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talaok · 1 year

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At the Met

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x actress! reader

summary: You and Pedro, Hollywood's hottest couple, attend the Met Gala together, but when you find out your ex was invited too, things start going sideways.

warning: angst, jealousy, age-gap

a/n: this was a request by the lovely @vawnila but since I am delusional, I decided to merge it with yesterday's event bc this man...

Pt. 2

[ "And here they come! y/n y/l/n and Pedro Pascal, Hollywood's hottest couple!"

"wow, they look amazing" ]

You'd been to the Met before, and so had Pedro, but going as a couple was something much different, especially with all the talk you two had caused in the last six months. There wasn't a magazine or a blog that wasn't talking about your age gap or the way you'd both robbed millions of women and men of the chance to be with Hollywood's most desired bachelor and bachelorette.

The past few months had been a mess, and still, you didn't think you'd ever had that much fun.

Pedro was everything you had ever wished for in a man. he was kind and sweet and funny, and not any less handsome, he was perfect.

So when he took your hands in his as you walked up the carpet, you couldn't help but smile up at him, just for him to meet your glance with the same adoration.

The carpet was the easy part though, what actually scared you, was the dinner.

Being seated next to a bunch of celebrities you didn't know... that was your personal version of hell, but at least this year Pedro was gonna be next to you.

The first part of the dinner went well, the first moments were awkward as you had expected, but then the woman sitting opposite you broke the ice and everyone seemed to relax.

Pedro sensed your tension at times and tried to soothe you by placing his hand on your thigh, or murmuring something to your ear that most times resembled something like "We're almost done, sweetheart".

It was a good table, don't get me wrong, but there was something about knowing you were being watched and filmed and photographed by the world's most popular celebrities that always prevented you from fully calming down.

You were always on edge, only waiting for something bad to happen, until finally, your fear came to life.

You had excused yourself to go to the bathroom and were finding your way through the maze made of chairs and tables arranged in the room, when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey baby"

wait a minute,

you knew that voice.

You turned around, "Hi Nathan"

Of course you'd meet your ex here.

"Funny meeting you here" he grinned

"I had no idea you were coming"

"Neither did I about you, darling," he said, his eyes traveling up and down your body, not even pretending to not be checking you out "You're beautiful as ever" he complimented, his fingers tracing the side of your dress, and you just smiled, rolling your eyes playfully "really" he spoke, his voice lower "You're breathtaking, baby"

"thank you" You felt your cheeks get some involuntary color "You're not so bad yourself, you know?"

"why thank you" he joked "I wanted to find someone to have some fun with, but I think I might just have"

"Nathan..."

"What princess?"

You sighed "You can use my name y'know?"

"oh I know" he reassured "I just know how much you like when I call you names" he murmured, getting closer as he moved some hair away from your face "especially on some occasions"

"Nathan what are you d-"

"c'mon y/n you know what you mean to me," he said, his voice already resembling a beg "I'm not asking for anything, I'm just saying you know we could have fun... like the old times"

"Nathan I-"

"y/n I love you" he confessed, not for the first time since the breakup "You know I love you. I love you so much I can't live without you. This past year has been hell, and I know it's been the same for you. I need you y/n, and you need me, baby, we need each other." he spoke seemingly without taking a single breath, and you were frantically looking around you, praying no one was paying you two any mind "and I know you love me back, just admit it, we could start all over again, just forget all about the past" he implored.

"Nathan I have a boyfriend" you spat out

"who, that grandpa?" he mocked "I know you don't love him, he's just a-a phase, you know you should be with me. Deep down you know"

You hadn't noticed how his hand had made its way to your arm.

"Let's go now, we can take my car and run away baby"

Your mouth gaped open but before you could speak, a barking voice intervened.

"go where?"

Your eyes traveled to your left, and just as you suspected, they met Pedro's.

Nathan, like the coward that he was, swallowed nervously as he looked back at you.

"nowhere," you said "Don't worry babe" you tried being casual, as you took a step toward your boyfriend, feeling grateful for a way out of that situation "Well it was nice seeing you Nathan, but I better go now," you forced a polite smile at him, as you intertwined your arm with your boyfriend's.

"goodbye buddy," Pedro said, in a more than slightly threatening tone.

"c'mon," you urged him, starting to walk away.

"think about what I said" Nathan spoke again, his tone deprived of all bravery all of a sudden.

You didn't even look back, just started to quicken your pace towards the table (Your need to use the bathroom had been long forgotten) when you felt Pedro tightening his arm's grip as he moved you into the trajectory of a private part of the gallery.

You frowned, once he stopped, looking around at the empty room.

"what is it?"

"What is it?" he repeated, clearly incredulous

"What?"

"What did he tell you?"

"Who"

"y/n..."

"Nathan?" you asked "Babe who cares, you know how he is, he's dumb, there's nothing I can do about it"

"tell me what he told you" you could see perfectly through this calm act.

You sighed "he told me he loves me and that I should run away with him"

"that's it?"

"Yes Pedro, that's it"

"What did you say?"

You gasped, offended and slightly annoyed "What do you think I told him, that I loved him back and to wait for me outside?!"

"What did you tell him?"

"Are you fuckin- I told him that I have a boyfriend"

He nodded perhaps satisfied "He was touching you"

"my arm" you reminded him.

"and your cheek" he reminded you too "this is the last time he does this" he decided "I'm gonna go talk to him"

"No, Pedro-" you grabbed his arm "I can deal with this on my own, plus, you're too mad, you can't go now"

"You've already dealt with this on your own, and it doesn't seem like you've made much progress"

You gasped, now actually mad "This is my problem, Pedro, you don't have anything to do with it"

"It's my problem too when it involves you"

"no, it's not."

"y/n I'm trying to help you"

"well I don't want your help, not with this"

"Why? 'cause it sure looks like you need it"

You scowled at him "fuck you"

"It's the truth y/n this guy's been bothering you since before we got together, that's not fucking normal"

"I know it isn't but I'm dealing with it in my own way"

"and I can't try my way?"

"well, I'm sorry if I don't want you to go out there and punch him, Pedro!"

He paused, clearly as a part of him wanted to reply that he wouldn't have, another part informed him that there was a high probability he would have, in fact, punched the guy.

"y/n-"

"no you know what, I'm tired of this- this thing you do. I don't need to be saved, I can take care of myself"

"I don't doubt that, but I just wanted to help"

"you know you were not gonna help Pedro" You shot him a look "And I'm tired of this- jealousy" you sighed "I love you, Pedro, you know that, but if you don't trust me I don't understand how we could possibly have a relationship"

"I do trust you"

"then I could go out there and talk to Nathan right now?" you challenged "or you fear he might convince me, and I might run away with him?"

His jaw twitched.

"see" you breathed "just as I predicted"

" y/n-"he tried putting his hands on your waist but you stopped him.

"no, Pedro" you took a step back "Just-" you sighed "I need to be alone"

[ "Someone's coming out, it looks like... Pedro Pascal has just left the Gala"

"Where's the missus?"

"I don't see her"

"well you heard it here first folks, It looks like Pedro Pascal has just left the Met Gala with y/n y/l/n nowhere in sight" ]

Pt. 2

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bebx · 1 year

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ART NATION, ART IS BACK!!!

David Howard Thornton reprises his role as the iconic Art the Clown in Pete Davidson’s new show, Bupkis, which will premiere in May on Peacock TV!

We are super excited to see what mischief and chaos Art has in store for us

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crazyinluvfix · 14 days

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MASTERLIST

hey babes x

masterlist for my multi fandom blog, and when i say multi fandom i mean literally anything !!

request in bio and i will deliver. i’m talking music, movies, tv shows, books, you name it i’m there

i’ll write anything within reason ( smut, fluff, angst, etc. )

fics with * will have smut

TEEN WOLF:

STILES STILINSKI -

‘FATAL ATTRACTION’ chapter masterlist

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES -

KLAUS MIKAELSON -

‘DON’T NEED SAVING’

EMINEM -

coming soon…

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rinhaler · 7 months

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𝖒𝖞 𝖋𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖎𝖘 𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖓

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ⁭plug!ryusei shidou x f!reader

Genre: smut Notes: iiiiiii want him n need him desperately ♡ i made him icky, manipulative and dress like pete davidson warnings: 18+, (soft?)dom!shidou, sub!reader, dubcon, drug use (weed), blowbacks/shotgunning, reader has pubes!, ryusei has a gold tooth, virgin!reader, corruption kink, dumbification?, fingering, blowjob, head pushing ♡, male masturbation, use of nii-chan (not referring to ryusei), slight dacryphilia, shush!kink, praise, pet names, cum eating ♡, he calls your pussy 'her', slut used once. words: 7.1k

“No way am I coming over. Your big brother would kill me.”

Ryusei can’t stop himself from smirking when he can hear your attempt to conceal a whimper. And he just knows there’s a plump little pout on that pretty little face on the other end of the line.

He’s been dealing to your brother for years, they’re basically best friends if you subtract the client aspect from the equation. They smoke together, they’re always hanging out and Ryusei isn’t a stranger to the apartment you and your brother share.

“How did you even get my number anyway, darlin’? Reaaaal naughty of ya to be calling me like this. Gonna be in big trouble if I tell your nii-chan.” he tells you. And this time you hear the smirk behind his voice. He’s teasing you. He’s toying with you, but you still can’t stop yourself from becoming paralysed with fear.

“He gave me it for emergencies! Please don’t tell ‘im!” you sigh. “He’s on some weekend work trip because he’s tryna get a promotion. I’m just lonely…”

“Awe, and why is that my problem?” he asks, harshly. It takes you aback slightly though your determination doesn’t falter. You take a deep breath and try to formulate a response in your mind.

“You guys are always havin’ fun together… but you never let me join in. I wanna have fun with you too, Ryusei—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I said no.” he stands firm and shows no signs of backing down. He hears the little deflated exhale you release, and he licks his lips as he thinks. He doesn’t want you to be sad, but he knows fucking around with a client’s sister behind his back is a stupid fucking idea. “You’ll be alright on your own. Why don’t you invite one of your friends over.”

“W-Well… I just wanted to see you.” you tell him, honestly. “I— I wanted to try smoking with you.”

He chuckles when he hears that. It hasn’t been a discreet crush you’ve harboured since you saw him for the first time. You may have thought otherwise, but Ryusei has always known. He kisses his teeth and laughs again as he thinks about this tantalising proposition being thrown onto his lap.

“You’re really tryna get into trouble this weekend, huh? Do you always invite drug dealers over?” he wonders, knowing the answer already. He knows you’re a good girl who always does as her nii-chan says. But today you want to let your hair down. Today you can let your hair down because he isn’t here for the whole weekend. You can be a little naughty and reckless and have some fun for a change. “Are you that lonely, baby? Jus’ want some company?”

“… Y-Yes. ‘m lonely…” your lower lip wobbles as you think about being in the same apartment all by yourself for the next two days. You’re fine now, it’s only 12:30pm. But what about when it gets dark out? You’re a stupid girl who lets her mind run wild with the possibilities of ghosts and home invaders. You’ve seen one too many horror movies while your brother and Ryusei are high in the front room for no regard to your taste in genre. You hate horrors but you’ve seen so many thanks to them. And now your mind is racing. What if you got kidnapped or killed for the fun of it? “I don’t wanna be alone, Ryusei… ‘m so scared.”

He grits his teeth, resolve crumbling as he thinks about you all alone in the apartment he’s spent so many nights in. So many pointless nights where he could have been out making more money or fucking a multitude of girls who don’t hide their attraction for him. So, is he really about to sacrifice the same for you?

Lonely, frightened, you?

“Well, we can’t have that, can we? I’ll be there in twenty.”

Now that he’s here you’re not sure what you were thinking. You’ve never smoked before. You’ve not even had a sip of alcohol before! But you know drugs are Ryusei’s whole life right now. Selling, buying and occasionally consuming. He locks the door behind himself as he enters. He’s wearing a wide grin as he comes in and approaches you.

He thinks you’re just the sweetest little thing.

Your feet walk you backwards as he gets closer to you, lunging forward to grab you when you almost trip over your pink Kirby slippers that your brother got you for your most recent birthday.

“Clumsy girl.” he grins, gripping into the fat of your underarms. He leads you over to the couch and more or less throws you down onto it. He dumps his backpack on the coffee table. “What time does your brother come home, sweetheart?” he asks, not even looking your way as he takes out his belongings and spreads them out on the table.

“Uh—” you think, eyes squinting as you look up at the ceiling and try to act natural. “Monday… morning.” you tell him.

“Well, I’m sure he won’t mind if I keep you company ‘til he gets back, right?”

“R-Right…” you aren’t so sure about that, but you’re hardly going to disagree with him. Though in truth, he knows he’ll be furious. But the time he cared about your pathetic brother’s opinion has been and gone. What kind of man would he be if he left a poor defenceless thing like you all on your lonesome in such a sketchy part of town?

You watch him carefully as he pulls out a grinder, some papers, and a large baggie of weed and puts them all down on the table. Your mind wanders as he describes the effects to you, none of it is computing. And it gets even worse when he starts talking about different strains doing different things. As far as you were aware, weed was just… weed. You’d never heard about strains or effects. All of your knowledge comes from movies. Tripping, munchies, all of the cliché stuff.

He grins when he sees your dumb expression. Of course you’re not understanding anything he says. All you need to know is that you’ll be okay because he’s here to look after you. He’s here to take you through it.

You watch him as he grinds it up in a tall metallic grinder. And seeing him roll is like witchcraft to you. It’s not like it’s the first time, but it’s the first time you’ve seen it up close. Your nii-chan always exiles you to your bedroom when they’re rolling and smoking. You’re only allowed out once they’re high, though it’s never stopped you peaking from the crack of your door.

Your eyes widen in disbelief as he holds eye contact with you while he licks the paper. Suddenly you’re looking anywhere but in his direction. He’s revelling in it, making you so uncomfortable and shy. You really are sweet ‘n innocent, huh?

“Here.” he hands it to you, his voice earning your attention and you look into his pink eyes before they drop to the blunt in his hand. You look back at him, confused, and he finds himself adjusting the baggy shorts he’s wearing in hopes that you haven’t noticed the way his cock jumps when you tilt your head so stupidly. “What? This is what you wanted.” he speaks, his defensive tone surprising you.

“But… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never smoked before…”

“Never? Not even a cigarette?” he asks.

“Nothing… never smoked or had a drink or even been to a party. Nii-chan is too protective.” you pout. He wants to fucking ruin you. You’re so fucking cute and stupid he thinks he might cum in his underwear just from hearing you speak. You’re so obedient and it makes you so fucking stupid. As if you aren’t a grown woman who could get her own apartment and do whatever she wants. “Will you show me?” you speak, cutting through his thoughts.

He nods, effortlessly. He lounges back into the couch, legs spread wide as he lets the blunt balance between his lips. It’s lit instantly, and you can’t believe what a pro he is. He’s got one of those stupid lighters. The ones with the metal bit you have to spin with your thumb rather than one of the plastic ones you just push down. You can never use them. Your brother always lends them to you when you want to light a candle, but he always ends up lighting them for you.

“Get me somethin’ to use as an ashtray.” he tells you, it’s a rude demand rather than a request. But his lack of manners doesn’t stop you from immediately jumping to your feet and rushing over to the kitchen sink. You just washed your brother’s ashtray this morning. You smile happily as you hand it to him, clearly willing to do anything he asks whether he’s polite about it or not.

He takes a few more drags and flicks the ash every so often. And when he’s halfway through, he looks at you, expectantly.

“Your turn.” he tries to hand it to you again. You take it, and you flinch as he also forces the lighter into your palm. “You didn’t invite me over just to watch me smoke, did you? What, are you trying to take advantage of me?” he laughs, running his tongue along his top row of teeth. His golden canine twinkles at you, halting you from speaking for longer than you’d intended.

“It’s not like that! I just— I’m nervous, and I hate these lighters.” you explain. You stiffen as he rolls his eyes and adjusts his body, angling it to face you. His stare is harsh, bordering on agitated. It’s only fair, you think. He hadn’t planned on spending his day babysitting you or showing you how to do something so simple. “’m sorry.” you speak, it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it. Almost.

“Open up.” he commands. You’re confused at first, and before you know it his rough thumb is tugging at the fat flesh of your lower lip. “I said: open up.”

You clear your throat and angle your body in a similar way to him. Although you’re nowhere near as tall or intimidating as him. You’re like a sullen little dormouse, respecting the orders of your master. Your lips part ever so slightly as he places the blunt between them. Your lips close around it, keeping it perched firmly between them. He can see lip gloss residue smearing on the paper; his depraved mind is going into overdrive. His lewd thoughts encompassing him, he needs to break free and focus on you before you start to ask more silly questions.

He tucks your hair behind your ears and away from your face. A brief thought crosses his mind of how embarrassing it would be to get caught by your brother because he singed your fucking hair.

“Don’t just suck it, yeah? Breathe it. You wanna feel it go in your chest, alright?” he asks you, it sounds like a reminder. Like he’d already told you this and he’s making sure you are listening this time. It’s hard not to when all you can focus on is him. How he’s staring at you. How he smells like cheap aftershave and weed. The smell of weed is revolting, truth be told, you aren’t sure how you’re going to be able to inhale it without gagging.

He flicks the lighter a few times and keeps an eye on your expressions and your breathing to make sure you’re doing it right. You look terrified.

And he likes it.

Your eyes get wider and wider the more you inhale, and he’s worried they might pop out of that pretty head of yours. You suck and you breathe in as much of the earthy smoke as you can until it embraced your lungs like an invader claiming its new home. He can’t hide his laughter when you begin to choke, realising you are the good girl you’re claiming to be and absolutely have never smoked anything in your life.

“Everything hurts.” you tell him, still coughing and sputtering out lingering smoke as your eyes water. “It tastes like shit…” you continue, covering your mouth as you can’t stop yourself from choking anymore. He gets up, handing the ashtray to you to balance the blunt in and he flees the scene of the crime without a word. He returns a few moments later with a glass of water, he even added in a few ice cubes for you.

“Think you’re all grown up because you’ve had your first puff?” he wonders, “Never heard you swear before, darlin’.” he finishes as he hands the glass to you.

“I swear… I’m allowed to swear, Ryu.” you answer defiantly.

Cute, he thinks. You really are trying to sound all big and bad for him. But he’s never going to take you seriously after that little display, you’re just a little girl trying to act tough. A cute girl trying to be the cool girl.

But you both know you’re far from cool. A cool girl wouldn’t care so much about pleasing her brother and being a good girl for him. A cool girl would do whatever she wants without fear of the consequences.

At least you’re trying, he thinks.

You glug and you glug until you soothe the suffocating dryness in your chest. He’s transfixed on a droplet of water clinging to the corner of your mouth, unable to tear his gaze as it begins to run down your face. And he can’t think of a cuter sight than you still trying to be the cool girl, wiping it away with the back of your hand before he can notice despite it being much too late for that.

“C-Can I do some more?” you ask him, big wet eyes blinking at him as you hope he’s still willing to guide you.

“Think you can handle it?” he asks. “Get some more water.” he commands, not even letting you answer first. It’s probably the right call, though, you’re hardly going to be accustomed to the feeling of smoke contaminating your insides after one heavy inhale.

You follow his pathing from moments before, getting yourself some water and fresh ice cubes before returning and facing him again. You drink so much; he grabs your wrist and moves the glass away from your lips before you down the whole thing.

He lets out a heavy breath as he holds the blunt and sees how your lips immediately part for him this time without being asked. Fast learner. His thumb pulls at the metal wheel twice, each time it sounds make your eyes flicker further open.

“Breeeathe.” he demands, and you obey. You take it waaaay better this time, holding it for longer after he pulls the lighter away and takes the blunt from your lips. “That’s it, atta girl.” he smiles as you slowly exhale, only coughing a little bit. Your little hands are immediately reaching for the glass of water you set down moments before.

“I feel…” you try and think, eyes darting around the room in search of the right words to use. Your eyes close without your permission, humming happily as you embrace the feeling, a cheery smile visible on your face. “Weird…” you giggle, deeming it the only appropriate word that springs to mind.

“Is that right, baby? Feelin’ weird?”

“Mhmm.” you sigh, dreamily, letting the feeling consume you wholly. You want to melt into the couch beneath your thighs; and you involuntarily begin to lean back into the plush leather before Ryusei stops you. “My eyes are hurting, Ryusei…”

“Mm, I’ll bet. They’re all bloodshot, princess. Think you’re high.” he smirks.

“Wan’ some more.” you tell him, reaching to take the blunt from his hold. He moves his hand away. The fat, brown joint just out of your tired reach. And fuck he can’t stop his cock from twitching when you don that pout. That pretty little pout that you can’t stop yourself from displaying any time you’re disheartened. “P—lea, p-please…” your lower lip juts out further.

“C’mere.” he instructs you, his empty hand patting at his adjacent thigh. He sees the hesitation in your eyes. The little protest lodged in your throat as you think what a bad idea this could be. Why does he want you to sit on his lap? Your heart is racing with possibilities. Is he going to try and kiss you? Or is it simply an easier position for him to help you smoke? “Move, baby, now.” his voice is firm, almost scary. Your movements are slow, but you find yourself moving on his order regardless.

You go to him, but he stops you as you try and sit nicely in his lap. It isn’t quite what he had in mind. He doesn’t want to baby you like the princess you want to be for him. You’re like a ragdoll as he positions you, limbs loose beneath his touch until you realise you’re straddling him. His legs are spread wide, relaxed, and you’re hovering above him a little.

“Open your mouth f’me.” you’re like a robot, complying with each and every command he issues without hesitation.

You’re too good, too perfect. And Ryusei Shidou is quite the opposite; he’ll ruin you if you aren’t careful.

But right now, you couldn’t care less.

Your dewy lips part, wider than they had earlier until Ryusei seems satisfied. He’s relieved you’re only hovering over him, or you’d have definitely felt the way his dick twitched at the sight of your pudgy lips widening for him.

He relaxes, fully, his own eyes becoming more bloodshot as the minutes go by. Weed doesn’t affect him like it used to, not in the way it’s affecting you. But he’s calm. All of his thoughts are collected, and he feels at peace. It’s probably the reason he’s being so brazen and not giving a second thought to the consequences of being with you anymore.

While you’re waiting for his vision to be realised, while you’re waiting for the reason as to why he wants you in this position with your lips spread, he lights up the blunt once again. You watch him through a heavy-lidded stare as he takes a hefty inhale.

You sense him planning something, the cogs whirring sinfully in his mind as he looks between your eyes and your lips as he inhales the smoke deeper and deeper into his lungs. He rests his arm over the rest of the couch, harbouring zero consideration for the potential ash staining the cream carpet below.

He tries to close the distance between your bodies, and you instinctively jolt away from him, your lips clamping shut just as quickly. As much as he wants to smile, to laugh, his lips remain neutral and sealed. His empty hand holds the small of your back. His fingers drift, trailing up the column of your spine. He flattens his palm between your shoulder blades, pushing your face and body closer to his. His right hand remains between your shoulder blades, the other coming around to tug your viscid lower lip until your mouth is ajar. He leans in, closer. The closest he’s ever been to you in the entire time you’ve known him.

He's going to kiss you.

Your heart is thumping, the intense beating, hammering your heart through blood, muscle tissue and flesh. Your eyes close instinctively, and at that, he does smirk.

His eyes alternate between yours, and your gloss covered lips. And then his are ghosting yours, not close enough to touch but not far enough for you to not feel their presence. His gaze becomes heavy, lustful as he observes you. He’s fixated on how you react as he blows the smoke from his lungs into yours.

Your eyes widen as you realise he isn’t kissing you, but your mind is hazy as you realise what he is doing. His lungs shrink as he empties them, but he doesn’t move. He smiles, though, and you fucking feel it. He’s waiting patiently to see just how desperate you are for him to kiss you.

Your breathing is intense. He can hear each breath you take through your nose as you try and compose yourself. You try and calm down and hide your burning shame from him. He knew what you’d assume and chose not to correct you. Just to see you squirm.

But you want to kiss him.

You want him to kiss you.

He chuckles lightly when he sees a nervous little gulp plummet down your throat, he’s sure if he blinked he would have missed it. He wonders if your eyes always vibrate so intensely when you’re nervous.

“Did you like that?” he whispers, his lips still inching away from yours. You feel each and every breath it takes for him to speak that sentence.

“Yeah…”

“Yeah?”

“Mm… mhmm…” you nod, eagerly and yet somehow still awkwardly. “D— Can you do it again?” you whisper. It’s so meek and downright precious he can feel pre fucking ooze out of his tip.

He adjusts his position, nodding, his lips almost catching yours but not quite before he pulls away to smoke some more. Your lips part beautifully and he’s smiling sinisterly yet again. His hand travels from your back to hold the crown of your head, you can’t back away this time, not that you’d want to. He’s keeping you in place as he slowly begins to puff smoke past your desperate lips.

You moan, involuntarily, as you feel your mind cloud and your body grow wearier. But still, you can’t get enough. You can’t fully satiate your desires of intoxication. Not with drugs. Not with attention. Not with touch. You need him. More of him.

“Baby?” you hear him mumble, his lips clumsily toying with yours as he refuses to fully close the gap between them. “I think ya wanna kiss me.”

You squeak, almost, a high pitch whine sounding through your nose as the uncomfortable statement surges through you. Were you so pitifully obvious the whole time? You lean in closer, attempting to close the separation between you. But he pulls away, ever the tease, and he can’t help but relish the whimper that claws its way up your throat.

“You ever even kissed anyone?” he asks, closing the gap once again. “Y’know, since you’re such a good girl.”

You feel the tips of your ears and face begin to sear with heat, embarrassment flooding through your blood. You nod, defiantly, doing all you can to assure him you’re not the big loser he seems to think you are.

“I have… ‘ve had boyfriends before… Ryu…” you tell him, though it’s still a little humiliating.

“So,” he starts, his hand holds your hip as he adjusts himself slightly. Thumb stroking your side calmly, despite his cock driving ever so gently into your core as he moves. Not hard enough to set off alarm bells, but just enough to leave a lasting impression. He bites lip and releases it just as fast as his eyes rake over you, and you feel so small under his stare, despite him being the one looking up at you. His fingers weave and comb through your hair until he gets a tight enough grip. Your noses are touching before he tilts his head, your lips barely lingering on one another’s as you each fight against fully committing. “If I kiss you right now, it’s gonna be worth my time?” he whispers.

In truth, it’s been a while since you kissed anyone. You haven’t had a boyfriend since high school and that seems like a lifetime ago now. But you don’t want to go another second without feeling his lips fully pressed against yours. So, you nod. It’s weak and unconvincing, but you nod anyway.

It’s enough for him. In truth, he wouldn’t have cared if you’d never been kissed before. He’d be more than happy to teach you, though he’s sure he’ll teach you plenty anyway. He’s going to turn you into a masterpiece; one that has been created only for him to enjoy.

His lips slot against yours and it’s like an explosion. You’ve been fucking starved for him, and you can barely remember to breathe as it intensifies. Suctioning sounds repeat as you kiss without stopping. Neither of you remember to come up for air until you’re gasping.

Your lips part divinely as his tongue pushes past them and it’s so rapturous as your little wet muscle meets his. He groans, loudly, as he licks and swipes all while you’re moaning pathetically into his mouth. He bets your soaked, he’s rock hard and leaking like a virgin getting his first hand job after all.

“Stick out your tongue.” he tells you, and like always, you do as you’re told. He licks at it, swirls his own tongue around it. He sucks it until he’s heady with lust.

His body collapses against the back of the couch, and like the perfect pet you follow him. You can’t stop making out with him now. You can’t possibly get enough. You doubt it would even be enough to crawl inside his skin and live out the rest of your days there.

You’re addicted to him.

He pushes your body down so that your crotch is fully pressed into his. The feeling of his throbbing cock almost entirely against your panty-clad mound is a surprise to say the least, you hadn’t expected it and your surprised expression gives you away instantly. But he doesn’t comment right away, instead, he grinds his crotch against yours as you carry on kissing. Your breath fans across his face, you’re delirious from the sensation of him being against you like this, you’ve never known anything quite like it.

“Feel what you’re doin’ to me?” he chuckles, parting away from you enough to look up at you again and lick his lips. But you chase him, you think you might stop breathing if you deny yourself of him. Your tongue pushes past the seam of his lips, and of course he doesn’t object. He feels your little wet muscle searching for something, and he can’t contain the amused scoff when he realises you were tracking down his gold tooth, the tip of your tongue licking it from behind all of the way to the front until you reach his gums. “Fuck… you’re filthy.” he informs you before kissing you again.

You giggle before he yanks at your hair. Flirtatious laughter being forced into a tantalising gasp, your head angled so that you’re looking up at the ceiling above. The column of your neck is almost enough to make him cum. It’s so fucking bare. So pure and untainted. He wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into you. To cover you in hickeys and bite marks so that everyone knows what he fucking did to you.

But he knows, deep down, it isn’t worth it. It isn’t worth the questions and the bullshit and the drama. Not this time, anyway. Instead, he leaves gentle kisses and soft suckles against your skin. His tongue leaves fat, wet stripes over your throat and pulse point, hot breath fanning over them between kisses. You’re keening for him as his lips begin to ascend. You’re shuddering against him as he breathes heavily, deliciously, into your ear. His hand drifts to squeeze your tit over your crop top as he continues to breathe thickly into your ear canal. The intensity forcing your skin to break out in goosebumps.

You mewl, and it’s a fucking siren song as he sucks on your earlobe. He drives his covered cock up into you as he takes the cartilage between his teeth, alternating between that and sucking like he’s trying to get milk from nipple.

“Does anyone else know what a naughty little thing you are?” he talks directly into your ear, thumb rubbing over the thin material of your top, your hardened nipples unfortunately hidden behind your push up bra. “Or do you only get like this f’me?”

“Jus’ you…” you sigh, your arm wraps around his neck so that you can hold his head the same way he had yours. Tiny little fingers toy with blonde and pink tufts, he groans slightly at the comforting feeling.

“Darlin’… you know you have to pay, don’tcha?” he asks. It’s so out of the blue, you push away from him. He grins as he watches the confusion and horror take over your facial expression. You were so blissfully at peace, lost in the feeling of his lips and his touch all over your body. “Drugs aren’t free, y’know.”

“B-But…” you think, panicking, “I— nii-chan only left me enough for emergencies…” you tell him, hoping he’ll take pity on you. He offers a fake little pout, tutting at your excuse. It’s so feeble and pathetic and he loves how easy it is to mess with you.

“Awe, baby.” he offers faux sympathy, his thumb stroking over your cheek yet again. “You better do what I say then, yeah? Gonna have to keep bein’ a good girl f’me, ‘n then we can forget the whoooole thing.”

“What do you want me to—”

He thrusts his hips up, and you lose balance, falling perfectly into his arms. He tugs at your crop top, urging you to take it off. You start pulling it upwards, though it’s too slow for his liking. He yanks it over your head, getting a quick eyeful of your tits and aqua blue bra before he sucks hard into the fat flesh of your breasts.

You’re too busy moaning, rolling your hips against him to notice he has unclasped your bra with one hand. He pulls carefully at the straps, ridding you of the material covering part of your modesty. He bites his lip and breathes heavily as he ogles them. You feel the way his cock pulses against your cunt.

“S’fuckin’ pretty—” he muses. You feel different, now. You’re fully on display for him and you are completely at his mercy. Your rational mind is telling you to give him the emergency money your brother left and send him on his way. But sadly for you, your poor neglected pussy wants him to stay and have his way with you. “You’ve gotta suck my cock, baby. Now.” he demands.

Your heartrate sky-rockets. Things are moving so fast you can barely process it at all. You look down between your thighs and see the ever-growing bulge in his shorts. Can you argue with him? Reason with him? It doesn’t matter either way, you’re already sliding carefully onto the ground and getting down on your knees between his spread legs. You aren’t sure where to start. Everything you think about doing dies a sudden death with each new idea that comes to the forefront of your mind.

“Pull it out, hurry up.”

Little hands shake as nimble fingers grip onto the waistband of his shorts. You pull and you pull and he lifts his body to help in your efforts. He almost grunts as his cock springs free, pearlescent pre leaking a ton from his twitching slit.

“Mmmm…” he moans as he grips his cock at the base, shaking it a few times so that the tip hits your nose softly, soupy liquid sticking to you as he does. “Be a good girl, show me how bad you can be.”

There’s not a single universe where you’re successfully concealing your apprehension from him, though he thinks nothing of it. He thinks you’re nervous because you’ve had a crush on him for quite some time now and you don’t want to disappoint him. Your hands carry on shaking as you grab onto his length. He’s huge, both of your little hands are holding him in your grasp and there’s still more of his thickness unable to be held.

You think to start off you should clean the tip; you lick and lave over his throbbing head and your face scrunches as you register the warm tanginess permeating your tastebuds.

His body almost dissolves into the couch as you start to take more and more of him. He shoos your hands away and holds himself so that you can balance your hands on his thighs. His free hand holds your head, forcefully attempting to shove you further and further down on his length until you’re choking on him. You’re spitting and sputtering just like you had when you smoked.

“S’cute.” he moans. The light praise encourages you to keep trying for him. So, you do, try. You try to give him mind blowing head. You try to remember to use your tongue to keep him nice and stimulated as you bob up and down on his cock. You even remember one of your friends telling you that squeezing your thumbs stops you from gagging as much.

But it’s all in vain.

Ryusei hisses, flinching from an amalgamation of too much teeth and not enough spit. He snatches you away by your hair, seeing red veins stabbing through the whites of your eyes as they begin to gloss over. A watery sheen telling him of your deepest shame and embarrassment.

“Are you a fucking virgin, baby?” he wonders. His cock spills more pre as he sees tears fall from your eyes and cascade down your cheeks. The little sniffles you can’t stop are a symphony to him and he can see the way your throat is choking back audible cries. He can hear the little croaks trapped there, though, poor thing. “Never sucked a cock before, have you?”

“’m s-so sorry.” you stop fighting your losing battle as you start to cry, utterly humiliated that your secret has come to light because you did such a terrible job giving head. “I’ll— g-get my purse ‘n then you can just g-o. I’m sor—”

He leans forward, hand snaking between your thighs to cup your cunt. “Never had a cock in her, huh? What about fingers? Anybody ever ate your pussy, sweetheart?”

“N-Nothing!” you speak, almost defiantly though that wasn’t your intention. You’re feeling vulnerable and defensive. You’re embarrassed, and he has his hand somewhere nobody has ever touched you before. “Only kissed before…”

“Mmm… no wonder you’re so wet.” he speaks, though he isn’t seeking a reply. He’s simply musing to himself. He should have known, really. When would you get a chance to fuck and learn how to suck cock when your brother practically holds you hostage in this shit hole apartment? “I won’t fuck you, today. You’re not gonna suck my cock either. Come here.” he continues, he grabs both of your wrists and drags you back to your previous position with little effort. You’re above him, again, your thighs straddling his. “Stand up, actually.” he orders, you obey.

Your tits are still exposed and you’re standing in nothing but your pleated mini skirt and silk panties beneath. He twirls his finger, encouraging you to do a spin for him. You complete it, quickly, your skirt raising ever so slightly and exposing a peak of pink silk before you find a neutral position once more.

“Slower.” he tells you, so you spin again. Slower, just for him. “Stop.” he tells you when your back is facing him.

“Is something wrong, ah—!” you yelp as he ruthlessly kicks the inside of your ankles until your legs are spread apart from each other.

“Bend over, put your hands on the table.” he instructs you. You’re slow in doing so, not wanting to rush this time; though you still feel your heartbeat in your throat. Your skirt rides up, the pink silk completely covering your most precious secret. Though he grunts at the sight, unable to control himself. His jaw clenches and bubbles at the sight of brunette curls peaking from the sides of your panties. “Holy shit, fuck.” he sibilates, thick long fingers hooking into the pink silk. He wastes no time tearing them from your body, shoving them into the pocket of his hoody.

He grabs the globes of your ass, kneading the flesh under your little skirt and parting your pussy lips in the process. He’s enamoured by the sight, the way your arousal has soaked your pubic hair. It’s shimmering, he can’t help but to touch and toy with your pubes when they’re taunting him like this. He can’t remember the last time he fucked a girl with a cute bush of hair like yours. It’s always fucking waxed and landing strips and of course he won’t complain, but seeing your intimate form in all of it’s glory like this… you’re perfect. You’re fucking holy.

He pushes a single finger hastily into your wet hole. You almost fall forward; you cry out from the feeling of being stretched for the very first time.

“Never shave this fucking pussy, yeah? Leave it like this f’me.”

You don’t reply, mind spiralling from the feeling of pain and pleasure as he burrows his finger in deeper and begins to curl it when he feels that perfect little spongy spot buried deep. Your cheeks are stained with glittering tears, the overbearing living room light not offering you any courtesy in that regard. Your tear-stricken face will be exposed to him, eventually.

Will he care?

Will he show concern?

Will he be sympathetic since he is the cause?

It appears not. He holds no consideration as he pummels a second finger inside of your gummy interior. He scissors them again and again and again until you’re practically screaming. It feels worse when he pushes against the spot. That spot that blinds your fucking vision.

“A-Ah. Aaah—!” you sob, scream, anything your body can physically project in your current state. It almost feels like an out of body experience. “Ouch! Ow, R-Ryusei. Hurts! Hurtin’ me—!” you explain. He wraps an arm around your midsection, fingers still cosy deep inside. He pulls you back, your spine flush against his chest. His hand moves from your stomach to your mouth, silencing your cries and whimpers as his fingers carry on battering your g-spot.

“Shhh, it’ll feel good in a minute.” he informs you. “Rub your clit, baby, show me how you touch this virgin cunt.” your entire body becomes scalding in an instant, the lewd language and very notion that you masturbate filling you with unease. But without question, your fingers find the swelling nub between your pussy and begin to rub and rub.

He rests his forehead against your shoulder, smiling down as he hears painful cries turn to libertine moans. His smothering hand frees your airways, allowing you to send your mewling into the airspace freely. He squeezes his cock, hard, and begins to masturbate himself. A sticky, clacking sound filling the room. It’s mixing in with the sound of your squelching cunt.

Your eyes cross as he finds a perfect rhythm with you. You’re sure you look like a bona fide whore, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re balancing on the balls of your feet with your legs spread open wide, putting your cunt on full display. Your left hand digs into the leather arm rest beside you, the only form of balance you have.

You’re so fucking loud. He’s never heard anyone scream or moan as loudly in his life, though he’s one to talk. He’s on the verge of cumming after so much torment and he couldn’t be more vocal if he tried.

“D-Do you want all the neighbours to hear what a little slut you are? Want ‘em to tell your brother you got fucked stupid while he was gone?” he asks, it’s rhetorical, of course. He doesn’t care that you’re being loud. He just wants to torment you, tease you and build that unadulterated shame that you’ve had embedded in you your whole life. You are the product of repressed sexual urges. Would you have let a drug dealer strip you and play with your cunt if you weren’t so desperate and needing to be toyed with?

“’m gonna c-cum. Fuck, Ryusei! Cumming f-for you—!” you cry, your walls squeezing his fingers until they feel close to breaking. “Oh my god…” you sob. Your poor little virgin slot throbbing and pulsating around his thick heavy fingers and you continue to cum for what feels like a lifetime. His curling fingers dragging out the feeling for as long as humanly possible.

“Hah- haah- ah, fuck!” he finishes, white, gluey fluid shooting up your back. He fucks his fist until he drains every last drop from his swollen balls. He admires his work, smearing the remaining residue on your ass cheek and your skirt. He wonders if you’ll remember to wash it, God forbid your stupid brother find a cum stain on it.

He scrapes his cum onto his fingers and orders you to face him. He brings his sperm to your lips, expecting you to know what to do.

“Eat.” he says. You hesitate. He wants you to what? It’s a liquid, you can’t eat it. Does he want you to lick his fingers? Put them in your mouth? He’s sick of waiting, however, forcing them by your lips until the bitter taste coats your tongue. “Eat it.” he looks at you with venom in his stare.

You hold his hand sweetly with both of yours. He watches you as you suck his fingers, internally thinking how much better you are doing this than you are at sucking cock. He bears his teeth, the golden one glimmering in your eye once again as you continue to clean the cum from his digits.

“Thaaaat’s it, good girl. It’ll get the taste of weed out of your mouth.” he tells you. You finish sucking, releasing his fingers with a gentle pop before placing his hand back on your thigh.

He allows his fingers to lightly caress your skin. The pads carefully glide over you as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him for the final time during this encounter. But he wanted to fuck you, didn’t he? He wanted you to suck him off properly, too. He’ll let it go for today, but this certainly won’t be the one and only time you’ll bare it all for him.

You still owe him for the weed, after all.

He thinks he might set up a depraved little payment plan for you.

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kwistowee · 1 month

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“What really drew me to it was what Rupert Sanders wanted to do with it. He wanted to completely reimagine the story and the character and tailor it towards a modern audience.” - Bill Skarsgård about The Crow remake x

Then it's not 'The Crow', is it?! Get out of here with your Pete Davidson meets Jared Leto's Joker, wannabe Constantine crap. Tell me you completely missed the point of the original without telling me you completely missed the point of the original. The Crow (1994) honored the spirit and intent of the graphic novels, rather than reimagining them.

The original was simultaneously over the top and exquisitely subtle, the character development was brilliant, and the writing was spectacular. There are no substitutions for the 1994 original, no I will not be taking any questions.

#the crow #the crow 1994 #brandon lee #eric draven #just having a bit of a rant #i have soooooooooooooo many thoughts about this movie and sooooooooo many more about the path the remake seems to have chosen #if you don't like my opinion make your own post; don't hijack mine

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kairiscorner · 9 months

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okay I don’t know if you know that one video of kim kardashian taking off her dress and asked pete davidson ‘babe, do you want to shower with me really quick?’ and then he just dropped his phone before following her like a little boy NOW imagine THAT with miguel🤭🤭

HELLO, ok so i only found out about it when you brought it to my attention, and LMAO...... mans is so down bad for her (like me for miggy <333) I REALLY LOVE THIS IDEA AAAAAAA I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS <3

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

babe, do you wanna shower with me real quick? — miguel o'hara x reader

summary: miguel has been focusing too much on work that you think he deserves to focus on something else, something much more worthwhile–those strings on the back of your dress, you believe, are better for him to focus on. word count: 557

you looked up at miguel who was tirelessly working on hunting down the location and coordinates of several anomalies and assigning units to track and take them down, but you wanted miguel to get off work now and let him be pampered by you. of course, he could never say no to his sweet little partner, his sweet little partner who was just excellent at tempting and swooning him every chance you got.

"miggyyyyy..." you called out for him from below as you slinked around his office, with him momentarily pausing his tapping and scrolling on the screens at the sound of your bewitching voice ringing throughout his ears. he tried his hardest to keep his concentration intact, but when it came to you... all focus would be put on you, and you alone.

"what is it, nena?" he asked you in a composed voice, one that tried not to sound too curious at your sudden arrival. you smiled, you knew he couldn't say no to your offer. you stepped closer towards miguel's platform as it slowly descended; he hadn't brought his platform down for anybody all day, not until you came and gave him a reason to with your arrival.

you waited until he turned around slightly to face you, and when he did, you began to toy with the strings on the back of your dress as you looked up at miguel. his mahogany brown eyes were focused now on your own gleaming ones as you smiled mischievously. "wanna... take a little break, mig?" you asked him in a sultry voice, which made miguel pause again for a little bit. you know he could never say no to you when you used that voice on him, you really were his little temptress.

miguel took in a small breath and resumed his work. "querida, i'm awfully busy right now." he said in such a nonchalant voice, but there was no fooling you–he just needed a small... push to say yes. you chuckled lightly at his excuse. "well then... guess you don't wanna shower with me, then." you teased as you pretended to be disappointed and looked down at the ground.

and at that moment, when miguel heard the words, 'shower with me,' he immediately tore his eyes away from the screens and hopped off the platform–his eyes wide and his lips apart slightly at your offer. he walked over to you in a slight hurry as he muttered, "ah, nevermind, then, someone else can take care of that. now, shall we?" he offered you as he placed his right hand on your shoulder, and his left index finger curled as he lightly ran it across your bare back.

you giggled at miguel folding for you all of a sudden and put your hand on his as you turned your head around to meet his gaze. "of course, miggy." you cooed to him as you pulled yourself away from his touch and teased him at the sight of you toying with the strings behind your dress that were the only things holding it up. forget the anomalies' coordinates, all miguel can focus on right now are those flimsy strings on your dress that he'd rather want to tear off of you.

such a tease, you are, and yet every time... he folds for you. every. damn. time.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @jrrantss @fictarian @yuridopted0 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #atsv #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv imagines #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse imagines

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

Text

favoritism ~ pete davidson

word count: 2171

request?: yes!

@absstark “Hi! Ik your requests are closed atm but if u are able to, would you please be able to write me a Pete Davidson x female reader where they are dating and she’s a writer at SNL? Thank you 😊”

description: in which he’s dating one of the writers of his show, so the cast often jokes about her favoritism for him

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two, three)

It was actually quite ironic how everything started.

Pete was out at a bar with a couple of his SNL friends when he noticed a pretty girl sat by herself. He didn’t want to seem like a weird guy by just staring at her, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

He felt someone nudge him and he looked up to see they were all looking at him. “Sorry, what were you guys saying?”

Colin smirked at him. “Go talk to her/”

“What? No, I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?” Michael asked. “She’s alone over there.”

“For one, we don’t know if she’s actually here alone. She might have a date who’s in the bathroom, or she’s waiting for him to show up. She might even have a boyfriend who’s not here. And two, girls don’t like being approached by strange men in bars. She’ll probably think I’m a fucking creep.”

They were all giving him a similar look before Devon grabbed his shoulders, turned him towards the bar, and gave him a shove. He stumbled slightly, almost bumping into another person along the way. He regained his footing and glanced over at the woman to make sure she hadn’t seen. With the encouragement of his friends, he took a deep breath and made his way across the bar.

“Hey,” he started, very lamely. She looked up and gave him a polite smile. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, but my buddies kind of peer pressured me to come talk to you and I’m mainly doing this to get them off my back. If you just want to reject me, I’ll happily back off.”

She chuckled and glanced over Pete’s shoulder. “Are they the group very obviously staring at us right now?”

Pete followed her gaze to see his friends watching them like a pack of hawks. They didn’t even have the decency to look away when they were caught. Colin even smiled and waved his fingers at them.

“Yeah, those are my asshole friends,” Pete confirmed.

She smiled and waved at the group before turning back to Pete. “Here, sit with me. Give them something to talk about.”

Pete pulled up a stool next to her. He extended a hand towards her. “I’m Pete.”

“(Y/N). Nice to meet you.”

They talked at the bar for hours. They hardly noticed the other patrons starting to clear out or the blaring music starting to die down as the bar did its last call. Pete didn’t even notice his friends had left until the bartender had come to give them the last warning before closing. Before they parted ways, (Y/N) gave Pete her number and told him to text her the next day.

“Just so I know you’re actually interested,” she had said before walking away.

And he had. The moment he woke up, he texted her, “Hope texting you this soon doesn’t seem to desperate, but I’m very interested - Pete.”

Near seconds later, he got a response. “I’d be a hypocrite if I called you desperate. I’ve been waiting for you to text me since I woke up.”

They texted back and forth all day. Pete was almost late to work because he was too busy texting to realize the time. When he arrived on set he was radiating with happiness. He hadn’t felt hits way in a long time. He had a really good feeling about this one. A strong feeling he hadn’t had before in any of his relationships. There was no doubts this time around.

His castmates noticed his good mood and asked what was up, but he just responded with a shrug and played it off. The guys who had been out the night before knew exactly where his good mood was coming from, but Pete decided to keep it to himself. He didn’t want to get too ahead of himself and tell everyone about (Y/N) just yet.

“Hey, Pete!” Lorne called as he spotted Pete making his way to set.

“Hey Lorne,” Pete said. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to introduce you to our new writer. She’s starting today, so try not to scare her away just yet.”

Pete chuckled, but it died off when Lorne stepped aside and gestured to the newbie. “(Y/N)?”

Her eyes widened, too. “Pete?”

“You two know each other?” Lorne asked.

“We met last night,” (Y/N) responded.

Lorne looked between the two of them. “You...met last night?”

“Not like that,” Pete assured him. “We met at a bar and just talked all night. We exchanged numbers, that’s it.”

Lorne had a skeptical look on his face that made Pete’s heart drop to his stomach. He knew how this was about to go: he would have to delete (Y/N)’s number and their messages, and he’d have to forget their would be romance before it even started. It was a HR issue, one that they would definitely not be allowed to explore.

This was the quickest broken heart he had ever gotten.

“You know, technically I should be sending you to HR to discuss this,” Lorne started. Both (Y/N) and Pete winced at the idea. “But that’s a lot of time and paperwork, and all that bullshit. So, I’m going to take both of your vocal promises that whatever this is will not interfere with either of your jobs.”

The two of them happily agreed. Lorne nodded and muttered something about leaving before he witnessed something he shouldn’t. That left (Y/N) and Pete alone, a slightly awkward tension in the air.

“You didn’t mention that you’re working for SNL,” Pete said. He meant it to come out lighthearted, but he winced when he realized how accusatory it actually sounded.

“I...actually didn’t know you were on the show,” she admitted. “You never mentioned it. You just said you were an actor.”

Pete chuckled. “Okay, we were both a little untruthful. Maybe we start over on the introductions.” He held his hand out to her. “Hi, I’m Pete. I’m a main actor on Saturday Night Live.”

(Y/N) giggled and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Pete. I’m (Y/N), and I just got hired to write for Saturday Night Live.”

“Well, congratulations. And good luck on it. I heard the cast are all assholes, except for that Pete guy. So make sure you give all the funniest jokes to him.”

(Y/N) giggled again, looking down at the ground between them shyly.

It was the start to an amazing relationship. Pete could honestly say he hadn’t felt this happy in a very long time. They kept their personal lives separate from their work lives, which seemed to be the big key to making things work. Nothing was ever discussed about the show unless they were on set, and the minute they walked on the lost their relationship was put on the back burner until they left.

But the moments they had outside of work were some of the best moments of his life. He loved being with (Y/N) and spending most of his free time with her. He was trying not to go too fast with their relationship the way he had in past relationships, but it was hard not to be a bit optimistic with how well things were going.

Of course, dating a co-worker came with some teasing from other co-workers; especially when the other co-workers were fellow comedians. The main joke that the cast liked to tell was that Pete was getting favoritism from (Y/N) when it came to being given the best jokes.

It started during the table read for a skit. They were about halfway through when Punkie cut Pete off mid-joke to proclaim, “No fair, he’s getting the best jokes!”

Everyone stopped to look at her in confusion. They couldn’t tell if the look on her face was serious or not, so Pete asked, “Excuse me?”

“Your jokes here are so much better than mine,” Punkie said. “Must be nice sleeping with one of the writers.”

Punkie laughed, but Pete looked horrified by her “joke”.

“(Y/N) didn’t even write this sketch,” Kenan pointed out.

“That’s a very serious accusation, Punkie,” one of the producers commented.

“Come on, guys, it’s just a joke,” Punkie said. “I’m not mad. Just keep reading.”

Once they finished the table read, Pete decided to approach Punkie himself. “Hey, Punkie, listen. I know what you said was a joke, but...can you maybe be mindful of the way you say it? You could get (Y/N) into a lot of trouble if the wrong people heard what you said.”

“Pete, I didn’t mean it. Everyone knows (Y/N) isn’t actually giving you favoritism in the sketches.”

“I know, I’m just saying to work on your delivery. I really don’t want to have to deal with HR.”

“Okay, I get it. I’ll try to be more funny about it next time.”

And that was truly the wrong thing for Pete to say; for him to agree that if it was clearly said as a joke, that it was fine to say that (Y/N) favorited him. Because once he made the distinction that it was okay to do it in a joking matter, it was like the entire cast had decided they wanted to joke about Pete and (Y/N). It wasn’t anything new for the cast, they joked around with each other all the time. They were all friends, and you had to have a sense of humor if you were gonna be on SNL.

But man, after some time, Pete found it so much more annoying than his castmates meant it to be. He was trying so hard to separate his work life from his personal life, like Lorne had wanted, but now it was like his personal life was open season for all of his friends.

And it was definitely something (Y/N) had noticed. The jokes were never made to her face the same way they were to Pete’s, but she heard the whisperings or the aftermath of certain jokes when approaching Pete. She never said anything at first, which made Pete hope that maybe it didn’t bother her as much as it bothered him.

But one night, as they were leaving set, Pete noticed that (Y/N) seemed distracted. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him as they walked through the doors onto the lot.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asked.

(Y/N) nibbled on the inside of her cheek before she spoke, “Do your castmates really think I favorite you when writing?”

Pete stopped walking suddenly, causing (Y/N) to stumble a little. He turned to face her and she did the same.

“Baby, of course not. They’re only joking when they say that shit. No one actually believes it,” he assured her.

She shrugged. “I guess, but they say it so much. I’m starting to worry that they actually mean it but don’t want to say it, which could get us both in a lot of trouble if it ever comes back to HR.”

Pete put his hands on her shoulders. “Baby, I promise they do not mean it. If it ever got to HR, they would all swear up and down that they’re joking. They just like to poke fun at me because I had to fall in love with a new writer on set, out of all people. But it’s not serious, I can promise you that.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “You fell in love with me, huh?”

Pete couldn’t help but smile too as his hands ran down her arms to take hers. “I would think that’s pretty obvious by now.”

“You haven’t said the big L word before,” she said. “So, I don’t know, I thought maybe this was all just for fun.”

He chuckled, knowing that she was joking about the last part. They both knew they were in this relationship for the long run. There was nothing “just for fun” about it.

But she was right in saying that he hadn’t said the big three words to her yet. Although he knew deep in his heart that he did love (Y/N), he hadn’t been ready to say the words to her just yet.

That big L word was out there now, though. So, realisitically, he was part way there.

“I love you,” he said.

He didn’t think the smile on (Y/N)’s face could get any wider, but it did. She lit up like Times Square and leaned closer to him.

“I love you, too.”

They closed the gap between them to kiss. It was meant to be a sweet, romantic moment for the two of them, but it was quickly cut off by someone calling, “Get a room you two!”

They pulled apart, chuckling at the reaction, before deciding to go home and do just that.

#pete davidson #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #imagine #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #one shot

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i-care-4u · 1 year

Text

la bebe ✹ jack harlow

INSTAGRAM + TWITTER AU

PAIR: JACK HARLOW X LATINA!READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

A/N: you are peso pluma’s sister in this fic

→ TWITTER

→ INSTAGRAM

yourusername

Liked by iambeckyg, juniorh_oficial, jackharlow, and 655,239 others

yourusername l.a baby ☀️😎

View all 4,695 comments

iambeckyg que bonita te miras 😚 [you look so beautiful]

*Liked by yourusername

jackharlow 👟😮‍💨

*Liked by yourusername

↳ user1 i need to know what you and pete davidson have in order to date these it girls

↳ user2 user1 for real, like i waited this long while these white boys did it in one week

↳ user3 jackharlow AND STAY AWAY FROM HER

ynssunshine girl come to miami 🙌

↳ yourusername ynssunshine soon 😊 go enjoy listening to my brother peso pluma live in the meantime

↳ user3 this is how i found out that y/n is peso pluma’s sister

jackmansstar i see you jack 😌

↳ ynfan1 he’s just like me fr (we both love y/n)

jackharlow via instagram stories

jackharlow

Liked by yourusername, druski, lilnasx, and 1,405,102 others

jackharlow The moment you’ve all been waiting for…

View all 5,010 comments

druski LET’S GOOO 🫡

urbanwyatt directed by yours truly 😝

↳ yourusername urbanwyatt you mean *featuring yours truly ☺️

↳ user1 i don’t know who got more game, y/n or jack

pesopluma 🔥🔥🔥

↳ yourusername salte de su pagina guey [get off his page dude]

↳ user2 y/n getting defensive about jack, oh she’s dropping hints

harlcws my man in a suit, sign me the fuck

up 💳💥

user3 on my way to purchase some new balances because of you (i’m stealing y/n from you)

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jack fic #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow smut #jack harlow angst #jack harlow concepts #x reader #instagram au #fluff #social media au #smut #angst

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nunalastor · 1 month

Note

Not sure if I posted this yet, but I’ll do it anyways

Since we’re doing crackships, how about I introduce you to velvette x Tom trench

Velvette seems like the person to have a bunch of pictures of her partner on her socials, bragging and praising them to a t, and Tom has had his whole career being humiliated and treated like a joke on live television so he would be confused and unsure of how exactly to respond to this sort of affection, yet would try his best to please velvette cus for all we know, he’s a people pleaser.

Not sure how they would have met exactly, but I know it’s the “she picked me up and threw me over her shoulder and I’ve been on it ever since” kind of thing with them starting as pals then turning lovers.

Also I’d really love for velvette to fight with katey with how she treats Tom.

Hope this wasn’t too long, I tried my best.

-🐊

tom trench is hellaverse's pete davidson

#hazbin hotel #velvette x tom trench #tom trench #velvette #headcanon #nunalastor asks #tom trench x velvette

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rosewaterandivy · 8 months

Text

Live from New York…

Summary: a meet cute for everyone’s favorite rockstar!eddie and head SNL writer/weekend update anchor gf

WC: 4204 🫠 (my hand slipped)

Pairing: rockstar!eddie x screenwriter!gf

Warning/Themes: work related stress, smitten Eddie, hectic SNL schedule built around cocaine, meddling actor!steve harrington, encounters in close quarters, Eddie wearing Le Labo Santal 33– which should be a warning all its own, my usual brand of filth™️

A/N: we’ve had our meet cute with actor!steve, now it’s Eddie’s turn!

Series masterlist | playlist | currently spinning:

At Studio 8H, you always hit the ground running on Mondays. Hopefully, you’d lazed away or slept off the hangover from the after-party on Sunday, but sometimes you weren’t so lucky.

Today was one of those days.

A subway ride from hell, you were pretty sure your bodega guy was mad at you (again), and the inevitable spins and mouth sweats which could only mean—

“Hey killer!” Pete greets, towing the week’s host and musical guest behind him.

And because this situation could only get worse, you hold up a solitary finger and duck into a nearby dressing room to puke and rally.

“Fuckin’ Mondays, am I right?”

A rich voice greets you as you make your entrance back into the hallway, someone wearing a panoply of rings shoves a cold water bottle in your hand while you push your sunglasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Y’alright there, boss?”

A nod as you guzzle some water.

“Just peachy, Davidson.” You heave a sigh, grimacing as you make eye contact with the host, Steve Harrington, and one fifth of the musical guest in the form of Eddie Munson. “Sorry for the uh—" you gesture vaguely to the dressing room.

“No worries,” Steve says with a smile, “We’ve all been there.”

Eddie, for his part, snorts a laugh.

“Charmed,” you chirp, readjusting your canvas tote on your shoulder and resuming your walk down the hall.

“Pitch meeting in 5!”

The Monday meeting was always a wash. Pitches that were half-formed or outright veto’d by Lorne or the host, and Pete giving the same pitch for the fourth month running that no one bit at.

Typical.

Steve was affable enough, charming in the way only an actor could be, easy to laugh and joke. Eddie Munson, however, was all long-limbed ease and looked at you in a way that was unnerving.

No matter. You didn’t have the time to contemplate why the frontman of Corroded Coffin irked you, not when the cast members were especially needy for your attention and the writers retreated to the conference room.

“Chloe,” you huff as the small blonde trails after you, mouth going a mile a minute about a new impression she’d perfected.

You stopped short at your office door, causing Chloe to bump into you. With a slow turn, you try to smile in a well-meaning way, sunglasses sliding down your nose again.

“Can this wait until later?” Your hand twists the handle, allowing you to slip inside the room and escape the sad fall of her face. “I promise you’ll have my undivided attention this afternoon, okay?”

That seems to perk her back up. She gives you a smile and salute before trotting off back to her dressing room.

You sigh and slide back against the closed door, eyes slipping shut for the briefest of moments. Not open long enough to clock a mop of brown curls lazing on your couch.

“Exhausting being on top, isn’t it?”

Your eyes open only to land on Eddie Munson, laid out on your couch as if he owns the place.

“How did you get in here?”

You cross to the desk, heaving your tote onto it and peel the glasses from your face. Falling into your chair, you await his reply and open up your laptop.

Rooting around in your tote for your notes, you notice a coffee cup and danish at his side.

“Is that my cherry danish and cold brew?”

“Hmm?” He turns toward the sound of your voice. “Oh, this? An intern dropped it off.”

Eyeing the bite taken out of the danish, you sigh. “And you just assumed it was for you?”

“It’s not?”

“Unless Corroded’s rider has something about cherry danishes on it—“

“I just thought since your little performance this morning, you wouldn’t be in the mood.”

He sits up with a stretch, arms rising above his head, a sliver of skin visible above the band of his boxer-briefs.

Calvin’s, of fucking course.

You repress the need to roll your eyes. “How kind,” you say instead, flipping through your notes and typing a few ideas down.

“I thought so.” Eddie stands up, depositing the danish and coffee on your desk. “I’m more of a bagel and lox guy myself.”

“I’ll alert the media.”

He smiles slow, which is more attractive than you’d bargained for, annoyingly enough. His teeth are perfect against the plush pink of his lips, and he’s close enough, leaning against your desk, that you can smell the faint scent of his cologne— wood, leather, and violet?— cut through with a faint aroma of tobacco.

“I only have your best interests at heart, sugar.”

By Thursday, things started to even out. Some solid pitches turned into sketches, bumpers filmed and canned, and one only one sex dream about Eddie Munson.

You’d take what you could get.

It was basically inevitable, that fucker has been annoying you all week— popping into your office uninvited, sending the interns out for inane tasks just to get you alone, and, the real kicker, sending Harrington in as reinforcements.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Steve says, taking another bite of his lunch— subs from the Teamsters, your favorite day of the week.

“Munson?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, having made out your garbled phrase. “Ed just comes on strong, but he’s harmless.”

You roughly swallow and take a sip form your drink. “Whaddya mean?”

Steve pauses, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Oh, uh,” he shrugs, “He likes you. Was that not obvious?”

You stare at him blankly.

Eddie Munson, attracted to you?

Yeah, when hell freezes over.

“He’s just razzing me,” you say, more to yourself than Steve.

He drops his sub on the wax paper and wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“That’s what you think?!”

“Well—" you sputter, indignantly. “If that’s how he shows his interest…”

Steve laughs, a bright and delightful thing. If only it wasn’t at your expense.

“Oh my god,” he wheezes. “Robin’ll get a kick outta this— holy shit.”

He pulls out his phone and sends off a text. The next thing you know, his assistant is barreling through your office door.

“You’re shitting me,” is what she says, eyes cutting from him to you. Communicating in some secret language of eye contact and gestures that was wholly beyond you.

That lunch was the last semblance of peace you’d had for the week before Eddie Munson began wooing you with increased vigor.

By Saturday, you’d had just about enough of his nonsense. More flowers than you knew what to do with, mini fridge in your office stocked with all your favorites, the writers actually doing their jobs for once— which was honestly just creepy, but you’d allow it.

“What did he do?”

It was the final read-through before the dress rehearsal later that evening. The writer’s room was packed, and no one had tried to kill anyone else yet.

Truly bizarre.

“What did who do?”

“Cut the shit,” You grouse back. “Munson, what did he do, threaten you idiots? Promise backstage passes— what?”

A hang-dog new hire sighed. “Said he’d have our guts for garters if we fucked up your week.”

“Yeah,” someone else chorused. “Said we’d wish all those Satanic rumors were true once he was done with us.”

And, as a result, no one had tried to steal your Emmy this week, you occasionally went home at a decent-ish hour, and no one had unnecessarily barricaded themselves in their dressing room.

Huh.

Maybe Harrington had a point.

Eddie Munson attracted to you? It’s more likely than you think!

The thought eluded you through the dress rehearsal and show itself, but reared its ugly head at the after-party.

A successful show, a compliment from Lorne, and several drinks had you feeling warm and buzzy. Harrington had wrangled you up on a table when “Teenage Dirtbag” came on, assured you it would be fine dancing on tabletops in high-heeled boots.

All was well and good until someone spilled a drink on said table and nearly sent you toppling to the floor.

Strong arms gripped your waist, settling you against a broad shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“The fuck was that?!” crowed up at Steve, the music far too loud for you to make out his response, before you’re carried from the dance floor to the coat check room and placed back on your feet.

Right side up, Eddie looks flushed and concerned, checking your face and body for any signs of injury.

“You okay?”

Voice softer than you’re used to, not the gruff exterior or persona he plays into for the public. And, it’s nice. You’re just buzzed enough not to be horrified at the realization.

You laugh and press a finger into his heaving chest, “You like me, dontcha?”

Eddie laughs, dodging your gaze as his chin tucks into his chest. “Honestly?” He says after a beat, “You scare the shit outta me.”

“What,” you pout, “Little old me?”

Your finger idly traces nonsensical shapes against the black cotton of his shirt. He takes a breath, watching the trajectory of your hand.

“Not in a bad way,” he allows, eyes finally dragging back to you. All warm umber and hints of whisky. His hand touches yours, bringing an end to your wandering fingers.

Eddie swallows audibly and cocks his head to the side. “You’re just so…”

“Intense?”

There’s that slow smile again. He takes a step closer to you, hesitant as if he’s expecting you to push him away.

You don’t.

A shake of his head that frees a few strands from the low bun he’d dawned at curtain call. You brush your fingers against the soft curls and scruff of his jaw.

Eddie takes in a sharp breath, eyes closing minutely as his forehead rests against yours.

“You,” he breathes, voice low, “Are going to ruin me.”

Not a threat, but a promise.

A smile tugs at your lips. “Awfully presumptuous of you, Munson.”

“Call it a hunch, sweetheart.”

You close the distance between you with your lips. They slot into his with ease, your hand tangling itself into the curls at the nape of his neck.

He groans, something low from the cage in his chest and steps between your legs as your eyes fall shut. Your back hits the wall, his hand cradling your head, thumb rubbing idly along your scalp.

Eddie smells divine, and you’re not sure whether it’s the drinks or your own hormones that are to blame. But he tastes even better, the burn of whisky a comfort as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

You open beneath him like a night-blooming flower, lips, and legs parting with ease. A wet click when you part, allowing you to take a shaky breath in. He moves along your jaw, soft lips sponging kisses there before lighting upon your neck.

“Fucking hell,” you groan, head rolling back against the wall behind you, earning a low laugh from him.

Everything feels amazing, your skin is buzzing at his attention, hands desperate to grab hold and never let go.

As his hips cant into your own, you can feel the hot, hard line of him. Your eyes flying open at the sensation and the thought that you may very well die getting dicked down by Eddie Munson in a coatroom.

But oh, what a way to go.

He’s on you again, lips and tongue eager for entry, before you can say anything stupid. Your mouth opens with a stuttered breath as Eddie slowly grinds against you.

He’s saying something, praises falling from his lips but you can’t possibly reply. Too wound up from arousal to be any sort of conversationalist. The pressure against your clothed heat is just right, and you’d like nothing more to get his pants off and ride Eddie to kingdom come.

That is until Steve Harrington barrels through the door.

“Oh shit,” he says, stifling a laugh. “My bad.”

He’s in and out in two seconds, but the mood is broken.

Eddie’s head rests against your shoulder while he catches his breath. You can feel the heat of his flush against your neck.

“So,” he begins, voice a low rasp. “I guess—"

“Your hotel is closer.”

He perks up at that, head rising from your shoulder with a quirked brow.

“Essex House, right?”

Eddie nods, picking up what you’re putting down. He scrambles for his phone, texting something before grabbing you by the hand and leading you out of the club and into the brisk New York night.

Falling back against the plush comforter, you drag Eddie down with you. Teeth clicking against each other in the effort. He huffs a laugh into your mouth, pushing you back against the pillows on the bed.

“You’re a pretty good kisser,” you say, propping up on your elbows.

“I may have heard that once or twice,” he says, tugging his shirt up and his head before tossing it elsewhere.

You make quick work of his jeans, while he occupies himself with mapping the geography of your body with his lips. He nips at your hip, earning a squeak of surprise from you as his arms cage you in.

His hair, now loose from the torment of your hands, tickles as it drags along your exposed skin. Eddie popping open the buttons of your blouse torturously slow.

Your lips claim his once more as his finger skims against the soft curve of your breast. You shudder at the sensation, unable to focus on anything except him.

Half-lidded eyes gaze down at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. With a roll of your eyes, you wiggle out of your shirt and pop the button of your trousers.

He’s quick to follow, fingers pulling at the fly and tugging the offending fabric from your legs.

The second the damp lace of your thong makes an appearance, Eddie groans loudly— head falling against your hip.

“Oh, my god.”

Too pent up to feel bashful, you tangle your fingers in his hair and give it a tug. Another groan, lower and deeper than the last.

“So pretty,” he breathes against your heat causing you to shiver.

His fingers hook into the fabric and pull them down the plush of your thighs, lips skating across the sensitive skin as he goes. Eddie is back on you before you can sit up to take off your bra; tugging you up to settle on his lap while reaching around to expertly unhook the lacy garment.

Distracting you with a kiss, it takes you a minute to realize that Eddie has apparently been struck stupid at the sight of you bare before him. His eyes rove over what feels like every inch of your body, as if he could never get enough.

“Hey,” you prompt with a roll of your hips. It’s delicious and delightful, sending sparks straight to your core. A soft sigh before you continue, “How do you want me?”

That seems to wake him back up. Eddie shakes himself alive and says with a bite to your lips, “As many times as I can have you, sweetheart.”

He lays you gently back down and grabs a condom from the bedside table. Before you can offer your assistance, however, he’s back between your legs with a singular focus: making you come. Hard and frequent.

By the time you reach your peak for the second time, he’s three knuckles deep and two fingers in. Your babbling incoherently while he smirks up at you, occasional coos of “Doin so well f’me” and “You can take another, right sugar?”

You nod, impatient for your next orgasm. Who would’ve thought that Eddie Munson could turn you into a needy brat without even seeing his dick?

Certainly not you.

“Eddie,” a broken pathetic whine from you. He’s worked in a third finger, impossibly, and you’re about to explode.

Pulling his lips from you clit, he glances up, lips and chin wet with your slick. “Yeah?”

The lighting in the room is low and warm, only enhancing his features, eyes blown dark with lust and lips ruddied and swollen from licking and kissing.

Another whine as you make grabby hands at him, “Wanna come on your cock.”

He chuckles lowly, sponging a kiss at your hip. “That so?”

You nod dumbly and wet your lips.

He rubs along your g-spot and your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Hmm,” he hums, “Why don’t you come on my fingers again and then you can make a mess on my cock?”

Not the answer you wanted to hear, but you’re too far gone to care. A petulant pout on your lips, but before you can make your retort, Eddie does that magical thing with his fingers again making you keen as you come.

Your vision whites out briefly, walls shuddering at his ministrations wetly.

“There’s a good girl,” he says, voice silky and low. “Knew you could do it.”

Damp fingers grasp your chin before prodding at your lips. You open your mouth to suck at them, tongue grazing against the cool silver of his rings as he watches.

Faintly, you hear the tearing of the condom wrapper as he extricated his hand from your mouth. Calvin’s long gone now, Eddie fists his cock to roll the condom down his shaft. And you can’t seem to pick your jaw up from the floor.

He looks almost nervous, brows furrowed and biting his lip. You can see why— he’s got the biggest and prettiest dick you’d ever seen. Cockhead flushed a rosy pink as he strokes himself, and you're not the best at spatial awareness but there are definitely several inches of him to reckon with.

“Hey,” you say with a swallow, mouth having filled with saliva at the sight of him. A jerk of your head, “C’mere, honey.”

With a smile, he returns to you. Kisses laved to your chest, neck, and finally lips while he situates himself against your petaled heat. Bumping against your abused clit, you sink back into the pillows with a moan.

Hands loosely cradling his collar and legs wound high against his back, you pull Eddie down for a slow kiss as your rock up against his shaft. He licks messily into your mouth as one of your hands snakes down to guide him inside.

He shudders at the sensation and the visual of your hand on his dick, small and dainty in comparison. “Fuckin’ hell.”

You hum contentedly. “You ain’t seen nothin' yet,” and drive the message home with a buck of your hips. His cockhead slips in, stretching you slightly but not unpleasantly.

He pauses, not wanting to hurt you or go too quickly just for it to happen again— too big, can’t fit. Surprisingly, you shimmy working him further into your cunt, inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt.

Eddie thinks he’s going to die like this— bottoming out in the girl of his dreams, all before he can blow his load or get you off like he wants to.

The stretch is good— hitting depths you didn’t realize were possible until now. Making your own efforts with the aid of your fingers and toys appear pathetic. You could vibrate out if you skin at the sensation— keyed up and pulled taught before he’s even had the chance to move yet.

You clench at the thought, causing Eddie to pant and moan against your neck. His left hand taps at your right leg.

“Can you raise that up, just a little?”

You acquiesce, and he thrusts experimentally. The angle changes everything, causing your blood to thrum and punching the breath from your lungs. Right leg wrapped around his waist while the other rests lazily against his hips.

Eddie kisses you quick, tongue eager as he works you open. You can hear the smack of his skin against yours, both damp with the exertion, accompanied by a sound and sensation wholly unfamiliar to you.

There’s a wet squelch when he bottoms out every other thrust or so, and the coil in your gut gets pulled tighter and tighter. Heat and pressure are building in your cunt and radiating outwards.

You jolt upwards, breasts brushing against his chest, nipples hardening in the cool air. “Eddie I’m—" your voice catches in your throat, a tear falling from your eyes and cascading down your cheek.

Before he can see your unintended emotional display, you bury your face into the curve of his neck with a gasp. His hips stutter as you draw closer, neck growing damp with your tears.

“Shit. Did I—"

You quiet his concerns with a shake of your head, “No baby, I’m good. Keep going.” And with a languid roll of your hips, you seal the deal.

Eddie’s thrusts slow, the angle forcing his pelvis to tilt and drag exquisitely against your clit. Your head drops back against the pillows. He licks his lips and watches your mouth fall open with interest. He loves the way your eyes can’t seem to focus, the way your tongue lies heavy in your mouth, the way you try to hide from your pleasure, but he knows you’re excited.

Your next orgasm crashes upon you like a tidal wave, walls fluttering like the wings of a frantic hummingbird. You nearly scream from the pleasure of it all, mingled with a pinch of pain as a gushing soak drenches the both of you.

Your body jerks forward, pinned by Eddie’s hips and the cage of his arms holding you close. You can feel him moving inside you in long strokes before he stills to let you ride it out.

“That’s never happened before,” you slur out.

“Yeah?” He smirks, resuming his thrusts, pace nearly brutal now— diving into you so fast and hard that your eyes well up with tears. It doesn’t feel like you’ll reach the peak again, feels like you’ve been on the cusp since the coat room.

Your brain is fried and completely blissed out— fucked stupid by a rockstar you'd known for a week. You can only gasp in clipped short breaths as the air is continuously punched from your lungs.

Eddie bites his lip, eyes fixed on the way his cock spreads your cunt. The way your pussy is glistening and cherry red from his ministrations.

“Wish you could see yourself,” he groans out. “Such a good girl, takin’ all of me.”

Eddie could be talking gibberish and you would still nod along, falling apart as you stutter and plead, begging for him. I want it. I want it. Iwantitiwantitineedit. I need you.

A few more strokes and Eddie comes hard, thick ropes of come released into the condom, shuddering against the clenching of your walls— tight and wet and hot. Your name falls from his lips in a broken moan causing you to break open, crying out pitifully and throwing your head back against the pillows.

And, god damn, he’s just so pretty. All pink lips and pupils blown wide, chest heaving with desperate breaths before he collapses on top of you.

You feel positively ruined for other men. It’s unbelievable, the way he’s seared his touch into your body and brain. And yeah, if you had a soul or whatever, probably that too.

It may not be the most orgasms you’d ever had, but it’s damn near close and certainly the most intense yet. Your body trembles against Eddie’s torso, while he sucks on your neck, murmuring praises into your ear. Calls you sweetheart, baby, good fucking girl. Keeps himself inside, nestled comfortably deep.

You’re likely to faint if he doesn’t stop— intense whispers, slow movements, and rubbing sweetly against your walls. Eddie drags another orgasm out of you, miraculously so, almost letting you forget how torn open he’s made you feel. Your toes curl and go limp again for what feels like the umpteenth time, plaint against him as you catch your breath.

He lands a soft, barely-there kiss against the lobe of your ear and wipes the sweat from your neck and brow away.

“You okay?” He asks in a whisper, sending chills down your spine. “You got a little—"

“Overstimulated, yeah,” you answer with a laugh. Your arms drape around his collar lazily. “I’m good,” you say with a smile, “Never better.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s smile is a bright bashful thing. He ducks his head, like he can’t believe you’re real, and bites his lip.

“Gonna be pretty useless for the next couple of hours though.”

He glances back up at you. “Really?”

“Totally.” Your fingers card into his hair, working against his scalp. “This guy fucked me stupid and now I can’t feel my legs so.”

He laughs, the vibrations reverberating against your ribs before rolling off of you to discard the condom. His hand finds yours again in the near-dark, cool metal against the damp of your palm.

You lay beneath the fluffy duvet, facing Eddie. Your legs were entwined with his and he has a big, stupid grin on his face. You were sure your smile matched his own.

A phone trills into the still of the room, Eddie groans in frustration and grapples with finding it on the nightstand. He answers it with a huff of annoyance as Steve Harrington's voice cascades through the speaker.

“So…” he sings, the street noise of the city serving as background, “You guys fuckin’ or what?”

#modern!rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson smut #stranger things fan fiction #rockstar!eddie x you #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie smut #modern!au #Spotify

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samaraannhan20 · 4 months

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Pete Davidson Imagine: Puppy Love

A/N: This post is based on this request I received a few months ago. I hope you enjoy it @justah0pelessr0mantic !

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Pete Davidson x shy!reader w/ problematic puppy

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“Hey babe?” I hear from the kitchen as you exit the bathroom, still rubbing the moisturizer into my skin.

“Yeah?” I respond as I step into the kitchen. As I walk in I stoop down to rub our new puppy’s head before walking around the kitchen island to where Pete is standing, and taking a bite of the toaster waffle he is holding in his hand. He chuckles as I slowly back away while chewing.

“What did you tell me earlier needed to be done today?”

“Oh, um, I was going to go grocery shopping,” I start as I look for something to snack on for breakfast besides Pete’s waffle, and then shut the fridge door when I realize there is nothing, hence the reason I was going to go shopping today. “Maybe look for a dress to wear to your mom’s house on Christmas Eve. Why?”

“You don’t have to wear a dress. The three of us always wear pajamas. Also, do you mind if I come shopping with you? I was wanting to get out of the house today,” he says, walking over to me and wrapping his arms around me.

“Yeah you can come with. And if we’re going to wear pajamas, what if you and I got cute matching ones? At Target?” I ask him, looking up at him and pouting.

He leans down and kisses me, before pulling back and saying “You just look so cute when you pout like that, I can’t say no.” He kisses me one more time, before handing me my usual coffee cup and gently turning me back towards our room. Go get dressed you loon,” he says, before placing one more kiss on my lips, and playfully smacking my ass as I walk away.

I pause after taking a couple of steps. “Do we still have puppy pads to put in the area we have blocked off for when we have to leave Peanut at home?” I ask, turning back to look at Pete.

“We do for today, but those should go on your list,” he responds, and I nod, turning again and heading for our room.

I walk back into our room, and cross quickly to the closet, shedding the pajamas I was wearing as I walk in. I browse through my side of the closet, deciding on a pair of flare pants and an oversized sweatshirt. After I finish getting dressed, I bend down and grab my platform Uggs off the shelf before heading back into the other room. As soon as I sit down again, Pete comes walking in from outside, with a look of annoyance on his face.

“The puppy took a shit in the living room again. I just put him out, but we have to really start getting his training started. I’m tired of cleaning up dog shit and I can tell you are too. What do you want to do?” he asks, crossing the room while talking so he is standing in front of me. I let go of the boot and I was about to slip on my foot and let it drop to the ground, before leaning back and staring up at the ceiling with a groan.

I hear Pete bend down and pick my boot up, and then I feel him slide the boot onto my foot. When the boot is on, he pulls me to a standing position and wraps his arms around me. “We can train him, and it won’t take long. We just need to actually start trying,” he says, and then places a kiss to the top of my head before pulling away. “I’m going to bring him in and put him in his space and then we can go. While I drive you can look up good training tools,” he tells me, and then heads toward the sliding door that leads to our backyard.

I sigh one more time, and then grab my purse off the counter, along with Pete’s car keys, and head into our garage to start the car and start looking for training techniques.

By the time Pete gets out to the car I have already read an article that showcased points that I believe will work for us, and have added the things that I believe we will need to the list. As we drive I explain my plan to Pete, and he agrees to it. Before we even reach the store we have a plan for helping Peanut.

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When we start our shopping at Target it feels like no one is paying attention to us, which is how I prefer it, and unusual for when you are dating a celebrity. I decide to relish in the idea that no one has noticed him, and I decide to start with the christmas pajamas, heading straight to that section of the store after getting Starbucks from the cafe at the front. Pete no longer drinks coffee from Starbucks, but I can never go on a Target run without getting it. Pete pushes the cart as I walk next to it, telling him where to go while sipping on my Pink drink. When we reach the Christmas section I meticulously look through each of the sets of pajamas, deciding if we want ones with a funny phrase on them or just a patterned one. I decide on a simple plaid pattern, and hold it up to Pete with a smile.

“I feel like I could order something funnier or cuter on Amazon, but what if we get these and do that? That way we had a pair we could wear to Amy’s on Christmas Eve and then a pair to wear just the two of us on Christmas?”

“Whatever you want to do Baby,” he says with a small smile on his face. I grin, and toss my arms around his neck planting a big kiss on his lips. When I go to pull away he pulls me even closer and kisses me again, before letting go and pulling away. I grab both of our sizes and toss them in our cart, smiling down at them. When I go to turn around and see if they had a small enough dog-size for our puppy, I notice someone standing at the end of the aisle staring at the two of us, with their camera pointed right at us. I knew in that moment that they had without a doubt caught the moment of us kissing, and I immediately begin to feel a panic attack coming on.

“Hey Pete,” I say quietly, turning back around and looking at him. I don’t want him to notice the person at the other end of the aisle, so I grab hold of the cart and start pushing it. “Let’s go get the puppy stuff now that we have this.” He nods, and looks a little confused, but follows after me anyway. I walk quickly and quietly to the pet section, and whip the cart into the aisle with puppy pads in it before stopping suddenly. I ignore the questioning looks from Pete as I grab the puppy pads, some puppy shampoo, and then grab the cart and turn down the next aisle. I grab some small treats that will help with the potty training, and then decide to grab a small dog toy for a reward once he is trained. I take hold of the cart again and head towards the next section on my grocery list, still ignoring Pete’s glances of confusion.

I rush through our grocery shopping as quick as possible, noticing more people staring at us in every aisle we go down. By the time we get to the checkout and are checking out, I look out the door and see the flashing lights of paparazzi. I can tell the exact moment that Pete notices it as well, because he starts shoving our groceries into bags quicker than he had been before, and before I know it we are completely checked out, and Pete has me sandwiched between him and the cart as we head out of the store and into the crowd of paparazzi. Luckily we had snagged a parking spot close to the front, and Pete opened the door and helped me get in the car, pressing a kiss to my forehead before shutting the door and going to the back of the car to put the groceries in the trunk.

When he gets in the car, he starts it and quickly leaves the parking lot. He holds my hand as he drives, rubbing soothing circles over it.

“I’m sorry,” he says about three minutes into the drive. I snap my head up, looking at him with a look of wonder and fury in my eyes.

“Why in the hell are you sorry?” I ask him, and he sighs, glancing over at me before looking back at the road.

“I should’ve ended the shopping trip that moment you suddenly got uncomfortable in the Christmas aisle. I just thought it would only be that one person and then we would be fine. Obviously I was wrong.”

“You saw them?” I ask him softly. He nods, and I put my head down. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you had seen them and I thought ignoring it was better than trying to do something about it.”

“I thought the same thing” he says, and then we sit there in silence for a moment before we both crack up with laughter. We laugh for at least two minutes as he drives down the road, and when we pul into our garage the first thing I do is unbuckle and then reach across the car and pull his lips into mine.

“I’m sorry I’m so shy and get so nervous in situations like that,” I whisper when I pull back.

“I don’t blame you,” he says, kissing me one more time before pulling back again. “I also get nervous in those situations, but not really because of me anymore. Because of you,” he says, and I feel a tear slip out of my eye. “I’ve never cared or worried about anyone like I do you,” he says, and then pulls me in for another kiss.

#pete davidson fanfiction #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson x fem!reader #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson

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