#maybe smoking is my undoing

[reallyadulteratedflower]

I wish my problems didn't collide like this

[msgexymunson]

Life Hack

Description: Maybe Eddie will finally get the message that you do like him when you show him a little bra life hack. 

A/N: what can I say, this was rattling in my head when I showed my partner how to undo a bra one handed and I couldn't help but think of Eddie (because he lives in my brain now and refuses to leave.) If you enjoy it please comment and reblog my sweethearts!

Warnings: NSFW, minor DNI (here there be nipples) fem slightly dom reader, Eddie is an idiot, boob play, dry humping

Masterlist 

1.5k words

You walk into Eddie's room with freshly brushed teeth, wearing a stolen t-shirt of his, the Iron Maiden one with the bleach stains that has become your favourite, and some tiny sleep shorts. Eddie's already sprawled on the bed in a pair of pyjama pants, one arm slung under his head, the other holding half a joint over the full ashtray. 

Fuck, he isn't making this easy. 

His slim toned physique, his tattoos, his happy trail. It's all making your mouth water with anticipation for something that doesn't seem possible. Try as you might to entice him, Eddie's not getting the message. You've been dying for Eddie to take the leap, to move your relationship out of the friendship zone but either he doesn't like you that way or he really is an idiot. 

One minute he's flirting, the next he's punching you on the arm and play fighting with you like you're his kid sister or something. It really makes you wonder how he lost his virginity in the first place.

"You want some of this?" 

"Huh?" You ask just a little too loudly. 

"This," he says, waving the joint at you and smirking.  

"Oh, sure, gimme- oh goddamn!" As you reach out you feel a twang and a pain digging into your side. 

"What the hell just happened?" Eddie asks, looking confused. 

"It's nothing Eds, just my bra rebelling" you laugh, wriggling uncomfortably. 

"You can, erm, take it off… you know, if it makes you more comfortable." He's blushing, you swear you see his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Maybe he does like you? The thought places your heart firmly in your throat.

Reaching behind you, you expertly flick your bra open and start manoeuvring the shirt sleeves so you can take it off. Eddie's jaw may as well be on the floor, eyes bugging out like a cartoon. 

"It's undone? Just like that?" 

You laugh at the face he's pulling, until you have a light bulb moment. 

"Do you want me to teach you?" 

"What?" If Eddie's eyes could get wider, they somehow do, taking over his face like an anime character. 

"I could teach you how to do it, if you want. It's like a life hack, you know? I really don't mind." 

Eddie looks in turmoil for a minute. Maybe you crossed a line. Until you hear his response. 

"Oh, erm… OK?" 

Reaching around to clip your bra back in place, you wriggle everything in position. 

"Give me some of that first" you say, wiggling your fingers at him. He wordlessly passes the joint to you and you take a deep drag, blowing smoke upwards. It helps to calm your nerves a little. Taking another, blowing smoke, and passing it back to him, he takes it to finish it off, stubbing it out in the ashtray. He looks panicked, moving the ashtray off of the bed, clearing the bed of debris, like this was going to be some complicated mission. 

Right, it's now or never. Maybe he'll finally get the fucking hint. 

Taking a deep breath, you grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head. The bra is nothing special really, just a black cotton one, tiny bow situated between your breasts. 

Eddie's mouth opens and closes at the sight, gaping like a moron at your exposed cleavage. Moving over to the bed, you straddle him, backwards. 

"Right, so if you look, it's real easy." You move one hand behind your back, pushing your thumb into the hook part, and flick the bra undone with your index finger. You're not sure if you hear a gasp or if you're just imagining it.

"See? Easy." You clip it back into position and risk a glance over your shoulder. Eddie's face is glowing scarlet. It's the only sign he's giving you, so you're willing to take it as a good one. 

"Wanna try?" 

"Yeah-" his voice starts, impossibly high pitched, until he coughs and continues, much lower, "-Sure thing." 

You feel one hand at your hip, on your exposed skin. The touch you've been craving. It shoots to your core unexpectedly, making you so grateful Eddie can't see your face right now. The other hand starts shakily fumbling with the catch until he gets it. 

"See? Simple. OK," you do it back up, and swivel around, your heat pressed against him. The feel of him underneath you has your head reeling, imagining all sorts of depraved situations, but you reign it in. 

"You wanna try from this way?" 

"Uh huh." He's responding, but his eyes are glued to your chest. 

"Eddie…?" 

Snapping his head up, he almost looks guilty. 

"Yeah, sure." 

"So, sit up a bit, reach around." You beckon him with your fingers so he pulls himself upright, face suddenly so close to yours you feel his breath on your cheek. 

"So… thumb and forefinger, yeah?" 

Eddie's eyes dart to your lips and back up. 

"Yeah." He reaches, pulling you close for a minute, forcing air out of your lungs. Maybe this was a bad idea. It's getting difficult to breathe. Trying to calm yourself, you settle for staring at Eddie's ear. 

He's fumbling, but after a while he gets it. You feel the sudden free feeling. He looks up at you with his eyes all lit up like a dog that just learned a new trick. 

"I did it!" 

"Sure did. You wanna practise again?"

"Yeah sure." 

Once again, you put it back in position. This time, Eddie barely fumbles and flicks it off in one fluid motion. 

"See? Easy! Well done!" Genuinely pleased that you actually taught the boy something, you look him in the eyes for the first time since you decided to make this risky move. 

His usually beautiful amber brown eyes are dark, dipped in desire. He's breathing heavy, large palms coming to rest on your waist. But he's still not making a move. 

Fuck it. 

"You wanna see them?" You ask, praying you're reading him right. 

"...did you just say… what I think you just did?" 

You slowly slip the straps down your arms and peel the bra off, dropping it to the side. Your nipples, happy to be finally free, perk up at the air around them. Goosebumps run over your exposed flesh. 

"Holyfuckingshit!"

It comes out in one breath. Eddie's gawking gaze darts between your naked breasts; awe, shock and panic are fighting for dominance in his eyes. 

"Eddie." 

No response. 

"Eddie!" 

"Huh?" 

You cradle his jaw with one hand and his eyes finally look at you. Unable to wait for a second longer, you press your lips against his. 

It's like a switch is finally flipped in Eddie's brain. He pushes his tongue in your mouth immediately, swiping at yours with such urgency it shocks you. His hand is pushing into the small of your back, guiding you to grind over the hard bulge in his pants. 

The other hand finds your breast, squeezing at it. His thumb runs over your nibble, flicking at the hardened nub, sending tingles through your nerves and up your spine.  

When he breaks from your kiss and starts mouthing at your neck, you tell him finally, words spilling from slick, kiss bitten lips. 

"I was wondering when you'd get the fucking message Eddie." 

You run your fingernails through his hair making him groan into your neck.

"The hell," he breathes, mouth dragging down to your chest, "didn't think you, you liked me like that." 

"You're a fucking idiot Eds, been trying to flirt with you for weeks- oh God!" 

His tongue starts running around your nipple, shocking you out of your reprimand. Moans replace words as he sucks at your nipple, making you rub against him faster. Your clit is begging for more attention and Eddie's happy to oblige, forcing you against him, hard. 

The friction is building up; body buzzing with desire all the way to the tips of your toes. Eddie's desperately tonguing at your nipple, breath whistling through his nose hotly as he's whining in his throat. 

"Eddie, fuck, I'm gonna come!" You're gripping his biceps urgently, rocking against him with all the power you have. Your warning just pushes him further, sucking at your skin and moaning with you. 

Your release flows from you in an intense flash of white light as your fingernails dig into Eddie, holding on for all your worth, chest heaving with heavy pants. 

Eddie groans just as loudly as you as your hips finally stutter to a halt. He looks like he's had a religious experience, staring at you with hearts in his eyes. 

"Eds, did you just cum-" 

"Yup," he says, popping the P loudly, looking almost proud. His grin is reaching almost from ear to ear. This version of Eddie, the idiot, the one you fell for, is in front of you again. 

"So, you do like me then?" 

"Sweetheart, I think you're incredible, I just didn't think you saw me like that." He says, hands rubbing up and down your sides. 

"You're really stupid Eddie." 

"You're probably right" He smiles, eyes glancing back down to your chest. 

"So, do I get to see the rest?" 

No real tag list, just adding some likely people ;)

@lunatictardis @lightvixxen @roanniom @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiesprincess86 @munson-blurbs @wroteclassicaly @loveshotzz

[hotluncheddie]

‘I just don’t get it.’ Steve says, slamming the apartment door, pouting. 

He throws his keys down on the counter in a huff. Untucking his polo from his skin tight ‘date jeans’ and rubbing his fingers soothingly over the little indents they’re leaving on his belly. 

Eddie and Robin are splayed out on the couch, air hazy with smoke and a half eaten pizza on the coffee table. ‘What babe?’ Robin asks, lifting her arms up and making grabby hands at Steve. 

He slumps over and falls into her side, snuggling into her shoulder and taking a puff form the joint she holds to his lips. ‘I though coming out as bi would mean I’d go on nice dates, like I used to take girls on. But people would take me on them instead, guys or girls.’ He explains, taking another hit. 

‘Ah. Brian wasn’t the one?’ Robin asks. Putting the joint back in her mouth and tucking Steve closer under her arm. 

‘No.’ Steve pouts. ‘He was lame and he got all weird when I ordered pie. Which, like, we met at the bar, he knows what I look like, it’s not surprising that I ordered pie. Then he started yapping about his jogging routine.’ Steve rolls his eyes, undoing the fly of his jeans so he can kick them off and get comfy on the couch, like he always does, ‘date jeans’ are way too constricting for high pizza time. ‘Like one, bold of him to assume I don’t jog when I do, like, when I feel like it. And two, the pie was really good! I even offered him a bite and he didn’t even accept it! Rude!’ 

‘So rude.’ Robin pets at Steve’s head. 

Eddie unsticks himself from the sofa to get another slice of pizza and pass one over to Steve in consolidation. Nodding along to what Steve is saying as it passes through the soup of his brain. 

‘Like I know people like to sleep around and that’s fun and all but why are they so bad at dating?’ He pulls another deep drag of the joint Robin holds for him, chewing a bite of pizza as smoke billows out between his lips. ‘Why does no one want a cute fat boyfriend with great hair? Why do they just see me as a piece of ass?’ He whines, the weed hitting him now. 

‘Because your ass is great babe.’ Robin says, stealing a chunk of his crust. ‘Top tier ass.’ 

He looks up at her with big eyes ‘Yeah?’ 

‘Yeah.’ She smiles at him, pinching his cheek 

‘I want a cute fat boyfriend.’ Eddie sighs, from the other end of the couch. eyes glazed over staring at the muted tv screen, his slice of pizza held untouched in his hand. ‘I’d take him out on nice dates, brush his hair and help him try on pretty clothes. I could kiss his chubby cheeks and cuddle him and call him sweet names..’ He sighs again, finally taking a bite. 

‘You know Eddie, Stevie here on the couch is single.’ Robin says, getting up to go to the kitchen. Leaving the joint in Steve’s mouth. 

Eddie looks at her go. Blinks hard a couple times and looks at Steve. Sprawled out on the couch cushions, belly peaking out of his shirt. His lovely roommate Steve. Cute and fat and silly hot. ‘Maybe I even want to hold his hand as we take a little walk. Maybe I want to take care of him and spoil him and make him feel like the world spins around him. He could get fatter, if he wanted, because i lo-like him so much.' Eddie continues. Confesses. Eyes wide and heart racing.  

Steve’s cheeks are pink, eyes glassy and pretty. ‘Me?’ Steve points at himself, joint between his long fingers, looking at Eddie, looking all over his face. 

‘Yeah.’ he breaths. Matching the dopey smile that spreads over Steve’s face, besotted and beaming. 

-

me and @scoops-aboy86 were talking about this post. so now you all have to read the silliness too xoxo

Tag list (open): @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

[m-ayo-o]

Guitarist Choso x afab reader, nsfw; public fingering, sex

Guitarist Choso who invites you backstage after his show where his bandmates are all getting loaded.

You're looking around the smoke filled room like a little deer; so out of place and... small.

He leads you in and takes you to a leather couch where he sits back and beckons you to him, sitting you on his lap realll pretty with your skirt fanned out over his thighs. He whispers in your ear what he's gonna do to you while you take in all the messy noise and chaos.

But he's right here, getting his hand up your skirt, telling you nobody's gonna see and to sit still my pretty thing, until he's tugging your panties down and pressing on your clit.

He gets you all wet and starts kissing you with his tongue, the taste of alcohol and cigarettes invading your mouth. He sucks off all your sweet lip gloss then starts gliding the cold metal ball in his tongue down your jaw, to your neck, where he bites and kisses you tenderly to leave pretty bruises.

"Ngh- Choso~~ they're gonna-- see-" you whimper, feeling his fingers start to spread you under your skirt.

But he pulls your body to his chest and looks up at you with those gloomy eyes-

"They're too drunk baby, trust me.."

And he gets you off on two thick fingers, then three, with his thumb rubbing your clit and your legs spreading shamefully wider. Now you're getting needy, starting to ride his fingers and asking him to do it harder.

"Cho~ Choso~~ I, I'm I'm going to---"

You stutter over his lips but he makes you hold it.

"Wait, wait baby," he slows down his pumping and starts undoing his jeans.

Your eyes fly wide and you gasp stupidly, thinking is he really gonna fuck me in front of his friends???

Despite your panicking, he knows how needy your body is to take him.

You try to push down on him and squirm away, looking nervous and shy and... so cute.

But you don't notice the heads of his band mates turning in your direction till it's too late because you're working your hips up and down on Choso's lap and it's so obvious what you're doing to everyone in the room. They kind of stare for a minute, until Choso slides his fingers out, leaving you empty and disappointed, but giving his fingers a suck, tasting you, then addressing his band mates-

"Are you guys gonna fuck off or what?"

He gives them a glare that could send them to hell, making them shudder and sulk off, taking their party elsewhere while you get messy on Choso's lap.

He gets your perfectly prepped pussy spread over his cock, spanking your ass as you ride him, grabbing at your squishy cheeks and fucking you down harder.

You moan into his mouth and he starts bucking his hips wildly, telling you he's gonna cum but you beg him to hold it for a few seconds longer while he pummels into you and finishes you off. When your body goes slack and you grab onto his shoulders for support he knows you're done and fucks his cum in your tummy with a loud whimper.

If only his band mates could hear him now, you think.

Maybe one day you'll let them watch.

choso

was gonna write a public/humiliation/voyeurism fic but pussied out aaahahah

[sluttych4rms]

shower sex with ethan 🤞🏼

anon ur a genius

sorry this took forever, i had some problems with my job that were taking my attention but all good now :p

warnings: 18+ minors dni, degradation, praise, unprotected p in v (1+1 should not equal 3 wrap b4 you tap), oral (male receiving), swearing, not proofread

the tv in your living room drones on, still playing the end credits of 22 jump street, as you dispose of the small mess that's been made. you invited your friends over for a movie night, a successful one in your opinion. chad had a pen you were all taking hits off of, only making the movie that much funnier.

and your boyfriend that much hornier.

of course ethan gets horny when he smokes, the boy gets it up as soon as he sees a mere sliver of your stomach.

he was the only one left with you in the apartment now, residing in the kitchen and washing the dishes from tonight. like the plate you'd used for mozzarella sticks.

ethan had snuck up on you while you were putting them in the oven, nearly giving you a heart attack after sneaking up and slipping a hand under your shirt and up your back.

you'd turned around to chastise him but he didn't give you a chance, pressing his lips on yours before you could say anything. it was a needy kiss, and that didn't surprise you. his hands were over you all evening. nothing too PDA, he was just always touching you no matter what you guys were doing. his leg laced under yours while playing a game, or his fingers moving up and down your thigh during the movie.

you nearly get wet again just thinking about it. it's so hot how he just can't help himself when it comes to you.

ethan comes into the room as you're throwing away the last of the trash. he's got on some sweatpants and a muscle tank, which you know he knows you love to see him in.

"can we go lay down now?" he asks.

"i just gotta shower real quick and then we can," you say, walking past him towards the bathroom and pecking a kiss on his cheek as you do so.

he groans, whining like a child as he says, "can't you shower tomorrow?"

he follows you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorway as you wipe your makeup off.

"i could, but i don't want to." you say. "i've got that presentation early tomorrow and i don't wanna have to worry about it."

ethan merely hums in response.

you can see him in the mirror, though, and he doesn't look like he heard anything you said. his eyes are fixated on your backside, trailing down to your ass and up to any skin being exposed by your tank top. feeling his gaze on you so intensely sends a shiver down your spine.

you walk over to the tub, turn on the shower (maybe bending over just a little more than necessary on purpose), then make your way back over to your boyfriend who's still leaning in the doorway and hasn't taken his eyes off you once.

his focus follows your hands as you ghost your fingers along his stomach, playing with the hem of his shirt. you look up at each other at the same time, and you don't even have to say what you were thinking because ethan's already reaching forward and slipping your shirt over your head. you do the same to his, and then your lips are pressed together and you're undoing his belt as he unclasps your bra.

you take a couple cautious steps backward towards the shower, ethan following each one. you rip his pants down and he does the same to your shorts.

he takes a pause to rake his eyes over your body, his breath getting caught in his throat because every time is like the first time when it comes to you.

"so pretty, angel," he praises, kissing you again.

prying fingers are slipping into your underwear, one of them running along your slit before the fabric's ripped down your legs. after stepping out of them completely, you kiss ethan one more time before slipping into the shower.

the sound of his boxers being pulled down is frantic, just like the way he rips the curtain to the side to join you. his hands are back on your hips as soon as he's in, pulling you in to kiss him again.

your hands trail down his chest to his dick that's already hard on your palm. ethan sucks in a breath that lets out in a groan when you run your thumb over his tip.

"shit," he hisses through his teeth.

he's been waiting for your touch all goddamn day. and god was it worth it - the feeling of your dainty little hand wrapped around his cock was sending a heat all throughout his body not even the cool water hitting his back could extinguish.

"on your knees," he spits out at the same time his hand comes to rest on your shoulder to push you to the ground.

you sink to the floor, knees making a small splash in the puddle below you. ethan's hand comes up to tangle itself in your hair, a little water from his wrist dripping down your face.

you look up at your boyfriend, soaking wet and breathing heavily with a sexed-up look in his eyes, and relish in the fact that you're the only one who's ever seen him like this. that you're the only one he would ever want wrapping their lips around the tip of his leaking hard on.

his eyes roll back into his head as you do so, his grip on your hair tightening. you play on the tip with your tongue a little before sliding slowly further down, licking a flat strip along the underside as you do so.

"good," ethan coos. "just like that, angel."

you continue your slow progression towards his base, reaching a hand up to jerk what isn't in your mouth. you see his leg shake a little and it sends heat through your own body, knowing how good you're making him feel. not that he's not telling you enough with the sounds he's making. the desperate little whimpers leaving his mouth are a heat source all on their own.

a moan echoes in your throat and around him, earning a downright guttural one from ethan. he can't help it anymore, he pushes your head onto him fully, tapping your cheek with his other hand while he laughs at you.

"you like that, y/n?" he asks as he guides you up and down on his length. "i know what a fucking cockwhore you are, how much you love it filling up any one of your holes."

you look up and moan around him, trying to tell him that yeah, you do love it. he seems to take the hint, smirking as he pats your cheek again.

"i know, baby, i know."

he's fucking your face now, holding your head still as he does most of the work for you. your throat is hot and you can feel him throbbing on your tongue. you swear you can feel him about to cum when he pulls out, a string of saliva still connecting you to his tip.

ethan nearly loses his mind at the view. he bites his lip as he helps you stand up, his eyes never flickering away from the lovely sight before him. your dick-swollen lips, wet from spit and the tears streaming down your face, and god your eyes - your pleading eyes that always let him see right through you, see just how badly you needed him.

"fucked out already, doll?" he knows the answer, but you still shake your head eagerly. "good."

quickly, he maneuvers your body so your back is pressed up against him - his tip grazing your skin before he takes himself in his hand to line it up at your entrance.

"wasn't done with you yet anyway," he growls as he pushes into you, the pressure against your walls making your back arch. ethan takes that to his advantage, grabbing your hair to pull you up even more. your hands are pressed against the shower wall for support even though you're sure he'd have no trouble holding you up with one hand.

"not 'till your pretty cunt's leaking for me," he says, giving a slap to your ass that makes you whine.

he's fucking you at a relentless pace, the wet noises coming from your pussy making that more than evident. ethan made a comment on them once, saying he loves when your pussy talks to him, tells him he's doing a good job. you nearly chuckle thinking about it, and how it's practically singing for him now.

he seems to read your mind, saying, "fuck listen to you. making those whore noises just for me. been waitin' to hear 'em all day."

then ethan's other hand is finding its way to your clit to rub feverish circles into it. immediately a hot knot is forming in your stomach.

"you drive me crazy, you know that? wearing those tiny shorts around for anyone to see. supposed to be mine."

"i - fuck- i am yours, e," you squeak out, your voice beyond shaky.

the pace of his hips is unforgiving as he snaps in and out of you, his fingers pressing harder into your clit. you're so close, and you know he is too - he always gets more chatty when he's getting ready to bust.

"yeah? wanna cum for me then? hm? come on, angel. coat my cock in your sweet cum, baby."

and that's all it takes for every muscle in your body to convulse as your high overcomes you and ethan's name to repeatedly slip through your lips in little whimpers. you can feel him twitch inside you, too, his hand that was previously on your clit coming to grab your hip so hard you're sure there'll be a bruise. he's making those sweet, guttural noises in your ear as he rides out his orgasm. god you could listen to them forever.

unfortunately, they eventually simmer down to heavy, ragged breaths much like yours. ethan kisses your head before pulling out slowly. you stay hunched over for a moment to regain your breath, feeling another kiss left on your neck as he wraps an arm around your chest to help you up.

"sweet girl," he mumbles into your hair, planting one more kiss on your head. "always so good for me."

you turn to face him, running a hand through his moppy locks.

"sweet boy," you repeat. "always so good to me."

he smiles and grabs a loofa, holding it up to you.

"want me to clean you up?"

[luffington]

hello author!! your doflamingo smut is how i found you. its very well written!!

could i request a smut with either crocodile or kami enel? my two favorites 💞

i dont have much to request on plot (go crazy!!), but could the reader be transmale and have a personality similar to the one in the doffy smut?

thank you~!

➤ pairing: sir crocodile x afab!reader

➤ word count: 1.7k

➤ warnings: PWP, light bondage, oral (m receiving), degradation, mild pain kink, overstimulation

aww i'm so glad you like my work!! i hope this lives up to your expectations <3 the reader isn't explicitly transmasc but they're only briefly mentioned to be afab!

and i love enel too!! he's more laidback than doffy and croc so i feel like he'd be a little more normal about dealing with a confident partner? or maybe i just wanna bully croc idk

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

“You’re getting on my fucking nerves.” Crocodile growled, glaring down at your naked body sprawled out on his obscenely large and luxurious bed.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” With a sly grin, you added, “Maybe a second pair of handcuffs would get the message across.” You rattled the Sea Prism Stone cuffs digging into your wrists. 

He had carefully slipped them on using the tip of his hook, temporarily sacrificing his own strength to immobilize you and drain your powers. As expected, he didn’t ask for your consent, but you never protested. You felt honored to have pissed him off that much, and equally amused by the fact that even his cold, fleshless hook was affected by Sea Prism Stone – something you could tease him about later.

“A tempting suggestion, darling, but I need your ankles as far apart as possible,” he replied smoothly, taking a puff of his cigar and leaning down to blow the pungent smoke in your face. You tried your best not to cough but your lungs gave in and he chuckled in satisfaction. You could verbally provoke him all you wanted, but your body’s natural reactions were out of your control. 

The two of you had an… interesting relationship. You were a high-ranking Baroque Works agent who got a little too curious and dug deep enough into the organization to discover Mr. 0’s true identity. When you marched into Rain Dinners several months ago and demanded to see your boss in person, he almost shoved you into a Bananawani’s jaws.

But you were undeniably good at your job, and you tracked down his identity out of purely selfish interest. You had no desire to reveal his identity to the public or other agents and no ulterior motive. So now you spent half of your time carrying out his orders swiftly and cleanly, and the other half lounging in his lavish Rainbase mansion. Your punishment for your insolence was to become his ‘stress relief toy’. Ironic, considering he never seemed stressed, just mildly annoyed at best. You actually enjoyed your current situation – he was an incredible fuck, rough and unrelenting just the way you liked it. And with all of his luxuries at your disposal, you were certain you made at least double Mr. 1’s salary.

Crocodile’s broad, scarred torso was on full display for you but he still looked perfectly composed, not a strand of hair out of place or a single crease in his expensive tailored pants. In contrast, you were coated in a thin layer of sweat, covered in blooming bruises and hickeys and still panting softly from your third orgasm of the night. You would think he was completely unaffected if not for the massive tent in his slacks.

You nodded your chin at his erection. “You want any help with that or do you get off on blue-balling yourself?”

“Unlike you, I actually have stamina,” he drawled, but began undoing his belt buckle with slow and calculated movements. “However, I do need a break from your annoying commentary.” 

Why the hell would you stop annoying him? He loved punishing you just as much as you loved getting under his skin. Gags always seemed to be a part of your fuck sessions, usually in the form of his scarf tied around your head or ring-adorned fingers shoved down your throat. But his cock was definitely your favorite way of being silenced. You salivated at what was to come, watching with bright eyes as he let his pants fall to the floor and his boxers followed soon after. 

“What a needy little slut.” He chuckled, knowing your dazed expression poured gasoline on his flaming ego. “You can act as confident as you like but we both know you get weak in the knees as soon as I whip my cock out.”

“Well, now you’ve ruined it.” You pouted prettily. “I was gonna be good, but now I might bite.”

“You’d get a mouthful of sand, and I would make sure you choked on it.” Certainly not a pleasant thought, so you kept quiet. He tapped your cheek firmly. “Lift your head.” 

You did as he asked and he slid a second large pillow underneath you, making your neck rest at an awkward, half-upright angle. You knew that dull ache would linger for hours, much like the upwards strain in your shoulders from your arms pulled taut. 

Crocodile climbed on the bed and straddled your torso with his muscular thighs, weight pressing down on your chest just enough to make it uncomfortable. His dick was less than an inch away from your lips. Looking as doe-eyed and innocent as possible, you stared into his cold, dark eyes as you stuck your tongue out. Tenderly licking the tip with feather-light swipes of your tongue, relishing the salty taste of his precum and how easily you coaxed out more of it.

“Very cute,” he snickered. “But you know I hate teasing.”

Pouting, you responded, “You like teasing me.”

He grabbed the base of his thick cock and slapped it against your face repeatedly, smushing your cheeks with the head and smearing a few drops of precum into your skin. “You’re still putting up this arrogant front?” He chided you with a click of his tongue. “I know those cuffs are sapping away your energy. I, however, am raring to go.”

“So stop talking and stick your dick in my mouth.”

Not wasting a moment, he swiftly smacked you with the back of his hand, his heavy jeweled rings biting into your skin. You yelped at the delicious mix of pain and pleasure. No blood was drawn, but you knew from experience that your skin was imprinted. “Masochistic whore,” he said with a delighted and depraved grin. “One more word and I’ll use my hook instead.”

He grabbed the roots of your hair and yanked at your scalp harshly, causing you to cry out in pain, and used that opportunity to finally shove his cock inside your wet cavern. It only got halfway inside before it met resistance as you choked and sputtered around the massive intrusion. Your mouth was gloriously warm and wet and always took his dick so well. The dark-haired man’s head fell back and he let out a deep, satisfied groan at the feeling of your throat constricting around him. 

Crocodile looked down at you demeaningly, grin growing when he noticed tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. As much as he would love to train your troublesome gag reflex away completely, you always looked so lovely when you struggled to swallow his whole length. “C’mon, darling, I know you can take it all.”

You took a deep breath through your nose and relaxed your throat as best as you could, letting his girthy cock penetrate your mouth even further. The dark-haired man sighed when he finally bottomed out, his heavy balls slapping against your chin. He was kind enough to let you adjust to the sensation for a minute before he pulled out halfway and roughly pushed back in, knocking the air out of your lungs. 

He braced his hook on the wall behind your head and began fucking your face in earnest. Delighting in the obscene, wet gagging sounds that tore from you. He wrapped his sturdy hand around your throat to feel the outline of his cock moving in and out. You tried your best to swirl your tongue around his length and contribute to his pleasure, but there was hardly any space unoccupied by his dick. Drool pooled in your mouth and dripped down your chin, creating the perfect little mess for him to gaze down upon. You were such a good cocksleeve for him when you put your mind to it – or rather, when you shut your mind off. 

His cigar never left his lips even as he told you how pretty you look with your cheeks bulging and your mouth stuffed full, and how much his dick missed the warmth of your holes when you were gone. You didn’t dare to read between the lines and mistakenly interpret that comment as him missing you. 

Crocodile suddenly shoved his hips forward, forcing his cock down your throat all the way to the base, your nose buried in his dark pubes. As you choked and desperately tried to inhale, head trapped between his pelvis and the stack of pillows behind you, he leaned back and ran a finger through your slit. Your body jerked at the contact with your abused pussy. He smiled, pleased at the wetness that coated his fingers and steadily dripped out of your hole. “You really love my cock, huh?” In response, you clinked your handcuffs together, trying to signal that you were feeling a little too lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that hole soon.”

He finally pulled his hips back and his saliva-coated dick popped out of your mouth. You coughed and gasped for air, letting more tears and drool drip down your face.

“Stay just like that.” Crocodile commanded and grabbed the base of his cock, using long, hard strokes to push him to the edge. Letting out unbelievably sexy groans and shaky sighs. Your eyes flitted between watching him jerk off and taking in his pleasured expression, the slight blush on his gray-toned face and sweat beading on his forehead. This was your favorite side of Crocodile – his calm exterior cracking to reveal his insatiable true nature. 

A few more strokes until he came with a depraved moan, releasing warm and thick strings of cum all over your face, coating your lips and cheeks and sticking to your eyelashes. You made eye contact with him as you stuck out your tongue and licked your lips clean of the salty substance, leaving the rest to dry into lewd white streaks. 

“This is how you should always look.” His chest still heaved from the exertion of his orgasm. “Covered in my cum, permanently marked as mine.”

“Yours?” You laughed, voice raspy from the previous assault on your throat. “I dunno, Croc, you seem a little too desperate to have me. Why else would you chain me up and pin me down like this?”

Crocodile took one more puff of his almost fully-burned out cigar and snubbed the rest out on the ashtray on his nightstand. He looked possessed by desire as a wicked smile split his scarred face. “Every snide comment you make from now on equals another orgasm tonight. You should consider your body’s limits, darling.”

You mimicked his grin. He was such a fun toy to play with.

[oneforthemunny]

friday the thirteenth |eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you and eddie go to the drive in. a small blurb that's apart of the oneforthemunny's spooky story series! also eddie edit made possible by @eddiemunsonsmum :)

Friday, October 13th, 1989 

“Hey, make sure you hide those snacks, ok?” Eddie muttered, a ringed hand gripping the wheel, blowing smoke out the open window.

“I don’t think they’ll all fit in the glove box.” You frown, shoving the crinkling wrappers of honey buns and kit-kat under miscellaneous papers, a few lighters that were stored away in there. 

“Just put ‘em under the blanket, sweetheart.” Eddie nodded, flicking the cigarette out the window, arm craning behind him for the blankets you’d thrown in from home. 

“They won’t look?” Your eyes cut to Eddie’s carefully, grabbing the aged quilt from his grasp. 

“No, they’re not gonna search the van, baby.” Eddie grinned. “Just look in. Just make sure it’s covered, alright?” 

Undoing your own seatbelt, spreading the blanket over the snacks, feet tucked under your legs. Eddie tapped on the cracked leather of the steering wheel with excitement, rolling to a stop on the gravel behind the line of cars. “I’m so fuckin’ excited.” He admitted, eyes sparkling through the gloom dullness of the gray Indiana sky. 

“Yeah?” You giggle. His smile was infectious, made your heart warm with an overwhelming sense of adoration. “I can tell.” 

“This was a good idea. Coming early, because look at this line, babe.” Eddie tilted the rearview mirror to look at the piling line of cars behind him. All swarming to the Hawkins Drive-In for the double feature of Halloween and Friday the Thirteenth… on Friday the thirteenth. 

“Good call with that.” Eddie smiled over at you, heat spilling over your cheeks at his praise. Eddie’s hand fell on your thigh lightly, squeezing your thigh playfully.

 “Oh, shit. Look at that guy. Shoulda brought my mask, huh?” Eddie nodded towards the teenagers parked in the back, running around in their Jason and Michael masks. 

“Yeah… maybe don’t park over there, though.” You cut your eyes at the teenagers, screeching and jumping off their tailgates. 

“Why?” Eddie smirked, van rolling in line slowly towards the ticket stand. “You scared? Afraid they’ll get you-” 

“-No-” 

“-Because I get it, babe. It is Friday the thirteenth. It’s a very scary night. I’d be scared too.” Eddie teased. 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re scared, Munson?” 

“Maybe. Maybe ‘m just excited.” Eddie smirked, long lashes batting at you sweetly. The van creeped towards the ticket stand. “I wasn’t gonna park there anyways, but they did take my spot, fuckin’ assholes.” 

“Your spot?” Your brows lifted in amusement. 

“Yeah, good makeout spot.” Eddie smirked at your scoff, stopping in front of the ticket stand. 

Your head rested against the seat rest, Eddie’s curls illuminated in the bright light of the ticket stand. Rings catching in the light when he handed them the money, bracelets peeking out from the leather of his jacket when he took the tickets. He looked so pretty; so content. 

“Can you put it on the station?” Eddie muttered, shifting gears so the van rolled with a low grunt over the gravel. “You wanna be more towards the front?” 

“I’m fine wherever, Ed.” You hum, turning the dial slowly. “You’re the expert, right, baby?” 

A huff of a laugh left his lips, curling in a small smile. “Yeah. Think there’s a spot up here if this jackass in a wagon doesn’t take it- Christ, who’s taking kids to this kind of movie? Fuck that, we’re not going there. I’m not listening to screaming the whole time.” 

“Maybe they’re older kids?” You grin, the comical tune of the pre-movie show tune playing through the speakers. “Or could be big horror fans. You didn’t like scary movies as a kid?” 

“Yeah, but it’s not fun going with your parents.” Eddie rolled his eyes, reversing into a back spot slowly. “Gotta sneak it or it’s not fun.” 

“Like the candy, hm? That’s the thrill of it?” 

“Exactly.” Eddie smirked, jamming the gear to park. 

“Shit, this part is good, baby. Look.” Eddie whispered, lips still pressed to yours, hand sliding from your jaw slowly. 

“I don’t wanna look, just-” You pawed at his jacket collar, pulling him closer, back into your kiss. 

“-Wait, wait, this is the good part. Hold on.” Eddie muttered, eyes zoned in onto the screen, sitting back onto the van’s floor. 

You huffed, pushing up on your forearms to look at the screen, lips numb from the cold air and Eddie, just in time to see Michael Myers take a victim- a brutal slashing that had the entire lot grimacing out loud. 

“Oh, that’s fucking sick.” You cringe, looking at the van’s floor instead of the movie, stomach twisting uncomfortable. 

“Very fuckin’ sick. Wonder how they do that, huh? Like the special effects shit like that.” Eddie grinned, body buzzing with adrenaline and excitement. 

“I don’t know. They better have won whatever award there is for that, because that,” You nodded towards the screen, the dismembered, bloody body lying there. “Is disgusting.” 

“Wait until you see Jason’s victims. Makes Michael look tame.” Eddie grinned, head falling against the pillow, shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Can’t believe you’ve never seen these.” 

“No way.” You wrinkle your nose at the screen. “More of a Beetlejuice fan or Elvira. I always liked that movie.”

“Yeah? Me too.” Eddie smirked. “Really liked that one.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Of course, you did.” 

“I like a spooky babe. Can you blame me?” Eddie pulled you close to his side, lips smacking against your cheek. 

“Oh? So you don’t like me, huh?” You glare at him lightly. “Just wasting my time, Munson?” 

“No way.” Eddie shook his head, looking over at you. “You’re a total spooky babe.” 

You roll your eyes, scoffing lightly. “‘M serious.” Eddie squeezes your thigh gently. “You’re doing this with me.” He nodded towards the screen. “Yeah.” You hum, eyes cutting to the screen, grimacing at the chase scene. “Guess I must love you or something to sit through two of these.”

[ghouljams]

Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve had two glasses of wine, but I just want Fae Price and witchy reader during a witchy holiday. Not quite the winter solstice when I assume Price is at the height of his power, but during the fall or during samhain, when the veil is the weakest. I just imagine Price brushing off the wards of Witchy’s home. Just some steamy time between them or something. Infamate kisses that she can’t shake off. I just want them interacting during times where mortal magic is naturally weak and price is just taking advantage of it to be close to her?

"You shouldn't be out here."

You hum, hearing the fallen leaves crunch under Price's boots behind you. You're trying to meditate. "I have wards up," you tell him simply.

"Not very good ones." His hands grasp either side of your head and tip it back. You don't bother opening your eyes, you know it's him. You can see him in your minds eye, the wisps of smoke, the sort of layered magic that surrounds him, you don't need to open your mortal eyes. "What're you doing my pretty witch?" Price asks, his thumbs rub your cheeks against the bite of the autumn wind.

"Trying to see," and trying to concentrate. You tip your magical perception to check your wards, all fine, it's just Price that seems annoyingly unbothered by them. He clicks his tongue three times in rapid, chastising, succession and heat rolls through you, over your skin. Suddenly the wind is colder than you would like.

"Now why would you want to do that?" Price's voice is closer, lower, you can feel his shadow leaning over you. His lips press to your forehead, and something small and ignored lights up in you chest. He pulls back, your magical sight popping like TV static.

Your brows furrow and you open your mouth to complain that he's ruining your Samhain plans, when he kisses you. Or, no, he- His tongue drags against your lower lip, a soft quick motion. Then again, a little deeper, skimming your teeth, before he actually presses his lips to yours. Your breath catches and you fist the gauzy fabric of your ritual wear between your fingers.

The pop of your sight gets worse until it fuzzes completely and you're forced to close it to kiss him. What is it with him and absolutely destroying your clean work spaces? He pulls back, tips your head forward until your chin is touching your chest. You hear him settle on his knee, as he shifts the lace veil down your back to the side so he can kiss the top of your spine. Pressing you to lean forward with each insistent kiss to bare skin.

His mouth will be your undoing. You know every time he puts it on you that when he devours you(not it, never if) it will be your own fault for trusting those teeth. But you can't help it. The way he drags heat over your skin, so delicate that you could almost excuse it as the wind if his tongue didn't follow. He kisses down your spine, drags his tongue back to the top of it, makes you ache between your legs. The circle around you swirling with greedy cloying desire.

You thread your fingers through the grass, dig into the damp dirt to ground yourself. You're having trouble holding onto your wards, mind too busy spinning under the gentle press of Price's lips. The way he moves you, purposeful but achingly intimate, makes your stomach flutter. You have your solid safeties, the railroad spiked corners, but your candles are snuffing out as quickly as you can remember them.

You sigh, giving in to the feeling Price's lips against your neck, his fingers tipping you to bear your throat. He won't let anything happen to you, even if your wards give out. His beard scratches your skin, an almost pleasant itch that distracts you from the edge of his teeth.

He bites you, and you go rigid, a hand grasping his hair before you can think to. Your eyes fly open and your lips part wordlessly, you stare at the dark cavernous forest in front of you. You're not sure if you mean to hold him or push him away, but his arms slip around your waist and pull you back against his chest. His teeth press harder into your neck, and you feel like a glass vial just poised on the edge of breaking, cracks already starting to splinter through you. Your breath quickens, your free hand grips his leg, you press back into his hold, hoping that will ease the tense edge you're held on.

Again you don't know if you're hoping he pulls you back or lets you fall. You blink the mist from your eyes and hope whatever happens your trust isn't unfounded.

Price's teeth release you and everything unspools, you go lax against him as his tongue soothes the ache. "What do you think," He murmurs, dragging his lips to your jaw, "I could steal you right now while the veil is thin, hide you away somewhere cozy just for me."

It sounds nice. You feel soft, you feel slow, caught. He strokes your stomach.

"Just you and me, and whatever we can cook up." A dangerous unsaid thing. You try to gather enough of your wits to stop him from expounding on it any further.

"I didn't know you had anywhere to steal me away to," You mumble, eyes heavy as he presses his nose to your cheek, lips against your jaw. He hums, kisses your cheek, your temple.

"Is that what you're worried about," His voice makes a shiver run through you. Your skin prickling at his continued closeness. His fingers on your stomach make you want to squirm away, but with him holding you like this there's nowhere to go. "Not what I'll do to you once I have you?" You stretch your legs out to curl your toes in the grass, any grounding you can get against his low dangerous tone.

"What would you do?" You breathe, letting the green feeling under your feet start to anchor you.

"What wouldn't I do?" Price smiles against your hair, "You're a feast I'll never grow tired of."

The thought warms you, as it always does when he talks like this. You wonder sometimes if he's this charming to everyone, or if it's just to make you tip your head back against his shoulder to kiss his jaw. Whatever glass he'd been close to shattering leaks its magic into you. You feel languid and soft under his hands, being stolen might not be so bad. Especially not when he catches your lips with his own and makes quick work swiping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

It makes your head swirl all the worse to suck on his tongue, to breathe against his lips and feel his smoke sooth the twinge in your neck from the angle. Anything to keep you comfortable and pliant for him. His hand wraps around your neck, fingers resting against your pulse, the weight of it so tempting. You make a soft noise and he swallows it down, wet and oh so desperate for you. He gives you only enough room to breath between kisses, and you feel every though slipping through your fingers under his expert tongue.

The twinge in your neck makes you wince and you pull away to let the muscle unwind. Price takes the opportunity to exhale, shifting on the grass to make himself more comfortable as you rub your neck.

"You alright?" He asks. You nod, leaning back against him as you stretch, enjoying how solid he is. How solid all of him is, really. Your eyes lid feeling the line of his cock under you, interested but not anything you couldn't ignore.

You- Mm.

"Cute," he presses the word against the shell of your ear, his tone so low and growling even if you could think your brain would've poured out your ears. That's probably not a good sign.

Samhain tricks. At least you hope it is. If this is just Price and not his magic, you're in a lot more trouble than you thought. But what wonderful trouble it is.

[mywritingonlyfans]

Your girl. // Alex Turner X Reader! (Smut)

prompt: alex feeling a little insecure about being right for her and her assuring him.

words: 3K.

warning: it's mainly riding him, bites, choking, cockwarming, and some more... well, it's my regular soft/sexual smut.

He wasn't angry with you, but he seemed distant, lost since he returned home. The cigarette dangled lazily between his fingers, and he was far from actually smoking it, the ashes accumulating excessively before falling into the air. His arrival and immediate move to the balcony made you wonder if he might be avoiding you, although it wasn't hard to tell he was uncomfortable within himself. "Al, babe," you held the dress, struggling to unzip it completely. "Could you help me with this?" A furrowed brow and a heavy sigh. He was irritated, yet he discarded the cigarette before coming over to you. You found it endearing how he kept the smoke away from you, always managing to disappear with it whenever you approached him, as if instinctively protecting you from it.

His cold fingers brushed your skin, tracing the zipper of the dress and slowly undoing it. He pulled the fabric gently, pressing his lips to the exposed area and kissing softly, immersing his nose in your scent, eliciting a smile from you. It was a familiar routine, like something done without conscious thought, yet something both of you enjoyed immensely – it was involuntary for him. "You know, I've started buying more zip-up dresses just to get those kisses when you need to take it off," you remarked with a playful grin.

…

You nestled between the sheets, free from the dress and feeling lighter. Alex wasn't any different; he was covered from the waist down and bare-chested, his arms up in the air. You curled up against him, seeking comfort as if you were two pieces of wood generating sparks, which elicited a laugh from him. He still felt like he was in another world, but being there with you was enough. You wanted to ask, wanted to know how to ease his mind, but you didn't want to pry and potentially make things worse. He lay there, looking tired, perhaps it was just his social battery that had drained, though you didn't quite believe that. When he closed his eyes, holding you tighter, you let it be; maybe he just craved silence after the hectic day you both had. You wrapped one leg over his waist, burying your face in his neck, letting his warm scent lull you to sleep. Thin sheets were the only barriers between you in the warm night, and being able to feel the texture of his skin and his arms around you made you feel relaxed and oddly secure. It was the purest sense of feeling at home.

…

Your eyes slowly opened, as if in pain. What was warm and comforting had turned cold and irritable; Alex wasn't there. You wrapped yourself in the sheet, huddling a bit before noticing the balcony light on. With lazy steps, you made your way there. He, too, had the sheet covering his lower body, a cigarette in his hand. The scene amused you, its dramatic flair matching his, and he noticed you there, not shivering from the cold but from the lack of clothing. He seemed even more exhausted, with swollen bags under his eyes and flushed cheeks from scratching, a sign you had learned to interpret as him overthinking. He had been fine in the morning; you knew he had become like this due to something at the party.

"May I?" You gestured towards his lap, and he chuckled so sweetly that you began to wonder if it was all in your head. Maybe it was just insomnia, right? He nodded. "It's okay if you want to be alone, babe," you persisted, but he assured you it wasn't necessary. Once again, it was just layers of sheets separating you both.

Before you could even rest your cheek against his chest and have him wrap you in a tight embrace once more, he took one last drag from his cigarette, even though it was barely lit, and stubbed it out, placing it aside before planting a kiss on your head. As your hips moved in a slow, tentative yet persistent rhythm and his strong hands held you close, he chuckled, making you laugh a bit too and apologize. He claimed it wasn't necessary, and as you looked at him, your excitement faded; you knew he was still bothered by something.

"Al, babe, what happened? Did I do something wrong?" Your eyes were concerned, so far calm, and Alex felt guilty about that. The problem wasn't with you. "Not you, princess." You nodded, and he pressed his forehead against yours after kissing your nose. "It was something from the party, wasn't it?" You tried again; he needed to talk about it, to stop you from feeling like it was your fault. Still, it was something so minor that he didn't feel like burdening you with it. "It's..." He paused thoughtfully, swallowing hard before continuing, "it's kind of a trivial thing."

You gazed at him, letting him know that your full attention was on him, and lightly kissed his nose. "It's clearly making you sad, so it's not something unimportant." Your fingers intertwined with the curls at the nape of his neck, and your body nestled closer to his. He relaxed in the not-so-fancy chair, surrendering to the comfort of having you in his lap. Even with the sheet, it was obvious you were naked, and his luck seemed endless that you felt so at ease with him. It was unsettling because he was aware that you loved him, yet he still occasionally spiraled into anxiety over the thought of losing you.

You displayed patience, exactly what he needed, a few more minutes under your soothing touch until his mind felt lighter. "I think it's just me, insecurities and all," his voice sounded weak and drawn-out, his hand covering his already flushed face.

You breathed in, forming a smile. Was it wrong to find that cute? "No way, Al." You lifted his chin to meet your eyes, and then noticed the welled-up tears, silent but somehow even more distressing. "Alex, babe, you should have told me," you whispered, not quite sure where to take this conversation. You held him in a tighter embrace as he struggled to fight back tears. "I think it's just my own insecurity, it has nothing to do with you. I don't want you to think that way." He shook his head, and you let your fingers trace his chest, following the path from his chest hair to the necklace around his neck.

"That's good, Alex. You can always talk to me; I wouldn't think any less of you for it, just as I don't now." You used the edge of the sheet to wipe his face. In return, he nuzzled your collarbone, gently biting it until he heard your relaxed sigh. It was intimate and timid, but it was exactly what both of you needed. He held onto your waist, his touch delicate, and reached for the upper parts of your breasts. Your hands lightly tugged at his hair, making him look at you so you could understand him better, until your mind was flooded with how vulnerable he seemed, how easily he could be hurt, and it made you feel a little guilty.

"I'm afraid of suddenly not having you, as if you'll slip through my fingers. I hate not having enough time for you, hate 'earing the sadness in your voice over the phone when you miss me and I can't do anything about it. You were so happy tonight with me, and it ‘urts to think I'll be without you for so many months soon. I know you deserve someone better, someone who fits you more, but I don't want that someone to not be me." He let out as if he was expelling all the toxic air from his lungs, his eyes even sadder than before. The fluidity of his words told you that this had repeated so many times in his mind that there was no space left for punctuation when he voiced it out.

You were speechless, your own eyes misting over. You didn't fully grasp it, but you knew you would try and make it better. He buried his face in your chest amid the sheet still covering you, his soft hair and light body surrendered to your embrace. "You've never failed me, not once. I don't want anything else... I don't want anyone but you." You felt helpless, unable to completely fix or improve the situation. Even your words trembled as they left your lips. You kissed his head, holding onto his arms and letting him stretch out comfortably on the bench. His body was relaxed, and he was a bit vulnerable, yet he still looked at you with affection. His head might be in a daze, but he trusted you. You felt more at ease, seeing that he felt comfortable after sharing this with you, even though it had burdened him. You chuckled softly, and he mirrored your laugh, soon melting as your lips brushed against his, warm and tender so far urgent.

You leaned against his shoulders, lifting your hips and then adjusting to him. The fabric was still a barrier, and your intention was simply to tease him; he gasped into your mouth. "I wish your mind would be kinder to you, Alex." Your voice caught in your throat, and he slowly opened his eyes as if he hadn't realized he had closed them. He seemed a bit sulky, his face and hair still disheveled from sleep. You were equally lazy. Your fingers danced along his jawline, your eyes meeting at the same level, then moving to his broad shoulders, your nails lightly grazing his pale, soft skin. The thought of the future marks you would leave, combined with your rubbing against him, heightened the butterflies in his stomach. He already felt breathless.

Alex was easy to handle, though you might not have noticed that this was true only with you. He was well aware. His pink lips parted as if to say something, but a soft moan cut him off as you pressed your hips between his and moved up and down. There was a mix of characteristic morning excitement and the view he had of you. You could feel him well, his entire length, as you excited yourself while lubricating him. Mornings often felt more needy, and both of you knew how to play into that, but this time it was your turn to take advantage.

His hands went to your waist, gripping it, understanding better than to disrupt your rhythm. He agreed that it was about what you wanted to do with him. Your palm followed his, the sheet slipping down a bit, granting him a better view, though not completely revealing everything. The tips of his fingers traced you slowly, appreciating every detail. He looked at you, his face flushed, and it made you smile. You kissed his shoulder and neck while making him harder and more aroused.

He held you even tighter, your chests touching, every inch of skin connected. You entwined your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling firmly and feeling yourself getting wetter as you saw his hair standing on end as you brushed your nose against him and dragged your teeth along his skin before biting him firmly and leaving with wet kisses. The low groan and his eager hips were so satisfying for you. "Trying to kill me?" he looked at you with clear desire in his eyes, his lips slightly swollen.

And you kissed them, his smile soft as he felt your touch. Your warm tongue met his until breath became scarce, and he was left with a series of your kisses and nose nuzzles. In the final one, you gently sucked his lower lip, biting it hard, and he whimpered, gripping your thigh in approval. You chuckled, a bit smug, and it indeed made him feel good, seeing you so confident. "Not really, more like showing you just how much I'm your girl." He nodded, even rosier now. At that point, you were perfectly aching, pulsing, with your head throbbing for him. Alex noticed how your knees were spread around him, focused on the movement centered at the same spot repeatedly.

"I know you are," he said, low and tender. You pressed your hand gently against his chest, pushing him back so that his head was supported. "Can you say it?" He ran his thumb over your lips, finding comfort in your sweet smile. You lifted your hips quickly, although to him it seemed in slow motion due to his neediness, and kissed him with the same intensity as before. You straddled him calmly, patiently, painfully, as his sighs were overtaken by you. He slid easily inside, and soon you felt comfortable, filled completely. "Tell me I'm your girl, Alex," you were breathless, that much was clear, and you paused, needing to adjust for a few – he was quite a thing to be taken. He chuckled, a guttural sound that vibrated through his chest, a bit too addictive considering you were so close to him. Your fingers traced his neck, almost begging for more, and he held you to stabilize you, not that you were going anywhere. He was so lost in you that it was difficult for him to form coherent sentences from the words that left your mouth.

"You're mine, babe." His raspy voice was a breath, his eyes still shining with desire. "You're my girl." He chuckled lazily, your eager hand tightening around his prominent veins, making him sound a bit breathless at the end. He was so hot and entirely yours. "I like that,"

"Do you, babe?" He gently guided his hand along your leg, his thumb reaching your clit and moving in slow circles. You moaned in relief, helping you endure him better. You let your forehead touch his, peppering his face with affectionate kisses. Gradually, you pressed tightly against him, adjusting your hips to favor your movement. His broad hands roamed around you, feeling your lower belly fill as your rhythm grew more forceful. Holding onto the sheet wrapped around you, he kept you close and firmly pressed against him. His body trembled, his eyes closed, clearly surrendering to the sensations, yet he couldn't take his eyes off you, your breasts following the rhythm, and how entangled you were with him.

He was losing control of his breathing, and you weren't faring much better. He kissed your collarbone, trailing the tip of his nose along your skin and stopping just below your breast. Repeating what you had done minutes ago, he bit into your flesh with desire, then planted heated kisses over the marked skin as your moans escaped quietly. Your nails dug into him, and by now, his hands were defined by the lines of the sheet he gripped so tightly. "Fuck, babe," he groaned, mouth slightly open, his head thrown back on the support. Tears growing in his eyes.

You leaned over him, resuming your attack on the sensitive skin of his neck, a territory you knew well. You allowed for friction against your clit with each movement of your hips, noticing him growing more restless. Your own body was involved in spasms, and you maintained the pace he wanted. You gave him what he needed, letting him have you fully, and brushed the messy hair from his face, granting you a privileged view of his features. His grip on you tightened, and as you grew more breathless, he corresponded appropriately to your stimuli. It didn't take long for your bodies to collapse against each other, your face buried in his neck, muffled moans escaping your trembling legs and weak knees. He held you even tighter, peppering your forehead with more kisses, lost in your breathless state nestled against his chest.

The sounds of your breathing mixed together, still leaving him a bit dizzy, but in a good way. He pulled the sheet over both of you, and as he unwrapped the mess, he saw that he had torn the fabric at some point. His cheeks flushed as he heard you laugh. He held you in his arms, your bodies connected, and brushed the hair from your face. Your voice was still dizzy as you said, "I must be really good at this," he chuckled softly. You were cradled in his arms, attached to his hips. He pushed the hair away from your face, and your throat was still dry. "You truly are," he affirmed, a loving gaze fixed on you.

A soul-warming silence enveloped you, comfortable and cozy. You could feel him growing solid hard within you once again. He didn't have much energy left, and you were almost falling asleep from exhaustion. This was evident in how gently you clung to each other, avoiding any sudden movements. Taking comfort in this, he stayed inside you, warm and somewhat snug. Your delicate hands encircled his waist, his arms covering you and keeping you pressed against him while the sheet did a good job of covering your bodies. You looked at him briefly, wrinkling your nose as you heard the hoarse groan escape him with your abrupt movement. Whispering, you said, "I hope this was enough to quiet your mind a bit. I don't like seeing you upset." You buried your face in his neck again, intoxicated by his scent. He observed you, realizing how foolish he was, yet there you were. "You're perfect, my dear," he said, feeling your laughter and how at peace you were wrapped around him. You were clearly a rational part of him, and he had no reason to deny that. Yes, you had quieted the noisy voices tormenting him.

"I'm your boy, all yours," he breathed into your ear, burying his nose in your hair and planting kisses on you until you fell asleep, so then the intimacy of the moment may allow him to drift into slumber while holding you.

...

taglist: @ohladymoon @indierockgirrl @bloo-wisteria @bellaturner @cosmoschaotic @nikisfwn @andrews-lovr @nela-cutie @ilovealexturnerlots

to be tagged you can just lmk or open my !google form! (you can decide in which ones you want to be tagged and also let you're request or thoughts there with me!)

...

here's my ko-fi

...

[eiightysixbaby]

HEYYYYYYYY i have a request forrrr toxic! eddie 👏👏👏👏👏 can we have him manipulate reader into staying w him like i just had this thought okay so either he like sneaks his phone and records orrrrr he goes live on HER insta so her hoes can see snd when she finds out shes mad but hes like 🙂

oh and this is all while they are hu

i guess this is more modern! eddie but who better to ask UR MY FAV WRITER IN EXISTENCE

you’re so sweet 🥹 thanks for the request. I hope I did this justice, toxic!eddie is kind of new territory for me. 🫶🏻

18+ only! toxic/manipulative eddie. do not read if this makes you uncomfy! secret recording during sex, blackmail, unprotected piv, creampie

Eddie can feel you slipping away. It’s only the slightest bit, but he can sense it. He was scared this day would come, when you’d get sick of him, decide that one of the other guys who fawn over you was more worthy of your attention.

And he knows it’s fucked up, his incessant need to have you in his grasp, but he can’t control it. You’re everything to him, the perfect girl. If he’s honest he’s not always sure how you ended up falling for him at all, but he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He can’t stomach losing you, and so he simply won’t.

You’re snippier when you arrive at his trailer this time, shorter in your responses. He knows you like the back of his hand, though, and he’s using it to his advantage. Turning you to putty right on his sofa, making you weaker for him until you’re begging him to fuck you. This is how it usually goes; you come over or he goes to yours, maybe you’ll watch a movie or order a pizza, smoke a joint, but it always ends with him inside of you. It’s arguably his favorite place to be, ever. And how dare you think you could take this luxury from him.

Carrying you to his room, he lays you down on his mattress, undoing the belt on his jeans with haste. You set your phone on his bedside table, pulling your shirt over your head and exposing your pretty tits. No bra, tonight. It’s like you’re trying to hurry this along.

Once he’s shirtless, pants pushed down far enough to free his aching cock, he moves to hover over you, necklace dangling in your face as he starts to kiss you. It’s rough, bitey, his teeth pulling at your bottom lip. His tongue prods into your mouth, licking at yours and making you arch your back, craving more from him. His lips trail downward, sucking harsh marks into your neck and collarbone.

You wriggle in his grasp. “Ed,” you whine, gasping when his teeth dig harder into your sensitive skin.

“Don’t act like you can’t handle this,” he growls, low and raspy as he moves down to your breasts.

He plays with them only for a moment, pinching at your nipples before sucking on them. You’re impatient, wanting him to fuck you already, and he can sense the urgency in the way you keep raising your hips to meet his.

“Bein’ such a fuckin’ brat today,” he says, sitting back on his heels. “Get on all fours for me, now.”

You oblige, nodding pathetically, stripping out of your pants and underwear before positioning yourself how he’d asked.

He strokes his cock where he sits behind you, his free hand caressing the globes of your ass. Two fingers dip into your folds, collecting some of the wetness that threatens to drip down your thighs. “So fucking wet,” he chuckles, smug, before lining himself up with your entrance.

He pushes in, nearly all the way, punching the air from your lungs. You grip his bedsheets tightly in your fists, crying out his name. God, he loves having you like this. Completely pliant for him, soaked and screaming. He starts his thrusts slow, torturously so. You wiggle your hips, whining beneath him, trying to get him to move faster.

He doesn’t like it, the way you seem to be in a hurry.

As if on cue, he watches your phone screen light up. You’re paying it no mind, nearly delirious where your face presses into his pillow. But he watches intently as another guy’s name appears on the screen, attempting to call you. The call is followed up by a couple of texts, someone desperately seeking your attention. He recognizes the name, because he’s seen you texting him before, when you thought he wasn’t looking.

A threat. A threat to Eddie’s time with you. And so he does something he knows he shouldn’t.

Keeping his pace so as not to alert you, he reaches beside him where his phone lays face down on the mattress. Opening the camera, he presses record, smacking your ass to start the video off nicely. You’re a moaning mess, and he makes sure the camera captures the way his cock drives in and out of you, your cream pooling around the base of his shaft. He gives it to you harder, more relentlessly, anything to keep you from turning around and catching him red handed.

“Fuuuuuuuck you suck my cock in so well,” Eddie groans, punching shrill noises from your mouth with each thrust he gives you.

You, blissfully unaware of his recording, are practically drooling on the pillow beneath you. Hurtling towards your release, crying out his name over and over again like a prayer.

You had to admit, you’d miss this after tonight.

Within a few minutes, both you and Eddie are tumbling over the edge, your walls clenching around him as he fills you with his cum. Every bit caught on camera, sure to document the way his seed drips from you and how his fingers fuck it back in.

He sets his phone down discreetly, cutting off the video, moving towards you to kiss you. You barely let him peck the corner of your mouth before you’re sliding off of the bed, finding your scattered clothing to redress.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, his voice laced with something you can’t place. He pulls up his jeans, securing the belt as he watches you.

“I need to go, Eddie,” you say, pulling your shirt over your head.

“Where are you going?” he moves to stand with you, his frame towering over you. His eyes are dark, expression stern.

“Why does it matter? I’m going out, Eddie.” you huff, trying to move around him. “And we need to stop doing this. I can’t have this kind of relationship with you anymore,” you say.

It’s kind of cute, how you think he’s just going to accept that. It’s also cute how you think he believes you want to be done with him. The way your thighs press together when he steps closer to you tells him otherwise.

“Do you have a date?”

“It’s none of your business, Eddie,” you snap, reaching to grab your phone from his nightstand, but he stops you with a firm hand around your wrist.

“If you leave right now, that date isn’t going to go very well,” he challenges, and your face scrunches in confusion.

“What?”

Picking up his phone, he unlocks it, and he sees your eyes start to widen in panic.

“I took this little video,” he starts, turning the screen to you and pressing play. “And if you leave right now, I’ll send this to every other fucking guy you’re talking to.”

“What… what the fuck,” you whisper, hands reaching up to run through your hair. “What the fuck Eddie!? You recorded us?” your voice grows louder, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re fucking sick,” you spit, and he has the audacity to laugh.

“Sweetheart, you think anyone can give it to you better than I can? You think I don’t notice how you completely fold for me?” he pouts, tilting your chin up with his index finger. “In fact, I bet you’re soaking your panties all over again thinking about everyone seeing our little sex tape.”

You swallow, lips parting and closing again, lost for words. The sickest part is that he’s right, you ache for him all over again. No one could do it like he does.

“I’ll cancel the date. I’ll text him right now and tell him I’m not coming,” you say meekly, nearly trembling under Eddie’s intense stare.

“Good girl.”

[keeksandgigz]

i don't want you like a best friend- day 2 of keeks's lover house series

Day 2 of my Lover House series♡

♡Best Friend! Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader♡

best friends to lovers, painful pining, idiots in love, queer!eddie mentioned, smut, you've heard the song

Read Day 1 here!

"Carve your name into my bedpost/ 'Cause I don't want you like a best friend"

You thought Eddie had no clue of the feelings you harbored for him.

Since high school you've been pining for your best friend. Every car ride, every smoke session in his room, every concert you've gone together. Every single time you helped him haul equipment on and off his van. You've been in love with him for the past six years.

However, when he asks you to be his plus one at Steve's wedding it doesn't shock you. You were his date to proms, homecomings and various events-- there was no Eddie without you and vice versa.

This time seems different, though, as the end of the night was fast approaching. You sit at one of the tables, fumbling with the buckle of your shoes, trying yo get rid of the painful sting at the back of your heel.

Eddie follows you back from the dance floor to the table. Having shed the jacket of his suit and his tie, he's left with the top three buttons undone, and his frizzy hair tied up in a low bun as his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead.

He looks so effortlessly beautiful you can't help but try to hold back from jumping his bones. An activity you've gotten way too good at-- holding back.

He kneels on the floor, seeing you struggle with the buckle as he takes your ankle in his hand.

"Lemme do it" he says over the loud music "are your feet hurting?" the touch of his hands on the skin of your ankle makes you shiver. You nod.

"You lemme know when you wanna head back to the hotel room, I'll come with" he smiles, leaving a sweet caress on the arch of your foot. You're used to this.

The touching, the caresses. It's just how he is. Touchy.

When his hand seems to linger too much on your leg when you watch movies together at your apartment, or when you seem to be too tucked into his chest when walking down the street, his arm around your shoulders.

It drives you up a wall, he seems to always get too close. Unconscious to the idea that maybe, just maybe...

"You know what, Ed? I'm going up, I'll go say goodnight to Steve and go" you smile at him, pitter pattering your way across the dance floor, where Steve and his bride are still in the happy throes of love as he spins her around and they laugh in unison.

Eddie watches you, hips swaying with every step you take. That dress has been driving him insane all night. Dark green, tight around your hips. Multiple times in the span of the night he's had to subtly conceal his boner from the way you were dancing on him. The cocktails at the open bar getting into your system.

And there you are again, turning his brain to mush, seeing how your dress hugs you so perfectly. So he follows you like a little puppy dog, hoping to get to see more of you. Hoping you'll ask for his help in undoing your zipper as you get ready for bed.

"Tonight was fun" you sigh, walking towards your room "I think we're next, Ed" you elbow him, eyebrows raising suggestively.

"Do I have a girlfriend or boyfriend I don't know about?" he snickers, running an arm around your shoulders- God, you're so soft.

"Well, no. But you better get working on it, we're not getting any younger" you smile at him "I won't start looking 'til you do, loverboy" you laugh, still in a tipsy stupor.

You take out your key and open the door to your room.

"Need me to stay with you?" he gives you one of his pretty boy smiles. The ones that make your stomach flutter with confused butterflies.

"You don't have to, but you're welcome in if you want to. I'll just change in the bathroom" he follows you in as you rummage through your suitcase to find your toiletries.

"Don't change yet. That dress cost you a fortune, don't you want to enjoy it?" he just can't get enough of you in the dress, the green velvet hugging your body like it was made for you. Like you came out of his wildest dreams.

An awkward laugh escapes you "'kay, so what should I do then?" you lean on the dresser, crossing your arms. Your tits push up at the motion. He feels himself stir in his slacks as he pats down the spot next to him on the bed.

You sit down, body turned towards him. "What is it?" your heart thrums within your chest. The touchiness isn't unusual, but the tension that fills the room seems different. Almost like an invisible electricity.

"What if I didn't have to look?" his hand moves closer to yours, fingertips barely touching. You take a ragged breath in.

"I'm not sure what you're saying, Eddie" your hand scooches closer to his. He feels the softness of your fingers. He wonders if you're this soft everywhere.

"I don't have to look for someone to be with. No one's going to be you" you feel like your breath has been knocked out of your lungs "and I know you feel the same, so can we please stop it with the act and kiss already" you feel dizzy, hands shaking on top of his, fingers lightly entwined.

He feels the trembling in your hand as he envelops it with his. Your face feels hot.

"How'd you-" you begin, his free hand goes to your cheek, cupping. His thumb stroking the skin, moving the hair that falls on your face away from it.

"You've never been a master of subtlety, sweetheart" he smiles, his lips so close to yours you can smell the tequila shots on his breath. Breath that you're currently out of. The hand on your cheek makes a minimal movement, your lips meeting on impact.

And it's like a dam has been broken. Years of pining, waiting, jealousy, end here. Eddie's tongue darting out of his mouth to lick at your bottom lip, as a moan slips out of you. A moan you've been holding in along with all the breath you had.

You get more bold with each swipe of his tongue, opening your mouth up for him to give him more access. Your hands reach up to the buttons of his dress shirt, slowly making your way down each eyelet, revealing his milky skin smattered with black ink.

"I've been wanting to get that dress of of you since you got in the car this morning" he nips at your bottom lip, moving down to leave open mouthed kiss down the column of your neck.

A breathless moan falling from your lips as he reaches for the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulders.

He reaches under the slit of your dress, you gasp at his actions, still trying to convince yourself that this is real. That what is happening is not just another stupid dream.

Caressing the side of your thigh, he bunches up the velvet of her dress around your hips, your hands trapped in Eddie’s hair as you let breathless gasps escape you.

“You like me touching you?” he asks, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass, it’s getting all so much already, with a whine you lean your forehead on his shoulder.

“Hey, no, look at me” he grabs your face gingerly, letting your eyes meet "I've been waiting to see you like this. I need to see you" and in the shushed whispers it's like you're not even in a hotel room anymore.

He's created your own universe, where the perfection of your bodies, hands, fingers, breaths intertwined, they're everything that matters for a brief moment in time.

Eddie reaches behind your back, feeling around for the zipper of your dress. You hold a breath in, briefly overtaken by a strange feeling. He's never seen you like this.

"It's okay, it's just me" it's almost like he senses your unease in the air, placing a chaste kiss to your shoulder, like a soothing balm for your heart. The zipper begins to go down, its buzzing fills the room, a ticking clock for what's about to happen.

"I can't believe we waited this long" he says with bated breath, as you get the dress of of you "you're so gorgeous" he mumbles against the skin of your wrist placing an open mouthed kiss there.

Your heart thrums, you want to answer him, you want to say that you've loved him since high school, you've played the waiting game and the reward was right in front of you. Instead you just whimper as Eddie lays you down, reaching a hand in between your legs. You stop him immediately.

"I need you right now. I'm ready" you urge feverishly, you feel hot, a burning need to get close to him. Feeling like you might die if you don't feel him sink into you right this instant.

He smiles. Understanding, maybe a little cocky as he chuckles and leans back, undoing the belt of his slacks, finally letting his cock spring free, after a whole day of suffocating confinement.

Your mouth hangs open, murmuring your name against the skin of your abdomen, your chest, placing a kiss on each of your breasts, then mouthing at your neck.

"Ready?" he looks at you for any trace of hesitation, a pinch in your eyebrows that says this is a mistake, but there's only relief, almost like you'd been waiting too long for this. Years of pining could have easily ended much earlier, Eddie's been waiting as much as you have. Too much of a pussy to do anything about it, thinking he was way out of your league.

He tosses those thoughts aside, he has you now, ready and waiting under him. Nodding eagerly to let himself inside you, without wasting a moment.

And when he does, your eyebrows pinch together, but there's relief in your eyes, as you both begin to rock back and forth on the soft mattress. Small whimpers escaping you, grabbing at Eddie's neck for support.

"I've been wanting you like this since our senior prom, Eddie" you mumble, and he feels like an idiot, because he's never connected the dots. His heart hurts for the time you lost, but you lightly take his hand into yours- a silent "you have me now."

With every thrust, he sees your eyes roll back in bliss, letting out the sweetest noises he's ever heard. And he knows it, then, that he wants to keep you forever.

He mumbles your name again, and every time he does, you tighten around him. The world seems to stop for a moment as he chants it like a prayer. Kneeling at the neglected altar of your body, silently begging for forgiveness in his prayer.

But everyone of his wrongdoings seems to be washed away with every moan and whine, your pitch getting higher with every thrust. Eddie speeds up, feeling himself getting closer with a twang of embarrassment. It should have lasted longer.

"'I'm close" you whisper, gripping onto his shoulders, his back, anywhere your hands can grip him, not wanting to let him go. He keeps his pace, noticing a small sliver of tears at your waterline.

When you come undone with a silent scream, biting at his shoulder to not make noise, he follows you soon, spilling himself inside of you with a low groan.

His forehead comes into contact with yours, breathing against you, letting the rise and fall of his chest match yours. Regulating himself before detaching himself from you.

His hand keeps holding on to yours, as you drink in the moment, not wanting to let it escape from your fingertips.

He turns towards you with a smile "So I guess we're next then?"

Thanks so much for reading! Feedback is so incredibly appreciated!

Day 3 is 1989! Fill out the form Here

tagging some people: @strangerstilinski, @taintedcigs, @melodymunson, @reidsbtch, @eddies-house, @eddiesxangel, @lavendermunson, @xxhellfirebunnyxx

[chimielie]

got no shame (i love the way you’re screaming my name)

summary: Terushima x Reader. got shame? terushima doesn’t.

word count: 1.6k

cw: terushima’s a slut (who is domesticated unknowingly by reader), bad group project etiquette, general unwiseness.

a/n: this… wasn’t supposed to be this long. essentially nothing happens. it’s completely sfw even though i call terushima a slut. sorry

"Hi," you say brightly, setting your laptop down on the desk next to your assigned project partner. "I was thinking we could set up—"

"Yeah, hang on," he—Terushima, according to the instructor's sign-up sheet—interrupts you. "Hey. Hey. Can I get your number?"

You open your mouth before you realize he's talking to the girl behind you, who agrees as easily as he'd asked. They chat a little while longer, taking their sweet-ass time before he turns back to you and she to her partner.

"So I was thinking we could set up a shared document and do this all online," he says, unapologetic, a lazy grin playing on his mouth. You decide then and there that you hate Terushima Yuuji with everything you have in you.

Miraculously, you survive the group project (with the aid of remote work, aggressively polite wording, and a lot of pep talks from your friends). He should be thankful he survived, you think darkly, casting a glare at him as he chatters to a group of friends across the room. He doesn't know how many times you got through class by imagining wrapping your hands around his neck and just—

Anyway.

You're half-convinced the universe sent him to fuel you with inner rage, because even though you no longer have to work together, he just seems like he's cropping up... everywhere.

He's in the grocery, flirting with the attendant as he struggles with the self-checkout machine. He's in your favorite coffee shop, hanging over the bar while the barista makes your drink. He's even at the parties you go to, his loud laugh penetrating your buzz until you can't think of anything else by the end of the night.

You toy with the idea of accusing him of stalking you, except he'd made it abundantly clear upon your first meeting that he had no clue that you existed on the same earthly plane as him. Plus, at this point, you're slightly worried that it's the other way around.

(You try not to think about the time you'd been lying alone in bed, a little bit wine drunk from a self-care night, legs freshly lotioned, face freshly masked, and one of his social media accounts had happened to pop up on your screen. And your finger had happened to bump the screen and hit follow. And before you could process your actions enough to undo your mistake, a little notification had rung out in the horrified silence: @teru-yuuji followed you back!)

(You had rolled over and screamed into your pillow. You still do the same whenever you think about it too long.)

Anyway, he likes all your updates now, which is terribly annoying because it's not even an acknowledgement of your existence, probably, he probably swipes through everyone's profiles and sends little hearts flying haphazardly because he doesn't care about anyone, or anything. And maybe you can recognize that you're projecting a little bit, obsessing a little bit, but you're pretty sure that you're also starting to experience the same sort of revenge glow-up associated with terrible break-ups without any of the emotional pain, so who cares?

It's not like he knows you're even alive.

"I'm going to die out here," you say out loud, to no one, "and nobody will know."

Your car, steaming—smoking really, but you're trying to be positive—beside you on the side of the road, makes a strange noise in sympathy, and you jump.

In a sorely needed attempt to touch grass, you had ventured by yourself to one of your favorite hiking trails, a secluded spot you and your old car had journeyed to hundreds of times. Its small frame was perfect for the winding, mountainous roads; its engine, apparently, not so much.

Luckily, you still have one bar of cell service, except most people you know don't have a car, your best friend is at work, and when you try to call your father, he doesn't pick up and instead texts you: we went to lunch at this tiny restaurant! This is followed by several images that won't load but that are most likely of his food.

"Useless," you say, "I hate men." Just as a white, tricked-out, and worst of all, familiar car turns the corner, all of its windows down to enjoy the fresh air. You stare at its driver as he passes at about ten kilometers per hour, your eyes wide and despondent, his curious and probably devoid of actual human consciousness.

You momentarily contemplate running the opposite direction into the forest versus asking Terushima for help. As is his way, he interrupts.

"Is your car supposed to be doing that?"

Anything snarky, sassy, or otherwise bitchy you could have answered with dies on your tongue in the face of total, completely confident cluelessness.

"No?" You say, feeling almost as though you're witnessing this absurd interaction from above. "Obviously not?"

"Right," he nods, sliding awful, trendy sunglasses off his face and tucking them up into some compartment before putting his car in park and then exiting. As he advances, you note distantly that his eyes are really, really pretty. "Can I help you out? I am a man, though, just a warning."

He heard you. Great.

"I didn't notice," you say, staring firmly at his middle torso area, which is covered by a shirt which he has cut the arms off of. There are... shoulders, and arms, toned, tan arms showing. And he must have just gotten back from a hike of his own, because the material seems slightly damp with sweat, and it's sticking to what appear to be abs, and you suddenly feel like your car: overheated and broken down. "I guess I can forgive you for that. Just this once. If there's anything you can actually do about," you wave a hand at your car, which has thankfully stopped smoking, "that."

"I can give you a ride," he says, and doesn't seem to realize how completely his tone changes as he does, how his words suddenly sound layered and intimate and... You need to get a grip.

“I have a friend on the way,” you say. You don’t. But he’s still technically a strange man and you know better than to seem completely abandoned.

“Oh? Good,” he says, and you think that’s the end of it. He’ll leave you to your beforested demise. “Can I check the hood real quick, though?”

“Do what you want.” He waits for you to pop the hood—you had earlier, but fuck if you knew what you were looking at.

"Thanks, babe," he says, and you hate him all over again. Then he opens your hood, muscled arms stretching up as he latches the strut in place, bent at the waist ever so slightly, and you're sort of collapsing into a very emotionally confused puddle on the side of the road. "Aw, I think your fan is fucked. I have a buddy I can call, he can tow the car if you want? He’s a mechanic but he can take it to your usual person if you have one.”

"That would be really nice," you blink at him, feeling your mouth stretch into a smile without your permission. "Do you think we could call him now? I don't want to leave my car without being sure someone's coming for it."

"Sure," he nods enthusiastically. "Gimme a sec."

What follows is a bizarre five minutes where Terushima paces in front of where you've seated yourself cross-legged on the road, occasionally casting you furtive glances and muttering things like "Yeah, from the... Yeah, that one. Please, bro, I'll owe you... I'll get you Miwa's number. I promise. When have I ever... Okay, fair, but c'mon. Thank you. I'll give you our first-born."

You tune him out after that, fully baffled.

"Okay!" He finally turns to you, beaming a sunny smile you've never seen on him at you. "He's coming. I sent you his website and shit, so you know he’s real."

“He’s not," you say, holding out a hand so he can help you up. He does, and you immediately regret this decision, because he's standing so close, and his hand is really big in yours, and you're pretty sure you're flirting with him. "You’re crazy."

"You’re funny," he says, and laughs, clear and ringing. He’s flirting with you, but you can’t tell if that’s just his natural dialect or if he’s— "So your boyfriend’s coming to pick you up? Why didn’t he come with you?"

"I don’t need a chaperone," the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, which is becoming a worrying pattern. "And I don’t have one—a boyfriend, anyway. I was on the phone with my dad when you showed up, you know, ‘I hate men’. Or trying. He's too excited about grand opening discounted fried fish."

"Fried fish is important," he says solemnly, eyes literally twinkling, what the fuck. You didn’t think that was real. "I understand."

“See,” you roll your eyes, “This is why I hate men.” He’s looking at you with a soft gaze that makes you aware of your whole body, down to your toes, and it’s starting to make you flustered. “I, um, I actually don’t have a ride coming.”

“Then why’d you—” he starts.

“I thought you might murder me,” you shrug. “And then I panicked. You don’t seem like a murderer, and we’ve had classes together, so… I’m sorry about that.”

“So,” he looks hopeful, in a way you don’t understand. “You still need a way back?”

“I do,” you nod, “but seriously, if it’s an inconvenience at all, I really don’t want to—”

“Please,” he says. “I’ve been trying to get on your good side for a while. Let me take you home.”

[inklore]

crimson and clover.

part one | next part | series masterlist

premise: maybe you shouldn’t get high with eddie again but you can’t get him off of your mind, and his lips are too inviting to fight the growing addiction you’re succumbing to from the things he can do with them.

pairing: eddie munson x richgirl!reader

word count: 7k

warnings: eighteen+ content, porn with plot, f receiving oral, fingering, a touch of voyeurism, weed smoking, virgin!eddie, teasing and banter, soft dirty talk, alluded blowjob, jealousy mention, cheesy fluff, shitty parentals.

etc: i’m literally obsessed with these two to the point of insanity!! like i’m not usually that much of a plot heavy girly but buckle up besties we in deep <3.

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

It’s quite embarrassing, excruciatingly taxing, vexing and every other big word that you could remember and barely comprehend—but now are having a grave first-hand experience with—from those Jane Austen books you had to read in class.

Every ten sellable verb, feeling, pretext; all of them describing the exact state of your mind right now, and how superficial it made you feel. Aforementioned: excruciating, embarrassing.

A week has gone by since the night you spent with Eddie, and it’s all you find yourself thinking about.

Your mind plays a constant loop reel of everything that happened; the giggles, the kiss, the…other thing. At night when you want to sleep your mind is too busy thinking about whether or not Eddie’s thinking about it too, what happened. Or if he’s out bragging to his friends—something you have your doubts about. The two of you hadn’t discussed if this was an under-wraps kind of thing, it was probably common knowledge you wouldn't want it to be spread all over town. Which it would be, like wildfire.

None of your friends have called you to belittle you yet, so you doubt he’s told anyone.

But was it plaguing his mind as pathetically as it was yours? Or were you just so starved for decent human interaction that your mind was holding onto this one night like it was an aphrodisiac?

Maybe if you had received a call from him you wouldn’t be acting so…mortifyingly in your feelings for god knows why.

"Will we be graced with your presence across the tracks again, princess?" He had asked when he pulled up a block down from your house, not trusting his loud engine to not wake up your parents—or at the very least a neighbor who would see and then go running to your parents about the strange man they saw you with. It wasn’t a mess you wanted to deal with.

"Don't call me that." You had groaned, undoing your seatbelt and hiding your smile by biting the inside of your cheek. You hadn’t thought past this night, were still too busy rolling off that high from smoking and having Eddie against your mouth…inside of your mouth.

And maybe it was his smile, his thumb tapping on the steering wheel, eyes flashing to your mouth and back up like he didn’t know if he was allowed to kiss you again, or if he should.

But you reached across the dash and grabbed the pen randomly rested atop of it, leaned over to pull his hand from the wheel, and wrote your number on top of it.

"Don't call before six or after midnight.” You let your smile spread, threw the pen back on the dash, and opened the passenger door hopping out. “See you around, Munson.”

That was seven days ago and counting.

Never-ending counting.

It’s not like you expected him to call. You figured he probably wouldn’t, the two of you were not about to become best friends just because he cleaned your shoes, or let you smoke his weed, or because he came in your mouth. You didn’t—shouldn’t—have any expectations from Munson and you were sure he had none from you.

History didn’t make you friends. Sharing weed or an incredible kiss didn’t either.

So it wasn’t a big deal he hadn’t called.

And yet as you sit at one of the pristine white table cloth tables of the Country Club, your parents on either side of you, your fingers playing with the straw of your drink; you’re wondering if he’s called.

You’re so hyper-focused on that thought, of the thought of that stupid smile that you can’t shut your eyes without seeing—that you don’t hear your mother speaking to you until the words “I heard you two broke up” are spat through the air.

Reality crashes down on you, and you can’t help the grimace that flashes across your lips. Word really does spread like wildfire in this town. You hadn’t expected your parents to find out until at least a few weeks—or never, a girl could dream. Enough time for you to come up with an excuse at least, anything but the truth. Which would be nothing but unacceptably unrealistic to them.

“He’s not a good-”

“I didn’t ask for your feelings on the matter.” Your mother interrupts. Scowls down at the martini glass in her hand. “Fix it. You’re both going to the same college, a college your father called in many favors just to get you in. Since you couldn’t do it on your own.” Her last words are mumbled, snappy, and hurtful as always. “His parents run in the same social circle as us and could do wonders for your father's business. Don’t ruin this for yourself over girlish feelings.”

Your throat feels tight, constricted, suffocated. Your fingers have dropped from your straw to grip the end of your white pleated skirt under the table. You know even if you told your mother the full story, how you truly felt, how you’ve been with him since sophomore year and neither of you have even muttered the words ‘I love you’. And don’t think you ever will. Would.

Or how last year over spring break the two of you broke up for a month and you had felt more rejuvenated than any hundred-dollar spa treatment ever could. As if you had peeled off a deadweight and could finally feel something other than the caked-on layers of presser that were endlessly put onto you by him, by them.

Then he came back and said the same thing your mother did “don’t ruin this for us” when he had been the one to leave you. And you’d done the stupid thing and said yes. As the two of you kissed and made up your mind searched for the why, the how, the what-the-fuck-were-you doing.

And now with your mother's words as fresh as a reopened wound reminding you of the memory, you know you said yes because of her. Your father. Their need to seem so disgustingly perfect on the outside, to hide how ugly they were on the inside.

Were you as ugly as them?

The question makes your knee bounce, knuckles straining from the grip on your skirt.

Your mothers already moved on from you, talking to the friend at her side. Smiling, keeping that perfect crown in place. Turning towards your father you hope to see a sympathetic look, some wise words—wasn’t that what fathers were supposed to do? Wise words and comfort? But he’s not even looking at you, too busy laughing at something the man beside him has said.

You need to get out of here. Go home and scream into your pillow or something.

Standing from the table, a little too quickly. The legs of your chair screeching against the hardwood, your father finally looks at you.

“Everything alright?” A monologue of how everything is the farthest thing from being alright in the back of your throat and ready to be screamed. But then you can feel your mother's eyes on you, don’t have to turn to see her look of impassiveness to know it’s there.

“Yeah,” you give them both your best performed smile. “Just going to do what mom said, fix it.”

Your lie only gets you a hum from said woman and then she’s done with you and turning her head. Your dad gives you the weakest of smiles and asks if you need any money—for no reason at all. Shaking your head you quickly bid them goodbye and do your best walk-sprint out of the building.

The hot summer night air a welcome humidity from the suffocation you felt in there.

You have your parent's driver take you home. Screw your ex and screw your parents.

If your mother wanted him to be in your family so bad maybe she should drop her Pilates instructor and have him instead. It would take a hefty price—that you were sure your parents would gladly pay to get you to shut up and listen to them—to ever bring yourself to his front door and beg for him back.

You didn’t beg. For anyone. Over anything.

You asked. You got. Demanded. Sometimes you didn’t even need to ask. You were just given to. Your bank account and school career showed as much.

Fuck, maybe you were the Princess of Hawkins after all.

You start in a small sprint up the stairs to your room, your throat still feeling as if it’s being squeezed by your mother's words, indifference towards you, demands. Even with her not around you feel like you’re being suffocated by her.

You really shouldn’t have come back home.

Not for the summer. Not anytime. Should have just stuck to the one call a month and check in the mail. Life was more peaceful that way. At least you could breathe.

It was going to be one hell of a long, torturous summer.

“Someone called for you!”

You hear just as your foot lands on the last step. Your heart leaping in your chest as you turn and yell down, “who?”

“They didn’t say.” Your family housekeeper appears at the bottom of the stairs, a small smile on her face. “But they did leave their number and said to call them if you needed help on biology or something like that.” She shakes her head, “could barely understand them. There was loud music in the background.”

Eddie.

The grin that spreads across your lips is demeaning to your social status. Same with the way your heart feels like it’s pumping from your stomach now as you run back down the stairs and take the number from her, only to run back up them and to your room; dialing the number into the pink phone beside your bed, pacing the floor as you wait, hope, shamefully pray that he answers.

On the fifth ring he answers and when his voice floods through the phone when you hear the “shit-hold on” as he turns down the music blaring in the background, you feel like you can finally breathe again. No more tight throat. Suffocating. The only thing you feel now is that familiar giddy ache in your cheeks.

“Biology huh?”

You can hear the puff of air Eddie lets out from realizing it’s you, from the smile that you can tell is on his face when he speaks through the receiver, “I thought telling her I was ‘the weed guy’ would be worse, town freak was my second option.”

"Munson, it's summer no one's doing biology!"

“Incorrect. Summer school is a prison sentence I have had the displeasure of being sentenced to.” Of course, he has. You can’t help the laugh that comes out, one he joins in on.

There’s a silence that spreads where you can hear him fiddling with something on the other line.

And then he’s saying, “is the Princess busy or can she step away from the castle, and grace us, peasants, with her presence?"

You’re smiling again, fuck.

“She could, but I don't know, she might need payment." You say in your best uppity voice, flopping back on your bed. Your fingers coiling and uncoiling the cord hanging from the phone.

"Drats! Right when I’m out of gold doubloons too."

“Oooh, and I only take gold, looks like the peasants must go un-graced today.”

"Would thy majesty take my humble payment of the best weed in the county instead?" He puts on his best historically accurate voice that has you snorting.

“That’s very presumptuous of you to say it's the best."

"Did I say the best? Sorry, I meant the greatest.”

God, you despised how nice this felt. How the muscles in your cheeks were already sore and you hadn’t even been talking to him for more than five minutes. How you can’t remember someone calling you and it being like this, no gossip, no hounding questions or accusations.

Oh, how the normal half lives.

"I'll meet you where you dropped me off the other night, okay?"

"Your chariot will be waiting, princess."

When Eddie picks you up and the two of you fly across town, sharing silent smiles, the town passing in the rear view, heavy metal blaring throughout the speakers—that he doesn’t turn down until his van comes to a stop through a wooded clearing, in front of a familiar lake.

Lovers Lake.

"Really, Munson? Trying to get lucky again?" You tease, a cheeky grin covered up by him laughing behind the hair that moves in his face as he undoes his seatbelt and moves to the back of the van.

You follow him into the back, sitting on the van floor. Eddie on the sofa, much like the last night the two of you were together. Except now you’re sitting with your legs crossed out in front of you, back against one of the walls of the van.

You let him do his thing of pulling out the metal box and rifling through it while he finds what he needs. Occupying your time with looking at the newly added amps and wires that weren’t there the other night.

"What's your band called again?"

"Corroded Coffin.”

You smile remembering him telling you that when you were partnered together. Remember how he drummed his fingers on the desk and air guitared you a silent piece to emphasize how good he swore he could play, how good the band was.

"You should come see us play sometime. If you're into that.” He looks up at you through his bangs, his fingers moving in his lap as he rolls the joint.

You give the tiniest smirk as you say, “like a date?”

His shoulders are shrugging, ringed fingers scratching his cheek. “If a grimy bar and drunk geezers falling off their barstools is your ideal date then yes. Absolutely.” You share a smile and then he’s going back to his task at hand.

When he’s finished rolling, and after you’re done eyeballing him: watching how his fingers work along the rolling papers, those damn rings distracting you, and finding yourself at a loss for words when you watch him bring it to his lips and run his tongue along the seam to close it.

You were here to get away. To kill time. To smoke. Nothing else.

What happened the other night should stay a one time thing. With how your insides keep acting up from the mere thought of it. This was dangerous territory already.

"Your payment, princess." Eddie holds out the freshly rolled joint, doing a little bowing motion as he does. Making you laugh and playfully snatch it from his fingers.

Bringing it to your lips, he pulls out a lighter from the front pocket of his jeans. Leaning forward he flicks it and holds it to the other end, lighting it for you. His eyes on yours as you forget to inhale for half a second, too busy staring back at him. The thick smoke almost making you choke after you’ve come to and inhale; an intensity holding between your gazes.

He’s so close, if you were to remove the joint you could lean in and….

Nope. Not happening. Not tonight.

You quickly move back over to your spot and take a few puffs, praying that it chills whatever tempestuous feelings were burning in your lower belly right now.

The two of you fall into an easy rotation, puffing, passing, Eddie making a joke and you losing it. A peaceful cycle that soon has you forgetting about the earlier events of the day and how you had felt; your nerves now lax, body feeling good. And not just because of the weed, but because of the boy sitting in front of you.

A fact you let yourself feel.

The only thing you allow yourself to feel.

You’re tapping your foot mindless against the bottom of the couch to the metal playing through the van, ignoring the friction it causes against the pant leg of Eddie’s jeans; his leg pressed against yours as the two of you have your limbs spread out.

Your fingers are flipping through a random magazine you’ve found in one of the many piles of junk on the floor. “Who sings this?”

"Corroded Coffin.”

Your head snaps up a little too fast giving you whiplash, as you look up at him—he’s already staring back, how long has he been watching? And have your cheeks always been this warm, or is the thought that he had possibly been watching you for god knows how long that’s making you feel overheated right now?

“This is your band?!”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “I don't see any blood coming from your ears so I take it your majesty approves?"

You make a face, shrugging. "I was swallowing down my vomit actually, was trying to hide it with being nice."

“Mmm.” He replies, his hair covering his smile as he fiddles with the chain connected to his jeans.

It’s an effort to pull your eyes away from him and go back to flipping through the magazine—as if you were doing anything other than looking at the pictures. Your high mind having very little comprehension of the words printed across the flimsy papers.

That comfortable silence spreads between the two of you again, your foot going back to its tapping. Your head doing a little bob along with the beat.

“Was that a jive I just saw?”

Your movements stop, “a jive?” The snort of laughter that comes deep from within your throat should be embarrassing. If it were anyone else in front of you you know you’d do everything in your power to cover it up.

“Who says that?”

“I know many people who say it.”

“Are they 80 and over?”

Eddie shakes his head, his laugh dying down. “You like it, the music?”

“I’ve heard worse.” You shrug nonchalantly. Close the magazine and toss it back in its pile of junk.

“I’ll take it!” His fist pumping in the air in triumph.

Shaking your head you send an eye roll his way. Your heart doing a little leap in your just at how cute you think he looks right now. Your mind working overtime to hone in on the little things that light up his features when he smiles or laughs—and then the little things that don’t matter at all: like how this is your second time here and the first he had scurried around and tried to move his random messes out of the way, to clean it up. But this time around he didn’t even bother, as if a comfortability has already grown between the two of you. You hadn’t run for the hills, already knew what he was about, that this van was a second home to him by the looks—and he knew you wouldn’t care what it looked like. Hadn’t made a fuss the first time so why not let you see him more in his realm?

It makes a weird affection burn in your gut and has you toying with the bottom of your skirt to distract yourself from it.

Just listen to the music. The band. It’s pretty good.

Which isn’t shocking to you in the slightest. It only took you all your school career, and give or take a few years, to realize that Eddie Munson was a lot of things but mediocre was not one of them.

But your mind is racing a mile a minute, unlike the first time, you smoked Eddie’s stash. Which meant that you were the problem, the issue causing your mind to run from the blissful high into difficult feelings and misunderstandings of said feelings.

Go figure.

Your legs are still touching each other. You can feel the bare minimum of his heat against your legs, but it’s enough to add flashbacks of the other night into the mix of your mind. How you could feel the heat from other parts of his body; under you, beside you, against you, inside your mouth.

The tender skin of your bottom lip quickly becomes raw from your teeth, as the memories bombard you. As you grow warmer and warmer. And make the mistake of looking up at him, watching him, staring at him—and then he’s catching you doing just that and you have the urge to ask him if he’s thought about you sense that night, or why he hadn’t called sooner.

Questions with obvious answers.

But your mind is working against you here.

And the last thing you want him to think is that you’re just sitting at home waiting for him to call. Like you’re desperate for it, begging for it. Something you do not do. And was not about to start for Eddie Munson.

“Did you have plans later?” He asks.

Making your brows come together, a confused look on your face as you wonder if you’ve missed something. If he spoke before this and you just didn’t hear because of your internal war.

“The outfit,” he points with a finger, “it’s chic.” A lopsided grin pulls up the corners of his mouth just as you laugh.

“Chic?” You shake your head, “I was at the Country Club with my parents.”

“And you let me steal you away from such fun with the other royals? Honored." His hand splays over his chest.

You make a face, “my mother thinks I’m crawling on my hands and knees back to lover boy." You drop the same nickname Eddie had the other night for your ex, seeing his expression change from it. His smile faltering, fingers brushing at a few loose strands of hair in his face.

“Are you?”

“If I was, would I be here with you?"

"Maybe you needed some devil induced bravery to help you crawl."

"I wouldn't waste a good high on him,” you scoff.

Eddie’s silent for a second too long for your sanity and then he’s saying, “instead you're here wasting it on me."

"It's not a waste.” The words slip out. Come out so naturally that you don’t realize how sentimental of a meaning they have until you see Eddie’s expression. See the softness of it, and how you cannot bear the way your insides feel right now.

What’s the worst thing that can happen from you hooking up with Munson again?

“At least it doesn't have to be.." you’re pulling at your skirt again, can’t bring your eyes up to his as the words hang in the air—an invitation.

"Hitting on me now, princess?” His leg pushes into yours playfully, “who knew you could be so flattering. So charitable.” He teases.

You only look up to scowl at him, because you were not hitting on him—maybe, not really, you didn’t hit on people, you were hit on. But like many things around Munson it had changed, morphing itself into something you don't recognize; something better. You are going to tell him as much, flaunt your Princess status tenfold. But can’t stop looking into his big brown eyes, can’t stop the burning in your stomach going lower lower until it turns into that same lust you felt for him the other night.

And fuck it.

You’ve already dipped your toe over that line once, mine as well put your whole foot in.

"Shut up, Munson.” Your retort is less ice than it is fire, a breathy huff that you mean to sound playful but miss the mark. “Come here,” you hesitate. "Please.”

The beam that spreads across his face is anything but subtle or shy, promptly dropping down to his knees and crawling the short distance to you. A position he stays in even as he brings his lips to yours.

The kiss, his lips, his fingertips at the side of your neck just as heart stopping and pulsating-ly devastating to your insides as last time. A pang of jealousy shoots through your belly at the thought of how many girls he has kissed before you, he’s had to have kissed a couple, a handful maybe, you weren’t this good at kissing if you hadn’t. Kisses didn’t just feel like this, normally. Right?

Or maybe you just weren’t kissing the right people. Person.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to move into the realm of breathless pants and tongues against each other, teeth biting into lips. And unlike last time Eddie doesn’t need an invitation to touch you; his hands go from your neck to your cheeks, your jaw, chin, the back of your skull, and into your hair. The tips of his fingers making a road map of every sensitive spot above your collarbone.

Eventually, thanks to some maneuvering and awkward giggles the two of you are laid on the floor of the van—you on your back, Eddie on his side with his front pressed flush against you. His lips have veered from yours, leaving a path of kisses and nips along your jaw, under it, to your neck where he runs his tongue along a sensitive spot of skin, his lips wrapping around it to suck softly and then sink his teeth into.

A breathy gasp strangled out of you, your hips moving against the air. An imprint of Eddie smirking against your skin from the noise, left behind when he kisses just below the area. Fuck.

“How many–” you swallow, lick your lips, breathless, “how many girls have you kissed like this?”

It’s probably not the right thing to ask right now, but your mind keeps going back to it. That jealousy making your stomach sink as you anticipate his answer, as you dread and wish your body and brain were working together instead of on separate plains of pain and pleasure.

“Uh, a dozen obviously.” He laughs softly against you when you dig your nails into his arm playfully, in replace of the scowl you’d shoot him down with if you could turn your head—or if you wanted him to stop the knee shaking presses of his lips right now, which you’re delirious but not that delirious to stop him. “Only you, princess.”

The information shouldn’t have you soaring any more than you already are, shouldn’t make those jealousy twists get snuffed out by a belly full of butterflies, and flutters that go all the way down to your throbbing clit. But it does and you’re reeling at the sentiment that you’re probably Eddie’s first everything in this sense. In this realm.

It’s not triumph you feel, it’s something softer and dangerously close to affection and attachment that has no business filling your chest with warmth right now.

And instead of feeling the aforementioned feelings, distracting yourself with giving him pleasure—and to hear those beautiful noises from the other night—your hand is moving from his arm to the bulge pressing to your hip.

Your fingers and palm run up his clothed length and pull those delicious breathy grunts from him. No man should sound this good, no sound should have you feeling like you’re melting into the floor.

Your mouth finding Eddie’s in a hungry kiss, a need to swallow down his noises like a drug, needing sedation. You could get addicted to this if you’re not careful.

Your fingers drag themselves up to his belt, try to blindly pull the leather through its buckle, the loops. And just like a repeat of the night before, his hand is there to stop you.

“Gotten shy on me?” You ask with a coyness that makes him give you a ‘not in this lifetime’ look.

“I just want to make it crystal clear that I didn’t bring you here for this.” His tone only holds gentleness, his hand bringing yours up to his mouth to brush a few kisses across your knuckles.

“Even if you did,” your fingers twist a strand of his hair, “I wouldn’t be upset.”

And you mean that. If Eddie had only brought you here for a replay of the other night or something further than that, you know—even if it was against your better judgment—you wouldn’t be too upset about it, or at all. It was hard to be upset with lips like his pulling out smiles and whimpers from you.

But it also means that Eddie had called you because he wanted to see you, to hang out…which is harder for you to grasp than the prospect of only casual hookups between the two to you.

Those Jane Austen feelings back with a vengeance in your chest cavity.

Your answer makes a chuckle echo in his chest. “But,” he’s looking at you with all seriousness within those doe eyes. “Now that we’re–” he motions to your current positions with his hand, “here. I want to return the favor. For the other night.”

Oh?

Oh.

Pressing your lips together, you do your best to hide the excitement that shoots up your spine, nodding in a super-casual-not-too-fast way. “Yeah, okay, yes, totally.”

“Totally?” He mocks you, smirking.

“Totally.”

Then his lips are on yours again without needing further confirmation. The kiss slower this time compared to the last lip lock that made your bottom lip feel like it was inflamed from his teeth. Your mouths move in perfect sync, and if you could figure out a way you know you could get off by just his kiss alone. He moves your hand back to his crotch, giving you back access to his hardness as his hand begins its travel down your chest. Palming your boobs over your white polo, his thumb moving across your nipple, making you whimper. Your chest pushing up into him.

The closer he gets—the further his fingers move along the fabric of your clothes—the anticipation of where you want him, where he wants to be, makes your legs pull together. Thighs in a tight lock, your attempted relief of the pressure on your clit only makes the throbbing worse. You can feel how soaked you are through the cotton of your panties, know that once you feel his fingers slip inside of you it’s going to be game over.

There's a whoosh of air against your thighs from Eddie pushing up the top of your skirt, putting your clothed pussy on display for him. His mouth pulling from yours as he looks down at you and takes you in. The hunger in his eyes turning the brown hues in them black. You’re about to ask him if he wants you to take your underwear off, his fingers slipping past the elastic of them stopping you. His palm warm against your mound.

Eddie runs his middle finger through your folds, voice low and gravelly when he says. “You’re so wet.” All you can do is mewl, bite your already raw lip as you try to keep your hips still, try to hold yourself back from fucking his hand the way you want to. His fingers explore you for a bit, misstepping your throbbing clit each time the tips of his fingers come close to it. Even as you finally let yourself move your hips a fraction of an inch up, he’s still not touching the spot you really need, instead, he’s moving every place you don’t need him. Until he slips a finger inside of you too aggressively, making an “ahh” hiss out of you.

Your face scrunched when he turns to look down at you, halting his actions. Body tense, “did I hurt you?”

He’s never done this before, it’s not new knowledge and yet thanks to your hormone filled haze—and the need to come—you were expecting him to know all the places to touch. To not be as aggressively pushy right from the get-go.

“No,” you sigh, laughing softly. “Sort of, just…can I show you?” You’re nervous he’s going to take it the wrong way. That this is where it’s going to end because it'll be awkward and he’ll be embarrassed or mad or something.

But there you go thinking Eddie is one thing when he’s the exact opposite. The endless surprise of this boy never ceasing to show you why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover—or by its fellow shitty townspeople.

Eddie nods, eyes soft and tentatively looking at you in the same way an excited student looks thrilled to learn from a teacher.

Wasting no time you loop your fingers into the elastic of the cotton covering your pussy, pulling the garment down your legs and tossing it to the side. Moving comfortably back into your lying position, skirt still pushed up, completely showcasing yourself to him. A flutter sinking low into your belly when you watch Eddie’s throat bob from a tight swallow as he looks down at your wet cunt.

And while he watches, stares at you, you’re staring up at him. Watching the hunger and desire to learn—to be taught—displaying itself across his face; your hand moves between your legs, the pad of your index finger putting the lightest of pressers on your clit. The moan you let out has Eddie’s hair falling in your face for half a second as his eyes snap to your face. As he watches your mouth part, brows come together, breaths shaky and weak as you touch yourself. Rubbing slow circles against your throbbing clit, where you wanted, needed to feel him. Where you’ve been throbbing and aching for what felt like hours—days—for him.

His fingers dig into your thigh as he spreads your legs wider, holding it up and against him below your knee so you’re completely open for him. So he can see you run your fingers down between your folds to catch the gathering arousal at your entrance and pull it back up to coat your clit.

You should be talking right now, should be directing him with your words, but you can’t. Have never touched yourself in front of anyone before, never had to, or wanted to. The act of touching yourself strictly permitted for when you were alone in your room at night. Never like this. But you’ve been convinced. Turned over a new leaf in the things you like, enjoy; the way Eddie is watching your fingers, the way he brings his gaze back up so fucking slow to look at your face. To hold eye contact with you as you moan and tremble. That mounting pressure already starting, so fast, so good.

Eddie leans into the small distance of space between your mouths to swallow down one of your moans that comes out at the same time his lips press to yours. “You’re so pretty.” He whispers between kisses. “How many guys have you let watch you like this?”

You whimper, breath hot on his mouth, “none. Only you.”

He’s grinning against your mouth, “you do this at night when you’re alone in your bed?”

“Yes.” Humming, you feel breathless, can feel your hips gyrating against your hand, legs trembling. Know you’re so close. But don’t want to make yourself come. Want Eddie to be the one to make you come, want his fingers to be inside of you when your walls constrict and carry you through that euphoric high.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, princess.” His head lifts back up to look back down at your pussy, the wet sounds of your arousal against your finger and clit filthy.

Have you ever been this wet before? This turned on? Fuck, Eddie Munson.

Without thinking—reeling off of your own need—you grab his hand that's still holding your leg to him. “Put your hand over mine.” Following directions eagerly Eddie does so, places his searing palm atop yours, his index finger resting perfectly against yours; moving along as you go back to stroking your clit. “Like this, slow–ahh–circles.” The last syllables of your words choked out over a moan. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, know you’re probably making a mess on the makeshift carpeting below you.

He copies your movements for one, three, six circles and then you’re snaking your hand away and it’s his finger on your clit. The change in feeling is instantaneous and has your hips stuttering, whines coming out weaker. Your hand gripping the material of his shirt, needing to ground yourself. To remind you that yes, this is reality and not some crazy out of body wet dream.

“Like that?” Eddie asks against your cheek.

“Yes.” You don’t think your moans have ever sounded this wailing, this intense to the point where you’re almost embarrassed at how good you feel right now. How your body is shaking and mewling and reaching out for him for pleasure. In need of it.

This time when he slips a finger into you it’s slow, so good and gentle as he pumps it inside of you, that amplifies the squelching of your wetness. “This okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

He fucks you like that, his middle finger fucking up into you, his thumb brushing against your clit at just the right angle that has you on the verge of seeing stars. You’re so so close, know that if he keeps doing that you’re going to be a goner–

“Wait, what are you doing?” Your brows pull up in confusion as you watch him detach himself from your side, removing his hand from between your thighs. Settling himself between your legs on his knees.

You expect him to start undoing his belt, figure he’s ready to take it further, aren't mad at the thought—but he’s surprising you again. “You got to taste, it’s only fair, princess.” Eddie smirks, situates himself in a comfortable hunching position, and then you’re gasping as he runs the tip of his tongue along your clit. Any rebuttal you could have thought to reply with dead in the water.

“Fuck, Eddie,” there are no missteps like the first time he was down there with his hand. Mimicking the movements you showed him with your fingers with his tongue, with a few added experimental licks and sucks that have your breath caught in your throat. “Ohmygod, and you’ve never done this before?” You curse, feel a breathy laugh fall across your clit. One, then another, finger slipping into you moving in tandem with his tongue.

Only one other guy has gone down on you and it was not as nearly intense or agonizing pleasurable as this—to the point where your thighs are closing in around his head, hands in his hair. Back arching. You feel like a woman crazed, like you had no idea you could feel this searing, pleasure this good.

You mean to say something, to warn him, to say any words that you can dredge up from the crevice of your dysfunctional brain; but all you can do is scream as you come against his mouth, as your pussy convulses around his fingers. Your hips rolling up into him, thighs shaking, body spasming as his name falls from your lips like a sinful prayer.

“Munson,” you whine, pulling at his chin once you’ve come down enough to function. Once you can finally see something other than the white bursts of light across your vision. Eddie’s tongue still running along your sensitive clit to the point of oversensitivity, that you have to pull him up.

His chin and cheeks are damp, bangs pressed to his forehead. Find yourself laughing at his tousled hair—no thanks to your fingers. There’s a cheshire grin stretched across his face as he runs the back of his hand over his mouth. Crawling up your body to hover over you and kiss you, a whimper coming from your throat as you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Wow.” You breathe, smile over at him as he rolls back to his side beside you. A palm resting over where your heart is still beating a mile a minute.

“I’ll take it.” Your laughs are in unison as a look of triumph flashes in those big eyes.

“If only you were that much of an eager learner in school, might have graduated, joined me on the road to success.” You pick.

“Not even seconds after I make her come and she’s already wounding me.” His chuckle muffled by the press of another kiss to your lips. “Better than lover boy?” Eddie teases.

“Can’t compare something that never happened.”

He makes a disgusted noise from the back of his throat, “no wonder you left him for the steerage.”

You hum nodding, turning your head to the side to press a kiss to his throat. Would it be too sentimental of you to tell him that he’s better than anyone you’ve been with? That no one has ever made you come that hard, not even yourself. That you can feel your wetness rolling down your ass cheeks and inner thighs from how wet he made you.

It could be a mood killer, sentiment isn't even your thing.

Plus it’s his turn now. Fair’s fair right?

There’s no complaint from Eddie as you move on top of him, roll your hips against his hardness, the seam of his jeans making you shudder from still feeling over-sensitive, as you move down the length of his body to rid him of his jeans and take him into your mouth.

“Here.” There’s a cassette tape gripped in his hand, the back of his head resting on the headrest of the driver's seat. You’re parked in the same spot he picked you up earlier, a block from your house. “Since you liked it so much,” he smiles.

Sentiment. Fuck.

Your smile is too cheesy and girlish for you to wrap any logistics into your head about it just being a tape, as you take it from and see his band name in black marker at the top. Your stomach fluttering. A simple gift that's not a big deal. You have to remind yourself as you try not to lean over and kiss him on that beautiful mouth of his.

“Here,” you say as you pull off your underwear and drop them into his lap. “A gift for a gift.”

You don’t let yourself stick around to see the heart-palpating look in his eyes as he grips the fabric in his hand and laughs, shouting “gold doubloons could never compare!” out of the open window. Making you press a finger to your lips, shooting daggers at him through the windshield as you pick up the pace towards your house. Trying to quiet your giggles and wipe the big girlish grin on your face.

[runnning-outof-time]

For your celebration

Love to know what you could come up with for

1. Tommy

2. My sentence is “get ion your knees and beg”

3. Prompt is “I need you”

Kind of thinking that’s is not what it seems at first and it’s Tommy and reader in what might be a serious scene but actually turns into fluff and caring Tommy. Maybe he has caught/kidnapped the reader - she is an enemy but then something changes…….

Hi there! Thanks for sending this in! I hope this is something along the lines of what you were envisioning and that it makes sense - I wasn’t quite able to get fluffy/caring Tommy in there, but I hope the twist will make up for it. I can’t say I’ve written anything like this before, so it may seem a bit out of my wheelhouse. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Get On Your Knees

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: reader’s been kidnapped, smoking, language, slight season 4 spoilers

Word Count: 1037

Summary: The roles quickly flip once (Y/N) finds out what Tommy wants from her.

“We’ve got her in here, Mr. Shelby,” one of the blinders spoke after two sets of footsteps sounded off of the concrete floor. The voice was muffled, but it was quickly followed by the sound of the door opening. The door to the room that (Y/N) was being held in.

Both sets of footsteps approached the chair she was tied to. They came right up to her and stopped, and silence rang in the room for a few moments before the burlap sack was swiftly pulled off of her head.

The first thing (Y/N) did was smirk, and she titled her head to the side slightly as she looked directly at the man she knew was behind all of this. “I knew it was you,” she couldn’t help but say, a snideness present in her voice.

“There’s no need for you to speak,” Tommy Shelby was brash, but he had no intention of hiding the fact that his eyes were dragging over her frame as he spoke.

“Can you at least untie my hands?” she asked with raised eyebrows, showing him by wriggling her hands against the ropes. “You know I won’t run,” a smirk dancing on her lips as she uttered the final half of her statement.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at her, considering her ask for a moment before he locked eyes with one of his men and nodded his head in the woman’s direction. The blinder wordlessly nodded before hastily moving over and going about undoing the restraints. (Y/N) kept her eyes locked with Tommy while this was being done, watching as he lit a cigarette.

Nothing was said until (Y/N)’s hands were freed. She immediately crossed her arms over her chest and set her one knee atop the other, relaxing back into the chair she’d been bound to with a smirk. “Tell me your plan,” she said to him then, her chin raising slightly.

He kept his eyes on her as he took a drag from his cigarette. The smoke slowly billowed out from his lips before he spoke, “I need you.”

“That’s not a surprise,” (Y/N) couldn’t help but interject with a snort, “you didn’t need to kidnap me for that though. A simple call would have sufficed.”

“I need you to help me gather intel,” Tommy continued without commenting on her interjection.

“On who?”

“The person who’s come to kill my family.”

“And that would be?”

Tommy just stared at her. (Y/N) stared back. The silence held for a few moments before it became apparent to her that he wasn’t going to give the answer she was looking for right away.

“Are you aware of how many enemies you’ve made, Tommy Shelby?” she questioned him, her eyebrows raised. The question made him finally break eye contact with her as he shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Luca Changretta,” he gave the name in a low voice.

“Hmm?” she asked for him to repeat it.

“Luca Changretta’s come to kill my family. He’s issued a black hand…a vendetta,” he gave more information this time.

“Luca Changretta? As in the sweet, old Mrs. Changretta’s son? What have you done to aggravate him, Tommy?” (Y/N) quirked an eyebrow, a dramtic tinge of shock present in her voice as she looked at him with wide eyes.

“It’s a long story,” he brushed her off.

“I’ve got all day for you to tell it to me…” she insisted, tipping her head to the side slightly, “…I mean, it’s the least you can do…since you’ve cancelled my plans. Unless you’ve got other things in mind,” she finished, biting her lip to conceal her grin.

“I need you to help me gather intel on where he and his men are…on what they’re planning,” Tommy once again ignored her comments, preferring to stick with the topic at hand.

“Get on your knees and beg me then,” she demanded, her grin quickly getting replaced by a stoic look. She caught the subtle shift in his expression, and this made her grin return. She caught him off-guard. “Go on…show me how much you need me, Tommy.”

Tommy stared at her for a few moments, blinking several times in disbelief as he waited for her to go back on what she’d just said. But she stayed silent and kept her expectant gaze focused on him.

It wasn’t until his knees started to bend that she erupted with laughter. This response made Tommy freeze, confusion washing over his features.

“You were actually going to fucking do it,” she got out between her laughs, “the all powerful Tommy Shelby was just about to get on his knees and beg for me to help him.”

Tommy said nothing, his jaw now slack as (Y/N) stood from the chair and walked over to stand toe to toe with him. She looked him over, a pleased look present on her face before she spoke once again.

“You must be deep in it now, huh? Asking the woman you swore you’d keep out of business for help,” she spoke in a low voice.

“Will you help me?” he asked, still wanting to steer clear of her games, although his response to her previous request made it apparent that he’d already been sucked in.

“You see, we need each other, Tommy…” she paused before she moved even closer to him, making it so that not much space was between their bodies, “we need each other, but not in the same way.”

A smirk formed on her face as she finished the statement, and she stepped away from him without waiting for a response. Tommy watched as she walked to the door and banged on it twice. The man standing guard opened it, but he didn’t let (Y/N) out right away. Instead, he looked to Tommy, waiting for some sort of command…one that never came.

“The meeting is finished. Let me out,” (Y/N) insisted, quickly becoming impatient.

The man took one last look at his boss before he did as the woman said, opening the door wider so that she could exit the room. And she did, without uttering one more word.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[luvgoodcumbun]

I just want someone to fuck my face .... Like really fuck it. Most men are always so hesitant and never really wanna actually take control. This is what......me n a guy friend is smokin and chillin and he says, "You, should suck on more then just that blunt". I say maybe he should "make me"......then he stands up in front of me and says get in your knees. As I scoot down to my knees, off the couch, he really big standing in front of me... I look up at him and he's undoing his belt, unzipping his pants and he takes me by the back of my head and the under part/side of my cheek neck area.... Holding my face in place while you force yourself into my mouth goin deeper each time you thrust into me, stretching the back of my throat in ways that shouldn't be possible.... And I started to push away, shoving off your thighs, tears filling in my eyes... I can't breathe or even gasp for air....you hold me there tighter running your fingers close to my scalp and gripping a full hand of hair, pulling till I stop resisting. As I start to relax you ease up just enough and pull out of my throat for me to breathe.....only for just a moment before ramming deep down my throat forcefully, repeatedly. Make-up streaming down my face, muffled whimpers, my hands clinched onto your hips till I can fill the tension build in you....and I can feel your cock pumping warm juicy cum into the back of my throat...then we can high-five and smoke a blunt 😎 blunts n blowjobs kinda vibes. 💨🖤 Happy Thursday 💝

[rroseselavyyy]

play me like a violin - jhs

pairing: hoseok x female reader

warnings: smut, abs riding? c*mshot

Hoseok had always found you beautiful. He liked the bright smile on your face, which made him smile at the memory of it even in his darkest days. He liked talking to you even if he knew that you would act like you don't remember him a day after. After all, you would always come back to him.

He liked it when you braided your hair with flowers. Even though he never heard of their names until you told him while you were smoking cigarettes on a dirty countertop, he desperately wanted to be those flowers just to keep you close enough to fill his lungs with your scent.

For someone who didn't bother to remember anything other than his busy schedule, all it took for him to carve your name deep inside of his memory was just one lovely encounter with you.

Indeed, he became deeply infatuated with you.

However, he was already so convinced that you were only made for him, he didn't notice that you were already taken. Watching you throwing yourself at a man who didn't seem to treat you with respect made his blood boil. Every time when his eyes caught the sight of your eyes glistened with tears, he wanted to be the only one drying them.

It seemed to him that on one of those nights when he wished to be loved by you, a star shining brightly in the night sky willingly sacrificed her life just to make his dream come true.

Your fights with your boyfriend were always messy but when you felt like you couldn't take it anymore, you didn't make an attempt to fix your relationship. You gave him one last chance and it didn't take him long to blew it again. You were done with falling into pieces again and again.

Luckily, you didn't have to worry about that anymore. Hoseok was more than willing to shower you with his love till you were addicted to it. A love more passionate than any lover could give it to you.

All he needed was a greenlight and you could reach your happily ever after.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to." You felt like your back was pressed on a wall when Hoseok got a grip on your thighs, holding your legs wrapped around his waist. "It's okay-" You whispered above his lips before your delicate hand found its way to his hair, pulling his face closer to yours in an attempt to steal a kiss from his lips one last time. "Keep going, Seokie."

He wanted to savour the moment when his nostrils filled with a hint of your scent. Everything about you made him wanted to be one of the things that you possessed, including your sweet perfume. Maybe then he could linger on your skin even when you were not by his side.

As you were both panting heavily, he practically threw you on his bed. He felt like he couldn't wait to have you under him, splayed on his bed as if it was the only place you belong. His beautiful eyes never left yours as he was undoing the buttons of his shirt.

You were waiting for him on your elbows when he parted your legs with his strong hands. He placed a tender kiss on your cheek as he was trying to get rid of his pants with shaky hands. You bit back a moan as he was crawling on top of you with his chest ready to burst with excitement.

"Wanna try something new, beautiful?" Standing on his knees, Hoseok gripped your wrists and brought your hands to his abdomen. You whimpered at the feeling of his hard cock poking at your inner thigh. His breath hitched in his throat as if an excruciating pleasure was rushing through his veins. "Maybe you wanna get off on my abs? Would you like that, baby?"

You couldn't help but stare at the sight of his body as he was waiting for you to answer him. "Are you okay with that?" He giggled sweetly when you refused to meet your eyes with his. "I would die for you if you want me to. Is that a proper answer?" You couldn't fathom exactly when Hoseok switched your positions when you found yourself on top of him in a heartbeat. You scrunched your eyes with the immense pleasure you felt when your opened legs made your pussy spread out on top of him without any barriers.

It took all his strength not to place you on top of his dick when you slowly grinding your pussy on his toned muscles. He licked his lips hungrily as he was eyeing your expression filled with sheer pleasure. His fingers adorned with heavy rings were making circles on your sides in a soothing way as his eyes were half-closed.

You were mewling his name when you felt Hoseok's hips started to move uncontrollably to get some sort of relief. "I'm yours, baby. Use me-"

Even at the heat of the moment he moved his experienced hips gracefully in a way as if you two were dancing. You felt you were reaching your high as you were using him for your pleasure, making a mess on his tanned skin. It was his rough kiss on your lips that made your orgasm hit, making your body tremble uncontrollably.

He made you lay under him quickly. You felt like blood rushed to your cheeks at the sight of him stroking his cock feverishly. You brought your hand on his jawline, looking into his eyes innocently as if you were trying to return his favor for giving you a mind-blowing orgasm. He cursed under his breath when he felt like he couldn't hold it anymore. He tugged at his cock until he made sure that he marked you with his cum.

You were both tired when he threw himself on bed right beside you. You wrapped your arm around his waist to pull him closer as he was fucking his cum into your pussy with his fingers lazily. "I would like to take you out on a date. Is that okay?"

You giggled sweetly as his eyes were searching for any emotion in yours. "I'd consider that if you make me breakfast in the morning."