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darby-rowe · 4 months

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୨⎯ "inches of snow" ⎯୧

young!coriolanus snow ☓ fem!reader summary your boyfriend, coriolanus snow, joins you and your family for christmas dinner, but of course it's nothing short of an insufferable experience. but don't worry, because coryo is there to take care of you!

18+ | nsfw | mdni word count 2,298 cw modern au, coryo & reader are in grad school, it's christmas!!, mentions of food, implied body shaming by family, uh oh grandma and grandpa are being bigoted again, bathroom sex, mirror sex, anal, praise, degradation, sex on the bathroom sink, it's a very anal christmas, coryo has a big dick, ooc(?) coryo, y/n usage, petnames, unprotected sex, spit play, cum play, dirty talk notes i know the title is corny as fuck LMFAO but it made me giggle. also imagine reader in ellen griswold's outift from national lampoon's christmas vacation like the one w the blouse and the green skirt bc mmmmm that fit is FIRE. this fic was slightly based off of this post bc i thought it was just too hot to ignore. this is also NOT proofread so any mistakes you find in this fic... dont talk about it

Sitting down at the pleasantly decorated dining room table, your mother insisted on saying grace before you and the rest of your family could dig in on the splendid feast you and the rest of the women in your family worked so hard on. Your mouth watered at the thought of savoring the sweet potato casserole, the baked macaroni and cheese, the ham, everything at the table was extremely decadent. And it was all displayed out in front of you, and right under your nose.

You were a bit greedy, you had to admit, as your hands were the first to get a generous scoop of the fluffy mashed potatoes, earning a scoff from your ever-so lovely paternal grandmother. Say something, you old bat, you thought to yourself, but a pleasant hand came running to rescue you from your angry thoughts. A slight squeeze on your left thigh made you blush, and you turned your head to grin at your lovely boyfriend, Coriolanus Snow. He gave you a reassuring nod, and you went back to indulging in your Christmas feast.

“So, Y/N,” your grandmother piped up, pretentiously swishing her glass of wine. “Anything interesting as of late?”

You swallowed your forkful of mashed potatoes and peas. “My third year of med school is kicking my butt,” you said, trying to lighten the hostility between you and your grandmother. “I’m definitely finding myself to have less and less free time–”

“And how do you feel about that?” your grandmother interjected right in the middle of your response, causing your brows to furrow. Her attention was now fully on Coriolanus, which you turned your head to see what his response would be.

Coriolanus huffed amusingly. “I don’t necessarily have an opinion on it,” he said. “I am also quite busy with my master’s degree. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, or however that saying goes,”

“We’re just busy little bees,” you said in a light manner, albeit a bit awkwardly. “It’ll all be worth it in the end. All this hard work will pay off,”

Your grandfather motioned his glass towards Coriolanus. “Busy little bees, eh? Bet it’s harder on you than her,” This statement made you nearly choke on your champagne. The crudeness of that man! Oh, if you didn’t know any better, you would reach across the table and slap the wrinkles off that smug face–

“It’s actually not really that hard to endure,” Coriolanus spoke up. “We both know we’ll see each other again after our busy spells and that thought keeps us going,”

You smiled bitterly at your grandfather. “Exactly,”

The table got quiet after that, and you spent a good few minutes awkwardly sipping your champagne and eating your generous plate. You felt your appetite unfortunately begin to dissipate as the unpleasantness of the evening began sinking underneath your skin.

“You know, mother,” your father chimed in. “My wife and I both met during our residency, and you know firsthand exactly how busy I was during that time. The 100 hour work weeks, the skills labs, the exams, my boards. It was hard! But my beloved and I made it through, and I’m sure Y/N and Coryo will also make it,”

“I just don’t see the need in investing this much time in such a demanding career when your husband is already planning on pursuing a career that would help the both of you,” grandmother said to you, making your face contort into one of immense displeasure.

“Coryo is not my husband, first off,” you retorted. “At least not yet, but I’m also not going to be a stay-at-home mom who spends her days dealing with the dog, the baby, and the garden. I want a fulfilling career, too! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against stay-at-home mothers, but that life is not for me,”

“Why not?” grandmother knitted her eyebrows together. “Look at you, dear, with that revealing blouse and that pretty face, you don’t need to be pushing yourself like this,”

“Oh my god!” you cried, throwing your hands up. You finally decided you had enough, and with bitterness deep within your soul, you abruptly pushed your chair away from the table and stormed off.

“Watch your mouth, young lady!” your grandmother called out after you. “You weren’t excused!”

“I’m twenty-five years old, grandma, I can excuse myself,” you replied angrily as you traversed upstairs, your heels clicking on the hardwood material.

Slamming the door to the bathroom, you made your way to the bathtub where you sat down on the cold tiles with your knees folded up against your chest. You buried your face in your hands as you breathed in and out. In… and out…

God, you really hated your father’s parents. So judgy and crude, you were only left to wonder why they kept getting invited over to these dinners. Your parents knew how they chastised you, and even with their efforts to put a stop to their bigoted comments, they just kept going and going and going.

You were proud of yourself. You were proud of the life you were building for yourself. Sure, you still had eight years of school left, but at the end of the road you were going to be a kick-ass trauma surgeon. And Coryo was on the fast track to earning his master’s in political science. Soon, he would be running for congress, and the two of you would be unstoppable.

But here you were, practicing breathing exercises on the cold tiles of your parents’ bathroom. You needed to move out of there. Anywhere but there.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door and the sweet sound of a familiar voice on the other side. Coriolanus, looking as handsome as ever as he gently let himself into the bathroom, joining you on the floor.

“Hey, bunny,” he cooed, taking your hands in his. “Are you okay?”

You grinned dreamily. “Now that you’re here,” this remark elicited a chuckle from Coriolanus, which made you swoon. “Listen, I have to apologize for my family,”

Coriolanus shook his head. “There’s no need to apologize,” he reassured. “You do not have to say anything. You’re not responsible for their actions, not now, not anytime,” he took your hand and kissed the back of it. “Now, how may I make my sweet girl feel better?”

It didn’t take long before the two of you were on each other like two cannibals competing to see who ripped off the other’s flesh first. Your lips crashed and molded into each other as your warm, wet tongues shoved down each other’s throats in desperate attempts to taste the other’s mouths. Coriolanus tasted like the champagne you planned on indulging yourself with later that night, feeling your mind buzz on the remnants of the alcohol. It ignited your nerves on fire.

It took your breath away when Coriolanus spun you around and pressed you against the bathroom sink, forced to look at the reflection. “Look at you, baby,” he panted, his lips red and swollen from the intense kiss he shared with you just seconds ago. “So fuckin’ pretty and fuckable. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,”

You looked at your reflection in the mirror, your eyes scanning the pathetic, needy look on your face. You gasped slightly as Coriolanus grabbed your jaw, preventing you from looking away. “I want you to look while I fuck you,” he said, pressing his hardened bulge into your backside which made your eyes slightly roll back into your head. “I know that pussy of yours is throbbing for me, hm? Is it, bunny?”

You opened your eyes and looked at the blush that was beginning to appear on your cheeks. “Mmm’yes,” you whined. “Want you so bad, please. But we have to be quiet. Can’t let my family hear us,”

Before you could say anything else, Coriolanus’s hand slapped onto your mouth making your gasps and breaths all muffled. “There’s a solution for you, my dove,” he murmured into your ear. “Now, here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to remove my hand and pull up that pretty little skirt of yours. Then, I’m going take off your panties, then fuck you in the ass. Am I clear?”

You and Coriolanus have indulged in anal before. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but it surely wasn’t unwelcome. Your pussy throbbed with anticipation at the thought of Coryo’s throbbing, hard cock in your tight asshole. You nodded, and he removed his hand from your mouth and cupped it in front of your lips. “Spit in my hand,” he ordered, and you drooled a generous amount of saliva into the palm of his hand.

You could hear his wet hand stroke himself in prep to enter you. With your skirt hiked up and your panties gone, you made sure to relax and breathe as you felt Coriolanus push the tip of his cock into your ass. Your efforts to stay quiet flew out the window as a primal, low groan escaped your throat as your ass became full of his dick.

“Fuuuck…” you groaned, hiking your leg up on the bathroom sink to allow Coriolanus to go deeper. God, it felt so fucking good having his dick deep in your ass. So dirty, and so fucking hot.

In a matter of moments, Coriolanus was thrusting his hips hard and deep inside you, making your mouth fall open in a silent cry of pleasure. You resorted to quiet curses and panting to help you express how good you were feeling in that moment. Goosebumps erupted on your skin. There was a slight sting to being penetrated in the ass, but it wasn’t painful to you. In fact, it only added to the overwhelming pleasure building in your nether regions.

“Such a tight fuckin’ ass,” Coriolanus murmured, grabbing your jaw once again. “Look at you, bunny, so fuckin’ needy for this cock in your ass, yeah?”

You had to be quiet. You needed too. But by god, the sound of Coriolanus speaking pure filth in your ears was insatiable. “Yes,” you growled through gritted teeth, your eyes flicking between your face and Coriolanus’s. “Fuckin’ love your cock in my ass, fuck,”

“Such a naughty girl,” he teased, taking a look down to watch his dick pump in and out of your hole. The sound of your panting and groaning mixed with Coriolanus’s grunts, slightly echoing throughout the bathroom.

You whined as you felt him withdraw from your hole, only for him to spin you around once again and help you on top of the bathroom counter. You willingly spread your legs and watched as Coriolanus re-entered your ass before withdrawing completely once more, and then he repeated these actions again, and again, and again.

“Stop teasing,” you whined, reaching a hand down to play with your pussy only for Coriolanus to swat your hand away, much to your dismay.

Coriolanus pinned both of your hands behind your back. “No touching. You’re going to come from my cock in your ass or you won’t come at all,”

You nodded obediently, your body rocking back and forth in time with his thrusts. You could feel your pussy drooling its juices from how unbelievably aroused you were. It was almost uncomfortable how badly your clit ached to be touched, but you wanted to obey your boyfriend’s orders, so you held back.

“My naughty bunny,” Coriolanus moaned. “Your ass is so tight around my cock. Feels so good. You’re making me feel so – fuck – so fucking good,”

Your mouth fell open as your panting grew more frequent. “Yes, fuck my ass,” you whispered. “Make me come from my ass, baby, please,”

“Are you close, love?”

“Yes, yes – fuck,” you threw your head back as moans threatened to escape your throat, your pleasure only heightened as Coriolanus pressed open-mouthed kisses all along your neck. You were about to come undone from just having his cock in your ass, and it was going to feel so, so good.

“Coming,” you mewled, your legs beginning to shake and the familiar feeling of an itching pulsation deep within your pussy. “Oh god, I’m coming from my ass. Fuck… fuck…!”

In an explosion of pleasure that made you see stars, your orgasm hit you like a truck as your juices gushed out of your pussy. You squeezed your eyes shut and gritted your teeth as it took every fiber of your being to not scream out in pure ecstasy. You continued to squirt all over yourself and Coriolanus’s cock. There was no doubt in your mind that your skirt was ruined.

Coriolanus withdrew from your hole to pump on his own cock until thick, white ropes hit your hole. The sound of his moans and groans pleasantly filled your ears. Your legs were still shaking, and you felt your breath nearly get knocked out of your lungs as you felt his shaft re-enter your ass, fucking his cum into you.

It took a good five minutes before the haze of your orgasm left your brain and you were able to think clearly again. You still sat on the kitchen counter as Coriolanus softly kissed your lips, praising you and telling you how good of a job you did.

“I love you,” you mumbled against his lips, holding his face with your hands.

You felt Coriolanus’s lips tug into a smile. “I know you do, my dove,”

It impressed you how well you cleaned yourself up as you prepared to join your family once again, but as you opened the door of the bathroom, your blood ran cold as you found your older sister waiting outside with a disappointed look on her face.

“Really?” she asked. “During dinner?”

God damnit.

don't be shy, let's talk. ♡

#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #tbosas #asks open #ask me anything #darbyrowe.doc

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upsidedownwithsteve · 10 months

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Simmer #1

CH1. Home Style | The Menu [3.7K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Jim’s Midnight Grill wasn’t the magical place the name made it sound like.

In fact, it was worse at night. Hawkins' only diner sat on the outskirts of town, just before the road that took you out alongside the cornfields. In the height of a sunny day, the water tower cast a shadow over the old building and the gas station next door only had one working pump.

The leather booths were constantly sticky, the table tops grainy with spilled salt, but if you made your visit on a Thursday night after nine, milkshakes were two for one. The back alley was littered with cigarette butts, graffiti on the walls telling you who to call for a good time— and someone called King Steve used Farah Fawcett hairspray? The regulars were permanent fixtures on the bar stools, coffee stains on the counter in front of them, stolen sugar packets in their pockets, frowns on their faces.

The staff didn’t want to be there, the owner refused to replace the flickering lights and the cook had a bad attitude and liked to communicate with heavy sighs and eye rolls. But he made a mean grilled cheese. The walk in freezer was reserved for the pitiful weekly deliveries and breakdowns, a stolen kiss or two. Or three, or four. But no one liked to tackle the clogged sink and god forbid anyone change the TV channel— Mr Creel always had something to say about it.

—————

Honestly, Hawkins wasn’t your first choice when you decided to move to a smaller place. The idea of a big city was all fine and well until you lived a year in Chicago, the dream of a brownstone apartment quickly disappearing when you realised jobs were hard to come by and finding friends was even harder. Living alone wasn’t all that fun, especially when your landlord hinted at sexual favours to justify late payments and he didn’t care to fix the leaking radiator in your bedroom. The nights were never quiet and the city hardly slept, but instead of neon lights and late night bodega runs, you lay awake on the broken spring in your bed and flinched at the sound of backfiring cars and people arguing on the street below.

It was lonely, living somewhere so big and busy and always eating dinner by yourself. So you sold the old car you didn’t really use and cried enough that your landlord eventually gave in and ripped up your lease that still had four months to go. Packing your stuff was an easy enough job, hardly enough belongings to fill the duffel bag you’d dragged with you. You dug into the back of your freezer for the wad of cash your grandma gave you, threw it into the bag and grabbed your greyhound ticket and decided you’d get off the bus when the skyline turned a little more green. When the buildings shrunk, when the smog lifted and when wildflowers sprouted from between the cracks in the sidewalk.

So you rolled into Hawkins before the day broke, way before the sun crept up over the quarry, before the small town came alive. The apartment you’d found was the same tiny size as the one you’d had in Chicago but it was cleaner and the carpet was new. Nothing leaked. Nothing smelled weird. The parking lot was filled with cars and none of them had bullet holes in the side, your trash can wasn’t on fire and god, god, the first neighbour you saw - an elderly woman who was walking with a yorkie on a leash - smiled at you.

She smiled at you.

So despite the lack of twenty four hour stores and pizza parlours, Hawkins was already looking up. There wasn’t much on the Main Street, a library, a tiny bakery run by a couple who offered you a free croissant as a welcome to town gift. There was an outdoor pool with sun bleached bunting across its chain link fence, an arcade next to a video store, a high school that was derelict due to the summer months. The larger houses across from the park were lined with cherry trees, neat lawns with white mailboxes and flowers under the windows and suddenly Hawkins was a million miles away from Chicago and the buzz of traffic and car horns.

The librarian let you print out some resumes the day after you’d settled in, and you found your way around town by asking kind strangers, buying a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in exchange for directions out of your neighbourhood. It was easy to stroll along the sidewalk with an iced latte and your headphones around your neck, blue skies above you and the sound of sprinklers in their yards, breathing in air that didn’t smell like diesel. You found a man by a rundown garage, white haired and tired looking, mechanic scrubs tied around his waist as he smoked a cigarette.

You took a deep breath, and then another one, smiling politely - warily - as you approached. The man lifted a brow at you, a little suspicious, but he held the burning stub away from you, smoke billowing in the opposite direction.

“You lost, kid?”

You were. Just a little.

“I’m looking for Jim’s, uh,” you glanced down at the pink flyer that had been pinned on the library's notice board. “Jim’s Midnight Grill? I got told it was out this way, but—”

You looked around, noting that there wasn’t much out this way. The busiest part of Hawkins was behind you, tidy sidewalks giving way to long roads out of town, a lone bus stop by the garage, a farm in the distance across the street. You squinted against the sun and shrugged.

“You wanna keep going for ‘nother mile or so, it’s just before the town sign,” the man pointed further out where the cornfields were overgrown and the sun faded billboard told everyone ‘thanks for visiting Hawkins!’ You weren’t sure the bus ran that far out. “Jim should be there, but if he’s not, jus’ ask for Eddie, he’ll sort you out.”

“Eddie,” you nodded, peering into the distance. You couldn’t see another building, but this man didn’t seem like he was lying. “Right, okay. Just keep to the road?”

The man nodded and he cracked a smile, small but soft. He stubbed out the end of his cigarette and gestured to an old pick up that looked like it had seen better days. “You needin’ a ride?”

The urge to say yes was strong, especially after walking all the way from your apartment as the heat soared. It snuck up on you like a slow roll, going from pleasant to warm to too hot, far too quickly. Beads of sweat clung to your skin underneath your sundress but you shook your head, shyness crawling up the back of your neck. Accepting a ride from a stranger didn’t seem the wisest idea, no matter how kind he seemed.

“It’s okay,” you told him. “Thank you, though. I appreciate the help.”

The man smiled again, a little bigger this time, crows feet crinkling, the sunlight catching the white of his five o’clock shadow. “That’s alright, kid. Jus’ tell ‘em Wayne sent you, yeah? Follow the road, you’ll see Forest Hills - the trailer park - keep going a lil’ ways and it’s right across the road.”

It turned out Wayne was right.

You kept walking, the heat soaring, the fields on either side of you growing taller but you bit back a smile at the sight of the wildflowers that snuck through the cracks in the concrete. Eventually they gave way to a trailer park, just as Wayne side, a quaint place that hummed with generators and had lines of laundry between each mobile home. Across the road sat a sandy lot, a diner in the middle, a neon sign letting passer-bys know they’d arrived at Jim’s Midnight Grill. Except the ‘r’ was loose, hanging from its wire and buzzing blue and purple.

Cats patrolled along the roadside, going from trailer doorsteps to the back alley of the diner, hoping and waiting for a free meal that they all knew would eventually come. You stopped to pet an orange kitten, a little scruffy looking thing but cute all the same, your CV clutched in one hand as you peered suspiciously at the front of the restaurant. It looked too quiet, like it wasn’t open yet. But there was a black van parked along the side of the building and some steam leaked from a vent on the roof, so you opened the front door.

The bell jingled but the patrons at the dining bar who sat on their stools didn’t move, didn’t turn to look. The place was nearly empty, some people nursing a coffee, some staring blankly at the buzzing television screen that was mounted in the corner. No one stood at the host desk, the menus stacked messily, the phone off the hook. In fact, there wasn’t a server to be seen as you made your way to the counter. You grimaced as you leaned on the surface, elbows sticky, avoiding spilled coffee the best you could. You waited, resume still in your hand, patience on your features.

No one came.

So you rang the bell that was on the bar top for the very purpose of gaining attention, but the man beside you glared at the noise. Still, no one came. The fans overhead squeaked and whirred, the TV fizzed with bad signal and from somewhere behind the open serving hatch, you heard the clatter of pots and pans. You tried to crane your neck to see through the window, steam and smoke billowing from it, the slight shadow of maybe a person moving through it.

The person swore, dropped a skillet and swore again.

You leaned in further, elbows on spilled salt grains and drops of ketchup, trying to gain a better view into the kitchen from the bar top. “Hey, ‘scuse me? Can I— can someone—”

You huffed as the figure moved out of sight, falling back onto the stool that squeaked and the man next to you snorted into his coffee cup. You frowned and took further action, sundress falling back around your thighs as you hopped off the chair and made your way to the side of the counter that lifted up. No one paid you any mind, no one at all, but you still hesitated before ducking under the bar and hovering by the hatch. You could smell garlic and sage and something a little sweet now you were closer, the scents of the kitchen winning over the stale coffee, cigarette smoke and engine oil that clung to the patrons clothes behind you.

You peered into the kitchen, your paperwork still clutched to your chest. It wasn’t much cooler in here than it was outside, the AC unit broken and the fans working overtime to combat the heat. The kitchen seemed empty now, a stovetop still on despite no one to supervise it, flames licking high up the sides of a steel pot, big enough for you to fit both feet in. There was something inside bubbling, foam rising to the top and chopped courgette and red onions sat on the workbench beside it, abandoned. A radio played, staticky and fuzzy, an old sixties tune floating out to mix with the smoke.

“Come a little bit closer, you’re my kind of man. So big and so strong, come a little bit closer, I’m all alone.”

“H-hello?” You cleared your throat and braced yourself to speak a little louder. Stronger. Braver. “Hello?”

No one answered. In fact, it seemed like the entire diner was run by ghosts, no waiting staff, hosts or cooks to be seen. Maybe you’d imagined the silhouette in the smoke, maybe the heat was finally getting to you.

“No customers back here, what d’you think you’re doin’?”

You startled, jumping back a little only to knock an elbow into a half filled coffee pot, the brown liquid thankfully lukewarm but it still spilled across the countertop, soaking into stray packets of sugar and scattered napkins.

“Oh, fuck, uh—” you grabbed at whatever dry napkins were left, hurriedly mopping up the spill before it dripped to the floor. Old coffee dotted the red and cream tiles, into the gaps between your sandals. You grimaced and looked up, only half paying attention. “Shit, I’m really sorry, I just— there was no one there and—”

You stopped, swallowing hard, cheeks hot, eyes wide. The person in front of you was half hidden behind the serving hatch, but he was scowling through the window with a ladle in his hand. Big brown eyes, unnervingly expressive and dark hair to match, unruly looking curls that were pulled back with an elastic band in a bun that wouldn’t have passed a health inspection.

A boy, unfairly pretty, and annoyed looking with tattoos peeking out from his chef whites, a black paisley printed bandana knotted around his neck. There was a furrow between his brow, lines etched there so deep that it made you think they were a permanent fixture on his handsome face.

“—no customers behind the cash desk, sweetheart, you look bright enough to understand that.”

Your mouth fell open, a burn creeping across your cheeks. Annoyance settled in your chest but you realised you weren’t quite brave enough to do anything about it. So you lifted your resume and slapped it on the hot steel ledge that separated the kitchen from the coffee bar. “No one’s working,” you tried to explain, gesturing with one hand to the empty diner behind you. “I rang the bell—”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” The boy scoffed, raising a tattooed forearm to wipe away the sheer layer of sweat from his brow. “Havin’ a spa day? Shit, no one rings the damn bell, don’t you know that?”

You scrambled for a response, the burn on your face growing hotter, an awful clawing feeling coming across your chest. You swallowed, your throat tight, but you pointed at your CV once more. “I’m here for the job opening. I need to speak to Jim? About the kitchen porter role?”

The stranger laughed, a breathy thing that you didn’t think was supposed to come across as mean as it did, but it stung all the same. You shrunk a little, a hardly seen thing as the boy turned his head to check on whatever was bubbling in the big pot. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be a dick about it, but uh, I don’t think you’re cut out for the kitchen - sorry.” He turned back to you, a slightly more apologetic look on his face instead of the frown. “You understand, right?”

You were speechless, just for a second. Blinking away the confusion, you made noise of protest as the boy started to move away. Your hand touched his bicep and he swivelled back, scowling once more. You snatched your hand away, glancing at your fingertips as if the ink from his tattoos would have stained them black.

“Sorry— it’s just, I, I need a job.” You swallowed, hoping none of the customers could hear your desperate plea. “I just moved into town and honestly, I’ll take anything, like anything. I’m supposed to talk to Jim— or Eddie?”

The boy seemed to mull over your words for a second or two, a passing of sympathy or something just as kind coming over his features. He sighed and shrugged, turning away to stir the pot before it boiled over and he shouted at you through the smoke and steam. Not meanly, just enough for his voice to be heard over the music, the hissing of the stove, the hum of the freezer. “I dunno where Jim is, sorry.”

You deflated, sliding your stack of papers off of the ledge and back to your chest. You tried not to appear too frustrated as you asked, “what about Eddie? Someone - a guy, at the garage - he told me to ask for Eddie.”

The ladle clanged against the pot, some soup - or maybe stew - spilling out the sides. The boy frowned at the mess, dragging a rag over the spots before he glanced up at you. You tried to smile, tried to tamp down the watery doe eyes you knew you couldn’t help but have on show, but you felt desperate. Leaving Chicago with nothing more than the bag on your back and no plans was suddenly seeming like an awful idea.

“Sorry,” the stranger said again. “I dunno an Eddie.”

—————

Sitting in a sticky leather booth in the corner of Jim’s Midnight Grill for another hour turned out to be worth it.

Just before two o’clock, a man walked in, greeting the same customers who were still nursing their coffees with a muttered ‘hello,’ a familiar thing that everyone grunted back at. He was a tall man, broad shouldered with a moustache and a shaved head that was covered with a battered wide brimmed hat. He looked more cowboy than business owner, checked shirt dirt covered boots and all, but you heard someone call him Jim and you were up and running after him.

Your sneakers stuck to the linoleum tiles, the ‘shtick shtick shtick’ of your soles pattering between the aisles of empty tables until you caught up with the man just before he disappeared into the kitchen. He raised his brows at your sudden appearance at his elbow, wide eyed and hopeful as you clutched the same resume you’d tried to hand the cook, the pieces of paper stained with coffee now.

The man lifted his chin to a small table before you could speak, gesturing to two chairs by the window. You startled, wondering what was happening as he pulled out a seat and pointed at you to sit in the other one.

“You’re new, right?” The man - Jim - fumbled with a packet of cigarettes, most of them crushed and bent, but he found a good one to lift to his lips. He lit it and blew smoke upwards, staining the already yellowing ceiling. “Here, in town?”

You nodded, unsure how he knew that. You guessed that news travelled fast in a place as small as Hawkins, so you decided to elaborate for the sake of talking. “Uh, yeah. From Chicago. I’m inquiring about the, um, the porter job?”

“What’s your name?” Jim leaned forward in his chair and poked gently at your forearms. “You don’t got a lot of scars, you done soft jobs? No kitchen stuff before?”

The AC unit kicked in and rattled a vent above you as you stared at the man, trying to work out what he meant. Stammering, you told him your name and passed over a resume, pointing out your last few jobs, doing your best to try and make them sound more professional than they actually were.

Librarian's assistant.

Barista. For two weeks.

Cashier at a knock off Chuck E. Cheese.

“I guess they’re what you could call, uh,” you squinted Jim, floundering for the word he’d used, “soft jobs. But I’ve got a scar on my knee from pulling a kid out of the ball pit. He’d come straight from little league, he still had his spikes on and there was a considerable amount of blood even th—”

Jim stopped your spiel by jamming a thumb back towards the kitchen hatch. You could still see the boy there, pretty and scowling all the same, a dark curl falling from his hair band to fall over his cheek. You watched him blow it away and flip something in a skillet, the sizzle of it just heard over the music, the bad TV in the corner of the bar.

“You ever worked a kitchen?”

You shook your head, stomach sinking. ‘Fake it til’ you make it,’ failed you once before, and the owner of the coffee shop in Lincoln Park quickly realised you were wasting both your times when she discovered you didn’t know the difference between a mocha and a latte. “No, sir.”

“Our line cook is real particular ‘bout who we put in his kitchen with him,” Jim pointed to the boy, who’d now been joined by someone else. Another male, one with even longer hair, sleek and dark and they seemed to be arguing over blocks of cheese. “Now I don’t think it’s a good idea to throw you in there—”

Dread bubbled in your stomach. If you didn’t manage to land this job, you weren’t sure where else to look. A small town brought on few opportunities, and you’d already exhausted most of the businesses on Main Street. “Sir, please, I—”

“—but there is a waitressing gig available.” Jim frowned as he tried to remember the details. “Full time, forty odd hours if you don’t mind doing lates.”

“Yes!” You blurted out the answer too loud, loud enough for the customers to turn away from the TV screen for a second or two. The boys in the kitchen peered out the hatch, one curious, one annoyed. “Yes, sorry, yes. I’ll take it, thank you.”

Jim nodded and stubbed out the amber end of his cigarette in an ashtray beside the sauce bottles. “Easy enough job, minimum wage, you keep any tips you make.” He listed off each point on his fingers. “You start tomorrow.”

You could only nod back, eager and grateful. “Of course, yeah, sure. Uh— do I need—?”

Jim waved you off, already standing as he lit up another cigarette. “Just come by for eight, Eddie’ll sort you out with a uniform, locker, that kinda stuff.”

You frowned, confused. Looking around the quiet diner, you wondered if there was someone you hadn’t noticed before, but the number of visible staff members remained the same. The two boys in the kitchen, the pretty cool who you’d spoken to back at the stove, tasting its contents with a teaspoon.

“Uh,” you coughed awkwardly, feeling stupid. “I thought— I thought there wasn’t an Eddie who worked here?” You pointed warily to the boy with the messy curls, the black tattoos across his exposed forearms, he was staring at you, like he knew you were talking about him. He was scowling. “He said there wasn’t.”

The noise and heat of the diner and the summer outside didn’t do anything to diminish the embarrassment you felt at Jim’s next words. His gaze followed to where you were pointing and snorted. “Kid, that is Eddie.”

#Eddie munson #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #Eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson oneshot #Eddie munson imagine #linecook!eddie

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glassartpeasants · 2 months

Text

Supernova trio reacting to you cupping their cheeks and kissing them before saying, "I'm proud of you"

Characters: Luffy, Law, and Kid

GN!Reader

A/N: It literally came to me just now, and I needed to write it before I lost the motivation.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

~~~

Luffy:

It was just one of those days on the sunny, everyone was relaxing and enjoying not being shot at by marines or defending themselves by other pirates. Robin with her flowers, Nami sunbathing, Zoro napping in the warm sun while Brook played his music next to him. Sanji making drinks for everyone while Franky tinkered on the Mini Merry. Usopp working on new inventions while Chopper studied next to him.

The only one yet to be seen was your boyfriend, Luffy.

"Luffy! Hey, where are you?" You walked around the ship calling out for him, yet no response. He usually came to you after you even called his name. Was he below deck or up in the crow's nest?

"(Y/N)!" Just while you were thinking about where to look next, you hear the telltale sound of Luffy's sandals running at you at full speed. Turning around, you see your boyfriend lunging at you before wrapping his rubber body around you. Both of your fall to the ground on your butt.

"There you are! Where were you? I've been looking for you!"

"I was making something!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah! Here! It's for you!" Luffy untangled his arms from your torso before shoving a piece of paper to your chest. Grabbing it, you brought it to your face to look at it. You saw a drawn picture with you and him holding hands with the words "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" written on it.

"I made sure to give it my all!" You can feel your heart melting as you look at it.

Placing it down next to you, you move your hands to cup his warm cheeks. You rub your thumb along his cheekbone before leaning in to kiss him on the tip of his nose.

"I love it Luffy. It's perfect, I'm so proud of you." Luffy looked at his nose wide-eyed with a light red painting his cheeks before looking back up at you with a wide smile.

~~~

Law:

It wasn't uncommon for your boyfriend to be locked away in his office. Working and studying about anything and everything under the sun. He put his studies before his own health almost all the time.

It was hypocritical cause he'd chastise you if you did the same.

Despite that, you walked to his office with coffee and some onigiri just to keep him at least a bit healthy. A smile plastered on your face as you knocked on his door.

"Come in." Carefully opening the door to make sure you don't spill, you slip through without an incident.

"Hey, baby. I got you some coffee and snacks." You walk up to his desk and place the tray holding everything on the only unoccupied space left on his desk.

"Oh. Thank you (Y/N)-ya." You watch him grab an onigiri before taking a big bite, his eyes still focused on his paperwork. Walking up behind him, you place your hands on his shoulders and gently start to massage them. You feel him tense for a split second before letting out a sigh as he eased into your touch.

"What you working on?"

"I took a test and now I'mm correcting myself."

"And?" you see him place his pen down as he yawned.

"I got them all right." His long, drawn-out words had you giggling as you put your hands on his cheeks and moved his head so he had to look up at you. You gently took off his hat and placed it on some of the papers. He gave you a puzzled look at your actions.

"What are you-" Leaning down, you place a soft kiss on his forehead. You looked down at him and admired how the light framed his face from that angle.

"Well, I'm very proud of you for working so hard to get them all right." You can see the pink dusting his cheeks as he looks shocked to hear you say such things. He looks to the side to avoid eye contact as his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

"Thank you..."

~~~

Kid:

The feeling of your brutish boyfriend holding you close as the two of you lay under the covers has a permanent smile on your face. You loved being in his arms and enjoying his touch. The safety he promised always scared away the nightmares that threatened your sleep.

Looking up, you see Kid with his eyes closed and his hair messy, no longer held up by his goggles. He looked so peaceful and contempt while he slept that you couldn't help but admire him.

"Enjoying the view?" You see him open an eye while a smirk plays along his lips.

"Very. What? Can't I admire my perfect boyfriend?" Rolling his eyes, you see the red creeping up along his neck and face. He always got so embarrassed when you complimented him. It was truly your favorite pastime.

"I simply like admiring my strong, handsome, decently smart boyfriend." You see the small look of offense appearing on his face at your last words. The feeling of him pinching your thigh had you yelping yet giggling.

"I'm kidding! Only a smart guy would be able to create such beautiful metal artwork and machinery." Using your elbows, you push yourself up so that you're face to face with him. His amber eyes staring directly into yours as he waited to see your next move.

Moving your hands to cup his cheeks, you kiss his lips passionately. You can feel Kid smirk as he kisses you back with the same amount of energy. His arm pulls you even closer, and you feel him rub his hand along your back.

Pulling away from his lips, you move a stray hair behind his ear as he pouted. The freckles that covered his face calling you to kiss every inch of his face. Your heart felt like it was gonna burst out of your chest with how much love you felt for him in that moment.

"I'm so proud of you, baby. No doubt in my mind that you'll be the King of the Pirates." His eyes widen at your words before red covers his entire face. The face that once held a smirk now soft as he took in your words. He moved his head to your neck just so you couldn't see how much your words affected him any more than you already had.

"I love you, Kid." You run your fingers through his silky hair as you hold him close. You feel him kiss your neck before mumbling against your skin,

"I love you too."

#one piece x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass captain kid x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader

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siren-serenity · 7 months

Text

my favorite shade of blue

characters: buggy the clown, gn!reader warnings: fluff, slight swearing a/n: - OMFG BUGGY??? BUGGY????? *sob, scream, drool* - babes let's admit it, buggy is so touch starved. he seems like the guy who would LOVE physical touch - feedback is appreciated!

"Y/N!"

It was so blissfully silent until your captain's sharp, loud call of your name broke you out of your light slumber. Your (e/c) eyes snapped wide open, scanning the seas around you for danger before realizing it's just Buggy being Buggy again.

"Y/N, get your ass here now!"

Grumbling, you stood up, cracking your stiff back. The salty stench of the sea invaded your senses and you took in a deep, calming breath. Your hand grasped onto the rough texture of rope and you slowly made your way down from the crowbar. The make-shift ladder kept swaying with your movements but you were confident that you wouldn't fall.

"Captain's calling for ya again?" Cabaji cycled past you. His lime green and black hair stood out from the brown wood of the ship. He wiggled his eyebrows. "Ooh, I wonder what he wants!"

You scoff, pushing your friend aside playfully.

"At least he isn't up to his shenanigans again," You said, laughing. "Wanna juggling knives on fire, Cabaji?"

He shivered at the reminder.

"Hell no!"

You nod, as if to say 'exactly', before bidding him goodbye. Your boots thumped against the wooden floors as you made your way through the ship before finally coming across the door labeled crudely 'cApTaIn'.

"Buggy?" You knock gently and an excited call of your name responds in kind. The door is flung open, revealing the love of your life, Buggy. His orange captain hat is off and he's wearing his signature red-and-white striped bandana. Baby blue eyes glimmered with happiness as he glomped you.

"OOMPH-"

"Love!" He buried himself in your shoulder. His cerulean tresses tickle you slightly and you're biting your lip to prevent giggles from bursting out of you. "Missed you...."

Your hands slipped under his thighs before you hoisted them up. Yelping, Buggy's legs were quick to trap you in a hug around your waist and his arms held onto your shoulders like a vice. You popped a quick kiss onto his scarlet-smeared lips, smiling because a bit of the lipstick had transferred onto your lips.

"Missed me, hmm?" You walked to your and his shared bed, laying him down gently. Buggy let go of you from his hands, spreading them wide on the bed while his legs remained wrapped around your waist, pulling you in. You leaned in even more, smiling.

"Yeah," He gave you a small smile. "We haven't been hanging out in a while..."

You laughed. Your hands tried to pull his legs off your waist but Buggy let out a small noise in alarm, ankles digging into your back.

Buggy whined.

"Noo...don't go!"

You booped his nose. His baby blue eyes widened.

"I'm just going to grab a brush," You looped a lock of cerulean hand around your finger, emphasizing the number of tangles and the messiness. "It's been a while since I brushed your hair, no?"

He hummed and slowly let you go. Reaching to the side, you grabbed the self-care bag. You tapped his butt to make him scooch slightly so you could sit on the bed.

"N-Not the butt!" Buggy yelped at the sudden touch and you laughed at the visible blush beneath his fading makeup. Your hands gently cradled his face and he froze.

You showed him the wet wipe in your hands.

"I'm just going to wipe the make up off, okay, Bugs?"

He nodded, looking into your eyes.

"Okay..."

You pressed a kiss to his red nose before gently wiping off the white. Each of your every movement was gentle and kind, not as aggressive as Buggy would have done to himself.

Once the make-up was off, you reached up to pull off the bandana; Buggy leaned forward to make the process easier for you. The moment the red-and-white fabric was off, his cerulean tresses fell like mesmerizing ocean waves.

"I'll never get tired of your hair," You took a lock and pressed a kiss to the hair.

Buggy laughed.

"Only you would say that," He hummed, turning around so you could brush his hair easier.

You frowned.

"I'm serious, Buggy," You began combing his hair, apologizing when the brush would get caught in tangles. "Your hair brings out the blue in your irises and stands out against the white of your face make-up."

"You think so?"

Buggy's voice was quiet, a murmur only.

You tapped his shoulder and he spun around. His eyes widened as you captured his now-bare lips into a kiss and he visibly melted in your embrace.

"Mmph~"

You pulled away, giving him a loving grin.

"It's my favorite shade of blue."

Buggy buried his blushing face in his gloved hands but you could still see traces of bright red on his cheeks.

#one piece #one piece live action #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #one piece x reader #buggy one piece #op buggy #buggy x reader #opla #opla buggy #captain buggy

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johns-prince · 4 months

Text

John was being honest when he described himself as dead lazy, and so having a partner and bff like Paul was perfect for him since Paul is such a workaholic and can hardly sit still.

John needed a push, someone who could carefully and patiently nudge and drive him along, or at least light the fire under his butt, because if not he could become listless, lethargic, and stuck. I'd say this was pretty obvious during the 70s.

Paul was perfectly suited for John in this, like in so many other ways too. Paul seemed not at all bothered, but quite comfortable with this position in their relationship, as far as I can tell. I'm thinking back to Paul making his way to John's house in Kenwood, that he'd often have to wake John up, this involving cups of tea or coffee. Maybe they did some writing and playing, maybe they didn't, as Paul said it was his way to get out of London.

Or, how Paul, John, and Ringo (sans George) had to do a Christmas recording, and how Paul, the whole time, was gently and patiently urging John on to just do it.

I think they're a perfect encapsulation of their relationship, these moments and memories caught.

They both gave each other a harmless need to compete, and to accomplish, together. I mean I'm sure there were plenty of times Paul's patience wore thin with John, and I'm sure John was very intentional in needling that, but insofar that I can tell, Paul really did have exceedingly, almost near limitless patience and love for John as both a partner and a friend.

John needed that, he needed someone like Paul, who could truly and unapologetically put up with him, and love him, and still want to work with him every day, day and night.

Even when the band broke up, the divorce finalized, and John was both loving and hating Paul in tandem for the next ten years... Paul was desperate to write with John again, and John was desperate just to write, you see.

PLAYBOY: But wasn’t it clear that John wanted only to work with Yoko?

LINDA: No. I know that Paul was desperate to write with John again. And I know John was desperate to write … desperate. People thought, Well, he’s taking care of Sean, he’s a house-husband and all that, but he wasn’t happy. He couldn’t write and it drove him crazy. And Paul could have helped him—easily.”

— Linda on John and Paul in the late 70’s and 1980. (X)

While Yoko was definitely driven and career oriented, that didn't necessarily mean she influenced, inspired, or drove John on herself. Not in the way Paul did. I think that's pretty evident, considering he subsumed himself to "house husband", only occasionally baking bread before even that lost his interest, in which he'd keep to lazing about, sleeping hours on end, and mindlessly watching tv.

John was no house husband, the role he took with Yoko was pretty far removed from his potential, even with Cynthia it wasn't that bad.

With Paul, John even thought of writing musicals, and he apparently wasn't even that fond of musicals—but if Paul wanted to do it, like so many other things, then why couldn't John? If John had Paul, then he could do just about anything and everything, really.

“MM: In the early days, did John and Paul really write together?

MARTIN: Yes, but they also wrote separately. “Please Please Me” and “From Me To You” and “I Want To Hold Your Hand” were undoubtedly collaborative efforts. They’d sit down and literally construct the songs together. I can’t remember the first individual songs, although obviously even before I met them they were writing individually, but if you go through them you can hear which of them are John-oriented and which are Paul-oriented. “Yesterday” is obviously Paul, and that’s an interesting point because it was the first time we ever used anyone other than Beatles on a record. There was no one on that record but Paul and a string quartet.

MM: Did you notice them growing apart, developing distinct personalities?

MARTIN: Paul and John had their own identifiable styles: Paul was the syrupy one and John was the hard one. But the rift wasn’t there then. They were really a unit.

MM: Could you tell me what you think of what each one has done individually since the last Beatles record?

MARTIN: I have great admiration for George. He’s done tremendously because it’s a sort of devotion to duty as far as he’s concerned. We forced him into being a loner, I guess … he could never collaborate with anybody in his writing and therefore when the split came he had more strength because he was forced to be alone. He learned an awful lot about producing, studio techniques, and so on, so that he was able … obviously, any one of them had the power - because they had the money - to spend as much time in the recording studio as they liked, and I know that when George made his album he spent six months doing nothing but overdubbing his own voice 16 times and producing his album. To have the tenacity to do that in itself is something of an achievement, but to go along and actually produce good sounds and good music and good lyrics with it is tremendous. I’m full of admiration for that.

I think the other two have suffered by comparison, because they’ve each indulged themselves in their own way. John’s become more obvious in a way … “Power To The People” is a rehash of “Give Peace A Chance,” and it isn’t really very good. It doesn’t have the intensity that John’s capable of. Paul, similarly with his first album … it was nice enough, but very much a home-made affair, and very much a little family affair. I don’t think he ever really rated it as being as important as the stuff he’d done before.

I don’t think Linda is a substitute for John Lennon, any more than Yoko is a substitute for Paul McCartney.”

— George Martin, Melody Maker Interview, 1971. (X)

John was very partner orientated. He needed someone, whether he liked it or not, and he needed them to need him too.

He didn't like being a husband, but he liked having a wife, someone there for him constantly, who loves him and will care for him. John had Cynthia for that, at the start. John had Pete as his partner in crime, bestest of mates, when they were just kids.

Then, John had Paul, and turns out, Paul just about covered all of that, too, and plus it. A best friend, a coconspirator, a wife, a collaborator, his partner, his rival and his greatest ally and muse. Cherry on top, Paul needed John just as badly, madly. Maybe John never saw it that way, maybe that was why he had his fear, his insecurity that Paul never really needed him as much as John needed him.

“IRVIN: Back then people were very keen on knowing who the leader of the group was…

GEORGE M.: Yes, I was. When I first auditioned them I said, “Who’s going to be the leader, is it John or Paul?” Such an odd couple really, because they were diferent and yet very similar, both had big egos, both very good songwriters, but they needed each other like mad.

IRVIN: Did they really like each other? It wasn’t just a competitive partnership.

GEORGE M.: Oh no, they loved each other! They were brothers, and like brothers they pissed each other off quite a lot. John could be maddening at times, Paul can be very bossy and even more maddening and George would get fed up with both of them. But they did love each other and adored what the other did and had an incredible bond.

Paul always took inspiration from John, especially in his lyric-writing. ‘Eleanor Rigby’, for example, wouldn’t have happened without John’s influence. Paul wrote all of it but John’s influence was there and similarly John was knocked out by the freshness Paul brought to melodies and harmonies. He learnt from Paul how to put in the odd chord that choked you up a bit.”

— George Martin, interview w/ Jim Irvin for Mojo: Sir George Martin: The Mojo interview. (March, 2007) (X)

I think I've gone off tangent, but the point of this was to say, John was dead lazy, vastly intelligent and talented, but very prone to sloth. Paul was a rather perfect stopper to that. He could whip John up, get him moving, shaking, ever patient and ever loving, just the right enough of mean, bitchy and stubborn, smart and quick tongued, to meet John toe-to-toe. Like a house on fire these two fired each other up, talk about all-consuming and intense.

They were pretty perfectly matched for each other.

“It was like a tug of war. Imagine two people pulling on a rope, smiling at each other and pulling all the time with all their might. The tension between the two of them made for the bond.”

— George Martin on Lennon/McCartney (X)

#mclennon #john lennon #paul mccartney #anthology of mclennon #anyways george martin knew what was up

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beggingforxavier · 1 year

Text

Fallin' All In You // Xavier Thorpe

About: Just some early morning lovin' from your boyfriend.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: P in V sex, no condom, somnophilia, grinding, dirty talk, lazy morning sex

The morning sun rises, hitting Xavier in the eyes as it peers in through the large window in his room. Nice and warm settled next to you in bed, he groans softly, throwing his arm over his eyes haphazardly to escape the brightness.

Sticky underneath the hot blankets, his morning wood presses firm against your thigh. Your leg is hitched up over his, mouth open and fully relaxed against your boyfriend as your slept.

After a minute, Xavier removes his arm from his eyes and gazes down at you, with all the adoration in the world in his eyes. He takes in your sleeping form and can’t help but think how adorable you are.

His abandoned hard-on twitches impatiently under the covers and he sighs, grabbing hold of your hip tightly and maneuvering you onto your other side. He pulls you into his chest and kisses your shoulder. You let out a soft, sleepy whimper but don’t stir otherwise.

Xavier grins against your shoulder, pushing up his shirt that fits you like a glove and sliding your panties to the side, his fingers searching for your sensitive clit. Using two fingers, he slowly starts to rub it in circular motions. You let out a little moan in your sleep, involuntarily pressing back against his hardened state and causing him to let out a little hiss into your ear.

At his noise, your eyelids flutter a little, and he doesn’t stop rubbing at you. Another moan is pulled from your throat as you start to come to. Your hand moves down to his arm, but you don’t stop him, feeling your body starting to come to life and respond to his actions. Heat rises to your chest, leaving splotches of red across your skin.

“Mm…fuck, Xavier.” Your voice is thick with sleep, and he nuzzles deeper into your shoulder, peppering it with kisses. “Couldn’t wait?”

“You looked so beautiful, sleeping so peacefully.” He sucks on your skin gently. “Wanted to make you feel good.”

You crane your neck back and kiss him lazily, your free hand moving to cup his jaw. You can feel how hard he is against your ass now, and you smile against his mouth, grinding back against him a little.

“You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.” He mumbles against your lips.

You just continue to grind back against him, not a care in the world. The friction of his boxers and the pressure of your ass against him makes his tip weep with pure need.

His fingers stutter on your clit, his breath hot against your ear.

“I want you, sweetheart.” Xavier whimpers into your ear, and your lips find his again to shush his pleas.

Your hands move down and start to pull off your panties, lifting yourself up a little so you can pull them off completely. Xavier’s eyelids are hooded, pupils blown as he watches your hands, almost in a trance. He starts to strip himself of his boxers, pushing them clumsily down his long, lanky legs. Then he rolls you onto your back and settles between your legs, pressing his chest firmly to yours. His lips cover yours again, kissing you deeply and sucking on your lower lip. He pulls a groan from your throat as he easily sinks inside of her.

Xavier presses into you as deeply as he can, every part of his body touching yours. His lips travel down your jaw to your neck, sucking and nibbling on any spare skin he can reach, worshipping you beneath him. When he begins grinding against you, barely pulling out at all before diving back in, your eyes shut and you let out a breathy moan for him. He smirks against your neck, skin sticky against yours under the blankets and warm light of the sun filtering through the windows.

When your hands start to caress at his back, he lets them. It isn’t until they reach his butt that he reaches back with both hands and grabs your wrists. He pins your hands above your head with one of his big ones. You let out a little protest, but he just kisses you.

“Let me worship you. You feel so good, baby. Pussy made for me.” He grunts against your lips, bucking into you lazily. “I love you so fucking much.”

The drag of his cock so deep inside you causes your stomach to cave in slightly, a ball of pleasure starting to roll and grow in your lower stomach.

“I love you too. So much.” You whimper, legs wrapping loosely around his waist.

Xavier knows he won’t last long, especially with how sexy you look sprawled beneath him, all cute and sleepy. Your moans spur him on, and he rocks a little harsher, grinding and groaning into your ear.

His pelvic bone rubs against your clit roughly with each thrust, and soon your legs are shaking, and you’re a whiny mess beneath him.

“I-I’m gonna cum, Xav. Gonna cum for you.” You try to warn him, but the intensity sneaks up on you - once the words leave your mouth, you can’t hold it back anymore.

Your boyfriend is not far behind you, bucking his hips sloppily into you. He moans long, and deep in his throat as he buries himself completely to the hilt, pinning you roughly to the mattress beneath you. His body traps you in, and he lets go of your hands so he can hold your entire body now. Xavier’s left hand moves to your shaking thigh and rubs soothingly, while his other one cups your face, kissing you messily.

You take every single drop he gives you, your cunt constricting and spasming around his cock. Your hands push his sweaty hair out of his face, your bodies overheating under the blankets, but neither of you moves to remedy the situation, too lost in each other’s embraces.

When he finally pulls his softening cock out of you and buries his face in your neck, his body fully relaxing against yours, he starts to chuckle lightly.

“What?” You question, still playing with the ends of his hair.

“I could fall asleep like this.” He grins wide, and you roll your eyes.

“If we don’t get our asses up, we’ll miss breakfast.” You remind him after a moment, the bell starting to toll from the main hall.

“Five more minutes, mom.” He complains, and you swat his butt playfully in response. He freezes, but there’s a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Did you just spank me?”

“Maybe.” Your voice is cheeky, and he sits up to look at you.

“Better be careful, sweetheart. I can take you over my knee next.” His eyes find yours, and your mouth opens in shock, cheeks becoming pink at his statement.

You’re more turned on by that statement than you let on, but he knows you so well, he can just tell. He squeezes your thigh lovingly.

“Xavier Thorpe. Is that a threat?” Your eyes crinkle with your smile at the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“No, baby. It’s a promise.”

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe fanfiction #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier x fem!reader #xavier x reader #xavier x you #wednesday #wednesday show fanfiction #wednesday show #wednesday series #wednesday series fanfiction #wednesday series smut #wednesday show smut #beggingforxavier #beggingforxavierthorpe

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ma1dita · 1 month

Note

Hii!! Congrats on 23!!! I love your writing!! Idk if you write for Jason Grace, but if you do could you do something with a daughter or Dionysus reader where it’s just her trying to loose him up a little bit? Or maybe them at a party?? Thank you so muchh!

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

jason grace x dionysus!reader

a/n: underage drinking lol but that comes with a dionysus!reader ,,, ty for the request my love!

wc: 683

“So you’ve like, never been to a party?”

You’re smacking on a piece of gum as the both of you watch the party come alive in your cabin. Cabin 12 was always the place to be on weekends with it just being you and Pollux, and everyone knows that no one can throw a party like a Dionysus kid. Though with the way Jason’s leaning against the corner of the wall you both take up with a beer in hand, it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Ever since his arrival at Camp Half-Blood, you’ve come to notice that there is possibly no version of him that is ever at ease.

“Never really had the time.”

Well, that just won’t do.

You teach Jason all the things a teenager usually does at a party, from drinking a few cups of spiked punch (which was much more pleasant than the beer), to dragging him onto the dance floor once the drinks set in (he thinks he likes spinning you around until your laughter bubbles over like sparkling champagne), to finally getting him to join a few party games. Jason killed it at cup pong, watched you annihilate other campers at king’s cup, until an Aphrodite kid insisted you end off the night with 7 minutes in heaven. A chorus of both groans and cheers were heard around the room, and Jason looks at you confused. His glasses glint under the fairy lights and you giggle at his lost puppy look.

7 minutes in his father’s domain didn’t seem like a good game to him, so he leans in to listen to you whisper the mechanics of it all. His cheeks redden, and he’s unsure if he wants to play.

“Come on, it’ll be fun, sparky.”

You gave him the nickname because he always looks like someone’s lit a fire under his butt—too uptight and cordial for your liking.

Sitting around while mismatched couples took their turns in your linen closet wasn’t really Jason Grace’s idea of fun, but he supposes he doesn’t really have a good grasp on that either. He trusts you though, for what it’s worth. A son of Jupiter having full faith in a daughter of Dionysus must be a deadly combination.

When Piper calls out both of your names, he supposes that could be fun. You grab his wrist and he follows you into the dim closet, everyone’s voices muffled through the closed door.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, even if no one else can hear him but you. Your smile is intoxicating when it’s directed at him, he realizes, and he wonders if he’s finally drunk.

“Yeah. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Jace,” you say sincerely. At a wave of your fingers, the hesitation and impairment from the punch subsides a little; a light buzz settles in your stomachs. Jason pushes his glasses up and then dares to ask, “So what do people usually do when they’re in here?”

You raise your eyebrows. You didn’t think you’d have to spell it out for him.

“Um, well…they kiss. Or other things…”

“Oh.”

You giggle at his shock, leaning in slowly and waiting for him to make the final move. Jason closes the distance and there are a few things that surprise you about this kiss. It’s intense, lips molding onto yours with the passion he puts into everything he does, wanting to do the job well. Whether it be the waning effects of alcohol or a static shock—it made the both of you hyperaware, lightly panting before his hands pull you in by the waist and you smile into the scar on his lip, grabbing onto his tshirt. You tilt your head to the side and let him consume you once more, a floaty feeling in your chest until you realize—the both of you are actually flying.

A muffled groan leaves him when his head hits the lightbulb, sparks flying out as you land in his arms.

Lips locking through the laughter, Jason finally understands why you would think this is fun.

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#jason grace x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo x reader #made by ma1dita ♥︎

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leo-muscle · 2 months

Note

I’ve heard a little bit about this King Leon guy. Who does he think he is to call himself a king? Seems far to pretentious if you ask me. I wouldn’t be caught dead bowing to someone like that. Not in a million years.

Sure I’m the most basic looking white dude on the planet. My face gets lost in the crowd and my body is light enough to be blown by a breeze. But a king can’t change that, and I would like to see him or any of his subjects try to.

"Are you sure about that?" The bartender told you. You had just arrived on your vacation in Haiti, and the resort's bartender had decided to strike up a conversation with you over drinks. He was enormous, seven feet of pure surfer boy muscle, with a thick gut that was the very picture of strength. He would have been the most beautiful man you had ever seen, if you weren't in the middle of a massive rant.

"Oh, absolutely." You continued. "Whoever these 'kings' are, I don't want anything to do with 'em. Who are they to declare rule over the entire world, and who are we to listen to them?"

It was true, of course. Much of Africa, the British Isles, Central America, and even the islands you were now in had been united under the rule of these Kings. While many praised them for their novel social reforms and exponential increase to quality of life in their domains, many others, yourself included, remained attached to the old ways. Even this vacation was a scouting trip, to see if whatever propaganda these Kings were putting out was true.

"On the contrary, my friend, I am perfectly happy to listen to the rule of my King. You should have seen this island before King Kai came here. Homelessness, poverty... it's all been amended since he arrived."

"Really?" You asked, taking a big swig of your drink, savoring its tingle on your lips. "And NO one's uncomfortable being ruled by just one person?"

"People love King Kai. He is kind and just, like any good king should be. You'll see that soon enough." The bartender said.

"What do you mean by that?" You asked, your heart racing.

"Oh, nothing much. Just give it a few seconds."

"What are you-- UGH!" You doubled over, your skin on fire with a sensation entirely alien to you.

The bartender walked out from behind the bar, and soon, his magical hands went to work. With his kingly essence in your system, you could be molded into a respectable citizen of the world.

He started with your pecs, cupping them from behind as they burst through your tropical shirt with new strength. They were enormous, voluptuous pillows, jiggling with muscle and a thin layer of fat.

He then moved his hands along your shoulders, pumping them into cannonballs of strength. The moment his hands reached your arms, they pulled and pushed, leaving your twiggy biceps and forearms as but a fleeting memory, replacing them with pulsing, powerful cannons of strength. In awe, you flexed your right arm, forming a mound easily as big as a baseball if not more.

You moaned softly as King Kai's beautiful hands lightly traced a six-pack onto your stomach, each ab popping into existence, forming an impenetrable wall of strength.

Soon, his hands navigated south, one massive hand palming your flat ass, while the other grabbed your tiny three-inch cock. You moaned, long, low, and hard as both of his hands began to move out from your body, pulling your cock and ass with them. Your cheeks rounded out into a big, bouncy bubble butt, bigger than most women's. It shook with strength and sexuality with every slight movement you made, much like your cock, which had grown so big with the King's touch that no pair of pants could conceal your enormous bulge. His touch was electric on your shaft, causing you to pre almost endlessly.

Your mind was in heaven as he continued to your legs. Your cock was at full mast at its enormous eleven inches as he took his hands to your legs, and blew them up into corded steel pillars as big as any christmas ham. You moaned, your cock firing blanks as he looked you deep into your eyes, placing one hand to completely cover your currently-unchanged face.

"As much as I love my people, we cannot be a global community if all my citizens are homogenous." King Kai said. "Hmm, where should I send you..."

Your skin flickered through thousands of shades in a single moment, before settling on a tone a few shades darker than your original. Your hair darkened to black, and you instantly sprouted a thick dark mustache, and a chinstrap beard to match. Your eyes became narrower and monolid, your stare intensifying into a sexy smolder. As King Kai leaned in and kissed you, your bulk increased, and your muscle became padded with a thin sexy layer of fat.

"Cum." King Kai commanded you, his voice sexy enough to send you over the edge.

You had been reborn, a Vietnamese stud in the Carribean. Your brain was aflame with new neurons, making connections faster and better than ever before. You knew you had been improved, in every conceivable way. You were stronger, smarter, wiser, and you had no one but your new king to thank.

#male tf #male transformation #race change #muscle bear #bear tf #jock tf #pec growth #butt growth #asian tf #mental change #kings of the world

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redbleedingrose · 1 year

Note

I HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION (bat boys + Lucien & Eris edition)

What are their sleeping habits? (What do they wear to sleep? what sleeping position do the prefer? Are they heavy or light sleepers etc.) Do they snore?

VERY SERIOUS INQUIRY DESERVES IMMEDIATE ANSWERS!!!!! <33

Rhysand

Okay Rhys prefers to fall asleep in his huge ass bed. Like frl think of like a california king size bed but 5x bigger than that.

A whole bunch of pillows and blankets everywhere, and he uses at least three

ugh... pampered high lord... hot pampered high lord

I think he could also fall asleep on the chaise in his office, especially with you on top of him you know?

I think the position he takes truly depends on the day. Sometimes all he wants to do is spoon you because you bring this warmth to him. Sometimes, he wants you to spoon him because he felt the pressure of being high lord all day and wants to feel protected in your arms.

Sometimes he falls asleep on his belly because he has his wings out, and those nights, he is tugging you to sleep pressed against him with one of his wings wrapped around you in a warm caccoon. The other wing is twitching off the side of the bed

Under the mountain, this male barely got any sleep and was the lightest sleeper. He would wake up with the crackle of the fire in the hearth.

I think now though, he is a heavy sleeper, especially when you come into the picture. And he kinda sleeps like a rock, unmoving and without snoring.

This male could spend hours in bed with his mate and be so fulfilled. He hates waking up and getting out of bed in the morning, it takes him some coaxing on your part

Some days, you try to roll out of bed to start your day but he won’t let you, tugging at your thigh so you are pulled flush against him, yanking your leg over his waist, mumbling, “As high lord, Im ordering you to come back to bed lady night”

And you just go with it because a day in bed with Rhys???

Unmatched

He likes to sleep a full 8 and 1/2 to 9 hours and you are perfectly happy with that because the whole time, you are cuddling with your mate.

Can I just say... our night court high lord sleeps naked

Butt naked

So of course, you also sleep butt naked because it would be weird if one person did and the other didn’t

And because...

Easy access I guess

No because when he finally finds the energy to wake up, he is slipping between your thighs to wake you up in a very fun way

Azriel

Okay I think Az is a light sleeper and sleeps the least, and I like to think that he does not snore. He also only sleeps in his bed or your bed.

I think it is just how he has trained himself as spymaster, and even something that he had embedded within childhood.

He goes to bed super late and is up super early, and his body is fully okay with that.

But I think when he meets you, he will wake up and stay in bed, cuddling up close to you and rubbing your back up and down as you sleep, sending strokes of love down the bond just to see a small smile quirk at your lips despite being asleep.

It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy to know that even in your sleep, he can make you smile and content

So he just stares at you for a couple hours, admiring your features and thinking about his life before you, with you now, and his future with you.

He thinks of how he used to dream so many nightmares of his past, haunting him despite being so successful as spymaster and a member of the inner circle. A close confidant and brother to the high lord of the night court. How he forced himself to get up early because he felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders... how crushing it felt.

Now, he cannot help but think of the mornings when you sometimes wake up early, and just groan a little, seeking him out by stretching out your arm and patting at the bed till you eventually find his chest, and you just unconciously snuggle right into his shoulder and fall back asleep. How it forces him to stay in bed for longer. How relieved he feels when you do that. How he feels like the weight that he used to carry has been lifted off his shoulders, sent into the ethers.

He thinks about the futures when your kids will sneak into bed because they had a nightmare or simply because they also don’t want to get up to start the day and they want to cuddle close with their mommy and daddy.

His shadows like to dance or hover around you two as you sleep, and the usual cuddle position you take at night is you snuggling into his bare chest with his arm wrapped around your waist. It makes you feel so utterly protected and safe, and Az loves that your scent just wafts up to him throughout the night, keeping him at ease.

He likes to sleep with just his sweatpants on. He loves not wearing shits or tanks to bed because you oogle his chest, nearly drooling, and he lives for it.

I think he likes when you wear your little silk colbat blue nighty that hugs at your hips and waist, and shows off your tits.

He do be fucking you to sleep most days

And he loves to wake you up with his head between your thighs because he got tired of waiting

Cassian

Cassian is a fucking heavy sleeper and he also fucking snores

But it is the most amazing thing because you used to hate the snoring, and you would silently adjust his pillows so he wouldn’t be

But when the general is off on a mission or is visiting Windhaven under Rhys’ order, you genuinely cannot fall asleep without his snores, nor can you stay asleep without his snores.

Like you truly are up until you pass out from exhaustion, but then you wake up in the middle of the night because you don’t hear your mates snores.

Eventually, they become this white noise for you that is absolutely necessary for you to fall asleep and stay asleep.

He also is impossible to wake up in the morning. He luckily wakes up because of his natural sleep clock, but if you are trying to wake him up, he just lifts up his head and mumbles a little, “I’m awake dove,” and then lays his head back down and is back to snoring 10 seconds later

It is so fucking cute I cant

I think Cass likes to fall asleep on his back with you literally on top of him, laying down on his chest. He just loves the weight of your body on top of him, it feels like a compression blanket and he struggles to sleep without it.

Sometimes, he likes to fall asleep with his head on your chest because your tits do be acting as soft pillows for him, your heart beat a fucking lullaby.

You know that you struggle to fall asleep without him. He also struggles to fall asleep without you.

He is also only sleeping in his boxers because this male runs so fucking hot at night, and so you are basically only wearing your panties to bed because you also wake up practically sweating from his heat that radiates off him.

Let’s be so for real, Cass could fall asleep where ever he wanted. As long as you are next to him, he is ready to fall asleep.

Lucien

I think Lucien is a light sleeper, and he snores pretty softly. Like you can barely hear it but you know its there. I think it is just in his nature to be a light sleeper, he wakes up to whatever little sound he hears, but he is also the kind of male to be able to fall back asleep really quickly after pulling you back close to him

I do think that he likes to sleep facing you with an arm tucked around your waist or hip. You both like your general space because it tends to get hot during the night, but at least one part of you is touching throughout the night in a constant reminder of each others presence.

I think Luc likes to sleep on his side, with his head wedged against a pillow and his muscled arm. I think at some point during the night, you get close enough that your head is resting on the same pillow.

You both also choose to use pretty light blankets, opting for the day court breeze against your skin

And I think that you both love to sleep naked because first off...

easy access right?

But second off... it is just easier and more comfortable that way.

I also think that Lucien sometimes, when he is a couple hours into his sleep, sleep talks.

Like full on conversations with the male can occur that he will not remember when he wakes up

usually its about how much he loves you.

Even in his sleep, he is thinking of you and loving on you

Little mumbles of, “I love my mate” and “She is so pretty you don’t even know” and “Gods I cant live without her” and “Honey you better not eat my pumpkin pie”

Very protective over his pumpkin pie I guess

He also absolutely loves to take naps with you. He loves pulling you towards your bedroom and tossing you onto the day bed on the balcony so he can take a nap with you. It is just so nice and relaxing and you always wake up feeling so fucking refreshed

Also can I just say...

his favorite way of waking up is...

Gods this is fucking dirty... eeeeeeee

When you are practically sucking him dry

Eris

Okay I think I am gonna do a pre-Girl dad!Eris with you and a post girl dad!Eris with you because y’all already know that girl dad!Eris owns my heart and soul and I would die for him

Pre-Girl Dad!Eris

Eris is such a light sleeper due to his father. I think the male was always forced to wake up early and he never fully trusted himself to fall asleep fully because he didn’t want his father or brothers doing anything to him.

Even after his fathers death, and just being with his mate, his habit of being a light sleeper and waking up early stuck with him. And I think that habit will stay with him for the rest of his life.

But lets be honest, before you, this male was so tired. I think he was hovering through life on the brink of exhaustion and the only times he truly felt alert were around his father or brothers or people from other courts. He has a mask to uphold.

But everything changed with you...

He was able to fall asleep quicker. He wasn’t afraid to actually fall asleep and shut off his mind into a dreamless sleep. He would allow for your pulses of love down the bond and strokes of his hair to lull him into sleep. And he would stay asleep until sunrise. And he would wake up so fucking rested and relieved.

He would wake up, ready to start his day and motivated to make Autumn Court a better place for you, his perfect wife and mate. His favorite person in the entire universe. His reason of living. The sole creator of his happiness and peace.

He would practically be jumping out of bed, quietly of course as to not wake up, to start his day and make some changes

His favorite moments are when you also wake up and you beg him to come back to bed and snuggle with you. You won’t even go back to sleep, you will just climb on top of him and rest your arms against his chest, and peak up at him through your lashes and whisper about your plans for the day as you count the freckles over his nose and cheeks.

Sometimes you just stare at him with the most adoration he has ever seen anyone look at someone and it has him flushing under you.

I think he likes to fall asleep with you pressed as close to him as possible. He wants your legs to be intertwined, he wants to be holding hands with you, he wants his head to be resting on your head, he wants your chest pressed against his.

I don’t think he snores, I think he kinda sighs in his sleep, very content with the feeling of you so close to him

Also, before you have your babes, you are absolutely sleeping naked.

And you both love to wake each other up by fucking.

Sometimes he is waking you up with his head between your thighs or when he is slipping into you to slowly rock you awake

Sometimes its you sucking his cock like you want his cum for breakfast

Or your personal favorite, when you wake up before him and ride him awake

Ugh literal perfection

Girl Dad!Eris

Okay some things never change.

Eris would still be a light sleeper, he would still love to fall asleep basically melting into you. He still is an early riser

But he fucking loves mornings as a father

Because his little babes love to sneak into your bed in the early morning hours, waking up early just like their papa, and snuggling into you and him.

Twila loves to snuggle into her papa’s arms and Marwa is clinging to your back

And they both are sleeping in between you, perfectly content with the warm that you radiate off

Safe to say... y’all don’t sleep naked anymore. You wear a silk purple nightgown and he likes to wear matching purple silk pajama bottoms. He does still sleep bare chested, and he loves to feel you and babes snuggle into him in the morning.

Eris used to be so ready to get out of bed and start his days before his little girls...

But now...

Now he spends hours in bed, watching your babes cuddle with you. Seeing them reach out for him and cuddle into him.

And gods, does he love waking up to the tangled mess that is his family. With Marwa’s tiny foot pressed into his face and Twila’s arm punching into his side.

He wouldn’t have it any other way!!!!!

He also finds it so fucking hilarous whenever his babes are practically on top of you, begging their mama to wake up, practically pealing her eyes open with their tiny fingers. Thats when he yanks them out of bed, much to their giggling, screaming delight, and gets them ready for the day

He loves to take his girls out on early morning wakes while it is still foggy out with his hounds. 12 of his hounds will go on the morning walk, and only one will stay, the youngest, which sneaks into your bed to snuggle with his masters mate.

He loves kissing you goodbye in the morning while you are half asleep. He loves your tired smile and he loves your messy hair that he gets to stroke as he kisses every part of your exposed beautiful face.

And he loves coming back from his walk with the girls, often shushing them as they walk into the home because their mama is still asleep, only to find you at the kitchen counter, ready for the day, smiling bright at your mate and perfect babes, making everyone breakfast that you can eat outside on the porch.

#azriel x reader #rhysand x reader #cassian x reader #lucien x reader #eris x reader #rose rambles #rose answers #eris vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanons #bat boys #bat boy headcanons

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miheartsedthings · 2 months

Text

Pole Candy

18+ Minors DNI

Modern!Billy x Stripper!Reader

Summary: Security guard Billy feels over-protective when a customer gets too handsy.

Warnings: Sex work, attempted assault, trauma, anal stuff. Angst + a little fluff.

(ps. I don't know what I'm doing with these warnings, please forgive me if I've missed something and be careful.)

Cherry Waves - Song I'd be dancing to, feel free to choose your own or use this one.

The flashing lights strobe to the rhythm of the music. Lighting up the stage in melodic hues of pink and purple that move across your skin in velvet pools. As usual, you're in your own world while you dance, in the flow of movement. You watch yourself in the mirror, admiring your body and the new bikini you're wearing. It suits you perfectly and matches your platform heels. The pole is a tool, and you use it expertly, your every movement graceful and slow as eyes around the room watch.

When you started dancing a year ago, the stage was the worst part for you. Even worse than the grabby, asshole customers or those certain girls who always got territorial. All the eyes on you gave you a rush of nerves and excitement you could barely stand. You preferred talking to everyone, moving around the room socializing, and hanging with the other friendly dancers.

Today, you're starting to hate the stage again, when the man sitting up front whistles at you. You turn to see his greasy, grinning face as he puts the dollar between his teeth. You force yourself to smile and ease down onto your knees, crawling slowly over to him. You lean back, watching his eyes admire as you trail your hand up your stomach, caressing your tits a little before slipping off your bikini top.

You lean down and motorboat him, but he doesn't give up the dollar.

“C’mon girl. Gimme something.”

You smile, already annoyed. You slowly turn and put your ass in his face, swirling it around.

“There we go,” he grumbles.

You roll your eyes. Then he jabs you with the dollar, seemingly trying to shove it up your asshole. You jerk away, grabbing his hand. He's laughing when you turn, and you’re still smiling though you're officially annoyed. Across the room, another dancer catches your eye and you give her the SOS look. She trots off to find a security guard. For better or worse, she goes right to Billy.

He's already watching, his focus sharp as a hawk. He’d only been working there a few months, but the connection between the two of you had been instant. You knew it was stupid to date a coworker, but you were falling for him quick and let’s face it; you didn’t always make the soundest choices. Still, he always made you feel safe. When the girl goes and tells him you gave her a look, it's all the excuse he needs to come over.

It's just in time, too.

The man keeps trying to wedge the dollar up your butt crack, making you scoot away. Billy grabs his wrist. Glaring down at the guy with fire in his gaze.

“You new here?” He asks in a condescending tone, snatching the dollar.“Its like this” he looks at you. “May I?” he asks, and you nod, already at peace just having him there. Billy gently places the crumpled buck under the string of your bikini. “See that?” He says to the man, who's now scowling.

“Yeah, I got it, buddy.”

“Good.”

You lock eyes with Billy for a moment, mouthing ‘thank you’ as you go back to dancing.

After your set, the jerk asks you for a dance. On a better night, you'd say no, but it's slow and you can't afford to turn down money, even from a creep. You take his hand, smiling as you lead him over to the private dance area. Billy sees this, and you can tell even from across the crowded room that he hates it.

Back in the private area you get your money upfront and start to dance, trying to be careful, though there's not much you can do. Try not to smile too much, don't give him the impression you wanna be touched. Then again some guys like touching people who don't want it.

The way he looks at you makes you nervous and you avoid his eyes. It’s not the way a horny guy normally looks, the man looks like he wants to literally cook and eat your flesh. The song ends and you stand up, stepping away from him with a smile.

“All done, honey.” You say, your voice dripping with sweetness.

“Not so fast, sugar tits.” He waves another 20 in looks at you with his brows raised. When you hesitate he only laughs “C’mon. Make your money, dollface.”

You’re reluctant, but you smile again, this time it’s so fake it hurts your cheeks. You take the money and start to dance. He keeps groaning and the sound makes you sick. Then, halfway through the song, he locks his arm around your waist and starts groping your ass.

“That’s it,” he groans into your face.

You struggle, trying to push away, but his arm is locked in place and you start to panic, your heart racing as you scramble to escape his violating hand. His finger trying to press into you.

Then, a fist shoots past your head, rocking the dude in his mouth. The guy yells and lets go, letting you scramble to your feet. Billy's got him by the collar and punches him again, his mouth bleeding now.

“Billy, stop!”

You yell this and miraculously, he does. He drags the guy away by his collar, fuming as he leads him out, the jerk stumbling over himself.

“You okay?” Another girl asks. You wanna say you're fine, but you're shaking all over. She helps you collect your bikini and your money and you settle in the dressing room with your head down.

You've had plenty of bad nights as a dancer. Plenty of times your self-esteem has been shaken and you've worried some guy was becoming obsessed with you. Nothing like this. You'd never been so scared before.

Footsteps come stomping into the room and you don't have to look up to know it's Billy. You see him round the row of lockers and spot you. He's fuming, his face red, his knuckles bruised and spotted with blood.

“You can't do this shit anymore,” he says.

“It's just a bad night.”

“That guy had you!” he yelled, rattling your nerves even more “If I wasn't watching the cameras he would've-”

“Stop yelling at me!”

He falls quiet. You turn around on the bench, trying to catch your breath and calm yourself down.

“I know what you're gonna say.” You kick off your heels. “But could you just…not yell? Could you like, comfort me for a second?”

He lets out a breath and sits beside you, letting you wrap your arms around his strong torso as he tucks you under his arm, wrapping you in a hug. Like this, he can feel how much you're shaking and it only makes him more angry.

“You can't do this anymore. I can't fuckin watch this every night.”

“You could a couple weeks ago.”

“It's different now,” he says, rubbing your arm.

You scoff.

“C’mon, Billy. I told you I wasn't gonna quit when we got together. You said-”

“This type of shit wasn't part of the deal. And it's just gonna keep happening, baby. Maybe not every night, but it will.”

You pull out of the hug, shaking your head, you stand and start getting dressed in your street clothes.

“You know I can't leave. Tuition is due soon, rent just went up-”

“So get a normal job.”

“One that pays like this?” You're pulling on your pants, desperate to get home. Billy stands with you, a little pleading in his eyes. He takes your face in his hands, making you look at his handsome face.

“You told me last night you planned to dance for a year. So. The year came and went and here you are.”

You look down, your eyes stinging with tears.

“Shit changed.”

“So how long?”

You're embarrassed and pull out of his hands.

“I can't just drop it, Billy.”

“So, everything you said was bullshit?”

You shake your head.

“Of course not. I really like you, but I have a life. There's things I have to pay for.”

You're picking up your duffle bag and purse, only to have him take the bag on his own shoulder. He stared down at you. Insistent.

“Fine.” He says “Two more months.”

“Excuse me?”

“Two more months. Pay tuition, pay rent, and both of us find something else. Anything else.”

Before you can argue he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. That's what got you in the end. Made you break your no coworkers rule for him. Those lips, the way he kissed you like he'd been dying to do it for years. When he pulls back you touch his cheek, staring at him hard. He’s frowning a little, so concerned. So certain in his desire to protect you.

Something occurs to you as you look into his eyes.

“Are you trying to say you love me?”

“Yes,” he answers with no hesitation.

You shake your head, grinning.

“Falling in love at a strip club. Rookie mistake.”

“I'm a rookie, then.” He says “So? Deal?”

You sigh again, looking down you play with the zipper on your hoodie.

“If you come over tonight and keep me company…then yes.” You look back up into his eyes “Two months.”

His expression finally eases.

“Say it again.”

“Two months?”

“No,” he says, “the other thing.”

You smile.

“You love me.”

He nods, slowly, his eyes moving over every inch of your face like he's trying to memorize you.

“Yeah,” he says “That.”

You spend so long in the shower your fingers wrinkle, and still you wash. Scrubbing every inch of yourself with so much soap, until the water runs cold and you're forced to get out. But you can still feel that man’s clammy, calloused hands, his finger trying to force its way into you while you fought in vain to escape it.

You get dressed for bed and still you're shaking. Pulling on a t-shirt Billy had left and a pair of panties. The clothes feel dirty. You feel dirty.

Fuck. Why should it matter so much? He didn't actually…fuck, why is it still so scary, even now?

You crawl into bed and fall into a fitful sleep full of the sensation of strange hands against your skin. You find yourself waking time and again to swat away phantom fingers slipping under your shirt, groping you through your panties. You swat at a hand on your shoulder, jolting away from the touch.

“Hey, hey,” Billy says, getting into bed beside you “It's just me.”

Relief rushes over you, letting loose all the tension in you. You scootch yourself into his arms, overwhelmed by fear. He kisses your cheek and then your forehead as you nestle closer, wrapping you up.

“I'm sorry, baby.”

He whispers.

“I can't…” your breath catches “I can't stop feeling it.”

He touches your cheek, wanting to look in your eyes. At first, you can't do it, you don't want him to see you like this. Then, you look. In the moonlight spilling through the window, you see him looking at you with so much tenderness and you feel so safe that it hurts.

“Tell me how to fix it.”

A hopeless sob escapes you. You know what you want, but you can't bring yourself to say it. Instead, you take his hand and place it on your ass, under your panties, pushing his middle finger onto the entrance itself.

“Here?”

He asks, rubbing the spot. You're amazed at what a difference wanting it makes. You nod, and he swirls his finger around, making a gentle moan roll up your throat.

“This is where he touched you, baby?”

His voice is tight, and you nod. It feels so good, you press your lips to his, letting him pull you in tighter. He spits on his finger and returns it to the spot, kissing your neck. You're moaning softly, your nerves finally softening.

“Inside,” you say.

He pushes in, and a warm rush moves through you, forcing your eyes closed. His finger moves in and out, the rest of his strong hand cupping your cheeks while his middle pumps into your asshole.

“God,” you sigh.

“S’this okay?”

He breathes and you nod, looking at him with drunken eyes. He kisses you, and finally, mercifully, your mind goes blank. All you can feel is him.

Thanks for reading ~

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove smut #stranger things #billy hargrove 18+#fanfic #billy hargrove imagine #billy stranger things #story #miheartsedthings

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say-al0e · 2 years

Text

Sweet Thing

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: A lazy summer morning with Eddie means lying in bed, listening as he plays guitar. It’s not your fault he looks so pretty doing it.

Warnings: Unprotected p in v, very very light choking, a little overstimulation, mentions of drug use, AU in which Eddie (finally) graduated, mention of handcuff usage, a little dom!Eddie (though switch!Eddie is referenced).

Pairing: Eddie x fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k (I was so close to staying under 5k!)

Stranger Things Taglist | Stranger Things Masterlist | Accepting non-smut requests for Eddie and Steve!

The summer air was stifling, sticky and warm despite the open window and small fan whirring loudly in the corner of the room. A faint herbal scent, combined with a mixture of other scents you’d come to associate with Eddie - cigarette smoke, green apple shampoo, patchouli cologne - enveloped you each time the pitiful breeze blew and had you melting into the sheets as time slowly ticked away.

Eddie spent most of the morning stretched out beside you, scribbling lyrics in a composition book that had seen better days and plucking at the strings of his guitar. There wasn’t much else to do, not in Hawkins, but it wasn’t as if there was anywhere else you’d rather be.

Tendrils of light filtered in through the open window, illuminated the organized chaos that was his bedroom and cast shadows across his face. He was aware that you were watching him, tilted head with a lazy smile - and the occasional pout, eager for a kiss - every so often, but said nothing as he reveled in your attention.

For a few blissful moments, you traced his profile - the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the way his lips wrapped around the butt of a cigarette - before your gaze began to wander.

He lounged shirtless beside you, skin decorated with contrasting black ink and a smattering of purple and pink bruises left in the shape of your mouth, your fingers, your teeth. His chest rose and fell steadily, breathing easy despite the humidity, while your own breathing began to grow shallower.

There was something about him, bathed in the warm glow of sunlight, still disheveled from the night before - dark hair a messy halo, lips still swollen from your kiss, pajama pants slung low on his hips - that made your heart skip a beat. It set your skin alight, warmed you in a way the heat outside couldn’t begin to touch, and made you desperate to reach out and touch him, just to remind yourself that he was real.

Though you’d spent the better part of the weekend tangled together, a mess of limbs and sheets, there was no shame in the desire you felt. Eddie wanted you just as much as you wanted him, reveled in the weight of your eyes roving his body and took pleasure in showing off the marks you left behind. He took pleasure in knowing that he drove you wild - pride in the fact that you’d gotten comfortable owning your sexuality with him - so you made no effort to hide the way that you felt.

Fire coursed through your veins, simmered low in your belly and singed you from the inside out, as your gaze fell to his hands. His fingers moved effortlessly, plucking at strings with a practiced ease, and you shifted to press your thighs together as flashes of the night before flickered in your mind.

Eddie spent the entirety of the movie - some blockbuster neither of you really cared much about - with his hand between your thighs. His eyes remained on the screen, careful not to draw attention, as he worked you up time after time, stopping when your breathing hitched and your fingers dug into his forearm. His smirk grew with each disappointed whimper, with every scathing look you shot him, but you knew that he would make up for it.

He spent most of the night giving you the orgasms he denied you in the theater - two in the back of his van, still in the theater parking lot; one on the couch, too desperate to have one another to make it to his bed; and more than you could count when he finally got you between his sheets, back where you felt you belonged - and you woke with an ache between your thighs that he seemed all too proud of.

Still, that did little to dull the desire you felt for him as you watched his fingers move across the neck of the guitar.

His rings were gone, tossed onto his dresser, but that didn’t matter. His hands still transfixed you, sent a shiver down your spine as you recounted the moments he spent mapping your body with them, and though you’d both jokingly sworn to keep your hands to yourselves for the day - you knew that it was impossible, just as he did, but that never stopped you from pretending - you shifted closer in hopes of having him break first.

As the bed dipped, soft brown eyes flickered to yours. They were half-lidded but keenly aware of the emotion flickering across your face in the way that only he seemed capable of as the corner of his mouth curved into a lazy smile.

Without even a moment of hesitation, Eddie leaned over to drop another half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray before settling with his back pressed to the wall. “C’mere.”

There was no need for further instruction - you knew exactly what he wanted - so you readily maneuvered your way between his spread thighs, back pressed to his chest, body caged by his, and smiled as he settled his guitar across your lap.

Your scrambling was eager, almost desperate, but there was no shame in how quickly you obliged him. There were moments of push and pull - moments he pushed, eager to have you on your knees, happy to oblige his every whim; moments you pulled, desperate to see him wide-eyed and blushing as he begged for you - and with the heat you felt consuming you, you were glad to let him push if it meant relief.

As you settled between his thighs, a quiet hum of encouragement, followed by a mumbled, “Let’s see what you’ve got, princess,” set you in motion.

It was a struggle to remember all that Eddie had taught you - he was a good teacher, never too technical, never annoyed when you got it wrong, but he tended to throw quite a bit of knowledge at you all at once. Still you began plucking at the strings, just to feel his smile as his lips brushed the back of your neck.

Warm hands fell to your thighs as you racked your brain for the chords he’d taught you. Eddie’s fingers, steady and practiced, idly brushed the soft skin of your inner thighs - littered with bruises in the shape of his mouth, his fingers - as he rested his chin on your shoulder. This was far from the first time you’d ended up in this position and, desperately, you hoped that it wouldn’t be the last as Eddie hummed along to the barely recognizable Ozzy song you attempted to play.

Eddie’s presence made it difficult to concentrate on a normal day; the intensity of his gaze so clearly focused on you, the warmth of him bleeding into you as he spent nearly every moment touching you, the unique scent of him. Feeling him envelop you completely - body pressed firmly against yours, hair tickling your neck with every tilt of his head, warm breath fanning across your skin, fingers brushing dangerously close to the flimsy layer of soaked cotton covering your cunt - made it nearly impossible.

Each chord seemed worse than the last, each note sharper and more disjointed, and Eddie noticed. “Am I distracting you, princess?” His voice dipped lower, a quiet rasp that simmered low in your belly, and forced a sharp exhale from your lungs. It sent goosebumps erupting across your skin and made the ache between your thighs grow that much stronger.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the smirk on his lips, the way his eyes glittered mischievously, and shifted to ease the ache between your thighs. Before you could feel anything resembling relief, Eddie’s grip on your thighs tightened to keep them parted, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he leaned in to nip at your shoulder.

“Of course not.” The refutation sounded weak in your own ears, a breathless huff he was sure to see right through, but you were stunned you were still capable of speech as he nuzzled your neck. “I’m just hot.”

Eddie hummed, a thoughtful sound that vibrated against your skin, as his fingers trailed higher. The calloused digits ghosted along the band of fabric at the juncture of your hip, traced the path his lips blazed the night before, while he tilted his head to meet your eyes. “Mm, can’t have that.” His fingers trailed higher, bypassed the place you so desperately wanted him to touch, and stopped to trace the hem of your - his - t-shirt. “As hot as you are in my clothes, maybe getting you out of them will cool you down.”

There was no desire to tease, no effort on your part to throw a scathing taunt at him, and Eddie bit back his laughter as you nodded. “I think you might be right. Maybe you should help me out of it. Just so I don’t overexert myself, you know?”

“Of course.” The huff of Eddie’s laughter tickled your skin but you could hear the pleased lilt as he slipped his hands beneath the fabric. “Can’t have my girl suffering.”

Occasionally, Eddie took his time with you. He drew out the experience, made it last as long as he could get away with, and as his fingers brushed the sliver of skin just above the waistband of your panties, you knew that this would be one of those times.

Neither of you had anywhere to be so you reveled in his touch, sighed as his hands mapped your skin, and bit your lip as he began to inch the fabric up your torso. His lips brushed the column of your throat, the back of your neck, the sliver of skin exposed beneath the collar of the shirt; his teeth scraped the sensitive juncture of your neck, grinning when you gasped.

“Lift your arms for me, sweetheart.”

Instantly, you shifted the guitar to a stable position and lifted your arms, just as he requested. Eddie hummed, pleased, and continued bunching the fabric higher and higher. His fingers left a trail of fire in their wake, searing the path they mapped across your skin as they brushed just beneath your breasts. He paused for a moment, eager to cup them in his hands - fingers tweaking the stiff peaks of your nipples, lips curving into a smirk when you made a soft noise of pleasure - before he tugged the fabric up and over your head.

“Let’s make a deal.” The words, though clearly spoken, made little sense to you as the entirety of your focus fell to Eddie’s hands cupping your breasts. He lazily brushed his thumb along the skin, occasionally brushing a sensitive nipple, as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Play me a song,” he began, grin growing as you huffed, “any song you want, and if you can make it through the whole song without missing a chord, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“If I can’t?”

There was little chance you’d make it - not with him so close, with his body so warm and his fingers so insistent - and you both knew it. So it came as little surprise when he shrugged. “You’ll just have to give me what I want instead.”

In almost every case, you wanted the same thing. No matter how the encounter started, it was nearly guaranteed to end in blinding pleasure. Eddie never left you wanting - never put his pleasure before yours - so giving him what he wanted was no loss to you.

“Any song I want?”

Eddie hummed his confirmation as his hands began to trail down your sides. His palms slid across your heated skin, touch a familiar comfort that had your head spinning, as he used the leverage to pull you further into him. The press of his warm chest to your back, the heat slick skin warming yours, derailed your train of thought as you reached for the guitar.

The first note filled the room, masked the quiet sounds of your breathing, and you wondered if he would remember to put on a tape before taking what he wanted - what you both wanted. The noise complaints never bothered either of you but it had been so long since you’d heard him clearly, moans and groans and whimpers of pleasure unaccompanied by Black Sabbath or Metallica or Megadeth, that you hoped he wouldn’t.

Though he’d taught you a handful of his favorites - Ozzy, mostly - he’d learned some of your favorites, just to teach you. And as Crimson and Clover began to fill the room, Eddie laughed quietly. “Joan Jett? C’mon, princess. Thought I taught you better than this.”

His taunt was soft, playful, and you paid little attention to the words in your ear as the rasp of his voice hit you square in the chest. It contributed to the slick gathering between your thighs, the warmth dampening your skin, the heat rushing to your cheeks. There was little you could say without exposing how gone you already were so you simply shot him a look and continued playing.

For a few moments, Eddie remained relatively still. His hands remained on your hips, fingers idly brushing your skin - pinky occasionally dipping lower to brush the cotton band at your waist - as he sang quietly. Though it was distracting, you decided you could live with it, especially if he continued mumbling lyrics in your ear and nipping at your skin as you desperately attempted to focus.

“You’re doing good, sweetheart.” Eddie’s voice was a low rumble, reverberating through his chest and rattling your nerves as he exhaled - the same heavy breath that so often followed your lips wrapping around him.

“Talking to me or the guitar?” The taunt surprised you both, though it was easy to hear the quiver in your voice as you barely held yourself together.

Eddie nipped your shoulder, teeth sinking into the soft flesh momentarily. The sharp sting drew a quiet gasp, only to meld into a soft sigh as he soothed the mark with a soft press of his lips. He shifted behind you, smirked against your skin when you inhaled sharply at the feel of his arousal pressing into your lower back, and hummed. “You know I’m much nicer when I’m talking to the guitar, princess.”

“Eddie.”

The warning edge in your voice made him laugh, a quiet huff of air that fanned across your skin and set your nerve endings alight. Though there was no real power dynamic in your relationship - you both gave as good as you got - this was his moment. He’d taken the reins, was guiding this encounter with his hands and mouth, and there was no need for him to remind you of that as his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties.

As you attempted to focus, fingers clumsily plucking at the strings - chords slightly off but none missing, yet - Eddie spread your thighs a fraction wider. His fingers brushed the top of your mound, ghosting over the skin as he hummed along to the music, and your body tensed as you prepared for him to finally touch you.

Instead, he stilled. His fingers brushed your skin, warmth bleeding into you as his thumb dragged along the cotton. From the corner of your eye you could see his smirk and you bit back a huff as you continued playing.

The closer you drew to the end of the song, the more Eddie began to move. The hand on your hip drifted up your side, fingers brushing your heated skin, stopping when he reached your breasts. He cupped one, fingers tweaking the hardened bud beneath his fingers, as the fingers just beneath the band of your panties began to dip lower.

Calloused fingers brushed your slit, gathered the slick pooled between your thighs, as Eddie exhaled heavily. A quiet moan escaped before you could stop it, desperate and keening as you shifted into his touch, while he pressed his thumb to your clit.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Eddie sounded awed, as if he couldn’t believe watching him had gotten to you like this, but you both knew better. The nights after his shows, nights after Hellfire, nights after parties - observing him, seeing the beautiful man you were lucky enough to call yours, was enough to set your whole body alight.

Abandoning the guitar was almost too easy.

As Eddie coated his fingers with your slick, spread your folds and bumped your aching clit with each brush of his hand, everything outside of him ceased to exist. The feeling of his fingers kneading your breast, his chest pressed to your back - each noise he made reverberating through your chest - and his arousal pressed to your lower back overwhelmed you.

Your hand fell to his thigh, fingers gripping the worn plaid of his pajama pants, while he nuzzled your neck. “So good, just for me. Love it when you let me make a mess of you, sweetheart.”

The words rattled around your brain, echoed in your ears and settled low in the pit of your stomach as his calloused fingers teased your entrance. His thumb found your clit, rubbed achingly slow circles, as he mouthed at your pulse point. “Love seeing my good girl get filthy, just for me.”

“Eddie, please.” The plea came out as a whine, sharp and piercing as Eddie continued to tease. “Please touch -“

Before the words fully tumbled out of your mouth, a rush of jumbled pleas, his fingers dipped lower. He pressed them inside, buried them to the knuckle, and nipped at your neck when a broken moan replaced the rest of your sentence.

Eddie tutted as the hand at your breast lifted to settle over your throat. He never squeezed, never cut off your air supply, but you both liked the thrill of feeling it rest there. His fingers pressed the pulse point, felt your heartbeat hammering away beneath his touch, and he hummed. “We’ve been at it like rabbits and you still can’t get enough of me. Who would’ve thought the pretty little good girl was such a nympho?”

His fingers pressed impossibly deeper, curved in search of that little spot that had you seeing stars, as you moaned. There was no shame in how much you wanted him - no shame in how often you wanted him - and you knew that the ego boost would make the moment infinitely better for the both of you.

A keening moan escaped, high-pitched and breathless, as Eddie’s thumb pressed your clit. “Only for you, Eds,” you swore, nails certainly leaving crescent-shaped marks in his thigh. “You’re the only one I want. Please!”

The quiet noise of approval nearly escaped your notice, quiet beneath the ragged sound of your breathing and the barely audible noise of Eddie’s fingers pressing into you, but the change in his pace did not. His fingers worked faster, pressed harder, as his thumb rubbed frantic circles over your clit.

“Are you close, princess?” Words failed you - replaced by whimpers of his name, keening little noises that had him groaning in your ear - but your frantic nod was met with a coo. “You wanna come? Soak my fingers, ruin the sheets?”

Just as your orgasm began to crest, as your fingers dug into Eddie’s thighs and your head rested on his shoulder, he removed his hand. Bewildered, your eyes snapped open and you tilted your head to look at him. However, before you could voice your outrage aloud, he lifted his fingers to his lips and shot you a wink as he cleaned your arousal from them, before reaching for your chin with spit shiny fingers.

“You missed a few chords, princess.”

The reminder drew a whine from you but Eddie quickly silenced it with a searing kiss. His mouth pressed to yours, lips still kiss-swollen from the night before, and you could feel his smile when you sighed at the feeling. There was no use in whining, no use in begging; when Eddie got an idea in his head, he was determined to see it through.

Instead, you succumbed to his wishes - certain that he would give you more than enough in return for the denial - and whimpered as his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Without your notice, he shifted to place the guitar beside his bed - eager to keep it safe from harm - before pulling away to search your eyes.

When he found no hint of hesitation on your face, no indication that you would cut and run the moment he asked for what he wanted, he grinned.

“Hands and knees for me, sweetheart.”

There were few moments Eddie asked for anything other than missionary or cowgirl - he preferred seeing your face, liked to watch your eyes flutter shut and your lips part as you moaned for him, liked seeing the way your eyes went all glassy and your expression as you came - but as rare as they were, they were always fun.

A small part of you wondered if he would grab the handcuffs still carelessly tossed onto the nightstand after their use the night before - or maybe the bandana he sometimes used to keep you quiet, especially if you’d already gotten one noise complaint - but he made no effort to grab either as you maneuvered yourself into position on jelly limbs.

Eddie clambered after you, settled behind you with a groan at the sight, before reaching out. Calloused fingers brushed your heated skin, traced the length of your spine, before palming your ass. Eddie gripped the flesh roughly, fingers digging into the sensitive skin, before hooking his fingers into the cotton band at your waist.

As he dragged the cotton of your panties down, freed one leg at a time - tossing them someplace neither of you would find, lost to the ether of his room - he made an appreciative noise.

His fingers swiped your dripping folds, nudged your clit with the tip of one, before he pressed himself closer. “So fucking good for me,” he mumbled, not sounding at all as if he were speaking to you. It was beneath his breath, a praise lost to the noise of your bodies moving together, but you keened, just the same.

“You ready for me, baby?”

A warm hand gripped your hip, fingers digging into the flesh in an attempt to anchor himself, as Eddie awaited your consent. Words seemed nearly impossible, more effort than you felt capable of, so you nodded eagerly.

Eddie pressed forward, guided his cock through your slick folds - coated himself in your arousal - before notching the head at your entrance. As eager as you both were, desperate to feel one another once more, he took his time sinking into you. The stretch of his fingers prepared you but there was always a slight pinch that dissolved into the most pleasant ache when he buried himself to the hilt.

Calloused fingers brushed at your skin, traced patterns only he could decipher, for a moment as you adjusted. But when you shifted your hips, eager to feel him move, Eddie took the hint.

With Eddie, sex varied. He could be soft and slow, sweet when he wanted to be. He could be silly, teasing you with goofy faces and tickling fingers. He could be submissive, big brown eyes staring up at you as he waited for your next move. But when he felt the need to take control, to brand his fingerprints into your skin and leave you aching for him, those nights were the most memorable.

He began slowly enough, pressing into you as deep as he could with slow, even strokes. His fingers stroked your skin as he spoke, rambling compliments that made your heart soar. But that never lasted very long. Gradually, his pace grew more frantic; harder thrusts, pressing deeper as one hand slipped from your hip to the juncture between your thighs.

Eddie pressed the pads of his fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbed frantic circles in time with his thrusts, and swore each time you clenched around him. The denial made you sensitive, had you on edge almost instantly, and Eddie could tell with every keening moan of his name you released.

The orgasm you were barreling toward made your limbs unsteady, had you shaking in his grasp, and Eddie laughed as your arms gave out and your face fell into the pillow. The hand on your hip moved, rubbed your back in a soothing motion, but his pace never faltered.

Until he stopped completely.

As you clenched around him, release so close you could feel the tingling in the tips of your fingers and toes, Eddie pulled out, laughing when you whined, and tapped your ass with a heavy hand. “C’mon, princess,” he urged, voice sounding just as wrecked as you felt. “I got the prettiest girl in the world, gotta see that pretty face when you come for me.”

It made sense - given his history, you were wondering how long he would last before switching positions - but you couldn’t help the pout on your lips. “Can’t feel my arms.” Eddie laughed, used to your dramatics, and easily helped you onto your back before settling between your spread thighs.

One hand fell to your hip, fingers digging into your overheated skin, as the other wrapped around his cock. “Take me so well, princess,” he praised, eyes glassy as he took in the sight of you spread open beneath him. You were a debauched mess, hair and makeup ruined, but Eddie looked as if he’d never seen anyone more beautiful. “Pretty little cunt was made for me.” He tapped the head of his cock against your clit, laughing when you jolted, and tilted his head to study you.

He smirked at your gasp - still somehow floored by the words that spilled out of him in the moments he took control - and shuffled closer. “Please, Eds.” Your moan had him inhaling sharply, desperate to keep himself together as he stroked his cock - still slick with your arousal. “Fuck me. I wanna come. Please, make me come.”

“Sound so pretty begging for me, princess. How could I say no to that? Fuck. My good girl, always asking so nice for what she wants.” He pressed forward, sank back into you in one quick stroke, and moaned as you clenched around him. “I’ve been mean, huh, princess? Denying you twice. How about I make it up to you?”

The glimmer in his eyes told you exactly what he had in mind but as desperate as you were to come, you could only agree. “Please, Eds. Make me feel so good. Wanna come for you.”

“I got you, princess.”

Eddie resumed his pace, hips rutting into yours as he pressed you into the mattress. He settled most of his weight over you, leaned in to nip at your neck, and you reached out to tangle your fingers in his hair. Your orgasm quickly built back up, burning white hot in your veins, and this time, Eddie did nothing to extinguish it.

“C’mon, princess,” he urged, voice low as he lifted his head to search your face. “Come for me.”

With a cry of his name, your release finally hit you. Eddie’s pace never faltered, his hips and fingers continuing to work you over, as he tilted his head to get a better look at you. “There she is,” he cooed, voice a ruined rasp. “Fuck, look at you. So fucking pretty.” He huffed with the exertion, his voice breaking in a few places as he spoke, but that did little to shut him up. “Shit, you’re perfect, princess. So fucking good for me. Wanna feel you come again. You can do that for me, right?”

The overstimulation was prickling at your nerves, a live wire to your skin with every snap of his hips and brush of his thumb, but the pleading look in his eyes - and the white-hot energy coursing through your veins, setting your entire body alight - had you nodding. “For you.”

He leaned in, pressed his mouth to yours in a messy clash of lips and teeth that only vaguely resembled a kiss, but you used the grip on his hair to hold him closer as he rocked into you. He eagerly swallowed your desperate moans, the breathless whimpers rising in pitch with every brush of his thumb, and nipped at your bottom lip when you began to clench around him once more.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he encouraged, eyes blown wide as he took in the disheveled state of you. “C’mon, princess. One more for me. One more and I’ll come for you. Where d’you want it, baby?”

“Inside, please. Eddie, please!”

The second release hit you harder than the first, knocked the air from your lungs and turned the edges of your vision white. A keening noise escaped you, sharper - higher, louder - than anything you’d heard from yourself before and, vaguely, you knew there would be a noise complaint awaiting his uncle when he returned home. But that thought quickly disappeared as Eddie continued to mumble praise in your ear.

His hips stuttered, pace faltering slightly as your release triggered his own, and you matched his moan as he spilled into you. He buried himself to the hilt, fingers digging into your hip - likely leaving behind perfect little indentations of his fingertips - and groaned as he dropped his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “Good morning to you, too.”

Weakly, you tugged at the locks of hair between your fingers and groaned when you felt Eddie’s cock twitch at the gesture. “And you called me the nympho,” you teased, voice shattered.

Eddie lifted his head, eyes narrowed as he took in the state of you, before he grinned. “Maybe it’s just because it’s you, princess. Everything about you gets me going.”

“Mm.” You gingerly ran your fingers through his hair as he shifted - drew a huff from both of you when he pulled out. “And here I was, thinking that you, like, loved me or something.”

“Of course I love you, princess.” He was quick to say it, ready to provide any assurance you might need, but when he saw the sparkle of mischief in your eyes - the teasing glint that lived for riling him up - he rolled his eyes and pulled you into his chest. “Even if you can’t go more than a few hours without jumping my bones.”

“Y’know, one day, we should make a bet. See who can last longer.”

Eddie hummed, pretending to think about it, before tilting his head to meet your eyes. “I’d kick your ass, sweetheart. But not today, though.”

“In your dreams, Munson.” Realistically, you knew that neither of you would last - as much as you loved Eddie for his personality, the little things, and as much as you loved spending time with him doing nothing in particular, you truly enjoyed your time spent between the sheets as much as he did - but that would be saved for another day. So, instead, you agreed. “Not today, though.”

There was time to be made up for - months you’d missed out on due to school - and celebrations to be had as Eddie had finally graduated and would be joining you in Indianapolis in the fall. For the moment, all that mattered was the sweet thing you had going on.

___________________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: Okay, I swear. The next fic is not gonna be smut. It’s gonna have a real plot. And it’s gonna be for Eddie. I just gotta. Write it. It’s not my fault he's so fucking pretty. With those eyes and that face. Ugh.

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame

If you’re not tagged, it’s because Tumblr wouldn’t let me!

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things x reader #v's fics

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lilacsareinbloomagain · 4 months

Note

Heyo! May I request platonic yandere chain with reader? But instead of isekai like normal the reader is actually a destructive spirit or deity that was reawakened by either Dark Link or Ganon? Anywhoooo I hope you’re having a great week- mine was filled with exams lmfaooooo

Thanks for requesting anon! I really hope you had good results from those exams!

Notes: My week was okay, thank you for asking!!

I really let out my imagination out on this one, hope you'll like it.

BTW, take this as a part on the back for getting through your week.

I feel like I made the yandereness on this one so light, I'm sorry

-> Reader can't bring themselves to remember anyone's names so just remembers their most striking characteristics in their opinion.

-> It's been a while since I've read the comic, so Time keeping FD's mask on his belt for safety measures (since it's the most dangerous one and he can't lose it) is merely a headcanon of mine.

-> Reader is a menace who has questionable intellect (AKA a chaotic, pyromaniac, destructive entity being forced to be nice to others by the good guys™).

-> I left the end ambiguous, so you guys can decide if reader was either truly tamed or is still a menace who Time has to keep on check so they won't be too cruel on their "pranks".

-> Reader also magically rearranged Time's ocarina so each hole would play different a different sound at some point, so he literally had to re-learn where each note was so that he could go back to playing his songs again.

-> Reader slept for more than Time and Wild both and doesn't know a thing about the Zelda lore other than the Golden goddesses.

TWs: Light platonic yanderism, mention of burns, mentions of fire and arson, mentions of loud noises, basically just reader being an absolute hazard to anyone and everyone.

Platonic yandere! Chain x Reader

Debt to pay.

People from your time used to say that one could sooner move a mountain from it's resting place rather than tame your natural ways.

You wouldn't say you were a deity, per say, you thrived on chaos and setbacks, a living annoyance to the poor living things that breathed the same air as you, and roamed the earth by the same time you did.

It was in your nature to be destructive, yes, but you never wanted destruction, at least not full extinction. The darkness and the light were both two sides of the same rupee, they were one just like the other, beings of both sides would react the exact identical way to having their butts lit on fire. So, of course, you weren't one to pick and choose who you'd go after each day.

Thing is, most people didn't understand that —if anyone at all— so everyone just assumed you were a being of pure darkness, even if you actually saw yourself as more of a dark gray entity from a moral chart perspective.

And that was how you got yourself “killed”, if that's even the right thing to call it.

Somehow, no one seemed to care much when you lit whole villages on fire and made all of the walls of full-on castles start dissing out pure electricity, but they almost dislocated their jaws the moment you decided to do a silly trick and turn all of their lovely goddesses statues upside down for a day.

As if those same goddesses hadn't just ignored all of their prayers in the last hundreds of years you spent freely making their lives miserable.

You were stored in a vase. Not even a cool cool one. A plain clay vase deep within a temple under the ground. If you could choose, you'd have preferred something more majestic and up to the level of your power, but then again, it wasn't like you were in place to say anything in your defense.

Sometimes you just wondered how your small group of worshipers were. They probably weren't the best people out there, if you could say so yourself, but you were still curious if they ended up having similar fates to yours.

A long, long time later, you were "revived", for the same reason you were "killed".

Not the best choice on the part of whoever went through the trouble of doing all that, but who were you to judge? Or even to complain?

From what you could get from the boring evil monologue the guy in front of you was giving after having just woken you up from the longest nap you've ever had —since you couldn't really die— the guy wanted you to aid him in his quest to kill some other guys and take over the world or some boring nefarious plan like that.

You couldn't recall any of the names he just said, though, so you could only guess that you had either slept for a pretty damn long time, or you were in an entirely different world on itself.

Before you could fully decide on one of the two possibilities, the red guy sent you to fight against that group of guys he was talking about, seven men with varying shades of blonde hair along with two guys who weren't blond at all.

Perhaps you could have admired the strength of the red guy's magic, to just bring you out of your sleep like that and already straight up teleport you.

Thing is, you didn't really care enough to do that, you just did whatever you wanted the moment you realized you were fully conscious and in a physical body once again.

Were you chaotic and very much possibly evil? Yes. Were you stupid, however? Kinda No.

So the moment the opportunity presented itself, you followed those guys around, gathering information. Taking notice also of that one shadow looking dude, who was following them around just like you, seemingly with the intention of making their lives hell.

Maybe he'd be an interesting being to interact with, if he wasn't as prickly as a damn cactus. You swore you couldn't even approach the guy without him reacting like a startled cat, pointing his flimsy sword straight to your face. You swore to yourself you'd break that thing in half one of these days.

And so you set your sights fully on the blond —and the not so blond— guys, taking your time to also play around with the villages they went to and toy with the monster camps they passed by.

Of course, you couldn't just ignore the massively ominous aura drifting from the masks that one of the taller blondies carried around. Your hands itched to get a grasp on those things, whatever was sealed inside it was magical and possibly powerful, and the possibilities sent your mind on quite a dangerous frenzy.

The thing that made you a bit disappointed, however, was how long it took for them to notice your presence.

At some point you decided to start giving them some more obvious hints that what was following them wasn't friendly.

They seemed to really like bomb bags, which wasn't exactly safe for them when you could randomly activate those at will.

Also, you couldn't control the rain or storms, of course, but you definitely could attract lightning, especially since they all seemed to enjoy carrying around those identical metal swords.

Sometimes you just liked to pull on their hair and make knots on them, given that some had really long hair.

The wolf guy had a horse, one you could just startle really easily. Although you didn't have the result you wanted, since the wolf guy wasn't sent flying the moment his horse went crazy.

You caught him later, though. Making loud, high pitched noises to absolutely blow away his senses the moment he turned into a wolf to try and chase you down.

The fire that the short guy was using to mend a weapon randomly became overly strong, enough to have burned his whole arm, if he hadn't pulled away quick enough.

The scarf of the other one just one day became a bit too hard around his neck. It's a good thing for him that he was quick enough to pull it off his neck before he suffocated.

You watched as the one with pink hair almost had a breakdown, as all his colorful, shiny little trinkets and accessories having become dulled, turning completely pitch black, no traces of their original colors or magic left.

The kid tried to control the wind, only to have it blown straight back to his face, bringing leaves and sand with it.

You made sure their cook accidentally poured a bit too much pepper in their food, or salt, even sugar, if you felt like it.

The brown haired one suddenly lost control of his magic, what was supposed to heal their wounds ended up dyeing their hair blue for days on end.

That other guy who always overslept felt his pillow being pulled from under his head at random times through his nights.

And the tall guy's masks have all suddenly decided to disappear.

“Okay. Something is going on here. And it's not something natural.” Time sighed, looking around the camp, tired and worried, concerned.

Wild’s hair was an absolute mess and seemed to have caught on fire at some point, Warriors was glaring at his scarf, keeping it as far from his —almost purple— neck as possible. Wind had his hair almost as messy as Wild's, full of leaves and dirt, he was pretty sure there were also some bugs around it, his cheek had a thin cut from a sharp little rock.

Twilight was occupied comforting Epona, although the both of them seemed quite shaken up by something.

Four had some burns around the tips of his fingers, his hair usual blond hair now stained with blue, Hyrule sitting beside him with a frown, bandaging his hands rather than using his healing magic like he normally would.

Sky wasn't far from the two, almost dozing off despite the migraine that had settled behinds his eyes, which were now dotted with heavy bags from sleepless nights. Legend's terrible mood did not seem to disturb his need for a nap.

“Oh, really?” Legend almost growled back, positively fuming with barely contained rage gleaming in his eyes.

“Vet, I am not your enemy here, but once we find out who is doing this, you can direct your anger towards whoever they are.” Time shot a look to the other.

“That is, if it's even a person doing this. It might be some kind of monster.” Warriors commented.

“One thing we're sure of is that there's magic involved in this.” Hyrule spoke up, finished with the bandaging.

“I don't even know why you're so mad, Leg, you were possibly the least affected by this.” Four complained, eyebrows furrowed with stress. Even as a blacksmith, he was never a fan of getting burned, especially not being caught off guard like that!

“Agreed.” Wild was the next to speak, not bothering to brush the soot out of his hair. It wasn't quite the first time he almost been exploded, after all, even though the experience didn't get any better no matter how many times he went through it.

“You're really saying that, even though the kid only got a burst of wind to the face.”

“Ay! Mind your own business, Legend!” Wind sprung up in defense of himself, already looking to be tense prior to the attack, as the two began arguing.

While the group was in quite the mess, you took your chances to go ahead and approach stealthily to attempt to take the mask you were so curious about. Said mask being the last one you hadn't stolen borrowed yet, since the tall guy seemed to have noticed his other masks disappearances and decided to take extra means of protection towards that one.

In your opinion, your risks were all carefully thought out and calculated, however, you seemed to have completely forgotten about a certain wolf guy at the edge of the camp, standing beside his horse and looking straight at you.

You managed to grab the mask from the taller guy's belt! But at what price..?

Before you could even manage to turn around and run away with it, a hand shot out, hooking on the back of the collar of your shirt, pushing you to the ground in a second. And in another second, there was a blade shoved right in front of your face.

Goddammit.

You barely paid any attention to all the yelling, too occupied hugging your newly acquired possession tightly to your chest.

“Hand me that mask. Now.” A voice right behind you demanded, yet you still didn't move.

“No.”

The sword in front of you seemed to inch just slightly closer to your neck.

“At least tell me what it is, first!” You asked, a bit more squirmy, not at all comfortable with the vulnerability you had right now, since it seemed like that long sleep left you with a bit less power than you used to have, clearly a precaution, should you ever gain you body back. It was smart from your captors, but very much annoying for you.

“None of your business, now give me back my mask!” The tall guy —now in front of you— stressed. You could tell that his restlessness was hinting towards just how near he was to the end of his wits.

“If this piece of porcelain is as powerful as it seems, then yes, yes it is my business!”

It wasn't, not really, but you were too curious to just give up on information just like that.

The tall guy went quiet for a second before he finally replied, going with a question instead of actually giving you an answer like you were expecting from him.

“How do you know how powerful it is?”

“None of your business.” You threw his own words back at him and now the dull side of the sword was suddenly pressing up pretty uncomfortably against your skin, burning you. “Okay, fine, I'll tell you.”

And that was how you met the Links, and also how you became chained to them, unable to leave. After all, you did have to pay them back for all that you did to every single one of them.

But, for some reason, that simple dept seemed to only to get bigger the longer you spent time with them, despite the fact you weren't doing anything entirely wrong…

At least, that was the excuse they gave to you, yet something in you made you feel like that wasn't the full truth.

Extra (This happened)

Time: give me back my shit

Reader: nuh-uh

Time: fym nuh-uh

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