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thetriumphantpanda · 4 months

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baby, it's cold outside | joel miller

Summary | Patrolling with Joel is always easy, he's your friend after all, but when a snow storm forces you to stop halfway, you're both faced with feelings that you'd both rather ignore, but with nothing but time, talking about them is your only option.

Word Count | 4.2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Explicit 18+. A snow storm and a cabin with a nice, warm fireplace. Unspecified age gap. Explicit smut - unprotected PiV (don't do this, pls be smart), oral sex (F), size kink if you squint, dirty talk, two idiots who love each other, some negative feelings towards the holidays but nothing else I can think of!

Authors Note | A huge thank you to the wonderful @hellishjoel for setting the 12 days of Pedro up and asking me to take part - this was so much fun to put together and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for the divider!

Despite having lived in Wyoming for years now, the winters were still a surprise to you. Icy cold winds, frosted windows every morning, thick downfalls of snow almost daily and a struggle to get warm no matter how many layers you wore. Some would call it picturesque, and you suppose you could see it, everywhere you turned in Jackson at this time of year, even though it was against the backdrop of the end of the world, it looked like it could adorn the cover of any Christmas card or be the setting for any Christmas movie. It didn’t matter, because you hated it either way.

When the tree went up in the centre of town, and the lights got switched on, it only served to remind you how solitary you were. How you existed mainly entirely on your own. No family, barely any friends, always the talk of the gaggle of girls who would whisper to each other whenever you passed and start laughing to each other, or the boys who always wondered why instead of hanging around with people your own age, you opted to spend it alone, or with someone who was pushing sixty.

Because if there was a single person in this Godforsaken town that you could class as a friend, it was Joel Miller. Quiet, closed off, unapproachable until you chipped away at his hard exterior, just like you in so many ways, it was actually sickening really. You liked Joel, ever since Tommy had put you two together for patrols when Maria had given birth, it was like you’d found someone who finally understood your need to be alone.

Patrolling outside the walls gave you peace, let you leave your loneliness behind for a while, just you and the ground beneath your boots, the feeling that you were doing something wrong, were less of a person because of your lack of friends and relationships left behind at the gate. You’d proven yourself capable more than enough times for Tommy to realise you were an asset. You’d saved more than enough people with your good aim and quick trigger finger, been ruthless in getting rid of raiders who strayed too close to your safe haven, and he knew your need for solitude, which is why he trusted you on these longer routes, on the more complicated patrol rotations, the ones that would get you out of Jackson for a week.

You surmise that’s probably why he chose to pair you up with Joel. In the two years you’d patrolled together, you’d come to realise that he needed that solitude just as much as you did. A way to leave behind being a father at the gate and remind himself of exactly who he was before. Out here, walking side-by-side next to you, he wasn’t Ellie’s dad, he wasn’t the man who still woke up in cold sweats remembering the heavy weight of his dead daughter in his arms, or that man who had lost almost everyone he’d ever cared for along the way, he was just Joel. Joel, who was more comfortable cradling a rifle in his arms than he was his infant nephew. Joel, who preferred comfortable silence instead of filling the quiet with talk. Joel, who, even when you suspected he hated you at the start, would have protected you to the death no matter what.

You were similar, far more than you’d like to admit, and as the weeks and months had drawn on, and you’d moved into being more comfortable with each other, he really was one of those things you’d wanted for so long. A friend. Someone to rely on, someone to drink with at the end of a hard patrol route, someone who made sure you ate when it was the last thing on your mind, someone who fixed the hole in your roof and put new planks of wood on your porch when you almost fell through it one day, someone who confided in you about how hard he found being a parent again, someone who opened up to you when things started to sour with Ellie. A friend.

He was also someone, in the last six months, that you suspected wanted to be more than your friend. It had started small, with things any good friend would do. He would offer you his arm when you walked during the winter so you wouldn’t slip, started packing double lunch so he knew you’d eat when you’d go out together, but then it was the hand on the small of your back through town, or the way he’d sit close to you in the bar, knees knocking against yours just so he could put a hand on your knee to apologise for getting too close.

And it’s not like you didn’t see that in him either. For a man who was almost sixty, he was incredibly handsome, able to do unspeakable things on patrol that neither of you would talk about to anyone else, strong in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Sure, his hearing was shot in one ear, his middle soft with age, and his hair and beard peppered with grey hair, but Joel Miller was a sight.

But, what if you’d read his signals wrong? What if his kindness and that warm hand on your knee was just him being a Southern gentleman? You throw yourself at him and he doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? You lose one of the very few friends you’ve ever had, and that’s somehow worse than knowing you’ll never know what the feel of his skin is like under your touch or what it sounds like when he moans your name for you.

The patrol route is brutal this day, wind and snow making it hard to see anything in front of you. You and Joel had to shout loudly to each other in order to hear anything, so when you stumble across the cabin, halfway through the route, you both decide that it’s best to head inside, get warm and wait out the worst of the storm before carrying on. Safer that way, is what Joel said, but you think it’s got more to do with the cold on his joints than the safety. Even at your younger age, your bones were certainly aching.

The wind whips a flurry of snow into the abandoned cabin when Joel pushes the door open, ushering you inside quickly, shutting the door quickly behind the two of you before more snow can follow you in. He sets his rifle down near the door and his backpack on the worn, moth-eaten couch, kneeling in front of the fireplace.

This particular cabin is a regular stop on this patrol route, an agreement between the residents of Jackson who frequent it to keep it stocked with firewood during the cold season. You silently note to thank whoever had patrolled before you for stacking the fireplace so all Joel really needs to do is set fire to the scrunched paper dotted through the wood to get the warmth of the fire flooding the small front room.

“Reckon we’re here for the long run,” Joel grumbles, holding flat palms up to the flames to warm his hands, “Ain’t no way we’re walking anywhere in that.”

And he’s right, the light of the day is fading fast and even in daylight, the blizzard had been a nightmare to traverse. It’s not like you’re wanting to rush back though, you sometimes wish you could pack everything up and come out here for good, live in your solitude until the end of your days, but for now, just a few more nights away from the place that reminds you just how alone you are will do.

You settle down on the couch, trying to burrow further into the coat around your body, not bothering to take your gloves or your hat off until the flames of the fire are stronger.

“Come sit closer,” Joel murmurs, motioning with his hand for you to sit on the floor next to him, “Warm up a little.”

You slip down from the couch and scoot along the floor until you’re sat next to him. Joel reaches over and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling off your glove, “They’re damp,” He states, reaching for your other hand to do the same, “Take your coat off too, you’ll get a chill otherwise.”

Working to unzip the front to pull it off, whilst Joel throws an extra few pieces of wood on the fire, you settle a little bit closer to the flames, feeling the warmth start to seep through your other layers. He stands, taking your coat and his, hanging them on either end of the fireplace to dry out a little, then he sits back down next to you, although a little closer than he had been before, so close that you can feel the heat of his body next to you.

You take a moment to steal a look up at him, his body larger than yours, towering a little next to you, but in the glow of the flames he’s fucking breathtaking. You get lost in tracing his jaw and the hook of his nose with your eyes that he’s turning his head to face you before you can turn away from him. He catches you with that small smile that is saved only for his family normally, Ellie, Tommy, sometimes Maria, and now, more often, you. So you smile back at him, let the warmth lick through your body, and before you realise it, he’s leaning his, broad shoulders bumping yours as his face gets closer, and God, it would be so easy to let him do it, move your face towards him, press your lips to his and burn it all to hell, but as he inches closer, that pit is opening in your stomach, bubbling anxiety and dread, so as he inches closer, you have to stop him.

You bring one of your fingers up to press against his lips gently, watching as he purses them against your touch a little, but then his eyes open when you speak, so softly, so quietly that he almost missed your plea, “Please don’t.”

It’s like you’ve burnt him with the way he not only drags his face from you, but his whole body, putting so much distance between the two of you that you almost cry. He clears his throat, running his hand over his face, “Right,” He mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” You insist, not meeting his eyes though, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stupid of me,” He shakes his head, “Just thought-” He sucks in a breath and pushes it out on a sigh, “Thought maybe you’d feel the same, but it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Joel,” You sigh, finally turning to him, “It’s okay.”

“Makes sense,” He shrugs, eyes boring holes into the flames in front of you, “I’m old, too old for you to want me.”

“It has nothing to do with you being too old for me Joel, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.”

You expect him to drop it, like he often does with these kinds of conversation, the ones that involve feelings, but he doesn’t.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with your grey hairs or your creaky fucking knees, that’s for sure.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says to get fucked, hurry up, tell him the real reason for all this.

“I could be shit in bed for all you know.”

“Well that’s easy to rectify, just need a little practice.”

It makes you snort, “Can we be fucking serious for a minute, Miller?”

“You’re the one who said it first.”

“What happens when it goes tits up?” You ask, “When you get bored of me, or realise I’m not what you thought I was, what happens then?” He opens his mouth to respond to you, but you beat him to it, “I lose my best friend, that’s what happens, the only person in this Godforsaken world that I have, and I don’t want that, I don’t want a world where I’m without you.”

“Who says it’s going to go tits up?” He counters, “Baby, I’m old, I ain’t gonna go running off, I just want somethin’ good, somethin’ happy, and I want that with you,” Just like you had done before, he starts talking again before you can add something, “Put your faith in somethin’, darlin’,” He’s moving back towards you now, shifting closer, “Put your faith in, me.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that, because you had once before, without even realising. Let him in, let him get close, to know everything you’d been through, share everything he’d been through. You let him sit with you late at night in the summer, strumming his guitar on your porch, he lets you share his whiskey when you need it.

“I’m still gonna be your best friend,” He urges, that warm palm resting on your knee, “That ain’t gonna change, we’re just gonna add to it.”

And for some reason, it snaps, all of your good judgement and everything that was holding you back. His face is cradled in your palms before you know it, your body straddling his lap as your mouth slants over his, a surprised gasp swallowed by your mouth as his lips open against yours, his hands coming to rest on the globes of your ass through your jeans, pulling you closer, chest flush to chest as you soak this in.

Hands dropping to the collar of his shirt, you start to slowly unbutton it, mouth still against his, tongue tasting him as your fingers push button after button through their holes until you can push it from his shoulders, drag his arms from it, drag his undershirt from it’s place tucked into his jeans.

Joel gasps when your hands make contact with the skin under it, fingers still slightly icy from the cold, but that too is swallowed by your mouth, as is the moan that drags from your throat when he bucks his hips into yours.

He pulls away from your lips, forehead pressed to yours as you both breathe deeply, “Don’t seem shit in bed so far.” He chuckles.

“I was fucking with you Joel,” You smile, punctuating it with a roll of your hips into his, “I’m a delight in bed.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“This is the floor Joel,” Which earns you a squeeze to your ass, “I’ve never fucked someone on the floor before.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s flipped you over, your back pressed to the dusty wooden floor, his body looming over yours, fingers picking the button of your jeans apart, pulling the zipper down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs, underwear along with them too, before they’re thrown behind him somewhere, forgotten as he parts your knees, legs spread, exposed to him, and you think you might die from the way he looks at you. You bury your head into your shoulder, trying to escape his gaze as he drags his thumb along your folds, growling when he feels how wet you are just from his mouth on yours.

You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of his feet hitting one of the armchairs behind him as he lowers his chest to the floor, hands pulling at your hips, your back dragging across the wooden floor as his mouth presses a single, feather-light kiss to your clit. The smallest of touches to your body has your back arching into him.

How long has it been? Not since you fucked someone, because in the grand scheme of things that hasn’t been too long. No, how long has it been since someone actually made you feel good? Years, you think. Too long. Too long since sex was anything more than just stress relief, pressed against the brick wall by the Tipsy Bison, letting someone fuck you so you could feel something, giving them the bragging rights of fucking the town outcast in return.

This is different. So different. Joel is slow with it, parting you in front of his face with his thumbs, tongue swirling through the slick you’re not even embarrassed about now, tasting you, drinking you in, before he drags his perfect mouth up, lapping gently at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He coos against your skin, his praise making you preen, hips chasing the feeling of his mouth on you, he chuckles at your desperation, “How long’s it been since someone made you feel good, huh?”

Your fingers tangle in the curls on his head, dragging him back down to your cunt to silence him, “Too long.” Is all you offer as he feasts on you.

Tongue swirling, lips suckling, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, dragging you slowly but surely to the edge, the fire in your blood no match for the fire against your skin. He’s fucking good at this, knows exactly how to listen to your moans, the way you pull at his hair when he does something you like, collecting the little gasps and hip movements until he’s working a pattern on your pussy that makes you feeling like you’re going to explode, combust, maybe even die a little.

“Don’t stop,” You urge, breathless, sheen of sweat settling across what skin of yours is exposed to the flames near to you, “Gonna - fuck Joel - gonna cum.”

That’s when he pushes two of his fingers into you. Hooking them up inside of your cunt, your legs dropping open further than you thought possible as he works you and works you. You’ve gone quiet, letting out only short breathes when holding them in makes your head light, fingers so tight in his hair that you think it’s probably hurting.

Then, you think you find God, right there on the dirty, dusty floor, when the coil snaps inside of you. Your back arches off the floor, thighs clenched around Joel’s head as his tongue continues the flicks against your clit, ignoring the high-pitches whines of too much, Joel listening instead to the movement of your legs, the way your entire body convulses until you truly are spent for him.

Joel pushes himself up onto his knees, dragging his undershirt over his head, pulling his belt through its loops as you’re sitting up, dragging the upper portion of your clothes off, naked on the floor for him, the flames from the fire keeping you warm, even if your nipples do pebble and peak against the cold.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel breathes out as your hand settles on your pussy, fingers dragging through the slick to lazily move over your clit, “I wish you could see yourself right now, baby,” He crones, pushing down his jeans, cock springing free, immediately clasped in his fist, movements slow as he watches you touch yourself, “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

His body falls forward, coverings yours, but this isn’t what you want. Hand on his chest, you’re pushing him back, “Wanna ride you, Joel.” You whine.

Like a kid on Christmas, he’s on his back in seconds, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles because if you’re not sinking down on him in the next few seconds, he’s going to scream. You settle your thighs on either side of his hips, his cock, heavy and throbbing against his stomach. He’s watching you, as you take the base of him in your hand, line him up with that aching core of yours, head notching into you, where you just keep him for a moment, let him stretch you as you ground yourself with palms on his chest, sinking down, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside you, warmth wrapping around him, just like the warmth from the fire against his skin.

You start moving your hips, his cock so deep in you he swears if he put a palm on your lower belly, he’d feel himself through your skin with the way you’re grinding against him, head thrown back, mouth dropped open. He wishes he could take a photo of this. He doesn’t think he’s seen a nicer sight in his life.

“It’s a lot, ain’t it baby?” He coos, hands on your hips, guiding your movements, he knows he’s big, been told enough times through his life, but the way you’re slow, getting used to him inside him, has him on the verge of spilling inside you already.

“So big, Joel.” You whine, leaning back now, hands on his knees which have moved up, his feet planted on the floor now, and God alive, if he thought you were a sight before, you’re a fucking masterpiece now as you start bouncing on his cock.

He can’t help himself, he is only a man after all, his hands trailing up the curves of your side, taking hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, listening to the way you sing for him. Somehow, he finds core strength from somewhere, pushes himself up, one hand behind him to prop him where he is, as his mouth sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling that pebbled peak with his tongue, your arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself against him, hips still working against his, finger tangling in the curls near his neck, keeping his mouth anchored right where it is.

Joel pulls off you, a wet smack from his lips as he looks up at you with those beautiful brown orbs, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” He praises, “So tight around me, like you were made for me.”

“Wanna feel you,” You moan, head dropping against his shoulder, “Wanna feel you come for me.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your back, dragging you down with him as he rests himself back on the floor, your chest pressed to his as he finally takes control. Feet planted on the floor with your teeth digging into his shoulders, he fucks up into you, the cabin filled with nothing but breathy moans and a lewd smack of skin as he pounds himself into you. In an ideal world he’d focus on making you come again, feeling you clench around his cock as you fall apart would be incredible, but he thinks there will be time for that later.

He’s so fucking close, you can feel it, the way his fingers are gripping t every inch of skin they can reach, the way his hips are faltering and how your name is more of a feature on his lips. You let out a surprise squeal as he flips you both, your back now to the ground as his cock slips out of you, his fist replacing the wet heat of your cunt as the warmth of his cum splashes across your lower belly, a howl, not unlike an animal, falling from his mouth as he paints you, claims you as his own with those ropes of cum across your skin.

When all is said and done, and he’s taken in the sight of your skin splashed with his spend, the two of you lying in front of the fire, one blanket dragged from the bed on the floor to soften the harsh wood, another pooled around both your hips, this feels like home. Both you and Joel, led on your side, watching each other, and the flickering light of the fire bathes you both in orange, in warmth.

His hand traces your face, thumb dragging across your bottom lip as he leans in to kiss you. Hours later, with harsh wind and snow still swirling outside, he brushes a thumb across your nipple, your hand reaching down between you to find him hard again. He puts you on your back this time, creaky knees be damned, slides his cock into your aching cunt once more, fucks you slowly, the entirety of his weight pressed against you. That orange glow almost convincing you that this was before, when things were normal, romantic even, as his lips leaves tiny bruises across your skin.

When he’s marked you once more as his, cum splashed from your pussy to your tits, he lies back down, the broad expanse of his back to the dying embers of the fire, your back pressed to his front, his arm snaked under your neck, urging you to sleep, and as you drift off, Joel’s hot breath against the skin of your ear, his other arm draped loosely over your waist, you pray that the snow is just as bad in the morning, because if it were possible, you want to return even less now, want to remain huddled next to Joel, on the floor, for the rest of your life.

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fairyysoup · 2 months

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his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

read here

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #roses*#eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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multifariousqueer · 3 months

Note

Sex in the bathtub with Felix Catton.

Ofc, lovie 🩷🩰

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, fingering, oral???, PIV, unprotected s3x, br33ding, implied consent(also explicit consent), pet names, I think that’s it

It had been a long, treacherous and tedious day and you were exhausted. You had stumbled into Felix’s dorm and threw your head back in fatigue as he peered at you through questioning eyes.

“Hey, you alright?” He asked softly

“Mmmmm I’m tired” You replied

“Yeah you look it. Do you need something?” He asked

“A massage and adderall” you chuckled

“I could give you both if you want” Felix said with a smirk

You smiled and said:

“Maybe just the massage”

He smirked and you took off your clothes. He picked you up and took you to the bed where you lay flat. He sauntered into the bathroom where he pulled out a bottle of baby oil. Your eyes looked to him and the bottle before you let out a giggle.

His cold, soft hands roamed your body as you sighed at the relief. The oil only relaxing your muscles more and removing the friction between him and your back. Moans escaped your lips as his hands continued to travel and a trail of pleasure was left in their wake. Felix’s lips were parted as he was entranced by your warm body, mesmerized by his reality of touching your being. He felt a soul connection to you in that vunerable moment and decided that he wanted you to experience the pleasure that he knew you needed and deserved.

Felix’s hands traveled down to your ass as you let out a small gasp, only for you to look back and see your boyfriend with a dopey smile on his face. He was always so cute and attentive when he wanted to be. His hands slipped lower as his hand came to your already wet folds as he wet them even more through the oil. He let out a groan at how warm and soaked you were for his fingers alone and Felix felt his pants grow tighter. Your head came up and Felix’s face was hovered over yours:

“Can I make you feel good?” He breathed

“Always” you replied

Felix’s lips connected to yours as his hands continued to pleasure you and slip in and out. He was exceptionally skilled with his hands and it never took long for you to reach an orgasm with him and this time was no different. Butterflies made their way into your stomach as you whimpered for your boyfriend to let you finish and give you the relief you so desperately craved. Your juices leaked out and your moans were increasing in volume as you felt yourself creep on the edge of a glorious orgasm, only to be brought back down by Felix.

“What happened?” You whimpered

“This isn’t how I want my princess to finish” Felix smirked

He got off of you and went into the bathroom where you heard the tub run. A mixture of negative emotions cascaded throughout your body but the one that was the most prevalent was lust and sadness. It wasn’t anything personal and Felix always wanted you to have good orgasms but you still felt empty and like you missed out on something.

The echo of the tub running and the smell of eucalyptus and a lush bath bomb permeated the room as Felix came back without clothes. He ushered you into the bathroom where he sat you in the edge of the tub:

“I’ll make you feel good, princess. You’ll get your orgasm, I promise” he whispered into your needy pussy before he placed a kiss upon your clit.

You spun around into the water which was the perfect temperature and smelled magnificent. Felix got in after you, his dark brown eyes peering at you with desire and lust as he pulled you into his lap. His cock practically begging you to touch it and poking you in the back as he groaned at the sudden exposure.

“Tell me about your day” he said, his hands roaming on your body

“Uhh well I- ugh” you stopped. Felix had reached his hands down to your pussy as he began to finish the job.

“Don’t stop” he smirked. His tortuous game now coming to light. He wanted you to talk your way into an orgasm.

“Tell me how good this feels. tell me how bad you need my cock, baby” he whispered into your ear, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

“It feels so good, Felix. Oh my God I’m so close” you breathed

Felix chuckled at this as your body started caving around his fingers. Your walls tightened around his fingers and his lips found your neck as he nipped and kissed at the delicate skin. Pleasure waves overtook your being and you came around his fingers, with a moan and your body going limp:

“Good girl” he said into your hair

Felix pulled you around him and inserted himself inside of your plush walls, savoring every part of you inside and out. A groan escaped his lips as a moan escaped yours; you were incapacitated so he lifted your hips and ass as your hands found his hair. A coil started forming inside of your stomach again as he whispered more sweet nothings to you:

“Mmm fuck baby, you’re so tight”

“You were made for me”

“This perfect pussy”

“I can’t wait to own this pussy forever”

The coil in your stomach was tight as ever and your eyes were filled with pure desire as Felix’s movements became sloppier and sloppier. Your mind was fogged over as his mouth found your nipples and your head went back. Another huge wave of pleasure washed over you as butterflies had emerged again in millions in your stomach and a loud moan escaped your plump lips. Felix’s body stiffened and his hands planted your hips flush against his pelvis, as his hips bucked every now and again. His eyes were sealed shut as his groans escaped from his pink lips. He trapped his seed inside of you as you felt the hot ropes escape inside of you. A gentle smile appeared on his face as his glossed over expression registered in your mind:

“I’m his forever”

#felix catton smut #for you #felix catton x reader #felix catton blurb #felix catton #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #saltburn #saltburn x reader #felix catton imagine #foryou #jacob elordi imagine #jacob elordi smut

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kiwi-bitchez · 6 months

Text

Double Down, Triple Threat

Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader

Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension.

Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending.

Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.

Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I

"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.

"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics.

"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways.

"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."

"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."

"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something."

Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order.

Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret.

"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."

"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on.

If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that.

He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."

"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were.

Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers.

But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar.

Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well.

"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."

"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."

"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'

"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"

"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig.

"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."

"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."

"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."

"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him.

He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface.

"What's your drink?" he asks.

"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer.

"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him.

You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.

"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."

"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.

"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."

"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."

He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.

As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."

You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."

Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket.

"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that."

Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull.

"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"

"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."

"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt.

"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards.

You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night.

You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot.

"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."

"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."

"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."

"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive.

"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot.

"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."

"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something."

With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road.

Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt.

You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong.

Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk.

It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one.

You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood.

Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper.

Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful.

You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door.

"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks.

"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go."

You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step.

"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."

"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking.

"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live."

He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."

"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies.

"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.

"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?"

He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought.

The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat.

"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.

"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here."

"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.

"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."

"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."

"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.

"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."

You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.

"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights.

"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.

"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."

"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."

"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought.

You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?"

"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar.

You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."

"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."

"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on.

You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."

He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped.

The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close.

After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy.

"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat.

You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.”

He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside.

Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now.

Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane.

He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.

"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.

"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."

"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"

He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this.

"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.

"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond.

"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that.

This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say.

Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well.

It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile.

"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago.

"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips.

It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window.

After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form.

When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much.

He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?

In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue.

So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”

“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.

“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”

“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner.

You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise.

He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be.

“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.”

With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath.

It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch.

He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief.

His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow.

“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.

Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind.

He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there.

“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.

He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing.

Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights.

The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.

Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow.

“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.”

He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel.

Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale.

“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”

After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request.

Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?

Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut.

You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes.

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…”

And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did.

Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it.

After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off.

Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.

You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”

“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”

“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.

“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.”

“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.

You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances.

“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over.

“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”

There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were.

“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…”

He understood, he hated how much he understood.

“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him.

“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”

“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”

“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”

“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’

He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run.

You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat.

“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive.

He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt.

A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails.

The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers.

You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed.

You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point.

He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction.

“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”

“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale.

“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.

“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.

“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”

You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot.

“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice.

“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”

He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip.

He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.

He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction.

When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?”

A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill.

The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away.

“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“

He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands.

“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.

“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth.

“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”

With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom.

“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”

“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”

You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on.

“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.

“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself.

You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark.

He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked.

“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you.

“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious.

“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present.

“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed.

“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”

You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream.

“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”

You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go.

You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around.

“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”

It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin.

“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”

“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“

“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”

You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.

He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways?

As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away.

“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back.

He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel.

“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging.

You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.”

As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up.

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.”

His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.

Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most.

Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs.

He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way.

“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you.

When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.

You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”

He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time.

“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?”

The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.

“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him.

“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand.

He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary.

As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else.

Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”

Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes.

He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch.

He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”

Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top?

“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“

“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”

Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching.

It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment.

“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”

Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point.

Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.

The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end.

The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold.

His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean.

“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”

You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two.

You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his.

He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could.

“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”

“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”

Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen.

After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong.

“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep.

An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you.

You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months.

A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control.

“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed.

A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze.

You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue.

You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true.

Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.

“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”

His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper.

“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment.

“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”

“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”

“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”

“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”

“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”

“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.

“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.

“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall.

“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl.

“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”

“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”

“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”

“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time.

“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over.

“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was.

“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”

“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.

“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”

Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear.

“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”

“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”

His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.”

“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this.

“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.”

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.

Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips.

“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.

“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”

“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”

“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”

“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”

“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”

He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you.

Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom.

As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips.

“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.

“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”

“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom.

“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets.

“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”

“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you.

“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”

As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed.

He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away.

You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself.

After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.

“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.

“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect.

“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.

“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”

“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck.

“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.”

“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body.

“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.

You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long.

“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.

“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs.

You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.

A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”

You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”

He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up.

You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.

He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.

You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks.

“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.”

His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away.

“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.”

You nod with a “Please.”

“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”

He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.

“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”

With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit.

He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred.

“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.”

You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask.

You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest.

The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.

You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip.

“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle.

“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?”

The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”

He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you.

Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning.

“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”

Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone.

“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest.

He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit.

“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.

“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”

You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand.

“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”

He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time.

“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment.

You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare.

You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening.

Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.

“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”

He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more.

He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more.

Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time.

He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go.

You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you.

“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time.

He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”

“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state.

You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you.

“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you.

“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could.

Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all.

His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.

He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.

“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now.

He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him.

Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter.

Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue.

You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”

Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.

Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you.

Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you.

“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts.

“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”

“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future.

“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”

Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page.

Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock.

“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips.

“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”

He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“

He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake.

“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his.

“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”

You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours.

“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses.

“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.”

Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.

He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center.

He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.

Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you.

More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”

How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name.

“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”

“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.

“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“

“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release.

Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements.

“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm.

It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name.

It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.

“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van.

You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets.

He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.

“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”

He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss.

“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”

“Special enough for a fourth date?”

You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”

Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all.

“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice.

“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come.

A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #smut #Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson #stranger things smut #Eddie munson fanfiction

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sgtgarricks · 2 months

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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i want your hands on me for all my life

simon riley x afab!reader cw: nsfw, angst, happy ending, mentions of simon's abusive past, talks about death, mentions of soap's death, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected piv sex, creampie!!, simon lets himself be happy yay

reblogs are immensely appreciated! <3

PREVIOUS PART: your gentle hands are enough

notes: this is the 2nd part for the people that want a happy ending :) this turned out sooo long LMFAO if you want to be sad just pretend this doesn't exist and read the other one! your feedback & comments help <3

Simon had always excelled at compartmentalizing his emotions ever since he was a child.

Growing up with an abusive father and an older brother who has hell-bent on scaring him had forced him to develop self-preservation tactics in order to survive their torment. Dissociating was a daily occurrence in his childhood years — it helped Simon escape the pain and torment that was being inflicted on his body.

Being in the military has not been that different.

He was still dissociating, but he was no longer on the receiving end of thrown punches and insults. He was now the perpetrator inflicting agony on his enemies for the good of the world. To rid the world of filth.

Simon Riley had become the ultimate soldier — lethal, swift, quiet, and was immune to the horrors of war, which was no surprise considering he had spent most of his childhood learning to lock away all the negative emotions. The ability had become innate, bleeding into his daily life and in turn, his relationships.

When Simon walked out the door, he had left all the hurt and sadness in the apartment with you. He trusted you'd keep a part of him safe until he came back and even if he didn't.

Simon had whole-heartedly accepted the risk that comes with the job, fully prepared to lay his life down if it meant a better world than yesterday. In fact, Simon knew death more intimately more than anyone. He'd knocked on death's door multiple times but always seemed to come out alive.

It was easy for him to not think of you. The anxious voice inside his head becomes static as he engrossed himself in the mission. The hard part comes when the dust has settled — when all that remain are cold corpses and bullet casings.

Sitting in the helicopter all bloodied accompanied by the sound of whirring blades wasn't usually bad. It would give him time to sit down and process his emotions. It let him feel the slight guilt that never goes away when taking a life — no matter how rotten.

But with each mission he went on after his abrupt departure, he finds himself constantly ruminating his entire reason for not wanting to get into a relationship with you.

Simon had wanted you to move on from him when he died, eventually. Forget the bruised and battered soldier and find someone whole, someone who could be there for you and love you without causing you anxiety every time their phone rang.

He thought himself selfless for trying to spare you, but his entire reason collapses with every mission he comes back alive.

What was his excuse now? What was he protecting you from?

The voices slink back into his mind the moment he gains a moment of peace. Whispers planting seeds of doubt in his mind, feeding on his insecurity and his fears. They're ruthless and persistent.

You don't deserve them. They're too good for you. You're going to leave them one day anyway, why bother?

He feels a tightness in his chest, as if a phantom hand was squeezing his heart that sends pulses of pain through him. His hand shakes slightly, fingers moving absent-mindedly trying to remember the feel of your skin.

"You alright, Lieutenant?" His captain's voice breaks him out of his trance. Simon is slightly startled but doesn't let it show. He merely grunts.

"'M alright."

Silence engulfs them once more. It goes one for one, two, maybe three minutes. It's suffocating. Simon can read people well enough by now that he knows there are questions lingering in the back of John Price's mind.

A part of Simon wishes he'd just spit it out, but the thought of having to explain seemed worse. Instead, Simon settles with a silent huff as the helicopter continues on its designated course.

The second the helicopter landed, Price simply nods at him, trusting him to get his shit together and walks off to his office. Simon does his usual routine, though instead of rushing through the motions, he's intentionally prolonging each action.

Whereas normally he couldn't get out of this place faster, now he almost dreaded the moment he would have to leave. Staying at the base meant monotonous, dull, predictable tasks. Leaving means he has to choose where to go — he has to actively force himself to not drive straight to your apartment despite the fact that every fiber in his being longs to be close to you.

He feels sick, a kind of illness spreading inside of him that only ever felt better when you were around him. A dull ache inside his body that only lights up when you touch him.

He runs a hand to his now damp hair, content with sitting on a sofa in the rec room. Normally, the place would be bustling with recruits goofing around with each other. But one glance at the broodier-than-normal look on the lieutenant's face had created a force field that pushed away everyone as to not get caught in its storm.

Simon doesn't know how long he sits there, half of him trying to convince himself to not come to you. That you don't deserve the broken man with a penchant for violence.

Chuckling lowly to himself, he shakes his head. What kind of demented higher power decided someone as kind as you be plucked and dropped into his sights?

Fifteen minutes went by as he pities himself in the rec room before a shadow in his peripheral vision causes him to look up.

"L.T.," Kyle nods towards him, leaning on the doorframe.

"Garrick." Simon grunts dismissively, not saying anything more. He hops the sergeant will take the hint on his own and leave the miserable bastard to his own devices.

Kyle worries for Simon. The brooding giant seems more miserable than usual — not more than after the incident, but still. Typically, he wouldn't even be able to catch a glimpse of his lieutenant after coming back from deployment. He'd usually opt to disappear from the base in record time.

The fact that he's here now, instead of wherever he usually hangs around, is slightly concerning.

"You alright, L.T.?"

Simon turns to him, slightly annoyed. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Yes, I'm alright." He huffs. Kyle merely shrugs, unbothered by the icy gaze directed at him.

"Well, seeing as you haven't fucked off from the base yet and it's been," Kyle checks his phone for the time, "Around an hour? I'd wager something is wrong."

Sometimes Simon hated how observant Gaz was. Kyle's always been attentive, even more so now without Johnny's presence. It wasn't a secret that Johnny had been the lieutenant's shadow — always lingering near him, cracking jokes and pulling his leg.

His absence had naturally left a gaping void in Simon, oozing all the pain and hurt that comes with losing a comrade. Simon isn't naive, he knows death comes as a package with being in the battlefield. He's seen his fellow soldiers die, held them as they bled out. It was why he tended to keep to himself. After all, the less people you know, the less funerals you have to go to.

This worked most of the time, anyone who got close to Simon would get his arctic stare and cower off — most of the time anyway. Johnny was a different case. Johnny was a little bit of a nutcase to be honest. A talented, bright, pyromaniac, the youngest ever to pass SAS selection, with an arsenal of jokes in his pockets. The blue-eyed Scotsman got along quickly with Kyle, bantering with each other easily as if they had been long-lost friends.

While Johnny still had reservations about dicking around with the captain, he didn't seem to have the same problem with Simon. Seemingly happy to chatter off in his ear about anything, whether it was about shitty food, a lady he picked up from a bar, or jabs directed at Simon.

Johnny's bright disposition put Simon on edge. He wasn't used to seeing someone not be terrified of him. No matter how many glares he sent him, the bugger wouldn't leave him alone. Johnny would continue to go out of his way to talk to Simon, to sit next to him during lunch, and sometimes, Johnny would even manage to get Simon to open up just a little.

"What's on yer mind, L.T.?" Johnny nudged Simon with his elbow. The two men were both sat at the bar, the TV playing an old recording of a football match. It had taken Johnny ten minutes to convince Simon to go out for drinks and he planned on taking full advantage of it.

Johnny had been talking non-stop for around five minutes about his sister who had just gotten married, waiting for a reaction from Simon who seemed distracted. His eyes had strayed to the other side of the bar a few times, barely noticeable to the untrained eye, but Johnny was anything but.

"Nothin'." Simon had grunted, tearing his gaze away. A giant smirk plastered itself onto Johnny's face.

"Ah, been starin' at the sad one across the bar, aye?" Seeing Simon's eye widen a little had made Johnny even more gleeful. "Go on then. Ye have my full permission to ditch me tonight." He teased, winking at his lieutenant.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Johnny." Simon had denied instantly, taking a sip of his drink. A normal person would have left it at that, but Johnny wasn't your average person. He loved starting fires and Simon was a flame he wanted to see lit.

"Ach, come on L.T. what's the harm, eh? A little bit of flirting never hurt anyone." Simon didn't know this but Johnny wasn't going to let this go. It was the first time Johnny had ever seen Simon show interest in someone and he'd do anything to get Simon to at the very least, talk to them.

"They're a civvy, Johnny. Not gonna take any chances." Simon shook his head adamantly.

"That's bollocks! All we do is take risks anyway, at least on this one the worst that could happen is getting a drink thrown in yer face." Johnny chuckles, peering at the person across the bar who was clearly nursing a broken heart. Simon still made no move to get up from his chair.

Praying to whatever God was listening, Johnny hoped Simon wouldn't kill him after what he was going to do. Calling over the bartender, Johnny slid the man a fifty.

"Mate, give 'em a refill yeah? Tell 'em it's from the big bloke over here." Johnny signaled the bartender. Simon, who had finally processed what Johnny was doing, couldn't even get a word in. The bartender hastily took the money and went back to his station, ignoring Simon's call.

Simon could only watch in despair as the bartender presented the drink and pointed towards Simon. He received a shy smile, a mouthed 'thank you', and an expectant look.

"Now you've got to go there, mate. Otherwise you'll look like an arsehole!" Johnny threw his arms up, grinning triumphantly. The sergeant crossed his arms and wiggled his eyebrows.

Simon could've easily ignored Johnny and went back to his drink. But a part of him couldn't deny that he wanted to go over there and maybe talk to someone else that wasn't Scottish for a change. Against his usual logic, Simon decided to stand up from his chair.

"You're an arsehole." A glare was sent Johnny's way, although it had no weight behind them. As Simon began to walk away, he could hear Johnny laughing loudly.

"Yer welcome!"

Simon had never told Johnny you were the person who had been texting him during deployment, but he knew deep down that Johnny already knew. He'd asked multiple times, even tried sneaking a look.

He simply didn't want to admit that Johnny forcing him to talk to you that day had shifted Simon's world. He wished he told Johnny.

"We all miss him, L.T." Kyle's soft voice spoke again. He's closer now, dragging a chair from a table and sitting in front of Simon. Kyle knew he could never fill the giant void that Johnny left, but he felt a sense of responsibility to at least try. Price had become more closed off after his death whereas Simon had slowly been unraveling, little stitches coming loose a day at a time.

"All we can do is make sure it's not in vain." Simon sighs, hearing Kyle's words, knows he's right. That he can't go back to expecting the worst all the time, constantly on edge.

Johnny had breathed life into his ghostly presence, bringing Simon back into the realm of the living. The more Johnny got out of the lieutenant, the more people were able to see that Simon wasn't merely a visage, a ghost roaming the hallway. That he was a real person.

He was throwing away his chance at a second life. Perhaps it was also a twisted way of Simon punishing himself. If he couldn't save Johnny, couldn't save the man who managed to get him to talk to you, then he didn't deserve you. It was a round-about way of him trying to mend off the guilt eating away at him that had inadvertently claimed another victim.

"Thank you, sergeant." Simon stood up. Clapping his hand on Kyle's shoulder.

I see you.

"Don't mention it, sir."

The drive to your house takes around twenty minutes, which means that's all the time Simon has to try and figure out a way to atone for his sins.

They're too gracious to even hold a grudge against you. A small part of Simon tells him. While he hopes that's true, he still wants to apologize and acknowledge how unfair he's been to you. If not to make you feel better, at the very least it will ease his conscience.

He drums his finger on the steering wheel, the radio turned on but on low volume. For once, Simon wishes he had Johnny's ability to get out of problems with his alluring words and his kicked-puppy look.

Lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't even realized he's been sitting in his parked car for a few minutes. He clasps his hands when he realizes they're shaking. God, he was so terrified. Not of you, no. He was scared of having to see what he's done to you. Is terrified of really seeing the carnage Simon Riley had tore in you.

He lets out a bated breath and opens the car door. He knows you're home by now, probably cooking away while listening to some indie band. Resting his head on your door, he braces himself once more, and knocks.

He waits, the seconds feeling like hours. The door swings open and he sees your surprised face.

"Simon." You compose yourself immediately, not wanting to show any sort of weakness in front of him. Something twitches on the corners of his mouth hidden by the balaclava. As if realizing he's still wearing it, he takes it off.

"Can I come in?" He asks timidly, as if approaching a wounded animal. He had no idea how you'd react after him being gone for so long. Even during his three month deployments, he'd sometimes text you once every fortnight. But after the way he left things, he couldn't bring himself to message you at all. Couldn't even stomach the thought of you still pining over him after what he had done. It was easier for him to simply block your number. Photos of sunsets and coffee cups gathering dust in his photo album, unsent.

You didn't even think about it, your body unconsciously moving sideways to let him in. A part of you screams at yourself.

Idiot, show some dignity.

It had been so easy for you to let the man who had left you for six months without a word back into your apartment, into your life.

You felt like an addict. Constantly begging for your next fix and taking whatever scraps are thrown your way. It's pitiful, but you're too far gone, anyway. His dirty boots make contact with your hardwood floor, leaving small specks of mud on them. Simon notices the frown marring your face and begins to unlace his boots.

"Sorry." He apologizes, neatly tucking away his muddy boots at the side of your door. You close the door behind him, making your way towards your kitchen. The plate clatters loudly in the sink as you haphazardly put them away, clearly rattled.

Simon coughs slightly, words stuck in his throat. He'd prepared a small speech earlier yet all the words seem to escape him. All the courage he had mustered for his little speech all had but disappeared into thin air. He feels out of his depths, not used to being vulnerable.

"What are you doing here, Simon?" Your voice sounds so tired. He supposes he was to blame for that.

"Can we talk?" He sends you a pleading look, hoping you still felt a sliver of the love you used to harbor for him — the only thing stopping you from kicking him out.

"Oh, so after blocking me and radio silence for six months you've decided you want to talk?" The bitterness seeps into your words like venom. He can't even make himself physically recoil from the sharp edge of your tone. Simon can feel the thin rope right beneath his feet, one wrong step and he'd be falling off the edge.

He takes a deep breath. "I deserve that."

"Oh, you deserve more than that Simon Riley. I should kick you out right now." You were huffing now, going slightly red in the face. Had he not been so anxious he might've thought you look cute. But right now? He was downright terrified.

"Just-" Simon pinches his nose bridge, calming himself down. "Let me speak for a moment, yeah? After that if you want me to leave, I'll leave." He holds both his hands up.

You were livid, rightfully so. The man you love had essentially decided he didn't want to communicate with you anymore, breaking your heart. The first week you thought maybe something had happened to his phone, broken it maybe?

As the weeks turned into months, the realization dawned on you that he had purposefully blocked you, cut off all contact. At first there was only sadness. You spent your days crying into your blanket, some days barely functioning. The hurt and betrayal had emotionally drained you. Did all those years mean nothing to him?

You knew he had a hard time expressing his emotions, but never in your wildest dreams did you think he would throw you away just like that. Like you were nothing more to him than a good fuck. Despite your head telling you otherwise, the emotional baggage he had left you with didn't leave much option.

It was easier to hate him than to accept maybe he didn't love you at all.

You spent the first few months cursing into the wind hoping it'd somehow hurt him a fraction of how much he hurt you. Afterwards, the pain became a lingering , dull ache, but not debilitating anymore. It became a constant that you carry everyday.

Kicking him out the door was tempting, but you knew it wouldn't do you any good. If anything, the words left unsaid would become a leech — slowly draining away your curiosity until you eventually leave another voicemail.

You give him a pointed stare before sitting down on the couch. Simon slowly approached you, wanting nothing more than to sit next to you but choosing to sink into the other side of the couch. He sees you cross your arms, feeling more uncomfortable by the second.

"I jus' wanna say that I'm sorry." He stares into your eyes, slouched with elbows on his thighs. Seeing your mouth thin into a line, Simon knows he's going to have to do a lot better.

"When Johnny died..." Your eyes widen, arms slacking slightly. He'd talk about Johnny sometimes but sometime ago had entirely stopped mentioning his name altogether. You had suspected something terrible had happened but you didn't want to believe it.

"I was so angry. It's not fair. He was so young, had his whole future ahead of him. Told me he was gonna see his sister's newborn on his next leave." He breathes out, clenching his fists.

"All of that, gone. We haven't even caught the bastard yet." Simon runs an exasperated hand through his face. Your arms were no longer crossed, choosing to fiddle with the edge of your shirt. You wanted to comfort him so badly, wanted to take him into your arms and tell him everything's going to be okay. But he was still pouring his heart out and you wanted to greedily snatch every piece he was willing to give.

"I had constant nightmares for months. Sometimes, I still do. You're just a heavy sleeper, I suppose." He chuckles and catches the way the edge of your mouth turn up.

"It's never easy, losing someone. It changes you. I used to hear his nonsense almost everyday and now it's just not there. I'm terrified one day it'll be like he was never there at all." Simon looks away, blinking tears away.

"But he was there. I know that. I felt him. He was like the fucking sun, but instead of being 150 million kilometers away, he's next to my ear with his Scottish nonsense." Simon chuckles bitterly, reminiscing the times when Johnny had to translate his gibberish.

You stay quiet, letting him speak freely. You had a feeling where this was going and how Johnny's death had indirectly impacted your relationship.

"If I died tomorrow, would you be okay?" His question catches you off guard. It was a question you've pondered a thousand times before, and every time you only ever came up with one answer.

"No." You answer honestly, because you'd break either way. Whether it was tomorrow or a year from now. You can feel a part of Simon in your bloodstream that if he died, some part of you would die with him.

"I only ever wanted you to be okay." He straightens, testing the waters by moving closer to you. You let him.

"Would you prefer if I never loved you at all?" Your heart was thumping loudly in your chest you worried he could hear it.

"No." His answer was immediate, as if he'd never been as sure before. "Not selfless enough for that."

"Then are you selfless enough to accept that I would want it to hurt?" You put your hand on top of his, gently grasping them within yours. Simon feels the broken pieces of him mending together.

He's quiet, not sure how to respond. He didn't use to understand why people would put themselves on the line, but he's starting to.

"If you died, I'd want it to hurt. I'd want it to take my breath away. I'd want it to keep me awake at night. I'd want every single bone in my body to ache when you're gone, because that would mean I have loved you with all of me."

You don't realize you'd started crying. There was no distance anymore between you and Simon. His thigh pressed against yours as you clutch his hand to your chest.

"I want it to hurt so badly, because I want to love you deeply." Tears were streaming freely down your face you couldn't even stop them even if you wanted to.

"Simon, will you let me hurt for you?"

And he lets you.

"Okay." His hand go to engulf your frame, but you had thrown yourself at him before he managed to. Simon can feel his shirt getting wet, he'd never thought he'd be slightly happy over the fact that you were crying.

Everything's going to be okay.

Your head was now on his collarbone, his palm gently holding you there. You feel a kiss on the top of your head as he strokes it.

Neither of you know how long you simply cried on him, much less when you ended up on his lap. When he heard you stop — tired from the energy you exerted, he slowly rearranges his body so that you are able to lie fully on top of him. His sore back is the last thing on his mind as he sees your peacefully sleeping away.

A pounding headache eventually woke you. You weren't sure if last night really happened or if your mind had conjured a scenario where Simon came back for you. However, the sweltering heat you feel on your midsection proves otherwise.

He really was here.

His eyes were closed, seeming to be asleep. You test the waters, placing your palm on the left side of his face. A hand immediately darts towards your hand and keeps it there.

"Put some pills on your nightstand for the headache." He murmurs, eyes still closed. His face turns slightly, placing a kiss on your palm. Even after half a year away, he still knows you like the back of his hand.

Leaning in, you give him a peck on the cheek. As much as you want to drink in the sight of him, there were more pressing matters at hand. You need the reassurance. You need him to tell you he wasn't going to abandon you again.

"Simon, did you mean it?" You can't get the entire words out, can only hope it was enough to convey your tumultuous emotions. His heart aches that you don't believe him, but he understands.

"I love you, sweetheart." Soft lips descend upon your own, barely brushing.

"'M here to stay as long as you want me here." He sneaks a hand under you, pulling you closer to him. There isn't any part of you that's not connected to him in some way.

He was so warm, scorching you inside out. You wanted his flame to burn every inch of your skin. When he left, everything felt cold to the bone, your life turning into muted blues and grays.

Simon brought warmth into your life, with his little acts of service. With the little trinkets he brings back after deployment because it reminded him of you. With his gentle hands, gentle kisses — his gentle self.

"I love you, Si." You whisper, grabbing him by the neck and lowering your lips onto his. Brushing softly, you were going to pull away when Simon lets out a moan. Heat builds inside of you as you slip your tongue inside his open mouth. He grunts in surprise, holding you still for a second. But you're impatient.

"Need you." You whine, "Want you so much, Si."

"Yeah?" He mumbles against your lips, running his hands through your hair gently.

"Thought I'd be in the dog house much longer than that, love." He teases you. Simon yelps slightly when you retaliate by biting on his lower lip. He grips both your cheeks with his fingers, pushing you away from him.

"That wasn't very nice of you, hmm?" He gently shakes your head, grinning handsomely. "Think you need a little lesson in being nice, sweetheart. Lucky for you, I'm an excellent teacher." He leans in and kisses your puckered lips, working his way downwards.

His hands wander everywhere, working themselves underneath your shirt. You feel goosebumps rise where his fingertips lay, shivering under his hold.

"Missed you so much, Si. Please." Your moans echo throughout the room. He's holding your thighs together as he trails down your body as you writhe.

"Missed you too, love. Fuck, missed you so fucking much." He manages to say. He cups your ass as he mouths at your panty-covered mound. Your juices seep through the fabric, making Simon groan.

"Mmm.. Someone missed me too." He runs his tongue up and down your slit as you cross both your legs behind his neck. He felt you clench your thighs and he feels blood rushing downwards. Turning his head slightly to the right, he nips lightly at your inner thigh.

He'd barely touched you but here you are already begging for it. Simon Riley has you wrapped around his finger and it scares you a little how much of a hold he has on you. You had bared your neck so openly for him and he had bit down the first chance he got.

"Will you let me take care of you, love? Make you feel good." He hums, fingers trailing along your inner thigh waiting for permission. You nod fervently before realizing he can't see you.

"Yes, yes, yes. Need you to take care of me, Si." Your heart was beating fast out of anticipation.

"Yeah? I'll make you feel good, baby." He coos at you as his fingers slowly pull down your panties. Strings of your juices were sticking to the insides. He threw them aimlessly, eyes zeroed in on your wet pussy.

His finger runs through your folds, making squelching noises. "All this for me, hmm?" He tilts his head up, pinching when you don't reply immediately. The sudden sensation makes you whimper.

"All for you, Si. Just for you." You were panting heavily as Simon sucks your clit into his mouth and licks in a circular motion. You thread your fingers in his hair, not tugging harshly.

Simon laps at your pussy like a starved man, burying his entire face in your warmth. He moans between every few licks, the taste of you dazing him. Your eyes glaze over as you see the man you love pleasuring you with earnest. He continues for a while, alternating his focus between your bud and your folds.

When you tug at his shirt impatiently, Simon grunts. He gets up and throws his shirt over his head. Not one second after it's off, you begin to paw at him, desperate to feel every inch of him.

Simon thinks he's never seen such a beautiful sight. Your hair was messy from your movements, eyes hazy as he can feel goosebumps on his body where you stare. He grabs your face and kisses you desperately, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. His clothed bulge was grinding messily against your wet pussy as his boxers begin to darken from the wetness.

Simon's whimper fill the room when he feels you grinding upwards to rub yourself on his cock. He pulls from your lips with a string of saliva. Not waiting for him, you scramble to take off your shirt, baring your tits to him.

His eyes drink in the state of you greedily, one hand groping your tits as the other travels down to your pussy. You were beyond wet enough for his cock, but he's determined to make you cum on his fingers first.

Two fingers slip into you gently. The stretch catches you off guard, it's been a while since you've had his thick fingers probing inside you. His fingers were thrusting shallowly as you grind on his palm.

"Fuck, Simon. Feels so good." You babble, barely able to keep your eyes open, the pleasure overwhelming your senses.

"Yeah? Gonna make you feel even better." With that, his fingers thrust deeper into you, massaging your spot. Your back arches as Simon plants his face on your chest, sucking on your nipples.

He crooks his fingers slightly as he continues thrusting, his palm touching your clit with each time. You couldn't stay still anymore, moving your hips back to meet his thrusts.

The room was filled with wet, squelching noises and your combined moans. Your hands were gripping his bicep, feeling the large muscle flex under your fingertips.

His thick fingers continue his ministration as you begin to climb higher and higher. Your walls begin to pulse and constrict his fingers. Sweat drips down his forehead as he continues to drive into your pussy with his deft fingers.

"You gonna cum on my fingers, love?" He teases, placing kisses all over your damp face.

"Yes, oh fuck. Please, please let me cum."

Simon grins against your neck, placing sloppy kisses all over. His fingers begin to speed up even faster, hitting your sweet spot with every effort. You feel the familiar tingling sensation begin to build in your core.

Your legs begin to tremble as you struggle to get air inside of your lungs. Panting harshly, you close your eyes as your orgasm starts to reach its peak.

His hand leaves your tits as they begin to rub circles on your clit. The combined assault on your clit and your pussy brings you over the edge.

"Look at me when you cum." Your eyes open immediately as you find him staring directly into yours. Your legs tremble deliciously, hands gripping Simon even tighter as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Mouth agape, your back continues to arch as Simon doesn't stop, overstimulating you with a few shallow thrusts.

Simon's hand was covered in your juices as he slowly withdraws them. Your pussy clenches, feeling empty. He brings his fingers to your mouth and taps your lips. Obediently, you open your lips and let him slide his fingers inside your mouth.

Circling your tongue all finger, your eyes begin to close again. When you blink them open, you see Simon's bare body hovering above yours. His cock was standing proudly, shiny with precum. You feel the urge to take his cock into your mouth. When your hand tries to reach for him, it's stopped by his firm grip.

"Next time, yeah? Need to fuck your pretty pussy, baby." He slowly pulls his fingers out of your mouth, wiping them on his hip. He repositions his cock at your pussy, sliding the head up and down your folds.

Tilting your head down, you see Simon's hand grip his cock firmly as it slowly rubs his precum all over your pussy. He groans seeing your juices mix together. Moving your hips upwards, you try to push his head in and he hisses.

He grabs your hips and gently lowers them on the bed. "You just lay there and take it, yeah? Let me do all the work." You preen, more than happy to lay there and see him move above you.

"Put it in, Si. Missed your cock so much." You whimper, pressing delicate kisses on his neck. He nudges your nose with his, capturing your lips into a kiss. Your moan gets interrupted by your own grunt of surprise as the head of his cock slips in.

His cock was thicker than his two fingers, with veins running all over the shaft rubbing your walls deliciously. You link your legs behind his waist, helping him push deeper.

When he's inside you, it's like two pieces of puzzle fitting together. His cock fit so perfectly inside you, as if you were made for him and him for you. You knew Simon was it for you a long time ago, falling head over heels so easily for the grumpy soldier. You weren't happy at how long it took him to come to his senses, but you're glad either way.

He thrusts slowly, going deeper with each shift of his hips. His tongue tangles with yours as wet noises fill the room. You know when he's pushed in to the hilt when you feel him bump against your cervix slightly. Your pussy clenches at the tiny pain, causing Simon to moan out.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so well, sweetheart." He stays there for a moment, grinding his cock inside. You only stop kissing when you pull away to beg him to start moving. Both his hands are placed firmly on your hips when he begins thrusting.

He moves back and forth slowly, the walls of your pussy feeling every drag of his big cock. You hiss against his mouth, the sensation lights up every nerve in your body. You beg him to go faster but he ignores you, continuing to sink slowly.

When you're about to wail at the pace again, he thrusts sharply — his cock sinking deep into your pussy. You gasp, clawing his back when he continues to move slowly but going deep with each thrust. You can hear the sound of his balls smacking against your ass.

Your combined juices were dripping out of your pussy, causing wet noises whenever he moves inside you. You don't know how long he continues his brutal motion, your eyes dazed and breath unsteady.

You've never felt this way before. It feels as if he's everywhere inside you, there isn't a part of you that doesn't feel touched by him. He thrusts as if he's trying to imprint himself in you, trying to permanently leave a mark.

"Such a pretty pussy. Doing so well f' me, sweetheart. You gonna let me cum in you? Gonna let me fill you up nicely?" He grunts, his composure starting to unravel. His cock begins to piston in you messily as he loses himself in your pussy.

"Yes, yes, yes. Fuck, love you so much, Si. Need your cum in me." You cry out desperately, tightening your legs and pulling him deeper inside you.

"So good to me, love. Letting me cum in your pretty pussy." His form begins to shake slightly from exertion. You know his hands were going to bruise your hips from how hard he was gripping them but you couldn't care less.

Your body moves up and down from the force of his thrust. His cock touching your cervix with each delicious thrust. Your pussy begins to pulse wildly on his cock as you feel another orgasm build inside you. When his cock begins to pulse, your eyes roll to the back of your head as it sends you over the edge. You moan out his name loudly, pulling him by the neck to your chest as his arms hug you to him.

You feel his desperation and love when he holds you. He hugs you so tight to him your ribs ache. You never want this feeling to go away.

"I love you so much, fuck." Your orgasm triggers his own, his cock pulsing as his creamy load fills up your pussy. He's so snug inside your pussy the excess cum begins to drip out. When he stops unloading inside you, he moves slowly, thrusting a few times shallowly. A part of him wants to look at the way his seed drips from your pussy but he didn't want to move away from you.

You both pant with eyes closed as your breathing begins to even out. Simon slowly pulls out and you hiss at the feel of his cock leaving you empty. You look down and see his cock covered in his cum and yours.

Your head falls back down to the pillow, eyes closing shut. Simon stares at the ceiling and huff, righting himself. You feel him plant a kiss to your forehead as the bed dips.

"'M gonna go clean us up, yeah? You stay there." You hear him step into the bathroom, going to wash himself and grab a clean towel to clean up your mess. By the time he came back, you had already passed out, judging by the sound of your low snores.

He begins to wipe your thighs and try to dry the surrounding areas as best he can. He'll change the sheets later when you're well-rested. Simon climbs into bed, hugging you to him. He runs his fingers through your hair, slowly unknotting them one by one.

He stares at your sleeping from and grins. Lowering his lips to yours, he keeps them there for a few seconds.

"I love you."

You can only mumble in response, too tired to properly articulate the words.

"I love you too, Simon."

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notjustjavierpena · 2 months

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Te Quiero, a Husband!Javier Valentine’s Special

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: This is for all my readers who have wanted to get an insight into Hubby and Wife’s dynamic, backstory and family life. I hope you enjoy it because I put my heart into this mess of a fic. Thank you @strang3lov3 for always inspiring me, thank you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for always being a great beta-reader and here’s to @morallyinept who told me to tag her in any V-Day fic I post!l

Summary: Your husband has made big plans for Valentine's Day, beginning with breakfast in bed, but not everything goes as smoothly as expected, and suddenly you are faced with a big surprise.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18, hubby!Javier, tooth-rotting domestic bliss, breastfeeding, playful banter, Chucho makes an appearance!!, siblings being siblings, Javi loving you and his kids, negative feelings about your mom-body, insecurity/comfort, spontaneous sex, pussy eating, (Spanish) dirty talk, fingering, unprotected piv sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, silly people in love, LOTS of kisses, lots of i love yous, mention of pregnancy and its symptoms

Word count: 11.7k (i am so sorry)

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53757202

Te Quiero

You open your eyes, reaching to rub them as the door to the bedroom opens by Javier using his shoulder and backing into it. There’s a crease on his forehead, between his furrowed brows, from looking extremely concentrated because he is carrying a wooden tray in his hands.

Most days you are a heavy sleeper. It is a result of having two children without an understanding of the concept of privacy when it comes to their parents. However, what truly wakes you up is the concerning rustle of utensils, plates, and mugs that your husband is balancing as he nears your shared bed.

Because Javier has his back to you, you close your eyes again and pretend to be asleep, not wanting to ruin the surprise. The tray is placed on the foot of the bed, and you fight a smile as you hear his footsteps coming around the end of the bed and closer to your side.

“Buenos días (good morning),” he whispers to you, and you roll onto your back and sit up. Javier stands by the side of the bed and waits.

Like in a movie, you blink awake slowly and lift your arms up over your head to stretch and yawn. Javier looks at you expectantly, and you catch a glimpse of why your son resembles him so much. They both have that boyish charm, the ability to look excited in the exact same way when waiting for a reaction from you.

“What’s all this?” You ask with a grin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, mi vida (my life),” he says and leans down to initiate a kiss.

“I have bad breath,” you point out.

“I have coffee,” he replies and kisses you anyway, “And today’s crossword puzzle.”

“I knew I married you for a reason,” you scoot to sit back against the headboard. Javier moves to get into bed with you, pulling the covers aside to get under them while you reach for the tray. You place it between the two of you as if you are about to have a picnic in bed.

“Did you check on Seb?” You ask as you marvel at the breakfast that Javier has put together for the two of you. There are heart-shaped chocolate chip pancakes, an abundance of fresh fruit (including blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, and banana), whipped cream, syrup, and coffee the way you both like it; black without anything more which Javier claims - to this day - is still one of the reasons that he fell for you.

“Still asleep for now but I suspect he’ll want one of us soon because he can hear us,” he tells you and reaches for his mug after handing you yours.

“I’ll enjoy this while it lasts then,” you take a sip of coffee, humming at the taste. Then, after putting down your mug, you pop a blueberry into your mouth.

“I think Lucas has a crush,” Javier tells you in a heartbeat later, smirking into his own cup of coffee.

You raise a brow in suspicion and surprise, looking at him without turning your head. You swallow down the blueberry and go for the pancakes next, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, he got shy when I asked him if they were making Valentine cards at school today. So I figured something was up because he usually doesn’t get quiet about all those things, you know, he’s touchy-feely,” Javier explains. As he talks, you pour syrup onto the stack of pancakes on your plate, “Inés nearly fell off her chair as she talked about what the school has planned. So yeah, whatever, he’ll tell us if he wants to.”

“Well, perhaps, and hopefully I might add, he’s inherited his dad’s charm as well as his good looks,” you tease, tapping your chin as if you are trying to remember something, “What was it Connie called you? Think it was serial romancer.”

“Hold on, you’ve never told me this,” he pretends to look offended, “When was this?”

“At the bar… just after I laid eyes on you,” you sprinkle fruit on top of your breakfast and wipe your hand on your tank top, “She told me not even to think about it but I knew that I was done for.”

“That damn woman,” he lets out a genuine laugh, “Better tell Steve to keep his lady under control.”

“Connie’s definitely the one keeping her man under control. Just like me,” you smirk, taking a bite that is way too big because your eyes can’t get enough. You groan at the taste. Everything is delicious, so you stuff your mouth and thus don’t have to reply to your husband’s outrage.

“Hey,” he says but you just grin at him, showing off each piece of pancake between your teeth. He sighs but there’s a hint of adoration in his eyes and you know he is fighting a smile, “Charming.”

When you finally swallow, he has dug into his own meal. You eat in silence for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s company as it is undisturbed by children.

“Don’t you have work today?” You ask eventually.

“I told them I was coming in later,” he replies, stabbing a strawberry with his fork, “They can survive without me until 10-ish. They’re gonna have to.”

You glance over at the clock on your nightstand. It is 8:16. There’s still time to enjoy each other’s company, maybe even have a cuddle or something more if you aren’t too full from breakfast.

Javier has opened the paper now but he hasn’t gotten out a pen yet which means that he isn’t starting the puzzle yet. You continue eating, and meanwhile, conversation flows naturally around subjects like work, kids, and sweet memories.

Suddenly, in the midst of reminiscing about your first trip out of town together, the light on the baby monitor comes on and Sebastian’s distraught, unhappy cries sound through the speaker. Javier puts down the paper and gets up before you.

“Do you think he’s hungry?” You ask, already moving to pull your top’s straps down to reveal your breasts.

“I know he is, that’s how he cries when he is,” he moves towards the door, already talking to his son throughout the house, “I’m coming, mijo (my son).”

“You’re so much better at the parent thing than me,” you try to remember which of your breasts you nursed from last night but you cannot, and therefore resort to feeling for the fuller one.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he leans down to kiss your lips before heading down the hall. You listen and wait, hearing Javier coo at his newborn and causing the cries to turn into hiccups instead.

After a moment, he returns with Sebastian in his arms. You hold out your own and he carefully hands him over to you. With a grin, you settle your baby into your arms, “Hi, sweetheart. Hi there, baby boy, ooo, you’re hungry, aren’t you? Look at that big mouth you’ve got — Honey, can you get me a cloth?”

You don’t look up but hear Javier leave the room again but only briefly. He comes back and gives you a muslin cloth which you throw over your shoulder, a thing that always makes Javier joke about you looking like - and kind of being - a bartender if that bartender only served milk.

Sebastian quickly latches on. He closes his eyes as he nurses, and you look longingly at your breakfast as he eats his own. You frown, “It’s getting cold. My coffee too.”

“Just sit back,” your husband reassures, shifting on the bed without making the tray tip over. He cuts a piece of pancake and stabs it with his fork, “Open up.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you smile happily but oblige.

“You’re literally keeping my kid alive, mi amor (my love). The least I can do is keep you alive as well, fuel you up,” he feeds you with his own mouth slightly agape. It makes you laugh.

“What?” Javier chuckles in his confusion.

“You look like a fish,” you tease as you giggle, letting Sebastian grab at your index finger, “I’ve never noticed if you look like this too when feeding the kids.”

“Cállate (shut up),” he laughs, consciously avoiding making himself look foolish again as he feeds you another bite. He purposely pokes your nose with the back of your fork to smear the tip with whipped cream, and you respond by looking shocked while laughing.

“That’s so unfair, I have an actual baby in my arms,” you argue, looking down at Sebastian to give him the run-down on his father’s behavior, “You know, Seb, it’s a good thing I love him so much. Look at this. Absolutely ridiculous.”

“I think you might have deserved that one, baby,” he reasons, “Don’t think I feel bad. Seb agrees.”

“You don’t know that,” you use the muslin cloth to wipe a little milk off of your child’s cheek and then wipe whipped cream off your nose too, “Now, please, feed your starving wife. I feel weaker by the second.”

“Always the dramatic,” he replies but follows through.

The teasing dies down after that. You eat whatever Javier gives you whilst you are breastfeeding and Javier eventually finds the crossword in the paper to do it during your quiet morning.

When Sebastian is done eating, cooing happily, you bend your knees and place him against your thighs. You hold both of his hands, doing a little dance with him whilst your husband reads clues aloud.

“Another word for radiance, four letters and beginning with g,” he says.

“Glow,” you reply instantly.

“You’re so much better at the crossword thing than me,” he winks and writes down the remaining letters.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you smile at him and he smiles back. The morning is perfect.

After a cozy morning, Javier has to leave for work. He kisses you and Sebastian goodbye and takes the breakfast tray down into the kitchen with him so you can sleep more if you want to.

You protest at first - it really hadn’t been your intention - but seeing your baby yawn and coo in your arms makes you sleepy, and you end up on your side with Sebastian on Javier’s side of the bed. He has his arms above his head, face turned towards you and you rest an arm over him whilst you snore lightly. The few hours of sleep you get like this without any interruption are fantastic, boosting your productivity for the rest of the early afternoon.

You dress casually and wrap Sebastian in a sling, so he can sleep against your chest while you clean up from breakfast, fill and start the dishwasher, and do a round of laundry before having to pick up Lucas and Inés from school.

However, when you start to get the car keys from their place in the hallway, you hear the door open and the familiar sound of children’s voices filling the house. You can hear the enthusiasm in their voices as they talk to who you assume is your husband but when you turn the corner, you see that it is, in fact, your father-in-law.

“Hello, mija (my daughter),” Chucho says and takes off his hat. He hangs it by all the coats and scarves, “Javier told me to pick up the kiddos.”

You look a little dumbstruck, having been taken completely by surprise but still, you walk over to give him a hug and receive a kiss on the cheek, “Did he say why?”

Chucho kisses Sebastian’s head too, who only coos quietly against your chest. From below, Inés is trying to get your attention. You run a hand over her hair without looking at her, trying to get her to tone down her enthusiasm as you search for answers. Chucho just smiles.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, sweetie,” he reasons with a gentle smile, “I think he has his reasons. All I know is that I’m not supposed to bring them back here before tomorrow afternoon after school.”

“Abuelo promised that we could get pizza for dinner,” Inés interrupts again. You smile down at her whilst trying to process having a whole twenty-four hours off from being parents.

“Ain’t you lucky,” you say with a grin.

Chucho beckons Lucas over who brings his school bag with him, “But first, I think these two have some things to show you. Lucas, c’mere.”

“We made presents!” Inés says and Lucas glares. He frowns at his little sister, placing his backpack by his feet and throwing daggers in her direction.

“Inés, you’re ruining the surprise,” he grumbles despite still digging into the bag. Inés seems unbothered about his irritation, simply joining him to stick her hands into the bag as well. Lucas continues, “Don’t tell Mom what it is.”

You and Chucho watch them, hiding a chuckle as Inés eventually still states that she wants to show her drawing first and Lucas starts groaning.

“Mom!” He says with exasperation.

“Ay, Inés, por favor (please),” you say, “Let Lucas share his surprise. It’ll be your turn soon.”

“Mine is for Papá,” she states proudly.

“She’s just excited, hijito (little son),” you hear your father-in-law say. He puts a calloused hand on Lucas’ shoulder, whispering quietly, “Show your mom your present. Inés’ll be too busy talking to notice.”

It is true. Inés gets a hold of her drawing and spends her time admiring her work, and Chucho is sweet enough to indulge her to give you and your son a moment alone.

In his very own gentle nature, Lucas finds the card that he has made for you just next to where Chucho had told him to store Inés’ drawing as well. He blushes as he hands it to you, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mom.”

You inspect it before opening it; it is a blank card that Lucas has decorated with colorful stickers and glitter, having drawn shapes and patterns along the sides and a big heart in the middle where it says To Mom in his wonky handwriting.

You open it to reveal a little letter addressed to you. It is framed by another border of glitter:

Dear Mom,

Happy Valentine’s Day! I love you a million billion times around the Earth. You take care of me and Inés and Sebastian. And you always make me happy when you give me a hug.

Love, Lucas

You find yourself speechless for a moment and out of the corner of your eye, you see the familiar expectant face that Javier sported earlier too. It takes your breath away.

Carefully, you crouch down with Sebastian still in his sling. It gives you the opportunity to embrace Lucas from the side, hugging him close and kissing his hair repeatedly. You whisper endearments to him, tell him you love him and he gets shy as he reciprocates, using the time to caress Sebastian’s fine hair on top of his head.

“I love you so much, my Valentine boy,” you say with a soft voice as you pull away, stretching again and running your hand through his dark hair repeatedly. You can feel a few more tears escape your eyes, your heart pinching in your chest from how much love you feel. Could the day become more perfect? You doubt it.

“Dad asked me about it at breakfast but I was scared of him telling you so it wouldn’t be a surprise because he always does. But then Inés did it anyway…” he grumbles and looks up to see your tears. His eyes widen, “Mom, are you crying?”

“It’s just happy tears, mijo (my son),” you reassure, “Sometimes having babies makes you cry a little more often.”

Lucas seems a little confused by this. You tell him that he’ll understand when he gets older. After all, he only has so many years until hormones will start to rage through his own body.

Suddenly, the front door opens and closes in the next moment, and Inés giggles loudly as she recognizes the sound of her father’s footsteps. When he enters the kitchen doorway - his steps are way bigger even if Inés is running - he crouches down and opens his arms, “There she is! Mi diablilla (my little devil), how are you?”

Inés throws her arms around her father’s neck, drawing still clutched in her grip to the point where the paper crinkles. You feel like it was a waste of time to try and wipe away your happy tears because the sight makes them well up in your eyes once more.

“I made you a drawing. Abuelo told me I could give it to you before we go to his house. Did you know we are having pizza tonight? I can have a whole pizza to myself and I want the pizza to have pepperoni,” Inés announces, squealing with delight as Javier wraps his arms around her before stretching to his full height again and picking her up with a dad-groan. He places her on his hip, bumping his nose into her cheek.

“Christ, you get bigger by the second. Pizza? I don’t remember you liking pizza,” Javier teases, walking across the room to the rest of his family. He smiles at his son, reaching out to rub his shoulder with his free hand and winking at him before talking further with babbling Inés, “Hold on, I thought you liked broccoli and spinach the most. Do you really want pepperoni? I think you should get broccoli on your pizza.”

Inés loves it when her father teases her. He’ll act dumb and silly on purpose - her favorite thing a year ago had been whenever he made himself purposely bad at puzzles, and he’d try to piece two corners together - much to his daughter’s delight.

“Nooo, ew!” She says with a grin, clinging onto him.

“She only wants it because I want it,” Lucas says matter-of-factly, still a little frustrated with his little sister. He bounces back and forth on his heels.

“Then you can have her leftovers, mijo (my son), she never eats a whole pizza anyway” Javier reasons and mouths the last bit of the sentence, moving the hand on his son’s shoulder to put it on the back of his neck. He gently tugs him into his side. Eventually, your son gives in and hugs him around his middle.

“Hi Dad,” he says softly, hugging him tightly even if it’s briefly.

“Hola,” he smiles.

“We should get going,” Chucho interrupts gently and reaches for his hat again, “We’ve got a lot of things planned this afternoon. The animals won’t take care of themselves.”

“My drawing!” Inés yells, squirming in her father’s arms from eagerness and rushing, so much that she nearly smacks the picture into his face. She holds it too close to his eyes so that he has to take it and hold it for her.

You find yourself tiptoeing up behind them to look at the picture yourself, trying not to distract anyone from what they’re doing.

It’s a picture of your house. There’s a fire in the chimney but its smoke blows the opposite way of the way that a cloud is raining. She has just started drawing butterflies but they’re as big as the trees in the garden and with multicolored wings.

In the bottom right corner, she has written I love Daddy but replaced the word love with a heart instead. Underneath is her signature. The S in her name is turning the wrong way but it’s her name nevertheless.

“This is so good,” Javier says enthusiastically, “Tell me about it. What is it?”

“It’s my house! I drew a lot of butterflies in the garden,” she explains proudly. In the background, you notice that Chucho is carrying bags, which you had no idea were packed, out of the front door.

“I can see that. You really know how to color. The green one is my favorite,” Javier continues, “Do you want me to put it on the fridge for when you come home tomorrow?”

Inés nods eagerly. She beams and then turns serious, “Yes! If— if you want to take the rabbit one down that’s okay.”

“Oh, I am gonna miss you, mi vida (my life),” Javier pecks her cheek and she giggles, “So much.”

“It’s only till tomorrow,” you point out with a giggle.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t miss these rascals,” Javier puts Inés down on the floor again, still holding her drawing and making sure not to crumple it. He ruffles Lucas’ hair, “You too, hijo (son).”

“I love you, Dad,” he says with a shy smile.

“I love you too, Daddy!” Inés joins in.

You mimic a wave with Sebastian’s little hand, “I love you too, Papá.”

“Now, now. As much as I love you, say bye to Mom,” he protests, nodding towards his infant son, “Want me to take him?”

“Yes, please,” you say and carefully unwrap Sebastian from his sling. It’s not a difficult transfer, something you have done a million times in the past many years. Sebastian only complains a little, Javier tuts and bounces him and the paper in his hand flaps.

You hug both of your kids at the same time, kissing them repeatedly on their heads, “I love you very much, my babies. I hope you have a fun time.”

“That’s the car packed,” Chucho announces as he comes back inside, “Come on, kids.”

“Right, I’ll put Seb in his car seat,” Javier replies as Inés and Lucas run to their grandfather’s car. Chucho goes with them to put on their seatbelts.

“Sebastian is going too?” You tense up. This hasn’t even crossed your mind.

“It’s just supposed to be us tonight,” Javier says, having put Inés’ drawing on the kitchen counter and already moving towards the front door where the car seat is on top of a cabinet. You hear shuffling around as your husband clicks the safety belt on, and you instinctively follow.

“We haven’t done that since the summer,” you argue.

“All the more reason to do it again if it’s been that long,” he responds with a little smile.

“Well, does he have enough milk?” You ask, moving your weight from side to side.

“More than enough, I packed extra.”

“O-okay.”

Javier leaves the car seat on the floor, steps close to you and cups your face, “He’ll be fine. Just like Inés and Lucas have been in the past. Relax, mi amor, no pasa nada (my love, it’s okay).”

“Okay,” you take a deep breath and nod, holding onto one of Javier’s wrists for a moment as you steady yourself. He looks like someone ready to catch you, “Está todo bien (it’s okay).”

“Now, let’s say goodbye so I can have you to myself, vale?” He smirks, leaning in to kiss you just barely.

“You have to tell me what you have planned tonight too,” you say and he nods.

“Claro (of course).”

It takes five minutes to get Sebastian in the car, secure him properly, and wave goodbye to your kids from the driveway. When you cannot see the car anymore, you walk inside and the house gets incredibly quiet after you close the door. The both of you let out a sigh.

“What now?” You look at Javier questioningly. After all, he is the one who has planned the next 24 hours.

“Honestly? I just want to take a nap,” he finds your hips and steers you closer, linking his arms around your waist. You reach up to rest your palms on his chest, scratching slightly against his shirt. He chuckles, “Do you want to take a nap with me?”

“Just a nap?” You raise a brow.

“Yes, just a nap,” he confirms with a boyish twinkle in his eyes.

“I’d kill for a nap but only if you tell me what’s happening later. I don’t like surprises,” you remind him when he already starts dragging you by your hand toward the stairs.

Javier waits until the both of you have ascended the stairs before telling you. You don’t say it but there’s a bit of relief following as you thought that he had forgotten what today was, especially because you usually at least get a present from him. He smiles brightly as he speaks, seeming proud that he has managed to keep it a secret from you, “Well, first you are going to wear something nice, a dress, and get all gorgeous for me.”

He continues as you reach the bedroom, toeing off his shoes, “Then at eight, I’m taking you out to dinner at that new place downtown where the portions are fucking tiny and ridiculous.”

“Wait, the gourmet restaurant?” You have let go of his hand to undo the baby wrap, folding it afterward and placing it on your shared dresser, “They’ve been fully booked for months.”

“Well yeah, and guess whose name is on one of the bookings,” he smirks, crawling onto the bed and waiting for you to follow.

“You spoil me,” you lay down on your respective sides and turn to face each other. You rest both hands underneath your cheek, grinning at the way that Javier looks so mischievous but suddenly, something in his eyes darkens.

“What?” You ask.

He reaches out for your waist, “And then when we get home, when you are all giggly from champagne, I am putting a baby in you.”

Your heart skips a beat. All blood in your body goes south. Without thinking, you sling a leg over his body and move closer, “Is that so?”

“Indeed, mi vida (my life),” the hand on your waist goes to rest on top of your thigh. He rubs it once and then twice but doesn’t do anything further, “But not now. Have a nap, wake up, and get pretty for me. You won’t get dick before tonight, lo siento (I’m sorry).”

“Unfair,” you mumble with already closed eyes.

It turns out to be just a nap. You wake a good while longer before Javier, knowing that you need more time than he does to get ready if you want to feel good about going to a fancy restaurant.

Besides you, your husband continues sleeping soundly. He doesn’t even sense it when the mattress shifts, bed springs creaking a little, as you leave the bed, and you make a mental note to ask him about his day to figure out what on Earth has made him this tired.

You have a checklist in your head with steps for getting ready to go out. It changes with the details of the event, so you pull out the one that includes what you like to do to look pretty for your husband. However, all the lists always start with a shower.

The spray is hot and soothing against your skin. You wash your hair and leave in your conditioner while you scrub your body, giving it extra time to work as you top your normal shower routine by shaving your legs. After struggling with balancing your leg against the wall for what has seemed like forever, the last five minutes of your shower are just spent standing underneath the shower head to feel the water cascading down your clean, smooth, and soft skin.

It takes you twenty-five minutes more to put on lotion, brush your teeth, blow dry your hair, and choose an outfit. When you leave the bathroom to put on your dress, Javier kisses you in the doorway before popping into the shower himself.

Now the hard part, you think to yourself. The dress you have chosen is from your anniversary a few years ago, consisting of tight red fabric. A part of you knows that it’s a bad idea as soon as you take it off its hanger and start putting it on, stepping into it, and pulling it up over your hips.

When it hugs your body in a way that feels unfamiliar to you, you step towards the full-body mirror on the bedroom wall with the intention of seeing if it needs any adjustments around your chest and waist. What greets you is not something that you wish to continue looking at but staring into the mirror, you find yourself unable to look away.

A reflection of your post-baby body stares back. You aren’t anymore who you were when you had Lucas, and thus getting back into your usual shape after giving birth to Sebastian has not become a reality despite the pressure from people around you being there.

There’s not much to say about it except your hips are wider and your stomach protrudes more than it did before. Usually, you haven’t worn a dress before getting down to your pre-pregnancy weight but Javier had made it sound so easy and now, it is so difficult; insecurities whisper in your ear as you try to flatten the fabric in hopes of looking prettier.

However, the scrutiny you put yourself under only intensifies and self-doubt becomes the uninvited guest that insecurity brings to the party. Should you ditch the idea of a dress altogether? You think yes and start to undress again because it’s way too tight around your middle and torso.

When Javier comes back into the bedroom, his hair is still damp and he has put on black underwear. You cannot help feeling the tiniest bit bitter at how well his extra pounds suit him and simply leaves him with a so-called dad-bod. He finds you stepping out of the dress as it has pooled around your feet. You look on the verge of tears at this point, knowing that you are not the woman that he chose to marry ten years ago.

“¿Que pasó (What happened)?” He is just about to head for the dresser when he stops in his tracks and turns on his heel to face you, noticing immediately the way your shoulders slump when you feel defeated.

You smile at him in the mirror, slightly unsure, when he catches your eyes, and you shift a little on the spot when he goes to stand right behind you.

“What?” You ask.

“What’s wrong?” He inquires once again.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and Javier raises a brow.

“Is this a trick question?” He continues with a smile, “Baby, you are pretty, so pretty. You look incredible. As in, it is actually illegal or should be.”

Your attempt at a smile falters and Javier seems to realize that he has overdone it. You don’t believe him when he goes too head-on with the compliments.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you say in frustration and reach up to rub your face, finally turning around to avoid the mirror completely, “My boobs are too big, my thighs and waist too. Nothing looks good on me, especially not a dress.”

“Ay, slow down,” he looks down at your half-naked body and smirks a little. It mostly just makes you want to cover up again, “First of all, your boobs are great.”

You try to laugh but it just sounds painful. Then he finds your eyes again, watches the pout on your face, and tuts when a tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek.

“I’m not beautiful anymore,” you say as if it’s a fact, “I look so different from when you met me.”.

He wipes the tear away with his thumb, saying your name gently and you find your eyes prickling with more frustrated tears.

He lets out a soft aww, baby, and steps closer to pull you into his arms, holding you as he lets you whimper quietly and then cry softly into his shoulder. His hands rub up and down your back. He is so warm.

“How about I choose something?” He suggests after a long silence filled with a bunch of silent tears. He pulls back to look you in the face, “You know I have a favorite, and then it won’t be as much pressure if you worry that I won’t like it. Even if that’s bullshit.”

“O-okay,” you sniffle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Okay, baby,” he smiles genuinely and pecks your hair.

He goes to browse through your clothes and you stay by the mirror, still not turning around to look at yourself but instead looking at your feet like a child feeling guilty. It takes a moment for him to find the dress that he refers to as his favorite but when he returns to you, you look up again and are surprised by the one he apparently likes more than all the others.

It’s a navy blue satin dress that you bought last year when you were pregnant with Sebastian, and it quickly became your favorite dress for the summer because it had to be tied just below your breasts and therefore didn’t sit tight around your belly. It has butterfly sleeves and a flowy skirt that is slightly longer in the back and stops right at your knees in the front. It’s a wrap-around too, which means that it shows enough cleavage to make you feel sexy for him and to top it off, holds your breasts in place so you can avoid the annoyance of a bra.

You don’t know why it didn’t come to mind but you suspect that given how much you wore it last summer, it didn’t feel special enough. However, the fact that Javier likes it so much seems to transform it into the most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen.

Javier pulls the dress off its hanger and walks around you. He puts it on you like a coat and then stands in front of you to tie a knot on the front, undoing it and redoing it when he isn’t satisfied with his creation the first time. None of you say anything. None of you feel the need to.

His hands smooth out the fabric in a careful manner, and you suddenly find that Javier making you feel loved is so interchangeable with you feeling beautiful that you don’t have a clue why you had been in tears five minutes earlier.

He helps you into your heels too, lifting your feet one at a time by holding your ankle. The action is so gentle that you forget to breathe, even more so when he stretches to his full height once more and cups your face.

“Listen to me,” he says and there’s a certain sternness in his voice. Despite this, he doesn’t sound mean or angry, “I don’t ever want you saying these things about yourself again, okay?”

You nod your head as much as you are able to. A whimper wants to escape your lips but you hold it back.

“You are my wife, mi vida (my life),” he begins, letting his hands smooth over your shoulders and then down your arms until he can hold both of your hands, “I don’t give a shit about what you used to look like, it’s past, it’s not important. Eres tan hermosa (you are so beautiful). Look at the love you pour into our family. You’re the best Momma in the world, patient and kind, and I am in awe of you every day to the point where I can’t stop falling for you in new ways. You make me happy, make it worthwhile to power through at work so I can come home to you and the kids.”

“And you have never looked sexier,” he continues, eyes going down your body to see for himself that he is undoubtedly right. He grabs your hips, rubbing circles with his thumbs, “Your hips, your thighs… You’ve carried my children, for fuck’s sake. Without you, I’m nothing.”

“I mean look at you…” He trails off for a moment, looking down at where his hand is resting on your hip. You cannot help thinking about how warm his strong hand is, radiating comfort throughout your body. He looks lost in his thoughts and licks his lips without thinking.

“Javi,” you say quietly.

“Do you understand?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say almost nervously.

But then suddenly, his arms are around your waist and he is pulling you in for a kiss that makes you forget about the dinner reservation, the insecurities, and the time management altogether. You sling your arms around his neck and give in to his lips on yours, following him wherever he goes as he tugs you away from the mirror and towards the bed.

Before he instructs you to lie down, his hands find the knot on the front of your dress. He undoes it slowly, letting the dress fall open like a satin robe and groaning at the sight of your lack of a bra. He lets his hands go inside the dress, skimming his palms around your waist to pull you close and your head swims from the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Hermosa (beautiful),” he says, hands going up and cupping the underside of your breasts, You smile shyly, looking down to where he is touching you. Warmth has started to burn low in your belly just like before you fell asleep.

With newfound bravery, you reach up to peel the dress off of your shoulders. It falls down to your elbows, exposing your chest and tickling your back, until you let it slip off onto the ground in a pool around your feet. Javier looks like he might need someone to tell him to breathe.

He wraps one arm around your body and reaches behind your thigh with the other to pull your leg up slightly. Allowing him to slip you off your feet, he moves you onto the bed in a swift motion.

You kick off your heels as soon as you can, crawling back towards the headboard and Javier follows you without having to get undressed. After all, he never got any further because he saw you. You feel like you want to giggle with glee at the fact that you still have this effect on him years later.

Instinctively, you bend your legs and plant your feet flat on the mattress and without hesitation, Javier crawls between them to look down at you and marvel at the sight. He looks like a child on Christmas Day, hands reaching out to run up your shins, over your knees, and to grope at your thighs.

“Qué fuerte (unbelievable), are you really my wife?” He muses while rubbing your thighs absentmindedly. You reach for his hands and tug him down to you.

“Sí, mi amor (yes, my love),” you sound drunk on him already, using his own words against him. He is so close to you as he lies on top of you, crushing you so heavenly with his weight.

He kisses you longingly and gently scoops you into his strong arms whilst he does it, holding you flush against himself so you can feel your nipples harden against his chest. When you inhale through your nose to keep the kiss going, his scent fills your nostrils and God, he smells like soap and home.

It takes a minute to move on. You can see how he wants to descend on your body but each time he tries, you want another kiss and he happily indulges you. Like a couple of teenagers, you only stop when both of you have slightly swollen lips and he has a hard-on poking into your thigh.

“Let’s get these off,” Javier crawls back on the bed with elevated breath, fingers slipping underneath the waistband of your panties. He tugs them down your thighs and you help by lifting your ass off the mattress for a moment. His eyes are glued to your soft, fresh-out-of-the-shower and glowing skin, kissing your ankle as he slips your underwear off your feet and throws it to the side.

“You are so fucking hot,” he sounds in awe, “Look at you.”

You cannot stop grinning. Even when he lowers himself down on the bed again and gets comfortable between your thighs.

When he settles, he takes the sight of you in. You can feel your heartbeat in your untouched clit, and it only gets more powerful when Javier looks between your legs as if he is starved. He noses along your knee and then bites your inner thigh, growling under his breath. He moves inwards towards your quivering cunt then finds your eyes just before he dives in, indulges, “Do you know how fucking wet you are for me?”

You do know. It has steadily gotten to the point where you know that when you are going out later, you need to wear a new pair of underwear since the white cotton has probably become see-through and shiny.

And then his mouth is on you and you throw your head back, nearly breaking your neck and letting out a hah-sound as you stare up at the ceiling.

“You’re so good at that,” you moan, letting your eyes fall shut so nothing can distract you from the way his velvety tongue feels between your legs. It is intense to focus on nothing but the way he can guide it over your clit until your toes start to curl, “Oh my God, baby!”

When he kisses your clit and then sucks on it afterward, you lose your mind. Both of your hands come down to rest on the top of his head and when you feel the first flutters of pleasure that tell you that you are getting closer, you cannot keep your hips still. You move underneath his mouth, pushing your pelvis upward occasionally to let him devour you even further.

He eats you until you are seeping arousal into the bedsheets, pussy aching to be filled and stretched in only the way that his cock can. You twitch, clit pulsing, when his mouth leaves you briefly but you know what is to come - other than you, obviously - so you don’t complain. He does it to concentrate on slipping two fingers inside of you, pressing them upwards toward your g-spot before curling them over and over again.

His mouth finds your clit again and he is beyond his usual enthusiasm. The hands on his head stop simply resting there. Instead, you thread your fingers through his hair to channel the way you want to scream into something else because oh, mmhm, oh… oh!

You come on his tongue, shaking like a leaf and with a high-pitched moan that bounces off the walls. Your whole lower body spasms, walls clamping down on Javier’s fingers which still press towards your front wall and make you delirious with pleasure.

“Fuck!” You cry, “Fuckfuckfuck!”

Javier has pushed himself to his knees to watch you. He replaces his tongue on your clit with his thumb, teasing out the very last twitches of your high by going in circles until you need to yank his wrist away from the overstimulation.

After a moment, you begin to giggle. Your hand skims over your forehead, holding it there afterward in an almost soothing manner. Javier is looking at you, having wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and is now trying to decipher whether he can move on to something more or if you need a break.

At no point do either of you think about checking the time.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to me,” you say when you finally get your breath under control. You still feel giggly but instead, it comes out as a soft chuckle as you speak.

“You make it sound like I don’t do this often,” he crawls closer to you again, and you tell him to come here as he enters your arms. He kisses your neck a few times and then looks up at you, “I go down there quite a lot and often, you know.”

“Yes, yes, like a good boy, I know,” you tease him, reaching for his chin to pull him into a soft and lazy kiss. He tastes like you, and you lose yourselves in each other once more until Javier pulls off his briefs with one hand. He discards them without leaving you for too long, throwing them to whatever spot he had aimed your own underwear at.

“Need to have you close,” you voice what you long for, having grown needy from seeing him undress completely. The sight of his beautiful cock is enough to get you fired up again, clenching around nothing, “Please.”

You spread your legs even further and Javier lies between them, reaching down to ease his cock inside of you. He enters you slowly and with a shaky breath, the both of you staring down to watch as he disappears inside of your cunt.

You hold onto his arms, breathing hard and trying to relax as it stings slightly due to his generous girth. The second he bottoms out, you whine feebly as if you have been holding it back and it’s now safe to do so.

“Lo sé (I know),” he soothes.

“You feel so good,” you babble, “I love you.”

“Y yo a ti (I love you too),” he bumps your noses together, looking into your eyes as he moves once and then twice. Your mouth falls open in a gasp and he uses the opportunity to lick into your mouth and kiss you deeply.

You slide your hands underneath his arms to hug him close, letting them go up along his broad back and each ripple of muscle that flexes as he fucks you until you can clutch onto his shoulders. You rock with him, relishing in the smooth motion of his hips moving back and forth to stretch your cunt open again and again.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders until your knuckles start to ache. No matter how many times he is with you like this, it will never be enough. It will never be enough because you need him to be this close and connected to you every goddamn day. It’s like a hardcore drug that clouds your brain, like the oxygen that you breathe in daily, like the food and drink necessary to survive.

Without interrupting him, you move to dig your heels into the back of his legs. With each stroke of his cock inside of you, each roll of his gorgeous hips and pelvis, you can feel the muscles of his calves tightening and relaxing. Your limbs tangling around him allows you to angle him how you want it most, so you mumble something and dig your heels in further.

Suddenly, his pelvic bone crashes against your clit, and it continues doing so until you know that this is how you are going to come a second time.

“Oh, just like that,” you let your head fall back into the mattress, “You’re gonna make me— Javi! You’re gonna make me come, baby.”

“Is this pussy mine? Esta cosita linda (This pretty little thing)?” He asks with a growl, sounding so sexy that you know he is determined to make your orgasm approach even faster because his thrusts speed up.

“Para toda la vida (for life),” you say breathlessly, panting as you near your crescendo. It only takes a few more strokes against your clit and then you are done for, coming a second time with a sharp intake of breath and then a cry that could disturb the neighbors from whatever they are doing.

He kisses each whimper from your mouth and slows down a little to give you space for you to return to him. However, you know that this isn’t the end. His stamina today is mind-boggling but you don’t complain, instead take what he can give you even if it leaves you sore until the next day.

“You okay?” He asks when you have calmed down.

You let your arms and legs fall down to your sides with a blissful expression on your face. You nod, reaching up to rub your eyes as you feel deeply sated, “Just give me a moment.”

“Think you can take anymore?” He pulls out of you to get back onto his knees. You make a noise. On his shoulders, you spot the little crescent marks that your nails have left.

“We’re making babies, right?” You note.

“Claro (of course),” he snorts.

“Then you better screw me silly, Mr. Peña,” you shift slightly on the bed to present your spent cunt for him once more but more obscenely this time by reaching down and spreading your lips open. He groans at the sight, especially when you visibly clench around nothing and silently promise him what’s to come.

“Anything for you, Mrs. Peña,” he almost sounds in pain from the desperation to get back inside of you.

The sweet tenderness and romance are put on hold for something dirtier to take their place, Javier moving forward until the front of his thighs touches the back of yours. He pushes inside of you again with a gasp of your name and places his hands on your hips, holding on tightly so he can pound you into the mattress.

The sound of his skin slamming against yours fills the room along with your moans, and each thrust sends ripples of intense pleasure through your body now that you are so sensitive. You allow yourself the relief of crying out towards the ceiling because, for the next twenty-four hours, you are completely child-free so who cares?

Javier’s eyes burn with desire at your noises. He is so beautiful, mouth hanging slightly open as he pants and his shoulders looking even broader when he hovers above you. And his noises, he is louder than normal too, you realize, with no intention of quieting his moans down either.

A particular snap of his hips sends you reeling as he nudges your g-spot just right and makes you grip at the sheets. Javier is on you like a hawk and notices immediately the way that his cock has severed connection to your brain for a moment.

“You like that? You like my cock?” He digs his thumbs into your hip bones, indulging himself by staring down at where his cock pistons in and out of you. His length is sticky with your arousal, “I can tell you like my cock, God, your come is all over me, baby.”

You bite your lower lip, furrow your brows, and nod repeatedly, “Yes… yesyesyes!”

“You’re on fire today, mi amor (my love), makes me wanna come inside of you like I’m meant to,” he spits filthy words as he goes harder, “Think you can give me one more? Make those gorgeous legs shake?”

The comment about your legs makes you bend them to your chest so you can link your arms under your knees. The position makes Javier swear under his breath, and when you squeeze around your calves, he becomes a tighter fit inside of you and a sob escapes you.

He is the one to look drunk now, fighting the urge to let his eyes roll back into his skull in case he misses anything you do while he drives into your pussy in this new position. He moves his hands to place them on the back of your thighs and contort your body slightly. He digs his fingers into the extra pounds there and then fucks you with your shared pleasure in mind.

The squelch of your cunt is obscene and you almost sound like you’re crying from how he pounds your g-spot. A third high, which started building slowly, approaches so quickly that you squeeze your eyes shut and nearly choke as you scream for him, “Yes, oh my God, yes! I’m—“

“That’s my girl,” he sounds close too, “Get it all over my cock, baby.”

The bliss you feel as you come a third time turns your demeanor from pathetic and whimpering into smiling and giggling instead. You look up at him with hazy eyes while you are grinning, moaning, and coming so hard that Javier cannot stop himself from laughing slightly even if it’s interrupted by his own moans.

“Fuck, you are gorgeous coming for me,” he praises with a shit-eating grin, gasping sharply at reaching his own peak a second later because he just cannot hold back any longer. He pulses inside of you, breeds you until you are filled to the brim, and you can feel some of it spilling out onto the bed sheets.

Exhausted is not the right word. Your whole body slumps when post-orgasmic bliss hits you and you groan as Javier topples down on top of you as well. You melt together and breathe hard, one big tangle of limbs turning you into an octopus.

“Definitely didn’t have time for that,” you say eventually.

“Stop being so hot then,” he jokes. He lifts his head to kiss you longingly and you allow yourself to lose yourself in it, again forgetting about the time that’s ticking by.

As Javier reluctantly tears himself away from you, he casually looks at the clock on the nightstand and gets up so quickly that he needs to find his balance. He seems to realize that you are not just fashionably late but actually really late, “Mierda (shit).”

You check the time too and swear as well. It is twenty minutes to eight, and it takes at least fifteen minutes to drive to the inner city. There’s no way that the two of you are going to make the reservation, and you will just have to hope that they are kind enough to hold onto your table the minutes you are going to be late.

It seems like you turn into the stars of your own romantic comedy, the only thing missing being the laughing track in the background because you move through the house so quickly that you almost forget to put on underwear after getting cleaned up in the bathroom. The rush doesn’t even give you time to ponder your shape in the mirror again.

By the time you actually leave the house, you are laughing at the ridiculousness of it all and looking disheveled. In fact, you have to stop Javier from getting into your car because his buttons are buttoned unevenly and his collar looks like he’s been out in a storm.

“Right, fuck, what’s the time?” Javier asks when he slams the car door on his side.

You look at the car radio’s clock, making a concerned noise, “Hmm… Ten to eight. If you speed a little?”

“I’m law enforcement,” he deadpans.

“You’re also late for a booking you have had for months,” you argue.

Javier pulls out of the driveway but despite it all, he still doesn’t speed with the mother of his children in the car.

However, he does use his badge in the window to get a parking spot close to the restaurant. He pulls it from the glove box and you raise an eyebrow at him, to which he simply tells you to shut up with a tiny glint in his eye.

Your heels click on the sidewalk as you speedwalk towards the restaurant’s main entrance. Javier holds the door open for you, and for a moment, you actually look like a couple who has it all together and is on a date.

Despite this, it seems that impromptu sex is apparently not good for new restaurant businesses, even if it starts out innocently with an intention of comforting one’s partner, because your table has already been given to someone else. You can see Javier’s fist tightening into a ball at his side as he is told this.

The man at the front desk looks unimpressed with your husband’s attempt to make him show you to a table anyway, and you even hear Javier saying that he cannot, in good conscience, let you starve.

You stand a little behind your husband who quietly fumes because nothing seems to work, “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid we’re fully booked tonight and many nights ahead. It is Valentine’s Day after all.”

“Yes, I am aware,” he replies with gritted teeth.

“Honey,” you reach out to put a hand on his arm and he whirls around, only to look a lot more calm the second he finds your gaze, “It’s fine. Come on, we’ll find someplace else.”

“But you’re starving,” he says helplessly.

“Then let’s not keep this up. I know a place around the corner,” you smile at him, holding out your hand until he gives in and takes it, “Besides, they can keep their tiny portions to themselves.”

It may just be the last remains of what you did half an hour ago but Javier starts snickering while you guide him through the door and out into the evening air. He only manages to walk down the street with you for a few yards before he presses you against a brick wall and kisses you.

“No,” you scold him playfully and place your palms on his chest, “I don’t care if you’re Laredo’s local hero. You couldn’t get a table so we’re not wasting time by making out in public. Like you said, I am starving.”

“Descarada (cheeky devil),” he pecks your lips but lets go of you, “Fine, lead the way.”

The two of you start walking. The place you have in mind is only a short walk away and it’s a nice night, so you don’t mind. Especially not when you can walk hand-in-hand with Javier the whole way and not have to say a thing.

You end up in front of a food truck that sells tacos. It is the perfect spot for something low-key which makes your whole night seem even funnier now that you are so overdressed. The two of you snicker together as you wait in line, mostly resembling a couple who have escaped a tedious wedding to get junk food.

“My treat,” he says.

“You better. It’s your fault we’re here,” you tease.

“I think we have different versions of what happened back home,” he winks, “But fine, order whatever you want. Like always.”

You order your food, telling the owner of the food truck to go heavy on the pico de gallo and Javier follows behind with his own order. After paying, you take a step back to let other people buy their food.

“This is where we had our first date,” he notices, an arm around your waist as you wait for your food. He tightens his grip around you as he speaks, “Where I knew I wanted to marry you, have kids with you.”

“This is not where we had our first date,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, looking at him long enough for him to give you a kiss.

“Yes it was,” he replies.

“No, you were drunk and we were heading home from the bar a few blocks from here,” you remind him, “We’d only just met. Connie told me not to follow you.”

“Fuckin’ Connie,” he shakes his head, “No, that was definitely our first date. I don’t care what you say. I just don’t wanna think about the disaster that followed even if you want to call that the first date.”

“You were late and we missed our reservation,” you reminisce, “Just like today.”

“Which is why I am not calling it the first,” he lets go of you as the woman in the truck places your orders on the counter. He hands you yours and then takes his own, “We had food, talked for hours and you were wearing that dress with the bows.”

“No more talk about dresses,” you groan as you walk to find a spot, “You’re making me depressed.”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs with a grin, “I knew then.”

“Well, I knew when Connie told me you were forbidden fruit,” you smile back at him, and there’s something strangely comforting about knowing that he follows right behind.

The food truck's sitting area is right behind it in a cozy nook between two buildings. As disappointed as you were at not getting to try out the new restaurant in town, the picnic tables, and colorful plastic chairs more than make up for it. It is a lot more romantic than what you assume the gourmet restaurant would have been, and you choose a spot right underneath a blanket of string lights that seem to imitate stars.

There are a few guests aside from you, and you feel warm at hearing their voices filled with laughter and joy.

You sit down on the bench and tuck your skirt between your knees, getting comfortable and looking excitedly down at your soon-to-be-devoured food. There’s something uniquely satisfying about a greasy meal after sex, and even more so when your husband indulges you to have whatever you want.

You pick up your taco and bite into it, doing a happy dance as you chew whilst Javier watches you with a grin on his face. However, the happiness is short-lived because something in the taco triggers a wave of nausea and you soon realize that it is the pico de gallo.

“What is it?” Javier has caught on because you cannot help but grimace.

“This tastes funny,” you say. Puzzled, you take another bite but quickly stop yourself before you are stupid enough to go for a third. Your stomach growls but there’s no way you are eating the rest without at least scraping it off.

Carefully, you place the taco back down on its paper tray and take a few napkins from the dispenser on the end of the picnic table. You spit your latest bite out into one of them because your body does not agree with the idea of swallowing the acidity again. Then you take a long sip of your water and wish you had something to neutralize the taste in your mouth.

Without thinking much of it, you start to rid your food of the salsa fresca. You use your index finger to scrape it out onto the napkin and pick any remaining pieces off too, avoiding the natural instinct to suck your finger clean and wipe it on a new napkin instead. In front of you, Javier has stopped eating and simply watches you.

You feel slightly judged by him, narrowing your eyes from annoyance, “What?”

“Are you pregnant?” He asks with a furrowed brow.

“What? No way,” you let out a chuckle of disbelief, “That’s not funny.”

“Honey,” he continues, nodding down at the napkin, “You love pico de gallo.”

“So? The only times I haven’t eaten it has been when I’m pregna—“ your eyes widen, looking down at your taco for a moment before staring at Javier again. He looks just as alarmed by your food which is only two bites down, “There’s no way.”

Around you, people have started to notice a shift in your voice. It probably sounds like you are upset, like Javier is using Valentine’s Day to break up with you.

“Baby, there’s no way,” you say again and your voice has become a little higher pitched, “I’d only be five weeks along.”

To the opposite of you, Javier is speechless. He has stopped eating his own dinner, sitting with his own taco but is unable to figure out how to react.

“We can’t have been lucky the first time around. My period is due in a few days. This is ridiculous. Sebastian is only just about five months old,” you are starting to sound frantic, “Javi. Baby, I am freaking out.”

Javier blinks a few times almost as if he is mentally shaking himself out of his trance. He reaches across the table and takes hold of your wrist, “Calm down. Let’s just finish eating and then we can go get one of those early detection tests, yeah? Te prometo que todo va a salir bien (I promise you that everything is going to be okay).”

“Yes, alright, you’re right,” you feel instantly calmed by his touch, turning your palm upward so he can hold your hand instead. Then you frown, “But I can’t eat this. It’s probably still going to taste like it.”

“Hold on,” he says, letting go of you to switch plates with you without hesitation, “There, now you can eat.”

“Te quiero (I love you),” you sigh happily, smiling at him from across the table.

“Love you too, now eat, so you can feed my kid,” he starts to load the taco with pico de gallo again.

The late-night pharmacy, just opening, exudes a subtle but steady hum of activity, bathing in the fluorescent glow of overhead lights. Shelves are neatly lined with pharmaceuticals, and you scrunch up your nose at the faint scent of antiseptic. Javier keeps a hand on the small of your back the whole time, steering you gently toward the counter as if this new piece of information has made him instantly more protective.

There’s only a single pharmacist behind the counter, a middle-aged woman with her glasses around her neck in a chain, but she doesn’t blink when you explain your sudden emergency. She beckons you down along the aisles and grabs a few different pregnancy tests for you to choose from.

“This one is more certain but it does cost a little extra,” she explains and holds up a Clearblue digital test. Javier quickly exchanges a look with you.

“We’ll take that one, actually make it two,” you say, tapping your feet nervously on the floor, “Can I use the bathroom here?”

“We’re that eager?” She smiles, “Sure, dear. Let me just get the key.”

Javier pays at the counter, a twinkle in his eyes as he makes a joke, “My treat again.”

“You better; you’re the one who got us into this mess - again,” you giggle and it even earns you a chuckle from the pharmacist.

“I hope you get the result you are hoping for,” she says when unlocking the door to the staff toilet. She ushers you both inside the door and then closes it behind you.

Silence at last, you think to yourself and even find that the water you drank with your meal earlier has run right through you. You pull up your skirt, twisting it and tying a knot to keep it from falling down again. You go for your underwear next, bending over to pull them down your legs to your ankles. You feel Javier’s palm steadying you without thinking.

Besides you, Javier starts tearing open the Clearblue boxes. He hands them to you one by one, and you finally sit down to pee, angling your wrist awkwardly to make sure you use the sticks correctly. The both of you stay silent through the whole ordeal.

You wrap both pregnancy tests in toilet paper and hand them to Javier who places them on the edge of the sink so you can finish up and get dressed again. He takes a step to the side to let you wash your hands, having crossed his arms over his chest and started tapping his fingers nervously.

While you listen to the sound of the water running, the air in the tiny, poorly lit bathroom seems to hang thick with anticipation. You want to say something but there is nothing you can say that’ll ease your shared, anxious heartbeat. Eventually, Javier beats you to it.

“Don’t be disappointed if it’s negative,” he gives you an uncertain smile. Mostly, it sounds as if he is talking to himself.

“You know I will be,” you sigh, stepping close to link your arms around his neck. He nods in understanding, cupping your waist and rubbing soothingly with his thumbs.

“Me too,” he lets out a shaky breath.

“I know,” you automatically tighten your grip on him as the minutes go by, knowing that he needs it as much as you. On the sink, the white plastic sticks seem to mock you with their silence.

Come on…

A few minutes more and suddenly, you know there is no way back. It seems ridiculous that a stick with your pee on it has the ability to predict your future but here you are. You shake your head after untangling yourself from your husband, “I can’t look.”

Javier bravely takes them from their place on the sink. Your stomach does somersaults as he unwraps them, twisting them so their displays face upward. A slow, relieved smile spreads across his face and he looks up immediately, “You’re four to five weeks pregnant.”

“What?” You grab his wrist to take a look for yourself, “There’s no way!”

Sure enough, both displays show a positive result and an approximate number of weeks. Calculating in your head, you know it has to be that one time in the middle of the night in January. The thought of getting it right without even really having begun is crazy because it’s so unbelievable.

“That’s so surreal,” you walk straight into his arms. He hugs you tightly, resting his lips on your forehead and you can feel his elevated breathing because you are so close to him.

“Pop is going to have a heart attack,” he mumbles with slight amusement, although you can hear the tremor in his voice. You look into his eyes, reaching up to cup his cheek and smiling softly.

“We can’t tell anyone yet, it’s not been three months,” you say, lost in just staring at him. He is so beautiful when he is happy.

“God, I know, I'm just so excited,” he chuckles, a little embarrassed.

“I’m sure you’ve already figured out that it’s going to be a Halloween baby,” you grin.

“Oh fuck, forget about Pop; Inés is gonna get so pissed if she has to share Halloween with a birthday child,” he starts to laugh after he has said it. You join in, high on the happiness you feel.

“I love you so much,” you say when the laughter dies down.

“I love you too,” he kisses you after saying it.

“And happy Valentine’s Day to us,” you continue, letting Javier pull away to throw the pregnancy tests out and wash his hands.

“See? Now you’re using it right,” he teases after drying his hands.

Then he opens the door and waits for you to step outside. Everything seems possible tonight.

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sluttywoozi · 9 months

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May Flowers | Like A Cowboy Final Chapter

Like A Cowboy | Cowboy Like Me | Give You My Wild

Pregnancy is hard, but April showers bring May flowers, right?

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~7.2k (~2.8k plot, ~4.4k smut)

Warnings: pregnancy, pregnant sex, pregnancy kink, fingering, masturbation, (healthy) possessiveness, oral f. rec., piv sex, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, creampie, aftercare

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, about 6 and a half months pregnant, gets carried/lifted by Mingyu (he’s a strong ass cowboy with big bulging muscles)

“Honey, can I get you anything before I join you?” Mingyu asks softly from the doorway, fondly observing the way your book rests on your swollen belly.

You look over, shaking your head with a sweet smile before returning your attention to your book. You’ve been reading like crazy since your stomach started growing, consuming every word you can find on childbearing and childrearing. He tries to read the books when you finish them, but with you no longer able to help as much outside or inside, he doesn’t have a lot of spare time. He doesn’t mind though, would run the whole ranch by himself if it meant you got to rest like you deserve, and it’s more than enough that you still take care of the cooking and linens.

He doesn’t think you know how grateful he is to have a steaming meal on the table every time he comes in after a long day of labor in the thawing spring air. He makes the effort to tell you, but he’s sure there’s another way. Maybe he could show you, but you only want gifts for the baby right now so anything he gets you wouldn’t be for you. He could hire a farmhand from sun up to sun down and use the day to pamper you, but he’s not sure you’d like that either.

You’ve become… sensitive. About your body and about having all of his focus on it.

Mingyu, of course, already thought you were the most beautiful and precious creature to ever walk the earth, and you’ve only become more so since your pregnancy began showing itself. You glow, your whole being radiates light and sweetness, and though you’re a bit quicker to cry than before, you’re also prone to telling him you love and adore him at the drop of his cowboy hat.

He’s changed too, growing much more protective and somehow less clumsy if it means saving you from your new lack of coordination. You’re unused to having the equivalent of a butternut squash attached to your front, and it shows in the tender spots he finds every night. You’re tender about the squash itself too, lamenting each shift that no longer fits and mourning every dress you have to let out, though you try to hide it from him.

He assumes you don’t want him to know that you’re experiencing some negative feelings too, especially after the little gathering he’d thrown you last week. Some of your friends are with child as well and they were all absolutely exuberant, going on about how wonderful it was and how they almost didn’t want it to end. Your smile had turned false then, though he doubts they noticed. He doubts you think he noticed, but Mingyu sees everything when it comes to you because he’s always paying attention.

That’s why he’s also caught onto how physically sensitive you are now, too. You grimace every morning as you secure your bodice, wince whenever he accidentally touches your breasts in the night, catch his hand and guide it to your hip if you notice he’s going for your belly. He’s trying to stop touching you in these places, but it’s difficult when he’s so used to you loving when he touches you anywhere. He misses being close to you, misses making love to you, but he’ll give you space for as long as you need it. Or he’ll do his best to, at least.

It’s something he keeps in mind as he gingerly climbs into bed next to you, shuffling close enough for a kiss before exchanging an, “I love you,” letting his head drop heavily to the pillow, and promptly falling asleep.

Mingyu blinks awake to moonlight barely peeking through the curtains and a hand gently tapping at his chest.

“S’wrong, honey?” He mumbles, his fingers tangling with your own as his head lolls over so he can squint at you in the darkness. From what little of you he can see, you’re nervous. That wakes him up, makes him shift onto an elbow and lean over you, his hand releasing yours so he can cup your cheek and bring your eyes to his. Is it something with the baby? Is something going-

“Nothing’s wrong! I- I think I… I want you, Mingyu.”

That’s the last thing he expects you to say, and the reaction it causes in him would bring him to his knees if he were standing. Heat flashes down the back of his neck, all the want in his body rushing into his cock as it hardens in his underclothes, his eyes going half lidded and his mouth dropping open as he leans in to press his lips to yours.

“Did you have a dream?” He questions, kissing your cheek and forehead before continuing, “Can I touch you? Kiss you?”

“I never fell asleep,” you groan, rubbing your legs together beneath the sheets, “And yes, Gyu, please.”

He’s gentle with you, turning you onto your side and bringing a pillow to rest under your belly. You lift your head so his arm can reach around and cradle you to him, leaning your body against his and draping your thigh over his leg to open you up. He doesn’t want you to have to support yourself at all, wants to give you whatever you need, whatever you want. Which, apparently, is him, so he won’t make you wait.

His free hand slides between your thighs, his arm brushing against your belly and his cock jumping against your back as his fingers glide over your folds. You’re so wet he gasps into your neck, two of his fingers dipping inside and finding you hot and slick, “Did you touch yourself?”

“I tried, but it wasn’t enough. I didn’t want to wake you, though, you work so hard and you need to sleep,” you whine, bucking into his touch.

“Sweetheart, you can tell me that you need me anytime and anywhere and I’ll give myself to you,” Mingyu promises, pressing his teeth into your shoulder and letting his fingers sink deeper, spread apart, fuck up and in. You’re so responsive, your body writhing in his hold and your thighs shaking against his as you near the edge. It seems your heightened sensitivity is working in his favor now, so he twists his thumb over to rub your swollen clit and digs his fingers in just a little harder.

At this angle, he can tap his fingertips right into that patch inside you that makes you gush, and he can feel you tighten around him, feel you get closer and closer to the edge with each grind against that spot. He wishes he could taste you, feel you on his tongue, but that might be a bit much for you tonight so he’ll talk to you instead.

“So perfect for me, my pretty wife all round and full with my baby, fuck,” He gasps into your hair, his cock throbbing and leaking where it’s pressed into your back.

His words must be enough to get you there because suddenly, your back is arching and your whines are echoing throughout the room as your slick floods his hand. It almost breaks him, feeling your walls hug his fingers and knowing how much better they feel around his cock, but he holds himself together long enough to see you through to the other side of your release.

You’re sobbing by the time it’s over, so Mingyu gently withdraws his fingers before cleaning them with his mouth and wrapping you up in his arms. He rocks slowly, humming so you can feel the vibrations in his chest and smiling to himself as he feels you start to come down.

“Did so good for me, honey,” Mingyu murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your head and ignoring the insistent pulse of his dick.

“Thank you, Gyu, love you,” you mumble back, already on the verge of falling asleep in his arms.

“Love you, baby,” Mingyu promises as he shuffles out from under you and to the bathroom, starting up the shower and leaving it on cold before wetting a cloth with warm sink water and carefully cleaning you up.

He’s not sure if a cold shower will actually help considering he’s harder than he has been in months, but it’s worth a shot. There’s no way he’ll be able to sleep like this and he doesn’t expect it to go down on its own, so the shower is his best bet.

Every muscle in his body tenses when the icy water hits his skin, and even after five minutes of shivering under the spout, he’s still rock hard. He grimaces, letting his head drop back to rest against the tiled wall as he gives up, turns the shower to warm, and wraps a hand around his cock. His own touch is never as good as yours, but it’s all he’s known for the last few months and it’ll continue to be all he knows until you’re ready for him again.

Truthfully, he’s over the moon at getting to touch you at all tonight, getting to be so close to you and unravel you like that, and he knows all he needs to do to push himself over the edge is think about you. His hand starts moving of its own volition as he calls to mind the thought of you touching yourself, the delicious squeeze of your walls around his fingers, the breathy sighs and moans you’d let out.

He can’t swallow the punched out groan that leaves him when he remembers taste of you on his fingers, or stop himself from gripping his cock tighter, or slow his hand when it starts to speed. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the shower, and though Mingyu wishes it was you and him making those sounds together, he got to touch you tonight and that’s more than enough for him.

It’s more than enough that you’re carrying his child, letting them grow in you and with you, taking care of them and nurturing them with your body until they’re ready to be loved in person. The idea shouldn’t send heat zipping down his spine, but it does and his hips follow, thrusting his cock into the sleeve he’s made with his hand as a coil starts to wind in his stomach.

It’s wild to him that just a little bit ago, you were doing this, touching yourself and chasing that release, and when you couldn’t find it on your own, you knew you could wake him up. You still felt guilty, he knows, but he’s ecstatic that you reached out to him, both physically and metaphorically. He’s missed you these months even as he slept next to you every night, and to be so close to you was fulfilling beyond measure.

It’s what will push him over the edge, what will make that coil in his belly snap, and he can feel his heart start to race as he gets closer and closer. He pictures you, sleeping peacefully on your side in your nightgown, pressing your hips back into his, night after night. You, bent over the railing of your front porch all those moons ago. You, with one injured hand above your head and the other holding yourself open for him. You, under him and on top of him and all over him, just you you you.

You’re all Mingyu needs, all he wants and all he will ever want, and as he thinks about putting this baby in you, pumping you full and keeping you full until it took, until there was evidence beyond rings and a vow that you’re his and he’s yours, it breaks him. His cock pulses in his hand as it hardens further and starts to spit cum, his desperate grip damn near cutting off the circulation at the head. His head thunks against the tile and he whines your name, feeling the wave overcome him and letting himself drown in it.

Trembling under the warm water, he attempts to catch his breath, his eyes still clenched shut and his hand still fisting his cock. He needs to sleep soon if he wants to get any work done on the ranch tomorrow, but he just can’t find the strength to move yet. The water is what spurs him, going from warm to cold to freezing in what feels like no time before he turns off the shower and dries off the excess moisture.

His pants from before will need a wash, his prespend having soaked through the fabric, so he scurries naked to the dresser in the chilly night air and opens the drawer as quietly as he can. He pulls out the first underclothes his fingers touch, climbing into them before sliding into bed next to you. You’re still breathing softly, one arm folded beneath your head and the other cradling your swollen belly, and Mingyu feels all the love in his body rush into his heart as he watches you sleep peacefully.

“I love you,” he whispers softly, so quietly that it’s nearly lost in the creaking of the house and the wind blowing through the trees. His hand covers your own before he bends at the waist to press a kiss to your stomach, “And I love you.”

Leaning back into the rocking chair, you heave a sigh and let your eyes fall closed. Your fingertips are starting to ache, as is your back, but you’ve got a whole stack of linens to repair and there’s still daylight left, so onward you’ll go.

The baby has been quite active today, aiming little kicks right into your kidneys and line dancing all over your bladder, but you’re glad for it. The movement of the baby means they’re growing like they’re supposed to, and you’ll always take the aches and touch-sensitivity and endless trips to the bathroom over the alternative.

This journey has been rife with worries, many of which you neglected to share with your husband, and reminding yourself that your family is about to grow is what gets you through the day.

That, and Mingyu.

He’s outside right now, tending to the flower garden he started for you after you felt the quickening. It’s full of your favorites, and some medicinal herbs as well. Marigolds for their healing properties, peppermint and ginger for your morning sickness, stinging nettles for your nutrition, and chamomile for your sleepless nights.

He spent hours researching, and even conferred with the town midwife to determine what would be best to plant for you.

Nearly every time you look at it, you’re moved to tears thinking about just how much he loves you. This seems to be one of those times, and you press your palms to your eyes as if you could stem the flow of saltwater. The tears spill over onto your cheeks anyway, your breath hitching on a sob that you couldn’t swallow for the life of you.

These crying spells started around the same time your belly made itself known, and they’re one of the many aspects you won’t miss when this baby finally comes. Along with the fact that you can barely stand to let anyone touch you anymore, not your mother, not your father, not even your husband. You hate to see his face fall every time he reaches for you, but you’re just so tender all over, which is part of why you cry so often.

Your tears dry up soon enough, but not so fast Mingyu doesn’t see. When you pull your hands from your eyes, you catch sight of him. He’s standing with his hands on his hips, biting that plush bottom lip and making you itch to tug it out from between his teeth. Instead, you swipe the sheen from your cheeks and give him a shaky smile through the window.

He sends back a small, fond grin and laughs to himself, disappearing from view as he returns to his weeding. You let the smile drop and arch your back, rubbing at a persistent ache in the lower curve of your spine. You’ll have to have Mingyu try to work it out for you before bed or you won’t be able to sleep at all tonight.

You still can��t believe what you did last night, waking him up and begging him to touch you like that. You haven’t been in the mood for months, and suddenly you needed him so bad you just couldn’t take it anymore. It came over you like a cresting wave, starting in your mind and rolling down to your core.

You did your best to relieve the ache on your own, but you couldn’t reach far enough to get your fingers inside with your belly in the way and eventually, your back started to hurt too much with all the straining. You knew you’d never get to bed if you still felt like that, so you did the only other thing you could think to do.

You woke up your husband.

And, goodness, did he relieve that ache.

The problem is that it wasn’t enough. Now that you’ve felt his touch again, you want more, you want everything.

But you can wait until he finishes his work outside and eats the dinner you’ll make for the two of you. There’s no way you’ll interrupt him just so you can ask him to satisfy your desires, even though he told you to do exactly that just last night.

You were wrong. You were so very wrong.

As soon as you started thinking about Mingyu touching you again, a spark lit up in your center and now you feel all warm and, dare you say, wet.

You can’t focus on your mending, your fingers stinging with pin pricks, and you also can’t take your eyes off your husband.

He took his outer layer off, leaving him in just a white tank and his denim trousers, and every time he lifts his shirt up to wipe his sweat, you see a flash of his toned, glistening abdomen.

He’s doing it on purpose. You know because he caught you looking and smirked, and you haven’t bothered to look away since. You’re not sure what your expression is telling him but you know your eyes are full of a heat that only he can cool.

When he whips the tank over his head and uses it to mop at the sweat on his chest, you decide you’ve had enough.

You shoot up (as fast as you’re able) from your rocking chair and march to the front door, throwing it open and standing on the edge of the stairs with your hands on your hips.

You forgot to put on your shoes so you can’t actually go haul Mingyu inside like you want to, but he must have heard the door open. He appears from around the corner of the house, his muscles shimmering in the waning sunlight and flexing with every step.

“Hey, baby,” He calls, grinning with happiness like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s done. “I was wondering when you’d break.”

He stands shoulder-level with the railing of your front porch and folds his arms on the wood before resting his chin on the cushion they create. The way he’s looking up at you through his eyelashes has your heart fluttering, and when he reaches a hand out to tug you closer, you give him yours and move on instinct.

“I knew you were teasing me,” You shake your head, squeezing his hand and moving your shared grasp to your belly before flattening his palm over it. You haven’t been able to let him touch you much over the past couple months, finding your skin too sensitive for even your clothes, but you want him to feel what you feel.

His whole face lights up in a beam bright enough to replace the sun when the little kick thumps right under his hand. Before you know it, his eyes are filling with tears and he’s taking your free hand to bring it to his face. You cup his cheek, brushing the tears away with a gentle thumb and feeling your own eyes welling up.

You try to kiss him but you can’t bend over enough to reach, making you pout and let out a huff.

“Back up a little, honey,” Mingyu instructs before disentangling his hands from yours and letting you step away. He plants his hands on the railing and gets a foot on the foundation of your house, hauling himself over the fence with more grace than you expected.

“The stairs are right there,” You point out with a laugh, stepping back as he crowds you into the wall. His hands brace next to your head and he leans into your space, his lips inches from yours as he whispers, “Is it a crime to show off for my wife?”

“Never,” You breathe, tilting your chin to press your mouth to his. He kisses you deeply, sighing like he’s just tasted the finest whiskey and moving as close to you as your belly allows.

When his hands leave the wall and find your body, they’re tender, soft on you, like he knows just how sensitive you are. And of course he does, because he’s your husband and he knows everything about you.

Down to the fact that when he angles your head so he can kiss you like he wants, it makes your knees weak. His hands move to your hips and squeeze just a bit harder, just enough to give you some more stability as he kisses you until you’re dizzy.

“Can we go,” You gasp in between kisses, “Inside the house?”

“Can I carry you?” He responds, waiting for your nod to sweep you up into his arms bridal style. He’s so strong, holding you steady as he walks to the front door you’d left open. He toes off his boots before he walks inside, knowing you’ll scold him if he tracks dirt on your clean floors.

Crossing over the threshold with him like this brings up memories of your wedding day, of when he surprised you with the house he’d built with his own two hands for you to share. It’s a home now, and in just a few months, there will be a new member of your family to make it even warmer. The thought nearly makes you tear up again as Mingyu lumbers up the stairs to your bedroom.

You swallow down the emotions rising within you, refusing to cry yet again, and smile up at Mingyu as he carefully places you on the bed.

“How do you think we should do this?” He inquires, his eyes on your bump and his hands on his hips. You go over the positions you’ve used in the past, but most of them won’t accommodate your stomach.

“Maybe from behind?” You suggest, beginning to unbutton your dress before his hands take over for yours. You arch a brow, watching as he meticulously pushes the buttons out of their openings and remembering all the repairing you had to do while he was trying to put this baby in you.

“I wanna be able to look at you,” Mingyu counters, his eyes caught on the movement of your breasts as you work the dress off. You’re left in just your shift and bodice, and the look in his eyes sends your confidence rocketing up.

“How about,” He starts talking only to stop and take hold of the backs of your knees, “If I pull you to the edge of the bed and stay standing? We can put some pillows under your hips to prop you up.”

Picturing it in your head, you work out the logistics and find his plan to be solid. The bed isn’t too low to the ground, but you still won’t be at the height of his hips so the cushioning is a good idea.

You nod with finality, reaching for the pillows above your head and pulling them down to hand them to Mingyu. He slides one arm under your back and lifts you enough to slide one, then the other pillow beneath your hips, leaving you at the perfect height.

You could almost laugh at all the planning required for making love in this state, but the heat is flooding back into you as you watch Mingyu slowly undo his belt.

He’s staring at you with half-lidded eyes, his gaze roving over every inch of your body, clothed and unclothed. His cock strains at the denim of his jeans, the dark blue growing darker where the head must be.

You can’t even see him but you want him in you, making you wonder if you’re still stretched from last night. You don’t want him to get you ready, you just want him to fill you up again and again and again, just like he did all those months ago.

You open your mouth to tell him but gasp instead as he shoves his trousers and underclothes down, revealing his hard, swollen cock. It’s leaking at the tip, flushed and so so pretty, and you almost wish you were laying the other way so you could have him in your mouth.

You don’t think you can wait though, fighting to tear off your bodice and pull your shift up. It’s difficult with the pillows beneath your hips and it occurs to you that you should have gotten undressed before getting comfortable, but that’s rectified easily enough with Mingyu’s help.

He lifts you as you tug the fabric up, his eyes following the hem and his breath catching when your belly is revealed. You raise your arms when he takes over, pulling the fabric over your head and tossing it so it lands on the dresser instead of the floor.

There’s an expression of desirous awe on his face, his eyes wide and warm and full of something you don’t recognize. His hands hover over your skin, unsure of whether or not he can touch you, and when you nod your consent, he places them on your hips and opens his mouth to speak.

“Seeing you like this, knowing it’s our baby growing in there, knowing you’ve got a piece of me inside you all the time… It does things to me.”

You haven’t thought about it that way before, and you feel your core squeeze at the idea of always having a little part of Mingyu with you.

He grins down at you, a feral, possessive glint in his eye, as he watches you process his words. His hands sweep over your body and for once, you don’t feel the need to guide them away. Instead, you want them all over you, want him all over you.

It’s like your sensitivity has turned in his favor, and you feel goosebumps rising on your skin in his wake. You fight back a shiver when he carefully trails his hands over your tender breasts, his eyes observant and his bottom lip bitten between his teeth. He brushes his thumbs over your nipples, just the barest touch, but it still has you arching your back and swallowing down a whine.

“Ohhh, this will be fun,” Mingyu smirks before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your belly, “But I’ll be gentle with you, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

“I know you will be,” You breathe as you reach down and sink a hand into his hair, attempting to lift your hips for him so he can pull off your underclothes. “Let me,” He says as he pulls your hips up with one hand and tugs down your drawers with the other. They land on top of your shift and his hands hover over your skin, his eyes meandering along your bare form as he tries to decide where to touch first.

You’re growing impatient, having been teased enough before he even brought you inside, but you know he’s missed you. You’ve missed him too, wished almost every night that you didn’t feel the way you did and that you could just be with him, and it seems your wish has come true.

So, you can wait.

You can wait as his touch skims over your belly and back up to your breasts, as his eyes become cloudy and dark when he sees for himself just how much they’ve grown. As he lightly twists and pulls at your nipples, as he curls himself over you to suck one into his mouth. As he brings you up higher and higher until you think you might fall over the edge, just from this.

When he trails his kisses down your stomach and starts to kneel, you know you can’t wait anymore. “Gyu, please. I need you,” You implore him, your thighs tensing as you feel arousal starting to seep out of you.

“Can I taste you first? I wanted to last night but I didn’t want to push you,” He breathes, his fingers tapping at your hips and his eyes big and round.

You really want him to fill you up but his mouth would feel nice too, and you suppose you should let him get you ready at least a little knowing how delicate you are right now. You also just might happen to love giving him what he wants. As soon as you sigh, “Yes, honey,” he hauls your thighs over his shoulders and dives in, making you gasp and claw at the bedcovers.

His tongue glides through your folds and you can feel the pained groan he lets out, feel the vibrations move through your center. He worships you, sucking your clit, licking your folds, pushing his tongue into your entrance to get a taste at the source. It feels so much better than you remember, so much warmer and wetter, and when he shakes his head to bury his tongue deeper and coincidentally rubs your clit with his nose, it makes your hips jump.

He brings them back down with gentle hands and you untangle yours from the sheets to cover them with your own, squeezing at his knuckles and wrapping your fingers over his. You can’t see him over your bump but you can hear him, hear every whimper of pleasure and groan of want, hear every noise his tongue makes as it slides in and out of you. His nose keeps dragging over your bundle of nerves and every single pass pushes you closer to the edge, sounds of your own escaping your mouth, unfettered and unfiltered.

You’re about to tell him you’re getting close but he suddenly presses the tip of his nose hard into your clit and shoves his tongue as far inside you as it can go, and that’s all you need.

That’s all you need to cum, to cry, to keen, your arousal flooding onto his tongue and your thighs snapping closed over his ears. He moans into you throughout your whole release, drinking down your wetness with an open mouth and prying your legs away from his head when he finally needs to breathe.

Tears stream down the sides of your face, your eyelashes fluttering as you blink away the stars swimming in your vision, and when he takes one final lick from your entrance to your crest, you can’t help but shudder. He cautiously slides your legs from his shoulders one after the other, and rises to his feet on shaky knees.

“Alright, baby?” He rests one knee on the edge of the bed and leans over your bump to press his you-soaked lips to yours. You make an affirmative noise against his mouth, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek when he tries to pull away, not wanting the kiss to end just yet. He hums and kisses you deeper, seeming to understand that you need this contact right now.

You know Mingyu won’t rush you, he never does, no matter how desperate his need is. Which is why you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him into you, gasping when you feel his hot, leaking cock come into contact with your core.

“I want you inside me,” You break away to exhale, watching his jaw clench and his eyes grow darker.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, darlin’, you know that,” He dips back down for one more kiss before standing upright and guiding his cock to your entrance. The tip notches in easily, your arousal and earlier release opening you up for him, and he grasps the backs of your knees with big, calloused hands.

“I can hold your legs, baby. I don’t want you to strain yourself,” He offers, his voice deep with want. He hooks his arms under your knees after you untangle them from his waist with a thankful hum before slowly pushing into you. The stretch is delicious, stealing your voice and all the air in your lungs as he carefully spreads you open.

You’re glad he suggested this way because you want to look at him too, want to watch his face as he feels you for the first time in months. He almost seems like he’s in pain, his mouth dropped open and his eyes clenched shut. He’s making weak, punched-out noises as he slides inside you, his fingers gripping tighter with every inch.

When he bottoms out in you, it’s like you can’t breathe. He’s so thick and long, and he’s buried so deep, it makes you want to cry. You look a bit closer and find, to your surprise, that Mingyu is crying. There are tears slipping out of the corners of his still-closed eyes, and he opens them to reveal a desperation you don’t expect.

“I’m sorry, baby, fuck, ’m sorry,” He forces out, his hips stuttering against yours.

“What are you so-,”

“I can’t hold it, I’m gonna-.”

His head drops back and heady moans escape his parted lips, his abdomen tensing every time he ruts into you. His cock jerks against the clutches of your walls as a warmth pools deep inside, making you gasp and arch your back. He’s never reached release so soon, but you can’t blame him after he’s been without you, and honestly, it makes you feel ridiculously wanted.

When his hips stop moving and his cock stops leaking, you expect him to pull out and give you his fingers or tongue, but he stays rooted inside you, his cock still hard and his eyes determined. He starts fucking you slowly, pushing his spend deeper and deeper even though he must be sensitive by now.

“Mingyu, you don’t have to, I already-”

“Do you still want me inside you?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then I’m staying,” He promises, falling into a gentle rhythm, his movements eased by your wetness and the sticky cum he’d filled you with.

“Enough with the interrupting,” You whine, raising your hips to meet his and trying to fuck him back as much as your heavy belly will allow. His cock twitches as he laughs sheepishly, giving your legs a squeeze with his hands and breathing, “I’m sorry, honey. I won’t do it again.”

“You’d better not,” You threaten half-heartedly, gradually losing yourself to the pleasure of his movements. Every time he bottoms out, your walls flutter and clench around him, attempting to hold him inside though you know he’s stronger than you. When he draws his hips back, yours follow, sparking a familiar push and pull, give and take, that you’ve perfected together in the years since you wed.

Your head tilts back when the tip of his cock strokes the one spot inside you that always makes you gush, your moans rising in volume and your legs twitching in his hold. He notices this, of course, and aims every thrust at that spot, nearly panting with exertion as he fucks in and out of you. You feel the coil in your center winding tighter and tighter, your walls sucking his cock in deep and hugging him like you never want him to leave.

“Will you touch yourself for me?” Mingyu asks, his voice thready with pleasure. “I’m getting close again, it’s so- Ahhh, so sensitive and your cunt is so perfect.”

You acquiesce immediately, one hand gripping at the sheets and the other sliding down your body and around your bump to find the throbbing little bundle of nerves nestled in your folds. One circle has you getting wetter, another has you clenching down, and a third has you falling over the edge.

You must drag Mingyu along with you, his cock growing impossibly harder and starting to shoot cum inside you. The release is strong, like a tidal wave overcoming you and pulling you under. It blurs your vision, fills your ears with a roaring sound, makes you shiver and squeeze uncontrollably around him as he fills you up for a second time.

With your arousal and his spend, you’re overfull, making a combination of both seep out around his slowly softening cock. You open your eyes to find his still shut, his face slack and his knees visibly shaking.

“Gyu? Honey?” You speak softly, so as not to startle him. His eyes blink open, full of tears again, and you feel your face break into the fondest smile of all time. You want to pull him close, hold him to you, comfort him, but he’s still got you by the legs and you’re not sure he’s ready to move yet.

“Missed you so much,” He nearly whimpers as he pulls out, a veritable flood following in his wake. “Love you so much.”

“Baby, I love you,” you coo, wiggling in his hold until he releases your knees and lets you clumsily scoot back on the bed, the pillows falling to the floor in the process. You hold your arms out to him, hugging him tight when he climbs onto the bed and curls around you, his legs tangling with yours and his arm cradling your belly.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” You already felt guilty for not being able to let him touch you like you used to, but seeing him moved to tears by how much he missed you has you reeling.

“Don’t apologize, darlin’, it’s not your fault. You’re doing important work, growing our baby, and I know there are changes that come with that,” He assures you, his hand gently stroking your skin and his eyes raising to yours to make sure you’re alright with his touch.

You smile, tears rising in your own eyes, and cover your hand with his. There are changes that come with this journey, good ones and bad ones, and you wouldn’t trade them for the world. Not when you know that it’ll all be worth it in the end, when you finally get to hold the baby you’ve been nurturing and protecting with your own body. When you finally get to hold the baby you and Mingyu made together, the one that will be the perfect blend of you and him.

You don’t know what they’ll look like, sound like, be like, but you love them already, and you know Mingyu does too.

You nudge him before he can fall asleep, whispering a soft, “Let’s get cleaned up, hm?”

He nods drowsily and peels himself off of you and the bed, reaching for the ceiling to stretch his back and eliciting a sigh from you as you watch his muscles tense. Holding his hands out to you, he waits for you to entwine your fingers with his before carefully pulling you up into a sitting position and helping you shuffle off the bed.

You follow him into the bathroom and stand shivering on the tile as he starts the shower and bundles you up in his arms from behind. You melt into him when he scoops your belly up and holds it for you, easing the constant strain on your back. He sways you lightly, enough so that you start to drift off where you stand.

When steam starts coming from the shower, Mingyu holds a hand under the stream to test the temperature and, finding it just cool enough for him and just hot enough for you, helps you climb in.

He was the one half asleep before but it seems that making love has taken all the energy from you, leaving you to lean against him as he washes you with gentle hands.

“Do you want to take a nap in the guest room before we make dinner?” He asks into your neck, just loud enough for you to hear over the rush of water. You nod, your head lolling forward and back before you just tip back and let yourself rest fully on him. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your hair before shutting the water off and helping you out of the shower.

He takes a fresh towel from the stack in the cabinet and lovingly dries you off, dabbing at your belly and breasts instead of rubbing because he knows the texture of the towel is too much against your skin.

“Want me to carry you?” He swipes at his own body much more roughly before throwing the towel into the hamper.

You hold your arms out and he laughs again, whispering, “You know I can’t carry you like that, baby.” Pouting, you hold onto his neck as he lifts you sideways into his arms and walks you to the guest room, both of you naked as the day you were born.

He lays you down, crawling into bed next to you and murmuring, “Can I keep touching you?”

You turn your head, pressing a kiss to his lips before whispering back, “Yes, Gyu, please keep touching me.”

He grins a sleepy little grin, mumbling an, “I love you, baby,” to you before leaning down to peck the top of your belly and speaking into your skin, “And I love you, baby.”

You won’t cry again, you won’t cry again, you won’t cry again.

“I love you, Mingyu,” You whisper back, tilting your chin down and covering his hand on your belly to breathe, “And I love you, baby.”

There’s a little kick under his hand, you can feel it from the inside and he can feel it from the outside, and you exchange sweet smiles before finally falling into blissful slumber.

AN: and with that, Like a Cowboy is finished!! This will be the final part as i'm not interested in writing kid fics, so i hope it was a good way to close out this couple's story.

This is the one year anniversary of my posting Like A Cowboy, and I can't believe how much myself and this blog have grown since. I've made amazing friends, gotten closer to my best friend, and gotten to know you all. I've spent so many hours writing so many words (over 200k by now) and i can't wait to spend many more hours writing many more words

thank you to all of my followers, old and new, for supporting me and loving my work

thank you to @petrichor-mingi for beta reading this and many other works for me and thank you to @svthub for supporting me and helping me grow!

thank you to @absentcaryatid for leaving my first ever review and convincing me that my writing is worth reading

thank you to @bbychocolat for being my cheerleader and convincing me my work has value 💕

and thank you to @sluttywonwoo for getting me into seventeen and mingyu in the first place, and for getting me to write for fun at all 💖

i love you guys 💖

#seventeen smut #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #mingyu x female reader #mingyu x oc #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x you #mingyu x reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #seventeen fic #seventeen series #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines

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j3llyd0nut · 5 months

Text

Look at You

ೀ Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Tags: 18+ (mdni), comfort fic, hurt/comfort, small age gap, mirror sex, pet names (sweetheart, my love, angel, princess), nipple play, fingering, double orgasm (reader), oral (m receiving), piv, unprotected sex, soft dom!Leon, playful banter.

W/C: 2.5k

A/N: can be read as a continuation of Look at Me or standalone (thinking about di & re6 leon while writing this but any ver of him works!)

Amidst the twilight's gentle embrace, Leon fills the tub with warm water for the both of you to cleanse away the grime and stains of the day. The bathroom is filled with the calming scent of lavender bath salts as they dissolve into the warm water, transforming the space into a fragrant haven.

As he waits for the tub to fill with water, he slowly rises from his kneeling position, his joints creaking as he straightens. He leans lightly on the sides of the tub for support, a soft grunt escaping his lips as he eases the strain from his tired muscles.

“Sweetheart?”

He calls out for you, yet you remain unaware as you stand in front of the mirror. Negative thoughts swirl through your mind like a relentless storm. Your gaze fixes on your reflection, but your eyes hold a vacant, unfocused stare.

Approaching you with a silent, practiced grace, he calls out your name once more, his years of training unintentionally guiding his steps deliberately and silently. Too lost in the labyrinth of your own thoughts, a startled gasp escapes your lips as he extends a gentle, reassuring hand to rest on your shoulder.

“You scared me,” you admit, placing a hand over your racing heart after his sudden appearance. Nervously, you begin to fumble with the necklace adorning your neck—a cherished gift from him, a heart-shaped locket engraved with both your initials and his.

“Sorry, my love; a force of habit.” Leon offers you a warm smile and tenderly envelops you in his muscular arms. With a soft and affectionate sigh, he nestles his face into the delicate curve of your neck. “Thoughts too loud tonight?” He murmurs against the nape of it, the soft sensation of your skin beneath his lips prompting a gentle nibble.

“Hmm," you respond, and your gaze rises to meet the reflection in the mirror, where his figure seems to envelop you completely. A warm smile spread across your face as you felt the depth of his affection and presence. The weight of your thoughts begins to lift, and a glimmer of solace breaks through the clouds of your troubled mind.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he whispers gently as his lips leave a trail of soft kisses along the nape of your neck, each one a sweet declaration of affection. His calloused hands slide down under your shirt, touching your hips in a way that is both tender and seductive. The sensation is a mix of relaxation and intimacy, as he moves his fingers in soothing, circular motions, melting away any lingering tensions.

God, he is perfect.

“This is enough,” you say, shaking your head as you settle back into his embrace, your fingers tenderly tracing patterns over his hands.

“But you’re still tense. Let me help that for you,” he whispers. In truth, you weren’t tense at all; he simply craved a reason to be closer to you after the long day. You release a sigh of surrender. There's no use in resisting him; he's one stubborn man. "Alright, old man," you concede.

“Old man? I’m just a few years older than you,” he chuckles.

“Still old; I heard your knees crack earlier,” you remark, rolling your eyes with a smile.

“Oh, you heard it alright, but when I called your name, you ignored me,” he teases, giving your cheek a playful pinch.

Your smile falters, guilt washing over you. “I didn’t mean to... I just zoned out,” you admit. He observes the not-so-subtle shift in your expression through the mirror and gently guides you to face him. Sensing your uneasiness, he cups your face, prompting you to look up at him. “I know, sweetheart. You don’t have to worry about it,” he reassures, sealing his words with a soft peck on your forehead.

His warm breath is fanning your lips as he comes in closer. “Can I kiss you?” His eyes remain fixed on yours, his voice lowering to a husky whisper. You nod, giving him your consent, and feel the tender touch of his lips meeting yours.

His lips mould with yours, and he scoops you off your feet with effortless strength tinged with tenderness. Swiftly, he places you down on the sink countertop, allowing your ass to perch on the smooth surface.

“You truly are a beauty.”

His eyes are filled with adoration as he gazes at you, utterly captivated by your beauty bathed in the soft, amber glow emanating from the mirror. This gentle radiance delicately highlights your features, creating a luminous aura surrounding you, making you even more captivating in his eyes.

“Really?” Your smile wavers, uncertainty flickering in your eyes as his compliment reaches your ears.

“Angel,” his voice holds a firm tone as he locks eyes with you. “I’ve seen the way guys look at you. Makes me a lucky man to be your boyfriend.” He gently cups your face and playfully squishes your cheeks together.

“Me? No way.” You protest and chuckle softly, feeling your cheeks puff under his gentle hold. Despite the affectionate gesture, another subtle tug of uncertainty lingers within you. You fidget slightly, caught between a desire to embrace his words and your own inner struggle with self-doubt.

“I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you.” With a mischievous smirk, he starts planting a trail of kisses along your neck; each kiss ignites a trail of goosebumps along your skin. His rough hands, filled with urgency, slip underneath the fabric of your shirt, eagerly exploring the warmth of your skin. He skillfully unclips your bra, allowing it to fall away as he gradually removes your shirt and necklace from the fabric without causing any twisting of the chain—ensuring you can keep wearing that precious piece of jewellery.

“So soft.”

Leon leans closer to your chest, his lips grazing against the sensitive skin of your breasts. His tongue flicks out and teasingly traces circles around your nipple, causing it to harden from his ministrations and the cold air from the bathroom.

“Leon, off.” You give a subtle tug on his shirt, urging him to remove it.

“Anything for you, princess.” He chuckles softly and proceeds to remove his shirt, loosening his belt with a single smooth motion. “You’re so demanding sometimes, but that’s what I love about you.” He takes your nipple into his mouth again, sucking and nibbling on it while he pinches and teases the other with his fingers. The sensation made you arch your back, a soft moan escaping your lips.

A smug smirk plays on Leon’s lips, clearly pleased with the impact he's making on you. His hands roam your body, tracing the curves of your sides before settling on the waistband of your pants. With a smooth motion, he slides them off along with both your pants and underwear, cascading them down to the floor.

His fingers graze your sensitive folds, moving them up and down. Your breath hitch in your throat at his touch. “Leon,” you whine, your tone carrying a hint of playful warning. “Be patient, okay? I’ll give you what you want soon.” He tenderly places a gentle kiss on your forehead and continues to tease you.

“Let me make you feel good first.” Leon runs his fingertips along your slick entrance, feeling the heat and wetness pool around them. He then delves his fingers deep, exploring every inch of your velvety walls. He knows where your sensitive spot is, like the back of his hand, increasing his pace as your body responds to his touch eagerly.

Your uncontrollable moan echoes loudly, hands clenching the countertop as waves of pleasure wash over you. Leon watches you intently; his eyes fill with a hunger that matches your own. He knows you are close, so he adds a third finger in you while his thumb circles around your clit, applying the right amount of pressure and speed.

He finally pushes you over the edge with a few more well-placed strokes. You cry out his name as your body convulses, pleasure radiating from your core and spreading throughout your body. While you’re coming down from your high, Leon draws his fingers out and licks off your juices from his fingers.

"You okay?" he whispers, his lips gently brushing against your forehead, his voice carrying a tender concern as he enfolds you into his embrace. “Yeah, just need a moment,” you murmur against his bare chest as you cosy up closer to him. “Take all the time you need,” he chuckles softly, running his fingers through your hair in a soothing gesture.

“Can I return the favour?” you ask, your eyes lifting to meet his with hopeful anticipation. “Sweetheart, you can do anything you want to me,” he smiles warmly as his eyes lock with yours. Without wasting any more time, you drop down to your knees, using your discarded pants as a cushion from the cold and hard tiles.

Your hands reach for his loosened belt and undo it with a sense of urgency. Pulling his jeans down to his ankle, you release his hardened cock from its confines. You wrap your hand around him and stroke him slowly at first, locking eyes with him. Leon watches you intently and nods encouragingly for you to keep going.

His breath catches in his throat as you lean forward, your tongue darting out to lick the pre-cum off his tip. A low groan escapes him as your lips wrap tightly around his cock, and you begin to suck and bob your head, eager to please him.

“Fuck, angel. Your mouth feels so good.” He growls and sets his hand on your hair.

You let out a moan from his praise, and the vibrations from it sending shivers of pleasure through him. You begin to play with his balls as your tongue swirls around his cock, adding an extra layer of pleasure. His hips also begin to move, meeting the rhythm of your bobbing head, driving himself deeper into your mouth.

The wetness and warmth of your mouth, the way your tongue works like magic—Leon knows he’s not going to last long as he can feel the familiar tightening in his lower abdomen signalling his impending release. “Sweetheart, stop. I’m gonna cum,” he hisses, his voice filled with tenderness but also authority. However, that does not stop you as you continue to bob your head up and down.

He calls out your name with a warning tone and bites his lower lip. “I’m serious; I want to come in you.” Your long nails grip tightly on his firm thighs in response; the taste of him and the way he’s filling your mouth only fuel your desires. He growls from the sharp pain of your fingernails and gently tugs you off him by the hair, denying you the satisfaction of completing your task. “I told you to stop, didn’t I?” He smirks at you when he sees your eyes filled with lust and frustration.

He lifts you to your feet and gently spins you around to face the mirror, your hand resting against the cold surface for support, and you can feel his throbbing cock pressing against your inner thigh. “Now, be a good girl and let me do all the work.” A deep, throaty chuckle escapes him as he leans closer, his lips grazing against your ear in a whispered breath.

You nod faintly and let out a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you. As you arch your back against him, he firmly grasps your hips, tightening his hold. His pace is relentless as he drives into you again and again. “Look at you. So pretty just for me,” he smirks, gently guiding your face upward to meet your own reflection in the mirror.

You glance up, noticing your lips slightly swollen from sucking his cock, your eyelids drooping in blissful pleasure. You moan loudly at the sight of him thrusting from behind, the rhythmic motion causing your necklace to sway against your chest with each movement he makes. Leon relishes the sight through the mirror too; with each thrust, he can feel your walls tightening around him—you are close.

You arch your body over the cool surface, which quivers in response to your trembling waves of ecstasy. “No, no, no, sweetheart. I want you to watch yourself while I fuck you,” he carefully guides your jaw back up, his voice husky with desire. You whimper softly, parting your eyes behind your lowered lids. The sound of skin slapping against skin mingles with the heady scents of sweat, sex, and the lingering lavender bath salts, heightening the intensity in the air.

As the climax draws near, a final thrust of his cock and your fervent grinding against him brings you to a powerful release. Your body shudders with ecstasy as you come. Sensing your release, he can't contain himself any longer, his own euphoria crashing over him as he cums in you.

Leon’s chest rises and falls with exertion as he pulls out of you, his cock glistening with a mixture of your cum and his. He watches as you lean against the cool surface, your breaths ragged and heavy from the aftermath. “Just breathe in and out slowly. I’m right here,” he whispers, trailing tender kisses along your exposed back.

You chuckle softly, finding amusement in how delicately he’s caring for you after fucking your guts like an animal in heat. Pausing his kisses upon hearing your chuckle, he questions, “What is so funny?” Propping yourself up on one elbow, hand cradling your head, you tease, “Oh, nothing, old man,” playfully rolling your eyes at him.

“Call me 'old man' again, and I might just toss you into that icy bath," he quips with a playful threat in his tone.

“Old man,” you retort, a wide grin lighting up your face.

“Ah, you’re in for it now,” a mischievous grin spreads across his face as he swiftly lifts you. Caught off guard, you squeal at his sudden movement as he carefully tosses you into the cold water. “Leon!” you pout, pushing your wet hair away from your face in mock annoyance.

Leon laughs so intensely that he doubles over, clutching his stomach, unable to contain the joy bubbling out of him. His laughter echoes the bathroom, shoulders shaking with each joyous outburst, as he finds himself hunched over, thoroughly amused by your expression.

Growing a tad annoyed by his laughter, you grab him and pull him into the large bathtub. His laughter abruptly stops, replaced by a stunned expression on his face. "Payback," you say, flashing him a smug smile.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, princess. You win," he chuckles, offering your lips a light peck as a peace offering.

“You’re lucky; you’re cute,” you respond, returning the kiss.

“Hmph, so now I’m cute,” he snorts, breaking away from the kiss.

"Get up, let's hop into a warm shower together. Can’t risk my girl catching a cold," he says, playfully rolling his eyes while still smiling. He rises to his feet and extends his hand towards you.

You gaze at him, your eyes twinkling mischievously. "Carry me," you request with a playful pout, gesturing towards your slightly sore backside because of him. "Alright," he chuckles, effortlessly scooping you up and heading towards the shower, well aware that he'll need to indulge your eagerness later to scrub him with the cherry blossom body scrub you've been so excited to use on him for days.

#✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #resident evil #death island leon #resident evil 6 leon

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percy-puppy · 3 months

Text

Headcanon: Thinking of the 141!men having an afab!partner with body hair.

About: CoD Men || Task Force 141

CW: 18+ Blog/Post | MDNI, afab!reader, reader with body hair, pubic hair, talks about bullying in school, judgment, puberty, insecurity, sex (oral/reader receiving, PIV/penetrative sex, switch!dynamic, body worship, s&m), hair pulling, not proofread

A/N: Anyone else struggling with posting on the smartphone app? Like Tumblr? What's going on? Anyway, this is for my bestie who ranged about the lack of representation. @mothymunson 💕

🎀Price: Price is a hairy, hairy man. God, he is so fuzzy, and it's so hot. Obviously, he doesn't care if his partner is hairy, either. It would be hypocritical of him, really. In fact, he would be an encouraging force. It's lots of work to keep shaved and smooth, and should you feel comfortable with just no longer shaving, then why not? He is happy when you are, and just because society expects something doesn't mean you have to obey. Price would support it fully, showering you with praise as you unlearn the old “values” taught from a way too early age and drop the trauma all the comments in your puberty gave you when body hair became more prominent. He teaches you a new, healthy form of confidence and, in the shortest time, “It's just hair, love.”

🎀Soap: Johnny is… Let's be honest; that man is a feral mutt. He might shave sometimes, not often, though honestly, but body hair on his partner? He can't explain it, but that bush gets him going. He is one to drop the “the wilderness must be explored” sentence when you first get together and are insecure about his reaction. He will beg you to let him eat you out, swearing on everything that's holy to him that he doesn't mind your pubic hair at all. And, damn, he isn't lying. He doesn't care, although he does—It makes him feral. The following hours are spent with the scot’s head between your legs. Also, before you bother to worry, a hair on his tongue will just be removed, “It's locks, bonny. Happens sometimes,” he’d laugh, and go back to work, nose buried in your hair as he sucks on your clit.

🎀Gaz: That boy is always shaved. It's his personal preference. When you first mention your difference (cause a man with a negative reaction isn't even worth your time), he is surprised. It's not in a bad way, though. He just knows enough people are giving in to the pressure of shaving. He is curious, ashamedly so. You see, the curiosity effect when somebody tells you they have a piercing down there? That's what it feels like for him now. He’d sheepishly ask to take the next step, unsure what he even expects since it's just hair at the end of the day. But once you take things to the next level, it suddenly clicks. It's your confidence—the raw, unashamed, natural being. You're unashamedly yourself, every imperfection perfection, and your most potent weapon. When he hit puberty, he was insecure for a long time before he had his glow-up. He was never tall or beefy enough, just always picking himself apart by comparing himself to others. Today, he is confident as hell, but the 13-14-year-old boy he once was would be on his knees worshipping a person like you, just fully defying social expectations. He always felt a little bit like worshipping you, but your naked form bouncing on top of him absolutely breaks him. He babbles praises between panting and moaning, hands moving over every inch of your body. “You're so hot. Shit, don't stop, you're just so- fuck. Fuck me. God, please.” He did not know he was a switch, and all he needed was a confident partner.

🎀Ghost: Simon isn't nearly as hairy as the other men. He sometimes trims his pubic hair, but mostly, he just isn't hairy enough to even care about it. He also doesn't care about your hair. It's just hair. But at night, his sadistic side comes through. During sex, he will tug on your bush for fun, sometimes just shortly before slapping your tit, sometimes he’ll just pull and pull like a maniac while fucking into you. The delicious pain sends electric shocks through your sobbing cunt as he pounds you toward orgasm. Should you ever shave or trim it, he will most definitely pout a little as he lost his favorite toy. Thankfully it's just hair, it’ll grow back, and until then, he’ll focus on slapping your clit and pulling your nipples. It's okay. He’ll survive.

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softlyspector · 11 months

Text

Catching

Summary: None of your partners had ever been able to make you come before. Joel changed that.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: ~1.9k

Warnings: smut from start to finish, but make it so poetic (piv, fingering, f receiving oral, dirty talk), Joel is a little bit of a menace and also a lot pussy drunk, negative self thought and doubt, a smidge of anxiety, talk of sex with previous partners being painful/uncomfortable

A/N: This was the result of another brain worm that would not leave me aloneeeeeee. Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy and I would love to know what you think!

Joel made you come the first time you slept with him.

It’s not that you thought he wasn’t capable of it. No, you were sure he was more than capable. Joel was nothing like your previous partners.

But something about it still surprised you.

His care surprised you. His careful attention surprised you. It itched beneath your skin and wormed into your heart. There was space among your bones, hollow places left empty that he managed to nest down into.

He touched you, touched you, touched you—

Joel wound you up expertly. Like he knew everything about you already.

Or, maybe he listened.

You soaked the sheets long before his fingers or tongue touched your cunt.

And then, he made you come.

You guessed maybe it was a little bit of a surprise then, but not because you thought he couldn't. Just because no one had ever tried to before, just because no one had ever managed to before.

You’d never come with a partner. And when Joel made you come, with his mouth and then his fingers and then his cock, again and again and again, it was more than a little overwhelming.

It made you cry in the intervals between hitched breaths and raw lips.

The spaces between your ribs seemed to close, the carefully built hollow parts of you that Joel had burrowed into crushed and compacted into something much more solid. The feeling seared through your chest.

It was different with someone else. Coming was different with someone else. It felt so much better with someone else.

You couldn’t say if it was always like that, because Joel was the only one that had ever really even attempted it.

Maybe it was just Joel that did you in, that untied your knots and broke apart your insides to find out what made you tick. Like a tinkerer deep inside beloved clockwork.

You expected what you’d come to know, the unimpressive and very brief—and sometimes painful because you were fucking dry—intrusion of fingers, before he stuck his dick in you for less than five minutes. Groaned about how good you felt, how tight, before rolling away.

Embarrassing, but true to almost every experience you’d had.

But Joel.

Joel felt how wet you were and groaned, a deep and pained sound.

Joel asked you, begged you, to let him touch you.

Joel wanted to put his head between your legs. He was hungry for you, wanted to live there, nestled between your thighs, nose buried in the curls of your sex. His tongue went inside you and he groaned, deep and guttural when he did and you clenched around him, back arched off the bed.

His hands held your legs apart. He thumbed gentle circles into your skin, divoted fingerprints into the malleable, soft flesh of your thighs.

His hands were warm but all you could think about was a picture you’d seen once, of a statue—a man’s veined hand on the marble thigh of a woman, so lifelike it felt intimate to gaze at. The stone man gazed up at the stone woman, benevolence and reverence in his gaze.

Joel’s hand looked like that on your skin, like artful, dimpled flesh beneath a solid hand.

Pussy drunk. He was drunk on you, lapping at you like you were the last goddess left on a scorched earth, brow furrowed, lips plump and swollen, coated with you.

Maybe it wasn’t different with a partner, maybe it was just different with Joel.

He was loud in the pleasure it gave him to be graced with the ocean of your body. He moaned into you, like the salt of you was not like every other person’s taste. He mumbled praises. He said you tasted good, he said you were doing so good my sweet girl, so good, honey, this all for me?

Your body gave endlessly to him, and Joel took it all. Greedy. Hoarding you.

The sound of how wet you were made the tightened, collapsed slats of your ribs catch flame. The feeling burned through your chest, sparked his name like tinder from your mouth.

Something new sprouted up in the razed ashes of it though, a forest that demanded attention and care, a need that seared you from the inside out. And Joel was more than happy to help it grow. He was more than happy to care for you. He groaned when you came, unaware that someone else giving you an orgasm was an entirely new experience.

That just that alone was almost too much.

You shook.

Joel only spread you wider, hooked your leg over his shoulder, pressed your other leg back flat with firm fingers, and kept going until another orgasm shattered through you, until you gushed over his mouth.

He seemed to like the flood of you, and so the shame that threatens to sink clawed talons into you didn’t last.

When he looked up, his eyes were dark, the color of a starless night, fathomless, bottomless wells, beckoning you to him like a siren spell. You would take the willing first step into those waters, into that abyss. Happily. You would happily do it.

He looked sated, like that was enough. Like he would never hunger again. Like your essence dripping from the soft grays of his facial hair was enough. Like you alone were enough.

So, after all of it—

When he took you apart on his fingers, one at a time until you were stretched wide around three, and he muttered under his breath about makin’ sure you’re ready for me darlin’ —he made you come again.

After that, he made you come when he—

Pushed into you so nice and slow, drawling low and thick about how you can take it, honey, doin’ so good sweet girl, you look so good gettin’ split open on my cock. And then he made you come again and again and again—

When the pleasure finally turned you boneless and weak and you begged—you begged and begged and begged for him to come too. He promised he would, he would give you what you want, sweetheart. I know. You did so good. Been so good for me.

Joel pulled out of you and came on your belly.

You swept your fingers through it while he groaned above you, spreading it over your skin until his hand snatched at your wrist and pulled your hand away so he could lick your fingers clean and settle you into his arms, stickiness be damned. The state of the sheets be damned.

He held you. He didn’t roll away, he didn’t fall asleep.

It was only then, that the tears came sudden and fast. They welled up and spilled over. They trailed down your cheeks before you could stop them, rolling onto the beating heart of the man next to you, siphoning down onto the little watered forest of his own soul, bruised and bright.

“What’s wrong?” He was cradling your face, swiping at your cheeks. Worry etched into lined skin. Worried, he was so worried. “Was I too much? Did I hurt you?”

No, not hurt.

You shook your head, and your voice was pathetic when it tripped over your tongue on its way out of your mouth.

“I’m overwhelmed,” you managed, and his eyes darkened, clearly reading the tone of your voice wrong, reading the word you chose to describe the full, choking feeling in your chest wrong. “In a good way,” you hurried to explain. “No one has ever made me come before,” you admitted against your better judgment.

It was possible for him, then, to realize that maybe there was something wrong with you, afterall.

Joel paused.

His brow furrowed. “You mean that many times—”

No one said he was a man above a little bragging. “No,” you laughed wetly, with shame. With heat tearing a hole in your lungs. The fire his name started still burning. “At all.”

“Serious?” You couldn’t decide on his tone.

“So very,” you breathed. “They all just kinda stuck it in.”

He frowned. “Really?”

“Well,” you admitted, “Sometimes their fingers first. A little.”

“That’s what’s got you cryin’?” He attempted teasing you. “I made you come too many times?” His voice was a chuckle in your ear, like the hum of a beehive, like the brush of a breeze through crisp, decaying leaves.

You wrinkled your nose and buried your face in his shoulder, embarrassed and still crying, still overwhelmed, like you couldn’t quite catch your breath. You couldn’t fault him for laughing though. It was ridiculous.

Joel cupped the side of your face, lifted your head. “Hey,” he said. He wasn’t laughing anymore, his expression sombered. “Did they hurt you?”

You squirmed and shrugged. “Not really. I couldn’t…maybe I should have been better at saying what I wanted. But they always seemed to just want it to be…over with.” The admission felt heavy in your chest, shameful somehow. It wasn’t like you’d told Joel what you wanted either.

“If they were any good to ya,” he tipped his head closer to yours. “They woulda known and done somethin’ about it.” His eyes flicked over you. “They never ate this pretty pussy?”

Your eyelids fluttered as Joel dragged his knuckles down your side. “No.”

“Their fuckin’ loss,” he growled. “I can’t wait to put my mouth back on you. All of it, sweetheart, is their loss.”

You shivered, tiny tears still slipping down your cheek. “You made me feel so good, Joel,” you hummed, the small compliment all you could manage.

He turned, pressed you back into the sheets, his nose dipping along your collarbone, the hollow of your throat. “And your pussy is so easy to make come, baby. I mean that in an admirin’ way. If they didn’t make you come, they weren’t tryin’ to at all.”

“J-Joel,” you stammered as his hands traversed your body again. “I’m too—I can’t again.”

He rolled his hips slowly against yours. His cock was still soft.

But he looked so pretty above you. The bulge of muscle in his biceps rippled, his mouth teased along your throat. “Why not?” He asked. “I got a lot of makin’ up to do.”

The familiar thrill and roll of anticipation shivered up your spine. His chest brushes yours. “You’re s’damn sensitive, honey. I gotta know all the ways I can make you come.”

“Too sensitive,” you remarked. “Please, baby,” you cupped his face in your hands, pulled him away from where he was nosing slowly lower, to your chest, your pebbled nipples. “I promise to let you find out. But later.”

Truth be told, you were sore. You ached, in all the ways a person could. You needed to recover from him, just a little.

He stared at you, relenting, somehow sensing that. “Alright, honey,” he agreed softly, kissing you instead. “Did y’keep count?”

Heat flooded your chest, chased the lingering dregs of whatever sharp things other people had left lodged in your chest away. There was only Joel now. There was only room for Joel. “No.”

He tsked, his voice low. “Hm. We’ll have to start over then.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller

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peterthepark · 2 years

Text

so damn into you

pairing: eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

tags: 18+ graphic smut, mature content, piv, dirty talk, established fwb, swearing, rough sex, ring kink and spanking, mentions of drugs, squirting, choking, throat fucking

summary: good girls stay out of trouble. bad girls invite rockstars like eddie munson into their bedroom and fuck secretly behind closed doors. there’s something different about your dynamic though, and you’re starting to think it isn’t just the sex.

notes: title references so damn into you by vlad holiday! enjoy :)

There seems to be this forbidden rule in the crowded halls of Hawkins High that runs till this day. It’s funny, truly, how the concepts behind cliques have such a serious hold over your fellow senior classmates. The idea that cliques can’t mix, can’t intermingle, or — hell — can’t even fucking look at each other because a glance meant absolutely everything drives you crazy.

Especially when you liked breaking the rules.

Especially when you liked looking at him.

Him with his shaggy hair, those big doe-eyes with that familiar sparkle of mischief that always had you smiling behind your locker whenever he’d saunter by, him with his obvious double takes of boyish desire in the cafeteria whenever you’d walk past in that tiny little skirt to go sit with the cheer squad as if you didn’t know each other at all, him and the way he stares at you after school, crossing his arms across his chest while he leans up against his van and counts the minutes till he can touch you.

Those eyes were always only for you. Always you. Always him. And yet, always behind closed doors, out of sight, forever in your mind, because the connection between an innocent cheerleader and the mirthful leader of the freakish Hellfire Club would be deemed the semester’s next controversial topic aside from that recurring rumor that Chrissy Cunningham does cocaine in the girls’ bathroom.

Not true, by the way. It’s definitely weed.

The twenty-year old senior has a reputation far different from yours, an accumulation of all the negative remarks people seem to implode upon him for his extreme love of D&D, overachieving rock band and his late highschool graduation.

Although, if someone were to accuse you of having sex with Eddie Munson on a regular basis? You’d be totally screwed. Surely, something with a lack of seriousness couldn’t be so problematic? Sex with no feelings. One-hundred percent, to the core, consensual sex, filthy and forward with zero emotions implied.

A fling, who you’d let tear you apart anytime and any day.

A fling that leaves you not just weak in the knees but… fuck. That’s all it is: a fling. Right?

So when Eddie shows up at your bedroom window with autumn-colored leaves in his hair and a shit-eating grin, the palpitations in your achy heart tell you otherwise. You don’t exchange many words, moreso just usher him inside and gently shut the latch behind him as if your entire manic spiel of avoiding each other’s houses hadn’t mattered at all anymore.

At this point, nothing matters. Except him. He always does. Especially now, when he’s hauling himself off of that little bench by your windowsill and nearly face-planting into the carpet with how he ungracefully maneuvers his taller frame into your arms for the millionth time this week. You’re careful not to make too much sound, giggling like children as Eddie’s boots thump against your flooring.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Eddie whispers with twitchy lips, scratching the nape of his neck bashfully as he adjusts to the midnight darkness of your small bedroom. “I know I’m late, but I had this really, really important campaign earlier and those shitheads Dustin and Mike needed a ride home, so I didn’t want to just leave them hanging which is why…”

You interrupt him with an overdue kiss to the lips, caressing his flushed cheeks as his outgoing hand gestures come to a halt and instinctively make their way down your soft sides. You slowly ease your tongue into his mouth, his large palm splaying over your jaw as he draws you closer to him.

“Well, hello to you too, sweetheart.” Eddie quips playfully.

You pull away shyly, wiping the smeared gloss from your mouth with the back of your wrist. “Sorry. Artificial strawberry.”

He hums in approval, smacking his lips together. “Tastes sweet. You know, actually reminds me of something…”

“Oookay, you can stop right there.”

“I was gonna say your…”

You glare at him, “Eddie.”

“Fine.” He rubs your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, remnants of a chuckle falling upon his features as the moonlight dances through your curtains. “Y’know, your lips are always so soft, so… fucking delicate — how do you do that? Jesus Christ, you smell really — fuck, you smell really good right now.”

You twirl one of his unruly curls around your digit, batting your lashes up at him as you pout with feigned innocence. “All fresh and clean from a shower.”

Eddie’s brows shoot upwards in amusement at your suggestion, “I can change that.”

“Really?” You gnaw on the inside of your mouth, feeling his hand dip lower and lower on your back as you instinctively arch into him. “Why? Feeling filthy?”

He holds your cheek, palm spreading across your blemished skin as he stares into your eyes. “Everytime I’m with you, all I am is filthy.” His lips twitch humorously. “You turn me into an absolute horndog, what can I say? Short skirts, knee-high socks, and you know I go a little crazy for those black converse.”

“Converse turns you on?” You snicker, nearly yelping aloud when the backs of your knees finally hit the edge of your king-sized bed and you catch yourself against the springy mattress.

You look up to Eddie, jaw falling open as he thumbs at your bottom lip. His tall shadow is far from menacing, but surely intimidating as he smiles toothily down at your frame. “You’re so silly, converse doesn’t turn me on. But, hey, you know what does, though?” He sighs out through his nostrils, using his other hand to card through your scalp and tilt your head back. “Mmm, look at me.”

“I am.” You gulp loudly.

“Look harder, Y/N.” You want him to swallow you whole. Right there, with that look, the intensity of his gaze and the dominant stature of his skilled hands molding and melting into your body. “You know what turns me on? The thought of having fucked you in nothing but those converse, back in my van, just a few days ago. You must remember, hm?”

You clench your thighs together at the recollection.

“I remember, alright.” You hold his stare, feeling his thumb dip a bit further into your mouth. “Came home smelling like sex and weed. My cheer uniform… all sticky and gross.”

“And you liked it… because the next day, you still smelled like my van. Meaning…” Eddie hooks his finger against the corner of your lip, before pulling away and putting the glistening digit against his own tongue. “You slept without washing me off you, little lady.” He hums in approval when you shut your eyes. “Hawkins’ perfect angel of a cheerleader, such a good fucking girl that surely no one in this small town would suspect that she’s actually just a slut for my cock…”

You whimper, tucking your chin to your chest as a rush of heat pulses through your cunt. “F-Fucking hell…”

“With the mouth of an actual sailor, by the way.” He shrugs almost dorkily, “But, god, do I love that mouth.” His hand slips to the nape of your neck, fingers gripping the soft skin before he starts to breathe heavily and blink rapidly. “Shit, can I kiss you?”

You don’t even answer, just nod and awkwardly rise from the bed to meet Eddie’s lips halfway — your knees are buckling beneath you from the weight of him against you, his plump lips velvety and familiar as his tongue explores your wet mouth.

You try to be more resigned, knowing that flaunting your neediness would only stroke Eddie’s already-growing ego. But your older classmate has learned to see right through whatever facade you use to convince yourself that you’re immune to him.

This current dynamic is different from when you first slept together.

You’ve grown bolder, he’s taken note of that. Especially in public, you like to stare. A minute turns into two, two turns into a couple glances that are too shit to be even called subtle, and glances turn into objectifying stares at his hands or rings, his lap, and sometimes even the ink on his arms.

Eddie gets off on it more than he should.

He finds pleasure in breaking your little good-girl cheerleader act, knowing that his unholy influence is seeping right through the cracks of your misleading halo.

But you’ve also grown tender to one another. Eddie knows there’s still that awful rift between your differing sides of highschool, but sometimes your company means more than just sex to him. He feels… wanted, seen, sure of himself, because a pretty woman like you probably wouldn’t hang out with anyone like him if he wasn’t someone of good substance.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t only sex. Because on the afternoons you’d sit in his van, he sometimes wouldn’t even think about what was underneath that cheer uniform. Fuck the uniform, he could listen to you and your animated self talk for ages, watching how your bright smile spreads across your cheeks and your kind eyes light up with enthusiasm as you tell him about your day.

He knows he’s screwing himself over for the long run.

“I’m still sore, just so you know.” You whisper brokenly against his lips, clutching a fistful of his leather jacket. “I had to skip last practice because I really couldn’t walk straight.”

Eddie moans wantonly at the confession, covering up his whiny tone with a stifled cough. “Oh, that’s a shame.”

“It really is.”

“Let’s make it happen again, then.” He grins, winking at you before he’s settling you down onto the bed. He rests on his knees between your spread legs, chin jutted out as he studies how your arms lay out over your pretty head. “Fuck, you’re so cute like this.”

You scoff, glad that the darkness can mask your flustered expression. “M’not doing anything.”

Eddie tosses his jacket to the side, baring a plain white tee. “No, you aren’t. It’s just adorable seeing how all innocent and put-together you look right before I fuck you.”

You gasp when he roughly tugs you closer to him by the slope of your calf, hooking your leg over his shoulder and pervertedly watching the way your shorts ride up your thigh from the new angle.

“Take a picture,” You breathe out, moaning quietly as Eddie kisses along your exposed skin and brushes his mouth against your ankle. “It’ll last longer.”

“I have enough pictures back at home.” He smirks devilishly with a shrug, and you can’t help but laugh knowing that he’s absolutely right. Shoebox of polaroids and other things hidden under his bed. Classic move. “None of them are as good as the real deal right here, sweetheart.”

Eddie sets your leg down from his shoulder, gently skimming his hand over the faint lovebites across your thigh before he’s helping you out of your oversized shirt and shorts. Both look two sizes too big on you, but either way, he still finds it sexy. His palms hover over the naked swell of your breasts, fingertips barely running across your hard nipples as the cool air of your bedroom hits your chest.

Your apparent lack of bra is coupled with a pair of lacy boyshort panties, a little ripped by the waistband, but Eddie honestly doesn’t care (he can do a lot more damage than some wear and tear). He admires how it hugs your hips perfectly, cheeky from the back and nearly teases him with how it drapes over your ass before the cloth disappears between your luscious thighs.

“Touch me.” You pout, tucking his hair behind his ear.

He grins. “So eager, let me take you in. Don’t rush it.”

“Mmm, okay. Whatever you say, dungeon master.” A giggle escapes your throat, sweet and innocent, and not at all mischievous. His nostrils flare, eyes dilating into the darkest shade of brown you’ve ever seen him sport. “Does… that turn…? Oh, my god, it does!”

He pushes your shoulder playfully, sneaking a glance at the way your breasts jiggle from the movement. “Shut up.”

“Okay, I thought it was a joke.”

Eddie winces. “You’re kinkshaming right now, you know that?”

You bite back your widening smile, and take it upon yourself to hook your arms behind his neck as you clamber onto his lap. “I think it’s kinda hot.”

“You’re a horrible liar, Y/N.”

“Oh, please fuck me, dungeon master.” You draw a laugh out of Eddie, stroking his flushed cheeks as he finally finds the courage to lock eyes with you again. “Show me who’s boss. Come on.”

Eddie hisses when you grind yourself against his denim-clad thigh, suddenly a reminder of his aching hard-on. “You’re a fucking whore.”

“Okay, now you’re just telling me qualities about myself that I already know.” You nudge your nose against his, entranced by the image of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “So? Are you gonna fuck me like the whore you think I am?”

Eddie’s hands squeeze the fleshiness of your ass, rings cold against your bottom before a hot sting starts to crawl over your skin.

He spanked you, and you’re certain that his ornate jewelry has left an angry mark that’ll appear in the morning.

“No need for me to think when I already know.” He whispers, before he’s pulling his shirt over his wild head of hair and flinging the ball of fabric at you. You catch it before it can hit you in the face, tossing it back at Eddie with a giggly hmph! that makes both of you lose your balance.

The sudden motion combined with your bodies at the edge of the bed sends you tumbling onto the carpet, limbs hitting the floor with a foreshadowing of bruises. You both wince at the loud thud that echoes throughout the house, and Eddie’s thankful that your family is full of deep sleepers — a theory that he hates to say has been tested out before.

“Are you okay?” He laughs, propping himself up on a pale elbow as he cups a hand over his twitchy mouth. You both erupt into hearty chuckles, muffling your amusement behind your forearm.

You groan, rubbing your boob. “Peachy.”

“Mmm, I’m sorry. Listen, I can make it better.” Eddie crawls over to you, spreading your thighs apart with an expert knee as he hovers over you. “I know a couple tricks.”

“If you’re that horny, you could’ve just told me.” He watches the careful rise and fall of your breasts, taking in the suppleness of your abdomen and the slight arch in your back against the floorboards.

He bends over you, slowly mouthing at the space above your navel before his large hands travel up your stomach and knead at your tits. Your mouth falls open, nothing but the ghost of a moan leaving your throat as Eddie pinches your nipples and runs his tongue up your middle. The hot muscle immediately finds one of your breasts, taking the pebbled skin between his lips before he tends to your other hardened nipple.

You card a shaky hand through his curls, taking a gentle handful and guiding his head to that sweet spot beneath your jaw. “Fuck, you’re pretty.” Eddie whispers, pecking the underside of your chin before he’s trailing his lips over that vein in your neck. “Can I tell you something?” You hum, lashes fluttering against your cheek as Eddie nips at your earlobe with a knowing grin. “I’m so fucking horny, I just wanna take you from behind on this floor. Is that what you wanted to hear from me, Y/N? God, is that alright? Me eating you out right here, me fucking your mouth till you’re just drooling, then me cumming inside your little pussy? Is that okay with you, sweet girl?”

You squirm beneath him, pleading with your eyes as he pins your wrists over your head. “Y-Yes, Eddie. I… fuck, yes. Please.” His teeth make contact with your neck, a tiny pinch drawing a needy groan out of you before his tongue swipes across your pulse point and soothes the bite mark he’s left. “Wanna feel good.”

Eddie kneels back and sighs out desperately, puffing his hair away from his face as he guides your hand and runs it over his torso. You bite your lip as goosebumps form under your compelling touch, his faint abs flexing against your palm as you skim over his happy trail and make straight for the tattoo near his collarbone.

“You can be quiet for me, can’t you?” He inquires, his voice dripping with desire. You nod instantly, and Eddie almost laughs at how quickly your head bobs in agreement. “That’s a good girl. Help me out of this, yeah? Can’t let me stay here and do all the work.” He gestures at his heavy belt buckle and distressed jeans, smiling cattily as your fingers eagerly run his belt out of the loops and pop the button of his pants. “Fuck, feel how hard I am.”

You sit up and press your hand against the thick outline of his clothed cock, mewling at the feeling as Eddie’s eyes light up with an immediate burst of ego.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Munson.”

“Honestly? It’s all going straight to my dick.” He huffs, throwing his head back as you kiss him through his boxers. The tone of his voice changes instantly once you start to palm him, lips massaging the tip of his leaking prick through the fabric, “Shit, fuck, o-okay… you know what, I’ve been edging myself this entire day, and I really don’t wanna get walked in on so if you could… just… hell, if I could fuck your throat like right now… please, I’m dying to be inside you.”

“God, you really are horny tonight.” You laugh teasingly, pulling the waistband of his boxers past his hips. “What’s gotten into you, rockstar? Is it the whole dungeon master thing?”

“Oh, my god. You need to shut the fuck up.” He hisses playfully, scooting forward until his hard cock is aligned with your parting mouth. “Getting off on my embarrassment is so not funny, Y/N.”

He doesn’t hesitate to shove the reddened tip right between your lips, and you immediately salivate at the weight of him on your tongue. Waiting has never been Eddie’s strong suit, always too eager, and you seem to take it as impatience when really, he’s yearning to be as close to you as possible.

“Mmm… E-Eddie!” You whimper around him, using your fist to fuck the base of his cock while you suckle on his aching head.

He inhales deeply, placing his hand on the back of your head. “Look at you, baby. C’mon, suck me off. You know exactly how to do it. Had to teach you in the library bathroom that one time, didn’t I?” His hips instinctively buck up into you, pushing his length further into your mouth. The tip of your nose is pressed up against the groomed tuft of dark curls by his lower abdomen, inhaling the scent of his manhood as Eddie guides your head up and down his dick. “Fuck, and you were such a f-fast learner, too. Weren’t you? Can I go a bit harder, sweetheart?”

Your face scrunches up into pleasure when Eddie’s hand dips between your thighs, cold rings skimming over the damp crotch of your panties before you’re widening your legs and opening your jaw even more for him.

He tightens his hold on the back of your head, fingers stroking your scalp as he keeps you in place and his hips rhythmically meet your mouth. Saliva starts to roll down your chin, a trail of wetness making its way past your flexing neck as Eddie fucks your warm throat.

“Damn it, Y/N, you’re taking it so well. You love it when I fuck your throat like this? Filthy thing, tsk tsk. What would your little cheer team say? Their favorite member… s-shit, getting her throat fucked by an awful boy like me in her own bedroom. You gonna tell ‘em how much you enjoy getting corrupted by me?”

You scratch at his inked thighs, clasping a hand over the backside of his knee to draw him nearer. His jeans hang haphazardly low on his hips, the front slick from the spit dripping off your knuckles and the mess that spills over the corners of your lips.

Eddie finds pleasure in your humiliation, in fact, it’s what keeps his cock begging for more.

So, when you quickly pull away from him and blink away the tears from your sparkling eyes to utter your next words, he’s practically begging for sweet release.

“Want you to be rougher with me tonight. Please, Eds.”

“How rough?” His brow quirks upwards, a taunting smirk tugging at his mouth. “Like… fuck you till you can’t walk kind-of-rough? Slap you in the face? Spank you till your gorgeous ass is just… covered in — fuck — bruises?“ He drags the tip of his prick along your cheek, moaning at how your eyes flutter shut at the feeling and a shaky sigh leaves your body. “Choke you till your neck is covered with the outline of my rings? What, so you can show up to school tomorrow and flaunt it for everyone to gawk at like the fucking dumbasses they are? Can’t figure out who’s been railing the pretty cheerleader, can’t they?”

You whine at his loaded words, avoiding eye contact when his fingers find the underside of your loose jaw. His touch is a stark contrast to the tone of his voice. “Need you so bad.”

Eddie begs to differ. He needs you more. Needs to be buried inside you and never leave, just an endless night of wild, uncoordinated sex like horny rabbits — so believe him when he says he needs this more.

“Where do you want me?”

A pout forms on your lips as you intertwine your hand with his and drag it towards your mound. “Here.”

Eddie coos, splaying a hand over your stomach. “Lay back then, baby. I’ll go easy. Promise.” You send him an unconvinced look, watching as he finds solace in the space between your thighs and flops onto his stomach. “What’s up with that face?”

You roll your eyes, gesturing at him as he hooks his ringed thumbs over your boyshorts and pulls. “And by easy you mean… make me cum on your tongue like fifty gazillion times till I’m begging for mercy.”

He pauses in contemplation, before letting out a sound of agreement and pursing his lips. “Sounds ‘bout right. You never seem to really complain though.” You swear your vision blurs when Eddie flattens his digit along your folds, teasing your poor hole with gentle swirls. “My sweet Y/N, it seems that you’re already soaking wet.”

“I can’t help it. Rings off, by the way.”

Eddie playfully frowns, making haste to rid himself of his silver ornaments. “Watch these for me.” You moan when he lines the cold jewelry straight along your navel, “And keep still.” He says. “Wouldn’t want these little babies all over the floor.”

You look down at him from where you lay, hands reaching for him as his steady breaths fan over your pulsing cunt. The placement of his rings on your belly feels incredibly sexual, like a signature on your body that belonged to Eddie. Every tiny movement you make causes the silver to shift just a little bit, so when his tongue finally makes contact with your clit, you have to stop yourself from thrashing out in satisfaction.

But something about the way Eddie looks at you from between your thighs, his moans buried in your own folds, just makes you want to leap up and take him right there.

Maybe you don’t give him enough credit for his restraint.

He continues to flick his tongue over your bundle of nerves, testing out your sensitivity and relearning the perfect amount of pressure when he suckles on your clit. He drags his hands down your outer thighs, gripping the soft flesh with a newfound hunger.

“Fuck, E-Eddie… feels nice. God, I love your mouth, you’re so — so good with it, baby.”

“Yeah? Fucking tastes delicious. Could eat your pussy out everyday.” He chuckles sneakily. “Maybe even take you to-go. Lick you up whenever I need a snack.”

You whimper, balling your hands into fists in his hair when he slips a long finger inside you. “Perv.”

“Simply a man speaking his mind, Y/N.” Eddie’s digit slowly curls into you, making an embarrassing wet and sopping sound that draws a whiny groan out of him. “Christ, you really are wet. Fucking hell, babe.”

Babe.

That’s a first.

Eddie adds another finger, the soft heel of his palm is pressed roughly against your clit as he rocks his hand into you. Your cunt grips around him tightly, pulling him in further with every stroke that brushes against your contracting walls. He nibbles on your inner thigh while gauging your reaction, dreamily gazing up at you with those huge eyes as he fucks you with his slender fingers.

“Eds, please. Mmm… f-fuck, I’m… fuck!” You grit your teeth to muffle the sounds of your broken moans, the rings laid out on your stomach nearly toppling over as your hips jolt up. “You fill me up so well, your fingers are so — fuck, please. Please just fuck me.”

“Oh, such a dirty mouth.” He hums in amusement, grinning as he uses his other hand to massage your clit. “At least give me one orgasm. Just one, baby. You know I love making you cum more than once. You deserve it, deserve cumming over and over again like the pretty girl you are.”

His hand snaps into you faster, your juices coating his palm as you start to drip all over him. His digits are embarrassingly slick, and you quickly feel the rush of your climax approaching from his gentle words.

“I’m — I’m close, just please… please keep touching me like that. Gonna… gonna cum.”

A smile spreads across his face, “Yeah? Keep beggin’ for it. Show me how much you want it. Need some convincing.”

“Please, please let me cum. I’m so — Eddie, want you so bad. Please make me cum so I can… fuck, so I can have your cock inside me already.”

“Only because you said so, sweet thing.”

You share a look. Longing. Need. Lust.

Then Eddie is fucking his fingers knuckle-deep into you, relentless and unstopping, a sensation so overwhelming that you don’t even know you’re cumming until Eddie is pointing out how you’ve wet the carpet.

“Did you just…” Your mouth falls open in disbelief, breasts heaving as he pulls his fingers from your cunt.

He grins toothily. The smug bastard. “Make you squirt? Hell-fucking-yeah.” Eddie leans over you, capturing your lips in a celebratory kiss that feels all too tender. “That was so goddamn hot. Christ, I could cream my pants.”

“You’re so lame.” You laugh, pushing his shoulder gently before he’s pecking either side of your cheek.

“Lame? Does lame make a girl squirt? I don’t think so. I’m cool-lame. Watch, I’ll make you squirt again.”

“In your dreams, Munson.”

He slips his boots off, pushing the rest of his jeans down and kicks it to the side. “Get on your knees.”

You send him a challenging look, raising your brows with a smirk. “If I don’t?”

“Guess I can just do this, then.” You yelp as Eddie flips you onto your stomach. His rings clatter loudly to the floorboards, flying in all different directions as he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. A heavy sigh leaves his mouth, and you glance back at him with sudden concern. “Fuck… condom?”

“Just pull out.”

“Just… pull… out?”

You shrug, making a confused face. “Yeah, I’ll pop something in the morning.”

“Y/N, honey, have you ever been to this thing called… I don’t know, sex-ed?” Eddie’s eyes are wide, and you would’ve laughed had you not noticed his extremely hard cock waiting in his hand.

“Honestly, I’m more of a hands-on learner.”

“Oh, are you now?”

“Most definitely. You’d know.”

“You sure you want me to pull out? We can just stop right here if you don’t wanna keep going.”

You bite your lip, eyeing him over your shoulder with a half-lidded gaze. “I wanna keep going.”

“Down you go then, Y/N. Fuck, let me see you.” His hand comes down on the middle of your spine, pressing onto your back until your cheek is laying against the floor. You can feel his tip prodding into your entrance, the teasing motion of his cock rubbing against your needy slit. “Shit, baby, could just cum on myself from looking at you.”

“Please, f-fuck me.”

His dick enters you in one, slow and agonizing motion. You muffle your moans into the carpet, mewling from the immense stretch you feel between your legs as Eddie buries himself deep inside you. His hips are lined up against the curve of your ass, his large hands leaving dark prints on your skin as he pulls out and pushes back in.

“S-shit… Y/N.” He drawls, hair falling against his face as he watches his thick cock disappear into your cunt. “Fuck, you’re so tight. What the fuck… Christ, it’s like the first time I had you.”

When he took your virginity on that lunch table in the trailer park, that’s definitely what he meant.

“Oh, my god. You’re so — so big, I can’t… can’t think with you inside, I just… fuck, move.” You reach back for his hand, nearly crying out when he places his palms on either side of your head and looms over your compromised position. He trails his soft lips over the nape of your neck, his pick necklace brushing over your skin as he breathes your scent in. “Need you. Need you, you treat me so well.”

“I know. I know I do, sweetheart. Rock back for me, yeah? Feel it, feel my cock right here.” You choke on a moan when Eddie feels up your abdomen, stroking the outline of his cock inside you. “Good girl. You can take it.”

His hand wraps back around your throat, fingers pressing into your pulse point before he’s pulling you up by your neck and having you sit on his dick. He chuckles darkly, “Your favorite seat in the house, right? All the way, Y/N. Take it deep for me.”

You shiver when his head pushes against your g-spot, and you realize that shutting your thighs together is absolutely no use when Eddie Munson is balls-deep inside you.

“Oh, f-fuck!” Your voice comes out garbled and raspy as his hold on your throat tightens, bruising yet pleasurable all at once as he pounds into you.

From fucking under bleachers, to the bathrooms in the library, to the back of his van and the floor of your childhood bedroom, you’ve come a long way.

Eddie’s fingers leave your throat and find comfort on your supple waist, digging into your generous hips as you grind on his lap. He meets you halfway with long strokes, slow and purposeful with each thrust of his cock.

“Y/N, baby… f-fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good. I-I — holy fuck — I’m so lucky I can do this with you.” He whines out, barely coherent, but you can only focus on that one phrase.

Lucky I can do this with you.

“Eddie, fucking hell. Oh, oh my god. P-Please… wanna cum on you.”

“Gonna get you there, baby. Promise. A little longer, yeah? Gotta make you cum before I do.”

Your fingers messily circle over your clit, a combined sensation of pleasure that adds to the feeling of Eddie stretching out your pussy beneath you. He’s holding back his moans, stifling whimpers against your shoulder when his pace starts to quicken and his rhythm grows sloppy.

You tilt your head back and reach for his lips, pulling his face against yours as he continues fucking into you. You still taste yourself on his tongue, and you’d be lying if you denied that you enjoyed the idea of his mouth being on your cunt just moments ago.

“You’re so pretty.” You whisper against his cheek, watching as his eyes close in bliss. “Fuck, you’re so hot. And I get you all to myself — a cheerleader and her favorite rockstar… oh, you fuck me so well.”

The praise goes straight to Eddie’s dick, and your words spur him on even further. He holds you tight against his chest, tattooed hands grasping at your skin and breasts as he feels you clench around his length.

“Close, ain’t you? C’mon, sweet girl. Two for two. Let me feel you cum, Y/N. S’my favorite part.” Eddie nearly topples over when your cunt gives his cock one hard and long squeeze, fingers flying to help you massage your clit as another orgasm pumps through your quivering body. “Holy fuck, you’re so sexy when you cum. S-Shit, I… I gotta pull out…”

You nearly sob from the loss of contact when Eddie leaves you, emptying his seed out across your back and the tenderness of your ass as he grunts quietly behind you. Of course, you make no subtlety to watch him ride out his high — that perfect scowl on his face, the curl on his lip as he moans and runs his thumb over the leaking head of his prick.

“Hoooly fuck…” You sigh out, knees giving out from under you. Thankfully, Eddie catches you at the last second, arm swooping under your stomach before your body can make contact with the floor. “Oh, my god. That was…”

“Yeah, I… I honestly can’t… can’t think right now when there’s cum all over us.” He giggles heartily, leaving a hickey right on your collarbone. “Fuck, your neck is all red and purple.”

“Hot.”

“Not hot, I’m sorry if I was too rough. Just been thinkin’ about you lately, and… well, I guess I couldn’t help myself. Hold still for a sec.”

The admission makes you smirk, and you look back at Eddie as he grabs a random towel from your closet and wipes his spill off of your back. You turn over once he’s finished, arms outstretched over your head as Eddie sits against your bed frame and lazily draws shapes on your calf.

“You think about me in your free time often, Munson?”

He clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side cutely, “Only when I wanna recall something pretty.”

“Mhm. Sure, rockstar.” You flick at his hand.

“Don’t let it get to your head, miss cheerleader.”

Eddie continues running his fingers up and down your leg, taking in the beautiful sight of your naked body as the late midnight seeps through your curtains. You hum as he brings your ankle to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the bone before he’s leaning his head back against the edge of the bed and letting out a tired sigh.

“Wish you could stay the night.” The words that leave you shock you just as much as they do Eddie. “I mean, I just don’t want you driving back so late, y’know.”

“I know.” He takes note of your darting eyes, suddenly evading his amused stare at all costs. He’ll play nice for now. “I’ll see you tomorrow though, just before first period. Wanna see you in your dorky uniform.”

You gape at him, sitting up with an expression of feigned offense. “Okay, rude. I thought the uniform was hot — like, like every guy’s fantasy kind of hot.”

“Only getting back at you for calling me dungeon master.” He shrugs giddily, before he’s pulling your legs off of his lap then slipping on his wrinkled boxers and jeans. You follow suit, fetching new underwear and a flannel before you prop the window back open while he collects his rings from your bedroom.

Eddie’s belt buckle jangles behind you as you sit on the bench by the windowsill, looking out at the flickering street lamp of your little culdesac. A hand on your hip draws you from your trance, and you’re met with Eddie’s sunken face of an awaiting goodbye.

“Stay safe, Hellfire.” You tease, heart fluttering as he squeezes your side and gently moves you away from the window. You’re unable to tear your gaze away from his arms, admiring the way his tattoos glint on his porcelain skin.

“By the way, best part about this is the drive back.”

“Huh?” You lean over as Eddie clambers out onto your roof, boots nearly slipping on the shingles. “Why’s that?”

He smirks, glancing at the sky before he settles on the details of your face. “Get to think about you all the way home.”

Then, he’s landing on your lawn with two feet and jogging away from your porch, but not without a nerdy wave and a little wink that makes your heart do another somersault similar to when he first knocked his way into your room.

Whatever this is, whatever it’s going to be, you know the both of you are absolutely fucked in the long run. Either way, it doesn’t matter what people will end up thinking.

You’re so damn into him, even if it is — after all — just a fling. Totally a fling.

Just a cheerleader and her favorite rockstar.

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

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thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

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two is better than one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Frustrated that whatever you're trying to do still isn't working, you decide to give it one more try with Joel before cooling off for a while. Tommy is back to keep an eye on the both of you this time, but what happens when he starts to feel a little left out, watching his brother bring his girl over the edge more times than he cares to count?

Warnings | I swear I always start this the same way so here we go: Tommy getting cucked but also getting involved this time 👀, Joel being a fucking menace, dirty talk, oral sex (F&M receiving), face sitting, breeding kink, unprotected PiV sex, talk of infertility, no use of Y/N

Word Count | 3.8k

Authors Note | Whew. When I tell you this little threesome has been rotting my brain, I'm not lying. This is the only thing I can focus on, hence them being updated so fast! I just wanted to say a huge thank you to you all for the continued love you're giving this series - it honestly blows my mind every time that it's something you guys enjoy, that my writing reaches so many people and that they lap that shit up. I'm so grateful to everyone who has taken the time to comment, send me asks, reblogs and those who have slid into my DMs with all the love. I see you, I hear you, and I love you all - thank you. I hope you enjoy this next part just as much as the rest - it's a doozy. You know the drill, if you did like it, please consider reblogging, commenting or sending the love to my ask box, it's what keeps me going. And if you'd like to leave me a tip (of course no pressure!), then here's my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Another month and another fucking negative pregnancy test. You knew it was irrational, but you were starting to think that maybe you were also part of the problem now. You’d been doing everything right, following all the advice in the books you’d bought almost a year ago when Tommy and you had first started trying for a baby. You’d been exercising, eating as healthily as possible, tried to keep yourself a stress-free as possible. You’d been keeping a close eye on your cycle and still, nothing to show for it.

When you clambered down the stairs, test in hand and flung it in Tommy’s direction, he already knew. He could see the heavy set of your shoulders, the quiet sniffling of you trying to hide the fact you were crying. Tommy had settled you on the couch, covered you in a blanket and made you some tea. Then he’d made your favourite meal for dinner, even driven to the store and picked up Diet Coke, emptied a can into a glass filled with ice and lime juice like you loved, but none of it really helped to soothe how upset you were.

The TV was on low, and he had your head in his lap, slowly stroking the strands of your hair as you tried to calm yourself down. Remind yourself that even the most fertile of couples needed to try for months sometimes before they had their first baby. It was stupid to think you’d be any different.

“You’re thinkin’ way too loud, sugar.” Tommy muses, letting his hand run up and down your arm instead.

“Sorry,” You mumble, “Just thought it would be easier.”

“I know,” He coos, “We can take a break for a while, if you want.”

You turn so you’re led on your back, looking right up at him, “I just want a baby.” You feel a tear slip down your cheek to pool near your ear.

Tommy uses his thumb to brush away the tears that have started to fall, bobbing his leg up and down gently to try and soothe you, “It’s still fresh,” He speaks softly, “Let’s give it a couple of days and see what you want to do, okay?”

You nod in agreement, feeling the beginnings of a headache pooling behind your eyes. You push yourself up into a sitting position and turn around to press a soft kiss to his lips, “I’m gonna go to bed,” You announce, “Headache.”

He lets you go, it’s still early and you know there’s the game highlights he wanted to watch. In bed, you can do nothing but toss and turn for a few hours. Every time you’d try to close your eyes, all you could see was vision of you and Joel, in all the different positions he’d put you in so far, and all for what? When the bedside clock hit 10:30, you head out to use the bathroom. As you near the door at the top of the stairs you can hear Tommy talking to someone, through the phone because his is the only voice you can hear.

“I know, brother, she’s just really beat up about it,” You hear him say, “I don’t know how to make it better.”

You lean against the closed bathroom door, wondering if perhaps you should leave Tommy to talk to Joel. There’s a pause where you can hear Tommy humming along to whatever Joel is saying on the other end of the phone.

“I dunno man,” Tommy sighs, “You managed to knock Sarah’s mom up on a one-night stand, guess I thought it would be easier for you.”

There’s another pause, then he’s speaking again.

“No Joel, all of her tests came back perfect,” Another sigh, “I was always the problem.”

You’re about to push down the handle to go to the bathroom when Tommy speaks again, “I don’t know, maybe we should just cool it for a while, we’re all gonna work ourselves up otherwise.”

You decide you don’t really want to hear the rest of the conversation. You sit on the toilet and let your face drop to your hands in frustration. Why couldn’t you just be normal? Why couldn’t you have been a nice, normal couple, having a baby in the most natural way possible? Why did this have to come along and fucking complicate everything? And why did Joel have to be so fucking good to you every time?

You wash your hands under the tap, water as scalding as it could go, just in order to feel something that wasn’t frustration before you head to bed. There’s no longer the sound of voices as you pad back across the hall and get back into bed, shutting off the lights and curling onto one side, knees as close to your chest as you can manage to get them. It’s not long before you can hear Tommy shuffling around upstairs. He pushes open the bedroom door quietly, obviously thinking you’re already asleep. You can hear him undressing before he's slipping onto his side of the bed, pulling your body close to his under the covers as he spoons you.

You let your own arm cover his over your waist as you lean back into the comfort of his chest, letting his breath fan across the skin of your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your skin.

“I wanna try again,” You speak softly into the dark, feeling Tommy’s arm’s squeeze you tighter, “Once more and then we cool it for a while.”

“You sure?” He asks into your ear, lips pressing to the sensitive skin behind your ear.

“I’m sure.” You respond, turning around in his arms to capture his lips in yours.

When the time comes to try again, it’s you who greets Joel at the door when he knocks. Tommy already upstairs and situated in the chair he had taken the first time you’d done this as a three. Joel leans down, lips just millimeters from your own, but instead of kissing your mouth, he places a soft kiss to your cheek instead.

“Hello, darlin’.”

You step up onto your tiptoes to press your own kiss to his face, just shy of the corner of his mouth – the kisses from last time still a secret between the two of you.

“Evening handsome,” You smile, pulling away from him to close the door as he steps inside, “You ready?”

“To give you what you want?” He smirks, “Always, pretty girl.”

You feel that telltale heat flush across your cheeks as Joel pulls you into his side, hand dipping down to squeeze your ass over the fabric of the robe you’d thrown on moments ago. God, why did he have to be so fucking intoxicating around you?

You take hold of his hand in yours, leading him up the stairs behind you. Tommy was reading a book as you entered the room, folding the corner of the page before setting it down on the nightstand closest to the chair. You can’t help but snigger as you watch him and Joel give each other the typical male greeting of a curt nod of the head.

You drag Joel by the arm to the foot of the bed, pushing his shoulders down so he sits on the edge. Then you take a step back and tug on the belt of your robe, letting it fall open and off your body to leave you completely naked in front of him. You watch his face as he trails those beautiful brown eyes over your body, letting out a low whistle of approval.

“Beautiful as ever, darlin’,” He compliments, reaching out a hand for you to take, “But you’re worked up, ain’t ya? And not in the good way.”

Your eyes flit to Tommy in the corner of the room, who has that smug ‘I told you so’ look on his face. You’d been itching for Tommy to arrange this since that ovulation test said you were in the zone, but Joel had been working away for the past two days, and now you were worried that if you didn’t hurry the fuck up, you’d miss your chance.

Joel reaches out and puts his hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you into him, he’s looking up at you, pressing hot kisses to the skin of your tummy, “Gotta relax babygirl,” He moans, “I’m tryin’ my damned hardest, but you just gotta let nature take its course.”

“Just frustrating.” You mumble.

“I know baby, I know,” He’s got his hands palming your tits now, “Long as I need to, I’ll keep fillin’ you up, y’hear me?”

Your breath catches in your throat and all you can do is nod as he moves himself back on the bed.

Joel leans back on the bed, his head just shy of the pillows, “Sit on my face, pretty girl.”

You’re almost embarrassed at how quickly you scramble yourself onto the bed, moving up to straddle his hips – even Tommy is chuckling from his chair.

“Can’t get enough of Joel’s mouth on your pussy, can you, sugar?” He speaks in a low voice.

Joel has his hands on your ass, guiding your naked body to hover over his face before his hands are slipping up to your hips to pull your cunt to his mouth. He wastes no time in getting straight to business, wide tongue licking stripes from your entrance, where he laps up your slick like a cat would cream, to those deliciously tight flicks of the tip of his tongue to your clit. You can hear him groaning into your pussy, your hand coming down to anchor itself into his hair to hold him still as you start grinding against his face.

You can hear the obscene slurps that he’s making underneath you, it’s half the reason you think it takes you no time at all to reach the edge, because he fucking enjoys this just as much as you do, he loves tasting you, loves making you feel good and you can feel that, can feel it on his mouth.

As you throw your head back as Joel’s tongue swipes perfectly across your clit, you catch Tommy in the corner of the room. He’s palming himself through his jeans as he watches you, your body writhing as his brother’s mouth brings you closer and closer to the edge. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? You think, if you asked if he wanted you to help him out.

“You feeling left out baby?” You coo, reaching your hand out for Tommy to take, “Joel gets my pussy tonight,” You punctuate with a grind of your pussy down onto his mouth, “But I can help you, if you want.”

He’s standing at the edge of the bed in minutes, his hand pressing into the back of your neck, not unlike how he tries to work the knots from there when you watch TV together. It’s soft and it’s loving and a complete juxtaposition to the vice grip that Joel’s fingers currently have on your hips.

Your lips are impossibly close to Tommy’s, you could easily lean forward and kiss him, instead, you have a demand, “Take off your pants.”

Tommy’s hands start to undo the belt holding his jeans up, so you turn your attention back to Joel between your thighs. He is expertly holding you right on the edge, you’re mewling and whining as he tongue works you to the edge, and then pulls away, moving down to gather more of your slick on his tongue.

You drop your head and catch his eyes looking up at you, “You gonna tease me all night, Miller?” You ask, voice cracking as he makes a point to suckle on your clit, making you cry out, “Fuck, make me come, please Joel.”

All of a sudden, Tommy’s hand is on your face, pulling your mouth to his own in a searing kiss as he guides your hand to his cock. You’re moaning, a combination of the fact that any second, Joel’s mouth is going to have you screaming and the fact that it’s Tommy kissing you, his cock you’re currently pumping through your fist. It’s delicious and it’s filthy and it should feel all shades of wrong, but it fucking doesn’t.

You feel it in your legs first, the way they begin to shake and pulse and your thighs clamp around Joel’s face. Then you feel it in your abdomen, like a knot unfurling all at once as pleasure bursts over every inch of your skin. Your mouth detaching from Tommy’s, so you can cry out his brother’s name as you feel yourself almost collapse onto him.

“Such a good girl,” Tommy breathes into your ear, your hand still firmly held around his cock, “So good when you come for us like that.”

You feel Joel’s hands tapping at the cheeks of your ass, telling you to lift yourself off his face which you do, dragging yourself down enough so that you’re sat across his chest, not caring that your leaking pussy is dragging slick all over him. His face is covered, covered in you. He’s grinning up at you like the devil, tongue circling his mouth to clean your taste from wherever he can reach.

“I gotta be inside you, pretty girl.” You can hear his gruff voice speak.

Tommy immediately moves back from you so you can settle yourself down on the bed. You start on your back, but Joel moves you to lie on your side. He’s still fully clothed behind you, but when he presses himself up against you, you can feel his thick cock straining in his jeans.

“Take your clothes off.” Is all you can manage to whine as Tommy settles on his knees on the space in front of you, taking the back of your head in the palm of his hand to bring your mouth to his cock.

Joel shuffles away from you and you feel the mattress lighten as he gets off the bed to shed his clothes. You almost wish you could watch, there’s something about the way Joel reveals his body to you that drives you wild. The way he drags his shirt off to reveal his broad frame, chest peppered with hair, or the way his cock bounces when he finally pulls off his underwear. But right now, you’re focused on making your man feel good.

You’re making sure that you’re doing it exactly as Tommy likes, almost telling him through the ministrations of your mouth how grateful you are for him, for this being his idea, for loving you enough and trusting you enough to let someone else give you what he cannot. You’re giving all the attention of your tongue to the head of Tommy’s weeping cock, tasting the salt and musk of his pre-cum, using one had to pump the base of his cock.

You can feel Joel settle back behind you, pressing his entire body against your own, hard cock slipping through the slick folds of your cunt as he settles himself in the right position, then, he’s taking hold of your leg, hand in the crux of your knee to pull it up, baring his prize. He slowly inches his cock inside your tight heat and suddenly it’s all a little overwhelming.

You’re giving the love of your life the kind of head you’ve only ever seen in porn, Tommy taking most of the control to thrust in and out of your mouth. You’re pretty sure the tears falling from your eyes are a mixture of his length hitting the back of your throat and the overwhelming emotion, love, and admiration you feel for both the men who are crowding your body, owning it, taking what they both want, one of them hopefully leaving you with what you want.

You pull your face away from Tommy’s cock for a moment, still giving his length the attention it needs, but you let yourself lean into Joel behind you, his cock still moving languidly inside you. He’s got one of his arms snaked under your neck, your head leant against his arm like a pillow, his other hand holding your leg up so that every time his cock brushes inside you, it’s hitting that damn spot that makes you want to cry.

“Look at you, lucky girl,” Joel growls into your ear as his lifts your leg up higher, pushing it almost to lie flat aagainst your side, “One cock in that pretty little pussy, another in your mouth,” You let a moan, muffled by the fact that Tommy is currently doing a slap-up job of fucking your throat, “He’s a lucky man,” Joel speaks again, “Bet that mouth feels divine.”

“You ask nicely, she might oblige you, brother.”

You feel him puff air through his nose in a chuckle, “I’m quite happy right where I am,” He speaks, pumping his cock so deep inside you that you actually think you can see stars, “You’re a lucky son-of-a-bitch gettin’ this for the rest of your life.”

“She’s special, I’ll give you that.”

It’s like you have to prove him right now. You can feel the walls of your pussy clenching around Joel as he picks up his pace. You can feel his balls slapping into your skin with every thrust, the power behind them causing your mouth to take Tommy cock deeper into your mouth every time.

“Sugar, I ain’t gonna last much longer.” You hear him speak from above you.

You pull off him, again letting your hand work him as you look up at his through your lashes, “You want me to swallow for you, baby?” You asked, wondering what you must look like when he looks down at you, fucked out from his brother, begging for him to come down your throat.

“There’s an offer I cannot refuse,” Tommy grins, letting your mouth take him back inside the warmth, “Such a good girl.”

He only lasts a few more seconds, cum hitting your tongue and seeping down your throat. You swallow down every drop, grinning up at Tommy. He leans down and plants a kiss to your lips, and now your focus is on Joel, thick and solid, pumping his cock in and out of you.

“You focus on Joel now, sugar,” He croons, “I’m gonna sit back and watch you have fun.”

As soon as Tommy has moved away from you, Joel is pulling his cock from your pussy, turning you onto your back before he’s crowding his frame over you, settling between your thighs. You’re pliant and you move easily when he hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you back as he slips his cock back inside you.

You’re gripping his arms as he fucks into you in earnest now, tip of his cock bruising your cervix with every thrust, you know he’ll have half-moon shaped marks on his arms come the morning, they’ll match the bruises he always leaves on your hips, the shape of his fingertips indented into your skin.

“God fuckin’ damnit,” Joel groan, head falling to the column of your throat to graze teeth and lips over your delicate skin, “Gonna come so deep in this fuckin’ pussy it won’t have a choice but to take, you hear me, pretty girl?”

“Fuck!” You exclaim, as he shifts just enough to change the angle that his cock is spearing into you, “Joel please.”

“Please what?” He teases, “What do you want, babygirl?”

“Inside,” You breath out, “Want you inside.”

“Yeah, want me to make you a mama?” You can feel tears pooling in your eyes, “No need to cry, pretty girl,” He leans down, folding you in half even more, almost uncomfortable, to kiss away the tears, “Gonna give you what you need.”

He thankfully moves back a little, stopping your bones from screaming at you for being folded so inhumanely, then his thumb is on your clit, “Only gonna make you a mama if you come with me,” Joel smirks, “Deal?”

“Oh god – fuck – whatever you want,” You cry, “Please, give me what I want.”

His thumb is relentless on your already sensitive clit, those tight circles have you clenching around him and when you look into his eyes you know he’s just as close as you are, “That’s it baby, you keep those big, beautiful eyes on me,” Joel’s hips are snapping into your with a force you didn’t know you could feel, it’s entirely too much and entirely too little all at the same time, “Can feel that tight little pussy suckin’ me in,” You cry out as his thumb falters and drags across your clit in a way that has that not threatening to unfurl yet again, “It’s alright baby, if you come, I’ll follow, yeah?”

That’s exactly what happens. His thumb traces wet circles over your clit and you do exactly as he says. You keep your eyes wide open, staring directly into his own, as your mouth falls open with a screech as your vision clouds. Whatever happens, Joel is right behind you, his cock pounds into at most, twice more, before he’s growling your name through his teeth, cum painting every inch of your pussy. He drops your legs from his shoulders, and falls forward, letting his head rest in the crook of your neck as you both fight to catch your breath.

You wrap your arms around him but it’s all too soon before he’s pulling himself out of you, a kiss to your cheek as he does so. You’re spent and you’re aching and if you’re honest, a little overwhelmed. Joel dresses quickly, and you wish you could ask him to stay, wish he didn’t feel the need to run away, but you know it’s for the best. Tommy tells you he’ll see him out and come to bed, so you roll over and pull yourself under the sheets, trying to warm yourself from the cool air that’s spattering across the sweat of your skin.

Tommy is back within minutes having seen Joel off. He shed his clothes and moves right up behind you, gathering you into his arms. He takes some time to press kisses into your neck and across your shoulders and for some reason, it sets your belly on fire. How have you been fucked so thoroughly by another man, this man’s own brother, and now you’re aching for this man behind you.

“I love you so much, Tommy,” You whisper into the dark, clutching at his arms wrapped around you, “So fucking much.”

“I love you too baby,” He whispers into your ear, stilling your hips as they grind back into him, “Enough of that, I’ll give you what you want tomorrow.”

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wonustars · 11 months

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𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘛𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘦

Beomgyu Vers. | Yeonjun Vers.

Summary: You find Soobin alone at a cafe after he's been stood up. You can't help but comfort him, leaving you both crushing on each other after. Days later you ask him to study with you, but how much studying did you two actually end up doing?

Reposts are always appreciated/encouraged!! Tumblr works on reblogs not likes, Thank you for your support :)

Tags: friends? to lovers, blond!soobin, nonidol!soobin, university au, soobin is a very smart man, kinda more like aquaintances, the reader is kinda obsessed w soobin, soobin is also kinda obssesed with the reader, a little fluffy? yeonjun cameo (hint hint)

Warning: smut mdni! soft dom/dom!soobin, sub!reader, afab!reader, cum eating, mutual masterbastion (?), dacryphilia, public sex, bigdick!soobin, they have sex in the library..., pet names, cream pie, unprotected piv sex, they also have sex on top of a desk lmao, multiple positons, oral (m. receiving), throat fucking, breast play (lmk if i missed any!)

Wordcount: 4215

Note: you all voted for Soobin so i'm here to deliver! I hope you all like this one as much as the Beomgyu one! comment or send me an ask if you want to be apart of the taglist!! Yeonjun will be next if this one does well :)

happy reading~

Soobin sits at a table with two cups of coffee, except there is no one there but him, and the worker behind the counter. Unfortunately, his date had stood him up for Choi Beomgyu. He feels a little embarrassed and sad, he thought this date was going to go well. This was when you walked in, the bell on the door signalling your arrival. You look around and see that no one else is in here, it was too late to have a cup of coffee but you didn’t care. You’ve been craving that iced matcha latte all day.

After grabbing what you needed, you’re about to leave until you see Soobin sitting alone. You recognized him from your biology class and you two had mutual friends but didn’t talk much. The window he was leaning against was fogging up from his breath, he looked upset and deep in thought. Your eyes immediately turned to the two cups left on the table, but there was no one else there. Putting two and two together you can’t help but feel guilt stir at the bottom of your stomach. He looks like he needs a bit of cheering up, you thought.

“Hey, Soobin!” You call out, waving your hand. Walking towards him with a joyful bounce, you reach his table and take a seat across from him. Soobin moves so that his head isn’t leaning across the window anymore. He gives you a half-hearted smile looking down into his lap.

“Hey y/n, what are you doing here?” He asks you, but he doesn’t sound so interested. Understandably, his mind is wandering to his date who went home with another man. The music of the cafe is gleefully ringing through the speakers, a stark comparison to Soobin’s gloomy attitude.

“Oh you know, just wanted to get in my daily matcha fix,” you answer with a bright smile, trying to help offset his negative mood. Giving you that same sad smile, your heart aches. Soobin looks like a kicked bunny and you just want to see his cute smile again. His blond hair reflects the fluorescent light and it mimics a halo over the top of his head. You find him so endearing that you want to curse out whoever decided to stand him up like this. There was only one way to go about it, you’ll just have to tell him you know why he's so upset.

“I know you got stood up, it’s a little obvious Soob, but whoever they are, they’re stupid. I would kill to go on a date with a guy as kind as you,” you reassure him.

Looking up at you, his eyebrows are raised, he looks like you just told him he won a million dollars. He was so handsome, especially with the way his heart-shaped lips curled into the most adorable smile.

“Really?” he asks, sounding hopeful.

“Of course Soobin, you’re a great guy and not to mention tall and attractive. Don’t let this one date let you get down,” giving him another soft smile, you stand up from your seat and leave the cafe.

Walking back to your place your mind can’t help but drift back to Soobin. This was probably the first time the two of you spent a good chunk of time alone. You’ve never taken an honest good look at him until now, but you found him to be so attractive. The way his dimples would appear when he would smile, and oh god, his lips. His lips looked so soft and they were the perfect shade of pink too. You’re smiling like a madman walking back to your apartment but you can’t help it. Soobin seemed like such a nice guy, and from what you’ve heard around campus he wasn’t terrible in bed either.

*·῾ ᵎ⌇So kiss me, kiss me, kiss me and tell me that I'll see you again

It’s been a few days since you last saw Soobin, but he still plagues your mind. A once acquaintance has become a stupid little school girl crush.

Currently you’re studying in the library for another biology test. With that you suddenly remember who is also in your biology class. A small smirk dances along your lips as you pull out your phone.

me: hey what's soobin’s number again?

yj <3: y? dont tell me you’re tryna fuck him too y/n..

You scoff at Yeonjun’s comment. Yeonjun being the one to say it is even more offensive, especially knowing his history. Being comfortable with having an active sex life did not mean you wanted to fuck everyone you found attractive. You’re a hot and young university student, sleeping around was not a bad thing. Even though you can’t seem to stop thinking about Soobin in that way, that doesn’t mean you’re lying about needing help with biology. Rolling your eyes, you answer Yeonjun’s question.

me: no.. just need help studying lol

yj <3: fine. here.

*yj <3 shared a contact with you*

Once you had Soobins number you couldn’t help but smile in triumph. Having an excuse to spend time with him seemed to be the best way to get to know him. And maybe lead to something more…

me: hey soobin it’s y/n! i was wondering if u wanted to study in the library with me for the bio test this fri?

soob: hi! sure i’d love to actually, see u in ten.

Looking down at your screen; your smile reached your eyes. You turn off your phone and place it screen side down, anticipating his arrival. After all those days of thinking about Soobin, you’re finally able to spend some alone time with him.

*·῾ ᵎ⌇so sweet when your lips touch mine

Students have left for their next class and it seems to only be you in your secluded section right now, maybe you’ll even be able to have a conversation in between studying. This would be the perfect time to get to know him better. While anxiously waiting for him you start to organize all your things mindlessly. Your highlighters all in a straight line and your laptop in front of you already on the first page of the lecture slide. This is probably the first time you catch yourself getting nervous about a man’s presence. You weren’t sure what type of student Soobin was but you knew he was smarter than average, so you wanted to look equally as studious.

From the corner of your eye, you see a fluffy blond head of hair heading your way. He was dressed exactly like you, a hoodie and baggy jeans complimenting his frame, making him look so good despite the casual attire. Sitting up straighter you pretend to write down notes. While doing so you hear the chair beside you scrape its legs along the floor. You turn your head beaming up at the blond boy beside you. He gives you that same dimpled smile that you’ve come to love, and your legs can’t help but feel like jelly.

“Hey Soobin, it's been awhile,” your body is now turning to face him, a shy smile finds its way across your lips. He’s already looking at you and you feel your knees weaken even more. Taking out his own laptop and notebook, he responds.

“Yeah it has, I'm sorry I never reached out to you after the cafe. I’ve been wanting to say thank you for that day though. You really helped me lift my spirits after a shitty situation.”

Soobin places a hand on your shoulder, and you can’t help but notice how large his hands are. Your mind starts to drift; now you can’t help but think about what they would look like on your body. The way they could easily wrap around your neck, or how big of a handprint it would leave on your ass. Mentally you’re shaking yourself trying not to let your thoughts get ahead of you. A part of you would be lying if you said you weren’t secretly turned on by him right now. He’s just larger than you in so many ways, feeding into your size kink even more.

“Anytime Soob, I have a feeling you would have done the same thing for me anyways,” shrugging it off like it's no big deal.

It was hard to focus on the conversation without wanting to glance at his hands every other second. As he turns back to his work, he lets you know that if you have a hard time with the material you could just ask him about it. Reciprocating his smile you turn back to your work as well.

After an hour or two of studying you end up getting stuck on a practice question. You peer over to Soobin who’s scribbling down some notes from the lecture recording diligently. If you knew this is what he looked like while studying you wouldn’t have told Yeonjun that you’re not trying to sleep with him. The way he scrunches his eyebrows in concentration while biting his bottom lip was driving you insane. Subconsciously you’re rubbing your legs together, you just couldn’t help but think about what his lips feel like on yours.

“Do you think you could help me with this question? I’ve been trying to do it for the past thirty minutes now,” you ask him and his eyes leave his notes.

“Yeah of course I can,” Soobin leans closer to you to take a look at your paper. He's so close you can feel his breath on your cheek. Trying to inhale steadily you end up getting a whiff of his cologne. If you weren’t wet already, you’re basically a river down there now. The smell of his cologne was like soft laundry and a hint of musk and vanilla, it was so refreshing. If you could, you would want to spend the whole day just breathing in his scent.

Soobin leans even more closer, dirty thoughts are still running rampant in your mind. The unsure feeling of if he reciprocated your feelings was gnawing your insides, so you haven’t made your move.

Your faces are practically touching at this point, you can feel the vibration of his voice as he tries to explain the question. If you turned your head the two of you would be kissing, so cautiously you keep your eyes on your paper. His large hands pointing to the words you’ve written down, but you can’t hear a thing. The way his hands are moving and how it’s practically as big as your page is making your heart palpitate.

A pair of eyes now on you, Soobin awaiting your reply to his little explanation. Craning your neck to look back at him you can’t help but look at his lips. Realzing what you had just done, you look back up at his eyes. To your surprise he’s looking at your lips too. The feeling in your stomach tightens and you know this is your chance.

“Fuck studying for biology,” Soobin beats you to it, he takes your head in his large hands and pulls you in for a kiss. It's a heated, passionate kiss and you moan at the feeling of how good he feels against you. Especially with the way his large hand is holding onto your face. You feel dizzy, everything happening so fast, and this doesn’t feel the same way it usually does. Soobin kisses you so delicately, making you feel like you’re on cloud nine. But at the same time, there's so much passion in his actions and you can tell he’s kissing you with so much emotion.

Gripping your waist now he stands up, lifting you and placing you on the edge of the empty part of the desk. Immediately your legs open to let him stand between them, you gasp into the kiss as you feel his bulge brush against your clothed core. Soobin takes this opportunity to deepen the kiss; while he works his tongue into your mouth you let your hands wander into his hair, tugging and grabbing it, causing him to groan.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been thinking about this,” pulling away, a shocked expression washes over your face. You weren’t expecting him to feel the same way you did, and it makes you feel even more turned on.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that day in the cafe,” you respond as Soobin takes his time planting kisses against your jaw then your neck. Letting out soft sighs of pleasure, Soobin slowly moves back up to your face, smiling into the kiss. His hands find their way to the hem of your hoodie, going under to feel your every curve of bare skin. High on Soobins scent and his touch, you move away from the kiss to pull the hoodie off your body.

“Please touch me Soob, I want you so bad.” you beg him, giving him an innocent look despite the filth that’s spewing from your mouth. He looks at you with so much lust that you can feel your heat dampen even more. There's a giddy feeling fluttering in your stomach, you were not expecting your study session with him to take such a turn but you’re not complaining. Soobin doesn’t need you to repeat yourself, he’s now back to kissing you with more energy than before. While he’s kissing you he places his hands over your bra cladded chest, feeling you up as much as he can. You’re moaning into his mouth again, not caring about who can hear.

Moving his hands to your back, he unclasps your bra, swifty removing the material from your body. He takes one of your nipples into your mouth, swirling his tongue and using his teeth to lightly nip at your hardened bud. He doesn’t leave your other breast unattended, giving it the same amount of attention as the other. Hands in his hair again, gripping onto him for stability and out of pleasure. Reluctantly pulling away, he can't help but admire the sight before him. You look so good, your eyes lidded with lust and your lips are swollen from kissing him. He's so hard he could cum just looking at you, then you say something that almost actually made him cum in his pants.

“Can I suck your dick?” you ask so politely, how could he refuse? Nodding his head his mouth dry with anticipation; while you’re already hopping off the desk and lowering yourself on your knees. Soobin convinced he really could cum untouched, especially with the way you’re looking up at him. This angle of you is just simply so addicting. He’s thinking about whether or not he’ll get to look at you from this angle again. The thought of it making his stomach tighten with excitement.

Cautious with your movements you slowly removed Soobin’s pants. His boxers followed and they pooled to his ankles. When you say he’s big it's almost an understatement, his dick slapping against his stomach as you set it free. The gasp you let out doesn’t go unnoticed and Soobin smiles down at you while gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail. You take his length into your hands and rub the precum over his tip. A groan comes out of Soobin’s mouth, his head falling back, gripping your hair tighter. You’re smiling to yourself, enjoying the way he looks as you pleasure him.

“Fuck you’ve barely touched me and I already feel like I’m gonna cum,” his voice straining, another groan leaves his lips as you gather spit to lubricate his cock. Teasingly you pepper kisses onto his tip, his hands raking through your hair, holding onto you tighter. You decide to take your time, relishing in the way his eyes scrunch closed as you give his cock kitten licks.

“Baby I can’t take this anymore, gonna fuck your mouth okay?” before you could say anything your mouth is filled with his dick. A muffled moan comes out of you, his hold on you like a vice. Soobin moves his hips back and forth, your throat trying to take all of him. The tip of his member is hitting the back of your throat, and his eyes are rolling to the back of his head as he feels you gag on him with each thrust. You could feel every vain on your tongue and the way his length is twitching in your mouth, seconds away from release.

“I really don’t wanna cum like this,” Soobin says as he removes his still hard cock from your mouth. You get up from your knees, giving him a kiss on the lips before stepping back to take off your jeans. He’s watching you while stroking himself, and you feel your core dripping wetness down your inner thigh. Sitting back on the table, you lock your eyes with his. The look hes giving you makes you want to let him fuck you for everyone to hear. It was a miracle you two didn’t get walked in on yet. You open your legs, your hand travelling to play with your clit. Then you insert two fingers inside your wet cunt, pumping in and out. The sound of your sopping heat is making Soobin go feral, especially with the gaze you’ve set on him while you finger yourself.

“Fuck me Soob, please?” you ask so sweetly almost as if you’re asking for the most mundane request. As if you’re asking for anything but to get fucked by him right now. He groans as he watches you take your fingers out of yourself; you then bring your fingers up to your mouth, sucking on them with your eyes still trained on Soobin’s cute face. Still stroking himself, while making his way to you; he looks at you so mesmerized by how dirty you are, and fuck it’s such a turn on. He never imagined you in this way until the night of the cafe. His seemingly innocent crush turned into something more.

“Be carful what you ask for love, because I’m gonna fuck you till you’re crying for me to stop.” he says at a volume barely above a whisper, his breath fanning your ear. You can’t help but whisper an equally filthy response, your arms now around his neck.

“I want your cock inside me, want you to see your cum dripping out of me after,” you moan into his ear and he strokes himself up and down your drenched slit, your legs wrapped around his hips tightly. Without a second to spare he pushes himself inside, a moan leaving his lips as he slides in inch by inch. The breath is knocked out of your lungs, you feel all of him fill you up, and he's not even in all the way yet.

“Feels so good Soob,” the words are falling out of your mouth in moans, the feeling of him inside you overwhelming your senses. He starts to thrust into you with merciless speed, the sound of skin slapping echoing within the empty library. At this moment you don’t care about who can hear you, all you can think about is how good Soobin’s cock feels inside you.

“Y-you’re so tight sweetheart, gripping me so fucking tight,” hes groaning into the dip of your shoulder and your neck, leaving love bites as he continues pumping himself in and out of you.

The only thing you can do is keep on moaning while you hold onto his shoulders for dear life. You look down to see his cock slide in and out, a creamy white ring covering the base of his cock. It turns you on even more, your cheeks blushing at the sight. Suddenly you feel a loss of contact, Soobin has taken himself out of you, he’s breathing heavily while sweat starts to form on his forehead. Before you could whine about it, he takes you off the desk flipping you over. He forces you to spread your legs before shoving his cock back inside you.

Even though you yelp at the sudden push into your wet pussy, you relax as the pleasure starts to come over you once again. Soobin loves the sound of your insides squelching from the way his dick is fucking you. Especially loving the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. He doesn’t know how much more he can take but he's on a mission to make you cum before he does.

Lifting you off the desk again he wraps one hand around your waist, the other one snaking its way down to your clit. The feeling of his fingers rubbing circles into your sensitive bud has you seeing stars. Your bent over slightly still, Soobin able to continue fucking you while he gets you closer to the edge.

“‘M gonna cum soon, don’t stop Soobin please.” you’re crying now, tears of pleasure running down your cheeks. He really wasn’t lying when he said he was going to fuck you till you were crying.

“Cum for me baby,” is all he says.

You’re saying his name over and over again, your moans now muffled by his hand. His hand is so large it covers almost all of the bottom half of your face. He’s towering over you making you feel so small. Your eyebrows strewn together tightly and your high is taking over you. Soobin is still fucking you from behind, his own orgasm slowly reaching the horizon. The muffling of your moans and the sound of your wet cunt getting fucked is still bouncing off the library’s bookshelves.

“Please cum inside me, fill me up please please please.” you beg him, tears still running down your checks. Soobins moves you so you’re bent over the desk, his cock twitching in you. His thrusts begin to get sloppy but his pace is still at an unrelenting speed. Then you finally feel his hot cum spurt inside you, not planning to stop fucking you any time soon. Soobin’s groaning above you, his eyes glued to the sight of him fucking his cum back up into you. Although you're still recovering from your orgasm you can help but meet his hips as he keeps going.

You’re whining as his balls slap against your clit, it was too much pleasure but it feels so good that you don't want to stop. Soobin is still hard inside you, coaxing another orgasm out of the both of you.

“You got me so hard baby, gonna have to fuck you again okay?” Soobin’s grip on your hips is even tighter than before. You just keep meeting his hips over and over again, wanting to feel the rush of cumming again. Behind you, Soobin is moaning shamelessly as he continues on fucking you, his thrusts slower and lazier than before.

You’re a lot more sensitive than now, the feeling of your second orgasm reaching you quickly. Soobin can tell you’re about to cum again because of how tightly you’re gripping his cock. He speeds up slightly wanting to reach his high with you.

“Mmfph f-fuck,” you whimper as you feel the band in your stomach snapping once again.

Soobin’s cum is filling you up again, some of it starting to run down your inner thighs. He looks down at your hole once more, your pussy spent and swollen from his large cock. Smiling to himself, satisfied, he finally releases his dick from your cunt.

“That was so good,” you say as you turn around, taking some of the cum running down your legs and putting it in your mouth. Soobin looks at you with shock, his tired dick twitching even after all that had happened.

“I would definitely go for one more round but I feel like we’re about to get kicked out soon.” He breathes, a hand running through his hair. You laugh and pull him in for another kiss. He immediately reciprocates even though he’s exhausted.

“We can always continue this another day, maybe somewhere more private,” you suggest as you pull away from the kiss. He smiles at you with those adorable dimples once again, looking down at you he can’t help but feel warmth fill up his chest. You just looked so good, hair all dishevelled, pink cheeks and swollen lips. Thinking to himself, he comes to the conclusion that wants to see it more often, and hopefully you feel the same way.

“Lets clean you up and get out of here,” he replies, kissing your forehead so lovingly, as if he wasn’t fucking you like a whore a few moments ago.

You both clean up, put on your clothes and pack your things away. Bidding each other good bye with a sweet kiss and a promise to text each other when you both reach home.

As you watch him walk away you pull out your phone, texting Yeonjun while heading out of the library.

me: ok maybe I did wanna hook up with him :p

yj <3: i fucking knew it!! facetime me when u get home

me: okay fine! only cuz ure the one who gave me his number

After all the shameless sex you had, you can’t help but smile shyly thinking about the next time you and Soobin will be able to see each other.

#choi soobin #soobin #soobin smut #soobin x reader #txt fanfic #txt smut #txt soobin #soobin fanfic #soobin hard hours #txt x reader #tomrrow x together fanfic #tomorrow x together smut #tomorrow x together fic #tomorrow x together x reader #wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {series: txt as 5sos songs}#wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {works}

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babygirl-riley · 6 months

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Addiction

Addiction comes in every shape and sizes. Simon didn’t think that you would be one of them.

“And the kindest of kisses breaks the hardest of hearts.”

Warnings: smut, piv, unprotected sex, unestablished relationship, breeding kink, angst, internal battle, and swearing

simon x reader guide

simon x reader smut list

Addiction; the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity. It comes in all sorts of forms and sizes, anyone could get addicted to anything. Simon has seen addiction in different ways; drugs from his brother, alcohol from his father, soldiers from adrenaline.

Simon many of times have tried and succeeded on not getting addicted to things. Since addiction came from a negative light in his eyes. So why are you always on his mind or in his bed? He was always going back to you, no matter the circumstances. You were suppose to be the girl in the bar and that was that.

Yet he is here with you, slowly driving his cock in into you. It was the best feeling he got. Feeling you wrap your arms around his bold shoulders. Kissing his neck. Hearing your sighs or moans against his skin. The way the air smelt with both of your arousals. Everything you do drove him into wanting more.

“Right there,” You whispered fluttering your eyes closed. You grabbed his chin moving him to kiss your lips. Simon moaned into your lips as you bite his bottom lip. “You feel so good Si.”

His name. He loved when you whispered his name, like it was a fucking prayer. Like he was one of your gods or angels. It was for him. Only for him. Simon didn’t know how or why but his body is the one that would react to all of it. His mind slowly after. Thinking that he can’t stay long with you, can’t get attached. Addicted.

The feeling in his veins running through him when you make him look at you while hitting the spot you so love. Watching your mouth gaped panting into his mouth. Your half lidded eyes baring into his, feeling more connected. Wanting more. Needing more.

Your eyes hazed and lustful, your skin glimmering from sweat, your lips plumped and bruised. His heart would flutter and pound all at the same time. Never has his heart made those feelings or movements. He was “cold hearted,” that’s what recruits would say, or at least what he heard it from.

Simon inhaled, wanting to etched the scent of both of your arousal that would be in the air. Simon couldn’t get enough of it, when he would be gone he would need it. When he was stressed or his mind would wonder to you. When he comes home he would message you, making sure you were available. Immediately getting to business. Kissing you like you were going to leave and never come back. Hold you close to him as he kissed and bruised your skin. Marking you. When his mouth would travel down he would shudder when you gripped at him. His brain would tick once his mouth and nose would dive into your pussy, like it was his last fucking meal, his need to do it. He need you.

He wanted to make sure no man would be able to pleasure you as much as he could. Simon damn near wanted to paint your walls so you could show men that you belonged to someone. Fuck he wanted just loved the feeling of cumming in you, knowing that his seed one day could attach and give him a smaller version of both of you.

“I need-fuck-I need you to go faster.” You mumbled feeling his hip slap into you once more.

Need him. You needed him as much as he needed you. You needed him closer to your body just as he needed yours. You were just as addicted as he was when Simon came around. His own scent of his cologne or his soap you didn’t know but fuck you needed him. Simon noticed how your demeanor would change, what was it? Only the gods knew. But he knew from how wet you could become when barely would touch you. Or how your eyes would dilate when looking at him.

After being around someone for 5 months you notice some of the tiniest of things. Things that a hard heart will deny over and over again. Simon deep down knew the reason of wanting you more sexually or not. Ghost however would have him deny till his last breath. Smother Simon to shut up so he could help him deny it. Yet his body showed him otherwise.

Simon grunted when he picked his pace up. Hitting the spot more having you whine and arch. Fuck you are beautiful, your tits up near him. He couldn’t control any longer, he leaned and captured one of your tits in his mouth. Moaning into your chest as you pussy fluttered around his cock. “Fuck,” He whispered coming back up to place his forehead against yours. “Atta girl, come on love. Let go. ‘M-Fuck- I gotcha.” He panted slamming his pelvis against you.

You opened your eyes and nodded quickly. “Oh! Simon!” Your whined clawing his back.

His eyes rolled as his head snapped back. God how that feels so fucking good. The thought of you marking him, leaving your nail marks on him. Over his own scars. Replacing the trauma. “Fuuuck,” He mumbled as he quickened, feeling you twitch bow him grabbing his face back down to kiss him. Fuck your kisses could kill him, could take his life right here. Simon wouldn’t even be upset. Electricity ran through his veins. “I can’t stop…fuck do you know what you do to me?” He mumbled between kisses.

You moaned into him wrapping your legs around his waist, making even more room for him to slam into your pussy. He growled as he felt his orgasm coming through, his balls tightening. You smirked between his lips. “Cum for me Simon, I want you to cum in me please,” You whined feeling your third orgasm of the night coming. “I’m right with you. Just cum in me please Simon. Oh fuck!” You placed your face on his shoulder biting into it.

Simon moaned loudly as his body started to tense yet shake. Simon felt your walls tighten around him milking all the cum for your needy cunt. He leaned his head down as he felt his cum shoot into you. Marking you. He whined as he felt more coming out, feeling your walls flutter with him as you both laid there.

Ghost reminded Simon he has to go and never come back. It was time to be done. Simon fought the thoughts as he felt your soft hands combing through the back of his head, through his hair. It made him shutter. Something else he loves that you do, feeling safe. He moaned again as he lifted his head looking down at you.

You were fucked out, your eyes barely open, your cheeks red, sweat clinging onto you. He placed his thumb against your collarbone before kissing you softly. Simon didn’t want to leave your pussy just yet, wanting to have the warmth of your walls around him. He needed it.

You sighed into him clinging him to come closer. You needed him just as much as he needed you. “Let’s take a bath?” You mumbled against his lips kissing him once more.

Simon should have said no but he followed you. Blindly. You put the lavender scented bubbles into the bath watching the bubbles form. Fuck the lavender smell was your scent. Anytime he smells that scent it his mind wandered to you. Didn’t matter when or where. That is your scent.

Simon grabbed your hand kissing the palm before guiding you to the tub and went in before you so you could leaned your back against his chest. The bath wasn’t too hot nor cold just how he liked it. You needed him. You cared for him. He cared for you. Needed you.

“Simon,” You said softly, he hummed as he rubbed circles into your arms. “What is this?”

Ghost repeated over and over again Nothing. It’s nothing. Sex is all. “What do you think this is?” Simon asked fighting against the addiction. The need.

You went quiet which made him nervous before you sighed. “More than just friend with benefits.”

Ghost screamed that it was getting too close that you were his addiction. It was time to get clean. “Then that’s what it is.” He mumbled kissing the back of your head.

Ghost didn’t say anything as Simon placed his foot down. Simon needed this. Simon needs you. He sighed leaning more into you as you laid more back into him.

Addiction; the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity.

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megamindsecretlair · 7 months

Text

Stay With Me

Pairing: Tyrone x Black!Fem!Shy!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (male and fem receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Praise kink. Use of n-word. Mention of depression. Mentions of negative self-talk.

Summary: You never thought in a million years that Tyrone would look at you with desire in his eyes. Tonight, he does.

Word Count: 5,885k

A/N: I....sort of went overboard with this. I'm going to be soooo groggy in the morning! I hope I did it justice! Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone

“Man, get the fuck off my porch,” Tyrone spat out and callously slammed the metal door in front of the girl’s face. You almost felt sorry for her. Almost. It was Tyrone. Of course he was gonna act like a dog after he got some play. You weren’t blaming her. But you had to keep your heart out of being with Tyrone.

The girl continued yelling so he slammed the wooden door in her face as well. It cut out of the long stream of curses and names she was calling him. She called his name and banged on the metal door, the sharp sound hurting your ears.

You watched Tyrone shake his head and return to the couch next to you. You hid a smile as you looked him over. He wore his usual dickies and black T-shirt and his hair was pulled into smooth cornrows. He blew out a breath and shook his head, settling into the couch and pointedly ignoring the banging on his door.

“Bitch act like she the police,” he muttered.

You turned your attention back to your phone. The TV played some type of game. You didn’t bother to remember which one. Tyrone endlessly flipped through channels never settling on anything.

“Go on and say it,” he said.

You looked at him and smirked. He settled sideways into the couch so that he was partially laying on your legs. You were propped against the arm of the couch, your elbow digging into the rough fabric.

“I ain’t say nothin’,” you said quietly. Even after all these years knowing Tyrone, you never managed to get over how hot he was. There was a subtle attractiveness about him. His energy or his vibe or just the way he walked and moved.

“But you want to, so go on,” he said. He turned his attention back to the TV but you saw the way his jaw flexed. He hated unnecessary drama. Well, that’s what he said. And yet, there was always some girl chasing after him because of how he dogged them out.

The girl at his door finally gave up banging on it. It was clear Tyrone wasn’t going to answer. You couldn’t tell Tyrone shit. Not a damn thing. Once he set his mind to something, there was no moving him.

For someone that hated drama so much, he was constantly in the middle of it. Whether it was his dealing, his boys, or the skirts he chased.

“There’s nothing I can say that you ain’t heard before,” you said. You smirked at your phone. Tyrone would have another girl on his porch soon. Upset and angry. Rightfully so. Tyrone never promised tomorrow. Yet without fail, there was someone thinking that they could change him. That was like expecting the sun not to rise.

“But yo ass gonna sit there smug and shit until you say somethin’,” he said.

“You make it sound like I nag,” you said and rolled your eyes.

“Might as well,” he said.

You kicked at his shoulder and he turned and bit your calf. “Ass,” you told him.

“Come on, shit,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and stared at him. “You need to be more selective with these girls you fuckin’. They stay on your damn porch,” you said.

“I can’t help it. I see some sexy ass thighs and I wanna get between ‘em,” he said. He looked at you but you knew the comment wasn’t directed at you. You ignored the long standing ache in your chest. It wasn’t his fault that you couldn’t control who you were attracted to.

Look at him! How could anyone not be attracted to him? Tyrone moved through the world like it owed him something. Like it was his God-given right to breathe this air, walk these streets. That type of confidence and self-assuredness was attractive.

You on the other hand…you knew you were shy and awkward and weird. The adjectives were like scarlet letters painted on your forehead. You had been called all three your whole life. Like they were dirty words equivalent to calling you a slut or a whore.

There was nothing wrong with those things. But if you heard it enough, it tended to take on a new meaning. One that you couldn’t leave behind. The scarlet letters proclaimed your identity before you had a chance to introduce yourself to someone. One look at you and people sized you up. Whittled away any chance of proving them wrong. Add in your resting bitch face and you turned people away without trying.

No kidding, today, you overheard someone say, “nah, she look mean” when they were looking for a place to sit. Was it a crime to not smile all the damn time? No one told men to smile that often. As if you were supposed to deal with bullshit day in and day out with a goofy ass smile on your face.

Tyrone waved his hand in front of your face. “You stay spacin’ the fuck out,” he said.

“I heard you, I was just thinkin’. You can help it. You just don’t want to,” you said. You went back to scrolling through your phone.

“What’s wrong with liking sex?”

You shrugged. “Nothin’. You could use some discretion though. How you know these people are clean?”

You shivered. The last thing you wanted was a sexually transmitted disease. The thought of it was embarrassing enough. You couldn’t imagine looking a doctor in the eye and explaining what happened.

“I wrap my shit. Plus, I don’t fuck every bitch I meet,” he said.

You laughed so hard that you threw your head back on the couch. Your sides hurt as you laughed.

“It ain’t that fuckin’ funny,” he mumbled, sucking his teeth. That only made you laugh harder. If there was one thing you could say to describe Tyrone, it was that he was a whore. An entire whore.

Whenever you hung out, he and the boys would see a fine girl walking by and crane their necks looking at her ass. You were relegated to “one of the boys”. They knew full well that you were a girl and were capable of being fine too. But no one took the time to warm up to you. No one desired you that way. You didn’t turn heads. You made people laugh until they realized you were worth looking into.

It wasn’t a dig at yourself. You just knew your role in life. You were like the song on the playlist that someone added and forgot about. Until you came up on shuffle and the listener realized that you were actually fire.

You sobered up with a deep sigh. Giggles still escaped you but Tyrone was not having it. He stared you down as if you kicked his puppy. “I’m just sayin’. You got a rep,” you said.

“A rep for layin’ pipe,” he said with a cocky grin. You rolled your eyes. Why did you bother with him in the first place?

“Sex should mean something, Tyrone,” you said.

He sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. “That’s ‘cause you ain’t had no good dick,” he said.

A strangled noise escaped you before you kicked at his shoulder. He moved out of the way. You did manage to kick him a little. He chuckled and held onto your foot to prevent you from kicking him more.

“I’ve had good dick, thank you very much!” You said.

“Bullshit. You’d still be fuckin’ if you had good dick,” he said.

“That’s not true. If you layin’ good pipe like you say, you fuck anything that moves. I’m just not into sharing like that. I ain’t trynna have my vag on fire,” you huffed and concentrated on your phone.

Usually, you and Tyrone had an unspoken rule. He and the crew talked about their escapades all they wanted and you pretended to be grossed out and uninterested. You never mentioned your stories. There wasn’t much to tell. And they knew it. But they never made fun of you for it. Worse. They thought it was adorable.

Because yeah, the one thing you wanted to be was adorable. Just once, you’d like to be sought after. To have someone hot and sexy in your DMs begging to get in between your legs.

People thought overweight girls were supposed to be happy with the ashy niggas. The dorks who couldn’t hold a conversation. The ugly muthafuckas with an uglier personality who thought you should suck they dick because they held the door open once.

“A’ight, who you fuck that had good dick?” Tyrone asked.

“I’m not telling you!” The tips of your ears burned as you tore your gaze away from him. For fuck’s sake, you’ve told worse things to your girls. You and your girls got graphic. Recounting sexual encounters and rating them amongst the others. Your girls had more stories than you, naturally. Damn. You really ought to stop putting yourself down.

Tyrone chuckled. “‘Cause you ain’t had no good dick, that’s why,” he said. He shook his head and went back to flipping channels.

Dismissed. Just like that. Your ears burned for different reasons. “I ain’t gotta prove shit to you, Tyrone. Worry about yourself and your diseased dick,” you said.

“Nothin’ diseased about my shit. Wanna see?” Tyrone went to the fly of his pants and your eyes widened.

“Something is seriously wrong with you,” you said. Just like that, you were laughing again. Tyrone was the only person who yanked your emotions around. You shouldn’t let him get to you. But he claimed to do it so that you would loosen up.

“I’m not a robot,” you had told him one day.

“I know. But you cool as shit and you won’t let anybody see it,” he had said back. That shut you up for about a week. Tyrone had to track you down and drag you out of the house, thinking you were in a depressive mood. You didn’t have the confidence to tell him that what he said shifted your axis.

You thought he only saw you like an annoying sister he had to drag everywhere. You practically grew up together. Your houses were right across the street from each other. If he was outside, you were outside with him. So to hear him give you a compliment touched parts of you that you learned to bury.

You blinked and turned to Tyrone who was leaning over you, his face closer to you than it’s ever been. Even when he had chased you when you were twelve and you both got tangled in the water hose and fell on top of each other.

“I can help you with that, you know,” he said.

“With what?” Your voice was quiet.

He slowly licked his lips as his eyes trailed down. “Gettin’ you some good dick,” he said.

You chuckled. “How you gonna do that? Gonna put an ad out for the big chick needin’ dick?”

“Why you do that?” He asked.

“Do what?” You were starting to get an attitude. Whatever game he was playin’, you wanted no parts of it. This was a cruel joke, even for him. And he never let you live down your prom. Not because of how you look, but because of how your date looked. He still brought it up.

“You stay puttin’ yourself down. Like you gotta do it first or somethin’.”

You gaped at him. “I-” You didn’t have anything to say to that. It was instinct to call out the elephant in the room. If not, someone else did it and was way meaner. You weren’t going to let anyone make you feel bad about yourself. But your self-deprecating humor was hurting you more. Perhaps you wanted someone to correct you, just once. To say, “fuck that, you sexy as hell”. It was a stupid wish.

“I’m just sayin’. I can help you out with it,” he said.

“You want to fuck me,” you said. You tried to hold in your laugh. You tried to take him seriously, but you felt a slow grin cross your face. He didn’t smile back. Instead, his eyes narrowed and he looked at your lips.

“Damn right. Been trynna fuck you for a while,” he said.

Your jaw dropped. Where the hell was this coming from? You sat up straight but he was still near you. He was close enough that you smelled his spicy scent and could see the dark pools of brown in his eyes. Only a few inches separated your lips from his big, juicy ones.

“What?”

He grinned. The cocky muthafucka. “Ain’t you noticed it’s just been us hanging around lately?”

No. It wasn’t until he said it that you realized. The boys had been noticeably absent. Instead of hanging with them while they roamed the streets or sat outside Tyrone’s porch, it had been just you and Tyrone. Watching TV, playing games, or taking drives up the 405 when the traffic died down. You were just happy to spend time with him. Any way you could get him.

You thought it was awesome that his crew didn’t want to hang lately. You got to be selfish and have Tyrone’s attention. That was him…flirting?

“Oh,” you said.

He laughed and shook his head. “I figured yo ass didn’t know,” he said.

He stood up, giving you enough time to breathe and deal with this turn of events. You ran through every interaction, wondering how you could be so blind.

“Nuh uh. Don’t disappear on me,” he said. He pulled you up off of the couch and took your phone. He tossed it on the couch and led you down the short hallway to his room. You had been there plenty of times. You had cracked jokes with the rest of his friends that it was radioactive with how much sex he was having. He’d wave you away, saying it wasn’t like that.

You expected it to be gross. But it was refreshingly clean. He still had shit everywhere, though. Stray clothes piled on his desk chair, clothes spilling out of the closet. He had a wall of shoes stretching towards the ceiling. What was it with guys and shoes?

He closed the door after leading you into the room. You stood there, awkwardly. You weren’t sure what to do. You hadn’t had enough time to freak out about this new development.

He chuckled at your awkwardness and grabbed your hand again, pushing you onto the bed. “What you say? You wanna see what we can get into?” He asked.

You looked at him. He wasn’t pushing you. You could’ve pulled your hand away in the living room and told him that he was crazy. “You wanna fuck me,” you said. You still couldn’t believe him. You pictured this so many times in your head. But now that it was offered to you on a silver platter, you felt like a virgin all over again.

You were aware of everything. Every sigh that left his lips. The subtle drape of his shirt on your bare arm. The heat leaping off of him.

“I wanna fuck you,” he said.

“Why?” You asked. You swear, you weren’t trying to be this dense. It just didn’t make sense to you.

“Why not? You’re fine as hell. And funny. You cool as shit,” he said.

You bit your lip as you went through all the women he had been with. He didn’t really have a type. Petite and cute was a common theme. Petite as in being short as hell. You supposed he never really been with a super skinny chick.

Tyrone was a big boy. He had some meat on them bones and it showed every time he moved. He was a solid dude. He’d probably break someone that was skinny.

The wet heat of his lips pressed against yours and you gasped. Tyrone pulled back and grinned. “Stay with me. C’mon, give me a chance,” he said.

You grinned and leaned forward, kissing him for real this time. Tyrone pushed his tongue in, rolling it against yours. You felt it down to your core. You moaned softly.

“Take these off for me,” he said. He tugged on your shirt and played with the hem of your shorts.

You stood up and pulled off your shirt. Then you unzipped your shorts and shucked them off. You stood there in your bra and panties, feeling both turned on and incredibly shy. You crossed your arms but he shook his head. He peeled your arms away from your chest and he looked his fill.

You were too nervous to look him in the eye. To look at his face. Goddamn it. You didn’t hate the way you looked. But you couldn’t get over your insecurities. “Can we turn off the light…?”

“Fuck no!” He scooted closer to the edge of the bed and grabbed your hips. He pulled you closer to stand between his legs. He rubbed your sides, your ass, and your thighs. He kissed your belly and you gasped.

He looked up at you. He licked your stretch marks. You placed your hands on his shoulders to keep your legs from folding. How long has it been since you had sex? A while. And that had been a desperate attempt at latching onto the first halfway decent guy to look your way.

He nibbled on your love handles, squeezing your flesh so he could take a big bite. You slapped his shoulder and he laughed. “That shit hurt!”

“Good,” he said. He looked at you, daring you to do something about it. Again, insecurities robbed you of any idea of what to do next. You wanted to be sexy and take the lead. You wanted to entice him. Instead, you stood there while he kneaded the back of your thighs.

“Hey, relax. Stay with me,” he said.

He prompted you to climb into his lap. You placed your knees on the side of him and rested on his lap. His thick cock pushed against his shorts and you gasped as you got your first feel of it.

Okay, you sort of got why these girls would bang on his door like that. He ran his hands up and down your back as he kissed you slowly. He played with your lips. First he’d kiss you. Then he’d pull back and lick your lips. Then, he’d run his tongue across your teeth and you shuddered.

He was content to do just that. Until you were squirming in his lap, trying to get some friction. He ran his hands across your back, fiddling with your bra until he unclipped it. He drew the cups down until it hung on your arms. You moved your hands from around his neck, but he shook his head.

“Put that shit back and hol’ on,” he said. You smiled and put it back on his shoulders. He kept his eyes on you as he put his head down and licked the top of your breast. You stuttered with a sigh.

He moaned as he latched on to your nipple and started to suck. “Oh shit,” you said. You leaned up, you weren’t expecting him to suck that hard. In fact, you hadn’t known your nipples were that sensitive. Guys mostly ignored them, too busy trying to fuck.

But Tyrone worshiped your titties. He went from one to the other, sucking and nibbling on your nipples. He sucked and yanked on one and it was like he yanked on your clit. Your wetness was pooling in your panties and you wiggled. If you were bare, his shorts would be ruined. You hissed as he yanked harder.

“Fuck!” You said and tapped his shoulder. He let go with a wet pop and your nipple stayed beaded and swollen. He did the same thing to your other titty. “You do this shit to other bitches?”

“Fuck no. You ain’t no bitch to me,” he said. He laved at your titty, encircling it with his tongue before he flicked it. You made all kinds of sounds as your eyes rolled back a bit. His hands gripped your ass and slid you higher on his lap.

Surely, he had to be hurting. His crotch was bulging and thick. It couldn’t have been comfortable for him.

His words finally registered and you melted into him, pushing your chest into his face. He grinned. “Yeah, that’s right. Give me that shit,” he said. He reverently licked and sucked on your titties until your panties were truly damp. You didn’t have time to overthink. There was nothing but his heavenly mouth on your breasts.

A strangled sigh left you. You were grinding down on his dick. You almost had him in the perfect spot to rub against your clit.

Abruptly, he stood up with you in his arms. You panicked. All the tension returned as you left the ground. You clung to him and he chuckled. “I got you,” he said. He kissed your cheek and the corner of your mouth until you focused on him instead of how much it would suck to crash to the ground. Carpet or not, the shit would hurt.

He laid you down on the bed and removed his shirt and pants. He rubbed himself over his briefs but he leaned down and took off your bra completely. He kissed your neck, licked your collarbone, and continued down. His hands peeled your legs apart and you moaned at the force he used.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmured into your skin. “You wet for me?”

He didn’t wait for you to answer. His fingers traced your pussy through your panties and he groaned in satisfaction feeling the wet spot there. You gyrated on his hand while he kissed his way back up to your face.

He pressed his thumb in, pushing your panties into your clit and he rubbed harder. “Oh shit,” you moaned. He swallowed your moans. He kissed you and continued to play with you over your panties until you were panting and shaking.

He kissed down to your ear and bit at your earlobe. “Let that shit go,” he said.

You whimpered before your knees slapped together and you came with his hand still on you. “You so pretty when you cum,” he whispered in your ear.

He stood up with a satisfied smirk as he watched the last dregs of your orgasm leave you. He removed your sopping wet panties and kissed your knees when he finally got them off. He rubbed and caressed your thighs until you were relaxing against him once more.

He opened your legs and stared at your pussy. “Fuck. So fuckin’ pretty. You ain’t had nobody work yo shit, huh?”

You shook your head but realized he may not have seen it. “No,” you admitted. No one had done half the things that Tyrone just did. He made you cum without really touching you. You weren’t sure if you should be embarrassed or impressed. It should not be that easy to get you off. It usually took you a long while. So much so, that you gave up foreplay with men.

Tyrone stuck his nose against your clit and inhaled. You yelped and jerked up the bed. He bit your thigh and his arms hooked under your legs. He pulled you back down and placed his nose against you, sniffing you. He rubbed his nose in your wetness and you choked on a half laugh, half moan.

“Goddamn,” he moaned. His tongue darted out to get a taste and he moaned again. “Taste fuckin’ good too. Matter of fact, I’m mad at you now,” he said.

You leaned up on your elbows and looked at him. He was a damn good sight to behold. His head was still dipped between your thick thighs and the look on his face…you wished you could take a picture. He looked hungry. His eyes were wide and he kept licking his lips as if you were still on his tongue.

“What you mad at me for?” You asked.

“Keeping this fuckin’ pussy from me,” he said. You choked on a laugh. He dipped down and ran his tongue from your pussy to your clit. Your hips bucked and he held you down with his arms.

He held you in place as he continued to lick you like ice cream. He was slow and methodical, letting you feel his tongue as it swirled around your wetness. Your pussy pulsed in time with his licks and you squirmed on the bed.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. You were near crying. He teased you without mercy. He brought you to the brink of cumming over and over, only to retreat and play with something else until your ass was back on the bed.

A giant wet spot spread under your ass as you gushed arousal. He placed open mouth kisses on your clit, dragging his lips through either side of it. “Fuck, please. Please Tyrone,” you murmured.

“Please what?” He asked and lazily circled your clit again.

You bit your lip. You didn’t know what you were begging for. Begging to cum? Begging for him to do something else? Begging just to beg?

“Let me hear what you want from me.” He nosed through your slick and you bucked. “Let me hear that sexy, squeaky ass voice,” he said.

You laughed. It was more like a few puffs of air. Sweat gathered everywhere. You should feel gross. Instead, you finally felt…desired. He wasn’t down there, eating you out as a prerequisite for having sex. He was down there because he wanted to be.

He suckled sharply on your clit and you hissed. “I ain’t gonna keep tellin’ yo ass to stay with me. Get out of your head for once,” he said.

You grinned at him. “Yes, sir.”

He moaned and licked at your clit. “Say that shit again, I like that,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” you said.

He grinned around your pussy. Your slick dripped down his chin. His entire face was wet with your juices and it only turned you on. He moaned as he felt your pussy clench. He was bringing you to the edge again. You couldn’t stand it.

Your body was overheated. Your hands clutched at his sheets desperately. You licked your lips. “Please…I need to cum,” you said.

“You think you deserve to cum?” He asked. “Ain’t I already give you one?” He continued to lap at your slick and you twitched and jerked with the painful need to cum. Your belly was too tight.

“Please, please, please,” you said. You threw your head back and forth. You needed something, soon. If you were denied one more time…

“Please, Tyrone. Don’t…I need to cum, please,” you babbled. You were saying anything at this point. You may have offered him your first born or a lifetime of blow jobs. You weren’t sure. But his deep, rumbling laugh skated over your sensitive skin. He rarely laughed. Each time he did, you cataloged it for later. When you were indulging in a delusion that involved him and this exact scenario.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he said. If you thought he was serious before, it was nothing compared to how he attacked your clit. Like a starving man who’d just been offered a king’s feast. He flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue. Playing with the swollen nub until you were stuttering and hollering.

Tears of relief finally leaked out as you came with a high wail. You felt like you were inside out and upside down. You entered a sixth dimension somewhere. There was only pleasure. Unwavering, unbridled pleasure that swept over you in waves higher than the ocean. You were lost and unmoored. Head empty.

You panted as you drifted back into your body. Somewhere between all of that, Tyrone had cleaned off his face and his briefs were gone. He looked down at you and stroked himself as he watched you.

You struggled to your elbows as cold air hit the giant wet spot beneath you. It was lurid, the way you sat in a puddle like that. A puddle of your own making. You didn’t know you were capable of being that wet.

You wiped sweat from your skin. You needed what he held in his hands. You sat up, your eyes focused on his dick. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted to suck him off. To bring him to the brink of oblivion like he just did for you.

He chuckled as you reached for him. He stood close and you took him into your mouth. “Fuck,” he said. He threw his head back and jerked his hips forward.

You went to work, bobbing up and down on his dick. He barely fit. You sucked and slobbered all over him, sucking him in as far as he could go. You used your hands to get to the rest of him, twisting your hands and letting your slobber drip down his dick to make your hands glide better.

“Goddamn, suck that shit. Show me you want this dick,” he encouraged. Sighs and moans escaped his mouth as you pleased him. He encouraged you to go faster and faster until his hips were jerking. He grabbed your head and slammed you further onto his dick. He fucked your face until you were gagging on him. The sound only spurned him on, to keep going and fucking your mouth.

“Better swallow this shit,” he said. He let loose, cumming with a loud groan. You lied earlier. You wanted to take a picture of him like this. With his eyes closed and his jaw slack. His face scrunched between pleasure and pain.

His hot load squirted down your throat. You gulped the salty taste of him down. Every last drop. He cursed as he emptied the last of it. He slipped out of your mouth and ran his fingers down your lips. You licked your lips and suckled his thumb into your mouth.

He gripped your chin and moved your head from side to side. You blinked slowly at him. “You been hidin’ this mouth from me too,” he said. You shook your head with his thumb in your mouth.

“That’s a’ight. I’ma fuck that shit again. Lay back on the bed,” he said.

All hints of shyness were gone. You let go of his thumb with a wet pop and scooted further up the bed. This was Tyrone. Your best friend. There was nothing to be shy about. He loved your body. Truly loved it. And by extension, you learned to love it through his eyes.

He followed you onto the bed, his knees sliding between your legs and pushing until you were completely spread before him. He placed his hands on either side of you, the bed dipping under his strength.

He leaned on one hand and lined himself up. There was something in the back of your mind, but you couldn’t think what it was. The thought eluded you as he slowly worked his way in.

His eyes closed and his mouth twisted as he moaned on his way in. He stretched you out, impossibly big. You tensed a bit. You weren’t used to someone quite this big. He noticed and started to kiss you.

He still faintly smelled like you. It was so hot, tasting yourself on his lips that you moaned and clenched around his dick. He groaned and pushed in more as you relaxed. The hand that was around his dick started to rub on your clit and you whimpered and cried.

You were still so overwhelmed by your last orgasm that you twitched every time he rubbed your clit.

“Look at you. Can’t even say shit, can you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Feels too good. Too fuckin’ good,” you said.

“Yeah? It’s too much for you?” He pushed in further and your jaw dropped on a soundless scream.

“Goddamn it, Tyrone!” You slapped at his chest but that only made him chuckle. He grabbed the hand you slapped him with and held it to the bed. He trapped your hand there as he really started to move.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” you groaned. Your other hand pushed at him. Your nails dug into his chest leaving half moon imprints on his pec.

He increased his pace as he dropped all of his weight on you. His strokes were deeper until you were sure that the tip of his dick was hitting your cervix. “Oh shit, oh fuck,” you said.

“Yeah, talkin’ all that shit. This is what good dick feel like,” he said in your ear. He leaned up, pushing your legs to the bed so that you were neatly folded in half. At this new angle, it was like he unlocked a deeper level inside of you. You felt every inch of his dick.

“No…condom…” you breathed out.

“Shit,” he said. His eyes widened but he didn’t stop. “Feel too fuckin’ good to stop. Pussy so fuckin’ tight and wet for me,” he continued.

You clenched around him. On every stroke, he wrangled more and more incoherent sounds from you. You didn’t know what the hell you were on about. You wanted to be mad that he was hittin’ it raw. But he felt too fucking good. Too fucking right. He belonged there in between your legs. It was a silly idea, but it was true. He was made for you. You had no claim to him. You didn’t know what any of this meant, if it even meant anything.

So you held on. You scratched at his back wanting to leave some kind of memory behind. Some kind of mark to show that you were there. That you meant something to him.

“You take me so fuckin’ well. Shit. Good fuckin’ girl,” he said.

You whined. It was the words you needed. You exploded into a million shards of star dust beneath him. Light blinded you as your orgasm whipped through you once more. Your legs squeezed him and he came with you. He grunted and painted your insides with his cum. He kept stroking as if he was trying to fuck his cum in deeper. Wanting to claim you the same way you wanted to with your nails.

He dropped onto you, one big sweaty mess. You clung to him, not ready for him to leave just yet. You were still settling down and it felt like you were still fractured. Holding on to him was holding your body together at the moment.

Slowly, you opened your eyes and he lifted his head. He kissed you once and then twice, lingering. He leaned back and grinned while he panted. Completely spent.

He caressed your check. It was an unexpected show of gentleness that you didn’t think he was capable of. Don’t get it twisted. Tyrone was dangerous. But in the moment, he was just your best friend.

He looked at you as if really seeing you for the first time ever. “Stay with me,” he said.

You grinned and nodded. Yeah, you’ll stay with him.

&&&

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