#well fart on my dick

[miceymoose]

#well fart on my dick #whelp fark on my hic #mm #emmy watches high #send post #oh fuck me mistress #PLEAse #snail #robin #bird #emoji #funny convo #funny conversations #memeable shit #fuck #im high #jus vibing #full disclosure #im not sober #damn i could FUCK UP a freeziepop #AND YES I KNOW #I KNOW THEY'RE NOT PROPER FREEZIEPOPS THEY'RE ITALIAN ICE FUCK OFF ITS A FREEZIEPOP #IM AMURICAN #whose line is it anyway? #whose line #my car is a metaphor #im trying to keep all my high thoughts in the tags of one post #just to see if i can #MY KAAA #ISSA METAFOOOOOOOOOOOOOREE

[personasintro]

Romance Is Not Dead | jjk

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; it’s valentine's day and you're single

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: brother's best friend!jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst (?)

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mentions of sex (it's mentioned quite a lot), reader's brother is kinda dick, alcohol usage, men (that deserves a warning alright), drunk people (it's a party), angst (?) honestly I'm not sure if there's any angst but it's a story with a few realistic topics that are kinda sad if you think about it, it's not your average fluff story lol

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.7k+

a/n: happy valentine's day! mind you this was supposed to be a short drabble like around 2k lol, I had no proper idea of where this will go and somehow I ended up with quite a long story haha. but I'm happy I got more into writing, I wasn't expecting writing this much. if there are any mistakes, please ignore them hehe. I rushed to post it so I could make it on february 14th. I don't know what even is this story but i hope you enjoy it hahah don't forget to like and reblog ♡

“Argh! Who even invented Valentine's Day?”

The groan that leaves your mouth – or more like a loud complaint – rolls around the room, not stopping you from tossing your bag on the kitchen's table to show your annoyance more than actual anger.

“Hello to you too, sis.” Your brother throws a peace sign your way, not particularly fazed by the lack of greeting on your side.

From your peripheral vision you could easily tell they're right there. Your brother and his best friend have been best friends since high school, they go way back and somehow, they've managed to stay super close till now. It's quite admirable, you have to admit. You don't think you've ever seen or heard them fight. Overall, their friendship seems to be more relaxed in this sense than most girls' friendships.

Yes, that mostly happens between guys. They're not as dramatic or bitchy as some girls can be. God. None of your current friends are your friends from high school. You've parted ways eventually.

However, the amount of drama free that's clearly not present in their precious brotherhood is equalized with loud burps, unfiltered talks about girls and sex through male eyes. You would've mentioned farting but luckily, you haven't heard your brother's best friend to be that nasty in front of you. Which can't be said about your brother but well, that's a part of having a sibling – regardless of their gender.

It's quite cliché.

Your brother's older, therefore he's protective yet loves to embarrass you at any chance. He thinks he's all that and sometimes, it feels like he thinks he's your third parent. That's what's more annoying – perhaps even more than overrated Valentine's Day. 

“Did someone decline you on Valentine's Day?”

There he goes again.

Teasing you. It's a never-ending circle. Luckily, you've grown resistant to his pathetic attempts to embarrass you – especially when his friends are present. Yeah, your brother can be a dick and you're not afraid to tell him.

Though, you don't stick to the names and curses and instead turn it into something more powerful. 

Scoffing, you swipe your hair back and give him a look. “Please, look at me.”

“I am, that's why I asked.” 

You waste no time in grabbing one of the stupid empty cans he always has laying around and throw it at him. Did you mention he can be a pig sometimes?

Your aim has gotten way better throughout the years and when he curses at you once it hits the side of his head, you smile happily. His friend chuckles at the two of you, lifting the can that has fallen onto the floor and sets it on the table.

“Yeah, and that's why you chase every man that comes my way.” you comment, knowing well damn you're right. 

He frowns, “Those men can hardly be called men, sis.”

“Well, bro, I wouldn't know since you like to be the pain in my ass.” you smile at him tightly, seeing him looking before he goes back to playing one of his stupid video games. “Not that I have a man to look up to in the first place.”

They've been doing that a lot. Lame. 

His best friend's snort turns into a laughter that he barely gets to hold in. That makes you smile because you see it as a success in getting back at your brother. And perhaps your little crush you've had on him has something to do with it. But we don't talk about it.

Your brother glares at him but he's not affected, not even a bit. It's hard to put it into words or make any definition, but he's always been slightly more… intimidating? He has an aura around him that makes you appreciate even a little reaction from him. 

It's humorous. You've known him for years, merrily just from always seeing him next to your brother (because there were never other opportunities), yet it feels like you barely know anything about him. Even though he used to occupy your living room almost every day. And today doesn't feel much different. The only difference is that none of you live at your parents' house. 

“Who hurt you today?”

“Don't be a dick. I can be a bitch too.” you remind him sweetly, leaning forward against the kitchen counter and grab a grape that lays in a single bowl. Probably the only healthy thing he has in this kitchen. 

He flips you off and frowns once he doesn't win the game. Karma. “Anyway, are you gonna tell us why you came here so annoyed or you're gonna eat?”

“I can do both,” you shrug. “I just don't get the hype about Valentine's Day.”

“Oh, you asked who invented it? Probably a pair of groupies in love.”

You roll your eyes, “I don't think that's it.”

“It's about romance. It's romantic, sis.”

You snort, “And how would you know anything about romance?”

He chuckles cockily as if the next words he says is something to be proud about; “I don't. But the girl I fucked said something about it.”

“Ew!” you gag, stopping yourself from reaching for another grape. “You're gross sometimes.”

“You don't talk about sex with your friends? C'mon, it's normal.”

“Yeah, with my friends. Not in front of you.” you justify. 

“Jesus, we didn't have to hear that.” Your brother scolds you, clearly uncomfortable at the thought of you talking about sex. 

You sometimes make sex jokes in front of him just to mess with him. It's pretty funny and it never gets old. You don't do it often though, but perhaps you should. 

“I hear only you complaining.” you sign out, pointing out the obvious and for the first time since you've arrived, you give proper attention to his best friend. 

He's been awfully quiet. What's there for him to say anyway? You and your brother bicker most of the time, no matter how old you are. He's pretty much used to it by now. He just stuck to playing the game and other than cackling at your previous comment, he's been quiet. You hate that you're slightly annoyed by the lack of attention he gives you. Not that you're an attention seeker or desperate for his attention.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out he sees you as his best friend's little sister. Even though you're not as little as when he first met you. 

“JK is the last person who wants to hear your complaints.”

“Why don't you let JK speak for himself?” you question, a little edge to your tone as your brother huffs out, muttering something under his breath – obviously aimed at you.

“Chill out, you two.” he mutters, voice slightly deeper than you remember it even though the last time you've seen him was last month. It has a little rasp to it and you wish your eyes wouldn't glue to him automatically. 

He lays comfortably on the couch, man spreading with a game controller sitting in his lap while his big thumbs rest comfortably against the buttons. You might've mentioned you are not friends with people from a high school anymore, but you have friends. One who would kill for a moment to spend with your brother's best friend. Just to be in his close proximity.

Though, it's no secret he's not any better than most guys his age – including your own brother. In a weird way, you love your brother (even though you wouldn't probably ever say it out loud because he's a weirdo and he would just make fun of you), but you can easily tell he's not someone you would ever want to end up with. Personality and morally wise, of course. 

He surrounds himself with people with the same values, or the lack of. 

And perhaps, it's one of the reasons why you suddenly got annoyed because of today's day. February 14th. You're the type that simply brushes off any guy who comes your way that you don't have any interest in. There's no need for your brother. He's a dick and he chases the ones that might not be husband material, but they're hot and charming. You're not necessarily looking for a marriage. God. You're too young. You don't want to be the one that gets locked in a marriage with someone they just met. 

Definitely you don't want to get knocked up either. Fuck, they're so many scenarios that run inside your head. Ones you don't want to live in. 

Regardless of your current stance when it comes to your life and relationships, you're still romantic. All of your friends have dates today. Any other day or year, you wouldn't even think of it – but you've seen everything in the shape of a heart today. Not mentioning there's everyone kissing and hugging at every corner of the street. 

And you didn't get a discount on your cake because you were alone with no partner around. Who does that? That's discrimination!

Valentine's Day is overrated. Maybe you think that way because you're single. Have been for too long. And while you don't necessarily miss it, you kind of crave for someone's affection and touch. It's not even about sex. 

“Listen, we're having a party tonight. I wouldn't normally invite you–”

“Wow, thanks.”

He shoots you a glare again before he continues, “But seeing you so miserable, maybe you could come too.”

“Party? Is this another one of your gangbang parties?”

“I have never been a part of that, stop calling my parties that.”

“There are literally hundreds of people who are there to hook up.” you inform him.

He snickers, “That's like every party.”

You lift up your eyebrows, not quite believing him. It's like every party he hosts or is invited to. People his age make parties slightly less wild. Not that he's too old but still. He's acting and living too wild for his age. 

“I'm not hosting it.”

“Who is?”

“JK here.” His brother says, head motioning toward the man next to him. “I'm sure you don't mind that I'm inviting her.”

The said man looks at his brother, shrugging. “I don't.”

“Well?” Your brother looks back at you. “Are you coming?”

“Are you gonna chase everyone that comes my way? Y'know, my friends are all having dates and if I don't wanna spend tonight alone, I would rather have fun.”

“You're allowed to come. And yeah, probably I will.”

“You're a douche. I'm an adult, stop treating me like a child.”

Your brother sighs, already knowing what argument is about to come. It's about the same stuff every time. 

“I'm doing it for your own good. The people that are gonna be there, guys that are gonna be there are like us, sis.”

There's a certain softness behind his voice, though it still stays vigorous as if he's trying to get something through your thick head. You know all of that, though. You know he doesn't hang out with the best people. But they're just dicks. And they're thinking with dicks. But you can take care of yourself. Besides, he's going to be there as well. 

JK, or Jungkook like you refer to him in your head, briefly looks at you. But you spot it and stare at him as his eyes drift to your brother. “You can't protect her forever.”

“That's something an asshole would say.”

“I never said I'm not one. But let her have her fun.”

“You know what? Don't come. I don't want you there.” Your brother stands up and shoots you a glare before he walks away. 

God! He's such a dick!

JK chuckles and you realize you've been frowning this whole time. You hear the door slam close and you scoff. “He's such a child.”

You eye him with no embarrassment whatsoever, tracing all the tattoos he has gotten throughout the years. The white shirt fits his torso perfectly, even though it's oversized his muscles peak through. 

Your friend told you he's at the gym almost every day. It sure looks like that. 

He suddenly stands up and you straighten automatically, watching him make his way toward you but not before tossing the game controller on the couch. He stays on the other side of the table, reaching for one of the grapes while still staring at you. 

God. He's doing something purposely.

For the first time today, your confidence slightly falters but you do your best not to show it. You stare as he pops one of the grapes into his mouth and chews on it. 

“You're still invited. That's if you still wanna come.”

You blink, “But my brother–”

“Is like a child sometimes. You're gonna be fine there.”

Gulping, you mutter; “How are you so sure?”

He doesn't answer but there's a small smirk playing on his lips. “You would still come, wouldn't you? Just to piss him off.”

That causes you to let out a soft chuckle because yes, he's right about that. Your brother needs to understand you're not a child. “I would.”

“Alright, then come.”

You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue and lift your brow, “I will.”

You will go to the party. Even if your brother would burn down the city.

One of the few things you've learned about your brother's best friend – Jungkook – is that he comes from a wealthy family. You know he got his own place in the city center, that alone tells you he's got money. Whether they come from his parents or by his own hard work is unknown to you. Either way, it's quite clear he's always been slightly privileged than most kids your age.

You've never been to his parents' house. There was never a reason for you to go there, plus, you're not your brother and he didn't exactly bring his little sister with him whenever he went somewhere. The only time he would have to spend time with you alone was when he had to babysit you. But you would always stay home and he would let you know how annoyed he is because of that.

A typical teenager who wanted to chase girls and experience his first hook-ups rather than having to babysit his little sister who was born with sharp tongue and big mouth. You're probably his karma for all the hearts he already managed to break. 

Anyway – you know JK's parents' house is settled up the hill, away from the city and in a rich area where all the big houses were built. You've never seen it, hence your first reaction when you spotted a huge gate and a house that looks more like a mixture between mansion rather than a small family house.

Before he parted ways a few hours ago when you last saw him, he gave you the address. Seems like you've arrived just in time. There are many people, outside and inside – everywhere. It looks like the college parties you get to see in movies but more upgraded.

The thing about you is that you would never go to a party alone. Even if two people you know are here. Well, your brother still doesn't know you're here and he's about to get pissed once he sees you. Suddenly, the idea to piss him off doesn't seem so alluring.

But this house – or mansion or whatever this building is called – is the only place that is not filled with heart balloons. They might be couples and strangers that are glued to each other, the romance is simply not present. It's nasty and explicit to a certain extent. 

A part of you is disgusted at how easy some people seem to be, letting themselves to be groped by strangers, but there's something alluring. Perhaps even more than doing this just to prove a point to your brother. 

You don't get a chance to look around the place, since it's crowded and you're trying not to get shoved into, you're looking for a bigger space and maybe something to drink. You make it into the main room it seems. A huge couch in the shape of U looks massive but it fits into the big room perfectly. There are people everywhere and there's not a single space on the couch. However, once you make it closer and spot a tiny space, it's all forgotten and your vision naturally travels to the couple sitting there. 

You would spot those tattoos everywhere.

Jungkook's there. And a woman sitting on his lap as you see them making out explicitly, tongues brushing against each other. Alright, a part of you envies the woman but looking around and seeing more of them staring in slight irritation and jealousy, you're not alone. You scrunch your nose at them not caring and just making out with each other in front of everyone. There's no way they don't know everyone's eyes are on them. The guys ignore them though. It's mostly women.

The one that sits on his lap and seems to be ready to jump his bones, is wearing a tiny top and mini skirt. You can see her panties and you feel embarrassed to witness the tiny piece of underwear. Well, she doesn't seem to care.

His hand is on her waist, gripping it tightly as he pulls away and mutters something into her lips. She giggles, all her attention focused on him. 

Despite knowing him for years, you've never seen him in this element. And maybe that's what your brother didn't want you to see. Not even Jungkook but everyone here. You've witnessed a few parties, but this one is completely on another level. It looks straight out of a movie and perhaps completely out of your comfort zone. 

But you don't leave. You stick in your spot and just stare at your brother's best friend flaunting his charm all around him, but mostly aimed at the woman on his lap. 

Since your brother that eventually came out of the bathroom told you to get out, you've decided to come after all and give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe not exactly the same but that's why you chose one of your tight dresses. They're not special. Just a dress that almost every woman owns. But this one has thin straps and you don't get to wear a bra in it, that's how tight it is. It's the only clothing you're wearing, minus the panties of course. 

You look good. You know you do and that's why you chose this outfit particularly. You thought the heels are perhaps too much, but luckily you opted for them instead of your sneakers. Everyone seems to be dressed like they're in a club. Not even one outfit on a woman here looks completely comfortable. And they show more skin when they wear clothing. Not that you're judging. You're not the one to talk.

And you know this choice of clothing is not only a magnet for eyes, but for unwanted touches you were counting on eventually. It's sad but it's the truth. That's why you never come alone to these things. You always have your friends with you. You would kick asses for each other and overall, you feel more protected and safe. 

The hand that slaps your ass – that definitely looks good in this dress – causes you to turn and twist your face in anger. You spot a wasted man that smiles stupidly as if he did something cute. You shove him in the chest causing him to stumble into a few people who start to curse at him and complain.

“Touch me one more time and I will fucking kick your ass.” you spit at him. 

Your ass might look good but that's not an open invitation for strangers or anyone to touch you unwillingly. 

He gains his balance and his drunk features twist into anger. You see it. He's angry because you're not all over his dick because he touched you. First of all, he's not even hot. And he's wasted out of his mind. There's nothing hot about it. 

He doesn't make it too close because you push him again, causing him to fall this time.

“You bitch!” he yells, having a trouble to stand up and you cover your mouth to shield the giggle that makes it out. 

One of the guys that he stumbled into turns around, ready to curse. But as your eyes lock, all the amusement fades away and your eyes widen in a sudden fear. Shit.

It takes a moment for your brother to register that it's you – perhaps the exposed skin causes him to widen his eyes too before they twist into anger.

“What the fuck.”

“I was invited.” you automatically argue, yelping once he makes his way toward you and grabs you by your forearm. He kicks the bastard that still tries to stand up and starts leading you elsewhere. No, he's not leading you but dragging you with him.

It's not the initial reaction you had in mind. You wanted to smirk, to show him that you're here and there's nothing you can do about it. But that's out of the picture because in the end, you're just a little girl that maybe loves to piss off her brother, but once you truly piss him off you back away.

That realization causes your anger to come back and you dig your heels into the wooden floor, trying to get out of his hold. “Stop squeezing me like that!”

“Would you like to be squeezed by strangers?!” He yells over the music, both of you stopping next to a staircase.

It already happened, you wanted to say but decide to stay quiet.

He couldn't see what the stranger did to you. He only saw the man falling and stumbling into him. So the fact that he's this pissed off to see you here without even seeing what happened just minutes ago, makes you think he needs a psychiatrist. What would he do if he saw what happened?

“Maybe I want that!” you yell at him. “And there's nothing you can do about it!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to calm down. “What are you doing here.”

“I told you. I was invited.”

“I uninvited you.”

You scoff, “It's not your party, you moron.”

“JK invited you?”

“Yeah.” you shrug just to piss him off some more.

He stares at you for a moment, glaring but you glare back before he shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “Fine. But you're not leaving my side.”

You scoff but he grabs your shoulders tightly. 

“I mean it.”

“Stop touching me.” You slap his hands away, his touch fading away as you're about to open your mouth to curse at him some more.

Before you can do it, someone nudges him from the left side. Your brother is about to pounce but once he sees his best friend in the flesh, he stays down but not before he's reminded of what you told him. 

“What are you doing.” He questions your brother but he just scoffs in return.

“You invited her?”

Jungkook rolls his lip piercing as he shrugs, “I did.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Me? You invited her first if I recall.” 

Your brother stares at his friend in disbelief before he glances at you. You shrug, lifting your brown. 

“You two are fucking unbelievable.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, probably thinking your brother is just dramatic. Which he is. While they're too busy arguing, you don't pay attention to anything that's being said. You shamelessly eye Jungkook, spotting how blurry his lips are from the make out session you witnessed a while ago. He's got a similar outfit like you've seen him during the day. The only difference is that he's wearing all black. 

“Listen you two, I will stay out of your sight, okay?”

“No fucking way!” Your brother argues while Jungkook sighs in exhaustion. 

“I'm just gonna have a few drinks and meet new people.”

“These people are not for you to meet or be friends with.”

“Who said anything about being friends?” you mutter, causing your brother to curse at you once more.

“No–” He stops you before you can interrupt him, “You invited her, so you will look after her.”

“Me?” JK frowns, disliking the idea. While you would be slightly offended by the lack of interest when it comes to you, you're also irritated that your brother here is acting the same. Only this time he's giving the responsibility to Jungkook. 

“Yes, you! You invited her, so you'll watch over her tonight. If anything happens to her, I will personally kill you,” 

God. He's so full of himself. If Jungkook wanted, he could knock him out with one punch. But you don't say it to hurt his male ego and boost Jungkook's one. It seems they're full of ego. 

“And I'm not joking.”

He brushes past you two and leaves angrily. To probably shove his tongue down to any first girl he sees. 

And from the looks of it Jungkook looks like he would rather much do the same. But then he looks at you, reminded of his current responsibility. You. 

“Listen–you don't have to look after me–I can handle my–”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

He stares you down, not in the creepy way to stare at your body but almost looking for anything that could give him answers to his question.

“I've seen what happened.”

“You've seen it?” you breathe out, “I'm fine.”

“You sure?”

“I handled it.” you grit through your teeth.

“You did,” he agrees much to your surprise. “Or maybe you were just lucky.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” You trash with your hands, but he catches your wrist. Gently. But he has his hold on you and your breath catches in your throat. He pulls you closer.

“What if it was someone who wouldn't be so wasted? Hm?”

You gulp, glancing at his lips for a split second before you find his dark eyes on yours. “It happened with people around us. Someone would step in.”

He scoffs, “Don't count on it too much.”

“They would–”

“Some of them. Not all of them,” he informs you. 

You're reminded that he knows these parties. He knows how it's going. And while no one would mess with him personally, it doesn't mean everyone is as safe as him. Let alone any women. That much you've realized and you haven't even been here for a half an hour. 

“What if he waited until you're drunk to take you somewhere else?”

You breathe out shakily, “Stop.”

“What if he dragged you upstairs? And that's just the start of what he might've done.”

“Fucking stop.” you warn him with your eyes but he doesn't budge. 

He tames you like you're a fucking dog.

“Your brother's right. You're staying with me.”

“And staring at you making out all night?”

You shut your mouth as soon as your response gets out. Jungkook tilts his head tiniest bit to the side and the corner of his mouth lifts up. “You were watching.”

“It was hard not to. Everyone was watching.”

“That's not an excuse.”

You inch closer, licking your lips. “It wasn't supposed to be.”

He stares at your lips before his touch disappears and so its warmth does. “You're not leaving my side.”

You scoff but he glares at you which surprisingly shuts you up. 

“I can give you alcohol, you can have fun. But you're not leaving my side.”

“You're worse than my brother.” That's a stretch and you both know it, but you've never seen Jungkook acting like this. He never really cared. He never had to in the first place. That's what your brother was for. 

He inches closer, hovering over you like only his presence can. “I can be worse.”

And somehow, that sounds like a promise. Once he motions for you to follow him, you do like a lost poppy with gritted teeth and anger bubbling inside you. But you don't disobey. Perhaps it's the shock or the weird feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes you buzz with excitement. 

Fuck. 

It's not hard not to have a crush on someone like Jungkook. He's hot, he's confident but not in the way where he's full of himself. He has every reason to be confident.

And just like he promised, he has managed to give you drinks that surprisingly taste good. They're not too strong and something tells you he purposely picked those out for you. You don't complain. They don't cause you to make grimaces at every gulp and you can feel yourself relax. In the corner your brother watches you with glare, reminding you of something that should feel like punishment. 

Perhaps it does.

Jungkook has you seated next to him, back on the couch. The woman he made out with sits on the opposite side, sending daggers next to you. You roll your eyes very publicly, scoffing and making sure she sees you. 

“JK, can we go somewhere else?” You hear her annoying sweet voice, while Jungkook himself looks slightly irritated that he has you on his watch. “Upstairs?” she suggests.

“Sorry, love, can't.”

She huffs out, “Why? Because you're babysitting?”

You move sideways to face her, leaning through Jungkook as you glare at her. “Maybe he just doesn't want your tongue shoved in his mouth.”

Jungkook sighs, lifting his hand to your collarbones to move you back but you don't budge. 

“Oh yeah? He wants more than that.” she informs you. 

“God, you're so desperate.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Behave.” Jungkook warns you, pushing slightly harder and finally, you plop back onto your spot and fume with arms crossed. 

“Tell your bitch to behave.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook warns through his teeth. You stop, realizing that this is the first time he said your name. Still fuming, you give him a glare before standing up.

“What did you just call me?”

“Come on.” Jungkook stands up too before you can make things worse and he's going to be caught up in a girls fight. This is not the night he planned.

He doesn't drag you like your brother did. He still rests his hand against your back and leads you in a direction. You don't protest. You want to but anything's better than being in the blonde's presence one more second. 

When you realize you're standing next to your brother who's leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a knowing and quite pleased smirk. 

“Dude. That's enough.”

“Are you having any issue with my sis, JK?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “You made your point.”

“No, I don't think I have.”

“You two are annoying.” he sighs, closing his eyes.

“Excuse me? What have I done?” you exclaim, hand on your chest as he gives you a knowing look that shuts you up.

It's more than clear. Jungkook has brought you to your brother, so he could deal with you rather than he has to. It bruises your ego, but only slightly because you don't let any guy do any permanent damage. But you have to be honest. It's slightly embarrassing how he wants to shake you off. Clearly his plans for tonight have been different and watching the blondie still waiting for him patiently makes your night even worse, knowing what exactly he had planned. 

“You made me a huge cockblocker, bro.” you interrupt their bickering. It feels refreshing not to be the one bickering with your brother. 

Which reminds you that for the first time, you actually see them in some sort of argument even though it's not exactly a fight. Your brother as always is a pain in the ass and Jungkook's now experiencing it. You don't understand why Jungkook just doesn't let you go? Why did he insist on having you by his side at all times? 

Most likely, he doesn't want to piss off your brother.

Jungkook throws you yet another glare, but you brush him off pretty easily. “It's not about that.”

You give him a look which makes him groan.

“It's not just about that.”

And then they continue again. Your brother complains about your presence here, blames Jungkook rather than your own decision to come. He knows you. He knows you've done it to mess with him and it worked. But he expected better from Jungkook. 

You don't want to hear any second of it any longer. You don't wait for Jungkook's response, not even when you see his frown deepen and you know he's getting angrier by every word your brother spits in his face.

Using the tiny chance where they don't pay you any attention, you distance yourself from them. When you're in a safe distance and are not stopped by one of them, you make a run for it. Grabbing a wine bottle from someone's hold, ignoring them complaining, you make it upstairs and try to find a place where you can be alone. Before they find you.

You know once they notice you're not there, they'll be looking for you. Well, your brother will for sure. Even though he can be a dick, he's worried. But let him. That's what he gets for not letting you enjoy tonight. 

Passing by people who either mingle or make out, you try a few doors that are locked. Wise decision. Another reason why Jungkook seems to know how these parties go. It seems almost impossible to find a place where no one is. 

Just when you become tired and desperate, you make it to the quieter part of the house. It's weird because there are people everywhere. It's impossible to find somewhere quiet and empty. 

Luckily for you, you end up in a room that seems to be some sort of office. It's medium sized, definitely not one of the biggest rooms in this massive house, but still bigger than your kitchen and room together. 

It seems Jungkook has forgotten to lock this room. There's nothing special about it though. But he definitely doesn't want anyone to have sex on the wooden desk you pass by. There are a few shelves with books and a lamp, but other than that it's pretty empty. Oh, and there's a small couch. It looks expensive but it seems like they've brought it here just to put it somewhere. Not that it doesn't fit in here.

But it definitely doesn't look as expensive as the furniture you've managed to see in your short stay here. What has it been? Two hours? Two awful hours and no fun. 

Making it onto a small balcony, you sigh in relief when you find it open. It's facing the back of the house and your mouth drops when you see a fountain, pool and a garden in the distance. He's filthy rich. His parents are.

Sitting on the cold ground, you take a sip of the wine. Your features scrunch in disgust but you force yourself to drink. It's more from the whole annoyance and anger you've been feeling ever since you came here.

Maybe they were right.

This place is not for you.

You have no idea how long you end up sitting there. 

You just stare, hearing the blasting music in the distance and the chatter of people. You wonder if any neighbor called the police on him. But they're in the distance, probably they don't hear it as much.

There's a forest around you. There are no cars, no barking and no city noise. You wonder how this place feels like when there's no party. It must be calm and relaxing.

“Here you are.”

You hear it as soon as the balcony door slides open, ignoring the hint of annoyance in his voice as you take another gulp.

“You can't disappear like that!”

You chuckle, “Really? Watch me.”

“Your brother went crazy when you disappeared.”

“Sounds like a him problem.” you shrug.

“Are you drunk?”

You give him a look, a lazy smile making it onto your face.

“Where did you get that?”

“You know this is the most you've spoken to me since I've known you.” you take a note out loud.

He ignores you though. “You're gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a me problem, no?”

“God, you're such a brat,” he groans, “And get off the ground, you're gonna get sick.”

Snorting, you shake your head. “You're acting just like my brother.”

“You're irresponsible.”

That causes you to get a whiplash from how fast you glare at him. “I am not. Y'all act as if I can't do things on my own. Not only does my brother try to control me and watch over my shoulder every goddamn minute, you started doing it too!”

“He's worried about you.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, “Go back to blondie and leave me alone. Or snitch to my brother about my whereabouts, I'm sure he will get me out of here.”

He stays though. He doesn't move and doesn't speak for a moment. Instead, he sighs and sits next to you. 

“I wanted you to have fun.”

“Well, that didn't work, did it?”

“Look at you,” he chuckles, nudging lightly on your shoulder. “You seem to have fun on your own.”

“Yeah, spending Valentine's Day alone on the balcony of my brother's best friend is just so much fun.”

He laughs. He actually laughs and gives you an approving nod once he realizes you're right. “You're not alone anymore.”

You give him a look but before he can elaborate, he motions toward the bottle in your hand with his head. 

“Give me that.”

“No, this is the only fun I have.”

“C'mon, I will drink with you.”

Your surprise comes out before you give him a suspicious look. “You will?”

“Yeah.” he agrees and takes the bottle you hesitantly give him.

He takes a small sip, not a few gulps as you expect him to. “Is that all you got?”

“For tonight, yeah.”

“Why?” you question.

“I will take you home.”

You scoff, but then he continues. 

“After you decide you wanna go home.”

“Really?” Your surprise makes it out again. “You're not gonna kick me out?”

“I would never kick you out.” 

You make a face, “But my brother–”

“Your brother can be a dick sometimes.”

“Woah.”

“Don't act like you don't know it.”

“I do, but I'm just surprised you're the one saying it.”

He sets the bottle on the other side of him. It doesn't go unnoticed by you but you decide not to fight with him, especially once you feel the alcohol doing its job. 

“Well, I've seen it from his side and I gotta be honest, he's protective. Sometimes overly but he's not doing it because he hates you, y'know?”

“I know he doesn't hate me,” you inform him. “It's just annoying sometimes.”

“But now I've seen more of your side and he should just let you live.”

You nod in appreciation with lips pursed, “Wow, thank you.”

He smiles, “You still do a lot of stuff just to get back at him. You're not making it any easier, huh?”

You laugh, “It's my rebellion.” 

You sit there for a moment in complete silence. Jungkook stands up and leaves. You act as if you're not disappointed but before you can reach for the bottle that Jungkook has left here, the door slides open again and Jungkook wraps a blanket around you. 

“Don't look so surprised.”

“Wow, JK does something nice for a girl?”

“I can do a lot of nice things.”

“Is there a double-meaning or?” you trail off, causing him to laugh as he shakes his head.

“Not like that.”

Yeah, because you're his brother's best friend.

Not that you would ever want something with him. Only in your most secretive dreams but that's beside the point. Jungkook is not boyfriend material. You've seen it today more than ever. But you can't deny that he attracts you in the weirdest way possible. You have never experienced that with anyone. 

He's your type. When it comes to looks. And you're slightly ashamed to admit that some of his behavior attracts you. Basically, it's a red flag but what do they say? I'm color blind?

“How are you not freezing?”

It's February and you're sitting on a balcony. 

“I'm drunk.”

God, you're going to end up sick. Even your drunk self scolds you. 

“You wanna go home?”

“Not yet.”

He nods, not protesting as you both stare ahead. Your thoughts run wild, even in their slow pace because of alcohol flowing in your system.

“I was so annoyed because today's Valentine's Day,” you start, chuckling at yourself. “At first I thought I was just annoyed because everyone's in love and everything about today is about love. I do think it's overrated though.”

“I don't know, I never cared about it to be honest.”

You laugh, “Did you make today's party for all anti-romanticists?”

“No, I would've done it either way.” he chuckles. 

“Did you ever make something romantic for Valentine's Day?”

He makes a face, frowning but silently laughing amusingly at the thought of it. “No.”

“You know what? I think I was more annoyed that secretly maybe I crave for something romantic. Not necessarily a relationship.”

“Or maybe you just feel the pressure of today's ridiculous holiday and people around you.”

You snort, “You're just saying that because you're not in love.”

“Love's not for me. Not that kind at least.”

“And what kind?”

“I loved our family dog.”

You laugh, “That's different. I'm not talking about that.”

“I know you don't. Just sayin', love has all forms.” 

You hum, sighing before you start shivering. 

“Come on, let's go inside. You're freezing.”

“But–”

“We don't have to go home.”

“Or maybe I should. I'm getting tired. And I think I'm gonna throw up.”

“You were mixing hard liquor with wine. You will.” he agrees and once you nudge him, he laughs at you. “C'mon, you little brat. It's time to go home.”

As he makes sure you don't fall on the stairs, giving you the support you almost stumble when your brother makes his way toward you, breathless and relieved once he sees you.

“Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking for you everywhere. We've been looking for you! Why do you have the blanket?”

“Found her on the balcony.”

“What were you doing there?!” He screeches.

“Don't worry, I wasn't going to jump. But if I'm gonna have to keep up with your annoying ass for one more second, maybe I will.”

“You're drunk.” He scoffs.

“And honest.” you add.

“And where are you going?”

“I'm gonna take her home.” Jungkook answers, helping you with the last step as your brother stares with mouth wide open. 

“Like the hell you will! You were drinking.”

“I wasn't,” he responds. “Not since I was with her anyway.”

“Doesn't mean you don't have alcohol in you.”

“I don't. I'm fine.”

You didn't even realize he wasn't drinking anymore. God. You really can be a pain in the ass too. But that's your brother's doing though. He should've never ordered Jungkook to look after you. 

“You're the one who reeks of alcohol,” Jungkook informs him calmly, “Or you want someone else to take her?”

He shakes his head, still hesitant. He walks closer to you and wraps the blanket tighter around your form. “Are you gonna be fine?”

“Yeah, I trust Jungkook. Don't you?”

“I do.” He doesn't hesitate. 

He gives one final nod to Jungkook as he leads you out of the house. As you're walking out of it, you spot blondie with a group of what seems like her friends, glaring the shit out of you. You stick out your tongue when Jungkook's busy opening the door for you. The look on your face causes you to smirk.

Jungkook gets you inside his flashy car and you're kinda doomed that you're too drunk to look around and appreciate the expensive type of vehicle. You're drifting in and out of your consciousness. But you notice Jungkook stopping in front of a convenience store, informing you he'll be right back. And he is. It seems like he's been gone for a minute because you close your eyes, open them and he's already there.

The drive and walk to your home is quick. You get to walk on your own, much to your embarrassment there are no accidents of stumbling or falling. As soon as you make it past your doormat, you make it inside your bathroom and throw up in the sink. It's embarrassing once you hear Jungkook behind you, helping you with your hair. He doesn't say anything, just letting you throw up everything that's currently in your stomach. 

“I should take a shower.”

“Fuck that. Go lay down. I will lock the door.”

“Lock?”

“Your brother gave me his spare keys.”

“Oh.”

After a few minutes of bickering, you still insist on taking a shower. Jungkook sighs and lets you do your own thing, patiently waiting in the living room. Once you make it out in your pajamas that consist of your brother's huge t-shirt, you find him scrolling through his phone. 

“You gonna be fine?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You're seconds from passing out. You might've stumbled in the bath a few times but you hope he didn't hear that. 

You drag your feet to your bedroom and fall onto bed. You'll cover yourself later. As soon as you lay down, you ignore your spinning head and the disgusting taste of vomit that is still present, even though you've brushed and rinsed your teeth even in your drunken state.

The night is wild.

You throw up a few times, finding a prepared bucket beside your bed but unfortunately, you don't make it into it the first time. Once you wake up with a messy and aching head, you notice vomits on your floor and you cringe at yourself. Disgusting. 

You wake up around twelve, finally in a better state to leave your eyes open without having to vomit everywhere. You're about to reach for your phone, knowing you're going to have at least a dozen messages from your brother. But you stop yourself as you stare at things that weren't on your nightstand before.

There's a glass of water. A box of painkillers and a chocolate bar wrapped in a package filled with pink and red hearts. 

There's a note stuck to it. 

'Happy Valentine's Day, JK'

You stare, reading the note over and over again. 

And they say romance is dead.

#jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #personasintro

[wroteclassicaly]

She’s Trouble

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

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

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Word count: 16,185

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

“Fucking fake losers,” Jeff mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

~*~

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

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

Maybe I’ll get lost…

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

Skull Rock it is.

~*~

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

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

~*~

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

That leaves one place. Skull Rock.

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

~*~

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

I dare you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you murmur, “it’s what I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

The freak got dumped

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

~*~

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

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

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

Good.

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

“A week long bender,” Jeff chimes in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck it.

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

Coward.

“It’s okay, guys.” Is what you say.

“What’s going on?” Gareth asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

Great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

You chortle, a humorless boom smacking across your chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because, I… Eddie, I—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

Want.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, shit. Dammit, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only for you, Eddie. Always you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yet… Fuck me running.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eds, harder. Please? Almost…”

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

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

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

Love… You don’t have to think twice.

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit and fuck me…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

#kristenwrites #eddie munson #my work #my writing #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things 4 fanfiction #stranger things 4 fic #stranger things smut

[neuvistar]

LUST WITHIN.

— featuring ┊jing yuan, dan heng, gepard x f!reader (all separate)

— warnings / content warnings ┊cw: pregnancy sex, mentions of pregnancy, not proofread, they’re so gentle w u foreals! somewhat!, slight titsucking oop, dirty talk, slight slightttt vaginal fingering, u were just feeling a lil horny guys dw abt it, use of nicknames, overall suggestive content | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

— a/n ┊hihi! i had like a few brain farts n i was working on like 3 fics at the same time that wasn’t a good idea but well i was half asleep while writing this so it’s kinda messy + i still have a lot of drafts so some requests might come in late whoopsies pls b patient

✦ JING YUAN

“i’m gonna get you pregnant, sweetheart.”

you stared at him in disbelief, eyes travelling down to your huge belly and then back to his gaze, tilting your head. “.. but i’m already—“

“twins, angel. i’ll give you twins.”

jing yuan tried his hardest to hold himself back, he loved just how sensitive you were.. squirming underneath him as you flinched at the most slightest touch from him, the tips of his fingers running up your back as you felt your legs shake every slam of his hips. you gasped at the feeling of his thrusts gently rubbing against your walls, careful not to hurt you or cause any discomfort. you were desperate for him, he knew that. jing yuan kept your knees pinned on the mattress licking his lips at the sight of his cum seeping out of your drenched cunt, savouring in the feeling of your insides pulsing around him. a white ring was glazed around his cock, not wasting any time to interest two fingers inside.

“yeah.. you like it when i fuck you like this, angel? look at you.. you’re creamin’ all over my cock sweetheart..” he was absolutely drenched in sweat, his bangs sticking to his face as he pushed your hair away from your face. “let me see you, dove. let me see just how well i fuck you.” your pussy throbbed at his words, choked moans leaving your throat as you could almost feel every inch of his dick inside of you. he was so careful with you.. the tip of his cock kissing your cervix at every thrust he gave you, deep and loving. jing yuan brought a hand to your belly, gently smoothing the fabric over it as his thumb drifted over your belly button. “m’ gonna give you another, dove. this pretty pussy is too good for me to waste just like that, right?”

he grunted as your cunt clenched around him again, feeling your warmness around him. he absolutely lost it, groaning once more before picking up the speed of his thrusts, bringing his large hand to squeeze your throat, the other finding itself on your waist. “fuck.. good, good girl. such a good girl baby.. takin’ my cock so well.” his touch.. drove you absolutely crazy. you were pregnant, you were a lot more sensitive than usual and that didn’t make it any better.. your mouth hung open in pleasure, you were losing your mind over how much pleasure your dearest husband was giving you. at this point, he might ruin you instead of giving you another baby.

✦ DAN HENG

honestly dan heng refused to the idea at first, not because he didn’t want to but instead he didn’t want to cause you any discomfort, he didn’t want to hurt you. but how could he say no to you when you’re tugging at his clothes like that, eyes filled with lust begging for him to fuck you.. cute little nipples poking out of your shirt as they rubbed against his arm. fuck. he really couldn’t say no to you. dan heng rammed his hips against yours, what were you doing to him? he was getting desperate, desperate at the thought of filling you up once more. once you clenched around him for the first time, he almost came immediately. he really can’t restrain himself whenever he’s with you, determined to fill you up with his load until he was absolutely sure you would bear another child.

your entire body throbbed with the immense heat and lust, each whimper that left your lips were like music to his ears, he wanted more. he wanted to hear you cry out his name. a low breathy sigh erupted from his throat, his lips now on your neck, kissing and nibbling roughly as his kisses on your neck were filled with lust and heat you hadn’t felt in so long. you inhaled sharply, running your fingers through his hair, tugging at it gently. you arched your back slightly at how deep he was inside your cunt, stretching you out more than he should. “d—dan heng.. s’ good..” you were nearing your orgasm, yanking his hair more roughly now. he caressed your stomach ever so gently with his palm, a string of saliva following his lips, connected from your neck marking you just where he wanted.

his fingers sink onto the flesh of your hips, kissing the shell of your ear as he came, his cum painting your cunt white. the overwhelming pleasure was flowing through every part of your body, but you still.. wanted more than you got. dan heng watches your his cum leave your pussy, curling his fingers inside your cunt as he still kept himself inside you, thrusting his hips against yours again as an attempt to shove his load back inside. he couldn’t help but chuckle. “sorry, it was about to make a huge mess. can’t be having that now, can we?”

✦ GEPARD

gepard had his hands on your overstimulated breasts, his mouth watering at the sight of it. he prayed to every star in the sky, thanking every single one, thanking them for letting him marry such a beautiful woman like you. just look at you, all laid out on the bed with your huge belly there for him to see.. wet cunt displayed for him as well, his cum making a huge mess on the mattress. gepard sucked on your sensitive nipples, the warmth of his mouth had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, cumming yourself as it added to the mess on the mattress. he knew how to make you feel good, he knew just how to pinpoint your weak spots. he sucked and lapped at your nipple, then did the same to the other. he brought his hand down to fuck you with his fingers, plunging his digits into your drooling wet cunt as he curled it almost immediately, thrusting into the sweetest spots inside. “you’re incredible princess,” he mumbled against your skin, licking his lips. “you’ll have me wrapped around your finger at this rate.”

that was all that left his mouth before giving your lips a quick peck as he grabbed your hips, pounding into you until the tip reached and brushed against your deepest areas, a red hue on his cheeks as his hands spreads the fat of your ass, throwing his head back at how good you felt. you felt as if you were already so so full, his huge cock brushed against the sweetest areas as gepard fucks you deep, deep as ever. the blonde could feel just how tight your walls clenched around him each gentle pound, gripping your hips and angled your body a certain angle. your nails scratched against his back. the bed creaked as he hissed, teeth clenched as a few swear words slipped from his lips. he intertwined his fingers with yours, his panting increasing as his chest heaved up and down burying his face in your shoulder, a loud yet cute moan leaving his lips. “you feel so good princess.. mm.. you want another baby? i’ll.. i’ll give you one. i’m sure of it..—“

oh yeah. gepard is most definitely gonna give you another baby.

#ᖭི༏ᖫྀ maryse’s diary ૮꒰˶˃̵ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა #gepard <33 #dan heng <33 #jing yuan <33 #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #hsr imagines #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan #dan heng x reader #gepard smut #dan heng smut #hsr dan heng #jing yuan smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x you #dan heng x you #gepard x you #hsr gepard

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#392

“Well Lucas, I had pretty much given up on you.  But here you are.  And for some reason, you are in my home wearing clothing.  This is not the way to beg me to allow you to service and serve me once again….  That’s better.  You will need to be disciplined for that.  Remind me before you leave to punish you properly….

“I see the envelope.  Hand it to me. 

“What the fuck are you doing.  Get back there and crawl to me.  It may have been only a few months since I dismissed you, I can’t believe you are forgetting the basics.  Don’t make me regret offering you a second chance.

“Atta boy.  I was surprised when I got the call from Dyson at his leather shop telling me that you were in and wanted to be fitted for that cock cage.  Get back on your knees and present your pecker to me….  Eyes down.

“Dyson did a good job.  Most cages aren’t fit well.  Faggots can easily pull their shaft out and give it a tug.  This one is nearly impossible.  And after I pierce that dickhead of yours, the cage will work even better with the lock, as the jewelry secures you inside.  Your useless pecker won’t be coming outside to play for a long, a very long time.

“This envelope doesn’t look tampered with.  That’s good.  It contains a pair of keys, each in its own smaller envelope.  On the back, Dyson signed his name across the seal….  Here you go.  Add this envelope to your pile of clothes.  That’s his way of telling me the key is secure.

“That envelope, or one that I markup, is to be always with you.  If there is an emergency, a real emergency, you may open it up and remove the cage.  If that should happen, I am to be notified immediately.  If you can contact me prior, do so.  You got that?

“Good boy.  Come with me down to the work and playroom.  You may walk. 

“…This is my key here.  Come over to my worktable.  See all the keys I have?  There’s 18 here.  Yours will be number 19.  Each are screwed down.  That’s why I have this drill here. 

“…There.  Yours is now just like the other slaves’ keys.  None of them are marked.  And if you notice, none have been unscrewed.  The reason for that is that all screws are stripped so they can’t be easily removed.

“I said there are 19.  Sixteen of them are the keys to slaves that have walked away from serving me.  That option is always available to you.  Number 8 is on the other side of the country.  You’ll meet number 15 next weekend.

“Now that’s done.  It’s blumpkin time.  Come with me into the shitter….  And don’t worry, I’m not going to shit in your mouth.

“Help me take my pants off….  You better be ready to do this.  You back out now, you better just go away,… permanently.

“…Kneel there….  Here, get that mouth over here.  I see you are weary.  To take your mind away from the idea of blowing me while I take a dump, let me give you something you can focus on.  I need to piss real bad.

“Get your mouth on it.  Man, you have a very talented tongue.  Now hold still.  There!  That feels so good.  Going forward, I want to have all my piss go through you first. 

“You’ve been drinking me on every visit.  It only makes sense.

“You hear that?  You smell that?  You get to smell my rank farts before I do.  Heh heh.

“I can tell you are squirming on the inside.  I know you are repulsed with the idea.  Good.  You knew this moment was going to be happening from day one. 

“I’m done pissing.  Go ahead and suck.  …To the root.  You know how I like to be blown.  Do it. 

“When I first brought you home from the bar, I fucked you the entire weekend.  Your answer to two questions led us to today.  I asked you what your favorite part of your time here was, and you said that you liked the non-stop fucking of your ass with my gigantic dick. 

“Every time you came by afterwards, I could tell you wanted me to fuck you long and hard.  I purposely haven’t.  I told you that I don’t fuck after the first time, unless you agree to give me something in return.

“It’s all about balance.  You want something from me, you have to offer a sacrifice.  I told you I demand a form of monogamy from you.  That would be monogamy of your dick or monogamy of your cunt.  You could have any man I allow have access to your dick, even yourself, and that your cunt would only be used by me.  A lockable butt plug would be installed.  Or, you could have your cunt available to any man I allow, and your pecker would be unavailable and locked up to all, again even yourself. 

“Seeing you in that cage tells me that you made up your mind.  Going forward, you’ll service men who will give you their loads.  Next weekend you and I will be going on a fishing trip with slave number 15, where both of you will serve and service me and a few of my buds.

“The second question I asked you that night, was what your limits were.  You remember what the only thing you listed?...

“No. No.  Keep up with the blowjob.  Don’t start easing up.  Give it the attention I deserve.  Yes, there you go. 

“You only gave one limit.  It wasn’t animals or kids or women or even something really gross like dead people.  Those would be an immediate no for me too.  No, you just said ‘poop’. 

“No, I’m not going to make you eat out of the toilet bowl, so you can relax.  In fact, let me flush that down.

“Sit back.  Keep your eyes down.  I need to finish up here….  Oh fuck.  I’m out of toilet paper.  I forgot to get some when I was out.  Damn.

“Come with me back into the playroom….  I said, ‘Come with me.’  Lay on the fuck table.  I need to plow that hole.

“Well, that got you smiling.  Yeah, I just hate to see an erection go to waste.  Especially considering the amount of throat slime you put on it. 

“Reach up and hold your legs….  There’s the cunt.  And here’s a little gob of my spit.

“Right to the root!  Goddamn!  Like I told you on that first weekend, your cunt was made to be fucked.  It takes the long dicking of my eight inches with just enough struggle.  That look of ecstasy on your face tells me you are enjoying this…. 

“I should be pissed off.  But I’m not.  A bitch like you should have some moments of heavenly pleasures.  These moments come from my dick taking care of your hole.  You can expect my dick in your ass two or three times a day.  Yeah, I can go multiple times.  You get this intense pleasure.  But it can stop at any time.  All I have to do is… pull out.

“Damn!  After six or seven thrusts, there’s just the beginnings of a gape.  It’s hungry for more!  It needs to be fucked.  Doesn’t it boy?...  Don’t worry, my dick will take care of your ass. 

“That’s what it will be doing day in and day out.  But that requires balance.  It can’t be all me taking care of the needs of your ass.  It has to be balanced with you taking care of the needs of mine.

“Bring your legs down.  Get off the bench and get under the rim seat.  You have some work to do.

“Don’t fucking say a word.  You do NOT want to disobey me on this.

“I see the heavenly bliss on your face went to terrifying fear in only a few seconds….  Good.

“No, lay behind me on that four-inch riser.  I don’t want your torso between my legs.  And I don’t have to worry about you beating off, not that I expect you to be remotely hard doing this.

“Your head goes between those two padded pieces of wood.  That’s to keep your head from moving side to side.  That four-inch platform is designed to elevate the seat so that it fits my legs.  This will allow me to sit on your face for a good long time.  The other thing about this platform are the two holes on both sides of your neck.  That’s where this neck lock gets secured… like that.

“You cannot pull out.  I don’t expect that to be an issue now, but later once we get to the end of your full toilet training, that’s a different situation.

“Get that tongue ready.  Stick it out.  I better feel it go to work….  Now bitch!  Lick!

“Remember, you are the one who decided this on our first time together.  You said this was your limit.  It’s all about balance.  You take care of my ass, and I’ll take care of yours. 

“You can knock off the gagging.  You are going to be down there for a while.  Reach around and stroke my cock.  Feel how rock hard I am.  Think about the fucking you are going to get once I am cleaned up.  Oh yeah.  After we are done here, I am so going to destroy that ass, just like I did that first time.  It’s all about balance.  You are gagging from disgust, and I am rock hard aroused.

“…You know, I thought you were going to say something different about what your favorite part of the weekend.  I thought it was waking up next to me both mornings, with you in my arms and my cock either in your cunt or snuggled up next to it.

“Did you like that?  Flick your tongue twice across my asshole for yes or once for no….  Thought so.  I enjoyed that too. 

“After you clean my ass, we’ll go up to my bedroom and I’ll fuck you there, just like that first weekend.  And afterwards we’ll just stay in bed for the rest of the night.  Yeah, that’s what we’ll do.  Normally slaves should be locked up, and I use that cage over there for those slaves.  But you are going to get your first night in my bed to wake up in my arms.

“You can look forward to that too.  But we need to balance out the tender caresses you will receive from me….  Keep licking….  It’s decided then.  Tenderness from your loving daddy will be balanced against the cruel beatings from your sadistic master.  And I have just the belt to do that with.  Yeah, we’ll get you welted up and bleeding before I fuck you again. “Mmmm, I like that idea.  A lot.  Let go of my cock.  I don’t want to cum too early.”

[teaboot]

Fun fight things I never see in fight scenes:

You are giving me important information from the sidelines and I can't hear you because my entire head inside this man's armpit

We are fighting and it is important that I focus on winning but I am hesitant to pull this maneuver because doing it puts me in danger of accidentally grabbing a dick or a titty

Someone's hand slipped up a shirt or down a waistband for a sec and we're both gonna pretend it didn't until we die

Dude you just got drool like all fucking over my face just now what the fuck

Okay I get that you're about to snap my neck with your thighs but also you totally just farted a bit which is reasonable considering the position we're in but still oh my God

If the last thing I experience on earth before I die is your ass in my face I'm going to drag you to hell with me

Someone is trying to give me advice right now and if they don't shut the fuck up I'm gonna kill them

I know the perfect maneuver to get out of this but if I go for it I'm definitely gonna dislocate my shoulder and I haven't decided if I want the win that bad yet

I just heard my knee pop and either it's fine or I'm going to spend the next six months in physical therapy and be in pain for the rest of my life

I thought I walked away from that ok but it's three in the morning and I just woke up out of a dead sleep because one of my limbs just started screaming

"You should ice that" Is the physical injury version of "Well its gotta be around here somewhere"

AW YEAH DID YOU SEE THAT I PULLED THAT SO SMOOTH IM SO GOOD IM KICKING ASS RIGHT NOW And ah fuck he got me

Hey bud you wanna maybe stop watching and lend me a fucking hand maybe

I Am Between You And Very Upset Person And If You Keep Pissing Them Off Then I Am Going To Get Stabbed

Nobody Expects To Get Licked

Oh God dude you smell so bad. Like you smell SO bad

Okay so like. I WOULD fight you but tbh you're actually super gross and I sort of don't wanna touch you. What is that stain from? You know what I don't wanna know, I don't wanna think about it

You are giving me important information from the sidelines but are missing some critical details that I cannot explain right now and you're getting frustrated that I'm not listening and I'm getting frustrated that you're angry at me for not doing something that will break both my arms at the same time

Sweetheart I love you to the moon and back but cheering me on is actually very distracting and I'm gonna need you to stop right now exactly right now please and thank you so so much baby PLEASE

Why do I smell like them now. Oh God I need a shower

WAS THAT A FUCKING BOOGER WHAT THE FUCK EW EW EW EW EW

haha nice underwear dipshit lol

#Fight #Violence #Source: sparring and life experience #Sometimes its funny

[octuscle]

Hey man, I got the Chronivac recently and I've been testing it out. Grew my dick, made myself hairier, stuff like that. But then I tried to do a big world change. I wanted to invert stereotypes about Chinese guys, so I could see them big and hairy and dumb, you know? I think the app got stuck in a recursive loop, though, because my phone is overheating and the Chinese guys keep getting bigger and muskier all the time! Can you help me?

Oh. My. God.

You just triggered 600 million transformations. Six hundred million! One data centre has already been shut down due to overheating. And we currently have no redundancy data centre left. No offence, but I couldn't help but delete your command. Problem: Well over 10,000 transformations are already running. I have to stop them manually one by one. Or let them continue to run. As far as I could see, the transformations have gone outwards in a circle from our corporate headquarters. So all the Chinese within a radius of about eight kilometres should be affected. We should be prepared for a lot…

But first, let's talk about you. I like your transformation quite a lot. I have borrowed your settings. It's a bit stupid that the delayed start didn't work. Caught me in the middle of the team meeting.

My colleague of Chinese origin looks a bit strange… And suddenly he breaks out in a sweat. Smelly sweat. He burps and unbuttons his shirt. Asks what the fuck this is all about. And that he doesn't feel like it any more. He's going to pump iron now. Fuck, is that really hair growing on his chest?

A certain unrest arises in the corridors. More and more Chinese colleagues are suddenly standing bare-chested in the corridor, scratching the rampant fur on their chests and inhaling the stench from each other's damp and hairy armpits. The attempt to alert the security guards fails, as a good number of the colleagues are down here as well. But fortunately, my idea of calling for a protein farting competition in the company gym is successful. The hairy and smelly masses start moving.

Tonight I really had to work overtime to restore my colleagues to some degree. The priority for now is to restore sanity. One by one, they leave the gym, where the remaining ones train like crazy on the weights. It smells like a puma cage. And the smell permeates the entire building. Boy, I have a hard-on that won't let up.

Finally, it's the end of the day. Even if it sounds perverse, you now really feel like eating Chinese food. And luckily for you, most Chinese restaurants are staffed only by Vietnamese. But the usher in your favourite restaurant is actually a real Chinese. But he's not working today. He's at the gym.

There's going to be a lot of work in the next few days!

#male tf #muscle tf #chronivac #reality change #hairy pits #male transformation #muscle transformation

[deansapplepie]

I would never let you in pain (drabble)

Warnings: period, mentions of cramps, mentions of pain , mentions of blood, mentions of cunnilingus, mentions of dicks, mentions of pussies, Daryl and Reader being silly aka. A normal couple. Nothing Graphic. Minors DO NOT interact, 18+

A/N: you can consider it a second part to That’s the least I could do for ma girl, it was supposed to be all together, but I didn’t feel like it would “fit” together. Just feeling like we need more silly couple content like talking about their intimate parts, fart, burp and other disgusting things. Lol

You felt so much better now that you were all warmed up by him that you could almost forget all the painful cramps you were having earlier. In moments like this you felt that the piece missing in your life was him. If you were thankful for one thing in the apocalypse, it was him. “Thank you.”

“For wha’?” He asked, he was the one that should be grateful for having another opportunity to hold you in his arms.

“For taking care of me and helping me…” he snorted, were you really thanking him just because of this?

“Sweetheart, I would never let you in pain. I’d go down on ya if it meant you’d feel better.” He said bluntly.

“Eew! I’m bleeding. That’s gross.” You scrunched your face at the thought.

“That’s not. Ya wouldn’t say that if I were between yer legs.”

“Daryyyl” you reprimanded him embarrassed when you started to imagine everything.

“ ‘sides that, dicks are gross and you still suck mine.” He wasn’t one to talk about it like this, but he felt entertained seeing your reactions.

“You say that ‘cause you don’t like dicks.” You stated a fact, you were embarrassed as hell, but having your back to him gave you the freedom to feel a little bit at ease. “AND I never said my pussy is gross, just that there’s blood coming out of it.”

“Ya say that ‘cause ya don’t like pussies” he threw back what you said at you.

“Indeed, and you should only like mine.” Your turned to look at him, your eyes narrowed trying to make a face of who was going to be observing him.

“You too.” He replied unable to take off the smile he had on his face by feeling so blissful just because you were joking and talking silly things.

“I do like mine.” You said knowing pretty well what he meant, but feeling like playing with him too.

“I mean my cock.” He said and them he saw the mischievous look in your face and he knew you were fooling him. “Ya’re so lucky I’m nice enough to not tickle you to death!”

You gave a wholeheartedly laugh and earned the prettiest smile from him. And a tender kiss on the lips.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl imagines #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl #daryl dixon fanfic #deansapplepie

[damianwayne0]

In the Drawer ||

Pairings : Damian Wayne x reader

Summary : Damian and Y/n had been dating for 3 years . Damian is 19 and reader is also 19

After a long eventful mission, Bruce invited the justice league and the titians in the manor for a well deserved break. Everyone was just chilling since it was stormy outside.

Beast boy, excited : let's play a game!

Everyone : Yes let's play a game

Dick , hopefully: Are u also playing Damian?

Damian: I don't want to play with you all imbeciles.

Tim, rolling his eyes: whatever

Dick : please Dami it will be fun!

Damian: no-

Dick, ✨giving his puppy eyes✨ : And you owe me a favor

Damian, irritated : Fine.

" So what game are we playing ?" says Starfire .

"oh! oh! I know! I know! Truth and dare lets play it" says beast boy with an mischievous grin.

Jason took a bottle and spinned it , it landed on Dick.

Jason : Truth or Dare?

Dick : tru-th

" Were you the one who put fart spray in to the batmobile and blamed replacement for it?" Says Jason smirking know it was really dick.

"ye-s"says dick as he looks at Tim and Tim looks back at him with an betrayed look.

"I am sorry Timmy" says dick feeling a lil guilty.

" hahaha dude ! You really did that to batman ? That's so cool! " Says beast boy in disbelief.

" oh, that's why you were smelling so bad that day?" says Starfire with an disgusted look on her face.

"yeah " says dick with an small nervous laugh.

"By any chance was it also you who put glitter all over my bag?" Says Damian glaring at dick. He would have forgotten about that incident, if the gift he bought for you wasn't cover in glitter . And yeah you thought it was still cute regardless of the glittery mess it had become.

"uhhh" says dick nervously knowing he is screwed.

"you- " says Damian as his chasing dick with an fork begins and everyone was laughing at the sight.

After Damian literally hunted down dick , they came back and sat down , This time Tim spinned the bottle and it landed on Starfire.

" Truth or Dare Starfire?" Says Tim , smirking.

Then on then dick knows he's screwed.

"uhh dare?" Says Starfire hesitating a bit.

" ha! Don't kiss dick for a week " says Tim knowing he got his revenge.

Dick with an betrayed just stares at him . While he just shrugs.

Damian is a tiny bit impressed but he won't admit it .

Raven , impressed says " hmm he can't handle that one .

"Damn replacement you got him" says Jason to Tim while looking at dick who now has a defeated look on his face.

" hahah look at his face " says Beast boy pointing at dick, who just glares at him.

" fine, no kisses for a week I see" says Starfire giggling a bit.

Now its dick turn to spin it and it's lands on Damian.

"truth or dare Dami?" Says dick pressing his lips together so he wouldn't laugh.

"Truth." Says , Damian glaring at dick.

"How many girls have asked you out ?" Says dick already praying for his life .

To everyones suprise Damian begins to count and count and count not stopping.

"Damn dude we understood " says beast boy a shocked and maybe a tiny bit jealous.

" I don't know, I never counted" says Damian shrugging.

" yeah because who could even ask you out". Says Tim smirking.

Damian glared at Tim and Tim glared back.

" okay enough of your staring competition. It's my turn now" says Jason as he spins the bottle and it again lands on Damian.

" Seriously I got demon brat?" Says Jason disappointed.

" whatever just ask already" says Damian rolling his eyes.

" Fine , Fine demon brat. Truth or Dare?" Says Jason.

"Truth" says Damian as he sighs.

" do you hate replacement?" Says Jason with an smug

"I don't hate him but I would pull off his life support to charge my phone" says Damian.

Everyone seems shocked then they all crack up .

"Damn replacement got roasted by the gremlin"says Jason rolling on the floor while holding his stomach from laughing.

"Good one Dami" says dick out of breath from all laughing.

Tim just looks as if he saw a ghost. After everyone calmed down,they all say down and it's was Starfires turn and the bottle landed on raven.

"Truth or Dare raven?" Says Starfire smiling.

"umm dare?" Says raven hesitating .

Everyone than continuous to play. After sometime the justice league comes up from batcave to see the young heros playing. After the game ends. Damian goes into his room for sometime.

Damian than calls you and almost instantly you pick up.

"beloved, I miss you" says Damian wanting to be with her. It's not like he doesn't want to spend time with his family and friends but with you he finds peace that he cannot describe.

"My love, I miss you too but what happened?" Says Y/n worrying that something might happen to the love of her life.

"Nothing, beloved I am just missing you that's it" Damian sighs .

"I wish we could meet but this storm is not stopping anytime soon"

"you're right , beloved"

" I have a little surprise for you when you come back" you say seductively. You were waiting for him for so long because of that mission. You can't lie that you didn't miss his touch, his kisses during your time apart.

" beloved, you really love to make me suffer" Damian frowns

"hehe be patient my love, you will get your reward don't worry. Byeee love ya" and then you cut the call before he would say anything.

Damian heart beating so fast that it could beat the flash in a race . He than heard his brothers calling him for dinner. He goes down but he can't stop thinking about his reward that you were talking about. But he shook it up as his family and friends were watching him.

At the dinner table:

Everyone was seated. When Tim asked Damian if he had the cards game he took from Tim.

" They are in my room , in one of the drawers" says Damian, stabbing his vegetable with fork.

Tim than gets up to go to Damians room.

"So , Bruce did you know someone asked Damian out yesterday?* Says Jason smirking at Damian.

" oh I see , I mean he is a charming boy" says Bruce smiling.

Jon who just arrived flying says : ohhh that girl ? Damian told me about her. Apparently she tried to kiss him but he pushed her off ."

Bruce chokes on the food and Damian drops his fork due to shock and Jason just raises an eyebrow and well dick ,well he is cheering like those cheerleaders as Starfire tries to calm him down.

"He is a charming boy" says Clark repeating Bruce words.

Damian than speaks up.

"she was the daughter of Logan family and shes been trying to get my attention but I was putting her off"

Logan family are one of business partners of Bruce.

"hmm her mother tried the same" says Bruce as his scowls ,remembering those stupid attempts to get his attention.

Dick: where is Timmy? He certainly is taking his time.

Just as he said that Tim came running in and sat down on his seat. After sitting down Tim stares at Damian.

"what are you looking at imbecile?" Says Damian raising an eyebrow at Tim.

Tim with an straight face than says " Are You a virgin?"

Bruce for the second time chokes on his food. Jason starts laughing and dick is just horrid. Clark passes water to Bruce.

"Drake ,what actual heck!?"says Damian standing up .

"I mean , can you than explain why is there two packs of condoms in your drawer?" Says Tim as he puts up those boxes up in the air.

"TWO BOXES!?" says Jason

"CONDOMS!?"says Dick

"I don't think that's any of your business" says Damian. He was quite irritated but mostly embarrassed.

Damian than gets up and goes to his room

"Timmy, I don't think you should've done that"says Dick

"yeah dude"says. Beastboy

"I guess but what if he has a girlfriend?" Says Tim

"Who's gonna like that brat?"says Jason

The next day ,after the teen titan and the justice league left. Damian didn't come down for the whole day .

In Damians room

"ahahahahahahaha"

"Beloved, stop now"

"ahahaha I can't- I swear I can't-"

"seriously?"

"ok ok fine . But really? They saw it?" Pressing your lips together to try to not laugh.

"yeah and now I don't know what to do".says Damian,still irritated and somewhat angry.

"it's okay my love. That doesn't really matter"

"hmm but are you gonna wear that green one or the black one ?"

"...... really?"

"what?"

" perv" You could literally hear the mischievousness in his voice.

"Oh come on "

"Nope , you gonna have to find out"

"Fine "

"Damian, you know, we have been dating for a long time now"

"Yes , beloved I understand what you're trying to say.And I also know it's time"

"really!?", You have been dieing to meet his family for a quite time now, and he already met your family so it's only fair if you meet his.

"Yeah, I also been thinking about this. And I can't imagine my life without you anymore"

"Me too , Damian"

#damian wayne imagine #damian wayne #robin #batfam #dc #batfamily #batboys #dick grayson #jason todd #damian al ghul #nightwing #redrobin #red hood #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne fanfic #damian wayne fanfiction #damian wayne x fem!reader #damian wayne x female reader #batman family #teen titans #superman #batman #bruce wayne #timdrake #starfire #tim drake #damian wayne x reader fluff #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

this is a bit of a different request but could you do snippets of what the reader and Tangerine’s banter would look like? Anything from relaxing at home to sprinting through missions. Feel like their interaction would be everything, especially when lemon enters the convo 😇

I feel like ive definitely done something like this before but idk where it would be (think it was for💺anon) but I can definitely do more. love it!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

TALKS & CONVOS WITH TAN.

tan: you seen my boxers? the ones from the radiator

you: I don’t know, haven’t seen them

tan: you sure?

you: yeah

tan: you lying?

you: yeah

tan: you wearing them?

you: yeah

——————

tan: can you put the kettle on?

you: ask polly

tan: who the fuck is polly?

you: you know, that nursery rhyme? ‘polly put the kettle on’

tan: you dick

——————

—in bed about to go sleep—

you: what are you doing? why are you turning over?

tan: huh?

you: why are you pulling the covers up? what you doing?

tan: what?

you: are going to fart and trap me under the duvet?

tan: well, not now

you: pig

——————

you: when you go to the shop, can you get me something?

tan: no

——————

tan: you cow

you: you pig

tan: fuck you

you: pardon?

tan: you heard me

tan: kidding. love you

you: feelings not mutual

tan: pardon?

you: you heard me

——————

tan: would you just pick something?

you: don’t rush me

——————

you: I can do it myself

tan: I know, but let me help you

——————

you: lem just told me something embarrassing about you

tan: no he didn’t

lem: I kinda did

you: eek, pretty embarrassing

——————

you: wanna watch kitchen nightmares?

tan: I can’t watch that again

you: what? why would you say that?

tan: eh?

you: you just said you don’t love me

——————

—on a mission during stake outs—

lem: ravioli or tortellini?

you: what’s the sauce?

lem: whatever. you pick. whatever you fancy

you: what’s the filling?

lem: up to you

you: what’s it for? dinner? or just the one I prefer?

lem: either

you: I don’t know, depends what mood im in

lem: let’s say a mood like now

you: oh then probably neither. not really in a pasta mood right now

tan: oh my god, would you both shut up

…

lem: he’s just jealous because he didn’t get asked

you: the weirdo probably doesn’t even like pasta

tan: I hate working with you both together

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine headcanon

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hello amazing blogger! I've been drowning in WIPs and rl chaos lately, and really need to take care of myself for a bit.

Do you mind doing a Daemon blurb where he tries to make her feel better with slow, intimate sex at noticing she's depressed?

Thank you, have a lovely day 💐

Lies Are Treason

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: The fire that drew your husband to you in the first place is now dwindling, and that was a serious problem.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Opens with violence, fem!reader, wife!reader, soft!daemon T_T i love him, reader is not having a nice time, smut (reader kinda cries mid fucking and gets emotional, praise kink, bratty!reader, cock warming, cream pie), typos, etc.

A/N: hello my lover <3 i give you kiss. i am honored that you reached out to me during a time like this. i often wonder what value my fanfics hold in the grand scheme of the world other than silencing the loud romance ideas i have with fictional men i will never meet T_T, but then i think about how reading and writing fanfics makes me feel happy, and so i only hope my brain farts do something similar for someone else yeah may the imaginary dick imma give you suffice to alleviate a fraction of your heavy thoughts HAHAAHAH

Daemon knew.

He felt it in the way he woke up earlier than his lover, the way he had to slow his pace as not to leave her behind, how he had to chose what she would wear, and now, how he had to look for her, since he'd no idea where she gone.

There was something wrong. Something was bothering his wife and someone somewhere was going to pay for it.

In this moment, it was your handmaiden who was quivering in fear with Dark Sister between her eyes.

"My lord," she wept, "I- I-"

"You are her helper, are you not?" Daemon seethed, stepping closer to the poor, innocent servant girl who had fallen on her hind, terrified by her master's cold accusations, "your job is to keep my lady wife in your sight and attend to her every need."

"My prince," she shudders, raising her hands, "the princess is not kept by anyone-" tears streak her face, "-you know this."

Daemon hums deeply, moving stray hair away from the girl's face with his blade, "and yet the fact that you do not know her whereabouts enrages me still."

"My prince!" a separate panicked voice calls.

"What?!" Daemon quips, not prying his eyes on his target.

"The guards say they've seen the princess in the dragon pit."

Daemon turns away from the quivering girl, to the other that was fighting to save her fellow servant, "and you understand that lying to me is treason."

Dark Sister is upon the other's neck now.

Daemon moves closer to her, annoyance and boredom lacing his expression, "if I find your information false, not only will I return fucking fed up, but I will have the head of the guards who muttered the nonsense to you."

Daemon watches her squirm underneath his weapon.

He raises his brows, "well? The guards names?"

"Oswald and James, your grace," she shudders, cheeks stained with tears.

Daemon pulls his sword away and tuts, "you better not be wrong."

One could only imagine the collective relief across the castle after Daemon made it to the pit and saw who he had been searching for all along.

I hear a deep sigh and turn over my shoulder.

"You know I nearly killed your handmaiden a few moments ago."

My hand that was stroking Caraxes' face stills as I look off to my husband who was walking over, "what? Why?!"

"Well," he starts, only continuing once he was next to me, stroking Caraxes all the same. His dragon snorts hotly in greeting as Daemon continues, "my wife had gone missing."

I don't even roll my eyes at him as I look away and mutter, "overreacting, as always." I gently stroke the scales beneath my palm, "you will apologize with tears.'

I only turn to Daemon when he grabs my hand. His face is tense and his grip on me is firm, "at least I'm in character."

I knit my brows at him, tilting my head, "are you saying I am not?"

I turn from Caraxes and walk backwards until I can lean against the creature's large body. Daemon does not release my hand and follows me as I do so.

"I am bossing you around, clearly," I state.

"Yet there is no grit to it," he retorts.

Before I could respond to what my husband told me, Caraxes, who had been lying on the ground, begins to rumble softly. He lift his head, shaking it before craning his neck to look at his master.

The two stare at each other, wordlessly communicating, then the dragon pulls his head back down and grunts.

When Daemon turns back to me, he sighs, muttering something softly in High Valyrian.

I attempt to decipher the words, "Caraxes is not feeling good?"

"No," Daemon retorts, reaching his hand out to my cheek, "it is you who is not feeling good."

I stare at the man who inches nearer up until our chests are pressed together. Unable to bare his gaze, I turn away and nudge Caraxes with my elbow, "snitch."

Daemon sighs, leaning down as his hands snake around me. His face finds its spot at the crook of my neck, and by the curve of my shoulder, he presses a kiss. He rubs his cheek against mine as he whines, "you think I do not already know?"

I feel disarmed by his words, so much so I shift my weight and lean fully against him, pressing my face on his shoulders as my hands cling on his sides, "I hoped you would continue to ignore it."

"Nothing was ignored," he pulls me closer to him, propping his chin on the top of my head, "a ridiculous thought really," he tightens his arms around me, "why do you think I agreed to letting you drink until you could not walk the other night?"

I hum, tilting my head up so I could brush my lips on his neck, "I thought you just wanted your wife to relive her youthful alcoholism."

He draws shapeless patterns on my back, "I knew you needed a release."

"Release he said," I chuckle, "ironic when I took in so much wine that my belly swelled like I was pregnant."

He does not respond to this.

A moment of silence passes after.

Daemon begins to rub my back and I feel like I could fall asleep in his arms. I close my eyes and pull away from him however, hands instinctively finding their way to my husbands shoulders.

His hands are firmly gripping on my sides as I feel him lean down and press his forehead against mine.

I rub my thumbs on the fabric of his clothing and simply savor his presence.

"Speak to me," he whispers like a plea.

I raise my chin, eyes still closed. I grab his face and kiss him; warmth envelopes me the moment I do so. His hands force me closer and his lips are hungrier than mine. When I pull away, he chases me with one last peck and places another on my cheek.

"I do not know what to tell you, Daemon," I mumble, finally opening my eyes.

Daemon pulls back, looking down at me with concern, as if trying to will words out of his mouth.

"I just... fell unlike myself, and even Caraxes seemed desperate about it." I brush his silver locks behind his ear as I mutter, "I don't know. I am nearly as bad at this as you are."

His hands catch my cheeks. He caresses the area before he slides his palms all the way back down to my waist. He gently rocks me against him, averting his eyes in contemplation. He kneads on my flesh as he decides, "then let me do something that I am good at."

He turns back to me as I link my fingers behind his nape, "and what are you good at, husband?"

"Releasing into my pretty wife as she cries out my name," he sighs as he bends to kiss my neck.

I moan when he nibbles my skin, "Daemon."

He responds by muttering my name as he pulls away. His eyes locks on mine, as if searching for permission.

I place a hand on his cheek and brush my thumb on his lips, "take me back to our quarters."

Without another word, he grabs the hand on his cheek and drags me away.

The very moment we are in our chambers, he closes the door and grabs me, attacking me with kisses like a man starved.

Daemon pushes me backwards, fingers nimbly making its way down the laces on the back of my dress, up until my calves hit the bed.

Before he pushes me on the mattress, he pulls my dress down, dropping to his knees. He kisses my sternum on the way as he works on getting me out of my clothing. I bite my lip as I look down at him.

I lightly comb my fingers on his scalp as he bites my thighs while urging me out of my dress.

"Daemon."

He looks up at me.

I grab his cheeks, as he stands. Once he is towering over me again, I begin to undo his own clothing, pulling him out of his tunic and sinking down to free him of his trousers. He doesn't grant me the courtesy of biting his thighs as he pulls away, kicking his pants off and grabs me, pushing me back on the bed.

He allows me to crawl up on my elbows until my head is on the pillows. He doesn't waste time and gets on top me, positioning himself in between my legs.

He hums in appreciation of the heat against him. He praises me in High Valyrian and grabs my thighs as he rubs against me, "so pretty and warm.

I groan at the feel of him grinding on my sensitive nub. He slows as he sinks down on my shoulder, peppering kisses all over my skin. I wrap my legs around him as I dig my fingers into the roots of his hair.

He props his hands to the side and bucks his hips against me. I whine, pressing my lips on any part of his skin that I can reach.

"Daemon," I mutter against him, "you feel so good."

He sucks on my skin then bites down, making my stomach flutter. He connects our lips together and squeezes my sides, "I'll make you feel better, my love."

After saying this, Daemon sheathes his hard length that was wet with my slick. I roll my eyes back at the feel of him stretching me out.

He grunts, thrusting shallowly, but then stills as he sings me praises, "so nice and ready for me, sweet girl."

"Always ready for you," I mewl, licking his lower lip before grazing it between my teeth.

Daemon rubs my sides as he moans at the feeling of my bites.

He begins to move against me, but he barely pulls out, as if fearing the loss of me. I bring my hands to his hips and dig my nails in, "more, more, more."

He shushes me, then clicks his tongue, "so impatient."

"Break me, Daemon," I mutter, helplessly, moving my hips in sync with his, "please, I need you to fuck me."

He hisses when I rip at his skin. He pushes his face against mine, forcing my cheeks on the pillow, "behave, little one. I will not be bullied by someone who squirms at the very feel of my touch."

I whine again at both his words and the feel of his mouth on my jaw. I half expect a punishing thrust to be had. When he does not relent his excruciatingly slow pace, I begin to beg, "Daemon, please, please, please! I want to-"

His hands forcing my wrists to the sides shut me up with a gasp.

Daemon hovers his face above mine, and I nearly choke at the sight of him, "I told you to behave."

He rolls his hips into me, still so leisurely but so deliciously that I cannot contain my moan. Yet it's not enough. I want him to ruin me.

I whine out his name again, "Daemon please."

He sighs at the sounds I make and pushes himself up on his arms, "you know better than anyone that no one can change my mind once its made."

I chew on my lips as I look up at him. My desperate need of him makes my eyes begin to water. My hands dart up to his cheeks as I complain, "I can change your mind, my love. Please, please."

Daemon's dark eyes take in my wanton figure. He leans into my pulse and kisses it, "the world has broken you enough," he draws out a long breath when I clench around him desperately.

When he curses in High Valyrian and he sinks back down against my face, I mistake it as defeat. I seal him against me tightly and nip at his neck. I find myself ceasing my nibbling when I hear him whisper against my ear, "just let me love you tonight, my dear. Let me show you how much you mean to me."

Daemon then, although still brutally slow, begins to thrust more thoroughly, pulling out farther and plunging deeper. The sensation has me reeling and my stomach begins to tense.

"My pretty wife," Daemon groans, rutting against me, "so lovely, so soft, and all mine."

My nails find his skin again, scratching all the way to the center of his back.

He moans sucking at my neck as he continues his ministrations.

"I would burn the whole world if that's what it took to mend your heart."

I moan his name in response, voice not ceasing as it draws out pleasured noises. I look to him, trying to find his face, but he's too lost in his movements and too snug against me.

I screw my eyes shut when he finally begins to quicken.

I squeal before I speak, "yes, Daemon," I grunt, "so good- like that- more."

He pants, hand coming up to my neck, "I would do anything for you," he kisses my jaw, "you know this, right?"

I whine as I nod, "yes, Daemon, yes, yes, yes, yes-"

"So, let me do this. Let me take care of you," he mutters, "do not withdraw from me again."

When I open my eyes and catch his gaze, my throat goes dry and my eyes begin to spill with water. I groan out his name in a manner I am so not sure of.

He kisses the tears that begin to fall down my face and snaps his hips quicker, "take solace in me the way I do you."

My voice is too preoccupied with whines that I do not get to reply.

The bed begins to squeak and knock on the wall at his ferosity.

Daemon seals my whimpers against his lips as pressure begins to build within me. My lashes, dampened with tears, begin to flutter at the feel of my husband. At the rate he was going, my release was swift and inevitable. He drags his lips up to my forehead, kissing my nose and eyelids tenderly as he does, juxtaposing the roughness of his severity in my core.

I come around him all at once, growling his name in pleasure, tensing tightly then turning into putty.

Daemon mutters my name as well, over and over, until I feel his hotness spread inside me. I nearly choke on my spit at the feel of his unrelenting snapping even after the fact.

Just when I think he will not stop, he begins to grow sloppy. I sigh as he eventually halts. By then, I am plainly aware of the feel of his seed overflowing, though he is still snug within me.

Although I am utterly boneless beneath him, I manage to tighten my limbs around frame, absolutely unwilling to free him from where he was. The last of his movement fade and I fell utterly spent of his love.

Daemon presses a kiss on my cheek, hands coming to my sides, "I am here, my love. I will not leave."

Without warning, my lips begin to quiver.

I am suddenly overcome with emotion. I begin to feel my throat and chest tighten as sadness creeps out of me, finally seeing its chance.

I force myself not to cry, but I am powerless when Daemon begins to hush me, "sweet girl, it'll be alright." I am broken by the time he repeats, "I am here."

I bring my hands to his shoulder blades and knead at the area, "I need you, Daemon. I can't be without you, ever. I love you so much."

He kisses me as he nods, "I know. I would go mad without you by my side," he kisses me again, drawing out a long breath before continuing, "I love you like I have not known love before."

He allows me to empty my sorrows against him, comforted by his mere presence in the silence.

Sobs beginning to die down, I turn to him and bring my palms to his cheeks. He lifts his head to look down upon me and brushes his nose against mine.

I repeat, as if I hadn't made myself clear, "I love you."

"I love you," he repeats not a second too late, then kisses my lips, "I love you so fucking much."

I nod rapidly, kissing every inch of his face, "thank you for this, my love," I sigh and readjust my legs around him, "I did not know I needed it."

The vibrations of his laughter cause me to whimper. He places a kiss on the top of my head, "spoiled brats hardly ever do."

"I'm not spoiled," I furrow my brows and pout, "you're the one who grew up..." I moan, "a prince."

His minute hip movements tease out another sound out of me.

I whine in protest, "Daemon, please, I can't."

He clicks his tongue, "see? Pretty girls like you should take what they are given graciously without complaints," he brushes his nose against me, "especially when it is a generous gift from her prince."

I release a sigh once he ends his torture.

"Still," Daemon smirks, "I could not bare to make my wife cry even more."

"You can make me cry, if you want," I mumble as I kiss his shoulder, "just let me stay like this for a while," I rub his back, "I like it when I'm full of you."

Daemon relaxes on top of me and I relish the weight of him.

"I like it when you're full of me too."

#daemon fanfic #daemon smut #daemon x reader #daemon x wife!reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #soft!daemon #daemon fic #caraxes baby boy #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #targaryen smut

[thrushforreal]

I threw names in a quote generator again!

Duke: Do dragons fart fire?

Trace: I don't know

Duke: I thought you went to college?

~~~~

Cass: I reserve the right to judge a movie based on when it was made, thank you very much

Babs: You consider everything made before 2000 old and bad

Cass: And I reserve that right! After all...

Cass: I bet you wouldn't like the average movie made in 1879!

Babs: There were no movies made in 1879

Cass: *slams table* WRONG! There was ONE movie made in 1879! The first movie! A zoopraxioscope of a horse galloping!

Duke: Oooh! Let's ask Dick if he saw it in theatres!

~~~~

Duke: If you really want to get back at a man, scare him with a pregnancy test. I've got a whole box of old positives back at my house.

Steph: You're an American treasure.

~~~~

Trace: I'm going to get myself some soup

Babs: Be careful not to burn yourself, it's hot

Trace: Pfft, I won't burn myself

*30 seconds later*

Trace, entering the room: I burned myself

~~~~

Tim: You know what I've learned from my friendship with Jason?

Trace: There's no such thing as too mean?

Duke: Never let your family know for sure if you like them?

Dick: Always hold a grudge?

~~~~

Jason: They can't make me admit France exists, right? Legally, that's not allowed.

Jason: Sure, if France was REAL I'd say I liked it

Jason: But who's to say

Duke: I think France isn't real

Tim: Duke, you've been to France

Duke: And???

~~~~

Babs: Yesterday, I overheard Damian saying, "Are you sure this is a good idea?" And Duke replying "Trust me," and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

~~~~

Steph: Arson? Oh, you mean "crime brûlée"

~~~~

Steph: *in a jail cell* What about my Miranda rights!? You're supposed to say I have 'the right to remain silent'! NOBODY SAID I HAD THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT!

Duke: *in the cell next to her* You have the right to remain silent, what you lack is the capacity.

~~~~

Tim: As a responsible adult

Steph: *chuckles*

Tim: ... As a responsible adult—

~~~~

Dick: No, this is not a mess. You know what I consider a mess?

Cass: Your life?

Dick: I- well, yes, but-

~~~~

Damian: The real treasure was the memories we made along the way.

Steph: I almost died

Damian: That...was my favorite memory.

~~~~

And that's all for now!

#batman oc #trace drake-wayne #tim drake-wayne #batfam incorrect quotes #dick grayson #jason todd #batfam #duke thomas #cassandra wayne #stephanie brown #damian wayne #barbra gordon

[gassywill]

Camping Fart Slave Training - Part 2

Having been Joesephs fart sniffer for hours on end, I eventually passed out. I woke up the next morning, with morning wood which was clearly visible in the sleeping bag.

Morning sleepy head said Joeseph as he lifted the gas mask off my face and removed the gag. FINALLY fresh air, well sort of. The tent didn't smell pleasant with Joesephs gas having filled the whole thing.

"Ready to cum boy?" Joeseph barked at me. "No please don't make me do that" I whimpered back. "Please don't what?" Joeseph said looking down into my eyes and holding his hand on my neck. I shrugged unsure of what to say.

He tightened his grip around my neck and said "I am your master fart sniffer, You call me master." I shook my head in disagreement scared to say anything else.

Quick as anything he swung round and sat on my face wearing his tracksuit bottoms. The smell wasn't pleasant, just as he wiggled his ass he ripped a large basey fart directly onto my face.

The smell filled my nose immediately. "What do you call me?!?" Joeseph said powerfully, I shook my head again, no way was this guy gonna be my master!

Another massive powerful fart ripped onto my face, forcing me to inhale even more of his putrid gas. "What about now??"

I screamed no into his ass, and another wetter fart hit my face. He then took down his trackies and sat bare-ass on my face.

Ok fart sniffer, here we go. Full torture. I heard the gas moving around in his belly, his ass groaning wanting to let it out.

Suddenly my dick started twitching, Joesephs hand touching it, making it even harder. It was a strange feeling having another many touch my dick making it harder and I couldn't explain it.

He started rubbing my dick, then came the farts. One wet fart after another, ripping on my face. I could feel the wetness of each fart on my face as he continued to rub my dick. I started to precum.

"Am I your master now?" Joeseph asked, I was too occupied to reply. I had no idea what was happening. Then, Joeseph pushed again, and another load of wet farts hit my face as he continued to rub my dick.

One fart after another I continued to be forced to inhale them, groaning and struggling underneath him as he had full control of my dick and nose.

Then, as he ripped the biggest eggy fart ever I exploded with cum inside my sleeping bag, it dripping all over inside it. I relaxed opening my mouth as he farted even more making the stench even worse, even more relaxed I screamed "THANK YOU MASTER" and he ripped another we fart instantly.

Joeseph got off my face, looked down and said "How did you enjoy that fart sniffer". I was still in shock, I couldn't speak, I hadn't enjoyed it but I was definitely owned by him.

"Ok, time for another sleep I think" he took his place back on my face and ripped a long eggy fart that made me pass out cold covered in my own cum.

#gassy farts #male farts #gay farts #fart story #gasmaskfart #gassy boy

[fartlovingblkguy69]

A Flight to Be Remembered (Part 2). “You better not try anything! I don’t get fucked! I do the fucking! And I hope you’re ready to take this big dick up that sexy ass of yours! I’ll up your tip to $10 if you let me cum in that sweet Georgia peach!” This really sealed the deal for Tim. Logan wanted to get ridden, huh? He was about to get the ride of his life! Tim dipped his face back down between the musty cheeks and quietly grabbed Logan’s belt as well as his own. He quickly grabbed the 35 year old’s arms and tied them behind his back with his own belt before flipping him over. “I’m gonna ride you so good sir! But you’re gonna have to be a good boy to get this action! Get your tongue in there and find out how sweet this peach is!” Tim exclaimed as he backed his ass up to Josh’s entitled face. As Josh began to very half-assedly lick the outer rim of Tim’s hole he began to hump the air, demanding that Tim sit down on him and start riding or he’d kick him out and give him nothing! So Tim did just as requested! He sat down! But not on Josh’s dick like he wanted! No, he sat hard on his nose and squirmed until he could feel his hole being penetrated. He sat there for a minute and then decided to give Josh some air and let him have one more chance to stop being a dick before things proceed. As soon as he got up though, Josh began yelling expletives, telling him to get the fuck out and that this is why he doesn’t bother with worthless faggots, etc. and so Tim wrapped the second belt around Josh’s legs and then rocked back and once again buried that nose in his hole. This time however, he began to push and out came a long, loud fart! Bbbbbbrrrrrrrrtttttttttttttt “Ah! Been holding that one in for a while! Now that I have your attention, let me tell you how this is going to go. My stomach hurts and I’m full of gas and I’m going to let it all out up your nose. If you’re good, I’ll take my $5 and call it even. If you’re not…well in a little bit gas won’t be the only thing assaulting my hole and your face! Sound fair?” he said as he lifted slightly for Josh to answer. “Hell no! I don’t have to put up with this! I’m going to get you fired! Then I’m gonna press charges and have you thrown in jail! Then I’m gonna get your family fired from their jobs and take their house in punitive damages!” Well that was enough! Tim knew what had to be done! He plopped his ass back down, jiggling his cheeks and rubbing his aching stomach.

Sssssssppppppppprrrrrrtttttt bbbbbbrrrrrrrttttt

Ffffffsssssssshhhhhh

pppffffpfFFRRAAAAAPPPpppppfffssss

BRUUUUUUUMMMMPPPRRRRTTTTzzzzzzz

PrRRrrRRRFFfffumppppbroooumppttt

PHHHRUUUUMMMMMTTTTTSSS

Tim began to empty his stomach with fart after fart, rubbing his belly and sighing in relief while Josh struggled for air. The struggling beneath him was getting him hard and he started to stroke his 8 inches while he let loose! He also called down to the front desk and ordered room service: a pizza with extra cheese, a vanilla milkshake, and chocolate milk to be exact. When the food came, he took Josh’s own dirty undies, brought them to his hole, dug inside and let out a long silent fart before shoving them in Josh’s mouth as a gag. He sat back on Josh’s face and wolfed down his food and milk and watched tv while he waited, ripping ass whenever he needed for the next 30 minutes. Suddenly he felt a huge pain in his stomach, sharp and churning and he knew it was time!

He leaned forward just enough to pull the nasty undies out of Josh’s mouth and said, “Had enough? You done being an asshole to people now? Cause we can keep going all night if you want, but it’s about to get real nasty for you!” “Fuck you! I’ll do whatever I want to whoever I want! I’m gonna be your conjugal visit in prison! I can’t wait to bend you over and fuck you raw with no lube! Then I’m gonna pay the biggest, baddest prisoners to have their way with you all day long at least once a week and to beat the stuffing out of your weak, gay ass!” He went on and on, ranting and raving for 5 minutes. And then he noticed the big smile on Tim’s face. “That’s about what I was hoping you’d say. This is gonna feel great, therapeutic even! So thank you in advance! You just volunteered to be my human toilet! And just in the nick of time! I am so bloated! It’s time for all that food and gas to come out! Open wide for me now!” He quipped while backing his hairy dirty hole up to his mouth with his cheeks spread while his pucker pulsed with anticipation. He sat down with his ass lips meeting Josh’s mouth lips and then began to slap Josh’s stomach and dick, lightly at first to get him hard and then harder to make him scream. When he felt satisfied he began to push.

Brrrrrrrrrrtttttttttttt

Ppppppffffffffffffffftttttttttt

Ssssssshhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

Fffffffssssssssssssshhhhhhh

Sssssppppppprrrrrrrreeeeeeeettttttttt

The farts got wetter and wetter until finally his hole opened real wide and out pushed a thick 10 inch log into Josh’s mouth which was being pried open by the giant turd itself. Tim sat there rubbing his stomach in relief and practically smothered Josh saying “There’s a lot more up there! You’re taking it all, just a matter of whether it’ll be the easy way or the hard way! My stomach still hurts so it’s about to get real wet too!” And with that, he pushed out another thick, 8 inch long log that forced the first one down and stretched Josh’s mouth open once again. Then cutting the end off the chocolate milk he made a makeshift funnel which he shoved in Josh’s mouth, wrapping the dirty underwear around it and then pushing his hole against the other end. Tim knew this was gonna be bad! His stomach was still churning so this wouldn’t be a small amount! He began to push.

Ssssssssssppppppppllllllllllllluuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrtttttttttttt

He released his nasty diarrhea, chunky mush that wasn’t quite liquid, but definitely not solid and filled the bottle to the brim. He held it steady and plugged Josh’s nose forcing him to swallow in order to take in any air and then repeated this exercise 5 more times! By the time he completed the last one, his hole and his dick were both dripping with wetness and he managed to cum on top of the stinking pile that fillled the makeshift funnel in his victim’s mouth before sliding forward. He slowly pumped Josh’s dick until it reached his full 7 1/2 inches and then using his shit as lune slid down on the dick, gripping and riding it making the jerk gasp with pleasure and at the same time swallow his nasty shit. He let him cum in his tight hole before he got up, sat down once again on the funnel, and let out one more very wet blast. Watery cum/shit mixture flew down Josh’s throat as he passed out from the whole ordeal and Tim quietly slipped $100 from his wallet and headed out in to the night.

#male farts #face farts #fart kink #gay shit #im lactose intolerant #human toilet #hairy male #gassy farts

[pluckyredhead]

Did I just read your Super Sons primer from 2020 at 3 am on a Monday morning because I'm having a real normal one? Maybe?! I'm wondering how you feel about how they and their relationship has developed since then. IMO it's... Pretty bleak. 😩

I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT IT. (Also here's the primer for anyone who missed it.)

So I will say that 95% of everything Jon has been in since he got aged up has been hot garbage, but I do think the exception is when Damian is around. But let's take it from the top!

First of all, I don't necessarily think they should de-age him again. Generally speaking I think it's better storytelling to focus on fixing things moving forward, rather than undoing things moving back. Sure, if DC came up with some big cosmic event that reset Jon to 11, I certainly wouldn't complain, but I'd rather see them, uh...do literally anything with Teen Jon that doesn't suck.

But yeah, aging Jon up to begin with still makes me livid because:

I want my baby to have had a childhood.

It's fully character assassination for Lois and Clark. They would NEVER let their 11-year-old go to outer space with a supervillain. Lois would NEVER just abandon him out there, and Clark would NEVER respond with "Well, I'm sure he's fine, wanna have marathon sex?" I honestly have no idea what Bendis or his editor were thinking.

They have not done a single interesting with him since!!!

Putting this behind a cut because it got LONG. Also spoilers for Beast World in there.

I've said this before, but I have to assume that Bendis wanted to age Jon up because he wanted to write a Legion book. But he also in his wisdom decided to bring Kon back into continuity at exactly the same time, which means we have two nearly identical Superboys that DC didn't and still doesn't know what to do with. Kon clearly couldn't have joined the LOSH because he already had a team, but you know what Super teen was available, and not 11, and who has a history with the Legion that goes back almost as long as Clark's? KARA. But I will save that rant for another day.

And honestly, Kara dodged a bullet, because that Legion book was unreadable. Bendis at his most Bendis-y wall of text interrupt-y conversations and no plot. If I give Tom Taylor any credit it's that the second he got his hands on Jon, he torpedoed Jon/Imra as a ship. GOOD.

And when the LOSH book finally went out with a whimper (that JLA/LOSH miniseries! what was that!!!), we entered the Taylor Era. Taylor's quirks are less stylistic and more narrative than Bendis's. You can spot Bendisian dialogue at twenty paces, but a Taylor comic tips its hand when it sets up a really interesting premise or a really high stakes threat and then immediately undercuts it with a little wet fart noise of nothing. To wit:

Jon's starting college! This will be an interesting challenge for him to readjust to normal life after six years in a torture-volcano and an indeterminate amount of time in the future, and also considering he never graduated from sixth grade. I wonder what will - oh no he dropped out after three pages. (He has done NOTHING in his civilian identity since, btw. I guess he's too busy hovering just behind Dick at all times to work on his GED or whatever.)

Jon is going to confront Ultraman! Finally the comics will have to engage with all the trauma he must have - oh no Ultraman's dead.

Jon is trapped in the Injustice Universe! This is a really dangerous universe that might make him question everything he knows about - oh he just lectured everyone and flounced off home.

Beast World is a perfect example. Taylor seems to think that having a hero effortlessly solve a problem makes them look badass, but it's actually the effort that makes them look badass. So like, we spent five months keeping the Kryptonians and other A-class heroes away from the spores because the spores are attracted to power and if a Super got spore'd everyone would be in big trouble...but then in the last issue, they just have Jon fly up to everyone with a spore in them, wait for the spore to jump at him, and catch it? That doesn't make the Titans look smart or Jon look tough. It makes all of them look like idiots because it it was that easy, why didn't they do that in the first place?

On top of that, Taylor doesn't ever really earn relationships. Jon and Jay is the obvious one. Jay has no personality. There's no chemistry between the two characters. Jon might as well be dating a cardboard cutout labeled "Proof of Queerness." (Or "Bernard." Ahem.) But we're supposed to be like, yes, give Tom Taylor a GLAAD award for using queer characters as props, when he's going to turn around and kiss Chuck Dixon's ass on social for being homophobic about Jon? UGH.

Honestly worse for me though is the Jon and Dick relationship. Because Taylor is writing both characters, we're supposed to believe that there's this close mentor-mentee bond there? I don't think they EVER interacted before the Taylor era. (And don't even look at me with that retconned-in scene of Dick finding lost baby Jon. You're telling me that Superman, with his X-ray and telescopic vision, needs to call Bruce and Dick for help finding his own son? Fuck off.)

Anyway it all combines to make basically every Jon appearance for the past three years profoundly unsatisfying. Even the stuff that isn't by Taylor never goes anywhere. Remember when he was jealous of the Super Twins for two panels? And then everyone forgot about it forever? SIGH.

HOWEVER.

However.

If there is one thing that Bendis and Taylor and every other writer got right, it's that Jon is crazy bonkers in love with Damian always and forever. Jon has been written like shit since 2019, but he has also not wavered in his devotion for even one single solitary second.

THE EVIDENCE:

This is the first thing Jon does when he gets back to Earth:

He then tells Damian he's contemplating not joining the Legion because he'll have to leave Damian behind. Damian tells him to go and then come get him if it's cool.

Turns out the Legion is cool. Jon comes and gets Damian. The Legion isn't happy about it and Jon threatens to leave if Damian can't stay, while gazing adoringly at Damian's unconscious body cradled in his arms:

Eventually LOSH is canceled and Jon comes home and starts following Damian around by listening for his heartbeat. LIKE PALS DO!

Then Damian gives him a pep talk!

Then there's this ABSOLUTE CUDDLE:

The way Damian nuzzles into Jon's shoulder! Can you even stand it!

And then there's this:

The climax of Son of Kal-El, btw, is one of the several times Jon is saved by Damian and confides in Damian and turns to Damian for comfort or advice...and Jay is just sort of standing there off to the side. I am fully aware I have ship goggles on but the degree of emotional investment Jon has in these relationships is not the same.

Then they had a special issue teamup:

Then we got Dark Crisis, and I actually love this interaction between them, because they are very different people with very different upbringings and this feels extremely in character to me for how they would both handle the loss of their fathers:

But even when they disagree, they still instantly support each other. Jon comes back with information? Damian makes a plan:

Also, we got the 2022 Pride issue where Jon, Jay, and Damian go to Pride together. I know that story is...contentious...but leave me here with Damian sulking while Jon and Jay kiss, okay?

Then we get Adventures of Superman, which is objectively awful, but Jon does spend his whole time in the Injustice universe thinking about Damian like the seagulls in Finding Nemo saying "Mine? Mine? Mine?"

This whole arc is truly hilarious. Jon finds out that Damian accidentally killed Dick and his response is to a) go find Batman and yell at him for not supporting Damian enough for accidentally killing Dick, and then b) go find Damian to be like "Wow, that must have been really hard for you (accidentally killing Dick)." There's being ride or die for your BFF, and then there's whatever the fuck Jon has going on.

(Meanwhile there's an incredibly uncomfortable scene with him and Injustice Jay where Jay "tests" him by trying to get Jon to cheat on regular Jay. So. That happens.)

And then just this past month we got Nightwing #110, where we learn that Jon is still listening to Damian's heart:

He completely freaks out watching Damian in danger, and immediately intervenes when it looks like Damian is about to kill someone because he knows what matters the most to Damian. Also, this happens:

YOU WIN THIS ONE, TAYLOR.

AND THEN THEY BICKER I LOVE IT WHEN THEY BICKER:

AND THEN DAMIAN LETS HIMSELF BE VULNERABLE BY ASKING JON IF HE HURT ANYONE WHILE HE WAS A KITTY, AND JON GIVES YET ANOTHER SPEECH ABOUT HOW DAMIAN HAS NEVER DONE ANYTHING WRONG EVER, IN HIS LIFE, AND DAMIAN STAGGERS OFF, LEANING ON JON.

This isn't even getting into the Trinity backup stories in Wonder Woman, which, like...Tom King is not valid but Jon and Damian are such an old married couple in them? It's truly incredible?

It took me like 45 minutes to parse Jon's line here as the general 'you" and not specifically Jon saying Damian wasn't straight. But like..."That's for straight people, which has nothing to do with us" is a hell of a thing to say, Jonathan.

I ALSO haven't even talked about DCeased because it's a different universe, but! Jon sitting with Damian while he dies??? MY HEART.

IN CONCLUSION:

Yes, they should never have aged up Jon.

Yes, most of his appearances since have been terrible and bland.

But OH BOY, do he and Damian remain in love.

#jon kent #superboy #damian wayne #robin #meta

[zzzinternetperson]

Could I get seat 9? It is my favorite number!!

These are some sweet fuckin' pecs you have, they even look like boobs if you'd ask me. I bet if I squeeze them, there'll be milk coming out of them. Your pecs aren't the only thing that look good on you though. Enjoy your flight, Maverick. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Sexuality ; Straight Musk ; 9/10, Your entire body reeks! Even your pecs. Sad we can't open the windows in the plane. Butt size ; 9/10, It's muscular, with some fat added to it. Makes it really good looking. Dick size ; 9.5/10, for 9.5 inches! Biggest on the plane. You're a real bull at this point, Farts ; 7/10, Well yeah, with all the protein shakes... you have to expect some gas.. Muscles ; 8.5/10 Intelligence ; 3/10, 1+1 isn't 5, Maverick. Overall looks ; 9/10 If you have any questions about your body, go ahead and ask them in my PM's!

#gay to straight #musk #male transformation #jock #gym #pecs