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munsonslove · 2 years

Text

Open Drawers

(18+ only)

summary: You forget to close the drawer to your nightstand and your best friend accidentally finds your vibrator.

wordcount: 4.3k

tags/warnings: fem!reader, slight softdom!eddie, friends to lovers, smut, use of sex toys, praise kink (good girl), very slight degradation (he calls you a slut once), pet names (sweetheart, princess), spit used as lubricant, edging, overstim, no use of y/n

a/n: i teased this fic a while ago, sorry it took me a bit to actually post it but i hope you like it anyway!! requests are open and much appreciated, if i know someones actively waiting for me to write something for them i’ll be more likely to not spend a whole ass month on it lmao

It’s been weeks of torture. Ever since Eddie found out about your ‘little secret’ he’s refused to let it go, bringing it up as often as he can just to humiliate you further. It was cruel behavior, especially from the man you consider your best friend. Though you can’t be too surprised, considering he’d always had an affection for teasing you. In the past it had always been rather playful and innocent- maybe just ever so slightly suggestive- but you were generally able to ignore his flirtatious comments and retain your close relationship (no matter how much they made your pining heart flutter). It had been almost a month since everything changed.

Nobody was home when you returned from your shift, and inspecting the refrigerator revealed a note left to you from your roommates stating that they would be gone for the rest of the night. The news was passed along through phone call to your best friend before you even changed out of your work clothes, and within the hour Eddie had arrived at your door with a six-pack of beer and a relaxed grin. He entered without knocking (having been given a spare key from the day you moved in) and found you sprawled out on the couch, movie just starting with a large bowl of popcorn already made. You don’t even bother sparing him a glance up as he kisses the crown of your head before plopping down directly on top of you.

You try and fail to kick him off. Admittedly you may have been able to muster more strength for the task if you hadn’t been laughing at his typical antics. Failure becomes even more set in stone when his hands find their way to your sides and you dramatically call out “uncle, uncle!” in hopes that he will mercifully cease his relentless tickling. Thankfully, he does seem to be feeling benevolent this evening and climbs off, allowing you to sit up as he takes his place next to you. After ripping a can from its plastic rings, you pop open the tab and take a sip while Eddie grabs fistfulls of popcorn and shoves them into his mouth with a total lack of manners. You conclude that something is definitely wrong with you for finding this somehow endearing, and you gaze at him longingly until he turns to you with a mock-disgruntled eye roll.

“John Hughes?”, he complains, mouth still half full, “Can’t we watch something else?”

You smirk at his predictability. “I knew we wouldn’t make it past the opening scene,” you respond while tsk-ing at him and shaking your head. “I rented a couple of cheesy looking b-movies just yesterday. You know, slasher flicks that for sure spent all their budget on fake blood?”

He smiles big and jumps up off of the sofa. “Aw, my favorite! You do love me!” he exclaims with sarcastic sentiment, “You remember to stash the tapes somewhere your thief roommates couldn’t find?”

“First of all, stop calling my friends thieves. That was one time,” you say while slapping lightly at his leg from your lowered position, “And second, yeah. They’re next to my bed.”

He nods and heads to your bedroom, not wasting time to ask permission seeing as after so many years you both had developed a ‘me casa es su casa’ type of unspoken agreement. After a few more sips of your beer and picking at a partially popped kernel, you notice that Eddie is taking an unusual amount of time retrieving the tapes. You were sure that you had left them on your nightstand, you even remember seeing them while in bed this morning as you were reaching over to-

Oh. Fuck.

The can drops from your hand and falls to the floor, spilling light amber liquid onto the hardwood. Rushing into your room, you see Eddie standing in front of the drawer you had forgone closing while leaving earlier, looking down into it with a clear view of your 18th birthday present to yourself. He whips around, jaw dropped in shock. There’s an unreadable look in his eyes as he stares you down, and you realize that you have no idea what he’s thinking about. Probably all the new ammunition he now has to use against you during one of your future banter sessions.

You run forward, shoving him sideways onto the bed and slamming the drawer shut. He lands with a huff- his back on the mattress- before propping himself up onto his elbows, still looking at you with that confusing expression. His silence so far is honestly more nerve wracking than him ruthlessly making fun of you would have been.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize frantically. “I completely forgot I left this open, and I didn’t know we’d be hanging out tonight, and when I sent you in here I didn’t even think about it, and I never want to do anything to make you uncomfortable, and I-”

“Woah, princess,” he cuts off your rambling, using that nickname that he’s been using ever since the two of you met back in school. It usually brought a warmth to your cheeks, but given that you already felt sick to your stomach the sweet moniker was not appreciated. “It’s fine, I promise!”

“Fine?” you cry out, the sound muffled by your palms as your heated face is now buried behind your hands. You turn your body to face away from him, and he pushes back with his arms to sit up the rest of the way, then reaches forward to grip your elbow and spin you back around.

“Yeah, I swear! You didn’t make me uncomfortable or anything,” he consoles. “I was just surprised, is all. I just… wouldn’t have expected… you… to have that.” As he speaks the final word, he gestures to the freshly closed drawer containing your magic wand vibrator. The room falls quiet once more as he stares blankly at the offending table, seemingly lost in thought.

You shove his shoulder a little more harshly than you mean to, and he blinks back to consciousness and rubs where you met contact before re-meeting your eyes. “Don’t look at it like that!” you chastise, ignoring the fact that he technically wasn’t looking at ‘it’ like anything, seeing as it was now hidden out of sight. Your head falls into the cover of your hands yet again as you groan out, “Ugh! You probably think I’m some kind of slut now.”

“N-no!” he’s quick to deny, shaking his head. “Of course I don’t think that about you! I mean, come on, give me some credit. It’s the 80s,” he counters, with emphasis on the last word, “guys can be progressive now. I know girls masturbate too!”

“Please don’t say that word,” you reply, your hands still hiding your face but compromising by peeking out through your fingers.

“What?” he questions with a smirk, “Masturbate?”

“You’re completely impossible,” you state, giving in and dropping your arms to your side. You pick up the videos from your messy nightstand and turn on your heel to walk out the door, not even stopping as you shout out “Are you coming or what, Eds?”

Behind you, Eddie takes the opportunity of your back being turned to adjust himself in his pants and prays that he manages to keep it down throughout the duration of movie night.

That was almost an entire month ago. While Eddie took pity on you for the remainder of that night, the very next morning began his onslaught of mockery. Although, perhaps mockery wasn’t quite the right word, because you know all his jokes were meant to be lighthearted and fun. You know if you told him he was making you uncomfortable that he would stop in a heartbeat, so the real problem you’re facing is that you don’t want him to stop. Every time he shows up unannounced and slyly asks, “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” with that knowing gleam in his eyes, you’re not sure if you want to scold him for his teasing or jump his bones. Him speaking so candidly about something that’s always been so private should be embarrassing- and it is- but it would be dishonest to say the butterflies in your stomach are only there because of your modesty. Truth be told, he was turning you on every time he hinted at the fact that he knows all about your favorite form of self care.

Not only were the teasing comments nonstop, there were also the questions. Eddie was relentlessly curious about the process (which confounded you considering you thought the situation was pretty straightforward) and he never seemed to run out of things he wanted to ask you.

“How long have you had it?”, “How many settings are there?”, “How often do you use it?”, “Do you need it to get off?”, “What do you think about when you use it?” (definitely couldn’t answer that one honestly), and finally, “How exactly do you use it?”

According to him, he wanted to know the ‘right way’ to use one on a girl for future reference. One day, the frustration of constantly having to dodge his incessant questions became too much, and without thinking you blurted out, “If you’re so curious about how to use it, why don’t I just teach you?” Understandably, your outburst shocked the both of you. What shocked you more was when Eddie quickly recovered and excitedly agreed.

That was how you found yourself spread out on your bed with your best friend on his knees in between your thighs. Your most private area is only covered by your hands, and your discarded panties are tucked in Eddie’s back jeans pocket.

“How am I supposed to do this if you’re hiding, princess?” he asks, observing the toy and turning it over in his hands, “Don’t be shy. It’s just me.”

That was the problem. It was him, your friend that you’ve been harboring a secret crush on for years. Now you’re in a position with him that you’ve fantasized about so many times, and you don’t know what it means for the future of your relationship. Above you, Eddie fiddles with the two buttons, figuring out the mechanics of what they do. He discovers the bottom button turns it on while the top changes the speed. There are three settings, and after cycling through them all it starts back at the beginning, only turning off by pressing the bottom button once more. When he’s done figuring out how the toy works, he powers it on to the lowest setting and looks at you expectantly, eyes flitting between your hands and face. You turn your head to the side, take one final deep breath and move your arms to your stomach, revealing yourself to him.

The air is cold on your exposed center. Other than your shaky exhaling and the humming of the vibrator, it’s quiet. You realize with embarrassment that Eddie has stopped breathing, and when you steal a glance back at him he’s staring at your bare center with an unreadable expression. You instinctively hide your face in your hands, and your thighs involuntarily twitch to close. Of course, they can’t fully shut with Eddie sitting in between them, but the movement does stir the boy from his trance. He pries your hands away from your face and you’re forced to confront his inspecting of you.

He kisses a wet peck to the tip of your nose like he’s done so many times before, and just like always your entire face scrunches up with a smile. With eyes now closed, you start to feel giddy and you can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. You half expect Eddie to start laughing with you, but no sound comes from your friend. Suddenly- and without warning- he presses the vibrator directly to your clit. Your eyes snap open, rolling back in both shock and pleasure as a humiliatingly high pitched squeal escapes out of your slack-jawed mouth.

“Such a pretty sound from such a pretty girl,” Eddie says, barely loud enough to hear considering the buzzing raised in volume due to being pushed up against something. It’s almost like he was more absentmindedly commenting to himself rather than purposefully complimenting you.

You’re only capable of responding with moans as your legs fold into your torso and your toes start to curl. It’s still set to the lowest vibration option, but your aforementioned nerves and arousal were making you much more sensitive than you would otherwise be while using the toy alone. Eddie’s empty hand moves to stroke your inner thigh, before inching toward your center slowly. He seems to be asking permission to touch you himself, and the fact that he still thinks to wait for consent while literally sitting in between your legs after taking off your underwear almost has you laughing again. Instead, you simply nod your head. Eddie’s fingers immediately spread your lips further, allowing the head of the vibrator to be able to hit your clit more directly. The buzzing becomes higher in pitch as he goes up one setting, and the sensation becomes too much to handle.

“Sorry,” he whispers when you whine and start to squirm away, “I’ll be nice.”

After positioning yourself back into place, you mumble out, “Sensitive…” as an explanation. Your voice is surprisingly weak.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, though you doubt he actually feels regretful, “I know.”

The sound of clicking reaches your ears as Eddie toggles the toy back to the first setting. His thumb briefly brushes over your clit, causing you to shiver and gasp, and he breathes out a quiet laugh before pressing the vibrator against you once more- this time more gently. The vibrations are more bearable this way, and you feel the pleasure slowly start to rise and rise until you become a moaning puddle beneath the metalhead. Just as you’re crying out his name- a warning that you're about to cum- he pulls away, cruelly laughing at your protesting.

“Eds, what the fuck?” you shout, frustratedly. “I was so close! Why the hell would you-”

“Calm down, princess,” he interrupts. “You know I’ll get you there. I just wanna have some fun along the way.”

And you do know. You trust him more than anyone else- you’d trust him with your life- but you also know that he’s a little shit. “Please, Eds. Please just get to it,” you beg.

He stares at the head of the toy for a moment before lifting it to his face. His tongue parts his lips, swollen and pink from him biting them, and your eyes widen as he slowly licks directly where the silicone was just touching you. He moans, and his eyes roll back into his head. The sight only drives you more wild, and your hips start rocking the bed as you wait for him to continue.

He starts to bite his lips again as he watches you grind against nothing, desperately searching for friction. “Maybe I was wrong before,” he says slowly with a teasing lilt, “maybe you are a slut.” He had a look in his eyes that you had never seen before.

Your entire body raises in temperature. “Eddie…” you whine, surprised by how much his rudeness is affecting you. “Please…”

“So fucking wet, dripping all over your sheets,” he continues distractedly, paying no mind to your pleading as he caressed up and down your slit, collecting your juices. When he pulls away, you notice the lights of your bedroom reflecting off the glistening moisture on his fingers, and you resist the urge to hide again. “Such a pretty pussy. The prettiest. She’s not used to being treated so nicely, huh?”

As usual, his confidence blurs the line between incredibly sexy and incredibly annoying. His words are making your insides flutter, and probably worsening the ‘dripping all over your sheets’ problem. Still, you can’t help but feel your frustration grow. “Please, Eds, make me cum. Please make me cum,” you beg some more as you scoot down the bed. Your thighs no longer have the room to be laying on either side of him. Instead, they are now resting atop his own thighs, with your pelvises almost meeting making contact.

“So desperate for your best friend to make you cum. Are you always this wet, princess?” As he asks this, the vibrator meets your center again. He rubs it back and forth vertically in quick motions, and you groan in relief.

You answer by shaking your head no. It definitely wasn’t always like this. In fact, it was never like this. The toy slid so effortlessly between your puffy lips, massaging your sensitive nub directly and bringing tears to your eyes.

“Aw,” he cooed, “so it’s just for me?”

As embarrassed as you feel, you figure there’s no use in denying it now. “J- just for you.”

That familiar feeling of climax starts to creep up on you once more, and once more you cry out in annoyance when Eddie eases up the pressure before pulling off entirely.

“No!” you sob, “Eddie please, I need it so bad.”

“You’ll cum when I’m ready for you to cum,” he says, though the dominance in his tone is betrayed by the lust in his eyes. “I just want to play with you for a little longer. You’ll be a good girl, right?”

You suspect that he won’t start up again until you agree, so you do so without a second thought. “I’ll be your good girl,” you promise, “I’ll be good.”

He smiles wide at you before spreading your lips apart and leaning down to spit directly in between them, not that you needed the extra lubrication. Feeling his saliva make contact sent shockwaves through your body, and your back arched just in time for him to harshly press the vibrator back to your clit and start rubbing it in fast circles. This time, the orgasm doesn’t so much creep up on you as it does jump out in front of you, and you’re about to give in until you hear Eddie’s voice behind the haze.

“Hold it,” he orders. “You said you would be good, so be a good little slut and hold it.”

Your head is already thrown back, and you squeeze your eyes shut in concentration. Every fiber of your being is focused on not cumming, wanting to do as Eddie wishes so you can please him. Noticing your efforts, he lifts the toy off of your aching clit and allows you to catch your breath. With your newfound relief from the strain of resisting climax, you notice that Eddie’s free hand has left your waist, and you look down to a glorious sight.

Eddie’s palming himself through his jeans. The image burns itself into your eyelids, so not even blinking becomes an escape from what you're witnessing your best friend do to himself (not that you’re complaining). You silently observe in awe as he attempts to shove his hand down his pants, and struggles on account of them being too tight. To remedy this, he unzips his jeans and slides them down just far enough for you to catch a glimpse of his hard cock straining against the fabric of his boxers. There’s a wet patch where his head was leaking precum, and a clear imprint of his impressively girthy shaft. Once the pants are out of his way you see his hand disappear inside of his underwear as he wraps it around his member and starts jerking harshly, not fully able to stroke up and down his length given the obstructive clothing.

The pure, unadulterated lust that’s consuming you is overpowering any shyness you previously felt. “Eddie,” you say his name, but he ignores you considering you’ve been a constant stream of “Eddie, Eddie, oh Eddie,” for the past ten minutes. “Eds,” you try again, “you can take it out.”

All movement inside his boxers halts. “Huh?” he exclaims with wide eyes, “A- are you sure? This was supposed to be about you.”

“I’m sure,” you confirm. And you lift up your t-shirt to reveal the white lacy bra underneath as you elaborate, “I want you to finish on me.”

His forehead wrinkles as his eyebrows shoot up in shock. With his wide eyed staring, it almost seems like he can’t believe what you’re saying. Drool pools in his open mouth before he composes himself with a head shake. Wordlessly, he sets the still vibrating toy down on the mattress and lifts your thighs off of him, before sitting up enough to pull down the sides of his boxers. His cock springs up the second his underwear is out of the way, and -without thinking about the consequences- you spit into your palm and reach out to tentatively wrap your fingers around him.

The strangled noise that leaves his mouth is the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. He instinctively bucks his hips, but freezes, waiting for you to make the call. You start stroking him hard and fast, not bothering working up to a quicker speed when you were already so desperate for release and wanted him to cum with you. Eddie can apparently relate to said desperation, and hastily picks up the toy back up. Every muscle inside of you clenched as he started rubbing the tip against your clit in small circles. You strained to prolong this moment, knowing your eventual orgasm would be much more rewarding if you could see his face as he came all over your hand and stomach.

“God, sweetheart,” he groans, “So fucking good. So much better than my hand.”

The mental image of Eddie touching himself has you cursing out loud. “Really?” you ask, the pride getting to your head, making you feel light and floaty.

“You have no idea,” he responds. “Been fucking my fist nonstop since that movie night. Couldn’t help myself. All I could think about was you getting off, moaning my name.” You wonder if he knows just how real his fantasy was.

His free hand gently caresses the lacy undergarment covering your chest, his touch so light you barely register it. The uncertainty in his actions is clear, so in lieu of giving verbal consent you simply take his hand in your own and guide it to be fully on your breast.

“Can I pull this down, princess?” he practically begs, and you answer with a nod. He immediately tugs the breast cups downward, revealing your naked chest. Your soft, unmarked flesh is framed by the bunched up fabric of your shirt that’s been gathered at your clavicle, and the lacy material of your bra being held below by Eddie’s trembling hand. His hips are now moving in time with the rhythm of your strokes, and the rocking is causing your tits to bounce in a way that has his angry red tip spilling precum all over your hand as he attempts to hold off his release. The sight has you imagining what he would taste like, with you on your knees in the back of his van, and that thought has you hurtling toward the finish line at an embarrassing speed.

“Cum for me,” he orders. The second he gives you permission, you feel the damn break. As you're busy crying out in pleasure, you faintly hear Eddie in the background. “Good girl,” he grunts, “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

You cum with his name on your lips. The intensity of this orgasm is unfamiliar, and you realize with bitterness that the edging you were forced to endure was truly worth the end result. With your mind elsewhere, your stroking halts and you hear the creaking of your bed as Eddie starts to violently thrust into your fist until he meets you in orgasmic bliss. Warmth falls on your naked torso and you look down to see that he’s angled his cock to be aiming at your stomach, fulfilling your earlier wish of him finishing on you. The sight of him using your hand to milk himself dry combined with the buzzing still pressed hard against your clit has you cumming harder than you ever have before. Your hand falls from Eddie as his high comes to an end, but he does nothing to pull away the toy and offer relief to your achingly sensitive core. Any attempt to wiggle your hips free from his hold seems to go unnoticed by his strength, and you have no choice but to take the unrelenting vibrations. The overstimulation has tears falling down the side of your face as your shoulders raise from the bed, the top of your scalp pushing into the mattress as your head is thrown back. Eventually, you are able to move away, and Eddie turns off the toy and chucks it off the bed before climbing on top of you and finally kissing you on the lips.

With both of you breathing heavily into the other’s open mouth, the kiss isn’t exactly how you always imagined your first kiss with your best friend to go, but it’s perfect nonetheless. Your hands find their way into his wild hair, while his tighten their grip on your waist. His tongue in your mouth just barely has the taste of you on it from him licking your toy earlier, and as his thigh brushes your middle small aftershocks rush through your body. You stay like this for a while, lazily making out and feeling each other’s bodies, until he breaks off of your mouth to kiss down your jaw, to your neck, then back up to the side of your face.

When he reaches just under your ear, his lips part from your heated skin to whisper, “So we’re doing that again, right?”

Grabbing a tuft of his hair, you guide him back to your mouth, and with your lips moving against him you answer, “Definitely,” before deepening the kiss. You’re still unsure of what this exactly means for your friendship, but that can be talked about another time.

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

9K notes · View notes

captainfern · 8 months

Note

MARIGOLD PREQUELLLLLLLLLLLLLL 🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌

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Marigold - Prequel

dbf!Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Marigold” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - where it all began with you and price, your dad's best friend. oh and the first time you fuck lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 6.9k [hehe] • warnings - fem!reader, dad’sbestfriend!price, age gap [whatever you want it to be as long as it's legal lmao], f!masturbation, m!masturbation, unprotected piv, soft!price/gentle!price, oral [f!&m!receiving], PRAISE, breeding kink?, strong language

thank you all for the support on this little series that's also not really a series lol. lots of luv <3

unedited but enjoy anyway lol

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In all seriousness, you had rats to thank for starting you and Price's relationship.

No, seriously.

Rats.

"Honey, you remember my mate John, don't you?" Your dad asked one evening as the two of you settled in for dinner.

You looked up from your plate of food, fork suspended half-way to your mouth.

"Price?" You queried, before sticking the forkful of food in your mouth and chewing thoughtfully as your dad replied with a nod.

"Yeah, Price," your dad said. "He's going to be staying with us for a few days while his house gets bombed."

You blinked, shocked. "...bombed?"

Your dad laughed. "Not actually bombed. Pest-bombed. Over his last deployment, rats got into his cupboards and ripped the place up, so it'll be a week of exterminators and contractors until his house's back to normal."

You put another forkful of your dinner into your mouth.

Price had been your dad's best mate since, like, forever. They had served together in the military, and remained in contact even when your dad retired when you were young. You remember seeing Price a lot when you were younger, but after your dad's retirement, the time they spent together got less and less.

Embarrassingly, you remember the last time you had a good look at him and you realised that, oh my god, he's hot. Not long ago, a year or so maybe, when he popped around for your dad's birthday in between deployments. He was polite to you, and nice, but you couldn't help but stare.

His muscular back, strong shoulders, forearms lined with veins. He was fresh out of a deployment with dishevelled hair and a scruffy beard and you just couldn't help but feel a little warm.

But it was a crush. Something stupid, anyway.

"Why's he staying here?" You asked. "Why not just stay at a hotel or something?"

"I invited him," your dad told you. "It'd be nice for us to catch up, anyway. And it'll be good for him to relax before he has to head back to work."

You accepted that answer. Your dad deserved to spend some time with his old friend, and it wouldn't make sense to challenge that. So, after dinner and once you'd helped your dad with the dishes, you both worked together to set up the guest room.

A couple of hours later, the doorbell rung.

You were lounging on the couch, some trashy reality show echoing around the living room. Your dad got off the couch and headed out into the hall, opening the front door.

You knew who it was going to be, so you weren't surprised hearing your dads excitable chatter as he greeted his old friend and welcomed him into the house. You listened as, after a few minutes, their footsteps drew into the living room, and you made the effort to pause the show you were watching and cast your eyes across the room.

"Say hi to Price, honey." Your dad smiled, gesturing to the man beside him.

You smiled, offering a small wave. "Hi, Price."

Holy fuck.

It had been about a year since you had seen Captain John Price in person and oh my god. He was still attractive. So much so that butterflies began fluttering around in your stomach, and you felt your body growing hot beneath his gaze.

He was still as fit as ever. Military-style fit, too. Strong shoulders and arms, lean torso, strong legs too. Big hands enclosed around the handles of two black duffel bags. He wore a beanie, and his facial hair was, like you remembered, a bit on the messier-side. You wondered whether he'd shave it, or clean it up tomorrow.

Then, he greeted you with your name. A deep voice, all rich and warm like the cigar smoke and cologne he smelt of. Your name on his tongue made your stomach pinch with some kind of giddy nerves. It sounded nice. He smelt nice, too. He looked nice.

Holy fuck.

Did... did you fancy your dad's best friend?

You physically shook your head to yourself as you looked away and your dad led Price upstairs. A stupid crush, that's all. You stared blankly at the TV, not even resuming your show. You just stared at the paused frame of blurred colours, your mind running away from you.

And you didn't know if you'd be able to catch it.

•º•

The next morning, you and your dad were both up early for work. You ate breakfast at the table, scrolling tiredly through your phone like you usually did until the sleepiness left your system.

Your dad was humming to himself in the kitchen, fixing himself a cup of tea and his second lot of toast (the first lot he had burnt).

The stairs creaked in the early morning silence, and both you and your dad looked up as Price appeared in the doorway of the kitchen in– oh my fucking god– no shirt.

He'd trimmed his facial hair, too. It was neat against his cheeks and above his full lips, and you couldn't help but imagine what it'd feel like–

No. Stop it.

He greeted your dad, then looked momentarily surprised to see you sitting at the table. He bid you good morning, then loitered uneasily in the doorway, eyes flicking to your dad.

"Sorry, d'you want me to put on a shirt?" Price chuckled, and your dad laughed back, shaking his head.

"Nah, mate, you're all right. Half the time I'm walking around here with no shirt on anyway, so she won't mind, will you, honey?" Your dad turned to you, and so did Price.

You tried your best to ignore Price, looking directly at your dad.

"I don't care," you said as casually as you could muster. "At least he's not wearing a fluffy pink dressing gown."

Your dad rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Don't make fun of my pyjamas, kid. I got it from Marks and Spencer for about thirty quid."

You shook your head in amusement, sparing a glance at Price as you turned back to your phone. Maybe you shouldn't have, because those stupid butterflies appeared in your stomach again.

You caught a glimpse of his abs, faint but chiselled lines along his abdomen. The brush of hair across his chest, and the happy-trail leading down into the waistband of his flannel pyjamas. His arms were so big too.

Okay, seriously. Stop it.

•º•

You got home from work late that evening, the house dark and curtains open. You did your usual routine, going around the house and pulling the curtains so you could turn on the lights. You paused outside the guest bedroom though, deciding against going in, and instead moving on.

You showered quickly, then moved downstairs. Sometimes, you'd cook dinner for your dad, and that's what you decided to do tonight.

Half way through cooking, ingredients strewn across the kitchen, the front door opened. You were expecting your dad, but when Price walked into the kitchen, you hoped you didn't look too shocked to see him.

"Oh, hi, Price," you greeted. "How's your day been?"

He smiled softly at you. Politely.

"Not bad," he said, sliding into one of the barstools across the kitchen island. "You?"

You shrugged. "Work's shit, but it is what it is."

His smile continued, and he watched you cook for a moment. You were acutely aware of the way his eyes watched you, watched the movement of your hands, the movement of your body around the kitchen, the concentrated expression on your face.

"You like to cook?" He asked you eventually, melodic voice punctuating the borderline unnerving silence.

"I like cooking for my dad," you said. "I mean, I'm no chef, but my dad seems to like it."

Price cocked his head, taking in the range of ingredients that were spread out across the kitchen counter, as well as ingredients splashing along the marble surface.

"You like making a mess, too, by the looks of it." Price said jokingly, gesturing to the various kinds of sauces and baking agents smeared over the countertop.

The sentence was innocent enough, but it made your heart hammer faster for some reason. Maybe it was the smooth baritone of his voice, or the fact Price said it. Either way, the pace of your heart quickened within your ribcage as you bent down to place your creation in the oven.

You stood up once the food was in the oven, brushing your sticky hands across your apron. Price was still looking at you, and he laughed at the state of your apron.

"So messy." He tutted.

Butterflies. Fucking hell.

"It's a new recipe," you said quickly before your body could betray you and render you speechless. "I'm usually not this messy, I promise."

He just hummed curiously at that.

When your dad got home not long later, dinner was ready. You, him and Price sat down for dinner, and your dad was like a growing teenage boy shovelling the food gratefully into his mouth. You wondered how he wasn't burning the roof of his mouth.

"This is great, honey," your dad said through a mouthful of food and you tried not to laugh. "Thanks."

"That's okay," you smiled ruefully. "I'm glad it's at least edible."

Price chimed in. "It's great, sweetheart. You did well."

Sweetheart.

You did well.

"Oh, thanks..." You muttered. Butterflies again.

•º•

The next couple of days were much the same.

The three of you would wake up at relatively the same time, having breakfast together and talking about the day ahead. Then you'd all head off, you and your dad to work, and Price to... well, who knows. Then, you'd get home at the end of the day and, surprisingly energised, you'd cook for your dad and Price.

Price would get home before your dad, by at least an hour. He'd watch you cook, chatting to you about anything and everything you wanted to talk about. He was attentive when you spoke, or when you yammered on about something that made you excited. He'd listen with a smile, asking you questions about your interest that had you spiralling happily again. You somehow almost burnt your pasta the last time you were telling him about your favourite movie.

Then, your dad would get home and you'd all eat dinner. The conversation was pleasant. But most of the time, you sat silently and listened to Price and your dad talk about the, quote, "good old days". Listening to military stories was also on the agenda. Not that you minded. It was nice seeing your dad happy.

After dinner, you'd do the dishes. Price offered to take over, and you refused. He struck a deal though, your dad helping too, and the three of you made it a military-style regime to wash the dishes and get them away in record speed. You laughed at the goofiness of it all, and how Price ordered your dad around. Your dad would salute and march around the kitchen with a stack of plates in his hands, making you and Price laugh.

But it was nighttime where things differed.

You'd say goodnight to Price and your dad. Sometimes, they were still awake in the living room, or maybe in the kitchen. Other times, they'd retired long before you. Either way, you'd find yourself beneath the covers of your bed, the silence of the night drowning you.

Of the almost four nights Price had stayed, you'd gone to sleep with him on your mind each time. Three of those four nights were all fluffy and cozy and warmth-inducing. Images of him in your head, being so nice to you, being so polite. Such a gentleman. It didn't take long to fall asleep with a content smile on your face.

Tonight was the outlier though.

You'd manage to fend off the nighttime bombardment of butterflies on previous nights. But tonight, they returned with a vengeance. Your stomach was swarming with them at each thought of your dad's best friend. Flipping and swooping with nerves, your body growing hot. But with this warmth came an ache that made you scold yourself.

Stop it.

But you couldn't.

Price's handsome face– glimmering eyes, full lips, neatly trimmed facial hair. His body– the abs, the hair, the muscles. Damn.

You whined softly to yourself, the ache in between your legs intensifying, something pulling tight in the base of your tummy.

You just couldn't help it.

Another quiet whine on your lips, you impatiently shoved your hand beneath your pyjamas. Your middle finger made contact with your clit, puffy and swollen with your arousal, and you sucked in a breath when you began to circle it gently.

The relief was almost immediate, the tight feeling in the base of your stomach drawing tighter. Your body hummed with warmth as you sped up the movement of your circles, pleasure creeping through your veins. You probably didn't even need to fuck yourself. Judging by the way your body was reacting, you were close enough with just the attention to your clit. So, so sensitive.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to keep yourself quiet, small moans and airy whimpers caught in the base of your throat. Your skin was becoming dewy with sweat, your legs beginning to shake as your finger pressed and drew shapes across your little bundle of nerves.

In your mind, flashing images of Price. Everything about him, physically and not. His voice, his words–

"So messy."

"You did well."

"Sweetheart."

A desperate whimper fell past your lips, your back arching, clit pressing tighter against your finger, hand beginning to ache. Your thighs trembled, heart-rate spiking as the coil in your stomach balled the tightest it had been all night, before it snapped.

"Price." You whispered into the darkness of your room as you came. It hit you hard, too. Sparks floating behind your eyelids, your entire body trembling against the mattress as your cunt spasmed around nothing, your clit pulsing in time with the beating of your heart.

You came down from your high with a wave of embarrassment crashing over you, and you broke the surface of it with a gasp and a frustrated sigh. You kicked off your blankets, burning up, sticky with sweat.

"Fuck..." You whimpered, eyes suddenly pricking with tears.

Maybe this wasn't just some stupid crush anymore.

•º•

Price heard you that night.

It was an accident.

He couldn't sleep after hours of pacing his room. So he ducked downstairs, grabbed himself a glass of water, and drank it whilst staring into the darkness. After, he rinsed the glass clean and dried it, putting it back in the cupboard, and then making his way back upstairs.

In his efforts of trying to be quiet, he heard you. Creeping past your room, he paused when he heard the soft creaking of your bed and a soft sigh escape beneath the small gap beneath the door. He cursed himself, initially believing he'd woken you up. But the more he listened, the more his cheeks began to heat up, and his cock began to stir in his pyjama pants.

It was wrong.

But you sounded so fucking pretty. Touching yourself, sighing and whimpering, trying so hard to be quiet. He wondered how you were touching yourself, how fucking wet you were.

His chest tightened in shame. What the hell was he doing? His best friend's daughter of all people?!

But he couldn't move. Not when the mattress shifted, the bed frame creaked, and a few more airy whines flew out of your mouth before you were whimpering his name.

His fucking name.

"Price."

He could've come right then and there.

He held out, gritting his teeth and shuffling silently back down the hall and into his room. He closed the door as quietly as he could and found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, taking his cock out of his pyjamas.

Already painfully hard and sensitive, he fucked it in his fist dry at first. The pre-cum dribbling from his slit made the movements glide after a moment, and he was quick to start moaning under his breath. He'd always been good at remaining silent with these types of things. But with you in his head, your whimpers in his head, he was trying desperately and almost failing to keep quiet.

Price stroked his cock, thinking about you. His best friend's daughter. He felt guilty. Dirty.

But it was no match for the feelings of lust and pleasure. He grit his teeth, trapping a moan between his molars as he circled the tip of his cock, more pre pearling at the slit. He imagined it being your pretty cunt, so wet and tight.

He grunted, tightening his grip, and then had to restrict another warbled groan. His balls tightened, stomach quivering as he came in a sudden hot spurt, coating his fingers and thighs. He jerked himself through it until his tip was flushed an angry red and he was on the verge of overstimulation.

"Christ..." He muttered, looking down at the mess he'd made.

He wanted to make a mess of you.

•º•

You didn't make dinner the next night after work. You were too tired, and you knew your dad would be sympathetic. So instead, you opted to have a nice, long shower. And by long, you meant long. You scrubbed yourself clean of the day's extremities, leaving you to smell really, really good.

It was much later by the time you got out, dressing into your pyjamas. You went downstairs. You'd probably just eat some leftovers, or dig something out of the freezer. Entering the kitchen, you were taken aback to see Price sitting at the kitchen island, arms folded along the marble surface. He looked up as you entered.

"Oh, hey, Price." You greeted, heading for the fridge.

His mouth curled into a small grin. "You can call me John, you know."

"Eh," you opened the fridge, your back to him. "I like Price. John make's you sound old."

"Is that so?" He cocked his head at you, watching you dig through the fridge. "Do I look old?"

You threw him a look over your shoulder. "Not really."

"Not really?" He chuckled.

"Mhm. The beard makes you look older."

He stroked his face while you pulled out some leftover pasta, closing the fridge and placing the container on the counter near the microwave.

"I like it, though." You told him with a smile, and your brain didn't quite register what you said until you were beginning to reheat your pasta.

"You like it?"

Fuck.

Damn it.

"It... suits you, yeah." You said shyly, not making eye contact. Your body was growing warm. It might as well have been you in that microwave by the way your skin was heating.

Silence filled the kitchen until the microwave began to beep. You took out your steaming pasta and dropped it noisily on the countertop.

You could feel his eyes on you, and it made your heart race. But it was racing in a good way. The way he looked at you, the way he made you feel, was something you'd never experienced before.

Slowly, you turned to look at him. He was looking at you, eyes soft and deep and warm and everything you wanted. It was like he was waiting for you to speak– waiting for you to open your mouth and tell him everything you wanted too. It's like he knew.

The butterflies were back.

You chewed nervously on your bottom lip, and Price's eyes followed the movement.

"Not making dinner tonight?" He asked you, voice smooth, eyes still on your mouth.

You shook your head. "No... sorry."

"Don't apologise, sweetheart."

You wanted to scream into a pillow or something. Sweetheart? Did he want you to have a fucking heart attack?

"Are you hungry?" You asked.

His eyes flicked up to yours. "Yeah."

You felt guilty. "Did you want me to cook–?"

"No," he said simply. "No, don't worry about that. I don't need food."

You cocked your head and he watched you do so. Confused, you frowned, sucking your bottom lip back into your mouth. Once again, his eyes darted downwards to catch the movement, his eyes flashing.

"Then what do you want?" You asked him, and deep down you already knew. Somehow, you knew what he wanted.

And you wanted it too.

Price got to his feet, casually rounding the kitchen island until he was standing beside you in the kitchen. You turned, your lower back pressed up against the adjacent countertop as he approached you slowly. You craned your neck to look up at him, your heart hurting from how hard it was beating inside you.

"I want you to be honest with me, okay?" He said softly, his voice comforting. "D'you want me to touch you how you touched yourself last night?"

Your entire body was on fire. Every nerve, every blood vessel was blistering hot. Your shame was the gasoline. But your lust was the fucking spark.

You let out a breath, a whine mingling with it. You averted your eyes, looking away. Immediately, a large hand gently took hold of your chin and guided your head back upwards, lightly guiding eye contact.

"It's okay, sweetheart, I promise," he told you in a whisper, the caring look in his eyes soothing the flames within you. "I want you to tell me. I want you to be honest."

For a moment, your lower lip trembled. A mix of embarrassment and arousal was confusing your brain.

You swallowed thickly. "Yes..."

"Yeah? You want me to touch you like you touched yourself? Make you feel good?" He probed, careful not to raise his voice above a whisper. "You want me to take care of you, sweetheart? It's okay, you can tell me."

You nodded. "Yes please."

The hand Price had on your chin moved to cradle the back of your head as he leaned down, his face hovering just above yours. His eyes scanned your features, his other hand moving to hold your waist.

"Can I kiss you?" Price asked, the words brushing over your own lips.

"Yeah..." You whispered, breathless from your impatience.

He smiled, then kissed you. It was so gentle and warm and everything you'd thought about the night before. It wasn't rushed or rough in anyway. He was taking his time– smoothing his lips against yours, cradling your head, slipping his tongue along the seam of your lips. You opened for him, your tongue meeting his, the kiss deepening.

He pressed you further into the countertop and you arched, chest meshing with his. His tongue was solid against yours, and you whined into his mouth, your hands moving to clasp the back of his head, fingers delving into his soft hair.

The hand on your hip pulled your pelvis flush with his. You groaned when you felt him hardening against your lower stomach, and Price pulled out of the kiss with a light squeeze to the back of your head.

"Feel that, sweetheart?" He said breathlessly, leaning himself heavier against you. "Feel how much I want you."

He took your hand in his, letting go of your head. He guided your hand between your bodies, and you took initiative in pressing your palm flat to the front of his jeans. He groaned, head flopping forward to rest on your shoulder. You palmed the solid imprint of his cock, your core throbbing at the muffled grunts eliciting from his throat.

"Price...?" You whispered, and he groaned again.

"Fuck... yeah?"

"I want you."

He groaned for the third time, low and breathy, before he pulled away from you. He grasped your hand, before dragging you out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. You giggled, giddy with excitement, as he led you upstairs.

"Your room or mine?" Price asked, bending down to kiss you again.

You pulled away, and he proceeded to kiss a wet trail down the bare expanse of your neck. "Mine..." You said, backing towards your room and urging him inside.

He closed the door behind you as you flopped onto your bed. You grinned when he followed you, crawling over top of your body and slotting himself against you, kissing you again. He licked into your mouth as you tugged and pulled at his hair.

A minute later, Price was crawling back down your body until he rested between your legs. He took hold of your pyjama pants and pulled them down, discarding them, while you threw your t-shirt off. You unclipped your bra and tossed it across the room when Price hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear.

He looked up at you. "Is this okay?"

"This is perfect, Price."

He took a deep breath as he pulled your underwear down your legs, so slowly you thought about kicking him. But you didn't. His eyes were transfixed on your core, his mouth agape.

"Christ," he muttered, flinging your underwear away. He ran two fingers slowly up your slit, collecting your arousal, before drawing them into his mouth. He moaned around his fingers. "S'fucking perfect."

You whined as he tucked himself between your legs, his breath fanning over your glistening core.

"Watch me, sweetheart." He told you as he languidly licked a stripe up your slit, before latching his lips around your clit.

Your eyes rolled, but his words forced you to maintain eye contact. You watched his lower face disappear between your legs, his eyes hooded and locked onto yours as he ate you out.

He circled your clit with his tongue, his top teeth brushing lightly against the nerves. Your body jolted, a moan falling out of your mouth, before his tongue was laving over you once more. He then dragged his tongue in a zig-zag motion downwards until he circled your cunt. You whimpered loudly when he pushed his tongue inside you.

He grunted with each movement of his tongue, eyelids threatening to close each time more of your arousal trickled into the back of his throat. Your thighs were warm around his head, squishy against his ears. He couldn't help but grab a fistful of the flesh in his hands, kneading contently as he fucked his tongue into you.

You were on cloud-nine. His tongue was warm and solid inside you, your stomach fluttering with a build-up of pleasure. You reached a hand down, the other balled in your sheets, and grasped his hair, still maintaining eye contact. You moaned, the sound making Price groan into your cunt.

"P-Price, sir, m'gonna come." You told him desperately as your impending climax began warming your body, thighs growing tighter around his head.

The word sir made Price moan into your cunt and redouble his efforts, fucking his tongue into you at a renewed pace that made you sob out his name in pleasure. Your thighs shook against his head, your cunt fluttering around his tongue, arousal dribbling down the sides of his chin.

He was throbbing in his trousers, your noises and taste building his own arousal. His cock twitched painfully in the confines of his boxers and when you came, he almost came with you. Almost.

You came with a whiny "Price", pushing his head further into you. He licked you through it, dragging his tongue out of you once your hole stopped spasming, suctioning your swollen clit back into his mouth. You whimpered curses, pulling at his hair. He conceded, and detached his mouth.

"Feel good, sweetheart?" Price asked, kissing up your body as he crawled back over top of you.

You hummed your agreement, still fizzling down from your high.

After kissing along your breasts, Price slotted his mouth back to yours. You moaned when you tasted yourself on him, his face sticky against yours.

When he pulled back, his pupils were blown. "Tell me what you want, pretty girl."

"Want you." You whimpered, and he kissed you again.

He then stripped himself, discarding his clothes on your floor. When he removed his boxers, you tossed your head back and groaned. His hard cock bobbed up against his abdomen. A slight curve, a prominent vein along the underside, leading to a ruddy tip already leaking pre. You took hold of it, feeling the soft, velvety ridges against your palm.

Price hissed. "Sweetheart–"

"Can I use my mouth?" You asked, slowly starting to stroke his cock.

He groaned, head dropping back as if the words you said struck him across the face. He seemed to contemplate it for a moment, really thinking hard, as his eyes dropped down to yours.

"You don't have t–"

"I want too," you smiled, before you were pushing him off of you and slipping off the bed.

He watched you patiently, situating himself on the edge of the bed and planting his feet on the floor. He parted his legs, allowing you to settle between them. You took hold of his cock again, and his hips twitched, a sound like a whimper being whispered from the depths of his throat.

Price looked down at you, stroking your hair as you worked your hand up and down his length. His eyelids drooped when your fingers neared his tip, and when you worked them around the underside, he whispered your name in a pleasured sigh.

He continued stroking your head and face. "Are you sure you want to do this, sweetheart? You don't h–"

You shut him up by leaning forward and licking a stripe up his cock. He choked on his sentence, hand resting gently on the crown of your head as you licked him from base to tip. You kept one hand around the base of him, pumping as you worked your tongue up the vein on the underside of his cock.

He hummed a moan, something vibrating deep in his chest, primal almost, as he watched you. His eyelids had dropped, his pupils stretched wide, hips twitching each time your tongue skimmed the base of his tip. He was fucking leaking, now, and you wasted no time in cleaning him up.

Retaining eye contact, you wrapped your mouth around the tip and he moaned. A pretty, desperate sound that made your wet core flutter around nothing. You sunk deeper and deeper, taking more of him, until your mouth was stretched wide, your lips pressing against the side of your hand where you squeezed him. Price moaned again, head of his cock nudging the back of your throat. You gagged, pulling up slightly, and he let out a deep grunt.

"Easy, sweetheart, s'alright..." Price dragged out, hand warm on the top of your head.

Saliva dripped from the corners of your mouth in strings, smearing down his length as you brought your head up. You circled your tongue around his head again, swiping against the slit and making his hips buck. You withheld a smile and took him deeper again. You repeated this action a few times, until Price had left that tentative, almost nervous view behind him.

Now, he had a firm but guiding hold on the back of your head, groaning and panting as you sucked his cock. He urged you gently to take more of him, and you eventually removed your hand so more of him slid down your throat. You gagged, and he groaned and pulled back slightly, before repeating the action again anyway.

A hand to your head, he pulled your head all the way back until your lips wrapped around his tip. You looked him in the eyes, tears along your waterline, before he was pushing you back down.

"Yeah, that's my girl," He groaned as you took him all the way to the base. "Fuck, that's my girl. My good girl, baby, fuck."

You whimpered around his cock, the praise making your stomach flip and your cunt ache. Your arousal was physically dripping down the curve of your thighs, and you shivered.

Suddenly, his hips began twitching and his mouth dropped open, a breathless moan filtering out. He grabbed hold of the back of your neck and slowly pulled you away from his cock.

"I need you, sweetheart, come on." Price whispered when you whined, your mouth detaching from his cock with a wet pop.

You wiped the saliva away from your mouth with the back of your hand. "But–"

Price urged you to your feet, pushing you back onto the bed and flattening you against the mattress with his frame. You smiled at his desperation, feeling his wet cock against your inner thigh as he spread your legs with a squeeze to the backs of your knees.

He leaned down and kissed you. "I– fuck– I need to be inside you, sweetheart. Let me inside you. Please."

You'd never thought he'd be the type to beg. Holy shit.

You giggled nervously, kissing him again. Price groaned into your mouth, one large hand coming to hold the side of your face, caressing it gently. He then grabbed his cock near the base and guided it to your dripping cunt. He ran the tip up and down your folds a few times, making you mewl into his mouth, before tapping the head against your slick hole.

He broke the kiss, panting. "Oh fuck, I don't have a con–"

"Birth control," you said quickly, body writhing beneath his. "Please, just–"

His brows pinched together in light concern. "Okay, okay, but you need to stop me if I you–."

You were begging now. Desperate for him. "I'm okay, Price. Please, sir, just please–"

With a low grunt, Price pushed in slowly, the tip of his cock stretching you open. You moaned loudly, nails dragging down his muscled back as he slid more and more inside you, inch by inch. He groaned, caging your head between his arms, his eyes locked on your face, searching for any sign of hesitance. But he only found pleasure as your mouth dropped open and your eyelids flitted.

You were so tight around him, warm and wet. He closed his eyes for just a second. He was focussing on not coming straight away.

You mewled loudly when the tip of his cock nudged your cervix, his hips flush with yours. Your nails scraped down his back, and he grunted, dipping down to kiss you. The kiss was sloppy and messy, all tongue and no direction. He didn't move his hips, and the feeling of him inside you, warm and heavy, made you break the kiss with a moan.

"Price, oh my god." You breathed against his lips, hole clenching around his girth.

He groaned. "I know, sweetheart, I know."

You whimpered when his hips shifted, pelvis grinding against you. He paused, moving his head back to look at you.

"You okay?"

You nodded, humming your approval. "Mhm– yes, m'good, Price. Mmm feels so good– please don't stop, please–"

Gently, he pulled out until his tip was just barely inside you, his length and the hair at the base glistened with your arousal. Then, he was thrusting back into you, making you moan his name again.

"Fuck, that's it, good girl, sweetheart," he murmured, sucking a kiss to your jaw. "There you go, just take it... taking it so well, sweetheart."

You moaned, arching your back. The sounds of his thrusts were wet and loud in the silence of your room, accompanied by the slapping of skin and your mewls of pleasure.

"Feels like you were just made for me," Price whispered, cock bullying the plug of your womb, making your eyes roll. "Mhm... this pretty cunt was just made for my cock."

"Sir..." You dragged out through a moan, hands flailing to keep you grounded, dragging up and down the plains of his back. You wanted to say something else. It began slipping out of your mouth, "Cap–" before you stopped yourself.

Price groaned, slamming into you harder. "Yeah that's right, pretty girl. Call me captain, baby. S'your captain making you feel so good, yeah? S'your captain filling this tight cunt."

You moaned loudly. You hoped your neighbours weren't home. Your nails dug into his back as tight pleasure built up in the base of your abdomen. Your thighs were quivering, your entire body being consumed by him.

Price, Price, Price.

He slammed into you again and again, drawing more sounds from you. His body was warm over yours, solid and comforting and you almost wanted to sob. You felt so good. He was making you feel so good. Your dad's best friend. Fuck.

You couldn't help but whimper at that thought, your clit pulsing, sitting shiny and puffy. And it's like Price knew– he always seemed to know what you wanted. Still fucking you steadily, he reached downwards, dragging his hand down your body. The rough pad of his middle finger found your swollen clit, and you keened, sobbing out a moan as he applied pressure.

"S'that feel good, sweetheart?" He asked in a whisper, pressing tight circles as his hips worked his cock into you. "Is this what you needed? Wanted me to play with this pretty clit, is that it?"

Your eyes rolled, his words turning your brain to mush. "Y-yeah," you stuttered, tummy drawing up tighter, legs quivering faster against the mattress. "F-feels... g..."

You sentence was lost as his cock hit that spot inside you over and over again, making your blood pump hot and the base of your belly flood with a burning kind of pleasure that had tears falling from your eyes.

Price kissed your tears away as you moaned, arching your back, your tits pressing up against his chest.

"Captain, please–" you choked on a pleasured sob. "M'gonna–"

"S'alright, sweetheart, come for me," Price said softly, kissing a tear from your cheek. "Good girl. Come for me."

He shifted his head and kissed you deeply when you came. Your tongues pressing together as you trembled against him, cunt squeezing his cock. Your release made your body burn up, and you felt it drip hot and wet out of you, dribbling around the sides of his cock. You moaned his name into his mouth, and he swallowed it whole, continuing to rut into you.

"Good girl, good girl..." Price muttered, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

He moved his hand away from your clit, back up to the side of your head.

He released your lip when he groaned. "Fuck, m'not gonna last, sweetheart."

Dazed, you pressed your mouth to his again. It was sloppy and wet, uncoordinated through your post-orgasmic haze. He grunted against your tongue, thrusts losing rhythm as he neared his peak.

"Come for me, sir, please." You whispered into his mouth, and that sent him over the edge.

He groaned your name into your mouth, coming deep inside you. The warmth that filled you made you keen, and Price kept thrusting, panting with his lips brushing yours.

"Fuck, baby, fuck..." He whined, finally stilling inside you, plugging you full of him.

After a long moment of basking in each other's heat, he pulled out. You mewled as he sat on his ankles, watching his cum leak out of your dripping core. He gathered the mix on two fingers, shoving it back inside you with a satisfied grunt.

"So messy..."

•º•

Price cleaned you, applying a warm, damp cloth between your legs. He dressed you, too. While you were still laying down, he pulled your clothes back onto you– minus your bra, which you didn't want back on as that would've involved you actually sitting up– then he tucked you beneath the covers.

He placed a kiss to your forehead, before he ducked into the bathroom and cleaned himself up. When he returned to you, he put his clothes back on, and then leaned over to kiss you on the forehead again.

"You still hungry?" He asked, cupping your cheek and rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone.

You shook your head. "No... m'gonna sleep for a bit."

He smiled, kissing you briefly on the lips before leaving your room, closing the door behind him. He made his way downstairs and into the kitchen, your pasta sitting cold on the countertop. He tossed it back into the microwave and heated it up again. When he pulled it out, steam curling upwards, the front door opened.

Price felt a pang of guilt in the depths of his stomach, just briefly, before his mind was flooded with images of you, and he was desperately trying not to get hard again.

Your dad walked into the kitchen, dumping his work gear near the dining table.

"Hey, mate," your dad said with a smile. "Good day?"

Price couldn't help but smile, disguising it by stabbing a fork into the past and bringing it towards his mouth. "Yeah, mate, really good. You?"

Your dad continued on about his day, telling Price animatedly about his activities at work. Once he'd concluded his story, he looked around pointedly. "Where's our chef?"

Price laughed. "No chef today, mate. She's in bed."

"Oh, strange. Rough day at work, probably," your dad said. "She's a good girl, you know. I'm really proud of her."

Price smiled. He couldn't help but agree.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

was this ok? idek lol

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #captain john price #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #captain price #captain price smut #captain john price x you #captain price x reader #cod smut #cod price #price smut #price call of duty #cod mwii #captain'snirvana

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asumofwords · 3 months

Text

Common Factors - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: Part 2 of Midpoint, though can be read as a standalone. Michael Gavey asked you out for a drink and you had surprisingly agreed. Will you be able to tolerate each others wit without bickering, or will you lose yourself to him once more?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Public fingering, teasing, degradation, name calling, voyeurism, dumbification, finger fucking, biting, bratty reader. This is porn with barely any plot.

Word Count: 6k

Notes: Hello my angels, I know you have all been waiting so patiently for part two of Midpoint and here it is! Now I can't say that there will be a third/final chapter, but I may have ideas for it. No promises though. Saltburn has made me so nostalgic, I miss MSN messenger and MySpace. I miss the early 2000s so much, the tackiness of it, how everything was just to the max. Lmao. I also miss Tamagotchis. *Sigh*, nostalgia. Anywayyyyy, thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy! <3

Part 1 - Midpoint

When Michael had asked you out for a drink, or rather asked if you wanted to get a drink, it was not really a distinct question of going on a date with him or not, and perhaps you were arguing semantics right now, but that was besides the point.

He had thought that you would go right after your little event in the library. His eagerness was riddled by anxiety, clear for anyone, not that there was anyone in the vicinity, to see or hear, you hoped.

You had shifted awkwardly for a moment, feeling his spend slide down you thigh in the large hole he had ripped in your stockings, explaining that you wouldn’t be able to go that evening.

He wilted.

It strummed a cord in your chest, and so you quickly explained that it was because of said issue between your legs, and not that you didn’t want to see him again. The fire in his eyes lit up again, and for a moment, the hair on the back of your neck stuck up. It felt as if you were about to be confronted once more by his obnoxious spite, though thankfully, and only because of your quick explanation, did he soften and you exchange details for your respected MSN Messenger accounts.

The night after he was busy, apparently there was some sort of important chess tourney that he would be going to with his friend, you were unaware that he had any, and so he proposed the night after. But the night after you had told your best friend that you would bus into the city centre to meet with her, so that was no go as well.

You both thankfully settled on the Friday later that week, agreeing to meet at the small pub you frequented, which you found he did too. Each time the computer dinged at his reply, a thrill of excitement crawled through you. He was rather curt in his messages, but eager, and would often would send moving emojis at the end, which you saved and would send back.

Friday rolled around quickly, and you found yourself eager to see him again. You spent a solid two hours fretting over what to wear, deciding that pants or tights were not an option this time despite the cold weather.

You settled on a cute little outfit, the skirt of it coming to your mid thigh, looking at yourself in the mirror as you left before triple checking your computer and Nokia for any messages to say he was late, or couldn’t come, but none came. The last message he had sent to you, was a smiling thumbs up that moved largely across your screen agreeing to see you at 7pm sharp.

You left early, earlier than what was needed, and sped walked the entire way to the pub, pulling your large jacket tightly around you, scarf covering the lower half of your face. The air was particularly crisp that evening, and by the looks of it, it may snow later, and although it was quite cold, you could see from afar that the pub was full, the winter air not deterring them.

When you opened the door, the stale stench of its beer soaked floorboards filled your senses, loud music and even louder people, drinking and smoking and laughing in large groups without any care for the world. You knew that break would soon enough be coming to an end, and all the students would now be slowly making their way back, spending their last days or weeks of break with friends on campus and the establishments surrounding.

The air inside the venue was stuffy, and almost wet with condensation, and as you rose on your tip toes, looking over the heads of others at their tables, or at the bar, you struggled to spot the familiar sandy blonde hair from your library, and the glasses that sat perched on his sharp nose.

You pulled out your Nokia, checking the time and also checking for any messages.

It was 6:57.

You were early.

But not too early.

Heading straight for the bar, you ordered yourself a drink, eyes drifting back over the pub, looking at the faces to see if you could see him with anyone. When again, you didn’t spot him, you told yourself not to panic, and instead decided that you would find yourself a spot to sit. There was table in the far corner, away from most, its surface was cleared bar a half drunken pint, hidden in the shadows and pressed against the wall between two larger tables, filled with people. You paid for your drink, and headed straight for the empty seat, winding past the pulled out chairs and wafts of smoke.

You were halfway there when a figure popped into your periphery. Your eyes locked onto a pair of familiar blue ones, a twitching smile pulling at his sharp yet plump lips. He came towards you from the direction of the loo, and you watched as he wiped his hands down the sides of his pants despite them looking dry.

“Hey.” You smiled, stopping short of the table, to awkwardly look up at him as he made his way over.

“Hi.”

You shifted awkwardly around each other before you leant forward to give him a hug, he wrapped one arm around you stiffly in reciprocation, before pulling back to straighten, eyeing the drink in your hand.

“You get me one?” Michael nodded his head to your drink.

Your brows furrowed softly, “Uh, no. I wasn’t sure if you were here.”

Michael hummed, “I’m never late.”

Here we go again, you inwardly sighed. This is just what you didn't need. Another run in with his attitude.

“I wasn’t to know that.”

Michael stared at you a moment longer before turning away to the bar. You watched him awkwardly, yet somehow confidently, move through what little people stood at the counter waiting, standing rod straight as he ordered himself another pint. As he waited, you took your seat on the side where the half drunk beer wasn’t, back to the wall and completely cornered in.

When Michael came back, beer in hand, you let yourself graze your eyes over him. You couldn’t stifle the laugh that exploded from your lips. He frowned as he sat opposite you, a tinge of defensiveness showing on his strong features.

“What?” He almost sneered, watching as you brought a hand to your mouth to try and cover it up.

“I’m sorry,” You giggled again, having to look at the ceiling for two seconds, trying to compose yourself, pushing a breath out shakily, “Your shirt.”

You began to laugh again, watching him as he looked down at it, inspecting it for a stain or hole.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” He asked clinically, not finding a rip or hole or bird shit which he had suspected was there for a moment on the material.

You bit your bottom lip and giggled again, “It’s awful.”

Tucked into his cargo pants and black leather belt was one of the worst shirts you had ever laid eyes upon. It was white, and in big font on the front, it read ‘Weapon of Math Instructions’. On it, small drawings of calculators, protractors, and sums surrounded the large font.

In a quieter voice this time, he replied, “I got it for my birthday.” He picked up the sweating beer to bring to his lips, the foam coating his mouth as he drank deeply.

You felt a tinge of regret for laughing at him so openly, even though it was admittedly the worst shirt you had ever seen, “Do you enjoy maths puns, Gavey?” You tried to sound flirtatious, but in the moment you sounded more unsure than anything.

Michael took the beer away from his lips, swiping the back of his hand against his mouth, “If they’re funny. Why?”

“Do you have more shirts like this?” You tried to contain your mirth and failed.

The curiosity melted away, and a stony expression slipped over his face, “You’re taking the piss.”

You shook your head, heart speeding up, “No! No, sorry, Michael. I swear I’m not, I just, I wanted to- I’m trying-“

“-For someone whose degree relies heavily on the english word, you sure do struggle to find them.” The smirk on his lips was a thinly thing that indicated that he was being playful, but if he hadn't of smirked, you wouldn't have known. His tone was flat, his body posture stiff, and not once did he laugh, but you knew him.

And it more intimate than you would have liked.

Tongue in cheek in you leant back in your chair, feeling a comfortable little bubble surround you, the tension that was there only simmering in the background now, and not drowning you in it.

“How was the chess tourney?” You took a sip from your drink as he watched you.

“Fascinating, if it’s something of interest.”

His answer surprised you,.

“And was it of interest?”

“TBD.”

You took another sip of your drink, “My nan used to play chess with me when I was little.”

This seemed to peak Michael’s interest greatly, “You can play?”

You shook your head humbly, smiling, “I can play, though I’m probably not very good.”

“We should play.” His answer was so immediate, so abrupt, that you could only blink before remembering to reply.

“What, now?”

Michael raised his brows at you as though you were intellectually stunted, “Do you see any chess boards in this shit hole?”

You breathed sharply through your nose, “No.” You said more afronted than intended, “I was just asking-“

“-You ask a lot of questions but don’t know what ones you want the answers for.”

Annoyance began to bloom in your chest, “I thought we were done with this tit-for-tat nonsense. Or did you want a round two, Gavey?”

A soft blush spread across his cheeks, and you knew you had him.

“Are you going to ask me about my day?” You cheeked, enjoying the way he flustered slightly, and then held back an angry sneer.

“How was it?”

“How was what?”

Michaels jaw tensed, and you bit your inner cheek to not smile, “Your day.”

A large grin spread across your lips along with a false expression of realisation, “Oh, my day! My day was fine, thank you, Michael. I did some reading, I did some study, and then I got myself ready to have drinks with a right git.”

Michael sucked his teeth loudly, “You’re funny. Should be a comedian instead of studying them.”

“You’re cute,“ You countered, “Should smile more instead of sneer.”

“I thought you said we were done with this nonsense.”

“I did, and I am. Starting…. Now.” You smiled widely, bringing your drink up to toast.

Michael looked at you oddly, then to the glass in your hand before finally he brought his up, connecting the two cups.

You smiled wider, proud to be ready to say something you know will interest him,“‘If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough.’”

Michael's glass slammed down onto the table, his body leaning towards you in palpable excitement, “How do you know that?” His voice was eager, like you had lit a flame inside of him.

You smiled smugly, sipping on your drink, proud of yourself to have garnered such a reaction, “Learnt it with my degree. Einstein wasn’t just a man of maths. He was an important part of modern history. Especially regarding his involvement, or I should say rather, his non-involvement in the Manhattan Project.”

Michael's eyes lit up behind his glasses before he picked up his beer and thrust it against yours again, “Glad they’re teaching you something of importance.”

You huffed and laughed and sipped, watching as Michael settled his chair closer to you. It felt as if a door had been opened, and suddenly you were able to step inside the world that was Michael Gavey.

“You know,” You smirked, feeling heat from him beside you, chairs still apart, but bodies leant towards each other, “Art and History is just as important as Maths and Science.”

Gavey looked as though you had declared that the Earth was flat. It was a peculiar little look that made you want to lean across the space and press your lips squarely against his.

“I’m being serious.” You continued, “Without art, without history, the world would be a lot more boring than it is now.”

Michael pursed his lips at you, “Whatever helps you rationalise your choice of degree.”

You sipped your drink, eyes watching him over the rim of your glass, “I’ll let that slide. Only because I know you like watching me get riled up.”

“You’re rather confident of yourself this evening.” He commented, his blue eyes gleaming behind his glasses.

“And you’re rather goading. Not that that’s out of the ordinary.”

His fingers strummed against the table as he looked at you, eyes roaming over your body, “You look nice.”

“I would say the same, but I hate lying, and that shirt is an abomination.” You teased, bumping your shoulder into his lightly.

He smiled.

When did it become this?

How did it become so easy for you to melt into this conversation with him of all people?

Only earlier this week the two of you were at each others throats, snarling and fighting, and now here you were, seated beside each other, making little jokes and sitting intimately close.

“Careful. Tit-for-tat.” Michael warned you, and you rolled your eyes playfully with a huff.

It seemed to please him, and soon enough you were moving through a smooth conversation. He mostly asked you about your studies and friends, and even asked about your family.

And you learnt about his. A fairly standard, run of the mill family. One sister, and an older brother, had a dog growing up, and now has a fish.

But soon enough the conversation drifted back to your studies.

“Are you looking forward to term starting again?” You asked.

You felt as though he would be, his desire for learning and studying was clear whenever he spoke about it. He was passionate, and it was something that you admired about him. Or at least, now you did.

Michael shrugged, “I’m looking forward to graduating.”

This confused you.

“Why?”

Michael frowned, “Why do you think? I’m second in our year, I barely need to study-“

“-All you do is study, Michael.”

“Because there’s not much else to do here, I don’t have friends like you do.” Michael sneered the word friends, and immediately you knew who he was referring to.

“Michael-“

“-It’s different for us. People who aren’t ‘in’. Theres no parties, or accolades, only our degree.”

“You know that I’m not-“

“-I know that you don’t think you are, but whether you like it or not, they consider you one of them.”

You frowned. You didn’t like hearing that, especially with what Farleigh had said to you. You hated it because whilst it was wrong, it was still true. You did get invited to the parties, you had them all on MySpace and MSN, and even had their numbers in your phone. But for you, it was different, and Michael knew it.

You pushed your tongue against the side of your mouth, “I’ll bring you as my plus one to the next party. Then you can see that you’re not missing out on much.”

“You’d be seen with me in public? With them watching?” He said it with a laugh, though it was entirely humourless.

Your head tilted to the side, “We’re in public right now, aren’t we?” You looked around the pub, watching the many faces around you before settling back onto his. His expression was unreadable, until finally-

“We are in public.” He smirked. Gavey downed the rest of his beer quickly, all but slamming his glass onto the table, though not loud enough to garner any attention from the other patrons.

Michaels hand grabbed the seat of your chair and pulled it roughly towards him. You let out a squeak of surprise as your seat shifted against the floor suddenly, almost making you lose your balance.

“Michael!”

“What?” He asked innocently.

“What are you doing?” Your heart began to quicken, his hand coming down to brush against your thigh as he intently stared at you from behind his glasses.

“I’m not doing anything.” His hand inched higher, grazing your inner thigh.

In a small panic, you lifted your gaze to the rest of the pub. Not one person had looked up when he dragged you to him, nor had anyone taken even the slightest bit of interest about the two students hidden in the dark corner table. Everyone in the pub was drunk and too absorbed by their own conversations and friends to notice anyone else.

“What’s wrong?” Gavey teased, voice dipping lower as he openly mocked you, his pinky finger skirting against the edge of your panties.

Your brain had short circuited itself.

You were in public.

Where anyone could see.

And Michael had his hand under your skirt, teasing you.

This was what not what you would have expected from the man who was currently wearing a maths pun on his shirt. Your hand dropped under the table and grabbed his wrist tightly, stopping him from moving it any higher, though this didn’t prevent him from continuing to run his pinky back and forth under the elastic of your panties.

Heat coursed through you, and your core clenched around nothing.

“What are you doing?” You asked breathlessly, a rhetorical question really. You knew just as well as he did exactly what he was doing.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Gavey.”

“I’ll tell you what,” He smirked again, eyes locked onto your face, watching as you struggled internally, “You sit there and be a good girl for me, and when we go back to your room, I will give you what you want.”

You blinked.

Michael squeezed your thigh roughly, “Use your words.”

“Okay.” You breathed.

“Okay what?”

“Yes.” Your blood pumped loudly in your ears, air struggling to get inside of you as you squirmed in anticipation.

“Yes, who?”

You wet your lips with your tongue, mouth suddenly feeling dry, “Yes, Michael.”

He could be so demeaning so quickly. Like a switch was flicked. He went from this awkward, sneering maths genius to a cold and domineering man who could pull any response he liked from you.

“Better.” He smiled, “Now,” Swiftly Michael tugged your panties to the tide, two fingers immediately grazing your centre. You jerked as he slowly dragged his fingers through your folds and up to your clit.

You were soaked.

“Tell me what they’ve taught you about Einstein, since you want to use his words as a toast.” He looked you in the eyes as your breath caught on itself, his fingers swirling around your bud slickly.

Michael suddenly paused, stilling his fingers, “Unless you only used him to try and impress me?”

Irritation coursed through you alongside frustration, “I didn’t use him to im-“ Your voice stilted as he began to rub his fingers against you again.

“To what?” He mocked you.

“I-Impress you. We learnt abou-t him and his wife recently.”

“The wife he divorced?”

“Yes.” You grit through your teeth, pleasure winding powerfully through you. Your toes curled in your shoes, stomach clenching as his fingers dipped back down to your entrance, scooping up more of your slick to drag back to your bud. Your eyes flittered around the pub, checking nervously to see if anyone had noticed what was going on underneath the table.

No-one had.

“Surely you can find the words to tell me more?” One long finger suddenly pressed inside of you, causing you to gasp loudly, hands gripping the edge of the table tightly, “Or are you dumb already?”

“H-his wife was a brilliant physicist,” You struggled to control yourself as he crooked the long finger inside of you, curling it up against your inner walls, “And a-a mathematician.”

“Was she now?”

“Yes. Mileva Marić. They were married for a decade, and he-“ All thoughts escaped you as Michael added a second finger with the first, the stretch pressing into you deliciously as he immediately hooked his digits. You blinked mouth agape whilst looking at him, feeling your face become flushed.

His eyes were half lidded as he watched at you intently, watching your every reaction, testing and teasing to see what made you tick, eager to make you come undone.

This was affecting him as much as it was you.

Only he didn’t care for others catching on.

His stare urged you to continue.

“H-he was cruel to her.” You muttered, brain struggling to catch up.

Michael hummed, “Most men of historical notice were. It was the norm.”

“It doesn’t m-mean that it was okay.”

“No. But a man such as him surely deserves more merit in your eyes.” As his fingers crooked into you, slowly rubbing the spongy patch inside, his thumb pressed against your bud, causing you to shift your hips towards him, grinding down on his hand as you breathed a breathy moan, “Einstein did things that no men could.”

“I-if it was all his w-work to begin with.” You argued weakly, unable to keep your voice sturdy.

“What do you mean?” Michael’s interest halted his hands movement, but this lapse in control only lasted a moment before he corrected himself and began again.

“M-Mileva scored higher than him in applied physics. Five to his one. I-It's believed she helped him complete equations that he couldn’t without the credit. I-It's why he promised her the money f-from his Nobel Prize.”

The mans fingers slowed down their ministrations as he digested your stuttered information, the coil within you already beginning to tighten, “Fascinating.” He breathed, edging closer to you, “Tell me more.”

“Many women-” Michaels thumb began to quicken, halting your thoughts abruptly, your hands still clutching the edge of the table, knuckles aching.

“Many women, what?” He parroted you meanly, “Don’t tell me you’re close already, are you?”

You swallowed thickly, not willing to open your mouth lest a moan or gasp fall out. Michael chuckled quietly, his fingers quickening the pace within, causing you to arch towards him and grind down against his hand again. His arm subtly moved against you, and if anyone in the pub looked, they would surely know what was going on.

“Look at you,” He cooed, his other hand brushing hair behind your ear, “Already so close.”

You whined, trying to shift closer to him and his hand, if that was even possible.

“Does it turn you on that I’ve got my hand in your cunt for all to see?” He purred, “If someone just turned around right,” His fingers pulled out from you momentarily, moving up to your clit where he pinched it between thumb and forefinger, causing you to jerk, “Now, and looked closely enough, they’d be able to see how you’re desperately grinding down against my fingers.”

Your core clenched around him at his words.

“Oh, you do like it.” He tutted, “Such a dirty little whore.”

You whined again, “Michael I-“

“Shhh, don’t you worry that pretty, little, empty head.” He cooed, emphasised by swift rubbing circles on your bud, “I’ll take care of you, but only if you behave.”

You nodded desperately, feeling yourself get closer and closer to the edge. You would do anything. You were desperate at this point. The week of waiting for him had filled you with anticipation, and meant you spent most of your nights with your fingers or vibrator between your thighs thinking about him and your last meeting in the library.

Michael watched you nod and grind down on his hand, his pace slowing so that you couldn’t get much out of it besides a slow and steady buzz of pleasure.

He seemed to think for a moment, deliberating, before an almost cruel smirk pulled at his lips.

“Do you know your times tables?” He asked, fingers almost still at this point, only languidly moving to keep you riled, or to remind you of what he was doing.

You could scarcely think, scarcely exist without feeling as though you were at any moment about to come undone, his hands keeping you just at the precipice. Your mind was hazy, and any and all thoughts of substance had seemed to escape you.

“Use your words.” He encouraged you in a demeaning manner.

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. Not just a pretty face then.” The backhanded comment could have made you smile, “We are going to play a game.”

Could have.

Your eyes widened slightly, hands dropping down to clutch the underside of the table, “A game?”

“Yes.” He gave you an encouraging smile, “Good job. A game.” He was treating you like you were a child who is only just beginning to understand a basic concept, “I’m going to ask you an equation, and you’re going to answer it. If you’re correct, you get a reward. If not,” He paused, fingers teasing you again, “You get punished. Do you understand? Or do I need to dumb it down for you?”

The way he was speaking to you, so meanly, so smugly, made you clench harder around his fingers.

You liked when he was mean to you.

“Answer me. Yes or no.”

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl. Alright,” His hand paused its movements, pulling his fingers out to just rest lightly against your bud, barely touching you, “What is the sum of seven times nine? I’ll use small numbers so that it doesn’t confuse you.”

Slowly, you did the maths in your head, “Sixty-three.”

Michael smirked, “Good girl.” You keened at the praise, and felt his fingers press a little harder into you, his movements beginning to start again slowly, though not enough to give you any pleasure.

“What is fifteen times six?”

Oh god.

“Um,” You shifted, blinking rapidly to try and do the maths, but every time you got somewhere, Michael would press against you harder as if he knew, ruining your train of thought.

“Come on,” He teased with a swirl of his fingers, “That’s an easy one.”

-5 is 75, then-

“Ninety.” You gasped out.

“Good, good. So clever of you.” He cooed, though the sarcasm dripped from his lips. His fingers once again pressed harder, sparks of pleasure finally springing up inside of you. The sound of the pub was loud around you, and in the dim light, you could see that a blush had spread across his cheeks.

“One more and then I’ll give you your reward. If you get it wrong, then you get nothing. Ready?”

You nodded shakily, chasing his hands with your hips. He tsk-ed you and stilled his hands, “Don’t be greedy.” You apologised softly and stilled, waiting for him to start again.

"Twelve times seventeen.”

Oh God.

What?

“M-michael, that’s not-“

“What? It’s easy enough. Even the thickest of people could get it. Though I suppose you’re getting all pretty and dumb for me anyway.”

“I-“

“How about this,” He smirked, and the way he did it caused you to sit on edge, “I’ll help you since you’re such a stupid little girl.” Michael plungers his fingers into you with no warning, immediately fucking them into you rapidly.

You sucked in air sharply, feeling the coil within begin to pull taught.

“Twelve times fifteen is one-hundred-and-eighty. You need two more twelves. Do you know what two times twelve is?”

Did you?

Jesus.

“I- It’s twenty four.” You answered shakily, surprised at your own voice.

“Twelve times seventeen?” He repeated the original question, “Oh dear, you really do have no brain.”

“N-No.” Your voice shook with how roughly and quickly Michael fucked you on his fingers, “Two times twelve.”

“Ah, clever little idiot. Go on now, what is one-hundred-and-eighty plus twenty-four.”

Your brain couldn’t do it, too hazy with how he was degrading you and how well he was touching you. You just wanted to cum. All you wanted was to cum. And then his thumb joined, swirling over your clit slickly as his fingers pistoned in and out of you, the sound of your wet rising from beneath the table. Your arousal pooled onto the back of your skirt and the wood of the seat.

“T-two-hundred-and-“ Michael pressed his thumb brutally against your clit suddenly, fire coursing through you, ruining your train of thought once again.

Damn him.

“Two-hundred-and what?”

Oh god.

“Two?”

Michael frowned at you, though you could tell that he was pleased, his fingers pulled away from you quickly, your eyes widening.

“N-No!” You grabbed his wrist keeping it against your inner thigh, his slick fingers pressing against your skin, “I-I-“

“Wrong answer.” He tutted, “You’re so fucking stupid. So fucking stupid and desperate, look at you.”

“Please, please,” You begged, clit throbbing, “I know- I know what the sum is. Please.” You pulled his hand back to your core, his fingers stiff as you ground against them desperately, “It’s two-hundred-and-four. Two-hundred-and-four. Michael, please.”

Michael’s fingers did not move, and watched you with entertainment as you desperately rubbed him against you. You needed to cum. You needed it. You didn’t care who saw. You didn’t care if it was degrading. You needed him. And you needed him now.

“Look how fucking desperate you are.” He laughed, “So pathetic. Whining like a bitch in heat as you grind against my hand. Are you that desperate to be a little whore?”

“Yes. Please. Please, Michael. Please. I need it.”

“You need it?” He smirked.

You were so close, so so close, “Please, please.”

“Tell me you need me.” He breathed, face coming closer to yours, his breath fanning agains your lips.

You licked your lips again, swallowing thickly, “I need you.”

Gavey smiled toothily, “You’re so pathetic.”

And without a second thought, or really without even a first thought, you nodded in agreement, “I’m pathetic. Please. Please, Michael, I want you.”

“What will you do to get it?”

“Anything. Please.”

“Anything?” He asked again, eyes searching your face.

You nodded desperately, needing him more than you had ever needed something before “Please.”

“Okay.” His fingers slipped back into you as he breathed the word, almost as if he was bored, like fucking you with his hand in public was an all too boring affair.

Mundane.

Little to nothing coming out of it for him. But in that moment you didn’t care as the coil within began to wind again.

“Fuck.”

Michael leant forward, his lips beside your ear so that you could hear him clearly, “You’re going to cum on my hand in this disgusting little pub like the dumb, desperate, little slut that you are, and then you’re going to thank me for it. Understood?”

“Yes.” You whined, hand gripping his wrist as it pummelled into you, thumb brutally swiping your clit as his fingers brushed over the sensitive patch inside of you over and over.

“You’re close already, aren’t you?” His lips brushed your neck, causing a shiver to roll through you.

“Fuck. Y-yes.”

Michael leant forward, his lips brushing against the skin beneath your ear, his sharp nose nuzzling into your hair before he bit down on you roughly, causing you to gasp. To anyone else in the pub it would have looked like an intimate gesture, a man trying to whisper something sweet into his dates ear, but to you, it was damning.

You were so close, so so close, and all it took was four little words to send you over the edge. Michaels tongue lapped at where he had bit you before he came back to your ear one last time.

“I own you now.”

Pleasure erupted through you, your release bursting from within. You jerked in your chair against him, tucking your head into the side of your neck as you hid your face, grinding down onto his had as you whimpered. Michael plucked pleasure from deep within you, his hand not once slowing, prolonging your orgasm. It was only when it began to subside did his hand slow as you breathed raggedly against his neck, slumped into your chair and against him.

Your heart thumped against your ribs as you panted, and gently Gavey withdrew his fingers from within you, a wince falling from your lips from oversensitivity before he pulled your panties back into place.

Michael cooed you gently, “Good job.” Almost inaudible in the loud of the pub, “So good f’me.”

Fatigue washed over you like a wave, crashing into you so fiercely that you didn’t have the strength to sit up yet. You were fucked out, mind thinking of absolutely nothing as you nuzzled your face into his neck further, breathing in his scent.

“Hm,” Michael hummed, “You still with us?”

You hummed back in reply dreamily, only moving back when Michael pulled you away, watching you with half lidded gaze as he looked over your disheveled form. Michael laughed again, eyes crinkling in the corners as he brushed his hand against your cheek. Your first thought was how pretty he was when he smiled, and then you felt the wetness of your slick clinging to your skin crudely.

With a curious touch, Michael moved his fingers across your lips, the taste of yourself tart and warm as he caressed you. You opened your mouth for him and let his fingers inside, immediately tasting yourself as he rubbed his digits against your tongue slowly as you held your mouth open for him, drool beginning to pool at your bottom lip.

“Such a good little girl for me, aren’t you?”

You nodded lazily, small smile flicking at the edges of your lips. Michael pulled his fingers from your mouth and used his thumb to smear the saliva that had pooled at your bottom lip over lips messily.

He tutted, “Dirty girl.”

“Mmm.” You hummed in content.

Michael eyed your half drank drink, nodding towards it, “Finish it.”

You did as he bid, brining it to your lips as you kept your eyes on him, swallowing it quickly before placing the glass back on the table, a warm fuzzy feeling slipping over you, a little space that was warm and safe and cozy. Then Michael stood, rather abruptly, like he had remembered that he forgot to turn the stove off, chair hitting the wall behind him as he looked down below at you.

“Time to go.”

You stood, on shaky legs to follow, adjusting your skirt sheepishly, knowing that there would be a damp patch at the back but not caring enough to hide it. In a way, you wanted people to know what had happened, and in some ways your wish had come true.

A table in the middle of the pub nearby had half of its eyes on you, whispers and smirks shared amongst one another, watching as Michael grabbed your hand to lead you through the crowd roughly. Wolf whistles and hoot’s were called after you, followed by rambunctious laughter. You weren’t sure if they had seen what was happening under the table, but you were sure they had seen his fingers in your mouth.

The door to the pub was swung open as Michael pulled you out sluggishly behind him. As you stood in the crisp air he spun you abruptly, grabbing your face as he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue immediately swiping against yours, trying to taste your essence that lingered there. Michael groaned into the kiss, pressing his body against you, where finally you could feel how much what had transpired had affected him. He pulled back, restraining himself as his sharp nose bumped into yours as he moved.

And then he was gone, stepping away from you as he began to walk away. You stood dumbfounded as you watched him, snow beginning to fall from the sky.

Do you go after him? Was this it? Did he just use you in the pub only to humiliate you out the front?

A wave of confusion and hurt washed over you, but before it could turn to anger, he stopped and faced you again, a soft smirk on his lips.

“You coming? You said anything.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @magnificentdelusionr @twglitching @fan-goddess @mydemimonde @itsshizyne @4v1d-m3t4l-3nj0y3r @liv-cole @lcecgg @sepherinaspoppies @marihoneywk @trashy-panda777 @bellaisasleep

#Michael Gavey x reader #Michael Gavey x y/n #Michael Gavey #Saltburn #michael Gavey fanfic #michael Gavey smut #Saltburn fanfic #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey fic #michael gavey #ewan mitchell #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fic #michael gavey fanfic #Michael gavey oneshot #saltburn #michael gavey saltburn

478 notes · View notes

the-oblivious-writer · 5 months

Text

Comfort Crowd

Core Four x Fem!Reader | Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader

One-Shot: Social Media Au, No GF Au

Summary: Just you, the core four, and a few other scream characters being chaotic

Warning(s): Swearing, "kys" being thrown around (once & jokingly ofc), no gf au, best friend's older sister & age gap (sam is 25/26 & r is 19)

Notes: First time doing a social media au thing for a fic soo if you have any feedback lemme know. Hope you enjoy, this was honestly fun to make

3/7 for Seven Days Of Christmas

mindythegreat

liked by chadtheman_meeks, ambers_notafreeman, and 8,563 others

mindythegreat: can’t take these bitches anywhere @y/n @justalilguy

view all 8,432 comments…

chadtheman_meeks: I just know your asses are freezing 💀

>justalilguy: SHE THREW ME ASS FIRST

>y/n: THREEWW?? YOU JUMPED ON MY BACK THEN SLIPPED

>justalilguy: LIESS

>y/n: YOU CAN SEE IT SO CLEARLY IN THE FIRST PHOTO

>justalilguy: GASLIGHTER

>y/n: LITERALLY STFUP

chadtheman_meeks: now they're at it in the replies 😭

>ambers_notafreeman: LMAO

—

y/n

liked by justalilguy, chadtheman_meeks, and 4,127 others

y/n: we studying tf outa this exam 😤

view all 2,598 comments...

chadtheman_meeks: you spent the first 20 mins deciding on what playlist to use and then another 10 flirting with the librarian

>y/n: and you spent the first half hour giggling with liv on face time 🤨

mindythegreat: chad knows how to read??

>chadtheman_meeks: fuck you.

justalilguy: I see you've started without me 😒

>y/n: WE WERE SUPPOSED TO MEET LIKE TWO HOURS AGO??

>justalilguy: IT'S NOT MY FAULT MY ALARM DIDN'T GO OFF

>y/n: WE WERE MEETING AT 4 HOW MUCH SLEEP DO YOU NEED???

samcarpenter1997: @justalilguy This is the study session you slept through?

>justalilguy: sam?? since when did you have insta?

>samcarpenter1997: Mindy helped me set up an account

y/n: @justalilguy why have you never told me that your older sister is so breath taking? that's breaking girl code 😔

>justalilguy: no. just no. stay away from her.

>y/n: I was just making an observation? btw can I come over?

>justalilguy: NO.

>y/n: so in 30 mins work? great! tell sammy I won't be long

>justalilguy: YOU DID NOT JUST-

chadtheman_meeks: @justalilguy it's a canon event.

>not_ethanlandry: she hit on my sister too

>justwes: and mine

>livvy: mine too

>ambers_notafreeman: same.

>justalilguy: @y/n you have a fucking problem

—

y/n

liked by ambers_notafreeman, mindythegreat, and 8,752 others

y/n: bro's too stubborn to admit she needs help reaching the top shelf

view all 4,673 comments...

ambers_notafreeman: lmao she's so short not even tip-toeing would help her reach

>mindythegreat: rip amber

>livvy: was nice knowing you ames

>justalilguy: oh? well if I'm so short then ig I can't kiss you

>ambers_notafreeman: I didn't mean it in a bad way bby 😢

>justalilguy: there's a good way? please. enlighten me.

ambers_notafreeman: @y/n wat do I do.

>y/n: hm? oh, sry, I was too busy laughing at your ass being in the doghouse for the 3rd time this week 💀

>ambers_notafreeman: kys.

—

samcarpenter1997

liked by y/n, mindythegreat, and 6,732 others

samcarpenter1997: (sam? putting a caption? funny.)

view all 4,873 comments...

y/n: KSHFSKH I mean- Gorgeous as always 💕

>samcarpenter1997: Thank you! 🙂

>justalilguy: GTFO OF HER COMMENTS as for you @samcarpenter1997 wtf was that???

>samcarpenter1997: Your friend gave me a compliment. I literally just said thank you.

>justalilguy: since when do you actually reply to comments?? second of all, THE EXCLAMATION MARK AND EMOJI??? Sam. for you, that's basically jamming your tongue down her throat

>samcarpenter1997: I was just being polite, you're really overthinking this

>y/n: yeah, @justalilguy just listen to the drop dead gorgeous woman

>samcarpenter1997: @y/n Talking about yourself?

>y/n: oh!! 🤭

>justalilguy: I've died and this is hell.

—

y/n

liked by samcarpenter1997, justwes, and 9,892 others

y/n: me and my fav drummer boy @juswes are back at it again

view all 8,992 comments...

justwes: anything for my favorite guitarist 😊

>y/n: ❤️

chadtheman_meeks: I better be the first to hear it!

>y/n: was there any doubt??

samcarpenter1997: That guitar looks good on you

>y/n: bet you'd suit me better

>samcarpenter1997: We could test that theory

>y/n: oh, how I'd love to

>justalilguy: what. the. actual. fuck.

—

mindythegreat

liked by ambers_notafreeman, chadtheman_meeks, and 8,968 others

mindythegreat: LMAOO guess what she just walked in on

view all 8,572 comments...

chadtheman_meeks: I KNEW IT I KNEW IT

ambers_notafreeman: @justalilguy I just got your text, I'm so sorry babe 😭

>justalilguy: IN THE FUCKING LIVING ROOM

not_ethanlandry: I don't get it?

>justwest: same

>chadtheman_meeks: y/n and sam were making out and Tara saw them...

>justwes: OH...y/n's gonna be annoying asf now right?

>chadtheman_meeks: 100%

—

y/n

liked by samcarpenter1997, nik, and 6,432 others

y/n: LOST IN THE LABYRINTH OF MY MIND

view all 5,897 comments...

justalilguy: this is my new waking nightmare.

>chadtheman_meeks: I tried to warn you

>ambers_notafreeman: you should see the look on her face rn

nik: aww, you guys are so cute together 🥰

>y/n: thank you anika<33

not_ethanlandry: you said you weren't looking for a relationship?

>y/n: with you. I wasn't looking for a relationship with you

>not_ethanlandry: noted

mindythegreat: @ambers_notafreeman pay up

>ambers_notafreeman: @y/n you couldn't have waited another week before posting how down bad you are??

>y/n: the heart wants what the heart wants

samcarpenter1997: 🖤

>y/n: 🤍

>samcarpenter1997: Are you coming over later?

>y/n: ofc I am 😉

>samcarpenter1997: Then I'll see you later, beautiful

>y/n: skhfkhfksh see you 🥰

mindythegreat: @justalilguy weren't you just telling me you think they look good together?

>justalilguy: MINDY

—

chadtheman_meeks

liked by justalilguy, ambers_notafreeman, and 8,997 others

chadtheman_meeks: @y/n was supposed to put them in for 10 minutes...she put them in for 30 😐

view all 8,542 comments...

justalilguy: @y/n how tf do you mess that up

>y/n: I don't appreciate being attacked rn

>justalilguy: hm?

>y/n: ...I wanted them a extra crispy

>justalilguy: you're such a dumbass sometimes 💀

>y/n: actually I'm just a girl

ambers_notafreeman: @y/n aren't you always saying how you'd be a housewife for the right woman and shit

>y/n: that still stands!!

>ambers_notafreeman: how do you expect to do that when you can't even bake cookies??

>y/n: wow. I wasn't expecting such sexism from you- chad maybe but you? it's the betrayal for me 😦

>ambers_notafreeman: idk how I tolerate you

>chadtheman_meeks: um hello???

—

y/n

liked by justalilguy, samcarpenter1997, and 9,896 others

y/n: Merry christler🎄❄️

view all 9,047 comments...

-----------

A/N: Tara and R in a nutshell (poor chad getting caught in the middle)

696 notes · View notes

emmkitt · 2 months

Text

I DID IT. well. not really. i gotta be honest i had NO IDEA where to even start with this or how to code or anything so..,, i just took @pankiepoo s files and code (stealing files ??thats soo fancore SORRY MY DEMOns-) and replaced the fan images with mephone instead,, i hope thats alright 😭. but yeah shoutout to him for doing literally 90% of the work for me /gen I DONT KNOW HOWWW TO CODEEE i used to do htmls and css and id be ripping my hair out and crying just trying to make a text container LMAO

anywys because the code isnt mines i dont think i should make the files public hdhdhdh im sorry, also theres a few glitches that i really dont feel like fixing. I SPENT 2 HOURs JUST RENAMING FILES TO MATCH THE CODE going crazy,, and the fact theres still errors. im just lik…yknow what im leaving it, it’s added charm. maybe if i go back and redo the code on my own (that’ll end terribly and im also lazy so i probably wont) then ill upload it but. no promises.

also im not even kidding i had to rename 90 different images one at a time on FOUR seperate occassions because i kept doing it wrong. 🔥 shoutout to windows for being complete shit 🔥

SORRY THIS ENTIRE POST HAS JUST BEEN ME COMPLAINING SORRY SORRY DHDIRHDH

Anyways. he lives on my puter now. him and his like 800 twin brothers.

ignore the fact its 3 am

also the crawling up the sides ill need to fix eventuallg…. but not now im eepy

vandalism^

NOW HOW DO I GET THEM ALL OFF MY SCREEN THERES LIKE A HUNDRED OF THEM HEL

#inanimate insanity #ii mephone4

175 notes · View notes

ncteez · 10 months

Note

hi i’m very excited for the sleepover! can i request 38 with yeonjun from the prompt list

yeonjun + “I want to see you, want to watch you come.”

wordcount: 3.5k

tags: camboy!yeonjun, cam sex obv, dirty talk, masturbation, implied anal but not in detail nor is it related to reader & yeonjun’s interaction. use of: y/n, baby, babe, pretty

note: *heavy breathing* not proof read sorry lmao

You weren’t exactly the type to watch dude’s jerk off online. Really you aren’t. You are, however, the type to watch Eboyfantasy jerk off though. He kind of woke something up inside of you.

Given, in terms of porn there’s not a whole lot you hadn’t already seen and fucking avoided. Live cams and their little cash grab tricks were your least favorite and most avoided, until the cash grab got you…And it got you bad.

At this point, you don’t care how much money you’ve spent watching this stranger pleasure himself. He’s given you some of the best orgasms you’ve ever had, alone in your room, as he speaks out to a general audience. It got to the point where, you know, yeah, you made that account to watch more than just the public show. That was your first orgasm after your initial interest in the strikingly beautiful man spread out on camera with his loose, ripped up t-shirt covering what everyone wanted to see.

You watched, and then you started typing, thirsting much like everyone else was. Wanting to be the “you’re not like other girls” girl for him, but ultimately, always being just like the other girls and men typing dirty words to him.

Those words surely didn’t get him off, but the praise. Oh yeah, that did something. You could see the way he would close his eyes when the chat was doing nothing for him, relying on his own hand and fuck-toys to get him there. You could definitely see how his eyes would stay glued to the chat, open and shining when there was praise and money though. Things like, “So pretty, you sound so pretty like this.” or “If i send you $300 worth of coins, would you say my name?”

He always said those names, but it was never your name. That was too personal for some 1k viewers to hear from a pair of slack, moaning lips. It was something you wanted so badly at this point though. Spending half of your paycheck to keep him in that lavish bed, with all of those expensive toys to fuck into and be fucked by.

Safe to say, you felt about as pathetic as he sounded every single time he drenched himself in his own cum. Even safer to say when you realized his recent update, claiming to offer private shows for a limited time, you felt pathetically aroused at the idea.

Limited time, for a very limited man, with your limited ass bank account.

God, the hours of overtime were so worth it, you think, as you sit here in front of your laptop. Unsure of what to expect, but trying to be prepared for your name to finally sound from those lips. Six hundred dollars for this was not a hard bargain when he comes on the screen, waving at you with a polite smile and a small nod.

“One second babe, let me just grab a few things.”

You politely nod, realizing he definitely didn’t see that shit considering you’re not on camera.

You: take your time, we have an hour!

That exclamation mark looks stupid, but it was a better option than using a fucking emoji.

“So sweet and understanding, I should have been better prepared. You’re only my third private show, I’m not so good with someone else’s schedule–” He giggles, stepping off camera to presumably grab something. “I wouldn’t mind if you were a little annoyed with me, you know.”

You: oh? you’re into that?

You: you seemed to like praise, i didn’t want to step over a boundary.

His face comes into view as he reads, smiling with a breathy chuckle.

“Observant, huh? I’m very adventurous. Sometimes getting everything I want can be a little boring.”

You pause, staring at him on your screen and didn’t realize that you’d ever want to play a part for him like this. You expect him to jerk off as usual, dirty talk, and simply moan your name. But it appears he is actually putting some effort into it.

“You didn’t mention in your request what you wanted to see? Does this mean I can decide how to fuck myself for you?”

God, the heat in your cheeks. The way your stomach flips each time you realize he’s talking to you and not a general audience.

You: i just like it when you feel good. Would love to see how you do it when you’re not putting on a show.

Another chuckle from him, and honestly, you’re kicking your feet out of fondness at him and his bright little smile, with his bright messy hair, and his pretty fingers.

“You want me to just– jerk off like normal?” He tilts his head with a slight smirk. “You paid six hundred dollars to watch me finish in ten minutes when we’ve got an hour because when I’m not on cam, and i’m not getting paid, it’s just a quick cumanddone?”

Well, no. Of course not.

You: I paid 600 dollars for you to use my name.

“Is that what you want? Give me your name then,” He pauses, letting his loose shirt fall down his shoulder as he places a bottle of lube down onto the bed. “I’ll make it sound good. I promise.” He boasts himself up, pulling his pinky up to the camera and looking into it with doe-eyes.

Something inside of you clicks, feeling nervous and kind of embarrassed. You can barely bear to look at the way his eyes go to your messages as you type them out at lightning speed.

You: I’ve never done this before so I don’t know how to ask for things, you might have to help me.

You: my name is y/n.

You: i just feel good when you do and it feels weird to say that to you one on one

“Oh, I’ll make you feel good babe,” He smiles again, lying back on his bed and presenting to you the bulge in his boxer briefs. “I’m honored to be your first.”

Your eyes actually devour this man and the way he glances up at the camera with cheeky charm and then back down at himself, inspecting how hard he’s gotten and how hard he plans to get.

You find yourself typing, then erasing, then typing, then erasing in this short span of silence. Of course, for him it’s entirely silent save for the music he seems to play every time he’s on camera. For you though, it’s too quiet and the air feels heavy as you watch him work that six hundred dollars out of your bank account.

Given, he could genuinely just lay like this, with his lazy fingers caressing across his length before dragging up his chest and lifting the shirt slightly more.

“You’re shy, I can tell.” He eventually explains, noting the lack of typing from you and probably the large amount of staring. “What made you start watching me?”

You pause, still watching the way his movements remain lazy as he speaks to you.

You: you just looked really pretty in the thumbnail.

“I bet you looked just as pretty watching me,” He looks down at himself, grabbing his length through the fabric and letting out a sigh of relief. “Wanted it to be you, didn’t you?.” He adds, looking straight into the camera.

And it’s normal for him, he thinks. Wondering what his viewers look like and the ratio of how many he would actually let touch him if given the chance. He gets off to the idea of being watched, gets off to the idea of someone shyly watching, and of course, gets off on the idea of someone so docile, like you, paying such a sum just to get him to moan a specific name.

Surely, a lot of his followers are not quite up to his standard. Most of them are lonely, unable to find partners, or too socially awkward to talk to an interest outside of a paid sex-stream. He really does wonder though, how many of his viewers use his as a guilty pleasure. Working their day job as if they’re not dirty talking a computer screen in a darkened bedroom.

“Right, babe?” He tilts his head, looking into the camera.

He’s right.

Is it a parasocial relationship if he’s moaned your name various times through various sessions? Is it really one-sided when he asks you through the camera, drowsy voice evident and chest drenched in his own cum that, maybe, he’s looking forward to the next show?

Are you thinking too much into it?

Perhaps it’s the money, or perhaps he really meant it last time when he mentioned wanting to try something new if you come back to him. That something new was chuckled out of him with deep breaths of post-orgasm bliss. “I’d like to see you next time, if you’re okay with that?”

He really thought that by suggesting that, you’d never come back. And no, he doesn’t typically ask his viewers to reveal themselves because time and time again it’s happened without his requesting it, and time and time again it has been insanely disappointing.

You can probably imagine that he butters up all of his viewers like this, but that isn’t the case at all. What you don’t know is that, yeah, he gets a lot of private shows but none of the viewers are as polite as you. They don’t type in a way that makes them seem small, they request a lot out of him. But you, you’re really just here to enjoy the show and he can’t help but feel that like, yeah, maybe he wants to enjoy a show too.

It felt too one sided, which is rare for him to think. Usually it’s all about him, but he’s truly made it about you. Asking what you want from him and only receiving a polite “What did you have in mind this time?”

Is it so weird that his horny brain desperately wants to erase his curiosity about the other person on the other side of the screen? Probably.

But then, he gets that little email. The one with your name in it, paying full price yet again despite his insistence on giving you discount codes. He smiles to himself, glancing around the small shop and pretending that the job he works during the day surely pays his living compared to, well, you.

He doesn’t even read the message because he knows damn well that you don’t place any specific instructions. You simply send money, and wait for him at the appointed time. Under the implication of what he said last time though, wanting to see you this time? He wonders if you took this week-long period to decide if you wanted to or not.

The show is set for the next day at eight in the evening. A bit early, considering he gets off of work at six tomorrow. He won't have a whole lot of time to eat his dinner and clean up for it, but he will make it work.

That, he does. Rushing home the next day and immediately throwing himself into the shower to get the smell of spilled drinks off of him. He makes a quick snack just to get him through too, and within a perfect time frame, he’s at his set up, waiting for the clock to pass the last five minutes before he will need to be emailing you that private link to join.

He feels a little silly acting like this though. Normally, he would decline a show that makes him rush through his day. Normally, he’s not reaching out to see who the person he’s been fucking himself for is. Normally, his heart isn't racing at the idea that he’s either going to be real fucking disappointed tonight, or real fucking turned on.

Send link.

And now, he waits, and waits. Honestly, the span of seconds between 8:00pm and 8:01pm was a bit too long for his liking, but you join, and once again, you do not type before he speaks.

“I didn’t think you’d come back this time,” He smiles as he says your name to you, feeling his insides shake a little bit. “And it’s officially our tenth show, so we should celebrate!”

You’re quite literally panicked upon seeing him again. His hair is a different color this time, but still just as pretty. His lips are especially plump today, and his eyes are shining much like they always do. You, on the other hand, are sitting here in your brand new fucking pair of lingerie, with your hair and face all made up just in case he asks again to see you.

Because maybe that means he will moan your name even louder. Or maybe, you know, he’ll like your name a little more.

You: celebrate how?

“I dunno,” He shrugs looking around the room before getting up and closer to the camera. “I’d still like to see who matches the name I continuously fuck myself to.”

A wave of arousal flows through you. His confidence never failing to minimize your own. Even if this is your tenth show, you think you’ll always feel seen by him despite never seeing you.

“Would you be okay with that?” He backs away from the camera now, presenting himself to you much like he always did. Lying back, propped up on pillows, hand gripping his length from under thin fabric. “I just want to see who makes me this hard simply by requesting me.”

Another wave runs through you.

“If you’re too shy though, babe, it’s okay.” He smiles reassuringly. “I’d be happy to show you how much I like you anyway.” His grip against his length grows tighter.

You: i’ll show you.

Honestly, you thought it would take much more effort on your part to admit that you’re interested in his reaction to you. Plus, you’ve spent so much money on him, and you didn’t spend even more to have this set of lingerie go unnoticed by him.

“Yeah?” He smiles wider than you’ve ever seen. A crooked look on his face, blinking bashfully at the camera. “I’ll send a request to see you then, is that okay?”

You freeze a bit at the thought that, as much as you want to show him, you’re still fucking shy.

“Would you rather let me hear you first?” He offers now, leaning forward to his set up and darting his eyes across the screen.

You: i would feel better if it’s just my voice first.

He nods and immediately you get the notification that he’s requesting to hear you.

“Hi baby,” He says after you accept, listening hard and preparing for what you’re going to sound like. Upon you saying nothing though, he continues. “So shy still?”

You work up the courage.

“Hi,” You start, suddenly needing to cough, or choke, or die, really. “I’m sorry, this is another thing i’ve never really done before.”

Good lord the softness that comes with that voice could only belong to a person he would absolutely fuck himself to on or off camera.

“Such a sweet voice.” He says, trailing off a bit as he leans himself back in position and this time, immediately trails his fingers down his pants. “After all this time, this is what she sounds like?”

The heat pooling at the apples of your cheeks is almost painful. It feels sore almost with the way he compliments you without issue.

“You must sound so, so good, moaning.”

God, you forgot how to talk. You forgot how to breathe.

“It’s okay, just watch me.” He reassures your lack of speaking, clinging to that single sentence you gave to him before letting his thoughts run wild at what your tone would sound like hiccupping moans through deep thrusts.

You must feel so embarrassed, and that’s hot. You’re not as embarrassing as he is, already with a pathetic and leaking cock twitching against his fingers for more of the touch, and more of your voice. He holds his fingers back a bit, nearly whimpering at the situation before his hips chase up and into his hand.

You’re a little bit shocked watching him, appearing far more desperate than he normally is.

“You look–” You start, taking a small breath to encourage yourself to continue. “So good right now.”

“Mm,” He hums, one arm reaching somewhere off camera to grab his presumed favorite pocket pussy. The one you always seem to respond well to because of the way he fucks it. “Gonna show you something.”

God, he always has something to show you and you never get fucking tired of it.

You watch him, for the first time not having to lube up his toy. He removes his shirt, and tugs his briefs down to his ankles before sitting himself up and instantly sliding the toy down on him. You watch his lips quiver, biting slightly and reddening his lips further than normal. You watch the way his legs writhe at the sudden pleasure, and the way his eyebrows furrow in relief as he buries himself into the toy and holds it in place. As if it needs to adjust, or maybe, as if he needs to take it slow.

“This is what you do to me,” he whispers more to himself than to you, but definitely loud enough for you to hear. “Without seeing you, even before hearing you, I want to do this for you so bad.”

Good fucking god.

“Do you get yourself off watching me?” He asks, more for reassurance because he knows damn fucking well that you do.

“Every time.” You say shortly, already feeling entirely too sensitive as you watch him and try not to completely drench the panties you’re wearing. “Without fail.”

He hums again with a smile, holding the toy in place as his hips very slowly fuck in and out of the pussy that he wishes belong to you.

“I want to see you,” He groans out, feeling the slide of his cock hitting every single bump the toy offers. “Want to see you come, want to hear you when it happens.”

The way you’re so turned on by now that you honestly do not fucking care about the embarrassment. You’re desperate, watching him hold his hips back but still try and chase a feeling of pleasure as he listens to the small amount you offer him.

“Please, y/n?” He very nearly whines out, licking his bottom lip and fucking up a bit faster, deeper, into the toy. “You can let me see you slide those pretty fingers in and out of you, please, I’ll guide you the whole time. I’ll make you feel good.”

The pleading, the image, the fact that he can hear the gasp you take in at his assault of words.

“Request it,” You say softly, trying to pretend that you’re absolutely not fucking insane right now.

It would be funny if you weren’t so turned on, with the way he holds the toy with his cock buried into it and nearly leaps for his set up. The request comes faster than you thought possible and you have to fucking force yourself not to think about it before accepting it.

And there he is.

And there you are.

For a moment, you almost lose momentum with the way he freezes, the toy sliding off of his length as he runs both hands through his hair at the image that pops up on the screen.

You almost want to end the session. You almost want to bury yourself a hole and lay in it.

“Fuck, y/n.” He groans, staring straight at you and the way you have yourself sitting awkwardly, all made up, with a dainty bra, and even daintier panties. “Can you lean back and spread your legs for me?”

The way he says it so shamelessly has you doing it for him, just as shamelessly.

“God, look how wet you are for me baby,” he groans, reaching down to grab his toy and slide it directly back onto his length, all while staring at you. “I knew you’d be pretty, but this…”

That hole you were going to dig for yourself? Scratch that.

“Is this okay?” You say as you lean back and keep your legs spread for him, trying to keep your voice from shaking as you intentionally avoid his compliments out of fear that you’d orgasm on the spot.

He seethes out a moan through his teeth, his eyes staring straight at your entire being before landing right back between your legs. Then, he resumes his position, unintentionally burying himself into the toy as he stares at you with a nod.

“More than okay,” He says in a moan, unbelievably surprised at how much he finds you attractive. “Can you use your fingers? Can you show me how you’d want me to fuck you?”

Reluctantly, you give him a nod, already well aware that he’s fucking that toy of his as if it’s you.

“I’ll do whatever you want, just tell me.” You respond.

God, he thinks this might be dangerous.

#yeonjun smut #txt smut #[sleepover]#[yeonjun]#hyuk4ngel

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hockeymenarehot · 3 months

Note

Hii, this may sound a little weird but could you do a bill smut with blood kink? Maybe also overstimulation and edging, like make him a vampire or sum? Thank you if you do mwah <3

Bloody Mary feat. Bill Kaulitz

guess whos back! thank u sm for requesting! not weird at all ml, im always happy to make ur fantasies come true! <3 also with saltburn being popular rn it felt so fitting...

summary: i desperately wanted to make a good plot w/ this one, but this is honestly just straight porn w/ vampire Bill kaulitz...

!!warnings!!: dark content!!!, blood kink!!, depictions of blood, he drinks your blood, gonna say sort of dub-con b/c reader does agree but shes sort of in a trance, porn no plot, lots of oral sex (fem. receiving), fem. reader, edging, overstimulation, cum eating, reader passes out, territorial/primal bill, he has a tongue piercing, not proofread!!!, overall just nasty nasty filth LMAO

You think it's so stupid, the people in your new town seem to be so so scared of whatever (or whoever) is living in the castle upon to highest hill. It looks luxurious, and you chalk it up to being someone greedily keeping it for themselves. After all, there is absolutely no way vampires exist. And even if there is a vampire up there, you hoped it was at least a hot one. You were a brave bitch, so you walked up to that castle and banged on the door yourself.

Okay, so vampires are definitely real. And this one is definitely fuckin' hot. Well how could you not think he was hot? He currently had you bare and splayed out for him on his dark red sheets, the black walls of the room blocking out all light except the light radiating off his pale face. He was hovering over you, his black locks loose over his face. He was delicately running his open mouth over your skin, inhaling your sweet scent.

It all started when you entered his castle, his territory. As soon as you stepped foot in this place you also became his territory. Having been caged up in this place for decades, his body was overcome with an insatiable hunger as soon as his primal eyes met yours. You were swiftly brought up to his bedroom, leaving little time to chat. It was then you decided your next hours alive (or maybe not) were going to spent getting your brains fucked out by this vampire.

Your legs were folded back at the knees, your legs spread as he huffed in your scent. He trailed down your abdomen, stopping once he reached your clothed pussy. He inhaled with a sultry groan, shivering as he did so. It was then he looked up at you, locking eyes with you once more. "You want this, don't you? Stepping inside my territory like a little whore, you must want to slut yourself out for me, no?" You had in fact been pretty well covered when you stepped in, but you assumed his touch starved self didn't have the brain power to comprehend that. "Y-yes..." you whined. This felt so out of character for you, almost as if you had been put under some sort of hypnotic spell by his eyes. They felt like a portal to another dimension, one where only lust for him existed. He barely let you finished your stuttered word before he ripped your panties off, leaving your bare pussy exposed to his hungry eyes. You shivered at how he looked at your cunt like it was a meal, one he was getting ready to ravished.

And he did. Before you knew it, you were at the mercy of his relentless tongue, prodding into you and lapping at your clit. His fangs ever so often brushed against your sensitive folds, and you were reminded that at any moment he might actually take a bite out of you. This fact only seemed to make you leak even more, getting wetter by the second. He drank up your juices like they were the last drops of water he would ever receive. As you looked down at him you could see his heavily dilated pupils, staring into your eyes like he was a wolf devouring prey.

You tried to contain your moans, instead opting to whine and make choked out sounds ever once in a while. In the back of your almost-thoughtless head you were afraid that if you moaned for him, shamelessly letting your voice echo, he would mark you as his. And you weren't all sure what that would entail.

You could feel your orgasm impending by the way his nose would ever so often nudge onto your clit. As he used his tongue to reach deeper and deeper inside of your cunt, it was then you released his tongue piercing. The cold metal contrasting against the warmth of his tongue made you shudder, making it impossibly hard to contain your noises. His moans vibrated into your cunt, making your back arch off the sheets like a black cat, blending perfectly into the decor of his black & red room.

Right as you were about to cum all over his tongue, he swiftly pulled away. The loss of stimulation left you a whining mess. It was then you made the dire mistake of biting deeper into your lip to contain your noises, breaking the skin and letting small drops of blood flood down your chin. He had no self control to hold back as he leapt for your chin, licking up the blood that left your lip with only the tip of his tongue before sucking onto your bottom lip. You could feel his length grow against your stomach, and you blushed madly at feeling him get turned on at the sight of your blood.

He let out a small breathy chuckle "Did you honestly think I would let you cum? After you contained your noises? The noises that belong to me?" You finally let out a moan at his words "Please!" You weren't exactly sure what you were begging for, but all of your senses were being overwhelmed. It truly felt as if you were in a trance as you stared up at the glittering ceiling of the bedroom. "Please what? You want more?" He mocked as he ran his tongue down your jaw, laughing slightly at your desperation. You nodded your head frantically, wanting to feel more of him. "If that's what you want, say my name. Let everyone know who's making you feel good." You looked at him with blown eyes, awaiting him to reveal his name to you. "Bill," You didn't hesitate to scream out his name as he dove back into your pussy.

Your cunt was aching, your thighs begging to close in around his head at the merciless pleasure you were receiving. The room was filled with your mewls bouncing off the walls, echoing into Bill's ears and fueling his lust. Your noises drove him to work your poor pussy harder, adding fingers into your hole as he toying with your clit using his tongue. Your hands reached down to his scalp to pull at his hair.

"M-ah!" The pleasure you were receiving was almost unbearable, his long fingers pressing just the right spots within you. You were once more teetering towards the edge of bliss, you pussy clenching around his fingers. It's only taken him the time since you entered his castle to learn you like the back of his hand, memorizing the inside of your cunt with his fingers and the sounds of your moans with his ears. Your cunt was puffy and pulsing with desire, and you let out a moan of his name. "Bill! Gonna cum-!"

Right as those words left your mouth he pulled away again, leaving you a sobbing mess. He payed no mind to you, merely admiring his work of your glistening folds. He inhaled your scent as you wept at the loss of another orgasm, tears streaming down your cheeks. He ran his nose against your thigh, inhaling your scent once again.

His cock was hard, impossibly hard. It was aching at your scent, and your sweet noises weren't helping his situation. He decided to indulge in a little pleasure for himself, smelling of your inner thighs until he picked up on a scent he desired. He blocked out your cries and pleas as he sunk his fangs down into the plush of your thigh, drawing blood to the air before sucking it back in with his mouth. You screamed with pleasure filled pain as he moaned against your thigh. He sucked at your thigh some more before rubbing the flat part of his tongue against it, moaning out once more before releasing his load onto the sheets. Your mind was too hazy and under a hypnotic-like state to register much of another besides the feeling of his tongue, the pleasure it brought, and the pain.

You chanted out his name "Bill, Bill, Bill," anything at all to try and get him to give more attention to your aching core. Once Bill had finished releasing and pleasuring himself, he decided you had been good enough and deserved some pleasure of your own. Most women he had tried this with had screamed with agony, doing anything at all to get away from him. His sharp teeth just weren't for them.

"Good fucking girl" He spoke out in a low, groggy tone. He focused his eyes onto your cunt again, before attacking it with his mouth again. He slurped up your juices before bringing his fingers up to pump in and our of you at a brutal pace, his mouth latching onto your clit and sucking on it. You screamed out his name, egging him on. You used your hands to claw at his sheets, the pleasure being brought by his tongue completely encompassing you. He made sure you felt completely owned by him, totally below him. He had decided that if cumming around his tongue is what you wanted, you would get just that and more. Who was he to leave you unsatisfied when you had been so good for him?

Your legs were trembling, completely at his mercy as you felt your orgasm building up yet another time. This time it felt much faster, the heat in your core heating up your entire body. His fingers were hitting ever spot in you just right, and your entire body was succumbing to pleasurable pain as you sprayed all over his face, your back arching impossibly higher. Your back ached and your entire body shook with the intensity of your delayed orgasm.

You were moaning choked out screams as Bill didn't lessen his brutal, inhumane pace into your cunt. It was almost as if your noises and squirt only made him want to go faster. No human would be able to move their fingers in and out of you at the pace he was. Your eyes looked up at the ceiling, dots invading your vision. You felt like at any moment you might pass out as you released against him once more. He hungrily lapped up all you had to offer, groans bouncing off against your folds. His hands came up to press against your waist as you continued to moan, and he only continued to get faster. "T-too much! Slower!" You were barely able to form those simple words, your mind turned to mush as the lines blurred between your orgasms, slowly being unable to tell when one started and one ended. The bliss and pain you were receiving were unbearable.

It seems he didn't take into account the fragile nature of the human mind and body, as you passed out. Collapsing from the overstimulation, your body fell against the plush comforter of his bed. He looked up at you to study your face, his lower face covered in blood from your thigh and slick from your spent pussy.

He crawled over you, hovering over your body taking in the scent of your sleeping form. He reached your face, huffing in your scent like it was a drug. He moved his nose down to your neck before latching onto it, a zap of electricity being sent down his spine as he did so. He left the signature dots against your neck, his eyes closing as he inhaled the smell of your blood, marking his territory.

"Mine."

a/n: sorry for the long break, been getting back into doing schoolwork.. i do hope this was to your liking! requests are being closed for now as im still trying to get caught up on them, but feel free to send in quick drabble ideas or just to chat! I love talking to u guys! <3

#smut #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader #fanfic #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz fanfic #x reader #bill kaulitz imagine #vampire smut #vampire Bill kaulitz

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welcome-to-hawkins · 2 years

Text

Dungeon master and his princess

In which reader has a thing for eddies hands.

Part two Part three Alternative ending

Warnings: 18+, choking, smut, pet names, fingering, oral fixation, that’s it I think lmao.

His hands.

You couldn't stop staring at his hands.

You’d been fixed on him from across the back row of history class for at least the last 40 minutes. The way he sat on the table with his feet on the chair, talking loudly with his friends about some new DnD campaign he was planning.

Jean vest over leather jacket over that stupid hellfire shirt. Hair dangling in his face. Ripped black jeans just tight enough to show off his thighs… but you weren’t interested in any of the things that you usually fantasised over during third period history.

Because today Eddie had added a new set of accessories to his look. He was wearing rings.

Four of them, all silver, spread across his nimble fingers. Three rings sat across his left hand and one on his right ring finger.

Slender fingers. Strong veiny forearms. You were definitely staring again.

You watched as he slid down off the table and caught your eye with a quirked brow and a smirk. Shit. Class had ended and he just caught you drooling. Double shit. You ducked your head and got out of there before he could say anything.

You were waiting for Dustin by your locker, ready to drive him home from school when your mind began to wander again.

You’d had a crush on Eddie since 7th grade, not that he'd ever noticed. Wrapped up in his band and Hellfire, he didn’t exactly have time to pay attention to the quiet girl who watched him like her favourite tv show.

Suffice to say it wasn’t exactly convenient when your kid brother became his newest Hellfire recruit. Now your Thursday nights were spent chauffeuring Dustin from school to Hellfire and then home, trying to avoid Eddie at all costs. A mission that had been thus far successful.

Sure, you’d spent a few hours each week parked down the block hiding in your car. And yeah, hearing Dustin talk about him as if he was the first Henderson to fall under the spell was a little annoying. But hey, it’s not like you had anything better to do.

“Hello, earth to y/n?” Dustin waved his clammy hand in your face.

You turned your head to be greeted with the sight of your little brother, and more alarmingly, a smirking Eddie Munson.

“Shit, hi! Sorry Dus. Must’ve zoned out” you said sheepishly.

You took in Eddie. Brown hair falling across his face, partially hiding the smirk that was directed at you for the second time today. And then you looked lower. Arms crossed, leather jacket pulled taut and…

His goddamn hands.

Fingers wrapped around his upper arm, rings shining at you teasingly. You imagined those fingers entwined with yours, holding your arms above your head as he-

“HELLO? Are you drooling? You're embarrassing me in front of Eddie” Dustin complained, tugging on your arm.

“Nah, s’okay Dustin. She likes to watch. Ain’t that right princess?” Eddie looked down at you, his mocking tone only serving to make you clench your thighs. A movement that doesn’t go unnoticed, judging by the predatory glint in his eye.

“I- I don't, i’m not…” You sighed, “Dustin come on we have to go”.

Dragging your protesting brother behind you, you could vaguely make out Eddie chuckling in the background.

Dustin had been complaining about you embarrassing him and being rude to Eddie for the whole fifteen minute car journey. Apparently staring at the Dungeon Master is bad form. You pulled the car over in Dustins usual drop off spot only to be greeted with the last person you wanted to see.

Eddie sauntered round to your side of the car and tapped twice against the window, indicating that he wanted you to roll it down.

“Great, look what you did now. He’s probably gonna tell me I can't come to Hellfire anymore!” Dustin grumbled.

You rolled your window all the way down, still not turning your head to face him. Eddie bent down, resting his forearms on your window ledge and learning his head alarmingly close to the side of your face.

“Hey princess” you could see him smiling at you from the corner of your eye, “you gonna come inside this time, help me run this campaign?”

Before you could even form a response Dustin blurted,

“YES, yes she is”.

You looked at him incredulously while Eddie smacked his hands against the roof of your car.

“Awesome. Meet you in there” he grinned, sauntering back around the car and into the building.

“What the hell did you do that for?” You admonished Dustin, “I can't go in there!”

“You have to! You already got me in trouble once today, and if the dungeon master says you’re in, you’re in!” Dustin demanded.

And that was how you ended up here, sat on the corner of a disused theatre prop while the gang finished their campaign.

You had to admit it wasn’t quite as boring as you’d expected it to be, especially with the addition of Erica. The gang had surpassed a troll and solved a riddle to get the next clue and end the session, turns out Eddie had made some last minute changes and their newest monster was guarding something they needed to win.

After insisting you join them, he’d barely looked at you all night. And when he did it was with a teasing look that you couldn’t quite place.

Watching him gracefully rotate the game pieces across the table throughout the game had done nothing to help your newfound obsession with his hands, and if you were being truthful you couldn’t wait to get out of there.

“Okay, come on Dus. Time to go home” you called him from where he was stood, raving about the session to Mike.

“Gareth can take Dustin home. Right, kid?” Eddie commanded from his throne. You opened your mouth to protest when he continued;

“The oldest Henderson and me need to have a little chat, isn’t that right princess?”

Schooling your face to be suitably annoyed you turned to your brother and rolled your eyes.

“I’m fine. He probably just wants to yell at me for disrupting his campaign” you sighed, “i’ll meet you at home”.

As the last of the group filtered out your eyes finally returned to the man who was currently spread out across the dungeon throne. One leg thrown haphazardly across the arm, elbow propped up on the other side, balancing his head in his palm. One eyebrow raised teasingly at you. He was a case study in asymmetry, and yet you’d never seen a person look more perfect.

“So… why was I actually here? You didn’t need me for your game and i’ve never been involved in Hellfire before” you said, moving across to sit on the edge of the table, side on to him so you didn’t have to look him in the eye.

“Oh come on, you’re telling me you didn’t figure it out? I'm disappointed, Princess, I thought you were smarter than that. Although I suppose it is kinda hard to learn when you spend most of class staring at me”

Your head snapped towards him at this, heat creeping up your cheeks.

“I do not!” You protest “I was just… lost in thought this morning” you shuffled your whole body to face him this time. He moved backwards in his seat, dropping his leg and bringing his hand up to hold the back of your calf. The feeling of his cold metal rings against your warm flesh made you shiver, and he marked your reaction with a grin. Clearly willing to ignore your lie, he moved on.

“So, how come I didn’t know Henderson had a sister?” He said, lowly.

“Maybe because you never paid enough attention” you bit back.

“Well i’m paying attention now, Princess” he slid his hand up the back of your leg, now dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” You whispered, almost afraid that if you were any louder he’d realise the position you were in and stop touching you.

“Well for a start because it makes you react like that…” his lazy grin grew impossibly wider “But also because I figure you could help me freshen up my campaign. You’re the new prize" he finished, breathily.

“And like all prizes… it’s finders keepers”.

He pulled you by your hips onto his lap, legs settling on either side of his, hands braced on his chest. Not giving you a chance to catch your breath he crashed his lips against yours, burying a hand in your hair and using the other to pull your hips forward against his.

You grasped his denim vest in both hands, tugging him towards you. He dropped the hand from your hair to your chest, groping at your breast through your shirt.

You moaned against his mouth, and felt him smile against your lips. Before he pulled away to ask “So what is it, huh Princess? I’ve seen you looking at me but never like this. What’s got you so worked up?” You looked up at him, pupils blown and chest heaving.

“Your rings, your hands, I just… oh god” your hands were grasping at anything they could find, his chest, jacket, his arms, just trying to get him to touch you again.

He laughed, a deep heavenly sound that you would spend the rest of your life trying to hear again.

“Oh baby, we are gonna have so much fun” he mused.

He turned you around in his lap, pulling your back to his chest and hooking your legs across the outside of his thighs.

“Watch what I do to you Princess. Wouldn’t wanna have to make you beg” his voice sent chills down your spine, causing you to rock back into him, feeling his arousal pressed against your back.

He traced the fingertips of his right hand up your thigh, stopping when he reached the hem of your skirt. He used his left hand to roughly yank your shirt up over your chest, exposing your bra. Both hands cup your breasts, squeezing harshly before pulling down the cups of your bra, exposing your bare chest.

“So perfect” he stated, not talking to you as much as he was about you.

Nimble fingers pinched and massaged your nipples as you threw your head back against his shoulder.

“Please Eddie, need you” you cried, not above begging if it gets him to touch you where you so badly want him to.

He hums lightly, the vibration of his chest against your back sending a surge of wetness to your already soaked panties.

He slides a hand down to flip up your skirt around your middle. You can only imagine what you must look like right now, clothes half off spread open on Eddies lap moaning like a whore.

His right hand once again snakes down to your thigh, but this time finishes it’s torturous trail up your leg to the hem of your white cotton panties. He rubs you over the top of the fabric and moans when he finds the spreading damn patch.

Your own cry is swallowed by his mouth as he turns his head and kisses you. Hand diving into your panties he begins to gather wetness from your dripping hole and swirl it around your clit. His other hand is splayed against your chest, holding you tight against him. Breaking the kiss he begins to suck a bruise into your neck.

“Eddie please, please touch me. Need it so bad” you whine, attempting to grind yourself back against him, desperate for whatever he is willing to give you.

“Oh baby, so needy. Let’s give that mouth something to do, huh?” He mocks, sliding the hand that was previously across your chest up, briefly resting against your throat before plunging two fingers into your mouth at the same time his other hand mirrors his actions, two thick fingers stretching open your pussy.

You moan out against his fingers and your eyes roll back into your head as he begins to piston his fingers in and out of you, the heel of his palm rubbing against your bundle of nerves with every stroke.

“Tell me, when you were thinking about my hands earlier… was this what you had in mind? My fingers buried deep in your greedy cunt? Or was it my hand wrapped around your throat” he broke off his own sentence to do just that, his fingers slick with your saliva as they applied the slightest pressure to the sides of your throat, making your head buzz.

His fingers sped up, curling against your g spot with each movement.

“Because when I think about you at night, with my hand wrapped around my cock, I imagine the shy girl from history class spread open for me on my table, making noises sweeter than any song I know”

His words along with the lack of oxygen and fingers buried to the hilt in your cunt sent you over the edge. You spasmed around his fingers as his hand moved from around your neck to hold you tight against his chest.

“Such a good girl, doin so well for me” he whispered against your cheek, grounding you against him as you come down from your high.

Once again he turned you gently in his lap, twisting you to face him, and pulled you back to him. Your actions hit you all at once as you took in your reflection in his eyes. Before you could move back or begin to apologise he lifted the fingers that had been inside you only moments ago to his lips and sucked them clean as he watched you.

“That was…” you started but trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“Hot.” Eddie filled in the blank for you, a shit eating grin overtaking his face.

“Like the hottest thing i’ve ever seen” he continued, clearly intent on making your face burn with embarrassment, “but next time I want you spread out on my DnD table”.

Turns out Hellfire club might just be the best thing Dustins ever dragged you into.

Thanks for reading! Dm me if you want to see more- submit prompts and I’ll make it happen!

Parts two, three and the alt ending are linked at the top!

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson x fem!reader #smut #x reader

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leossmoonn · 5 months

Note

Could you maybe do some head canons for like goth or alternative!reader x mike? Maybe he was intimidated when he first saw her or like Abby really likes the way she dresses and wants to borrow accessories from her and stuff? Idk this idea popped in my head you are such a good writer! 😺

yes! i’m not goth but i looked up some outfits and makeup and stuff. i know the media waters down goth style, but i hope this is what you had in mind!! this is also kind of all over the place sorry 😅

includes / warnings - reader fem, has piercings :D. hc format. after freddy’s.

————

first time mike sees you hearts shoot out his eyes like he’s in a cartoon

“what’re you staring at?” abby asks.

“uh,” mike trails off, not being able to answer as he literally locked on you. it’s when you glance over at him when his face get all red and he looks away and goes back to grocery shopping.

abby walks up to you after seeing mike’s interest and starts a conversation with you

mike tries to steer her away, but he can’t get to her before she says:

“my brother thinks you’re pretty.”

lmao if mike didn’t want to die before this, he definitely wanted to now

“oh, he does?” you grin at him.

mike visibly gulps. but he’s glad he’s closer to you and he can really see how hot you are lmao

“yeah,” he nods. “i-i really like your piercing,” he points to his own eyebrow where you have a piercing on your face.

“thank you. it’s new, actually.”

although mike was a little worried about abby running off to talk to you, in the end it was a good thing 😸

mike loves watching you do your makeup. he’ll sit there for hours staring at you for hours if he could

he loves watching your skilled hands paint eyeliner over your eyes. he likes watching you mix lipstick shades together to create the perfect shade you lay desire that day

“don’t you have to go to work?” you ask.

“i can be late if that means i get to stare at your pretty face.”

also, he’s just so impressed with how talented you are at doing makeup and will literally tell you how artistic you are just bc you know how to make a straight wing

mike loves the chunky heels and boots you wear. he likes when you tower over him 😼

not to mention, when the boots go up your thigh he lowk gets all hot and bothered by it lol

he also loves buying you new accessories to put in your piercings. the first holiday you spent together, he bought you a shit tone of necklaces and new pieces to put in your septum

mike loves taking you out. not only bc he loves showing you off in general. in his head he’s definitely walking around like “yeah i know i bagged the most beautiful woman in the world. all you other guys suck.”

but in all seriousness, he loves the dresses you put on. he always says you look like a vampire princess, and he’s not entirely wrong

the dresses you have are fabulous omg. there’s one where it all connects form a choker-like strap around your neck and has straps connecting to the sweetheart neckline of the dress (soz if this doesn’t make any sense lmfao). the dress is textured on the skirt and stops a little bit above your knees. and fuck if mike doesn’t just want to rip it off of you after also wanting to stare at you in it for all of eternity.

you also have this sleek, black, satin dress that has like a straight neckline and long sleeves and goes down to your feet.

everytime mike sees you wearing that he mouths literally waters

now, just to go back to the fact that he is super intimated when first dating you

he was so afraid he was going to be too boring for you or basic. and also just not the type guy you were looking for

but just to his luck, you think he is perfect for you

omg but in the first month or two do you two dating, i just imagine him finding out what music you like and trying to learn every word of every song to siouxsie and the banshees, specimen, sisters of mercy

it definitely does impress you and you think it’s so sweet

for your bday he definitely tries to take you to any concert he can get tickets to

now on the subject of abby, she is definitely obsessed with you

she’s always asking you to do her makeup for school, and you happily oblige!

mike always looking out for abby in his own way, so he was worried if she went to school caked with eyeliner, she would face some backlash, but he knows how happy it makes her — and you — to play with makeup

abby’s always asking mike she can get a tattoo and piercings

“abby, you just turned 11. you won’t be able to drive anytime soon, so no tattoos anytime soon.”

she’s always trying to have you convince him, but unfortunately you have to agree with mike

buuuuttt you do paint and draw designs on abby sometimes and she acts like their tattoos and that’s close enough for her until she’s older

you also buy her face piercings that hook on her nose and lip

mike does let her get her ears pierced once she promises she can handle the little needle poke and she proceeds to try and steal all your earrings lmao

luckily, you buy her copy cats of them so she can have her own

other random things:

mike definitely lets you paints his nails. this is not at all that crazy of an idea, but, it’s smth new he’s never done but he loves watching you get so excited. you can even practice nail art on him too

you have a couple of tattoos, specifically one that goes around the side of your thigh and it just makes him fall to his knees!!

Halloween you guys dress up as the Addams family !!!

so fitting cuz you’re a hot, powerful woman and mike’s like gomez: unwaveringly obsessed with you. and of course abby is wednesday hehe

————

taglist

@celestbarnes

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x you

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moralesmilesanhour · 5 months

Text

mad props! 04

summary: in the week leading up to the show, your grades begin to slip. whatever will you do... word count: 1820 a/n: hiii i rlly enjoyed writing this chapter bc some of the stuff in here has definitely happened to me lmao. if you feel up to it, reblog and tell me what your favorite song from any musical is in the tags! songs mentioned: 'Chip On My Shoulder' - Legally Blonde the Musical (Original Broadway Cast Recording) prev next

“Max, you’re a little flat, hun.”

The choir director pulled her shawl tightly around her as Max–the chosen casting for Emmett Forrest–ran through some of his sung lines for ‘Chip On My Shoulder’.

The brown-skinned, dark-haired boy was an excellent actor; he breathed life into the words on the script and delivered them with all the earnestness and humor required to play Emmett. Hell, he even improvised his own jokes.

But he couldn’t hold a note to save his life.

For some lines, Max could get away with half-singing, half-talking, but he was practically tone-deaf once the song got more involved. The choir director–Ms. Johnson–had to be called in to help get him somewhere that was at least within the ballpark of the correct pitch. His high notes remained painful to all present in the room, no matter what she did.

You huffed from your spot on the fake park bench, resisting the urge to scratch your scalp beneath the itchy wig. Everyone had heard the exact melody on the piano by now. Hear it, sing it. Like Spanish vocabulary, you couldn’t comprehend how people got that sort of thing wrong.

Harmonizing with Max went about as expected; you lost your place several times because of the distracting dissonance between your voice and his, like hearing a parrot and an eagle squawk at the same time.

Regardless, it was too late to recast Max now. He had a leading role with too many songs and lines to memorize.

“Alright, take five!” the director yelled with a clap of her hands.

A collective sigh could be heard as students dispersed for their well-earned water and bathroom breaks, the tension in the air dissipating. You stepped carefully off of the stage, when you heard a snicker in your direction.

Miles was in the middle of painting a cardboard sorority building in an obnoxious shade of hot pink, shaded with strokes of fuchsia and cyan that managed to work together somehow. You frowned at the fact that you couldn’t say anything bad about it.

The boy struggled to hold back a laugh, looking up as you stood over him with crossed arms.

“Something funny?”

Miles stood to meet your eyes, carelessly wiping bits of paint onto his pants.

“That frumpy-ass 613 wig you got on, for one,” he replied with a teasing grin. “Are you gonna wear that for the actual show?”

You rolled your eyes.

“No, for your information, I’m not. This is a placeholder wig,” you ripped it off of your head for emphasis. “Why are you even here, anyway? Don’t you got posters to make?”

In actuality, you knew about the art club lending some of its members to paint sets for the show. But you wanted to make sure Miles knew he was unwelcome.

“Just doin’ what I do best,” he shrugged. “You should be grateful for my sacrifice.”

You snorted, “What ‘sacrifice’?”

Miles jabbed his thumb behind him towards the left side of the stage, where Max was going over his lines. “I gotta listen to that nigga sing for over an hour. I’m sacrificing my time and my ears.”

Despite yourself, you laughed brightly at the comment, causing a more genuine smile to spread across Miles’ face. You looked pretty when you laughed.

“Oh my god, he sucks, right? Spent the whole damn song looking for the note.”

“Too late to replace him now, though. Show’s in two weeks.”

You nodded.

There was a brief pause before Miles asked, “So what made you sign up for theater? I was kinda surprised to see you on a stage.”

You gave him a wary look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he raised both hands in defense, “You just seemed like more of the quiet type, that’s all.”

I signed up to avoid you, you thought, but didn’t say aloud; That would’ve given him the satisfaction of knowing that you thought about him that much.

Instead, you answered, “I used to do theater at my old school. Got the lead part most of the time, if you can believe it.”

There was an arrogance in your voice as you said that last bit that soured Miles’ expression.

“I believe you, no need to convince me,” he said flatly. “Legally Blonde’s an interesting choice, though.”

You shrugged, “The part really lets me show my voice off, so...”

“Showin’ off,” Miles muttered beneath his breath, “Sounds like you.”

“Excuse me?”

Before you could start to argue, his eyes went wide, like he’d just heard a noise that no one else could hear.

“It was really nice talking to you, Y/N, but I gotta go,” he said, spinning on his heel and bolting towards the auditorium door. “Watch my stuff for me!”

Your jaw dropped in offense. Was he allowed to just bail on a club activity like that? And with the gall to ask you to watch his things for him. You totally did, though.

Once you got home, your feet throbbed and your muscles ached from all of the choreography. You were just barely out of your school uniform when you decided to lie down for a quick nap. Or what you thought was a ‘quick nap’.

The blaring of your alarm made your heart jump as your eyes flew open, half of your face damp with drool. The early morning washed over your room in a pale blue shade, and the sight would’ve relaxed you if not for the sudden realization that you weren’t in your pajamas.

You shot up, wiping the side of your face with your sleeve. Your Spanish and AP Physics notebooks were still strewn across your bed, along with several worksheets that had remained blank. Unfinished.

…Oh no.

Your heart was practically in your throat when you explained to Mr. Sanchez why you didn’t have any homework for him to collect.

The man noticed your glassy eyes, and held up a reassuring hand in the middle of your frantic explanation.

“That’s fine, it happens,” he said gently, “Just bring in the missing work tomorrow, and it’ll only be ten points off. Don’t make it a habit.”

He adjusted his glasses, and returned to grading the pile of worksheets on his desk as you trudged back to your desk, a pit forming in your stomach over those precious ten points.

“You good?” Miles asked as you sat down, concern coloring his features. He ran a finger over a small band-aid on his right temple. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

You buried your face in your arms on the desk.

“Nunya.”

He sighed, “I dunno why I even asked.”

Unfortunately for both you and Mr. Sanchez, missing assignments did, in fact, become a habit.

You began to spend more time lingering in the auditorium after everyone had left, practicing your line delivery. Adding little details, like extra hair flips or twirls. The spirit of Elle Woods had practically taken over your body.

You got home later and later into the evening, sometimes flopping down onto your bed and falling asleep before your head could even hit the pillow. This new ‘habit’ had you scribbling down vocab words and formulas in a frenzy, balancing your notebook on your lap on the bumpy bus ride to school. The flashcards that you had made for Mr. Sanchez’s class were now sitting untouched at the bottom of your bag.

By Friday, it landed you in front of his desk for office hours after you received your very first ‘F’.

“As you’ve probably noticed, Y/N, your grades have fallen a significant amount in a very short period of time, and I’m a little concerned,” Sanchez slid your weekly grade report towards you and placed his finger on your Spanish grade. “What’s going on? This is very unusual for a student like you.”

Your sweaty fingers clutched the sides of your seat as you stared down at the report. How did you let it get this bad? Elle Woods would never.

“I-I just…”

You shook your head. “I’ve just been busy with extracurriculars and stuff, so assignments slip my mind sometimes.”

“You’re having trouble balancing them with your schoolwork?”

“Yeah, basically,” you leaned forward, looking desperate. “Can I still re-take that quiz? I didn’t really get to study, and–”

“Oh! That’s actually what I called you in for, one second.”

Sanchez rose from his seat, and made his way over to the door.

“You know about our Study Buddy system, yes?”

You nodded slowly, skeptically. “Am I getting a ‘Study Buddy’?”

“Pre-cisely. Come in!”

He opened the door, and you almost groaned audibly at the lanky figure that appeared at the entrance.

Miles entered with a friendly smile on his face that dropped the second his eyes landed on you.

“Oh. You.”

The Spanish teacher sat back down and gestured towards him.

“Miles here is both a native speaker and beyond proficient in this class. He was so kind as to sign up for the program, so I thought it might be nice to pair him up with someone in the same period.”

Shocked into silence, you were unable to say anything other than a quiet “Okay” as you stared blankly in front of you.

Study buddies. With the guy who didn’t even study. This had to be some kind of sick joke.

“He’ll be giving up a bit of his lunch time to tutor you in my classroom. I’d also highly recommend you two study with each other after school as well, if you can make the time. Sound good?”

“Yes,” you both said in miserable unison.

“Well, that’s all,” Sanchez waved his hand. “You’re both dismissed. Have a lovely weekend!”

“You too!” you smiled tightly as you got up and made a beeline for the door, nearly bumping into Miles as you did so.

Your weekend would be anything but ‘lovely’.

You fixed Miles with a glare as soon as you got out into the hallway.

“I’m not giving up my lunch period for you,” you yell-whispered. “I hope you know that.”

He took a step towards you and fired back, “Neither of us have a choice, your highness. If we’re not both up here during lunch, I get in trouble, and you gotta take the L and fail this class.”

“I’d rather fail, then. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Oh?” he laughed mirthlessly. “You were in tears over a damn ‘89’. Makes no difference to me, but I think you do give a fuck.”

You opened your mouth to shoot back a rebuttal, then closed it. Miles raised an eyebrow.

“I’m lying?”

“...No.”

Miles leaned forward until he was only inches away from your face. “Then cooperate. Or we both lose.”

You sighed in defeat, “Fine.”

He nodded curtly, then left to go grab his things from his locker.

In a forced attempt at courtesy, you called out towards his back, “See you next week–”

“Whatever!”

taglist (comment to be added!): @vhstown @alaoraangelix @shuna-boin

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x fem!reader #atsv x reader #miles morales fic #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #moralesanhour

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