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#every vocalization I let trail off

yanderestarangel · 8 months

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HEADKANONS MK1 | 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 + 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐊

TW: smut, anal sex, vaginal sex, blowjob, thigh fetish, mutual masturbation, degradation, pet names, bdsm, blindfold sex, overstimulation, oral F!receives, afab anatomy, no pronouns used other than 'you'.

Bi Han makes a standard sound when he's close to cumming, it's loud, hoarse moans and he'll curse as fuck off while he feels the familiar tightness in his balls - that is, you can tell when he's going to cum, mainly by the deep grouch sounds that come out of the ropes his vocals of him-as well as liking to cum on your belly or cum on your face, using his fingers of him to spread his essence all over everything. "-Fucking beautiful, dirty like a fucking stupid whore, look at this angelic face and dirty with my cum." -Bi Han said satisfied, looking at the mess he made on you. "-Our night isn't over (Y/N) I'm going to fuck your throat until you can't talk anymore."

Liu Kang likes to have you between his legs, sitting on his dick while he solves some things about the hourglass of time, he takes more pleasure in seeing you having fun, sleepy and drunk with pleasure, fitting your pussy on his fat dick while you I drooled on his muscular chest, leaving a wet trail - he would just say: "-Shhh my beautiful treasure, enjoy, feel stronger on my dick and melt into the pleasure I can give you." -while one of his hands were on your back, massaging lightly.

You were the first person to fuck Raiden, it was slow and loving sex, he was an extremely affectionate man asking you if you were enjoying it enough, where he was supposed to touch that caused you the most pleasure, if you were enjoying it enough to keep fucking him. You fucked on a cool night with a full moon, while the young Shaolin smiled at you, bringing one of your hands to his face. "-I love you (Y/N) and I will never forget this day."

Kuai Liang is a lover of sucking pussy, exclusively your pussy - he would stay 24 hours between your thighs if you let him and he could, stimulating your clitoris with his tongue and sticking his fingers inside your tight hole, licking the sensitive and smooth bundles of nerves while moaning softly against the flesh of your cunt. He loves teasing your clitoris by sucking, licking and rubbing - Liang loves sucking your pussy while looking deep into your eyes, absorbing every moan, reaction and sigh from your lips. "-What a sweet pussy (Y/N), so beautiful, tight and needy, just wanting my mouth, isn't it?" -Kuai Liang removed his mouth from your pussy, his tongue leaving a trail of saliva between your pussy and him. He soon turned you on top, making you ride his mouth. "-Sit on my fucking face, you naughty slut, let me feel that beautiful pussy cumming and squeezing my tongue."

Tomas Vrbada is the type of man who whines and gets overstimulated very quickly, especially eating your pussy, with you riding him, he will whimper and moan as he thrusts his hips hard, using the friction of your creamy, bulging walls for his cock, while he holds your hips tightly, he will cum inside you, but his dick will still be hard and dirty with cum, begging for more. "-Please (Y/N)... Fuuuck... I want to cum again, I need to make you scream, cum for me, squirt with your little pussy on my dick."

Syzoth has a fetish for having his head pressed between your thighs, he loves the feeling of your soft flesh slightly suffocating him, staying between his legs and just masturbating, feeling your dominance with him is the way to make Syzoth cum faster, going and coming with his hand on his own dick while feeling his soft skin. "-Yeesss~ Fuuuck (Y/N), this feels so good, I swear I'm going to fuck you so hard later." -he said salivating, while masturbating between the delicious tightness that you offered him.

Kenshi uses blindfolds on you too, it's a bit of an unfair game, since he can still see because of Sento, but he likes to see you completely at his mercy, seeing your lips twitch in surprise, after all the target can be anyone one, your pussy, ass, mouth and in various ways, from simple penetration to delicious oral, with his tongue and fingers moving in harmony to give you pleasure. You felt him play with your nipples, using an ice cube, removing it and placing his hot tongue later, alternating between the two poles of cold and heat. "-This time I surprised you, didn't I, my love? Totally at my mercy, a beautiful and good little slut." -Kenshi soon returned to playing with your nipples, sucking and nibbling the cold area, going with his fingers to your pussy, it was going to be a long night.

Johnny Cage is a man who loves blowjobs, regardless of the time or day, he loves having your lips wrapped around his dick, he loves sex with you in general, but blowjobs are his weak point, it's a vision of paradise for him. see with your eyes full of tears, looking at him beautifully, totally submissive, he guides your head to the base of his dick, you could feel the heat of his balls on your chin, and Cage's thick, pulsing length teasing your throat. Johnny likes to see you swallow everything, every drop he can he will give you - Your knees hurt as you sucked him, seeing Johnny look at you as he slowly sipped a martini, the taste of the drink and the sight of you there, submissive to him , it was enough for Johnny to cum. "-Yes my good boy/girl, swallow my cock like the beautiful and hungry little thing you are" -Johnny spoke between moans, moving his hips even more, seeking fiction with your mouth. "-Look at the mess you're making on my floor with that pussy, so wet, such a fucking beautiful little boy/girl, I'm going to fuck you until you're a stupid and beautiful mess, just as you should be."

Shang Tsung loves to fuck, your breasts always put him in a good mood after a busy day as a royal wizard. He always gives you a dominant look, calling you a "good pet" when he sees you kneel and show him your breasts, while he used your mouth to drool and lubricate his dick first, pulling out roughly and with a loud sound, inserting his cock between your breasts, holding each of them as he smiled and moaned at you, forcing you to lick the head of his cock in the process. "-Holy shit (Y/N) what wonderful breasts, they are perfection, and all of them are just for me, you are mine, and you will please me like the good little pet you are."

Kung lao likes to do quickies, whether it's mutual masturbation, with you masturbating his dick with your hands and him using his fingers to fuck your pussy while you both moan loudly and needily, or fucking you doggy style in some bathroom at the restaurant. Lady Bo before his work or training - he needs to cum to relieve it, while moving in and out of your pussy, massaging your breasts while covering your mouth with one of his hands. "-Shut your little mouth my love, we don't want to be heard, do we? Just a beautiful little slut desperate for my cock." -Kung Lao pushed even further, taking you to the limit as you trembled against his cock, while he took one of his hands from the soft flesh of your pussy to your ass, slapping his skin.

Reiko likes to have sex toys, vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, all to use with you. He likes to fuck your pussy using his dick + the vibrator on your clitoris, increasing your pleasure and even a little pain, due to the intensity - he turns the intensity to maximum - watching you writhe beneath him, or, making you use anal plugs, especially heart-shaped ones, fuck you while moving the plug in your ass back and forth, giving you double pleasure. "-You really are so sensitive, aren't you (Y/N)? Walking around with a plug in that pretty ass, a wet pussy like yours... A perfect slut for me." -Reiko removed your anal plug, making a wet sound, taking the dick out of your pussy and sticking it in your ass and cumming inside.

Shao Khan is not going to fuck you right away, he is a huge man, that is, if you are content with just rubbing your pussy on his dick or his muscular thighs, he will be content with just watching you cum for now, seeing your little body and pussy, on top of his thighs, while encouraging you to continue, as it was pleasurable for him too. "-You are such a needy human (Y/N) just enjoy the pleasure this great General can give you."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

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grandline-fics · 6 months

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All That I Need

DESCRIPTION: When your presence is all they crave

WARNINGS: some suggestive themes, some jealousy in Shanks’ mostly fluff overall

CHARACTERS: Luffy, Zoro, Shanks| Sabo,Sanji

WORD COUNT: 1,413

A/N: Finally starting to feel better so I decided to finish this. Mostly indulgent and I hope you all enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

—————

LUFFY

Long before you and Luffy even got together you knew he was solely motivated by his wants, childishly so. He saw a platter of food meant for everyone? He’d eat it all before anyone else got a chance to grab a fork. Someone tried to tell him he was too weak to beat them? Luffy had the first punch thrown before they could blink. If he wanted something he was vocal about it. It was a simplistic way to be and at least you and the crew always knew how to keep your Captain happy. There was never any guessing, even when he was unconscious.

Of course once again he’d pushed his body to the limit to win a fight and now he was dealing with the consequences. Chopper had tended to his wounds and you approached his now sleeping form with a tired but proud smile. You were used to this but still you couldn’t help but worry about the strain his body was being put through time and time again. “You know once he wakes, he’ll be shouting for meat and jumping around like nothing happened.” Nami muttered like a disapproving mother as she left and you let out a small laugh.

Now close enough you lightly pushed the hair from his face, smiling to see that the mention of meat had made him grin in his sleep. Your worries all but left you now to see that. As long as he could smile, you would find the strength to do so too. You pulled your hand back and turned to leave the room, letting your significant -but reckless- other rest. Except you stopped when his hand clasped around your wrist. You turned in shock, he was awake already?

Your eyes widened to see that he was still unconscious. You were about to call for Chopper but all that could escape your lips was a gasp of surprise when you were abruptly pulled down onto the bed. Through muscle memory or pure instinct, Luffy lay with his arms around you the perfect balance of protectiveness and possessiveness in his hold. It was like this every night you both slept in your shared quarters. When his head lay against your chest while mumbling your name in in his sleep you smiled warmly, overcome with a sense of belonging and joy to know that you will always be something Luffy needed.

ZORO

Zoro was frustrated; his form was too tense, nothing was landing the way he wanted, the way he needed to. If he was to get stronger, to become the best this wasn’t good enough. If he was in an actual fight and not training he’d be losing. Angrily he swore and let his weights fall loudly onto the floor. Storming out of the Crow’s Nest he sought the one thing he desperately needed to make this frustration and tension go away. Listening intently he heard your familiar laugh sound from the kitchen and dining room. Striding in he saw you listening to Usopp telling a story of the crew’s adventures from the early days before you’d joined.

Just seeing you help Usopp cleaning up was enough to help his mood but still it wasn’t enough. He needed more, he craved you. Your warmth, your very essence and it was now he realised why he had felt so off. He hadn’t gotten enough of you today. With the watch rotations from the night before, usual morning chores, and then when Robin and Chopper had called you away to help them with their nonsense it had disrupted your usual time together completely. Now that he knew what his issue was, the solution was so simple. Wasting no more time he walked across the room with you in his sights.

You’d blinked in confusion when Usopp trailed off in the middle of his story and looked behind your shoulder. Slowly you turned and smiled at Zoro, believing he’d only stop his training midway through for food or an equally important emergency. “Hey, is everything okay? Do you need something?”

“Yeah. You.” Zoro stated firmly when he closed the distance. Before you could react, your boyfriend had his hands secured to your waist and pulled you forward so his lips could find yours, coaxing you into an increasingly hungry, intense kiss. Zoro savoured every moment of it, taking in every second and reclaiming the time he’d lost out on just being with you. As dizzying and as powerful the kiss was you could feel the shift in your lover; as subtle as it was you could tell he had been holding onto something that was making him more tense than normal. If this was what fixed it you weren’t complaining. When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, Zoro let out a huff of relief.

Now energised and focussed, Zoro threw you over his shoulder allowing himself a smirk when you yelped at the sudden action. Knowing it was pointless to even pretend like you wanted to struggle out of his hold you enjoyed the luxury of Zoro carrying you out of the kitchen and up to the Crows Nest so he could finish his training. Whether you remained on his shoulder or just sitting to the side and watching it didn’t matter to Zoro. As long as he had you in his vicinity, one of his main motivations for getting stronger that was all that mattered.

SHANKS

“If you think you’re looking cool and brooding over here, I hate to break it to you Captain you look more like you’re sulking.” Beckman laughed from behind his mug of ale. Shank clicked his tongue in annoyance and took a slow sip of his own drink, watching as you talked and laughed with the new recruits of the crew. You’d all decided to stay the night at one of the islands under your protection. The first time for the new recruits to get to terms with how the Red Haired Pirates did things beyond just sailing the seas. It also gave everyone a chance to unwind and enjoy some shore leave.

It was only natural that the new crew members would gravitate towards you, after all you were the go-between for them. You were the one they asked for help with things to avoid disappointing or angering their intimidating but inspiring Captain. They were still finding their place in the crew with the longer standing members and you’d promised them all it would take time and that they’d all been welcomed onto the crew for a reason. Still they all felt the most comfortable with you so far. Unfortunately your lover and Captain didn’t want to see it that way. He was jealous of them claiming your attention all the time and he missed you even though you hadn’t gone anywhere.

Shanks’ eyes met yours when you looked over to check on him. He tried to keep his expression level but clearly it wasn’t convincing enough because you swiftly but politely excused yourself from the group you were with and stepped up to where your Captain was sitting. Slowly you turned your head towards Beckman and jerked your head. A silent request for him to leave you both alone. As much as he’d love to stay and watch you expertly handle the Pirate Emperor he knew to give you both some sort of privacy and left.

With a tired sigh you slid into Shanks’ lap, throwing your legs over his and tucking your head under his chin. Wordlessly you took his mug of ale from his hand and coaxed his arm around your waist. “This is what you wanted right? Me all to yourself.” You asked with a smile before taking a sip of the ale. You knew Shanks better than most, he wouldn’t offer an explanation for his mood unless you started the conversation. His arm tightened around you and he chuckled softly.

“Can you blame me? Your very presence is utterly intoxicating to me. Why would I want to share my treasure with anyone?” Shanks asked and you rolled your eyes at his words with a small smile. You did want to remind him that he had nothing to be jealous about, everyone knew you were an item but still it was cute to have him still be like this after so many years together. “I mean it you know. I can’t get enough of you, need you more than breathing.”

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agendabymooner · 6 months

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SOMETHING MEMORABLE !!! LEWIS H. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: it’s easy to celebrate something with someone you love — it’s even better if you’ve got something to remember that day with.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), pwp, use of explicit language, blurb, we don’t proofread we rawdog our writing for best content, protected sex (FINALLY!!! SOMEONE WHO USED PROTECTION IN MY FIC), spitting, sex tape/consensual recording, aftercare, established relationship

note: didn’t mean to moan that loud my b. enjoy xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

💌re:moony’s planner is opened!!!

the squelching of her cunt and her vocal moans, alongside his grunts, were echoing inside this pricey hotel suite — and lewis paid well just so they could get the privacy that they sought and deserved after this gruelling racing season.

everyone, the staff and their mothers, looked the other direction whenever she and lewis got out of their suite every morning after an endless night of rough and passionate sex.

no one asked questions— instead they would only nod and greet the couple politely as they walked past before looking at each other in disbelief— not believing that these two just fucked like animals hours before and pretended that nothing happened.

now here she was. her back arched as she laid flat on her stomach, her legs squirming while his thick cock hammered into her cunt. his hips rutting against hers from behind as he grunted aloud, praising her endlessly before tugging her hair up to point at the direction of the camera in front of the two of them.

“look at you, baby,” the seven time world champion spoke breathlessly, fucking her as his hand snaked up to her chin and squished her face lightly. “y’look so pretty. ‘specially with my cock inside your pussy— do you see yourself?”

the red light flashed in front of them, their sweaty faces reflecting in front of them as the camera laid there— recording the lewd sounds of their bodies and fluids squelching against their figures.

her mewling wasn’t an exception to this— in fact, lewis would be so happy to hear her crying out more than his cock rearranging her insides in the recordings.

“open your mouth, baby,” lewis demanded quietly, with her obliging as she gasped at his length hitting her sensitive spot. lewis hovered above her and spat in her mouth. she immediately swallowed it and lazily smiled in pleasure, gasping again when he began to pick up his pace and fucked her roughly.

lewis grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her back closer to his chest, her tits splayed out for the camera as he thrusted his hips up to her spot.

“lewis, i’m cumming- fuck!” she exclaimed, “yeah! right there— fuuuuck~ i’m cumming.”

“wanna tell ‘em how fucking good you’re feeling, princess?” he spoke lowly, smirking before his mouth let out a moan— a sign that he was reaching his high.

“‘m i— fuck— love yo- god, so fuckin’ good~” she mewled, her voice croaking as her legs shook.

her moans turned into screams, strings of curses escaping both of their mouths as they both reached their high.

with one last thrust, lewis leaned forward to give her a sweet kiss before pulling out. the recording camera was long abandoned as he discarded his used condom and turned off the camera.

they felt little to no regret about every single thing they’ve done in this room— feeling like they were the only two people in the world as silence took over and euphoria washed over their system as lewis climbed back up to the bed with a warm damp cloth in hand.

cleaning her up, he tossed the used towel aside before pulling her close.

“this is such a memorable anniversary,” she murmured, pulling him to a slow kiss as he chuckled.

“happy tenth anniversary, baby,” lewis replied, his hand trailing down her lower back as he continued, “we sure made this a memorable one huh?”

“mhm,” she replied, her eyes blinking slowly before her breathing began to soften and snores escaped her mouth.

lewis quietly laughed, cuddling closer to her as he, too, fell asleep.

yeah. those videos would have to wait.

#formula one imagine #formula one smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #formula one fic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x reader #formula 1 smut #formula one blurbs #f1 blurb #lh44 imagine #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut

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jeondesu · 1 month

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ೀ⋆ 🍂 SKZ + WAYS THEY SHOW “ I LOVE YOU ” !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ pairing ꒱ ˒˓ ot8 x gn!reader ˒˓ established relationship genre: fluff warnings: not many… just some mentions of food & kissing <3

this is an old repost from my deleted blog !

방찬/BANG CHAN. chan is the most perfect boyfriend you could ask for. he’s the type to never let you lift a finger when he’s around you. whether it be fixing a broken pipe in the house or carrying all of the groceries; it wasn’t a problem for him at all. he may get consumed in his work sometimes but that didn’t mean he spends less quality time with you. he’d call you throughout the day to check up on you and tell you how much he misses you. he’d share what he was working on and update you on small things. always smothering you once he comes home— no seriously, he does not let you breathe. he’d pepper kisses all over your face whilst having you wrapped tightly in his arms. the warmth of his loving embrace made you feel the safest and utmost protected.

리노/LEE KNOW. lovesss taking you out on fun interactive dates. movies, bowling, mini golf, fruit-picking, and candlelit dinners were a just a few to name. minho enjoyed going to small family owned restaurants, he loved desserts and would order a milkshake with two straws on each side. you’d be playing footsie under the table like little kids, teasing you while staring into each others eyes trying not to burst out laughing. he loves you just as much as he loves his cats and that’s saying a whole lot. he has a picture of you playing with soonie and dori as his lock screen, it was probably the cutest pic he’s ever taken of you. he calls you and his cats a little family >\\< he loves the way they all get along with you and it affirms even more that you really are the one for him.

창빈/CHANGBIN. constantly showers you with dozens upon dozens of compliments. could write a full-fledged novel on simply everything he adores about you. he’ll write sweet notes from time to time and leave them in random areas for you to find. your relationship with him always kept you guessing, he was so full of pleasant surprises. he noticed the littlest details about you and could practically read you like a book. he knew immediately when you were in a slump, it became his personal mission to cheer you up. is super touchy feely with you but does it with the most pure intentions. pressing feathery kisses along your hands and the insides of your palms, then trails further up your arm. he loved seeing how flustered you’d get by it, only wanting to keep doing it more.

현진/HYUNJIN. treats you as his artistic muse. his deep infatuation with you fed his inspiration with new ideas constantly. his paintings were a reflection of his mind, his most inner thoughts and emotions. almost every painting he’s done was inspired by you in some way, shape, or form. art and photography are one his favorite hobbies so naturally he’s going to always wanna snap pictures of you. whenever you two go on dates he takes pics of you without you knowing, smiling to himself and thinking how lucky he is to have you. he tells you often how much you mean to him, he was a very vocal partner. you didn’t need to ask for reassurance because hyunjin would just give it to you anyway. it was like he could read your mind, he understood you on a intuitive and spiritual level.

한/HAN. he is completely and authentically himself when he’s with you. your relationship is the most easy going thing in his life, he couldn’t imagine life without you. he loves that your humor is the same and you’re both always goofing off. he feels most accomplished if he can make you laugh until your stomachs start hurting. almost everything was a joke to him but the love he had for you was definitely not. he share’s everything with you, his clothes, favorite snacks, deepest secrets, nothing off limits for him. never stops talking about you with the other members, every little thing reminds of him you so he has to announce it. he could be doing something serious and then one of your inside jokes would randomly pop in his head, smiling like an idiot to himself. he was so proud to have you as his lover and best friend.

필릭스/FELIX. the most sweet, nurturing, individual in the universe. put a million heart emojis next to your contact name and never fails each time to get a stomach full of butterflies every time he’s with you. hears a song that reminds him of you and instantly sends it; will make monthly playlists for you too. he gets lost in your eyes all the time, can’t help but feel his heart beat out his chest by your ethereal beauty. you could be having an in-depth conversation with him and he’d zone out from just looking at you. he can’t stand being away from you when he’s gone and gets real sad and lonely if he can’t hold you >.< will send you LENGTHY messages of what he loves most about you and how much he wants to be with you. if he can’t physically be there, he’ll do all he can to still feel like he’s right beside you.

승민/SEUNGMIN. thoughtful gestures were his love language. he would notice your shoe is untied as you’re both walking and stop everything he’s doing to fix it for you. will do anything you ask him to at the drop of a hat. does chores and tasks around the house when you aren’t feeling up to it, he never complains about it either which you love. lots and lots of hugs and kisses !! he especially loves hugging you from behind and resting his head within the crevice of your shoulder. he’d kiss your knuckle before dancing with you in the kitchen and acting like an old married couple. the two of you would be slow dancing and lock eyes, your lips would collide as you both sway to the melody of the song. it was soft moments like these that proved seungmin owned all of your love.

아이엔/JEONGIN. very much into showing PDA and lots of it. doesn’t really care about what the other members think when he touches or kisses you in front of them. likes to give you unexpected forehead and neck kisses, intertwining his fingers with yours while doing so. he bought you a necklace with his initial on it as a gift and you never took it off since the day he gave it to you. whenever he’s gone for long periods of times that necklace would get you through it all. he’d also buy matching couples pajamas and plan a night in where you do face masks and watch movies (^o^). late night cuddling was his forte; you’d be all tangled up in bed together and he’d leave short series of pecks to your cheek until you lull asleep in his arms.

#stray kids fluff #skz fluff #skz headcanons #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x gn reader #bang chan fluff #lee know fluff #changbin fluff #hyunjin fluff #han jisung fluff #felix fluff #seungmin fluff #jeongin fluff #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines

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slayfics · 1 month

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Spring cleaning with Katsuki.

500 words~

You tied off another large bag and dragged it from your shared bedroom with Katsuki to the living room. Katsuki had insisted the house had become too packed and you both needed to take time to rid the house of old things to donate.

Katsuki was deep in the closet, pulling out more forgotten stuff when you walked back into the bedroom.

"The hell?" he exclaimed, pulling out an old stuffed bear. "You still have this thing?" He said astonished, staring at the aged stuffed animal in his hands. Its appearance was well-loved as evidenced by its flat hair and scratches over its beaded eyes.

Katsuki instantly recognized the bear. It was the one he had given you back at U.A. during the school festival. He and Eijiro made it a point to compete in every carnival game. Katsuki beat him and won the bear as a prize. Declaring he didn't need such a dumb thing; he tossed it to you.

"Of course I kept it. You gave it to me," you replied.

"Tch- I don't think gave is the right word. I pawned it off to you. It's just a dumb bear- let's get rid of it," he said, tossing it in the bag to go to the donations.

"NO!" You yelled and dived for the bear, pulling it out of the bag.

Katsuki was startled at your intense reaction, "That thing means that much to you?" He chuckled.

"Don't make fun of me! I know it's just a dumb bear- and you didn't really pick it out for me but... out of everyone you chose to hand it to me so...," You trailed off looking at the bear getting lost in the memories of that day at the school festival. You knew Katsuki was not vocal with his emotions even then- so the fact that he handed you the bear instead of tossing it in the garbage meant something.

Now years later in a serious relationship- the bear symbolizes so much to you about your past together.

"Yeah yeah- I did have the hots for you back then too or whatever. Keep the ugly thing," he said waving his hand and diving back into the closet.

"Don't you talk shit about Mr. Bear again I'll smack you," You teased.

"HAH! Like to see ya try- come on help me brat," He retorted, and the two of you spent the rest of the day cleaning.

The following day, you were off work before Katsuki- and you hated to admit it but- you found yourself excited to come home to the cleaned and refreshed place.

You made your way to the front door, lugging all your work things in hand. Turning the key, and bumping the door open with your hip, you screamed at a darkened figure in the living room.

Your work belongings rained from your hands as you shrieked and jumped. When your breathing settled and your eyes adjusted, you realized what the figure was.

In the living room sat an oversized stuffed bear, almost the same size as a human, with a letter attached around its neck.

A warm smile spread on your lips as you unfolded the letter:

This time, I picked it out just for you, brat.

tags: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @zanarkandskylines @pastelbakugou

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wroteclassicaly · 2 years

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She’s Trouble

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Summary: Tired of trailing behind, feeling like you don’t matter much, you decide that 86’ isn’t only going to be your bestfriend’s year.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Word count: 16,185

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of drug usage, blood, NSFW, smut, drinking, Eddie is angry and sad in this, masturbation, slight voyeurism, breeding kink, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, angry sex, creampie, angst, fighting, rough sex, Dom!Eddie, and MORE!

A/N: I started writing this based off the scene of Eddie smirking at the cheerleaders he lets by after his cafeteria speech. And, well… it’s spawned itself a new life and turned into a whole lot more than I planned. But so is the life of an author, am I right? ;) Eddie is a dick in this, Reader is a lot more vocal than I’ve written before. I wanted to do something a bit different and I hope this accomplishes my mission?

I wanna thank @littledemondani for helping me out of my brain fart on which direction to take this! Also, do check out her masterlist, which is pinned at the top of her blog (it won’t let me link it here). She’s an incredible author and a fellow Eddie Munson slut, and one of my longtime best-friends! ♥️

Side note: I’ve also shifted a few things in the timeline of the show, for obvious reasons. The whole Eddie/Chrissy thing doesn’t happen on the same night as in the series. Chrissy and the reader have a good interaction and Eddie is a dickhead, but his reasoning will be explained. Also, while the reader is wearing a bustier top, this is an all inclusive fic, where the reader can be anything you imagine! I believe anyone can wear anything that they choose to—regardless of their size, so don’t let that bit of the story deter your perception, as I’ve left it open-ended! ;)

Enjoy! I’ve got a lot coming up soon! Part twos of multiple fics, prompts, plus other goodies! <3 - Kristen

~*~

You watch the way that he tries to be cute and coy towards them, attempts to impress with a dramatic wave through of his hand. Short skirts, tight little tops, bouncing ponytails, and a shitload of generic gossip on their painted lips—they pass by, everything included but those damned pom poms. Apparently they are giddy at his little show of calling out every group but your own in the cafeteria. Your eyes roll so hard that you feel a protesting sting, ignoring it to stab your fork into whatever creation is wiggling on your lunch tray. All the guys—freshman to seniors, and you—the only girl since founding, and Hellfire Club’s treasurer/manager to Corroded Coffin—make up the outsider table.

This year, however, you’ve felt so fucking off base with this group and their antics that you’re getting exhausted pretending to care about their shit when they don’t respect you or yours. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are always the sweetest to you, even with Lucas joining a sport, he’s still quick to always give you a smile and a nod whenever you pass him in the halls. They’re young, unlike Eddie and the older guys. You’re finally a senior this year, but still behind your bestfriend by a year in age. All this used to be okay, Eddie multiplying how much he repeats the grade, you trailing behind him like a lost puppy without any brain of her own, but now—it’s unbearably smothering.

And thus, it’s been building. You’re over bringing chips that are from your personal stash and using your gas to go buy smokes with your small work paycheck, or clean equipment for Eddie’s band, or stay up all night just to design campaign posters for Eddie, only for him to be so fucking stoned that he doesn’t even appreciate it, nor remember it.

“Fucking fake losers,” Jeff mutters.

“So fake,” Gareth agrees, both looking towards Eddie as he settles himself back down, wiggling his brows at you.

It’s an unsettling pressure that boils inside you, crackling, and as soon as you look into your best-friend’s brown doe eyes—it all comes apart. “You wanna talk about fake?” Your chest pumps a rush of adrenaline, helping careen the words off your tongue before you can stop them. Everyone’s attention snaps quicker than you’re prepared for, eyes wide and shocked. Sure, you’re vocal and sassy, but never outwardly angry. “The fact that all of you will condemn the basketball players, but would give up any of your seats at our table for one of the bitches in a skirt that they chase, if they popped their gum or batted an eyelash. You’d all be a bunch of drooling, little horndogs.” You can feel your heart racing with each pronunciation of a word, rising from your seat, knuckles white from gripping the edges of your yellow tray so hard.

You hear Dustin whisper a ‘whoa’, but your vocal vomit doesn’t stop.

“Frankly? I’m fucking sick of all this.” You pick the tray up and slam it down for good measure, unwrapping your messenger bag from around your seat, and you leave the table of gaping young men behind you, not even indulging yourself in Eddie’s bugged out, concerned stare.

You don’t even have time to throw your bag across your chest, when Jason Carver shouts out from behind you, “Damn, look at Munson’s slut go!”

It seems your group aren’t the only ones taking an interest in your outburst. Your breath is engorged in jagged pants of pitiful air, a fire coursing through you faster than you can handle, your skin singing, prickling with goosebumps. Your cheeks redden in humiliation, your feet swiveling and carrying you, fast and quick to their table, you throw your bag off, body like some damned slow motion track. Everyone notices Eddie’s antics, but you’ve never garnered any attention. It’s a surreal high.

Your combat boots click across the cement flooring, your hair like a dead weight across your back. Carver and his entire group are expectant, chairs scraping across to get out of your way. It’s all such a blur that you don’t even know your fist has collided with Jason’s face until you feel the pressure bite into your knuckles, a crunch beneath your force. He shrieks, his friends jumping to his aid, your stance shifting, ready to take anyone on. Your ears are bubbling with a murky static, applause in some direction, shouts in others.

Your name is being shouted from two different directions, the one you see stomping angrily towards you belonging to principal Higgins. He’s calling for help, shoving his finger in your face, motioning to your shirt. “This Hellfire Club does nothing but cause trouble!”

You snort, completely coming off your hinges, shaking the ends of your shirt, before stepping back and flinging it over your head, leaving you clad in your jeans and a leather bustier top no one could ever picture you owning. You’ve always kept your shit to a minimum to draw less attention, but you liked the support it provided your breasts with. You spin around, hands in the air, using the shirt as a lasso, tossing it at your old table. You begin to giggle, honestly wondering if you should visit the school nurse, but uncaring. Higgins is literally sputtering, making you snort, waving a hand. “I’m a slut, I’m trouble. Anyone have anything else to add? No? Yes?”

You bend back over to snatch your nap sack up, motioning to Higgins. “Lead the way to your office, Sir! Please fucking do.”

The pep in your step as your principal is angrily leading you from the masses is such a euphoric feeling, you’re sure you’ll never feel again in your life. You can taste the drama on your tongue’s tip. You don’t even spare your friends a glance, not wanting Eddie to have a morsel of satisfaction. This is your moment. Not as Eddie Munson’s best-friend, not as his groupie. As Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.

~*~

Eddie Munson has been clutching your discarded Hellfire shirt, doused in your perfume that is brimming his nostrils full, damn near trembling for the past twenty minutes that finish up lunch. He can’t move, that swelling between his legs keeping him glued to his seat, all the images of your fist soaring into Jason Carver’s face, ripping off your clothing in front of Higgins and the entire damned school. He went from concerned, angry at how you acted, to so fucking turned on that his stomach knotted up, sucking him to where he’s seated, his cock throbbing in his jeans. He’s never seen you like this.

The guys are silent, unsure what to say, how to even go about comprehending the you they just saw, that even Eddie himself has never heard of. He knows one thing for sure—okay—two. He has to find out if you’re okay and what’s going on.

~*~

You roll your eyes at the lovely note, signature of a three day suspension secured by Higgins at the bottom. Crumbling it up, you slide it into your back pocket, rifling through your pin tattered bag for a cigarette. You already know where you’re gonna go, and it sure as hell isn’t home. No one is there and no one is gonna care about your minor indecency. You can forge your mom’s signature, much like you do every good grade you bring home that she’s never around to see, or every comment from a teacher about how your folks are missing out.

It’s quiet at your house, your space. You parents more or less sleep there when they’re not gone on business. Pinching the filter, you cup Eddie’s stolen Zippo, that ashy hiss helping beckon that sweet bitter taste in past your lips. You don’t desire that home front solace right now, craving different scenery.

Maybe I’ll get lost…

You feel like Hawkins is your oyster, and you’re eager to explore on your own terms, by yourself. You’ve got your smokes, your pocket knife, and a pen and paper. That’s enough for you to make a decision.

Skull Rock it is.

~*~

One thing about Indiana is the ever predictable bite of hot weather that March brings. Spring is automatically Summer in the Midwest, and this is no different. Your leather top had stuck to your skin in an uncomfortable crunching press, making you eventually discard it, leaving you topless, your only accessories a chain with your birthstone pendant and a thicker silver chain, with a cheesy little guitar charm (a present from Eddie) nestled between your breasts. Your form is shaped against the rock behind your bare shoulder blades, a cool sensation that has you tilting your head back, stretching your neck, treetops breezing above you—tall and luscious. You smile softly, undoing the flap on your bag and seeking out your Walkman and sunglasses.

In moments your eyelids are fluttering closed, shielded from sun rays, your Walkman clicking in place, readying Heart’s Barracuda to nick your ears, coasting in welcomed caresses. It’s not thick heavy metal, but it’s you. And in the serenity of these woods, another cigarette you allow yourself—you begin to drift off in a galactic solitude that is solely your own. You’d learnt how to count beats, read sheet music, even sing a few notes from Eddie, so getting into your song’s groove isn’t hard for you, your fingers wrapping around your chain, tapping underneath the swell of your breast along with the chorus. You’re off the precipice and gone, demolished to the point you don’t hear the familiar footsteps, the sound of your name, or leaves and dirt crunching beneath white Reeboks, nor do you hear a throat-deep groan at his discovery.

~*~

Eddie and you always share this in synch kinda shit, which creeps a lot of people in your circle out. Eddie, however, welcomes it today. When he couldn’t find you after abandoning his lunch, spent what was left of the day attempting, only for Henderson to tell him he’d heard you’d been suspended for a few days—he made it his personal goal to find you. Your parents are gone so he knows the times you do and don’t like to be at home by yourself. And with the way you lashed out at everyone, you won’t go anywhere he has easy access to.

That leaves one place. Skull Rock.

~*~

The drive feels shorter to Eddie this time, but the walk longer. He has to shed himself of his denim and leather, tossing it over his shoulder and clambering up the path towards finding you, keeping your club tee in his back pocket. The more he walks, the more he wishes he brought a drink or his smokes, which remain on his dash. If he’s wrong and you’re not here, he isn’t sure if this is reality anymore. This day has been one big mindfuck.

Thankfully, as he hears a loud tone droning over the clearing, a soft hum, his heart patters in his chest, nostrils inhaling sharply. He rounds the corner’s pathway, already calling your name, his eyes widening, jaw unhinged, fists clenching at his sides. You’re reclining against the boulder’s curve, black shades perched over your eyes, hair draped across your neck, your boot clad ankle crossed over the other, a cigarette perched into your puckering pair of lips, your layered chains swaying, slumbering against your skin, and fuck—your tits, Eddie winces, gripping himself to adjust—frozen.

He can’t not notice how your nipples are reacting to the air. He can’t not detail your shape, how your waist is formed, zeroing in on the baby bat you’d gotten to match his larger ones, inked into your ribcage, and he certainly isn’t forgetting your jeans that are settled over your hips. His eyes glaze over, heat prodding his flesh, shrouding him a veil of desire and raw ache. You don’t notice him, calls of your name falling on mainstream rock’s ears. He doesn’t think approaching you is smart, like a cat and mouse, your behavior for once—unpredictable.

Has Eddie just not been paying attention to you that much lately?

Suddenly, when he’s debating a cowardly retreat, baiting his internal monologue for an excuse, your audible gasp is heard, his name crushed between your gritted teeth.

Fuck.

~*~

In all of his glory—stands your best-friend. He’s balling and un-balling his fists, eyes darting rapidly, tongue sucking against his teeth, feet ready to carry him far away. And the more he avoids your stare, the angrier you get. So what, you’re not good enough to look at because your breasts are out? Modesty to a back burner, you take your crossed arms off your chest, scraping your smoke out on the rock, pushing your glasses into a perch upon your head, body facing Eddie as you stand.

I dare you.

Your eyes complicate a challenge—craving him in your proximity, and hating his grunge blanketed sight. Eddie’s neck is a really pretty thing when he tenses, his jugular agitated against a harsh gulp of air. He answers you by meeting you in the clearing, palms sweaty, scrubbing over his back pockets. It’s a cool damned drink of water, as if you’ve been without, making thee Eddie Munson squirm. But he’s still your best-friend, and you are half naked.

Covering yourself back up so he will look you in the eye, you tuck your arms into a push beneath your sternum, forearms shielding your nipples. It’ll have to do.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?” You snap before he can voice a concern or a question.

Tethered to deep breathing techniques, Eddie is insulted, and is biting back in his acidic response. “After your own personal talent show antics at school, I was worried about you. Excuse-the-fuck-outta-me, Y/N.”

A bitter laugh comes from you. “Oh, you’re focused enough on my shit to actually be worried about me? How kind of you, Edward Munson.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be worried about you?” Eddie is raising his voice, sizzling in a cautious rage. He’s usually happy-go-lucky with you, but you’re pushing these fucking buttons he isn’t aware he’s been hiding.

“You really need a list of reasons? Wait,” you say, moving to circle him, pinching your thumb between your teeth, “you’re probably, completely oblivious, because I’m just Y/N. I’m not your club, not your band, not one of your groupies that flounce around for an ounce from you, then leave your ass for their jock boyfriends.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raises a hand, rings clattering together. “When the fuck did all this start, Y/N?”

Your arms fall back at your sides with a loud ‘thump’. The heating has settled, your high wearing off, truth remaining as to why you’ve been upset in the first place. A caverning hurt carves its place into your chest, igniting an anguish that drowns you. You’re defeated. “It started when my best-friend forgot that I’m my own person and not his servant. Or maybe it began when my person was so stoned that he barely acknowledged a test I fucking flunked to stay up and make his campaign posters—which, may I add—he also gave zero fucks about-“

“So all this is because I didn’t kiss the very ground you walk on for some posters that you practically begged me to make, and wow—your A+ average went to an A. Curse me into the deepest depths of hell, please.” His bracelet slides down his wrist as he palms his heart.

Maybe you’re not the only one who is changing. Eddie hasn’t ever disregarded you in such a crude manner. Your tongue is practically salivating in need to layer on biting and cruel words, things you won’t be able to come back from. You remain silent, mulling over what to say, glaring, docked, stinging prickles of tears. It’s an elating elevation when the words do come. “I’m your best-friend, Eddie. Not your little groupie. I’m tired of you preaching about conformity, when all I do is conform to you. You don’t ever let me pick music, you always take for granted I’ll give you and the guys rides when your van isn’t working, despite if I might have something to do that doesn’t involve an all male ensemble. I spend my money to buy you cigarettes and snacks for the meetings. I manage gigs, I clean your band’s equipment.”

Eddie sniffs, looking pointedly at you, doe eyes dark and growing increasingly fed up. “Didn’t know you were keeping a tally, Y/N.”

“That’s… That’s all you’re taking from everything I just said to you, Eddie?” You can’t keep that hurt out of your tone this time.

Eddie shrugs, crossing his arms, coldly spitting out, “Seems to me like you’re sick of me. And that’s not my problem, that’s yours.”

Your head is swimming in turmoil, all your acting out and emotions swirling into a mindfuck. He doesn’t care. You’re standing here finally pouring your entire soul out in heaps and your person is pouring gasoline on the pieces, dangling a match.

“I’ve never kept a tally, Eddie. I do these things because they make you happy, and that makes me happy, but it fucking sucks when you don’t appreciate them or care about anything in my life, either.”

“That’s what you really think, Y/N?” There’s a flatline in how he’s speaking to you.

“No,” you murmur, “it’s what I know.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He kicks at the ground with the toe of his shoe, brows raising. “Breaking Jason Carver’s nose and my cold, dead heart.” He splays a hand across his chest. Those rings, which are always a comfort to you, reflecting off the sunlight, dripping in judgement.

Your trembling wavers, crackling sentence structure falling apart. “Eddie. Don’t.”

“No. Fuck you, Y/N. Seriously, fuck you!” He shouts, snapping a finger in your direction.

Your hands rub up and down your goosebump soaked skin, finalizing what you need to do. Heaving in a deep breath, a sentence escapes your lips. And you pray, pray Eddie will heed this warning and value what you have enough to understand, to work it out. “Maybe it’s time to fess up to the fact that 86’ needs to be a bigger year for us both.”

Mind reader. A power you’ve never wanted more than in this moment as you claw at the cusp of your best-friend’s reaction. Outwardly, Eddie shifts, Adam’s apple bobbing, thumb swiping underneath his nose. Your mouth waters, throat reflexes threatening a fountain of vomit. And Eddie takes your warning, slaying through it, every bit of ground beneath your boots threatening to cave in.

“You’re right. Hell, Carver is right. You do act like my slut. And you have every right to change it, because it’s only holding us both back. And it probably has been for a long time.”

Kicking you would’ve hurt less. You’re unable to see Eddie’s form longer, muddled to a watery silhouette, your brave bravado dissipating. You won’t beg him. You’re nothing to him anymore, he’s just confirmed. You try not to think about the first time he taught you how to dance before your first snowball, or how you both snuck Jim Hopper’s cigarettes when you’d get in trouble at school and be sent to see him for minor misdemeanors, or Eddie’s pride when he managed to get you on stage to sing one song with the band, rubbing circles on your back the whole time you both sang to a trio of drunks, or splitting beers on his van’s roof and nearly breaking limbs when it started raining and you had to climb down, how he taught you to drive in the fancy neighborhood and you knocked over the mayor’s mailbox, when you watched him buy his ‘sweetheart’, tears in his eyes at a possession so gorgeous and all his own, his hands gentle as they held you the nights you cried from one stupid thing that felt massive to you, when he was your person and you were his.

Your wet, quivering breaths are what you hear. Birds chirping, wind rustling, even Eddie’s heavy breathing drowned out. It takes what feels like eternity, before Eddie is slashing the quiet, guarded and stoic. “You need to put a fucking shirt on.”

Your jeans are covered in tear drops from a bowed head, fingers shaking hard enough that your knuckles roll into a crack at the motions. You wipe your tears in time to see Eddie hold out your Hellfire shirt—second edition—his being the first. His reverie breaks briefly, and you think… maybe. It’s gone in those brown eyes that you can no longer read or recognize. Filled with loathing and disgust at you, his last words imprinting on your psyche, a physical recoil.

“On second thought. You won’t be needing this anymore.” Eddie makes his way around you and finds his lighter atop your bag, flicking a flame to life and nudging it at the end of your shirt. It catches quick, burns fast, like every fiber of friendship with Eddie Munson.

Eddie tosses the tattered, charred remains to the forrest floor, pocketing his lighter, walking away from you and out of your life.

~*~

He can’t stay any longer and watch you fall apart, not when he’s running away from his cowardice. And he does, run. He moves and clambers, stumbles until he’s from you and the cries that he hears pour off your lips. His chest is thumping sporadically, pulse in his blurry vision. His five fingers catch a tree, slamming, splintering, a sob breaking free of his tear soaked lips.

Eddie Munson forces himself to remember how unsure you looked in your dress when he held you around your waist, never feeling more himself in his entire life than he did with you— at thirteen—during some cheesy school dance, how you entertained his tunes so he could teach you the counting method he uses for his music to move your feet to the beat, all your encouragement every time he hit a new note, or your midnight phone calls to ask what he’d like on his posters, your body trusting him to keep you safe on those nights when everything became too much for you in your life, but you had tried to hide it, or when you both snuck in to see Carrie when you were pre-teens and you couldn’t sleep without him, so he made a makeshift mattress next to your bed for a month, about that time you were so tired from an all nighter that he had walked into his room and found you curled up in his bed, using his vest as a makeshift pillow, your nagging him to study more, because he’s always capable of anything he sets his mind to, and those cookies—the only thing you can bake without having to call for Hawkins fire department—a container you’d brought for him and his Uncle, still sitting on his kitchen counter.

He was your person and you were his. And now? You’re gone. Eddie runs away. He keeps running, leaving you to your own miserable anguish, drowning in his own, getting himself in his rust bucket and going back to his trailer to get completely fucked outta his not-so-right mind.

~*~

By the time your suspension is over and you can no longer barricade yourself into your room and finish off another bottle from your dad’s liquor cabinet—it’s sheer dread. You’re not only the freak who broke Hawkins Highschool’s Prom King’s nose, but you’re the freak without anyone by your side—a true and thorough outsider. As you stand outside your school, nails pinching into already weakened threads dedicated to your bag’s strap, you’re really regretting those couple of drinks this morning and how you’d poured more vodka into a flask to take your Tylenol with. Hell, it’s not like you can get a fix from the school dealer anymore, is it?

Those damned double doors are louder, a jolt to your already throbbing headache, fluorescent lights sparkling in your retinas through your shades that cover a nursing hangover and distraught, red and puffy eyes from a three day sob fest. Each step your boots make sounds like you’re walking to your death, your outfit—sans any Hellfire related attire—is all yours. Your two chains limited to one, Eddie’s gift waiting in a cardboard box you’d half-assed assembled, and tossed in random shit he’d given you. The deeper you get into every hallway, making simple turns you know like the back of your hand, your nausea grows as to what might be awaiting around each corner. Or who. It’s a short lived relief upon arrival at your locker.

You pinch your shades off, raw eyes protesting the moment fresh tears staple your skin in brushes. In red letters, diagonally capitalized across your door contains what you haven’t wanted to face since it happened.

The freak got dumped

You choke on your salvia, throat wet and enduring a suffocation strong enough to have you gagging on the piece of toast and water you’d forced your famished form to consume this morning. You barely make it into the toilets before double over and expelling everything, diaphragm on fire, bones vibrating through tosses. Hair dangling in your face, plastered to your mouth, you sniffle and tremble, vision blurring. You ponder getting yourself fucking expelled, but you made this whole ordeal about it being your year. If you retreat now, what will that do? Mustering all your strength, your courage, you flush your bile, clean off your mouth and face, pop a mint, take a swig out of your flask, and make your way to your first class.

~*~

By the ever popular lunch time, you have managed to clean your locker and pinpoint the culprit (an ashamed that a girl broke his nose, Jason Carver), but neither of you speak on it. You keep your head down, you focus on your school work, you take your Tylenol, and you sip on your vodka. Enough to keep an edge off, but not enough to send you down a despairing hole filled with regret and torment. You know you’re being stared at as soon as you hit the line to get your tray. It’s fake smiles and refusal to acknowledge it that gets you in search of an aisle, and hopefully out of sight. You aren’t so lucky…

“Hey, Y/N! Over here!” You hear an all too cheery voice belonging to Dustin Henderson. It halts you in your tracks, a wince causing a physical recoil.

It’s not his fault you and Eddie no longer have anything resembling a relationship, and he apparently has not told them, and they’ve not seen Jason Carver’s masterpiece.

Good.

What isn’t good is that Eddie is very much at your old table and you know it’s unavoidable. You wished you had borrowed some concealer for your under eyes, but it’s too late. There’s a grand staircase cloaked in invisibility beneath your feet, your stomach knotting in crushing vices, your cheeks stained with red. You walk to your former friend group, trying like hell not to side eye Eddie Munson. Keeping a steady focal point without blinking against your scratchy lower lids is damn near impossible. And guys are going to be guys—much to your chagrin. Gareth is drawing further attention where nothing needs to be, popping off with a, “Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”

“A week long bender,” Jeff chimes in.

Biting the inside of your cheek between your teeth, you shrug a shoulder. Better them having knowledge of your binge drinking celebration than knowing about how messed up you are.

Don’t look at Eddie. Is your mantra for today.

He, on the other two hands, is not prioritizing that same aspect.

“So what if I did? I know of about ten girls who can drink your asses under the table, myself included.” You smirk, gripping your tray’s edge.

“Been holding back on us?” Gareth is grinning from ear to ear. It eases your shouldered weight tremendously, breaking tension in your table’s ranks.

“You gonna have a seat or what?” Mike Wheeler interrupts, his hands flipping towards a desired target, one that you wish you could keep pretending you never knew.

Fuck it.

You really crave for some divine intervention to help you, because meeting those chocolate brown eyes that are distraught, angry, and rimmed red—your heart constricts to painful blows, windpipes crushed beyond speaking capabilities. Eddie’s been somewhere off planet earth with that kinda high, you remember seeing his demeanor that way only a handful of times, including this one. Maybe he does care? No, doesn’t matter, don’t go there. It’s over and done.

Still, that idiotic, massively moronic part that Eddie owns of you—it’s billowing hope. Eddie Munson dashes it in seconds flat.

“No.”

You glance away, jaw twitching to control an automatic quiver. Dustin is laughing it off as a joke, someone else asking why. Eddie reclines his legs in your empty chair, loud enough to get your attention back. He wants me to see.

“No traitors.” It’s a simplistic answer, aggressive, no room to argue.

Ever-the-curious-freshmen, Dustin and Mike peg their leader for questions. You halt it, tone breaking apart, fingers tucking into your shirtsleeve as you balance your lunch on one hand and wipe across raw flesh to clean fresh tears from your eyeline. That’s when Eddie does look away.

Coward.

“It’s okay, guys.” Is what you say.

“What’s going on?” Gareth asks.

“I won’t be around meetings or practices anymore, but I’m still here if anyone needs anything, okay? You know where my locker is, and where I live.” You pat yourself on the back for that robotic but truthful statement.

“Unless you’re sick of everyone else too…” His deep voice rumbles.

Like a deer in headlights— you’re frozen, a blinding rage of hurt and red hot anger pouring over you in a storm. You explode. Picking up the first thing in your sight, which happens to be on your plate—a glob of some chocolate goop (possibly a brownie)—it’s slung directly at your former best-friend’s crisp white Hellfire shirt. Your second cafeteria incident that, yet again, everyone notices. Eddie yelps, shouting out your name in brisk spits.

You further it, abandoning your food in a repeat of days ago, floating to his side and shoving him back two steps. Eddie stops his rapid shirt swipes and immediately presses his form into yours, chests smashed, food squishing through your top. His hair is frazzled from the humidity, his toffee colored irises slowly polishing into a thick black gloss of dilated pupils. He sucks his tongue against his teeth, swaying into you, not touching you with those hands, an air about him that is beginning to swarm your initial reaction and bend it over, fucking it into the next decade. He’s taller than you remember, but you latch onto your own, tasting that cigarette soaked breath, lips hovering over his, hot tears matting your lashes.

Whether it’s regarding his inability to respond to your reasoning for this whole situation, his lack of expression, your self-disappointment for something roused inside you at his huffing proximity, you crown him with a title off a jagged voice box, damp in her sorrows, just as Dustin steps between you two, gently prying. “You’re a fucking coward, Eddie Munson.”

Teachers are starting to flock in, and you shake your head, hand over your eyes briefly, before sprinting in strides from the room in search of a place to collapse.

~*~

If you had told yourself at the beginning of the school year that you’d be in a camaraderie with the girl’s bathroom—you would have laughed. And if your mind had convinced you otherwise, you’d have expected Eddie to be right beside you, arm around your shoulders, sharing his lunch, making stupid jokes, coming up with lame ideas to make you feel better, but in that endearing Eddie Munson kinda way. You let out a soft cry, giving up on that stinging beneath your lids. You’re a hot mess and the whole building probably knows how alone you really are now. When the outcasts cast you out, where else can you go?

Clenching onto the sides of the ceramic sink, bag slipping off your shoulder and onto the floor, you keep your head bowed between your shoulder blades, not noticing someone come in and approach you, a gentle set of fingers laying upon your shoulder. Through foggy vision you can make out the green colors of her uniform and her perfectly straight ponytail, her face seemingly concerned. Your laugh is exhaustion on steroids, expression bombarded with emotion. “Okay, what the fuck is next? A girl craves some independence and the whole school turns against her. Let me guess, your boyfriend sent you to get even? Why don’t I make it easy for you and you can call your friends in here, and… and—“

Great.

Your lungs start to burn, your ribcage pounding with an erratic heartbeat, throat feeling like it’s been dusted with a thick blanket of ash. You’re panicking in front of Chrissy Cunningham. That alone has you feeling more pathetic than ever before in your life, and it worsens your heaving sobs—broken and unguarded. Chrissy’s eyes are drinking you in, irises glossing over with tears of her own. She grasps your other shoulder and squeezes, not releasing her hold on you, her soft voice strong when she speaks, but gentle enough between the expanse of your shared airspace.

“One, two, three, four. Okay, now deep breath in, and release it for me, Y/N.” She’s actually calming you, keeping you steady on your feet, which feel as if they’re sinking into the flooring below like led weights.

“Chrissy…” You aren’t sure how to articulate, still alarmed and attempting to breathe with her.

“I’m right here. Just keep breathing and counting with me.” And you do. And that’s when it hits you.

She has experience with this mind numbing panic too. That otherworldly anxiety. You feel a connective pull towards the cheerleader—seeing—not this persona you’d imagined, but her calming features, her easy going manner towards you, how she lets you find your lifeline, but also lends you her own in case you need it. When your breathing slows, she gives you a look, a silent communication of question. You may be able to breathe a little easier now, but it doesn’t stop the weight of your situation from crashing down and demolishing what’s left of you.

“Can I… I’m gonna hug you, is that okay?” At this point, if she’s going to put a sign on your back you don’t care. You need the human connection, the comfort. You agree and your schoolmate takes you into a light grip, but folds her arms around you and lets you bury your cheek against her perfumed sweater.

You both stand in the embrace, no trace of awkwardness, a sense of kinship and knowing. It’s when you pull back that hint of a questionable concern with her, wiping your sore eyes with a hiss. She notices.

“Are you here because of Jason? I just need to know.”

“Jason was a dick, Y/N.” Her language shocks you, having only heard her be proper before.

You laugh, your first genuine giggle in days. It’s contagious, as she joins in, hip jutting against the sink. “No, I’m here on my own terms. I promise. I saw what happened with your friends…”

“Yeah, I can imagine how everyone must be amused right now.” You bite your lip, facing away.

Chrissy gives you a saddened smile, but attempts to reassure. “I know this is gonna sound incredibly lame coming from me, but you’re stronger than all this, Y/N. The way you’ve stood up for yourself these past several days… I admire it.”

You frown deeply, wondering if this is a trick, because no way is Chrissy Cunningham admiring someone like you.

“You admire a loser that can’t even manage her own newfound independence?”

“No,” she says with a pause, looking down at her French tip manicure, before facing your curious gaze once more. “I admire your ability to stand up for yourself, despite what everyone is saying or doing to you. It’s a good quality to have, one that many of us are afraid of, you know?”

There’s this hollow pain in her eyes and your continued recognition has you pulling her in for another hug—this time for her benefit, rather than yours.

“Looks like we’ve fallen into the cliché trap, Cunningham.” You grin, pulling back.

Chrissy tilts her head, curious. “What do you mean?”

“A freak and a cheerleader thinking the same as what their peers think, and getting each other totally wrong.”

Her sweet eyes light up, her head nodding. “That’s exactly it.”

You share a knowing smile, a newfound bond forming. Chrissy situates her small shoulder bag, pulling out a compact and tugging you by your sleeve. “C’mhere. Let me fix that.”

She takes a gentle hand, not rushing as she speckles your sore under eyes with her own stash of makeup. After she blends it with soft fingertips, she snaps the lid closed and places it back in her bag, turning you to the bathroom mirror, brushing some of your hair through, giving your back a rub. “Is that any better, Y/N?”

Your circles are mostly covered, puffiness disguised enough where you won’t be embarrassed. You look and feel much better, and you’re overwhelmed with gratitude for the blonde at your side. You incline yourself into a swivel, leaning in her direction. “Chrissy Cunningham, I think you’re one of the sweetest people I now kinda, sort of know.”

Her giggle is infectious, and she gives you another squeeze. You drop down to swoop your messenger bag into your arms, grabbing out a your notebook and a pen, scribbling your home phone on it, hesitating, before handing it over. “If you ever need to talk to someone about all the bullshit, whatever it is, consider me your new confidant.”

She holds the simple sheet paper as if it’s another lifeline and you’ve just given her a treasure. Going back into her own bag, she has a cute little pink embroidered stationary paper that she jots her number on, and uses a smiley face to dot the i in Chrissy. Seconds later, her friends and a group of other girls burst into the bathroom, gossip on their lips. You and Chrissy flash each other a secret smile, and you make another hasty retreat.

~*~

Eddie had to hear a bunch of shit from the guys, overly bearing questions sounded off by Henderson and Wheeler. The eventual revealing by a passerby group of cheerleaders about your specially decorated locker, had surprised him too. As if there’s not already a weighted dagger wedged into his ribcage, one interlocking into his heart muscle—he lost control with his bitter mouth again, and it fueled your temper. But deep down, deeper into those subconscious recesses, you both felt that ignition start, a kind of coercing heat that is waging an internal war in Eddie’s head. His sole reason for blocking you out and refusing to talk about anything with you in the woods.

Eddie Munson is in love with you. Eddie Munson needs to fuck you.

It’s something he’s always done—built walls, got high, stayed drunk, coped with humor, hid behind his guitar or his campaigns. And without his right hand woman, he feels naked, too vulnerable to all the bullshit he’s tried to keep out. And your absence has become a set course for his weakening concentration on anything that isn’t you. His ultimate warrior princess is also his Achilles heel. Your feelings in wanting to branch out, they scare Eddie.

His brain is flipping logic into thinking you are seeing what everyone else sees in him: freak, failure, piece of shit, a nobody, a criminal. He pushed you out before he could pull you back in—easy, abrupt. And it’s not just changing him—no—he could smell your vodka soaked breath across the table, see your eyes swollen and glazed—absent. For the first time in years you weren’t wearing your limited edition shirt (thanks to him), and Eddie isn’t sure why he expected you to still have his chain around your neck. It fucking hurts.

As the room slowly falls back into their daily routine, Eddie loses his appetite and leaves his herd behind, urgent to get the fuck outta this building, out of Hawkins. Hell, maybe even the country. Like you, however, Eddie Munson’s retreat isn’t one that is unscathed. In his urgency, he smacks straight into you, stumbling over his own clumsy ass feet, gripping your forearms to keep you both steady. He’s processed your scent before he even takes in your beautiful features.

Fuck…

You look less like you’ve been partying all weekend, but Eddie knows better. Your pupils are dilated to the bright overhead lights of the hallways, making your sclera more visible. It’s bloodshot red, lower lids swollen and tinged a rough crimson beneath the fresh makeup that Eddie now sees. He swallows and looks away, but he doesn’t let you go. His grip isn’t harsh, it’s simply what it’s always been with you two. Easy and sturdy, safe.

You’re the first to downcast your gaze, focusing more on your shoe wear than on Eddie. It kills him. Even through these notions, this fear, whatever anger you’re both harboring, it’s as if this whole damned school and everyone passing you two are mere bodies, Eddie Munson and Y/N Y/L/N floating, tethered. His stomach churns its lunch contents, teeth clenching tightly. You make a brisk dart off, but Eddie attempts to catch you, instead tugging too hard on your shoulder strap, causing your bag to dump and spread out its contents at his sneaker clad feet.

Eddie’s eyes are quick to see it before you realize. Shining underneath hallway lights, scattered amongst notebooks and pens, is a small flask. His brows perch, he crouches first, scooping it away from your jutting hands. Gareth’s words rewind and play on repeat in his head.

“Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”

The way his heart rate spikes, hostilely spitting that acid all over his lungs, battering his throat muscles with a pummeling storm. He’s already sure what he’ll smell if he presses the lid to his nostrils, but Eddie has to feed his anxious curiosity, unscrewing the cap with nervous hands, sniffing, shrugging off your grabs. It burns his mouth from its strength, his distraction giving you enough leeway to wrap your hands over his fingers and pull. Eddie locks your digits within his own, second thoughts gone. Against everything inside him he is getting angrier by the second, the anger masking itself, easier than being petrified and scared in front of you.

And Eddie is scared. Is he really so fucking stupid to think you weren’t at all affected by any of this?

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Your fingers sliding through his own, flood him, prickling every vein running beneath his skin, cutting off his blood flow—scorching.

~*~

Having Eddie’s hands on you again, his body so close, despite your shame at his discovery, it’s a feeling that comes more natural than breathing. You avoid his question, feeble grasping docked.

“Why do you have a flask full of fucking vodka?”

“Will you keep your voice down!” You hiss the words, finally breaking off him and retrieving the rest of your items on the scuffed up floor, and securing them back into your bag, Eddie holding back your liquor.

“Did you drive to school drinking this crap? Tell me you didn’t, Y/N, cause’ I swear to god—“

You chortle, a humorless boom smacking across your chest.

“Eddie, this faux best-friend act is getting old. Your on and off switch is enough to drive anyone to drastic measures. But don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’d be an idiot and drive drunk. Not even for you.”

His irises that are glossy with concern, they cave to dilating pupils, an animalistic rage priming them. “Oh, you have got to be the most clueless bitch alive, Y/N.” He steps towards you, frame towering slightly. You’re not afraid, never fearing if he’ll do something, because that is not Eddie, no matter what. But, you are very much dripping with rage at his words.

He pockets your flask in his left back pocket, rings clinking against it as he pats it for good measure. You try to dive around him, beneath his arm, but he swoops in on his own, using that strength for his slender frame, literally scooping you into a half bring-away, only discarding you back onto your feet once you’re both outside. You try to shove at him, palms resting on his stained club shirt. The bell has rang to signal your free period, but you don’t give two fucks, giving up and being the one to leave.

“Who’s the coward now, huh? You’re gonna walk away from me when I call you on your shit, Y/N?”

You spin on your heel, dirt and gravel specks crunched beneath your step. “I thought I was a clueless bitch, Eddie? A traitor? Or, your slut.” You scoff, crossing your arms.

Guilt briefly flickers across his features, but he shuts it down tenfold. “Just because we’re fighting doesn’t mean I want you to destroy your fucking liver or your life. Jesus Christ, you really think I’m that big of an asshole?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore!” You fling your hands into the air. “One minute we’re at each other’s throats, the next you’re up my ass. I don’t know what to do here, Eddie.”

“Thought you craved some individuality and independence.” Though there’s meant to be flare behind the words, Eddie’s tone has splintered across each word, voice breaking apart. Your guts sink into your ass, as does a particularly pointed swallow that stabs at your jugular.

“Didn’t say I wanted to be completely independent from my best-friend.” Your own response is gentle, voice soaked with impending emotion.

Fuck. Stupid fucking tears burning again. Not right now.

Eddie’s attention snaps back on you, proximity closing in. His jaw clenches, he moves it from side to side with a closed mouth, sniffing, whistling air through a wet breath. “Feels like you’re leavin’ me and I can’t do anything to stop it…”

It makes sense suddenly. A catapult of truth slamming right into your chest, spreading throughout your body.

He thinks I’m leaving him. That I want to leave him.

As if the last seventy two hours haven’t happened, better yet, as if they haven’t mattered in the grand scheme of things—you’re the one that meets Eddie, reaching to push that curly hair from his eyes, his head downcast and posture sullen. His brown eyes are brimmed with tears that spill over his lash line, a permanent frown creased between his brows, mouth red and spit slick. Those freckles on his nose are suddenly very prominent to you. You’ve never seen Eddie Munson this vulnerable. Your heart shatters, the ache so physically strong that you have to remain close to him to hold on and find that strength again.

How could you have gotten this so monumentally wrong? Maybe if you’d have expressed what you meant more instead of feeding off Eddie’s anger. His communication and yours both need nurturing, but your sudden shift in mood must’ve made him feel like you wanted to abandon him, not just do things for yourself. He may not realize that yet, but you do. And it fucking sucks.

“Eddie. I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say in the seconds that your heart heaves into your throat.

He shakes that shaggy mane. “Don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me, especially you.” He backs away from you and you see his entire expression crumble, tears spilling onto his cheeks.

That pain drowns your throat, seeing him cry because of your lack of explanation and mutual avoidance. You chase after him, running around to block his view, unable to let him go, gripping onto his waist beneath his jacket to keep him planted. Another familiarity. He tenses beneath your touch before relaxing.

“Eddie, will you please listen to me? I think I know what’s going on now.”

“And look who is the one flipping her emotions this time.”

“Because, I… Eddie, I—“

“What lame ass line do you want me to buy, Y/N? You think I’m not used to worthless promises or idiotic reassurances? Yeah, good.” His sentence is fragmented, voice rough and breaking apart on each word. “You know I still care about you, but I don’t need you to lie to me, you don’t owe me a damn thing, I promise you—“

You press a finger to his quivering lips, halting him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a pause in the universe, your legs heavy, fingertip stroking along the plumpness of your best-friend’s full, lower lip. Eddie’s chest is moving up and down swiftly, tongue against his teeth, that warning look. You fail to heed it and Eddie’s hands tremble at his sides before he gives up and cups the sides of your face, bringing your foreheads together. His lips part to speak, your finger still on them. “Think we’re in trouble here.”

You can do nothing but nod as his declaring statement, inclining your head further, nose nudging his own. It doesn’t feel as if you’re standing any longer, every mean thing that Eddie has said, every disproportionate attempt of yours to communicate—obliterate, shrouding you both in the process. His breath is hot as his mouth opens and he sucks your finger inside, tongue licking its tip, biting the digit between those milky white teeth. It sends that throbbing nudge, snapping between your thighs, making you arch into your best-friend. You whisper his name and his fingers move along your jaw, across your ear, sliding through your hair and rubbing a pathway to your necks’ nape, sending an army of goosebumps across your flesh, the coolness of his rings stimulating your skin.

“Yeah, you feelin’ it too?” Your lids flutter closed, Eddie using his thumb pad to brush the corners of your lashes, signally for you to open them. “Didn’t say you could stop looking at me, did I, sweetheart?”

You grind against him, unable to stop. Your last several days, everything between you both is on hold, these buried urges able to finally win out. This dominant side of Eddie Munson has you an inward and outwardly quickening pile of mush and hormones, of fucking need. Eddie about loses his cool when you obey him, pupils blown, mouth looking parched and in need of his kisses. He leans, walls starting to slip, resolve crumbling, his pouting mood long gone.

Years of built up tension and confusion, being rightfully by one another’s sides, it all comes apart, the seams, begging to be repaired into what it has to be now.

You envelop his hold on you, hands sliding into slips beneath his jacket, around his waist, tracing over his back, before dipping under his armpits and grasping his shoulders, knuckles pushed down by his leather jacket. One more step and he’ll kiss you. He’s closing a gap, no more breaches, you tapping his shoulders right down to the blades in encouragement. It’s parted mouths hovering over one another, cigarettes and vodka, school lunch and weed, it’s—

“Hey, guys! Higgins is so pissed off right now… After that shit went down in the caf, he’s ready to expel you, Y/N! Pretty fuckin’ sure.” You hear Gareth approach, and just like, Eddie releases you.

You have to steady yourself, want simmering into a slumber in your belly, not yet gone, but still reminding you where it lives. Your glare is directed at your mutual friend. Eddie, feeling as if he’s been doused with ice cold water, and the moment is shattered, you see those walls rebuilding rapidly, and she shrugs off your hand, leaving you and Gareth, and that slickness that has collected in your panties.

~*~

You aren’t sure just exactly what Eddie is feeling, but you’re very aware of what you are. So driving to his place once you know Wayne has left for the night shift—it’s a no brainer. You’d debated bringing Eddie your box of treasures, even your necklace, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe, maybe your best-friend doesn’t want you to…?

Want.

A dynamic shift in your relationship, or what it used to be. You can barely sit still as you wrack your brain through all the levels of hazy blurs. So much has happened in three days, but… today, with Eddie nearly kissing you on the mouth, and you nearly grinding against him in the Hawkins High parking lot—yeah, you two have to talk about all of this. As you squirm in your seat, hands tightening around the wheel, that approaching trailer park sign signals your arrival to his residence. You can’t stop the way your heartbeat feels as if it’s ping ponging around in your throat, or that anxious twitch of your mouth’s corner—forget even attempting to deny your cascading memories of the way his chocolate irises wore an expression unlike anything you’ve ever seen on Eddie Munson.

His trailer comes into your sights, that tickle swooping your guts and holding them hostage. You swallow a thick ball of anxiety, parking next to his van, cutting your engine. The lights are all on and you’ve got no excuse to chicken out. It’s your year too, right? Fucking fuck it.

With your keys clutched in your palm, you make your way to Eddie’s trailer, rasping on his door lightly. You don’t hear his music blaring, so he might be reading, planning a campaign, writing some music he’d mentioned wanting to practice with the guys soon, get a feel for its sound—just last week. You have given about three octaves of knocks and are about to give up, head pressed the door, thinking he was just lost in lust earlier, and maybe you’d fucked up on your end beyond repair. Exhausted by the stampeding pain that brings your insides, you flip the Munson’s spare key off your key ring and unlock the door. A bold move—albeit—a very stupid one.

That familiar scent of Eddie and Wayne’s shared carton of cigarettes hits your nose, along with the leftovers from dinner you see sitting out on the stove. Your cookies, which have been devoured, are missing their note. You panic, briefly thinking Eddie probably trashed it, only to come back from that brink seconds later. It’s not what you’re here for. You glance at the couch and it’s empty, not even Eddie’s usual indent on the cushion is there.

Swinging your keys from your pointer finger, you peek down the small hallway to Eddie’s closed door, light spilling out underneath. He could be sleeping, possibly ignoring you, or he snuck out the back door…

Your feet make an echoing squeak across the trailer’s flooring structure, your fingers twisting the knob and pushing, pausing, deciding to go ahead. If he wants you to leave then you’ll go, if he’s asleep, you’ll go, if he left… You can’t fathom that thought, another ignorance that you partake in. You aren’t sure exactly what you expected, but seeing your best-friend’s tallish frame, with his back facing you, lean leg propped atop his mattress, right arm bent at a very clear angle, his left propped on one of his many amps he’d apparently moved since you’d been here last—is sure as hell NOT it. Eddie’s curly hair ruffles and is jostled across his shoulders with each movement his arm makes, his delicious ass clenching as his body thrusts into his rhythm, the outline of his chain on his perspired neck and damp strands of dark hair—clear. You don’t have to hear the thick, slick and wet stroking to know what he’s doing to himself.

You cross an ankle over the other, squeezing your legs together tightly, trying to bounce on the balls of your heels to get relief. Your fingers white knuckle his banged up door handle, your mouth parting. Whether it’s that bond you two share, or your very visible labored breathing, Eddie’s shoulder blades pinch together, his motions abruptly cut. He turns as if caught doing something he shouldn’t be—definitely something you aren’t prepared to handle. It’s like your mouth is speaking for you, eyes in a trance, enslaved to your lustful abiding.

Fucked out, blown up pupils shave off the color of your irises, your tongue gliding across your teeth, that take a turn to sink into your bottom lip, your toes curling in your shoes. You feel hot, body battered in melting flames that won’t cease, won’t let you get in a normal burst of air flow. You know without having to fix your posture that you’ve made a mess between your legs, panties soaked to hell—completely ruined. You’re honest to fuck not sure if you can make it out of here in an upright position, that painfully strong ache tackling your cunt, breaking off your common sense, leaving you Eddie-drunk. Helping yourself to a swiping look between his legs, he’s still got a ring clad hand wrapped around a very generous girth—shiny—a length that leaves saliva pooling on your tongue’s tip.

His chest is slick with sweat, tattoos glossed beneath, nipples hard from the cool air let into his bedroom. Which, you note, is really fucking hot, and the window is steamed up. Your eyelids flutter in rapid blinks to help you reign yourself in, but all you see are glimpses of Eddie’s fist around himself, that creamy and swollen head, full balls on either side, trimmed curls at the base of his shaft. You want to die. And oh, what a sweet and sinful death that would be.

“Mhm… fuck.” You say through the gap between your panting mouth, words take the opportunity to bust free, joining a high pitched whimper.

Eddie’s chocolate eyes are completely black, leaving no room for anything else but purely raw desire. They widen, a sharp heave in his inhaling chest, abdomen flexing as he holds himself tightly. When you don’t move Eddie takes the initiative, slowly approaching, a softness there beneath the want and knowing. He reaches your space, still giving you enough, but you’re able to still feel that radiating body heat. Neither of you speak, because what is there to say right now?

You’d be a pleading mess of profanities, apologizes, and begging to be taken and used.

Thankfully, Eddie makes another move before you. His spare hand joins your own on the door knob, fingers brushing your knuckles, encouraging, giving you one more opportunity if you’re in distress or uncomfortable. You hook onto his offer and you surprise you both by finding something to say after all, throat parched, yet still damp with wanton rasp. “Start touching yourself again, Eddie. Please?” Fuck, well there’s a beg.

Eddie, assuming you want a show, nerves being dipped in lava and left to forever sizzle and smoke—gives in, both of you shutting his door and closing the two of you off from the outside world. He doesn’t wait for you to back away, pushing his hips to a rise, his cock gliding through his closed fist. You let him lean over you, frame against his door, watching his legs spread to widen his stance, obeying your plea. He almost asks, but assumes it would be too hopeful if you would want to touch yourself in front of him too. You’re out of your mind, common sense obliterated for all eternity, watching your bestfriend practically pin you to the door and fuck himself in front of you.

Those sounds you’ve imagined, pictured, they’re even more pronounced in person. Some low enough that it’s a stifling whimper, a needy sobbing. If you don’t do something about the gnawing throbbing between your thighs, it’ll be total combustion. There’s an empowerment that winds itself around a pulsating set of nerves in one’s decision to masturbate in front of their best-friend. That coolness works itself in your palms, your fingers tossing your keys over and onto Eddie’s dresser, toeing off your shoes, his eyes steamy in their grasp on your every move.

You’d wished you had brought your camera to photograph his expression when you walk over to where he stood in front of his bed, turning to face him, your fingers undoing your jeans and the zipper, a resounding echo in the room, Eddie’s tongue poking out on his upper lip, he holds himself around the base, the urgency to fuck his hand as you take your seat on his mattress and scoot with your back to the wall, hips lifting to help you pull off your jeans and panties. You struggle momentarily, but neither of you are saying a word, gazes steady and unwavering.

Discarding your clothing with a soft thump onto his floor, you’re heartbeat thumps in your throat, ribcage taking an unsteady hammering of its resounding drumming. You heed Eddie’s silent command to continue, agreeing to this turning point between you two. Your thighs fall open and that sticky want strings to your swollen folds, glistening in the creases of your thighs, your cunt sopping wet. You’re dripping, and Eddie isn’t missing it when your arousal finally does drizzle from your neglected pussy and onto his bedsheets. You shift to get comfortable, hand cupping yourself, immediately smothered in your own juices, legs falling into a drop, toes finally able to curl without the barrier of your shoes, bunching Eddie’s sheets.

Eddie watches you from where he can see, still eager to be closer, but unable to stop himself from stroking along his length, teasing that vein that runs alongside his cock. You do it again, rubbing your palm up and down your lips, a crude squelch causing Eddie to almost black out, and you shiver. He releases himself, heavy and hot between slim thighs, and he’s moving. He puffs out a gravelly hiss from pursed lips, stalking towards you and giving a cat like crawl across his own bed, planting himself shoulder to shoulder with you to your left. He must be feeling the overwhelming change that is occurring, as he reaches for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

You gravitate towards your hand, fingers slipping through your slickness, your head bowing in embarrassment. Eddie grips your chin and tilts you his way, shaking his head, that same hand dropping to your thigh and lifting to pull up and to the side. And he looks. He fucking memorizes you between your legs with these little mewling coos of appreciation that cement themselves into your subconscious. You do the same, helping yourself to an up close and personal view of what he’s been hiding.

Eddie leans forward and cups the nap of your neck, his other hand taking your wrist and removing it from your self-touches, shushing your protesting whine. He brings it up to his mouth, which is hovering close to yours, your own fingers pressed against your lips, and he licks a straight stripe up your creamy covered palm, humming underneath his breath as he does so. You want to slap him and ride him on every available surface in this trailer. You’re the one to speak, having to.

“Eddie…” It’s a meek little trail-off.

Eddie lets go of your wrist and uses that hand to pull his cock off his stomach, a wet patch left behind in his happy trail. He still doesn’t let your neck go, his fingertips tapping an invisible beat, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He’s laughing, tufts of air settling across your mouth. You narrow your gaze, moving to shut your legs, Eddie’s hand quickly preventing the action, stroking the meat of your inner thigh. “Only fair if I’m exposed, sweetheart.”

“But… you’re laughing.” And it hits you then, why he’s really chuckling in that Eddie Munson way. It’s an incredulous and mind boggling turn of events. Best-friends that broke up when they were never together, now side by side and in a very compromising situation.

You grin and falter into his embrace, your hand working its way into a wind around his neck, taking sweaty strands in scoops between your fingers, his pick chain draped across your knuckles. Eddie licks across his bottom lip, tapping your hips as he moves, your hands falling, and sprawls his legs into a propped spread, cock neglected and flushed, much like the rest of his skin, that you’ll die if you don’t put your marks on. He’s motioning for you to turn in a slow facing position in front of him, and that’s how you end up—vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable. He’s muttering words, huddled and unintelligible, reaching out and tugging you to him by your ankles, stopping, resting, eyes dark as they do a once over to gauge your mental stability. When you don’t protest, palms splaying out to keep yourself upright behind you, Eddie lets his legs flatten against his sheets, a smirk pattering his lips, indenting its knowing presses beside his mouth.

His exhale catches on a ragged breath, a passionate declaration signing off on what’s about to occur, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he pulls you close, your ass resting on his hairy thighs, waiting, held, his arm wrapping around your lower back and lifting you completely into that ink splattered, silk-slick chest, his skin sticking to your long sleeved t-shirt, ruining it with sex-soaked perspiration. You think that there’s nothing—no—you know that in this entire world, no matter what, that whatever will happen to you is never going to compare to the moment when Eddie’s maneuvering hands glide your wet cunt over his cock, using your drenching heat as his own personal lubricant. Your ankles lock around his waist, no choice from the close band that your best-friend has re-tethered you to him with, leaving no room or space where you’re not touching or breathing in the other. Your arms curl around Eddie’s neck, hands draped down his back as you help yourself to pinching and clawing the flesh beneath, relishing every little grumble and groan off his pretty lips. Your face takes solace in his neck, nosing your way through his curly hair, nose bumping his chain to lift so that your mouth can claim him.

“Fuck.” His throat constricts around a swallow, your teeth sinking into a piece of Eddie’s flesh and biting, releasing, lips closing over that angry spot to soothe, tongue tasting salt, licking it off, indulging.

He lets your have your way with his neck, a particularly harsh slap landing on your ass in following of your mouth on his jugular, letting your tongue following that curvature into his jawline. You don’t stop his wandering hands, you don’t dare fight off his vice grip on the globes of your ass, his kneading, using as them leverage to place you right where he wants you. You let him take control, an unspoken agreement, a having to have. Your head falls back as Eddie rolls his hips beneath, rocking his lap, solid presses that drag his fat cock over your embarrassingly wet pussy, scattering your thick arousal and smearing it across his happy trail, getting caught in that patch of curls at the base of his shaft. You’re dripping all over him, quite literally. Caught on a trapped hum, hung in its hisses between your clenched teeth, you croon into Eddie’s neck, your stomach tightening, that velvety drag of his dick through your swollen folds making your lids flutter closed, colors dotting in their dances—translucent.

You aren’t sure where to move your hands, comfortable with having them shred Eddie’s back and empty out the past few days of frustration and desperation. Eddie encourages, palming handfuls of your ass, creating a cresting twist, a thigh trembling rub of sopping wet desire. He’s merely whimpering, appreciating, not overly vocal until his swollen head catches your neglected clit, and his head drops back, fingers pinching so tightly into your skin that it burns.

“Oh, shit. Dammit, baby.”

You’re simpering on a series of whimpers, agreeable and speechless. Eddie is feeding off it. “Yeah? You needing this too? Little clit feels so good rubbing on my dick, sweetheart. You want me to do it again?”

When you’re not immediately able to be vocal, Eddie pulls back a little, shoving his hand between your thighs and drags his rings directly through your arousal, coating them in a glittering shine. His first real touch where you need him the most. You both inhale sharply. It’s the pain from the cool metal of his jewelry that makes it feel so fucking good. He curses, telling you how messy you’re being, flinging his hand in your sights, dragging you in a pry off of his neck, holding your jaw and flashing his knuckles.

“See what you did, messy little angel. You gotta clean em’ now for me.”

His eyes are so fucking demolished, brown crushed beneath a midnight sea of black and insatiable attraction. You’re mewling, tongue lolling out, licking that metallic onto your tongue, sloppily sloping around his knuckles, lips suckling what your tongue can’t catch, your own taste fresh off your mouth. That’s when Eddie brushes a calloused thumb across your bottom lip, tugging it down to expose your teeth, and he brings your lips to his, a feral groan stealing your breath, sharing your juices in your first kiss. It’s a shift in the energy you share, a no going back, no running away, a fate sealed. Eddie loses all control and flips you off his lap, pinning you beneath him, kissing you with such feverish vigor that your hand tangles into his messy curls, and you pull, hard.

His tongue licks your lips open, greedily removing what’s left of your taste that remains. It’s noisy and nasty in the expanse of his small bedroom—diabolically sinful. One hand caresses your throat’s expanse, the other dropping down with a snapped wrist between your thighs, palm smacking your cunt, a guttural groan vibrating from his mouth into your own. Saliva strings on the break away, Eddie’s gaze switching to watch the hand on your cunt, out of it.

“Your pussy always this wet, baby? Or is it just for your best-friend?”

“Only for you, Eddie. Always you.”

Fallen into the depths of satisfaction, Eddie permits a slender digit to drag down your slit, taking that thick honey with it, a squelch echoing in the room when his finger wiggles its way inside of you. You clamp around him, chest heaving with shaky breaths.

“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna drown my dick when you let me fuck you, aren’t you?”

You’re incoherently babbling, tapping the hand that’s on your throat, hungry for it. “Tighter.”

Eddie’s brow raise is comical, a surprise coating his features. “So miss Y/N likes it rough? Never woulda guessed.”

You gulp a pump of air that vibrates across his hold, trying to gain more depth from his finger. It’s moving in exploration of your softly wet walls, an excess of arousal being pressed out upon that squish. Eddie tightens his hold on your throat, before he taps his fingers to your jugular and releases, hand toppling down your side and caressing, bringing. “Fuck, my best-friend’s got such a perfect little pussy. S’ made to be destroyed and used.”

You’re nodding so hard that the motion causes a cracking pop in your neck, Eddie laughing that noise under a cute breath. He’s thick with it, wiggling in a second finger and causing you drop your hands back behind you and push into the sensation, chasing, hunting it.

“Desperate to get away from me all week, now look at you. What a whore.”

Eddie has a mouth on him, something you’d always wondered about in your daily daydreams and nightly fantasies. As vocal as when he’s singing with his band. He’s saying words to you, snapping your attention, you’re whining as his fingers leave your cunt, and he’s pulling you into him so hard your lips split apart, cushioning his cock, cradling him in that overwhelming slick. He must not have meant for that action to cause it, as he jumps when you do, this feral look flickering behind those heated orbs. You know… it’s time.

Eddie is barely able to stand, clumsily bringing you with him by a laced grip in your hands. He gets you upright and you’re dizzy, his hands taking purchase on your shirt (the only remaining piece of clothing on you), and rips it with gritting teeth and anger, as if he’s pissed it’s not the club shirt, or sickened with himself for destroying yours—you’re not sure. Spit pools at the corners of your mouth as you let him tear off your tattered tee and yank your bra down, impatiently yanking the clasp apart and discarding it, helping himself to your tits, closing those plush lips over a nipple. Your hand wraps around his throbbing cock, fingers barely touching around the width, squeezing him—tugging. His hips stutter and he whines against your breast, teeth biting the flesh with a harsh precision.

Your other hand works its way through his wet curls and massages his scalp, tenderly altering in beckoning strokes, ones that switch off into root tugging pulls. Eddie’s hands keep your breast cupped, switching off to the other, whilst you dip lower and fondle his balls, letting your pinky drop off and scratch into his inner thigh. He’s doing that humming thing underneath his fucked out tone again, and you’re focusing your attention on his cock, thumb pad stroking that weeping slit, spreading it around and over that vein, enchanted with how it causes a thin bright shine over him, your own cream matted into the curls at the base of him, pathed up his stomach. His mouth leaves your chest and those big hands grip your cheeks, both of you watching as you jack him with a sticky tug.

Fuck me.

“Who’s the whore for his bestfriend now, Eds? You gonna admit that half the shit I’ve done this week has gotten your dick so hard you can’t decide what you’ve hated me for more,” You say, pausing to twist your grip, making him fold into your holding hand, “my smart mouth or how much you need this.”

Your powering dominance is short lived, hand falling off his erection, with Eddie kneeing you into a shove until your back collides with his desk, his arm reaching around to push most of its contents off and onto the floor, not caring where any of it goes. He nudges your thighs apart and slots his lean frame between, thumb catching the corner of your mouth, his instruction clear, yet awaiting your consent to cross this no back-stepping boundary. “M’ gonna fuck you right here, and you’re goin’ to watch me take you, Y/N.”

You’re pretty sure you’re gonna pass out at any given moment.

“I’m gonna watch you, Eddie.” You agree, zoning out and sprinting after your pleasure.

“Good girl.” Eddie breaks briefly, mouth on your shoulder, hand winding your hair around his fist and tugging it back so hard that the ache inside of you becomes an inferno. He finds the underside of your chin, voice honey-hot. “Because you’re not leaving this room until there’s a puddle of me running back out of your cunt.”

You launch forward so fast that Eddie falls into you, chest smashing against your breasts, your lips crashing into his for a brutally intimate kiss. You sink your teeth into his bottom lip and tug, biting down so hard you taste copper—licking it up and making Eddie’s cock jump. His ring covered hand attaches itself to your throat and he drags you off your prop against the desk, spinning you around and securing you to it, those hairy thighs pressing into you, wet cock so close to where you need him the most. His hand wraps around your hair again and lifts your gaze to that small opening in the mirror where posters and his most prized possession hangs. You’re flushed and soaked with sweat, mouth swollen and streaked with red from biting into Eddie’s plump lip, your pussy dripping thick strings of your creamy essence, slowly slithering in dangles from your pussy and onto the floor.

“You’re so fucking messy, Y/N. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, baby?” Eddie is like the devil on your shoulder, and you, you’re his angel of eternal damnation.

You’re about to beg, but Eddie saves you the trouble, his fingers tapping in tips down your spine, caressing, stroking, before they spread your lips apart and dip inside, palm flat. “Should fuckin’ split you open, do it raw. Cum so deep inside that you end up pregnant with my baby and have no choice but to always think of me, be around me.”

Though there’s a tease behind his passionate words, there’s this primal exclamation that overtakes you and you clamp down on his fingers. A series of fast paced images are vivid in your mind. Your tummy swollen and breasts heavy, Eddie having you bent over like this—one hand on your belly, the other on your throat, feeling your pulse galavant beneath his touch.

“Y/N… Fuck, sweetheart.” He’s so fucked in his descending tone that the depth is gruff and tipping off his diaphragm, you imagine. He presses his cheek against your own, chin resting on your shoulder as you drink each other in, in the mirror’s expanse, Eddie’s tone weak. “You really willing to carry my kid?”

You meet his eyes in the cluttered mirror, nodding, a softness carving out permanent residence in your features. It’s a topic you’d never shared with anyone else, never banked too much on thinking about, but beyond the idea of how hot this all is, you can’t imagine a scenario like this that doesn’t involve Eddie Munson. Vulnerable and barely above a brisk whisper, you’re answering him with, “Yeah, Eds. Want a family with you.”

At your admission, he lets his hand go in languid thrusts. You groan and let your head shift, but Eddie is jerking you back to stare into the glass, both of you panting and on the cusp of an out of body experience. It causes you to grin, licking your lips as your best-friend pumps those experienced digits to cause a purposeful squelch, his rings clinking together. His hard cock is pressed between his own stomach and your back, that pre-cum pooling onto your lower back and smearing in streaks down your ass. You’ve had more than enough teasing and you’re well aware that Eddie has too.

His look briefly falters, turning to mouth at your chin, a silent question. It’s you who uses your words, or rather, trembles in your feeble attempt. “Eddie, just put your cock inside me, or I swear I’ll—“

He’s smirking wildly at your slack-jawed expression when his fingers slide out of you and stick together with your cum, to which he helps himself to and coats his cock, then lines himself up and presses the thick head into your opening, leaning down to bite at your shoulder and leave an exposed imprint. Your legs feel like jello and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. He’s going to ask you to beg, and you’re an all in willing participant. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t. He inhales sharply, you hold your breath, and both of you watch him sink into your slick and soft cunt, inch by inch, until his balls rest against the globes of your cheeks.

You’re still holding your breath, releasing it when you feel him sigh, grip on your hair loosening a little, too caught up in the fact that he’s where he belongs, after so much time doing without this. Your legs are about to buckle, jerking, toes curling against the carpeted floor, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, and by your best-friend’s cock throbbing in your aching pussy. “E-Eds…?” It’s a pathetic cry of a question.

Eddie’s brows pinch together, sweat beaded between. He grips your jaw and his fingertips tap you back to meet his mouth, hovering over your lips. “S’ okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” He briefly drops the playful gimmick, reassuring you that he’s right here with you.

It’s more than enough to have you arching back into him, a brash pummeling of his hips that sends you into the dresser, having to reach out and catch yourself. Eddie is quick witted, gripping your wrists with one hand and pinning them behind your back, stepping with you in toe, elongating his arm to snatch those handcuffs on his wall, that cold metal biting into your wrist, that dull noise presenting itself as the cuffs lock you into place, Eddie gripping onto the chains’ excess expanse, using it as a leverage. A sliver of a chalky moan trickles off your kiss-swollen lips, appreciative. The way Eddie is manhandling you has you so fucking euphoric that you’re sure you’ll be in a comatose state before either of you can cum. Your best-friend’s large hand finds purchase in your hair again, drawing his hips back, the other on the chain of the cuffs—steadying himself into a rhythm, riding you like all that matters is your destruction and his ultimate ownership.

Eddie Munson has owned you since the very moment that you two met.

The way he’s executing such precise and rough thrusts, making sure you’re high on the bring up, toes pressing into the carpet, that you’re stuffed full of his fat cock until it hurts, twitching in overstimulation, sore and fluttering walls eager to be soaked in everything he has to give you, that you are taking in every inch, catching every ridge, leaving you a shambled, panting mess, in pieces only being put back together again when Eddie will allow your release. His hair is tickling your shoulder blades, his fingers leaving the cuffs to press into your mouth and curl over your tongue, relishing in how you gag around the digits. You’re weak, so fucking weak for him, and he knows it.

“Can’t wait to hear you gag on my cock, Y/N. If you have trouble with these bad boys?” He puts an emphasis, wiggling his fingers against your tongue, giving them a secondary push to over extend your gag reflexes, his dick twitching inside you.

You bite down on his fingers, sucking them in, accepting his challenge, willing it to happen. His balls slap into your ass, heavy and hot, every movement causing the metal to rut into the skin of your wrists. He’s got a steady tempo going, alternating it by dipping his hips to bring you with him, letting you nearly collide with your chest flush to his desk. He reaches up and shoves that poster back by peeling tape, revealing more of your fucked out forms. Your eyes widen at your disheveled and unrecognizable appearance, Eddie using your cuffed hands as reigns. Riding you so hard that you can’t breathe anything but his hot air curling around the shell of your ear.

“Dammit, you are such a good girl for me, Y/N. Always pictured you takin’ my cock, but you’re not even crying yet, just taking what I give you.”

Yet… Fuck me running.

Your scalp is tingling with a prickling crowd of flames from his harsh grip, his other hand reaching to smack your ass, using some mechanism on the cuffs—albeit—struggling with his spit soaked fingers that were just in your mouth, to unlatch them and discard them at your feet, and he watches the flesh of your ass cheek redden and jiggle beneath his biting palm. You fist your fingers into a strewn pair of his blue denim jeans left on the desk top, dipping your forehead down and arching your back, trying to look between your own legs from this new angle to see Eddie’s cock cradled in your puffy lips. He tuts at your unsuccessful action, forcing you back into watching him doing his hard work—the hardest he’s worked at anything (sans his band or the campaigns, if he’s being honest with himself)—to make this unforgettable for you. He hits that spot located inside, the one you have to strain an arm to barely graze, and you lose all coherent capabilities.

“Eddie… that’s, oh my god, oh FUCK. Right there!”

Eddie’s throat crumbles under a weak pant, which ends up coming out as a whimper. He remains firm, however, still using your hair to keep you right where he wants you, his other hand reaching around to pet his own shaft as he slides out just enough to make you wetter.

“Yeah, baby? That spot gonna make somethin’ happen for you?”

You don’t answer, mumbles and babbling gibberish. He shakes that precious head of his, curls tickling your back and shoulders, a sigh breaking free. “Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t believe we’re doin’ this in front of you. Both my girls right here with me, one of them at my fuckin’ mercy.” Your attentions snap over your shoulder and you see Eddie looking at his fucking guitar, that is one of the only things remaining on the mirror. You gape, but aren’t surprised in the slightest.

He continues on, pretending he doesn’t see your partial seethe. “Makin’ a mess all over me, but I bet you like to see it too, don’t you?” He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, still talking to the inanimate object. “Both my sweethearts are such sluts for their owner.”

You can’t help that rattle that clamps around your bones and slices through your spinal cord, seizing your abdomen, right down into your cunt. Owner? You have zero time to warn him, ask if you can, alarms unprepared, skin slapping on skin, his taste on your mouth, his breath on your flesh, that slippery glide that has cum running down your thighs, and it’s a sudden wave crashing over your insides and drowning them in your painfully interstellar-esque orgasm. Your eyes burn with tears as you watch your best-friend feel what’s happening, realizing. He’s covered in your release, and instead of being mad, he is influencing you like the little devil that he can be, plump lip pressing to your ear lobe with one continuous command. “That’s it. C’mon, Y/N. Drench my dick.”

You wish you could bottle the feeling of your first orgasm with Eddie Munson, your best-friend—forever. Finding yourself growing into that vulnerability that comes with the high, you seek to find solace in Eddie’s arms, whimpering at the overstimulation of his thick cock. With that connection still in tact, Eddie is spinning you around, dick sliding out with a messy mixture of arousals covering you both—his member completely doused in your cream, painting the trimmed curls at the base of his shaft with even more of you, slicking back some more of that happy trail. You want to be embarrassed, but as he’s red faced and struggling to breathe, you know that there’s no need to be. He steers you back onto the bed, falling easily between your spread thighs, drawing them up and around his waist.

He presses his forehead into your own, kissing each corner of your mouth, rings circling in dusting sweeps on the apex of your thighs. His voice is a shivered whisper. “Fuck, baby. You okay?”

There’s words on your tongue, Eddie’s taste on your mouth, things you’ve known for years, but are unsure if Eddie has, or if this is something he needs because he’s afraid you’ll abandon him, but that he doesn’t feel what you do. Your head is spinning and Eddie brushes sweaty strands of hair off your forehead, taking his cock through your swollen folds, pressing that spongey head into your clit—both of you crying out. “Y/N, m’ right here. Care to join me?”

And god help you, the way that you look at him. Really allow yourself to see him this way—unabashed—it stirs all those feelings Eddie has bottled down since forever. You press your thumb into his mouth, your other hand sliding down to grip onto him, gliding your hand back and forth, relishing in how his abdomen tenses, muscles flexing, body gravitating towards whatever you’re willing to bestow. He doesn’t let you touch him much longer, taking what your hand isn’t around and guiding it back into your cunt, that scrumptious burn brimming you, making your thighs drop open, back arch, only to tighten your ankles around him, digging your heels into his ass. He suckles your fingertip into his mouth, licking the digit in until it’s down to the knuckle.

Your head presses sideways, cheek on his pillow, inhaling his shaving cream and that spicy scent. He pauses his movements, making you frown in displeasure. He lets go of your spit tainted finger, gripping your chin, a possessive fire overcoming him. His irises remain completely black, putting you deeper into that comatose trance of agonizing sin. “I want you to fucking say it, Y/N.”

You start a beginning questionnaire, Eddie shaking his head and pressing in harder on your chin, fingers splaying across your jaw, rings pinching your chin in the most delightfully painful of ways. “Say you want me, tell me you fucking need me. That you’re not tired of me, and that you’re proud to be the freak’s slut.”

Your hands wind around his back and you sink your nails in as hard as you can, bearing down on him, sucking him in deeper, both of you in a state of no return. His hand tickles down from your face and grips your neck. “Still sick of me, baby?” He situates your gaze, lifting his hips to a raise so that you can see where you’re connected. You’re inconsolable, that fire already blazing your gut, turning every sense into nothingness.

When Eddie starts back up again, he slams himself into you so hard that your vision goes dark and you shred your own bottom lip open, body moving closer to his wall due to the force. He’s licking beneath your jugular, words sensual and filthy, making your entire body spike in a sudden electricity. “Gonna cum in every hole you’ve got, so you remember that they’re mine.”

This time you’re more than ready to give him a warning, body beginning to shake beyond your control, breaths stuttering in your chest. Eddie reaches down between you, calloused thumb flicking your clit. Everything is so fucking wet and the way it sounds in the expanse of Eddie’s small room, it has you opening your mouth, out of control and greedily begging for more.

“Eds, harder. Please? Almost…”

He’s grinning in that special way that weakens you—heart and soul, body and mind. “So much more than a slut.” His thrusts become choppy, his own babbling tone turning into Eddie-speak. “You are way more than you know, Y/N.”

You fondle his pick chain and bring him into your immediate airspace, mouths hovering. He’s nearing his end, cock getting fuller inside you. “Need you to tell me how much you love me.”

You both completely go slack. Eddie stops himself all together, body trembling, head bowing. Your heart rate increases, feeling as if you’ve skipped a staircase thousands of feet in the air and you’re now free falling.

Love… You don’t have to think twice.

Your hands move to cup his face, holding on, your eyes shining with tears at all overloaded emotions and senses. “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”

At your admission, those beautiful eyes—dark with remains of passion—they fill, and he gives you his all, driving his cock into you in calculated presses, trying like hell to get you to cum first. When he speaks, his voice cracks apart. “Let me know that you’re right here with me, Y/N.”

“I’ve always been here, Eddie.” Is what you manage, thumping your hand against his wrist and helping him bring his fingers back to your clit.

He doesn’t let you look away, noses smashed together, sticky foreheads pressing, hair curtaining the apples of pink, sex stained cheeks. Your eyes widen as that knot begins to tighten in your stomach, unraveling so violently that Eddie has to grip your quivering thigh in one hand, the other keeping steady on your clit. You dig into his back, other hand tugging on his hair, and Eddie is giving a throaty seduction. “That’s it, be my good girl and cum again for me.”

And you’re coming apart at your very core, every cell exploding and rebuilding, gluing yourself to Eddie to seize the ache that scrambles your insides and leaves you breathless. He’s cursing, keeping his finger on your clit to help you coast over the high, immediately following you with the lowest, sweetest, whimpering moan that you’ve ever heard. Both of your eyes still drinking in the other’s pleasure, tears spilling over your lash line as Eddie’s hips cease and he holds, his cock swelling and that soft, creamy warmth coating your sore walls in spurts. He collapses onto your chest and you hold him there in a vice hug, his hand still trapped between your exhausted bodies. He gently eases it out, groaning around the wetness that he’s all too eager to sample until the layer of shine is off his fingers.

Holy shit and fuck me…

Your legs fall to the side, unable to stay upright any longer, Eddie keeping a hovering hand to soothe your shaking. He kisses your neck with a plush mouth, his chain dangling between your breasts. You’re petting his hair—which is so soaked it’s as if he’s been in the rain or come from the shower—off his forehead, wincing as he slides out and keeps himself by your side. You gasp and he joins, fascinated by your cum and his own seed pouring from your cunt. He raises up a little. “Mhm. Let me see?”

He props your thigh, sliding his fingers back and forth, zoned in on his bedsheets being ruined from the literal puddle of your shared cum that runs from you. Seconds pass and he grins widely, plopping onto his back, his fingertips caressing your shoulder, down to your arm. It’s a comfortable quiet, even with the intense meaning of the words that were spoken, until Eddie starts with a, “So..?”

And you cut him off, trying to get your uncomfortably hot body closer. “So I love you. And I have never stopped needing you, or wanting you, Eddie. I just hope all this wasn’t because we were fighting and you got scared I would leave, and —“

He doesn’t let you finish this time, that chocolate-ly brown ring swinging back around his pupil in a brisk develop, showcasing the moisture in his eyes. “I was scared because I love you so damn much that I would charge headfirst into Mordor, or some alternate dimension without any weapon or any shield, just for you. You gotta know that, Y/N.”

His softness, that glittering fragility, it makes you seal your mouth to his, kissing him full of your feelings. He cups the nape of your neck, drawing in closer, thumb coaxing a shiver from you as it passes over a certain spot behind your ear. On a wet break away, you’re nodding your head. “Guess we spent all week fighting when we should’ve been fucking and talking about our feelings.”

Eddie smirks, then is serious. “Be that as it may, I’m sorry I’ve been shit at showing you I appreciate all that you do for the guys and me. And for forgetting that you are your own person too. S’ not like I meant to, I swear. I just get so fucking caught up and I shouldn’t take for granted anything that has to do with you or with us.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my best-friend, Eddie Munson?”

While it’s still true, you’re wondering when the words leave your lips. Eddie just fucked you so hard you probably won’t be able to sit down for a week or walk upright for hours, so friendship isn’t exactly the most appropriate term anymore, is it?

Eddie taps his fingertips to your temple, drawing your dazed expression, clinging to the cosmic connection once more. “M’ yours, Y/N.”

“Oh yeah, Munson?” You’re so high that you could fly out of here right now and make rounds around the whole globe. Your chest is aching with a tempo that promises new hope and ease.

Eddie is giddy too, that wide set smile, cheesing. “Just gotta get you a new shirt.”

The memory of your old club attire being one with the forest floor seems like so long ago. Eddie knuckle grazes your cheek, apologetic. You shush him. “I ruined yours, so we’re even.”

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes and he’s tackling you beneath him, pinning your hands in a lace above your head. “Nah, we are just getting started on bein’ even, baby.”

~*~

Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @gothbitchshit @thisishellfire @ethereal27cereal @likedovesinthewnd

-I really need to form a bigger tag list! I’m sorry :/-

Lemme know if you want on my general tag list, please! :)

10K notes · View notes

cweampier · 1 year

Note

I just think Leon is so vocal in bed and he is the king of dirty talking. I love it so much

ohhhh… oh yeah, definitely… he’s such a talker sorry for the lack of posts lately, i’ve been very burnt out lol

cw for dubcon if you squint

finding himself deep inside your pussy as it squeezed around him? oh yeah he’d start mouthing off. you squealed and writhed in his arms while he just tried to keep you in place, still fucking his flushed cock into you, reaching unimaginable distances. kissing your cervix with his mind set on filling your womb. it was like he was on autopilot, driving himself further, harder, faster. his mind was spiraling, as he shoved your face into the pillows. skin damp with sweat, he continued to drill into you, unyielding.

“no.. can’t.. can’t fucking stop.. don’t wanna.” he panted out, breaths wavering as sweat collected atop his brow bone, mixing together collecting a sticky concoction on his forehead as his brows knitted together, causing the skin to wrinkle. “please, oh, please fuck me, fuck me~ fucking—hh’god!~” he rambled absentmindedly, pulling your ass closer to his pelvis, flesh suctioning together as he tethers your bodies into one with each snap of his hips. his eyes shut tightly, letting out a few strained groans of fulfillment.

“want you to fucking.. cum around my fucking cock, sweetheart. fucking need it,” his voice trailed off as he threw his head back, hair sticking to his forehead, tousled and chaotic. “please cum around my cock, your cock, ‘t’s yours, baby.. promise ‘t’s yours.” he heaved, hips bucking roughly in an animalistic fashion, pupils dilating widely. the usual blue of his irises being disrupted by the spread of his dark pupils. “‘t’s your .. fucking cock, baby.. all yours, fuck..” he echoed himself, nipping at the skin of your shoulder to cease his idiocy.

a depraved yelp elicited from your throat only to be muffled by the plushness of the pillows beneath you, practically suffocating against them as he continued to hold you still. he was hitting it so fucking good, ripping every ounce of defiance from your body as you just took it. all of it. sounds of your drenched cunt filled the room as well as the satisfying sound of his balls plapping against your particularly sensitive nub, causing your knees to buckle underneath you. you pawed at the sheets, hands clammy as you’d strike the pillows weakly. with one final clamp around the base of his dick, you unraveled completely, flooding the bedding beneath you.

but, leon was an addict. he was a fucking fiend. his greedy ass did not stop plowing away, making you shriek and protest against it, legs thrashing against him, the balls of your ankles digging into the sides of his thighs. he hissed, gripping your hips with a hold that felt almost bruising. “good fuckin’ girl.. such a good girl.. going all dumb on my cock like that, baby… you love it s’much. got’chu.. creaming ‘round me.. hmmff..” he babbled, pressing a large hand onto your lower back, arching your stomach into mattress further to somehow plunge himself deeper into you. he seemed to be edging himself, unrelenting. wanting to ensure he piped you to the brim with his seed.

“so messy, so .. fucking wet, shit!~ pussy’s fuckin’ sucking me in, haah!” he squeaked with urgency, throat tight with exhaustion. his hips ached with care, the stiffness of his joints palpable as his thrusts became sloppy, uneven, uncoordinated. you couldn’t speak, could hardly move. your voice was broken down and hoarse from all that hollering. one thing about leon, he’ll always slut you out.

#tima is back w another shitty post #i’m so sorry if it isn’t up to your standards </3 #so unfiltered… naw leonnnnnnn #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #cweampier

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linorachas · 1 year

Text

maknae line + unexpected kinks

tags: marking, choking, cockwarming, manhandling, public space, possessive behavior, afab reader for sm

this is for anon who requested a maknae line version of unexpected kinks!!! i mostly write smut for hyung line so this was pretty ballsy of me to write all of the maknaes in one go *__* hope it's readable pls do not throw tomatoes at me i am but a wee silly little writer

hyung line version | buy me coffee? (৹ᵒ̴̶̷᷄﹏ᵒ̴̶̷᷅৹)

HYUNJIN (marks)

Hyunjin hadn't thought he was this possessive.

But while he was fucking you into the mattress, he had accidentally left a bite mark on your shoulder as he lost himself to you and an orgasm. When he pulled back and saw you touch the mark with a dazed look on your face, the sight of it brought up something inside of him.

A deep, carnal need to see you covered in marks made by him and him alone. To see every hickey on your neck and know that it was from his lips. For everyone to know that only he could bruise you so prettily like this.

"Hyunjin," you gasp, "no- no more marks, People- they're gonna see-"

"So," Hyunjin growls against your neck. With his fingers tangled in your hair, he pulls your head back, giving him more space— more access to leave his mark on you. "So what if they see? Then they'll know to back off."

You squirm as Hyunjin's plush lips trail against your strained neck. You feel his hot breath first, then the sting of his teeth sinking into your skin before he sucks on it. It's one of the many, many marks he's left on your body today— from the inside of your thighs to your navel to your neck, but it still has you reeling like it's the first one.

He was going to make sure that he'll have you painted in his kisses, his marks, his bites, so that nobody will ever dare to put their hands in you.

Hyunjin was the painter, and you were his canvas.

JISUNG (being vocal)

"Thank god Hyunjin still had some condoms left.”

“Please don’t—“ you gasp noisily, scratching your nails down Jisung’s back when he shifts and his cock hits just right, “talk about Hyunjin when you’re— god, ah, fucking me.”

Jisung smirks, cocky and smug and annoying when he says, “Can’t multitask, can yo-“ but he’s cut off with his own moan when you squeeze your walls around him tight, making him double over.

“Fuck, babe, don’t do that.” Jisung hisses into your ear, hips slowing down to a stop as he composes himself. “What if I cum too early?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“That was one time—“

“And it will never be forgotten.” You smirk, slapping his ass and making him jolt. “Now move, cowboy.”

Jisung sighs exaggeratedly. “I miss the days when you were just starstruck by my cock and would only say I was good.”

You roll your eyes with a snort, locking your ankles behind Jisung’s back, urging him to keep going.

“Well maybe if you fucked me that good again, I might— ah!”

Jisung’s entire demeanor shifts when he grips the fleshy part of your thighs, and your legs lift as he finds an easier position to pound into you. Your back arches at the onslaught of pleasure, but the movement only serves to make his cock press against your sweet spot more precisely, making you keen.

Jisung moves his hands, sliding them up so he could grab onto your waist tight, bringing you back down harder onto his cock. You slap your own hand against your open mouth, attempting in vain to muffle your lewd sounds. It doesn't work.

Jisung watches with a heavy gaze as you make noise after noise, unable to stop yourself from moaning and squealing every time he pounds his cock into you. Every mewl you made was music to his ears, and he wants to hear more.

Your hands scramble to cover your mouth again. Jisung frowns.

“Wanna hear you,” Jisung complains with a pout, lips brushing against the back of your hand as he leans in close. He grabs your hand and pins your wrist to the bed, letting your sounds filter through the open bedroom.

“They’re gonna kill us—“ you manage to say in between groans, writhing as one of Jisung’s hand slides up to thumb one of your nipples. “They’re gonna hear and we’re going to get kicked out—“

“Let them hear." Jisung mutters, feeling his cock twitch at the thought. "Let them hear how good I'm fucking you. Let them hear you scream my name. Let them know I'm making you feel good."

Jisung grunts with each thrust, punching moans out of you. He chuckles then, and with a glint in his eye, holds your wrists above your head.

"Let me hear you fucking scream, Y/N."

FELIX (cockwarming)

When you slip inside Felix's room and sit by his feet, Felix had thought you just wanted some cuddles.

So even though he was in game, he takes a hand off the keyboard to run it through your hair and acknowledge your presence, letting his nails scratch against your scalp. You hum and lean into the touch, then rest your cheek on his lap.

"Keep playing." You had said. "I'm just bored."

And so he did. He kept playing, but his hand came down to stroke your head whenever a loading screen popped up. You were so quiet and so still under him that he almost believed your were asleep.

That is, until, you nuzzle against his crotch.

Felix jerks, and his character in the game dies. When he looks down, you're looking up at him with a sheepish smile.

"I'm bored," you repeat with a pout, and he immediately knows that whatever you say next, he can't say no to. "I just want it in my mouth, please? I'll stay still."

Felix frowns at that, confused. "You'll stay still?"

With a gleam in your eye, you say, "I'll show you," and you tug the waistband of his sweatpants down.

And fuck. He isn't even hard yet, but he's well on his way with how you hold him in your hand, guiding his dick inside your very own mouth. Your hot tongue slides against his shaft, and Felix all but shivers.

"Y/N-" he starts with a hiss, but you're already taking more and soon enough, you've got his whole cock down your throat. It's tight and wet and hot and Felix doesn't understand how he's going to stay still-

But then you're back to resting your head on his lap, cock still in your mouth. You looked like the very definition of sin, drool in the corners of your mouth and cheek bulging.

But your eyes, lidded and dazed, stare up at Felix lazily, like you had all the time in the world and you were going to spend it with Felix's cock in your mouth.

"You're-" Felix swallows. "You're going to stay? Like this? While I play games?"

You nod. It was a minuscule action, but it inched his cock further into the heated canal of your mouth. Felix's head sags back against his chair.

Fuck. He is so going to lose.

SEUNGMIN (keeping quiet)

"They're gonna catch us, Seungmin, fuck-"

"They will if you don't shut up." Seungmin grumbles before pulling you into a kiss. It's so hypnotizing that you don't notice his hand slide down to your shorts, easily undoing the button with one hand before his fingers slip inside your underwear.

The moan that you let out when his fingers brush against your clit is loud, and he bites your lip in reprimand.

"Sorry," you try to whine quietly, even though you were busy squirming at how fucking good it felt to have his fingers rub circles on your clit. "I- ah, ah, wait-"

Just as you let another moan out, noises are heard from outside the door. A beat later, and you can hear Changbin's loud voice and Jisung's laughter.

Your legs close on instinct, but Seungmin's hand between prevented you from closing them all the way. He tuts and pries it back open with his other hand.

You look up at him, eyes wide. "Are you insane? They're right outsi- fuuuck,"

You grit your teeth as Seungmin chooses at that moment to slip a finger inside, slide easy with how wet you are. In desperation to help yourself stay quiet, you grab the edge of your shirt and lift it up to your lips, biting it between your teeth in hopes that it would muffle your sounds.

Seungmin's eyes darken.

The action had exposed your upper body, and just the sight of you doing your best to keep quiet was making heat pool in Seungmin's belly. You even had your fingers pressing against your lips, face contorted, but your hips were bucking into his hand like you'd die if you ever stopped. Fuck. Seungmin was salivating.

You startle when he presses you harder against the wall, at the same time he slips more fingers inside of you. He watches you, shirt between your teeth, eyes wide and desperate, and his cock jumps in his pants.

"You're going to cum for me," he says, tone leaving no room for protest. "But if you make a single sound before you do, I'm leaving you here. Understood?"

You clench around his fingers, and nod.

JEONGIN (manhandling)

Jeongin knew he was strong.

No matter how much he said he hated working out, he still does it diligently, and it showed. However, he's never known to what extent his strength reached.

At least, not until he's got you pressed against the wall, cock so deep inside you that your legs were shaking.

You trembled with every thrust, toes white from how much force you were putting on your feet just to keep yourself up. Jeongin held on to you, of course, but you were fucked so stupid that your arms lost all mobility and were slipping off his shoulders.

Despite the struggle, you were still moaning in his ear, begging and pleading for more. To fuck you harder. To make you take it. So with a lust-addled mind, Jeongin found himself sliding his hands under your thighs, gripping the flesh tight before he easily and quickly hauled you up.

"Put me down-!" You gasp, eyes wide, legs locking around Jeongin's waist on instinct. "Yang Jeongin, are you cra- agh!"

But Jeongin couldn't stop now. There was something about you, helpless, nothing you could do but trust Jeongin to hold you up and just take his cock over and over and over again-

He was in so fucking deep. Your head thumped against the wall with every drive of his dick into you. When he leans in close, you can't do anything else but whimper and look up at him with glazed, teary eyes.

"You want more? I'll give you more." Jeongin whispers, hitching you higher up the wall. You let out a strangled gasp.

"Hold on tight, baby."

#stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #yang jeongin smut #lee felix smut #kim seungmin smut #han jisung smut #hwang hyunjin smut

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batfleshh · 2 months

Text

Basic Training

Ghost X M!DH!Reader X Soap

Warnings: ANOTHER DOG HYBRID FIC BC I MISS THESE, threesome, poly gs + r, plugged on both ends 🤞, LORD yall gon have a field day with this one i hope, orgasm denial, throat fucking, collars and leashes!! kicks feet and giggles, tail pulling, you bark for them (I would do the same), not proof read, love yall

“Jus’ couldn’t keep your fuckin’ mouth shut, eh mutt?”, you hear the lieutenant snarl at you as he pounds into you, your head resting on the bed as he keeps a firm hold on your hips. Your hands have a strained grip on the bedsheet, whimpers and pathetic moans leaving your scratchy throat. All the noises leaving you leave your vocal cords exhausted, but his pace never slows. You look up at the sergeant, your eyes trailing down to his hand that’s slowly pumping his own cock. He gives you a sly smile, moving closer to tuck his hand under your drool soaked chin. He raises your head up, a whine leaving you as his eyes dance between you and Ghost. He attempts to shush and sooth you lazily, lowering your head down to place you directly in front of his twitching cock. You waste no time in getting it in your mouth, desperately trying to do whatever you can to please him. Soap strokes his hands through your hair, rubbing delicately at your ears.

Ghost rolls his eyes at Soaps coddling, giving him a look. The other just gives a playful roll of his eyes and forces your head down further, the sight of you choking and gagging on his dick making him just want to hold your head still and fuck your throat raw. Simon begins to groan, fucking into you hard. You feel Ghosts hand on the back of your head, forcing your head down onto Soaps cock as he releases inside of you, the action taking you by surprise. He pulls out of your hole, your lips still sealed around Johnnys cock. Your hole twitches at the feeling of warmth leaking from it, your tail falling down shamefully to cover it up. You yelp when you feel a firm grip on it, forcing it back up.

“Wish you could take a peak at this, Johnny. Would make ya wanna have a turn back here,” he teases, letting go of your tail and hitting you lightly on the hip. Soap pushes your mouth away from him, listening to the way you whine at now being completely empty. He gives you a stroke on the head, before gently pushing you onto your back. Ghost reaches around on the bed before grabbing at you, lifting up your head off the bed to slide a collar around your neck, one they had gotten you a while ago and have been forgetting to use every once in a while. Your tail gently swishes at the feeling of it, but the click and sight of a leash catches you slightly by surprise. Before you know it, your throat is yanked at by Ghost, a grin on his scarred face. The way your cock leaks between your legs shows just how excited this is making you, even though they’re not gonna play into giving you that much release tonight.

After a few minutes of shifting around positions, Ghost ends up off the bed, standing over you as you lay on your back, head resting off the edge of the bed. Soap is now the one between your legs, tip pressed up against your entrance. Your leash is being firmly held by Ghost as his tip is a few inches away from your lips, waiting for the slightest mumble of directions to begin. You let out a soft moan as Soaps tip slips into you, the noise making your mouth open up just enough for Ghost to slide his dick past your lips. You whine, the feeling of the collar pressing against your throat makes you see stars. After a few minutes, Johnny pushes his full length inside of you, causing you to let out a muffled whimper around Ghosts cock. The feeling of it makes him buck his hips forward, making you gag on his length. Your breathing is ridged as you grip at the sheet of the bed once more, your cock twitching as Soap hits against that spot inside you over and over again.

Both men become weary and focused on you when you begin to twitch, whining and whimpering more frequently as Johnny picks up his pace on purpose, smirking at Ghost. When you finally reach the edge, that oh so close feeling turns to disappointment as Johnny pulls out of you, listening to you whine and attempt to close your legs off to him. The smug Scottish man lets out a deep laugh, forcing your legs back open with a harsh slap to your thigh. He almost feels bad when your tail goes limp and your hands start to twitch, but the sight of you like this makes you want to do it more. Ghost continues on with fucking your throat, grunting as tightens his already firm grip on the leash he’s holding. He gives one final tug of the lead, releasing down your throat, holding his hips in place. When he pulls out of your mouth, you’re coughing and light headed, whining to both of them to just please let you cum.

Simon stares at you, making the decision in his head, looking over at Soap. Johnny smirks, looking back down at your pleading face. You watch his hands slowly move to touch you, listening to the soft noises you make at him as your tail slowly begins to thump against the mattress. The Scottish mans hand slowly wraps around your cock, beginning with slow yet long strokes. You feel like you’re going dumb, whining more eagerly with every movement.

“Fine, pup, we’ll let ya cum,” he begins, watching your eyes fill with happiness and relief. “But,” he cuts back in, his movements slowly speeding up. “Why don’t ya give us yer best bark, you’s can do that for us, eh puppy?”, he teases, watching you contemplate his proposal. Ghost runs his hand through your hair, making sure to still have ahold on that leash. At first, your whines slowly start up again, but then you think for a bit. Then you let one out, a simple, pathetic “woof”. Then you do it a few more times, panting and whining when Soap coos at you, his hand moving up and down your length faster. By then, that’s all that can come from your mouth, before you arch up sharply, releasing onto your stomach and the sergeants hand.

“Good boy, lad.”

★ ~

Yayayayaya this is done

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httpiastri · 9 months

Text

beautiful – op81

genre: sweet sweet smut

pairing: female reader x oscar piastri

warnings: wellll it's smut so..... not much else, it's pretty soft so nothing rlly in need of a warning i think. almost a liiittle praise kink hiding in there but not exactly a warning ahah

requested?: um no not really BUT this ask from when this blog was still new has been on my mind ever since i got it....

author's note: this fic is basically just me calling oscar beautiful a thousand times..... second time ever writing smut and it's just as weird as the first time lmao! but i did enjoy writing it. this is protected sex because !! don't forget to be safe when yall have sex !!! and consent is sexy. hope you enjoy this <3 (and again, it's 5am so yes it was proofread but i probably missed something... soz)

f1 masterlist

18+ content below! minors, do not interact!! thanks

oscar is always beautiful.

when he stood on the podium yesterday, for the first time in his formula one career, he was gorgeous. when he came down to hug his family, you included, the smile on his lips was irresistible. and when he danced with you in some random club, his features reminded you of the ones of a god.

he had been teasing you all night. the fleeting touches and quick kisses he gave you held a promise; you would be back in your hotel room soon, just you and him, and he would take good care of you.

you had helped each other get undressed, drunken giggles shared between you as it had taken him a few moments to figure out the zipper of your dress. but the exact moment his head had hit the pillows, he had been out like a light. you swore you had only turned away for a second to take off your earrings, but when you had looked back at him, he had already been snoring.

even then, he was beautiful. but the maybe one moment you enjoy watching him the most is times like these. when the rays of the soft morning sun light up his features, his face basking in the rays. his chest rises and sinks in a steady rhythm, mouth barely open as he takes his sleepy breaths. with his messy, long fringe spread over his forehead, strands of hair tickling his round cheeks.

when he looks so pure, innocent, untouched, like he’s never had a worry in his entire life. so far away in dreamland, this world long forgotten.

but he loves coming back to this world. dreaming is nice, but when he opens his eyes and they land on the beautiful angel next to him, he feels like he has stepped into yet another dream.

his arms are draped around your waist, keeping you close as one of your hands land on his cheek. you smile when his eyes flutter closed again. “morning,” you hum, letting your thumb stroke across his skin. your finger follows his birth marks, the ones you could draw out blindfolded, the ones you know like the constellations you memorized in fifth grade.

oscar is always beautiful, but like this, he's perfect.

he doesn't answer, instead opting to trail one of his hands along the side of your body. the hand finds the hem of your thin shirt and dips inside it, letting the tips of his fingers swipe up and down your skin, against the sensitive area right below your chest, further down to your hips. he notices now that you aren't wearing any underwear, and the realization brings a grin to his lips.

he leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he drags his thumb along the inside of your thigh. his mouth moves down to your neck, trailing pecks and licks and bites on it's journey across your body. no piece of skin remains untouched or unkissed; oscar would kiss every inch of your soul if he could.

his head ducks under the blanket to reach your stomach, his hand coming up to push your hip softly. you take the hint and lie down fully on your back, a low sigh leaving your lips as he climbs on top of you. he's still hiding under the blanket so you're surprised when his lips meet the front of your thigh, your legs squeezing together in reaction. his voice is raspy when it leaves his throat, vocal cords still cold after a long night's sleep. "i want to taste you. open up, please."

your legs fall open easily; you're always open to letting oscar do what he wants. a jolt of electricity shoots through your body as he presses his lips to your clit. one of your hands come down to rake through his hair as his tongue drags along your folds and you feel way too sensitive already. his name falls from your lips when he starts sucking on your clit, but it's the feeling of his fingers entering you that takes over your mind completely. you can't think of anything other than how his digits are pumping you, how his tongue works wonders against you, and how you're so close already.

your hand in his hair tightens when you reach your high, your legs shaking and your heart hammering in your chest. he lets you try to catch your breath for a few moments, but then he pulls the covers down his body, appearing from below them as if in a round of peek-a-boo. even as you're breathless, coming down from an orgasm after being eaten out, you somehow have the energy to laugh at your lover. he's so dorky, so darling,

so beautiful.

even when his hair is a mess, even when he's newly awake, even with traces of you on his lips.

the hand leaves his hair, coming down to cup his cheek and pull him up towards your face. he hovers above you, bringing his fingers up to let his tongue clean them from your juices. you usher him down to you, desperate to let your lips meet his for the first time in so many hours. when his lips finally lock with yours, a pleasured sound escapes your mouth. you don't even mind the taste of yourself on his lips, because the taste of him takes over, flooding your senses.

it's hungry, but not at all rushed; it's sensual in a way that only mornings with him can be.

oscar doesn't break the kiss when his hand rummages over the bedside table, desperately searching for something. he lets out a frustrated groan when he has to pull away because he can't find it, and you giggle at the sound. in just a moment, he has leaned back down to capture your lips again, this time with a condom in his hand. he wants, needs, to be connected to you constantly, so his lips are still attached to yours as he pulls off the wrapper and rolls the condom down his length. he positions himself by your entrance and unwillingly pulls away. "are you okay with this?" he asks, letting one hand hold your waist as the other smooths down your arm. when it reaches your hand, he takes it in his, intertwining his fingers with yours.

you nod, giving his hand a squeeze. "it's more than okay."

he pushes into you and your eyes roll back as your hand squeezes his again, this time involuntarily. he fills you up to the brim, a perfect fit; the stretch is just right, not too much and not too little. he gives you some time to get used to it before he starts to move, the strength in his thrusts rising bit for bit. a moan escapes your mouth when he hits one specific spot and he grins, leaning down to press his lips right below your ear. "my sweet girl," he whispers, tracing his kisses down the side of your neck.

his thumb strokes against the back of your hand as his other hand moves down between your legs. two of his fingers come to rub your clit as he continues pushing into you. "oscar..." you sigh, instantly becoming overwhelmed with the sensations. "it's... god, it's too much..."

he slows his actions, though he doesn't entirely stop, as he speaks up. "i know you can take it." he pulls his head away from your neck to look at you, and-

oscar thinks you look so beautiful.

with your hair splayed over your pillow, with your flushed cheeks, with your rosy lips slightly parted and gasping for air as you chase your high. he can't think of anything more perfect than you, and sharing this moment with you is a true blessing to him.

your breath grows heavier as you get closer, and you hang your free arm around his neck, helping him kiss you yet again. he swallows your sweet sounds that become more frequent as you approach your climax, picking up the speed of his fingers again. "that's my girl," he mumbles against your lips. "taking me so well... you're so good."

your sweet noises fill the room as you both come undone together, bodies vibrating against each other's as he rides out your highs. he collapses right next to you, one hand still holding onto your hand as the other drags you into his side. you both take a few moments to breathe, before oscar pushes a few strands of hair away behind your ear. he can't help but smile again. "you're beautiful."

"so are you."

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casuallyawkardd · 10 months

Text

Dating Miguel O'Hara NSFW

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Summary: Same thing as my other 'Dating Miguel O'Hara', this time for the grown ups

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI! Sex, rough sex, oral sex, praising/degradation, breeding kink, consensual somnophilia, maybe angst if you squint, not fluent in spanish so correct me if I'm wrong on grammar/translations

A/N: I didn't use the same taglist as my past fics cuz idk how many of you are comfortable with this kinda stuff so please fill out my new TAGLIST if mature content is your thang 💅

First Time

Miguel would hold off until you're ready, honestly he's so busy he forgets how high his sex drive is and can get easily distracted. It's a week or so after you two became official and he can pick up on the signs. You're wearing something a little more revealing for date night, something to show off his favorite parts of you. Specifically your ass and thighs. Being a bit more touchy with a hand on his arm or leaning in close when he's talking.

He can even smell it on you, the faint scent of your pheromones making his head fuzzy. Hear how your heart beats a little faster when you invite him up to your place. The man has heightened senses, making him more perceptible to how your body reacts to him.

The first time he restrains himself a lot. Miguel is very much aware of what he's capable of, the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. On top of that, he's a big guy. A big guy who's...proportional. In every aspect. It's a canon event. He's a lot to accommodate and he knows it, so he takes his time.

Preps you well for him. Fingers pressing past your lips, letting you suckle the digits until they're slick with saliva, only to then spread you open with two fingers. Three when he realizes you're tighter than he had expected. It gives him the chance to figure out what makes you tick. What places his fingers have to graze that make your hips buck against his palm. Where to curl them to make you moan louder and arch your back so your chest is flush with his. How fast he has to move them to drive you over the edge.

However, no amount of fingering can prepare you for what's to come. It's a stretch regardless, a dull burn as he bottoms out. The first time hurts, but at the same time you feel so full. It's a deliciously addictive sensation, the pain and pleasure mixing together. Miguel trails kisses along your neck and shoulder, praising you as you adjust.

"Mierda, you're so tight for me."

"Take me so well, cariño"

You learn very quickly how vocal this man is, a stark contrast to his usual quiet and brooding attitude. Moaning and grunting shamelessly when he begins to move. He reminds himself to hold back, but that doesn't stop him from thrusting deeply into you. Falling into a steady rhythm as he ruts his hips against yours. You're trapped under him, his forearms and sheer mass caging you in. Miguel can feel his control slipping and he fights it every step of the way.

The teeth nipping and marking your neck and shoulders moving to bite into the flesh of his wrists when his fangs come out. Gripping your sheets and pillows so he doesn't accidentally cut the skin of your hips with his claws. He wants to though. He so desperately wants to grab you so he can fuck you even harder, move you to his liking. Miguel notes that he'll have to get you new bedding, like the kind at his place, after ripping up your pillows and sheets.

He makes sure to treat you well so you come back for more, picking up on every request and plea until you reach your climax. As you flutter around his cock, you get a taste of just how rough he can be. Miguel adjusts his thighs to be under yours, lifting and angling your hips so he can reach deeper, if that's possible. The last few thrusts fast and creating the most obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin.

When he's spent, he moans right in your fucking ear to let you know. His head moves to rest on your chest as you both catch your breath, you combing your fingers through his hair and placing rewarding kisses on the dark curls. Your breath catches in your throat when he lifts his eyes to you, the red of them glowing in the low light.

"No crees que hemos terminado, ¿verdad?" You don't think we're done, do you?

Early On

It takes some time to convince him that he's not going to kill you while you two are having sex. While he thinks he'll cause irreparable damage, both mentally and physically, if he loses control, you on the other hand trust him unconditionally. He's a good guy, a superhero for crying out loud, you don't see any reason to doubt him until he gives you a reason to.

It starts with little things to boost his confidence. Hands on your hips when you ride him, letting him pull you down on his cock when you move at a teasingly slow pace. A hand tangled in your hair while he fucks your throat, encouraging you to take him deeper with every thrust harder than the last.

It all pays off one night after the two of you get into a fight. In hindsight, it was over something stupid. Some asshole had made some inappropriate comments about you and that riled him up. You, on the other hand, could care less. He was just some dumbass who was mad you turned him down. Who then became even more bitter when Miguel showed up and he saw who he was 'competing' with.

Maybe it was because you didn't care, or because Miguel was still riled up from the interaction, either way he had to take out his frustration somehow. You don't know how you ended up bent over the back of the couch, Miguel plowing into you with no remorse, but you loved it. Rough sex was never something you thought you'd be interested in, but having his claws tear your clothes from your body and his sharp fangs graze suggestively along your jugular makes you excited. Makes you want more.

"You're such a fucking brat, mi amor"

"Remember who makes you feel this good next time some cabrón decides to eye fuck you."

Once he's finished 'teaching you a lesson', his words not yours, he treats you the usual aftercare. Cleaning you with a warm washcloth, preparing a bath if you ask him to, combing his fingers through your hair and praising you for being so good. It's when you're going to bed you realize that he finally let loose. And like you said, he didn't kill you. Just left you with some bruising and maybe a few nicks from when he tore your clothes off.

You make a mental note to reward him with breakfast and some morning head tomorrow.

Favorite Things

In terms of what Miguel enjoys doing with you during your-ahem- alone time, where to even begin.

In terms of kinks, it's a given that he has a breeding kink. Even if you are unable to actually have kids, he still just loves cumming inside you. To the point that when he finally pulls out his cum leaks down your thigh and he has to push it back in with his fingers. If you can get pregnant, he gets off on the idea of you carrying his child. Belly swollen with his baby inside of you. Pride flaring up in his chest at the mere thought of it.

Somnophilia is an unexpected turn on for him. It makes sense, after having multiple nights where you expect him to be home, only for him to arrive after you'd gone to sleep, sexual frustration was bound to happen. You'd talk about it beforehand, making sure it's all consensual. He'd come home to find you already in bed, in nothing but one of his shirts. No underwear. His indicator to know you needed him. Watching you be roused by his cock sliding into you, the half asleep moans falling from your lips, he finds it both mesmerizing and adorable.

Using his fangs on you is a rare treat. You had expressed interest at one point, wondering what it'd be like to be completely at his mercy when his venom leaves you immobile. It's not his favorite, but in those rare instances where he wants to remind you that you're his and only his, it comes in handy. You enjoy the manhandling aspect of it, Miguel bending you into whatever position he desires so he can fuck you stupid.

Sex positions depend on his mood. If he's feeling romantic, he likes to be able to look into your eyes. Mating press, cowgirl, even modified versions of the missionary position are what he enjoys. He also provides more foreplay, spending what feels like forever just pleasing you with his fingers and mouth. Especially his mouth. He loves thighs, so feeling yours clench around his head turns him on to no end. One time even, your thighs were positioned in just the wrong way when clamping around his neck, cutting off blood flow and he passed out; you were both too lost in the moment to notice until his body went limp on top of you. Don't worry, you guys had a good laugh about it when he finally came to.

"Dying between your thighs would be the perfect way to go, mi vida."

When he's in a bad mood, it's a different story. It's usually after a rough day at work or if you're pissing him off by being a tease/bratty. His goal is to have you trapped between his body and whatever surface he chooses, varying from the bed, to the couch, the wall, etc. Doggystyle, full Nelson and flat iron are popular choices. He's rougher than usual too, pulling your hair, leaving more hickies than normal and his dirty talk is more degrading than praising. Foreplay is more of a way to assert dominance over you, overstimulating you into submission.

"One more, cum one more time for me. Te voy a joder estúpido, putito." I'll fuck you stupid, little whore.

This is also the time when injury is more likely to occur. Nothing major, puncture marks from his claws on your hips and scratches from his fangs grazing your shoulder. You don't accept his apologies after because there's nothing to be sorry for.

On and Off

There will most likely be a phase in the relationship where the two of you are struggling to keep said relationship afloat. While problems in the bedroom are rare, issues usually being not enough sex, the relationship outside of that can be rocky. The both of you are busy and finding time to spend together becomes harder and harder to do.

The reasons for breaking up can vary. Sometimes it's on his end, Miguel wanting to protect you from his life as Spider-Man and wanting you to be happy and not waiting on him. Other times you're the one to end things because he doesn't provide you with the attention you deserve or because you feel like a burden to him and his work. Either way, even when you're not together officially, it's hard for the two of you to keep your hands off each other.

Miguel shows up to your apartment multiple times, most of the time uninvited. It's always late, the sound of the window to your living room sliding open, followed by his heavy footsteps is enough to wake you up. When you step out of your room, he greets you like a man starved. Sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting your shirt to leave kisses down your stomach.

"Been missing you so much, necesito recordar el sabor de ti." need to remember the taste of you.

He's trying to butter you up and you know it. Whether it be you missed him too or you're too tired to argue, you fall for it almost every time. Letting him grasp the back of your thighs to lift you as he stands, making his way to your bedroom with you in his arms and lips pressed against yours.

You don't know which you like better, the sex when you guys aren't together or the makeup sex that follows. Every. Single. Time. It's always after something happens, ranging between him finding out you're starting to date other people again to one of you surviving a near death experience. Either way, it always starts the same.

Miguel shows up at your place, as usual, but instead of groveling for your forgiveness, he's fuming. Mad that you're looking at other guys and not him, mad that he almost lost you, mad that he was stupid for letting you go in the first place...either way he's pissed off. A possessive hand at the nape of your neck, forcing you to look him in the eye. Eye contact is very important to him.

"You're mine, cariño. I'm not letting you go ever again."

After some bickering and maybe even shouting, the interaction usually ends with you ass up over the nearest object while he pummels you with his thick cock. One of his hands restraining your hips while the other is snaked around your torso, his hand wrapped around your neck and his hot breath against your ear. It's an odd routine you've become used to, borderline unhealthy even. However, while the lows can be pretty low, the highs are oh so high. The good times make you fall for his tricks without question. Besides, you both know he's the one wrapped around your little finger.

Don't worry though, for the ride or dies, it all pays off in the end. The back and forth between you two settles and Miguel finds his permanent home between your thighs. As well as your heart, of course.

Tags:

@khaleesihavilliard @leahnicole1219

#miguel o'hara #reader insert #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #smut #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel o'hara x reader smut

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4ngel-inc · 3 months

Text

𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒 — 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝐒/𝐎 ୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

notes: i'm just in the mood for fluff so here ya go !! ᰔ

warnings: none, just a little suggestive in some parts.

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 has absolutely no problem giving you the attention you crave from him—he loves your surprise texts, your sweet doting, the way the last words that leave your lips every night are "i love you so much, osamu" as you fall asleep tucked under his arm. dazai actually loves the fact that you follow him around, asking him if you look pretty or if he likes your hair or outfit—he's learned your ways and you suit each other perfectly, he has a way of always knowing exactly what you need to hear. you cook for him often, hug him and kiss him always, practically drop to your knees each night he comes home from work, so eager to please him—you seem to pretty much always want your hands on him, and he's obsessed with your affectionate nature. there's not a single thing in the world that could convince him to let you go—he's that hooked on you. he never imagined he would find someone who loves him as much as you do, and the fact you always seek to have him as close as possible just makes him feel even more loved.

"mmm, get closer, 'samu."

"ha, i can't, darling—i've already got my arms wrapped around you."

"ugh, it's not enough, can you squeeze me a little tighter?"

"you're so cute, angel. how about i pull you onto my lap, that better? now you can stay and watch me while i do my work. i'll cuddle ya extra hard tonight, too, k?"

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 doesn't really know how to accept the love you give him, or at least, that's how it is when you first start dating—as time passes, he starts to love the things you love about him, and his confidence grows for once in his life revolving around something other than his physical strength. your love language takes the form of performing sweet little acts of service for him—making him dinner, bringing him his coffee in the morning and rubbing his back when he's sore from a long day. he loves how you watch him when he gets dressed after a hot shower, your hand trailing down your body and he knows you're turned on just by watching him. but he stares at you just the same, watching as you brush your hair or apply your skincare at night—truthfully, he finds himself seeking you out throughout the house on his day off, finding you when you're cooking or watching tv and wrapping his arms around you, snuggling into you. he wishes he could find the courage to be as vulnerable as you—it's beautiful to him the way you love, the way you lean on him to make your day brighter, asking him to say "i love you" whenever you feel even a little neglected, and he finds himself even more eager to hear you say it back each time.

"hmm, what are ya thinking, sweetheart? you look pretty deep in thought."

"thinking about you, chu- you know that."

"ha- but i'm right here, princess."

"i know, 'm just thinking about kissing you again. you give the best kisses, c'mere? i want another one already."

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀 really appreciates how affectionate you are. he's still learning to express his own feelings, so having you be so vocal about what you want from him means there's less guesswork on his part. "baby, do you like this outfit? i feel a little awkward today, ugh." his compliments are always genuine, since he doesn't know how to be anything but honest, quite frankly. "of course, you look so pretty, love. do you not feel like you are?" "mmm, idk- i love hearing it from you, though." akutagawa also loves it when you make him little bento box lunches, snuggle up next to him when he's feeling weak, and massage his bruises from a long day at work. it doesn't seem like you're with him just because you're impressed by his ability, and it's refreshing to him—he's known as one of the strongest members of the mafia, but he sometimes feels valued only for his skill. it's just one part of him, and before he met you he wondered if anyone would ever care about what else he has to offer. he's grateful you care about what's on his mind and how he feels, what his fears are, what his greatest weakness is. you're teaching him a lot about himself, and he only hopes he does the same for you. you're like a comfy, cozy home to him—a refreshing breeze after years of heavy isolation and loneliness that almost crippled him.

"anything you want for dinner tonight, babe?"

"huh? no, i'm fine with whatever, i love anything you make."

"aku, you always say that, tell me what you want!"

"really? alright, let's order in, i'd rather just spend time with my arms around you. that is what i want."

𝐅𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀 is quite solitary, he really prefers being by himself most of the time. however, when he made the decision to start dating you, he realized he'd have to open up a little, and he eventually finds that his desire to be free from the responsibility of a relationship is fading quickly. you got into a few fights during the start of your relationship, with him making a few (unintentionally) hurtful comments about you following him around everywhere. "i just want to be by myself for a moment, can i just relax for a few minutes?" yukichi is blunt and straightforward, and though you'd told him before you admire that about him, he knows it gets him in a bit of trouble sometimes, and it strains your relationship, as well. as time passes, though, he finds himself craving your touch more and more, and he's certainly grateful you stuck around during his transition period. he can't fall asleep without you next to him now, the sound of your breathing the greatest comfort to him. he knows he's a bit of a workaholic, but he comes home early at least once a week and brings you flowers and your favorite coffee, calling out to you when he enters your shared home.

"dear? i'm home."

"yay, you came home early again?!"

"ha- are you that excited, my love? i just saw you this morning."

"yes, of course! now i get to spend all night with you, i love doing that. i can't believe i get you all to myself tonight, yukichi!"

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saylorsaysstop · 4 months

Text

Sleeping Together | 18+

also shout out to @joyful-enchantress because after she commented on my Grayson post earlier, this all came to my mind. 🤪

**underneath the cut**

DICK GRAYSON

Dick talks you through it. He wants you to be vocal and makes it his top priority that your needs are met first

"Tell me what you need, baby." - "That's it, just like that, baby. You're close, aren't ya? Yeah, look at you. Come on, grind a little harder. I know you can do it."

Giving head is a sport for Grayson and he excels at it. He eats you out like you're his last meal

The man is an acrobat. He's flexible. All the positions he can get the two of you in should be new entries in the Kama Sutra

Dick loveeeees head in return. He won't ever make you do it or ask, but he loves that you're so eager to pleasure him

"I've been good, haven't I? No other reason to explain why you're gifting me that hot mouth of yours, sweet girl."

Dick isn't afraid to moan either. He knows when the noises start coming out of his mouth, you get off quicker

Let's go back to that acrobatic thing. He may or may not figure out ways to suspend you in the air... He may or may not be such a kinky man that he's got a separate room in your house where he plays sports with you... I'm not admitting it, I'm just saying

Loves for you to suck him off when your head hanging off the edge of the bed. He also loves to eat you out simultaneously

Dick Grayson is a boob man. Both hands on deck, he squeezes and teases your nipples by plucking them between his fingers. Loves to suck on them until they're stiff peaks. Likes to push two fingers into you while he bites your nipple, stroking until he hits that sweet spot. You're a goner after that

Loves for you to take what you want

"Atta girl, ride it just like that. This dick belongs to you, right? Act like it. Pleasure yourself... Yeah, go ahead and play with your clit. Wanna see you come. You're so pretty when you do."

Dick treasures loving on you after sex. He rewards you for your good behavior and a job well done with baths, massages, you name it. He ensures you're taken care of and reminds you that he loves you dearly

JASON TODD

Jason likes it rough. He loves it when he sees your marks on him, whether it be teeth or nails. He collects each one like it is a kill

Ropes? Knife play? Any sort of bondage? Jason Todd is your man

Loves to bind your hands above your head while he rails you deep into the mattress. Loves the idea of you being helpless and unable to take it anymore. Gets him off real quick

Loves some dirty talk

"Take this dick like a good girl." - "You're soaking wet, babe. All this for me?" - "Not gonna waste a drop of this cum, you hear me? You won't let a drop leak outta this cunt - my cunt. You got that?"

Jason likes to get right by your ear while he grunts with each thrust, nipping your earlobe in between before trailing his tongue down your neck and sucking on your collarbone

"Gonna mark this pretty neck up, baby."

You two go at each other until you're a panting mess. Clothes strewn all over the place. Jason and you stare up at the ceiling, laughing like teenagers as you calm down from the high

"I think that was my new personal best. Ten orgasms. Ten!"

Yeah. Jason likes to place bets on who can give the other more orgasms in one night. Right now, he's winning

Jason loves your butt. Loves to slap your cheeks as he bends you over his lap as a warm-up. Carresses and bites the plump skin when he's kissing his way down your body before he hikes your legs over his shoulders and feasts

Likes to feel you breathe against him. He loves to feel your chest rise and fall when he's on top and you're panting for every breath while chasing your orgasm

He's a man who likes to edge that's for sure

"Uh-uh... That wasn't it. You can do better than that. Moan a little louder, that's it..." - "I'm being mean? No, you just need to work harder to come. You wanted this." - "Atta girl. I promise I'll let you come after this."

Jason's aftercare is you two taking a hot bath together where he can just hold your back to his chest and actually talk. You're his safe space

TIM DRAKE

Tim, albeit quiet, is a delectable switch. One day he's all soft and endearing, the next he's plowing you into next week (and blushing when you mention it afterward

He does a lot of studying on sex. What positions feel the best for you, different ways he can go down to ensure he has you screaming his name for all of Gotham to hear

Gets a little possessive during sex, especially when he's losing himself in it

"You're mine, do you hear me? Mine, sweetheart. Mine." - "No one else is going to claim you. You belong to me."

He likes it when you pull his hair, especially when he's going down. Feeling you guide him further into you is like a bolt of electricity shooting down his spine

Tim loves to get you relaxed before sex too, especially if he knows it's going to be a long night. He'll run you a warm bath, pamper you with sweet-scented lotions, and get you nice and ready before he unleashes. Fun fact, those nights are when you know he's gonna get rough

Tim won't admit it aloud but he loves a good missionary position or where you two lay facing each other. He loves to caress your face and kiss you softly as he takes you

"Lift your leg, sweetheart... That's it. C'mere. Let me watch that gorgeous face of yours when you fall apart for me, yeah?"

Like Dick and Jason, he VALUES aftercare so. Freaking. Much! Takes a warm cloth to the mess he made between your legs and kisses along the heated skin, telling you how much he loves you

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vintagehellfire · 6 months

Text

Danse Macabre | E.M x Reader

summary: Your best friend invites you to a concert that you're less than keen on but you get much more devil worship than you bargained for.

warnings: porn without plot, plot? What plot?, choking, nipple play, blood play, bruising, oral (m receiving), sacrilege, bdsm, dom sub dynamics, just really stupid horny honestly. Eyefucking, teasing, edging???? Spit kink, mask kink, devil worship. This is just pure filth honestly, piv, unprotected sex (don’t do this with strangers ya’ll pls I’m begging) mdni 18+

word count: 8.6k

Thank you to @the-unforgivenn for beta reading this pure filth for me and for correcting my atrocious keystroke mistakes. I love you so much babe.

part two

How you got dragged to some sort of musical satanic ritual by your best friend Lilly was far beyond you. The heavy instrumentals contrasted too harshly with the light and theatrical vocals. If looks could kill, Lilly would be dead. This wasn’t your scene, it never would be, it’s what you told yourself. Sipping your gin, arms crossed, you scrunch your face, the bartender having been too busy staring at your chest while he poured your drink, resulting in a rather disgusting concoction. As if the night couldn’t get any worse.

One of the lighter intro songs came to an end before the pyrotechnics roared to life next to you, one of the guitarists emerged from behind the waft of smoke. It was then that your breath caught in your throat, the way that he played had you hypnotised, placing you in a trance so deep that you couldn’t tear your eyes from him even if you wanted to, veins protruding. Your eyes trailed over his body, tight jeans fitting to his body and a uniform dress shirt adorning his torso, long sleeves and turtleneck underneath, hiding any soft skin. As you would be met with a face, you were surprised to find that you were met with a helmet of sorts, breathing tubes and other such accessories adorning it, as well as sticking out the top. His eyes burned red like embers behind the wide goggles, a darkness swallowing the man behind the mask and drawing you in. Curiosity got the better of you, you watched closely when he stomped to the beat of the songs. he fans collectively let out a wave of screams, throwing flowers on stage. You rolled your eyes so hard they probably should have rolled out of your head. Were you attracted to the masked musician? In some capacity sure, but wholly? No. They just… they knew how to play well and those hands… you could admit those hands were something. You shook your head to rid yourself of impure thoughts, it wasn’t like you liked the music anyway.

Your face was stone cold and your arms were crossed over your chest unhappily, cleavage pushed up, and the leather of your jacket creaking. That was the thing about you, you’d rather die than remove your prized biker jacket. It was your battle armour, much like the guitarists get up seemed to be the band’s uniform. To them, it protected their identity, and it protected you – you wouldn’t be caught off guard, you wouldn’t be vulnerable, you couldn’t. Your icy stare pierced through the smoke, through the flames, as you focused your gaze on the guitarist in front of you. His white guitar distinguished him from everyone else just as your expression did you –perfectly sour.

The crowd behind you chanted along to the songs, screaming about Lucifer and the congregation and whatever other shit you chose to ignore in favour of your best friend. Lilly was one of them, jumping up and down, chanting every word of the hymns the lead singer belted out to the tune of the strong bass line and the chugging of guitars. As much as you wanted her to have fun, you rolled your eyes, this wasn’t your scene. Every song that started out heavy led to a disappointment with the vocals or the rock opera and so you just opted to be the designated party pooper and give your best glare towards the lead guitarist who seemed all too interested in your corner of the stage. He wailed on his guitar harder than you’d seen anyone wail on one before, a flash of worry briefly crossing your mind but you quickly pushed it down.

The masked man played through his songs flawlessly, fingers moving expertly across the fretboard, mind and body completely in tandem; however your pout, your knit eyebrows, and crossed arms caught his eye, he’d stare back at you through his tinted goggles, smiling softly to himself at how adorable you looked when you were so grumpy. He could tell this wasn’t your scene and so during the slow and long intro to a song he walked over to the very front, standing just a few feet above you. He tilted his head to the side, his mask listing as he stared, playing the intro as his eyes never left yours.

The small movement caught your attention, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you felt like the glowing embers behind the goggles were burning into your very soul, dissecting every little secret. He slowly points to himself before he gets his queue to jump into his next riffs, stomping away as he pushed through the heavy chords that thundered through the concert hall. You dared not admit it to yourself, but something inside you snapped, a warmth starting to spread between your legs. No, no you couldn’t possibly be attracted to this, right? But just as that thought entered your mind, it shot out of your head and straight to your heart when you saw the man before you strut over to his bandmate. The two bent over backwards together, the taller of the two supporting the back of the man with the white guitar. A cute moment, or so you thought, but as soon as the shorter was up for his solo, the taller wrapped an arm around him and pawed at his cock, tugging him into his muscled body, catching the one you had your eye on off guard. He rocked his hips into the other and rested his masked head on the shorter shoulder, fake panting. He did not falter however, and that had your brain reeling.

With a small smack on the ass, the taller let him go, strutting away as the crowd erupted in ear shattering screeches, and if what had just transpired wasn’t one of the hottest things you’d seen, you would have absolutely rolled your eyes, but instead it had you shifting in your place, all too keenly aware of the small flare of heat that lapped at you and the proximity of the other bodies surrounding you. You suddenly felt small, trapped; and you wanted nothing more than to run out and dunk your head under some ice cold water. What was wrong with you? Your eyes darted from side to side, hoping your best friend Lilly wouldn’t notice.

What went on next was just about to make anyone lose their minds, the lead guitarist started to throw guitar picks into the crowd, plucking one last one from his guitar and marching over to directly in front of you. The song they played next was clearly well known but it was only vaguely familiar to you, it was one you would listen to ironically while doing the dishes, one that you didn’t care much for, but was catchy nonetheless. What you didn’t realise was just how suggestive the lyrics were – and so when the man with the white guitar stood in front of you, spreading his legs to put himself in a more comfortable playing stance you thought nothing about it but his next motions had your panties soaking themselves in your slick. A long and crooked finger pointed to himself quickly, then he went back to wailing on his precious guitar just before giving himself a window of about a second to stop, his ring and middle finger very rapidly turned upwards, flicking rapidly as if motioning fingering you, his goggles deadlocked on your eyes. You could tell he was watching you for a reaction, and how you knew you wouldn’t be able to tell. Christ, maybe you should have listened to Lilly when she was telling you this band was horny. Truthfully, you had shrugged it off, what, some singer in a pope mask acting all horny? That didn’t exactly get your rocks off, but the moment you laid eyes on the masked men playing their instruments, all rational thought flew out the window.

Little did you know that the guitarist did have his eyes set on you, all queues already learned, his body moving on auto pilot, his performance was deliberately exaggerated just for you, his motions tailored to get you hot and bothered. He knew he played the best role, and as the show went on, with the lack of water, and the horrid head, he knew his veins were pronouncing themselves even more, fingers sliding around, fingering the fretboard with an expert speed. Every nook, cranny, and metal notch memorised by the calluses on the pads of his fingers, like an old lover he’d always know how to please. He would pride himself on it, on his accuracy, and he was thankful, oh so thankful, that his death metal band had allowed him the dexterity to pull something such as this off.

Your eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from his figure, stalking his every move like a predator with their prey, A game of cat and mouse you both played with each other from the stage and the crowd. At this point, all shame was thrown out the window and you were openly eye fucking him, blood boiling in your veins and mouth starting to run a little dry.

The final nail in the coffin was during their heaviest song during the show, a calm moment before the storm, before the stadium exploded in a downpour of black and white paper confetti. Your eyes fixated on the man before you as the song slows to a steady chug, breathy whispers sung into the microphones. It made your head spin as you were trying to compose yourself, breath hitching as the object of your lustful affection met your gaze. His black inky goggles bored you as he brought a shaky hand up, his other hand chugging the low E of his guitar. You were transfixed by the man, unable to peel your eyes from him as he slowly and seductively licked his hand, tongue expertly flicking between his fingers, his shaky breaths becoming ragged and exaggerated. Pressing his hand to his chest, he threw his head back in a moan, sliding his elegant fingers down the front of his uniform until it was level with his guitar, and exactly in time with his strumming, he fisted his hand and with a teasing motion he tugged at the air. Your mouth ran completely dry as you registered that he was feigning masturbation in front of thousands of people. He had you caught in a trance, hypnotised by his agonising motions, his eyes seemingly staring into your very soul, picking apart every last bit of you - he saw the scars inside and your desires all rolled into one. As his actions picked up, one hand still busy on his guitar, you let out a choked breath, transfixed by the man, ghoul, whatever he was, before you. He commanded all your attention, causing your mouth to run completely dry but it couldn’t have prepared you for his “release”-- letting go the moment the confetti cannon exploded. Your jaw slacked, a strangled moan flying from your mouth as you clenched your thighs together, mouth slightly agape.

The guitarist knew he had you in a chokehold at that very moment, smirking from underneath his coverings. Flawlessly he jumped back into the song and turned away from you, the game of cat and mouse had become too much, too real. It had only taken him an hour and a half to break you down, but once he did he felt a satisfaction he couldn’t explain, and of course he would try to hide it as he continued to strut across the stage as if he owned it. The reality was that he didn’t want to give away just the way this little game had affected him as well, an undeniable strain in his lower half. If his bandmates had noticed, they had clearly made it their mission to torture him, the rhythm guitarist getting on his knees in front of him during a solo, fucking into his own guitar as he pressed his head to the lead guitarists thigh. It wasn’t until the lead placed a boot on his shoulder to push away from him that the one on his knees relented, the crowd exploding in a rain of screams, and yet all you heard was the rush of blood in your ears. You resigned, the game had been won.

As you tried to catch your breath, you looked over to Lilly, thanking Satan that she hadn’t noticed your turmoil. The rest of the show had you holding your breath, knowing that the masked musician had made it his mission to play games with you. the show ended, you were relieved, you might have a moment yet to go home and get yourself off, forgetting the whole of the events that transpired.

“Come on, let’s get out of here and to the merch table before it gets too crowded!” Lilly cheered, sticking her handout for you to take, but as soon as she looked over your face her eyes drained of excitement. “Oh, are you okay? You look a little pale,” she noted, tilting her head to the side.

“Y-yeah, I,” You cleared your throat, “I’m fine, just feeling a little warm. I think I might head home but you go grab some merch. I’ll text you,” you lied cooly. You didn’t want her to know the profound effect that the lead guitarist had on you. With a nod she gave your shoulder a squeeze and darted off.

You could finally breathe, the suffocation that gripped at your throat just moments earlier had slightly dissipated. As dirty as your thoughts were at the moment, it was in your best interest to get moving, and so, as if on autopilot, you let your feet carry you as far from the stage as possible. You slipped past the crowd, weaving in and around groups of friends, teenagers reeling about the show, displeased parents. You wanted to beeline it out of there before anyone noticed you but unfortunately your plan was short lived as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and tug you behind a closed door.

Your brain ran at a mile a minute, trying to figure out whether it was cause for alarm, but as your back collided with the wall behind you, you were met with the masked ghoul from the stage pressing his knee between your legs, pinning you in place. All colour drained from your face as your breathing laboured. There wasn’t any fear in your body, not any longer, and if there had been any,it had been replaced with undeniable arousal, heat being sent straight to your core. It took all your willpower not to grind into his thigh.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The husky voice purred, a small accent peaking through. He smelled intoxicating, like amber and cigarettes, a tinge of iron poking through in the softest of undertones. It drove you crazy, mind spinning, dizzy with want. He cocks his head to the side, his nautical mask tilting, the black goggles seemingly bottomless, swallowing his eyes. The musician’s expression is completely unreadable and if you knew any better you’d say it was like a predator who had caught his prey. Your mistake was thinking the little game you both played was over, yet now it seems like it had just begun. The man leans into you, invading your space completely, his covered mouth coming up beside your ear. “Oh you thought our little game was over, didn’t you?” He pulls back, allowing your caged body some space. “Don’t think I didn’t see you, little one.” His sweet voice purrs, setting you over the edge, hips finally pushing into his leg as your head tilts back, smacking softly into the wall.

“Fuck…” The syllable leaves your mouth as a groan before you can do anything about it. Surely you were dreaming this, but when you opened your eyes, you were met with the same mask, the same expression that stared at you from the stage.

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart, I’ll have to bring you to the green room. We’ll paint it red in sin .” You swore you could hear him wink from behind his coverings but you didn’t care, satan, you didn’t care as long as you could have him. You’d worship him in uniform, all sweat slicked and bloody if you had to. In this moment you had a one track mind and you’d be damned if you didn’t act on your desires… but maybe having these desires meant that you were already damned. “What, not as bold anymore? Devil got your tongue?” He mused.

“Are you going to run your mouth or are you going to fuck me?” You spit out at him, a feigned venom behind your words, but they were too lust drenched to be taken harshly. In an instant his body was against yours, thigh pressing into your cunt, slowly rubbing back and forth.

“Earn it.” He growled out, face burying itself into the crook of your neck to pepper both kisses and love bites across your jugular. Your body caught fire, desperate to be taken by the mysterious man then and there. You hadn’t seen his face and you were mildly worried that seeing it would ruin the illusion. Would you even find him attractive under all his coverings? You didn’t have time to think about it before his hands came to the meat of your ass, tugging you against him with a burning desire, fire coursing through his veins. The strangled moan that ripped from your throat was one you weren’t expecting, but did it ever feel right, his strained cock digging into your hips as he pushed your body closer to his. You could tell he was well endowed even through the fabric of his trousers, a heat creeping up your neck at this realisation.

“Don’t tease.” You spat, hands coming up to grip his slightly torn jacket, his arm coverings hiding any identifiers. You were going off of nothing aside from the little fire element pin that was securely pinned to the lapel of his uniform. Your hands found themselves tugging him forward, daring him to kiss you.

“Don’t be a brat.” The stranger growled, swiftly lowering the cloth covering his mouth before assaulting your lips with his. It was all teeth and tongues, pure lust taking over every one of your senses, and it seemed to be true for him as well. You kissed back furiously, nipping at his bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from him that would turn into a groan as you rolled your hips against his, begging for some relief. “Easy, pet.” He muttered against the plushness of your mouth, a small tender moment slipping through the cracks. As much as you enjoy rough, there was a certain swell that filled your heart in knowing that he wouldn’t push too far.

Your escapades were all tongue, teeth, and lips, strangled moans, and tugging at each other’s clothes until you both reached the green room wherethe band was supposed to be, however, your mystery man had ensured to clear it before he went out to find you. The only time either one of you broke from one another was for air or to push the door closed, locking it in the process. Both of you were too impatient, a carnal desire for one another pooling into your veins, fire spreading through you both and kindling in that very low spot in your abdomens.

“If you need me to stop, the safe word is Beelzebub.” The man’s husky voice cut through the groans, tugging your hips forward into his by the belt loops. He gave you a moment to process what he had said, but instead you grabbed onto his mask and tugged his head forward, lapping at his bottom lip in order to gain access to his mouth. As soon as he parted his lips, you were welcomed by his tongue dancing in tandem with yours. He tasted of wintergreen and cigarette smoke, a combination so sinful, so depraved that you should have been turned off, instead it flooded you with desire.

“Need you.” You panted out between kisses, the man unrelenting his assault on your mouth. You were utterly soaked through, and you were certain that the musician could smell you but you didn’t care, not right now anyway. You should have been embarrassed by being taken like this but it just turned you on even more knowing that maybe you would get to live out your newly discovered kink instead of trying to soothe — or smother — the flames by yourself.

“Do you need me?” The man mused. “Mmm, prove it to me, my little devil.” His hand crept from your waist down to your hips, and from your hips down to between your legs, agonizingly circling your cunt, thumb pressing into the seam of your jeans in the exact spot your clit would be in. “Show me how needy you are for me… Go on…” His husky voice teased. When you didn’t react he spun you so your back would be to him, a strong arm holding you against his body while the other busied himself with teasing you. His breath was by your ear now, and his cock pressed into your ass. He was so worked up that he began to rut his hips forward, moaning at the friction. His moan elicited a reaction in you, causing you to throw your head back onto his shoulder, mouth falling open. The tassels on his overcoat swayed with each rut of his hips, tickling the side of your face. You couldn’t imagine he wasn’t warm in his get up but you were too occupied to do anything about it.

“Please, fuck, I need you.” You choked out, eyes screwed shut as he teased. You felt him lick a stripe up your neck before nipping just underneath your ear as a small warning before latching his lips to the sensitive spot, sucking a dark bruise into your skin. The sickening combination of his lips on your neck, his hard on rubbing against your ass, and his fingers teasing your clothed cunt was becoming too much, driving your senses crazy. A low growl emanated from deep within his chest, reverberating across your back from the proximity.

“Then get down on your knees….” He spins you around, voice low and husky as he shoves you down, a mix of fear and burning desire settling in the deepest pits of your stomach. Your knees hit the ground with a thud and you’d be sure to bruise later, but that was a small price to pay. You watched him undo his belt and pull his zipper down before bringing his hand back up to his face, licking it slowly like he had during the show. You knew what was coming but what you didn’t expect was him to give you one last order as he spidered his fingers down the ruffled fabric of his shirt. “And pray.” An animalistic snarl came from beyond the mask as his fingers trailed into his boxers this time. The man tugged his cock out and began to stroke himself, chest heaving, his breathing became laboured.

“Oh, god.” You uttered, but the musician didn’t seem to like that. He let go of his cock, allowing it to bounce against his stomach, a stark contrast with his black attire. It looked delicious with the little opalescent bead of precum nestled on the very tip.

“No, my pet,” he purred, his thumb coming to your lips, slipping past them and into your mouth. It tasted of brass and sweat yet you opted to hollow your cheeks around it anyway, “you answer to our savior, satanus here. You are no longer in the house of god.” There was a cruelty behind his voice, corruption on his tongue. You would have thought the theatrics would have instantly had you shoving him away, but instead it left you craving the masked man, mouth salivating at the thought of him completely ruining you.

Without much warning, he tapped his cock on your lips, his precum smudging across your lips, and satanus, was it going to be his death. Your dark smudge of red lipstick would become ruins in the wake, the thought of a red ring around his member had his brain short circuiting, if you didn’t take him in your mouth soon he was going to lose it. Luckily you complied, opening wide to accommodate his size, letting your tongue lap at his tip as he slid in. He started slowly, almost carefully in order not to hurt you but soon enough you pushed his cock to the back of your throat, eliciting a strangled moan from him. His hands flew to your hair, desperate to hold onto something, anything, and he tugged you forward, pulling a moan from the very back of your throat. You pulled back, saliva building up in your mouth mixing with the salty taste of his seed.It wasn’t something you expected to like but you found yourself chasing it, craving more.

Your head bobbed over his length, your moans muffled as you tried to take him deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. His delicate resolve broke then and there, slamming into you at a frantic pace. He chased his high, immense pleasure searing through his veins as he fucked into your mouth like an animal, all sense of self control was gone. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, giving him the most innocent look you could muster as you flicked your tongue over his tip, lapping at his slit. Agonisingly you pulled back, employing the aid of your hand around his length, taking only part of him in your mouth. You jacked him off as you hollowed your cheeks around his tip, tongue expertly flicking over his frenulum and eliciting the most pornographic moan from him.

“Satanus, save me.” The man hissed from above you, pulling on your hair to draw you closer. He was losing control, babbling about how pretty you looked on your knees for him. “You are so exquisitely sinful, my pet.” His chest heaved with every breath he took, fingers tangling themselves further into your head of hair, fingernails practically at your scalp.

You take the praise and you run with it, taking it as a signal to keep going, and this time you move your free hand up his leg, rubbing over his thigh as a tease, a preamble to what you were going to do next. You took his groan as a confirmation to continue, his breaths coaxing you to keep going. You slid your hand up, opting to rub his thigh teasingly, savouring the feeling of the looser material under your fingertips, toying with it before you continued your journey up. While your mouth and right hand busied themselves with his thick cock, your left hand came up to fondle his heavy balls. Who knew that praying to a false idol could be so pleasurable.

“Oh, oh, f-fuck.” The taller threw his head back, voice gruff and fucked out, clearly enjoying this more than he should have been. He was rapidly losing any grip on the situation and he needed to extract himself from it unless he wanted to spill into your mouth. It was his nightmare, his most sinful fantasy, having you like this after the show – a stranger, a person in the crowd. The amount of people that would absolutely kill to be in your position and it was likely that you weren’t appreciating it as you should have been. The man keened before tugging you back harshly, his hips stuttering at the sudden loss of contact from your mouth. “If you keep going like that, I’m going to cum down your throat, sweetheart.” There was a certain level of concern laced into his tone, one that you glossed over through your lust.

“Holy shit…” You breathe out, pupils completely blown, the colours of your irises practically disappearing due to how clouded your mind was with him, only him, nothing but him, and how divine his cock was. At your words, something inside him snaps and he grabs your throat, pulling you up. You could feel yourself growing more aroused by the minute. How he had guessed that you’d be into choking was beyond you, but fuck was this doing things to you that you hadn’t even thought possible.

“There is nothing Holy here.” He growled out, a darkness overtaking his voice. His words sent a cold shiver down your spine, one that found itself shooting down towards your core, causing you to press to him. The ember glow from behind his goggles scanned over your face, flickering, igniting a fire in the bits of your belly. “Here we succumb to our lust.” He breathes before letting your neck go only to bring his hand down to your chest and massage your breast, pinching gently through the fabric of your tank top. In an instant, his mouth attacked your neck savagely, teeth nipping at the thin skin, tongue flicking over the bites to soothe them. You tilt your head back to accommodate him, your breathy moans coming up right beside his ear as you rut into him. You’re desperate to be fucked at this point, needing him more than you need to breathe.

He pierced your skin with his canines, an animalistic desire for you taking over him. He could no longer think, all consumed by his desires. You felt his lips trail down, soft as a butterfly’s wings, stopping at your jugular vein before he bit down, causing you to let out a yelp. Your cry of pain turned into a pornographic moan as he sucked and lapped at your salty skin, a small sheen of sweat starting to gloss over you as you burned up. If this was what being in hell was like, you’d have a hard time coming up with reasons to wind up in heaven. Your torture didn’t end there; however, as he snaked his free hand up to your cheek, holding you in place tenderly as he continued his assault on your neck. He made it his mission to mark you up as his but you were too far gone to care.

“Oh Christ.” You moaned as he lapped at the bite marks he left, but he didn’t seem to like this. Not that you could see this much, but his eyes turned dark as he trailed his lips farther down, burying his face in the crook of your neck before he bit down hard enough to draw blood. Your pain was immediately covered in a strangled cry of pure ecstasy as he tugged you towards him, his hand on your breast moving to your hip, surely bruising it, fingerprint embedded in the skin of your hip bone.

The taste of iron filled the musician’s mouth, his hard on reacting to your metallic taste, pressing into your hip involuntarily. He couldn’t get enough of you - the intoxicating smell of amber and palo santo mixed with the salt from sweat, and the citrus of the gin… He wanted to ruin you once and for all.

“No, my pet, you are not in the house of God. Only the devil resides here. Will I need to have you pray to me again?” The growl that ripped from his throat has you soaking your lace panties, a choked sob escaping from your parted lips. As he took you in, he noted that you already looked completely fucked out, the bruising on your neck blooming like deep red roses, a symbol of both love and devotion. The only thing you could do was shake your head in answer to him. “Mmm,” the stranger hummed, “your body and blood are mine, sweetheart.” He teased you. As your chest heaved, you examined him, traces of your blood down his chin, and some smeared across his mask, his lips were swollen from the harsh and animalistic kisses he was giving you, and satanus were you ever attracted to him in this moment.

“Please… Can I see you?” You plead, your hands coming to his waist, trailing down slowly, your right hand making contact with his cock. The soft cant of his hips encouraged you to grip it gently, stroking him languidly as you await his answer. “Please…” You repeated, eyes desperately boring into the void behind his goggles.

“Oh, is my little pet desperate to see me?” He cooed out, his fingers skillfully finding your belt, undoing it at a painfully slow pace. It was your turn to buck your hips into him, rolling them into his touch. “Mmm, such a little slut, can’t wait until I get my hands on you, can you?” He teased.

“Satanus, yes, please! Wanna see you.” You groaned, breath catching as he slowly teased you through your jeans. “Need you, need- need- ah!” You cried, throwing your head back once again, eyes fluttering shut from absolute pleasure. It’s then that the man opted to unzip your fly, pausing his animalistic activities to gently tug your jeans over your hips. You weren’t having any of this slow and sweet shit; however, and kicked them off as soon as you got the chance to, allowing him easier access to your sopping cunt. The smell hit him immediately and he moaned, head falling against your forehead, his breathing ragged and strained. His cock reacted, bouncing in your hand and you continued your teasing.

“Then beg me for it, pet. I don’t think you’ve earned the opportunity to unmask me just yet.” His resolve crumbled with every soft touch, every stroke. He pushed into your hand and you took that as a sign to speed your motions before you pushed him back. Confusion was written across his features, that was until you let a healthy glob of spit hit his angry cock. “Oh mother fuck.” The man hissed out, crashing his bloodied lips into your own, allowing the metallic taste of your own blood to permeate your tongue. You reciprocated, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He parted his lips, granting you access, as he swiftly moved your panties to the side, his thick fingers slipping between your weeping folds. It took everything in him to not take you then and there, your pussy sucking his fingers in, tight and wet.

“Please, please, I need to see you.” You sobbed out between kisses, but it was clear that it wasn’t enough. The musician growled at your words, dipping his index into your slick and using it as a lubricant to tease your clit with, it took him a moment but he found the bundle of nerves. The instanthis calloused finger landed on your clit, your vision exploded into stars, mouth practically running on its own, incoherent pleas and various iterations of “more” tumbling from your swollen lips. You were finally giving him something to work with, the pleas, the praises. He continued working your cunt, curling his fingers into the sweet spot deep inside you, warm walls squeezing against him.

“Oh, darling. I’ll give you whatever your sinful heart desires.” He nipped at your bottom lip, splitting it with his canines before he pulled back, panting as he tried to catch his breath, however he refused to remove his hand from your cunt, slowing his movements only a fraction so that he could catch his bearings. “Are you sure?” He asked you, a worry laced in his voice. You nodded fervently, a saccharine look in your eyes peeking through beyond the undeniable lust. Whether you understood he was anxious about what you would think of him or not wasn’t apparent but regardless, you wanted to know who the man you were bound to fuck was.

With a swift move he tugged the mask off, tossing it to the couch behind him and removing his balaclava. What you hadn’t expected was the sight to take your breath away completely. His hair tumbled out of the bun he had it tucked into, and the messy curls cascaded down his shoulders, doe eyes framed by the prettiest eyelashes you’d ever seen, and his swollen lips? God you couldn’t even think anymore. You immediately kissed them, nipping at his lips, taking his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking, tearing a moan from him, his lust filled eyes expanding even farther as you continued your assault on his lips. You bit down harder this time, cracking his lip. This time the metallic taste belonged to him and you couldn’t help but moan at his taste. You needed more.

“Please, I- I need you…” You panted, eyeing the man with carnal desire.

“Eddie, my name is Eddie.” And with that final confession he grabbed you by the hip and dragged you back to the roomiest surface he could find. It was all teeth, tongue, and the metallic taste of each other’s blood. Your hand on his cock and his fingers still working you open, movements becoming more erratic as he practically drilled into you with his fingers, setting an unrelenting pace that he seemed eager to keep up. Your knees hit the back of a couch, and his arm immediately shot to the small of your back, gently lowering you, a contrast to how he was abusing your needy body. Your hands moved to his hair in preparation for what was to come, yanking at his soft locks, releasing a deep moan from low in his chest. His hair was silky underneath your fingertips, few tangles in the way or your mission.

“Eddie, please.” You whined, flush with desire, unable to think of what you wanted anymore than wanting him. A smirk adorned his lips and he sank his knees onto the soft cushion, knees bracketing your hips perfectly, his hands coming up to frame your face, curls ticking your cheekbones as he did so.

“Open up, sweetheart.” He cooed. Instinctively you parted your lips for him only to feel a glob of his spit fly into your mouth. “Now swallow like the good devil worshipping slut you are.” You obeyed without question, swallowing down his spit with a pornographic moan. As you did, he took a moment to line himself up for you. “God, you look so beautiful, blasphemous doesn’t even begin to cover it, pet.” He praised as he rubs his dick against your soaked entrance, your hips rocking into him, threatening to suck him in. He hissed but slid his hand down your body, tracing your figure with his fingers, teasing in the most tantalising way, once he reaches your ass, he gives it a harsh slap at which you gasp out, choking on your breath, the sting of his hand making contact with your ass radiating a heat you hadn’t thought possible. You hadn’t expected it in the least but it was welcome nonetheless. “Behave.” He growled out, a darkness seeping into the word.

“P-Please, Eds… I need - I can’t, please.” You babbled, words completely incoherent. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for at this point. His cock? His fingers? Were you asking to be fucked stupid? In all your incoherent ramblings and begging Eddie caught one thing that made his brain fuzzy around the edges. “Corrupt me satanus, corrupt me, please.” Playing into the whole devil worship aspect had him gone, his hips violently snapping into yours, completely disregarding that you might need to adjust to the stretch. Part of him felt bad, but your immediate response was to wrap your legs around his waist, crying his name out as tears brimmed your eyes, mascara beginning to run down your cheeks. To Eddie, you looked absolutely perfect. He leaned in and peppered kisses across your face to wipe away the tears that trickled down.

“S’this what you want, my little pet? You want me to ruin you?” His husky voice was in your ear as he dipped his head lower, his hips rolling into yours slowly. He moved masterfully for someone so scrawny, cock buried to the hilt as he rocked into you. Your mouth fell slack, tightening your legs around his waist and tugging him into you. “Come on, answer me, sweetheart.” He coaxed, pulling out of you slowly before snapping his hips into yours. The pleasure and pain mixed together in a teasing dance, keeping you on the edge and overwhelming your senses all the same. You couldn’t verbally answer and so you turned your head, tucking your face into his neck and kissing up to his ear. About halfway up you landed on a sensitive spot, causing a moan to tumble from his lips, a shiver running down your spine. You latched on like a vampire, sucking over the spot, lapping over it with your tongue to soothe any violent bites you inflicted upon him. In turn he bit into your shoulder, trying to ground himself in reality instead of losing himself to carnal pleasure, the coil in his abdomen tightening evermore. His plan had gone to shit the moment you continued to nibble on his neck, your hands tugging harder at his lock, pulling him further into you. With a slight upward tilt of your hips, Eddie hit a new angle when he snapped his hips into yours, ploughing deeper into you. The both of you moaned in unison before he released a strangled whimper. It was your turn to break skin, your mouth filled with the crimson substance that sustained Eddie’s life. Releasing your lips from the wound, you kissed over his neck and to his shoulder, smearing the fluid across his upper half.

His pace picked up, slamming into you, deeper and deeper, nothing but the sound of breathless lovers, bodies colliding, and the sweet ecstasy of carnal desire flooding the green room. Your hand then came to his back, scratching down it and eliciting a whine from the man above you.

“Please, please, please.” You chanted into his neck. It was as if he understood what you meant, his hand coming down between your joined bodies to rub over the bundle of nerves, little figure eights being drawn over your clit. You were going to lose your mind, and maybe even your soul. Would selling it to the devil be so bad? It didn’t take long after that for a white heat to build, a pressure that you weren’t used to building, the coil tightening, threatening to snap like an elastic band.

“Oh, shit, sweetheart, I’m close.” The man turned his head, kissing up your neck, over your cheek, and found your lips. His kiss was searing hot, burning with need. He chased his release with you, trying to bring you as close to the edge as he could, hoping you might be able to finish at the same time. “Don’t want to finish until you do.” The devil could be generous if he wanted to be.

“S’close.” You panted against his swollen lips, unable to give any coherent answer to him, not that you cared. If laying in sin felt this good, you’d bed the devil any day. “Please, Eds… Don’t stop.” And somehow he kept at it, the same pace, same pressure, same rough and unrelenting fuck that he had been using for the past few minutes. He knew that don’t stop also meant that he shouldn’t change a single fucking thing he was doing, and rightfully so. With a cry, you closed your eyes tight, lights dancing behind your eyelids as you came, the elastic finally snapping, and your release soaking Eddie’s stage uniform.

“Oh- fuck!” The man squeaked, his own release following shortly after. He could have sworn he saw stars in that moment, arms shaking beneath his own weight. His body fully collapsed on top of yours, your arms wrapping around him tightly, kisses tenderly placed on his shoulder. “So perfect f’me.” He mumbled into your sticky skin, reluctantly peeling from you. His brutal and domineering demeanour melted away, replaced by a certain level of care. You could see it behind his eyes clearly. “You okay, sweetheart?” He cooed, brushing your hair from your face, a few strands sticking to your forehead.

“Y-yeah.” You shakily breathe out, your voice hoarse from the activities that had just taken place. As you try to prop yourself up on your shoulders, you wince, a pain shooting through you. “Just sore.” You murmured, suddenly shy under the musician’s gaze. You didn’t dare look at him anymore, a twinge of shame filling your heart.

“Hey, sweetheart, come here.” He mumbled, scooting closer, not daring to pull out just yet. He pulls you up, legs entangled with each other in a pile of limbs, unsure of where one person ended and the other began. He pressed your warm body to his, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, rubbing soothing circles over your back, his gentle voice whispering sweet nothings to you.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You mumbled into his skin, placing a tender kiss over a forming bruise. “That was something else.” He hummed in agreement, allowing his eyes to flutter close for a second, letting himself enjoy a fleeting moment of human contact while he was on tour. While the guys were wonderful and he loved them to death, there was a certain intimacy that he missed in lovers. One that he didn’t indulge in as much these days.

Reluctantly, he pulled out and you pulled away, debating whether to say anything to him, or whether you wanted to indulge in some more pleasantries. If you were any wiser and more observant you’d have noticed the longing in his eyes, his gaze trailing over your figure as you pushed away to gather your belongings. It was odd to say that the musician would have wanted you to stick around for some more aftercare, it would have been even stranger if he admitted to you that he just wanted you to stick around post coitus and have a drink, maybe a smoke, and get to know each other.

“Hey, hang on, let me clean you up.” His voice softened, taking you aback. “Come on, pet, I’m not gonna leave you like this.” He gets up only to tuck himself back into his slick soaked uniform, cringing as he does so. He grabs a water bottle from the nearby table and a small cloth kept on the vanity in the far corner of the room. “Come on, just sit.” He motioned back over to the couch and watched as you hesitantly padded over. You sat down on the cleanest area you could find, squirming as you began to feel Eddie’s cum slipping out of you.

“S’fine, you don’t have to.” You mumbled, turning away from the man. He sighed as he approached you, sinking to his knees before starting to clean your thighs. He worked his way up between your legs, cleaning the leaking spend from your cunt. He placed a few gentle kisses to the tops of your thighs, your eyes flicking over to him as he did so. That was the moment you got a good look at the man. Dark ink littered his skin, barely an inch was pure, untouched, the only areas you couldn’t see his tattoos were the areas in which you had drawn blood, the dried fluid flaking slowly. He continued cleaning you up, rubbing gentle and warm circles with the wet cloth. Part of you couldn’t help but find this incredibly thoughtful, your heart squeezing at the gestures, but the other half of you believed that you were probably just an easy lay.

“Hush, yes I do. It’s the least I can do.” His doe eyes met yours as he looked up at you through his lashes. “I made a mess of you, darling, and I need to clean you up.” His voice was sincere, soft even, and you couldn’t help but melt. You allowed him to tend to your tired limbs, and once he got to your neck, he apologised, knowing that it would probably hurt. You couldn’t help but stare at the softness behind his eyes, the fire that burned within had fizzled out and was replaced by some unnamed emotion. As the towel made contact with your neck, you winced, earning yourself a kiss from the musician. It shocked you that even after the heat of the lustful moment he was still willing to kiss you but you accepted it, melting into his lips. They were soft, a little chapped, but inviting nonetheless.

“Thank you.” You whispered against them, afraid your voice would give out if you spoke any louder. Your hand came up to his face, brushing your thumb over his sharp cheekbone before placing your forehead against his. “You’re sweeter than I anticipated.”

“And you’re kinkier than I anticipated.” He retorted and moved back gently, only to give himself room to fold the towel over to a clean side before cleaning up your face with a gentle hand. “Thank you for indulging me.” He cooed out to you, his sincerity going straight to your heart. You couldn’t help but nod.

“I should go.” Your voice broke, and in that same moment, so did Eddie’s heart. There was something to you that drew him in, that he wanted more of, that he craved. It flew past just the need for human contact, part of it had to do with the way you ran with the punches he threw, you went with the game you played from the stage all the way to the back room. Eddie nodded solemnly, pushing away.

“Yeah, uh…” He bit his lip, tossing the washcloth on the coffee table. Surely worse things had been on that surface in the past, but right now Eddie didn’t care about that, not about what was on that table, what would be in the future, or what he just threw onto it. “You don’t have to, I actually, I don’t know that I want you to. Can I at least buy you a drink?” He asked, standing up straight. You turn around, grabbing your pants so you could slip them back on over your legs.

“You want to buy me a drink?” There’s a hopeful tinge to your voice, head shooting over to look at the musician in question. As you did, you hissed out gently, the garden of blooming roses on your neck blossoming farther across your neck, bite marks adorning your skin like dark tattoos. There was no denying what had gone on.

“Sweetheart, I think we both left a mark on one another,” he teased, “when you pray to the devil so well, I think it’s hard for him to resist.” A twinkle in his eyes told you it was more than just the sex you both had. “Besides, it might help with the pain. What do you say?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed as if you were deep in thought, “only if the devil can treat me right.” You mused. “You going to change first?” You waggled your eyebrows, referring to his squirt-soaked trousers, only to receive a smirk in return. “Oh no sweetheart, I wear my battle scars with pride.” With that, he pushed back to grab his helmet, slipping it back over his head before taking your hand in his and leading you off to the bar. He wasn’t what you expected, none of it was, the show, the music, Eddie, but as you took his hand you couldn’t help the feeling brewing in your chest; the feeling that maybe the unexpected was exactly what you needed.

taglist: @munson-blurbs @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower @word-wytch (if you want) @rip-quizilla @hellfire--cult @mystish

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #musician!eddie #stranger things au #mask kink #ghost bc #sodo ghoul #eddie as sodo #i'm obsessed #eddie munson smut #reader insert #music

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nivisdreaming · 1 year

Text

Roommate Rules

Summary: Eddie teaches you a thing or two about what happens when you decide to get yourself off every night since you moved in knowing he could hear in the next room over. Part 2 of this request about Eddie in grey sweatpants

WC: ~1.8k

Tags: NSFW, smut, PWP, oral (m!receiving), deepthroating, praise, degradation, dumbification, dom!eddie, sub!reader, fem!reader, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, bondage, fingering, daddy kink, master kink, clothes humping, PiV, objectification, exhibitionism, a hint of possessive!eddie, breeding kink, subspace heavily implied, aftercare

Eddie massages the base of your skull leisurely, his fingers simply following along with the bobs of your head as you work your throat open on his cock. He stares down at you with lust-blown pupils, a smirk evident on his face as he watches your lips stretch around him and drool start to pool out of your mouth.

“Y’know, you’ve always been such a vocal little girl, moaning and pleading while you touch yourself. I felt so dirty, listening to you like that,” Eddie tightens his hold on your hair, “but all along, you’ve been the dirty one, haven’t you? Making all that noise to put on a pretty show for me, let me know what a slut you are in hopes I’d just come over there and choke you on my dick like this, huh?” He forces himself deeper down your throat until he can press your nose against the curls of his pubic hair. “Fuck, that’s it, keep it right there princess.” He keeps you held down for a few seconds for yanking you back, sending you sputtering and gasping for air while he throws his head back in pleasure.

You take in the sight of him for a moment, sweat glistening on his chest, veins up his arms and leading to his neck pulsing, red angry cockhead leaking precum just inches from your swollen lips. You whimper and make a small kitten lick at tip, savoring his taste before leaning further forward to nuzzle at his thigh, trying to regain his attention.

Eddie’s head falls back into place and he smiles down at you, reaching out to softly pat the top of your hair. “What do you want from me, baby? You have to ask for it,” He coos condescendingly. You pout and nuzzle further against him, beginning to suck and nip at the sensitive skin of his inner thigh in protest. You drink in the low rumble that comes from his chest as if it was a reward all in of itself.

You feel a strong jerk pull you upwards off your knees as Eddie tugs you by the restraints, easily manhandling you to lay flat on the bed. He shoves your legs open with rough palms, leaning down far enough for his hot breath to just lightly tickle your cunt through your panties.

“Not feeling up to asking? Did daddy’s dick down your throat turn you all dumb? Or are you just hoping if you’re defiant long enough I’ll fuck that attitude out of you?” He settles himself on his knees in order to keep your legs spread while he trails his hands upwards, tugging your underwear to the side and teasing a fingertip through your folds. “You made me wait so long. I fantasized about this tight pussy around me for so long. How about I give you a taste of your own medicine? I’d love to see just how much of a desperate whore you can become.”

He pushes his middle finger into your entrance up to the second knuckle and simply holds it there, his free hand keeping your waist pinned down as you try to squirm. His thumb trails up to rest atop your clit, applying no pressure or movement as you whimper and clench sporadically around his digit. He gives a dark chuckle in response to your pleading look.

“What? The little tease doesn’t like this? Being held right on the brink of what you want, but not allowed to take it?” He tuts, “Poor baby, like a pathetic little bitch in heat.” Eddie begins to pump his finger agonizingly slowly, his thumb pressing down on your bud just hard enough to tear a moan from you.

“You’ve just been feeding yourself orgasm after orgasm for so long princess, giving in to every depraved desire you have-“ He adds a second finger without warning, his hand pressing down harder on your abdomen, “It’s about time someone put you in your fucking place. Give you some rules to follow, and punish all that slutty behavior until you’re a well trained fucktoy.”

You nod mindlessly along to his words, basking in the fire being stoked deep in your core. You can you feel your legs begin to tremble as the pad of his thumb moves in circles, hips struggling not to buck and writhe as he presses you down. Your high-pitched whines fill the space around you and Eddie can’t get enough of them, so glad to finally being the one forcing that air out of your lungs.

“That’s my sweet girl, keep clenching down on my fingers,” he groans. You feel the stretch of a third digit thrusting inside you, sending your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. The growing knot in the pit of your stomach cinches tighter. “If you want something, you better fucking ask for it.” He gives you a harsh warning glare.

Your mouth moves uselessly, endless babbles seeming to fall out every time you make an attempt at speech. Singular pleas are doable if you try to fight the fog in your head, but sentences and coherent questions are long out of reach for your blissed out mind. Still, you rock back on Eddie’s fingers as much he will allow, chasing your orgasm.

Right as you feel the delicious burn begin to spread from your abdomen to your whole body, Eddie’s yanks his fingers out and pulls away all touch, leaving you to thrash about as your body desperately tries chase after the fading sensation. He waits patiently for the rise and fall of your chest to slow with arms crossed and his gaze fixed on your dribbling hole that you keep your legs spread to present for him.

Finally, with all overwhelming sensation gone from your skin, you manage to work your vocal chords for something other than pitiful whining. “Daddyyyy… why you’d stop? Please, come back master,” you huff. Eddie chuckles darkly in response but makes no move closer to you.

“I’m showing you how it feels, little one, to not be given everything you want. I’m teaching you what it’s like to be denied, and teased, and treated how naughty girls deserve to be treated.” He squats down and picks up a dirty hoodie from the floor. “You wanna cum so bad? Sit up, shove this between your legs, and hump it. Maybe, if you make a nice mess on it, I’ll fill you up properly as a reward.”

He tosses the hoodie to you, and you scramble up to your knees in order to grab it, quickly balling it up and placing it below you so you can grind against it. The harsh fabric rubs against every sensitive part of your skin, the pain of the friction from how fast you’re rutting into it only adding to the pleasure surging through you. Your eyelids flutter and struggle to maintain focus, but you catch glimpses of Eddie still standing in front of you, hand clenching around the head of his cock with slow, calculated movements. You can just barely hear his groans and heavy breaths over your own noises, but they do wondrous things to the tension in your belly.

You fall forward to hold your weight up with shaky arms, giving you more leverage to push yourself harder against the bed, and Eddie speeds the jerking of his fist. “C’mon baby, I know you want to. Let go, be my dirty little girl and make yourself cum for daddy,” he coaxes, sending your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, convulsing as you helplessly fall limp onto your stomach, “That’s a good girl, look so beautiful when you obey.” He sits in front of your panting figure, pulling you into his spread lap and aiding you in wrapping your shaking legs around his middle.

“Now you get your reward, don’tcha baby? You’ve been so good for me, so now you get to take my cock and cum again with your cunt all stuffed full.” He lines his tip up with your entrance and pushes in, the slick dripping down your thighs allowing him to enter you with minimal resistance.

He lets you slump on his chest, adjusting to his size while furiously kissing and licking at any part you could get your mouth on, leaving red marks in your wake. Before long you get impatient and try to circle your hips, and he takes it as his sign to grab onto your waist and fuck up into you. The bottom of his stomach slaps against your sensitive bundle of nerves with every hard thrust, and you find yourself clawing at his back in a fight to stay grounded to reality. Every bit of you burns white-hot as he bullies your g-spot, the overstimulation ripping screams from your throat in between punches of breath. You force your head into the crook of his neck to muffle the sounds, and only then do you realize he’s rambling to himself.

“So good, taking it so well princess. You feel so good wrapped around my dick, split open and ruined like my perfect sextoy,” his hands move from your waist to pinch at your nipples and clit, “I fucking own this little hole now, gonna mold her to my big cock and fill her over and over til you’re a bred little bitch. Fuck sweetheart, is that what you want? Know it fucking is, you’re squeezing me like you want to milk the cum out of me, just want daddy to make you a mommy, then everyone will know you’re my slut. My fucking cumslut.”

His words send you toppling off the edge again, a final scream tearing through you as Eddie spills inside you, letting you ride out your high on top as you milk every last drop. Once he feels the last bit of tension melt from your limbs he lays you back on the bed, pulling out of you and placing a soft kiss to your forehead. He leaves for only a moment, returning with a damp cloth that he wipes the both of you down with. You peep your heavy eyes open to watch him slip back into a clean set of boxers, and when he notices you he offers you water and a fuzzy blanket that you gladly accept. Wrapped up comfortably, nuzzled into his pillows, surrounded by his gentle embrace as he whispers praise into your ear, you fall into an easy slumber listening to his heartbeat.

—

Tags!!: @saramelaniemoon @e0509 @ajkamins @babybatlover @tiannamortis here y’all go!!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #sub!reader #dom!eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut

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azrielslightintheshadows · 5 months

Note

Heyoo! Can i request az x reader where they're mates and vowed to each other that till death do them apart. But az started questioning if he would die for his mate ever since elain came into picture, bcos of the 3 brothers for 3 sisters thing. And reader sort of found out about az's feelings and wanted time off from each other. Then all of a sudden war broke out in the court and everything was crazy. Reader went out to look for az making sure he is safe when she saw an arrow shot towards him and reader took the hit for az. And az started to regret his doubt in thie relationship and begging for his mate's forgiveness. Major angst pls and the ending is up to you! Thank you and have a great day 💖

Scattered Vows.

Azriel x f!Reader

Warnings; way too much angst, mentions of death and battle. Mental illness.

Masterlist.

Uhm my heart broke. I think you will need a tissue box.

You watched the door of your bedroom for what felt like hours. A sigh escaped your lips, and you pressed your head on your mate’s pillow, his scent so faint like he hadn’t slept in your bed for weeks. And he probably hadn’t, you couldn’t remember the last time he stayed in bed for more than three hours.

The city was bright and warm offering a perfect view from the hill you were currently standing on. Your friends’ eyes were filled with tears as they watched you and your mate standing in front of the priestess.

“What do you vow to each other?” She asked.

“I vow to be by your side, protecting you and loving you until my last breath.” Azriel’s eyes watered as he spoke, his scarred hands grabbed your own and he pressed a soft kiss on your skin.

“I vow to always support you and love you. To always shield you from any harm, heck I would even take an arrow for you.” You chuckled and Azriel smiled.

“May the Mother bless this union and let it bloom like the most precious flowers” the priestess shouted and started murmuring a prayer.

“I love you my angel” Azriel whispered.

“I love you” you whispered back as the tears streamed down your face.

You teared up at the memory. Those vows meant something right? Even though he reeked of jasmine when he came back, he loved you right?

You heard the door open, and your mate’s footsteps filled the silence, making you wipe your tears and sit up. He removed his boots to not wake you and you suppressed the urge to scoff, you slowly slipped out of bed and walked down the hall to find him.

He was standing at the middle of the kitchen watching the two cold plates on the table with a frown.

“You’re here” you noted, and he glanced at you.

“Please don’t start I’m not in the mood.” He huffed.

“Don’t start what Azriel? You stood me up AGAIN” you threw your hands in the air.

“Fine you want to do this now? Okay” he yelled, and you flinched.

Azriel had never raised his voice at you, it was one of the things you loved about him, how you could always talk things out without wrecking your vocal cords.

“Where were you?” You asked and stepped closer.

“I had to finish some reports” he replied and you stepped even closer making him back off, you quirked a brow knowing exactly why he did it and marched to him sniffing. Jasmine.

Your hands clenched into fists, and you growled “you were finishing off reports or Elain’s cunt?”

His eyes widened and he bared his teeth “don’t speak for her like that”.

Your heart broke into million pieces, every fear suddenly felt real and deep down you realized that the union bloomed like a beautiful flower, but in Elain’s garden.

“You’re defending her?” You gaped at him, your face pale.

“I can’t do this anymore y/n. Lately I’ve been thinking about everything and especially our vows…” he trailed off and you felt like his feet were stepping over the pieces of your heart, crushing them into even smaller fragments.

“Go on” you whispered and let the tears escape.

“I’ve been thinking about Cassian and Rhys…they are mated with two of the sisters and I wonder if I should be mated to the third one. Three brothers and three sisters.” He explained and his eyes watered.

“What?” You asked him.

“I just don’t feel like I want to protect you until my last breath…. Because I can’t protect both of you at the same time…” he avoided your eyes

“You want to protect her until your last breath” you whispered and he nodded.

“Okay, please pack your things and leave.” You continued.

“Don’t do this” he breathed “I’m so confused, I’m not even sure if this is what I want. I just spend time with her to see if I’m really interested or if it’s just a sick thought”

“You want me to stay with you until you decide which one you want?” You gasped at his nerve.

“I-i don’t know. Can we just take a break? I won’t touch her I promise I just need some time to think.” He pleaded.

You felt numb, and an adamant wall fell on your side of the bond, blocking him entirely.

You just wanted to be alone, you didn’t have any more power to argue. “Okay. Pack your things and leave and we will speak again when you make your decision.” You lied hoping it will get him out of the house as soon as possible.

“Thank you” he gave you a sad smile and walked into your bedroom. The small cottage you two had built a few months before the ceremony felt empty and dull now as every promise of love died slowly.

You covered your mouth with your palm to keep the sobs in as you clenched your eyes shut and let the tears flow. Azriel reached the door with a small bag thrown over his shoulder and glanced back at you. You turned your back on him and waited to hear the door shutting.

“I’ll be back” he promised and left.

When you couldn’t hear the beating sound of his wings anymore you let it all out, a heartbreaking scream wrecked your throat and you dropped on your knees. Every kiss, every touch, every promise pierced your skin and escaped to the darkness of the sky.

You remained on the kitchen floor for two days, letting every feeling out hoping that it would stop hurting so bad. You reached a point of numbness, where even your love for him was dull now, cursing at yourself for trusting him. He had your fragile heart in his hands, and he crushed it into mist, without a care, without a hint of regret. You pictured him in her arms and rage made your body tremble, you despised her even though it wasn’t her fault. She sure was a wicked female for leading on a mated male but then again why should she care? He was the one who should have said no.

A booming sound pulled you out of your thoughts and you felt the ground shaking making you furrow your eyebrows and peek out the window. Velaris' shield was gone, you couldn’t feel the magic anymore and winged creatures descended from the sky, slaughtering everyone in their path. The autumn court’s banners emerged from the mountains, with an army behind them. You gasped and quickly grabbed a dagger, running out of the cottage and winnowing to the main square, Feyre and Mor were there holding swords and shouting at people to hide.

“Where’s Azriel?” you shouted at Feyre.

“He….” She paused “He took Elain out of the city, he’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You shook your head, not letting your family’s betrayal cloud your senses. They knew and they supported them, like you never existed.

You ran towards the creatures letting all your feelings out as you sliced their necks, your vision clouding and the image of Azriel flying Elain to safety was the only thing you could see. You crouched and placed your hand on the ground screaming, your eyes became white, and your power flowed out of you, destroying creatures and buildings on its way. You gasped for air and glanced around you, Azriel had landed a few steps behind you, his eyes wide as he stared at you and what you did. You noticed a creature lurking in the corner with a bow in its hands, it grabbed an arrow and pointed it to your mate making your face pale.

“Az” you screamed and ran… ran like your life depended on it, the arrow was shot, Azriel whipped his head to the direction, and you jumped, using the remaining power to lunge yourself in front of him. Silence, deafening silence, a cry, pain, fear and darkness.

Azriel watched the arrow piercing your skin and the tip emerging from your back.

“I vow to always support you and love you. To always shield you from any harm, heck I would even take an arrow for you.” It rang in his mind.

“I would even take an arrow for you.” He cried out your name.

"I would even take an arrow for you.” “Stop” he ordered himself.

“I would even take an arrow for you.” He grabbed his head, his hands covering his ears.

“I would even take an arrow for you.” “No” he screamed and started hitting his head.

“I vow to be by your side, protecting you and loving you until my last breath.” He fell on his knees.

“Lately I’ve been thinking about everything and especially our vows… I just don’t feel like I want to protect you until my last breath…. Because I can’t protect both of you at the same time…” Darkness.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel woke up with a groan, he was in his room in the house of wind. He glanced around and noticed Elain sitting on a chair by his bed, her hand holding his own.

He stirred a bit and pulled his hand back making her flinch and open her eyes.

“Az” she whispered and tried to pull him in her arms.

“No! Where is she?” he shouted.

Rhysand entered his room and nodded at Elain to get out.

“Rhys where is she?” Azriel raised his voice again.

“Calm down, you need to rest, your shadows almost strangled you to death” his brother spoke.

“What? Why?” he gaped.

Rhys sighed “I went into your mind while you were asleep, you ordered them to strangle you because you wanted the thoughts to go away”.

Azriel’s eyes watered “Where is she? I have to go to her, I have to apologize. I need to beg her not to leave me”.

“I’m sorry brother, you’ve been out for five days. We couldn’t wait any longer so we buried her at the garden of your cottage”

“No!” Azriel screamed “No no no”

“I vow to always support you and love you. To always shield you from any harm, heck I would even take an arrow for you.” “NO” he screamed again as his body started seizing.

Rhysand quickly moved to his side and grabbed his head making him go to sleep again.

“I’m sorry brother” he whispered and glanced at Feyre who was standing at the door, tears were streaming down her face.

“It’s done” she informed him and let him in her mind.

“Are you sure you want to do this y/n?” She asked you.

“Yes, this is for the best. Just tell him I’m dead.” You replied.

“Okay, please take care of her.” She spoke.

“I will, I promise to give her a place in my court” Eris nodded.

“Thank you” Feyre replied, “for everything, we wouldn’t defeat Beron without you”.

“It was my pleasure” Eris smirked and grabbed your hand.

Feyre let a tear slip as she watched you disappearing with Eris.

“Do you think he will survive this?” She asked Rhysand.

“I doubt it.” He sighed and they walked out, closing the door and locking it.