#Benny fucked around and found out

[syntheticcouriersix]

Screenshots of (mostly) my gen 3 synth Courier, E5-M3 / Esme, with Xarn (deathclaw) and a few with Joshua Graham from my mod. Absolutely love the Mojave mod that was released on the Nexus last year, and looking forward to F4NV when it’s released.

#fallout 4 #fnv courier #synth #fallout modding #patiently waiting for F4NV #She's a beast #Matched her stats with Ulysses #Gonna make a mod that adds the bullet scar on the forehead though #love true wasteland body #fuck yea she shoots Benny #she and Paul are technically both courier 6 #Benny fucked around and found out #Paul's also the lone wanderer #and he adopted her as his mom #Paul belongs to my friend Casey #We're playing TTW together at the moment #Our games are modded to hell and back #Playing through tales of new reno part 1 now #Finished the Someguy Series #Good times #Joshua is her husband #Long ass story there #from 2236 to 2272 #and more when she eventually helps the Sole survivor deal with the institute #One has to face their fears eventually #wall of tags

[mbenguin]

Where were you when PragerU started dropping videos about historical figures and how did your sanity do upon viewing

#morbid curiosity is a terrifying thing #mfw an educational history video for kids no.195478 is focused more on twisting history to fit an ideology rather than presenting facts #I only watched the Columbus one I truly hope the rest of the series isn't this bad (cope) #each “caramba” that man lets out I could feel my soul being crushed #ohhh those poor Floridian kids #I would go into more details about everything wrong with that video but I think I'd save the essay writing for a later date #(I said as I am typing a Tumblr tags equivalent of one) #I'm not crazy invested into American history (nor am I American myself) but can someone tell me why Columbus Day is such a big deal in US? #I'm genuinely curious #iirc Columbus fucked around in the West Indies and a little bit around Central+Northern South America #(technically North America yes but not *specifically* the US) #(I also see some sources claiming he's been to Florida but only for a bit? Not too sure) #and opened a floodgate for European colonists...That's about it? #he had virtually nothing to do with the founding or unification of what makes America well. America? #or is this a “founding mythology” type stuff? lmao #prageru #history #benny's chatterings

[thatdeadaquarius]

GREETINGS! How are you doing? I've been practically gobbling up your posts (there very tasty)

Ok so hear me out- I've seen a couple posts like this but imagine-

The almighty all powerful wise creator isss

✨️A literal child✨️

Thanks for hearing me out! For you ->->❤️

Baby you taking on the world aw

DAMN SORRY FOR TAKING FOREVER!! i started fics before i answered my askbox :/

Aw i fucking love child reader stuff,

Lots of isekai animes/manhwa/manga do it and i eat that shit up everytime-

I also deeply appreciate when its not done creepily, like being turned 8 again, and having crushes on others who are... yknow, actually 8 yrs old or sm fucked up shit, like even if its 16 yr olds that doesnt make it any better, bc the protag will actually be like,, actually 20?!?!💀 the straights r wild man, i feel like it happens either way too, like its usually a male MC but thats just bc theyre more common tbh, like regardless of gender of protag 🥲

☆

Sun: Child God Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Short Headcanons

Stars: Mondstadt ppl bc i don't show them i love them enough

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: none known & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment any I missed. /gen

Klee has recruited converted you to throwing bombs with her.

You are the only leash on that child too and the only thing standing between Jean and full head of gray hair. 💀

Kaeya doesn’t know whether he’s endlessly worried or endlessly amused that the most powerful god is currently a child

if Jean isnt freaking out over ur whereabouts, Diluc is instead, and worst case scenario, Noelle/Lisa/Albedo is in charge of you

and YES someone has to look out for you, bc ur ass will just start making a hot springs spot like ur in ur teapot or smth in dragonspine (Albedo was fascinated it stayed warm despite the weather so he let you make it/enjoy it before asking u to restore natural order lol)

(Albedo has definitely asked to study you and, unfortunately for Jean, asked u to demonstrate several powers u have)

You do work as a lucky charm for Bennett tho so he does babysit u sometimes

it mostly consists of Fischl, Benny, and Razor “adventuring” by trying to do smth like who can jump on the Anemo slimes and ride them around longest

(the answer is you btw, u managed to get a small fleet of them to bus you around, the teens were simultaneously terrified running around below u to catch you and also amazed)

Noelle is so happy making toddler you all the pancakes you can eat, Sucrose had to stop her from going overboard and not just listening completely to kids when it comes to food

She is now very concerned with making you a balanced diet, tho she will still make u an ungodly tall stack of pancakes every now and then <3

They kind of all equally provide for you, obv ur their god, and ur a literal cutie patootie child, they cant just leave you

(also u might like move a mountain or change the weather or smth if they don't watch you so most are a little paranoid of that too)

Lisa gets u all kinds of cute outfits, still stuff you'd like, but definitely snuck in some sumeru looking clothing lol

Fischl lends you all kinds of books to read, Bennett shows u all the cool views in the city and outside of it (when Jean lets him get away with taking u that far), and Razor…

Razor brings you to Andrius and the wolf pack for a wolf pack party and gives u all kinds of shiny trinkets he’d collected for you

Diluc/Jean/Noelle/Eula nearly had a heart attack when they found out

Amber lets you have all the piggyback rides you want lol

she even managed with her own crafting powers (and your probably editing the game code or smth) she somehow makes a reinforced glider with a small harness on the back for you to glide with her

(Venti has definitely helped for some fun flights by boosting the winds for you two)

SPEAKING OF BARBATOS

ur absolutely spoiled rotten by him (and Dvalin, and Andrius, and the wind sprites)

if this god had money he’d spend it on wine and you lol

takes u flying all the time, any time, would drop everything to go to Mondstadt wilds and use his archon form wings to take you wherever you wanna go

tries to bring u to Angel’s Share but Diluc nearly hits him on the head with a wine bottle and brings you back home after kicking Venti out and giving you grape juice (yes you get all you want, within a healthy amount)

anyway the most important part abt you being a god and child is that you can now fulfill your childhood dreams of riding a dragon whenever you want

(one way to quickly get Mondstadt citizens to trust Dvalin again was just constantly seeing him flying overhead, occasionally seeing a small child on his back also helped lol)

(neither you nor Venti tell Jean you ride Dvalin and keep it an active secret from her.)

☆

srry i took so long! i hope u liked my hot mess of writing (i think its even sloppier than usual bc of all the fic writing full sentences lately)

and if not, I'm sorrryyy 😭😭

I'm focusing on getting thru a haul of asks before getting around to posting that Eldritch AU Part 2 if anyone reads this :)

hope u guys are have a great weekend, thanks for all the birthday wishes!! :D

Safe Travels Anon,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

#genshin imagines #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin isekai #gender neutral reader #my asks #aqua asks #genshin impact sagau #sagau child reader #genshin child reader #genshin god reader #tiny burst of an ask bc that felt appropriate #more to come today and next few days #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ANON <33 #:)

[cute-sucker]

birthday boy

[30.3.2024]

note: haha once again this is so self indulgent, but i love it so much so like >>> (please let me know if y'all want a party 2) words: 2k warnings: mentions of drinking, swearing, angst :)

"hey! [name], come 'ere!" a voice yelled after you.

you were putting on your lipgloss, lips puckered and shiny. 

you knew exactly who it was, but you chugged your drink and then kept walking even as you heard the light footsteps of a teenage boy. you couldn't help but roll your eyes, infuriated at the only one and only rafe. 

"i'm not your lap dog, rafe!" you said through gritted teeth, as he reached you. finally, you turned and stopped to see rafe's arrogant face. 

he glanced at your face, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his lips. 

it was the bonfire at kildare. the one place where kooks and pogues went to party all night. of course rafe was here, and you were there to have fun and get loose and if he created some sort of problem for you, you'd sack him in the eye. maybe a blossoming blue bruise would look great on his 'perfectly,' simetral face. your brother had taught you to defend yourself in the summer, and you wondered what your nasty hook would do to hid face. 

"make it snappy," you said glaring at him. he looked unfazed, smirking. 

"as lovely as always, aren't you?" he flirted, leaning against the wall. the expensive watch on his wrist glinted in the light. 

"speak." 

finally, he gave up sighing dramatically, looking as if he was going to fess up. though he looked incredibly cocky. 

"come to my birthday party. it's on the 19th" he told you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. the nerve he had! 

you groaned, "no." 

surprise flashed across his face, and then something like challenge flickered in his eyes. 

"but i'm a very good boy," he pouted. 

"could you kindly fuck off?" then you turned around, strutting to your friends. you wanted to say you weren't blushing, as your heart stuttered violently at his voice. 

rafe would be the end of you. 

10 years ago. 

"rafe! where are you?" you called, your 8 year voice squeaking with fear. you felt frantic, your small thudding. rafe and you were inseparable, and in that same fashion you had made him a hand turkey and he hung in his cubby. 

that was true friendship. 

and now he was gone. 

"[name]?" a small voice called. it was rafe hiding near the bushes. 

you ran as fast as your tiny legs could carry you. rafe eyes were pink from crying, and you felt yourself tearing up, as your hands trembled. 

"rafe? what happened?" you asked gasping. he was crouching, his little hands red. 

now he peered up at you with watering eyes. 

"i fell." 

the red welts on his hands and knees bled so properly you cried out in fear. 

"c'mon let's go to ms. asha!" you yelled and held out your sticky hand. he took it, and the two of you hobbled away. 

when you reached your teacher, rafe told her all about your help. he smiled at you, as you found yourself blushing.

"a sticker for your bravery," ms. asha fussed, giving you and rafe two firefighter stickers. 

"did you save him?" benny asked you, her eyes wide with wonder. you pushed from the admiring tone and felt your heart swelter with pride. benny was so smart, and for her to be admiring you...that was everything a kid wanted. 

rafe nodded, rubbing his knee, a sweet smile on his face. 

"yeah," you whispered out, as you puffed out your chest. you were a hero. 

2 years ago. 

you were nervous. it was after 8 years that you were going to go to the same school as benny and rafe. after second grade, your parents took you to europe for your studies. only plans had changed and now here you were in america. 

in america, looking at kildare academy with it's daunting building and high standards. 

"she'll be in good hands," the principal chuckled. your parents smiled, and you wanted to go back tightly holding your mother's hand.

you winced, as your mother slowly unwrapped your fingers from hers. she kneeled to kiss you on the forehead. 

"you'll do great things here. i mean-" then she gave your father an adoring look, "it's where the two of us met." 

then your principal led them away, as your parents waved goodbye. 

here was your future just waiting to be taken. 

the day passed quickly, and it was all going well until english. you'd so far completed all the classes and ate lunch alone. everything was fine.

at least that's what you kept telling yourself. 

yes. oh yes, it was fine that benny had passed without a single glance, or the fact that no one remembered you at all. 

hell, a few girls did remember you though, and they gave you half-hearted hellos. some of the guys eyed you with recognition but the people who mattered...didn't remember you. 

but you still hoped that maybe rafe would remember you, but that was until you realised that rafe was right there, and instead of recognition in his eyes, he looked at you with scrutiny. he'd changed, and you were surprised to realise that he was handsome

his frame had filled out, no longer a wiry little boy, instead he towered over you. he loosely wore his tie, his shirt ticked and a smirk that stayed on his face. his hair was a dirty blonde adorned with golden highlights. 

class began and you stumbled into our seat. the teacher introduced herself, ms. wetherbell and then turned her eye on you. her hand was outstretched in your direction. 

"come here, dear." 

you sat up too quickly almost falling as you did so. you blushed and there was something inside of you that was glad for this call out. maybe now rafe would recognise you. 

"we have a new member joining our class, [name] [last name]." 

you waved awkwardly, painfully smiling. 

then you watched rafe scrunch up his nose, and mutter something under his breath. 

you didn't hear it, yet everyone in the class heard it and started laughing. 

they kept their mocking eyes on you, laughter echoing through the classroom, ms wetherbell caught up quickly enough. 

"what did you say mr. cameron?" she asked coldly, and he smiled innocently. you could feel tears prick your eyes, 

"nothing at all," he mustered sweetly. his eyes followed you again and it was only then he realised who you were.

but it was too late. 

present. 

you lay in your bed now, your silk pink night gown on. you never thought of those memories, ones that reminded all that you had lost with him. after that day he had tried to apologise to you, following you until you told him that none of it mattered. 

you didn't want to hear anything from rafe cameron and that's why you wouldn't give him any of the attention he so badly craved. 

just as you drifted off to sleep, settling your paperback back on your side table, a sudden noise woke you up. it was the sound of a pebble hitting your window. you peeked out the window to check. 

there he was in all of his glory. rafe kneeling on your roof, clearly intoxicated, his eyes full of excitement as he swayed.

"why are you here birthday boy? you hissed mockingly. but as you watched his sway fear pricked your heart. you knew he would fall and break his neck if you didn't pull him into your room. 

he sighed, eyes closed as you roughly guided him into your room.

 "i missed you," he slurred and leaned on you. you tried to calm yourself, and not scream at him. you didn't want your parents to know he was in your room. 

maybe they'd think he was having a secret relationship with you. at that they would be pleased but at night? your mother would kick both of your asses and really? no thanks. you would rather not be grounded. 

"you liar," you whispered out. then you inspected him to make sure he wasn't hurt. he noticed you eyeing you, and gave you a crooked smile. he was always in his element. 

"like what you see?" 

you rolled your eyes, your voice a gasp "you wish."  

it was only then did you realised that he had a busted lip. curious . . . even more curious first dipping drunk out of his party, and now it looked as if he had fought. 

"did you fight someone? where else are you hurt," you asked him slowly. as much as you disliked him you couldn't let him wander around hurt. 

he winked in a drowsy manner. "i won, sweetheart. and just the one here." 

then he lifted his shirt to show a yellowish-blue bruise. it looked so bad you hissed quietly. then you slowly approached him with your cream. 

you peered up at him, round eyes full of worry. 

"may i?" 

he nodded, swallowing deeply. 

you tried to apply the cream as gently as you could. 

he hissed quietly, "a little softer, sweetheart." 

you dropped your hand, realising what you were doing. god, damn it! you looked at him again. drunk rafe, shirtless in your room as you treated him. 

you were crazy! instead of breaking down, you took a deep breath and applied some bandage. 

"why are you here?" you asked coldly. he opened his eyes and you fell still. 

"i told you . . . i missed you." he pouted, and you shook your head ready to get up. goddamn it. just as you going to get up, and tell him to get the fuck out of your room, he stopped you. 

"please don't leave me," his voice cracking, "i'm so tired of everyone leaving me." his hold was tightened on your wrist. instead of inching away from him, your whole body melted into his embrace.

he could make you do anything for him. and yet right now you thought you hated him but you were pressed to his side as he nestled his head in your shoulder. 

"tell me why you left that party," you asked him again, and you felt him touch your hair. he played with it, and you could smell the wine all over him.

"i couldn't take it. i had to be with someone who always cared about me. someone who i-i didn't treat every well," he murmured and you felt yourself recoil only for him to grasp your chin to turn you around to face him.

he sighed, "i'm sorry." 

you watched his eyes flicker with vulnerability. someone every single time this boy sneaked past your defence and broke your hold on reality. 

you got up to walk into your bathroom. 

"i need to change," you muttered, picking stuff from your cabinet.

"please [name]." 

"what, rafe? what do you want from me? i always tried to be your friend, but you didn't want that. what am i supposed to do?" you whispered as you felt your hands tremble at your sides. 

rafe shuddered and then turned to look at you. his eyes were clearer than ever. 

"i like you." he slurred, "i'll treat you like a princess and i have the money," he stumbled after you. 

you felt like screaming. "i don't want that! and you know that." your voice cracked, as you felt your whole body shudder with sadness.

"trust me. please trust me, this will be good. you're so pretty and kind and i can't get enough," he whispered, his scraped hands reaching for you. 

you paced around the room. "stop it! stop it!" you said finally. 

"i can't stop thinking about you and you're the only person i want," he whispered harshly, holding your hand, begging for you to look into his eyes. 

you walked away from him. 

"get out of my room," you yelled, "get the hell out of my room, rafe." 

and as he walked out of that door, your heart begged him to stop. you felt yourself drop-down, tears soaking your nightgown. 

your heart broke into a million pieces when he walked out of that room. 

#rafe x you #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #angst #light fluff #fanfic #obx fic #childhood memories #rafe obx #rafe cameron prompt #outerbanks rafe #soft!rafe cameron #long reads #hurt/comfort #obx fanfiction #independent!reader

[pedge-page]

Happy Hour

Part 1 to the Sharing is Caring series

Frankie Morales x F!reader free-use with the triple frontier boys

Summary: Frankie loves using and abusing his free-use pass with you. He’s got no problem introducing it to the rest of the guys.

Warnings: Exhibitionism, Voyuerism, Cucking, free use, unprotected sex, male masturbation, oral m-receiving, assisted masturbation, using beer bottles as dildos, indirect pussy eating (?), slight breeding kink, language

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Frankie invited the boys over for the summer kickoff Barbecue in your backyard. You spent all day preparing snacks and side dishes, setting up yard games and helping clean the pool, all the while getting praises by Frankie who found every opportunity to wrap you up in his arms and kiss you all over. 

"You get enough beer for tonight?" He asks, nuzzling his nose against your neck, pressing kisses over your shoulder. 

"Yup. I almost cleared out the shelf. You boys gonna have a good time, I’ll take care of everything else.” You lay your hand over top his which were caressing your lower tummy affectionately. 

With how busy things had been getting recently, you wanted Frankie to get together with his friends again. He had thrown you such a wonderful girls night-in when you had your girl friends over last month, so making sure he and his buds were well taken care of tonight was your top priority. 

“I think you'll have some fun too." 

Frankie continues to nip at your exposed skin, his hand drafting up to the exposure of your off-shoulder frilly blouse, tugging it down with one finger. "Frankie, stop, I'm still cooking."

He ignores you, slipping his hand inside the elastic band and palming your breast, his hips pinning yours to the counter as he rubbed his hard-on against your ass. "Gonna do everything I ask of you tonight, aren't you?" His breathes huskily into your ear. 

You remained tight lipped, unsure of what he had planned tonight, but having some ideas as to the sexual acts he'll want to get away with. You felt heat pool in your lower stomach at the idea of fucking in the powder room while the boys were outside, or having him finger you under the table while they ate. He's been pushing his free-use license further and further, making you simultaneously nervous and excited at how far he intends to use you for his pleasure.

"They'll...be here... any minute..." you whine, your body caving in to his touches as you breathe heavier. You feel his fat fingers dip below your naval, through the lining of your skirt and down your panties, fingering your clit softly to work your arousal.

"Nothing they haven't seen before, baby mamma," he groans. He removed his hand from between your thighs, bringing its stickiness up to dance on your lips. Your mouth happily parts at the intrusion and suck your arousal from his digits. He lifts your skirt above your hips, splaying your panty-clad ass on display, his lips never leaving your neck or cheek.

"Not a baby mamma yet, that's your job to make happen remember?" You smile, turning your head to lock your lips together. You feel a tap on your thigh and lift your leg to aid in his removal of your panties. He stuffs them into the back pocket of his jeans.

"I'm keeping these, need you nice and wet for us tonight."

The doorbell rings, and Frankie backs away from you abruptly, leaving you wide eyed, back now cold. The faint breeze from the open window whistling under your skirt and between your damp, exposed pussy. "Us?"

- - - - 

Frankie greets each of the guys with a long awaited hug as they enter your home together. You tried to act like you're not dripping between your thighs as you kiss and cautiously hug each of them. It was Benny who scooped you up in his arms and twirled you around, your skirt lifting enough to show the lower half of your bare ass. 

Santi bit his lip at the sight. “Keeping Fish good company I hope?” He asks as Benny set you down with a fat kiss to your cheek. 

You hastily bring your skirt lower, tugging it down. “It’s been pretty smooth sailing since the wedding, hasn’t it?” 

Frankie's hand skims the back of your rear, hand lifting your skirt back up over the side of your thigh, pulling you in to him like a little prize, fully well knowing everyone got a good look at you. “It’s been more than great,” he says. You could help but blush at the way he beamed at you with adoration. "Beer anyone?"

They pile into the backyard, sorting through the cooler of assorted bottles and cans while you sift through the kitchen drawers for an opener. You could overhear indistinguishable chatter from the group, their occasional glances back towards you in the house. 

"Found it!" You call out, skipping out to the yard. "Let me," you offer, grabbing each beer from their hand and popping off the lid. 

"Sweet of you, baby, thank you." Frankie kisses the side of your head. Then his voice changes an octave lower, whispering lowly into your ear: "Go sit on the chair right there and put your heels on the seat."

You shiver, pulling away to stare back at him incredulously. His face told you he wasn't playing, that this was the first of many things he'd be asking of you tonight. You gulp and did as he said, settling uncomfortably in the plastic lawn chair and bringing your knees up to your chest, desperate to keep your ankles together and closed so everyone couldn't see right your bare pussy behind your ankles.

Frankie leans next to you, bottle in hand. "Don't be shy. Spread 'em."

Your face felt hot red as Benny, Will, Santi and Frankie eyes bore down on your anxious figure. You muster up your courage and boldly spread your legs wide, skirt falling from your thighs entirely to your hip, glittering cunt now open wide for the entire backyard. 

Benny whistles lowly. "Never gonna get tired of that pretty view. Damn. Lucky bastard.”

Frankie grimaces proudly, his hand cupping your jaw affectionately like a pet. "Keep 'em spread for us, okay babygirl?"

You nod, clit twitching at his praise, not even noticing when he hitches the rim of his bottle at your entrance. Your brows furrow, never breaking eye contact with his beautiful brown eyes as he pushed the bottles neck into your pussy, your arousal making it easy for the object to slide right through.

"Holy fuck," Will coughs, watching the way you cunt greedily swallows the tip with ease. 

Frankie thrusts it in a bit, making you stutter your breaths with the increased fullness pressing inside, hands fisting the chair's armrests. He was coating the bottle and its contents inside with your juices, fucking you like it was a toy. He notices the resistance when your walls squeezed around its neck, smirking to himself, knowing you were comfortable and enjoying this with him.

Too soon, he slips it out of you, your hips slightly canter forward to chase the object that was just buried inside you. You felt empty, needy, denied. 

Frankie smirks at your helpless state ad he brought the beer to his lips and titled back, chugging the new flavor of alcohol. "Tastes better like that," he says, licking his lips clean of your taste. 

----

Frankie watches as you eagerly spread your legs further, leaning back in your chair with confidence so that your cunt hangs out in the open off the edge as each of the guys line up to coat their drinks in your pussy. The way your breath quickens, with each intrusion, how you lick your lips and look down at the sight of it disappearing into you, the mix of gentleness and roughness that came with each boy’s individuality—it drove him crazy how much you let him do this. 

Santi rubs your cheek soothingly, very passionately fucking his bottle into you while never breaking your eye contact. You giggle along with him, rocking your hips with his steady thrusts until he pulls out and takes a long sip. 

Will is far more gentle, rubbing the inside of your thigh with the pad of his thumb. He nudges your pearly clit with the rip, only swirling the top at the most shallow base of your walls. He likes the way you whine, wanting more, but his hand on your thigh is quick to keep you in your place. He slips the edge of the bottle along your folds to gather your dripping juices before retreat, giving you a little wink.

Benny dropsy to his knees, excited to have you so open for him.

“Be nice, Ben. That’s my wife you got there,” Frankie warns.

Benny rolls his eyes, pouting as his visible excitement tones down. You cup his face, knowing Frankie’s threat is a load of BS. “Don’t worry, Benny, you have your taste the way you like it.” You spread your legs even further, ankles now dangling over the arm rest, the cool breeze of the backyard swooshing through your folds. 

Benny pushes his beer in as far as he can, making you gasp. You grab his shoulder to steady yourself as you rock your hips back and forth, letting his hands remain where it is while you fucked your exposed pussy on the neck of the bottle. He rams further inside, the body of the bottle beginning to stretch your cunt.

Benny’s eyes were wide, unsure if he wanted to watch your facial expressions or the scene between your legs. After a few more playful dips, he pulls out, immediately mouthing around the bottle and suckling every drop of your juices around the neck, with little interest of the actual liquid in the bottle. 

The boys spend the evening standing around the grill, all taking turns to use you like a glorified bottle opener. Frankie keeps your panties tucked in the back of his pockets the entire time. He occasionally checks in on your reactions, making sure you’re still laughing and accepting their actions.

They came back after each sip, some taking extra care to fuck you with the bottle, hoping to get you to cum, other times just to get a fresh coating. Frankie watches your expressions each time, the way your jaw hangs open slightly, biting your tongue, quiet moans making their way to his ears. And each time, he forces the boys to stop, leaving your clenching around nothing, frustrated but wet beyond belief. He wanted you dripping, needy all night so they could get the most out of your gushing cunt. 

At one point, you had to get up to serve their food, making them all sit around the rounded patio table and dishing their plates one at a time. Frankie helps place the portions on each plate as you take it to the table before sitting down himself. His hand runs up along your smooth thigh, skirt lifting with his wrist as he inches high and higher, before squeezing your ass possessively, looking up at you. You pinch his nose and move around the table, making sure all the guys have filled drinks.

You didn’t have your own “seat” at the table, instead going around to each of the guy’s laps and eating bits off their plate. While they ate with one hand, the other held a bottle, thrusting in and out of your spread thighs over their leg. 

You currently had your arm draped over Will’s shoulder, spread open  next to the table as he bounced you in his lap, his bottle nudging the sweet spot inside you. He split his attention evenly between Frankie and you. 

The copious amount of alcohol in everyone’s system, including Frankie’s, made the rules of your use a little more lax. That—and they were all so pussy drunk off your juices mingling on their tongues, they couldn’t keep their hands off you.

You kissed along Will’s cheek, nipping his jawline and tracing patterns on his throat with your tongue as he fucked you on his beer. His languid thrusts making you feel hazy. The man had an exceptional talent at knowing the exact pace and pristine jolts to hold you on edge forever. He gave you soft smiles with sincere eye contact that made you flutter. “You’re so pretty like this,” he whispers in your ear. 

Santi was a little cheekier, eagerly pulling you down on his lap. He taps the inside of your thigh, urging you to spread fast so he could get his drink between your legs. “This cunt is still so tight, hermosa. Frankie Papi not taking care of you enough?” he asks brow raising with a challenge towards Fish. Before you can deny him, he blows hot breath against your ear before biting the lobe, making you squeal quietly as he quickly thrusts his 11th bottle of the night into your waiting heat. He continues to dot his lips against your skin, nipping your collar bone. You can see Frankie’s eyes narrow on you two but he doesn’t say anything, letting his conversation with Will continue. His aligns his head perfectly over your top, peering down at your tits. He groans softly at the little jiggles of your supply mounds with each little thrust in to you.

You look over to Benny, who’s got no care to Will and Frankie’s convo and is instead anxiously bouncing his leg, dying to get you on him for his turn.

“Oop, I gotta take care of the baby boy,” you say quietly into Santi’s ear. He pouts briefly, rubs your clit with his thumb under the table so no one else can see. You bite your lips, wide eyed but aroused. He eventually lets you up.

Benny grabs your waist with strong hands and lifts you on to his muscular thigh. 

“Eager?” You tease. You rub your hand over his strong abs and chest, grabbing his beef for him and putting right along your folds, waiting patiently for him to take charge. He doesn’t. “Want you to do it for me,” he says, smirking. You kiss his cheek and notch the beer into your cunt, moaning wantonly right in his ear. He shivers with arousal, bouncing the knee you’re perched on, the bottle neck slipping deeper inside you. His hand gropes your ass cheek, keeping you upright on him while his other arm feeds himself potato salad. he makes a poor attempt to shovel it in his mouth, dropping bits of it along your chest and down your tits.

“Making a mess on my girl, Benny,” Frankie chuckles.

Benny shrugs. Conveniently left with no more free hands, he dips his mouth down to your chest and licks a long stripe along the skin, slurping up the remnants of sticky food on you. You tilt back and laugh drunkly, fisting the bottle and shoving deep inside your cunt, panting breathlessly as your other hand messily rubs his blonde curls like a dog.

You suddenly glance back at Frankie, who is shaking his head at you in disapproval. Not from one of his buds eating food off your tit, but from your less than sneaky trial of trying to finally make yourself cum on the bottle. You pout, draw the neck out of your messy cunt, feeling your little nub twitch with remote. You’re making a big show of innocent eyes at your husband who’s been simultaneously ensuring you are both taken care of and neglected all night.

Frankie raises his hand and curls his finger at you in a come hither motion. You slide off of Benny’s lap guiltily, striding over to him in the sexiest walk you could muster. Chatter had died down as all eyes rested on you standing over Frankie.  

He stares up at you, rolling your skirt over your ass so everyone could see. He presses a soft kiss to your throbbing clit, tasting a mixture of your sweet juices and the different brands and flavors of beer that have been inside you all night. You whine, trying not to flinch too hard at how desperate you need him to make you cum.

He pats your ass assertively. “You been good tonight so far.”

The power he possesses over you was something to behold: despite standing over him, and looking down upon him, his voice and eyes carried such a dominant force against you that it was clear to everyone else how much you not only submit to him, but how much you like doing so.

“Everyone else getting taken care of real good except me. That doesn’t seem right, does it, Querida?”

You shake your head. You knew the drill, knew the devious look in his eyes. His darkened expression points down to the ground only once. 

Without missing a beat, you sink down to your knees on the grass, delicate hands immediately rubbings along his sturdy thighs in his khakis until you came upon the bulge in his pants. You rub your palm over, pressing your face to it, feeling the scratchiness of the material roll against your cheek. You give it a chaste kiss before unbuckling his belt and pulling the zipper down, freeing his erect cock. 

When you finally push his tip past your tight lips, Frankie sighs relief before starting up the group’s conversation again. The boys shifted in their seats with their evident respective bulges pressing uncomfortably between their legs. They tried to respond respectfully to Fish, occasionally darting glances at you between his legs, working his length in and out of your skilled mouth. The little sucking noises from you interrupted his speech but he made no show of acknowledging you while you sucked his fat cock deep into your throat.

You could hear little coughs and grunts from the others, none of which sounded perturbed. They were all entranced by you, your obedience, submission to Frankie. Santi “dropped” his fork below the table, hunching over to get a good look at you with his mouth agape at the sight: resting back on your haunches, your glistening pussy dripping into the grass as you bobbed your head, hands resting on his knees to keep you from taking it all and choking on it.

He licks his lips and sits up, worried he took too long. Frankie catches his eye and mouths Does she look good? 

Santi nods energetically. 

Fish smirks, taking the opportunity to push the back of your head further onto his cock, making you gag loudly in surprise. Benny and Will’s voices go quiet as Frankie starts slowly forcing his cock deeper in your mouth, making you more verbal in your choking. When he releases the pressure, you pull up so that just the tip is suctioned between your lips, moaning obscenely. Your eyes are closed in bliss, taking him back down and returning your rhythmic bobbing. 

After a few minutes, Frankie’s breaths are coming out short. He’s having a hard time paying attention to what the guys were saying. Just between the two of you, he gently caresses your jaw, letting his cock fall out of your mouth. You stare up at him, slightly teary eyed but full of lust and obsession. “My perfect little whore of a wife,” he mumbles affectionately. “Get up here and make me proud.”

You giddily climb to your feet and throw one leg over his strong thighs, sighing loudly as you straddling him. The texture of his pants feels heavenly against your neglected clit, rubbings your slick folds along his thighs with an arched back, ass peaking out for the boys to once again get a nice show.

Frankie taps your ass again, making you sit upright. He positions the swollen red tip of his member at your wet entrance. You sink down, taking his cock entirely in one motion. The hot, fat pressure of his cock stretching you fuller, deeper than any of the beer bottles could ever reach immediately has your eyes rolling, moaning out loud like a fucking whore as your body shakes, squeezing his dick tightly while your first powerful orgasm of the night washes over you. 

He holds you tight as you spasm through it. “Oh shit—she just came,” Frankie laughs.

“Oh fuck. Didn’t even have to fuck that delicious cunt.”

“That’s hot, Fish. She was so desperate for it.”

“Fuck I’m jealous. I want me a wife like that.”

You continue to gently hump him, their praises falling deaf to your ear. His large, strong body felt good to relax in, putting your weight on top of him with no care as you chase your pleasure Hips swaying of their own accord as you whimper through the aftershocks, arms thrown wrapped over his shoulders.

He strokes your back soothingly. He wants you to settle from your much needed orgasm first. Frankie sits back a little bit, letting you lean forward. The guys are practically standing over the table, desperate to see the space where their friend’s well endowed cock is joined to his wife’s tight and pretty cunt.

He has the audacity to ask the guys if they’d seen the game this past Sunday, resuming their conversation as you continue to pickup pace. You roll your hips along his length, the delicious drag of his cock sliding in and out of you leaving you dumb on him, face pressed tight against his collar while he talks casually over your shoulder. 

When Frankie starts to clench the meat of your hips and pull you down on his length a little harder, neither he nor anyone else at the table cares to talk anymore. He makes sure to fist your skirt over your waist as he drills his meaty girth up into you. They all stare, unblinking, at some point all having whipped their stiff cocks out and stroking furiously.

Frankie gets lost in your tight heat. You couldn’t care about the fact that the boys were jerking off to you and their best friend fucking—your focus was entirely on making your husband spill his sperm deep inside you. 

The squelching sound of your pussy slapping down and your breathy moans can only be heard in your private backyard among your closets guests. He can feel the dampness seeping into his pants, darkening the fabric with each splatsplatsplat of your ass slamming down on his thighs.

“Did I tell ya’ll? We’re trying to get pregnant,” Frankie boasts proudly. He doesn’t stop the way his hips canter up overly excited to share that detail, hitting that spongy spot he had been purposely avoiding all night. A surprised yell escapes your lips, tightening around him in a vice grip. Soon after, you’re both cumming together, releasing long drawn out satisfied groans into each other’s open mouths as your sweet pussy milks him, the pulses of his member filling your womb with his milky seed.

The rest of the boys cum hardly a second later, pumping their veiny cocks furiously at the sight of Frankie’s pearly spend dripping from where the two of you are still connected. Through gritted teeth, they wring out the last dribbles of their cum before everyone is sitting back, panting hard, softened and relieved dicks resting against their full bellies.  

 - - - - 

Notes: I just wanna say don’t fuck yourself with objects that aren’t specifically designed for sex, especially foods or alcohol, because you know… infections. That should be a given. 

-

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[pullhisteeth]

worry lines | eddie munson

requested here -`♡´- your ex turns up and Eddie gets jealous. idiots in love! 4.7k

cw !!! for a borderline abusive (ex-)boyfriend. 18+ please and thank you x

contains hurt/comfort, fluff, jealous!Eddie, fem!reader, conflict, shitty ex-boyfriend. everyone’s in their early 20s

-

He was cruel, Eddie knows that much. Cruel enough that it took weeks and lots of gentle handling to coax it out of you. 

You were a shell of yourself until you weren’t. Eddie doesn’t know the details, because who would he be to make you relive it if you didn’t want to? But he knows enough to sear a tar-black scorch mark in his gut, a branding, a fury reserved only for him.

And he’s perhaps a little oblivious to it, but Eddie’s patience never went unnoticed by you. The two of you might be like parallel lines - apparently doomed to just miss one another forever - but you’re still filled to the brim with giddy love for him. The fact he stuck around through it all only adds fuel to the fire. Something unruly burns behind your eyes every time you think about him.

“What about this one?���

You hold up a record and show him the front while you peer at the back. Eddie looks up from the stack he’s been flipping through for the past three minutes.

“Garbage,” he mutters, eyes back on his busy fingers. 

“What?!” you exclaim, mouth wide and attempting to hide a grin. You’re fighting him for fun, really; you’re already putting the record back where you found it. “It came out, like, a month ago! How’ve you heard it already?” 

“Gareth’s mom got it for him for his birthday,” he tells you without looking at you, side stepping only slightly to move onto the next box of albums. He’s close enough now that you could lean over and bump his shoulder with your own. You don’t.

You sigh, though it’s bright with amusement. You go back to your own shelf, eyeing up the scarce new releases stock that Trax only manages to update every few months.

“No shit,” you whisper, grabbing with greedy hands at the record you’ve spotted. You catch Eddie’s attention, his own hands stopping as he looks over. “I’ve been looking for this everywhere!”

He smiles, not because he likes the album - it’s The Cure, and they’re far too British, even for him - but because he likes your smile. Sometimes you make a face, with your mouth twisted to the right, because you’re holding it back. You told him once that you don’t like your smile very much, that it’s too wide, too toothy. He couldn’t disagree more, and when he catches you in these moments, the ones just before you realise you’re grinning and close your mouth, he cherishes it.

“You want it?” he asks, tone nothing but genuine.

“Fuck off, Eds,” you say anyway, still smiling. He’s lapping it up. “I can buy it myself now, don’t need your filthy drug money.”

He elbows you softly with an expression of faux offence. “Hey, y’didn’t mind my filthy money all those times it got you food at Benny’s.”

This makes you giggle, and Eddie is on cloud nine.

You tear your eyes away from the cover to meet his and he damn near keels over; it’s like a mallet on his temple, a slap across the cheek. He could look at your eyes forever and it’d never not hurt.

“Can I buy you one?” you ask him, adding “please?” when he gives you a look like he’s about to tell you no.

“Absolutely not,” he says, still grinning.

“But you’ve bought me so many!” You’re closer now, toe to toe with him, beaming back at him and gripping the record between clenched fingers. “I make my own money now. Consider it me payin’ you back, or at least starting to.”

“You don’t have to pay me back,” he mutters, “I like buyin’ you records. At least it meant you listened to somethin’ other than this shit.” He bumps the bottom of the cardboard sleeve with his fist.

“Hey,” you bite, pulling it out of his reach. “I like The Cure.”

“I know y’do, that’s the problem.”

You look at him for a beat, one so brief he only just gets a chance to take in your pensive face - adorable - before you scrunch your eyes and stick your tongue out at him.

“Suit yourself,” you say, turning on your heels and marching down the aisle, heading for the cash register.

He watches you cross the store, the way your walk shifts from comical to confident. This walk is familiar to him; it’s your I’m-nervous-because-I’m-in-public walk.

His eyes are still on you when you take your change from the girl behind the desk. He watches you pocket it, and catches your self-satisfied smile as you turn. And then he watches as it falters, and your face drains of colour, and he feels himself walking over to you before he has time to think about it.

You’re looking at the door, where the bell’s just chimed, and the bottom of your stomach’s fallen away. Heart in your throat, you stare blankly at the man who just walked in.

“Oh, hey,” he says, though he may as well be on the other side of the glass for the way he sounds so distant. He shakes snow off his hair and you feel the ghost of it between your fingers. “Fancy seein’ you here.”

You feel Eddie before you can muster up a response. He stands behind you, just close enough that, if you wanted to, you could reach behind and take his hand.

“Hey,” he says lowly, just by your ear, words for you alone. “Who’s this?”

There’s something simmering in his voice, something defensive. He knows.

“Uh, hi,” you squeak, fingers clutching the plastic bag you’re holding to keep them from shaking. “Hi- uh, Eds, this is, uh-”

“Tom,” the man says, sticking a gloved hand out to Eddie. You feel him shift slowly behind you; his eyes move between the back of your head and the man in front of you a few times before he returns the gesture.

He’s handsome, Eddie thinks. Better looking than he is, anyway. Cleaner, softer; none of the hard edges Eddie harbours that he doesn’t know you think are soft as anything.

“We used to go out,” you say quickly, before Tom tries to explain it himself and makes you feel smaller than you already do. You hope Eddie gets the hint.

He does. The burning in his gut flares and his hands clench into fists without him meaning them to.

“Eddie,” he states, sharp and blunt.

“We were just, uh- We’re headed out,” you say, and the way you’ve come over all nervous and quiet is almost enough to make Eddie’s heart split right down the middle. He hovers a hand over the small of your back and steps around you, around Tom, until you follow him.

“Well, see you around,” he says as the bell chimes again and Eddie damn near pulls you out into the snow.

The cold, damp flakes that land on your flushed cheeks are a sweet relief. So are Eddie’s hands, which wrap around yours to take the bag from you. He doesn’t miss how they shake.

“Fuck,” you breathe. The air escapes your lungs and doesn’t return for a second, long enough that you have to think to inhale. Eddie looks you over, desperate to pat you, fawn over you, kiss the snowflake off the bridge of your nose.

He opts for something safer. “You alright?”

The busy Indianapolis sidewalk doesn’t allow for too much fussing, and you’re quietly grateful for the bustling Saturday afternoon crowd pushing the two of you along and away from Trax.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, breathless again, trudging through stomped-over snow. “Just took me by surprise.”

“Yeah, no shit. When’d you last see him?”

“When I picked up my stuff from his place.”

“Shit.”

You walk aimlessly around the corner, until Eddie begins to lead the way. Wordlessly you follow him for six blocks, and think to yourself that maybe he’s getting you as far away as he can.

He knows a coffee place, apparently, one so much better than any of the ones around Trax that you know are just as good. He ushers you into the warmth and buys three pastries - one each and one to share - and you eat until you’re not thinking about Tom anymore.

-

Robin sidles into the booth beside you, the familiar shape of her slotting into your side without care. She nudges her hip into yours, a wordless signal for you to move around and make more space.

The six of you squeeze around the tiny table as Eddie and Steve place drinks down across it. Pints of beer, far too big glasses of wine and six sickly coloured shots decorate it and all of a sudden you’re counting to five and banging a tiny glass on the varnished wood.

It tastes of sour apple and coats your lips with a shiny, sugary lacquer. Eddie sits opposite you harbouring a fiery urge to lean over and kiss you clean.

You grin at him, missing the flicker of affection in his tipsy eyes, and lean into Robin, who takes a swig from one of the pint glasses.

“Rob!” Steve shouts, reaching over and grasping at the glass. “You asshole, that’s mine-”

“What’s yours is mine, dingus,” she slurs, her dopey smile met not by something frosty but by Steve’s own grin. The tenderness inside your stomach is just as sickly as the shot; you’re drunk on sugary liquor and an unbridled love for your friends.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The bickering stops as Eddie raises his glass from the table.

“A toast,” he says, “to the newly-weds.”

You grasp your own pint and raise it too, along with everyone else, as Nancy and Jonathan beam back at you. They’re the picture of happiness, her rosy cheeks blooming from joy and champagne, his smile so wide you’re scared he might split in two. Nancy’s so pretty in a simple, short dress, Mrs Wheeler’s pearls around her neck, and Jonathan looks so smart in his suit, fresh from the dry cleaners courtesy of Joyce. A long day of family celebrations ends here, in this bar on the east end of Indianapolis, four walls that have seen the six of you grow up and into yourselves.

Nancy and Jonathan thank everybody, and Steve disappears without a single one of you noticing, reappearing with a new round of shots. Robin takes your hand in hers and squeezes, which tells you that she’s putting off crying. You’ve already covered the shoulder of her new shirt in tears. Happy tears.

If some benevolent force happened to be looking down and caught a glimpse of your happy little table, they’d find that your mind and Eddie’s look very much alike right now. Dizzy daydreams of a future neither of you are confident in, that neither of you think the other would ever even dare to consider.

The distant call of your name pulls you up off Robin’s shoulder. You hear it again, and the voice it’s called in sends your blood running cold. Regardless it beckons you and you turn to look, seeing him approaching like a fucking stalking lion.

“Oh,” you breathe, “hi.”

His unwelcome hands spread over the back of the booth, his fingers brushing the back of your neck. You bristle.

He grins down at you and then looks up and around at everybody else. “Hey, guys. I guess these are your friends?”

All you can do is look up at him. Eddie can see you recoiling and his stomach churns.

“Oh, hi again,” Tom says, spotting Eddie. This is your nightmare situation, frankly, and you’re afraid of where Tom might take it.

“Hey, man,” Steve says. His words are lopsided because he’s three pints and four shots in and too giddy to recognise this for what it is.

“Steve, right?” Tom asks. His knuckles whiten as he grips harder.

“Mm-hm,” Steve hums, leaning just enough to the left that Eddie has to push him upright. In the brief moment he’s preoccupied with his untrustworthy friend, he doesn’t see the way Tom dips his head to meet yours, or the attempt at a kiss on the cheek that you dodge, or even the quick words whispered in your ear. He does see you flush, your face, already warmed by wine, becoming even brighter. Before he can ask what’s happening, Robin’s scooting out to let you stand, and Tom’s hand’s on your waist and you’re off to the bar together.

Nancy shifts uncomfortably beside Jonathan, her hands on the table. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Eddie says.

“Fuck,” Jonathan breathes.

“No way,” Robin barks, almost loud enough for Eddie to chastise her; you’re only twenty feet away.

Despite the stretch of time separating this moment from your last one with him, Tom’s hands haven’t become any less curious. They paw at you, never settling but instead trying each possessive spot he loved to frequent before you left him. Your waist was his favourite, but you’ve felt the unwelcome impression of his palm on each arm, your shoulder, the small of your back, and when he goes for your hip you twist just enough that he’s forced to drop it.

He’s telling you about his promotion. When you left, he’d been clamouring for it, doing everything he’d once confessed to hating: sucking up to his boss, shmoozing, working late. It pays well, apparently; well enough that he’s got his own place. It’s a five minute cab ride away. Want to come see it?

“Why would I want to do that?” you ask him, emboldened by the fiery rage his wandering hands are reigniting within you.

“Oh, c’mon,” he says, cooing your name with a sincerity so false that you taste the saccharine flavour of it on your gums, “you’re not telling me you haven’t missed me, huh?”

“No,” you tell him honestly, “I haven’t.”

“What, you with that metalhead or something?”

“Eddie is just a friend”, you bite.

“Yeah, right,” Tom scoffs, slamming his glass on the bar. He’s leaning closer, crowding you, and there are too many people behind him and all of a sudden you’ve lost sight of your table. “Knew I was right to put a stop to that.”

“Fuck you, Tom,” you spit, trying desperately to wriggle free. “I want to get back to my friends now, please.”

“Had his fuckin’ hands all over you the other day,” he continues, ignoring you. “Bet he tried it on when we were together, didn’t he?”

“No, he- Fuck, Tom, will you please just let me out-”

Eddie catches glimpses of you between passing bodies. He sees the way Tom’s crowding you and how you’re squirming and, honestly, he wants to walk into the sea.

Tom was never introduced to your friends. It was mostly his own choice, but Eddie and Robin and everyone else saw it for what it was. You just managed to get out before he cut you off from them all completely.

Now, in the low light of the bar, he’s not so certain that you’re done with him. Sure, you seemed unnerved when you bumped into him at the record store, but he begins to wonder if maybe you’d just been caught off guard, and if you’d thought about him since then. Had you called him?

“Hey,” Robin mutters, leaning over the table to Eddie with her eyes on you, “I think- I don’t know, she looks annoyed.”

Finally, there’s a gap in the crowd, and he sees it too. The pinch of your brow, and the squirming that isn’t squirming. You’re scared.

He stands so quickly that his head spins. He sees Nancy in his peripheral vision standing too, though she’s penned in by Jonathan and Steve. Eddie’s heavy footsteps take too long, he’s too slow; Tom’s hand is around your arm and he’s leaving, taking you with him, willingly or not.

He follows the silhouette of Tom, dark against the brash streetlamp light coming in through the glass doors. He can see the top of your head and feels himself pulled to you like a fish on a line.

He catches up just as Tom pushes the door open and stumbles into the snow, blinded by the fluorescent bulb in the lamp above. You feel the inebriation seep out of you with every second spent in the cold, your bare arms covered in goosebumps.

“Tom, what the fuck?” you spit, finally separating yourself from him. You feel the burn left by his tough grip on your upper arm. He’s still close, close enough that he can take your head in one firm hand.

“Just wanted to see your pretty face,” he says, his voice suddenly softer, his breath too hot on your face, “couldn’t see you properly in-”

“Hey.”

You turn just as Tom does to find Eddie in the doorway. His fists are clenched again and so is his jaw; you know him well enough to see your own anger reflected back at you.

“You okay?” he asks, looking at you, tender as always and it does something to dampen the fiery rage you’re keeping at bay. You nod as Tom drops his hand and scoffs.

“See,” he spits, “loverboy won’t leave you the fuck alone.”

You take three steps back. Eddie comes closer.

“Go home,” he says to Tom as you reach out and take his fist into both hands. He relaxes, and you wind your fingers together. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Tom says, “you can’t be serious? Look at him, babe, he’s…”

“Can we go back in?” you whisper to Eddie, whose stern face is beginning to worry you. He says nothing but tugs on your hand and, to your relief, Tom seems to back away around the corner as you retreat indoors.

The door shuts and Eddie turns, but before he can say anything you throw your arms around him and push your face into his neck. He’s startled, but not so much that he can’t return it, his own arms around your back, the pressure a welcome thing.

“Hey,” he coos, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“Thank you,” you say, muffled by his shirt. “Thank you.”

He pulls back, too worried to care to hug you any longer. Instead he lets himself fuss over you, a tentative hand at your jaw as he looks you in the eye.

“I’m okay,” you finally say, sighing. “I hate him.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. “I do too.”

“Thank you for not hitting him,” you murmur.

His fingers hover by your ear and just as you think he’s going to touch you, he lowers his hand.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I knew you’d hate that.”

He takes your hand again, a gesture which sends both of you independently loopy, and returns with you to the table, where Nancy nearly falls over Robin to get to you. As you reassure her and take your seat again, sandwiched between the two girls, Eddie takes a long swig of beer.

“Hey,” Steve slurs, leaning over to you. “Did y’know Eddie’s ears go red when he’s jealous?”

You look back at him with wide eyes as Eddie gives him a swift thwack to the arm, telling him to fuck off.

“It’s true!” Steve assures you. “I saw it with my own eyes! Like, five minutes ago, I-”

He’s stopped by more of Eddie’s playful hitting.

Quietly, just to you, Nancy says, “It’s true.”

You turn to look at her. She’s got that sparkle in her eye. It appears when she’s got a plan, or an idea, or knows something.

“For a minute, it looked like you were enjoying it,” she continues. “I bet he could’ve burned this place to the ground with how jealous he was getting.”

She nods to her left, where Eddie is dealing with a still restless Steve. He senses you looking and meets your eye, and the pretty pink blush that covers his cheeks is enough to make you look away.

-

The coffee machine pings just as the doorbell goes.

You jump, startled by both noises. Leaving the coffee to stew you pad through the apartment and open the door slowly, making sure to hide behind it to save the postman seeing you in your pyjama shorts.

When you pull it back, you’re surprised by the sight of your best friend, standing at your door in his own pyjamas.

“Morning,” he says, chuckling lowly.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as you let him inside. “Did you- Did you walk here in that?”

“God no,” he says, “have you seen it out there?”

Truthfully, you haven’t dared pull the curtains back yet. “No,” you admit, locking the door again and wishing you’d had the sense even in your drunken stupor to put your good pyjamas on. You pat the front of the crinkled cotton at the top of your thighs, smoothing it down to no avail.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” you tell him as you step over to the living room window and pull back the blind to reveal what can only be described as a blizzard.

Eddie comes in behind you with two steaming mugs. “Slept on Steve’s fucking couch,” he says, laughing again. “Dimwit couldn’t get himself into bed and then the weather got too bad for me to get a cab home.”

Steve lives two floors above you, in an apartment much the same as your own. His couch is small. Eddie’s back must hurt.

“How is he?”

“Steve?”

“Hm.”

“He’ll be fine,” Eddie sighs, throwing himself onto your couch and kicking his feet up, socked toes just missing the side of your bare thigh. “Probably regrets the fourth round of shots, but at least he had fun.”

“Did you have fun?” you ask softly.

“Yeah, I mean- Of course.” He reaches over to pick up your coffee and leans over to pass it to you. “Didn’t you?”

You take it from him and sit back, sighing. “Yeah, yeah, just…”

Your throat is suddenly too thick to drink the coffee. You stare at it, the deep mahogany liquid pouring steam into the tepid room.

“How does he still manage to ruin everything?” you ask, the question more an abstract frustration than anything aimed directly at Eddie.

He stiffens on the other end of the couch. He knows you don’t mean Steve, that your mind is elsewhere, on the impatient hands that couldn’t keep themselves from pressing painfully into your arm or the coddling of his hot breath on your face out in the snow.

“Hey,” Eddie coos, softening when he notices your hands shaking. He takes the mug, his own hands gentle on you to save from startling you, and replaces it on the table. “Here, c’mere-”

You lean into him, pushing your face into the softness of Steve’s sweater that he’s wearing. You keep apologising - variations of I’m sorry spat out between quiet sobs - and he keeps telling you it’s okay. One hand holds your elbow while the other smooths up and down your back, his cheek pressed to the top of your head.

“Thank you for saving me,” you say, and he exhales when he hears the smile in your words.

“Y’don’t have to thank me again,” he says. You lean back and the two of you sit as mirror images of one another, one knee up on the couch and the other foot on the floor. You wipe your eye with the back of your wrist. Eddie yearns to knock your hand away and do it himself, to clean you up and kiss you when he’s done. He keeps his hands to himself instead.

“I dunno what I’d have done,” you whisper, “I mean, I don’t think he’d have done anything, but I still don’t wanna think about it.”

“I don’t either,” Eddie agrees before he can stop himself.

You look at him. There are deepening shadows beneath his eyes that you’re sure the couch is to blame for, and his hair’s unruly, matted from what you can only imagine was an useless night’s sleep, but your favourite thing - the mellow brown of his eyes - is just as pretty as ever. So’s his skin, pale and imperfect where he’s inked the left side of his neck and you can see the very top of the scar that stretches over his collarbone. He broke it when you were both ten, and he still teases you about how quick you were to run from him when you saw the bone and the broken flesh. You’re desperate to know if it’d be warm under your fingertips, your lips, your tongue.

“Do your ears really get red when you’re jealous?” you ask him. You see him stiffen at the question, his eyes narrowing just so, as his hands flex over his knees.

“Steve’s an asshole,” Eddie says.

“I know-”

“But yeah,” he says, the corner of his mouth breaking loose into a smile, “He’s right. It’s stupid.”

You kick his foot with your own softly and laugh.

“Why were you jealous?”

“Oh, seriously?”

“Yes! Why were you jealous?!” you repeat, grinning.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

He sighs, all dramatic and silly and you laugh until his restless hand lands on your knee instead of his own.

“I thought you were glad to see him,” he admits.

“I don’t know how you got that impression,” you say. You’re trying to ignore the soft rumbling in your chest, lest it take your breath away.

“Dunno,” he says, and suddenly he reminds you of sixteen-year-old Eddie, awkward and goofy, the boy you fell for.

“Well,” you say, “I’m very glad you came to my rescue.”

“I didn’t rescue you, you’re perfectly capable of doing that yourself,” he says, laughing. His knee knocks yours and his fingers spread until the tips of them are meeting the middle of your thigh.

“Still, it was a nice thing to do.”

He hums and you inhale as you place your hand on his. He looks up at you and the contact seems to provide some courage.

He says your name, and it’s softer than ever in the quiet of your living room. As far as the two of you are aware, there’s nothing beyond here; no blizzard, no hungover Steve two floors up, no shitty ex-boyfriends. Just you and Eddie and the string of starlight pulling you together.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks in a whisper, leaning in, already resting more weight on the hand on your thigh. Somehow, it feels like the most natural question in the world.

You nod. “Yeah, please.”

He closes the gap with his forehead to yours, tilting his head enough that his nose slots beside yours as he kisses you. You expected a peck, something nervous, but that’s impossible when there’s a decade of want behind it. He’s firm and certain as his hands finally take grateful handfuls of your hips, and your mouth burns as you kiss him back. He worries he’s being too handsy, especially after last night, but when you feel him retreating you take his larger hands in yours and keep them there.

This morning, as his tongue moves past yours, Eddie tastes like spearmint, coffee and tobacco. You miss the taste as soon as his lips paint tender kisses at the corner of your mouth and over the hill of your jaw, but you keen at the sensation anyway, arching into him.

“This okay?” he asks in a pant, pulling back and hiding a smile as he hears you whine.

“Yeah,” you breathe. You use shaky fingers to push curls back so you can see his face and, holding him in both hands, kiss the swell of his cheek followed by the other. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me,” he says, chuckling.

“What do we do now?” you ask him.

He looks back at you, feeling more whole than ever, and notices the creeping worry lines between your brows. Pushing against your hold, he leans forward and kisses you there. The satisfaction of feeling you relax is enough to keep him going for a thousand years.

“Well,” he whispers, and his breath isn’t too hot like Tom’s. It’s warm and friendly where it blooms over your closed eyes. “Go take care of Steve, probably.”

“Kiss me again?”

He does, wordlessly, softer than before, once on your mouth and another on your forehead. You wind your arms around his back, and with cheek resting on the top of your head, he says those fateful words into your hair: 

“Love you.”

You squeeze without thinking, smiling into his chest.

“Love you too.”

-

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie imagine #eddie fanfic #eddie fic #eddie #eddie munson angst #stranger things au

[strawberryspence]

happy birthday, @stevesbipanic! i am glad you were born, you amazing human being. I hope you get to drink the coldest, most delicious, bougiest milo you can have. ILY broccoli! 💛

-

Steve has never had a birthday cake. He doesn't count the first six cakes his parents had for him, because he's pretty sure it was only for appearances.

He remembers his seventh birthday. How badly he wanted to have a Flintstones themed birthday party, and how his parents called it tacky. Instead, Steve had a lavish tea party with all of their investor friends. He remembers hating it.

After that, there's— nothing. There were Nannies or Babysitters that tried to make him feel better by bringing him to Benny's and he's thankful for that. But there's always that heart wrenching rip in his system when he sees a child. Surrounded by family, singing happy birthday as they wait to blow on a cake.

And the thing is if Steve never gets to have that, it’s okay. It’s really, really, really, okay. That also means he’ll do his best to give all the kids the best birthdays they can have, so they can never feel what he felt. If El wants a day just full of craft making? Sure. Dustin wants to visit this damn planetarium in Indianapolis? Okay. Mike wants to dress him like him for an entire day? Alright.

Steve is happy that way, until Eddie Munson comes crashing into his life with a broken bottle. And okay, maybe it’s not a great idea to lie in the biggest and probably the most important relationship he has right now, but he’s not going to tell Eddie his little sad secret.

What he forgot to account for is the fact that his boyfriend is the biggest snoop to ever exist.

“Wha— What’s this?” Steve stammers as he enters his house. It’s almost always dark when he comes home, the house dull and empty.

Tonight, it’s different. After having his birthday dinner with Robin, Steve drives them back to his house so they can have movie night. Supposedly.

Instead, Eddie’s standing behind the long wooden dining table that never gets used, with 20 different cupcakes, all lit with a candle. There’s food and banners and balloons with streamers.

Robin pushes him forward with a smile, “So…” Eddie walks towards him, “I found some of your childhood pictures.”

“Oh.” Steve breathes out.

“Look, maybe I am wrong. Maybe I got it all wrong. Maybe your parents just weren’t the kind of people that liked taking pictures and having to develop them. Maybe someday, you’ll tell me why you only have one childhood photo album or why there’s no pictures of your birthday parties past the age of six.”

Eddie says, hands nervously twisting around his hair, “But, on the off chance that I am right,” He shakes his head in disbelief, “On the off chance that you haven’t had a birthday cake or a birthday wish in 14 years, I got you 20 birthday cupcakes.”

Steve can barely hold himself anymore, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, “Why 20?”

Eddie smiles at him, and his eyes sparkle at Steve like he hung the damn moon and stars, like he fucking created the whole universe, “One for every year my favorite person has been alive.”

Steve chokes down a half sob, half whine as he slaps a hand on his mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie whispers as he wraps Steve in a comforting hug. They stay like that for a minute before Eddie says, “I am so happy you were born. There’s a few more people that are happy, they’re all hiding in the kitchen right now.”

“What?” Steve pulls back, hastily wiping his tears.

“The kids are all here. Nance, Jonathan, and Argyle.” Eddie tenderly wipes a stray tear off his cheek, “Even Wayne, Hop, Joyce, and Mrs. Henderson is here.”

Steve’s not sure if he wants to know, but he still asks, “Why?”

Eddie visibly softens, but before he can answer Robin answers for him, “Because we all love you, Dingus.”

“So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to sit behind the cupcakes and they’re going to come out from where they’ve been eavesdropping.” Steve laughs when Eddie emphasizes the word, and there’s a clatter in the kitchen followed by whispering, “They’re going to act normal. And we’re going to sing you a song. Okay?”

Steve smiles, nodding, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Eddie says as he runs to the kitchen and as Robin ushers him to sit in front of the cupcakes. She forces a birthday hat on his hair, and he doesn’t even argue.

They all come out from the kitchen, all smiling and wearing ridiculous birthday hats. Even Hop and Wayne are wearing them and it might actually be the funniest thing he’s ever seen. The kids have blow horns that fill the silent house with joyous sounds.

They sing him a birthday song. It’s loud and it doesn’t exactly sound good. Dustin’s trying a new other pitch and Lucas has never been a good singer. Max is drumming on the table and El has a small tambourine. Mike and Will are trying to do some kind of duet in their own little bubble. But it’s the most beautiful, harmonious sound to Steve.

And as they all urged him to make a wish, Steve is struck with awe and disbelief, a feeling of realization sparking in his veins. Steve’s got everything he’s ever wanted right in front of him. He just wants all of them to be safe and sound.

He smiles at his family, as he lets his eyelid flutter shut.

And for the first time, Steve makes a birthday wish.

-

Edit:

Steve smiles, happy and content, as everyone chitchats around him.

"Hey, Eds?" Steve calls out for his boyfriend who's busy stuffing his face with bread rolls.

"Yeam?" Eddie replies, still chewing on the bread.

"Can I have a Flintstone themed birthday next year?"

Eddie swallows his bread with water, before turning to Steve with a smile so bright it could blind him. He moves closer to give his temple a light kiss.

"You got it, sweetheart. I'll be Fred, you'll be Wilma. It will be perfect."

#tw child trauma #tw child neglect #happy birthday b! ofc i got you angst for your birthday. are you even surprised?????? #i hate the harringtons sorry #hope you enjoyed this #steve goes on and has 70 more wonderful birthdays #with his husband and family #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson angst #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie headcanons #steddie ficlet #dae writes #daeheadcanons

[salamandergoo]

STWG Prompt: Crack Fic

“Eddie, I need you to stay calm.”

Those were always the words Eddie wanted to hear when he was waking up out of a haze, sprawled across his bed with the blankets tangled around his limbs.  He smacked his lips a few times and grimaced at the taste in his mouth before sitting up and rubbing his eyes.  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”  He untwisted his shirt and got out of bed, kicking dirty clothes on the floor aside as he yanked the door open.  “Why are you telling me to be calm?”  He yawned into his fist and froze in the middle of the hall.  “Wayne…?”

A hairless… thing was sat on the floor, pressed in close to his uncle’s leg.  It chirped and whined, sounding like a cat being mangled by a bird.  “I found him by my truck at the end of my shift.  Poor thing’s got a messed up leg, it was limping around looking all pathetic.”

“So you’re telling me, I can’t get a pet, but you get to drag this… this THING into our trailer?”

“I never said you couldn’t get a pet, I said you couldn’t keep a pregnant opossum, Ed.  This is different, he’s a hurt dog.  And we ain’t keeping him, he’s just going to stay a couple days until he’s walking better.”

“That’s not a dog!  Dogs don’t look like that!”  Eddie crept forward and squinted at the thing.  “It doesn’t have a face.  Or fur.”

“It was probably hit by a car.  One of them hairless terriers.”  Wayne shrugged off his jacket and took off his hat.  “Get it a little something to eat, will you?  I’m going to take a shower.”  He stepped away and the creature rumbled, standing up and hobbling after Wayne, head bumping against his ankle.  “I ain’t going far Benny.”  He bent and patted it on the side.

Eddie softened.  “Oh.  You… you’re calling it Benny?”

“Got a better name?”  Wayne didn’t quite meet Eddie’s eyes this time as he kept stroking the thing.  It leaned into the touches, its backside wiggled and, hey, it had a nub of a tail.  “It’s been almost a year.  Thought we ought to honor him somehow.”

“I don’t know what about a weird, naked dog reminds you of Benny, but… okay.  I’ll get it something to eat.”  Eddie made his way to the fridge, giving the thing- the dog- …Benny a wide berth.  He didn’t like the sounds it made, but Wayne was clearly taken with it.  “You keep a naked dog but not an opossum,” he grumbled.

He fixed a plate with some leftover chicken, scraping off as much of the seasoning as he could.  He could hear the shower running as he sat on the couch and set the plate on the floor.  “Come eat.  Dog.”  Eddie squinted at Benny while he sat by the bathroom door.  It was like he was staring at the door, but Eddie could’ve sworn the thing didn’t have eyes.  “Benny, come.”

It looked at him with its empty face before crossing the trailer.  It didn’t walk quite like a normal dog either, and not just because it the damaged leg..  It was like when Eddie would scramble up stairs and put his hands on the stairs like he was an animal so he could go faster.  It looked like it would just stand up on its back legs at some point.  It sniffed at the chicken and then opened its face.  Eddie clapped a hand over his mouth and watched in disturbed horror as it ate.

He didn’t dare move a muscle until Wayne was coming out of the bathroom with damp hair, changed into his lounge pants.  “Wayne.”  His voice was hushed and high pitched.  “Wayne, there’s something wrong with Benny.”

“Yeah, I know.  He was probably hit by a car.”

“His face OPENED!”

“My nana had a dog that was missing half his bottom jaw.  Looked ugly as sin but loved nothing more than a good lap to lay on.”  Wayne filled a mug with water and took a long drink.  “Benny must’ve healed wrong, doesn't make him less of a dog.”

“I don’t think he’s a dog at all!”  Eddie yelped when Benny turned his head to look up at him.  “I think you’ve brought a demon into our home.”

“Only demon in this house is you.”  Wayne dropped a hand on top of Eddie’s head and ruffled his already messy hair.  “We ain’t keeping him long.  I’m sure there’s someone nearby who can take better care of him than me.”  He set up his bed and grabbed his blanket.  “I’m gonna get some shut eye, so try and keep it down, alright?”

“…yup.”  Eddie watched as Wayne got settled and then watched Benny hop up onto the bed and curl up at Wayne’s feet.  He didn’t have a good feeling about it, but… Wayne seemed happy.  Lighter, somehow, with the dog on his bed.  Eddie could live with it for now.

But he’d be keeping a close eye out for any signs of what it actually was.  Because that was no dog.

#stwgdailyprompt #stranger things #eddie munson #wayne munson #demodog

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Hi! Congrats on reaching 5k followers!

Could I request a blurb where Benny Miller find out that the reader has a crush on him by accidentally finding a love letter they wrote?

Drunk Poetry.

benny miller x female reader

warnings - cursing. alcohol mention.

written for my 5k celebration - post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

“That’s the third time you’ve tried to kill me this week.”

You’re both laughing so hard you’re wheezing, clutching at your sides as happy tears drip down your faces.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide. “I don’t do it on purpose, I swear.”

Benny wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in, holding you close as you rest your head on his chest. Both of you calm down, enjoying being plastered together for the moment.

Friends don’t do this stuff.

You know this.

But when it feels so right, so easy, so natural… who are you to put a stop to it?

Aggression seems to be his love language. It’s how you ended up where you were five minutes ago - you, nursing a blooming bruise on your thigh where Benny had accidentally punched it much too hard seconds earlier. Will says it’s how he shows people he likes them. He’s boisterous, a little clumsy, but so loving.

You’d been play fighting, beating each other up as per usual. The two of you were instantly bored watching a movie Frankie recommended, instead choosing to make your own entertainment.

“We need booze,” he says now, into your hair. “Just a little. Then we can dance.”

You chuckle, nodding into his shirt.

“There’s a bottle of tequila under my bed. Don’t ask.”

He laughs, and the sound rumbles through you lowly. Placing you on the couch gently, he gets up to go and find the alcohol while you stand up and grab some glasses. After a couple of minutes, you return to the living room to see him stood in the doorway, holding a pink piece of paper.

“You’re in love with me.”

Your heart drops out of your chest when you realise what he has in his hand.

“Ben, I can explain.”

His jaw is dropped, eyes wide as he looks at you. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, and it’s making you anxious.

“I, uh - I read somewhere a while ago that if you write stuff down, you can get it out of your mind. And you… you were on my mind a lot, I guess. So I started writing these letters - obviously I was never gonna send them or anything - to get stuff off my chest. You were never meant to see them, Ben. I’m sorry.”

“You’re… sorry?”

“Y-yeah. I’m sorry.”

“For the letters? Or loving me?”

You take a deep breath, holding onto the doorframe.

“Neither, actually. Yeah, neither. I’m not sorry for the letters - I’m kind of sorry that you found them, though. But I’m not sorry for loving you. Never have been.”

He strides across the room, wrapping his arms around your back as he kisses you with so much passion it almost knocks you over. You kiss him back eagerly, hands tangled in his hair as you pull him closer.

“I love you too,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought that much was obvious.”

“Yeah?” you grin, raking your nails across the back of his neck. “You do?”

“The guys have been on my back about it for like a year.”

“A year? Sucker,” you tease, leaning in to kiss him again.

He breaks away to laugh, throwing you over his shoulder as he walks towards your bedroom.

“Let’s find that fucking tequila and get this party started, huh?”

You can’t say no to an offer like that.

#murphy’s 5k celebration #benny miller x y/n #benny miller x female reader #benny miller fluff #benny miller x reader smut #benny miller smut #benny miller x reader #benny miller imagine #benny miller x you #triple frontier x oc #benny miller x reader fluff #triple frontier x reader smut #triple frontier fluff #triple frontier x you #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier imagine

[italiansteebie]

Idk if it was u or someone else that has already done this but I need Steve so out of it (hit his head or high or sum??) he literally forgets to speak English- like maybe he’s just saying stuff in Italian and he’s so confused bcuz no one understands him and he realizes he’s speaking his first language and not English.

Also the party would be drooling after him like?? He’s already cute and he speaks more then one language? Literally screaming!!!

tbh i've probably written something similar to this but for you anon, i'll do it again.

--

steve was walking, and if we want to get technical, he was really wandering, with robin trailing behind him. they weren't paying attention, they weren't really thinking, so.

it just so happened that steve wandered right into an opening door, and he fell back and smacked his head on the side walk. robin proceeded to lose her shit, cackling loudly before realizing he'd actually been hurt.

"oh, shit. dingus. are you okay?"

"oh fuck, i killed him!"

and what a surprise that was. eddie just so happened to cause this brutal door attack. his head was already swimming from the fall and now he has to form words around eddie? really?

"non sono mort." he mumbled, reaching back to run the spot where he hit his head.

"oh my god. he's having a stroke, he can't talk. call 911!" eddie was always one for the dramatics.

"robin, smettila di urlare. per favore."

"is that... italian??"

"non essere ridicolo. sto parlando un inglese semplice."

"steve. oh my god. parli italiano sul serio."

and that caused him to realize what he'd been doing.

"oh no! ha fatto perdere il mio inglese!"

robin doubled over in laughter. she knew it wasn't serious enough to call an ambulance, just knocked a few screws out of place.

"what? what'd he say?! oh my god. i changed steve's language. quick find the reset button!"

this only caused robin to laugh harder, her face turning red and tears leaking from her eyes. steve started to giggle at the sight, but eddie was still watching them, wide eyed.

"are- did i hit steve so hard it started effecting you too?"

as robin sobered up, she took a few shuddering breaths before she realized what just happened. "you speak italian! since when?" she shoved her finger in steve's face.

he groaned, "since always." he brightened, "hey! it's back."

"so i- i didn't change your language?"

"no. he's bilingual."

"oh! so you just decided that for me? you told me that stuff was personal, rob. but what does that have to do with you speaking italian?"

robin laughed shortly, "that's bisexual, dingus. bi lingual means you speak two languages."

"oh. then yeah. im bilingual."

"yeah, we've covered that. but since when?"

steve shrugged. "it'd be odd if i couldn't talk to my mom, right?"

robin shook her head. "it's like every time you open your mouth i found out some new lore about you, steve." and he just shrugged.

and eddie was still there watching this whole thing, trying not to pop a stiffy at the idea of steve speaking italian to him, all slow and sexy- no! bad eddie! steve is hurt, this is not the time.

"so." he dragged out. "i'm okay, ed's." steve assured. "yeah. okay, um. are you... so like. you're one bi... are you the other bi too... or?" eddie said awkwardly.

steve blushed and robin gagged. "yeah. is this your way of asking me on a date?"

eddie nodded dumbly.

"okay. tomorrow? bennys at 6?"

"uh. uh huh."

"sounds good, ed's. i should probably get my head checked out now. a domani, amore mio."

and that was it. suddenly eddie felt like he just got hit with a door. he was still reeling from the interaction when robins distant squealing broke him from his trance.

he shook his head.

steve's got more layers than he thought.

// i did use google translate so it won't be accurate.

"i'm not dead."

"robin, stop yelling. please."

"don't be ridiculous. im speaking plain english."

"you're speaking italian. seriously."

"oh no! he knocked my english loose!"

"see you tomorrow, my love."

#steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steddie #best friend robin #best friend robin buckley #italian steve #italian steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steddie ficlet #pre steddie #steve harrington headcanon #steve's head trauma #platonic stobin #yall know i love italian steve #italian!steve #stobin ficlet #platonic soulmates stobin #stranger things fic #steddie fic

[justash02]

Womanizer; 08~

A/n; lemme know if you have feedback! It’s always welcome! So are Requests! Text me! I’m nice:>

Plot; Everyone who knew who Tom Kaulitz was knew that he was girl crazy, he's very well known for having girls around him all the time.

Pairing; Tom Kaulitz x fem reader.

Previous chapter -> next chapter.

Master list

Taglist<3

*^*^*

"Nah, I'll be on the couch. You and Clair can share my bed." Tom said brushing his fingers over my lower half sending goosebumps over my body. It seemed like he didn't really think much about the physical touch.

The rest already went inside, Tom had told Clair already in the car she could use his bed because he already thought we would wanna share it.

"Everything ok? Something seems to bother you." Tom asked, taking a cig from his pack that was in his back pocket. He handed me one before putting the pack back.

"Nah, nothing much." I uttered out, I watched as his veiny hands turned on the light, I wonder what does hands do-

"Liar." He said leaning against his car, he leaned closer, making me smell his cologne before lighting the cig on for me. 

"It just feels like Adam's throwing it, you know? Like we've all worked so hard on achieving this and after..." I stopped to think.

"After our scene." He added in. Making me nod, "After our scene he started acting as if he's not even a part of XO anymore." Tom just nodded. Not feeling the need to say anything.

He believes that sometimes saying nothing is the best thing to say.

"Like most of the time I'm sleeping alone in our room, wondering where the fuck he is." I said taking a drag from my cig, I took it in deep making my longs burn.

Fuck does this feel good.

"Thought about talking about it with Ray?" He said, referring to our manager, "If it keeps going like this, yeah." He nodded, somewhat proud of me.

"Good girl."

"Ayo horny much?" I laughed out.

"For you, always." He said winking at me. "Ok womanizer, I know you don't like me. You're just looking for a quick fuck." I said trying to laugh the slightly painful truth away.

"I want to have the true love, but I personally don't think it's gonna happen. I just love so many women, I'm not sure if I can only have one girl in my life." I nodded, understanding his point of view.

"Maybe someday when you really have found the one you'll think differently?" I said looking at him, trying to avoid him seeing how his words had upset me.

"Yeah, yeah maybe." He whispered, he looked over at me for a second before throwing his cig on the floor. Stepping on it with his white Nikes (wish I was that cig.).

I did the same and went over to get inside, I looked back at Tom who was on his phones looking over the messages that were send to him.

"You coming?" I called out to him, he stopped typing for a second before looking up at me, he seemed deep in thought before saying; "Of course."

I couldn't help but feel warm inside, I smiled at him, waiting for him at the door step.

Tom opened up the door for us, "Clair wanna see my plane? It's name is Jumbie!" I heard Bill say drunk before jumping up and down with the plane in his hand.

"Were you guys having a hand to hard?" Ben wrapped his arm around Tom's shoulder and pulled him into his side.

"You wish you could get that sometimes, don't you Benny boy?" Tom teaser, poking his side. "Oh yeah, Bro, I wish I could get as many girls as you have." Ben said sarcastically making Tom mock him further.

"Not even Y/n cares about Jumbie!" I suddenly heard Bill yell making me jump a bit, I get slow when I drink ok.

"But I do!" I yelled back walking over to Bill and Jumbie, softly petting the paper plane in Bill's hands.

"You only have eyes for Tom." Bill whined making Ben laugh, "True that, Billio." Tom shook his head, smiling. "That's not true bill, I also have eyes for you." I cooed softly petting the boys now straight black hair. 

"That makes me happy, baby." He cooed back, "Lemme go and get some makeup wipes for our faces." Clair started going on about Bill being a life saver.

I smiled and stumbled over the couch, "Yo don't you ever wish we had a partner?" Clair asked putting her head on my shoulder as soon as I sat in reach of her.

I just nodded, half asleep. "You deserve the best, Y/n/n." I smiled, my eyes still closed as I wrapped my arms around the blue haired girl.

"I love you so much, Clair." She turned around and cuddled me back. "I love you too, Y/n/n."

"Y'all acting a bit too gay for my taste." Ben said sitting on one of the lounge chairs close to the couch we were sitting on.

"Not for me though, keep going if y'all want." Tom said winking at us, Clair scoffed. "Help your boy out, he's getting horny." She pointed out.

"He's not my boy." I said, Tom didn't say anything.

"HERE ARE THE WIPES." Clair instantly jumped away from me grabbing a few wipes from the boy.

"Sorry it took so long, some of Tom's girls used them." Bill said handing me a few wipes too. I smiled and lazily started cleaning my face.

*^*^*

The next day I woke up and looked at Clair who was clearly still sound asleep. I quickly but quietly got out of bed and downstairs to grab some food.

As I walked down the stairs i suddenly saw a bun with dreads pop up from the couch. "Yo." He whispered, "Sup." I said tiredly before stumbling passed him into the kitchen.

I grabbed a glass and started pouring some juice, "Want some?" I whispered to Tom who was now next to me.

He nodded, His eyes were small and the bags under his eyes were very noticeable. "You didn't sleep?" I asked, he shook his head.

"The thoughts of what you and Clair could be up to in my bed kept me awake all night." He teased making me roll my eyes, "Horny fucker." He just winked.

"Nah but Ben was snoring the whole time." I laughed, "Yeah Clair said he would." I said taking a sip of my juice.

"I was thinking, do you maybe wanna hang out together?" He asked taking my glass out of my hand and taking a sip too.

"Like a date?"

"If that's what you want it to be, baby."

*^*^*

Tags; @oh-kurva @ajaxisbae @erensslut @ladyofladies @just-a-gay-loser @woodandwaxwings @hazashiovo @jay14344

(If I didn’t tag you I couldn’t tag you!)

#cute imagines #x reader #imagines #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #womanizer

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Can you write something with gale and Maureen? Like him taking care of her when she’s sick? Or trying to help her fall asleep?

Love this request doll, thank you. I’ve gotten quite a few requests asking for a fic of him taking care of her when she’s sick/cold, etc, and while I’ll certainly write another corresponding with those, I felt like yours gave me a chance to establish a little chronology of his doting on her. Which leads us to—helping her fall asleep on the:

First Night

It had been lights out for over an hour now, and still, Gale could sense the shifting restless around him. As the men’s initial post-battle fatigue had lessened and the dull predictability of one’s camp days settled in, the nights became longer, less restful and more of a routine than a respite. They could lay in their beds most the day or else walk and sit and lay somewhere else, there was no exhausted relief to be found climbing into a bunk. Gale missed the taxing demand for rest that came with a regimented military life. He knew he wasn’t alone in it.

Now there was the invigorating addition of the presence of the women at camp, and like kids at a sleepover -or so Gale heard sleepovers were like that, he’d never been to one- all rooms were filled with restless chit chat and lack of calm. He’d had to go along the hall of his integrated combine before lights out to warn everyone to shush it.

At least they were amalgamating well.

There was so much to catch up on by each crew and any new bit of information a new prisoner carried in was worth more than Broadway tickets back home, added to that was the old natural way of men not knowing when to shut the hell up around the fairer sex.

So Gale had knocked on doors and doused lightbulbs like the bucket of cold water that he was, and then returned to his own bunk in the subsequent quiet, only to cave and allow John Brady thirty more minutes of risky light use to keep mending -and watch his tolerably death-like and unconscious sister as she shallowly breathed on a lower bunk.

Gale had once hauled himself up and out of his second tier bunk opposite her to put his hand in front of Ida’s lips, she had gotten so still for a bit. “You should sleep by her.” he told Brady, recalling times his father’s warmth had been the only thing to keep him alive some nights in the park. He was rather certain Johnny meant to do it anyway, but he wasn’t a readable fella and his curt nod was all Gale got along with the ever faithful, “yes sir.”

When Gale had finally demanded they cut the bulb, he watched as Brady carefully climbed in and lay behind Ida without disturbing her, two lanky, stacked sardines with plenty of room and not enough fat on either of them to keep a water bottle thawed in this weather. Gale shrugged and flicked the light -family genes couldn’t be helped.

What could be helped was Maureen’s dripping hair. After the showers she had sat herself down at the table and demanded they deal her a hand of cards, burnt auburn hair dripping ice water down the back of her borrowed shirt.

Her shivers rattled her so badly she had dropped her cards multiple times, made worse by her mangled hands. They’d paused the game to have Hambone and Tallulah come in and wrench her middle and fourth fingers straight. Hamilton swore he had experience from his own injuries and T. Smith had grown up on a farm, excellent referrals both. The ordeal could’ve been worse, Gale supposed.

Benny had gagged while watching it, Gale had wanted to while holding her wrist down, Hambone had growled “fuck” more times than John had ever heard him during a mission and Ida didn’t even wake from Maureen’s yells -so out of it was she on the bunk she’d wobbled into and fallen asleep on.

Now Maureen sat stubbornly at the table in the dark, still consulting her deck of cards as if she could discern a diamond from a spade.

“Bed.” Gale told her despite her petulance, and the boys were good enough not to encourage her rebellion for once, taking themselves to their own bunks with little fanfare, “Don’t wanna get us in trouble for lights on your first night do ya? Make Ida stand out in the cold for inspections? Good, because I don’t want you out there with that hair.”

“It’s taking forever to dry and I don’t want to get my pillow wet.” Maureen protested.

“You can’t just sit here in the dark.” he muttered.

“Johnny would’ve.” she hit back. Gale wasn’t sure since when John Brady had been the yardstick by which Maureen measured human behavior, but it had been about as long as Gale knew her.

“Yeah but now Johnny’s in bed like a good boy.” Gale observed.

He heard someone titter and if he had to throw a dart at the offender in the gray dark it would be aimed towards Demarco’s bunk. “Johnny hasn’t got my hair. Ida either…anymore.” she added with childlike insensitivity.

“You should braid it.” Demarco’s voice suggested from the dark of his bunk.

“Hands can’t do squat.” Maureen was starting to sound offended by how often they forgot about her hands. She’d dropped her cards as often from their gnarled swelling as from her shivers, and every time one of the guys tried to ignore it or give a kinder explanation she would hold them up like she wanted them to recall what she was working with. Most of the fellas would’ve rather looked into hell’s portal than keep contemplating her hands or what they meant.

“Lemme braid your hair.” Gale told her, he didn’t ask and he didn’t thank Benny for the suggestion.

Maureen scoffed as he scooped up the frigid, wet strands from her shoulders and began to divide them in his hands. “Like you know how.”

“I do.” he patiently insisted after a few moments of the more convincing argument of his actually braiding it.

“Who else have you done this for? Who taught you?” Maureen’s jealousy was palpable to everyone and even Brady snickered softly at her this time.

“Horses, Maureen. My uncle had horses.”

Maureen didn’t reply to that, in fact, besides brawling japes during cards and her arguments against bedtime,

she hadn’t said much since coming back from the showers. She was cold to the touch when Gale finished his braid and squeezed the last bit of wet he could from the woven rope and then he bodily deposited her in her bunk. An adjacent one to his, on the same level, their heads were nearly beside each other’s in the cramped stack.

And now, an hour afterwards, everyone was still tossing in the dark except for Ida and her brother, and Gale had no peace with Maureen’s chattering teeth just a few inches away and her crushed hands dancing in front of his eyes everytime he closed them.

He thought of a lot of things to whisper to her, questions, comforts, even jokes. They never got out of his tightening throat as sixty minutes ticked by and he kept staring up at the slats of the bunk above him like that would keep the flashing image of her hands away. Suddenly the chatter of teeth stopped and he felt himself begin to relax in turn, hopeful she’d drifted off.

The unmistakable sound of a sob followed shortly after and it messed with the rhythm of his heart worse than jumping from his spiraling plane had.

“Maureen?” he questioned softly, as if there could be any doubt.

The sobs only gained frequency and vigor. Gale rolled himself over on his belly, and without thinking it through for once, impulsively threaded his arm through the divide to her bunk, laying his arm along her pillow and cupping the cheek closest to him. The humid blast of her breath against his palm tore at him and he thumbed over her wobbling lips. “Maureen,” he begged again, hoarse from his damn throat and in an effort to be quiet, “what- what is it?”

What can I do?—is what he meant.

“Having a cry Cleven.” She informed him angrily and without discretion in her volume except for what her sniffles required, “Can’t a gal have a well earned cry? Told you I wouldn’t manage to sleep.”

Ah, so the cry was his fault. Gale sighed and couldn’t help his sideways glance at Ida’s bunk. Not that he wanted such unnatural, deathly peace for Maureen. It would scare the fuck out of Gale, just as it was scaring the fuck outta Johnny who Gale knew was owl eyed awake right across from him and his now sobbing bombardier.

“I’m sorry.” Gale offered her impotently, childish habits coming to the fore in his helplessness, -how sorry he’d been time and again growing up, sorry for wall street crashing and Hoover having won that last time and the fact there weren’t any more quarters left for a soda and that the malnourished dog lost that one race and being sorry, so goddamn sorry all the damn time just so his father would finally absolve him with, “it’s ok, son” in return.

“And now my pillow’s wet!” -Maureen never absolved him of shit, she piled on and somehow Gale found himself devoted to that honest cruelty too, in a more mature, twisted, fucked sorta way. “I told you my pillow would get wet and I’d be cold!”

“You can have mine.” he tried.

“Oh yeah, and get it wet too.” her anger huffed out into his palm and it made him feel funny, like he was feeling her breath all along him, her emotion too, her outright disapproval of him. It always made him feel funny, feel desperate without feeling wrong or sorry. He’d never taken the fall for something that wasn’t his to own up to, not since he became a man. Not until her. He felt himself swelling against the mattress and wanted to say sorry for that, too.

—can’t help it around you.

He’d taken up excuse making as well since her, it proved so damn effective. Way more than his apologies.

“I could use cooling down.” he realized aloud and tugged her damp pillow out from under her head without warning, “Don’t fuckin’ test me Kendeigh, not tonight.” he warned at her stiff neck as he used her braid to lift her head and slide his under her head.

He settled his confiscated pillow closer to hers, his cheek pressed to her tears and shower wet, their heads practically aligned and in the dim light he could make out the curve of her nose. Such a pretty nose, he’d been enchanted with it from the minute she cocked her head at him in the glass nose of Our Baby.

Maureen had stopped crying. Her arm swung above her head and slithered under his blankets until she’d grabbed hold of what she wanted, bringing his hand up by the wrist until it was cupping her cheek again. She nuzzled her face into it and kissed his palm, the glitter of her eyes discernible between his fingers to the scrutiny of a lover as enamored as Gale.

“Sorry.” she whispered at long last into his palm and he shuddered.

“Don’t be sorry.” he commanded.

“I feel better.” she said.

“Good.”

Her hand darted out the top of her blanket and cupped his cheek, mirroring him. She thumbed at the smooth skin of his face with a swollen thumb until she found his poorly healed scar. “Wanna give it a try?” she asked. “We swapped pillows, it’s wet anyway, no one would know.”

“I don’t need a cry.” he declined gently.

“Ooh, does my Major need other things?” Maureen’s voice had gone saucy -and thankfully hushed- despite the stuffed up quality of her nose but the thought of her hands curdled his reaction to the tease immediately.

“No.” he breathed, hating the crowded room and the faux intimacy of this moment. Maureen was always more immune to intrusion but he couldn’t pretend to match her. “I just need you safe.” he begged, for if her ordeal had ended at her arrival here, he felt his had just begun.

The thumb stroking Gale’s cheek dipped lower until it was tracing his upper lip, slipping to the crease of his mouth, gently parting his plush lips until she had her finger past them, resting on his teeth. “I’m with you.” Maureen muttered, “Of course I’ll be safe.”

Gale closed his mouth around her, tongue lathing at the pad of her thumb, cheeks hollowed in an innate impulse for suction. Maureen’s presence made him feel odd, always had. Her nose came to rest against his and that was the last he recalled of the night, the gusts of her breath evening out against his face, the weight of her thumb on his tongue, the drowsy and unheeded regret that he had already compromised so far on their first night.

When he was startled awake next morning by a shake to the shoulder, mouth dry and her thumb still between his teeth, Cleven could only be grateful it was by Brady and unseen by the rest of the still sleeping men. The fact Maureen seemed to have been already awake and merely staring at him while he slept was another unsettling matter. As were the deep circles under Brady’s soft eyes: the kid looked like he hadn’t slept a wink and Gale wondered briefly how long his poor subordinate had stared at his bunk and hoped the thumb would fall out before rousing his superior. Or if Maureen had made eye contact during it. Oh for God’s sake...

Obviously Brady’s patience had run out with a hard shake, because -“It’s Ida, she won’t fuckin’ respond but she’s bowin’ up till I think her neck might snap.”

Well that got Gale tumbling out of bed.

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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#masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #gale cleven #gale cleven x oc #Gale x Maureen #those who can #Intergrated au #mota au #mota oc

[strniohoeee]

Panic

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is afraid of scary movies, but finally gives into Matt. After watching the movie she’s awoken out of her sleep, and runs to Matt🩶 This is for the request asking for a scared Y/N and cuddles with Matt

Warnings⚠️: This one’s pretty short, but it’s cute

Song for the imagine: Eastside- Benny Blanco, Halsey and Khalid

“Matt. NO” I said getting annoyed with him

“Why not? It’s literally fall time, you’re supposed to watch scary movies” He said

“I’m really scared of scary movie though” I said kind of pouting

“Stop being a fucking baby, and let’s watch a damn movie” he said rolling his eyes

“Look, we can watch it in the living room, so this way you don’t have to leave my room in the pitch black to go to sleep, and leave the kitchen light on if that helps?” He asked

“Okay fine, but the light has to stay on” I said pointing my finger at him

“I promise” he said saluting me

He grabbed a blanket and a pillow, and we went to the couch which is my bed when I spent the night with them.

Chris and Nick were staying over Madi’s house because Laura had a specific project for them, so it was Matt and I alone.

Matt had made popcorn and gotten us drinks, and then we sat next to each other snuggling up against one another

“What movie are you putting on?” i asked him eating some popcorn

“Evil Dead Rise” he said opening HBO Max up

“Matttt come on that one looks so scary. I could never really watch the trailer” I told him

“I’m right here next to you, and if you get scared you can turn into me and cover your eyes.” He said smiling over at me

“Fine” I said rolling my eyes, and continuing to eat popcorn

We were getting halfway into the movie, and the whole time I was jumping, screaming and turning into Matt. He didn’t really find the movie scary, he found it more interesting.

We got to the part where starts banging her head on the door while looking into the peephole. And my whole body shivered with fear.

“NOO NO NO” I screamed turning into Matt covering my eyes

“It’s not even scary, stop acting like a child” he said laughing at me

“Fuck you Matt. I’m scared” I said, my voice muffled by his hoodie

The movie had finished, and even though it was scary I would say it was actually a pretty decent scary movie.

“Alright what’s next?” i asked him putting the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table

“Uhhh want to watch another scary one?” He asked smirking at me

“Have you lost your mind” I said looking him dead in the eyes

“I’m kidding. We can watch BigMouth till we fall asleep”

He responded. I agreed and he put the show on

At some point Y/N had fallen asleep on Matt’s shoulder, and he started to fall asleep too. He decided to move her back to lay down on her pillow, and covered her with the blanket. He grabbed his pillow and his blanket, and then walked over to the kitchen to turn the light off, and then he shut the tv off, and made his way upstairs to his room

About an hour later Y/N heard a noise. Immediately jumping up. She looked around in the dark searching for the sound.

“Matt! Matt was that you” I asked him reaching my hand out to find him, but only to realize he left me.

Then again I heard the same noise from outside.

“What the fuck is that” I said searching for my phone. Finally I found it, and turned the flash on. And once again I heard the sound. I immediately shot up, and started to run up to Matt’s room

I opened his door, and immediately felt bad when I saw that he was sound asleep, but I was so scared right I couldn’t be alone. I walked over to his side

“Matt! Matt” I said in a whisper shaking him lightly

“Matt!” I said shaking him a little harder, and he jumped up

“WHAT WHAT HAPPENED” he said scared

“Nothing! I heard something outside, and I got scared. Can I sleep with you?” I asked him shyly

“What? Uh yeah yeah of course” he responded still very confused

“Thank you” I said, and walked to the other side and got into his bed. I love laying in his bed they smelt just like Matt, and it made me feel safe and warm

He flipped over to face me while I was facing his wall

“Come here baby, you’re safe I got you” he said pulling me into his chest and snuggling me

“Thank you Matt” I said sinking into his embrace

“Anything for you” he said kissing the back of my head

Matt and I stood in this position the whole night. He was the big spoon and I was the little spoon. With him I felt so safe and content that I immediately drifted off to sleep with his arms wrapped around my torso, and his head at the crook of my neck.

Matt made it impossible not to fall for him.

The End

To whoever requested this I hope you enjoyed🥹❤️ I’m finishing all my stories today, as I’m sick in bed with some stomach bug or something😭😭. I also have a cute Nick imagine, but for some reason those never get as many likes….like don’t do my smoochie Nick like that😭😭

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #Spotify

[newtonsheffield]

No but I need to see Anthony getting his brothers to help him carry the sofa into their house and them eventually finding out what they helped carry

Oh my god. Imagine, Anthony was too embarrassed to have it delivered so he hired a van and let the workers load it in for him. He kept it wrapped in the cardboard and plastic and asked Ben to carry it upstairs with him.

“Aha.” Benedict laughed when Anthony asked him, “I am not the manual labor brother. You would be better off asking… Kate honestly, than me.”

Anthony rolled his eyes, “This is a surprise for Kate. It was her idea, and I laughed it off so I could surprise her with one.”

Ben raised his eyebrows, “One what?”

Anthony flushed, “It’s just… an armchair for the bedroom. She ah… likes to read in the sun.”

“You… laughed at your girlfriend wanting an armchair to read in the bedroom?”

“I’m not explaining my relationship to you.” Anthony said quickly, “I’ll buy you dinner, Benny. As many spring rolls and dumplings as you can eat.”

Ben narrowed his eyes, “It better not be heavy.”

Ben grunted under the weight of the chair, fumbling on the steps, “Jesus Anthony! What the fuck is this made of?!”

“It needs to be heavy so it doesn’t move around I assume.”

“Is Kate a particularly vigorous reader?!” Ben snapped as he set it down, “Christ I’ve got sweat in my eyes!”

Anthony rolled his eyes, slapping his brother on the shoulder. “Right, thanks mate. Let’s get dinner and we’ll drop off the van.”

Ben frowned, “Aren’t you going to unwrap it? We can get rid of all the rubbish so you don’t have to put it in the bins.”

Anthony froze, “Ah, no. I’ll do it later. You’ve sweated enough. Can’t ruin that handsome face, right?!”

Ben thought it was odd but he let it go, until months later when Edwina nudged him at the pub. Kate and Anthony sat across from them whispering in each other’s ears.

“Guess what I found out this week.”

“Edwina.” Kate warned, shaking her head as she took a drink, “Don’t be a twat.”

“If I have to know this so does Ben.” She jerked her thumb at Kate and Anthony, “These two have a sex sofa.”

Ben’s mouth dropped open as the pieces fell in to place. “Anthony! I carried your sex sofa?!”

“In my defense,” Anthony said a little unembarrassed, “It was unused then. And they’re very easy to clean.”

“I am-! I want another free dinner!”

“A small price to pay actually.”

[foli-vora]

Congratulations Foli!!! You deserve all those followers and more.

How about #146 “Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh..no, I was just..” “Want some help?” with Frankie? Maybe a friends to lovers vibe? 👀

And no pressure! I know prompts can be hit or miss, muse-wise 💕

hello my angel! thank you so much, and thank you for your request! friends to lovers? baby, you are speaking my language! i had so much fun writing this - i hope you enjoy, lovely!

caught out

frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 2k warnings: STRICTLY 18+ ONLY. masturbation (f), eavesdropping/slight voyeurism, spiiice, bumpin' & grindin', the utter softness that this man makes me feel

[gif by moi]

It’s the need for tools that brings him to your house on a Saturday afternoon, standing outside your pale green front door with his shades shielding his eyes from the warm spring sun. You hadn’t responded to his text of ‘are you home?’ and he briefly wonders if you had plans.

He knocks, waiting a beat before knocking again. Not home, then.

He works his keys from his back pocket and fingers through the different ones until he finds yours, slipping it into the lock and letting himself in. You wouldn’t mind – you never did.

You made it clear when giving him a key that he was free to come and go as he pleased, unlike Benny who was now on a strict policy to only let himself into your home with explicit permission after he ended up eating the leftovers you had saved and were excited to eat after work. The younger Miller barely survived that ordeal. 

He toes his boots off quietly by the door before making a move for your kitchen, knowing the last time he had his wrench set was when he fixed your shitty sink last week. You really need a new one – how many times did he need to fix that thing before you accepted that fact? So stubborn.

It’s when he’s rifling through your cupboard, his sunglasses discarded on the countertop, that he thinks he hears you calling to him. It was definitely his name, and it was definitely you… so maybe you were home. Looking around your place, you wouldn’t think so. No lights were on, no music or TV or any other sounds of life. Maybe you’d been sleeping?

A brief flash of guilt swims in his chest from disturbing you and he straightens, closing the cupboards softly and poking his head out of the kitchen, expecting you to be walking his way with that tender little smile that makes his heart launch into his throat every fucking time.

It was hard, reigning in the force of his not-so-little crush every damn time he saw you. You just worked so well as friends though, he didn’t want to risk ruining what you had with a relationship. And as far as he knew, you weren’t interested in seeing anyone. No… it was better to keep the bond you had as it was now. He’d only screw it up.

You’re nowhere to be found when he looks, and a frown starts to form between his brows.

You call for him again, and something deep in his gut stirs at the way you sound. Were you hurt?

A part of him seemingly knows it’s not that, but a wave of concern grows anyway and washes away the prickle of heat taking over his skin. He steps towards your room, studying the way the door falls open just a crack and your darkened room beyond.

He goes to speak, to reassure you it was him, but stops at the very faint sound of buzzing, a barely there hum filling the air. He wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t so focused on it. Another whimper of his name carries to his ears and it all hits him like lightning.

God, were you –

He sucks in a breath and his hands clench into fists at his sides, his mind now screaming at him to leave. This isn’t right, he shouldn’t be eavesdropping on something so personal, so intimate, like a damn creep.

He should absolutely leave. He should slip out as quickly and quietly as he did upon entering. He needs to leave. Right now. He should leave –

Why can’t he fucking move?

His jeans pull tighter as his cock swells within the confines of them, straining against the rough fabric and throbbing with each mental image his brain throws at him.

Were you completely nude? Were you still dressed, clothes merely shoved haphazardly out of the way in your desperation to get off? How were you positioned? Was it a bullet? A vibrating dildo? How did you look taking it?

“Shit,” he curses lowly, a small curl of disgust at himself building in his gut and snapping him free from the haze of lust and hunger filling his mind.

His hands itch to touch you, to follow your guidance and learn every little thing that makes your breath catch; your toes curl; your hands tighten in his hair until it feels like you’d pull it right out of his scalp…

No.

No, he needs to leave, but then… maybe you wouldn’t mind if he lets his presence known. You are calling for him, after all. It’s his name on your lips while you’re lost in whatever bliss you’re drowning yourself in. His name — no one else's. Does that mean you feel the same as him? Was it purely sexual? Was it –

Lost in the whirlwind of his thoughts, he doesn’t realise how close his leg comes to the vintage console table lining your wall. The corner of the solid timber catches his hip and the thing jolts, an already badly balanced frame falling at the sudden knock and it slaps face down loudly.

Fuck. Fucking fuck. 

The soft noise abruptly stops in your bedroom at the sudden disturbance, and he panics, smoothing his sweaty palms down his jeans and fixing the way they sit over his stiff cock. Hopefully they were tight enough to keep it hidden.

“Hey, it’s me.” He calls, fixing the frame and desperately trying to make it look like he hadn’t been eavesdropping on you getting yourself off.

“Frankie?”

His heart thunders at your voice.

It takes a few moments for you to get yourself together, and in those few moments he thinks of anything and everything to quell the wild erection straining against fly. Fuck, why won’t it go away?

Soon your bedroom door is pulled open and then there you are, your crumpled tee caught in the waistband of your sleep shorts, no doubt from being pulled on in a panic. He tears his eyes away from your body and forces a smile, desperately trying to calm the tremble in his hands.

“Sorry, I was just – I did knock… I thought you weren’t home. I’m just here to grab my wrench set.”

“Oh!” You breathe, clearing your throat softly and discreetly fixing the way your clothes cling to you. “Right. Sorry about that, I must’ve not heard you. Yeah I uh – I moved them into the garage. Um, they’re on the shelf… next to your drill.”

He nods, rocking back onto his heels and digging his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, hoping you don’t notice the way he positions his hands to make sure there’s no evidence of any sort of… obvious lumps.

His tongue runs along his lower lip, deliberating on whether or not to broach the topic. He could leave it right here – take his tools and just leave like the original plan had been. He could keep what you have and not make it awkward, not potentially risk losing the friendship you both had crafted…

Or he could take the risk. He could push it, just a little, and see where it goes. You were calling for him, you were thinking of him… that obviously meant you felt something surely. 

“Were you…”

Say it.

Say it, you fucking coward.

“Were you just masturbating?”

Mortification fills you with a flush of heat along your skin, flooding your cheeks and turning your face to flames. Your flight instinct rears to life in the back of your mind. God, he heard you. How could you explain this? Had he heard you saying his name? Moaning it? Was he uncomfortable?

Of course he’s uncomfortable! You inwardly cringe, your heart that had previously been erratic from your desperation in search of bliss, now hurried due to the panic growing in your chest. Your stomach lurches at the possibility of losing his friendship. You’d done so well hiding your crush over the time you’d known him, and now it was all falling apart.

“U-uh… no. Of course not! I was just –”

He watches you quietly, those beautifully deep, observant eyes flickering across your face as you desperately try to string together an excuse. He knows you’re lying. Of course he knows. He knows you better than anyone – a lie hurriedly crafted in the midst of your humiliation and panic would be all too easy for him to see through.

“Tell me,” he insists, his tone low and soft.

Something about the way he gazes at you, his eyes burning with something you just can’t place – hope? desire? – it gently coaxes the heat that had previously been dowsed back into a flame, settling low and churning in your core. It gives you a small shove of courage, and you squirm a little where you stand.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, “I was.”

He exhales sharply, his throat bobbing with a swallow as he nods, almost expectantly. “And who were you thinking of?”

“You, Francisco. I was thinking of you.”

Silence falls over the both of you, but it’s not uncomfortable. No, the air feels charged. You feel it run along the skin of the back of your neck and down along your spine, the darkening of his gaze building a strong tightening of anticipation in your chest. This can’t be happening… can it?

Finally – he moves, standing straighter and letting his gaze roll along your frame hungrily. “Want some help?”

What? Fuck.

You can’t get the word out quick enough.

“Yes –”

He moves instantly, striding forward and curling a large hand against your skin to cup your cheek before tilting your head and claiming your mouth. Fucking finally.

His moustache tickles in the best of way, as you always suspected. His lips are soft and supple against yours, quickly giving way to an urgency you endeavour to keep up with. You’re weak against him, the strong arm that curls around your back pulling at you until you’re flush against his body.

You surrender to the ferocity of his kiss, parting your lips at the gentle probe of his tongue and meeting it with your own. He groans softly into your mouth, your hands winding around his neck and twisting your fingers into his hair.

The breath leaves your lungs when his hand drops to palm your ass, his fingers digging harshly into the fleshy swell of it and it’s your turn to moan when you feel the noticeable solid bulge in his jeans, pressing and rubbing against your mound.

Still sensitive from your previous attention to it, your clit throbs with each eager grind against his hard cock, the desperate roll of your hips encouraged by the hand planted on your ass. The thin material of your sleep shorts allows you to feel the roughness of his jeans as if there were nothing there at all, and you’re suddenly incredibly thankful for skipping underwear in your hurry to get dressed.

“Is this a bad idea?” You breathe, breaking away from the greedy pursuit of his mouth and blinking at him with a shine of worry growing in your eyes.

Though everything feels so right in the moment, you feel the stirrings of anxiety creep along the edges of your mind.

You adore Frankie – you don’t think you’d cope very well with losing him. The mere idea of it births an ache deep in your chest and you wonder if your friendship would even be salvageable after rubbing up on each other like this. How could you ever act normal around him after feeling and tasting him the way you have?

He takes a moment to try and level his breathing, swiping his tongue along his lower lip and catching the remnants of your saliva. He fights the urge to dive back in for another taste of your mouth as his heart runs wild in his chest, trying to hold back the vicious denial building in his throat.

“I don’t know,” he returns quietly, searching your face for any clues as to your answer. “Is it?”

He waits, hanging suspended in the moment. Can you see the hope in his gaze? The devotion? Can you feel the way he’s wanted this for so long? 

“No,” you decide after a moment of studying him, your fingers toying with the short waves at the nape of his neck, rolling and twisting the silky soft strands. “I don’t think this is a bad idea.”

“No?”

You smile that smile and he feels his chest tighten at the adoring warmth of it. “It’s always been you, Frankie.”

He exhales lightly, the corners of his lips twitching below his moustache with the threat of a smile. His thumb brushes the skin of your cheek and you soak in the affectionate action, your heart wild against your ribs.

“It’s always been you.”

-

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @william-butcher, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @h-hxgirl, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx

frankie morales tags: @a-reader-and-a-writer, @sanfransolomitatm, @pedrohoe04, @evyiione, @stardust-galaxies, @xjsteph, @androah, @wildmoonflower, @naughtynecromancer, @quica-quica-quica, @stevenmylove, @lawfulgranola, @notagamersdey, @fuckoffbard, @yt-adriana, @dins-cyare, @clydesducktape, @serini-ty, @chaoticevilbakugo, @breakfastonpluto19

#foli's 3k #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal x reader

[swifty-fox]

Buckies + [INJURY] 👹

[INJURY]: after having been badly wounded themselves, the sender tries to reassure the frantic receiver by cupping their face and comforting them.

Buck had never been good at being hungry. It made his head swim, his thoughts dumb and slow quicker than it seemed to others. Perhaps it was early exposure, perhaps he was just a little less strong than the rest of the guys in some small fundamental way. But the longer hunger gnawed away at him the more he found himself lost and dazed, lightheaded to the point of stupidity.

Mostly he's able to hide it by hovering around Bucky, taking his lead and following his orbit because that was something subconscious at this point. Could hover at his shoulder with arms crossed, face set in contemplation at whatever someone is saying and let John do the talking while he tries to force his sluggish brain to comprehend.

It's when he's alone that it becomes something dangerous perhaps. Moments like now where he's pacing along the fenceline as he tended to do on the days when the cabin walls felt a little too close. There's voices shouting in harsh German, but then there's always voices shouting here. By the time it registers he's the one being addressed he's already being grabbed, keeled over with the butt of a rifle to the gut. Too close to the fence, or so he assumes, his brain too fogged to parse his developing library of knowledge of German phrases.

He knows he's being called a dog.

It's the smallest ounce of madness, of captive frustration. Of the lack of fucking food in his belly turning his temper to something silk thin and volatile.

He spits right on the guards' stupid mud-covered boot.

In a second he's pinned against the fence, the metal screeching and bowing under the weight of two bodies. A fist on his face, in his gut. When he falls that spit-covered boot tenderizes his ribs and stomps on his thigh, his hips.

He takes it quietly as possible, arms raised to protect his stupid head, blood filling his mouth and nose like vomit. Perhaps there's some of that too, the steel-covered toes meeting his gut with such force it folds him in half and spews unnamed liquid from his lips.

By the time the guards allow his fellow airmen to peel him from the mud like a linen blown from the clothes rack he's hurting like he's never hurt before. Ribs crackling with every inhale, feet that can't quite seem to obey. Head aching worse than ever. It's Benny and Jack who drag him into the cabin, dump him into John's bunk because there's no way to get him in there gently. He settles back with a barely bitten-back whimper, has all of two seconds to take a breath before John himself is there, dark features pinched in worry and anger.

"My God, Gale." he hisses, breath wobbling out of him. he takes in the violence wrought on the blondes body, eyes skipping around as if he doesn't know where to look first past the mud and blood and refuse that clung to them all.

"My god," he repeats, unbuttoning Gale's jacket and tugging up his sweater to prod at his chest, his abdomen as if to make sure none of his organs had burst like a balloon. He certainly felt like a few had.

"Gale," John repeats, stunned out of nicknames and bravado.

Gale realizes he needs to speak, needs to answer to reassure John and the boys he's fine, nothing he can't walk off.

He needs something to eat. He needs the taste of blood out of his mouth.

He reaches up with a clumsy hand and cups John's face, drags his thumb across the starpoint of his cheekbone. leaves behind a filthy smear of blood and dirt.

"Shh," he soothes his man as one would a spooked horse, as one would a loyal dog. "Shh, it's okay."

John turns his head and presses a kiss to the center of Gale's palm, comes back with lips stained wine-red.

#swiftywrites #mota #buck x bucky #clegan #violence #gale gets beaten #oh look more gale whump who would have guessed this from me