OP Men Holding Their Firstborn for the First Time
Note: This is in relation to my post of headcanons for these five men and their children. I just started thinking of which ones of them will cry, who will freak out over holding a tiny baby, who may reject the thought at first. And it came to this lol. I think the next one in this series will be names for the kids or babies taking their first steps! The baby fever is strong help. For now, please enjoy these men being soft about their offspring!
Ace almost has a heart attack when you try to pass your daughter to him, he swears he felt his heart jump into his throat when you ask if he wants to hold her, saying no that he's fine for now, but you insist he should. He doesn't do so for several hours, instead watching you with her as he works up the courage to have her in his arms.
What if my powers activate and I burn her? What if she cries and kicks? Oh lord, what I drop her??
"Ace, please. You need to hold her."
The look on your face, like you're begging him to hold her, finally makes Ace agree, sitting on the edge of your hospital bed to take your hours old daughter from you. You remind him to be careful of her head, make sure to support her, and smile when you finally get to see the two loves of your life together at last.
She doesn't fuss or cry or kick, instead staying fast asleep and seeming like she's snuggling into the warmth Ace radiates thanks to his Devil Fruit powers. He's just amazed by her, her tiny little nose and the beautiful, dark eyelashes that brush her chubby little cheeks. She's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen after you of course.
Ace fights not to cry but can't help the few tears that sneak out, wiping them away on his sleeve quickly, the one time he wears a shirt and it's the day you give birth to the newest love of his life.
Gosh, he always knew you were amazing. Now you've given him a family of his own, how could he ever repay you?
"Thank you for her...she's so perfect."
Ace can't seem to tear his eyes away from your daughter's little face, and that's okay with you. She's his baby too, he needs to have some time with her.
"What do you think we should name her, Ace?"
Oh. Oh crap, she does need a name huh?
~~
Law doesn't even have a chance to think about it, he's holding your son immediately after birth since he was the one to help you deliver obviously. Once your baby boy is wrapped in a towel Law hands him right to you before checking to make sure you're doing all right. Your vitals are all normal and stable, he's relived that you're both fine, while he watches you talk to your crying newborn.
You tell him that it doesn't count that he held your son right away since he's your and the boy's doctor, eventually getting Law to sit down and actually hold him as his father instead. Your son kept fussing and crying until Law finally got to hold him, the newborn quieting after a few moments but keeping his eyes shut tight and his little hands in fists as he kept whining.
Once he finally opens his eyes to stare up at Law, it's probably the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life apart from Bepo.
Especially once you catch sight of a few tears in Law’s eyes, making you smile softly as you lean back to just watch them. He's quick to rub at his eyes and make them stop, but the few sniffles you hear every bit tell you he's trying to stop himself from looking like a bigger baby than your literal baby he's holding.
He's never actually held a baby so tiny, not since Lammy was born. And to know this is his son, it's crazy to think about while he watches your baby boy start to fall asleep.
He really does wish his parents, sister, and Cora-san were there. They'd all love to meet your son, and you know he's thinking that, but you hope realizes that all the Heart Pirates are going to love your little boy just as much as his family would have.
And that eases the sting a bit, especially when they all do get to meet your son, and not a single one of them is without tears, beyond happy for you and their beloved captain.
~~
Penguin almost begs to hold your daughter once she's born and you're both stable. Law tries to push him away while he takes your daughter's vitals and measurements, asking how on earth you dealt with Penguin being so clingy the last nine months, which just makes you laugh.
"Go sit with your wife, damn it, I'll bring her over in a minute."
"But, captain--"
"Penguin, just come over here for now."
Penguin sits beside your bed and pouts until Law finally brings your daughter over, about to hand her to you before you direct him to your husband. Both ask if you're absolutely sure you want Penguin to hold her first, until you confirm it, and Law hands your daughter to her father, showing him the right away to hold her, before he leaves the three of you alone for a few minutes.
Penguin is absolutely enthralled with her. She's still fussy from being born, stretching out her little arms and legs, making cute little sounds, and he just can't believe she's finally here. He feels like you two waited an eternity for her to be born, now she has been! She's so small, she fits perfectly in his arms and it makes him want to cry so much.
"She's so tiny."
"And she looks just like you, Peng."
~~
Due to you having twins, you hold your son while Sanji holds your daughter, blubbering like the baby girl was because he's just so happy to have these babies with you. It makes you want to laugh hearing him cry, watching him kiss your daughter's forehead to try and calm her down while he dotes on her and you give your son attention.
"You're an angel, a perfect little gift from heaven!"
When you finally swap which baby you're each holding, Sanji still cries, happy to have a son too! He never really thought you'd have twins, or that they'd be fraternal on top of it! Both are so precious to him, you're precious to him, this little family you've now built together.
Your daughter has his hair, but your son looks just like you to Sanji. He kisses your son's forehead before looking at you and your newborn daughter, still unable to believe this is going to be his life from now on. You, and him, and your two tiny blessings.
"I love you so, so much."
He can't wait to call Zeff and let him know the good news.
~~
Zoro has no worries or qualms or tears when holding your son for the first time. Actually, it doesn't hit him for a few hours that he has a child now.
Your son is so quiet most of his first day outside the womb, sleeping and eating, only fussing when he needs something, but you're able to calm him down quickly. The way you're able to do that when this is your first baby impresses Zoro more than anything today.
It's only once you're asleep and he's holding your son again that it really gets to him. There's another person depending on him now, this one being his own flesh and blood, his newborn son that already looks just like him. His hands are so tiny, he's not even able to fully get his little fingers around one of Zoro's fingers.
Chopper made sure you both were left alone for the day, Zoro taking a bed next to yours and laying back with your son on his chest that night. That's when he realized just how small your baby is. His hand covered the newborn's back completely, his tiny hand fisting Zoro's shirt as he slept, small coos and whines coming from him every now and then. Zoro looks at you for a moment, before back to your son with a smile.
Your son may not have been planned, but Zoro's more than accepting of how his life is turning out.
~~
Note 2: I am absolutely willing to elaborate on these men and their children. If anyone wants to see something specific, just send me a message! I'll be posting more of my own thoughts too!
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preview: rush
pairing. professor step-dad Jeno x step-daughter female reader
・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆
‘I’d prefer we keep our at-home relationship disassociated from—‘ Professor Lee waved his hands around awkwardly, very different from the confident instructor you’d become familiar with for the past 6 months. ‘You know what I mean, I’m still your teacher, and you can come to me with any of your questions, concerns. But at home, I’m your step-dad.’
The conversation over dinner had been more uncomfortable than necessary, namely when your professor smiled at you and proceeded to pat your shoulder.
‘I mean, you’re like a daughter to me already, we don’t really need those pesky titles. Don’t ever feel bad about thinking of me as your dad now.’
Jeno’s lip twitched to contain a large smile from stretching his cheeks, mindful of your mother’s dreamy sigh as he reached over to pat and rub her thigh under the table.
Professor Lee, Dad.. Step-dad, or the one you had no idea he preferred best, daddy.
When your mother ranted about her new hot beau she connected with on Hinge, you couldn’t have expected it to be your Classic Literature Professor of all the men in the world. No, not your favorite instructor.
They were only dating anyway. Until they weren’t and suddenly your Professor was staying over a few times a week, even offering to drop you off near school.
‘It could look questionable to have a student exiting my vehicle on campus grounds, you understand right?’
The thing about Professor Lee is, he’s a good guy, a really smart and friendly guy. That teacher with a huge waitlist to join his class because everyone knows he grades on a curve and isn’t a hard ass about turning in assignments on time. He’s the ‘cool’ Professor, which could attest to the amount of female student body that fight to earn a space in his course, that or the fact that Professor Lee is, frankly, hot.
‘Kind of insane if you think about it.’ Your friend whispered in your ear, leaning over behind a book to discreetly gossip. ‘That he’s fucking your mom.’
‘Don’t be disgusting.’
‘I mean, you’re a dead ringer for her, you know? You guys could pass more as sisters than mother and daughter.’
You really hated hearing that, mostly because it’s true. Oftentimes strangers have often mistaken your mother as your older sister. As much as the reminder bothers you, you can’t say Professor Lee has shown indication of being a creep.
There are times you find yourself lingering on him longer than you should. Mindlessly taking in how tight his pants fit some days more than others, or how broad and muscular his back looks when he peels off one of his suit blazers and loosens the tie around his neck when getting heated up during a lecture.
Sure, Professor Lee is a very attractive man, there’s no denying that, but between work and trying to keep up with your studies, time for ogling men is hardly a matter of importance for you at the moment.
“Professor, I wanted to discuss my last thesis with you.” It’s taken a while to not address your step-father at home about school work, even when he passes by the living room and sees you scribbling notes, marking different pages to analyze and come back to. He’ll nod, smile, wave for you to carry on and not bother him about assignments unless you’re in class or visiting his office.
“Oh of course, pull up a seat.” Jeno motions to a desk chair nearby, waving off the last students to exit his classroom before settling back with raised eyebrows. “What’s up?”
“Well, the grading,” you draw free the folder, first visible page marked with a C-. “I worked so hard on this, and now my average has gone down so much.”
Professor Lee hums, thumbing open the pages and nodding as he rereads his notes and markings. “You worked hard on this?”
Your mouth parts, prepared for combat only to find his unconvinced gaze focused on you. “Well, yes! Of course I did, you—you saw!”
“What have I told you about home life?” He sighs, head shaking as he opens up to recite part of the breakdown you typed out. “This is so lazy, I was being generous with my grading. I hate to say this but you’ve really slacked off since, well..” he trails off, tossing your assignment back on his desk.
“Slacked off?? I stayed up all night working on this!” You stammer, sitting up straight more annoyed. It’s not as if he didn’t see you hunched over your laptop in the living room at 3am when he passed by to the kitchen for a glass of water and grinned while saying ‘don’t work too hard.’
“Listen, between you and me,” he leans closer, as if a soul could hear your conversation in this empty lecture hall. “You’re a procrastinator, I don’t see you studying half as much as you should be and when you do it’s at the crack of dawn when you should be asleep. Proper rest is integral to your education, I want to see you excel and put the effort in that your classmates do. I can only be so fair, I know my reputation around here, but as a trusted Professor, I simply cannot let you fly by and put my integrity at risk because you’d rather lay out by the pool and spend hours online shopping.”
“Professor! That’s—that’s not fair! You’re judging what I do at home! I—“ speechless, you gasp, doing your best to control your temper as your teacher's handsome features droop to a disappointed frown. “I’m not just lazing around the house! I work! Mr. Lee, I’m always working when, I..” you pause, internally cursing trying to come up with a way to defend yourself without giving out more detail.
“Ah, yes, your mother has mentioned your job.” He nods, cheek lifted as he reaches to rub the back of his neck and block a smile out of your view with his arm. “You assist professional writers by proofing and editing their work? That keeps you real busy, does it?”
He sounds apprehensive, picking up your thesis again. “Listen, this deserved a lower score, but I’m willing to work with you here Lana. Perhaps you need to consider prioritizing school over work for now though—“
“What—” between your frenzy and coining up an excuse, you’re sure you misheard Professor Lee just now. “What did you call me?”
A wide gaze lifts to your eyes, pursing together his lips tightly with a casual shrug. “I didn’t call you anything sweetie.” He smiles, reaching to press the back of his hand on your forehead. “You sure that you’re not overworking yourself?”
His smile softens, stroking down your cheek to pinch your chin. “If you’re pressed for cash, you can always come to me. It’ll be our secret if you don’t want your mother to know. I don’t mind helping you out if it means you’ll be less stressed and prioritize your school work.”
You can’t find it in you to reply again, because you know you heard it.
“Now, I’ll rethink my grading if you promise to work harder on your next thesis. Sound good?” He pats your back, moving to gather his things. “Shall I drive you back home?”
His casual relaxed manner throws you off even more, exiting in a zombie-like state after declining his offer to pick you up from a coffee shop off campus.
Lana.
There’s no way you imagined that.
Why the fuck did your step-father call you by your online pseudonym only ever used for your Only Fans account.
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pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader
plot summary: It’s Eddie’s birthday! He said no presents but you said fuck that. He’s getting two.
word count: 4k+
cw: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI; this is smut; porn with plot; Eddie being mean to Gareth; handjobs and blowjobs and Gareth unknowingly being a bystander of both; there’s some cum stuff in here, too.
notes: set in early 1990s. reader and Eddie are both in early/mid 20s. let’s pretend the PlayStation had co-op online gaming so this story makes sense. a part two may be in store. let me know what you think. 😈
Working overtime at The Hideout was not something you necessarily wanted to do, but with Eddie’s birthday coming up, it was something you had to do.
As much as you would have liked them to, bills wouldn’t simply pause just because you wanted to save money to buy Eddie a PlayStation. No, you had to use your math-inept brain to start budgeting, getting some help from Steve, who’d just recently been hired to work at a local accounting firm.
While you were hoping Steve would magically find money hidden somewhere in your finances, you were annoyed but not surprised at his only solution:
“You need to pick up more shifts.”
You and Eddie had moved into an apartment just outside of Hawkins after Eddie had finally graduated, you having helped him through that dreaded English class so you could both walk the stage together. That had been three years ago now. Money was tight, sure, but the two of you never went without the essentials. There was always dinner to be had, clothes to be worn, cable to be watched.
Between you bartending and trying to get a degree part-time, and Eddie dealing and working at the auto shop part-time, you both managed to make just enough to stay afloat.
Sometimes Eddie would score a few hundred playing a gig with Corroded Coffin, and he’d use that to wine and dine you like the fancy little lady you were. His words, not yours. You knew Eddie liked to spoil you. You knew he hated he couldn’t do it more.
Many stoned late night conversations had been had between the two of you where he fantasized aloud about taking you country to country once the band made it big, fucking you in soft, plush, expensive hotel beds, and spoon feeding you gelato while watching the sunset on a balcony, your bodies wrapped in silk, name-embroidered robes.
Eddie was a total lush at heart. The most broke rich man you’d ever met. You assumed this was because he came from virtually nothing. You didn’t need everything he wanted to give you, but he made it clear on more than one occasion that once money wasn’t a barrier, he would treat you like a queen.
You felt like he already did.
This is why you sucked up the hatred you had for The Hideout and told Roy, your boss, you’d work whatever shifts he could give you for the next few weeks. You endured handfuls of handsy truck drivers, pretended to flirtatiously banter with beyond drunk bikers, and held back the powerful urge to gag while stroking the egos of middle aged business men who chose to go through their midlife crisis in a seedy, dimly lit bar.
Seeing the look on Eddie’s face when you slid the wrapped package across the small dining table in your kitchen made all of the extra hours of rum pouring and forced salacious smiles worth it.
He had been mid-sentence, talking about a client at the auto shop who he’d spent an hour after hours with, the guy telling him all about medieval torture devices. This didn’t surprise you. Eddie’s fascination with the macabre was one of the things that had drawn the two of you together in the first place.
The first time you’d officially met was in English class your junior year, his third senior year. You’d told him you lived in a funeral home because your dad was a generational mortician, and that one day you’d probably own and operate it once your father retired. You also told him your mom was a self-proclaimed psychic who held seances for family members of the dead following their services. Eddie open-mouth stared at you for at least an entire minute in silence before telling you that was the creepiest fucking thing he’d ever heard, and that he would never feel fulfilled in life until you invited him over so he could experience it all firsthand.
The rest is history.
“What is this?” Eddie asked, brown eyes wide as he observed the gift in front of him.
“I know we said no presents this year so we can save for the new car, but... you know how I had all those late night study groups I had to go to this semester?”
He nodded, long fingers toying with the black parchment wrapping paper.
“Weeeeeell, actually, I was working overtime at The Hideout,” you admitted, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. You knew he wasn’t going to be happy to hear you hadn’t been honest this past month, but you figured once he saw what you’d bought him (and what you’d had planned for the rest of the night), maybe he’d decide to let bygones be bygones. Not likely, as Eddie thoroughly enjoyed teaching you lessons as punishment for bad behavior, and you figured lying for weeks on end about attending study groups qualified as pretty bad behavior. You rushed out the next few sentences, smiling innocently and tilting your head to try and appear as cute as you possibly could, “It was so I could buy you that. For your birthday. Happy birthday, Eddie. Love you.”
Eddie’s brows lifted toward his hairline at your admittance, slow blinking a few times as your confession set in.
“We are definitely going to revisit all that at a later point,” Eddie warned, a ringed finger pointing at you. “Because that is so not okay. But -- ” he couldn’t help the excited, boyish grin that enveloped his features. “I really wanna open this and see what it is.”
You giggled in excitement at his eagerness, drumming your fingers on the table. “Okay, come on! Open it!” You would enjoy these few hours of spoiling him as he so frequently spoiled you, and you’d worry about whatever punishment he’d dole out when it came later.
And right now, the look of elation on his face as he unwrapped the PlayStation was worth however many studded belt spankings or denied orgasms you had in your near future.
“Fuck! Baby! No way!” he practically squealed, jumping up from the chair. It fell to the ground behind him with a clatter, but he paid no mind. He held the gaming console above him in awe. “You’re fucking kidding!”
“No, no kidding,” you answered, even though you knew his words were rhetorical. You could feel your cheeks growing sore with the smile stretched across your face, basking in his reaction. “There’s a real PlayStation in there, I swear.”
He laughed and protectively cradled the console under his arm, hurrying to you to slam his lips against yours in a kiss. No tongue, but plenty of fervor. “God, I fucking love you,” he muttered, placing small kisses on your nose and cheeks. “I mean, I’d fucking love you even if you got me nothing, or just, like, socks or something, but, shit, baby, this is -- I have to call Gareth! We can play King’s Field together now!”
A laugh bubbled out of your lips at his sudden change in direction, knowing Eddie was always at the whim of his impulses. You watched as he ran off to the living room to make the call. You knew Gareth would be waiting for it, as you’d told him to make sure he didn’t have plans on Eddie’s birthday, so the two of them could spend it playing the multiplayer game together late into the night.
It was all part of your grander birthday plan.
You waited until you heard Eddie’s voice rambling off to Gareth in the living room, the sounds of him unboxing the console to start to hook it up mingled into his conversation, before you disappeared into your bedroom to change.
Phase one, complete, success. Phase two, final phase, commence.
𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐
It was about twenty minutes later when you reemerged from the bedroom, wearing nothing but a newly bought matching blood red bra and panty set. It was solid colored with black lace outlining the rim of both pieces, flattering against your skin tone.
Eddie was sitting on the edge of the La-Z-Boy, headset mussing down his wild curls, talking animatedly to Gareth about the skeletons they were currently fighting on the screen.
“No, no! Go left, go left! God damnit, Gareth, do you know what your left is?!”
Eddie was loud and mouthy enough as it is, but add in a game where he had the ability to lose and the whole apartment complex would be banging on their door come tomorrow morning with noise complaints. Hell hath no fury like a twenty-something man’s confidence in his pretend battling skills.
While some might find it annoying, you found Eddie’s unbridled passion for everything he was interested in endearing. He was someone who let himself be totally engulfed by the plot of a movie or a game or a story, attaching himself to the characters and their the ups and downs as if they were tangible and could be found in his own everyday life.
You were happy for his distraction as it gave you time to compose yourself and slowly stalk your way to the center of the living room, where the chair sat directly across from the TV.
By the time you made your way to the side of the La-Z-Boy, finally coming into Eddie’s peripheral vision, he was still berating Gareth for his poor sense of direction.
“I mean, what the hell, Gare, we learned our lefts and rights in, like -- oh, fuck.”
You’d brought you hand out to trail down the exposed skin of Eddie’s arm, watching it goosebump in your wake. He’d taken his shirt off at some point, much to your appreciation. Eddie’s attention was fully on you now, as was evident from his failed completed sentence to Gareth, who you could now hear through Eddie’s headset going, “Oh, fuck? What? What, oh fuck? You don’t even know how to talk, Munson.”
But Gareth went unheard by Eddie, who’s eyes were drinking in the sight of you in your lingerie set. His tongue darted out to lick at his lower lip, which he then pulled into his mouth to sink his top teeth into.
You offered him a playful smile, watching as his neck began to turn red, the color almost a perfect match for the satin set you had on.
Without a word, you dropped to your knees on the carpet in front of him, sitting between his legs.
“What -- what are you doing?” he managed to choke out.
Gareth’s voice through the headset: “What? Dude, I’m fucking going left like you told me to!”
“Shut up, Gareth,” Eddie warned, his brown eyes now full of fire for the sight before him.
He brought one hand to cover the mouthpiece of his headset, the other placing the controller on his lap to reach out and cradle your face. You leaned into it.
“What are you doing, baby?” Eddie asked again, but he knew. Especially from the wicked grin you were giving him now.
“Just play your game, Eddie,” you whispered, careful to be quiet so Gareth didn’t hear. You moved your head to rest your cheek on his thigh, staring up at him with big doe eyes as you brought the fingers of one hand to lightly trace the line of his zipper. “And don’t get caught. We don’t want Gareth to know what a bad girl I’m being, playing with your cock while you play with him.”
His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t believe it.
Not only had you gotten him exactly what he’d been wanting since it came out that prior winter, but now you were going to suck him off while he played it?
Jesus, how did he get so lucky?
“You are a fucking minx,” Eddie said, voice stern but his face lighting up in satisfaction as he readjusted himself on the chair, spreading his legs a bit wider.
He dropped the hand from the headset and picked the controller back up again just as Gareth was saying, “Eddie, man, are you still there? Your character’s been standing in the same place for, like, five minutes.”
𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐
Sucking dick was not only one of your favorite things to do, but it was one of the things you were best at.
You prided yourself on how quickly you could work Eddie into a panting frenzy, how easy it was for him to lose control in your mouth, thrusting his hips to force you to take what you could and to choke back the rest.
But tonight you were taking it slow. Slow and sloppy. And you weren’t letting him do any of the work.
You’d only pulled his cock from his jeans, leaving his balls in the confines of the tight denim. You’d used so much spit that the fabric of his pants was soaking through to his boxer briefs. You watched his face intently as one of your hands wrapped around the thickness of him, stroking upwards in long, drawn out movements. You could tell he was trying to jerk his hips up but was failing, as your other hand was pressed into his side, trying its hardest to keep his body weight back against the chair.
“Greedy,” you scolded, clicking your tongue to the roof of your mouth.
He smiled sheepishly, eyes meeting yours over his hands which were holding the controller against his chest. He stopped the movement of his hips even though he felt as if it physically pained him to do so.
You’d been working him with your hands and mouth for the better part of half an hour now, releasing him entirely any time he came close to coming. He’d let a whine out at one point, to which Gareth asked, “Dude, you good?” and Eddie had to scramble out in his lust addled brain an excuse as to why that type of noise had erupted from him. He didn’t even remember what he’d said to explain it away.
All Eddie wanted to do was come. He wanted to cover you in him, drench your face and chest as you’d drenched his pants and cock in your warm saliva. He kept picturing it in his head, in alarmingly graphic detail, which was making this video game very, very hard to concentrate on.
Eddie got the idea that maybe if you neared your breaking point too, he’d finally be allowed to come. His cock throbbed at the thought, a bead of precum oozing from his slit. You sucked it away. He groaned and rolled his eyes back, controller wobbling in his hand and threatening to fall to the floor.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied his grip again, pressing a few random assortments of buttons to make Gareth think he was still coherent and definitely not getting a blowjob from his girlfriend right now.
“Will you please play with yourself?” Eddie asked, trying to put forth his best pleading puppy dog eyes. This was his big plan. Get you to get yourself off so he could sneak his orgasm in there, too.
He clearly had forgotten to cover the mouthpiece because Gareth’s voice was incredulous on the other end.
“What the fuck, Munson? What do you mean? I can’t play with myself! We’re almost at the end, man! Don’t give up now!”
You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips, your head falling back for a moment at the exasperation in Gareth’s voice. Gareth was none the wiser, but just so you felt better, you made a mental note to buy him something nice or bake him those cookies you knew he liked, just for being such an unknowingly good sport during all of this.
Sticking your tongue out a bit, you bit down on the fleshy muscle in your mouth before rising more on your knees, leaning closer to Eddie. With the hand that was previously pushing his hips down, you covered his mouthpiece. “Is this a game you can win?” you asked. Your hand had stopped stroking now, and your fingers were instead running light pressured circles around the head of his weeping cock.
“Wha -- what? Uh, yeah... yeah, I can win,” Eddie stumbled, attention off the game momentarily to watch your hot little mouth move. “Just... fuck up a few more skeletons...”
“Okay,” you said, hand tightening on his member again, this time sliding it down slowly, twisting as you went. He hissed, trying to lean forward to capture your mouth with his own. You backed away, falling back down to your bottom as you continued playing with him in your hand. “Then win and I’ll let you come.”
Eddie huffed, trying to thrust his hips up for more friction but was stopped by your hand reclaiming its spot on his pelvis again, pushing him back down. If he wanted, he could absolutely overpower you. He could grab your wrists and pull you up into his lap, sliding the side of your panties over with one hand before impaling you on his wanting cock. He knows you’d let him. But he likes when you get like this, thinking you’re in control. It makes it all that much better when he finally flips the script and has you teary eyed begging for him to let you come.
“Gareth, I swear to fucking god, if we don’t win this game in the next three minutes, I’m never speaking to you again.”
𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐
It takes longer than three minutes, and it’s not because of Gareth.
Eddie keeps screwing up, pressing X when he should be pressing O; spamming the start button to bring up the game menu when you take him particularly deep into your throat; accidentally stabbing Gareth’s character with a sword instead of the skeleton because his eyes keep rolling into the back of his head with the words spilling from your filthy mouth.
It’s all, “tastes so good, Eddie,” and “can’t even fit you all in my mouth,” and “I’m dripping on the floor, want you so bad.”
Evil woman.
Evil, perfect woman.
Eddie sees a light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. In the game, the hallway he and Gareth had been running down is opening into the brightness of a lit arena. It’s the final stage. One more fucking skeleton and he can let go. He can turn this headset off and grunt and groan to his heart’s content without having to worry about Gareth thinking he’s a fucking creep.
“I’m almost there...” Eddie’s saying, and he’s kind of talking about winning the game, but is mostly talking about the orgasm he can feel tightening in his balls, swirling in his stomach, clenching in his thighs.
“Yeah, dude! We got this!”
Eddie does not want to hear Gareth’s voice right now. He wants to hear you, pretty and whiny, loving the noises you make when you make him come. He loves how much you love it. You’re not even the one coming, but you’re always right there with him, moaning about how good his warm seed feels inside you or all over you, wherever he decides to finish. You’re not picky.
Just then, Eddie jolts forward in the chair. The head of his hard length hits the back of your throat and you cough a little, sputtering as you move your head. Looking back over your shoulder at the TV screen, hand moving up and down Eddie’s slippery cock, you see the words 'YOU WIN' in radioactive green.
“Fuuuuuuck, yes!” Eddie shouts, throwing the controller in the air. He rips off the headset without saying goodbye to Gareth, dropping it to the ground as he turns his attention back to you.
He looks absolutely wrecked. Black bangs are clung to his forehead with sweat, his chest is heavy with labored breaths, his skin is tinged pink from being so worked up and then worked back down over and over for the past hour. He can’t believe he hasn’t accidentally came yet. He assumes it’s because his mind was preoccupied with the game, because now that his full attention is on you, remembering what you’re wearing, what you’re doing, and how you look so fucking good doing it, he doesn’t think he’s going to last.
“Baby, please, I wanna come,” he’s saying, bringing one hand to the back of your head, tangling it in your hair. He’s not guiding you or helping at all, doesn’t want to be in control yet, he just wants to touch you, needs to have his hands on you somehow. “I won, did you see, I won, I get to come, right? Please make me come...”
You bit back a self-satisfied look at his pleading, bringing both hands now to wrap around the length of him. It doesn’t need it, already soaking from being in your mouth, but you let a string of spit fall onto the head of his cock, making your hands glide even easier over the velvety hardness of him. You can feel him throbbing, his hips finally able to rock up into your touch.
“Are you gonna make me all messy, Eddie?” you ask, tilting your head down to look up at him with wide, faux innocent eyes.
He’s nodding, thrusts finding no rhythm, just trying to reach release. “Yeah, baby, you love it when I cover you in my come, get you all wet and sticky...”
“Uh-huh. Love when you help me clean it up, too.”
And that’s what does it.
Eddie let out a stilted moan, one that changed octaves, and he’s coming harder than he thinks he’s ever come before.
Thick ropes of white hit your cheeks, your chin, your neck, your chest.
You gasped at the contact, then let out a moan that made his toes curl into the carpet, licking your lips to catch anything that landed in tongue distance.
He watches it all. His eyes threaten to close but fuck no, he loves to see you get marked by him in the most primal of ways. Loves to watch his cock paint the prettiest portrait on you.
He brought his hand down to help you stroke him through it, wanting to feel your smaller fingers on his cock as he rode out his high.
Then he gave you what you love, helping you clean it up. He bent his head down and ran his tongue across your hot skin, scooping up as much of his release as he could. He grabbed you by the chin, pulling down until your mouth opened before spitting into your mouth, watching as you let it sit for a moment before closing your mouth and swallowing, your eyes heavy with arousal at his actions.
“Mmmm,” you sound, smiling dopily. You kissed at his lips, your hand still slowly stroking him as he softened.
He licked at your bottom lip before his tongue moved into your mouth and against yours, pulling you into his lap. You melted into his touch, becoming boneless flesh in his arms. He groaned at the feeling of your wet, clothed cunt pressed against his lower stomach. He hadn’t even touched you -- you hadn’t even touched yourself -- and yet you were still so slick for him.
That thought alone was enough to cause his cock to twitch, and he thanked the sex gods or whoever was in charge for gracing him with stamina tonight of all nights.
“Best,” kiss to your nose, “birthday,” kiss to your chin, “ever,” kiss to your lips.
You smiled against his lips, humming happily at his admission. This was exactly how you planned the night going. Surprise Eddie with a PlayStation and an explosive orgasm.
Then he just had to go and throw a curveball.
“I’ll be good to go in twenty minutes,” he conceded, fingers running featherlight down your bare back. “Then we’ll see what we’re gonna do about that lying mouth of yours.”
Damn it. The study groups. He remembered. Part of you hoped you’d sucked all the sense out of him, but apparently not.
“Mean,” you pouted.
Eddie’s eyes flashed wickedly, a lazy grin stretching across his face.
“Oh, I will be.”
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