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peterthepark · 2 years

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𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough van sex, dirty talk, analplay, sub!eddie but also very much switch!eddie, lust at first sight, major mutual pining, a sprinkle of perv!eddie but hes sexy so its okay, (1) guest appearance by dustin, post vol. 2 fix-it fic, 7k filth

summary: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van.

a/n: pov vol 2 ended on a positive note and eleven miraculously fixed everything so a freshly-graduated eddie can now live his life to the fullest!!!!!!!! aka what should’ve happened… minors dni. not for u.

It’s rare for Eddie Munson to be roaming the white-picket fence suburbs of Hawkins. It feels like a fantasyland — golden retrievers and tabby cats, designated trash days and bright, green grass full of yellow daffodils, oak trees with makeshift swings and wooden playgrounds built by loving fathers. It’s too perfect, too uncanny, and Eddie knows deep down that he doesn’t belong in such a world as nice as this one.

But the suburbs of Hawkins are also welcoming.

When he gives Dustin a ride from school to home, when the noon is at its peak, golden rays and soft sprinklers making rainbows rise from the soil, he thinks — for a moment or two — that he belongs. He could if he wanted to. When Henderson invites him over for dinner, or when Harrington needs help fixing his car, when Mike needs relationship advice (as if Eddie could know anything about that) and when Robin wants to know more about Iron Maiden to impress the metalhead ladies, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad on this side of town.

That is until he saw you. And he realized then why everyone called this part of Hawkins a slice of paradise.

Pretty college student. Cut-off shorts from the Gap paired with baggy baseball tees, and a cute nose always stuffed in a romance novel or — some days — a textbook. Glossy lips, adorable socks and checkered picnic blankets where you’d lay out on the too-pristine yard, kicking your legs back and forth as if acting like eye candy was your specialty.

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins with just enough rough edges to be labelled the girl next door.

Only, Eddie doesn’t live next door to you. Dustin does.

“The least you could tell me is her name, Henderson. I don’t want gas money, I want her name. Spelled out for me, syllable by syllable. Government name.” Eddie rambles, shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat as Dustin leans over the passenger window from the outside. “We’re sitting ducks here, man. What if she sees us spying on her damn fence like some creeps?”

The curly-haired sophomore sighs, fingers strung together as he frowns at his older friend, “You are a grown ass man, Eddie. All you have to do is ask her, just say hi, make an impression or something! You can’t just be looking at her from afar everytime you come over, blasting this Metallica shit…”

“You are on very thin ice, boy.” Eddie wags a finger at him, wide eyes bouncing between Dustin and the front of your house. “I don’t know her like you know her. I don’t wanna be weird, especially after just putting all this town satanic cult bull behind my ass. She might think — dammit, I don’t know… I just wouldn’t wanna scare the girl, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, shrugging the thought off with a hopeful smile, “Not this time.”

“Disgusting.”

He snaps his head towards Dustin, reaching over and rustling the cap on his head with a playful smirk. “You’re disgusting, you fuckin’ booger.”

And as if on cue, like every other day he’s been through this neighborhood, Eddie watches your figure emerge from the porch, picnic blanket and weathered paperback in hand. His jaw goes slack at the image of your denim overall-clad frame, nothing but a bikini-like bra underneath the number while a fresh cigarette dangles from your lips. So much skin — the exposed flesh of your neck, the salty beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone, the cherubic glow of your complexion and the alluring blush of your lips as you sit out on the yard.

Fuck.

A loud boom pulls the metalhead from his trance. Dustin’s palm comes down against the flimsy van door. “Earth to Eddie? Get a grip, you’re drooling.”

And all he can really say is: “She’s so damn pretty.”

Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s just really that in-deep with a girl who he has never, ever spoken to. Maybe he’s a pervert rather than a misunderstood freak and this is all just completely wrong of him. But, god, it feels so right to stare. Eddie can’t help it, especially once you catch sight of Dustin and send him an adorable little wave — then your eyes flicker over to Eddie’s dumbfounded expression inside the van, where you wave at him too.

And the twenty one year-old swears he dies. Right at that moment. His heart skips several beats all at once, possibly even flatlining as a small smile falls upon your graceful features, bursting right out of his chest even as you look away and immediately redirect your attention to the walkman in your pocket like you hadn’t just casually murdered him alive.

Fuck me, he thinks.

The next time Eddie sees you, he gets a little more than a wave. He’s reveling in this newfound attention as he bounces down the steps of Dustin’s porch and catches sight of you on the other side of the fence, already staring his way before he sends you a nerdy two-finger salute with a close-lipped smile. And just before he reaches the sidewalk, your sweet voice stops him in his determined tracks.

“Metallica at three p.m. in this neighborhood is a death wish, you know.”

Eddie turns slowly on his heels, shoes facing you before his whole body follows hesitantly. He’s trying to wipe off that stupid expression on his face, lips parted into a skinny ‘O’ that makes him look like a fish out of water as you finally make eye contact. He heats up immediately from the inside, belly churning and throat tightening when you give him a once over. And it seems like you don’t exactly care for subtlety either — blown pupils raking over his tattooed arms, taking in the torn rips of his shirt-turned-tank-top and the tanlines just above his elbows.

He hopes you think that the scars on his body are just as badass (if not, more) than his tats.

Say something. “Didn’t know music was on a schedule.” Eddie manages to follow along with a shrug, lips tugging to the side nervously.

In response, you smile. You fucking smile as if he hadn’t just said the most stupid response ever. It’s gentle, airy, almost effortless as crescent-like lines shape your warm cheeks and you cup a hand over your eyes, adorably squinting through the bright sunlight. “Oh, believe me, I had Iron Maiden on blast one time and ever since then, the whole block has been thinking I’m some sort of cult apologist.”

His heart grows like a balloon filling with helium, voice even going so far to climb several octaves of excitement as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You… you listen to that kind of stuff?”

You play with the lacy strap of your top. You’re beaming widely at him from the other side of the fence. “Do you judge books by their covers, mister?”

“No, ma’am.” Eddie swipes the glistening pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, stifling the grin that threatens to spread across his mouth. Sheepish, he shakes his head. “I think I underestimated you then. I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding. Seriously though, I have a bunch of mixtapes back in my room. Ozzy, Dio, some Sabbath. No one really gets it, but you… you seem like you do.”

And Eddie wonders: could you get any more damn perfect? The suburban denim dream, the girl next door, the quintessential concoction of every teenage boy’s fantasy and every teenage girl’s desire… listens to metal music? And not just AC/DC or KISS (because everyone loves those guys), but the same music he’s grown up with and loved?

He can’t help but picture you in your bed, records spread out across your comforter as you switch between Dream Evil and Peace of Mind. Your limbs stretched out on the mattress, shirt riding up with nothing but black panties underneath as you rock out to his favorites.

Yeah. He’ll think about that one a lot.

“I definitely get it. I do, I really do. I love metal.” Eddie rambles, hoping to keep your attention by stalling this conversation as much as possible. You nod at him with those big, innocent eyes and roll your fleshy lip between your teeth, keen to every stupid word that falls from his tongue. “But hey, it can be our little secret, then.” He leisurely gravitates towards the van while you match his strides, taking note of his quavering pitch and the use of Eddie’s own hands waving through the air wildly as he attempts to withhold his nervousness. “And again, just for peace of mind, I didn’t mean to judge. I figured…”

“Madonna?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. Feels the anxiety in his stomach build even more. “Nothin’ wrong with Madonna, though. Sexy tunes. Can’t deny that.”

Sexy tunes. Come on, Munson.

But that draws a giggle right out of you, “Sexy tunes, indeed.” Then, you’re both leaning against the side of his van. No fence or Dustin coming between the two of you, just your sweaty bodies and Hawkins’ summer heat seeping through your thin clothes. You hold your palm out, fingers welcomingly outstretched. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Eddie’s gaze bounces from your smaller hand to the doting expression on your face before gingerly enveloping it in his own. “Eddie. Edward. E-Eddie. You can…” You give him a gentle squeeze, a sure smile dusting over your lips. “You can just call me Eddie, or whatever. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

“Well,” You laugh again, and Eddie blushes profusely at the lighthearted noise. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Whatever.” You share another one of those looks, and he swears that this time — this time, your eyes do all the talking that needs to be done. “I think we’ll get along really well… Eddie.”

His name has never sounded so perfect out loud.

Eddie sees you again.

And again. Every time he drops Dustin off. Again. Leant against the side of his van. Talking and talking, until there’s nothing to talk about — but it’s rare. He always has something to talk about, even when his voice fails him and he stutters or stumbles over syllables because you’re so fucking pretty and he’s… he’s just Eddie. But you see him differently than the others, so he supposes that maybe being “just Eddie” isn’t such an awful thing after all.

Again, you talk. The sidewalk. Along the road. On your lawn. Sometimes, Eddie will even join you on your blanket, skim through your books and take note of what you read, then he’ll recommend “true” literature like Lord of the Rings or something else with elves and witches.

Summer has never felt so long.

Again.

Until again becomes every afternoon. Even on the days Dustin doesn’t need a ride home anymore. Even on the days he has to practice with his band at four, but he can always just come see you at three and drive back because it’s no big deal. Even on the days your parents say you need to stop talking to that Munson boy because he’s no good, but who fucking cares?

Again, anyways.

You’re not scared of him. He’s not scary. He never was.

And so afternoons turn into nights. And nights consist of sneaking out to Eddie’s van that he’s parked a few houses down the street, because God forbid he talks to the innocent girl next door. Innocent is one fat hoax. You’re smoking pot with him in the back of his fucking van for Ozzy’s sake, giggly and unrelenting as you sit next to each other and drench yourselves in the scent of weed and Eddie’s drugstore cologne while Metallica plays faintly in the background.

He’s all man, but soft with his eyes. Soft in the way he looks at you. Crude in the way he secretly desires you. Now that he knows you, really knows you, you aren’t just beautiful.

You’re completely devastating.

You take a long drag of his joint, wincing as the paper sizzles and burns orange. “Fuck, I wish I tried getting high sooner. You’re a horrible influence, you know that?”

Eddie hums with a toothy grin, fiddling with the pair of flimsy headphones in his lap. “And yet you still meet me back here every night.”

“Why do I even do that?”

“Um, ‘cause I got, like, really fucking good ‘A’ quality weed and impeccable taste in music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, eyes following the mold of your lips around the bud. “Easy there, tigress. Don’t hog it.”

“You said…”

“I said, you could have one hit. And now, I’m confiscating it.”

You groan in protest as Eddie leans over to your side of the van and snatches the blunt from you, tossing it into a mushroom shaped ashtray as he gazes at you curiously. “Since when did you become so mean to me?”

“Weed is meant to be treasured, Y/N. And plus, I’m always mean.”

He has to admit — there has been tension between the two of you ever since your afternoon catch-ups turned into late night talking. Maybe he’s imagining it, but surely you feel it too. The bubbling in his stomach when your elbows brush in such a confined space. The heat rushing to his cheeks when you laugh and place a hand on his thigh, or the dizzy rush flooding your forehead when he picks a flyaway strand of hair off of your shoulder. The increase in your heartbeats as you stare at each other for a minute too long, even sneaking in a second glance because you just have to.

“You know what you should treasure?” You quirk a brow at him. A smirk tugs upon your lips as you dig through your pocket and pull out a cassette tape, shaking it in front of Eddie’s face. “This week’s mix I made you.”

“My mix is better.” He flicks his walkman open, switching out the tape inside for the one you hand him. “Here’s yours, ma’am.”

And he supposes that no one really expected that his friendship with the girl next door would be founded on trading music with each other. Ever since you and Eddie found out your tastes were in alignment, you made it a goal to introduce new songs to him — Madonna included. Sexy tunes.

You think he could get used to the oddity of The Cure. He thinks he can convince you that Guns N’ Roses will eventually be a rock sensation. You’re skeptical. Maybe.

So you marinate in each other’s stagnant presence, leaning on opposite walls of his metal tin can of a van, holding your own walkmans with ears caressed by Koss headphones and lids shut as your heads bob to the acoustics. Eddie can’t help but crack an eye open, sneaking a peek at your chewed lip and your look of concentration.

“I like this one.” You pipe up, feeling his stare on you. He glances away before you can actually catch him, training his gaze on the mess of blankets behind the driver’s seat. “You know, your choices this week are very interesting, Munson.”

Suggestive. His choices are suggestive, is what you’re thinking. From the first to the last track, the list of songs messily etched onto the cassette with the most boyish handwriting you’d ever seen, you can only hope that the metalhead holds some sort of attraction for you in the same manner you do for him.

Eddie chuckles, and winces apologetically at you. “I still hate The Cure, by the way.”

You nod unconvinced, and pull one of the cups of your headphones away from your ear. There’s a smile of amusement, an interested dimple in your cheek. “And yet you included The Perfect Girl on here?”

“Only because it made me think of you.”

For once, he realizes that he has flustered you. Your jaw goes slack, your pupils widen, brows softening before your nose crinkles at him. “Shut up, Eddie.”

His palms raise in a peaceful surrender, ringed fingers wiggling adorably. “You asked, Y/N.” A beat. Then you’re playfully throwing a jacket at his face and squealing before he instinctively lunges forward at you, gentle hands pulling you back by the elbows. Despite the struggle, eventually he’s pinned to the floor of the van and you’re on top of him straddling his soft belly. “Get off, you monster!” He near-giggles, sputtering as his hair gets into his mouth and he feels your body racking with laughter.

“You’re so rude to me. Like the rudest. When has The Cure ever hurt you?” You pant out, chest rising and falling steadily as you both catch your breath. Eddie’s headphones haphazardly hug his head, walkman in the palm that rests above him. “Do you treat your girlfriend this way, hm?”

“No girlfriend.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm, I thought it was obvious.” He replies quietly, the sound comes out more like a soft moan rather than an agreement. His plushy lips are wet with saliva, tongue poking between the pink flesh as his eyes flicker from your parting mouth to your curious, swirling irises. “S’why I’m here with you.”

“So I’m the second choice is what you’re…”

“Please, you are farthest from the second choice, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, ribs rumbling against his torso. Only then does he become hyper aware of the way your breasts push up against his shirt, the warmth of your skin intermixing with his, your nipples hardening against the thin white fabric of your camisole. Sweetheart, you repeat. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. “Do you have one?”

“A girlfriend?” You ask, tone playful and curious.

Careless Whisper echoes through his headphones; your mixtape is still looping through his walkman as you trail your fingers down his wrists and brace yourself on his chest.

Fucking hell. It’s ironic. It’s pathetic. George Michael needs to shut up. Why is this damned song on here? He’s struggling to think, struggling to focus on the words coming from your mouth, struggling to keep it in his pants because you keep shifting farther and farther away from his stomach, and more and more towards his crotch. Focus. Tune out that stupid saxophone.

“Sure.” He shrugs breathlessly, tingling with anticipation.

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet, no. Why is this a conversation, Eddie?” You bite your lip cheekily, knees planted firmly on either side of his lean body when you gaze down at him then survey the still-lit joint resting on his ashtray. Silence, then: “Can I have a hit? Please?”

Eddie glances at your lips, fixating on how your tongue darts out to lick at the sticky gloss. The moonlight casts a glow over your frame, highlighting the path of your curves through your tank top. And without really taking his eyes off of your beautiful face, his fingers reach for the blunt, a blush spreading across his chiseled cheeks when your hand brushes against his to grab it.

Please.

A sizzle rustles through the heavy air as you take a slow drag.

And Eddie can’t help himself. Not this time.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You’re slowly tossing the perfectly-good blunt aside, leaning down and lazily grabbing Eddie gingerly by his chin.

He thinks you’re gonna kiss him.

And before he can lift his head to meet you, instead, you’re blowing a puff of smoke between his parted lips with an exhale. “Fuck… ing… heck…” He instantly groans, eyelids drooping as your ass pushes against him teasingly like you hadn’t just shotgunned into his goddamn mouth. Party trick. You flutter your lashes bashfully, dimples poking at your cheeks as Eddie gapes at you just inches away from your face. “Y/N, where the fuck did you… learn that?”

You sigh. “Eddie Munson, you just keep on underestimating me.”

“I really do, I really fucking do…” He huffs, knuckles turning white around his walkman as you sensually tug his headphones off. “I just — just thought you were…”

“Innocent? Oblivious? I may be your girl next door fantasy… or whatever the fuck you Hawkins boys think about me…” You smirk, taking Eddie’s much-larger hands into yours and placing them firmly on your hips. “… but I am not fucking blind… you’ve been acting so off this entire night, must need something to take the edge off, don’t you?”

Fucking Ozzy. He can’t take it. His lips tug into a wince. “That easy, huh?”

Red-handed, you coo. “The easiest.”

“So technically you’re calling me easy, then?” Eddie jokes, heart pounding against his chest as he tenderly digs his fingertips into your love handles.

This is what he’s wanted. This is it.

And it’s not a fucking dream at all. It’s absolutely heaven.

Just like heaven.

“Eh, I think it’s endearing. The way you…” He curses under his breath as you lean over and trail your mouth up his jawline, biting his earlobe. “… savor me… savor looking at me. The way you think I don’t notice your stare, when your eyes wander a couple inches down whenever I talk? Oh, you think you’re so slick. I’m not naïve. Why do you think we hang out in your van at night?”

He shudders when your teeth find the cool surface of the guitar pick around his neck. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”

“And you’re horny, but maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”

“No, definitely…” Eddie laughs nervously, swallowing as he looks down at you. “Definitely not. I’m… fuck, I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Or, maybe I should.” Back and forth banter. It’s natural with you. Too natural, almost like it has always meant to be like this between the eager pair of you. You don’t kiss him, not yet. He can wait. “Acting like a gentleman, like my friend, when in reality you can’t help but think of banging me everytime we see each other?”

“M’sorry, okay? We are friends — fuck, Y/N. Can’t focus… can’t exactly t-talk when you’re on my lap like that.”

Heat pools to his lower stomach, breaths quickening as his hands mindlessly drift down to your upper thighs, squeezing your skin through your little shorts when you grind against him. “Like this? How does it feel? Touching me, feeling me on you like this?”

Eddie’s eyes are dark, almost black in the dim shadows of his van. He looks up at you with the most dilated, entranced look, and you swear it almost makes you break. “Feels… feels so nice. Warm. I just… fuck, I don’t… don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do… Y/N, goddamnit…”

“I think it’s both clear what we want, no?” You press a kiss to his cheek, running your thumb along the skin beneath his lower lashes. His self-control is slowly diminishing, inch by inch, he feels himself melting in your presence. “I stare, too, just so you know. I stare a lot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lifts a shaky hand, nervously cupping your jaw and nudging his nose against yours. His voice ghosts your skin, raspy and more of a whimper than a command. “Tell me about it.”

Your mouth hovers over his, lips barely brushing against each other. Touching, touching, touching, only to pull away at the very last second. He can almost just taste the marijuana from your tongue, almost taste the honey dripping from your voice as you peck the corner of his lips. Almost. “I look at your arms, and your really cool tattoos, then I picture… where else you have them on your body…” You gasp into his ear as his hips rut into you, his fingers drawing shapes against the side of your face. “Picture your lips on my chest… kissing me, leaving marks… bruises, hickies, whatever you want, Munson. Your mouth between my — my thighs… tugging on your hair because you’d be so good to me, wouldn’t you?”

“M’want you so bad. You don’t know the half of it.” He whispers, stroking a knuckle across the shadow of your cupid’s bow. “Please… let me… fuck, let me kiss you. Please, Y/N. Want it so bad. Been wanting you ever since summer started. Makin’ me crazy, got me feeling like I’m insane with the way I just… just obsess over us.”

He’s earned it.

“Like I said, whatever you want.” You grin devilishly.

Eddie’s lips finally collide with yours, erotically wet and far from smooth. It’s incongruous, sweaty skin rubbing against each other and clothes rustling as Eddie sits up, your arms swaddling his lanky frame while you crane your neck to kiss him deeply. His hair is in your mouth, his nose smushed against the side of your face, strained groans slipping from his throat as he traverses down your neck, selfishly licking the divot of your collarbone before his palms are venturing under your camisole.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whines, lashes fluttering against your thin bra as he pulls your top over your head. He’s mouthing at the cups, biting at the stringy lace of your push-up before he’s tugging the material down to reveal your nipples. “I just… fuck, I’m just in awe of you. You’re the perfect girl, and I get to have you.” He wraps his lips around the hardened bud, moaning as he alternates between the two and litters your flesh in dark hickies. You fist his hair, caving into his frame. “You’re so sexy. Just… fucking… took the words out of me, leavin’ me speechless… I’ll make you feel so f-fucking good if you let me.”

Your head rolls back as he kisses up the underside of your chin, meeting your lips in a more tender kiss. Your nails trail underneath his Iron Maiden ringer tee, lightly tracing over the raised scars on his abdomen, his belly, skimming over his sparse happy trail and the subtlety of his v-line. “You’re all talk, Eddie… wanna make me feel good?” He nods meekly, the veins in his neck flexing as you stroke his brow bone. “Think you should start by undressing me…”

“Christ, please.”

And without a beat, Eddie’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside so that it lands over the back of the driver’s seat. He kisses his way down your belly, the little pudge when you sit, only for him to lay you down on your back, clumping up a bunch of jackets to make a pillow for your head. His fingers unbutton your shorts, tugging them down the length of your legs with your panties until they get caught on your Chucks.

He takes those off too. Quite frankly, chucks the Chucks across the van with a squeaky mutter of ‘goddamn shoes…’ before he’s pocketing a lineup of chunky rings into his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth makes up for the dorky mishap, his lips make haste against your tender calves, biting the squish of your thighs and nudging his nose against the glossy patches of arousal on the inside of your skin. He inhales the scent of your cunt, and you jerk with a moan of surprise as he kisses you there, open and fluttering for him while he lays on his stomach.

He’s never seen such a pretty pussy. It emboldens him, leaves him brazen and aching for more even though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you this naked. Even though he’s barely even had you, he still needs more.

“Need you so bad it hurts.” Eddie growls, looking up at you with a smirk as you gnaw on your bottom lip. “You’re just… fuck, how did you get this wet? God, you’re unreal, baby… let me? Please? Let me… let me eat it… I’ll do anything…”

Let me. Let me. Let me. It’s his mantra. You’d be lying if you deny that it stirs something animalistic within you.

You nod violently, biting down on your forefinger as he props you up against the wall of the van and parts your knees even further before he’s shoving his face into you. Your hands dart straight into his curls again, pulling and tugging until you’re holding him by a wiry ponytail, watching the eager way he suckles at the bundle of nerves just at the apex of your sex.

Eddie feels like a fucking virgin. Desperate. Impatient. Aggressive. He’s too excited — it displays itself when he slips two digits into your needy slit, taking in how you instantly buck against him. You need him. Need him in the same manner he needs this. His ego fires up as he drives his fingers further, running his tongue over and back and down your clit until your grip on his hair becomes suffocating.

“Having fun down there, h-hm?” You croak. Even with his head buried between your thighs, you’re mischievous, challenging, witty. He’d fuck the brains out of you if he could, but honestly, he isn’t even sure if he could survive one second with his cock in your little fist. “Fuckkk. You’re makin’ me feel so good, Eds…” Your head hits the metal wall, a soft bang that goes unnoticed with all the squelching and creaming as Eddie scissors his fingers.

“You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect, I love the way you look right now, s’fucking hot… could cum just by watching you.”

“Yeah? Just wait — just fucking wait till I suck you off.”

Eddie can’t wrap his thoughts around it. His tongue, his hands, where he’s buried inside you. He’s wanted this, ever since the start of summer, and he’s here with the girl he thought was untouchable — the perfect girl with a perfect, filthy secret that is him.

You’re grinding your mound against his mouth, quivering jaw unhinged in the darkness of his large van. His eyes flicker up to your tits, slick with his spit and your own as a dribble of saliva falls from your lips, tainting your skin.

For once, you aren’t put-together. He’s ripping your façade apart at the seams and leaving nothing to sew back.

“You’re a fucking mess, Y/N… oh, I do this to you?” He’s touching you till you’re vibrating and mewling. He’s lapping every drop of you up, tasting you permanently on his lips as he prods at your clit. “Fuck, honey…” Eddie bites you, hard enough to nurse a bruise on the inside of your thigh. “Please cum for me, yeah? Jus’ look how wet I’ve gotten you, sweetheart… you’re practically — oh, my god… you’re practically gaping… you wanna cum that bad?”

You really can’t help it. Not when he’s cooing at you with that whiny voice, teasing and suggestive as your cunt spasms over his pink knuckles. Your hips rise from the carpet flooring, and Eddie leaves another bite-mark on your stomach as slick trickles out of you. You don’t moan. You don’t scream, nor cry. Just a broken whimper and a restrained, quiet utterance of Eddie’s name beneath your breath.

Somehow, it makes his cock pulse even harder.

He gently kisses your cunt, running a soothing tongue over the bruises he’s left and the dip in where your hip meets your thigh. “Fuck, that was hot.” He smells the aftermath of your orgasm, really smelling you this time, and it ends up driving him nuts. “Oh, Y/N… your pussy…” You follow his gaze, letting out a lewd sound as Eddie admires the puffiness of your folds, swollen and open from his work. You jolt as soon as he tries to spread you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, d-didn’t mean to get so damn rough with you. You tasted so fucking nice, s’all.”

“No, I…” You brush his hair away from his face, pushing his bangs aside as he sits up and wedges himself between your knees. “I love rough. I can take it. I can take this.” Your other hand palms him through his jeans, before you’re dipping yourself beneath his waistband, hairs prickling at your skin as you grasp him. “Do you want me to be rough with you, Eds? Because I just… I really, really want your cock, and I… I dunno if I can hold myself back…”

“Oh, you little slut.” He gasps brazenly as you pull his shirt off, eyes wide at your sudden conviction for him, “Take it. Take me, Y/N. I’m all yours, whatever you fucking want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You smirk, helping him kick off his jeans and boxers. Your cunt pathetically gapes for him once he’s bare, contracting around nothingness as Eddie takes your place against the wall. He leans back, and you just stare — drinking him in the same way he drinks you in. Your puffy nipples, still damp from his spit, your darkened neck a testament to his artistry, your mouth parting in awe as you fit his erect cock into your hand. Barely.

He’s big — lengthwise, and it curves heavily in your grasp as you lean down to pop him between your lips. Eddie nearly knees you, palms flying to cover his face as he desperately cries your name. “Y/N… oh, f-fucking… oh, Jesus…” You rake your nails up and down his thighs, licking a stripe up his manhood as you play with his sopping tip.

You chuckle in amusement around him, “Such a leaky cock. You like that, Eds? Mmm, you messy boy. All this pre-cum and I’ve… aw, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me what feels good, ‘kay?”

“S’all of it… all of it is — it’s good… fuck, words are so… words…” He melts even more as you sheathe him into your mouth, stuttering as he feels you hold back a gag. Your whole body convulses, back arching upwards as Eddie watches you take and take and take. “Oh, Y-Y/N… you just keep — keep getting better and better. Holy shit.” His belly aches with desire, tightening with each bob of your head and every seductive blink of your eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Thought about you.. whenever you’d — mmm, whenever you’d lay out on that darn lawn, what if I took you right there? What if I just… fucked you on that grass…”

“You and your dirty mouth, Munson.” You glare up at him in feigned annoyance, jerking his shaft with fast, purposeful movements. “I think it’s funny… how you pretend like you’re such a nice guy when really, you’re only a perv for me.”

“So what? Are you gonna punish me?” He challenges beadily, tongue poking out between gritted teeth like he could win this fight. “Or are you gonna fuck me, pretty girl?”

And just like that, the air changes. He feels the shift, the veil that falls over your eyes, nothing but sex and his scent running in your mind.

“No, Eds.” You move to straddle his thigh; your bare cunt dragging against his scarred skin. “I’m gonna make you beg.”

You take him into your fist again, stroking him between the generous suction of your lips and the sweep of your tongue. He tastes good to your surprise, and then you’re creating a pool of spit that trickles from his abdomen to his balls.

Messy girl. “Christ, Y/N.”

You release him with an erotic pop! — there’s stringy saliva connecting you to the crown of his cock, your throat is raw, his dick impatient, twitchy and excited. “You wanna fuck me so bad, you can’t even think straight. Look at my hand right now, look how tiny it looks when I hold you…” You grind yourself against his knee, groaning with him as you quicken your pace. Your brows furrow, a wicked grin ghosting itself over your features. “Baby, are you going to cum already?”

“Y/N, don’t s-stop. I’m beggin’ you, please…”

“Oh, you’re begging? This is what you call begging?”

“Please, s’too hard.”

“Too hard? What’s too hard? Me not letting you cum, or…” You give him one good jerk, twisting your fist so that your thumb brushes over his white-coated tip. “… your cock? Because you’re awfully, awfully rock hard right now. I bet it hurts doesn’t it, my love?” My love. His eyes gloss over. Your mouth hugs the shell of his ear. “You wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes…” He near-whimpers. Desperate. “Wanna cum so badly.”

“No.”

You release him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His climax dwindles back to square one, and his leg thrashes out in dismay. There’s sweat beading down your forehead, drops forming on Eddie’s brow bone as he scowls at you.

You kiss him, almost like an apology, but Eddie can tell you’re not sorry. Far from it. You enjoy this, enjoy getting him off just to start over and make him beg. Is it so sick that he likes it? The more you stretch this interaction out, the more he gets to touch you. Like now, as you swing your knees on either side of him, his palm gingerly clasping the nape of your neck as he presses your face to his.

“Let me fuck you? Let me be inside?” He pleads, nudging his nose against yours in anguished yearning. He drags his hand over your cheek, enveloping your jaw with outstretched fingers. “Just wanna bury myself inside you and stay there. Don’t even wanna cum anymore, I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good, m’not pathetic like the other guys… wanna feel you jus’ dripping on me, Y/N.”

You don’t answer, just gasp into his parted mouth as you line each other up. The angry head of his cock catches on your swell, snagging your clit before his tip lodges itself inside you and he — quite literally — goes rigid. You curse, slowly sinking down his length until your pussy refuses to take more.

“You’re s-so big.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to fucking burst. “Sweetheart,” He pants, panicked and frenzied as you squeeze around him. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, arms thrown around his body as he tangles his slender fingers into your scalp and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest. “Sweetheart, I can feel every p-part of you… you’re so — fuck, just like that, you wet messy thing.” He whines, the curve of your ass coming down against his lap as you keenly bounce on his cock. He meets you with gentle thrusts, your cunt already milking him thin. “Look at you, fuck, you’re loving this.”

“E-Eddie…” Your tits are squished against his pecs, his necklace sandwiching itself between your damp skin. “More. More. Give it…”

“You can’t take it, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it. I can. It’s not enough, I’m telling you.” You rut your hips stubbornly, guiding his palms to your waist before he’s carefully rolling you onto your side and hiking your calf over the tender slope of his shoulder. “S’not nearly enough, Eds.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply as he slips himself deeper inside you. The stretch stings harshly, flashes of white prickling at the cones of your vision as he splits you raw and wide open. “Is this enough? You fuckin’… god, you perfect whore…” Your spine tingles as Eddie tugs you closer by the hip, ramming himself into you relentlessly. “… such perfect tits, a perfect leaky cunt…” He presses a kiss to your ankle, before flipping you onto your knees so that he can fuck you from behind. He wants to see you, see you flutter for him, feed his sick thoughts and relive the nights where he jerked himself off in this very van in empty parking lots to the idea of you. “… and this perfect ass… another hole waiting to be used, right, Y/N? You’d let me use it, wouldn’t you? If I’m nice enough, I bet you’d let me fuck it…”

Fucking hell.

You cum as soon as he dips the pad of his thumb against the responsive ring of muscle. You both grow feral at the sensation. Soaked. Pussy chafed raw from his cock. You can’t tell whose fluids are whose, if it’s Eddie’s spit or yours, if it’s your juices or his — the embarrassing manner in which your cunt just sucks him in, the tight walls of your ass fluttering around his gentle finger as he drives into you.

How is the van still upright? Eddie doesn’t know.

He’s an Ozzy clusterfuck of strangled, broken sounds and you’re a broken record player of Eddie-Eddie-Eds-Please, I’m cumming!

He doesn’t stop. Even when you’re shaking and bent-half in now missionary, he sheathes himself inside you till his pelvic bone is crushed to your body. “You feel so good, I’m sorry… I can’t — can’t stop, baby…”

“Don’t. Don’t stop, it’s a-alright.” You heave out, interlocking fingers as his glistening cock disappears into your used cunt. “It’s a l-lot, but it’s okay.” Eddie’s body engulfs you, your heels digging into the dimples in his lower back as he pounds into you. “You’re such a good — good boy, fuck…”

“Yeah?” He bites your throat. “Say.” The under-swell of your boob. “It.” Your arm. “Again.”

“Good boy. Such a good boy, fucking me the way I deserve.”

“Fucking you like you’re a slut.”

“Fucking me like I’m not the girl next door…” You chuckle, breathy and airy before he knocks the wind right out of you. “The whole town is gonna call me a w-whore for once.”

“Suits you better.”

You swear your soul leaves your body. You’re dying. You are dead, nearly limp in his fumbling boyish hands as he cradles your head against his chest and wipes the sweat from your eyes like he loves you. His balls slap against your loosened rim, his thumb putting pressure on your clit until you’re frantically pushing him away.

“I can’t cum again. I can’t.” You sob in pleasure, clawing at his tattoos as if they could save you from his insatiable hunger. “Eddie!”

“Need it, need your cum again, Y/N.” Eddie growls, thrusts stuttering and cock pulsating wildly before he’s spitting onto your sex as if you needed to be any more wet. “I-I think you’re so… so fucking cool, you’re just… you’re too good for me, but I fucking adore you.”

I adore you.

You can’t even talk anymore, vocal chords ripped right out of your throat as your stomach cramps, cramps, cramps and then drops to a low point. Crashing. Flatlining. Clenching hopelessly.

You nearly choke Eddie as a hand flies out to touch him, pulling him close as your walls trap him for a second time. Only now, he’s locked in tight, unable to move, unable to go anywhere and he fucking cums immediately because it’s just too inviting. You feel him seeping out of you, painting your holes with his sticky cum as he stills there like a good boy. He grunts against your lips, kissing you poorly as his orgasm eats him alive.

He’s milked. Spent.

Eddie collapses on top of you, one leg jutted straight and the other bent as he embraces you close with his whole weight resting on your frame. How can he already miss something he just had? Gaining your strength, you kiss down his shoulder, fingertips swirling over muscle and scar tissue and ink as the smell of him floors you.

It’s so Eddie. Woody, earthy, with a spicy fresh top note reminiscent of oak moss and a hint of gasoline, dry cedar and herbs. It makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He’s drenched in the girlish smell of sex, sweat and salty but you’re eager to taste him anyways.

My good boy, you think.

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out raspy and winded, almost sickly but Eddie knows it's a good-sick.

“Yes, yeah. I just… need a sec.”

“Hm, don’t take too long, Munson.” Shit. Is this over already? Just like that? “Might get wet again.”

Oh. It’s a joke.

And he laughs, wheezy and exhausted as he irritatedly tugs his own hair out of his mouth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, ma’am.” He leans back on his hinges to properly look at you, your cheeks rubbed red-raw from his teeth and your abused, achy cunt still stuffed full of his prick. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

“Barely.” You repeat heartily, shaking your head at him with a look of bewilderment. “S’gonna hurt when you pull out, you know.”

“Are you telling me to stay here forever?”

“If you admit that you like The Cure, then yes…” You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against his wrist. “… I’ll let you stay there forever.”

Forever. You both push down the giddy, cheesy smiles that threaten to spread across your faces.

“Never. Never ever.” Eddie chuckles. When he tenderly and patiently pulls out, a wet rush slowly floods out of you, his fingers frantically plug you shut — his thick, translucent cum dripping from his knuckles as he selfishly fucks his hot spill back into you like the perv he is. “But that can stay there forever.”

A freak, but not in the way Hawkins thinks.

You melt at the feeling, limbs spasming awkwardly as he spreads himself over your pussy distractedly. His eyes are so goddamn soft, kind, attentive — even when he’s pushing some of it into your poor asshole, he’s still the sweetest guy you’ve ever hooked up with.

He kisses your clit before he lovingly hikes your panties up your legs.

Fucker.

“Did I ruin you, sweetheart? Awfully quiet.”

You scoff, shimmying into your shorts and camisole as Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers. “Just wondering how you expect me to climb back into my window after all that.”

“Who said anything about climbing…” He laughs boisterously, leaning over and fixing the strap of your bra. “What do you say I walk you to the porch, ring that bell and introduce myself to mom and pop?”

You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not, Eddie Munson.”

He finds himself liking the suburbs a lot more.

Only this time, he doesn’t imagine himself surrounded by picket fences and golden retrievers, mailboxes with his last name painted in unreadable cursive or having to mow his front lawn at seven in the fucking morning.

Eddie doesn’t need to when Hawkins’ slice of paradise is just next door.

And he gets to taste it every fucking day and night.

So, fuck it. He’ll climb your window so you don’t have to wobble back to your house with his cum dripping down your leg. He’s a gentleman, railing you in the abandoned parking lot of Starcourt because you can’t handle the embarrassment of getting caught by someone at home. He’ll cover your mouth in the shed in your backyard so the neighbors don’t complain about the howling coyotes that have gone loose in the neighborhood.

God forbid they have coyotes, right?

But really, they should be worrying about the devastatingly gorgeous girl next door and her favorite, good boy with a dwindling hatred for The Cure.

Even though, the album is growing on him.

He’ll never admit that, though.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things season 4

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ghostickle · 1 year

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It’s weird going through pictures of my friends cause I met them freshman year of highschool/started hanging out sophomore year and it doesn’t seem like that long ago but I look at the old pictures and idk we’ve changed so much and we don’t look like kids anymore, all those pictures we were in our early/mid teens and now the oldest of our group just turned 20. Idk

#like shit dude we aren’t kids anymore #i had this one friend that the two of us were inseparable #and we knew each other since we were three and hung out every single day till I had to move away when we were 11 #and around middle school early highschool we didn’t keep in contact so much anymore #and this kid I spent my childhood with and this current group of friends these fuckers raised me #i don’t know who I’d be had I skipped a grade like I wanted as a kid or didn’t go along the day I met the first kid #or if I didn’t get into the specialty art highschool #if anything along the line was slightly different I never would have met these people and I wouldn’t be who I am #ghost rambles #if I didn’t sit next to them in draw 1 I wouldn’t have been there when they were making plans to hangout that weekend #i wouldn’t have joked about not going anywhere and wouldn’t have been invited #and wouldn’t still know them now #or what if I did something a little different with the kid I sat next to in graphics #what if they were the person I found myself glued to #i do miss that kid she was cool

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incognit0slut · 11 months

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Right Kind of Wrong (5)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye

Part summary: Spencer’s lack of experience on the female anatomy is educated by her. wc: 4,7k

Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murder

a/n: sorry it took me longer to update, kind of went through a writer’s block but finally got back the vibe

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

SPENCER WAS A MAN ON A MISSION. His steps echoed on the marble floor the next morning as he entered the mundane space of the bureau, hand gripping the strap of his bag. The glass door separating the familiarity of his disorganized desk greeted him, but before he could enter the room, his heels turned towards a certain part of the office he was accustomed to.

He pushed the door at the end of the hallway to find Garcia typing away on her keyboard, her eyes fixated on the screen in front of her. The sudden sound of his arrival startled her before she swiveled in her chair, because the man standing by the door hardly visited her this early, especially when he still had his bag thrown over his shoulder.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the good doctor." She leaned back in her chair and gave him a grin. "What do I owe the pleasure of your presence in the safety of my lair?"

Spencer took a cautious step into the room as he closed the door behind him. "I need you to find me an address."

"That is my specialty." She turned back to her monitors. "Hit me."

"Y/n L/n."

There was a heavy pause as her fingers hovered above the keyboard. The familiarity of the name had her eying him as he stepped into her line of vision. "Isn't she one of the witnesses you talked to last night?"

He awkwardly cleared his throat. "Yes, she is."

"And you need her address because...?"

"I..." A sense of dread and anxiety hit him as he felt the intensity of her scrutinizing gaze. "I—I have further questions to ask."

Garcia wasn't an expert in profiling, unlike most of her teammates, but she wasn't blind when it came to picking out other people's sudden change of composure. Spencer's usually calm demeanor was suddenly replaced with discomfort, something that rarely occurred unless the topic of conversation extremely flustered him.

"You know," she started, slightly twisting her body. "Morgan told me something interesting happened last night, and I'm usually not one to gossip—" She rolled her eyes at the look he gave her. "Alright, fine, maybe I am. But it's not gossip if it's true."

His face twisted into a frown. "What did he tell you?"

"That the pretty witness lady may or may not know you personally." When he didn't respond, she urged on, "So? Is it true?"

Spencer quickly dropped his gaze to the floor. He considered himself to be a very private person, one that didn't share much about their personal life. The introverted trait in him preferred the comfort of spending his time engrossed with his own thoughts than engaging in unnecessary, awkward conversations with others. So whenever he received attention regarding his private matters, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable under the spotlight.

"I cannot confirm nor deny that."

She scoffed. "You do realize you're not making it any less suspicious, right?"

She then proceeded in typing the name of the woman he had met the previous night but immediately stopped, her eyes piercing back at him. "What?"

"I will give you the address if you tell me whether you need it for work or personal reasons."

This was why he disliked human interaction. Couldn't one go on with their own lifestyle without questioning another person's way of life?

He let out an irritated sigh. "Garcia."

"Reid."

He pondered whether he could get away without explaining the intention of his request. But this was Penelope Garcia, known to be relentless with an interest in exchanging information about the personal lives of the team members. There was no other choice than to cave in if he wanted to avoid her persistent persuasion, so he answered—although reluctantly—in a very low voice, "Personal reasons.”

"I knew it!" She gleefully laughed. She focused her attention back onto her monitor, her fingers working their wonders before a passport picture of a woman stared back at them through the screen. "Ooh, she's pretty."

She really was. The person staring back at him was smiling, something he hadn't seen the last time he saw her. Her smile was an incredibly beautiful thing to behold. It was also incredibly contagious as he found his lips curling into a smile of his own, his eyes scanning across every feature on her radiant face. He was completely enthralled, it was as if her beauty had a grip on him, putting him in some sort of trance.

She was absolutely beautiful.

"Do you want me to save her picture? Send it to your phone?"

He felt the warmth spreading along his cheeks. "No." He turned his gaze towards the address printed on the left side of the screen, memorizing the exact street and the number of her residential.

"When I said you were a Casanova, I didn't think it would come to this extent." He threw her a frown as she explained, "A few days ago you had a lady friend at your place, and now this."

Spencer pursed his lips together. His palms immediately began to sweat as she sent him a wicked grin. His silence was all that it took for her to bounce in her chair, hands clapping at the irony of the situation. "No way. Are you telling me this is the same woman you met at the bar? The same stranger you spent the night with is the exact witness you talked to last night?"

He turned on his heels. "Goodbye, Garcia."

"Wait—no!" She grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to face her again. "Oh my god, I am so invested. This is way more entertaining than the show I'm currently watching!"

He heaved out a sigh. "I'm glad you can find amusement in my misery."

"Misery? This isn't misery, sweetheart, this is amazing. When was the last time you were involved with someone?" Far too long, he thought to himself, but his answer must've shown across his face. "Exactly. Now, aren't you glad I didn't show up that night?"

He shook his head, deciding not to answer her question, and crossed his arms instead. "This stays between us, okay?"

She nodded eagerly. "Of course."

"And you can't even mention this to Morgan."

"What?" She groaned as he proceeded to scowl at her. "Alright, alright. He will not hear any of this."

He assessed her one last time, cautiously weighing any possibility of her bluff. But when she returned his gaze with a suddenly concerned stare, he had to double-check whether he was seeing right. The mischievous glint in her eyes was replaced by a deep sense of worry, her face melting into the familiar solemn look she flashed whenever she had something important to say.

"Hey, Reid." She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head to the side. "You'll be careful, right?"

The sudden grimness of her tone caught him by surprise. "What do you mean?"

She paused for a moment, trying to sort out her words without wanting to offend him. "I just want to remind you that we're currently in the middle of investigating a case that involves her."

"She's only a witness," he pointed out.

"Doesn't make her any less important. Reid, when you're emotionally involved with anyone who is linked to a case we're working on, there's a high chance it can get messy. You know that."

Oh, how he knew that all too well. He knew how very unhealthy it could be, and how getting emotionally attached to someone involved in a case could lead to irrational or compromised decision-making. It could be a potential source of bias and it could make anyone put their personal feelings above what was best for the investigation. It could cloud people’s judgment. This was something that he would never recommend, something that he would urge anyone on the team to avoid doing.

So was he being rational now? Was running a background check on someone for personal reasons deemed appropriate?

Probably not. It was a very risky thing to consider, but Spencer was smart enough to understand how important it was to keep his emotions intact. The possibility of things getting out of hand would only happen if he couldn't keep it under control, which he was certain that he could, and he would never let anything stop him from doing his job.

"I'll be careful," he finally responded. "Thanks, Garcia."

"You are most definitely welcome, lover boy." She gave him a genuine smile before turning back toward her devices. "Now go and get your girl so I can go back to my work."

His body tensed. "She's not my girl."

She threw him a look that told him she didn't believe a word he said, something he was starting to question himself. He quickly shook his head and strode out of the room, completely denying Garcia's admission, because in his mind, Y/n was merely the stranger he met on one random night. She was simply the woman who ended up in his bed. She was the mysterious enigma who slipped into the night with nothing but a nod. She was the one who looked at him in disbelief at their unexpected encounter.

She was all of the things above, but she was definitely not his girl.

"You need to install a security camera."

Tapping her fingers lightly against the mug in her hands, eyes fixed on the black liquid of the freshly brewed coffee, Y/n blew out a rough breath. "Please worry about yourself."

"Or better yet, get a dog," the man across from her suggested. "Those big hound dogs that would scare people off. They can easily sense danger when they see one."

"Why would I need a dog when I have you?"

He frowned at her. "I'm being serious."

"And you think I'm not?"

He went completely still, his eyes trailing across her face. "Is that a trick question?"

She took a sip of the warm coffee, letting it calm her frustration as she pondered whether kicking him out of her own house was a better option than dragging him out through the door.

"Oliver," she muttered, her voice laced with annoyance while she carefully put down her mug on the countertop. "You have practically stationed yourself in my house, barking at anyone you think might be a potential danger."

"Y/n," he followed her gesture, leaning closer into the small space of her kitchen. "It's for your safety."

"You shouted at my mailman!"

"He took an awful lot of time talking to you."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to cause a scene in the sanctuary of her own home. She had woken up this morning, limbs tangled in her sheet and body aching from all the emotions she went through the previous night, and decided she would spend the day relaxing the tension in her nerves. Do some grocery shopping, head to the beauty salon to get a manicure and a nice haircut that was long overdue, and ravish herself with a delicious meal at the new restaurant she had been wanting to visit.

But all her plans went down the drain when she heard a loud knock the moment she opened her eyes. She found Oliver standing on her front porch, holding his trademark smile and amiable posture, before lunging at her with concern while asking a bunch of questions related to what had happened.

At first, she accepted his worry, what was she to do when a friend came to her house to make sure she was doing alright? But the longer he stayed the more she wondered whether letting him inside her home was the smartest thing to do. She knew Oliver was a very persistent person, but she wasn't aware of him being this insufferable.

"You know what would make me feel safe?" She walked out of the kitchen, expecting him to follow her, something he had been doing throughout the day. "For you to stop breathing down my neck and let me enjoy my weekend in peace."

Her plan worked, he was already hot on her heels as he watched her stalk toward the front area of her house. "I came by to check in on you."

"Since the morning, it's almost 5 PM." She tugged the door open before stepping to the side. "I'm sure I can manage on my own now—"

"Who’s that?"

Shd followed his line of sight and frowned when a black vehicle stopped right at her curb, its engine cutting off a moment later. She watched as the door wrenched open and felt her heart drop as a familiar face stared directly back. The shock of seeing someone unexpected took her by surprise, it was an incredibly powerful feeling that left her pretty shaken up and even a little bit stunned, because right on her driveway was none other than Spencer-fucking-Reid.

Seeing him in action for his job last night was enough to captivate her. But watching him in a tight FBI vest over a button-down with his sleeves rolled up, showing off firm arms and veins running along the back of his hands, mesmerized her in a way that had her weak in the knees.

Suits had become the sexiest thing she'd ever seen on a man after she saw him last night—firmly replacing uniforms, she had always been a sucker for military men... until now. The authority he held wearing that vest easily became her favorite clothing on a man. On him precisely, including the gun strapped to the side of his hip. How the sight of a dangerous weapon on him could be so attractive was beyond her.

She felt Oliver inching closer, his voice extremely low, "Do you want me to bark?"

She heard his words perfectly, but her attention was too focused on the other man as he stepped onto her porch. She wasn't questioning how he got her address—because authorities could easily search any citizen's information, right?—but she was curious why he bothered coming to her house. "What are you doing here?"

Sensing the recognition in her voice, Oliver addressed the unknown man with a hard stare. "Who are you again?"

"Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid," he introduced himself, flashing his badge. "I have further questions for Ms. L/n regarding a certain case."

"You mean Jamison's murder?"

Spencer nodded, leveling his gaze with the man who stood too close to her for his liking. "I need to talk to her personally."

It was another way for him to urge Oliver out of her house, Y/n noted, which was something she didn't oppose. Oliver tensed beside her, throwing her a doubtful look. "Will you be fine?"

Would she be fine being left alone with someone she wanted nothing to do after everything that happened? Maybe not. But it was better than to have Oliver gluing himself in her home. "I’ll be fine. You can go, Oliver."

The two men addressed one another, and the mood suddenly turned intense. Spencer was very cautious and deliberate with each of his movements, trying to be intuitive and on alert for any possible threat or danger. But then Oliver nodded his head and smiled at him, shrugging away any tension that lingered in the air.

He turned towards her. "Call me if you need anything."

She stepped aside and let him pass, breathing out a grateful sigh as she finally watched him walk down the street.

"Boyfriend?"

"No," she quickly replied, frowning at the idea of Oliver being her partner. Then she shot Spencer a look. "Not that it's any of your business."

He probably deserved that. He nodded behind her as his eyes scanned the entrance of her house. "Can I come in?"

There was something about letting the man into her home. It was a very special and sacred place that brought peace and joy after a long day of work. Letting him into the comfort of her house meant letting him into a personal part of herself.

She opened the door further before he stepped inside, his eyes scanning every nook and corner. She cleared her throat and closed the door behind her. "So, you wanted to ask me more questions?"

There was a moment of silence as he turned around. "I actually came here to apologize." When she didn't respond, he added, "About last night."

She narrowed her eyes. "What exactly are you apologizing for?"

"It seemed we got off the wrong foot yesterday and I want to apologize if I offended you in any way."

The memory of last night's encounter flashed before her eyes; their unexpected encounter, the way he acted as if he had never held her naked, and how he wanted no one else to know their tryst, keeping it as a mere rendezvous between two strangers. There was some truth in that, but there was also another truth in her disappointment, and suddenly she was extremely tired of all these emotions.

"Last night was... it was awkward for both of us,” she decided to say. "Why don't we forget it ever happened?"

"Forget what?"

"Everything?" She crossed her arms, shifting her weight from one foot to another. "About last night, about—" She mentally winced. "About what happened the first night we met.”

She noticed the way his shoulders tensed. His eyes had narrowed almost imperceptibly as he studied her quietly in return. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?”

"Why do you want to forget that night?"

There was something unnerving about the way he looked at her. One of her hands nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she eyed him. She felt her heart rate pick up slightly—there could only be one reason he was asking this, right?

"Do you not want to forget it?"

She could see the way his cheeks were twitching, the muscles working as if he was weighing his next words. He took a step forward, cautiously scanning his eyes across her face. Staring wasn't quite the word for what he was doing. His eyes rested on her, not unblinking but slowed; yet the effect was soft and inviting instead of harsh or demanding. Perhaps it was his lips that give away his intention, like a ghost of a smile peeking through his features in the stillness of the room.

"What if I want a repeat of it?"

She is nhaled a sharp breath, her heart rate drastically climbing in her chest she could feel her pulse vibrating through her entire body. His unvoiced suggestion hung heavily in the air. She felt that first warm flood of arousal struck her, the blood in her body abruptly shifting south.

A shiver ran down her spine, goosebumps abruptly rising along her forearms. "What are you trying to say?"

His mouth pulled back into a slow smile before she watched him inch forward, carefully closing the distance between them. A moment later he was leaning towards her, reaching his hands out deliberately slow. Her eyes followed their movements, her breathing increasing as his hands found her own. Carefully, he started to pull her, moving extremely slow, as if giving her plenty of time to register what was happening and a chance for her to pull away.

But she didn't, instead, her body followed his direction, letting him tug her across the small gap separating them.

"I grew up in Las Vegas," he suddenly said, hands moving up her arms. "I was a child prodigy in a public school, and believe it or not, I've suffered worse things growing up than in my line of work now."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Last night you didn't know the city I grew up in." A smile stretched across his lip. "And now you do."

The hands on her arms gripped a bit tighter, carefully urging her to move closer. The warmth radiating from his body was already driving her wild. How was it possible for one person to make her feel like she was completely losing her mind?

He was playing with fire, and she was practically a moth to a flame.

Her hands cautiously slid along his shoulders and up the length of his neck. She felt a faint rumble in his throat as her fingertips slid over the skin of it. Her eyes focused on the way he was watching her, eyes fluttering in a haze, mouth slightly parted. Biting her lip, she slipped her hand into his disheveled hair, carefully raking her fingers through the softness of it. He instantly leaned into the touch as she felt the growing need in her rising.

"Is this even allowed?" She breathed out, shuddering at the way the firmness of his vest pressed against her chest. "Fornicating with the witness?"

"It's probably not the wisest thing to do," was his honest reply.

She pulled him closer as she felt his arms settling around her waist. "Yet you still want to break the rules?"

Eyes dropping down to her mouth, his gaze lingered on her luscious lips. Gradually he leaned down towards her, his own lips parting as their breaths mingled in the small space between them. He shifted his forehead against hers, his nose lightly bumping into her own.

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't want to."

And then he closed the gap, caressing his lips just barely against hers, before thrusting himself into her open mouth, an obvious level of hungry desperation in the way he devoured her whole. He'd wanted this—wanted to taste her again ever since she stood unexpectedly in front of him. Sucking the entirety of her bottom lip into his mouth, she let out a moan. That glorious, soft, perfect, bit of flesh fit entirely into his mouth. His tongue danced along the length of it, a deep grunt coming from his throat as she melted further in his arms.

Spencer’s hands grabbed her hard by the hips as he tugged her into his body so tight she could feel his arousal pressing into her. She gasped in surprise, and he took the moment to lunge deeper into her mouth, feverishly in a flurry of tongue and teeth, his mouth only riling her further. The feeling of his tongue colliding against hers sent her into a nose dive of indescribable sensation. The longer the kiss lasted, the hotter she felt, and the warmer her skin got.

She breathed out another moan, fingers carding through the lengthier parts of his hair. The more his mouth moved against hers, the harder it was becoming to hold back. She was pouncing on him, kissing him back with as much fervor, and slightly let out a whimper when he pulled back. His mouth broke from hers, slipping down to place kisses along her jawline. She bit her lip, head tilting back just as he muttered, "Tell me how you want to be touched."

The request had her pulling back, staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

"What you said last night..." He explained, a sudden insecurity weighing in his eyes. "It got to my head."

Mouth opening and closing, she stared at him in stunned silence. Then the realization hit her on what he was implying. "I said that out of the heat of the moment," she assured him. "I was simply mad at you."

Although the way she was trying to avoid his gaze told him otherwise. "I'm a profiler. I can tell if you're lying."

She couldn't stop the amused laugh slipping through her lips. "Look," she started, slightly tugging his hair. "It wasn't that you were bad. But you could've been, I don't know—better, perhaps?"

"You do know how to bruise a man's ego," he muttered, more to himself than to her. He let out a sigh as she stared at him in amusement. "Let me be honest with you, I don't have that much experience with women, but..." he trailed off, pressing a soft kiss at the corner of her lips. "I do want to know how you want to be touched."

She could feel her amusement slipping away as she struggled to wrap her mind around what was happening, breath coming in short, her body filled with a warmth that wasn't just from her growing arousal. "You're being serious, aren't you?"

"Very." His nose intentionally bumped against hers this time, the hand on her lower back somehow holding her tighter to him. “I have three bachelor's degrees and completed three doctorate programs, learning and excelling in new subjects is engraved deep in my blood."

She playfully shoved him. "Show off."

He simply smiled, slightly pulling away. His head turned just a fraction towards her, hands sliding along her hips. “Tell me how I can be better for you.”

She stared at him, completely enthralled with the way his eyes lingered across her face—her eyes, her nose, her mouth. This was dangerous, letting herself fall deeper into this lust, but somehow it felt right. It felt incredibly right to feel his arms around her. It felt perfectly right as she snaked her arms behind her, grabbed onto his hand, and pulled him deeper into her home.

Her mind was too clouded with a desire to think clearly, and even when a little voice at the back of her head reminded her how wrong getting tangled with an authority in this situation was, she simply decided not to listen. Instead, she guided him toward her living room and walked him over to the single-seated sofa before placing her hands on his chest.

Spencer’s brows drew together, a small crease forming between them. She gently pushed him back, the back of his legs hitting the furniture as he settled himself between the soft cushions. He sat there, staring expectantly at her standing before him. Ignoring any self-conscious thoughts, she gripped the bottom of her blouse and swiftly pulled it over her head.

His eyes went wide. “What are you doing?"

A coy smile stretched across her mouth as she undid her pants, noticing the way he is eyes were focused on every little move she made. His question was left unanswered as she slipped off her jeans, kicking them off as they finally slid down her legs. Then she unclasped her bra and his mouth opened, eyes narrowing as his head tilted back, his tongue slowly sweeping along his bottom lip. He instinctively reached out, his calloused pads brushed her bare skin and a shudder ran down her spine before she slipped away from his touch.

He groaned a moment later. “Where are you going?”

She shook her head, still not answering him. She then turned around with her back facing him, and because she found pleasure in the way his eyes glazed every time she teased him, her fingers grabbed the band of her underwear, slowly sliding it down her legs. He let out a strained whimper as the evidence of her slick arousal clung onto the fabric, and it took a lot of self-control for him to stay still.

And when she finally turned around, he took in the sight of her naked form standing before him. She was as beautiful as he remembered, so perfectly made—full breasts, hips, thighs—the body of a woman as a woman was meant to be. But before he could devour her naked flesh with his eyes, she took a step back before sinking herself onto the longer couch, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

There was something compelling being the one in charge, even when she seemed to be the only one naked, wearing nothing but a taunting smile while he sat there still in the confinement of his vest. Good lord—that vest. It was doing things to her. The vest. The hair. That look. The way he was watching her wrecked her and now she was wondering how much longer she could put on a show until he came undone.

"I'm not going to tell you how I want to be touched.” Her sultry voice rang in his ears as she leaned back, her knees falling apart. And when he thought she couldn’t drive him more insane than he already was, her fingers slipped between her legs painfully slow. Goosebumps rose along his skin, a shudder of anticipation running down his body.

“I think I might have to show you."

He let out a strangled sigh.

She was going to be the death of him.

>> NEXT PART

taglist

@tereresrock @casthings @vader-is-hot @maevethelesbian @whereintheworldisspencerreid @reidverseq @niyahwhoreworld @l4venderia @theintrovertedthespian @lovelyxtom @tayzerr-72 @mulbsstuff @dorothleah @stevenknightmarc @prettyboyspenceee @gracesmusings @kalulakunundrum @fearlessmoony @r5court @simp4f1 @thecrazytealady @nyeddleblog @ghostheartbeat @comfortzonequeen @iiheartbowie @louderfortheback @busy-buzzing @alexis-exe2008 @imtherealslimmoony @baeofevery @cowstealer427 @thollandsdarling @ghxst-heart @cashtons-wife @kyuupidwrites @casthings @you-sunshine @comboboo @sebastiansstanswhore

PLEASE READ: If any of you asked me to be added and you’re not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I could see it. But make sure your blog can be searched by anyone or I can’t tag you. Thank you :)

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apsocial · 7 months

Text

Specialty Graphics: Unleashing Creative Potential and its Benefits

In the vast and evolving world of design, specialty graphics has emerged as a unique and powerful way to elevate and distinguish brands. More than just the usual design or printed output, specialty graphics can be thought of as the haute couture of the graphic design world, custom-tailored for individual needs. But what exactly are specialty graphics, and why are they proving to be game-changers for brands and businesses? Let’s dive in.

What are Specialty Graphics?

Specialty graphics, in essence, are custom-designed graphics that are often employed for a specific purpose, event, or platform. Unlike standard graphics that tend to be more general and versatile, specialty graphics are tailored to a particular need. This can range from unique vehicle wraps, textured wall graphics, 3D installations, holographic displays, and even interactive touch points.

Benefits of Specialty Graphics:

Uniqueness and Brand Recognition: Specialty graphics give a brand the opportunity to stand out in a crowded marketplace. By offering unique visual experiences, they not only catch the eye but also make lasting impressions on viewers.

Flexibility in Design: The beauty of specialty graphics lies in its adaptability. Designers aren’t limited by standard formats or mediums. Whether it’s for a pop-up store, a trade show booth, or an art installation, the only limit is creativity.

Increased Engagement: Interactive specialty graphics can significantly increase user engagement. Touchpoints, augmented reality components, or motion-sensitive displays invite users to engage physically and emotionally, thereby strengthening the connection between brand and consumer.

Durability and Longevity: Often, specialty graphics materials are designed for longevity, whether it's weather-resistant vehicle wraps or wall graphics made to withstand the test of time. This provides not just aesthetic appeal but also value for money.

Enhanced User Experience: Beyond just being visually appealing, specialty graphics can enhance the user experience. For instance, tactile graphics can aid the visually impaired, while interactive installations can transform a simple store visit into an immersive experience.

How to Incorporate Specialty Graphics in Your Business Strategy:

1. Understand Your Audience: Before investing in specialty graphics, it’s crucial to understand who your audience is. What appeals to them? What kind of experiences are they looking for?

2. Collaborate with Professionals: Specialty graphics require a certain level of expertise. Collaborating with professionals ensures that the final product is not only beautiful but also functional.

3. Experiment and Innovate: Don’t be afraid to think outside the box. The realm of specialty graphics is expansive. Whether it’s using sustainable materials or incorporating tech-driven components, there’s always room for innovation.

4. Feedback is Golden: Once you’ve incorporated specialty graphics, gather feedback. Understand what works and what doesn’t, and iterate accordingly.

Conclusion:

Specialty graphics are more than just a trend. They represent the future of how brands can communicate and connect with their audiences in meaningful and memorable ways. By recognizing the potential of these custom designs and leveraging their benefits, brands can craft richer, more immersive narratives that resonate deeply with their audience. Whether you're a small business or a global giant, there's a world of opportunity waiting in the realm of specialty graphics. Don't miss out!

#specialty graphics

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leohamatoblog · 1 month

Text

As Your Boyfriend Headcanons:

Leo

• invested in your life but not too invasive?

• massages

• will make sure your homework/work projects are completed and help you stay on task

• snout boops

• isn't a super affectionate guy but he does like to be touching you somehow when you're with the guys

• you have long hair? he will brush it for you no problem at all

• arguments are consisted of him being too overbearing, being inconsiderate of your feelings, or when he doesn't like that you took his brother's side. they don't happen too often (he's trying okay) but it's always a yelling match when it does

• never outright says "sorry" but instead shows he's sorry by doing things for you

• huge actions guy over words of affirmation. you care about him? prove it. he cares about you? he shows it

• will let you sit on his lap while he meditates

• may not seem like it, but he loves dad jokes

• he can't take you out on fancy dates or buy you gifts, so he needs reassurance that it's okay with you...he's very romantic though

• how did that big ass bonsai tree with fairy lights get on the roof of your apartment building on your birthday? you may never know

• classic nicknames like love or honey. when he's really feeling the romance, "hana" (japanese for flower) is known to slip past his lips

• tried to cook for you once...it was definitely cooked and so was your stove.

• prefers being big spoon unless he's sad, then he just wants to be held

• two words: shell. scratches.

• obviously he knows he can't give you children (if you want them), so he's content with the future 25 rescued animals he knows you two will get

• back hugs

• knows when you need to vent and when you want advice. he pays close attention to your moods

• gentleman. holds doors, pulls out your chair, helps you in and out of vehicles, makes sure you're burritoed up if it's cold in the lair, and he will make sure his hands stay where you want them

Raph:

• holds your opinions at a very high place

• he's perfectly content with being your pillow and will pout if you don't use him as such

• who needs a chair when he's got a lap? he will pull you there if he has to

• overprotective to the point where it's sometimes an argument. he trusts you, just not other people. he's a work in progress with this

• knits you blankets and hats, and scarfs and mittens. he knows he can't physically buy you things, so these are his presents. you cherish them deeply

• he will sing to you and even wrote a song for you once. you cried, he cried, it was beautiful

• type to carry you when you're too tired to walk

• cheek kisses are a thing all the time

• hair ruffler and loves to play with your hair

• has no problem rubbing your feet or your back or legs when you're exhausted

• he's made breakfast in bed for you on occasion. pancakes/waffles are his specialty

• verbalizes how he feels but will also show you how he feels. he's just bad at words

• not overly romantic and knows he can't physically take you out, but a candle lit dinner with (your favorite food) is always appreciated

• can't give you kids (if you want them) but is content with it just being you two...you end up getting a lot of cats, it's a whole thing

• will cry in front of you once he warms up enough, so hold him and reassure him

• if you get periods, expect massages and hot packs and princess treatment

• loves holding your hand

• nicknames are usually along the lines of babe, baby, or doll. oh he's really feeling it? sweetheart it is

• type to bear hug you

• loves laying his head on your stomach or lap

• he's very loyal. even if he knows you're in the wrong, he will always have your back. he doesn't care who you piss off, he's gonna piss them off even more on your behalf

Donnie:

• he's a very busy guy but will gladly invite you to do work/schooling while he's tinkering

• will randomly hack in to your computer/phone to send you cool little graphics

• forehead kisses all the time

• since he's so tall, it's hard to give you a proper kiss, so he will gladly pick you up to do so

• you can't force him to get some sleep, but will let you sleep in his lap while he works

• bring him snacks and keep him hydrated, he will melt

• will gladly help you do school work and work projects

• physical affection and words of affirmation are big with him. he won't hesitate to scoop you up and tell you how awesome you are

• known to find a secluded area for you two with a projector and a ton of pirated movies for date night

• has no shame in hugging you/kissing you in front of the guys. he loves showing you off

• arguments consist of him not having a good balance between you and his work. he's always busy and sometimes forgets to spend time with you. it's not intentional, but it's annoying

• nicknames consist of either sweetie or darling. occasionally will call you baby, sometimes star

• kids (if you want them) are biologically impossible but he's fine with that. you do have to get some sort of exotic pet to make up for it though

• dr donnie is known to appear when you're sick or injured...just let him take care of you

• loves puns and dirty jokes. he's known to throw a few at you if he's feeling playful

• can't cook but has all your favorite snacks and foods memorized, will have them delivered to you

• prefers being little spoon

• loves fixing things around your apartment and he's very reliable

• he's always first to apologize after a fight

• will talk to you in different languages just so you can look at him like "wtf" he loves it

• he's very dependable. he will clear his entire schedule if you need help and will always do his best to keep his promises. he tries to put you as one of his highest priorities

Mikey:

• seems immature but is very emotionally intelligent

• he can and will cook for you all the time

• loves to pick you up and spin you around as a greeting

• cuddles, cuddles, and more cuddles

• arguments are very rare but they get pretty explosive. they're usually about him being oblivious or you not being patient. they don't last long though

• nose boops

• pick up lines every single chance he gets

• he pays very close attention to your body language and tone of voice so he knows when to give you space

• loves pda, hand holding, hugs, cuddling, doesn't matter who's around

• isn't able to take you on traditional dates, but he sneaks you in to places he thinks you'll like late at night

• will paint you pictures all the time as gifts

• nicknames all across the board, baby, angelcakes, babe. his favorite one to use is sunshine

• ultimate hypeman. you go shopping? he'll be expecting a fashion show when you get back

• loves to play with your hair and your fingers. he's just fascinated by your anatomy

• kids? he wants but can't have (if you want them) and that makes him sad. he's content with knowing you will let him get the two of you a pet

• tries really hard to do small tasks for you like dishes, etc. when you've had a bad day, but he doesn't execute it well all the time

• apologizes first and will do so over and over again

• really values your opinions and makes sure your voice is heard

• you're sad? c'mon, tell mikey all about it over some cuddles and snacks

• very supportive of all your hobbies and makes sure to ask a lot of questions about them

• praises the ground you walk on every chance he gets

• he loves sleeping on your lap. it makes him feel so safe

• he's very kind. he takes care of you and ensures you feel like the most beloved creature on the planet. there's nothing he wouldn't do for you.

#rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt ask blog #tmnt bayverse #tmnt donatello #tmnt leonardo #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #ask blog #tmnt 2003 #tmnt imagine #tmnt headcanons

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corrodedhawkins · 2 years

Text

Upskirt: Perv!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Based on this inspired by @hauntinghawkins

Content warnings: Graphic smut (minors DNI), language, Perv!Eddie, looking up the readers skirt, being deceptive (Perv!Eddie’s specialty), grinding, blow jobs, cum swallowing, face sitting.

“M’lady”, Eddie bows, unlocking the door to his trailer before holding it open for you.

You giggle as you skip up the steps towards him, ponytail swaying as you move.

His head tilts to one side, eyeing your ass as your skirt flutters up as you pass him.

“Whoops”, Eddie lets out an exaggerated sign as he lets his keys slip from his fingers to hit the ground.

He leans over to grab the keys, giving him the perfect view up your skirt.

This isn’t something new for Eddie. He’s perfected his stance over the last few months so he gets the best view without being too obvious.

You’re wearing black lace panties, in what he suspects is a cheeky cut based on the ample amount of flesh peeking out of the fabric. He’s looked at enough Victoria’s Secret catalogues to recognize them.

These might just be his favorite pair yet, though the dark red pair with the bows on the hips from a few weeks ago is a strong contender.

Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly brave, he’ll even get you to bend over for him.

“Can you grab that for me, babe?”, Eddie will ask as he points at whatever it is he’s let slip from his grasp.

Tonight, he practically throws the lighter from his hand across the room.

He puts his hand on his lower back, making a pained face. “Fucked up my back loading the equipment at the show last night.” A lie, of course. Eddie had stood there and flirted with the bartender as the rest of the band packed everything up.

“Aw”, you coo, bending to pick it up for him, smirking over your shoulder as you catch him staring straight up your skirt.

He gets another eyeful, the lace hugging the curve of your ass so perfectly his mouth practically waters.

“Weren’t the guys helping you?”, you ask as you hand him the lighter.

“Nah, they were trying to flirt with the damn bartender, so. I was on my own loading everything into the van.” He does his best kicked puppy impression, eyes big and sad.

“Oh you poor thing!”, you rest your hand next to his on his lower back. “Do you want me to massage it for you?”

Eddie puts his hand up in protest, “oh no, that’s ok. Don’t worry about me.” He makes sure to wince as he says it, the hand on his lower back kneading his ‘sore’ muscles.

“Don’t be silly, I’m happy to help. Lay down.”

He hides his face in his shoulder and smirks, “you’re too good to me sweetheart.”

Crowding into your space, he gestures for you to come closer. “Here, help me with my shirt first?”

He bites his lip as you help him out of his vest and jacket, your breasts pressing into his chest as you lean up to slip them off of his shoulders.

He stifles a moan when your hand grazes his happy trail as you pull off his t-shirt, the sound turning into a groan of discomfort as he grabs his lower back for show.

Now shirtless, he lays face down on his bed, head pillowed on his forearms.

“Do you have any lotion?”, you ask, eyes scanning over his desk and dresser.

“Bedside table.”

He keeps a huge bottle of lotion next to his bed right alongside a box of Kleenex, you note. Of course he does.

Grabbing the lotion, you dispense a few pumps in your hands before rubbing them together to warm them.

Eddie still jumps at the cold when your hands finally touch his back, dispersing the lotion over his skin before you start to massage.

He knows he’s fucked the second your hands start to move. Instantly hard, he feels his cock kick against the mattress as your hands glide over his back.

Your hands move down his back, “where does it hurt?”

“A little lower”, he directs.

“One sec”, you straddle his ass, your lace covered core grinding into his backside.

You put your hand on his lower back right around where he had been clutching earlier.

“Yeah”, he moans as you dig your fingers into the muscle, grinding your pussy down onto his ass.

He can feel the warmth of your core through his jeans, and he swears you’re wet. His hips grind down into the mattress, cock throbbing against his zipper.

You knead his muscles, hips grinding you down into him with every sweep of your hands.

After a few moment, you decide he’s had enough.

“Turn over”, you swing your leg over his hips to sit on your knees to his side.

“W-what?”, he chokes out.

You pat his leg, “come on. Turn over.”

He huffs out a laugh, brain scrambling to find an excuse as to why he can’t lie face up.

“Eddie.”, you bite out. “Turn. Over.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as he rolls over, jeans tented obscenely. There’s a very obvious wet spot near his zipper.

You smirk, swinging your leg back over his hips to straddle his thighs.

“If I blow you, will you stop looking up my skirt?”

Eddie’s convinced he’s having a stroke. This cannot be happening.

“Yes”, he chokes out. No way in hell, he thinks.

“Great.” You reach for the button on his jeans, undoing it and his zipper before shoving them and his boxers down.

Eddie hisses as the cool air of his room hits his cock, throbbing and practically dripping precum.

You shuffle down to grab the base of his cock, mouth sinking down onto him before he can even register what’s happening.

His hips immediately buck up, tears springing to your eyes as he forces his way into your throat.

Eddie fists the sheets on either side of him, head tipped back as he he lets out a string of low moans.

You can tell he’s close already, his cock already pulsing against your tongue, balls drawn up close to his body.

Grabbing his hips to pin him down as best you can, you swallow, throat contracting around him as he careens over the edge.

Eddie shakes as he cums down your throat, chest heaving as his mouth hangs open in a wordless cry.

Once you’ve swallowed his release, you shimmy out of your panties and straddle him once again. This time, it’s his face.

“My turn”, you murmur, threading your hands into his hair to hold his head still.

When he tips his chin up and pokes out his tongue, you grind yourself down onto him.

Tag list:

@ghastlyentity @sweetpeapod @e0509 @simpingoverfictionalppl @quinnswife86 @munsonquinns @thorfemmes @khaleesibubblegum @manddoublee @mcplestreet @lizziesfirstwife @kellynickelsgirl00 @wroteclassicaly @msmimiandrew @emokid-ellie @stardust-galaxies @escapingthereality @marsbar127xx @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @dickchomper @xcarabear @just-absolutely-feral @hellfirebabes @ely-seum @fireflyislands @anaisweird @suhsouza @stardustmunson @bayouteche @prozacandnicotine @latenitewolves @munsons-bunny @tiannamortis

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #perv!eddie munson x reader #perv!eddie x reader #perv!eddie #perv!eddie munson #melissa writes

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narafeedee · 10 months

Note

Do you think you could talk more about what happened during those five weeks where you gained 50 lbs? I can only imagine that it was a mixture of amazing and annoying to grow so rapidly, but I'd love to hear your thoughts on it!!

sure!

before i start i have to preface with some warnings; this gets pretty detailed and graphic regarding some of the health issues i had at the time. do not read if you are not okay with that please.

i was in a weird spot at the time; my husband had left me a couple months before all of this and i was exploring myself and who i was now that my marriage was over. a large contributing factor to that separation was feedism; my sexual needs just were not met with someone who wasn’t into it.

it started early in the week of Thanksgiving, Tuesday 11/20/18. i met a feeder online four years prior who had gotten me from just above 200lbs to 300lbs slowly but steadily. to this day the best feeder i’ve ever met, sincerely considerate and never once crossed any boundaries.

he came to me with a proposition the weekend prior; gain from 300lb to 350lb by the end of the year and i will fund it.

say less.

that Tuesday was the first time i ever video called with another feedist; it wasn’t the feeder that proposed and funded this challenge, instead it was a guy that pushed me to eat until i threw it all back up because he’s really into emetophilia, i didn’t really know the limits of my stomach so i let him.

however, that evening launched me into the most insane five weeks of my life.

when i woke up Wednesday morning i was somehow starving; despite not keeping anything down the night prior my stomach had still stretched out considerably. that on top of how insanely horny i was at the thought of packing on 50lbs by new years i spent the entire day shoveling in as much food as humanly possible. i didn’t count calories that day, just pushed myself to the absolute limit.

when i woke up Thursday i was impossibly hungry and ready to do it all again. i did the same thing as before, just as much food as humanly possible all day; i distinctly remember dinner being a large pizza, garlic knots, specialty chicken, lava cakes, and a 2 liter of soda from Domino’s.

when i woke up Friday i had a goal; 10,000 calories a day until the ball drops.

and that is exactly what i did.

every morning i would wake up and drink a pint of heavy cream for an easy 1600 calories to start the day right. i would swing by McDonald’s on my way to work and get two McGriddles and a large iced coffee. i’d get to work and have a blender bottle on my desk also full of heavy cream and sometimes condensed milk, i would either drink straight from it or add it to cups of coffee from the break room.

at lunch i would always order with my coworkers to have something delivered… but i would also leave on my lunch break and go back to McDonald’s for 4 McChickens and a large diet coke. then come back to the office and eat the lunch i had ordered with my coworkers.

after work i would swing through another drive thru, often McDonald’s once again. I’d get a couple sandwiches but nothing crazy, just a light snack to hold me over til dinner.

i would order massive feasts for delivery from Domino’s or I’d go back out after dark and order enough food for a family of 4. you guessed it, usually from McDonald’s.

to finish my night, i would drink another pint of heavy cream. totaling 3200 calories of straight fat every single day.

the weight piled on rapidly; new stretchmarks were appearing daily.

this is where i should put a disclaimer. this is all 100% true, every single detail is lived experience. i know it sounds insane. it was. i have literal scars to prove it. one feedist saw me do it live and in person, in the flesh, i believe he follows me on here so if you’re reading this G, please corroborate.

i gained 10lbs a week through the end of the year. i was cumming harder than i ever had before. my entire life was consumed by food and gaining.

i did not have a bed to sleep in at the time; there were some other issues i was dealing with that made it so i had to sleep in a recliner in my living room.

because i was gaining so rapidly and sleeping with my legs below my heart, i developed extremely bad edema. my legs were so swollen they started to weep a clear liquid; i would put on a pair of leggings and they would be soaked from the knee down before i even left the house. my shoes were soaked. i developed ulcers on my shins that just would not heal, the skin almost looked necrotic but they would just weep all day every day with no relief and stick to anything i tried to wear.

mid-December i was bursting out of my clothes. most of the weight i gained went straight to my belly. i went on a little shopping spree at Torrid and had to buy all 5’s and 6’s for the first time.

my mobility suffered at this point as well. i couldn’t do much of anything without getting red-faced and winded within a minute of moving. i had a step tracker at the time and was only walking about 200 steps a day, literally the bare minimum for me to go to work and come home.

i had no time for my body to adjust to the weight so i developed a heavy waddle. my back absolutely killed me.

i swear some days i woke up actually feeling fatter and looking fatter. it was the absolute hottest thing i have ever done and probably ever will do. i started at about 303lbs and landed at 357lb on New Year’s day. my gains didn’t actually slow down til i was in the mid 360s despite my efforts to pump the brakes.

would i do it again? absolutely not. i was in excruciating pain and the ulcers on my legs did not stop for an entire year (after i gained another 50lbs in an 8 week period but we ain’t talking about that [even tho i still have all the content i made from that gain lol])

but if i went back in time i would not change a thing except better leg elevation and compression. i do not regret it for a second; it’s what shaped me as a feedist and i’m grateful i was able to do it, i don’t have pics from when it was really bad but the scars i have today are still evident.

so yeah! that’s the story! sorry it’s super rambling, i sincerely hope it was coherent, now i gotta go clean my toys so i can take care of myself cause lord 🥵 thems some intense memories, my only regret is i deleted 99% of the pics and videos i took at that time.

here’s a couple more pics; one is my cart at the grocery in early December, the other is a screenshot of the weight gain calculator i used from the same week when i realized i didn’t have to eat 10k a day, i could make it happen with 7k a day but the former sounded much better (read: hotter) to me

#narafeedee #naraanswers #i think this is the most detail i’ve ever told anyone lol #fucks sake i am wet

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 3 months

Text

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

wednesday, seok matthew— phys. ed

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.

⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.7k

⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used a couple times) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ wednesday summary: it's hump day... *ahem*. unfortunately you're being forced to play contact sports under the leadership of team captain matthew seok. no matter how many times he's made a fool of you in front of your whole gym class, it never gets old for him. oh shit. uh, (y/n)? you might wanna duck...

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. slight dub-con. small injury/blood warning, no graphic descriptions. bullying. red-pilled, muscle pig soccer player matthew. please rest up for thursday. smut in gn and fem versions are slightly different due to logistics/circumstance. also i KNOW it's called football. chill. we can't all be from a cool country.

⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★★☆(4.0)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: spanking (reader receiving), petting (reader receiving), pussyjob (google it if unfamiliar), slight dub-con but reader's honestly really fast to come around to this one lol, girthy!matthew, bullying/misogynistic.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you stand in a straight line with your other classmates, facing the soccer field and your physical education teacher. eyes glued to your sneakers, you’re completely lost in thought. could anyone blame you after the past couple of days you’d had?

unable to give hao an answer to his question yesterday, he’d simply laughed at you and left you in the orchestra storage closet to redress yourself in shame. you’d thought monday was bad, but tuesday was certainly your lowest point since starting university.

you’d made a vow that evening that something like this would never happen again...

right after you’d gotten off to the memory of it one last time.

your gym teacher, coach yang, blows his whistle to direct the class’s attention towards him. while you’re able to keep your eyes trained on him, your brain is another thing. to be fair, it’s not like you paid much attention during your wednesday afternoon gym class even without such a heavy distraction weighing on you.

signing up for a physical education class had been the last thing you’d planned on doing while at university, but after a small hiccup with class registration left you shut out of all of your best alternatives, you’d had to settle on the last course available: physical education studies— team sports.

though you didn’t mind exercising and even found it fairly enjoyable when on your own and blasting your favorite music, you’d thought you’d be finished with the stress and chaos of team sports when you finished your high school requirements. you understood each sport enough, but could never seem to put that understanding into practical use.

lightly jogging back and forth and pretending to look engaged until class was over had become your signature specialty. except when an object started speeding towards your face.

no matter how many times a gym coach practiced catching a ball with you, the newly implanted knowledge would always just dissipate moments later. when the recreational game would start and a ball came flying at you...

you’d just duck.

“i’ll take ducky,” a voice suddenly calls. your eyes dart to find the source of the dreaded nickname, unsurprised at the culprit they land on. but why had he just called you?

you blink at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “wh-... what?”

“were you paying attention, (y/n)-sshi?” coach yang asks, shaking his head and looking back at his clipboard. “can you explain it again, matthew-sshi?”

“oh, i’d be happy to,” matthew replies with a smirk. “we’re picking teams for soccer drills. wonhee and i are team captains.”

this unfortunately doesn’t answer any of your questions. if matthew was picking teammates of his own free will, why would he call your name?

“and you... want me?” you stumble, shaking your head when you realize how your question sounds. “on—... on your te—?”

“yeah, ducky,” matthew affirms, brow raised in a challenge as he smiles at you. “i do.”

you feel your palms begin to sweat as matthew’s fox eyes stare you down. this had to be connected to jiwoong and hao. you just weren’t sure how yet.

“(y/n)-sshi,” coach yang barks, pointing to the grass next to matthew. “let’s get moving.”

taking a deep breath, you walk over with your head down and stand behind your new team captain. he turns over his shoulder and winks at you.

oh help.

--------

after about an hour or so of various training drills, you’re surprised to find yourself still in one piece. but so far, matthew had treated you like he was treating everyone else on your team: which is to say, not great but... tolerable.

you’d almost let yourself settle into the feeling of just being one of matthew’s undervalued teammates when a harsh blow of a whistle jolts you from your peace.

“listen up,” coach yang calls from the bleachers. “we’ll be moving on to shooting drills now.”

matthew’s eyes find yours, brow piquing as he smirks. “will we need a goalie, coach?”

fuuuuuck no.

“yep, every team should choose a goalie,” coach yang confirms, leaning back even further on the bleacher behind him.

matthew walks toward you, smile growing wider with every step. you shake your head, eyes pleading with him to let you live. because that’s what putting you inside a goal was: attempted murder.

“please, matt,” you whisper, breathing getting shakier as he closes the distance. “please, don’t do this.”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and shakes you happily, announcing to the team, “lucky for us, we’ve got a volunteer right here! thanks for helping out the team, ducky.”

matthew slaps your back, encouraging you to take your place in the goal.

“uh, hyung? should (y/n) really—?” a boy from your calculus class tries to save you, but it’s no use.

“yeah,” matthew interrupts, nostrils flared. “ducky really should. in five seconds or less.”

you dart off down the field toward the goal— which reaching in five seconds would be impossible, mind you— scrambling to make it in time before matthew makes an even bigger fool out of you.

when you finally reach the goal, you turn around and ready yourself for the drill to start. only, unbeknownst to you, the drill has already started.

and a soccer ball is hurtling through the air towards your head at 70 mph.

you duck.

it’s who you are.

the ball flies so fast past you, hitting the back of the net and bouncing to the ground. you sigh in relief after narrowly avoiding a collision. you’re so nervous, you suddenly feel a bit of sweat forming at your temples. you reach up and wipe it with your forearm, bringing it back down to see that the liquid from your forehead is not clear...

it’s red.

“(y/n)-sshi!” coach yang yells, laboredly getting up from his reclined position on the bleachers. “oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

he (lightly) jogs over to where you’re sat in the goal, bending down to examine the injury. holding up a finger, he has you follow it back and forth and up and down until he shrugs.

“pretty sure the ball just grazed your skin,” coach yang deduces, holding out a hand for you and helping you to your feet. “who kicked that ball?”

all eyes dart to matthew. he nudges the grass with his sneaker shamefully. “i’m sorry, coach. she looked ready.”

“which part of her looked ready to you? the back of her head?” coach yang asks, rolling his eyes. maybe he sees more from his perch than he lets on. “take (y/n) to my office and get her fixed up.”

“but—,” you start to protest; the last thing you want is to be alone with matthew after all this.

“now,” coach yang asserts, throwing matthew his key ring. you start to walk back towards the gymnasium, wiping your forehead as it begins to feel damp again.

“yes, coach,” matthew agrees before falling into step beside you. he doesn’t speak, just fidgets with the key ring in his hand until you step through the door to the gym and find coach yang’s office.

he unlocks the door, holding it open for you. you step inside, looking around at all of the different sports equipment and trophies littering your teacher’s office. you jump as the door slams shut behind you and he notices your unintentional display of fear.

“jesus. am i gonna have to change your nickname to jumpy?” matthew snorts at his own joke before walking over to the cabinet beside coach yang’s desk. when he realizes you haven’t followed him, he turns around. “seriously, what’s your problem?”

“what’s—... what’s my problem?” you repeat, blinking back at him unbelievingly. “you kicked a ball at my head on purpose!”

“aw c’mon, ducky,” he says with a cute smile, taking a step towards you. “not like it’s the first time. maybe something else is on your mind?”

your body stiffens, at the taunting look in his eyes. “if you so much as put a hand on me, i’ll—.”

“me? touch you?” matthew interjects incredulously, tongue in his cheek as he grins. “the star of the soccer team has bigger dreams than putting his hands on you.”

the tiniest bit of confidence flickers in you as you think of the perfect reply. “th-thought hanbin was the star of the soccer team...”

“hanbin hyung is NOT—...” matthew starts to rage before seeing your expression. he exhales annoyedly and pats coach yang’s desk, “just shut up and sit down.”

“on—... on the desk?” you ask with frown. “there’s a chair right here.”

“easier to see with you closer to the light,” he answers dismissively, patting the desk again.

you oblige warily, hopping up onto the open space on coach yang’s desk— feet dangling slightly off the ground. the position feels a little too vulnerable and you eagerly await for this all to be over.

“that’s what i hate about you intellectual types,” matthew says, bending down to open the filing cabinet drawer to the right of coach yang’s desk. he pulls out a small first aid kit, lifting the white box onto the desk beside you. “who the hell doesn’t know how to catch a ball? you think you’re so fucking smart, but you have no clue when it comes to the real world.”

as matthew opens the first aid kit and pulls out an alcohol wipe, he tears the packaging open with his teeth— his biceps flexing as he throws the wrapper into the waste bin by your coach’s desk.

“then again, i’ve heard a rumor or two that you might know more than you let on,” he says with a soft smirk, gently dabbing the wipe to your bleeding temple. you flinch slightly at the sting. “i just find it hard to believe, ya know? honestly i’m kind of surprised that you have sexual impulses at all.”

matthew laughs to himself as he pulls out an anti-infection topical, twisting the cap off with his fingers. he lifts a q-tip from the kit and covers one side in the topical serum.

“was convinced that was the case after i tried to bag you last year,” he says, dragging the q-tip across your now-clean cut. “only to find out this week that you apparently do wanna spread your legs. just not for me.”

“you... you what!?” you shout, matthew putting the index finger of his free hand to your lips to keep you quiet. you glare at him until he finally removes it. “didn’t you just say you had more important people to—?”

“and i do. but ducky, think about the story of it all. the nerdy little prude letting the jock make a mess of her for the first time behind the bleachers. scared. helpless... euphoric,” matthew muses far too casually, tossing the q-tip in the trash and pulling out a bandage from the kit. he opens the wrapper, scrunching the paper up and laying it down on the desk next to you. “now that i know you’re... tainted... i’m just not as eager.”

“tainted?” you repeat angrily, shifting a bit on the desk. this is exactly the kind of shit you’d expect from matthew. “you really are nothing but a protein-addicted, misogynistic pig.”

he nods slowly, humming as he places the small, clear bandage on your cut— veiny hands delicately smoothing out the edges. “but you like that, don’t you, ducky?”

“no,” you deny quickly with a frown, head tilting slightly in confusion as matthew’s fingers linger at your temple. “i d-don’t...”

“mm, nice try. but this cute little wet spot right here says otherwise,” he retorts, placing a hand on each of your knees and pulling your legs apart with ease so he can get a better look at your clothed center. “i think you more than like it, actually.”

matthew starts to slide his hands up your thighs, thumbs grazing the insides as your cheeks flush. not again.

“two days in a row and you still want more?” he whispers, squeezing each of your thighs in his palms. “what? hyungs couldn’t satisfy you?”

you find yourself shaking your head involuntarily, matthew’s eyes lighting up with this news.

“can i quote you on that?” he asks with a grin, fingers on his right hand now brushing against your still-covered heat. “jiwoong hyung said you like this.”

he applies a little more pressure and, though you try to steady your breathing, a little whimper escapes as he finds your clit.

“and hao hyung said you like surprises,” matthew says, looking up at you with lidded eyes— the tiny mole above his cheek visible in the fluorescent school light. if you didn’t know any better, you would swear he was about to kiss you. but instead, he takes a step back and folds his arms across his chest. “you’re all fixed. get up.”

luckily, you stop the pout from reaching your lips, sighing as you hop off of coach yang’s desk and onto the tile floor.

“oh, can you grab the bandaid wrapper?” he asks, putting the first aid kit back in the cabinet drawer. you turn around, looking for the paper wrapper and spotting it on the desk.

you bend over slightly to reach it, yelping in pain when a harsh smack suddenly comes down across your ass. you fall slightly onto the top of the desk, chest flush against the wood and short-shorts riding up your thighs.

“were you surprised enough?” matthew teases, hands pushing at the seam of your shorts to expose more of you to him. “cause i’d really like you to let me fuck you now.”

“i’m—... i s-said i wasn’t gonna let something like this happen again,” you reply, shaking your head. couldn’t you just use your brain for once this week?

“aw, ducky. that’s really fucking pathetic,” he coos patronizingly, hooking his fingers around the crotch of your shorts and panties and pushing them to the side. “making me so hard.”

“matthew, i can’t—,” you whimper, resolve fading fast as another sickening smack ripples across your ass cheek. “oh my god.”

you feel something start to rub against your dripping folds; it’s warm, veiny and thick. you hear a low, throaty moan escape the boy behind you, his hands gripping into your hips on either side.

“so fucking wet for me, hm?” matthew rasps and, as you turn your head to catch a glimpse of him, he bites his lip. “bet you’ve thought about this for a long time.”

of course he’s full of himself even now. you don’t care much at this moment though. the first part of his statement is embarrassingly correct: you need him right now. arrogance and all.

you buck your hips back, wanting more friction. though he smacks your ass again in punishment, he can’t hide his hungry panting.

“fuuuck,” he breathes, grinding his length against your slit more passionately. with each rut, the tip of his cock hits your clit— rendering you a moaning mess. “easy. fucking told them it’d be easy.”

your high is steadily approaching as the abuse continues on your swollen clit, ears only filled with lust as you block out his mumbling. “matthew, please. i think... ‘m gonna—.”

“let go for me, little duck,” he coaxes, rhythm starting to falter. “yeah? then i can fuck y—.”

“matthew-sshi!?” coach yang’s voice suddenly bellows through the locked office door. “open this door right NOW!”

“no fucking way,” matthew whines loudly as you scramble off of your teacher’s desk— shifting the crotch of your shorts back into place as he slams a fist down on the filing cabinet next to you. “we weren’t finished! i thought i was gonna be the one to—.”

“one... two...” coach yang starts counting down, causing matthew to run to the door and open it immediately. such a petulant child, you think as you ignore the feeling of your arousal starting to drip down your thigh.

“are you kidding me!? this is the third person i’ve caught you doing this with in here this semester alone, matthew-sshi,” coach yang reprimands as soon as he steps inside, throwing his clipboard down on the floor and removing his baseball cap.

was matthew about to face serious consequences for this? i mean, he did purposely injure you as a ruse to have sex with him... probably.

“but you’re the team’s best centre-back. you’ve gotta support hanbin out there,” coach yang says with a sigh, matthew subtly rolling his eyes at the mention of his superior hyung. “i just can’t bench you for saturday’s game.”

“oh my god,” you whisper, eyes wide at matthew’s ability to evade punishment. it’s not just infuriating: it’s impressive.

“thank you coach,” matthew says, suddenly turning on that cute charm like the gumiho he must truly be. “i won’t let you down.”

“(y/n)-sshi,” coach yang calls, turning to look at you. “you’ll be cleaning soccer balls after every class until the end of the unit.”

“WHAT!?” you screech in shock. you’ve never received so much as a disciplinary warning in your entire academic career. “but—... but—.”

“you can clean the tennis balls next unit too, if you like,” he says, picking up his clipboard from off the ground and replacing his baseball cap onto his head. “and stop with the ducking, will you? i don’t need a lawsuit on my hands.”

you nod, your entire face burning as your coach looks anywhere but at you. you can’t say you blame him.

“c’mon, matthew-sshi. team meeting in fifteen minutes,” he instructs, walking out of his office. matthew starts to follow, but turns around in the doorway.

“meet me after practice, we can—,” he whispers, until a hand latches around the collar of his shirt and pulls him away, leaving you all on your lonesome in the small gymnasium office.

so... wednesday hadn’t gone how you’d hoped. no use crying over spilled milk (or spilled blood). thursday would be a better day.

but maybe purchasing a chastity belt wouldn’t be such a bad idea in the mean time.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

gender neutral version below

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: spanking (reader receiving), heavy petting/stroking (reader receiving), assjob/intergluteal (google it if unfamiliar, it's not anal; no anal penetration), slight dub-con but reader's honestly really fast to come around to this one lol, girthy!matthew, bullying.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you stand in a straight line with your other classmates, facing the soccer field and your gym teacher. eyes glued to your sneakers, you’re completely lost in thought. could anyone blame you after the past couple of days you’d had?

you’d made a vow that evening that something like this would never happen again...

right after you’d gotten off to the memory of it one last time.

lightly jogging back and forth and pretending to look engaged until class was over had become your signature specialty. except when an object started speeding towards your face.

you’d just duck.

“i’ll take ducky,” a voice suddenly calls. your eyes dart to find the source of the dreaded nickname, unsurprised at the culprit they land on. but why had he just called you?

you blink at the muscular boy, brow furrowed in confusion. “wh-... what?”