#off the marshmallow stick | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keeksandgigz · 3 months

Text

somewhere we can be alone

stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!fem!reader

a collab with @reidsbtch- mariah is literally the best person to collab with, it's like our brains were making out the whole time we were writing this. thank u for letting me collab with you to write this absolutely not self indulgent, way too long fic together <3

summary: Now on the tail end of graduating, Eddie Munson is required to take part in an extracurricular activity. He's assigned as stage manager for the school's production of Romeo and Juliet. You, the star of the show, aren't too happy to have your senior performance sabotaged by one long- haired metalhead.

word count: 7.7k words

warnings: no y/n, no physical description of reader, swearing, oral (m & f receiving), enemies to fuck buddies to lovers, mentions of queer!reader, it's actually just fucking smut, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), cream pie, use of nicknames (baby, sweets, sweetheart etc), eddie being a stupid lovable idiot

This and all of mine and mariah's works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

He’s been slumped in the guidance counselor’s office for thirty minutes, the wooden chair digging into his bones, growing uncomfortable as he listens to her, hardly believing he’s so close to leaving this fucking school himself.

“You’re keeping up your grades and maintaining regular attendance, Eddie. You’re just missing one last thing to be able to graduate.”

He rubs his face, maybe from the lack of sleep, or the restlessness of finally being able to leave the office he spent way too much time in during the past six years, as long as he keeps showing up to school for the next two months. He groans regardless.

“What would this ‘last thing’ be? Am I gonna be sent on a quest to slay a fucking dragon? Is that what’s gonna take me to graduate?” He snaps, the lack of sleep has finally gotten to him– school doesn’t really appeal to his late bird nature.

The counselor gasps at the crudeness of the profanity “Language!” She exclaims, like he’s never heard that before, daring to swear in front of students, staff and faculty alike, but the blonde lady with the ridiculously coiffed and teased and sprayed hair composes herself again, jutting a look down to his student folder again.

He imagines it to be full of red pen marks, every single one of those a proof of his own failure. He’ll steal it the day he graduates– and set it on fire. Hell, he’ll even roast marshmallows on it.

“Anyways,” she explains in a way that really shows the massive stick up her ass that makes her think Eddie should just stop bothering with school altogether. “You have to partake in an extracurricular activity.”

And he chortles. He was thinking something dreadful like picking trash up at the park or feeding and bathing the old people at the retirement home.

“Something funny, Mr. Munson?” Her nostrils are flared, she can’t wait ‘til he leaves her office.

“So like- like drama club and shit?” His tone is incredulous, he can deal with a couple lines to memorize. He’s had to do way worse for his Dungeon Master role, and even then, Miss George likes him– she’s let him and the club play DnD in her room for the past two years. Should be easy.

The counselor takes her glasses off her pointy nose, letting them hang with a tacky pink, flowery chain around her neck. “Well, yes– that’s one of the options. Unfortunately, your GPA is not high enough for you to partake in the school play, per se, so I can only place you in the backstage crew– building sets and moving things around. We’ll put that brain of yours to work.” She chuckles as she hands him a slip of paper to give to Miss George.

Eddie picks up his bag, “Real funny, huh.” He shrugs his shoulders and heads to the school auditorium. Last time he was there he’d gotten caught by a custodian while Terry Richardson’s face was stuck in between his legs, trousers pulled down halfway down his thighs as she gave him a toothy blowjob. He got suspended for a week.

He sees Miss George sat in the audience, scribbling notes onto a notepad as you recite the famous balcony monologue from Romeo and Juliet. He knows you, he’s seen you around– you’re by no means in the popular crowd, but you stand out, in the way that your clothes always seem to border the fine line of what's socially acceptable and outrageously eccentric.

Even if you’re not part of the popular crowd, there’s no denying that, like the rest of the school, you avoid him like the plague, cute as he is. You interrupt your monologue as you see him smirk down the central aisle of chairs. Miss George turns around at the sudden interruption. Eddie just hands her the slip.

“Oh my goodness!” she coos, “We have a stage manager.” And he wishes he could have photographed the look on your face. “Stage manager?! Miss George, you can’t be serious!” You exclaim as Eddie takes a seat next to her, kicking his boots up on the back of the chair in front of him.

A smirk ever present on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at you. “He doesn’t have any experience.” You continue, not about to have your senior year performance ruined by Eddie Munson of all people. “Shouldn't be that hard to keep a diva like yourself in line, hmm?”

Eddie answers before Miss George has a chance to, the theater now going quiet except for a few snickers from the tech crew. “Alright, that’s enough from the both of you. Eddie, I’ll have our ASM get you up to speed. Now, please continue with the monologue.” The male only grins wider as you glare back, before looking back down at your script with a sigh.

He ventures backstage– not sure what ASM stands for and maybe too embarrassed to ask as he sees kids dressed in black moving wooden planks onto the stage, carrying cans of paints and brushes.

He taps a kid on his shoulder, arranging a prop table, he looks at Eddie like he’s seen a ghost.

“I was looking for the ASM?” The kid is looking side to side, still wondering why Eddie Munson is talking to him.

“Uhhh, she’s in the booth.” He mutters, before turning around and going back to his props. What the fuck is a booth?

Eddie just plainly decides to look for it himself, since nobody’s any fucking help in this school. He opens door after door- a storage closet, a closet just for wood, a bathroom. Arrived at the last door, he isn’t exactly sure he’s ever going to find this stupid ASM- and he still doesn’t know what that stands for.

The noise of a door opening startles you, as you try to put on your dress as quickly as you can to avoid flashing someone. It’s only when you see who it is that you start screaming, and with you, Eddie just pops a hand in front of his eyes, screaming a string of sorries, and that he hasn’t seen anything.

“I was just looking for the booth! Stop screaming!” he screeches, worried he’s gonna get himself in trouble with Miss George if she hears you screaming like you’re getting skinned alive. Thankfully, you stop, as Eddie looks away, aware of your exposed back peeking through the zipper. You clutch the fabric against you, struggling to zip up the back of your dress one-handed.

Eddie makes a whistling sound, distracting himself from the way you seem to be teetering between asking for his help and telling him to fuck off.

“The door to the booth is in the audience, by the way. Off to the side, there’s some stairs.” You huff, slightly getting your zipper up. He goes to turn around, but you stop him. He cocks an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, lips in a thin line as you keep the door open with one hand.

“Can you make yourself useful and help me with my zipper?”

With an annoyed huff he steps fully into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him as you turn your back towards him once more. Carefully clutching the dress, your eyes meeting his in the long row of vanity mirrors in front of you. You can feel his warm breath on your neck as he steps closer, carefully lifting your hair over your shoulder.

Eddie’s fingers follow the seam of the unzipped garment, barely tracing the bare skin of your back. You try to hold off the shiver from passing through you as he slowly begins zipping it up. A hint of a smirk on his mouth as he notices the goosebumps breaking out across your skin. “Anything else princess? Or am I free to go?”

His fingers now fall away from you, clearing your throat as you try to shake off the arousal that was now coursing through your veins. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing how frazzled he had just made you.

Instead of answering, you just groan, eyes lifted up, going past him and clocking him in the shoulder as you headed back on stage. God you were fucking insufferable.

Eddie finds out that ASM means Assistant Stage Manager and that said ASM was none other than Max Mayfield, roped into doing theatre tech for extra credit. And that the booth was where they tampered with the lights and shit. All he had to do as Stage Manager for that rehearsal was oversee the light cues, which proved to be a little more complicated than he initially expected.

He messes up most of the cues in the first act before he finally seems to have gotten a grasp of it. All the while you’re tossing glares his way, using the light cues as an excuse for the harsh looks. But really it’s due to your annoyance at how the mere brush of his fingertips left you wanting more. Wanting more of him, despite your better judgment– you were not about to have him ruin your senior show.

And in spite of that, you closely follow Eddie’s actions. In a lull between scenes he stands up, you follow him with your eyes as he enters back into the auditorium, beelining backstage.

Eddie’s not totally sure what shit designer built the theatre, because he might as well have pissed himself on the way between the booth and the only bathroom in the auditorium. Not only that, but he kept missing cue after cue, followed by the dirtiest looks known to man, straight into his eyes. After the encounter you had in the dressing room– fingers caressing the soft skin of your back, feeling you shiver under his touch, he knew he had some kind of leverage over you.

So when he’s done taking a leak and looks down at the door, he’s sure you’re behind it, slipping a little piece of paper in the crack.

Meet me in the booth after rehearsal. XX

Eddie wouldn’t say he was nervous, his curiosity was piqued more than anything. However, he’s antsy the last half of the show, leg bouncing as he tries to listen and follow Max’s instructions. The girl gives him an annoyed lecture in between cues. But his mind’s a little preoccupied, trying to figure out what exactly you want from him.

So when he re-enters the dark light booth once everyone else has left, he doesn’t expect you to shove him up against the door, locking it with a swift click. His breath hitches in his throat, both in confusion, and at the fact that you’re fumbling with his belt, despite the dirty looks you’ve been giving him the whole afternoon.

“What uh- what are you doing?” His tone is alarmed, stammering as he tries to grab onto the door handle for purchase. You’re too busy getting his jeans down to bother.

“Sucking you off. That okay?” You look at him for a reassurance that comes almost immediately with a violent nod of his head.

He’s confused, but he’s not going to turn you down. After all, he felt the way you tensed under his touch while he was pulling up your zipper, “Shit, fine by me.” He shrugs, acting like he isn’t busting at the seams waiting for you to pull down his pants.

Eddie’s belt makes a clinking sound, along with his wallet chain while you pull his pants down to his thighs. You move his trembling body away from the door, against the table with the light console. His knuckles turn white as he grabs the edges on the table for support.

Gripping the hem of his checkered boxers, freeing his hardened length. Your eyes widening slightly at the sight of it, he’s big— a lot bigger than you expected. Even in the dim lighting he notices your shocked expression.

“Ya gonna just stare at it all night sweetheart?” He asks, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks down at you. You shoot another glare his way, before grasping the base of his cock in your fist, licking a long stripe up the shaft. Feeling satisfied as you hear his shaky intake of breath. Eagerly you take him past your lips, as a low groan leaves his own.

“Shit,” he curses as your warm mouth envelops him fully, ringed fingers knotting themselves in your hair. You open your mouth as wide as you can, taking him deeper. Gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you try to adjust to his size. He’s by far the biggest one you’ve had.

“Talked such a big game with that mouth of yours sweetness, am I too much for you?” Your fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, his cock slipping from your lips as you pull back.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up Munson?” You huff, but before he can reply with another snarky remark your tongue is swirling around the tip of his cock. Silencing him for a moment as you take him back into your mouth.

Another string of curses falls from his lips, as his hips begin thrusting into your mouth with an abandon you haven’t seen before. Your cheeks are hollowed and he can feel himself getting embarrassingly close.

“F-fuck where- where’d you learn all of this?” It comes out in broken pants, and he can feel a smirk forming on your lips as you take him out a second time.

“One thing about theatre people is that we’re all gonna fuck each other. You should see how I eat pussy,” you shrug, putting him back in your mouth, and Eddie swears he’s about to bust in less than a minute.

“I’m gonna- fuck.” But he doesn’t get to finish that sentence, as you take him out of your mouth and stand back up.

Eddie’s bewildered expression is easy to read as he looks at you like you shot his dog. But you get close, dangerously close to his lips, your nose almost bumping his.

“That’s for fucking up my light cue, idiot,” it’s a feeble whisper against his lips before you’re gone into the darkness of the theatre. Too shocked to react, Eddie’s left with his pants pulled down for a good two minutes before registering what happened.

So he’s left blue balled in that stupid light booth, fuming and confused. There was no way in hell he would let you treat him like that and walk away the way you did.

Eddie had been scheming all week between rehearsals, attempting to find a good time to get you alone. He wasn’t about to let you get away with leaving him like that, but you were actively avoiding him.

But an opportunity fell into his lap without any effort on his part, Miss George asking you to stay behind to work on some blocking with her. As the stage manager he was required to stay behind too, his mind already reeling with possibilities.

So when you duck behind the curtain to change out of your costume, Eddie is quick to swoop in. Offering to shut down the lights and lock up, and Miss George is more than willing to let him.

By the time you get back on stage the theater is dark, the ghost light shining brightly center stage. “Eddie? Miss George?” You call out into the darkness, getting complete silence in return.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding.” You groan, clutching the strap of your book bag tightly. Of course he’d leave you in the dark theater to fend for yourself. “Asshole.” You mumble under your breath, reaching your hand out in front of you as you make your way across the dark stage.

You’ve bumped into multiple set pieces at this point, as you attempted to find the stairs leading down to the audience in complete darkness. Your frustration grows with each passing minute, that is until you hear the shuffling of feet.

“Hello?” You call out again, squinting as if it would help you see any better. Fear stirs in your gut as the theater is silent once more, shadows seeming to come to life in the corner of your eyes.

Once you finally reach the edge of the stage, you grip onto the railing tightly as you fumble your way down the stairs. Sighing in relief as you feel the carpet beneath your feet.

You only make it a few steps further before you feel a hand snaking around your waist, pulling you back into a hard chest. The other hand cupping itself over your mouth to muffle the scream that leaves your lips.

“Screaming for me already sweets? Haven’t even touched you yet.” His voice is mocking, his warm breath fanning across your neck as he laughs. You quickly squirm out of his grasp, a flashlight clicking on to illuminate his stupidly gorgeous features.

“You fucking psychopath! What were you thinking?” you shove him on the shoulder, he laughs as he zeroes in the flashlight on you, red in the face and furious.

“Had to get back at you for how much of a little tease you were the other day,” he croons. You purse your lips together, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks as you try to stabilize your still quickly beating heart.

“Whatever. Fuck you, Eddie.” You spit, but he’s quick to grab your arm and push it behind your back, the flashlight hitting the ground and rolling under one of the seats. His chest is pressed against your shoulder blades as you shudder in his arms.

“You’re not getting away so easily, sweetness.” He breathes against your earlobe as you keen into the warmth of his chest, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as his free hand goes to your waist.

“This okay?” he murmurs, and you nod. A sharp nip to your earlobe makes you hiss.

“I can’t fucking see you nod, can I?” You can tell he’s having too much fun torturing you, feeling his hand travel all across your torso and chest.

“N-No,” you whimper.

“Exactly. Try that again,” his hand rests against the waistband of your jeans, awaiting an answer, teasing the skin behind the fabric. The tips of his fingers brush the skin there, making you whimper in response.

“This is okay.” you breathe out, and it’s the only answer he needs to slip his hand past your jeans, unbuttoning the offending material to push his hand further down into your pants.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers against your ear as his hand cups your clothed core. You waste no time grinding against the heel of his palm, letting small, breathy moans escape you. Afraid to get caught in the dead of night getting touched and fondled by the town pariah.

“You sound so pretty singing for me, don’t you sweets?” he whispers smugly. His hand feels a little too good against you, your hips grinding back and forth following the rhythm he was creating, “Hmm, but I think you can be a little louder.”

You gasp as he slips his hand inside your panties, his calloused fingers encircling your swollen clit. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, your hand gripping onto his thigh. His digits dip lower, teasing your entrance before slipping one inside and curling them up.

You can’t stop the shaky cry from leaving your lips, the sound now filling the auditorium. A smirk tugs at his mouth, using the heel of his palm to press against your clit. “Listen to that… you’ve got such a pretty voice don’t you?”

You dig your nails into the denim covering his thigh, a low groan sounding in his throat. “Wonder what it sounds like when you beg,” he easily adds another finger inside your wet cunt, thrusting them deeper. “N-Never gonna happen Munson.”

Eddie laughs, pulling another moan from you as his other hand drifts up under your shirt to cup your breast. “We’ll see about that.”

His breath is fanning hot and humid against your neck as you reach around to bring his head closer, needing him to be closer.

Nothing he’s saying is registering in your brain, as his fingers pump in and out of you with a torturous pace, feeling his wolfish grin plastered against the skin of your cheek.

He’s watching your every move, your every breath and whimper, biting his lip at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his fingers curl up in a certain manner. You don’t think you have much time left before you release yourself all over his hand, and he knows it.

From the way you keep twitching and tightening around his fingers, he feels you’re getting close, but much like you did that night in the booth, he won’t let you get it that easily.

“Y’close sweets?” he groans, his own hips now grinding against the swell of your ass.

“Uh-huh,” is all you can manage to say, brain scrambled from his words and ministrations.

“You know what you gotta do now, don’t you, pretty?” he bites at the hinge of your jaw, as you cry out, the noise echoing in the empty theatre.

“You gotta beg for it.” And he hears you gasp at that, a dry chuckle leaves his lips. “You didn’t think I was gonna make you cum that easy did you?”

“Mmm- fuck you, Munson.” you struggle against your brain’s desire to one up him and your body’s desire for release.

“C’mon, don’t you want to cum? I bet you’re so pent up from a whole day of staring at me building sets, aren’t you?” and he’s right, your eyes did wander to his arms in his tight fitting t-shirt, with his hair tied up in a low bun as he hammered nails into wooden boards.

His fingers speed up and you can feel it, you’re so, so close.

“Please, let me,” you whine into his arm, biting at the muscle there. You’re getting so loud.

“That’s right, keep begging for me– good girl gettin’ nice and loud for me,” it’s a growl at this point, a string of please please please follow it. Tears pricking at your eyes with how intensely good he’s making you feel.

So close, so close–

He removes his fingers, jerking you out of that hazy state you were previously in. The male now removes himself from you, retrieving the flashlight from under the seat. Your chest is heaving as you turn to face him, anger now coursing through you as he grins devilishly down at you.

“How cute, you thought I was actually gonna let you cum with how you left me the other day?” Eddie’s laughter fills the theater as he steps closer to you. Your bodies almost touching, lifting his fingers that were just inside you up to your lips.

The brunette carefully drummed the digits against your mouth, “Now, be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.” You glare as you let his fingers slip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them in a teasing manner.

You noticed how his breath hitches, his cock straining uncomfortably in his jeans. But there’s no way that you’re helping him out with his little problem now. You playfully bite his fingers that are still in your mouth, as he utters an annoyed ‘ouch’ before taking them back out.

His fingers make their way to your scalp– yanking at the hair, making you hiss. “You think you’re fucking cute? I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal,” his tone makes you tremble, as he takes his hand out of your hair and disappears into the darkness of the theatre, leaving you once again in the dark.

You stumble down the side stairs of the stage and get out of the side door, quickly making your way home.

And it becomes a regular thing, you and Eddie blue balling each other to the point of frustration, like it’s a sick and twisted power game you both play. After rehearsal he offers to lock up for Miss George and you wait for him in one of the dressing rooms, or in the dimly lit booth. He’s become irritable, and you have as well.

If you were insufferable before, now you’re downright hateful as you yell at the light crew to stop messing up your spotlight moment, or that your costume felt too constricting or your prop too flimsy.

Everything has you on edge, but you don’t hesitate to meet Eddie every night that week after rehearsal. Maybe he’ll let you cum this time.

You wait for him backstage, sitting on one of the set pieces, a throne. There’s a dim overhead light shining on you. Eddie’s lip is caught between his teeth as he looks at you on his Dungeon Master throne.

“Get up.” he commands. The shirt he’s wearing is tight, it makes his shoulders look more prominent. You squeeze your legs together.

“Why should I? My legs are tired from being on my feet all rehearsal,” you give him a fake pout as he inches towards you.

“Because that’s my Dungeon Master throne,” it sounds funny coming out of his mouth, voice low and gravelly “It’s mine.”

You chuckle a bit at that, how is this man being territorial over a set piece?

“And what if I said no?” a smile trapped in between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes.

A dry laugh escapes him as he crosses his arms, “You’re so spoiled huh? Think you can always get your way? Last time I checked, this week it’s been the total opposite, hasn’t it?” and he’s not wrong, he’s given you all but what you want.

“This is my theatre, Munson. I believe you’re on my turf.” and he laughs at that, like you’ve said some kind of joke.

“You do theatre, sweetheart, c’mon you can’t be serious.” he kneels in front of you, grabbing your thighs and moving them apart with ease.

“Don’t be a bitch, Munson.” you hiss, as you feel his lips on your exposed thighs, kissing the skin there.

He whistles, low and sardonic. A wicked smile on his lips “That’s rich coming from you, you’ve had that nasty little attitude this whole week.” he continues with his kisses, while his hand ghosts over your inner thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“I wouldn’t have this nasty little attitude as you call it if you would just let me- fuck.” his free hand ghosts over your panties. Your skin is sensitive, your brain is sensitive. Another touch and you might explode.

“Hmmm, what was that?” he bites at the flesh of your thigh, a high pitched whimper falling from your lips “Need me fuck that little attitude out of you sweetheart?”

And you’ve been wound up so tight for the past week that it doesn’t take you long to rid yourself of your panties. He takes advantage of you standing up, plopping down to take his rightful seat on the throne.

That cocky smirk is adorning his features, but you wanted to smack it off. “As cute as you think you look in this seat… it’s always been my throne sweets.”

Before Eddie has time to mutter another snarky remark you’re climbing into his lap, crashing your mouth against his. You’ve learned throughout the past week that it’s really the only way to shut him up.

His ringed fingers dig into the curve of your hips, eagerly grinding yourself against the bulge in his pants. Eddie moans into your mouth, his tongue licking your lower lip. You part your lips, allowing him entry as your tongues fight for dominance.

He tastes like Twizzlers and cigarettes, a combination you shouldn’t find as delicious as you do. But it only seems to make you needier, the denim becoming damp as you continue to grind yourself onto him.

“Look at you making a fucking mess on my jeans,” he mumbles against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip which causes you to whine as he pulls away. His chest rumbles as he chuckles, grabbing your cheeks in his hand— forcing you to look at him.

“But I’d rather you make a mess on my cock sweetheart.” His words have your head reeling, the male now gripping behind your knees and lifting you up. You squeal in surprise, clutching onto his shoulders to steady yourself. “Eddie, put me down.”

He carefully lets you slide down his front until your feet touch the ground, spinning you around before bending you over the armrest of his throne. His hands travel up your bare thighs, taking his time to appreciate your soft skin.

“Are you going to fuck me or not Munson?” You huff, the male now flipping up your skirt and landing a harsh smack on your ass. “So goddamn impatient aren’t you?”

You hear the sound of his belt clinking open, the zipper being tugged down. It makes you clench your thighs together, something Eddie didn’t miss. His fingers dipping between your legs, teasing you further.

“Trained you well didn’t I baby?” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, despite how your stomach flipped at the word baby.

And you can feel him then, carefully lining himself at your entrance as you try to grind back into him. A firm hand against your hips stops you. “Ready? I’m gonna go slow,” he mutters, and there’s a gentleness in his words, despite his meanness in how he’s handling you.

You hum in approval and brace yourself. There’s a loud groan coming from behind you as he slips inside your warm heat, reveling in how you almost suck him in, a small gasp leaving you from the stretch.

“Big stretch, huh?” he coos in a cocky lilt, and you almost wanna reach around and punch him, but this idiot has your eyes rolling back from the fullness, and he’s not even all the way in yet.

So you nod, followed by a needy little whine that makes him chuckle low in his chest– you need him that much?

He goes deeper, spurred on by your noises, by how much you need him to fill you up. A sardonic smile on his lips as he bottoms out and slams all the way in, causing you to shriek.

Eddie sets a fast pace, not really giving you any time to adjust, but he’s already nudging that spot deep within you, making you see stars.

You hear him groan, “So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you sweets?” and it’s a rhetorical question, because your tongue feels too big for your mouth and there’s nothing coming out of it besides unintelligible whines and moans as you hold on to the armrest across from you.

Your noises only encourage him to go faster, and it’s almost too much the way he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you. You try to distance yourself from him, just enough to catch your breath, but he grabs your shoulders, using them as leverage to ram deeper into you.

He leans over, his clothed chest against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Goin’ somewhere, baby? Thought you could handle me.” He bites at your earlobe, and there’s just so much going on in your brain that you can’t possibly muster any response to whatever he’s telling you.

“Oh I said that, didn’t I? When we first met. I said I could handle a spoiled little diva like you, and look at that,” he laughs, and you’re sure you’re about to combust. Your fingers reach to grip the cushioned seat of the throne, as another wail leaves your lips.

“Singin’ my praises now aren’t you baby?” The wood of his throne digs into your hips and stomach as he pushes you further into it, a feline movement as he drapes himself off and over you, his hands now gripping the armrest opposite of you for purchase.

Your legs begin to give out, as you beg God or whatever entity up there that he won’t give into his sick little game. That he’ll let you cum this time.

“Shit, sweets, you’re gripping me so tight.” he grunts, a boyish grin on his face as small uh uh uhs fill the room.

“Should we let you cum tonight? We can’t have you being a bitch tomorrow, it’s the end of hell week,” he jokes, and it almost feels humiliating, how he can make fun of you like this and you’re just going to keep fucking yourself back onto him.

“God- Fuck- Please!” you beg, with all the strength you can muster, and he can’t help but let a satisfactory grunt leave his lips.

“Look at you begging, don’t even have to ask now, do I?” and you can feel him twitch inside you. He’s also getting close.

“Ready?” he huffs, with the last little bit of stamina he has, and you can’t brace yourself enough for the wave of pleasure that washes over you with the last few snaps of Eddie’s hips as you come undone with a loud cry, echoing through the dark halls of the theatre.

“Fuck, okay, where should I–” he begins, he’s at his wits end.

“In…side,” is all you can say before he stills himself inside of you, letting his release take over him with a loud groan. His warm cum painting your inner walls, leaving you feeling satiated.

Eddie stabilizes his breath, forehead leaning against your shoulders, days on days of pent up frustration hanging like mist in the air. You’re both able to think clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffs, lifting himself off of you as he slowly slips his cock out. You can feel his cum beginning to drip down your thighs, your legs wobble as you attempt to stand. Knees buckling as you try and find your discarded panties.

“Whoa there, I got ya,” he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you against his warm chest. It felt good, leaning against him like that. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, “I’m fine Eddie.”

You push yourself off only to nearly fall once more, an annoyed grumble leaving his lips, “Are you always so stubborn?” He reaches down for your panties, guiding you to sit on the edge of the throne so he could help pull them up your thighs.

It was an unusually tender action, and not one that you expected from him. “Thought you didn’t want me sitting here?” You tease, his brown eyes glancing up as he’s kneeling before you.

“I’ll let it slide this one time,” he chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. A dimple you had never noticed before indenting his cheek, another feature that now found annoyingly attractive.

You roll your eyes at him and stand up, “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal.” You quip, as you try to wobble off the stage, he runs after you.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk home like this,” and there’s a tender look in his eyes, something close to genuine concern. “My van is out front, I can drive you.” He points in a general direction behind him, and you want to say no so badly.

But you don’t, and now you find yourself being driven home by Eddie. His dingy van smells like cigarettes and weed and it squeaks every time he goes over a bump. There’s loud music blaring through the stereo speakers and an uncomfortable silence between the two of you.

“So uh, you excited for next week?” Eddie’s the first to break the silence, briefly turning towards you.

“I’m actually kinda nervous,” you admit, sinking into the seat. “It’s a big role, big shoes to fill. I guess I’m just scared I’m not gonna be any good.” You chuckle, almost embarrassed at your admission.

“You? Not good? I’ve seen you, y’know? I’m not just staring at your tits during rehearsal. You’re pretty darn good.” He gives you a half smile at that, pulling up next to your house.

You’re a bit flustered by his compliments, finding yourself not wanting to leave his company just yet.

“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

“And hey, if you still feel nervous opening night come find me— I’ll help you,” he winks at you and you can’t help but laugh, as you see him looking at you with a big grin on his face.

You look at him back, and God, maybe it’s the streetlights or the moon, but he’s never been more beautiful. In a leap of courage you lean over the dashboard and peck him on the lips.

As you detach from him and reach for the door handle, he pulls you back in deeper, searing and intense, one of those kisses that have your tummy flipping. Except it’s not in the comfort of the theatre, and without an underlying motive behind it.

Just you and him. In his van.

You let your lips part, give him access to your mouth, but he stops you.

“It’s midnight,” he whispers against your lips. “Dress rehearsal tomorrow, you need to rest.” He smiles as you place another peck on his lips. Pouting as you reach for the door handle. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you until you’re inside, seeing the light of your room turn on.

Once he knows you’re safe, he starts his van back up and pulls away from your house with the cheesiest grin on his face.

Opening night. It’s finally here.

You should feel excited, and yet all you want to do is lock yourself in one of the broom closets and hide. You’ve never felt so nervous before, thinking of all the different outcomes that could occur. What if you forget all your lines? Or you have an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction during a quick change?

Your mind is reeling as you enter the dressing room, the rest of the cast buzzing excitedly around you. You fake a smile and sit at your station, noticing the bouquet of lilies resting on the counter top. You can feel yourself flushing, opening the card that came with it.

Break a leg Juliet xx.

You ask around the rest of the cast but no one knows who left them, and while you hoped they came from a certain metalhead… you couldn’t be so sure. Your little cat and mouse game had suddenly turned into something very real, and part of you was afraid it would be over once the curtains closed.

You get ready for the show in a daze, now staring at yourself in the dressing room mirror as nerves rage through your insides. The rest of the cast had dissipated, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

“There’s the leading lady,” Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your haze, meeting his eyes in the mirror’s reflection. He must have noticed the look of panic across your features, as he rushes to your side.

You give him a weak smile in return, letting a heavy exhale escape past your lips.

“So uhhh, did you like the flowers?” He asks, and he can see your eyes light up in the mirror, momentarily forgetting nerves, fear and anxiety.

“So it was you,” he coaxes you to face him, kneeling next to you with a large grin.

“T’was I, fair maiden.” He does a half bow from his kneeling position, making you giggle.

“So you’re in love with me now?” You tease, as Eddie’s hands come to rest on your thighs, spreading them as much as he can in your dress before moving in between them.

“I’m literally going to die from nerves, what if I mess up my lines?” you begin, but Eddie seems to have much different plans.

“There she is….” he murmurs, more to himself.

You feel the heat pool in your middle at his words, squirming a little in your seat. Eddie reaches to cup your chin, tilting it down so you meet his gaze. His brown eyes sparkling with mischief, “You know, my offer still stands Lady Capulet.”

“Here? The doors are literally opening in fifteen minutes, don’t you have stage manager things to take care of?” your tone is alarmed, rather, a mix of alarm and excitement.

“My job as stage manager right now is to make sure Juliet feels comfortable enough to go on stage,” he grins, peppering kisses over your hand and wrist.

“But what if we get caught? Or you make me cum so hard I forget my lines?” The nerves make you ramble, as his chin rests on one of your thighs.

“As good as I am at eating you out sweetheart, I doubt that’ll happen.” He bunches the fabric of your costume up your thighs, beginning to give sweet caresses on the skin of your legs.

You seem unconvinced, still.

“Look, I’ll sweeten the deal. If you get all your lines right, which I don’t doubt you will, I’ll take you out on a date.” His lips are pursed in a coy smile.

Your eyes widen, “Like a date date? You and me?” and your heartbeat picks up.

“Who else, idiot?” Eddie laughs, which makes you smile, “Now,” he begins.

“Do you want me to do something about those jangled nerves of yours?” And you can’t help but bite your lip and nod.

His lips begin trailing up your thighs, a shiver running through you from his tender actions. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” He pauses, shifting closer as he switches sides, now leaving open mouth kisses along your opposite thigh. “It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat as he works his way to your clothed center, his eyes flicking up to look at you. “Arise, fair sun and kill the envious moon… and whatever the fuck else Romeo says.” Eddie chuckles before eagerly pressing his mouth against your clothed pussy, his tongue lapping at the wet spot on the cotton.

A gasp bubbles deep in your throat at the sensation, feeling the bliss of his tongue through the cotton barrier, your body easing up from its nervous state.

He looks up at you, “Good, huh?” He hums through the fabric, and you’re wound up so tight you’re already panting.

He taps the side of your thigh to get you to lift your hips, removing your panties in the process.

A low whistle escapes him as you spread your legs for him again, “Talk about eating in costume, baby, jeez.” He chuckles, and the joke makes you laugh too.

A short lived laugh at that, turning into a breathless gasp when his tongue makes contact as he begins to lap up the length of your pussy.

Your hand immediately goes to tug at his curls, not caring that they’re tied up and out of his face to be able to see the cue sheets. The delicious pull at his scalp makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

A low moan falls out of your lips, catching yourself, hand flying to your mouth as you hear the rest of the cast clamoring outside.

“Gotta be quiet, Lady Capulet,” he snickers as he goes back to burying his face between your legs. His tongue darting in and out of you as a hand reaches for your mouth, wetting two of his fingers.

You don’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him, a bite at the juncture between your pelvis and your thigh, “Atta girl.” He mumbles against the wet skin, popping his fingers out of your mouth to tease at your entrance.

“That’s it baby, focus on me.” A whine escapes you as you’re now grinding on his tongue, his fingers enter you slowly, head thrown back in pleasure.

“You nervous, baby?” He asks, a cocky smile on his face. His fingers curl upward, your eyes squeeze at the overwhelming sensation.

You shake your head, still sentient. Not too far gone yet.

“You gonna use me to get off, my lady?” His fingers are pumping faster, feeling tears brimming on your waterline, hoping to not spill all over your face, your stage makeup seems to be in precarious conditions.

A familiar warmth, deep in the pool of your tummy, “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop” You know how much he likes to hear you sing for him. His spare hand grabs onto your thigh, rings biting the soft skin there, feeling yourself teetering on the edge.

“Thaaaat’s it, you’re doing so well,” he whispers. One more pump of his fingers and you cum with a silent cry, biting onto your hand, feeling yourself pulsate around his fingers.

Without much warning he slips them out, sucking on his own fingers, tasting your own delicious essence.

“Places!” You hear Miss George say backstage, as Eddie retrieves your panties for you and slips them up your legs.

Eddie fixes his hair in the mirror, tying them back. He places a kiss on your cheek with a hurried, “Good luck— uh fuck I meant break a leg.” Then he furtively leaves the dressing room.

You feel a blush spreading across your body, finally relaxed and ready to begin the show.

You leave the dressing room, joining the rest of the cast, full of excitement. You know all your love monologues are going to be directed towards a certain metalhead tonight.

The show goes smoothly and you don’t forget a single line, you’re surrounded by family and friends, ready to do it all again the day after.

You go back into the dressing rooms to grab your stuff and change, but a long mop of curly hair occupies your chair.

“Eddie, you can’t be here!” you whisper, as he turns around with the biggest smile plastered on his face.

“Just wanted to tell my girl congratulations in private. You smashed it tonight,” you blush at the nickname.

“Since when am I your girl?” you ask, not letting him see how much it affected you.

“Since you kissed me in my van when I dropped you off, gorgeous.” He flirts, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth.

“So, how about that date?”

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tagging: @thornsnvultures, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @duuhrayliegh, @ali-r3n, @sunnythevampireslayer, @bimbobaggins69, @jamdoughnutmagician, @eiightysixbaby, @aphrogeneias, @daisy-munson, @gravedigginbbydoll, @s6raphic, @take-everything-you-can, @strangerstilinski

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!reader #eddie munson fluff

2K notes · View notes

holysainz · 9 months

Text

silly season - lando norris

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

warnings: innuendos

summary: fans get a glimpse into your relationship on a stream

You walk into Lando’s gaming room, a cup of hot chocolate topped with tiny marshmallows in hand. His back is to you, headphones clamped over his head, eyes focused on the screen. Lando is always in his element when he's streaming — it’s a joy to see. But today, you’ve been the one tasked with interrupting him. Not that you mind, of course.

“Got your hot chocolate, sweetheart,” you startle him, setting the cup down beside him on the desk. You look at the screen, recognizing the familiar game of F1 2023. “Who’s winning?”

“Verstappen. But it’s just a virtual race,” Lando chuckles without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Ah, so you admit you’re losing?” You tease, earning a playful glare. You laugh at his mock annoyance, then start to saunter out of the room.

Before you can make your exit, however, Lando grabs your wrist, pulling you back. “Wait, I need you.”

You spin around, your eyebrows raised in surprise. His words hang in the air, and for a moment, a suggestive smirk plays on your lips. “Really, Lando? On a live stream?”

His cheeks flush as he quickly shakes his head, his laughter joining yours. “Not like that, you minx! I need you to stay here and distract the competition with your terrible driving.”

“Ah, so that's how it is,” you retort, grinning at his playful sidestep. “I’m your secret weapon now, am I?”

With a chuckle, he grabs the spare controller, throwing it to you. “Only the best for Team Norris.”

“Well then, prepare to lose!”

What you don’t realize is that Lando’s stream is live, and all his fans are eagerly watching the banter unfold.

Lando chuckles, setting up the second controller. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

The race starts and immediately, it’s a comedy of errors. You’re not very good at the game to say the least and you crash into a wall within the first thirty seconds.

“Hmm, you do know the point is to avoid the walls, right?” Lando teases, his fingers moving deftly over the buttons of his controller.

You shoot him a feigned glare, and he laughs, his attention fixed on the screen as he smoothly overtakes one of the opposing cars. “Maybe you should stick to delivering hot chocolate, love.”

��No way,” you say stubbornly. “I’m going to beat you at your own game, Norris.”

“Ah, spoken like a true underdog!” He laughs, and the sound of it makes you grin, even as your car crashes into another wall.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the screen, Lando’s fans are loving every moment. Their favorite F1 driver showing his fun side, coupled with your charming wit, is an unbeatable combination.

The chat box fills with amused comments:

‘OMG, she’s hilarious!’ ‘Lando, you’re losing your touch!’ ‘Can we have her on every stream?’

Laughing and teasing each other, you keep trying to maneuver your car with minimal success. You playfully jab at Lando’s concentration, saying, “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be good at this?”

“I am good!” he protests, “Just not when you’re trying to distract me.”

“Oh, am I a distraction, Norris?” you ask, raising your eyebrows suggestively. “Is it because I make your gear stick shift?” The playful innuendo makes Lando choke on his laugh.

“A very attractive distraction, yes,” he responds, and it’s your turn to blush.

The comments explode:

‘Did he just—‘ ‘They are too cute!’ ‘I can’t even.’

Eventually, Lando wins the game, but not without a few crashes of his own. As you watch the virtual champagne spraying over his character, you say, “Well, you won. But I’d like to see you do this in real life.”

Without missing a beat, Lando responds, “What, win a race or put up with you?”

“You better keep it clean on the track, Norris,” you retort, giving him a sly wink. “Because the way you’re driving here, you won’t be able to handle the curves!”

You gasp dramatically when he laughs at your comment. “Lando Norris! I’ll have you know I’m a delight to put up with.”

He laughs, pulling you into a hug. “Yes, you are. You’re my favorite distraction.”

With that, Lando ends the stream, laughing at the barrage of comments from his fans. You sit there with him, sharing in his laughter, completely oblivious to the fact that you were just part of an international live stream.

But you don’t care. All that matters to you in that moment is Lando’s laughter, the warmth of his arm around you, and the joy of sharing these simple, perfect moments with him. And if his fans loved it too, well, that was just an added bonus.

4K notes · View notes

lafleshlumpeater · 4 months

Note

hey lovely!!

maybe a luke castellan x fem!reader who’s suuuuper sweet? maybe an aphrodite kid, and jsut super kind and charming overall? nobody expects her and luke to be together, but how different they are ends up working?

thank you!!!

ofc<3

Warnings: fem!reader, small mention of food, PDA, one swear word, lmk if there are any missing

I hope you dont mind this is from percy’s pov<3

luke castellan masterlist part two

“No way,” Percy muttered under his breath, giving Charlie the same disbelieving look he was receiving back. "I don't believe it."

Charlie shrugged.

“Well, you’d better,” the boy whispered back. “Cause it looks like they got something serious, man.”

The pair watched in part disgust and part fascination as they watched the blissful pair across the fire. Luke had his chin rested on her shoulder, whispering something Percy assumed was flirtatious due to her flustered reaction- all pink cheeks and giggles as she reprimanded him playfully, pushing his chest. Luke remained unfazed, lips curling smugly and crossing his arms as he brushed a quick kiss against the plush of her cheek.

Charlie’s eyes widened further. “But how? They’re so-”

“Different?” Silena finished her boyfriend’s sentence, looking up from her charred marshmallow stick. “You’re not one to talk, Charles. Look at us. Besides, she makes him a completely different person. Look.”

The trio turned their heads once again, this time to the nauseating, in Percy’s opinion, sight of her feeding Luke pieces of sticky marshmallow, both of them giggling when it gets everywhere. Luke pokes his tongue out to get the last bits off of her fingers, and she squeals.

Percy’s nose wrinkles, turning to Charlie. “Disgusting.”

“Agreed,” Charlie nods with a grimace of his own. “It’s a miracle he got her, to be honest. She’s so…”

“Bubbly?”

“That.”

Charlie sighs. “I am happy for him, though. The both of them. Even if they are… terrifyingly different.”

Percy nods in agreement, heart swelling in joy for his first friend at camp. “Yeah.”

The older boy sighs. “They’re too mushy though,” he remarks.

Percy’s eyes narrow at the scene of the lovesick couple, now kissing tenderly with not even the fire casting fluctuating shadows over their faces able to hide the content of their expressions. “Not nice.”

Charlie inhales. “Oi!” he yells over the fire. “Too much PDA, man! Get a room!”

Laughter ripples through the air, and both guilty candidates break away, one unnaturally red- faced and the other tittering, finger hooked around the string of her partner's beaded necklace.

“Fuck off, man,” Luke complains loudly, eyes dancing with glee. “Leave me and my girl alone.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer than deemed possible.

She looked up at him, adoration gracing her soft features as she stared at her lover. “Don’t be mean, Luke.”

“He started it!”

(not proofread- lmk if there are any mistakes)

taglist: @quickslvxrr @bibliophile-dendrophile

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

#pjo #percy jackson fic #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson blurb #percy jackson fanfiction #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan blurb #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #fem reader #percy jackson and the olympians #requested fic #asks

3K notes · View notes

targaryenluvs · 4 months

Text

— PROTECTOR

pairing: yandere!percy jackson x fem!gf!reader

summary: percy can’t seem to grasp the idea that you can survive just fine on your own.

warnings: arguments, combat, injuries, kinda backwards views/manly views, kind of dark (protective) jealousy, obsessed?? smothering/coddling

a/n: basically he can’t stop worrying, lmk if u want a part 2! sorry it’s short - i already did part two heheh just now

PART TWO

specially for the amazingly talented @lady-ashfade

percy was incessant.

ever since you’d reached camp and gotten settled in, he seemed to be everywhere. whether it be in the mornings at breakfast, at training, when you hung out with your friends, your boyfriend always found away to be right there with you. spacial boundaries be damned.

everyone noticed, they all chalked it up to adorableness. the two of you couldn’t stand to be apart from each other for too long, how adorable was that? but that was only the start. the following along you could put up with, it was quite easy to escape when needed. letting him talk to your friends and get engrossed in the gossip of the ares cabin. excusing yourself from him for lady reasons which never failed to make him red in the face.

it wasn’t as if you were sick of him or anything but you felt smothered. everywhere you turned he was right there, shining smile and ready to talk your ear off. you figured as your relationship progressed and he made more friends, that he’d have his own time.

why would he need friends when he has you?

but your rude awakening came in the form of a training session with a friend.

harry was one of the first people who welcomed you into your cabin, open arms and a warm smile. and percy hated him most. he hated the fact that someone else was able to provide you with the comfort he assumed only could originate from him. anytime the two of you were hanging out hed always inject himself in between the two of you.

“are you trying to burn your marshmallow?” harry laughed at your words whilst retracting his stick, “no but i like it crispy, chocolate melts easier with it.” the two of you had a long day, training with new campers and helping them settle in with luke. even if you didn’t have to, solving a dispute with the ares kids. and even solving the mystery of the stolen shoes. percy had been in the infirmary as a punishment for being out later than usual and accidentally falling from a tree.

he was trying to make sure you were safe in your cabin.

he’d been annoying the apollo kids into letting him out early and at some point they couldn’t take it anymore so they let him go. coming to see you, he didn’t expect to find you sitting next to harry, sharing a marshmallow. of course most people would just see it as a normal sharing but for percy? he wanted to drown the boy. who does he think he is? making a move on his girlfriend just because he’s in the infirmary?

“y/n.” his stern voice drew you from your conversation as you got up, “perce! you’re okay!” you smiled as you walked over to him, percy’s eyes were still trained on the kid. “perce?” you waved your hand in front of his face as percy grabbed a hold of your wrist and pulled you along, “what the hell? if you want me to come with you then just say so!” you were infront of his cabin now and he did not look happy, “i’m stuck in the infirmary and instead of coming to visit me, you’re hanging out with him?” his voice was filled with disgust, as your expression screamed puzzled.

“i was the first person who visited you! straight away, but you were unconscious for hours! there’s no point in me sitting there, since it’s not going to help you. so i got out of the way and let them do their work. my world doesn’t stop spinning because you’re not there percy.” you were too busy looking at him, his curling fists going unnoticed.

“i’m your boyfriend, not him. i don’t want to see you around him.” your hand slapped over your mouth as you laughed, from far away you might’ve seemed insane. your hands clutched your head, then abdomen as you laughed, “ahaha! oh my god! you’re crazy! you don’t own me, nor control me percy. if you want to be my boyfriend, you need to learn that i am my own person. when you change your attitude, then come back to me.” you walked away from him, before turning around.

“and until then i’m not sleeping here.” you ran inside to pick up your clothes and bag as percy stood in the doorway, “are you serious?” you clutched all of your belongings, as if he’d try to steal them, “yes i am.” surprisingly he let you go, watching you walk back to your own cabin.

the rest of the night he spent thinking of how he could get you back in his grasp. capture the flag was tomorrow, and he had a plan to make you see just how much you needed him.

#pjo x reader #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fic #percy jackson imagine #yandere percy jackson #yandere percy jackson x reader

917 notes · View notes

incorrectbatfam · 4 months

Note

Damian is the warmest person in the family. Can you give me a list of times where people used him as their personal heater? Or something like that lol

Steph: Dang it, the toaster's broken.

Damian: *doing his homework in the kitchen*

Steph: Hm...

Steph: *puts bread on Damian's head*

———————

Damian: Father said to stop smoking on patrol.

Jason: He's not the boss of me.

Jason: *plucks one of Damian's hairs*

Damian: Hey!

Jason: Relax, it's just one hair. You might wanna stand away 'cause of the smoke though.

Jason: *strikes the hair like a match and lights his cigarette*

———————

Damian: *sleeping*

Duke: *roasts marshmallows above him*

———————

Cass, laying on Damian: Mmm, heated pillow.

Damian:

Damian, on the phone: Jon, I'm going to have to take a raincheck.

———————

Bruce: Damian, can you clean the snow off the driveway?

Damian: Yes, Father.

Damian: *walks around until the snow melts*

———————

Dick: It's freezing out there. I can't feel my fingers.

Dick: *sees Damian*

Dick: *squishes Damian's face to thaw his hands*

Damian: Tt.

———————

Damian: *sticks his finger in Barbara's mug*

Barbara: Damian!

Damian: It was getting cold.

Barbara: Oh, thanks.

———————

Kate: And if Renee asks why you're coming to the drive-in theater with us?

Damian: Tell her the truth.

Kate: Which is?

Damian: Your car's heater malfunctioned.

———————

Alfred: Master Damian, I need to make a quick call. Can you make sure the water is ready for tea? m

Damian: Of course.

Damian: *holds the teapot*

*teapot starts boiling*

———————

Selina: Ooh, it seems like you're running a fever.

Damian: No, I am always like this. The doctor says it's the pent-up rage inside a pint-sized body.

———————

Tim: You're like a microwaved Hot Pocket—burning on the outside, ice cold on the inside.

Damian: Thank you for the compliment. I think you do a splendid job of having teeth.

988 notes · View notes

awanderingmuse-fandom · 2 months

Note

I suppose it'd be appropriate to reach out here and tell you how insanely hard your fic has been resonating with me. I got all emotionally worked up finishing the (also excellent) Lonely Astronaut Project, and the levity and friendship and mystery of Off of the Marshmallow Stick is exactly what I needed to heal my soul. I love it so much! I commented on AO3 too, but I thought I'd just take a second to message you here. You've managed to reignite brainworms that have been dormant for a long time, and I find myself anxious and itchy to write my own content because of how obsessed I am with Obsidian and Gabbro and the way they're learning how to be alive again despite everything they went through, and aaaugh you. You! You've broken my brain completely. Thank you for that. I can't wait to read more.

Hi @fridurwrites!

I responded on Ao3 but thought I would here as well! I am so happy that Off the Marshmallow Stick and into the Campfire has been resonating with you!

The Lonely Astronaut Project by @incoure-art was so good. I enjoyed reading it as well! I am glad that Marshmallow was able to help after a story that hits so hard but so good!

You should definitely write you're own fic! The fandom is small and could always use more. I'm not reading a lot right now because every time I blink I have another WIP. But when the reading bug gets me I find everyone here is so talented.

Thanks for the lovely comment! I hope to be reading something you wrote someday! Have a lovely day!

#outer wilds #off the marshmallow stick #jibberjabber

7 notes · View notes

arcane-trickster · 2 years

Text

Typically I don’t do angry tumblr rants but this gbbo smore shit has a cold rage burning in the fireplace of my soul and the words ‘sacrilege’ and ‘heresy’ bubbling up from the depths of my being to be played on loop in mute horror like a scratched record.

So.

This monstrosity is what gbbo was trying to pass off as a smore.

This is not a smore. Look at it. It’s downright undercooked. That’s not even marshmallow. Or chocolate. It looks cold. This is about as much a smore as Cris Pratt is a voice actor. As a corgi is a wolf. As gbbo is apparently competent at research.

Also me to explain what a smore is.

For anyone who doesn’t know what the fudge a smore is, it’s a typical summertime treat often made at summercamp, when camping, or if you live in a place with a fireplace/assess to a campfire sometimes you’ll use that.

Basically it goes like this; it takes five ingredients, gram crackers, any chocolate bar with rectangular pieces you can break off (traditionally Hershey’s as it’s the cheapest and smores tend to be made in bulk, it’s one of those things a group of people make together otherwise it won’t taste right) large marshmallows, an open flame, and as previously mentioned more than one person to make them at the same time. If you make smores alone, the smores too will be sad and alone.

First you take two gram crackers and break off 1 to 2 sections of chocolate. Place the chocolate on each side, so both sides are all chocolatey. Then you take a marshmallow and skewer it on either a pointy stick from the ground or a metal skewer specificity made for roasting marshmallows/hotdogs depending on if someone has any.

Next you, well, roast the marshmallows. If you’re doing this at a campfire this involves a lot of moving away from the direction the smoke is blowing well and minor amounts of giggle-filled pvp as everyone jostles for the best spots around the fire. Mellow roasting is one of those things that is kind of the point of making marshmallows, the epic highs and lows of seeing how close to the fire you can get yours and how long you can hold it there before it either falls off or catches fire is integral to the entire experience.

Once you hastily blow out the one-fire part of the marshmallow, you slide it off the stick and between the gram crackers and chocolate. Then you squish it a bit to get the chocolate all nice and gooey, and bite in.

It’s gooey, it’s very messy, and the closer it gets to midnight the more it’s delicious.

So now we have established what a smore is, allow me to explain how UTTERLY BUTCHERED that abomination of sugar is.

First, we have the ingredients themselves. Paul Bitchwood describes the middle as ‘Italian meringue’.

Italian meringue.

Italian. Fucking. Meringue.

*deep breath*

IS NOT A MARSHMALLOW.

It does not share THE BASIC PROPERTIES OF A MARSHMALLOW.

YOU CANNOT STAB MERINGUE WITH A STCK AND HAVE IT STAY ON THE FUCKING SICK. HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A MARSHMALLOW BEFORE MR BITCHWOOD???? WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO THROW THE TOP OF A LEMON MERINGUE PIE AT YOU TO DEMONSTRATE “PAUL”?! IF IT DOESN’T BOUNCE ITS NOT A FUCKING MELLOW AND THE EFECT ON YOUR FACE WOULD BE ONE HELL OF AN IMPROVEMENT!

So already we have the single most important ingredient straight up ‘substituted’ (if you can even call it that) for an entirely different food with a completely different texture, taste, consistency, and behavior under heat.

But there’s more!

See, that chocolate? It’s not melted chocolate like you might think at first glance- no no no, that’s fucking GANACHE.

YOU KnOW, The THing With THE CoNsistenCY of FroSTING???? :) :) :)

The thing that you expressly don’t want to melt when using it in cooking on pain of death?

Thus removing THE ENTIRE PURPOSE CONSISTENCY FLAVER AND TEXTURE OF THE INGREDIENT

AGAIN!

and then. Ohhhhhhh and then.

Those are no gram crackers.

Those are ‘digestibles”

WHAT THE FUCK ARE DIGESTABLES

THATS WHAT HAPPENS TO ALL FOOD ITS NOT SPECIAL DUMBASS

WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF RICH PEOPLE SHIT ARE YOU EATING THAT YOU NEED TO POINT THAT OUT IN THE NAME

WHAT THE FUCK

AND IT AGAIN HAS A DIFFERENT EVERYTHING THEN GRAaM CRACKERS

WHY

YOU DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO DO THAT IF YOU WANTED IT TO SOUND FANCY YOU COULD HAVE JUST MADE GRAM CRACKERS FROM SCRATCH IVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE DO IT BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU BUT ITS AT LEAST POSSIBLE AGHHHHHHHHHHH

And then. To add insult to injury after FUCKING injury.

It’s a circle.

It’s A CiRcLE.

WHY IS IT A CIRCLE.

IT SHOULNT BE A CIRCLE-

In conclusion; Paul Bitchywood is a fucker and a Tory and I don’t put stock in god but by whatever powers may be I hope hell exists because this fool is running a marathon to it’s center.

#gbbo #s’mores #gbbo s’mores #paul hollywood

10K notes · View notes

suashii · 6 months

Text

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝒴 𝐼𝒯'𝒮 𝒞𝒪𝐿𝒟 𝒪𝒰𝒯𝒮𝐼𝒟𝐸

info ⭑ nagi seishiro x reader ﾉ 0.9k wc ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff

note ⭑ something short and sweet for the boy! it's been a while since i've written so forgive me if i'm rusty :3

“jeez, sei, walk any closer and people might start thinking you’re my shadow,” you mumble into your scarf, tipping your chin up so your next words will be more audible. you’re walking home with nagi now but instead of the man taking steps beside you, he’s closely tracing your footsteps, arms wrapped around you and his hands stuffed in your pockets with yours.

he’s stuck to you like super glue—like you’re his personal space heater.

“can’t help it,” he speaks up from behind you. if he’s able to get any closer, he does with his words. “it’s starting to get cold.”

besides being a notorious homebody, your boyfriend hates the cold. he hates how it makes his fingertips numb and his skin flush bright red and he especially hates how it makes his nose runny. even now, when the temperatures have yet to hit their coldest, he has a coat zipped up over his hoodie and a crochet bunny beanie sitting atop his head. snowy tufts of hair stick out from the hat but he’s sure to have the tops of his ears tucked away.

“poor baby,” you coo, fumbling for his hand in your pocket. you give it a squeeze before bringing up a suggestion that might help chase the chill away. “want some hot chocolate when we get home?”

you can practically feel him perk up behind you at the offer. nagi may hate the cold, but he loves getting warmed up—especially if it’s with you. he settles his chin on the top of your head and hums a confirmation, the vibration giving you all the answer you need.

he can’t see it, but you smile as you give his hand another loving squeeze. “anything for you, my snow prince.”

nagi groans at the unwanted nickname but it does little–nothing, really–to deter him from hanging off of you the rest of the way home.

it’s not long before the two of you are back at your apartment, settling into the warmth of the unit. while nagi readies the living room for your cozy night in, you stand at the counter with two mugs in front of you and a pot of milk heating up on the stove. the lyrics of the song that’s been stuck in your head these days drift through the air as you make your way about the kitchen to grab whipped cream from the fridge and marshmallows from the pantry.

when you’re back at your workstation and preparing to assemble your warm drinks, you call out for nagi. he’s particularly picky when it comes to the ratio of toppings and you’ve learned it’s best to simply have him supervise. you expect to hear his heavy footsteps alerting you of his arrival but are instead met with his icy hands snaking up beneath your hoodie.

you flinch and then squeal at the sensation, turning around in his hold to scold him. “sei! your hands are freezing!”

any attempt to push him away is futile. despite his lazy exterior characterized by oversized clothes and his floppy-eared hat, nagi is stronger than he looks. his grasp isn’t painful but it’s firm, like he has no intention of letting you go.

he pulls you closer and buries his head into your neck. his voice is muffled when he says, “i know,” he draws out the vowel, “but you aren’t. just help me get warm.”

“i’m trying to do that but it’s a bit hard when your ice packs for hands are up my shirt.” you turn your head to leave a kiss behind his ear as an incentive for him to let you get back to your task. it works, nagi loosening his hold on you in favor of standing at your side. there’s a pout on his lips but he silently watches and waits for you to continue making the drinks.

without the cute distraction, you’re able to pour the milk into each of the mugs and combine the liquid and powder to make the rich, chocolatey base. you add a pretty swirl of whipped cream to your cup before turning to nagi and spraying some of the sweet foam into his mouth. his cheeks puff out and you giggle at the sight before returning your attention to the mugs and beginning to add the whipped topping to nagi’s. through a mouthful, he tells you when to stop.

fluffy marshmallows come next. you sprinkle the minis on between each cup, glancing at nagi to see when you’ve reached his desired amount. he licks the lingering cream off of his lips while he nods in a silent gesture for you to continue. you’re sure you’re going to run out of space to pile them on when he finally says you’ve added enough. like usually, you dig into the bag for a few more of the bouncy treats to feed to your boyfriend.

he happily chews away while you return the ingredients to their place in the kitchen. you join him at the counter as he’s swallowing and like a magnet, he pulls you into him. you don’t fight it this time, choosing to melt into his hold instead.

nagi dips his head down, whispering a quiet, “thank you,” against your lips before capturing them in a kiss. he tastes like dessert, his mouth sweet from the whipped cream and marshmallows, lips soft from the chapstick he’s consistent about putting on in the colder months. and, unlike the rest of him, they’re warm.

you pull away with a smile, jerking your head in the direction of the mugs. “shall we go get warm under the blanket?”

he nods. “sounds good.”

hey there, it's manon :3 ! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: blue lock #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi x you #bllk x you #blue lock x you #nagi drabble #bllk drabbles #blue lock drabbles #nagi fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #bllk scenarios #bllk imagines #blue lock scenarios #blue lock imagines

1K notes · View notes

crownofgildedlilies · 25 days

Text

my peaceful nights belong to you

in which: a son of poseidon has himself convinced a daughter of athena doesn’t want to listen to him complain.

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of athena!reader

warnings: angst, my poor percy has been through TOO MUCH

tropes: hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers

word count: 2.1k

a/n: friendly reminder that request r open (esp for headcanons) and bc I have a four hour layover tmrw I will be absolutely active on here. plz enjoy. also, this is inspired by a tiktok I saw that said Percy's trauma is so overlooked. so here's me not overlooking it.

All eyes were on the great Percy Jackson.

Yours were, too, don’t be fooled. You had always found him impossible to look away from. But it wasn’t admiration you were studying him with as tales of his quests were told and retold and embellished around the bonfire. Quests you had been on, each and every time.

No, you were watching him with concern.

Because the son of the sea was drowning in all the attention.

It was almost painful for you to watch, but you couldn't look away.

A beautiful train wreck, you supposed, studying Percy's uncomfortable but obliging conversation with one of the newer sons of Ares who hadn't been around for Kronos or Gaea and simply thought fighting in those wars had been fun.

But people had died. Your people, your friends. It was war, and it was painful, and even though you were the daughter of the war goddess, you hated it with every inch of your being.

No amount of planning on your behalf could have saved Beckendorf. There was no stopping Leo from sacrificing himself.

"That's called being a demigod," Percy had told you one day, offhanded, sometime between nearly dying in a volcanic explosion and being stolen from her by Hera.

"That doesn't mean we have to stand idly by and accept it," You had countered, frowning, and Percy must have realized he'd said something that had upset you, because he had pulled you into a hug and muttered an apology you still hadn't worked out was necessary or not.

But what you did know was that he was your best friend, that you had been in love with him since you were both fourteen, and he absolutely did not want to talk about all his past glories like a good little Greek hero.

Seated on a front-row bench with Grover on on side and an assortment of other campers you knew he wasn't close with surrounding him, you knew you had to run a rescue mission.

Especially since Grover was too distracted by eating his marshmallow roasting stick to realize how tense Percy was as the Ares kid went on and on.

"Perce, there you are." You wedged yourself into the not-entirely open spot next to your best friend, smile on your lips and a sly look in your eyes. Percy's own widened in sight relief, his arm wrapping loosely around your shoulders in a casual movement that was entirely too familiar. "Thought you ran off on me."

"Never," He sighed, some of his tension already dissipating. You grinned a little unevenly at him, not wanting to give the others watching any clues that the great Percy Jackson wasn't completely and utterly alright.

"Good," You bumped him with your shoulder, and he squeezed his arm around you for just a brief moment, tugging you close to his side. You had to turn and face the young Ares boy to keep yourself focused. "How are your archery lessons coming?"

The new camper looked slightly put out about the change in conversation, but you pinned your stare on him and didn't back down. For a moment, you thought he would continue to pester Percy with questions about fighting in two wars, even with you sending up very clear signals that neither of you were interested.

But the boy made the right choice, launching into a rant about how long range combat was not his strength.

Halfway through the story about almost shooting Connor Stoll's foot, you felt Percy lean towards you, his breath warm against the shell of your ear as he dropped his voice to a whisper, meant only for you.

"Thank you,"

Since you had taken half a seat, your body was pressed firmly against his from your ankles to your shoulders. His touch warmed your skin like a sunny day on the beach, and you weren't sure if it was a son of Poseidon thing or a Percy Jackson thing.

So instead of answering him, you set one of your hands on his leg, just above his knee, and squeezed.

The moon was shining over camp when you gave up on finding sleep and decided to sneak out.

You’d been around long enough to know just how to sweet talk Mr. D into letting you be out past curfew, and Chiron had a soft spot for you, since you helped save the world. Twice. It was the harpies catching you that you were afraid of.

Travis Stoll had almost learned the hard way that Mr. D was not kidding about them eating campers.

But children of Athena had passed on the secret to sneaking out through generations, and you were exploiting that very information for a midnight trip to the lake to stargaze there when you spotted movement on the roof of Cabin Three.

Really, you weren't in control of your own actions as you turned swiftly to change course. Maybe it was Tyche with her luck or Aphrodite with her meddling in the affairs of the heart that had you scaling the side of Poseidon's cabin, a path you had taken more than once.

Or maybe, for once, you couldn't blame the gods. Maybe you were the only one making the choices that had you settling on your back beside Percy on the slanted cabin roof.

He hadn't seemed all too surprised to see you, but all he offered in way of greeting was a nod before he returned to studying the sky above.

You only let the silence last for three minutes, a gnawing feeling in the pits of your stomach unable to let it be.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, voiced simultaneously quiet and startlingly loud in the otherwise silent night. With your head turned to watch his side profile, you watched him tumble from his thoughts and back onto that rooftop, with you.

"What?" He was playing coy, you knew him well enough. What you didn't understand was why he was holding back with you, of all people. You, who had been there with him from the night Grover dragged him over Half-Blood Hill. Who had followed him and Grover and Annabeth across the country to save his mom, who fought Luke and Kronos with him, and mourned the loss of so many friends.

You, who hadn't slept for six months when he disappeared, only to find him in New Rome with the claim that he had forgotten everyone and everything but you.

His tether to his life. His best friend. His something more.

"About whatever is bothering you so much tonight." You shot him a flat look, but his was still doing a good job at avoiding your eye. Frowning, you nudged him with your elbow. "I saw you at the bonfire, Perce. Something is eating at you."

For a moment, it was silent. And then Percy drew in a deep breath, like he was readying himself for something, but he still hadn't looked at you.

"I guess I’ve just been thinking about just… everything." He sighed, but you could hear the apprehension and exhaustion in his voice. He was still keeping things back, but you couldn't understand why. And that killed you, as a child of Athena. "I've been fighting since I—we—were twelve. It's too..."

"Too what?" You prompted when he trailed off, his voice dying in the warm night air. Your hand brushed against his on the rooftop between your bodies, and you considered the risks of just grabbing his hand and squeezing to offer comfort while he sorted through his thoughts.

"Forget it." He shook his head, and your heart sunk. "You don’t want to hear me complain."

You frowned, twisting to face the sky and wracking your Athena blessed mind for some way to prove to him that you did, in fact, want to hear it. You wanted to hear anything, ever, that he had to say.

But when words failed you, actions didn’t, and you finally stopped pretending to accidentally brush your pinky against his and just wrapped your hand around his.

You both stayed like that for a while, quiet and thinking, until you turned your head to face him, unsurprised to find a stormy look on his face while he still studied the stars. Maybe he was thinking of Zoë, of all the others the two of you had lost over the years.

But you were thinking about him, only.

"I’ve been fighting with you since you came to camp," Your words were quiet, little more than a summer’s breeze brushing across Percy’s skin, but you knew he heard you. "But maybe now we’re not fighting monsters anymore. Maybe we’re fighting the memories and scars they left behind. But I’m still fighting with you, Percy."

He turned his head, then, his eyes finding yours like they were always meant to. And, deep down, part of you knew they were.

Every shared glance during combat, or after a stupid joke, or when a battle ended and all either of you could do was search the carnage for a hint of the other—those eyes had found you.

"I’m just so scared I’ll never get to live my life.” Percy confessed, voice hauntingly hollow. You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back like a lifeline. “I don’t know if I’m running away from what’s already happened or into the next big mess. And what if next time… what if…"

He trailed off, eyes wide in panic, a bit of desperation. You squeezed his hand again, because you couldn’t give him the words. He needed to find them himself.

Percy screwed his eyes shut and darted forward, slotting his mouth over yours in an unexpected, horribly angled kiss. Teeth clashed together, your bottom lip caught in the mayhem and you gasped at the slight bite of pain.

He jumped back like you had burned him, propped up on one arm as he leaned on his side next to you.

"I, shit, I shouldn’t have—" He fumbled for words, already trying to shuffle further away from you, but you held tight onto his hand to keep him close, sitting up to follow him. "Please, let’s just forget about this, okay? I just, I got caught up in everything and—"

"Tell me you didn’t want to kiss me, then." You promoted, brows knitted together as you studied his face, desperate for a glimpse of how he was feeling revealed to you in the moonlight. "Because if you can’t say it meant nothing to you, you need to tell me, right now."

"I… can’t say it."

And just like that, you were the one kissing him, one hand curving around the back of his neck to keep him close while the other remained threaded through his fingers. His free hand reached up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin as if he needed confirmation that this was real, that you were real.

When you finally pulled apart to breathe, you didn’t go far. Not from him. Never from him.

"I was worried next time I wouldn’t get the chance to do that." Percy finished his thought from before, a little dazed from the kiss you both had been long awaiting, apparently. You smiled softly and closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against his.

"If you’re running towards the next prophecy, I’ll run with you." You promised, pausing only briefly to shift your position so you and Percy were laying on the roof again, only this time your head was propped on his chest and his arm was wrapped securely around you. "But if you want to sit up here and talk about the monsters you’re running from, I’ll do that, too."

"Thank you." He echoed his words from the earlier bonfire. And you could tell from his voice that he really was thankful. Because as tough as he was, Percy Jackson was still half mortal. "I…" He started, the air thick with tension about what he was going to confess. "I keep having dreams about Tartarus."

You let him talk, devoting your attention and mind to him, tracing shapes and stars and waves against his chest by your head while he spoke.

Time moved quickly that way, with talk of his fears and what weighed heavily on his mind broken up only when his throat would clog with emotion and you would tilt your head up to kiss away the memory long enough for him to regain his composure.

Because no one knew him better than you, and he didn't have to be the great Percy Jackson with you.

He could just be Percy, the boy who was haunted by his past and terrified of his future.

And you would give him all of your peaceful nights for him to have only one.

#percy jackson #pjo #Percy Jackson x reader #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fanfiction #Percy x you #Percy Jackson x you #rays of sun

462 notes · View notes

rafeandonlyrafe · 28 days

Text

arsonist's lullaby

words: 3.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, female receiving oral pregnancy, proposal <3, established relationship, arson, lots of talk about fire lol, camping, mentions of rafes bad childhood

you watch as rafe strikes the match. he prefers it over a lighter, holding it between his finger as the flame inches lower, lower, until it gets too hot and he's tossing it into the fire pit, right on the bushel of kindling that instantly takes light.

rafe looks up at you, the fire sparking in the reflection of his eyes as you make your way towards him. he doesn't have to say a word, the way he sits back in the camping chair, silently telling you to take a seat.

you slide onto his lap, placing yourself sideways with your bum on his thigh. you look at rafe for a minute, just admiring his illuminated features as the orange flame flares up and down with the wind. you listen to the sound of rustling leaves, the distant lapping of waves on the nearby lake.

“are you having fun?” you ask rafe. he may be your boyfriend of two years, but it can still sometimes be hard to tell.

rafe nods, before grinning and leaning forward to press a kiss towards your lips. “i always have fun with you.”

you weren't sure that he would enjoy camping, especially tent camping it, but you always used to go every summer with your parents, and when you asked if he would be down to go, he didn't think twice before saying yes.

“you're sweet.” you giggle, leaning in to press the side of your head against his shoulder, tucking your nose into his neck, inhaling his scent after a long day of relaxing on the beach and taking strolls through the well trodden paths through the woods.

“you're probably the only person alive who would call me sweet.” rafe places his hand on your hip, squeezing it gently.

it's not that rafe puts on a scary demeanor with everyone else, it's more like that's his natural state and you bring out a side meant just for you.

you kiss his neck, it's not enough, but it's a thank you for his vulnerability, his willingness to please you.

you both sit in comfortable silence, your eyes closed as you recover from the day while rafe stares at the fire, the flames calling to him. he holds you tight to his side as he reaches and tosses another log into the fire, a spit of sparks shooting up.

“who taught you how to build fires?” you ask rafe, looking at the now smashed teepee of sticks he had built up.

“i guess i taught myself.” rafe shrugs. “i always used to build them in the fire pit in the backyard whenever my dad would take sarah to softball practice.

“mmm.” you hum, pressing another kiss to his neck, before moving to his jaw. “we should go into the tent.”

“yeah.” rafe nods, picking you up effortlessly, his pants already beginning to swell just from having your lips on him. he walks quickly to the tent, having to duck down to fit inside, placing you on the inflatable mattress.

you let out a giggle as rafe zips the tent closed before tugging his shirt off, opening your arms up as he sets himself over your body, one hand sneaking beneath your shirt to your waist while his other hand cups your jaw, holding you in place as he kisses you.

“i love you.” you whisper to rafe before picking your shoulders up off the bed, letting him pull your shirt off.

the windows of the tent are zipped mostly shut to protect your privacy from those camping nearby, but you left the top open to just a screen after double checking there was no rain forecasted.

you look up at the stars, your soft moans and rafes low grunts lost to the music of the forest as the wind moves through the trees.

“here, baby.” you hand a crumpled up newspaper to rafe. “we need it hot to roast our marshmallows.”

“mhm.” rafe finished building the fire, the embers still slightly warm from your fire last night before he places the newspaper at the center to get the fire going quicker.

“gosh, i can't wait.” you pat your stomach. “it's been so long since ive made s'mores.”

“i don't think ive had them in… ten years.” it may even be more than that. rafe hates the way it makes you pout. his lonely childhood hurts you as much as it hurts him. he fears sometimes even more from your reactions.

“come on.” rafe taps his knee. you really should have just packed one camping chair, it's not like you're sitting on your own as he pulls you into his lap, pressing kisses to your cheeks and jaw as you wait for the fire to grow.

“mmm, the s'mores…” you blink your eyes open, not even realizimg that you've relaxed so completely against rafe that you were almost asleep.

“ill make one for you.” rafe grabs the stick from the nearby table. “how burnt do you like your marshmallow?”

“just a bit.” you smile as rafe rolls his eyes.

“i like mine burnt.”

“oh im sooo surprised.” you joke as rafe sticks the marshmallow into the flames, just until it gets gooey before making your smore for you, adding extra chocolate for your sweet tooth.

“so good.” you moan when you take a bite, making rafe shift you slightly on his lap.

you eat s'mores as the moon rises, minutes ticking by until all of your graham crackers are used up.

you let out a yawn, eyes blinking the smoke out of your eyes as the wind momentarily shifts before blowing back in the same direction.

“gonna go put pajamas on.” you press a kiss to rafes forehead before moving to the tent, glad you went for a bigger size with enough room for you to get dressed and undressed. you sigh as you sit down to change your socks before laying back on the bed, not even realizing how exhausted you truly were as sleep takes you.

rafe checks on you after a few minutes, smiling when he realizes you're absolutely fine, just already in a deep sleep. he zips the tent back shut, keeping one eye on it as he goes back to the fire, building it up bigger and bigger as the flames grow, watching with excitement until he runs out of logs to add.

rafes fingers twitch. you've been home for two weeks from the camping trip. he wonders when is it an appropriate time to suggest going again. he longs to feel the heat of a blaze against his skin, to feel the ultimate power of building a fire to his will.

“hey.” your soft voice interrupts his thoughts, his face easily shifting from one of intensity to soft love.

“hi baby.” rafe presses his lips against yours in a greeting.

“missed you today.” you hum. you work two days a week at a local animal shelter, mainly just to keep busy and do something to feel accomplished, and they almost always coincide with rafes work, but today was a rare occasion where he was off and you were busy, leaving rafe to roam the house in boredom until you get home.

“missed you more.” he says, placing a hand on your waist to pull you into a more intense kiss, his lips smashing against yours. “how's casper?”

you blink, it takes you a second for your mind to start working after the passionate kiss before the corners of your lips turn down. “still no one wants to adopt him.”

you couldn't believe it at first when the adorable little white puppy came into the shelter, you thought for sure someone would snatch him up instantly, until you saw that he's missing his two hind legs. clearly people in the area don't want to take the initiative to have a dog with only two front legs.

“im sorry.” rafe sighs. he kisses you again, this time soft and comforting. “it's best he waits for the right family though, yeah?”

rafe echos the words you always say when a dog takes a little longer to get adopted. better to wait for a forever family than to wind up back in the shelter after a few weeks.

“yeah.” you nod. “so, what'd you get up to today?”

“nothing.” rafe says honestly.

“nothing?” you raise your eyebrow. “what are you gonna do when im gone next weekend?”

rafe let's out a curse. he forgot you were going on a girls trip. out of town to some spa that he has the address and phone number, along with any other information he might need to know, typed out in his notes when you first told him about it. just in case.

“shit, i was trying so hard not to think about it that i pushed it out of my mind completely.” he says with a light chuckle, but his face isn't one of happiness.

you swipe your hand through his hair, combing back the dark blond strands. “maybe we need to get you a hobby. you can build a lego set or do a paint by numbers.”

it's mostly a joke, but you do want rafe to enjoy himself while you're away. you make a mental note to yourself as you go into the kitchen to make dinner to find something to keep his mind occupied while you're separated for the first time for longer than a day since you began dating.

rafe looks at your contact on his phone. his finger twitches over the call button, despite you just getting off the phone after talking for an hour, skipping out on drinks with the girls to chat, but you didn't tell rafe that, telling him everyone was in their rooms and that you had plenty of free time to keep him occupied.

he sighs, clicking on your contact picture. you set it at the beginning of your relationship, a kissy face selfie and rafe hasn't changed it since.

“fuck.” he groans, heartbeat starting to rise as a bead of sweat forms on his forehead, anxiety building.

he walks out of the house, no set route in mind. rafe tells himself the walk will clear his head, but what he put in his pocket before leaving says different. he needs to get the feeling out somehow.

he walks and walks until it's dark outside, moving towards the run down side of town until he comes to a small shack, purposely taking mostly abandoned roads. rafe scopes out the area quickly, looking around to see if theres anyone nearby, close enough to see him.

when the coast is clear, rafe lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls the matchbox out of his pocket, a fresh one, having to repurchase after using an entire box camping.

rafe isn’t sure how easily the place will light up. the shed looks dry and old, and when he looks inside, its empty other than some old long forgotten gardening equipment. rafe strikes a match and sets it on the wooden window sill, watching as it burns out. rafe continues striking the matches and tossing them at the shack as sparks ignite the scraps of wood.

rafe steps back when he throws the last one, tossing the empty cardboard box into the flames as they slowly take over the structure. rafe smiles, the anxiety that was building up inside him blowing away with the smoke.

the flames eagerly ate up the wood, spreading quickly and before rafe knew it, the already unsturdy roof was collapsing in on itself, sparks adding to the stars in the sky.

he stands for a moment longer, the warm orange glow causing an odd comfort. rafe knows its wrong, but he can’t help that he feels better after setting the fire, walking away as the wood turns to ash, the shack long forgotten and reduced to nothing.

rafe paces, strikes a match and lets it burn to his fingertips before blowing it out, paces some more, then pulls out another match. he’s not anxious this time, doesn’t feel the itch to set a place ablaze as he did two nights ago, having to shower three times before he finally got the smell of smoke out of his hair.

now, he’s just impatient. the front door is open, letting in a cool breeze and giving him a view of the driveway as he walks around the foyer, waiting for your car to pull in, for you to finally return home.

rafe blows out a match right when he sees your car turn down the street, his eyes widening as he tosses the matchbox onto the hallway table, stepping out onto the porch, unable to keep himself farther away, moving down the steps as you pull into the driveway.

you barely put the car in park before you’re flying out the door, jumping into rafes arms as he spins you around.

“oh my god, ive missed you so fucking much.” rafes arms are wrapped firmly around your waist, not letting your feet touch the ground as he walks towards the door.

“wait, rafe-” you giggle.

“we can bring your bags in later.” rafe says. he has other priorities.

“no, the car is still on!” rafe sighs and sets you down. you quickly run to pull the keys out of the car and lock it, rushing inside with rafe quick behind you. you toss the keys on the table, noting the matchbox but you're too busy being swept off your feet and carried up the stairs by rafe.

he lays you on the bed, only now pausing to take a minute. you may have only been gone for three nights in total, but it felt like a lifetime to rafe. he leans forward, pressing your lips together before continuing to just stare at you.

“stop looking.” you tug at rafes collar. “do something.”

rafe listens to your command, moving quickly to sink down the bed, tossing the hem of your dress up, not even bothering to take your underwear all the way off, simply sliding them to the side and burying his tongue in your cunt.

“did you see a second shack burned down?” you look up from where you were mindlessly scrolling on social media.

of course rafe knows. but he certainly isn’t going to just admit that to you. he can’t have you leaving him, he’d probably burn the whole town down if that happened.

“oh really?” rafe says, keeping his voice level, disinterested.

“yeah.” you zoom in closer on the picture, nothing more than a pile of ashes and dust. “damn, i wish i could have seen it on fire.”

the fire department didn’t even get to it until it was completely burned to the ground with how isolated it was. just as rafe planned it.

“really?” his eyebrows raise.

“yeah.” you nod. “i love fire.” you give him a mischievous smile. you surely don’t mean it in the same way as rafe does, but he feels a little more at peace. if you somehow found out, maybe you wouldn’t leave him because of it, or at least hear him out.

“hmm.” rafe just hums.

“we should build a firepit in the backyard.” you mumble the suggestion, but rafe quickly nods. “yes.”

you giggle, setting your phone down to move off the armchair and onto the couch next to rafe. “you wanna keep practicing your fire setup for the next time we go camping?”

rafe smiles, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “maybe.”

rafe tosses another log onto the flame, smiling at you as you rock gently in the hammock, set up precariously close to the fire so you can feel its warmth as you relax, the summer coming to an end.

“you look beautiful.” rafe says. the orange light illuminates your features, along with the twinkling fairy lights strung up along the back porch.

you just smile at him. you don’t need words, not anymore.

rafe pokes at the fire with a stick, opening up the center to allow more airflow into the bottom as the flame grows larger, but not too large, never when you’re around.

“come lay with me.” you open your arms to rafe, who moves with ease onto the hammock next to you, the fabric pushing you both close to each other, glad you opted for the larger size so you could sit together. “i love you, baby.” rafe kisses your head, looking around the yard, at the fire, then up at the stars. “i love this life.”

“i love this life too.” you press your hand to your stomach. there’s a surprise you’ve yet to tell rafe. its only a suspicion, partially confirmed by a stick test, but you want the doctors confirmation to be sure before you tell rafe. you look up at him, tilting your head to the side so you can see his face. “you’re happy?” “yes.” he says honestly. “when im with you, i am.”

“ill always be with you.” you grip rafes hand. you turned down opportunities for trips with your girlfriends. if they didn’t want rafe to come along, it was a no. you can’t blame them, but you refuse to leave him alone after putting the pieces together.

the first arson could have been a coincidence. but the second, on a night you were also away from rafe? you know its him. it’s why you suggested the fire pit in the backyard. why you won’t force him to spend another night without you, alone and anxious, having to face the demons of his past, his childhood. you know he’s not a bad man, not at heart, not deep inside.

you turn to rafe, tears brimming in your eyes, overwhelmed with your feelings for him. “i love you so much.”

“baby.” rafe coos, bringing a hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. your hands run all over each others bodies, the moon and fire illuminating you as you work bits of clothes off, just enough for you to sink down onto rafes cock, more grinding together than thrusting at risk of spilling out of the hammock.

“god, you feel so good.” rafe groans, hands gripping your waist as he pushes in before making a miniscule movement back.

“filling me up perfectly.” you undulate your hips. sex with rafe is often wild and intense, but moments like this, where you’re just indulging in each others bodies, relaxing and slow, just like the swinging of the hammock.

“yeah, gonna fill you up real good.” rafe smirks, the corner of his lip twerking up.

the words spill out of you. “i think im pregnant.” you immediately want to take them back when rafes eyes widen.

“rafe-” you lean back, a look of regret on your face, but rafe just pulls you back in, slamming his lips against yours, hips moving faster, hand gripping your ass, pulling you against him as he cums, cock swelling inside of you before releasing.

“if you're not pregnant, im gonna make sure you are.” he gasps out, chest rising and falling, keeping his cock pushed inside of you.

“you’re not worried?” you ask. clearly the couple glasses of wine you had at dinner are giving you a loose tongue.

“no.” rafe says honestly, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “i would be if this was anyone else. you know…” he swallows thickly. “you know how messed up my childhood was. how hard my dad was on me… i feel like this is a chance to heal that, to treat my kid better than i was ever treated. and i want this with you.”

“i want it too.” you coo, kissing him softly.

“oh, and i guess there’s no better time for this.” rafe chuckles, his softening cock still inside of you, fire dying to just embers as he reaches to his shorts, halfway down his thighs and pulled a small black velvet box out of his pocket, flipping it open with one skilled hand, turning the ring to glint in the orange light.

“will you marry me?”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysillycomics @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut

481 notes · View notes

hellfirexhoe · 2 years

Text

Camping | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Prompt from the lovely @wallpapertown ( i did run with it a little but i hope you still enjoy! )

summary: the group goes camping together, but forgetful minds mean close quarters for Eddie and the reader.

warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, smutty smutty smut, buddies sharing a tent, skimpy clothes, slightly pervy!eddie, groping, fingering, p in v unprotected (who brings condoms to a friendly camping trip), once again jonathan does not exist in my writing, your friends definitely know whats going on in the tent. one use of y/n, pegging joke, pet names.

word count 3.1k words

You’d known about the plans for a camping trip for a few weeks, but in classic you fashion, you’d left all your preparation until the last minute, frantically throwing clothing and snacks into your truck. Certain you were packed, you lifted your cooler from your kitchen with ease,

“Shit shit shit, I need ice!” You ran to the freezer and saw the ice trays empty, meaning you’d have to grab ice from a nearby store. You were so focused on grabbing the ice that you failed to notice your tent was still on the kitchen table as you left the house.

In fact, your forgetfulness didn’t dawn on you until about 2 hours later, when you found the spot Robin had suggested. Steve is the first to notice you pulling up and points out the lack of tent in your truck bed,

“I was so focused on grabbing ice for the cooler that I totally forgot my tent.”

“Jesus, we’re not doing well today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Robin forgot her tent too, she was so fixated on marshmallows for s’mores that she blanked on it. Her and Nancy are sharing. Casa’s Harrington and Munson are looking perfect though.” Steve gestures to the only tents that are standing, Nancy trying to help Robin set up her tent. “Uh, I guess I can sleep with Eddie and you can have my tent to yourself?”

Eddie appears behind you, “What’s that about sleeping with me? I’m flattered Steve but I thought this was a friendly camping trip.”

“No idiot, y/n forgot her tent, so I said I’ll share with you and she can have my tent.”

“Or she can stay in my tent? She stays over at mine plenty?” Steve shrugs and turns back to you,

“Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

You link your arm through Eddie’s, “I think I’ll stick with my sleepover buddy and let you enjoy your tent to yourself.” As you speak you’re interrupted by the sound of canvas ripping and you turn to Robin and Nancy, Robin has forced a tent pole into a part that did not require a pole and has destroyed Nancy’s tent. Steve pinches the bridge of his nose,

“Alright, Robin and Nancy can have my tent. I’ll sleep on the chairs outside.”

Eddie pats him on the back, “You’re a good dude. Alright, come on, you lets get you set up in the freak shack.” Eddie grabs your bag from your truck and leads you over to his tent. You set up your sleeping bag next to his, grateful that he’s got a large enough foam mattress set up so you wont destroy your back on the hard floor.

“Thanks Eds, I hope I’m not ruining any plans you have?”

“Plans? I plan to get high, eat so many s’mores I nearly vomit and then fall asleep to the sounds of nature; mosquitos flying around, sucking Steve dry for sure, bears fuckin’ beside the tent and a babbling brook. Sounds magical.” You both burst out laughing as you step out of the tent,

“Sorry, what was that about sucking me dry?” Steve glances up at you both from where he’s trying to set up a camp fire, this only serves to make you and Eddie laugh more,

“Relax Harrington, I meant the mosquitoes. Our sexual chemistry isn’t coming to a head just yet. I’m more of a slow burn man myself.” It’s already starting to get dark but finally, sparks fly and the campfire is lit, Robin comes running over, hands full of treats, gleefully grinning as her and Nancy start setting up s’mores and passing them around.

~~~

A couple of hours pass and you’ve all got a nice contact high from Eddie and are now getting sleepy. Robin and Nancy go to bed first, with you and Eddie sloping off to his tent shortly after,

“Alright Steve, I don’t want to feel you climbing into my sleeping bag with me at 3am.” Eddie nudges Steve who is pulling blankets over himself and nods at him,

“I can’t promise anything, not if I hear ‘bears fuckin’ beside the tents’.” Eddie pulls his shirt off once you’re both in the tent and starts undoing his jeans, you look away, his habit of undressing in front of you never really seemed to bother you until you had realized, with a certain degree of horror, that you had caught feelings for one of your best friends. Now, you had to look away, afraid he’d catch you ogling and be creeped out.

“Alright, I’m decent now, you prude.” Eddie is in his sleeping bag, leaning on one elbow and watching you intently. “You gonna get ready for bed or what?”

“Turn around pervert. No free shows.” Eddie rolls over, back turned to you as you unzip your bag you silently curse yourself. You’d thrown in clothes not really paying much attention, and since you’d thought you’d be alone you had just grabbed the first pyjama set you found.

Unfortunately this meant you were now faced with the prospect of sleeping in either the jeans and t shirt you’d been in all day, and would definitely guarantee a shitty night’s sleep. Or you could wear the black lacy, almost see through shorts and matching tank top you had grabbed in your haste. You weigh up your options and look over your shoulder, confirming Eddie is still facing away from you.

As long as I stay in my sleeping bag, zipped up tight, he won’t know what I’m wearing. You reason with yourself as you quickly undress and put the skimpy pyjamas on. You wriggle into your sleeping bag and zip yourself in,

Eddie rolls back around unprompted,

“Well hello there, come here often?” You snort,

“Can’t say I do, what I wanna know is how we’ve been friends for so long and I never pegged you for someone who liked camping, or even owned a tent.”

“Well first of all darling, you’ve never pegged me, not even once. And second of all, Wayne and I used to go when I was younger, when my dad went to prison for the first time. Said it’d be good to get me out of the trailer. I forgot how nice it actually is to just be outside, listening to the world, breathing in that camp fire smell.”

Your cheeks feel hot from Eddie’s nickname, and you feel guilty at all the sordid thoughts running through your mind while your friend is opening up to you. Fortunately, Eddie is saved from hearing you make a bad joke by a strange, animal noise from outside. You hear a chair fall and assume Steve has hopped up so quickly he’s knocked his chair over.

“Uhhhh Rob, Nance? Do you guys think I could squeeze in? Pretty sure I just heard a bear.” You hear grumbling and a zipper being undone as Steve joins their tent.

“Shit do you really think he heard a bear, Eddie?” You shuffle closer to him, in an almost wormlike fashion since you’re sealed in your sleeping bag. Eddie chokes back a laugh and wraps an arm around you,

“Well, I’d keep you safe if there was, but between you and me... that was a deer, not a bear.” You snuggle into Eddie’s arm, enjoying the bonus warmth radiating off of him.

“You cold?”

“A little.”

“Well, get in my sleeping bag then, I’ll keep you warm. No funny business though, I’m a honest man.”

“No, its fine, this is fine.” You tap Eddie’s arm that’s around you,

Eddie huffs as he presses a hand to your face, “Nope, you’re freezing, you’re getting your ass in this sleeping bag with me even if I have to unzip you and pull you in myself.”

“Okay, okay. Just... look away for a second?” Eddie places a hand over his eyes and shifts back so there’s room for you in his sleeping bag. You climb in, trying not to let the fabric of your pyjamas touch his skin, you fail miserably at this due to the fact that a single man sleeping bag is not designed for two people.

“Jesus christ, what are you wearing right now?”

“Just some pyjamas...”

“Bull. ‘just some pyjamas’“ Eddie mimics your voice as he turns up the brightness on the lantern and whistles when he is able to see your clothes. “Did you think this camping trip was code for orgy or something?”

“No, I just wasn’t paying attention when I was packing.”

“How come you never wear stuff like this when you sleep over at mine?”

“Well first off, imagine poor Wayne if he bumped into me wearing this while I was just trying to go to the bathroom. And second, its not really appropriate clothing to wear when you’re sleeping in your best friend’s bed.” Eddie wanted to disagree, while he loved you in his over sized shirts and your long pyjama bottoms he couldn’t help but want you in this when you next stayed over. Absentmindedly he starts tracing the patterns in the lace around your hip,

“What are you doing?”

“ ‘s pretty. Do you want me to stop?”

You bite your lip and shake your head, leaning back onto him, feeling his warm chest touch your cold back.

“You’re freezing, silly girl.” Eddie chastises you gently, wrapping his arms around you, you try to wriggle away a little when you feel your butt touch his crotch but he’s having none of it, “You’re not getting hypothermia on my watch. Just sit still and warm up.” You both stay like this for a while, Eddie pretending the whole situation isn’t making him hard as a rock and you pretending you can’t feel his erection pressing into your ass. Eddie shifts slightly to ease a small cramp in his leg and accidentally rubs his cock across your clothed ass, and a small moan escapes your lips. You quickly clamp your jaw shut and pray he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile Eddie, who definitely did hear you has a grin like a cheshire cat,

“You okay there?”

“Mhm.”

“Then what was that little moan I heard?” Eddie whispers into your ear, “You’re wearing this skimpy little outfit, pressed up against me, and now you’re moaning? Must be trying to start something, or drive me crazy.” Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire,

“Eddie, I...”

“Relax. I’m not blind you know. I do see the way you look at me when you think I can’t see you. I just wish you could see that I’m looking at you the same way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, dumbass,” Eddie pauses to kiss your cheek, “I like you too. And I’m here if you want to do something about it. Or we can pretend that everything’s fine and we’re just best friends. But at some point one of us will get hurt.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you either, but then that leaves us with one option.”

You roll over to face him,

“You want this? I mean you want to be with me?”

“God help me I really do.” Eddie’s hands are stroking your face, his big brown eyes are soft as they look into your eyes, before his gaze drops to your lips and he leans in slowly, giving you time and room to back away, you close the distance quickly, pressing your lips to his, he gasps into the kiss and his hands travel down to your waist, pressing your body flush against his. Your hands grab Eddie’s and bringing them up to your chest, you place them on your breasts and he pulls away from the kiss,

“Okay you must really be trying to drive me crazy.” Eddie starts kissing and biting your neck as he plays with your breasts over your shirt. Keen to return the favor you start palming him through his underwear,

“Baby.” Eddie speaks between kisses, “How far do you want to go right now, bearing in mind our friends are literally meters away and tents are not known for their soundproofing?”

You pull away from him and scoot to the tent’s entrance, peeking out through a small hole you’ve unzipped, the tent next to yours is dark, they’ve turned their lantern off and you can’t hear any voices.

“I think they’re asleep Eds...” Eddie kneels beside you and peers out, listening intently. Without warning, you turn his head to yours and pull him in for a kiss before pushing him down to lay on his back, “So I think we can do whatever feels right.” You rock your hips on his bulge, unsubtly getting your point across. Eddie nods and his hands come to your shorts and a loud tearing sound follows,

“Eddie!” You gasp as he rips your clothes from you,

“What?” He asks nonchalantly, kissing your neck as your top suffers a similar fate, “Not my fault these are so fragile.” Eddie rolls you over so he’s on top of you and runs his hands over your body, almost possessively,

“Liking what you see?”

“Its better than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams.”

“Dream about me often Eds?”

“Only every night.” He returns to kissing your neck, as his left hand tangles in your hair his right hand is tracing a path further down your body until his cupping your bare pussy, “Can I please play with you?” He’s almost pleading with his tone,

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.” Eddie smirks and slowly runs his finger over your clit, hissing as he feels how soaking you are, tracing an almost painfully slow pattern until his fingers are just ghosting over your entrance, “I bet you feel incredible inside.” Eddie whispers in your ear, continuing to tease you with his fingers, waiting for you to ask him nicely.

“Why don’t you find out?” Eddie laughs,

“Nope. You’ve got to be a polite little lady about it and ask me.”

“Please?”

“Please what?”

“Eddie please please please touch me.”

“I am touching you?” He pretends to be confused for a moment before he slips his middle finger into you, making you gasp, “Only because you look so pretty when you beg.” He kisses you again, muffling the moans coming from your mouth. He feels you tightening up and adds another finger, stretching your pussy out more, and making you whine as he starts curling his fingers inside you, rubbing your g-spot mercilessly while his thumb traces circles around your clit.

“Eddie, fuck, Eddie you’re going to make me cum.”

“Good. I want to watch your face while you cum all over your best friend’s fingers.” He says with a wicked grin, his fingers working relentlessly until the knot that’s formed in your stomach is untied and Eddie’s having to clamp his hand down on your mouth to muffle the filthy sounds coming out of it as your orgasm wracks through your body, your pussy clenching around on his fingers, your thighs and butt twitching of their own accord.

Once you’ve calmed down Eddie takes his hand off of your mouth and slowly removes his fingers from you, admiring the strings of your arousal on them, before slowly and deliberately sucking each of his fingers clean.

“Well I was right about two things.” There’s a smug edge to his voice,

“And what would those be?” Your voice is still shaky,

“One, that you would feel fucking incredible inside. And two, that you would make the filthiest sounds when you cum. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about both things.” Eddie admits, shamelessly. “There’s only one more thing I’m still pondering.”

“And what would that be.”

“How fucking incredible you would feel around my cock. Am I allowed to find out tonight?”

You nod, eager for more, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“You sure? We don’t have to. I don’t have any condoms with me so it would be, raw you know.”

“No condoms?”

“No, I was under the impression this was a friends-only camping trip and didn’t want to seem like I was hoping for a group sex in the woods kind of weekend. So, we do not have to have sex tonight if you want us to use protection.”

“There’s a pharmacy somewhere around here right?”

Eddie shrugs, “Must be, why?”

“Because I’m going to need the morning-after pill tomorrow.” Eddie catches your drift immediately and starts easing his underwear down, he presses the tip of his cock at your entrance,

“If you need me to stop or change your mind please just say okay? I wont be mad, I promise.”

“Eddie, please just fuck me already.” Eddie chuckles and slowly slips himself into you, biting his bottom lip to hold back a loud groan as he feels your silken walls stretching around him. You have to hold back a similar noise, though you choose to bite down on his shoulder to hold your own noise back. Once he’s got you full to the brim with his cock he looks down at you,

“Ready?” You nod and Eddie starts pulling back slightly before slamming back into you, keeping the rhythm slow and deep, you’re panting and trying to hold back so many erotic sounds,

“Baby, you’re taking this so well, and you’re doing so good at being nice and quiet for me.” Eddie kisses you, letting you moan into his mouth as he continues his pace, the depth of his thrusts making your back arch off the mattress. Eddie has to break the kiss to catch his breath so quickly covers your mouth while your eyes roll back slightly.

“Good fucking girl,” Eddie praises you non-stop while he’s fucking you, his words coming out in quick whispers as he holds back his own moans while you’re tightening around him,

“Eddie ‘m getting close,” You pant, “You need to do something so I’m not loud.” Eddie has picked up his pace now, slipping in and out faster and harder than before, relishing as you struggle to stay quiet. He’s getting close too, he’s barely hanging on but desperate to feel you finish around him. Your pussy is getting so tight he almost has to stop fucking you and your breathing is getting erratic as the warm glow that started in your lower stomach is spreading, pleasure completely wiping your brain of any logical thought, or any consideration to the current situation, so that when you do finish around Eddie, its with a loud scream of his name, which makes Eddie finish inside you with a similar cry of your name.

Eddie crashes down beside you, completely spent, sweat running down his body,

“Well we tried to be quiet? That’s got to earn us some points right?” He’s still breathless as he speaks.

“No, they’re going to be hell when we have breakfast tomorrow Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie fucking munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #munson-trashcan #eddie munson friends to lovers #smutty saturday

12K notes · View notes