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captnbarnesrogers · 2 years

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Eddie the Banished

Pairing/Characters: eddie munson x reader, some random character i’ve made up lol Warnings: depictions of bullying, name calling, kinda cute heh Summary: It’s a new school, no more games, it’s time to grow up. Until you meet Eddie. WC: 1k+ A/N: HIIIIII quick break from my hiatus. Lemme know if I should write more Eddie <3 This is also my favourite gif of Eddie, followed by the chaotic ‘shuDDUP’ one lol

“Dungeons and Dragons…” Eddie began, reading to a table of people usually others wouldn't bat an eye at. It was a piece from Newsweek, babbling on about a game some of the kids play, “... studies have linked violent behaviour to the game, saying it promotes satanic worship, ritual sacrifice, sodomy, suicide…”, he pushes the magazine down on the table as the boys begin to giggle from ridicule, “...and even, murder!” His eyes widen and he sticks his tongue out while the others hold themselves as they laugh. Of course there was no truth to the bullshit article, so you couldn't help but snort while you watched from the next table over.

“What the hell are you laughing at, y/n?” Your friend - friend was a bit of a stretch - classmate questioned. You just shrugged and cleared your throat, feeling yourself turning red.

“Uh, nothing, just, um-” You placed your half eaten sandwich on the tray, dusting off the breadcrumbs from your fingers, “nothing.” You smiled softly.

Truly, everything was wrong. You’d moved to Hawkins two weeks ago and the only friend you’d made was mean and unfortunate to be around. Judgement was a topic you couldn't get away from when you were around Randie. You missed your friends from home. You missed your childhood bedroom. You missed the smell of the old books you had to sell from your bookshelf. You were only allowed to keep a few - ‘only important ones’, your mother had sighed. You kept the ones you really liked, the most important ones to you.

“Hey,” You turned to Randie, “I need to get to my locker, just gonna clear it out.”

“Whatever, geek.” She replied, shooing you away. You rolled your eyes and huffed, grabbing your backpack from the floor, all the while Eddie was giving a speech on balls going into hoops. It made you chuckle.

You made your way to your locker which was unfortunately on the other end of the school. You just wanted to get rid of some things before the bell rang for your next class. You clutched your backpack straps which hung on your shoulders. You kind of promised yourself something when you moved to Hawkins - you would not be the school’s punchline again. You opened up your locker and grabbed a blue and pink blend book and a black book out of it before closing your locker and walking toward the school entrance. You held the books against you, making sure the covers were not visible. You felt like everyone was looking at you. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest. Why is everyone looking at me? They weren’t. But it felt like it. You looked around. Anxiety had set in. You were too focused on what everyone could be thinking that you hadn't looked where you were going. You bumped into someone. Out of your arms and onto the floor the books went. You expected yourself to land on the floor but instead was caught. You took a deep breath and looked up. In his arms, you lingered. Brown eyes, long, curly hair, and sturdy arms. It took you a second to catch yourself. You pushed yourself up and out of his arms.

“Untied shoelaces?” He asks.

“Huh?” He pointed down at your shoes. The strings untied just as he observed, “Oh. Uhm, yeah, just- I didn’t notice.” You looked at him as his eyes widened at the floor.

“Woah.” He pointed his finger down at the books that had fallen at your sides, “A-are those Dungeons and Dragons books?” He picked them up, observing the covers, “A Master Set and Marvelous Magic??” You felt your cheeks flush. You knew he played and probably wouldn't judge you for it but it was your default to think so. To think you were weird and a freak; like they did at your old school.

“Uhm, yeah, it’s stupid.” You took them from his hands, “I was just gonna get rid of them.”

“Why in God’s gracious being would you do that?” he chuckled, “These are like, brand new.”

“My mom only let me keep a few books when we moved and not a lot of people play around here.” He smiled at you and took the books back.

“I can take ‘em off your hands if you want.” He flicked through them and looked back up at you. The excitement in his face made you smile. He cleared his throat and put on a serious voice, “Yeah, the, uh, the kids could use this.” He straightened up, “I mean, not my kids, I don’t have kids, I’m single. Yep, just a single guy, no, uh, kids.” You laughed at his rambling.

“Yeah, I got it, single guy, no kids.” He laughed along with you and shook his head.

“I’m Eddie.” He held out his hand for you to shake.

“I’m y/n.” You took his hand in yours, “Anyway, yeah you can have those, i-if you want.”

“Thanks, I’ll find something useful for them.” He joked. You clutched your backpack straps as you stood there awkwardly, “So, you play?”

“A bit, haven’t played since I moved here.”

“Interesting.” He smiled and started walking around you, “Ever heard of The Hellfire Club?” He stopped when he faced you again. You shook your head, “Well, it’s a place for kids like you and me, the FREAKS of this God forsaken school, willing to come to a campaign?” You’d, at this point, figured that Eddie was just as theatrical as the game.

“Where?”

“Friday nights in the theatre room.” You swept through the map of the school in your head, unable to locate it, “You game?”

“I don’t even know where that is.”

“Then ‘tis decided! We travel together!” He bowed in front of you, holding his hand out. You giggled and took his hand, curtsying. He stands up straight again, “You got a name?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He titters. You follow him with your eyes as he walks backwards away from you, “I’ll see you Friday then, meet me out front?” You nodded and he turns to walk forward. You turn back to walk to the cafeteria, “Oh and y/n?”

“Hm?” You turn to look at him.

“They call me Eddie the Banished.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 4

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captnbarnesrogers · 2 years

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demesne

pairing: chris evans x reader

summary: his territory, covered in obscenities.

warnings: mentions of age gap, smut; oral (f and m receiving), teasing, dom/sub, daddy kink, his boston accent, slapping, choking, degrading, cumplay/creampie, filmed sex, 18+ MINORS DNI

a/n: i wanted to write a birthday smut for chris, so this is if the reader tried to treat him but returned to her submissive ways. this is also for astro's 1k celebration, and my wildcard on my chris evans nsfw alphabet! not my gif

word count: 2.7k

the following work is my own writing. do not plagairise or copy and paste my works onto another platform. message me about credit.

masterlist

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

It's a rude and taunting way, how you sit on the edge of the bed with legs crossed and arms upholding your torso. Black laces that covers just barely any skin creates an illusion of perfect complexion, not that it matters much to him. You're an artwork, begging to be depicted and examined, sold for the highest price.

His hands are warm, fingertips calloused, when he rubs the outer bits of your thighs. Rough against smooth, old against young.

"God," he hisses, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he notices that your ass is only covered by a single string, and he wraps the elasticity of your panties around his index finger. "You were made for me, weren't you?" Any sense of dominance you had only moments ago suddenly disappeared, and you returned to your compliant and malleable self. He hums in agreement, latching his lips directly onto your collarbone.

"Chris..." you trail, watching as his eyes linger on areas that were practically asking to be uncovered.

Then, they meet yours and - though you don't even know how - his body is above yours, towering with a shadow. He mutters a small, "Up," watching you scramble to your feet. His hand instantly cups your cunt, feeling waves of heat pulse onto his palm. It's a rough and firm grip he has on you, pressing his fingers into your folds. "Haven't even done anything, and this pussy is soaking like a little whore."

You almost audibly moaned at his words, squeezing your knees together and suffocating his hand. He noticed but didn't mention it. "Please," you battered your eyes, matching his rough demeanor with the opposite.

"Already a fuckin' mess," his accent becomes thick, the stench of beer and various alcohol heavy on his breath, but it's something that you revel in. "Wonder what it's like if I," Chris cuts himself on when places a hand on your shoulder and shoves you on your knees. The carpet is sharp against your legs, piercing lotioned skin and you did your best to not wince. Instead, your bottom lip quivered. He chuckles - no, he laughs - at how you so quickly and quite literally fell on your knees for him. "Little whore," he takes your chin in between his finger and thumb and cocks your head up so your eyes meet his.

Innocent, doe eyes meet a look of superiority. It clashes, resulting in a lewd smirk on Chris' end. "Daddy," It's a word that hardly affects him anymore because he constantly thinks about it spilling from your lips, whether it's a scream or a whimper. You move your face closer to his covered length. The outline of him is already noticeable, but it's nothing shameful to him. In fact, he takes pride in it because the way you begin to melt just from the thought of him fucking your throat is the hottest thing he's ever seen.

"I think I know what you want," he smiles, because he does know. He always knows. He leans down a bit so that he's inches away from your face. "Yeah, I know what little sluts like you want. You want your daddy to fuck your face, don't you?" Your nod is pathetic. "Then you want me to fuck your little pussy," His fingers put pressure on your clit again. "Then you want me to fill it up. That's always how it goes, yeah?"

The whimper you release is a sound you've never heard yourself make before. It's high-pitched and squeaky, but it's also deep from your chest and low. Whatever it was, it turned Chris on like nothing else. "Yeah," He releases his caring hold on your chin and pops a slap to your cheek, watching as your perspective on him turned stunned. "I know what little sluts want." He repeated, cocking a brow.

He must have trained you well - countless nights spent turning you away from your brattish behaviors had paid off, because with just one look, you knew to unzip and discard him of his jeans. He even sighed when you took too long to throw them to the side and his fist found itself wrapped in your hair. But before you could pull off his boxer briefs, he pulled your head back. "On the fucking bed." he spat, and without a moment of hesitation, you lied yourself on the bed so your head hung off the edge.

With you legs and stomach completely bare to him, the position was the definition of vulnerable. "Atta girl," he whispers, leaning forward so his clothed hard-on is right on your lips. His fingers snap off your panties, leaving a red mark on your ass that he'll later kiss better. "You know what to fuckin' do," he leaves a tightly clamped pinch on your clit, practically moaning when you yelp and pull off the rest of his undergarments.

His girth is massive, 7 full inches filling your palm so you can't even wrap your fingers around him. The mushroom tip is a bright and painful red, leaking with pre-cum that you shamelessly spread over your tongue. Chris moans with a raspy and broken voice, almost losing the dominance he had. "Come on, little girl," he coos, watching your lips part to envelope his tip.

You have no idea how he ever fits down your throat, but somehow you always make it work. You make it halfway, leaving the rest to pump with your hand when he speaks up again. "No, sweetheart. It's my birthday, isn't it?" He pulls himself from your lips, much to his dismay. You nod. "Then you're gonna let daddy use you."

It wasn't question, but before you were given a chance to answer, you feel the weight of him on your tongue again, stretching open the muscles of your throat. They beg to contract around him, clamping down and initiating your gag reflex. You sputter wads of saliva around him, some of it dripping from any loose spaces. Spit fell to your cheek, dripping down your skin to your forehead and hair.

One second was all it took for you to relax, allowing Chris to keep a steady pace against your throat. Your moans matched his thrusts, and just past your larynx, he can see the tip of his cock pushing against you. He doesn't bottom out; he holds it there, watching as your eyes turn teary and wide. Your entire face becomes a beautiful shade of red, and your hands grip the backs of his thighs. "Fuck, yeah," he groans, finally pulling himself. There's a string of spit that follows, connecting the two of you. "Always such a perfect throat to fuck."

He pushes himself past your lips again, fastening the pace he had earlier. His thrusts were harder and meaner this time, bruising every spot inside your throat. Your lips were puffy and tight around him while you pathetically tried to suckle him. "That's it, that's a good girl," Chris' eyes squeezed shut, his fist landing next to your head. His other...on your throat, feeling himself push and push and push until he released, ropes and ropes of cum taking up space in your mouth.

For just a little bit more, he holds it there with his eyes closed. When he pulls away, his cum spills onto your cheeks and eyes, bubbling from your lips and ruining your mascara. He lifts you up with a hold that's warm and loving, contrasting his earlier actions toward you, but once you're sitting upright, he takes his thumb and smudges his cum around your face.

He pushes it so that your mascara runs freely, black streaks meeting your chin. It's a literal facial.

Just for one second, you share a look of affection. Chris holds all the love in the world for you right in his heart. He had shielded you for so long, scared that rumors and traps could take you away. But press conferences, paparazzi, and public media could say what they wanted - you were the girl for him, especially when you looked like this.

Chris lands a smack against your ass, turning it red and he flips you over on your stomach. Your black-lace bra is unclipped and pulled from your arms, thrown somewhere in the room to be found in the morning. "Beautiful girl," he murmured with love, but the expression in his eyes was dark with cruel intentions. You're an emotionally, physically, and mentally confused mess, but it only makes the heat in between your legs increase.

"W-will," you stutter, unaware how hoarse and sore your throat would be. "Will you fuck me now, please..." You're unable to speak anymore, scratchy words just barely making it past your lips. But Chris gives you a look of encouragement, lifting your hips up to his and pushing your head down onto the mattress. "Daddy."

He chuckles warmly, letting his hands firmly place themselves equally on your waist, rubbing the skin of your stomach soothingly. "Say it one more time, baby."

You open your mouth, preparing for the pain in your throat to ensue, but his lips attach themselves to your clit. His tongue is on a mission, licking and finding every spot in your cunt. He glides past your opening with ease, savoring the taste of your slick. "Daddy!" you exclaim, reaching a hand back into his hair but he slaps it away. "W-will you pl-ease..." You almost wail when his tongue taps the spongy spot inside you. "Fuck me! Will you p-please fuck me, daddy?"

You cursed yourself for managing to utter the words, because when you did, he pulled his mouth away from you. He looked down to your core. It was a red, soaking, fiery mess that was loudly begging for his cock. "You want daddy to fuck you, sweetheart?" The asshole was making you beg.

"I need your cock so bad, daddy," you look back over your shoulder, managing to meet his eyes. He's holding his cock inches away from you, rubbing the space below the head. Chris looks at you now with the need for assurance, needing to hear the words. "Fuck my pussy."

The stretch is almost unbearable, and you can hear your juices against his soaked length. There's a puckering noise when he pushes fully inside, his base hitting the lips of your cunt. "So good for me," His balls hang against your clit, and he leans down to place a kiss against your temple. "A good little whore for her daddy." Another to your cheek, and the stretch releases when he pulls away. His hips stutters in his withdrawal, feeling your tightness try to suck him in.

Only the head stays inside before his hips slam against yours, and instead of a kiss on your cheek, he plants a firm hand, pushing your head into the bed. His other remains on your hips, holding them still so he can repeatedly plow into your quivering hole. Right down there, he can feel your pulse against him. It was increasing with every thrust. The slapping noises were obscene and delicious to hear. It was a constant reminder that this was very real - you were there, with his cock mercilessly splitting you open and filling you up.

Your moans were ragged and you didn't even try to filter them out anymore. They were truly animalistic, and Chris preferred to hear your grunts and groans anyway. "That's a good girl," he draws out, watching himself disappear inside you. "Little whore loves a cock inside her. Can't even shut up about it." Not like he wanted you to stop.

"Fuck!" You scream with tightened eyes. Your walls are completely swollen, covered with a slick that coats his cock with a gleam. His tip continuously pushes against your cervix, pressing harder and harder every time with a feeling that was painful but pleasurable. His thrusts shook your body, which shook the bed, and made the whole room seem to shake. "Right t-there, daddy, please don't stop!"

His eyebrow twitches when he lifts his legs, changing the angle and level of pleasure he felt. Somehow, you clenched around him, tightening yourself so you completely suffocated the head of his length. "Won't stop, honey," he moaned, letting his head lean back just a bit. "God, I love fucking this cunt. Who were you made for, baby?"

His hand pushing on your cheeks moved to your throat where he rubbed his thumb and squeezed his fingers. Your words came out stuttered and muffled, "Y-you, daddy." The feeling of release came closer and closer, and Chris could tell you were barely able to let go. "I was m-made for you..."

"That's right," he whispered. "You're about to cum, I can tell," He pulls you up by your hair so your ear sits against his mouth. "You think little whores get to cum?" He'd be lying if he said he wasn't ready to cum either. He'd fucked you countless times before, but never did he have you like this.

"Please!" You sobbed. Your face was still wet with hot tears and any cum that managed to stick to your skin. It was actually extremely uncomfortable, but you felt like the filthiest and luckiest girl on the planet. "Please, let me cum, daddy! W-wanna cum around you!"

Two more thrusts and Chris could feel himself on the edge. "I know you, beautiful," he cooed, brushing your damp hair behind your ear and kissing your jaw. Your hands gripped his bicep, which held you up by your neck. Your legs were completely spread for him, and without any energy, they weren't even holding you up anymore. You were merely standing only because of his strength. "Daddy wants to hear you to cum around him, okay? Count down for me."

"Five," You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut so more tears spilled from the corners.

"Four," He replies with more sense of control.

"Three." You begin to claw at his arms.

"T-two." His hips stutter but the obscene noises ensue.

"One." Your groans match harmoniously when you both release together. His and your fluids mix together, and he still himself when ropes of his cum cover every square inch of your womb. Waves of warmth overwhelm you as you fall slump into the bed, and Chris allows you to. Your hips remain high in the air, feeling his cum slosh around against your walls.

His thumb caresses the curve of your ass, rubbing over any red spot he may have left from earlier. He doesn't immediately pull himself away - in fact, he keeps it there as a plug, whispering that "You'll look so swollen and beautiful," and "Feelin' it out, aren't you?" His names for you turn affectionate and warm again. "Baby", "Sweetheart", and "Honey" all cause you to melt in his arms.

When he finally draws his cock from your insides, it doesn't feel the same. You never noticed your cunt was so numb, you couldn't feel him wrapping his mouth against your hole. "Push it all out for me, baby." You moan when his fingers roll your clit between them, and you indistinctly push out the mixture of your cum onto his tongue. He closes his eyes shut, allowing the taste to soak his mouth, staining it so that he'll remember it for weeks.

It's a heavy weight on his tongue, but he closes his lips and gently pulls your face to him. His lips lock onto yours, exchanging it's contents into your mouth. It's a strange flavor - it's the salty and slight bitterness of his (from all the beer) but it has a musky factor that you assumed came from you. It overwhelmed your senses, letting you lay on your back while Chris climbed out from between your legs.

You heard three sounds of a beep, watching as the red dot on the camera flick off. Chris left it on it's three-legged stand for the morning, returning back to you. You knew how the rest of the night - although it was running on 1 am - would go. He would perform the best aftercare you'd ever receive, quickly washing you and dressing you in a pair of his boxers for sleep.

"Happy birthday, baby." You mutter with a sleepy smile, cupping his face in your hands and resting him on your chest.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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