughed as you placed your palms on his chest. He grabbed your wrists and slowly rubbed up and down your arms. Admiring your beauty once again as he had done numerous times before.

“Wanna go get dinner tomorrow night? So I can treat you properly.”

“Dinner, huh?”

“Absolutely. Gotta treat my girl right.”

My girl.

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