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msgexymunson · 8 months

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Sammy's Mom

Description: Eddie Munson finds it difficult to get over his fantasies about you, his best friend's mom. He tries so hard to keep it in check. The only problem? Sammy's mom has got it going on.

A/N: kind of a little nod to the song "Stacey's Mom" (which is 20 years old now BTW, so if you remember it it's time to take aspirin for your back pain), I've written too much older Eddie in my time so trying to balance it out, as I've given him far too much rizz! And his friend is called Sammy as I've watched a lot of Supernatural recently. Please comment and reblog if you enjoy this my sweethearts.

Warnings: where do I start lmao, NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll slap you with a wet fish, age gap, Eddie's 21, reader is early 40s, MILF reader, reader referred to as 'Mrs F' a few times no first name given, perv Eddie, voyeurism, male masturbation, very slight foot fetish (nothing actually happens), oral both male and female receiving, p in v unprotected sex, slight anal play, cum eating.

10.5k words

Masterlist

"UNCLE EDDIE!!"

Johnny's little six year old voice rings out like a bell in the front yard. You look out the window and see him running as fast as his little legs could carry him towards a young man getting out of a beat up van.

"Hey Squirt!" Crouching to his knees, he accepts your kids embrace, then stands with him, swinging him around in the air as Johnny shrieks uncontrollably, unbridled joy brimming from his chest. The next minute he's got Johnny on his shoulders, walking around the house to the back yard.

You smile at their antics, warmed at the gesture. Eddie has always been good with your youngest son when he comes to visit Sammy, your oldest. It was nice, him having another man around to look up to, even if he really needs to remember to watch his language.

Voices sound from the back yard; Eddie had found Sammy and as usual, they were loud and laughing. Not that you minded at all, any laughter those kids could get was music to your ears.

You grab your sunglasses and perch them on top of your head, searching around for your gardening tools. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and you wanted to be near the kids at least. Grasping your pruners and gardening gloves in one hand and a cooler in the other, you make your way to the rear of the house.

Pushing the back door open with a hip, you see Sammy is already in the pool. Johnny is still talking a mile a minute at Eddie, as he sits on the edge of a lawn chair.

Well, he's certainly grown up.

Eddie's shirtless, sitting there in his long black swimming trunks. There's a new tattoo on his ribs but you can't make it out from this distance. He's looking toned; his jaw is sharper, with shoulders broader than you remember. He's become a man.

When the hell did that happen?

Shaking your head out of your temporary revelry, you walk over to the pair of them. The snippets of conversation you overhear as you approach widen the smile on your face.

"So, you think of any new monsters for me big guy?"

Johnny beams at Eddie with pride. "Yeah! So right, it's like, a big bat thing right? With metal bits all over, and- and- then it's got these huuuuge teeth, and- and- when he opens its mouth the teeth fly out, right, and turn into bats!!"

He starts excitedly flapping his arms around and screeching as Eddie laughs and ruffles his hair.

"Bats huh? That's sick. Pretty metal, squirt. Have to add that to the campaign."

Johnny beams at the praise, staring down at his hand, trying to work out his fingers, then flashes the devil horn hand at him triumphantly.

"Johnny honey, do you want to play in the pool? Give Uncle Eddie a chance to breathe?"

"Yeah! Can I do cannonballs? Can I can I can I?"

His enthusiasm always brings a smile to your face. "Sure thing honey, just don't go in the deep end, 'K?"

"Kay!" He flashes a thousand watt smile at you and runs off, calling to his brother.

Your gaze returns to Eddie, who you are sure was just checking you out. His eyes flick to yours almost guiltily.

"Brought some beers out for you both. Here." Passing him the cooler, your hands brush briefly, the slight touch running a shiver down your spine despite the heat.

"Thanks Mrs F."

Eddie licks his lips and you trace the movement with your eyes.

"Mom! What are you wearing?"

Sammy has exited the pool, dripping water everywhere. You look down at your outfit. You were wearing a two piece, slightly skimpier than your usual swimwear, and a pair of jean hotpants.

"Sammy love, it's hot. I'm in my backyard. What am I supposed to do? Dress like a nun?"

Eddie snorts a laugh next to you.

"But you're all… exposed mom."

"Sammy, shut up. Your mom can wear what she wants."

"Yeah? You're only saying that because you-"

But you're destined to never hear the end of that sentence as Eddie pushes him into the pool. Water splashes everywhere, and Eddie laughs, throwing his head back. The gesture has you staring yet again, looking at the skin on his neck, the way his Adam's apple bobs. A mad idea enters your head; what if you just darted your tongue out and licked over it? Decorated that delicate skin with kisses? Nipped at the sides of his throat with your teeth?

Eddie makes eye contact with you then, and you quickly look away. He was sure you were eyeing him up, almost certain of it. Hell, he's been staring at you for years, mapping your curves with his eyes, knowing he'll never get a chance to feel them under his hands, but the look you just gave him made his stomach twist.

Before your thoughts can go any further you tear yourself away and over to the rose bushes. You deadhead the rose bush as if your life depends on it, furiously snipping and cutting, as if you're trying to trim back the impure thoughts you're having.

After a while, the bushes are looking a lot neater. Stepping back, you remove your gardening gloves and swipe the sweat beads on your brow with the back of your hand.

"Mrs F, you wanna beer?"

You turn to see Eddie laying on a sun lounger, waving a cold one. As you walk towards him he stands up to hand it to you.

"That a new tattoo Eddie?" You ask, pointing to his abdomen. He looks taken aback by your question but responds nonetheless.

"Yeah, you like it?"

Your hand drifts towards him almost instinctively, only realising when his muscles tense under your soft touch. It's a scorpion, surrounded in a wreath of flames. Tracing it with your fingers, you circle it slowly. Eddie can feel his heart pounding in his chest. A slow moan escapes Eddie's lips which pulls you out of wherever the hell you were heading. The heat must have gotten to your head. Pulling back your fingers, you respond.

"Yeah, I like it. Metal."

Looking up around him through your lashes, your eyes meet his. He looks flushed, cheeks heating at your stare.

"You OK Eddie?"

"Y-yeah, fine. I'm gonna have a dip in the pool."

He shuffles awkwardly off, nearly bent double. All his strange stance does is draw attention to the tent in his swimming trunks that has appeared. It's really rather large; to your amazement, you can't seem to take your eyes off it. Eddie dives into the pool, swimming over to your son.

Did I just do that?

You shake your head, banishing thoughts of Eddie's package, and head off to the kitchen to clean some dishes.

As Eddie rushes into the pool, he's wishing the cool water would shrink the raging hard on he just got.

Fuck, you look so good today. That skimpy bikini top barely covering the curves of your tits; them damn near spilling out of the top. Those tiny shorts, framing your hips and ass perfectly. Then you had to go and touch him. That had him nearly busting in his pants. He can't help but wonder if it was on purpose. A crazy thought he shouldn't be entertaining.

He dips his head under the water trying to cool the blood that had rushed to his cheeks.

You had to be at least 40. Sammy's Dad had been out of the picture for a while, he knew that much. He couldn't help but wonder if you were a little lonely; maybe that's why you had been flirting with him. Or it was entirely Eddie's imagination and he just needs to jerk off and get it out of his system.

As he gets out of the water, shaking his hair like a dog, he thinks he sees you looking at him through the kitchen window, but he can't be sure.

"Dude, why have you got a boner?" Sammy points at him from the water, forcing Eddie to cup his erection, trying to hide it from prying eyes.

"I can't help it!" He whisper shouts, cheeks flushing anew, "your mom's hot!"

"Eddie! Don't say that, that's gross!" Sammy slings back, pulling a disgusted face.

"Hey it's not, she's a total fox, what can I do, it's like, biological, she's a babe!"

Little did he know you can hear every word, pressing your lips together firmly to suppress a laugh as you dry up a cup in the kitchen.

"She's like, really old, and she's my mom for God's sake!"

"Hey, rude, she's not that old. You think she's into younger guys?" You can hear the smile in his voice, he's clearly just trying to wind Sammy up now, but your thighs clench together at the thought. The cup in your hands is dry as a bone right now.

"Eddie shut the f-"

"What's a boner?" The little voice is clear and loud, cutting through the argument.

A loud laugh shoots from your chest uncontrollably. You try to mask it with your hand but there's nothing you can do, it's out there now.

Eddie's head whips around to face the house, flicking water droplets in its wake.

"Oh shit." It's low, but loud enough to hear.

Making your way back outside, you call out to Johnny to save either of them answering the awkward question.

"Come on kid, you want a snack?"

"Yeah mommy! Shit!" Eddie's mouth drops open.

"What did I say about copying Eddie" you ask sternly.

He parrots back in a sing-song voice, "don't copy Eddie, Eddie is dirty."

"That's right. Come on, inside." He runs past you in the way only a child can, feet flat on the floor slapping on the concrete.

Eddie steps a little closer to you.

"I'm so sorry Mrs F it won't-"

"Hey, it's OK," you reply, stepping to meet him. You drop your voice lower, hand up as if you're telling a secret. On autopilot, Eddie leans towards you to hear your whisper, close enough to smell your shampoo.

"Sometimes mommy's dirty too."

Turning on your heel, you walk back into the house without a glance, leaving Eddie with his jaw on the floor.

Where the hell did that come from?

You try to steady your breathing as you go inside. That was reckless of you, he's half your age. You admonish yourself, telling your brain that you need to stop flirting with the poor boy.

Eddie's frozen on the spot. It's clear you overheard their little conversation, and then you come out with something like that? It's definitely not his imagination at this point. For a crazy moment he thinks he might actually have a shot at you.

Stop it. She's Sammy's mother for Christ's sake. Pull yourself together Munson.

"Imma take a quick shower if that's alright and get, er, changed. You wanna work on the campaign some more?" Eddie says it over his shoulder to Sammy, not daring to turn. He's never been so hard in all his life.

"Sure, just stay out of my mom's room."

Eddie laughs nervously, "who do you think I am?" As he walks to the house.

"Eddie fuckin' Munson." Sammy mutters under his breath.

As he stumbles into the house with his bundle of clothes over his crotch, he catches another glimpse of you, on your hands and knees searching in a cupboard.

"Honey, I don't think we've got any animal crackers left." You say over your shoulder to a pouting Johnny.

You're barely contained in your jean hot pants, the denim tight against your perfect ass.

"Fuckin' hell" Eddie mutters under his breath, tearing his eyes away to make his way upstairs.

He practically runs up the stairs, tripping slightly on the last step. Flinging his body into the bathroom, he shuts and locks the door.

Five seconds later he's in the shower with his hand wrapped around his slippery cock, tugging on it as if it were his last day on earth.

Fuck, why does she have to be so fine?

He's whimpering and stifling breathy moans as he cums hard in less than five minutes. Shame snags its sneaky claws into his heart then, as he hangs his head under the shower head. He needs to get it together before the thought of you ruins him completely.

********************

Knocking on your eldest son's door, he calls out for you to enter. Both him and Eddie are sitting on the bed, a pile of books and notes between them. You do your best to ignore the smoky weed smell as you address him.

"Sammy, I'm heading out, you still OK to take care of Johnny?"

"Woah, Mrs F you look h-" Sammy elbows him in the ribs before he can finish the sentence, "-very nice." Eddie finishes lamely.

A smile spreads over your face at his words. Your date tonight was nothing special, not really, but the need growing between your legs needed to be sorted out somehow. So, you'd dressed to impress; a red figure hugging dress, ending just at the knee, with matching slingbacks. Your hair was down, hanging past your shoulders in soft curls.

"Mom, I'm going to Tiffany's, to stay over, remember?" Sammy responds, raising his eyebrows meaningfully at you.

"That was tonight?" Well, fuck. "Your grandma's coming to pick Johnny up at 9, can't you stay until then?

"I can watch him."

You both turn to look at Eddie. He looks just as surprised as you two at his words.

"I can watch him, no problem. I ain't got anywhere to be tonight."

Eddie doesn't know why he offered. Well, in part he did. He might get to see you again in that dress later.

"Thanks Eddie, you're a lifesaver. I can pay-"

"Oh no, don't worry about it." He flashes a grin which does something to your insides, melting them just a little.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it. Johnny's downstairs watching TV, he's had dinner, just need to wait for my mom to pick him up. You sure it's OK?"

"Of course, it's no problem."

"OK, well make yourself at home." You give him a winning smile of your own which makes his face flush red.

"Oh, and Sammy?"

"Yeah mom?"

"Use protection."

"Mom!"

You laugh and shut the door, heading off to your date.

********************

The date was a total bust, not that you'd expected anything less. Greg from accounting was nice, sure; kind of handsome, in a middle aged balding kind of way. A reliable sort of guy. Then, when the dinner was over and he kissed you, you knew there was no way it was going to go any further. So, you'd refused his invitation to go to a bar, made your excuses and got a cab home.

Standing outside your house, you look at the time. 9:30. Rock and roll. You huff into the humid night air at how old you must seem right now, and open your front door.

"Eddie!"

Sprawled on the sofa, manspreading, sits Eddie. A beer rests on the coffee table, and the TV is blaring out some horror film.

He scrambles to his feet looking like he's about to be told off.

"Mrs F, sorry, erm, your mom's not here yet, she called saying she was running late-"

As if on cue, there's a knock at the door. You open it, and see your mom standing there, pushing past you in a cloud of perfume.

"Hey love, so sorry I'm late!" She looks at you, then Eddie. "Is this your date?"

Blushing a furious red, you shake your head.

"Oh, no this is Sammy's friend, he was watching Johnny for a bit."

"Oh, the young man I spoke to on the phone. Shame, he's very handsome." She winks at you.

"Mom!"

Eddie looks like he's about to die from blood loss; his face is so drained it's ghostly white.

"I-I'll go get squirt," he stumbles out awkwardly.

"Mom, please behave." You whisper when he's left the room.

"I'm behaving! I thought you were on a date, what happened?"

"He wasn't my type."

"Well, you should find someone who is. How long has it been?"

You run your hand through your hair, feeling a little more confrontational than usual due to the alcohol in your veins.

"Mom, just drop it. I'm fine!"

"OK, OK! That babysitter is a fine looking young man-"

"Mom!"

"Mommy!" You turn just in time for Johnny to grab your legs in a hard hug, squishy cheek pushing against your thigh.

"We went on an adventure! I'm a Knight, I saved the lady! There was gobbins and stuff!" His little eyes shine, staring at Eddie in pure adoration.

"Really? Well done! Sounds amazing love. Go on, go with nanna. I love you."

"OK! Love you mom! Bye Uncle Eddie!" He runs over to him and grabs his legs fiercely. Eddie ruffles his hair in response.

"Night squirt. Or should I say Sir Johnny the Just?"

"Yeah! Imma hero!" He beams and runs off to grasp your mother's hand, regaling her of his adventures.

"I'll see you later mom," you say, passing her Johnny's overnight bag by the door.

As the door shuts, the only sounds are coming from the gristly movie on the TV until Eddie switches it off. Silence.

"Mrs F, I only opened the beer after I put him to bed, I swear-"

"Hey, it's fine, don't worry. Thanks for staying longer, I appreciate it."

"Oh, it's fine. My trailers empty anyway, and you have cable." He smiles sheepishly at you.

"I told you, make yourself at home. Finish your beer."

Shoes are kicked off to join the jumble at the front door, and you rub some life back into your aching heels. Eddie's staring at your feet and he can't figure out why. He's never had a thing for feet, but yours? Yours he'd happily have running over his body, in his mouth, on his cock. He's almost ashamed at how just the slightest bit of your flesh on show has him practically drooling.

You're oblivious to Eddie's perverse thoughts however. Tonight was not what you wanted, and it makes you huff aloud at the thought.

"You alright Mrs F?" Eddie asks, concern in his voice as he sits back down on the couch, trying his hardest not to stare at your cleavage.

"Yeah I'm-" why are you lying? "no, actually I'm not. Not the night I was expecting." When you flash a weak smile at Eddie, it's not returned. He looks worried almost.

"Wanna talk about it?"

It's sweet of him to ask, and you're about to brush it off but he just looks so invested in your welfare that it takes you aback briefly.

"Sure. Hang on a minute." You pad barefoot to the kitchen and grab a beer, returning to the living room to sit on the couch beside him.

Eddie is trying to tell himself he's just being nice. It's not just an excuse to stay. It's difficult to believe his own thoughts however when your dress is riding up your thigh like that.

The very air between you both seems thick and laced with unanswered questions, tension real and palpable.

"So, Sir Johnny the Just?" You ask, to try and clear the closing space.

"Yeah," Eddie grins, face lighting up at the mention of your boy, "I gave him the name. Made a little one shot for him, you know, fought some goblins, saved a damsel in distress. He's got a knack for D&D."

Your eyes glisten at that.

"Thanks, he really looks up to you. It's nice, him having some guys around."

"Can I ask, what happened to… Mr F?" He knows he's crossing a line here, but he's so curious, and Sammy never talks about it.

"He left me. I was pregnant with Johnny, and he met some blonde twig, had an affair."

"Oh, I'm so fuckin' sorry."

You shrug. It's trauma, yes, but it's passed. A wound that has long since closed over the years, scarring but healing. You sip your beer and ask a line crossing question of your own.

"So, no girlfriend then? Since you're free on a Saturday night?"

You're not sure where that came from, but it's been asked now. A bubble of nerves pops when you ask it, showering you in drops of second guesses.

"N-no, well I mean, yeah I've had like, girlfriends in the past but no, I'm single. As a pringle."

What was that about? Smooth Munson.

You just laugh as he visibly cringes at his own words.

"Pringles aren't single, they fit together. They come in a tube." You add, mock helpfully.

You both chuckle then, diffusing some of the awkwardness between you. He knocks your knee with his. You reciprocate, and look up into those soulful puppy dog eyes of his.

Eddie's arm lays on the back of the couch behind you, and he's painfully aware of that fact. He wants to drop it to your shoulder, to run circles on your exposed skin and give you that smile, the smile he's given to a dozen girls. But you aren't a girl. You're a woman. The thought is making him more nervous than a virgin on prom night.

Coughing the thought away, he asks you about tonight.

"So, what happened on your date? I thought you'd be out later."

"So did I." You slug some more beer back to calm yourself, and continue, "he was a nice guy. Opened doors, paid for dinner. Then he kissed me."

Eddie attempted to ignore the burning jealousy in his gut.

"Oh yeah? Sounds awful.'

Laughing, you reach and stroke his side for a minute. Your hand lingers, feeling down to his hip. Eddie's heart is pounding in his throat. To his amazement, you leave it there, absentmindedly running fingers over his t-shirt.

'Yeah, torture," you quip, "it was the kiss."

Suddenly, you're moving your hand, much to Eddie's dismay, and turning to face him on the couch. He does the same, noticing that his arm is now so close to your head he can feel a slight tickle from your hair.

"Can I be honest with you?"

"Sure," Eddie tries to say coolly, to act like his entire insides aren't on fire because of the eye contact you're giving him.

"It's, er, been a while. A very long while." Your eyes dip down, unsure why the hell you're telling Eddie this, but something about him is making you want to be open when usually you're a closed book.

Eddie swallows thickly. He knows exactly what you're getting at. On instinct his thumb is rubbing the back of your head, over the soft curls. You don't seem to mind, better yet, your shoulders drop some tension, letting go just a little.

Still looking down, you say "I can usually tell what someone's going to be like, in bed, from a kiss. Never been wrong yet," you laugh a little, "and he felt, well, dull, and kinda selfish."

Grabbing your beer for something to distract you from the ache in your core, you drink some more, nearly finishing it.

As you place it back down on the coffee table, you glance at Eddie's lap. He's fumbling with his rings, spinning one with his thumb as he shifts in his seat. There's an unmissable bulge in the front of his jeans; they're so tight you can see the outline of it. Of him.

Glancing up at his face when you feel brave enough, it's beetroot red, but his eyes look dark, hungry almost.

"Well, th-that's a cool superpower to have," he laughs out nervously.

"I suppose it is" You smile.

Eddie's trying so hard to control himself. The devil on his shoulder is pulling at his hair and yelling in his ear to make a move.

This isn't right though, it's Sammy's mom for fucks sake.

That's when you put your hand on his knee, touching that bare patch of skin where his jeans are frayed. Your touch is delicate, almost hesitant, and it destroys any resolve Eddie had. His hand is shaking slightly as he puts his fingers over yours.

The touch is warming and electric, fanning the flames of the blazing fire in your stomach. As your eyes meet, Eddie's confidence grows. He can see that you want this, but someone needs to make the first move, and he would kick himself if he missed out because he didn't have the balls to make it.

"You know sweetheart," he begins, as you take a sharp breath at the nickname, he's never called you anything other than Mrs F before that, "you can't just say you have a superpower like that and not show me."

There's nerves in his voice, but also a cheeky smile playing on his lips. To his amazement you blush, mouth curving into a smile of your own.

"Listen, Eddie, you're a very sweet boy-"

"-man," He interjects, "I'm 21."

Chuckling, you reply, "OK, a very sweet young man, but I don't think that's a good idea."

It's true, you don't. It's a very bad idea, but it's one you can't get out of your head, your eyes drawn to the curve of his jaw, his stubble, those plush lips of his. Wetting your lips impulsively, you nibble at the bottom one which sends Eddie's head into a dizzying whirlwind.

"I just wanna know if I'm good in the sack, think it's only fair if you can tell me, it's just a kiss."

Luck being pushed as far as it can go and then a little further, he daringly places a hand on your cheek.

He is right, it's only a kiss.

You say it in your head as if you're trying to convince yourself of the lie. By the time you realise how weak of an argument it is, you're already leaning forward, eyes unmistakably drawn to his lips.

Eddie leans in, breath fanning your face.

"Don't you want to… satisfy your curiosity?"

It's bold, he knows, but you're the one who leans in further.

Eddie doesn't think twice, not when your eyes are hooded like that and your lips are forming a sultry pout. He presses his lips to yours softly at first, feeling the plush of them melt against his, his hand winding into your hair.

You don't stop him, or pull back. His lips on yours are disarming, taking away your bite. The kiss is gentle, and you dissolve into it, moving your lips against his with a passion you can't remember ever feeling.

Eddie's trying really hard not to just stick his tongue down your throat and feel you up, but he needs to prove something. He might not ever get a chance ever again, so he takes it slow. Opening his mouth, his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, begging. Not only do you let him, you return his tongue with a lick of your own, running it over his lip in turn. Tongues stroke into each other's mouths sensually; you feel as if you have something to prove. Like he's the one who will be judging you and not the other way around.

He tastes intoxicating; you can't put your finger on why, it's beer, and cigarettes, and something else that's drawing you in. It's just pure Eddie. His smell too, leather, smoke and Old Spice; it's filling you up from the inside out, making your head spin.

Eddie's obsessed. Your touch, your scent, your taste. He could kiss you forever; he could kiss you until he dies, suffocated by your mouth, your passion. This feels like some sort of fever dream and he never wants to wake up.

Your fingers are touching cotton fabric before you even understand that you've got a fistful of his shirt, pulling him in further. He responds by dropping his hand to your neck, thumb rubbing intoxicating patterns on your pulse point.

When you're feeling on the brink of being entirely consumed by his kiss, he's the one to pull away. It's a little sneaky, he knows that, but he wants the upper hand and thinks he won't get it ever again. Eddie can't believe his luck when he sees your eyes still closed, lips chasing his touch, with a ball of his shirt in your hands.

As your eyes flutter open, you look up at him. A self satisfied smirk is smeared across his face and you can't help but think he's won this round of whatever the hell you're playing. Playing with fire it feels like.

A moment too late and you remember your hand bunched into his clothes. You unhand him and slap his knee, fingers unwilling to pull away.

"So, what's the verdict sweetheart?" Eddie asks. His fingers are still massaging at your neck, rubbing back and forth, sending tingles down your spine.

"What?" You ask, mind well and truly blank.

"Guessing that's good." He laughs, taking his hand away to take a sip of his beer. "Remember your superpower, Wonder Woman?"

"Oh, yeah. It was… good." You shrug, picking up the last of your beer and downing it.

"Good? Good?! Come on, you gotta give me more than that!" He huffs dramatically, slamming his beer bottle on the table.

Laughing aloud, you turn and face him again. He really is beautiful. His hair framing his face, that triumphant smile on his lips, laughter lines creasing in his day old stubble. You can almost believe he's older than he is, but knowing what you know about his family, he's been through a lot.

"OK, it was the best kiss I've had in a while. A very long time."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

It's quiet for a moment; a loaded kind of quiet. It hangs heavily in the air like a thunderstorm.

"Well, how about you?" You ask.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean!" You laugh, nudging him with your foot.

"It was… good." He says, mimicking your words. Then he takes in your face, drinking in your beauty with his eyes, until he can't hold back anymore, "alright, it was mind blowing, you're really fuckin' hot."

"Yeah, for my age" You scoff at his response, disbelieving him even after that kiss. You hear it alot, ever since you passed 35. 'You look good for your age', the backhanded compliment that feels like a knife in the chest.

"That's bullshit!" Eddie responds loudly, shaking you out of your head and into the here and now, "you're fucking hot, period. Nothing to do with age sweetheart."

If his words are lies, the bulge in his pants sure isn't. You feel drunk, and not from the alcohol. Eddie's kiss had you feeling reckless. Naughty. Young.

"I overheard your little conversation earlier," you admit, scooching closer to him on the couch. Faces an inch apart, Eddie's torn between pouncing or running. So are you.

"Yeah, you weren't supposed to hear that. Kinda glad you did."

That makes you braver. All thought has gone, and the pounding need in between your legs has you losing all inhibitions as you lean towards his neck.

"Do you want me, Eddie?" You purr into his ear, nipping at the lobe with your teeth.

"Uh, like, yeah. Yes, o-of course" He replies shakily, hand restless against your thigh.

"You're trembling Eddie" it's your turn to smirk, lips dragging against his throat, "you've been with a woman before, right?" You know he has, but you can't help teasing him a little.

Yes, a dozen, but none like you.

"Y-yeah, I'm not a virgin, if th-that's what you're asking."

Get it the fuck together Munson.

"Then why are you nervous?"

"Girls don't make me nervous. You make me nervous" He laughs, with absolute honesty in his words.

With a flick of your eyes to his lips, you cradle his jaw. Eddie can't wait a second longer, he's about to burst. He takes a breath, grabs you by the hip, and presses a hard kiss to your mouth.

The first one was a test, an examination. This one is pure desire, neediness etched into the marrow of his bones. Yet you're the one to deepen the kiss, mouth opening up to him, your tongue running over his with fervour. Lust is rolling off the pair of you, filling the room with its sultry fog.

Impatience gets the best of him, he needs you closer, so he yanks you into his lap, hands grabbing hard to your hips. Gasping into his mouth at the sudden dominance, you let him lead. His kiss is burning you, hot and heavy. Your hips start grinding into his lap of their own accord, each movement inching your dress higher and higher.

Eddie rolls it up and over your ass so your red lace panties are on display, dress bunching at your waist. His hands are all over you, feeling at your thighs, your hips, your ass, kneading at the dough of your flesh desperately.

Each grope, each bruising squeeze of his fingertips has you panting in his mouth, your hands winding into his loose locks, tugging.

The kisses are becoming sloppier, allegedly immovable lipstick starting to smear on Eddie's face. You're biting at his bottom lip, grinding hard against his clothed dick; Eddie feels like he's died and gone to heaven.

He tugs at your dress urgently, coaxing you to wriggle it up your frame and fling it away.

The sight of you in your matching bra and panty set is enough to stop him in his tracks. It's gorgeous satin and lace, one of many you have. Even Eddie can see this is expensive. He runs his hands up and down your sides, drinking it in as if it were his last day on Earth.

You allow him the few moments he takes to worship you with his eyes. If anything you're enjoying it as much as he is, his hungry stare fuelling your ego.

"See something you like?" You tease, fingernails dragging across his neck.

"Fuck yeah" comes his breathy response, pulling down a cup of your bra roughly, his mouth finding your nipple and sucking.

Throwing your head back, you let out an unadulterated moan. You grab the hem of his shirt and tug it upwards. He gets the message, wrestling it off of his toned frame and throwing it away as if he's exasperated with clothes. Relishing in this new uncharted territory, your hands run all over his skin, tracing tattoos and freckles, fingernails leaving evidence of your desire.

"Sorry, I just need to-" instead of telling you, he shows you, standing up with you grasped firmly at the hips. You think for a moment that he's going to take you upstairs, but he's pressing you down gently to the floor, lips and tongue tasting your neck, playfully licking over your collarbone.

Eddie needs to know what your pussy tastes like; he's been dreaming of this for as long as he can remember. The thought of you unravelling because of him has him twitching in his pants.

So, he makes his way down your torso, mapping your skin with his tongue. You're just so reactive; each time he laps and sucks at you a breathy gasp comes spilling from perfect painted lips.

It's driving you crazy, his mouth is setting each patch of skin aflame, burning with passion. You're surprised by his movements as his mouth trails lower and lower. It looks like he's taking every enjoyment in tasting you, and the way he wiggles to get between your spread legs makes you realise he's going to go down on you. That is what's so surprising; you've never had a man who did that without some serious coaxing, let alone one who seemed to really want to.

Now you're not self conscious by any means; you've grown to be very comfortable with your body, the feeling just comes with age. You can't help but be a little worried however, when Eddie reaches the stretch marks on your tummy. Little lightning strikes, lighter than the rest of your skin. You're not embarrassed, those little marks on your stomach and thighs are signs of your two beautiful boys. What's troubling you is the fact that Eddie can't have possibly seen any before, at least like this. What if they disgust him?

It seems you needn't have worried. Eddie's in awe, running his fingers over the soft skin of the scars. He plants a kiss over the top and watches your muscles tense up.

It's not that he likes them, or dislikes them for that matter; it's the fact that they are real. You're real, and in front of him in your underwear, and they ground him to the fact that this is actually happening.

Reaching the hem of your panties he's torn between taking them off or not; you're just so damn pretty in them. He settles for running his tongue along the seam making you moan. You, Sammy's mom, moaning underneath him. He'd pinch himself if he didn't think it would spoil the mood.

"You can take them off if you want baby."

"Can I just, move them to the side? You're so fuckin' pretty like this."

"Sure" you nod at him. He does so and nearly dies at the sight. Seems everything about you is thought of, down to your manicured nails, waxed legs, and bikini wax. The little patch of hair left is driving Eddie fucking crazy.

He wastes no more time and runs his tongue through your folds, lapping at you like a man possessed. You taste exquisite, a flavour Eddie will remember for the rest of his life. It has him groaning into you, the vibration tingling over your clit making you writhe under him.

He's trying to map what you like, what makes you whimper, what makes you buck into his mouth. You can tell he's trying, really trying, but you know what you need.

"Eddie, oh fuck, use, use the flat of your tongue," as he changes his tongue shape and rhythm, you wind your fingers into his hair and tug him right where you need him, "Oh God fuck, right there!"

Yes fucking ma'am.

Eddie's birthdays, Christmases, Easters, fuck it, all the holidays, have come at once. You are using him for your pleasure, riding his face. His dick is so swollen it's almost painful; he's rutting into the carpet like a teenager, the seam on his jeans not nearly providing enough friction.

The pleasure is coursing through your veins, throbbing inside your stomach and thighs as you take what you need, fingers pulling hard at his hair.

The moan that rips from your chest when Eddie pushes two fingers into your soaking wet cunt is pornographic, long and loud. He curls them upward, stroking incessantly at your g spot and spots appear in your vision. The last coherent thought you have is, fuck he really knows what he's doing.

"Eddie!"

You come with a strangled scream of his name, then it's all just white light and searing ecstasy as you ride out your orgasm. Your pulse and the feel of Eddie's hair taut in your fingers are the only things keeping you on planet Earth.

Eddie just about holds it together, fingers working you through your release. You screamed his name. He almost came in his pants right then and there. The sound of you screaming his name is now a new core memory. He's sure he will replay it in his head many times with his fist on his cock.

Your back finally touching the carpet again, you tear Eddie's head away from your pussy and coax him none too gently upward. He hovers over your mouth, a little worried about kissing you when his face is covered with your release, but that worry turns into shock when you push his head forcefully towards yours and slip your tongue in his mouth.

You can't help but moan at the taste of yourself in his mouth. The moan sounds low in your throat, buzzing into Eddie's mouth so low he feels it in his dick. Seems you weren't lying when you said mommy is dirty too.

Suddenly Eddie's world turns sideways as you flip him onto his back, pushing his thighs apart with your knee. His scent, the feel of his skin, it's intoxicating. Before you realise what you're doing, you're sucking a love bite into the side of his neck, hard.

Mine.

Trailing lips and manicured nails down his torso, you pause at the fly of his jeans. You look up at him through your lashes.

"This OK Eddie?"

"Erm… oh God yes?"

You giggle girlishly, flicking the button of his jeans undone and unzipping the fly gently. Relishing in the moment, you guide him to lift his hips and pull his jeans and boxers down slowly, unwrapping him like a gift.

And what a fucking gift.

As you pull his jeans and underwear down to his knees, his hardened cock springs out, coming to rest on his abdomen. It's big, the biggest you think you've seen in real life. Blushing a pretty pink at the tip, a pearl of pre cum sits on the slit at the top.

Eddie takes your stillness as judgement, he can't help but fill in the silence.

"Sorry, it's er, it's not like, impressive or anything- oh fuck"

His apologies are interrupted when you take the tip in your mouth, sucking up the pre cum that glistens there. You roll the tip around your mouth, amazed at the fact he tastes so good.

Breaking away with a pop, you reply, looking at him as you fist his length slowly with one hand.

"Eddie, you're really, really big."

"Really?" He doesn't look convinced, leaning up on his elbows to look at you.

"Really. You're huge Eddie."

"Yeah?" An edge of disbelief coats his voice, but he's smiling.

"Biggest I've seen."

Eddie's smile is damn near splitting his face in half.

"So, could I get that in writing or- Jesus fuckin' Christ!"

You take him in your mouth again, fitting as much as you can, fisting the rest in your hand. The groans and whimpers coming from Eddie's mouth are downright obscene. The wetter you get him, the louder he gets, so you dribble purposely all over your fist, letting it drip down to his balls.

Eddie's eyes keep trying to roll back but he won't let them, he refuses. He needs to see this, to see you. The slick sounds your hand and mouth are creating are making him fizz from the inside out, each movement is making him want to blow his load in that perfect practised mouth.

Sammy's mom is sucking my fucking dick dry.

He's trying to get his head around this impossible situation but it's so outlandish he wants to laugh. Or cry. Or scream. He settles on moaning, hand resting on the back of your head, stroking encouraging circles.

"Fuck, you're- you're too good at this, holy shit!"

Relinquishing his length with a sodden wet noise, you fist his length, running your thumb over his tip and lapping at his balls. Taking one in your mouth and playfully sucking, he nearly busts right then and there.

"OK sweetheart, I-I can't hold back if you, fuck, if you d-do that-"

You finally unhand him with a cheeky smile and straddle him, your underwear the only barrier between your sex and his throbbing length.

"You OK there champ?" You ask, a mischievous grin plastered all over your face as you drag your perfect nails down his chest.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, I-" Eddie grabs your hand, stopping you in your tracks, "Please give me a minute, please."

Eddie's eyes are big, wide and wet. Almost like a lost puppy. You're torn between wanting to hold him close, look after him, and fucking him hard until he cries.

Suddenly he looks concerned, eyes growing impossibly wider.

"I don't have, a-a condom or anything-"

You chuckle lowly, bringing his hand to your lips, kissing softly at his knuckles.

"Eddie, baby, I had my tubes tied years ago. It's OK. If it's OK with you?"

Holy shit. Sammy's mom wants to ride me raw. Jesus Christ.

His head is spinning; he realises he's nodding so hard he may have whiplash. You smirk at his response, the rigorous nodding and wide eyed look is just doing something to your insides; twisting them up, making you hungry.

Maybe that's why you do what you do. You wink at him, and swing your leg over, pushing your underwear to the side once again. Though this time, you're straddling him backwards, round ass on display as you tease the head of his cock with your soaking wet lips.

As you sink down onto him, you hear the guttural moan that strikes out from his soul almost, travelling swiftly to your core. He's big, you weren't lying. You feel each vein, each ridge, as you seat yourself fully onto his cock.

This boy has no idea what he's packing.

Jesus Christ, the spots this impressive length can reach are unreal. You bounce on him slowly, revelling in the stretch. He's throbbing underneath you, inside you. The sensation makes you moan wantonly, feeling sexier than you've felt in years.

Eddie's mesmerised by your ass, watching it bounce on his dick, drooling at the shake of it when it plunges back down. His eyes are drawn to your tight hole, half hidden by the pricey underwear that still adorns you. Just a tiny slip of lace hugged in your ass cheeks.

He's already pushed his luck; he's well aware of that fact. The arousal pumping through him has him throwing caution to the wind however, so he sucks his thumb, getting it nice and wet, and pushes it against your asshole.

It surprises you, sure, but you're moaning louder at his bold move.

Eddie's reeling, dizzy at your reaction. He was expecting at least for you to just slap his hand away, but if anything you speed up and make even more noise. Fuck, if you could get more perfect, you just did. He pushes his digit in, feeling you clench around it, riding him for all he's worth.

"Oh fuck, Eddie!"

It's too much for you to take, being filled in both holes, riding him hard and fast until your vision is blurring and spots are in your eyes. Your release startles you, a fuzzy feeling filling you up from the inside out and exploding from your cunt in a gush.

Reality seeps in as you come down from your high; pain in your knees searing up your leg.

"Sweetheart, I need to get on top, please."

It's a relief you're not prepared to admit to as you climb off, legs twitching and knackered.

Near collapsing on the floor, Eddie's on you, falling in his excitement. He's forgotten his jeans are still woven around his ankles. He kicks them off and slides between your spread legs.

"Can I take your panties off now sweetheart?"

What he's not saying, is he really doesn't want to miss what might be the only time he gets to see you naked. You oblige, lifting up your hips so he can wrestle the sodden garment off you.

As if you can hear his prayers, you unhook your bra too, flinging it toward the couch. Eddie's nearly having a heart attack; it's hammering hard in his chest, the only thing stopping it from bursting out is his ribcage. The sight of you, nude, beneath him? It's unravelling him in a way he didn't know was possible.

So he loses it for a moment, burying his head in the valley of your breasts, licking and sucking as if his life depended on it. Your nipples stand to attention at his ministrations, yet your core hums at the lack of attention.

"Eddie, please, I need you inside me."

Fuck this is unreal. She's so beautiful and she's begging for me. Feels like a dream.

But it's not a dream. He's pressing his quivering length against you again and your pussy is swallowing him up as if it's hungry for him.

You let him in, his hard member spearing you, humping into you hard and rough. You groan against him, fingernails finding leverage in his broad shoulders.

His arms hook under your sweaty knees, pulling them hard against your torso, angling himself to fuck into you mercilessly.

"Fuck, you feel- so fuckin' good" He stammers out, slamming his hips into you.

You're beyond words, screaming his name like it's the only word you know.

"You gonna come again? Please, fuck, please come, I need it, I need it baby please" His babbling words fire out at you, driving you ceaselessly to another orgasm.

Fingers wind between your heaving forms, running urgent circles over your clit. They slip and slide against your sodden nub, desperately seeking to get you to that precipice. You moan, and moan, and finally clench and scream his name, voice hard, burning in your throat.

Eddie can't take it, not the way your cunt is grabbing onto him so tightly, constricting his dick as if it's afraid he'll leave. He stutters his hips and grunts his own release deep into you.

For a minute he doesn't stop, He refuses to stop. He doesn't want it to be over. So, he fucks his cum into you until it's impossible to continue and finally comes up for air.

You envelop his lips into a suffocating kiss, swollen lips and tongue and spit. Messy and passionate, he returns it, glad that you still want to kiss him at the end of all things.

Though, you don't want it to be over. His touch, his feel, his taste, you could soak it up, roll around in it forever, wrap yourself in his arms and stay. A mad thought. A maddening thought.

Eddie slips from inside you making you frown at the loss. His smile is soaked in mischief however, as he starts to kiss down your front again, burying his head in the deep valley of your breasts, tongue lathering over the supple flesh and moving downwards.

He's never, ever, felt the need to taste himself on another. As a matter of fact, if you had told him yesterday he would feel the desperate urge to press his tongue into a pussy that is dripping with his own cum he would have laughed in your face. But, this is your pussy. Your tight wet cunt, and he needs to taste it. He needs it like he needs air to breathe. For a second he stares up at you with big soulful eyes.

"I wanna taste what we made."

His words are shooting into the pulse spilling from your core.

"Really?" Your words drip in perplexity, amazed that any man would want that, but the thought lingers, making you realise that you want that.

No further time wasted, he dives into your dripping core, tongue dragging through your aching lips. For a moment it's too much, until it drops into pleasure; pleasure that you sink into, melting under his touch.

Eddie laps furiously at your clit, both of your releases dripping from his chin. He sinks thick fingers inside, squelching into your soft heat.

Wordlessly, he takes his fingers out and reaches them up to your face. His eyes are trained on you, flat of his tongue rubbing against your swollen nub.

Hesitantly, you take in the sight of his sticky fingers, before you take them into your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks. The taste is indescribable; it's salty, sweet, tangy, each separate flavour hitting your tongue differently, fuelling your desires.

You're making Eddie's dreams come true with that gesture. Your trust in him, your filthiness, the way your tongue works against his fingers, it's all shooting to his heart, and his cock. He's impossibly hard again, groaning into your cunt.

Another release is speeding toward you. You can feel yourself hurtling towards it, free falling into ecstasy. You grip around his wrist, fingers digging bruises into the tendons as your orgasm rushes out of you in a string of curse words.

He moves back up your body and you envelop his slicked lips in a firm kiss. To your surprise, you can feel his hard member digging into your thigh. It's been a long time since you've been with anyone who couldn't go more than one round before rolling over and falling asleep. The joys of youth.

"You OK Eddie?" You ask between breath-taking kisses.

"OK? I'm fucking amazing sweetheart. Feel like I just won the lottery or something" He huffs a laugh, nudging the tip of his nose with yours.

"You, erm-" you begin, feeling almost embarrassed, "-you wanna go again?"

"Oh hell yeah."

His tip is already begging at your entrance but you place a firm hand to his chest, stilling his movements.

"Eddie, upstairs? My back is killing me." You admit it, the hard floor giving you aches and pains.

"Fuck, yeah, sorry. Come on" practically leaping up, he holds out his hand to you and you grasp it in yours. You giggle at his eagerness, the sight of him stark naked leaping up the stairs three at a time stoking your amusement.

This might be inappropriate, it might be a bit wrong, but damn, this is fun. Having someone desire you so much, who wants to fuck you over and over? Morals can kick in tomorrow. Tonight, you have a gorgeous young man aching to give you more.

********************

"Hey, you still here?"

You look up, distracted from your musings of last night. God, that boy had some stamina.

"Huh?"

"Wow, that date must have been good! You going to spill? Come on, tell me about it!"

Blushing, you sip the glass of wine in front of you. Karen Wheeler had popped round unannounced with a bottle and you were sitting around your kitchen table whilst she grilled you about why you were smiling so much. She would lose her shit if she knew who you were smiling about.

"I mean, I can't really talk about it." You mumble around your glass.

"Oh God, why? Oh, he's married, I bet he's married! You naughty thing!" Her words are admonishing, but her cheeks are glowing. She's loving every minute of this.

Why not? At least that would explain it away.

"Yeah, he's married."

"Oh my you're terrible!" She cackles, laughing. "How was he?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Karen."

"Oh, come on you're practically glowing! I know that look" She says, nodding sagely.

"OK, look" You say, taking a gulp of wine for composure and a deep breath before it rushes out of your mouth in a torrid whisper.

"It was fucking incredible, like toe curling incredible, you know? And he just kept going, I mean, honestly? The best I've ever had."

Karen coughs and nods pointedly behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you see him.

Eddie. Fuck.

He's standing there nonchalantly, leaning on the doorframe with a Cheshire cat grin.

"Sorry for the interruption, just grabbing a couple beers."

He bounces into the kitchen and fetches two beers from the fridge.

"Me and Sammy are just working on the campaign. I'll er, leave you ladies to it."

He practically skips out the room, leaving you red faced.

"That Eddie?" You nod, face red as a beetroot.

"He's grown up, hasn't he?"

You steer away from this line of questioning, mortified that he heard what you said.

"Only on the outside. You want a top up?" She agrees with a grin as you fill her glass up and she regales you with all the poolside gossip. When the bottle is done, she leaves with a wink, saying she'll keep your secret. If she only knew what that was.

Eddie's on cloud nine right now, bouncing up the stairs three at a time.

The best she's ever had. The best she's ever had.

It's in his mind, playing in a loop. His mantra, a quote that will live deep in his chest from now until forever after.

The best she's ever had.

He flings the door open and flounces into Sammy's room, banging a beer down on the bedside table.

"A beverage for you, good fellow!"

"Aha! Fine work m'lord!" Sammy twists the cap off, tossing it in the bin. Eddie does the same, twisting to face the waste paper basket, and takes a long swig.

"Eddie you dirty fuck."

He freezes, ice pouring down his spine. Spinning on his heel, he turns to face Sammy.

"What are you on about?" He asks, a fake smile masking the fear that had bottomed out in his stomach.

"I see the panties you've got in your back pocket, red ones. They're poking out! Dude, did you get lucky last night?" Sammy smirks, swigging his own beer.

He couldn't help himself. He swiped them when he was leaving. They were still wet, soaked with a mixture of his spit and your release. He'd sniffed them and got himself off twice this morning.

Chill out. Sammy's grinning. He's got no clue who they belong to.

Eddie relaxes and grins smugly back, laying on the floor, his back against the bed.

"Oh, you have no idea."

********************

Humming to yourself, you sort through the dirty clothes in the laundry room, separating darks and lights.

Your thoughts drift yet again to that messy haired rocker. His large hands, his tight torso, his dick. Fuck, his dick.

Shaking your head, you do what you can to rid your brain of your salacious thoughts, loading the washer a little more forcefully than you necessarily needed to.

You hear the unmistakable click of the door behind you. Not bothering to turn, you huff as you shut the washer lid with a bang.

"I swear to God Sammy if you need a shirt for tonight I've already-"

"Hey sweetheart."

Flipping to face the door, there he is. Arms folded across his slender chest, smug smirk spread stickly across his features, he stares at you.

"Eddie, you need to leave."

Your tone is stern, but your bottom lip disappears into your mouth, being nibbled at by your teeth.

"You sure? Thought you might wanna see me. You know, since I'm the best you ever had."

"Eddie shut the fuck up!" You hiss between your teeth, eyes flashing to the door.

"Sweetheart, Sammy's fallen asleep. He had a long night. You know what that's like."

"Eddie, that was a one time thing. God, it's not like this can go anywhere, so why are you here?"

Tapping your foot impatiently, he closes the gap between you, cornering you between the wall and the washing machine.

You want to be angry; to push him away and leave, but the pounding of your pulse between your legs betrays you.

As if he knows, he slots his leg between yours, denim clad thigh hovering near your throbbing heat, pushing your sundress up in the process.

"I know. Fuck, I'm well aware. I just wanna- help you out. Like, an arrangement" He smiles, knuckles reaching up to stroke your cheek.

"Eddie-"

Before you manage to form words, he's on his knees in front of you, large palms running over your bare thighs.

"Please."

That's all he says, wet doe eyes wide, gleaming up at you as if you were some sort of goddess and he was kneeling at your altar.

Eddie's begging to the old Gods and the new; fuck it, to anyone who might be listening. He wants you, with everything he has. Each fibre is burning for you. He thought it might go away after last night, but it was simply a taste. A drop of water doesn't quench an undying thirst.

This little sundress is doing nothing to sate his hunger for you. The flimsy material clings in all the right places, forcing his eyes to trail over your curves like a man starved.

Without a thought in your head, you wind your fingers into Eddie's hair, relishing the feel of his hot breath on your naked thighs. Guiding his head forward, you shudder as his lips trace across your flesh.

Eddie lifts your dress up, reaching desperately to pull your panties off and away before you change your mind. Slick sticking to them, he pulls them down, watching as they gradually peel from your core.

He sits on his heels, eyes flitting from your eyes to your cunt.

"Sweetheart, please. I just wanna- I wanna help you with your needs. Fuck, with my needs."

Nodding emphatically, you tug at his hair, drawing him in.

Eddie counts his blessings and dives straight at your pussy, lapping between the folds just like you taught him.

"Oh God" you moan aloud, then bite at your hand to stop your noises. Flicking one leg over his shoulder, you force his head as close as you can, nearly riding his face.

If anything, Eddie is a quick learner, at least when it comes to you.

His tongue is electric, hitting all of the right spots. He feels your cunt on his tongue, leaving hot and heavy licks. Running his hand up your thigh again, he presses his thumb against your clenching hole, wiggling into your slick drenched pussy.

"Eddie, yes!" You whisper, fingers pulling at his curls incessantly. Eyes rolling back, you rut your hips into him, on the brink of falling apart.

White hot light sears your eyelids as you come with a stifled cry, cunt undulating around his thick digit.

"Fuckfuckfuck!"

Yanking his head away from you by the roots of his hair, you cannot fail to hear the unmistakable moan that spills from his lips.

Eddie's staring up at you dumbfounded, as if you created the universe just for him.

Panting, you stare back down at him, his lips parted and shining with your orgasm.

"Eddie, holy hell."

He stands, wiping the slick from his face with the back of his hand, though it does nothing to remove the grin.

Against every better judgement, you grab him by the shirt and pull him closer, lips nearly touching.

"You- you can't tell anyone about this, OK? Not a soul, understood?"

If it were possible, his grin grows even wider, palm resting at your waist.

"I can be discreet." He whispers as he presses his lips to yours. Winding fingers into his hair, you deepen the kiss, tongue moving expertly between his parted lips to taste him, and you.

Eddie pulls away reluctantly.

"I better go."

As he moves to the door, hand hovering over the handle, you call out to him.

"Eddie, wait."

Turning his head, he looks at you.

"Sammy's seeing Tiff again tonight, and er, Johnny's still at his grandma's."

"Good to know." He winks and leaves. What you don't know is that he does a mini victory dance once the door is shut, fists pumping in the air with sheer joy.

He doesn't know how long this is going to last, but he'll take every single second he can get with you whilst you let him.

Taglist (just some likely candidates ;) )

@cursedyuta @eddiesprincess86 @munson-blurbs @rip-quizilla @emsgoodthinkin @josephquinnsfreckles @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eiightysixbaby @lightvixxen @ali-r3n @usedtobecooler @roanniom

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wlntrsldler · 2 months

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iii. you come around and the armor falls, pierce the room like a cannonball. now all we know is don’t let go. | luke castellan | state of grace

seventeen-year-old luke castellan returns from his failed quest and wonders if he's good enough for you.

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seventeen-year-old luke castellan came face-to-face with death but against his better judgment, and the medical advice from lee who told him to lay in bed and heal, he stood up to drag himself across the floors of the infirmary to sit beside the bed where you were unconscious.

thankfully, you were going to be okay. it would just take a few hours for the medicine to kick in until you regain consciousness. it was luke who took the brunt of the attack. he can feel the sticky bandages covered in his blood across his back and his face. luke managed to prop himself up on the small wooden chair.

he’d grown taller and bigger over the years and the chair was definitely not the most comfortable place for him, especially not with all his wounds, but he had to make do. he couldn’t stay on his bed, across the way from you while you slept alone. in the off chance that you’ll wake up before the 5-hour estimate they’d given him about the medicine, he didn’t want you to wake up without someone next to you.

you weren’t even supposed to be there. he didn’t even know how you’d found him, but he should’ve known better when you looked at him with that look in your eye, the look that he got from you whenever you were about to save him from something, even if he didn’t know he’d be in trouble yet. you always seemed to show up just when he needed you– like his own personal guardian angel.

he thought back to when he was fourteen and you let him tag along with you, oliver, and beth to the athena cabin because you noticed he was anxious to be left alone. you didn't even know what he'd gone through then, but you somehow knew exactly what to say, what to do.

he thought of his first full summer at camp. he'd just turned fifteen, before he was named head counselor, and he accidentally set the shed that the satyrs used to house their gardening tools on fire. the stolls managed to sneak in fireworks and the three of them thought the perfect welcome for the summer campers was a firework show. he wandered into the shed in search of a lighter and found one tucked underneath a tablecloth, probably left by one of the older campers when they smoked.

between him and his siblings, they shared one and a half brain cells so he, stupidly, tried the lighter while he peeked his head under the tablecloth and the whole thing erupted in flames before he could even react. thankfully, you were already out looking for him when you noticed he slipped away from dinner.

you helped him put the fire out before it got too bad and paid for the damage with the few drachmas you had saved up. luke managed to pay you back after picking up random tasks for campers for a small fee, although, you argued with him that it was okay, that he didn't owe you anything, but at that point, luke figured he owed you much more than just a few drachmas.

chiron and mr. d ended up loving the idea of the fireworks show and asked who was responsible for the festivities. you stood up and pointed at him, grinning like you were happy he was finally getting the recognition he deserved. he didn't think he deserved the credit, it would've ended in a shitshow if it weren't for you.

he was promoted to head counselor a week later.

luke fell asleep hunched over your sleeping body, sleeping on the side of his face without the fresh scar. he woke up to the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp a few hours later. he sat up, immediately holding your hand between his own.

“you’re up,” he croaked out, rubbing the tears away from his eyes, “how are you, angel?”

“feelin’ great, bub,” you faked a smile, exhaustion evident on your features. “how are you? you’re the one who got attacked by a dragon.”

luke flinched at the memory, holding your hand up to his lips, “don’t worry about me. i’m good.”

“let me worry about you, hm?” you mumbled. “i’m always worried about you.”

“you shouldn’t have been there,” he sighed. his anger against his father was rising again. “it was my quest. you’re not even allowed to go on other people’s quests anymore, remember?”

“you’re dumb if you think i was going to let you go into a suicide mission alone, luke,” you replied. you moved over on the small bed, motioning him to join you. “needed to make sure you were gonna be okay.”

“i don't want that if it's at your expense,” he mumbled, following your request. you laid your head on his chest, allowing him to push you closer to him. his hands found the ends of your hair, twirling it around his fingers, “don’t know what i would’ve done if you–”

he couldn’t finish his sentence. he didn’t want to think about it. he let himself be delusional, ignoring the reality of being a demigod. luke wanted to beat the odds with you, get out of here with you, mostly unscathed. he didn’t want to think about a life without you in it. he couldn’t.

“hey, it’s okay,” you placed his hand over your heart, letting him feel it beat. “i’m okay, see?”

your optimism was something luke admired about you. the way you viewed life like a gift despite everything you'd gone through. he wished he could see things the way you did, but he didn't understand it.

he looked at you, thinking of how you'd just risked your life for him, and he couldn't stop himself from feeling so hopeless. this was not the life you deserved.

he let out a breath, turning to face the ceiling, “i don’t understand how you’re not furious at the gods right now.”

“there’s so many horrible things to be angry at, luke,” you whispered, placing a kiss on his bruised hands. “i’m mad at the gods for allowing this to happen to all of us, their children. i am angry luke, but i have been given so much because of it, too.”

he stayed silent, letting you continue. he felt his breaths even out as he listened to the sound of your voice.

“i grew up as an only child until i met my siblings. now, i love them. i can’t imagine not knowing them,” you smiled, “the rest of the campers, they can be a handful sometimes, but there isn’t a boring day in my life. there’s always adventure and fun and love.”

luke turned to look at you to find that you were already staring at him. even in the dark, he can make out the look on your face. that face that made him feel safe so effortlessly.

“i met you because of them,” you continued, placing a soft kiss on his lips, trying not to put too much pressure on him knowing he was still healing, “there are so many things i am angry at the gods for, but knowing you… well, it makes up for it, don’t you think?”

he didn’t know if he had a complex enough vocabulary or if there were any words in any language that could scratch the surface of how he felt about you. you were in every part of him. he thought of you, your eyes when he woke up to the sun shining on his face, bright and hopeful because there was a new day ahead. he thought of you, your lips when he tasted the fruits they served during meals, sweet and addicting. he thought of you, your smile during his nightmares, safely pulling him back to reality, a life where you were there with him.

it’s only been you since he met you. he had a feeling it’s only been you in every life he lived before this one. and it will only be you in every life after it.

luke settled, “i love you.”

“i love you,” you replied, kissing him once more. “let’s rest now, hm? want to be able to kiss you proper.”

he couldn’t help but laugh, shutting his eyes as his body succumbed to the tiredness in his limbs, “me too.”

lee fletcher found you two tangled in the covers, sleeping soundly, when he entered the infirmary the morning after. usually, he’d scold his patients for disobeying orders, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the rules right now, not when you and luke looked so peaceful sleeping beside each other.

word about luke’s failed quest spread quickly after your return. the looks of pity were starting to get to luke. you noticed that he’d been distant, too, opting to not let you clean up his scars when he replaced the bandages. he only went in to see lee when he knew the infirmary was absolutely clear of people. he stopped letting you touch his face and run your hands down his back. at first, you chalked it up to the fact that he was healing and the wounds probably still hurt to the touch, but after a conversation with lee, where you slyly asked how luke’s healing process was going, you knew it wasn’t that anymore.

lee let you know that the wounds were healing faster than anticipated. new tissue was replacing his damaged ones and that the cream he prescribed luke would ensure that the scars would be faint, noticeable, but not as intense as they could’ve been. you walked away from your conversation with the boy with your shoulders sagged and your smile a little less bright. there was something else going on with luke and he wasn’t telling you about it.

when luke returned to the hermes cabin, tired from his three-hour-long training, he expected the cabin to be empty with all his siblings away at the campfire, but instead, he found you, tidying up around the area of his bed. he shut the door quietly, hoping to have a few moments where he could just admire you.

he’d been avoiding you more than usual so he hadn’t gotten the chance to spend as much time with you as he’d liked to. he doesn’t remember the last time he hugged you longer than a quick side hug before he was jogging to move onto his next activity or the last time he’d been able to have a conversation with you about something other than counselor duties. luke missed you. he missed you a lot, but he felt so disgusted with himself that he couldn't bring himself to be in your presence.

the scars were healing fine, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d think he was hideous and weak and a failure. it seemed like everyone else at camp did, anyway. the scar on his face stretched from his eye all the way down to his jaw. every time he looked in the mirror, it reminded him of what he wasn’t able to do, of what he put you through. it made him sick to remember it.

the wounds on his back started on his shoulder blades and ended in the middle of his spine. it wasn’t a good look. not even all his trainings and his workouts to get his back defined could hide the scar.

his wounds were now the first thing people noticed when they saw him. he hated it.

he wasn’t naive enough to believe that he was the most attractive guy in the world, but at least before the quest, he felt like he was average. he was tall enough, built adequately, and he wasn’t terrible to look at. but now, it felt like he was knocked down a few pegs. if he thought he didn’t deserve you back then, he sure as hell knew he didn’t deserve you now.

he watched you fluff his pillows and fold his blankets before he decided to make himself known. he walked over to you, placing a quick kiss on the back of your head, before walking to his dresser to pull out his clothes for bed.

“been waiting for you,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his torso. you gently placed your head on his back, listening to the sound of his breaths pick up. “where have you been?”

“training,” he replied, removing your arms from him. you placed your head so close to his wounds and he was sure you could feel the bumps of his flesh through his thin camp shirt. “why aren’t you at the campfire?”

you frowned, sitting on his bed, “because you weren’t there.”

“you can still go and hang out with your friends,” he reasoned, directing his head at an awkward angle so you don’t see the scarred side of his face. the bandage on his face fell off a few hours ago. he forgot to stop by the infirmary to ask lee for some more.

“don’t wanna hang out with them right now, luke,” you said, eyebrows furrowed. “i want to hang out with you.”

“i’m really tired right now, angel,” luke turned around again, pretending to dig through his drawers for something. he tilted his head low, hoping that his shadow would hide his face. “maybe tomorrow or something?”

“okay,” you sounded defeated. luke heard his sheets ruffle from under you as you got up. he followed the sound of your footsteps all the way to the door. he waited for the sound of the door to open, but it never came. instead, it was your voice, hushed, “luke, i don’t understand.”

he lifted his head, “huh?”

“i said i don’t understand,” your voice was trembling. luke couldn’t help but face you then. your eyes welled up with tears, bottom lip quivering as you tried to speak. “what’s going on with you?”

luke clenched his jaw, “nothing.”

“there’s something going on,” you rebutted, walking closer to him. you stopped in your tracks as he took a step back. you let the tears fall, “i can usually sense what’s going on with people but with you right now, i just can’t. i-it’s like i’m so blinded by how i feel about you that instead of understanding what’s going on with you, i can only focus on what i could’ve done wrong.”

“you haven’t done anything wrong,” luke licked his lips, wanting nothing else but to hold you in his arms. he was fighting back the tears now, too. the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. he sniffled, “i’m just tired, angel.”

“that’s never stopped you before,” you said. “even before we were dating, you always found me just for the sake of being with me. we'd talk nonsense until we lost our voices, and then we'd sit in silence together. you used to sit and wait in the back of the art room until my lesson was over just so we could come back here and be together until it was lights out.”

“that was then.”

“what changed?” you asked, voice hoarse. your tears were unstoppable now. you rubbed your eyes, trying to get a clearer vision of the boy in front of you. he was hidden in the shadows of the dim light. “do you.. do you not feel the same about me anymore?”

“no, never that,” he shook his head, eyes wide. he tossed his clothes on his bed, stepping closer to you. “i love you, you know this.”

“so come back to me, luke,” you cried, taking a tiny step closer to him. “come home to me.”

luke groaned, falling to his knees. he buried his face in his hands, sobbing at your words. you ran to him, engulfing him in a hug, as his sobs shook his entire body. he mumbled incoherent words into his palms.

“what is it, luke?” you asked him, peppering kisses on the crown of his head.

he took a deep breath, “i’m not ready for you to realize that i’m not good enough for you anymore. i’m not ready to lose you.”

“oh my love,” you sighed, prying his hands away from his face. he turned his cheek, biting his bottom lip. you weren’t having it anymore. you grabbed his face in your hands forcing him to look at you, “what’s gotten into you?”

“i know you see it,” he said, voice cracking. his eyes were focused on the wall behind you. “the scar. i know you see it.”

“and?”

“it’s hideous, angel,” he confessed. a single tear rolled down his cheek. you were quick to wipe it away, “i know what people say about me now.”

“is this what all of this was about?” you questioned, pressing your forehead to his.

luke closed his eyes. he missed you so much. “yes.”

you removed your hands from his face and let your index finger trace the line down his scar. he sucked in a breath despite himself. he wanted to hide and shy away from you, your touch left him vulnerable and open, but he knew there was no need for that anymore. you pressed soft kisses all over his face, cradling his jaw in your palm. you kissed the lids of his eyes, the crease between his eyebrows, the points of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, until you got to his scar.

you were even gentler now, luke didn’t know how it was possible. he could feel your lips ghosting over the raised flesh, apprehensive. he squeezed the skin of your hip, giving you the okay. with that, your lips touched his cheek, a kiss with purpose.

luke shuddered at the feeling. why did he deprive himself of this? from the love in your touch and the emotions behind your actions? he pulled you closer, trying to make up for lost time.

you sighed happily in his grasp, pulling yourself away from his cheek to place a kiss on his lips. all the air was knocked out of luke’s lungs. he’d kissed you a million times before, but this felt different. luke knew you loved him, you said it more than he deserved to hear it, and of course, he felt your love in everything that you did with him; in stolen touches in the middle of crowds, in corny jokes you made just to see him smile, in your words when you tell him he’s more than enough, but in this kiss, it was all of those moments, all of what you felt for him, amplified.

he couldn’t breathe. it was too much, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from you, not when you were kissing him like this. not when you were anchoring him back to where he belonged. not when you were reminding him of everything he could have if he just let himself have it.

eventually, you pulled away from him, tear-stained cheeks and pink, raw lips. luke thought you looked incredible. even after all this time, over a year of being together and over three years of knowing each other, your cheeks still flushed because of him. a small smile made its way to his lips, you still had that effect on him too.

you got up from the floor, offering your hand to luke. he gladly accepted it and allowed you to lead him to his bed. you slipped off your shoes, your signature cartoon owl socks on full display as you laid on his bed. he joined you, pulling you close to his chest. you buried your head into the crook of his neck, fingers playing with the string of his camp necklace.

the campfire was coming to an end and soon the cabin would be filled with his loud, rowdy, siblings, who he grew to love, but for now, he’ll get lost in this moment with you. he’ll wander aimlessly in this feeling, the feeling of his girl asleep on his chest, a hand over his heart to remind him that she's still here. he’ll let himself get lost for a few more minutes, after all, he’ll always find his way back home to you.

#living out my i can fix him dreams with this one #frances writes #state of grace #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke pjo #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #frances song fics

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star-suh · 5 months

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The Jock and The Horny.

Choi Jongho x Male Reader.

cw: college au, top jongho, katoptronophilia, size kink, uniform kink, sweat kink, blowjob, cum eating, facial, hickeys, shower sex, exhibitionism, cruising(?), established relationship, pwp, reader is a bit taller than jongho.

—

jongho is one of the top football players of the university and his boyfriend y/n was always supporting him, screaming when he scores a goal. the thing is that everytime y/n sees jongho in his uniform the little pervert gets aroused, he loves how his boyfriend's bulge swings as if he was freeballing.

the football game had already ended and all the players were in the locker room changing and bathing, the smell of sweat and musk filling the place.

“hey jongho? you are not going to shower, you stinky ass?” one of the players mocked, drawing some laughs from the rest of the players. “of course i'm gonna shower but after everyone else is gone, i don't want to make you all feel bad when you see me naked” he blurted out. the whole room was busy laughing at the joke that no one noticed a figure entering the room and hiding itself.

“ok see you in the next game mr. big dick” they all waved goodbye while jongho was sitting half naked, with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“you can come out now. everyone's gone” he spoke. “fuck you smell so good” was the only thing y/n said before jumping on his boyfriend and eating his mouth with a desperate kiss.

y/n's hands were exploring every part of jongho's body feeling all the sweat of his body “you looked so fucking hot while you were playing” said the horny guy while jongho's mouth was leaving dark spots on his neck.

a big tent can be seen under the towel covering jongho's bottom half “someone's eager” he whispered, sending shivers down y/n's neck.

the shower was on, the water falling and splashing everywhere when it falls on the bodies of the pair of lovers. jongho is slamming himself inside y/n's tight hole while he is standing, hands against the walls. “you fuck me so good jongho” blurted out the bottom. “and you take me so well too” complimented the top.

y/n was getting railed dumb by jongho, the tip of his cock reaching that sensitive spot every time it enters. “so deep~” slurred y/n, his insides squeezing jongho's cock. “i like how you choke my dick” the smaller grabbed the taller's chin, turning his head so they could make out. a mix of water and saliva dripping down their intertwined tongues.

later y/n knelt down and started sucking jongho's cock, moving his tongue up and down, licking every vein and then his balls, putting each one of them in his mouth. all that while jongho was moaning and saying things like how good of a cocksucker y/n is.

“that's right my boy leave it nice and wet” spoke jongho while slapping gently y/n's cheek and then making him suck his thumb. jongho turned off the shower, then he made y/n stand up and open his ass, letting jongho see his delicious hole "i can't believe that all this is mine. just for me" and with two strong spanks, jongho put all his cock in at once, getting a big moan from the bottom.

jongho lifted y/n with his strong arms folding him in a cannonball position and railed him like there was no tomorrow. “fucking shit jongho.. i.. i think you might break me if you keep fucking me like this” he pleaded.

“perfect” it's the only thing coming out of the top's mouth accelerating his pace. jongho walked while still fucking the taller until reaching where there was a mirror, grabbing y/n by his chin and forcing him to look into the mirror.

his cheeks, ears and the back of his neck were tinted pink, it was embarrassing for him to see how that thick piece of his boyfriend entered and left his greedy hole.

jongho pulls out and went to bring a bench, positioning it in front of the mirror and commanded his boyfriend to ride him, all while jongho looked at the mirror. the mere idea of looking at his boyfriend taking him makes him so horny.

“it feels bigger” moaned y/n feeling the cock throbbing inside him. “it's because you're so hot” murmured his boyfriend.

after some spankings and the constant riding y/n was getting ready to cum “i'm gonna cum” he blurted out. “try to shoot it directly in my mouth. come on score a goal” he teases rubbing y/n's balls with one hand while playing with his right nipple with the other. “fuck” cried the bottom trying to aim straight at his boyfriend's open mouth to fill it with his thick warm semen.

after riding his high y/n stared at jongho while he licked clean the rest of the semen that landed on his chest and chin “yummy” he said smacking his lips and licking them.

y/n knelt down again while his lover was stroking his cock very hard and fast “get ready to receive my seed on your pretty face”, moan after moan jongho finally came painting the face behind him in white, the gooey cum covering y/n's lashes and dripping down his cheeks “a masterpiece” laughed the top rubbing the tip of his cock on y/n's lips as a sign for him to open up and lick him clean.

“now let's shower for real” y/n grabbed jongho and went straight to the showers again, both started kissing again not realizing that all this time there was someone hiding in the showers with a rock hard thing between his legs.

#choi jongho x male reader #jongho x male reader #jongho smut #choi jongho x male reader smut #ateez x male reader #ateez x male reader smut #ateez smut #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut

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starrystevie · 1 year

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eddie's new years resolution is to stop running away from things that are scary, and steve harrington scares him.

steve with his hair and his body and his charm, all the things that everyone knows and admires him for. but it's more like the things other people don't get at a glance that scare eddie. the way he smiles softly when he's endeared by the kids or the way he subconsciously makes his way to the front of their group to always be the first line of protection or the way he offers up his couch to eddie the second he hears he isn't sleeping.

it all adds up to steve being utterly terrifying because eddie can't control the way he's falling in love with him. his heart beats wildly in his chest when steve's smile is directed towards him. his lungs feel too tight when steve teases him, forcing broken laughs out of him to try and kickstart his chest to take heaving breaths. his skin feels like a live wire anytime steve so much as brushes his arm. he gets lightheaded by the half clavin klein cologne and half steve harrington smell when they sit close on his tiny couch as they watch old reruns.

but eddie isn't running away this year, so he faces steve head on. he flirts with him at every opportunity he gets, pressing up into his space with wide grins and hooded eyes. he lets his touches linger along with his heavy looks and waits for the day that steve will hopefully flirt back.

steve's new years resolution is to stop being such a relentless flirt, and man, is he dying to flirt back with eddie.

it's all robin fault, really. she pokes fun at him enough for sweet talking anything that moves and steve finally had enough, blurting out one day that he'd give it up for new years. he knew it was a mistake the second he said it, but he wasn't going to back down.

and it's easy enough for the first three days of 1987. steve sticks to his guns and only puts on the harrington charm for old mrs. hasslebeck who comes to rent a different fred astaire movie each morning. steve is genuinely proud of himself for not caving and even prouder when robin gawks at him in surprise when he doesn't have a date that upcoming friday.

then eddie munson has to ruin it all. eddie, with his big brown eyes that light up when he talks to steve about anything exciting, his hands flapping around animatedly. eddie, who keeps leaning up into his face with his pretty pretty smile, wide and bright, as he lays the pick up lines on thick.

it makes steve blush, his heart racing, frazzled little chuckles the only response he has when all he really wants to do is press back into eddie. to loop a finger into his belt loop to tug their bodies together with a smirk pulling at his cheeks. to tuck a stray curl behind eddie's ear and watch as it makes him blush in a way that matches steve's.

but he has robin whispering in his ear, like a tiny angel or devil on his shoulder, reminding him of his resolution. so steve grits his teeth and puts up with it all, the looks and lines and touches. he files them all away in the back of his mind and counts down the days until it'll be 1988 and he can give in to his wants and desires and finally flirt back.

if he's being honest with himself, steve made it further than he expected.

it's june and the sun is making it miserably hot in hawkins. the party's all over at his place, kids jumping into pool with cannonballs that splash nancy as she sunbathes and robin as she reads, and eddie's sitting next to steve because that's their new normal. their chairs are pushed close together and eddie's playing with a fraying end of steve's chair's cushion.

eddie's fingers keep brushing over the bit of exposed skin at the edge of steve's trunks and it's driving him insane. he's doing his eddie-typical move where he's leaning in just enough to have his breath tickling steve's face as he tell him teasingly cute things over and over. calling him things like stevie and honey and darling in that sticky sweet drawl that steve loves. letting his eyes linger on steve's lips before flicking them back up, looking at steve with adoration and a hint of mischief.

and he can't help it, okay? not when eddie's looking at him like that. he can't take it anymore.

"you gotta stop doing that, man." steve watches as hurt and confusion flashes across eddie's face before settling into something blank. eddie leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, looking anywhere but steve.

"shit, i didn't mean-" steve starts floundering. eddie's eyes make their way back to his and he feels like he's pleading to get his point across. "i can't."

eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes before leveling steve with a sad smirk, closed off and scared. "i get it harrington. sorry i came on too strong. hint taken."

"no it's not- it's not that."

eddie perks up ever so slightly, his fingers tensing over his own bicep as he resettles in his chair. "then what's the issue?"

steve can't help the blush that crawls up his neck, hopes he can blame it on the hot june sun instead of how he's thinking about eddie's fingers brushing against his thigh just a minute earlier. he brings a hand up to scrub down his face before letting out an exasperated sigh.

"i want," his voice is low enough that only eddie can hear him, "to flirt back so badly, you have no idea. but i can't 'cause i told myself that i'd stop and that '87 would be the year that i didn't flirt with everyone just because it was fun, made it my resolution and everything. but god, eddie. you have no idea how hard that is around you."

and then eddie's laughing. it's loud and sharp, which startles steve into laughing along with him. they're bent over, clutching their sides and the kids and nancy and robin are paying them no mind as eddie slings his arms around steve's neck to drag him into a kiss.

it's messy, teeth clacking and noses bending awkwardly and they're both still laughing which makes it even worse. or better, however one would look at that. steve pulls aways and keeps his hands wrapped tightly around eddie's forearms as he looks at his still smiling face.

"okay, wow. hi?"

"steve."

"yes?"

"we are so stupid." eddie darts in, presses another quick kiss to steve's lips and pulls away just as quickly. "it was my resolution to try and not run away from everything. you know, the scary stuff."

steve's smile is crinkling his cheeks as he furrows his brows to look at eddie. "am i... scary?"

"terrifying."

they push their chairs even closer after that. they wrap their arms around each other and have toes pressing into calves and whisper cheesy pick up lines into each other's ears, ones that steve's been saving up for months. and when robin looks over with a shit-eating grin like she won a bet, steve has no problem untangling his fingers from where their entwined with eddie's to flip her the bird.

#don't ask me where this came from and why it took like 4 hours for me to write #i cant help it im distracted by rewatching season one #steddie #steddie headcanon #eddie munson #steve harrington #my writing #stranger things fic #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #1k

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paintingwhiteceilings · 6 months

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❃Seventeen and surviving the Titanic❃

a/n: this prompt was suggested by a good friend of mine. As much as I love writing more serious prompts, I live for these idiotic scenarios. The serious prompts will come, but for now, CHAOS!

Scoups/Seungcheol: Dead

❀ He wasn’t having a good time even before the boat began to sink. Instead of enjoying the luxurious holiday he deserves, he was too busy running around the deck trying to get the members to stop doing cannonballs in the community pool. DK and Hoshi had been such nuisances that they almost got banned from the upper deck, leaving Coups to smooth things over. Thus, when the ship starts to sink, he can’t even feel stressed about it; it fits perfectly with how the rest of the holiday had been going.

❀ Despite being absolutely done with everyone and everything, he remains perfectly rational. He knows he has to act fast; he will stress about his situation later. His eye hasn’t stopped twitching, though. Ever since he realized that he would have to find all twelve of his members on the massive ship, he has been on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

❀ Coups will be running across the boat, searching every nook and cranny to retrieve each member. Nobody on the ship dares to talk back to him when he picks the members up by the scruff of the neck to throw them into one of the dinghies. He is about to snap, and nobody on the ship wants to be the one who receives the brunt of his rant. Truly, with Coups on the boat, the members actually will have a decent chance of making it out alive.

❀ He ultimately doesn’t make it to a dinghy because someone tries to argue with him. A Karen pops up next to him and demands that one of the members should switch with her. The moment she insults Seungkwan for being ‘selfish’ when he quietly tells her that he doesn't want to give up his seat, Coups grabs her by the hair, ready to tie her to a pole so she and her rudeness can die with the ship. Who does Karen think she is, insulting his children? Unfortunately, in his anger, he forgets to put his safety first, and as he is tightening the knots to ensure she won’t be going anywhere, the ship sinks.

Jeonghan: Alive

❀ Why do you think the ship is sinking in the first place? He has been brewing this plan since the moment he set foot aboard. Do you think he wanted to go on an expensive boat ride, stuck with twelve energetic children? He made sure to puncture a hole in the hull of the boat the night before, hoping for the journey to be cancelled. Nah, I am kidding, but yeah, he definitely survives this. He is too clever not to, and with his quick thinking, he will make it out alive. He won't feel too responsible for the others' safety either, prioritizing his safety before anyone else's.

❀ Mr. Gaslight-Girl Boss-Gatekeep convinces everyone around him to let him onto the dinghy. He made up an entire backstory that makes him look like a saint. If they had to believe Jeonghan, he is currently working on a ground-breaking treatment against Rat Hallucinations. It is a very serious disease for rats, as when they hallucinate, they tend to mistake people's fingers and toes for food. He reveals that he has stumbled upon a massive finding in his research. Apparently, certain cheeses can induce hallucinatory effects, but before he was able to share it with his fellow scholars, he had to leave for this trip.

❀ Hey, he had very little time to come up with something, and all he could think of was rats after he saw one scurry past him as he made his way over to the dinghies. If he had had more time, he probably could've come up with a more believable story.

❀ Surprisingly, the people waiting for their turn to board the dinghy actually believe him; most of them find the prospect of rats gnawing on their toes scarier than drowning.

Joshua: Dead

❀ Joshua finds himself stuck in a loop when the ship starts to sink. He made his way to the dinghies just fine, arriving at the correct side of the boat just as the crew began disembarking people.

❀ Initially, Joshua was fully prepared to Gaslight-Girl Boss-Gatekeep himself onto a dinghy, ready to make up some ridiculous background story that would give him priority. However, once he saw people's desperation to get their children onto the dinghies, he couldn't get himself to lie.

❀ He starts helping the crew load the children onto the dinghies, doing his best to save as many people as he can. He doesn't take a single break until most of the children in his vicinity are aboard the dinghy. However, even when spots do open up for adults, he still refuses to disembark the ship in favour of letting others go first. In Joshua's opinion, it would be rude of him to leave the ship before everyone else has done so. It wouldn't be very gentlemanly of him.

❀ Everyone around him agrees that he deserves to leave; he acted so selflessly and helped so many people that it is only fair that he gets another chance to live. One lady, in particular, tries her best to convince him to board the dinghy. It turns into a "no after you" loop, where Joshua and the lady keep trying to get the other to disembark first.

❀ Yes, Joshua wastes precious time being too polite, and it gets him killed in the end.

Jun: Alive

❀ It is genuinely a miracle that Jun manages to survive the sinking of the Titanic. You see, he remembered a single survival tip and decided that now was as good as any time to try it out. He once read that fridges are great to hide in during nuclear attacks; surely, they can protect him from drowning as well.

❀ He spends a considerable amount of time walking around the ship, selecting the most promising-looking fridge. Somewhere tucked away in the corner of a kitchen, he finds one that looks like it would work. It is big enough for him to fit in, but small enough that he can maybe get it to the upper deck. He is feeling very optimistic about it.

❀ It takes him a considerable amount of time to drag it up to the upper deck, getting help from a confused staff member passing him on his way up. They have asked him whether he wants to try to get on a dinghy instead, but he maintains that his fridge plan will work. The only reason they help him move the heavy fridge is because, well, they are going to die anyway. At the very least, his insane plan might work.

❀ They lower it into the water before Jun gets on. For those of us who are not aware of this fact, fridges float. Jun didn't even know that they did until he saw it casually float on the surface of the sea. It is not the most functional impromptu dinghy, but it works well enough to allow him to drift to the nearest piece of ice.

❀ Yeah, he survives by sheer luck and insanity.

Hoshi/Soonyoung: Dead

❀ In his never-ending quest to convince everyone that he is a tiger, Hoshi has decided the best moment to prove his theory is when the Titanic starts to sink. He reasons that being a tiger and all that, he must be skilled at swimming, considering that tigers are naturally born swimmers. Thus, in all his stupidity, he jumps straight into the ice-cold water. He regrets it immediately as the cold chills him right to the bone, realizing that the waters in which the tigers swim are probably considerably warmer.

❀ Luckily for him, that is the moment when he meets DK in the water, floating aboard a door. He is just as soaked, but at the very least, the door is keeping him afloat despite his exhaustion. In the true Jack-and-Rose fashion, the two try their best to share the door. However, when Hoshi tries to climb aboard, their collective weight results in the door sinking beneath the surface. In order to save his best friend, he tries his hardest to cling on to its side, hoping that he can stick it out until rescue arrives.

❀ DK has a death grip on his arms, and the two keep making stupid jokes the entire time, trying to keep each other awake and distracted. Some of the jokes might be made a bit too soon, like "What do you get when you cross the Atlantic with the Titanic? About halfway." or "Titanic, sorry, that was a terrible icebreaker." At the very least, DK and Hoshi are having a great time, giggling at their stupid jokes.

❀ Despite Hoshi's sheer motivation, even he won't be able to deal with the hypothermia. Even when DK and he take turns resting on the door, Hoshi has been in direct contact with the water for much longer and will ultimately succumb to hypothermia.

Wonwoo: Alive

❀ Well, technically, Wonwoo is screwed. Wonwoo has admitted before that he can't swim, so if he ends up in the water, he is most certainly dead. At the very least, he will not chance his life by jumping overboard, hoping that maybe he can swim ashore. No, he will try his chances with the overloaded dinghies instead.

❀ What ends up saving Wonwoo in the end is his knowledge of boats. He has been researching the Titanic ever since Coups mentioned they would be taking a trip on it; it is a technical wonder, after all. He has been recounting fun facts about the Titanic the moment they stepped aboard, but the other members found them boring and told him to shut up. Well, guess who is having the last laugh?

❀ He knows that something is wrong with the boat even before the crew does. When the other members wave away his worries, he decides to take action in his own hands. Even before the first alarm sounds, he has already reached the dinghies, ready to leave the ship.

❀ He is one of the first ones to board the dinghy and part of the first batch of people who leave the sinking board. Thanks to his Titanic facts, he was able to be first in the queue and, therefore, made it out alive before the crew realized they needed to prioritize who would be leaving the boat.

Woozi/Jihoon: Alive

❀ If it had been up to him, he would've given up on surviving long ago. The moment the boat started to sink, Woozi had accepted his fate, ready to go down with the ship. Why bother running around in a panic, trying to save yourself when you could use that time to enjoy your last moments?

❀ Woozi is in no rush to make it off the boat; he even pauses in front of the orchestra, which has continued to play music as the ship sinks. It is a beautiful scene in his eyes; despite the chaos aboard, music continues to fill the night air, trying to tame the rising panic. For a moment, he feels overwhelmed by the strong emotions, before inspiration hits him. He has such an amazing idea for a song that he needs to write it down somewhere. Well, pen and paper are hard to find on a sinking ship, forcing Woozi to make his way to the dinghies.

❀ The only reason why he can make it out on one of the dinghies is because people mistake him for being a child. He is so tiny that he won't take up much space anyway, and the crew argues that it doesn't matter whether he is a child or not. Woozi considers arguing with them before realizing that they are practically giving him a way out, so he lets the short comments slide for the first time in his life.

❀ He is grumpy the entire time, sulking that what saved him was being vertically challenged. When he meets up with the other surviving members, he will lie and tell them he was let on, as they trusted him to take care of the other children aboard. He will take it to the grave that they thought he was pocket-sized and a child.

DK/Seokmin: Alive

❀ Ah yes, the other member who finds himself floating on top of a door. DK survives by pure luck. Immediately when the boat started to sink, he grabbed onto the first object within his reach, and he still hasn't let go of it. That object happened to be a door. He blacked out for most of the sinking; he blinked twice and suddenly found himself in the water, floating on top of the door that he initially grabbed onto. Fortunately, he isn't too soaked; somehow, the door has been keeping him dry, for the most part, that is.

❀ He is just as lucky to find Hoshi as Hoshi is to find him. DK has been panic crying the entire time, and Hoshi has been able to divert his attention from the disaster that the two have found themselves in. Hoshi is the one to suggest cracking jokes about their situation, knowing that DK could do with a cheering-up. The jokes are stupid, which is precisely what makes them funny. DK is the one to propose switching positions on the door, feeling bad for Hoshi having to float next to him in the cold water.

❀ Once Hoshi drifts away, DK considers floating away with him. By some sheer luck, it is precisely that moment that a dinghy floats nearby, and they hoist him aboard. Huddled between all the dry and warm bodies, DK warms up in no time and gets some much-needed therapy from the sweet older ladies who sit on either side of him.

❀ After that night, they practically adopted him. After the rescue efforts have passed, they stay by his side, helping him find what is left of his members, before heading off to find their own family. He still visits them every other weekend and he makes sure to write them weekly letters to let them know how he is doing.

Mingyu: Dead

❀ Welcome to the tales and woes of Kim Mingyu's time on the Titanic. He wasn't really having fun, to begin with. The rocking of the boat constantly made him lose his footing on the deck, as he couldn't find his balance on the ship; he couldn't remember how many times he had tripped so far. Even worse were the waves, making him either fall over or drop whatever he is holding in order to steady himself.

❀ When the ship started to sink and slowly tilted to one side, Mingyu found himself in a tiring game of evading rolling objects. So far, he is miserably losing, getting repeatedly hit by random things. He can't even make his way up to the dinghies; he hasn't even been able to move from the spot he was first in when the ship started sinking. For every step he is able to take, he ends up tripping and falling five steps back. He doesn't even understand how every object seems to hit him; he has somehow managed to trip over fifteen rolling cups and stepped right into the path of a sliding beach chair.

❀ He finally gets taken out by a flying parasol that hits him squarely on the head, successfully knocking him out. Instead of stepping out of the way, he manages to step right into its path. His limp body rolls, together with everything else, off the side of the ship, and he hits the water, unconscious.

❀ If he doesn't die from the head injury inflicted by the parasol, he will definitely die from drowning or hypothermia. Nobody bothers hoisting his unconscious ass aboard a dinghy; he is too tall to fit on the already overly full rescue boats.

The8/Minghao: Alive

❀ Minghao has meditated so much that he simply levitates above the surface of the sea. Why worry about floating when you can fly? This is the moment he has been training for, to let go of all his worldly ties and, quite literally, ascend. Consequentially, as the chaos ensues around him, he can be seen sitting perfectly still on top of the deck, meditating.

❀ All jokes aside, his meditation does allow him to keep cool, calm and collected. Compared to some of the more stress-prone members, he can stay level-headed, understanding that it will do him no good if he starts freaking out. He is the only one who notices when Wonwoo slips away and does not hesitate to follow him; he knows that regardless of whether his warning is unfounded, it would not hurt to follow Wonwoo to the dinghies.

❀ As a result, he finds himself happily next to Wonwoo when the ship starts to sink. Wonwoo feels incredibly touched at the trust Minghao put into his deduction; in reality, Minghao didn't really expect the boat to sink but partly wanted an excuse to take a break from the other members. Still, he will pretend for Wonwoo's ego that he definitely thought that Wonwoo was onto something.

❀ He will be the type to point around, trying to spot the other members, judging them for how well they managed to escape the sinking boat. Honestly, he and Wonwoo are having a bit of a blast with it.

Seungkwan: Dead

❀ Seungkwan is so incredibly scared when the ship starts to sink. Not because he feels like he will drown, but because he feels like he has made so many enemies aboard who would want him dead. He should've known better than continuously nagging the crew and other passengers, but could you really blame him? The coffee they were serving was atrocious, and if he didn't suggest changing it, they would all still be drinking dirty bean water instead of quality crafted Iced Americano.

❀ He regrets it now, as he hurries towards the dinghies, constantly watching his back. Despite his paranoia and vigilance, he doesn't notice the dark figure slowly creeping up behind him, following him closely like a shadow. Seungkwan does feel a chill running up his spine, and he can't shake the feeling that someone is watching him, but every time he turns around, he can't figure out why. Unfortunately, that is the last time that Seungkwan is seen alive.

❀ Before he knows it, he suddenly gets ambushed as someone grabs him from behind. Nobody knows where he went or whether he made it off the boat for the longest time. It's only when the rescue team recovers his body, floating face-down in the water, that it becomes apparent that foul play is involved in his death.

❀ To this day, his death has gone unsolved; his story is hugely popular in conspiracy communities. He would be proud of the countless videos discussing his death and how he managed to inspire decades worth of conspiracy theorists.

Vernon: Dead

❀ Vernon was never in any danger to begin with. As an alien who travelled back in time from his planet to observe how humans deal with catastrophes, he is rather enjoying his time aboard the sinking Titanic. He looks completely out of place as he wanders around, humming a tune under his breath as he observes the absolute chaos around him.

❀ Okay, I know I have used the Vernon-is-an-alien-joke way too often, but, in reality, Vernon will not survive whatsoever. Vernon isn't even aware that the boat is sinking; he decides to take a relaxing bath after dinner, and he is so absorbed in his own world that he doesn't even notice that the boat is dangerously tilting to one side. Even when he does, he gaslights himself into believing that it is part of the experience or due to some rocky waves.

❀ Even when it slowly starts to dawn on him that the ship is sinking, he can't move fast enough to get to the deck, let alone the dinghies. Vernon doesn't run; he is not about to change that for a life-threatening situation. At most, he is jogging up the many flights of stairs, trying to make his way to the upper deck. Nobody knows where he is, either, leaving him to figure out what to do all by himself.

❀ He arrives too late on the upper deck, noticing that all the dinghies have already left and that most people have already taken whatever object might help them stay afloat. Instead of trying to jump into the water, he will simply sit down and accept his fate. He finds some left-behind food, which he nibbles on as the ship sinks, taking him with it.

Dino/Chan: Alive

❀ You might be thinking, "Wait, Dino survives? How? Do you mean to tell me he survives his members, all whilst a boat is sinking? Do they suddenly baby him?" The answer is no; he survives because they forgot to bring him in the first place. In his hurry to leave on time, Scoups miscounted, and Dino, who was still on the toilet, got unceremoniously left behind. Honestly, he doesn't even mind it that much; being home alone was better than any holiday where his members would bully him.

❀ He is thriving back home. Suddenly, his skin has cleared, and for the first time in a long while, he doesn't constantly feel hopeless. He gets to do and eat whatever he wants, not getting out-vetoed by his members. Sure, eating pancakes drenched in syrup and a mountain of whipping cream for breakfast every single morning for weeks might not be good for you, but he is young; his metabolism can handle it.

❀ Still, when he hears about the Titanic sinking, he makes his way to the dock where the survivors gather. Initially, he is worried sick, praying that his members make it out okay, but when it becomes apparent that they hadn't noticed he was missing for the past few weeks, that worry melts away really quickly.

❀ Honestly, as he listens to their stories, he can't help but wonder whether he can stage another maritime disaster where the remaining members accidentally perish. Maybe he can drown them himself in the harbour when nobody is watching.

masterlist

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sophieswundergarten · 1 year

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(From @nobody33333333's poll about which characters it would be interesting to see under Curtain's Happiness Brainwashing)

This is such a good point!! All of these characters would be extremely intriguing to see, because it would say so much about their personalities!! Kind of like how you only miss something when it's already gone, there's a lot about each of them that wouldn't be easy to notice until they start acting different.

(Other options included Kate, Reynie, Sticky, Martina, and Cannonball)

Cannonball would be a lot less intense, so I think he'd be alright with the concept of stowaways and wouldn't be angry at seeing the kids again or anything. But I bet he never stops using nautical terms all the live long day. He starts a knot tying club/class and then it progresses into artistic macrame. He's honestly probably having a great time except for the fact that he's brainwashed and possibly going to go catatonic.

The most fun thing in my opinion would be S. Q. being forced to be happy, because while initially it might come off as innocent, like Mr. Benedict, it would quickly escalate into horror movie levels of creepy. Excessive positiveness goes against his personality so much, and he's such an attentive kid that him being all oblivious and passive would be wildly uncomfortable. (There are so many points that could be used in a multitude of ways in this scenario and I definitely agree that it would be great to read about it)

Even without the threat of going catatonic, any of the children getting brainwashed would be incredibly sad because of how much it changes them. In a way, it could be pushed as sadly ironic, since most of them had some kind of wish at one time or another to be more "normal" and be able to make friends, and this would technically give them that.

Martina is a whole other story, because while I don't think she'd be compliant even when she was Happy (Her passion is too much to be contained by Curtain's tricks and she'd probably start a tetherball team at the compound), she is probably highly susceptible to it because of how insecure she is. She puts a lot of pressure on herself to be perfect enough to win her parents' attention, and she is also struggling at that point with not fitting in with her new team.

Garrison definitely needs some relaxation, but I think she's too smart to fall for it for long. She helped invent half of Curtain's ideas, I doubt she doesn't know how the whole process works inside and out. She might decide to surrender to it just so that she doesn't have to be engaged with his harebrained scheme.

Jeffers, on the other hand. He would definitely be under it in a heartbeat, and, honestly? It might actually make him more competent at his job because he's not constantly seeking Curtain's approval.

I actually think that it would be kind of neat to see Jackson and Jillson brainwashed, because being Happy doesn't necessarily mean that they'll automatically listen to Curtain. In contrast to Jeffers, they might be worse at their jobs, because they would lose all their critical thinking skills. I guess that's why Curtain didn't brainwash them or the Grays, because he needs at least a few people who can do things. Aside from S. Q., I think that these two might be the most likely to get Curtain to realise what he was doing is wrong. (Maybe once he sees how much he misses them, he can recognise that he's making a terrible decision. Probably not, but one can hope)

Personally, I really like the concept that when we see Curtain talking to himself in the mirror in Season 2, he isn't practicing as much as he's attempting to brainwash himself because he feels awful and is slowly falling apart because even though Nicholas is there he isn't himself and Curtain is feeling very alone. So there's that whole angle, but I don't think that, especially as the creator of the technique and someone who's probably as smart as Mr. Benedict, he can ever fully be under. So he's constantly warring with himself, between his despair and his need to be in control but his growing fear of hurting the people he loves (Mainly Nicholas).

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zedortoo · 4 days

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HAPPY DAY AFTER WEED DAY err here's how I think certain characters act when under the influence of alcohol or weed

Peppino:

Relatively good natured when drunk, can get a bit boisterous at times but never on purpose. Used to have a drinking problem after the war but now drinks a responsible amount.

Usually just. Falls asleep when he gets high. Too much stress on the poor bastard already, his body takes any chance to conk the fuck out. When he's awake he's quiet, almost in his own little world.

Gustavo:

Does stupid shit when drunk. Takes any dare and makes it ten times more dangerous. Also seems to somehow be invincible while under the influence of alcohol, none of his stunts ever go wrong. Often climbs people taller than him.

Laughs at anything while high. He would laugh at a fly spot on a wall. One time he was doubled over barely able to catch a breath because he thought a painting of a duck was the funniest shit ever. Loves to cuddle and pet brick, who takes advantage of his inebriated state to ask for lots of treats which Gustavo gives out without a second thought.

MR STIIIIIIICK:

Very happy drunk! A bit of a lightweight but once he gets a buzz he wants to be EVERYBODY'S friend. It's like his entire personality does a 180. All of a sudden he's laughing at everything and not starting arguments or trying to scam people. Perhaps drinks a bit more than someone his age should but he still manages. Loves to sing and dance even if he has a terrible voice and two left feet.

Gets incredibly heightened emotions under the influence of weed. In most cases this leads to him freaking the FUCK out and having like three panic attacks. Thinks the government put a chip in his skin and considers whether or not to pull it out. He doesnt do this every time he gets high though, when he's with people he trusts he relaxes a lot more. Doesn't talk much. Still dealing with heightened senses but in a more palatable way, a fluffy blanket is like heaven to him. like peppino, often conks out as his body desperately tries to catch up on sleep.

Pepperman:

Surprisingly lightweight for someone his size. Despite being a bigass pepper it only takes him as much as the average Joe to get drunk. Often gets experimental with his paintings, had dipped himself in paint and cannonballed naked (or as naked as he can be) onto canvases to make art with his cheek prints or some shit. Has a taste for nicer alcohol and orders gay ass drinks whenever he goes out. Turns his metaphorical nose up at regular beer.

Mellows out a lot when high. He becomes a lot less self centered and is able to talk about things other than him and his art. Doesn't smoke, only does edibles but likes making ceramic pipes and shit for his friends. Sometimes he can get emotional and go into tiny pepper mode, which is why he doesn't tend to get high alone.

Vigilante:

Can handle his alcohol relatively well. could drink most of the cast under the table any day. If he gets too drunk he begins to melt into a puddle, struggling to keep a form. Makes his own incredibly potent moonshine, which would probably kill a small dog. Loves doing karaoke while shitfaced, is actually good at it.

Literally just fucking melts while high. First time it happened, everyone thought he was dead because he wasn't making any movements or noise. No eyes no nothing. He says he enjoys himself, but noone really knows because. Well. He's a goddamn puddle. Tends to trip sit for the more anxious, has stopped Mr Stick from having a heart attack at least twice. Of course, stick never thanks him when he's sober because he's an asshole, but he has endless praises while high.

Noise:

ROWDY DRUNK. ANGRY DRUNK. BITER. keep a wide berth when out drinking with him, he'll pick a fight with whoever he thinks looks at him funny. He won't attack any of his friends though, in fact he becomes very protective. Has growled like a feral animal multiple times- though to be fair, he does that sober, too.

Like pepperman, becomes less painful while high. You can hold a conversation with him without him insulting your entire bloodline. Actually a pretty chill guy most of the time, laughs at dumb stuff. He does get very cuddly though and will wrap himself around whoever is available. Usually this is noisette, but he'll settle for anyone. One time he curled up and fell asleep in Peppermans arms.

Noisette:

Doesn't drink much, doesn't like the way alcohol tastes unless it's flavoured as something else. On the rare occasion she drinks enough to get inebriated, she's just very giggly but surprisingly quiet. Just loves to listen and laugh with her friends. Surprisingly cooks very well when drunk. Gets very red in the face.

When she's high, she also doesn't talk much. She just giggles and stims alot, likes soft things even more than usual. Gets very sleepy, which everyone thinks is adorable. She's always attached to Noise when she's high, snuggled up to him and hiding her face. She just wants love and Noise is happy to give it.

Fake Peppino:

Alcohol doesn't work on them, per se. They don't get mentally impaired but, like Vigi, fakey becomes very melty. He never seems to mind, in fact it seems to be relaxing to him to let go of his physical form. Although he can't actually get drunk, he loves to mimic the behavior of his buddies when they're shitfaced, which can lead to him doing dumb shit.

Noone can actually tell if weed has an effect on him or not. He acts similar to the way he does when given alcohol, becoming very melty, and seems very relaxed- though, nobody really knows if they're actually high or just pretending to fit in. The one key is that their sclera go BRIGHT red. Almost neon when compared to the regular bloodshot high look. Maybe they're trying to mimic that too, but it's a source of a lot of laughs for the rest of the crew.

Pizzahead:

SAD drunk. Actually, no, not really? Whenever they drink, they start crying, but nobody can place whether it's happy or sad. Very lightweight, two glasses and the tears start pouring. Nobody can figure out if they're happy or sad tears, because Pizzahead just blubbers and tries to hug people the entire time. Has the ability to simply sleep until his hangover wears off, which often leads to him just curling up wherever and snoring away until the afternoon.

Gets even more mischievous when high. Rubs their hands together and plots stupid shit. Practices his evil laugh. Instead of his usual closed eyes, when he's high they bulge RIGHT out and scare everyone because he looks like he's glaring directly at them. Has a habit of lacing the edibles with psychedelics, freaking everybody out, which is why he's banned from bringing his own material to the sesh because it'd be too difficult to just ban him outright.

Gerome:

Literally cannot get drunk. He's a rock, it's not possible. Likes the taste of beer, though, and drinks it like it's water. this has lead to people who dont know him to presume he's an alcoholic, which he laughs at. Dude just doesn't care.

Surprisingly enough, however, weed does work on him. How? Cartoon laws, idk. Gets *slightly* more talkative when high, but it's mainly just nods and mhms, unless he's with John, in which case he'll be yapping his brothers ear off. He only does it in private, though. Nobody can know how talkative he can get.

John:

Can actually get drunk, unlike his brother. it's like a party game to see if he can get even the slightest bit tipsy because he's just so massive. Could beat anyone in a drinking competition and still be sober while the other person is blackout drunk. The only time he got fully sloshed was when everyone worked together to bring him several barrels of liquor. They had to keep an eye on him for the rest of the night because he REALLY wanted to smash pizzaheads skull in. Slept for a week afterwards, everyone thought he died.

Doesn't get high often, mainly because it makes him more emotional. He doesn't enjoy talking about his experiences in the tower while sober, but when he's high it kinda just... Spills out. He doesn't know how to stop it but next thing he knows he's crying and feeling like an idiot, not matter how many people attempt to comfort him. If he's in a good mood pre-weed, though, he's usually fine, just having a good laugh with everyone else and not batting an eye when people use him as a rock climbing surface.

YAYYY hope these were readable uhhh I have never drank or smoked before because I am a good Christian boy (lie) so sorry if these aren't accurate 😢

#pizza tower #cw drugs #alcohol cw #Headcanons #fuck uhhh tags #peppino spaghetti #gustavo pizza tower #Mr Stick #MR STIIIIIIICK #pepperman #the vigilante #The noise #Noisette #Fake Peppino #Pizzahead #Pillar John #gerome pizza tower

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theincognitomoth · 2 years

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Sweeter than Custard

Mr. Wolf x female reader

Rating: +18

Word count: 7.4k

Summary: “I meant what I said last night, Moe,” you said. “And I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. So don’t… don’t pretend it didn’t.”

Water drops falling from your face into the metal of the sink never echoed so loud, other than that, your heart beating on your ears was the only sound in the apartament. Your guts twisted.

“Please say something.” you said.

“You were very drunk.” Wolf finally spoke. “I… tried not to think much about it. I didn’t know if you would even remember last night, much less that you really meant any of that.”

“I did.”

During a party late at night, you get drunk out of your good senses and let your feelings for your friend slip. The next morning you can't tell what haunts you more; Your words or your actions.

Warnings: smut - vulgar language - friends to lovers - drinking - pra!se k!nk - reader is a bit bit of a pillow princess but only because Wolf is a service top - no Y/N - I swear, the summary is the angstiest part in the entire fic.

The ‘too soft to sleep in’ couch swallowed your overheated body cocooned in a furry blanket. Awake for some time now, you knew pain awaited the moment you opened your eyes, lovely Mr. Sun outside, in all its glorious morning shine, would blind you and enable the sledgehammer banging your skull to keep going at full strength.

Stupid, foolish, horny little you. A conscious person would’ve quit after the fifth drink, but no, not you, you kept going, the strawberry mojito cold sourness overpowered your exhausted resilience. If only your problems resumed to the hangover. A liver failure perished in comparison to the hot shame crawling its way over your twisted guts as the blurred memories gained focus.

“Shit…” You pressed your palms against your eyes.

Wolf was right, hangover and regret don’t go well together.

Last night was supposed to be harmless fun. After a particular rough work month, Diane decided to treat you and the guys to a private party. She reserved the top of the fancy condominium you all had the privilege to live in - perks of working and being friends with the governor, the budget was anything but tight - Chilly night, open sky dotted with fainted stars by the city lights, and a crystalline pool smelling of chlorine. Colorful lights and two dozen silver balloons scattered completed the scenery. Diane filled the place with snacks and drinks, and you couldn’t keep your hands off the custard tarts, sitting in one of the floral sofas by the covered bar area, you devoured the sweets. Uncovering criminal masterminds from the city alongside Diane’s re-election campaign drained pleasure out of your life, you needed and deserved to indulge a little.

Chatter, dance, and music at the right volume to avoid noise complaints. Harmless fun. The problem began when Diane, bless her unknowing soul, pointed out the sheer variety of alcoholic beverages up for grabs in the open, do it yourself, bar. Chances of avoiding a fine due to loudness flew out the loft alongside Piranha’s pants. Property damage would weigh on his and Miss Governor's wallet, for as it turns out, drunk Diane much enjoyed wrestling, and Piranha jumped at the opportunity to go crazy. She poked his eyes and he bit her tail, whoever lost the round that no one bothered to judge took a shot of rum with orange soda, ending with the two passed out on the floor. Snake stayed with Wolf at the bar, drinking and talking like civilized people, but forgot the calmness when Shark took hundreds of push-pops to the pool with him. Snake threw himself in the water without much thought, ‘I’m a quarter river snake!’ he said, and came back five minutes later with no push-pop, but poor Weebs, who in her drunken state cannonballed the 8 feet deep pool. She was saved, but her laptop passed to a better place. After that you guys played impressions, and if not for Shark's impeccable acting skills, Wolf would’ve won with his unhinged Professor Marmalade act as he screamed the meteor was a heart and not a goddamn buttcrack. Shark passed out in the pool, Snake and Weebs called it a night soon after. You almost followed suit, trying to be a responsible drinker to avoid a next day death wish, but everytime you glanced at the strawberry mojitos, your hand moved on its own and before you knew it, you had downed two more.

Now there you were, the once cold glass turned lukewarm and unable to stand still as the world spinned. You pushed yourself from the bar’s stool and your brain almost fell out, blurry vision trying to make out the exit to either pass out in the elevator or in your home’s living room carpet. You hoped, not wanting to come up with an excuse as to why a neighbor's kid found a woman in the elevator, smelling of alcohol and surrounded by puke. But your traitorous eyes refused to find the door; instead they found a lone gray figure, leaned on a sofa five feet away from you and going through pictures with a smile. Your heavy feet marched towards him on their own, pulled like a magnet with disregard for furniture on the way - you stumbled and knocked chairs down - and for your body -tripping and falling on said furniture - At the end of your painstaken journey with one scraped knee and a broken nail, Wolf looked at you with amusement.

“Wolfie!” You threw yourself by his side with a giggle, the man letting out a ‘hmph!’ as your head hit his chest. “Hi.”

His arm weighted comfortably on your shoulder.

“Hi to you too,” he said. “Someone clearly had fun.”

“Yeah, I ate all the custard tarts.” The creamy sweetness still lingered on the back of your throat, even after the mojitos. “But I wanted more, they’re gone so fast. I blinked and puff! No more custard tarts! Gone… I wanted more.”

His large clawed hand reached for your face, wiping the hair away from it and showing custard cream in his fingertips, you wanted to lick it off to savor the godsend taste one more time, like an sweethoot addict, but Wolf whipped the cream away before you could.

“Tragedy of life, you don’t always get what you want.” Wolf pointed his head at the bar. “So you drank your sorrows away?”

“Yeah… like…” You counted on your fingers. “Probably more than six strawberry mojitos. I lost count.”

On the small round table in front of the sofa sat a half filled glass of said drink, ice already melted and probably tasting more of water and rum than strawberry. Who knows whose mouth was in that glass.

Before your half asleep brain stopped your hand, you downed the drink. Your nose scrunched, tasted as shitty as you thought.

“Hey, that was”- Wolf said, looking at you and at the empty glass. “... Nevermind.” “Strawberry tastes good.”

“Sure does.”

“Custard tarts are better though.”

You glanced over to his hand, leaning further on his chest to see what he held, his heartbeat quick and short over the white cotton shirt.

“What’s that?”

Wolf’s chuckle reverberated through his chest, the hairs in your neck rising with the motion.

“Tonight’s highlights.”

He flashed the polaroid pictures to you like a deck of cards, forever immortalized in them were Diane’s and Piranha wrestling match, Weebs ruling the dance floor with her tarantula exclusive moves while Shark did the vogue on the background, and Snake pulling the most random drinks from the bar and mixing them with a professional bartender’s confidence. The last picture was of you, pouting at the empty tart’s plate while Wolf smiled like a bastard and the last one to the camera.

You gasped, hitting him lightly in the chest. The utter betrayal!

“You jerk. Evil, evil jerk,” you said.

“C’mon, I only took one! The other twenty four were all you.”

“Hmm… fine. I guess it’s fair.” You said, but the pain of letting one single sweet sleep away lingered. “Are you putting those on the fridge?”

“Only the least comprasing ones. Don’t want police or news barging into my place and finding out dear governor over there passed out drunk in orange soda.” Wolf put the pictures in his coat pocket. “The others are going in the bedroom drawer.”

“Ah, blackmail material.” You smiled.

Wolf placed one hand over his chest and looked down at you with believable offense.

“Now, that wouldn't be very nice of me, would it?” He opened that grin that made your legs weak. Changed for the better or not, the ‘bastard grin’ always suited him. “If these things end up in a golden frame, and, by complete chance, annoy the living hell out of the guys, it will be a complete accident.”

Face buried in the fluff of his neck, you laughed amidst a hiccup.

“You’re so mean,” you said.

In this position, you could smell the subtle cologne on his fur, it was like a walk in a pine forest after rain mixed with rum. You felt it before, burned into your mind from the first time you met, a reminder from everytime you sat close to each other and he leaned in to whisper a witty remark about the current situation, or when he asked you to dance, held you close, and the pressure of his hands lingered on your waist after they left, as much as you wished they stayed longer. Pine grew to be one of your favorite smells. Before you knew it, your tights squeezed against each other.

The softness brushed your cheek, an invitation to lay on it. Any other day, a sober day, you would've slapped yourself for the pathetic neediness. Wolf was your friend, even if he set your body ablaze with just a look, you would like to keep him as your dear friend. Any sober day you would pull away and ignore the heat forming in your core before it rose to your brain and deemed it useless, freeing you to make stupid decisions… Today was no sober day, and the mojitos in your bloodstream were highly flammable.

You caved and laid in fur silkier than expensive bed sheets, more comfortable than your own bed, even with his neck and shoulder tensed up. Your clenched hand on his chest felt his heartbeat stop for a second and come back faster than you could count. Wolf squeezed your arm, tail wagging against the sofa cushions with muffed thuds.

“You’re fluffy.” You snuggled further into him. “Smells good.”

“The wonders of conditioner.”

“Hmm…”

Both your hands ran over his chest grabbing the suit’s collar, pulling closer. You moved your leg across his shut together ones. His hands firmly held your waist in place, preventing you from sinking into his lap.

“Moe…” You moaned.

Wolf dragged a sharp breath, stern gaze on you.

“You’re drunk.”

“So are you.”

“Okay, but you’re drunker.”

You rolled your eyes, snaking your hands to tangle around his neck.

“I’m not that out of it, Wolf.”

He glanced over your shoulder, skepticism plastered on his handsome face. You followed to find the chairs, little tables and sofas you stumbled on to get to him, one of the chairs knocked over all the way to the pool. Shame heated your cheeks.

“Listen - Listen!” You ignored his smug look and pulled his neck closer to you. “Even if I was sober, I would still want to bang you.”

Wolf looked as if someone poured ice down his neck, half lidded eyes growing to the size of dessert plates, his claws dug into your waist, making your back arch.

He said your name as a warning.

“You’re my buddy,” he said. “So for your own sake, I’m asking you to stop talking.”

“But it’s true!” You giggled at the utmost unholy scenarios forming in your head. “If we go back to my place right now we can fuck in the shower.”

“Oh, okay. You’re still talking.” He shut his eyes and threw his head back on the sofa.

“No, no, I can’t sleep with wet hair. Uh… the kitchen counter then-”

“Listen to me, hang over and regret don’t go well together!”

“Oh! You could pin me against the window and when people look up-”

You fell on your butt as his hands let go of your waist to cover your mouth. Wolf didn’t look at you, and only spoke after too many seconds of silence.

“I need another drink.”

He held your shoulders and laid you on your side, face smushed on the cushion, and went straight to the bar.

“Gimme one too,” you said, leaning on your elbow to have a better look at him.

“No,” He pulled a whisky glass from the counter, filling it up with a blue drink you didn’t recognize. “Pretty sure you wouldn’t remember anything after your sixth drink, this would just be extra migraine on you.” He downed his drink in one shot, wiping his mouth with the suit sleeve. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Wolf came back and pulled you up by the hand. Your knees gave in the moment weight was put on them, your legs useless wet noodles. He threw one of your arms over his shoulder and one hand supported your waist.

“Nooo,” you struggled out of his grasp, almost kissing the floor before he caught you. “Take Shark first!” You pointed at poor, unmoving Shark, face first in the pool and surrounded by empty push-pops with no sign of air bubbles on the water. “He’s gonna drown!”

A smile formed on the corners of his mouth.

“I’m sure Shark will be fine. These two on the other hand…” He gestured with his head to the floor, where Diane and Piranha laid over orange soda. “Hope her insurance covers a massage plan.”

The walk was a blur until you two reached the elevator; Wolf now and again pulled your slipping body upwards, jolting you awake. Sleep crawled into you, made your eyes sting and fill with water the longer you kept them open. You yawned and tried to focus on anything to keep you awake until Wolf got your drunk ass to the apartament, but in a dark elevator, you could either look at a panel changing numbers or him. Obvious choice, these numbers could be Calvin Klein models and you still would look at him.

He frowned at the metal door, body slouched by your weight and visible tiredness. His mouth pulled downwards, the same it did when he struggled with a harsh decision during field work, his suit was wrinkled and the first button on his shirt popped off; perhaps you pulled a little too hard on it. Ruffled up fur marked where your hands had been. Messy, tired and worried. How was it fair that he looked beautiful even with all of that?

“Wolfie…” you said. When Wolf turned his head to look at you, you booped his snout. “Hehe. I love you.”

Your knees hit the carpet floor before Wolf managed to scramble to catch you, sharp pain on the already scraped one. Who’s idea was to invent rough carpets in a world where gravity exists? Sadistic monsters! You yelped when he pulled you back up by the forearm.

“Sorry, sorry!” He said.

Something fluffy repeatedly hit the back of your legs, his tail wagging violently. Wolf let go of your waist and grabbed the thing like he meant to choke it.

“I’m sorry.”

Between the chokehold on his tail and panic on his face, for the first time tonight, you felt as if you’d done something wrong. Your conscience woke up to kick you in the shin and curse your idiocy. You just confessed to the man you loved drunk out of your senses in an elevator, while he had to carry your sluggish body home.

The shame was enough to slightly sober you up and fight the overwhelming sleepiness. You had to salvage this in any possible way.

“I mean it, Moe.” You said. “I love you.”

The last thing you heard was the elevator beep before sleep took over.

May death take you out of pity. Let your prayers be answered and God will open the ground to swallow you whole.

You could deal with the nausea and crippling migraines, hell, you would double the pain if it meant a distraction from sheer embarrassment. Which one was worse? Saying a drunken ‘I love you’ in the elevator without a single hint that you liked him beforehand, or shamelessly offer to have sex when the most physicall contact you ever had was a hug?

I love you. The words haunted you.

I love you. I love you.

Diane would have to excuse your absence from work, you needed a week alone to sulk, living on type water and custard tarts deliveries. Not the fancy ones, no, the cheap, factory produced tards; you didn’t deserve homemade sweets after such humiliation.

Headache took the focus away from your self pity as someone knocked on the door. If it was a complaint about yesterday's loudness, the poor soul who disturbed your misery was in for a face off with the devil.

Another fucking knock.

“Coming.” You kicked off the blanket and used the couch as support to get on your feet.

You dragged yourself across the living room, not bothering properly opening your eyes and swinging the door open.

“What?” You said, ready to bite off a head.

“Someone’s in a good mood today.”

Your eyes shot open - you held the door handle to not lose your balance.

“Wolf.”

“Yes, last time I checked.”

He stood there with a bag with green bottles and some painkiller boxes in hand. Light blue buttoned up shirt and one hand on the navy pants pocket, trademark grin spread across a clean face. He looked way too well.

“Passing by to check on everyone. You should’ve seen Diane, her fur was all sticky from the soda.” He reached on the bag and handed you a bottle and pills. “I got you some green juice, the very nasty one; good for a hangover. And some strong painkillers.”

“Oh…” Your hand robotically grabbed them. Wolf was in front of you, the man you asked to bang, offering a green juice bottle. I love you. You shoved the memory away. “... Thanks.”

Letting go of the handle, your feet stumbled backwards, head too heavy to stay in place. Wolf’s gentle hand steadied your back and the other held your elbow.

“Easy there.” He kicked the door shut and guided you to the couch, taking the green juice and handling it uncapped with a painkiller pill. “Here, if you drink it fast it doesn’t taste as bad.”

You stared at Wolf, at the bottle, and back at him, mouth agape as if words wanted to come out. His casual smile twisted your stomach. How could he look so normal after everything you said? After what you’ve done?

I love you.

Wolf sighed.

“Okay, that was a lie, it tastes awful anyways.”

Your chest tightened. Him not remembering last night was impossible, being much more sober than you. Yet he acted as any other casual sunday; pretending nothing happened. You couldn’t look away, trying to see if his face gave away deeper feelings; a different twinkle in his eye, an ear twitch, anything that differentiated this Wolf from the Wolf you didn’t offer yourself to.

His smile dropped.

“I can get you water and a salad if the juice is too disgusting,” he said.

You let out an incredulous laugh, steering your eyes away from him. Nothing. Nothing at all. Maybe he was pretending to not embarrass you to death, maybe he hoped you forgot all about it as he said you would.

Before the knot on your throat tightened, you snatched the pill and green juice, drinking more than half of it in one go, plastic bottle cracking with your grip. You pressed it to your forehead, eyes squeezed shut, and curled into yourself. You should be grateful, he got you home and pulled a blanket over you; He came to check on your pathetic state, brought medicine and healthy drinks; He did the favor of embarrassing you. Wolf did nothing but be a good friend, you were being such a baby. You should be grateful, and say thank you like a polite adult.

Say thank you, just open your mouth and thank him. Say thank you.

I love you.

Shit, you fucked up.

Wolf’s hand touched your shoulder and you jumped. He looked at you with worry. You opened your mouth but not a beep came out. With an apologetic smile you left the couch and made your way to the kitchen sink, opening it and splashing cold water on your hot face. This was easier when alcohol blocked your basic self preservation. For so long you kept your feelings to yourself, ignored the want to hold his hand, kiss him. Keep to yourself the praises that didn’t relate to his genius planning abilities; like how beautiful he looked in a particular well-fitting disguise; how you melted when he held Mr. Cat like a precious baby, and how talking to him lightened up your day after it started with stubbing your pinky on the bedside table and a coffee stain on your outfit. All the things you lacked the guts to say and do, spilled out in one night in the worst possible way. You had to do better than this. Put on your big girl pants, face your feelings. Wolf was there, he was right there staring at you from your couch. Drunk you couldn't be braver than sober you.

You clenched the sink’s edge and took a deep breath as if it could fill you with courage instead of air.

“I meant what I said last night, Moe,” you said. “And I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. So don’t… don’t pretend it didn’t.”

Water drops falling from your face into the metal of the sink never echoed so loud, other than that, your heart beating on your ears was the only sound in the apartament. Your guts twisted.

“Please say something.” you said.

“You were very drunk.” Wolf finally spoke. “I… tried not to think much about it. I didn’t know if you would even remember last night, much less that you really meant any of that.”

“I did.”

You turned on the sink to face him, Wolf leaned on the back of your couch in a similar position to yours, holding onto to it, one leg crossed over the other, his bashful face made you much more relieved.

“It was one of those ‘alcohol in, truth out’ situations,” you said.

Wolf pushed himself from the couch, walking towards you, each step made your heart beat faster. You fought the heat rising to your face when he looked down to you, hot air from him warming the curve of your nose.

“How long have you…” He slid a hand down his neck. “... You know.”

“Almost two years by now.”

His ears perked up, small grim on his agape mouth.

“Two years?”

“Almost two years.”

Wolf squinted, one of his years flipped down.

“I was in jail at that time.”

“Yeah, and I missed you.” You looked down, your hands tugging your shirt suddenly very interesting. “Way more than a friend misses a friend.”

Although you missed all of your friends in the year they’re locked up, after a phone call, the heartache subsided; you heard their voices, reassured they’d be fine, knowing you’d get to see them soon. With Wolf, all that phone calls did was remind you he wasn’t there. Simple things you paid no mind to turned melancholic; Bitter coffee without a ‘good morning’ and raised a mug while he read the journal, fishing articles about The Bad Guys to share with the crew. Going for a walk around pine trees tightened your throat, because the smell was so much like his; You only realized how affectionate he was by going touch starved for an entire year. A muffled voice over jail’s shitty phone wasn't enough.

“The day you’re released, Diane asked if I wanted to get you guys home,” you said. “But I still needed time to figure this out. And when I did I couldn’t look you in the eye without wanting to bury my head on the sidewalk.”

“Wait a second,” Wolf said, way too amused. “Is that why we didn’t see you for a month? You said your grandma needed support because her dog died.”

“I know, I lied!” You buried your face in your hands. “I’m a terrible person, my grandma doesn’t even have a dog.” You dragged your hands through your face and looked up at Wolf. “You’re not supposed to find out like this, I’m sorry, Wolf.”

“Hey, it’s fine. Don’t beat yourself over it.”

“I confessed to you in an elevator while you literally dragged my drunk butt.”

He smiled.

“It wasn’t the most embarrassing thing you did last night.”

“Oh, god.” You shrunken on yourself, hiding your face. Sadly, it didn’t make you disappear. “Kill me, have mercy and kill me right now.” You shrunk even more when Wolf laughed.

As you repeated your death wish prayers, Wolf’s hands took yours, peeling them off your face, not a glimpse of mockery on his eyes, but a look you only ever imagined he would give you.

“Did you mean to do that as well?” His big hand ghosted over your check. “It’s fine if you didn’t, I just wanna know.”

Your bones all melted, lucky you’re getting quite good at standing on weak knees. He was so close, his scent invading your senses and messing with your brain. Body pulling into his, you hold on the sink tightened so much you thought it was going to crack. Stupid as your actions were, the drinks did nothing but feed the already existing flame. You wanted him, craved the intentional touch that came from a place of passion instead of friendship.

You leaned into the hand on your cheek.

“Yeah,” you said.

Wolf’s cold nose brushed against the overheated skin on your face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Letting go of the sink, you placed your hands on his chest. “I did.”

Inches apart, you closed your eyes and tilted your head.

Sparks flew when his lips touched yours. So very sweet and gentle, Wolf pulled your face closer, claws tangling with your bird’s nest of a hair. You ran your hands up the velvety shirt, his accelerated pulse not going unnoticed when you reached his ruffled neck. Your checks began to hurt and you realized you’ve been smiling through the kiss.

You panted when he let go of you; not for lack of air, but a worthless attempt from your body to cool itself down. Gushes of air couldn’t put down the blaze within you. You kissed. You kissed the man you’ve been in love with for too long, and it felt better than you could ever imagine because it was real and you didn’t sink in guilt once the pining fantasy was over. You kissed, and by the blissful way he looked at you and how his tail cut the air with the wagging, you’re safe to assume he felt the same.

“Now that the mojitos are out of the picture,” Wolf said. “How much of last night do you still mean right now?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pink fog blurred your surroundings and your body grew too hot for your clothes.

“All of it,” you whispered against his lips.

Wolf gripped your waist and pulled you up on the kitchen counter, legs spread to accommodate him between them, sealing his mouth to yours again. When his tongue brushed against your lips, you parteted them with pleasure; his to explore as he wished, and good grace, he did. Slow and deep, fervor followed from your tongue to your sex. Wolf squeezed your waist and you gripped the back of his shirt, back arched as well as every hair on your body.

He let go of your mouth, hot breath now on your neck, whoever, no pressure from his teeth. He stared, conflicted, you assumed by his knitted eyebrows. With a maw filled with piercing teeth, you understood why, and should be at least a little scared, yet no fear crept to you. How could it when he made you feel so secure?

You exposed your neck to him and caressed his back. A contempt sigh brushed your skin, followed by a velvet tongue and a soft nibble.

“Moe…” you moaned, legs locked around his waist.

He hummed against you and pulled your hips closer, your body whimpered when Wolf grinded against you. You held to him as if your life depended on it, rational brain melted into aphrodisiac mush as one single thought remained: Fuck me.

“Fuck…” You squeezed him between your legs.

“That’s the idea,” His hand slid up your shirt.

And that’s when you remembered. You’re on the kitchen counter.

“Wait, wait-” you said. His hand froze in place and you catched half lidded eyes growing three times in size. “My bedroom.”

Any pity you might have felt for scaring the hornyness out of him fell in its face when he gave you the bastard grin.

“Ah,” Wolf tapped the corner of his mouth. “You know, I recall someone saying I could do her anywhere.”

Ice water poured over the fire in your loins.

“Oh no.” You groaned into your hands.

“In the shower, the kitchen counter-”

“Stop Talking.”

“Even against the window. That was a surprising one.”

“Shut up, shut up! It wasn’t me talking, it was the mojitos.”

“Allow me to paraphrase then.” Wolf took your hands off his face, and you never wanted to smack him more than now. “It was one of those ‘alcohol in, truth out situations’.”

If you weren’t head over hills for the asshole, you'd put back your hills to kick him out in a literal, painful sense. Since that wasn’t a viable option, you put on your best displeased face and stare him dead in the eye.

“Keep talking and I will blue ball you.”

His smile dropped.

“So is your bedroom the door to the left?”

Wolf had his hand on the small of your back, soft kisses on your shoulders and neck during the short hallway walk kept your insides fuzzy. You opened the door to the white bedroom, noon sun filtered by the semi sheer curtains in your favorite color, matching the still tidy queen sized bed sheets. Presentable enough, even if Wolf knew how much of a mess you could make, a wrinkled bed and clothes scattered on the floor didn’t set the best romantic mood.

You sat on your bed with a bounce, hands stretched for Wolf. He sunk into you, deep kiss and fingers on your hair, he laid you on the pillows, pulling one strand out of your face.

“Aren’t you pretty?” he said, gazing at your mascara stained face and possibly blood shot eyes.

“You’re one to talk.”

Wolf quirked his head.

“Am I now?” he said, amused.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know how hot you are.”

“Can you believe that I don’t? Mind telling me?” You rolled your eyes with a chuckle. Oh the dangers of stroking this man’s inflated ego. You supported yourself on your elbows and cleaned your throat, one dramatic hand over your chest.

“Mr. Wolf, you’re painfully handsome, hotter than the sun, and I could stare at you for longer than any pretentious art piece.” You smiled, proud of your little act. “Happy?”

You expected a chuckle, a playfully annoyed look, but your heart fluttered with the genuine delight in his face. Oh, he liked that. Good to know.

Wolf shook his head, snapping out of the awestruck look.

“Yeah, that was…” he said. “Good enough description, nice delivery. Gonna take it.”

Your hands held each side of his face, thumb stroking it gently. How could he look more bashful now then when you flirted with him?

“You are really handsome, you know.”

He leaned in your palms, snuggling in them, you were sure he was going to melt in your hands.

“My pretty girl.” He kissed your wrist.

‘My’, your head became light. ‘My’, he said.

He kissed you with fervor, hand roaming from your lower leg to your tight, and up the naked skin under your shirt, tickling your stomach. He slowed down at the curve of your waist, the oh so light claws against it sending goosebumps up and down your torso, shirt lifted along the way. Waltzing to your back, he did quick work unclasping your bra, tension leaving your shoulders and overnight restrained breasts. You lifted your arms as he took off your shirt and bra together and tossed them away. You held your breath as he stared at your chest; shameless, Wolf gave your right breast a soft squeeze. You gasped, face much ablaze in a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. Your heartbeat shook you from head to toe, and Wolf’s hand on your chest might just feel it; hell he might just hear it, so dramatically loud.

He lowered his muzzle to the top of your head to place a kiss, his covered chest in reachable distance, the pretty fancy shirt blocked the view. You opened the buttons and ran your hand through the light cream fur, never getting tired of how silky he was. Wolf’s shirt soon joined yours in a forgotten corner, you now free to devour him with your eyes, taking in the curves from his lean muscles and hints of ochre mixed with the warm gray of his fur. Where your hands had been left ruffled up marks; you itched to do so in all visible places, ruffle every little hair, front and back, a reminder of where he let you touch him.

He squeezed your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples; you pulled his chest fur, a breathy moan on the back of your throat escaping when his wet tongue touched the sensitive bud, circling around it before taking into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck…” You squeezed his shoulders, grip tightened when Wolf hummed around you.

His hand massaged and sparsely pinched your other breast. Uneven breath, you tried to control yourself, nails digging a little too hard on his shoulder - You didn’t want to claw him, not when he’d been so careful with you, but oh, how hard it was to control your squirming body, needy for more and unable to steady itself.

Wolf let go of your breasts. You contained a pitiful whine and he chuckled at your pout.

“Like that, sweetheart?”

Your heart leaped. ‘Sweetheart’.

“Yeah, you did so well ” you praised, receiving a similar delighted look on his face. “Felt really good.”

Fur on his cheeks ruffled up, he tugged at your pants waistband, sliding it down your hip bone.

“Gonna make you feel even better, pretty girl.”

Your hips jolted up, hot antecipation between your legs, where you wanted him in so bad, so, so ready to be fucked out of your mind.

“Please do.”

Your pants out of the way, he traced kisses from your jaw down to your stomach; cherishing the sensation, you eagerly waited for the sound of an unbuckling belt, arousal so intense it started to turn painful. But Wolf kept kissing down, lower, lower, his lips brushing the inner of your tights. You yelped when he muzzled your clothed clit, hot air against your soaked panties. You would wind up crazy by the end of this.

“Moe, please,” you breathed out, hips bucking forward. “Please, touch me.”

“No need to ask, sweetheart.” His claws slid down your panties - you couldn't get rid of them fast enough.

You caught his mouth watering, looking at you as if your smell made him drunk.

Wolf’s tongue dragging a line along your heat, savoring your taste with licks and wet kisses. You choked into your moan, gripping his head and pulling as if his mouth could get any closer. You clenched around nothing, excruciating in your own greedy pleasure, because there was no way in the world he could put his fingers inside of you. Oh, but you’re wrong. As if he read your mind, Wolf pushed his tongue inside you, ripping a pornographic moan from your throat, as he rubbed your clit up and down. if he kept on like that, the knocks growing tighter on your belly would come undone in his mouth. The image melted you like lava.

Still, you wanted more. It would be so easy to let yourself go, turn into a quivering mess and let him pleasure you for as long as your body would take - which wasn’t for much longer, regardless. But you craved something different; not a skilled mouth and divine fingers - him. So deep inside you, making you forget where your body ended and his started. You wanted to feel Wolf entirely, and for him to feel you as well. Him - you needed him.

Gentle and firm, you pulled his head away, maw glistened with your sinful fluids.

“You’re okay?” he said, worry in his eyes.

“Fuck me.” You sounded desperate to your own ears. His claws sunk in your tights. “I want you, Moe, I want you so bad, fuck me.”

He stared at you in awe, letting out a shaky breath. Something shifted in the air, even if for a brief moment, before Wolf got himself out of trance, you swore he stared at you like a starved predator. He stood on his knees, unbuckled belt revealing a clear voluptuous outline on his black underwear.

“No little hearts this time?” You raised a brow with a smile.

He laughed, a deeper sound than usual.

“Ditched those a while ago.”

His bothersome underwear out of the way, a red, generous erection greeted you, glistering raw shade and leaking pre cum made your mouth water and rub your tights. Wolf crowned on top of you, holding one side of your waist, light kisses scattered over your face and neck. You scratched behind his left ear, earning a contempt sigh he leaned in your hand. Hot and adorable, he felt too good to be real, as if at any moment you’d wake up with a crippling headache on the floor. Yet it was reality, yours to touch, and shamelessly feel, and it was so good; He had been so good to you, got you shivering in lust, bubbling with joy, he was such a-

Amid sweet touches, a light switched on in your head.

“Good boy,” you cooed.

Wolf went stiff. Claws tore the bed sheets - sinking in the mattress. The familiar wag of his tail brushed your lower legs.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, face hidden in your neck.

“You like that, Wolfie?”

He nodded with a whine. A once feared wanted criminal, feared by many due to his sheer size and sharpness, heist mastermind, completely melted with praises; and yet it made so much sense, of course he would like it. You would call him adorable to his face if not for it taking a blow to his ego; Maybe another time.

“My good boy.” You cupped his flushed face out of hiding and rubbed his cheeks. “You’re doing so well, taking such good care of me.”

His hips rolled against you with a choked groan, spams running through you like lighting.

“Look what you do to me, sweetheart.”

“Should do it more often.”

“Oh, I agree.” He repeated the motion. “Wouldn't mind squeezing it on my daily schedule.”

Your heavy eyelids shot open.

“Daily?”

“Why not?”

“Because I like walking!”

“Awn.” Wolf placed one hand over his chest. “You flatter me.”

You playfully slapped his arm, giggling together, one relaxed moment before boiling anticipation.

Wold align himself with your warmth, the simple pressure made you whimper; legs wrapping around his waist.

“Ready?”he said.

“Yes.”

Careful and slow, he pushed in. Your wet core accommodated each inch with relative ease - blazing ache replaced by relief, the sparks from your previous edged orgasm making your toes curl and head lean back.

“Fuck… you’re good?” Wolf panted, whole of length buried inside you.

Oh, just ‘good’ wasn’t enough, you’re fucking wonderful, fantastic, filled to the abslute brim in a way that fogged your mind.Wolf hissed when you clenched around him.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You held onto his back and pulled him for a messy kiss. “Move for me?” you said, voice covered in honey.

A handful of your tight and the other leaned on the mattress, Wolf slid himself out and sunk back in, making you see stars. Your needy sounds filling the room with each thrust on a steady pace- he reached deep inside you, fucked your sanity away so good that you didn’t miss the ability to think for a second. He squeezed the plump of your ass; sucked and nibbled wherever his mouth would reach. Pine forest cologne mixed the smell of sex in the hot bedroom.

“Fuck, Moe- that’s it. Don’t stop… Fuck … just like this” you mewled, tension building on your muscles. “Good boy, good boy-”

His pace turned wild the moment praise left your lips. You cried in pleasure, nails digging on his back.

“Shit, sweetheart… Not going to last like this.”

Oh, yes, yes yes! Fuck, yes. You’re so cock drunk you didn’t want anything more than for him to make a mess inside of you.

His hand found your clit, circling sloppy rubs; you all but screamed, clawing his back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Good boy, good boy- Fuck!”

Your legs squeezed and pulled him close enough to immobilize his hips, making him grind inside you. Wolf pulled one of your hands tearing at his back, tangling your fingers together, a couple more seconds of him buried inside you and more rubs on your overstimulated clit for you to roll back your eyes and come undone. It didn't take long for Wolf to follow suit, shallow grinds through your intense orgasm before thrusting deep. He reached his high with a reverberating growl.

Through your blissed out state you tried to catch your breath, muscles shivering, Wolf’s hand clenching and unclenching yours.

Coherent thought began its way back to you, pants becoming steady breaths, legs sliding down and hands stuck in a claw position, off Wolf’s mistreated back. He winced.

“Sorry…” You said.

“It’s fine.”

With a tired smile, he pulled out of you, Softly nuzzling your cheek and kissing on the bridge of your nose. You reciprocated with a peck on his muzzle, embracing him and his warmth that covered you better than a fluffy blanket. He laid by your side and you snuggled in his chest, ear on his heartbeat. Wolf’s hands steadied your fluttery state, rubbing circles on your lower back.

“You’re okay?” He said.

“Uhum, I’m great. Actually…” You played with his chest fur. “I might add this to my daily schedule.”

“That good, huh?”

You felt his ego inflate and take up the whole room.

“As expected from such a good boy.”

Said ego blew back on his face. He winched.

“Yeah, about that. Let’s keep it between us, alright?”

“Relax, Moe. I won’t embarrass you in front of the others.”

He sighed.

“Thank you.”

“... Good boy.”

Wolf hissed, head buried in your hair. You failed holding back chuckles.

“Sorry, sorry.” You said, kissing his chest. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”

Moe snuggled his chin over your head. You closed your eyes and caved to the comfort that was him and your bed, sun warming your naked body through the curtains, outside world muted. Diane could call and say somebody stole the moon, you still would not leave this little piece of heaven.

Your hungry stomach, however, was not Diane, and took now out of all times to complain that it only had a green juice today.

You sat up, away Wolf’s grasp, feeling like a monster when he looked at you like a lost and kicked puppy.

“Don’t give that look.” Your shoulder blades popped with a nice stretch. “I’m just hungry.”

“Oh?” He immediately sifted to his trademark smile and sat up as well. “Let’s go out then.”

Go out? You’re planning on eating leftovers and staying in bed with him all day! Maybe gatter the willpower to clean yourself, but that was a big maybe.

“What? Right now? Moe, I’m sweaty and-” You held back before saying ‘sticky’ “- a mess.”

“Come on, we can get brunch at that bistro you like, my treat.” He put in his pants and searched for the lost shirt.

Now that he mentioned, that place had your favorite dish.

“Can we get custard tarts?”

“All the custard tarts you can eat, sweetheart.” He buttoned up his shirt, waiting for your answer.

Well, it was a better option than getting who-knows-what collecting frost in your fridge, and a shower sounded nice.

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

“It’s a date,” Wolf said, kissing your heated check. “I’ll get the wallet and wait in the car.” He opened the door, but raised his finger before walking out. “I almost forgot.” He turned on his heel and winked at you. “Love you too, pretty girl.”

Wolf left you alone. Five minutes already gone by when you stepped in the shower, because that’s how long it took you to stop gushing like a teenager.

#mr wolf x reader #the bad guys 2022 #the bad guys #the bad guys x reader #mr wolf #mr. wolf #moe wolf #mr wolf x you

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