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that-sarcastic-writer · 1 year

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Ride it

Leon S. Kennedy x F!Reader

Summary: Leon fucks you on his motorcycle. That's it. This is just pwp

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, pwp, unprotected sex (pls wrap it), p in v, bit of fingering, bit of a handjob, exhibitionism, praise kink, bit of an innocence kink, Leon has a mouth on him, the s in leon s kennedy stands for slut, language, no use of y/n

I wrote this with vendetta Leon in mind, but it can be whichever, but older leon fits better. Reader is also at least 25.

WC: 2.1k

A/N: I'm self indulging with Leon. Also, say it blew the fuck up and I was not expecting that, so tysm!! This one is for my Leon whores. Enjoy the pure filth :)

Leon Kennedy Masterlist

Gif credit goes to this tumblr

Ao3 link (but pls still reblog and shit on here thank u)

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!!

You knew damn well you should have known better than to listen to him when he oh so innocently suggested you wore a dress for your date. Spring had come fast and the weather was so nice for you to show off that one pretty sundress you brought early in the fall but had never actually worn. And it drove him absolutely insane to see you in pretty dresses. It gave him more room to work, he thought.

But oh sweet, naive you. So trusting of everything your boyfriend said to you.

But the minute you realized you were getting on his motorcycle and not his Jeep Wrangler, you immediately knew you were in for a long ride. And the borderline sinful smirk he flashed you as he handed you your helmet did not help ease the twist in your stomach.

Still, you wouldn't say no to anything he asked, if he wanted to use his motorcycle you would go to your date in his motorcycle. If anything, it made you more eager. And rightfully so, Leon would move one of his gloved hands on one of your thighs at every red light or stop sign, squeezing and tracing his fingers over your bare skin. Goosebumps would rise on your skin. You would hold him tight, both arms tightly wrapped around his torso, your chest flat against his back the entire ride. He didn't mind, if anything he found it endearing that you held on so tight.

But if he was going to tease you, so were you.

You were coming to a red light, so you oh so innocently moved your hands from his front to sneak underneath his leather jacket and t-shirt, cold fingers brushing over his warm skin. You felt him flinch ever so slightly, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Good thing he was at a red light, because he had to close his eyes to keep his composure.

"What are you doing?"

You heard his low somber voice through the Bluetooth in your helmet. You bit your lip to stop yourself from giggling and simply shrugged, but your hands stayed inside his shirt, now moving down to trace over his v-line, stopping at the hemline of his boxer briefs. You heard him groan as one of his hands came to grip your thigh.

"'M not doing anything." You eventually said. You gasped softly when you felt his fingers dig into the skin of your thigh.

"You're going to stop that, right now." He breathed through his nose, using that authoritative and commanding voice that only made you wetter. You swallowed, stilling your hands, but never actually removed them from under his shirt. Another heavy breath. "Take your hands out of my fucking shirt before I park on the side of the street and rearrange your insides right then and there."

The sound that came out of your mouth right then and there was pathetic. It made Leon chuckle. Oh his sweet girl, always such a whore for him. But you did listen, and your hands immediately returned to the front of him.

"That's a good girl." He hummed in approval, the light finally turning green, and he gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze before his hand returned to the handle. "We're almost there, be good and you'll get what you want."

You had a satisfied smile on your face the rest of the ride. But you probably should've known that your little stunt was going to cost you because the next time you came to a stop you were at a cliff that overlooked the city at the end of an otherwise empty road with a dead-end.

You frowned softly, taking your helmet off your head and looked around with a confused look. Leon had already gotten off the bike, helmet off, and had kicked the stand but never actually turned off the bike.

"Leon..?"

"Y'know, I actually had a date planned. I was gonna take you to dinner, then here because I know just how much you love to see the city at night, however," he bit his lip softly, grabbing your hips and forcing you to face him, your legs dangling off his bike while you were still sitting on it. You looked up at him with big eyes, "Because you're such a greedy whore and you can't seem to wait, I'm gonna fuck you stupid on my bike, and you're gonna take it, yeah?"

God, the things this man would make you do, the things he would make you want. He was a bad influence, but fuck, you loved it.

"Yes. Yes please." There was no hesitation, just need and desperation. He gave your hips a tight squeeze, his pale blue eyes filled with the same need.

"Mhmm of course that's what my pretty girl wanted, you just wanted my cock huh?" He had this filthy grin on his face as he moved his hands down to your thighs, "Spread your legs for me baby."

You bit your lip softly and did as he asked, he wasted no time in ripping your panties down your legs until they hung from one ankle. He smiled as he gripped your jaw with one hand as he peeled the fingerless glove off the other with his teeth before slipping it under your dress. You gasped, blood rushing to your face when you felt his fingers brush over your clit. Leon opened his eyes in surprise as he dragged his fingers down to your entrance and wetness instantly coated his fingers.

"Oh sweet girl, you're already so wet for me." He chuckled softly, leaning down to crash his lips against yours, capturing the moan he pulled from you as he slowly pushed in two of his fingers. "Mhmm."

"Please Leon. I want you so bad. Please." You mumbled against his lips, fingers gripping his hair as you bucked your hips against his hand.

"I know, baby. I'll give you what you want, don't worry." He hummed as he continued to work you with his fingers as he undid his belt with the other. With shaky hands, you helped him unzip his jeans and pull his cock from the confines of his boxer briefs.

With a soft hiss, he removed his fingers from you and pumped himself a couple times, coating himself in your slick before he hiked up one of your legs over his torso, spreading you out for him as he slowly slid into you. You eyes instantly fluttered shut and your head felt back as he slowly buried himself to the hilt, making sure you felt every inch.

"Mhmm fuck…" A soft whimper left your mouth as you threw your arms over his shoulders in an attempt to keep yourself upright, and then as you opened your eyes, you remembered you were in fact, out in the open, "Fuck. Shit, Leon. Do you think someone will drive by?"

"So what? I'm deep enough for you to feel me in your stomach and you're worried someone will see?" He laughed mockingly, not in the slightest bit worried about it. If anything the idea of getting caught made him want to fuck you even more. He brought his hand to the back of your neck, pulling your face close to his as he snapped his hips forward, "Let 'em see."

God, you'd be lying if you said the idea didn't make you wetter. Leon definitely felt the way you squeezed around him when he said it. He moaned in response, fingers tangling around the hair at the back of your head as he gave you another punishing thrust.

"Mhmm yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you? You'd like it if someone saw you all sprawled out on my bike, dripping wet, and getting fucked stupid by your older boyfriend? Yeah you would." He was pounding into you harder and harder, each word spoken in between moans and groans.

"What would they think huh? Such a sweet innocent girl letting her older boyfriend use her like this? Goddamn baby, I've ruined you." He pulled your face close to his, foreheads touching as he watched the utterly fucked out look on your face and the sound of your dripping cunt slapping against him.

"Yes! Fuck yes. Only you can do this to me." You cried out, any and all worries about getting caught long gone, and all you could think about was the aching feeling in your belly, and the flash of heat that was rapidly approaching.

"Mhm, that's right, pretty girl. Such a greedy whore, just for me." He moaned the praise, free hand scrunching up your dress to your waist as he held you on the seat that still vibrated through you as he kept pounding into you. And you happily took everything he had to give you like that was all you were meant to do in this world. Be at the mercy of your gorgeous boyfriend.

"Please Leon," You were holding on to him for dear life, nails digging into his leather jacket and hair, voice weak and broken in between moans. God you were so fucking close. "I want to come. Please."

Leon moaned at your weak pleads. You were so sweet, so desperate and at his mercy. He could never deny his sweet girl anything.

"Mmm yes. Let go for me baby, I got you." His thumb found your swollen clit, he rubbed harsh circles that matched his harsh thrusts, while his other hand kept a tight grip on your hair and he pulled your head back. "Look at me baby, keep those pretty eyes on me when you come."

You fought the urge to roll your eyes back as a flash of blinding heat ran through your body, but you managed to keep your eyes on his pale sapphire ones as you came around him, a pathetic moan falling from your lips as your whole body trembled. He held you on the seat, his body pretty much preventing you from falling.

"Mmmm fuck, good girl. Agh—" A moan caught his throat as your walls squeezed his cock and a gush of wetness seeped around him. He pulled you against him, mouth crashing against yours as he snapped his hips with urgency, his own release quickly approaching. "Fuck, fuck baby. You're squeezing the shit outta my cock. Shit, I'm so close. Fuck."

You held on to him for dear life, just letting him use you to chase his own release, your weak moans in his ear, your high pitched gasps and your weak mumbles of his name, fuck, it didn't take him long before he was pulling out of you. But he quickly grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his slick cock.

"Mmmm fuck baby— hah— yes, fuck—" He guided your hand on his cock, using your hand to pump himself, his face on your neck as he moaned, "Yeah just like that baby. C'mon pretty girl, make me come. C'mon, fuck, yes. Yes, good girl. Shit ugh—"

Strings of his come shot into your hand and the seat between your parted thighs as he came with a guttural moan that made you wet all over again. You hummed softly, leaving kisses over his face as he panted. His eyes were closed and he had the side of his face pressed against your neck. He left wet kisses along the exposed skin of your neck as he breathed heavily.

"You did such a good job, baby. You're always so good for me." He hummed against your neck, moving up to capture your lips into a softer, slower kiss before he was pulling back.

You sat on the seat, making your best effort to stay upright, legs wide open as you waited for Leon to clean himself up. You tilted your head at him with confusion, just now realizing what he had done.

"Why did you—" You frowned softly as he took your hand, cleaning his mess with an old bandana before wiping the seat in between your parted legs.

"I'm still taking you to dinner. Unless you wanted to sit through dinner with my cum inside you all night." He chuckled softly, face flushed red, hair disheveled and jeans still undone as he tossed the bandana into one of the compartments. When he looked at you, you had this sweet look on your face, a tiny smile on your lips and your head tilted. God you were so adorable, it made him want to ruin you all over again. "Although you probably deserve it. But I'm not that mean."

A small perverted smirk made its way to your lips, and it made Leon groan as he grabbed your chin and placed a rough kiss to your lips.

"Don't give me that look or you won't make it to dinner."

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy

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bimbobaggins69 · 11 months

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Heavy metal parking lot

eddie munson x metal head fem!reader

summary: the last thing you ever expected was to hit it off with a cute guy at a Judas Priest concert, but stranger things have happened.

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, all porn almost no plot, no use of y/n, use of pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl etc.), smoking the devils lettuce, queer!eddie, reader has nipple piercings, dom/sub dynamics, some degradation (but eddie is still a simp), oral (m receiving), unprotected rough p in v sex (this is fantasy, pls don’t have unprotected sex with strangers), anal play (f receiving).

notes: just a dirty little one shot. Sorry, there will not be a part two. Thank you to my loves: @corrodedcorpses @take-everything-you-can & @stwritings for beta reading <3 also, blame @bettyfrommars & @xxhellfiregirlxx for me posting this filth on our holy day.

wc: 3.1k

This was a stupid idea, stupid, stupid.

But here you are driving to the market square arena, an hour away from home, dead in the middle of a scorching summer, alone.

You had this elaborate plan for months, ever since you had bought your tickets. You and your best friend Abbee were supposed to meet up at your house, get ready together, go grab some fuel and head to the show a little early to hang out in the parking lot. That unfortunately is not what ended up happening. You got ready…alone, got food…alone and now you’re making the trip…alone.

You can’t be mad at your friend, she did have a very valid excuse as to why she was unable to make it. You couldn’t help but to kick yourself for never being brave enough to put yourself out there and make new friends, but maybe that would change, maybe you would meet some cool people at the show, some Judas Priest fans seemed like the perfect place to start.

The parking lot was jam packed, men and women in all their Judas Priest or Dokken gear, huge banners held out by adoring fans, beer cans littering the lot as weed and cigarette smoke fog the air.

You finally find parking, lucky for you it seems to be the last vacant spot left, squeezed tight between a red Camaro and a brown van.

Better than nothing.

As you exit your black Honda accord, your eyes flit around the lot, taking in your surroundings as you breathe in the second hand smoke.

“Hey, sick shirt.” A gruff voice towards your left calls out. You look around for a second before your eyes finally land on the owner of the van that's parked beside you.

His brown wavy hair gets hit by a gust of wind, as if he’s some hot character in one of those movies that the protagonist is in love with. You definitely couldn’t deny his hotness.

His defenders of the faith shirt clung to his body like a second skin, tight dark blue jeans with a chain adorned his lower half along with white reeboks.

He had a joint perched between his two fingers as his eyes so boldly roamed your figure.

“Thanks,” you acknowledge, as you look down at your ‘hell bent for leather’ cropped tee, and then back up to meet his mischievous smirk. “Yours is sick, too.” You offer in a small but cheerful voice.

“You wanna come smoke with me, pretty girl?” He offers as the mischievous smile grows, like the grinch who stole Christmas.

“Uhh, sure why not?” You shrug, making your way over to the van and taking a seat on the red carpeted floor, your leather mini skirt now hiked up around the very tops of your thighs while your knee high boots hang out the side, resting on the asphalt below you.

“I’m Eddie.” He declares while holding out a heavily ringed hand, you stare it down ogling between his tattoos, black nail polish and badass rings before placing your smaller appendage in his, you firmly shake it with a smile as you tell him your name.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He chuckles before handing you the dwindling joint.

You take a hit while you let your eyes wander around the inside of his van, a small mattress set up with a colorful quilt and two fluffy pillows.

Various magazines of the adult variety scrawled out haphazardly on the floor, a six pack of coors lite sits on the arm rest between the two front seats, breaking the law plays out through the speakers.

Though he’s not the only one, various Judas Priest songs could be heard throughout the stadium's parking lot.

You take another small hit, passing back the now roach sized spliff. Eddie tries to get one more hit out of it, before throwing it to the ground and stepping on it with the toe of his white sneaker.

You begin to stand up with the thought that you may be overstaying your welcome, until Eddie puts a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You don’t have to go.” The shy look on his face is the total antithesis of his cocky demeanor when he’d first waved you over.

“Oh, okay. I just didn’t want to bother or keep you from anything.” Your response is sheepish and the butterflies in your belly begin fluttering about.

“No baby, you're not keeping me from anything.” He beams.

That damn nickname pulls you in like a moth to a flame.

As you and Eddie grow better acquainted, you realize he has a great sense of humor with an eccentric personality.

You also quickly realize you want him.

Right here in the back of his van.

You scoot your bottom back, making your way into the wagon. The action causes your skirt to roll up further along your thighs, giving Eddie the perfect glimpse of your black panties.

You swing your feet inside and hoist yourself up on your knees, as graceful as possible. Waddling over like a penguin to fling yourself onto the mattress that had your mind wandering.

“Mmm, this is comfy.” You sigh with a smile, as your body burrows deeper into the off white sheets below you.

Eddie stands just outside the door, eyes unable to leave your backside as you cuddle up on his mattress. ‘Was this his lucky day?’ This shit never happens to him, well at least not with women anyway. He had better luck with men.

Thank you Judas Priest, Eddie silently prays to the sky before making his way inside the vehicle to join you.

“Mind if I lay down?” He mumbles, surprising you with his close proximity.

You turn, catching onto the puppy dog eyes he’s giving you; and what you would give to have them looking down at you while he’s working your body to sweet, sweet release.

“No, of course not.” You giggle, the sound makes Eddie twitch in his pants.

He was a sweet boy, you wanted him to fucking ruin you.

You turn to face him, head resting on your palm as you pat the spot beside you.

The sly smirk returns as he lays down on the mattress, mirroring your exact position.

“Shows gonna start in an hour.” He whispers, scooting in closer towards you, the warmth radiating off of his skin is sending your body into a frenzy.

“Mm, so we have enough time?” You sweetly whisper back.

“Enough time for what? Hmm?” Your bodies continue to gravitate together, a pull so strong it was like you were both attached to magnets.

“For this..” you breathily huff before straddling Eddie’s waist, the groan that escapes him makes your eyes roll back, as you begin to grind down on his growing erection.

“Fuck” Eddie hisses as his hands fall to your waist, now controlling your movements and pulling you in deeper.

“That’s exactly what I intend on doing.” The air gets caught in your throat as a small laugh leaves your lips, your clit catching on rough denim fabric, Eddie swears every time you giggle it’s like an angel gets its wings. It’s sweet and soft, just like you.

You lean in closer, soft plump lips meeting yours in a tangle of tongues, it’s hot and desperate as you are for each other.

Eddie moans into your mouth as your movements get more daring, practically bouncing on his clothed lap. His eyes quickly flicker to your tits as they jiggle with each bounce, it’s clear you’re not wearing a bra, and the idea makes Eddie’s mouth water and his cock stiffen. It feels the hardest it's been since he took a dick in his ass for the very first time. He needs to be inside you and he hopes you're willing to give him that, he’ll do anything for it, at this moment. He feels like a desperate idiot; but he is, he really is so fucking desperate for you.

You immediately notice the way Eddie’s eyes have been trained on the perky slopes of your breasts, with an ever growing smirk you take the hem and hike the shirt up and over your head to be discarded on the red carpet of his van.

“Holy shit!” Eddie practically pants, like a dog who’s out of water.

His decorated hands move up from your hips as they begin to tweak at your nipples, nimble fingers rubbing over the double balled jewelry that sits on each hardened peak.

“Fuck, such pretty tits!” He groans “and they’re pierced, Jesus.” Eddie was enthralled, absolutely fucking enthralled by you.

You lean down, planting soft kisses to Eddie’s long, beautiful neck, leaving behind remenits of your red lipstick and spit soaked bruises.

“Mmm…” he hums as you suck and bite at a spot under his ear lobe.

“Please, fuck me.” You breathily murmur into his ear, before you lift yourself back up using his pecs as leverage, eyes meeting his as you gauge his reaction to your plea.

“You sure, baby?” He whispers before leaving a sloppy kiss to your jaw.

“I’m so sure, please Eddie.” The way you moan his name as you beg for him creates something feral inside of Eddie, his eyes now glazed over into something dark, his jaw tightens as he grabs two rough handfuls of your ass, that are now exposed while your skirt sits carelessly on your lower back.

His right hand slowly glides up your body and into your hair, quickly tightening his fingers around the strands at the base of your neck.

“You want my cock, princess?” He challenges through his teeth.

“Yes, mmhmm, so bad!” You insist with a shout, having your hair pulled has always made you drip between your legs.

“Then go on.. take my cock out, you cock hungry little slut.” He growls as his fingers wrap tighter around your hair before quickly pulling his hand away, he gives your ass one hard spank before he’s back to grabbing at the meat.

You make quick work of his handcuff belt, unbuttoning and swiftly pulling down the zipper before dipping your thumbs into the waistband of both his boxers and jeans and peeling them off, leaving both garments to sit around the tops of his knees.

The sight you’re met with causes you to gasp, he has to be at least 9 inches, it was red and throbbing, wetness from his precum already saturating the mushroom tip.

“Like what you see, baby?” He brags with a smirk that could make Satan himself shiver.

“You’re so pretty, every part of you.” You admit as you lick your bottom lip, with hunger in your eyes.

Eddie wraps a ringed hand around the base of his cock, vulgarly slapping the air with it,

“Where do you want it, huh sweetheart?” His grunt made more slick pool from your needy cunt.

Showing is better than telling, so you plant your knees between his thighs, bringing your face mere inches from his pulsing hard sex.

“Holy fuck, are you gonna—” his eyes roll back as your tongue glides up the underside of his cock, before wrapping your lips around his tip. “No girl has ever given me head.” He huffs while throwing his head back.

You let go of his cock with a wet pop, “no one’s ever sucked your dick before?” You scrunch your face up in confusion, there’s no way he’s never been treated to some head, that would be a travesty.

“I have, j-just not by a-a women.” He stutters out in embarrassment, as his face flushes a bright red that travels down his neck.

It takes you a second to understand what he means, “oh” was all you said, before shrugging and getting back to work on his tip.

He smiles down at you, pulling all of your hair out of your face and holding it together in a makeshift ponytail as he gently guides your head up and down on him, until you’re taking him deeper, so deep your nose is now brushing against the curly hairs at his base, you swallow his tip down before you begin rapidly moving and twisting your head as if a women possessed.

“Oh my— whoa, fuck baby!” He keens into the stuffy air of the van, “your mouth feels so fucking good!” He begins rapidly pumping his hips up, fucking your throat as spit strings fall to his balls, you reach a hand out and begin massaging them, making him growl in pleasure.

“Okay baby, okay angel please, please stop.” Eddie whimpers as he pulls you off of his cock, the spit on your lips remains connected to Eddie’s tip.

He rubs over the messy swollen flesh with the pad of his thumb, as he hums in satisfaction.

“All fours, now.” He commands before shifting up and onto his knees, you crawl further up the mattress, finally laying your head against the sheets that were now dampened by his back, you arch your ass up while making sure your stomach was equally lowered, the position causing your ass to stick out more for him.

“Good girl.” He praised before giving your ass another harsh slap. “Let’s get these off of you.” Eddie slides your black thong over your butt and down your legs, slowly pulling them off from around your feet.

He throws your panties towards the front of the driver's seat, the black fabric lands perfectly on his dashboard. “M’keepin’ those.” He chuckles.

You’re so lost in desire, that someone could’ve told you Rob Halford himself was out signing autographs and you wouldn’t have bat an eyelash or made any attempts to move.

“Fuck, look at these pretty holes.” Eddie groans while running the tips of his fingers from your clit up towards your asshole. “You like getting all of your holes filled, princess?” He smirks at the way your body reacts to him and how loud you moan at his words.

Your ‘yes’ is muffled by the mattress, Eddie’s having none of it.

SLAP!

“Speak up!” He grumbles, before taking both cheeks roughly in his hands and spreading them.

“Yes! I love it!” Your wail has Eddie’s smirk growing more devilish

“I know you do.” He mocks as his middle finger teases your entrance, he causes your body to writhe and groan in desperation by slipping just the tip of his finger in and out of your aching hole.

Finally after all of his teasing, he slips his full finger inside, pumping in and out at a splitting speed.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He gasps while resting his head on your backside as he still works you with his finger, finally slipping another one in and scissoring them in an attempt to stretch you out.

He hasn’t even fucked you, yet you’re still an incoherent mess as slobber begins to pool on the sheets below your face.

His head starts to slowly move closer to where you’re spread, you gasp and wiggle when you feel his wet tongue slowly lick over your puckered hole.

“Oh fuck!” You blubber, the action making you clench around Eddie’s fingers.

“Mm, oh you like getting your asshole licked?” He scoffs in a teasing tone “it feels good, doesn’t it?”

All you can do is nod and sob into his cheap cologne smelling sheets.

Slowly slipping his fingers out as he moves in closer, replacing his digits with his throbbing cock.

“You ready, princess?” He surveys as he runs his calloused hands up and down your back, gently rubbing at your soft skin.

“Mmhm, I’m ready.” You consent while lifting your head to get a good look at him as he slides into you.

His tip begins breaching your entrance as your eyes remain locked on each other, you and Eddie’s brows are both furrowed and jaws slack as he pushes in deeper.

“Oh, fuck!” Eddie growls as he continues to stretch you out. If he were to die in this very moment, he would die a happy man, the way your pussy is squeezing and choking him; he’s fucked tight assholes, but never a pussy this tight and he thinks it might be his new favorite thing, the way you get so effortlessly wet and the ridges on your walls that stimulate his cock so sensationally. The weed makes his mind go to some weird places; maybe I found some kind of holy grail pussy? He shakes his head of the weird thoughts beginning to plague his mind.

“Yes, right there!” Your screeching brings him back down to this dimension, making him drive deeper and pound harder into you, hitting that spongy spot over and over until you’re shaking underneath him, knees almost buckling at the intense pleasure that is now conquering your body. His fingers are pressed so deep into the skin of your upper thighs, that you’re positive they’ll be bruised by tomorrow.

“Right there?” Eddie mockingly smirks as he hits it over and over with his tip, “that your spot, baby?”

Your “mmhmm” comes out so whiny and desperate, he knew you were close and so was he but he needed to see you fall apart first.

Eddie quickly brings his thumb up to his lips, the calloused finger dipping into his mouth as he sucks, getting it all nice and wet before you feel it prodding your unused hole, he begins thrusting faster as his digit reaches the second knuckle. “Oh my god, you have the tightest fucking holes.” He sounds so out of breath and fucked out by this point, his loud groans, filthy words and extra finger are making you reach that peak of toe curling completion at a hurdling speed.

“I’m gonna cum.” You whine as you begin to back up into his thrusts, making his cock and finger hit deeper depths.

“Yes, cum for me baby.” He urges as he’s on the precipice of his own high.

“Yes, yes…” you babble as your body tenses, uncontrollably shaking as you come undone, Eddie’s thumb continues to work your asshole, while he fucks you through the most intense orgasm you’ll probably ever have.

“I-I’m coming baby, fuck!” Eddie shouts before he pulls himself out of your tight heat, hand maniacally working his cock until his warm seed spurts into your stretched out asshole.

“Holy shit!” He groans while his body falls over yours, you both begin to laugh until you hear someone pound their fist on the side of the van.

“Hey, Eddie—” you gasp at the disturbance, eyes going wide when you catch a glance at the metalhead, “the show's about to start man, everyone’s lining up at the door!” The raspy masculine voice calls out again, before you’re left in silence.

You and Eddie begin frantically getting dressed in hopes to get a good spot in line.

Once out into the fresh summer air, Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders, “you wanna watch the show with us, princess?” He proposes with a sweet grin, while lighting a cigarette.

You were right, a Judas Priest concert was the perfect place to make new friends.

taglist:

@michellecrusher @ali-r3n @crybabyddl @definitelynotecho @ajkamins @daniellabrandt @bl4ckt00thgr1n

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #eddie munson fic

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lxndonorris · 3 months

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wearing his clothes - Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smutish Charles catches you wearing his clothes, and he needs to put in some work to get it back x word count: 1900 taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests :)

In the soft glow of the bedroom, you open the closet, looking at a display of your boyfriend's clothes. Charles owns so many pretty clothes, but one item in particular caught your attention once he brought it back from his latest photoshoot.

A beautiful black leather jacket, slim fit, tight—just the way he and you like it. Charles sent you the pictures right after the shoot, but seeing him actually wear those clothes blew your mind.

Right now, he is busy getting ready for a boy's night out with his closest friends. You saw him through the open door, running his fingers through his hair and styling it—a beautiful sight. You assume, as much as he loves that jacket, that he wants to wear it tonight.

At the same time, you know how much he loves seeing you wearing his clothes, and you want to use that to your advantage by teasing him a little and putting him in the right mood for today.

Looking through his closet, you find a few gorgeous jackets and designer clothes, and all of them tickle your fancy. However, that leather jacket is what you need.

"There you are." You carefully take it out of the closet and look at it. What a beautiful piece of clothing!

Just then, you hear his voice echo through the hallway. "Y/N? Have you seen my rings?" Charles exclaimed.

With a coy smile, you drape his leather jacket over your shoulders and slip inside, one arm at a time, savoring your boyfriend's familiar scent that envelopes you. The supple material embraces you, carrying his scent like a secret promise.

You catch a glimpse of yourself inside the mirror, his jacket hanging just right, accentuating the contours of your figure. The soft hum of anticipation fills the room as you hear footsteps approaching. Turning around to watch the doorhandle move, the jacket sets comfortably against your skin.

The door eases open, revealing him, his hair nicely done, his sweater, pants, and shoes flattering his well-formed physique perfectly.

"Y/N. I found the rings." Charles soft voice fills the room when his gaze falls upon you. Instantly, his eyes widen with surprise, and a grin forms on his lips. "Oh, hello." He says, casually leaning with one arm against the doorframe, as your focus shifts to the bulging biceps barely hidden underneath the fabric of his sweater.

"Hey." You lift your chin slightly and raise both of your eyebrows. His jacket makes you feel so comfortable, tough even. Running a hand through your hair, you strike a little pose, holding on to the jacket, when you catch him biting his lower lip.

"Well, aren't you a sight?" Charles remarks, his eyes lingering on the way the jacket clings to you.

You can't resist a mischievous smile, wearing that jacket like a trophy. "Thanks, babé." You tilt your head teasingly, enjoying how much his gaze devours all of you.

Charles licks his lips as his eyes linger on your chest, and subconsciously, he places a hand at his pecs and strokes himself before letting it run down his entire chest.

"That looks better on you than it does on me." He teased his voice, carrying a mischievous tone.

You feel a flush of warmth as his admiration becomes palpable. He closes the distance, his fingers tracing the edge of the jacket, and the touch a gentle caress.

"You really make it look so much better than I ever could." He admits that his voice low and appreciative.

The tension rises between the two of you as he moves even closer. The faint scent of his cologne grows stronger once he leans in to you, his soft lips barely brushing over your cheeks before he lets out a deep breath.

"Fuck. You're so hot." Charles' hands wander down to your waist, securely holding you in place. A spark of electricity rushes through your veins as you open your mouth, letting out a breathless sigh.

"Charles." You mouth, placing a hand at his firm chest, tracing the tangible outlines of his pecs through his tight clothes.

He breathes down your neck, surely holding back a low moan himself. "Y/N." Charles whispers, and you lean your head back in response.

"How about a trade?" You propose, gently stroking his chest. His muscles are tensing slightly, getting harder by the second.

He slowly separates himself, just enough for you to still feel his warmth against your cheek. "What do you have in mind?" Charles chuckles under his breath, both of his hands still at your waist, stroking you with his thumbs.

You lean in, steadying yourself against his frame with both of your hands. "A kiss for your favorite jacket?" Teasingly, you meet his burning gaze.

At the sound of your words, a mischievous smirk forms in the corner of his lips."

Y/N." He frowns. "I cannot decline that offer."

His eyes sparkle with a mixture of amusement and desire, and without hesitation, he closes the distance between you. The warmth of his lips meets yours in a sweet exchange, sealing the deal.

Once or twice, you kiss each other, embracing each other again and again. The tension engulfs both of you as you move even closer. His hands run along your waist, resting and caressing your butt, while yours run down his chest, feeling his toned body tense underneath his sweater.

But you won't stop there yet. In the heat of the moment, you cannot help but run a hand to his crotch, feeling his desire building up, forming a tangible bulge inside his pants.

He flinches once you touch and feel him, encouraging him to rock his hips against the palm of your hand.

"Mhmmm." Charles purrs right into your mouth as you close your eyes, fully embracing this moment.

"You like that, huh?" You tease once again and lean your head back, enjoying the smug grin spreading across his entire face. He narrows his eyes and lifts his chin as well, while you keep on teasing him with your fingers.

There is no need for more words. Both of you know that he's into that, enjoying you making the first move. Charles just shakes his head in amusement, a bright smile on his lips.

"You're one to talk." He says it with a playful tone.

Before you can react, however, he easily picks you up.

"Charles." You giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Both of you giggle now as he carries you toward the bed. You hold on tight, hugging him with your arms and legs.

Gently, he puts you down on the soft mattress before he climbs on top of you, his body towering over yours.

"You're enjoying that, huh?" Charles smirks, his accent coming through a little.

Your eyes wander to his necklace, now hanging in the air just inches above your chest. The two of you are breathing quickly, barely able to catch your breath.

Nodding, you embrace him once he bends down, kissing you again and again while grinding his hips against your thighs.

Your whole body tingles in excitement, but you tilt your head to breathe deeply.

"Fuck. Charles." You let out a low groan when he starts placing kisses all over your neck.

Then, however, he stops.

"I need to go now." Charles places a hand at your neck, tracing your jawline with his fingers, before caressing your cheeks lovingly.

"I know." You lean into his soft touch, feeling his cold rings on your skin.

He helps you off the bed, reaching for your hand.

Lovingly, Charles starts to undress you, one arm at a time, you let go of his leather jacket. You enjoy feeling his hands run all over your upper body. Naturally, he uses this to his advantage, touching you and your boobs gently as well.

Giggling, you turn around, and your eyes meet again. This time, it is more playful, yet you're longing for his gentle touch, his warm embrace, and his lips on yours. Your heart is still racing, and you know he is feeling the same. Charles keeps on touching himself, stroking his chest, his tummy, and his bulge multiple times.

With a grin, he slips into the jacket that had just adorned me moments before. The material molds to his frame, accentuating his broad shoulders and making him look effortlessly good. You watch with a mix of curiosity and delight as he adjusts the collar, clearly enjoying the familiar comfort.

Charles then turns to you, a playful glint in his eyes. "How do I look?" He asks, striking the same pose as in the photoshoot.

Of course, he knows how well he looks. His strong yet slim frame looks so good as he strokes his chest through the fabric of his jacket. All of his clothes flatter him perfectly, but his pants are now unable to hide his desire.

A chuckle escapes you. "Surprisingly good, considering it's my turn to admire now." You reply, appreciating the sight of him wearing the jacket with a newfound allure.

He walks toward you, a swagger in his step, and wraps his arms around you, the jacket providing another layer of warmth. The scent lingers in your nose, making you lick your lips once.

"Maybe you should borrow it more often." He suggests, his lips curving into a charming smile.

You kiss him softly before he pulls away once more, walking over to the mirror, admiring his own reflection.

He runs a hand through his groomed beard, seemingly enjoying himself. When you catch him touching himself, his bulge firmly.

"We should finish that later." You raise your eyebrows again.

Curiously, he turns around, one hand still on his length and the other stroking his own chest.

"Oh, that sounds so good." His accent is still present as his rough voice fills the air all around you.

A soft smile plays on your lips as you take in the way he carries himself, the jacket adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance. The dim light in the room cast a subtle glow on his features, emphasizing the allure of the moment.

Lost in admiration, you meet his eyes and whisper, "You look incredible in that jacket," letting the unspoken tension linger in the air.

The exchange of glances speaks volumes—a silent acknowledgement of the attraction that went beyond the fabric of the jacket, creating a connection that feels both intimate and exhilarating.

Charles closes the distance again, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a kiss followed by a warm, tight hug.

As he prepares to leave for the night, the air between you holds a subtle tension—a mix of longing and anticipation. He adjusts the jacket one last time, a confident smile on his lips.

You stand there, watching him with a longing gaze, wishing he would just stay now so you could extend this moment of intimacy.

Your eyes meet, and in that moment of lingering intensity, words seem unnecessary. The exchanged glances convey a myriad of emotions—affection, desire, and a touch of playfulness.

"I love you." Charles says softly, kissing you again.

"I love you too." You trace his jawline with two fingers, enjoying how his stubble tickles your skin. "Enjoy yourself, will you?" Patting his chest gently, you paint a coy smile on his lips.

With one last longing look, he leaves for the night.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #Charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc one shot #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #Charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fanfiction

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vintagehellfire · 5 months

Text

Danse Macabre | E.M x Reader

summary: Your best friend invites you to a concert that you're less than keen on but you get much more devil worship than you bargained for.

warnings: porn without plot, plot? What plot?, choking, nipple play, blood play, bruising, oral (m receiving), sacrilege, bdsm, dom sub dynamics, just really stupid horny honestly. Eyefucking, teasing, edging???? Spit kink, mask kink, devil worship. This is just pure filth honestly, piv, unprotected sex (don’t do this with strangers ya’ll pls I’m begging) mdni 18+

word count: 8.6k

Thank you to @the-unforgivenn for beta reading this pure filth for me and for correcting my atrocious keystroke mistakes. I love you so much babe.

part two

How you got dragged to some sort of musical satanic ritual by your best friend Lilly was far beyond you. The heavy instrumentals contrasted too harshly with the light and theatrical vocals. If looks could kill, Lilly would be dead. This wasn’t your scene, it never would be, it’s what you told yourself. Sipping your gin, arms crossed, you scrunch your face, the bartender having been too busy staring at your chest while he poured your drink, resulting in a rather disgusting concoction. As if the night couldn’t get any worse.

One of the lighter intro songs came to an end before the pyrotechnics roared to life next to you, one of the guitarists emerged from behind the waft of smoke. It was then that your breath caught in your throat, the way that he played had you hypnotised, placing you in a trance so deep that you couldn’t tear your eyes from him even if you wanted to, veins protruding. Your eyes trailed over his body, tight jeans fitting to his body and a uniform dress shirt adorning his torso, long sleeves and turtleneck underneath, hiding any soft skin. As you would be met with a face, you were surprised to find that you were met with a helmet of sorts, breathing tubes and other such accessories adorning it, as well as sticking out the top. His eyes burned red like embers behind the wide goggles, a darkness swallowing the man behind the mask and drawing you in. Curiosity got the better of you, you watched closely when he stomped to the beat of the songs. he fans collectively let out a wave of screams, throwing flowers on stage. You rolled your eyes so hard they probably should have rolled out of your head. Were you attracted to the masked musician? In some capacity sure, but wholly? No. They just… they knew how to play well and those hands… you could admit those hands were something. You shook your head to rid yourself of impure thoughts, it wasn’t like you liked the music anyway.

Your face was stone cold and your arms were crossed over your chest unhappily, cleavage pushed up, and the leather of your jacket creaking. That was the thing about you, you’d rather die than remove your prized biker jacket. It was your battle armour, much like the guitarists get up seemed to be the band’s uniform. To them, it protected their identity, and it protected you – you wouldn’t be caught off guard, you wouldn’t be vulnerable, you couldn’t. Your icy stare pierced through the smoke, through the flames, as you focused your gaze on the guitarist in front of you. His white guitar distinguished him from everyone else just as your expression did you –perfectly sour.

The crowd behind you chanted along to the songs, screaming about Lucifer and the congregation and whatever other shit you chose to ignore in favour of your best friend. Lilly was one of them, jumping up and down, chanting every word of the hymns the lead singer belted out to the tune of the strong bass line and the chugging of guitars. As much as you wanted her to have fun, you rolled your eyes, this wasn’t your scene. Every song that started out heavy led to a disappointment with the vocals or the rock opera and so you just opted to be the designated party pooper and give your best glare towards the lead guitarist who seemed all too interested in your corner of the stage. He wailed on his guitar harder than you’d seen anyone wail on one before, a flash of worry briefly crossing your mind but you quickly pushed it down.

The masked man played through his songs flawlessly, fingers moving expertly across the fretboard, mind and body completely in tandem; however your pout, your knit eyebrows, and crossed arms caught his eye, he’d stare back at you through his tinted goggles, smiling softly to himself at how adorable you looked when you were so grumpy. He could tell this wasn’t your scene and so during the slow and long intro to a song he walked over to the very front, standing just a few feet above you. He tilted his head to the side, his mask listing as he stared, playing the intro as his eyes never left yours.

The small movement caught your attention, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you felt like the glowing embers behind the goggles were burning into your very soul, dissecting every little secret. He slowly points to himself before he gets his queue to jump into his next riffs, stomping away as he pushed through the heavy chords that thundered through the concert hall. You dared not admit it to yourself, but something inside you snapped, a warmth starting to spread between your legs. No, no you couldn’t possibly be attracted to this, right? But just as that thought entered your mind, it shot out of your head and straight to your heart when you saw the man before you strut over to his bandmate. The two bent over backwards together, the taller of the two supporting the back of the man with the white guitar. A cute moment, or so you thought, but as soon as the shorter was up for his solo, the taller wrapped an arm around him and pawed at his cock, tugging him into his muscled body, catching the one you had your eye on off guard. He rocked his hips into the other and rested his masked head on the shorter shoulder, fake panting. He did not falter however, and that had your brain reeling.

With a small smack on the ass, the taller let him go, strutting away as the crowd erupted in ear shattering screeches, and if what had just transpired wasn’t one of the hottest things you’d seen, you would have absolutely rolled your eyes, but instead it had you shifting in your place, all too keenly aware of the small flare of heat that lapped at you and the proximity of the other bodies surrounding you. You suddenly felt small, trapped; and you wanted nothing more than to run out and dunk your head under some ice cold water. What was wrong with you? Your eyes darted from side to side, hoping your best friend Lilly wouldn’t notice.

What went on next was just about to make anyone lose their minds, the lead guitarist started to throw guitar picks into the crowd, plucking one last one from his guitar and marching over to directly in front of you. The song they played next was clearly well known but it was only vaguely familiar to you, it was one you would listen to ironically while doing the dishes, one that you didn’t care much for, but was catchy nonetheless. What you didn’t realise was just how suggestive the lyrics were – and so when the man with the white guitar stood in front of you, spreading his legs to put himself in a more comfortable playing stance you thought nothing about it but his next motions had your panties soaking themselves in your slick. A long and crooked finger pointed to himself quickly, then he went back to wailing on his precious guitar just before giving himself a window of about a second to stop, his ring and middle finger very rapidly turned upwards, flicking rapidly as if motioning fingering you, his goggles deadlocked on your eyes. You could tell he was watching you for a reaction, and how you knew you wouldn’t be able to tell. Christ, maybe you should have listened to Lilly when she was telling you this band was horny. Truthfully, you had shrugged it off, what, some singer in a pope mask acting all horny? That didn’t exactly get your rocks off, but the moment you laid eyes on the masked men playing their instruments, all rational thought flew out the window.

Little did you know that the guitarist did have his eyes set on you, all queues already learned, his body moving on auto pilot, his performance was deliberately exaggerated just for you, his motions tailored to get you hot and bothered. He knew he played the best role, and as the show went on, with the lack of water, and the horrid head, he knew his veins were pronouncing themselves even more, fingers sliding around, fingering the fretboard with an expert speed. Every nook, cranny, and metal notch memorised by the calluses on the pads of his fingers, like an old lover he’d always know how to please. He would pride himself on it, on his accuracy, and he was thankful, oh so thankful, that his death metal band had allowed him the dexterity to pull something such as this off.

Your eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from his figure, stalking his every move like a predator with their prey, A game of cat and mouse you both played with each other from the stage and the crowd. At this point, all shame was thrown out the window and you were openly eye fucking him, blood boiling in your veins and mouth starting to run a little dry.

The final nail in the coffin was during their heaviest song during the show, a calm moment before the storm, before the stadium exploded in a downpour of black and white paper confetti. Your eyes fixated on the man before you as the song slows to a steady chug, breathy whispers sung into the microphones. It made your head spin as you were trying to compose yourself, breath hitching as the object of your lustful affection met your gaze. His black inky goggles bored you as he brought a shaky hand up, his other hand chugging the low E of his guitar. You were transfixed by the man, unable to peel your eyes from him as he slowly and seductively licked his hand, tongue expertly flicking between his fingers, his shaky breaths becoming ragged and exaggerated. Pressing his hand to his chest, he threw his head back in a moan, sliding his elegant fingers down the front of his uniform until it was level with his guitar, and exactly in time with his strumming, he fisted his hand and with a teasing motion he tugged at the air. Your mouth ran completely dry as you registered that he was feigning masturbation in front of thousands of people. He had you caught in a trance, hypnotised by his agonising motions, his eyes seemingly staring into your very soul, picking apart every last bit of you - he saw the scars inside and your desires all rolled into one. As his actions picked up, one hand still busy on his guitar, you let out a choked breath, transfixed by the man, ghoul, whatever he was, before you. He commanded all your attention, causing your mouth to run completely dry but it couldn’t have prepared you for his “release”-- letting go the moment the confetti cannon exploded. Your jaw slacked, a strangled moan flying from your mouth as you clenched your thighs together, mouth slightly agape.

The guitarist knew he had you in a chokehold at that very moment, smirking from underneath his coverings. Flawlessly he jumped back into the song and turned away from you, the game of cat and mouse had become too much, too real. It had only taken him an hour and a half to break you down, but once he did he felt a satisfaction he couldn’t explain, and of course he would try to hide it as he continued to strut across the stage as if he owned it. The reality was that he didn’t want to give away just the way this little game had affected him as well, an undeniable strain in his lower half. If his bandmates had noticed, they had clearly made it their mission to torture him, the rhythm guitarist getting on his knees in front of him during a solo, fucking into his own guitar as he pressed his head to the lead guitarists thigh. It wasn’t until the lead placed a boot on his shoulder to push away from him that the one on his knees relented, the crowd exploding in a rain of screams, and yet all you heard was the rush of blood in your ears. You resigned, the game had been won.

As you tried to catch your breath, you looked over to Lilly, thanking Satan that she hadn’t noticed your turmoil. The rest of the show had you holding your breath, knowing that the masked musician had made it his mission to play games with you. the show ended, you were relieved, you might have a moment yet to go home and get yourself off, forgetting the whole of the events that transpired.

“Come on, let’s get out of here and to the merch table before it gets too crowded!” Lilly cheered, sticking her handout for you to take, but as soon as she looked over your face her eyes drained of excitement. “Oh, are you okay? You look a little pale,” she noted, tilting her head to the side.

“Y-yeah, I,” You cleared your throat, “I’m fine, just feeling a little warm. I think I might head home but you go grab some merch. I’ll text you,” you lied cooly. You didn’t want her to know the profound effect that the lead guitarist had on you. With a nod she gave your shoulder a squeeze and darted off.

You could finally breathe, the suffocation that gripped at your throat just moments earlier had slightly dissipated. As dirty as your thoughts were at the moment, it was in your best interest to get moving, and so, as if on autopilot, you let your feet carry you as far from the stage as possible. You slipped past the crowd, weaving in and around groups of friends, teenagers reeling about the show, displeased parents. You wanted to beeline it out of there before anyone noticed you but unfortunately your plan was short lived as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and tug you behind a closed door.

Your brain ran at a mile a minute, trying to figure out whether it was cause for alarm, but as your back collided with the wall behind you, you were met with the masked ghoul from the stage pressing his knee between your legs, pinning you in place. All colour drained from your face as your breathing laboured. There wasn’t any fear in your body, not any longer, and if there had been any,it had been replaced with undeniable arousal, heat being sent straight to your core. It took all your willpower not to grind into his thigh.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The husky voice purred, a small accent peaking through. He smelled intoxicating, like amber and cigarettes, a tinge of iron poking through in the softest of undertones. It drove you crazy, mind spinning, dizzy with want. He cocks his head to the side, his nautical mask tilting, the black goggles seemingly bottomless, swallowing his eyes. The musician’s expression is completely unreadable and if you knew any better you’d say it was like a predator who had caught his prey. Your mistake was thinking the little game you both played was over, yet now it seems like it had just begun. The man leans into you, invading your space completely, his covered mouth coming up beside your ear. “Oh you thought our little game was over, didn’t you?” He pulls back, allowing your caged body some space. “Don’t think I didn’t see you, little one.” His sweet voice purrs, setting you over the edge, hips finally pushing into his leg as your head tilts back, smacking softly into the wall.

“Fuck…” The syllable leaves your mouth as a groan before you can do anything about it. Surely you were dreaming this, but when you opened your eyes, you were met with the same mask, the same expression that stared at you from the stage.

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart, I’ll have to bring you to the green room. We’ll paint it red in sin .” You swore you could hear him wink from behind his coverings but you didn’t care, satan, you didn’t care as long as you could have him. You’d worship him in uniform, all sweat slicked and bloody if you had to. In this moment you had a one track mind and you’d be damned if you didn’t act on your desires… but maybe having these desires meant that you were already damned. “What, not as bold anymore? Devil got your tongue?” He mused.

“Are you going to run your mouth or are you going to fuck me?” You spit out at him, a feigned venom behind your words, but they were too lust drenched to be taken harshly. In an instant his body was against yours, thigh pressing into your cunt, slowly rubbing back and forth.

“Earn it.” He growled out, face burying itself into the crook of your neck to pepper both kisses and love bites across your jugular. Your body caught fire, desperate to be taken by the mysterious man then and there. You hadn’t seen his face and you were mildly worried that seeing it would ruin the illusion. Would you even find him attractive under all his coverings? You didn’t have time to think about it before his hands came to the meat of your ass, tugging you against him with a burning desire, fire coursing through his veins. The strangled moan that ripped from your throat was one you weren’t expecting, but did it ever feel right, his strained cock digging into your hips as he pushed your body closer to his. You could tell he was well endowed even through the fabric of his trousers, a heat creeping up your neck at this realisation.

“Don’t tease.” You spat, hands coming up to grip his slightly torn jacket, his arm coverings hiding any identifiers. You were going off of nothing aside from the little fire element pin that was securely pinned to the lapel of his uniform. Your hands found themselves tugging him forward, daring him to kiss you.

“Don’t be a brat.” The stranger growled, swiftly lowering the cloth covering his mouth before assaulting your lips with his. It was all teeth and tongues, pure lust taking over every one of your senses, and it seemed to be true for him as well. You kissed back furiously, nipping at his bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from him that would turn into a groan as you rolled your hips against his, begging for some relief. “Easy, pet.” He muttered against the plushness of your mouth, a small tender moment slipping through the cracks. As much as you enjoy rough, there was a certain swell that filled your heart in knowing that he wouldn’t push too far.

Your escapades were all tongue, teeth, and lips, strangled moans, and tugging at each other’s clothes until you both reached the green room wherethe band was supposed to be, however, your mystery man had ensured to clear it before he went out to find you. The only time either one of you broke from one another was for air or to push the door closed, locking it in the process. Both of you were too impatient, a carnal desire for one another pooling into your veins, fire spreading through you both and kindling in that very low spot in your abdomens.

“If you need me to stop, the safe word is Beelzebub.” The man’s husky voice cut through the groans, tugging your hips forward into his by the belt loops. He gave you a moment to process what he had said, but instead you grabbed onto his mask and tugged his head forward, lapping at his bottom lip in order to gain access to his mouth. As soon as he parted his lips, you were welcomed by his tongue dancing in tandem with yours. He tasted of wintergreen and cigarette smoke, a combination so sinful, so depraved that you should have been turned off, instead it flooded you with desire.

“Need you.” You panted out between kisses, the man unrelenting his assault on your mouth. You were utterly soaked through, and you were certain that the musician could smell you but you didn’t care, not right now anyway. You should have been embarrassed by being taken like this but it just turned you on even more knowing that maybe you would get to live out your newly discovered kink instead of trying to soothe — or smother — the flames by yourself.

“Do you need me?” The man mused. “Mmm, prove it to me, my little devil.” His hand crept from your waist down to your hips, and from your hips down to between your legs, agonizingly circling your cunt, thumb pressing into the seam of your jeans in the exact spot your clit would be in. “Show me how needy you are for me… Go on…” His husky voice teased. When you didn’t react he spun you so your back would be to him, a strong arm holding you against his body while the other busied himself with teasing you. His breath was by your ear now, and his cock pressed into your ass. He was so worked up that he began to rut his hips forward, moaning at the friction. His moan elicited a reaction in you, causing you to throw your head back onto his shoulder, mouth falling open. The tassels on his overcoat swayed with each rut of his hips, tickling the side of your face. You couldn’t imagine he wasn’t warm in his get up but you were too occupied to do anything about it.

“Please, fuck, I need you.” You choked out, eyes screwed shut as he teased. You felt him lick a stripe up your neck before nipping just underneath your ear as a small warning before latching his lips to the sensitive spot, sucking a dark bruise into your skin. The sickening combination of his lips on your neck, his hard on rubbing against your ass, and his fingers teasing your clothed cunt was becoming too much, driving your senses crazy. A low growl emanated from deep within his chest, reverberating across your back from the proximity.

“Then get down on your knees….” He spins you around, voice low and husky as he shoves you down, a mix of fear and burning desire settling in the deepest pits of your stomach. Your knees hit the ground with a thud and you’d be sure to bruise later, but that was a small price to pay. You watched him undo his belt and pull his zipper down before bringing his hand back up to his face, licking it slowly like he had during the show. You knew what was coming but what you didn’t expect was him to give you one last order as he spidered his fingers down the ruffled fabric of his shirt. “And pray.” An animalistic snarl came from beyond the mask as his fingers trailed into his boxers this time. The man tugged his cock out and began to stroke himself, chest heaving, his breathing became laboured.

“Oh, god.” You uttered, but the musician didn’t seem to like that. He let go of his cock, allowing it to bounce against his stomach, a stark contrast with his black attire. It looked delicious with the little opalescent bead of precum nestled on the very tip.

“No, my pet,” he purred, his thumb coming to your lips, slipping past them and into your mouth. It tasted of brass and sweat yet you opted to hollow your cheeks around it anyway, “you answer to our savior, satanus here. You are no longer in the house of god.” There was a cruelty behind his voice, corruption on his tongue. You would have thought the theatrics would have instantly had you shoving him away, but instead it left you craving the masked man, mouth salivating at the thought of him completely ruining you.

Without much warning, he tapped his cock on your lips, his precum smudging across your lips, and satanus, was it going to be his death. Your dark smudge of red lipstick would become ruins in the wake, the thought of a red ring around his member had his brain short circuiting, if you didn’t take him in your mouth soon he was going to lose it. Luckily you complied, opening wide to accommodate his size, letting your tongue lap at his tip as he slid in. He started slowly, almost carefully in order not to hurt you but soon enough you pushed his cock to the back of your throat, eliciting a strangled moan from him. His hands flew to your hair, desperate to hold onto something, anything, and he tugged you forward, pulling a moan from the very back of your throat. You pulled back, saliva building up in your mouth mixing with the salty taste of his seed.It wasn’t something you expected to like but you found yourself chasing it, craving more.

Your head bobbed over his length, your moans muffled as you tried to take him deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. His delicate resolve broke then and there, slamming into you at a frantic pace. He chased his high, immense pleasure searing through his veins as he fucked into your mouth like an animal, all sense of self control was gone. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, giving him the most innocent look you could muster as you flicked your tongue over his tip, lapping at his slit. Agonisingly you pulled back, employing the aid of your hand around his length, taking only part of him in your mouth. You jacked him off as you hollowed your cheeks around his tip, tongue expertly flicking over his frenulum and eliciting the most pornographic moan from him.

“Satanus, save me.” The man hissed from above you, pulling on your hair to draw you closer. He was losing control, babbling about how pretty you looked on your knees for him. “You are so exquisitely sinful, my pet.” His chest heaved with every breath he took, fingers tangling themselves further into your head of hair, fingernails practically at your scalp.

You take the praise and you run with it, taking it as a signal to keep going, and this time you move your free hand up his leg, rubbing over his thigh as a tease, a preamble to what you were going to do next. You took his groan as a confirmation to continue, his breaths coaxing you to keep going. You slid your hand up, opting to rub his thigh teasingly, savouring the feeling of the looser material under your fingertips, toying with it before you continued your journey up. While your mouth and right hand busied themselves with his thick cock, your left hand came up to fondle his heavy balls. Who knew that praying to a false idol could be so pleasurable.

“Oh, oh, f-fuck.” The taller threw his head back, voice gruff and fucked out, clearly enjoying this more than he should have been. He was rapidly losing any grip on the situation and he needed to extract himself from it unless he wanted to spill into your mouth. It was his nightmare, his most sinful fantasy, having you like this after the show – a stranger, a person in the crowd. The amount of people that would absolutely kill to be in your position and it was likely that you weren’t appreciating it as you should have been. The man keened before tugging you back harshly, his hips stuttering at the sudden loss of contact from your mouth. “If you keep going like that, I’m going to cum down your throat, sweetheart.” There was a certain level of concern laced into his tone, one that you glossed over through your lust.

“Holy shit…” You breathe out, pupils completely blown, the colours of your irises practically disappearing due to how clouded your mind was with him, only him, nothing but him, and how divine his cock was. At your words, something inside him snaps and he grabs your throat, pulling you up. You could feel yourself growing more aroused by the minute. How he had guessed that you’d be into choking was beyond you, but fuck was this doing things to you that you hadn’t even thought possible.

“There is nothing Holy here.” He growled out, a darkness overtaking his voice. His words sent a cold shiver down your spine, one that found itself shooting down towards your core, causing you to press to him. The ember glow from behind his goggles scanned over your face, flickering, igniting a fire in the bits of your belly. “Here we succumb to our lust.” He breathes before letting your neck go only to bring his hand down to your chest and massage your breast, pinching gently through the fabric of your tank top. In an instant, his mouth attacked your neck savagely, teeth nipping at the thin skin, tongue flicking over the bites to soothe them. You tilt your head back to accommodate him, your breathy moans coming up right beside his ear as you rut into him. You’re desperate to be fucked at this point, needing him more than you need to breathe.

He pierced your skin with his canines, an animalistic desire for you taking over him. He could no longer think, all consumed by his desires. You felt his lips trail down, soft as a butterfly’s wings, stopping at your jugular vein before he bit down, causing you to let out a yelp. Your cry of pain turned into a pornographic moan as he sucked and lapped at your salty skin, a small sheen of sweat starting to gloss over you as you burned up. If this was what being in hell was like, you’d have a hard time coming up with reasons to wind up in heaven. Your torture didn’t end there; however, as he snaked his free hand up to your cheek, holding you in place tenderly as he continued his assault on your neck. He made it his mission to mark you up as his but you were too far gone to care.

“Oh Christ.” You moaned as he lapped at the bite marks he left, but he didn’t seem to like this. Not that you could see this much, but his eyes turned dark as he trailed his lips farther down, burying his face in the crook of your neck before he bit down hard enough to draw blood. Your pain was immediately covered in a strangled cry of pure ecstasy as he tugged you towards him, his hand on your breast moving to your hip, surely bruising it, fingerprint embedded in the skin of your hip bone.

The taste of iron filled the musician’s mouth, his hard on reacting to your metallic taste, pressing into your hip involuntarily. He couldn’t get enough of you - the intoxicating smell of amber and palo santo mixed with the salt from sweat, and the citrus of the gin… He wanted to ruin you once and for all.

“No, my pet, you are not in the house of God. Only the devil resides here. Will I need to have you pray to me again?” The growl that ripped from his throat has you soaking your lace panties, a choked sob escaping from your parted lips. As he took you in, he noted that you already looked completely fucked out, the bruising on your neck blooming like deep red roses, a symbol of both love and devotion. The only thing you could do was shake your head in answer to him. “Mmm,” the stranger hummed, “your body and blood are mine, sweetheart.” He teased you. As your chest heaved, you examined him, traces of your blood down his chin, and some smeared across his mask, his lips were swollen from the harsh and animalistic kisses he was giving you, and satanus were you ever attracted to him in this moment.

“Please… Can I see you?” You plead, your hands coming to his waist, trailing down slowly, your right hand making contact with his cock. The soft cant of his hips encouraged you to grip it gently, stroking him languidly as you await his answer. “Please…” You repeated, eyes desperately boring into the void behind his goggles.

“Oh, is my little pet desperate to see me?” He cooed out, his fingers skillfully finding your belt, undoing it at a painfully slow pace. It was your turn to buck your hips into him, rolling them into his touch. “Mmm, such a little slut, can’t wait until I get my hands on you, can you?” He teased.

“Satanus, yes, please! Wanna see you.” You groaned, breath catching as he slowly teased you through your jeans. “Need you, need- need- ah!” You cried, throwing your head back once again, eyes fluttering shut from absolute pleasure. It’s then that the man opted to unzip your fly, pausing his animalistic activities to gently tug your jeans over your hips. You weren’t having any of this slow and sweet shit; however, and kicked them off as soon as you got the chance to, allowing him easier access to your sopping cunt. The smell hit him immediately and he moaned, head falling against your forehead, his breathing ragged and strained. His cock reacted, bouncing in your hand and you continued your teasing.

“Then beg me for it, pet. I don’t think you’ve earned the opportunity to unmask me just yet.” His resolve crumbled with every soft touch, every stroke. He pushed into your hand and you took that as a sign to speed your motions before you pushed him back. Confusion was written across his features, that was until you let a healthy glob of spit hit his angry cock. “Oh mother fuck.” The man hissed out, crashing his bloodied lips into your own, allowing the metallic taste of your own blood to permeate your tongue. You reciprocated, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He parted his lips, granting you access, as he swiftly moved your panties to the side, his thick fingers slipping between your weeping folds. It took everything in him to not take you then and there, your pussy sucking his fingers in, tight and wet.

“Please, please, I need to see you.” You sobbed out between kisses, but it was clear that it wasn’t enough. The musician growled at your words, dipping his index into your slick and using it as a lubricant to tease your clit with, it took him a moment but he found the bundle of nerves. The instanthis calloused finger landed on your clit, your vision exploded into stars, mouth practically running on its own, incoherent pleas and various iterations of “more” tumbling from your swollen lips. You were finally giving him something to work with, the pleas, the praises. He continued working your cunt, curling his fingers into the sweet spot deep inside you, warm walls squeezing against him.

“Oh, darling. I’ll give you whatever your sinful heart desires.” He nipped at your bottom lip, splitting it with his canines before he pulled back, panting as he tried to catch his breath, however he refused to remove his hand from your cunt, slowing his movements only a fraction so that he could catch his bearings. “Are you sure?” He asked you, a worry laced in his voice. You nodded fervently, a saccharine look in your eyes peeking through beyond the undeniable lust. Whether you understood he was anxious about what you would think of him or not wasn’t apparent but regardless, you wanted to know who the man you were bound to fuck was.

With a swift move he tugged the mask off, tossing it to the couch behind him and removing his balaclava. What you hadn’t expected was the sight to take your breath away completely. His hair tumbled out of the bun he had it tucked into, and the messy curls cascaded down his shoulders, doe eyes framed by the prettiest eyelashes you’d ever seen, and his swollen lips? God you couldn’t even think anymore. You immediately kissed them, nipping at his lips, taking his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking, tearing a moan from him, his lust filled eyes expanding even farther as you continued your assault on his lips. You bit down harder this time, cracking his lip. This time the metallic taste belonged to him and you couldn’t help but moan at his taste. You needed more.

“Please, I- I need you…” You panted, eyeing the man with carnal desire.

“Eddie, my name is Eddie.” And with that final confession he grabbed you by the hip and dragged you back to the roomiest surface he could find. It was all teeth, tongue, and the metallic taste of each other’s blood. Your hand on his cock and his fingers still working you open, movements becoming more erratic as he practically drilled into you with his fingers, setting an unrelenting pace that he seemed eager to keep up. Your knees hit the back of a couch, and his arm immediately shot to the small of your back, gently lowering you, a contrast to how he was abusing your needy body. Your hands moved to his hair in preparation for what was to come, yanking at his soft locks, releasing a deep moan from low in his chest. His hair was silky underneath your fingertips, few tangles in the way or your mission.

“Eddie, please.” You whined, flush with desire, unable to think of what you wanted anymore than wanting him. A smirk adorned his lips and he sank his knees onto the soft cushion, knees bracketing your hips perfectly, his hands coming up to frame your face, curls ticking your cheekbones as he did so.

“Open up, sweetheart.” He cooed. Instinctively you parted your lips for him only to feel a glob of his spit fly into your mouth. “Now swallow like the good devil worshipping slut you are.” You obeyed without question, swallowing down his spit with a pornographic moan. As you did, he took a moment to line himself up for you. “God, you look so beautiful, blasphemous doesn’t even begin to cover it, pet.” He praised as he rubs his dick against your soaked entrance, your hips rocking into him, threatening to suck him in. He hissed but slid his hand down your body, tracing your figure with his fingers, teasing in the most tantalising way, once he reaches your ass, he gives it a harsh slap at which you gasp out, choking on your breath, the sting of his hand making contact with your ass radiating a heat you hadn’t thought possible. You hadn’t expected it in the least but it was welcome nonetheless. “Behave.” He growled out, a darkness seeping into the word.

“P-Please, Eds… I need - I can’t, please.” You babbled, words completely incoherent. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for at this point. His cock? His fingers? Were you asking to be fucked stupid? In all your incoherent ramblings and begging Eddie caught one thing that made his brain fuzzy around the edges. “Corrupt me satanus, corrupt me, please.” Playing into the whole devil worship aspect had him gone, his hips violently snapping into yours, completely disregarding that you might need to adjust to the stretch. Part of him felt bad, but your immediate response was to wrap your legs around his waist, crying his name out as tears brimmed your eyes, mascara beginning to run down your cheeks. To Eddie, you looked absolutely perfect. He leaned in and peppered kisses across your face to wipe away the tears that trickled down.

“S’this what you want, my little pet? You want me to ruin you?” His husky voice was in your ear as he dipped his head lower, his hips rolling into yours slowly. He moved masterfully for someone so scrawny, cock buried to the hilt as he rocked into you. Your mouth fell slack, tightening your legs around his waist and tugging him into you. “Come on, answer me, sweetheart.” He coaxed, pulling out of you slowly before snapping his hips into yours. The pleasure and pain mixed together in a teasing dance, keeping you on the edge and overwhelming your senses all the same. You couldn’t verbally answer and so you turned your head, tucking your face into his neck and kissing up to his ear. About halfway up you landed on a sensitive spot, causing a moan to tumble from his lips, a shiver running down your spine. You latched on like a vampire, sucking over the spot, lapping over it with your tongue to soothe any violent bites you inflicted upon him. In turn he bit into your shoulder, trying to ground himself in reality instead of losing himself to carnal pleasure, the coil in his abdomen tightening evermore. His plan had gone to shit the moment you continued to nibble on his neck, your hands tugging harder at his lock, pulling him further into you. With a slight upward tilt of your hips, Eddie hit a new angle when he snapped his hips into yours, ploughing deeper into you. The both of you moaned in unison before he released a strangled whimper. It was your turn to break skin, your mouth filled with the crimson substance that sustained Eddie’s life. Releasing your lips from the wound, you kissed over his neck and to his shoulder, smearing the fluid across his upper half.

His pace picked up, slamming into you, deeper and deeper, nothing but the sound of breathless lovers, bodies colliding, and the sweet ecstasy of carnal desire flooding the green room. Your hand then came to his back, scratching down it and eliciting a whine from the man above you.

“Please, please, please.” You chanted into his neck. It was as if he understood what you meant, his hand coming down between your joined bodies to rub over the bundle of nerves, little figure eights being drawn over your clit. You were going to lose your mind, and maybe even your soul. Would selling it to the devil be so bad? It didn’t take long after that for a white heat to build, a pressure that you weren’t used to building, the coil tightening, threatening to snap like an elastic band.

“Oh, shit, sweetheart, I’m close.” The man turned his head, kissing up your neck, over your cheek, and found your lips. His kiss was searing hot, burning with need. He chased his release with you, trying to bring you as close to the edge as he could, hoping you might be able to finish at the same time. “Don’t want to finish until you do.” The devil could be generous if he wanted to be.

“S’close.” You panted against his swollen lips, unable to give any coherent answer to him, not that you cared. If laying in sin felt this good, you’d bed the devil any day. “Please, Eds… Don’t stop.” And somehow he kept at it, the same pace, same pressure, same rough and unrelenting fuck that he had been using for the past few minutes. He knew that don’t stop also meant that he shouldn’t change a single fucking thing he was doing, and rightfully so. With a cry, you closed your eyes tight, lights dancing behind your eyelids as you came, the elastic finally snapping, and your release soaking Eddie’s stage uniform.

“Oh- fuck!” The man squeaked, his own release following shortly after. He could have sworn he saw stars in that moment, arms shaking beneath his own weight. His body fully collapsed on top of yours, your arms wrapping around him tightly, kisses tenderly placed on his shoulder. “So perfect f’me.” He mumbled into your sticky skin, reluctantly peeling from you. His brutal and domineering demeanour melted away, replaced by a certain level of care. You could see it behind his eyes clearly. “You okay, sweetheart?” He cooed, brushing your hair from your face, a few strands sticking to your forehead.

“Y-yeah.” You shakily breathe out, your voice hoarse from the activities that had just taken place. As you try to prop yourself up on your shoulders, you wince, a pain shooting through you. “Just sore.” You murmured, suddenly shy under the musician’s gaze. You didn’t dare look at him anymore, a twinge of shame filling your heart.

“Hey, sweetheart, come here.” He mumbled, scooting closer, not daring to pull out just yet. He pulls you up, legs entangled with each other in a pile of limbs, unsure of where one person ended and the other began. He pressed your warm body to his, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, rubbing soothing circles over your back, his gentle voice whispering sweet nothings to you.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You mumbled into his skin, placing a tender kiss over a forming bruise. “That was something else.” He hummed in agreement, allowing his eyes to flutter close for a second, letting himself enjoy a fleeting moment of human contact while he was on tour. While the guys were wonderful and he loved them to death, there was a certain intimacy that he missed in lovers. One that he didn’t indulge in as much these days.

Reluctantly, he pulled out and you pulled away, debating whether to say anything to him, or whether you wanted to indulge in some more pleasantries. If you were any wiser and more observant you’d have noticed the longing in his eyes, his gaze trailing over your figure as you pushed away to gather your belongings. It was odd to say that the musician would have wanted you to stick around for some more aftercare, it would have been even stranger if he admitted to you that he just wanted you to stick around post coitus and have a drink, maybe a smoke, and get to know each other.

“Hey, hang on, let me clean you up.” His voice softened, taking you aback. “Come on, pet, I’m not gonna leave you like this.” He gets up only to tuck himself back into his slick soaked uniform, cringing as he does so. He grabs a water bottle from the nearby table and a small cloth kept on the vanity in the far corner of the room. “Come on, just sit.” He motioned back over to the couch and watched as you hesitantly padded over. You sat down on the cleanest area you could find, squirming as you began to feel Eddie’s cum slipping out of you.

“S’fine, you don’t have to.” You mumbled, turning away from the man. He sighed as he approached you, sinking to his knees before starting to clean your thighs. He worked his way up between your legs, cleaning the leaking spend from your cunt. He placed a few gentle kisses to the tops of your thighs, your eyes flicking over to him as he did so. That was the moment you got a good look at the man. Dark ink littered his skin, barely an inch was pure, untouched, the only areas you couldn’t see his tattoos were the areas in which you had drawn blood, the dried fluid flaking slowly. He continued cleaning you up, rubbing gentle and warm circles with the wet cloth. Part of you couldn’t help but find this incredibly thoughtful, your heart squeezing at the gestures, but the other half of you believed that you were probably just an easy lay.

“Hush, yes I do. It’s the least I can do.” His doe eyes met yours as he looked up at you through his lashes. “I made a mess of you, darling, and I need to clean you up.” His voice was sincere, soft even, and you couldn’t help but melt. You allowed him to tend to your tired limbs, and once he got to your neck, he apologised, knowing that it would probably hurt. You couldn’t help but stare at the softness behind his eyes, the fire that burned within had fizzled out and was replaced by some unnamed emotion. As the towel made contact with your neck, you winced, earning yourself a kiss from the musician. It shocked you that even after the heat of the lustful moment he was still willing to kiss you but you accepted it, melting into his lips. They were soft, a little chapped, but inviting nonetheless.

“Thank you.” You whispered against them, afraid your voice would give out if you spoke any louder. Your hand came up to his face, brushing your thumb over his sharp cheekbone before placing your forehead against his. “You’re sweeter than I anticipated.”

“And you’re kinkier than I anticipated.” He retorted and moved back gently, only to give himself room to fold the towel over to a clean side before cleaning up your face with a gentle hand. “Thank you for indulging me.” He cooed out to you, his sincerity going straight to your heart. You couldn’t help but nod.

“I should go.” Your voice broke, and in that same moment, so did Eddie’s heart. There was something to you that drew him in, that he wanted more of, that he craved. It flew past just the need for human contact, part of it had to do with the way you ran with the punches he threw, you went with the game you played from the stage all the way to the back room. Eddie nodded solemnly, pushing away.

“Yeah, uh…” He bit his lip, tossing the washcloth on the coffee table. Surely worse things had been on that surface in the past, but right now Eddie didn’t care about that, not about what was on that table, what would be in the future, or what he just threw onto it. “You don’t have to, I actually, I don’t know that I want you to. Can I at least buy you a drink?” He asked, standing up straight. You turn around, grabbing your pants so you could slip them back on over your legs.

“You want to buy me a drink?” There’s a hopeful tinge to your voice, head shooting over to look at the musician in question. As you did, you hissed out gently, the garden of blooming roses on your neck blossoming farther across your neck, bite marks adorning your skin like dark tattoos. There was no denying what had gone on.

“Sweetheart, I think we both left a mark on one another,” he teased, “when you pray to the devil so well, I think it’s hard for him to resist.” A twinkle in his eyes told you it was more than just the sex you both had. “Besides, it might help with the pain. What do you say?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed as if you were deep in thought, “only if the devil can treat me right.” You mused. “You going to change first?” You waggled your eyebrows, referring to his squirt-soaked trousers, only to receive a smirk in return. “Oh no sweetheart, I wear my battle scars with pride.” With that, he pushed back to grab his helmet, slipping it back over his head before taking your hand in his and leading you off to the bar. He wasn’t what you expected, none of it was, the show, the music, Eddie, but as you took his hand you couldn’t help the feeling brewing in your chest; the feeling that maybe the unexpected was exactly what you needed.

taglist: @munson-blurbs @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower @word-wytch (if you want) @rip-quizilla @hellfire--cult @mystish

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #musician!eddie #stranger things au #mask kink #ghost bc #sodo ghoul #eddie as sodo #i'm obsessed #eddie munson smut #reader insert #music

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prettygiri222 · 4 months

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Hi baby idk if ur requests are on but can u pls do a black reader who doesn’t have a lot of ass (baby I be reading these fanfics (not urs) and it always has black women with fat ass and big boobs and I’m like 😔 that ain’t me) and who doesn’t smoke, with like anyone but maybe wit eren or Connie, thank you sm girl and even if u don’t do this I appreciate u reading this hottie.

Girl I feel you, my shit not the fattest either but I do smoke myself so that's why it's present in some of my stories😭

Connie x Black Fem Reader SMUT

“stop playing with me mama,” Connie quickly ushered your naked bodies into his bedroom. clothes lost from the heated makeout session that took place on the leather couch in the living room. the movie playing long forgotten on the flat-screen TV. “get on the bed.”

“ah!” you let out a little gasp when he brought his large hands down and delivered a slight slap to your ass. excited for what was coming next you let out a little giggle as you crawled onto the bed. you got into position as you always did, missionary. with you on your back and pulling back your legs so they rested near your head.

Connie loved being able to see your pretty face scrunch up in pleasure. the way your eyes crossed when a particularly strong orgasm raked through your body. the access he had to play with your small tits, his huge hands dwarfing them. he loved the way you clenched extra hard when he tweaked or sucked on your nipples leaving them puffy and sore in the morning.

your slacked jaw gives Connie free entry to your mouth to spit and suck on your tongue, mixing saliva. you're left breathless, gasping for air unable to kiss him back with moans being forced out into his mouth by his deep strokes. or when halfway you would give up on holding your leg and clutch onto him for dear life. your smaller body jostling against his sweaty one as he pounded into your pussy, basically drowning in your slick.

but today he wanted to try something different.

“can you get on your hands and knees for me please?” your boyfriend asked, staring intently at you from above. your cunt was already glistening from just making out but he was no better. his dick was standing at attention between his legs just waiting to find its way inside you.

“ok…” you meekly replied wanting to please your boyfriend. you slowly dragged yourself into the new position. the arch you presented to your boyfriend was utterly pathetic. you felt embarrassed feeling more exposed despite holding yourself open for him only a few moments ago.

“you can do better than that,” Connie said. you felt him nudge his dick against your soaking cunt.

“I can't” you let your head fall against the mattress. god, this was so humiliating. until now Connie never mentioned anything about wanting to try doggy style but you hated it. always jumping into a position that allowed the two of you to be face to face. you loved the sight of Connie above you. his happy trail that led to a sharp v-line, the way his abs flexed after every thrust made you so wet and his caring eyes that watched your every move to see how you would react. a cute way to tell that Connie was close was the way his pink lips quivered faster the closer he got to his orgasm.

but the underlying reason you preferred missionary above all was because anytime you watched porn you noticed how in every video the girls in doggy always had the fattest asses, something you didn’t have. but it wasn’t something that made you self-conscious. you just didn’t think you would enjoy it as much cause of it.

you loved your smaller body and showing it off. like earlier today, you were wearing a tight baby tee and your favourite pair of low waisted jeans that showed off your deep back dimples. Connie could not keep his hands off you, they trailed your exposed skin before pulling at your belt loops. it was his signal that he wanted them off.

Connie on the other hand didn’t mind indulging in your love for missionary. seeing his girl happy and fucked out made him feel good but he felt like he wasn’t able to give you all he had. Connie's dick wasn't the biggest but it was really thick and girthy with a downward curve due to how heavy it hung.

what he noticed after prodding around at your insides with his fingers and memorizing all your soft spots was that your most sensitive spot was upwards, toward your stomach. so in missionary he could only brush it and not abuse it how he wanted.

wanting to hear no more of your complaints Connie took matters into his own hands. he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed where he was standing. before you could turn and see what he was doing he pressed his hand in between your shoulder blades and forced you down face first into the mattress. “oh sweetie, but you can”

your newfound arch was delicious. your upper body was pressed flat against the bed creating a deep curve in your spine that led to your ass that was being held up by Connie. you turned your head to the side so you could breathe

“look at you, so talented,” he praised, marvelling at your body. it was amazing how you could take his dick like a fucking champ yet you were so tiny compared to him. his huge hands swallowed each of your asscheeks as he kneaded them while teasing the tip of his dick against your slicked hole.

“I'm going in,” your boyfriend gave you a brief warning to prepare for the stretch but you weren't ready. you're so used to his curve going down towards your spine so feeling it go up into your tummy was new.

“oh my goddd” you whined out. he bottomed out quickly, his tip kissing your cervix. you instinctively pulled away from him already feeling overwhelmed.

“where you going ma?” Connie stuck his thumbs into your back dimples to give him some leverage. he easily pulled you back onto his dick. you let out a cry as he forced himself inside. “you feeling me deep inside?”

“yeaaa,” the wet squelching sounds of your pussy coating his dick could be heard. some of your wetness dripped down your thighs. after each thrust you could feel yourself being stretched out to fit his size. “all in my tummy pa”

the view Connie had was amazing. he spread your brown cheeks so he could watch himself slide in and out of your tiny cunt, the pink of your pussy appearing when he pulled out. he watched as your creamy paste began to coat his dick. pap! pap! pap! it was like music to his ears.

you were already soaking wet, the sheets underneath where you two connected was drenched and turning darker in colour. so for the pure obscenity of it Connie spat on the shaft of his dick. he groaned watching as your hole greedily slurped it up along with his dick.

“you hear that mama?” pap! pap! pap! Connie gave you a second to listen to the sounds your body was making. it was straight-up pornographic. “that’s how you know I’m hitting it right.”

“uhuhuh” your boyfriend was showing you what you were missing out all this time during missionary. his cock struck the same spot each time. it felt so good that it was starting to hurt.

the force of Connie's pelvis slapping against your ass was enough to send you flying forward every thrust. and each time he pulled you back like you were a fucking ragdoll. you couldn't do anything but take everything he was giving you.

you reached out to trying to grab something, whether it was the sheets, his arm, the bedframe, you just needed something to brace yourself. Connie watched as your tiny hands struggled to grasp at his sheets.

your poor pussy was going to be bruised in the morning from how rough Connie was being. once he found your sweet spot he didn't let up, the intensity he was pounding at it was insane. he didn’t let up, not that you would allow him to either.

each time Connie pulled out your pussy just sucked him back in. pap! pap! pap! the sight and the sounds you were making had his dick twitching, aching for release. and your cunt felt like heaven, all warm and wet. he wasn’t going to last any longer in this position. “ma, I'm so close.” he groaned.

“me to me to” you moaned out against the bed. the growing feeling in your stomach was about to burst. your legs shook like a fawn taking its first steps. you sunk further into the bed arching deeper into Connie needing just a bit more. his tip reaching your cervix was the final push, “m’cumming” you whined out.

you pressed your face into the sheets when the overwhelming feeling hit you. Connie let out a low whimper feeling you clenched tightly around his cock stopping him in his tracks. unable to pull out he was forced to release inside you, painting your insides.

“knew your lil ass would love it.” he chuckled watching you twitch underneath him. he waited until your sopping cunt stopped spasming around his dick. one you both finished your orgasms he pulled out watching as his cum mixed with your fluids spilled out of your quivering hole.

hope this was to your liking <3 my requests are open but I'll do another post on that later

#anime smut #aot smut #x black reader #aot x black reader #black reader smut #black y/n #aot #connie smut #connie x black reader #connie springer #connie x reader smut #connie x

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 5 months

Note

look Hal, as much as I fucking DESPISE soap’s death.. i am in need of a fic where price delivers his wife his tags. pls, i need to be hurt again by you 🥲🥲🥲 (ik reqs are closed honestly im just hoping to put an idea in your head fjfhsjfh sorry)

A short drabble to make your pain worse, dear anon:

You stare blankly at the finely dressed man on the doorstep, a black leather box in his hands.

It isn’t a stare that can be defined on any level of emotion—nothing shown on a face in a time such as this can be. Some instances transcend any known sense and logic; all perceived ability to understand leaks out of a brain like water in a blown dam.

There wasn’t an explanation for this.

John looked on, and he started to speak as if you’d never known each other. As if your Johnny hadn't had him and the rest over for your engagement party—as if he hadn’t watched you pour him tea and smile softly in thanks as Johnny’s arm snaked around your shoulders.

“On behalf of the 23rd Regiment of the Special Air Service,” you don’t even blink. “I, Captain John Price of the 22nd, offer my—”

“Stop.” Your voice is shaky, and your hands are clammy on the door knob. The man can’t look at you. He clears his throat, blue eyes blinking at you; so similar to Johnny’s and yet never the same at all.

“...My deepest condolences—”

“John!” Your voice moves in a sharp yell, taking a single step forward. “Stop it!”

A heavy silence falls like a hammer.

Your lips open and close, stuttering. Where were the words? What could you say? The tightness of your chest crashes down on you; a cinder block of ruthless realization.

Your husband was never coming home.

Hand snapping up to your mouth, you stifle a loud sob that rips through your lungs, shoulders hunching in.

“Where is he?” You gasp, tears flying down your face. “John, dammit, where is he?!”

For once in your life, of all the times you’d spoken to him, the Captain had no answer. Blue eyes stay stuck on you, box outstretched on hands that you see quiver for a moment—a clench of his bearded jaw and a movement of his head to the side.

Like some cruel joke, you laugh through the bouts of sobs, unbelieving.

“John,” you plead, barely able to see or get the words out. “Please tell me where he is. He has to come back home to me. John,” you move forward, grasping his shoulder, digging your nails in as if to wrench soil out of a burial plot. It’s frantic how you speak—all gasps and desperate whines to a God who isn’t listening to you. “I need him. H-he promised me he would come back. I-I…” You struggle to breathe.

“Love,” John grits out, forcing his tongue to move. His eyes are pained, but never, never as much as yours are. It’s said on a low and defeated breath. “I couldn’t save him.”

You collapse as his arm, which snaps to circle you and tries to keep you up as you wail in agony. Tears stain John’s uniform and the neighbors come outside at the ruckus of a woman who just had her heart ripped out with a rusted knife.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, throat tight. “It’s all my fault, I’m sorry.”

But you can’t answer, because the only thing you have left of Johnny are pieces of blood-splattered metal and memories.

And one day, you’d forget the sound of his voice—the way he touched you; how it felt to be kissed and held and loved so fiercely as if on fire. A blaze of devotion, yourself covered in gasoline; eager to be burned by a man you’d skin yourself for only three more minutes with, if that was all that could be spared.

You plead for it in John’s arms—scream for it. Three more minutes. Three more seconds.

If not that, then just three last kisses.

Johnny was dead, and everyone, especially the man trying to keep you from hitting the ground; taking the hits you lay on his arm numbly, knew that you had died with him.

The tags of a man long past glint in the setting sun.

#cod mwiii spoilers #mwiii spoilers #halcyone answers #cod x reader #cod #cod x you #x female reader #call of duty x you #soap call of duty #soap mactavish #soap cod #john soap mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #cod x female reader #tw death #tw blood

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eddiesghxst · 8 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 1/12)

yes i have eighty different rockstar!eddie's now, pls don't look at me, i rewatched almost famous and had a moment, k bye, enjoy!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you're a writer for rolling stone magazine and eddie hates the media so... he hates you

contains: enemies to lover trope, themes of sexism/misogyny, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, and eddie being an asshole <3

word count: 4.5k

| next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

You love your job more than anything.

You love that it allows you to travel, that it’s centered around music, and that you get to meet people and make friends and do extravagant things you would’ve never imagined you’d be doing. You love your job.

“I love my job.” It’s starting to taste like a lie when it reaches your tongue.

You mutter it to yourself again, looking around the bright hallway and searching for any fucking door with the words ‘CORRODED COFFIN’ written on it.

You glance at the watch on your wrist, teeth digging into the soft skin of your cheek as you keep walking down the corridor.

You feel as if you’ve been walking down this hall for years, miles of white stone wall and shiny gray cement floors, equipment littered here and there with staff walking through doors and yelling commands.

You follow the echo of chatter and soft giggles, the sound getting closer and closer until a group of girls meets you. A red-headed girl lazily chews gum and stands against the wall, glaring at you from behind her blood-red shades. You take the chance to ask them your pressing question, “Do you know where I could find the dressing room for Corroded Coffin?” You ask.

The girls glare at you and giggle, eyeing you and, without a doubt judging your lack of fishnets and leather clothing. Brown leather boots, flared jeans, and a white long sleeve— you don’t belong here. “You a reporter or something?”

You look at the redheaded girl, pursing your lips and taking a steady breath, reaching up to grasp the strap of your crossbody bag. “I’m a writer for Rolling Stone Magazine,” you explain, ignoring the snickering girls on the side. You clench the leather band of your bag in your palm, “I’m doing a piece on the band.”

The girl silently studies you; a ghost of a smile passes her lips, “Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You shift on your feet, eyebrows furrowing, “Yeah um… they’re big on music and—“ “I know what Rolling Stone Magazine is.”

You love your job.

You steadily breathe, clenching your bag once again. Your feet ache in these boots, and your jeans are teetering on the cusp of too tight after you ate a quick dinner— you want to go home. “The boys won’t speak with Rolling Stone.”

It falls silent between the two of you, and you glance at the other three girls, huddled together and passing a joint. “They don’t like watered-down shitty tabloids like yours. They won’t want to see you.” The redhead explains, silently reaching over to accept her turn with the joint.

You watch as she brings the burning paper to her lips, taking a long drag and smirking at you. She expects you to take her word and leave, but you’ve dealt with enough people like her to know she’s bullshitting you.

“Could you please point me toward their dressing room?” You ask, reconstructing your previous question because you now understand that, without a doubt, these women know where the dressing room is.

She laughs and points across the hall, some feet from where you’re all standing. You can see the first few letters of the band's name from your angle, and you internally rejoice. You thank her and walk over to the door, mentally reviewing your introduction a few times before laying a few knocks on the heavy black door.

There’s no response for a moment, and you try not to let the snickering sound of the girls tick you off. You lift your hand to knock again, but the door swings open before you can do it. A tall, muscular man glares down at you, dressed in black with a scowl. He must be security.

“Hi, I’m a writer for—“ “Groupies aren’t coming in yet; wait out in the back.”

Your face twists in offense, glaring at the man as you, yet again, clench your fist in annoyance, “I’m not a fucking group—“ The door slams shut before you can finish your sentence.

“Fuckin’ asshole.” You mutter to yourself.

You love your job.

The girls snicker behind you, and you feel your face heat in embarrassment and annoyance. Why is nearly everybody in this industry just a bunch of assholes? You figure you’ll just have to wait for the band members to come out, leaning back to press your back against the wall and patiently wait.

From outside, you can hear the chaotic noise of yelling and loud banter from inside the room— the clatter of furniture breaking and thuds against the wall. You remember when behavior like this used to shock you, but artists seem to have reckless behavior nowadays.

The group of girls chatter amongst themselves, and you busy yourself with following the cracks in the floor. You stand there with aching feet and a mental ticking clock for what feels like hours, and you almost give up until the door flies open and three boys stumble out, reeking of alcohol and weed and musk.

You watch as they all brush past you, ignoring you for the group of girls standing across the hallway, cheering their names and draping their arms across their shoulders.

“And who might you be?”

You turn around at the gravelly voice, locking eyes with a glazed pool of brown. The last of the group, the fourth member— and, by what you can piece together given the notorious long dark brown locks dusting his shoulders, Eddie Munson. You clear your throat, stepping forward and telling him your name. You extend a hand for him to shake and ignore how his gaze rolls over every inch of your body.

“I’m a writer for Rolling Stone Magazine,” you explain, retracting your hand when he only glances at the kind gesture. He stands before you, an uninterested smirk dancing against his lips. He’s dressed in black jeans and black leather boots that look worn to hell despite his bottomless pit of a wallet. A black sheer button-down top, fully open to expose his sweat-glistened chest, shiny chains hanging from his neck and kissing his collarbones. His ringed fingers are wrapped around the neck of a half-empty bottle of whiskey, tiny sticky streams of spilled alcohol coating the bottle.

“I’m here to interview your band.” You add.

He laughs, spit-slick lips forming a mocking smile as he speaks, “My band?”

You blink, “Yes, you’re all a band, right?” You motion to the boys, still chatting with the girls across from where you stand, ignoring the sight of one of the members groping a girl as she giggles. “Heavy metal band, Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie snickers, “Yeah, toots, we’re a band,” he lifts the bottle to his lips, speaking over the rim, “But this isn’t my band.” He tips the drink back and gulps down the bitter drink.

You watch as he takes it down without a single twitch of displeasure. You take a deep breath, shifting on your feet as you ignore his smart response, “Okay, well, it won’t be long,” you try to reason, reaching for your bag to dig out your notepad.

“Just a few questions; I won’t take much of your time—” Eddie cuts you off with a wave of his hand, “Listen, princess,” he presses his hand against the wall beside you, using the hand wrapped around the whiskey to gesture as he speaks. “While I’d love to sit and chitchat like a couple of teenage girls, we’ve got two issues here, sweetheart.”

“One,” he raises his index finger, “We don’t do interviews before shows.” He explains as if it’s common knowledge. He lifts another finger, “And two,” he steps closer, a sickening grin spreading across his lips when you step back. “We want nothing to do with your shitty dick-sucking career-crushing poor excuse of a magazine.”

You stare at him, a million different responses churning in your head, and you so badly want to read him to filth, but you really fucking love your job.

“Mr. Munson, I promise you—” “Where are you from?”

What is it with these assholes and cutting you off mid-sentence?

You swallow your pride and answer, “Michigan.” Eddie hums, nodding his head, clicking his teeth as if tasting the state on his tongue. “I’ll tell you this, Michigan,” he bumps the bottle against your shoulder, and you grimace at the drop of liquor that seeps into your shirt. “We’re not doing your shitty piece of a story, but we’ll graciously give you a nice view of the show from the side stage.” He grins, patting your shoulder once and winking.

A staff member passes by you, alerting the band that they have less than a minute to be on stage. You open your mouth to object to his offer, but the boy is downing the rest of the bottle and shoving the bottle into your chest, “Enjoy the show, Michigan.”

You watch in disbelief as he walks off with his band members, the other members not even glancing your way as they holler and cheer down the corridor of the venue. For the 80th time tonight, you clutch the band of your bag and curse to yourself.

Fuckin’ dipshit rockstars.

Against your better judgment, you, again, swallow your pride and watch the show from the side of the stage. You decline any drinks offers, wanting to stay as sober as possible for the interview after the show (if you can weasel one out of them).

Corroded Coffin knows how to put on a show. Each band member works the crowd in ways you have rarely witnessed in this industry— it’s not difficult to see their appeal to the younger generation of music listeners.

None of the members outshine the other; they are all equally in the spotlight, playing their part to create a well-oiled machine of an act. Granted, most of the show is concerningly chaotic; Gareth kicked his foot into his drum set near the end, Jeff smashed the fret of his guitar over the side of an amp, Eddie made out with a fan and Gareth, and the other member you can’t seem to name for the life of you sprayed the front row with multiple bottles of liquor.

It’s chaotic, an endless list of violations without a doubt, but the fans eat it out of the palm of their hands.

You don’t even bother trying to get their attention when they run off the stage, quietly watching from afar as they’re cheered on by VIP fans, managers, and staff. Security rushes them to the green room, where a line of fans waits with various pieces of merchandise to be signed.

You follow, silently taking in the busy scene, saying nothing when you catch a few members stealthily swiping tiny bags of party favors from fans. It’s a movie of never-ending noise and movement, and you’re wondering how they put up with this every night.

You glance at your watch and grunt in annoyance, half past midnight, well past the time you’d hoped to be back in your hotel room.

You stand aside and watch the room as the squealing fans go to each boy, getting autographs and Polaroids to commemorate the moment. Gareth is a flirt, shakes every girl's hand and only lingers for the ones he fancies, gazes into their eyes like they’re the only girl in the room, and smirks when they giggle and lean into his touch. Tells them they’re pretty, compliments their dresses and tops, and gazes at their chest for too long until staff breaks the moment and tells the girls to ‘keep the line moving, ladies’.

Jeff is almost the same, except he’s less performative with it. He’s got a hint of a gentleman in him, thanks each fan for coming, and asks how they liked the show with a sneaky glint in his eyes and a sly smirk. Winks at one of the girls and leans in to whisper something in her ear, something you can’t read from his lips, but later on, you will see them step onto the tour bus together, snickering like sneaky teenagers.

The bass player, the one whose name always slips your mind, has gone off somewhere with a groupie; you watched them slip away from the madness the second he stepped off stage.

And Eddie— Eddie can’t stop glaring at you. Can’t stop looking at you and making you squirm because he wants you gone. He’s got an arm draped around a girl's shoulder, neck craned down to hear what she whispers, and through the chaos of the room and the pretty girl practically pawing at his chest and giggling in his ear, Eddie still manages to find the time to look at you. Curly bangs wet with sweat sticking to his forehead, cheeks rosy and flushed with adrenaline, wide eyes diminished beneath smudged black eyeliner. He looks like an animal, damp and matted, searing gaze dripping with malice.

You almost take the bait and cower.

A hand is placed on your shoulder, breaking your silent staring contest with Eddie as a man steps into your view. He is taller than you, older with lines of age sinking into his skin, glaring down at you over the end of his cigarette as he speaks, “Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You wonder how he was able to pick you out, but your itchy jeans and suffocating boots quickly remind you that you don’t exactly fit into the crowd. You nod, sticking a hand out and telling him your name. “You must be Richie, the manager?” You assume, kindly smiling when he takes your hand with a friendly grip in greeting.

“I’m here to interview your boys. We called this morning,” you remind him. He nods, puffs out a cloud of smoke from the side of his mouth as he speaks, “Yeah, uh… The thing with that is,” he tilts his head to scratch at the stubble on his chin, “I’m not so sure the boys’ll be up for that.”

You breathily laugh, glancing at the boys behind him, ignoring when Eddie glances your way, “Yeah, I gathered that already.”

The man hums, reaching up to pluck the burning paper from his lip, blowing the smoke away from your face before speaking, “Yeah, Eddie’s not too keen on big media. Bad run-in from the past.” He explains. You nod understandingly, “The Face?”

The man nods, taking another hit, “Tore ‘em to shreds.” You nod, crossing your arms over your chest with a breath, “I remember.” He offers you a hit, and you shake your head, kindly waving him off.

“Shitty, you came all this way, though. Where you from?”

You don’t look at him as you respond, too focused on the man across the room, his attention locked in on the fans now that he sees you’re being taken care of— like an unwanted intruder being exterminated. But you’re not an intruder. You’re a journalist, a writer, a listener— and you’re damn good at it.

Before you can thoroughly think about the repercussions, your mouth is running, gaze still locked on Eddie, “I can get them on the cover.”

Richie pauses his rambling at that, pauses the lift of his cigarette to his lips, and looks at you, waiting for you to say it was a joke or something— but it’s not. Your gaze flitters to him, your expression unwavering as you wait for him to respond. “The cover?”

You nod once, watching as he takes one long drag of his cigarette. “We can do one big interview with them all,” you begin, “I’ll tag along for a few shows to gather more on the experience, get a photoshoot booked and have them on the cover for the July issue.” You’re pulling strings, tugging at what sounds enticing and will get you where you need to be. You’re good at your job, you’ve done this before, and you know how to bend things to your will because the rockstars— the rockstars are always easy to break.

Richie glances over his shoulder and grunts, rubbing a hand over his face before turning back to you, “Okay, um,” he sighs and curses under his breath, “Let me see if I can talk them into it, yeah?” He sticks the cigarette between his lips and starts searching his pockets. “We’ve got a residency tour in New York next,” he announces, finally fishing out his wallet and sifting through cards until he finds what he needs. He offers the card to you, “Think you can meet us there?”

You take the card and glance over it before glancing at the boy once again. You nod, and he smiles, “Give me a call when you land; I’ll let you know if it’s a go.”

He leaves without another word, and you stay standing for a bit, rubbing the card between your fingers as you watch the boys meet the last of their fans tonight, Eddie no longer looks your way, and you hope he does for just a split second so he can know— so he can realize that he lost.

You give up when he seems too preoccupied with the girls, stuffing the card in your purse and making your way toward the exit. You’ll have to settle for rubbing it in when you see them in New York.

You spent the better part of your week convincing Anna, your manager, to give you the benefit of the doubt and allow you to pull through with a cover story. Anna wasn’t so excited when you told her you offered them a cover, but Anna is never excited by your ideas; she’s always worried until the final product comes out like a fine piece of gold. Treasure. You create treasure, and Anna knows this, so she finally relents and lets you go through with it— “You better get me the biggest story ever made. Bigger than Madonna.”

You can do bigger than Madonna— and seeing as your subject is four young men at the peak of worldwide fame, ‘bigger than Madonna’ will be a piece of cake.

You grab the hotel phone the second you get in, dialing the number on the creased business card you’d fished out from your bag. Your knee bounces in anticipation, teeth digging into your lip as you listen to each agonizing ring, almost thinking Richie gave you a fake card before finally, the phone picks up, “Hello?” It’s groggy, like he’d just woke up.

“Hi, it’s Rolling Stone Magazine,”

He groans on the other end, and you can hear the rustling of sheets, and you assume he’s sitting up in bed, “Rolling Stone Magazine… Oh— oh, uh… are you here?” He asks. You nod before answering with a short yes.

“Are we on for today?” You ask. He’s silent for a few moments, nothing but sleepy, distant grunts filtering through the speaker. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we’re on just uh,” you pick at the seam of your jeans as you wait for him to finish his thought, “Come to the garden at around three; they’ve got rehearsals, and you can try to squeeze in after.”

You thank him and end the call, placing the phone back on the stand and sighing as you glance around the room. This will be your home for the next month; Anna advised you to stay for the entire residency tour despite your reassurance that you can complete the story in a week— “A big story, birdie. A massive one. A good one. That doesn’t happen in a week.”

So, one month. Twelve shows and thirty days. One month.

Eddie doesn’t like rehearsals.

He thinks they’re stupid and useless and take up too much time of the day when he could spend it doing something else. Could be writing, could be out having fun with the boys and getting high as a kite, could be fucking that redheaded groupie, Lany. He could be doing so many things, but instead, he’s up on stage in an empty arena listening for feedback in the mic and testing the amps for the guitars.

“Let’s do that last track one more time; I think I’m picking up a bit of feedback on you, Gareth.”

Eddie sits down on the edge of the drum riser, sticking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. He tilts his head back and blows up toward the beaming lights, squinting at the bright rays and imagining them enveloping him. He closes his eyes and imagines it’s the sun, thinking about Hawkins and the last summers he spent with the gang. Thinks about Dustin and Lucas and Max and Mike. Steve, Nance, and Robin. Thinks about how he hasn’t called or visited in a while, even though he got their card on his birthday.

He feels shitty for not calling home; he itches to make the call now and let them know that he misses them and wishes they could fly out more often to watch the band play. They’re all busy, though; the kids are about to start college— dusted the shit out of high school, which Eddie obviously flew in to watch them walk the stage— and the older half of them are all getting jobs, looking for their next big step in life, and Eddie misses them.

His reminiscent thoughts are cut through with the sharp and loud slamming of the arena door, grasping his attention in seconds. He blinks a few times to get the light out of his eyes, squinting at where the noise came from— and Eddie’s mind is fresh off a joint, so he’s not a hundred percent sure if he’s just envisioning that journalist from the other day or she’s actually here.

He stands up from the drum riser, stepping further into the stage as he watches you walk down the rows of seats; barely acknowledges the stage manager when he asks him to play the riff from track four until Jeff walks into his line of sight, “Come on, man, I wanna get this over with.”

Eddie situates his fingers over the frets of his guitar, watching as you find a seat in the third row and settle in, settling your bag in your lap and holding it to you as you silently watch the crew work the stage. He plays the riff a few times, until they can fix that god-awful ringing noise behind the higher notes, and when they finally wrap up rehearsals, Eddie makes a beeline to the front row where Richie is standing, quietly chatting with a staff member about where he wants the road cases to go. Eddie doesn’t care much for their conversation, steps in, and promptly interrupts, “Why the fuck is that journalist here?”

Richard turns to him and raises his eyebrows, “Sir?”

The staff member leaves as Eddie leans in and points over Richard's shoulder to where you sit, still quietly watching the stage, bright lights illuminating your face like you’re some god-sent fucking angel— and you’re not. Eddie knows you’re not. He sees straight through your friendly act. “The journalist, Richie. Why is she here?” He slowly repeats.

Richie glances at you and looks back at Eddie, “She’s doing a story on the band—” “No, she’s fucking not.”

Richie stares at Eddie, blinks for a silent moment before speaking, “Son,” —and sometimes Richie reminds Eddie of Wayne, and it scares him, “She’s gonna put you on the cover of Rolling Stone Magazine.” Richie points your way. Eddie falters momentarily, mindlessly blinking and shaking his head, “Cover?”

Richie laughs and pats Eddie on the shoulder, “Yeah. The fucking cover,” he says, “so, whether you like it or not, you’re doing the interview. This is what the band needs.”

Eddie shakes his head, curly strands brushing the muscles of his shoulders, “We don’t need a goddamn cover, Richie. We’re not doing a fucking story—” “Yes, you are.” Richie doesn’t mean to make his voice boom through the arena, but it attracts attention either way, and he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose before clapping a hand onto the back of Eddie’s shoulder, turning both away from the stage.

“You’re putting out an album in a few months. You want it to sell, don’t you?”

Eddie clenches his jaw, teeth grinding against each other as he glances over his shoulder, annoyed when he catches you watching— almost smirks when you quickly look away as if you’d been caught red-handed. Despite Eddie’s strong will, he nods because fucking obviously he wants the album to sell— but at what cost?

Richie nods and squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, “Good. Then you’ll do the interview. She’ll be with us for all of New York, so play nice. We need a good piece.” and leaves Eddie with a pat on his shoulder.

Eddie stands there for a moment, gathering himself and trying to cope with the fact that some fucking narc will be on their back for the next month. He doesn’t see or hear you walk up to him until you say his name. The barricade separates you, your fingers gripping the black railing as you stand before him. Eddie’s hands are on his hips, not moving an inch as he looks at you.

“I know you don’t want me here, but I… I’m just doing my job, and if you can cooperate, this will be easier for the both of us.”

And Eddie— god, Eddie can’t fucking believe the audacity.

“Did you fuck Richie?”

He watches you pull back, blinking at him as you stare silently. Eddie tilts his head, eyebrows raising to push the answer from you, “No, I didn’t—” You shake your head and blink hard in confusion, “Why would I—” “Because you want a good story.” Eddie snaps, “Right?”

Because that’s all anybody ever wants from him. A good story. A tale to tell their friends about. Tell them the secrets they pulled from Eddie Munson, tell them about the famous rockstar that fucked them backstage, tell them they know what makes him crack. A good story.

You gape at him, lost and shocked by the sudden confrontation.

You straighten up and tilt your head, eyes growing harsh with anger as you respond, “No. I didn’t fuck Richie. I don’t fuck to get where I want, I pull strings, and I make it work,” you snap, “I treat people with the respect they deserve, and I get what I want. You could learn a few things from that.”

And with that, you’re gone. Leaving Eddie behind with a twisted face of annoyance. He watches you walk over to where Richie is and greet him, but he doesn’t stick around long enough to watch or tune in to the conversation, storming through the arena and grabbing his coat to get in the car and tell the driver to take him to his hotel.

One month. Twelve shows and thirty days. One month.

Eddie can play along, he thinks. How hard can it be?

————

part two

877 notes · View notes

konigsblog · 12 days

Note

i offer you: my catholic guilt stepdad rudy drabble completed on ur desk by sunday..

you offer me: any rudy content

pls and thank you xo

(this is a joke orla my love dont feel pressured into making content im just starving!!)

abso—fucking—lutely, my dearest! :3

stepfather-rodolfo taking care of his beloved stepdaughter... 💌

cw: stepcest, manipulation, dub-con, intoxication. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT — MDNI 18+

rodolfo isn't exactly strict when it comes to his rules, unlike alejandro, whose punishments are cruel, violating, and degrading. rodolfo is relaxed and calm; he's there to comfort you in the hopes that you'll lend him your sweet, pretty pussy for a couple hours as compensation, as a treat.

you have clearly had too much to drink when you come home stumbling over your words, barely able to walk in a straight line, with tears streaming down your pretty face, your mascara running down your cheeks and your makeup completely ruined and smudged. the smell of liquor is thick and pungent, sticking to your skin as you babble out something incoherent through weeps.

rodolfo's instinct is to pull you onto his big lap, wrapping his strong arms around your trembling figure while he runs his fingertips gently up and down your thighs in an attempt to soothe you. your tears leave your cheeks wet, glistening in the dim light, your bottom lip wavering as you explain that your boyfriend cheated on you while drunk with another woman.

of course, the sight of you in so much pain leaves rodolfo's heart broken. he can't stand to look at the sight—how distraught and disappointed you are—and how you can barely calm yourself down as you cry into his burly, muscular chest.

although despite the sounds of your pitiful crying, the closeness between your bodies leaves rodolfo panting and flushed, attempting to hide the way you're making him feel as you squirm on his lap. it's wrong; you're drunk and intoxicated; you need comfort and affection from your stepfather during this vulnerable moment, but rodolfo's filthy hands begin slipping places they shouldn't, especially after being heartbroken like this.

he rolls your skimpy dress up to give himself access to your sweet pussy, letting you rant to him about whatever is currently bothering you while running his calloused fingertips between your folds, the wetness of your panties leaving his fingers coated in a thin glimmer of your sweet arousal. he pushes your panties to the side perversely, beginning to unfasten his leather belt and undo his fly, listening carefully as you weep and explain everything.

he prods the creamy and sticky head of his lengthy cock against your slit, explaining that you need someone more mature, someone who wouldn't hurt you, someone loyal and trustworthy. he cups your jaw and pushes your face into his chest as he slides himself deeper into you, your tight cunt throbbing and pulsing around his thick, hard dick. you gasp and grip his broad shoulders tightly, listening to the sound of his quickening heartbeat, feeling his perverted hands and gaze wandering all over your soft body.

each drag and stroke leaves you feeling even dumber than before—not a thought inside your fucked-out stupid head. you whine and whimper as he rolls his thumb over your clit in small circles, gazing down and realising you're no longer crying but instead biting your bottom lip in an attempt to suppress your moans and mewls for more, your wet heat dripping with pleasure. you feel each vein on his shaft rub against your gummy walls as he thrusts gently into you, kissing your forehead as he begins to increase his pace, fucking deeper into your swollen and slick hole while you plead for more desperately.

perhaps he's right; maybe you'd be better off with someone more experienced who knows how to care for a woman and who knows you better than anybody else, even yourself. your stepfather would do the best job, don't you agree? :(

#orla speaks #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #tw: dubcon #tw: stepcest #tw: intoxication #rudy parra #rudy cod #rudy mw2 #rudy x reader #rodolfo parra #rodolfo x reader #rodolfo cod #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #rodolfo mw2

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actuallysaiyan · 3 months

Note

Hiii Bacon I love your writing! Can I request some DMC Dante smut pls

warnings: smut, oral sex(fem receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, Dante is pussywhipped(what's new?) word count: 0.7k pairings: Dante x Fem!Reader

You sit on his desk, legs spread apart as far as Dante can spread them. Your eyes are screwed shut in pleasure as you move rhythmically against his tongue. Dante’s in pure heaven right now, panting and greedily lapping at your pretty pussy. He’s been gone for days, so coming home to this is just his heaven. It’s the best way to start relaxing for Dante.

He looks up into your eyes, his own are dark and full of lust. You are so fortunate to get to see him in this state. Animalistic, demonic almost and so hungry for you. He spreads your thighs even more, leaning in to lap at the sweet juices that come from your core. Dante moans with every flick of his tongue. He sticks it into your weeping hole, drinking the nectar straight from the source. Nothing could be better than this, he thinks to himself.

“Fuuuckk, baby…” Dante moans against your wet skin. “Could lick this little pussy all night long if you let me.”

You could barely keep up with what he’s saying. Your brain is just a big ball of mush right now. You’re shuddering as his breath tickles your swollen clit, and you whine when he pulls away and looks up at you. The way he looks at you, it’s like you were the one to place the stars up into the sky. He looks at you like you are his goddess, the one to revere.

“Such a pretty girl just for me.” He speaks up once more before leaning back in.

You let out a loud squeal as he suckles on your clit, one of his fingers spreading your folds. He teases you with the tip of his finger, pressing into you a little more as he continues to suck on your swollen little nub. Your eyes roll back as he finally slips his long finger into your tight hole. You’re practically sucking him in with your silky walls, and Dante just groans as he feels it.

He reaches down to begin palming at himself through his leather pants, his cock twitching and jumping at the sudden stimulation. He would gladly drown in your juices and jerk off the whole night if you allowed him. But Dante isn’t that dumb, he knows the minute you come down from your ultimate high, you’ll be begging him to fuck you stupid. You need it just as much as he does, but he doesn’t want to skip any of the steps.

“Fuck! Right there, Dante!” you mewl, tugging on his snowy-white locks to pull him in even closer.

The pitiful moan that tumbles from his lips vibrates against your clit. You slowly begin grinding against his face, his finger slipping even deeper inside of you. You shudder the moment it curls against your sweet spot. You’re seeing stars as the pleasure keeps building inside of you, flames licking at the fire that’s built deep in the pit of your belly.

“Gonna—fuck— gonna cum!” You cry out, the dam almost ready to burst.

Dante keeps up his ministrations, but his blue eyes glow as they snap up to watch you tumble over the edge. He’s never seen anything more beautiful than you cumming all over his tongue and his fingers. It’s almost as beautiful as you cumming hard on his cock. Your lips are parted and your cheeks are flush. You keep grinding against him until you go stiff when your orgasm washes over you.

Dante grunts as he pulls his fingers from you, beginning to rub your clit to help you ride out this intense high. Then he plunges his tongue into your cunt, drinking up the flow of juices from the source. It’s so intense like this, you’re gasping and panting as waves of pleasure wash over your body.

Finally, he slowly brings you down and you lean back on the desk. You’re so blissful and satisfied, but you know there’s more to come. With one little glance, you catch Dante’s gaze. He stands up on his feet, then he begins unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. He grasps his leaking cock, pressing it to your folds. You whine at the overstimulation, but it isn’t unwelcome.

“Gotta fuck my babygirl now,” he growls softly as he leans in to kiss you. His cock slips into your tight hole, opening you up and allowing you a chance to adjust to him. “You’re all mine.”

#bacon.writes #Dante x you #Dante x reader #Dante dmc x reader #Dante dmc x you #Dante devil may cry #Dante devil may cry x you #dmc Dante x you #dmc Dante x reader #devil may cry #devil may cry x you #devil may cry x reader

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foli-vora · 9 months

Note

Congrats on 3k, lovely!!!!

Can I have “you know where to find me.” with Dave York?

Pls turn my pelvis into dust. Your Dave is AMAZING.

My love. Thank you for your never ending support and love. I am honoured you enjoy my Dave! I apologise for the delay, and I hope you enjoy! ❤️

A sidenote: Yes, I'm slowly making my way through these requests. Yes, they are incredibly late. Yes, we're ignoring the fact I'm well over 3k now LMAO.

your taste i crave

dave york x f!reader

word count: 1.3k warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY. semi public sex/workplace sex, rough unprotected p in v, brief talk of choking, vague descriptions of toy use, use of tie as a gag, creampie, oral sex (f), cum eating, a brief thigh nibble, dave's messy idc

The edge of the copier is harsh where it digs into your stomach, but you can’t find it in you to care—not when he’s moving like this, not when his hands are locked on your hips, keeping you at his complete mercy as he takes what he wants.

He’s so fucking rough, and if you didn’t have the tight pull of his work tie around your mouth and making words practically impossible, you’re absolutely positive you’d be begging him for more.

You don’t think it will ever be enough.

Instead, all that falls from your parted, restrained lips are muffled whines and broken moans when he hits that spot that’s almost too far. It sends a jolt of pain through your system, rocketing up your spine and bringing your body harder against the machine in an effort to escape the intense sensation, but it’s quickly replaced with more heat, more need.

He merely drags you back against him each and every time, his neatly trimmed nails pressing indents into the fleshy skin of your waist as he moves behind you with tightly restrained grunts, the slap of his hips meeting your ass echoing in the small copy room.

Despite the time of day, with most of the office having enough and retreating home, there’s not much time left.

Beyond the dizzying, overwhelming feel of him rutting into you without abandon; cock so fucking solid, so goddamn thick; and bringing a flood of tears to your lash line, you know it can’t last—not like it usually does.

He’d still want to go back to work—most likely for the rest of the evening, the strict borderline obsession with his career rendering him unable to leave the mountains of work flooding his desk.

So there’s no room for build up here. No time for teasing. No long, blissful drawn out torture of him bringing you to the edge only to stop at its peak again and again.

This is about release. This is about working and relieving the tension that had been slowly building across his broad shoulders with every bullshit thing that had happened today and granting him a clearer head for the hours left at the office. This is about him, and you’re only too happy to oblige.

“Might—fuck… might have to–to make this a regular work thing,” he grits out, hand curling around the back of your blouse and tugging roughly at it until your back is pressing against his chest.

The silk collar of it cuts into the soft flesh of your throat, and you want to ask for more.

Maybe his hand? His long thick fingers curling around the width of it and giving it that perfect squeeze that borders on too much but is always just enough.

Maybe his belt? The worn, cared for leather smooth against your skin as it tightens and tightens, slowly pushing your lungs to the max until you’re weeping from the irresistible assault of sensations.

The gag wound tight around your mouth makes it impossible to get the words out, and his mouth latches onto the curve of your shoulder, nipping and biting at the skin until it feels raw. You stretch out for more, his lips soon running hungrily along the expanse of your throat.

Close.

He’s getting close.

You know it, you can feel it.

You can feel it in the way his already bruising grip tightens just that little more. You can feel it in the way his breath starts to catch where it ghosts your skin, sticking in his throat and coming out in shorter pants as he chases the promise of that sweet, sweet high.

You can’t speak, can’t utter a single fucking word to coax him along. You can’t beg for him to keep going, to finish right where he is and fill you to the fucking brim so you can take a part of him home.

He goes wild for your shaky home videos, the smooth finish of your vibrator glistening with the remnants of his cum sliding down the silicon as you fuck yourself with his name on your lips in the cosy comfort of your bedroom.

A mantra of his name fills your mind.

Dave, Dave, Dave.

You want him to hear it, you want him to know that it’s only him that could do this, only him that could use you like this. You love it, crave it.

That familiar tingle runs along your spine in anticipation, your body aching for just that little bit more, your clit throbbing in need of desperate attention to get you just over that line right alongside him—

The groan that falls from his throat is utter filth, hoarse and throaty, and one of your favourite fucking sounds he makes. He slams his hips upwards one more time, forcing the head of his cock right up against your soft cervix as he starts to cum, and you’re left to do nothing but whine into the now damp material of his tie, barely aware of the tear that leaks from the corner of your eye.

He takes a long moment to recover, sweat slicked face hidden in your shoulder as his chest heaves against your back. The tie loosens from around your mouth and falls to rest at the base of your throat, leaving a mess of saliva coating your lips and chin which you try to wipe away as cleanly as possible with the back of your hand.

Too soon, he starts to pull away, guiding his softening cock from your tender, weeping cunt with a low hiss of ‘fuck’ before you hear the rustle of his slacks and the smooth pull of his zipper.

You take that as your silent cue, twisting and bending as well as you could on shaky legs to retrieve the damp panties still tangled around your ankles and attempt to drag them back up into place.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks gruffly, tugging the thin lace out from your fingers and letting them drop to your feet once more. “Who said I was finished with you?”

“But—”

There’s no time to argue.

He works quickly, dropping to his knees and gripping the underside of your ass enough to spread you open before pressing forward eagerly. The thick, firm feel of his tongue swipes through the mess he had made, forcing its way along your wet folds before pushing into your throbbing cunt.

You manage to smother the yelp of surprise with a quick slap of your hand over your mouth, half wishing he had left the gag in place if he wasn’t done with you. Maybe he’s trying to test you, or maybe he just doesn’t give a shit about being quiet anymore.

God, it’s risky.

It’s so fucking risky, it’s so fucking good—

He holds you tightly, winding an arm around the front of you to pull you harder against his face as he practically devours you from behind, eagerly coaxing more of his cum and your arousal into his mouth with feral curls and flicks of his tongue.

Your knees threaten to give out when he finally moves away from your entrance and finds your clit, smoothing over the swollen nerve with alternating quick, light flutters and firm, wide rolls. He falls into his pace easily, rekindling the heat in the pit of your stomach in a way only he knows how and you’re desperate to find something to anchor yourself with.

“Y-yeah,” you breathe brokenly, hands clutching the machine for life and eyes rolling with the fresh waves of pleasure as you can’t help but start to rock back against his face, focusing on the feel of his slick tongue sliding back and forward over your previously neglected clit, “maybe we could make this a… a r-regular work thing.”

He hums into you, breaking away with an obscene wet smack of his lips before nipping at the inside of your thigh playfully.

“You know where to find me, pretty girl. Bend over, give it to me.”

tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

#foli's 3k #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york x you #dave york #pedro pascal x reader

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widowsistersandfriends · 1 month

Text

Ice Breaker

Requests: hello! firstly i love your fics so tysm for writing :)) may i pls request an emo wanda x reader fic where wanda is shy and new, and they both have a crush on each other. reader somehow finds out wanda is ticklish but hates it, they have a massive tickle fight that ends in them both admitting their feelings? super cute + fluffy, thanks!!

Wanda x reader where one is oblivious but crushing and the other is an anxious mess but crushing also and Nat and Yelena maybe help them realize their feelings through mischievous tickle pranks to get them either to confess or break them out of their shells? Lots of leeway...pun intended

Note: Thank you so much for these requests! I apologize for taking so long to get to them, but I decided to combine these two because they were similar! I appreciate your support and hope you enjoy this fic :) I also apologize if I didn't represent Emos correctly 😅 feel free to correct me if I did not portray them well!

Warnings: There is romance and flirting between Wanda and the reader, but not steamy stuff or kissing. Mostly just playful flirting/banter plus tickling

Word Count: 1522

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Wanda was new to the compound, shy yet eager to get to know people. Her long, dark hair contrasted strongly with her paler skin. The thick, dark makeup around her eyes told you that she was no stranger to perfecting her looks. Her aura was so strong and you couldn’t help but sneak peeks at her every so often.

One afternoon, you were sitting in the living room with Wanda, Natasha, and Yelena. The two sisters were trying to help you guys get better acquainted at the compound with your team of superheroes.

“Let’s play an icebreaker game!” Yelena suggested excitedly.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked.

The blonde pondered for a moment before raising an eyebrow mischievously.

“How about we play truth or dare?” She suggested.

“Is this just an excuse for us to spill our secrets?” Natasha asked skeptically.

“Duh, why do you think I’m here,” Yelena commented sarcastically, earning her a pinch to the ribs.

“You okay with that Wanda?” You asked, daring to look up and make eye contact with her.

She met your eyes with a soft smile forming on her face, giving you a small nod. You felt your heart skip a beat, noticing that she was wearing a tight black leather jacket. You bit your lip softly and shook away the nerves.

“Are we all ready to begin?” Natasha asked. You guys then all formed a circle to reach the stack of cards in the middle.

Each one of you took turns, drawing cards for different players to complete the dare or spill the truth. The next card you drew was for Yelena, which was a truth asking when was the last time she wet her pants.

The blonde huffed in annoyance, not wanting to answer the question.

“I refuse to answer,” the blonde said defiantly.

“What’s the rule about skipping a turn?” You asked Natasha curiously.

“Well, there’s not really a formal rule, but I can definitely make one,” Natasha said slyly.

“Oh no, don’t you dare!” Yelena shouted, as Natasha began to tickle her sister to pieces.

“NATAHAHASHA! STAHAHAHAHAP IHIHI CAHAHANT,” Yelena cried, wiggling away from her sister.

“This is what you get for skipping the question,” Natasha teased, following her sister everywhere she went, getting her sides, ribs, and stomach.

You and Wanda were both too shy to join in, so you guys stayed back and just watched in amusement as Yelena screamed for you guys to help her.

“There’s no way I’m getting involved in that,” Wanda commented quietly, as you smiled in agreement. However, that statement made you begin to wonder. Was Wanda ticklish? You were too shy and embarrassed to ask, let alone say the word. You felt anxious inside, knowing that this was a great opportunity to sneak that question in. However, you worried it would make things awkward and she may feel you were disrespecting her boundaries.

You opened your mouth, ready to ask the question, but snapped it shut out of fear. Wanda turned towards you, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Something on your mind?” Wanda asked.

Her tone of voice and eye contact made you blush, as you quickly looked away in embarrassment.

“Um, no I’m okay,” you blurted out quickly.

“You sure nothing is bothering you?” Wanda asked, but her tone was in a teasing way, and you knew you had been caught.

“I promise, I’m fine,” you insisted.

Natasha was finally done wrecking her sister, as Yelena scolded you and Wanda for not saving her.

Next, it was time for Natasha to draw a card for you. It was blank, which meant she could think of a truth or dare for you.

“Hmm, let’s see. How about, is there anyone you have a crush on in this room?” Natasha asked, knowing damn well you did.

You narrowed your eyes at her, not knowing if you should just take the punishment and not answer.

“Oooooh, this is a good one!” Wanda chimed in, inching closer to you as your face warmed up yet again.

“Ummm, no, I don’t,” you lied, hoping they would believe you.

“You sure about that?” Wanda asked, quickly reaching out to gently claw your side, causing you to yelp and cover your mouth.

“I think we’ve got a liarrrr,” Yelena teased, quickly pouncing on your legs and tickling your feet.

“GAHAHAHAH YELELEHEHENA PLEHEHEHEASE,” you begged, knowing that she was gonna get full revenge for you not helping her earlier.

“Need some help?” Natasha asked Wanda, as the redhead pinned your arms above your head, as Wanda sat on your waist. You were pinned and had nowhere to go.

Your eyes widened and your cheeks burst into red flames as Wanda sat dominatingly above you, staring down at you like you were her next prey.

She raised an eyebrow at you, throwing in a smirk which made you want to scream in embarrassment. You also forgot she could read your mind.

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t make you scream in embarrassment. I’m gonna make you scream with laughter, “ Wanda reassured you teasingly.

“No! Please!” You cried, as she wiggled her black nails right above your armpits. You giggled and squirmed in anticipation despite her not even touching you yet.

“So sensitive,” Natasha teased, laughing at your state. Wanda then began to scratch her sharp nails on your armpits, combined with the foot tickling from Yelena made you shout with laughter, wiggling as much as you could.

“NAHAHA STAHAHAHAP IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES,” you cried out, as Wanda used her thumbs to knead the area between your ribs and armpits. You wheezed with laughter, accepting your defeat to the tickling. There was nothing you could do but laugh.

“You gonna tell us who your crush is?” Wanda asked with a wink.

“NEHEHEVER!” You cried out, secretly enjoying being tickled by her.

She moved her hands down slightly to claw and dig into your ribs with her nails, as you arched your back and squealed with laughter.

“Good spot,” Natasha noted.

Yelena had now started tickling the tops of your feet, a spot you couldn’t stand, as you shook your head back and forth, knowing you were about to break.

“Ooooh try her belly button,” Natasha suggested, as an evil grin spread on Wanda’s face.

“NO PLEASE! ANYWHERE BUT THEHEHEHERE!” You screamed, bucking upwards as her finger touched your belly button, as you were unable to move or escape. The torturous sensation lingered despite you trying to suck your stomach in. You tapped out, knowing they had gotten to your weak spot.

“IHIHI GIHIHIVE,” you gasped out.

“Spillll,” Yelena said, climbing off of your legs.

“Fine. Wanda.” You said, rolling over in embarrassment.

“Awwwww how precious,” Natasha cooed, even though she already knew.

“Wait really?” Wanda asked, genuinely shocked. This whole time she had thought she was right in thinking it was Natasha.

“Oh wow, Y/N, I’m flattered. Thank you,” Wanda said shyly.

“Oh come on, don’t pretend like you didn’t know,” Yelena said with an eye roll.

“No I actually didn’t!” Wanda said, still slightly in shock.

“Yeah right. I bet you just wanted me to say it,” you huffed, as Wanda continued to deny and be in shock.

“Well, now it’s my turn to ask you a truth,” you said to the witch.

“Are you ticklish?” You whispered in her ear, making her squirm slightly.

“Hmm? Yes?” You teased, poking around her torso.

“Nohohoho Y/N please I hate being tickled!” Wanda cried.

“And I hate being embarrassed in front of other people,” you growled, sitting on her thighs and squeezing her hips.

A loud snort escaped from the witch, as she tried to buck you off of her.

“Nice try, but you’re not going anywhere,” you said evilly, now feeling more confident.

“Y/N! STAHAHAP I SWEHEHEAR,” Wanda laughed, clearly trying to hold back some of her laughter.

“Nah,” you replied, now scratching at her inner thighs, as the witch’s laughter went up an octave.

“You like me back?” You asked, now squeezing her knees.

“GAH STAHAAHAHAP IHIHITS TORTURE!” Wanda cried.

“Tell meeee,” you said teasingly, blushing at the sight of her being all helpless and giggly. It was rare to see from such a tough emo girl.

“YEHEHEHES IHIHI LIHIHIKE YOU NOHOHOW STAHAHAHAP,” Wanda shouted with laughter.

“How much do you like me?” You teased, wanting to extend this a little longer.

“SOHOHOHO MUHUHUCH,” she cried, now getting low on air, which you knew was your cue to stop.

“Ah good to know,” you said, giggling at her state.

“What a show,” Yelena commented, as you both quickly spun around, forgetting that the two sisters were still there.

You covered your face in embarrassment, knowing that they had seen and heard everything.

“Don’t worry, it’s cute,” Natasha said with a grin.

“Especially Y/N,” Wanda commented, blowing a raspberry on your neck, making you squeal and curl up with laughter.

You shooed her away playfully, now feeling more comfortable around her than ever. It was relieving to know that you both felt the same way, and you were excited to see what the future would hold.

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junggunz · 8 months

Note

can pls i ask for 2 and 34 with seo seongeun? 😳🤲

"I'm going to fucking ruin you." + "Cum in my mouth."

warnings: fembodied! reader, mention of alcohol consumption, samuel is reader's boss lol

One moment, you’re on the verge of freaking out at a company dinner because the devil covered in Sak Yant tattoos that you called ‘boss’ was refusing to let you leave the event early.

The next moment, you find yourself in the backseat of his car. With your skirt hiked up as he gets comfortable between your legs, tearing a hole in your stockings.

The sequence of events that had gotten you into this situation is like a blurry film reel. You have a very vague memory of toying with him to amuse yourself at the seemingly never ending dinner but you didn’t think it would end up like this. Fully expecting him to shut down your antics, the last thing you expected was him flirting back and getting into your panties.

One hand pulls the damp fabric to the side, exposing your slick folds to the air while the other hand glides along your skin. Senses into overdrive and body hot all over from all the wine you had with dinner, just the feeling of his fingertips brushing over your pussy has more of your arousal seeping out of you and on to the leather seats beneath you. The clear and slippery slick coats his fingers, prompting a satisfied smirk to spread across his lips before he speaks.

"I'm going to fucking ruin you." You’ve never heard Samuel speak in such a seductive manner. His voice is like fresh cut velvet; lush but rough around the edges. Your thighs would have squeezed together in excitement, but he was currently occupying that space.

Samuel’s warm breath ghosts along your slit when his face draws closer to your center. It makes you flustered having him so close and personal with such an intimate part of your body but it seems that you desire him more than you thought. When he eases the first finger past the tight muscles of your entrance, your pussy opens for him and stretches around his digit oh so willingly. His fingers are so much bigger than your own, by the time a second one is added to the fun, you’re shuddering and clenching around him; feeling so full when they’re all the way inside you. It’s not too long after that, he starts fucking them in and out of you, causing soft moans and sticky, wet sounds of your arousal to fill the car.

Every coherent thought is wiped from your mind when he flicks his wrist a certain way, curling his fingers inside you and pressing into a soft spot within your walls that you didn’t even know existed. His actions draw out little bursts of wetness, making your pussy cling on to his digits with each precise push of his fingers.

“Sir…” You mewl softly, unsure how to cope with the tingling sensation building in the pit of your stomach too fast for you to process. But Samuel seems unphased as he continues, even leaning in to give attention to your clit by teasingly flicking his tongue over it every so often.

"Cum in my mouth."

Samuel murmurs the command against your skin right before he encases your pearl between the softness of his lips, fingers still driving into that spongy spot that’s making your thighs tremble. And just like that, you’re babbling a bunch of obscenities as you’re overcome with a feeling of bliss you’ve never known until now. Following his orders and doing what he says, much like you do when the two of you are in the office together.

In the dim lighting, you can see the glossy remains of your arousal staining Samuel’s face when he finally pulls away from you, gazing down at your disheveled state with a smug grin.

“You’re not tired already, are you? I still need to feel you squirt on my cock.”

an: plz i love this menace to society so much. i need him released from the basement NOW. thanks for sending in some numbers for my favorite toxic baby daddy hehehe

#the lonely empath prompts #lookism x reader #lookism smut #samuel seo x reader #samuel seo smut #samuel seo scenarios #junggunz.txt

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thekaykery · 7 months

Note

I recently addicted to ur taehyung fic (little and the beast) god I loved the couple like how adorable their relationship was so maybe can you do for the same couple or an individual tae x reader smut where OC is his girlfriend and she secretly planned to tease tae by wearing bunny cosplay lingerie and asks him to fuck her in that outfit which she looks so cute as well as hot and tae immediately giving in his pretty girl's wish 🥺🥺💗

This is my first ever ask so pls ignore if it's cringe or whatever lol

yes ofc!!! tsym for loving little and the beast! this one's for you ❤️

honey bunny

pairing: kim taehyung x f!reader

category: smut, fluff

word count: 2.3k

rating: 21+

warning(s): ddlg, daddy dom!taehyung, little sub!f!reader, bunny costume, destruction of said costume, pet names, daddy kink, cursing, teasing, begging, dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, allusion to choking, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), praise, aftercare, mentions of squirting and passing out from said squirting

notes: again, tsym for requesting this! ik this took forever but life grew hectic bc of college! ty for your patience! p.s. what a good time to release this with layover amirite-

You don’t know if this is a good idea.

Purchasing this… gift with Taehyung’s card was risky enough. Yes, he’s able to see the Amazon charge in his account and know it was you. Yes, he likes to ask what you buy. Yes, you tried your best to hide this in a spot where Taehyung doesn’t normally look. Really, you’ve just been waiting for the opportunity to take it out and wow him.

And today is the day.

Gazing in the mirror at your reflection, you run a hand over the sleek white leather costume. Cinched at the waist, it emphasizes your hips and bum, and the cups do little justice to contain your breasts. You paired fishnet tights, wrist cuff sleeves, and a collar with the costume, along with a bunny ears headband; white stilettos top off the outfit. You even put on some makeup: black liner, mascara, blood-red lipstick.

Although you know it’s all going to come off with your tears and spit, you wanted to be pretty, look pretty for Taehyung.

However, this seemed like a good idea at first, but now you’re second-guessing yourself.

As your dom and caretaker, Taehyung is accustomed to seeing you in cute, frilly clothing, since you’re in little space more often than not. So you don’t know how your boyfriend is going to react. The least he can do is like it, right?

He doesn’t have to love it. You just want to… surprise him.

The familiar sound of the front door opening and closing catches your attention. Your hands become clammy. You scurry to the bed and lay down, stretching along the blankets, which are soft against your skin. Footsteps approach, growing louder with each one, then–

"Jesus Christ."

You shyly peek at your boyfriend. Taehyung stares at you, utterly divine in loose beige pants and a garnet tee tucked into the waistband, his dirty-blond hair swept back away from his face. His brown eyes are wide with shock, knuckles white from his tight grip on the doorknob. You carefully roll over, exposing your chest, and his throat bobs.

“Hi,” you murmur, smiling a little.

He doesn’t reply straight away, obviously stupefied by your costume. “What’s this?” he croaks.

“Do you like it, Daddy?” you quietly ask him, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and standing. Your heels click on the hardwood floor as you step towards him. “I got it for you.”

Another gulp. Taehyung drifts to you, enchanted. “You look…” His slender fingers curl around your waist. He sharply exhales, eyes unable to stay still. “Fuck, you look so pretty, babygirl.”

"Thank you," you whisper.

His touch is fire, burning through the costume and branding his fingerprints into your skin. Your eyes flutter when his hands trail up to your breasts, caressing them, your sensitive nipples rubbing against the leather. You bite your lip to contain a mewl, heat flooding your cheeks as Taehyung tugs the cups out of the way. He plays with your rosy buds, rolling and pinching them between his fingers, bolts of arousal shooting straight to your pussy.

“So this is what you bought that day,” Taehyung softly says, almost to himself, tugging at your nipples.

“Please,” you pant, jolting when he pinches a bud.

A ghost of a smirk. "Please what?"

You swallow, trembling. "Please fuck me."

Taehyung chuckles. He pinches your other nipple, drawing a whine from you. "You can do better than that, sweetheart."

You pout, eyes dropping in embarrassment. You dislike voicing your needs. He should know what you want by the way you react to his teasing, but that’s what Taehyung likes. The power he holds over you as your dom. He wants you to express your thoughts, tell him exactly just what you want.

It reminds him how much you trust him with yourself, submitting to his every touch and kiss, handing over your body to do as he pleases with it.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you whine, shivering, head tilting back as Taehyung mouths kisses on your throat. “Please. N-Need you so bad. I-I don’t are what you do to the costume, just please fuck me.”

Taehyung chuckles, the low sound a sweet caress. “Alright, babygirl. Anything for you.”

A few seconds later, you’re on the bed again, this time with Taehyung crawling on top of you. He slots between your legs as your lips meet in a slow, passionate kiss. You quietly moan when his hands cup your tits, calloused fingertips digging into them. The stark comparison of his rough fingers on your smooth skin is arousing. Your eyes roll, bucking your hips up into his hand while he strokes your hot center over the costume, his tongue slipping into your mouth and dancing with your own. You grasp his shoulders for support, a little wail escaping you when Taehyung rips the costume at the seams.

“Daddy!” you whine, heart aching at the loss of your costume.

“What?” His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Just doing what my babydoll wants.”

You open your mouth to retort, to remind him you bought this costume with his money, but the thought disappears the second Taehyung glides a finger through your folds. You quietly moan, pressing your lips together when he easily locates your clit and rubs quick, little circles on it. You swallow, rocking into his touch all while his eyes burn into you.

That’s another thing Taehyung loves in this dynamic with you: Watching you squirm beneath him from pleasure and your orgasms. It doesn’t matter if you seek from his mouth, touch, or cock. He adores the view of you experiencing total euphoria because of him, and it’s even better because he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. His precious girl, all his to love and care for in every way possible. But he knows you secretly like it too, watching him get off on you getting off.

“Daddy, please,” you plead, your hand sliding down to his arm from his shoulder. “Fuck me.”

Taehyung merely hums, his eyes dark and gleaming as he sips a long finger inside you. You whimper, your legs trying to snap shut, but his body stops it from occurring. He pumps it in and out of you at a steady pace, listening to you whine and moan, observing the way you writhe in bliss.

“How badly do you want it, babe?” Taehyung rasps, deep voice husky with lust. He rests his forehead on yours, your breaths mixing while more noises spill out of you. “Huh? How badly do you want Daddy’s cock? Tell me, babygirl.”

“Please!” you cry out, back arching when the pad of his finger brushes over your sweet spot. “O-Oh, fuck yes, please–”

“W-Want it so bad!” you sob, tears stained black from your liner and mascara. “Please, please, fill me up until I can’t think of anything but you!” You squeal, your entrance burning slightly from the intrusion of a second digit, but it feels so fucking good. “P-Please, fuck me up with your big cock, please!”

Taehyung smirks. “That’s a good girl."

While he continues to finger you, Taehyung miraculously shucks off his pants and boxers, cock springing free from its confinements. You lick your lips at the sight of him. Long and girthy, slightly curved with a bulbous tip, veins ridging it, the prominent one crawling up to his frenulum like a tree. You pant in anticipation as Taehyung sits between your legs once more, clenching around nothing when he taps his cock on your drenched pussy.

You’re so deep in your own little world that you don’t even notice him removing his shirt. You grind up against his dick, whining, clit singing at the friction.

“Want Daddy’s cock so bad, don’t you?” Taehyung coos.

You eagerly nod. “Yes, please!”

“Let me hear it one more time, baby.”

You keen, clutching the sheets in your hands, a lump of frustration growing in your throat. Damn him and his teasing. “Please, fuck me, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” Taehyung purrs, and finally, after what felt like endless torture, he enters you. He hisses. “Fuck, so fucking tight...”

You, on the other hand, are in complete bliss, eyes shut in ecstasy. He fills you up little by little, sinking further and further into you until he’s fully seated within you. Your eyes roll at how full you feel, his pelvis pressed to your core, his balls flush with your second hole. You softly pant, shifting in your spot beneath Taehyung, your walls rhythmically clenching around him. This spurs him into action.

He starts slow, one deep stroke after another. You quietly curse, and Taehyung lowly groans, the sound causing you to clamp down around him again.

“Fuck, relax,” Taehyung croaks.

“F-Feels so good,” you whimper.

“I know, baby.”

Your head falls back on the bed, a little whine slipping out of you, your tits bouncing in time with Taehyung’s gentle tempo. You hook your knees to your chest, allowing him more room to work. He lovingly pets your thighs in thanks. Taehyung grunts, nibbling his lip, his hair falling in his face. God, he looks like a god above you like this, completely drunk on your pussy, just like you’re drunk on his cock.

“Go faster,” you plead. “Please.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung picks up the pace, assuming a medium tempo. “Like this?”

You whine and shake your head. “Faster!”

“Be specific, darling.” His hand ghosts over your throat, which has your walls fluttering around his cock. His fingers always make a pretty necklace when Taehyung’s in the mood.

“F-Fuck me until I can’t think straight,” you beg, lightly grasping his wrist. “Please, Daddy.”

“That’s better.” Soon, Taehyung bucks into you with the manner of a well-oiled machine, quick and precise, hips smacking against your ass. He grunts, holding your legs for you while you cradle your tits for emotional support. “This what you wanted, babydoll? Hm?”

“Yes!” you cry, pinching and pulling at your nipples. “F-Fuck yes, Daddy, oh my god!”

Taehyung breathlessly chuckles at your confirmation, using your words as encouragement. He adjusts his angle slightly, along with the depth of his thrusts, and a loud wail is ripped out of you. He smirks. Bingo. Taehyung continues at this position, tip bludgeoning your sweet spot repeatedly. You shriek, eyes crossing, stars speckling your vision. You can’t even talk anymore, rendered speechless by his cock.

He melted your brain. He always does.

The sensation of his cock deliciously gliding against your throbbing walls is addicting, creating a high only your pussy adores. The veiny ridges provide a pleasant catch along your molten core, the lip of his tip adding to it, perfectly hitting that spongy part within you again and again. Your toes curl in your heels, and because of Taehyung’s godly pace, one of them falls off, bouncing on the bed and clattering to the floor. The other one joins it in courtesy of Taehyung.

“Gonna fuckin’ pump you full of my cum,” Taehyung grunts, curling up and hovering above you, forearms situated by your head. His pace becomes stilted, signaling his approaching end. “Until it leaks out of you, babygirl.”

You simply moan, which has him laughing. “Did I fuck my girl dumb? You’re so cute.”

Despite his impending doom, it doesn’t stop Taehyung from fucking you with fervor. No, he keeps going, pistoning into you, operating like a jackhammer.

“D-Daddy,” you croak, clawing at his ribs. The icy burn you’ve learned to love has begun to creep up on you, body trembling in expectation. Fuck, you’re so close. “‘M-M gonna cum.”

Taehyung groans. “Yeah? Gonna make a giant mess on my cock?”

“U-Uh huh!”

He hisses, brows furrowing in determination. Jaw clenching, Taehyung vigorously pounds into you, fingers tangling in the sheets by your head. Your noises rise in volume as your orgasm speed towards you like a bullet train, closer and closer until–

You scream, back arching like a bow, your soul dropping into the pool of euphoria waiting to embrace you. You loudly moan as its fingers caress you, stroking the most intimate parts of you while your pussy paints Taehyung’s cock white, not even aware of the clear liquid splashing all over the two of you. You sink deep into that pool, ascending into spaces you’ve never reached before. Your eyes grow heavy, and your hearing is reduced to a high-pitched ringing.

You shut your eyes to rest for a few seconds, just to wholeheartedly enjoy euphoria’s touch. However, when you wake, you discover you’ve been tucked under the blankets. You frown and sit up, only to pause at the feeling of cloth on your body. You glance at yourself. You’re no longer in the costume; rather, in a large oversized tee.

What the hell?

“You’re awake.”

At his voice, you seeks him out. He enters the bedroom with a bowl of your favorite snack and a glass of water.

“What happened?” you quietly ask him.

His lips stretch into a smug smirk. “You squirted. Hard. Then you passed out, but I cleaned you up and made sure you were comfortable.” He offers you the snack and water. “I bring refreshments.”

Your cheeks flare with heated embarrassment. “I-I passed out? From squirting?"

“Yup.” Taehyung chuckles, crawling into bed beside you. “It was pretty hot, not gonna lie. I came on your tummy instead of inside you like I wanted, but it’s okay. Your health and safety comes first.”

You shyly sip your water, leaning back on the pillow. “Did you like it, at least?”

“Hm?” Taehyung peeks at you. “Like what?"

You bashfully divert your gaze. “The outfit.”

A low chuckle. “I loved it, baby. You looked so pretty in it while I fucked you, and those tights… Goddamn.”

You quietly giggle, bowing your head, your hair falling and curtaining your red face. Taehyung brushes it behind your ear. “I loved it, babydoll.”

“Really?” You peek at him.

“Mhmm.” Taehyung twines an arm around your waist, tugging you close. “If you order another costume next time, tell me. I wanna see you put it on.”

“N-Next time?”

“Oh, baby.” Another chuckle rumbles in his throat. He presses a kiss to your ear. “There’s always a next time with you.”

#bts #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts v #kim taehyung #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung fluff #tae smut #tae angst #tae fluff #code word: elysia

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proxima-writes · 1 year

Text

nothing else matters

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 2,454

Read on AO3 | Join the tag list | Masterlist

Part 2 | Part 3

Summary:

It’s been a few months since Corroded Coffin has played at The Hideout. Ever since recording an actual album and having one of their songs picked up on the radio, they’ve been securing actual shows, with actual crowds.

But whenever they’re within fifty miles of good ol’ Hawkins, they drop into the grimy dive and put on a show. The crowds are bigger, with fans coming in from surrounding towns and cities, but there’s one constant he looks forward to every time.

The new bar owner. As of two years ago, crotchety old Hank finally sold the bar to the hottest woman he's ever seen.

Additional tags: rockstar eddie munson, blow jobs, semi-public sex, degradation, praise kink, spit kink, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, pet names

The new bar owner. As of two years ago, crotchety old Hank finally sold the bar to the hottest woman he’s ever seen.

Eddie watches with you rapt attention as you put away the clean glasses and polish the scuffed bar top. When you turn, he gets a delicious eyeful of your ass and the way it’s hugged by the leather pants you’re wearing. Behind him, Garett grunts under the weight of the amp he’s pulled into the small side stage area.

“Thanks so much for the help, Eddie,” he quips sarcastically, snagging a beer from the bucket on the floor of the stage. He flicks the cap off and raises it in a salute to you across the bar.

Jeff trails inside, a case in each hand that he sets on the stage. His eyes narrow at Eddie. “Left the drums for you, buddy.”

With a groan, Eddie heads out the side door.

———

It’s always a full house when the boys from Corroded Coffin come back to play. Which is surprising, given how much shit the town gave them for being different back when they were kids and teens just trying to play music and Dungeons and Dragons without being harassed. But most of the crowd isn’t even locals, but hardcore fans that have made the trip just to see the boys after finding out they’re hosting an “underground show”.

Jim Hopper is here, though, showing his support under the guise of keeping an eye on El. You know he won’t admit it, but he’s proud that Eddie, who frequently found himself in the back of a police cruiser, is doing what he loves and staying out of trouble. You slide him a cold beer and he tips his head in silent thanks.

The rag tag group of kids that used to follow Eddie around in high school are crowded around a table as well. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, Max, El, and Will, now seniors, always try to make it to see their former Dungeon Master play. Especially since you don’t charge them cover and let them order as much pop as they want. Max makes eye contact with you and waves, making you smile. They’re good kids, and you’ve only ever had to throw them out once for trying to sneak alcohol. Once was enough, after facing your wrath.

Other than that, the small bar is full of strangers. Men dressed in black denim, leather, and chains, with tattoos covering any visible skin. Women dressed in tight pants and skirts, makeup done up and hair teased to perfection. They crowd the bar, putting you and the other two weekend bartenders to work as they order buckets of beer or the occasional mixed drink.

“God, he’s so fucking hot,” a woman says, back pressed to the bar as she stands to face the stage. You follow her eyes and note her hungry gaze falls on Eddie, where he’s adjusting his mic stand and plugging his signature Warlock NJ series guitar into his amp and testing his chords.

“I know, right? But I heard he never goes home with anyone,” another woman beside her laments, red painted lips pursed in a pout.

“Bet I could change that,” the first woman replies, shoulders thrown back with confidence. She sets her empty cup on the bar and shimmies her top down to expose a bit more of her ample cleavage. She heads over to the stage and you watch as she taps Eddie on the arm and he leans forward, her mouth getting close to his ear so that she can be heard above the noise.

A hand waves for your attention and you move to the end of the bar, your unobstructed view of the exchange broken. You fill several orders back to back, making change and pocketing tips, before you notice that the woman is back at the bar, a sullen look on her face.

“Hey, Hawkins, we’re Corroded Coffin, your local devil worshippers,” Eddie says into the mic, earning him a laugh from the crowd. You finish up serving more people, before tapping Mark on the shoulder and letting him know you’re taking a break.

“Got it, boss,” he says as he fills the ice well.

You’re still getting used to that title. You bought the bar for dirt cheap from the former owner, Hank, because he was desperate to sell it, but not desperate enough to sell to a developer who was going to mow it down and build a strip mall on top of it.

“This place is a cornerstone for Hawkins,” he had grumbled. “I ain’t gonna let it get turned into some new age bullshit rock store or whatever.”

Once you’d gotten the keys, you’d replaced the grime covered floor, fixed the stage up, and gotten the place as clean as possible, while still keeping the character of the hometown dive bar that drew in town regulars and people passing through to Indianapolis.

When Corroded Coffin started gaining popularity, so did the bar. People not only came to see them play when they stopped in during their tour, but they also visited the spot like it was a tourist attraction. Business was great, and was even doing well enough that you don’t even need to act as bartender most nights.

Unless Corroded Coffin was in town.

You watch Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Frankie play their hearts out on your little bar stage like it were any other big time show they’d gotten to play the last two years. Eddie commands the audience’s attention, his deft fingers flying over the neck of the guitar as he sings into the mic, deep voice echoing over the speakers. His eyes find yours as he’s finishing up one of their original songs, and he winks, making you roll your eyes.

The song finishes and Eddie takes a swig of his drink before addressing the crowd. “Alright, last song. Tip your bartenders, assholes.”

The opening chords to Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters float in the air and you smile, leaning into the wall to watch.

So close, no matter how far

Couldn’t be much more from the heart

Forever trusting who we are

And nothing else matters

It’s an interesting song to end the night with. The once rowdy crowd has settled, swaying with the slow tempo. It’s almost hypnotic.

Never opened myself this way

Life is ours, we live it our way

All these words, I don’t just say

And nothing else matters

With a sigh, you push away from the wall and weave your way back to the bar to join your bartenders before the post show rush of orders starts. The back of your neck prickles with the sensation of being watched, and when you round the bar to face the stage, Eddie’s got his gaze focused on you as he sings.

Trust I seek and I find in you

Every day for us something new

Open mind for a different view

And nothing else matters

You twist your ring on your finger out of habit as you hold his stare. He smiles at you as he finishes through the song. When the last chord fades and the crowd cheers, you grin right back.

——

Eddie’s been surrounded by people since he stepped off the stage and he’s finally getting a moment of peace to slip out the back door for a cigarette.

He’s patting his pockets in search of his lighter when a familiar voice asks, “Need a light?”

He nearly drops the cigarette from his lips when you step close to him, holding a lighter that illuminates your face in the otherwise dark and empty alley. He leans forward, pressing the cigarette into the flame and inhaling until it catches.

“Thanks. Seems I’m always losing my lighter,” he comments, staring down at you.

“You’d lose your head if it weren’t attached to your neck, Munson,” you quip, leaning into his space. He laughs, smoke billowing around the two of you, creating a hazy little cocoon of privacy.

He slips a finger into a belt loop, pulling you flush against him. He revels in the little gasp that leaves your lips, in the feel of your hands pressed to his chest. That anticipation of being in your orbit after circling each other all night is making his head spin. Your fingers tangle in the chain around his neck, tugging his neck down until his lips are brushing against yours.

“Heard you didn’t go home with girls from shows,” you tell him. His chest rumbles with a laugh.

“I can always make an exception,” he growls before his lips take yours and you meet his kiss with a groan.

Eddie’s hands slide down your hips before reaching for a handful of your ass, pressing you further against him and making you let out a little gasp. His tongue slips into your mouth to dance with yours and you can feel the hard length of him through his jeans. Your fingers slide from his hair to trail down his chest until you reach his belt buckle.

His hand circles your throat, the cool metal of his rings pressing against the thin skin as he uses the grip to hold you where he wants, to explore the taste of your mouth to his content. You work the belt open until you can pop the fly on his pants, working the zipper down to reach in and palm his hardening cock. He lets out a delicious groan, his head tipping back against the wall. You take the opportunity to trail your lips across his neck, biting at his pulse hard enough that he lets out a hiss.

Satisfied with the state he’s in, you drop to your knees on the rough concrete, working his pants down just enough to be able to reach in and tug his cock out. Hand wrapped around his warm, thick length, you give him a couple of teasing pumps. As he looks down at you, eyes half lidded and dark with lust, he brings a hand to your chin, prying your mouth open and pressing his thumb down on your tongue.

“Christ, sweetheart, look at you,” he says, the gravel of his voice making you clench your thighs together for some semblance of friction against your throbbing core. “How much of my cock do you think I can fit in this pretty mouth of yours, huh?”

“Only one way to find out,” you reply with a wink. He laughs, but the sound is cut off by a rough moan as you wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over the crown and humming over the taste of him as it blooms across your tastebuds. His fingers tangle into your hair, tugging roughly as you pull him into your mouth.

When your nose brushes the light trail of hair on his stomach, he bites out a curse. “Fuck, angel, that’s it. Swallow.”

You do as instructed, your throat fighting against the obstruction and making your eyes water as you repress your urge to gag. He pulls his hips back and you take in a deep gulp of air before he plunges back in, taking over the motions and using your mouth for his own pleasure.

“So fucking good,” he says, head tipped back as he revels in the pleasure. Eddie holds your head away from his throbbing cock the next time you pull back and orders, “Open your mouth.”

You do as asked, sticking out your tongue. Eddie leans forward slightly, pinching your cheeks with one hand as spits onto your tongue before roughly pulling you back to working his cock.

“Dirty fucking girl,” he tells you, and your head goes fuzzy at his words. It's a few more rough drags of him in your mouth befores he’s pulling back until just the tip sits in your mouth as wet heat explodes across your tongue. “Swallow it, baby, that’s it.”

You grin up at him and he pulls you up, rotating your bodies so that you’re pressed against the wall. Eddie makes quick work of the fly of your pants, shoving his hand roughly between your bodies and immediately circling your clit, fingers dragging through the wetness he’s caused.

“So fucking wet for a dirty alley blowjob, princess? Such a little slut,” he murmurs against your ear before biting roughly at the sensitive skin just below it, making your back arch and a whimper leave your lips. “Bet you’re gonna come so quick for me, huh?”

You nod, hands wrapping over his shoulders and holding tightly, fingers curling into his worn leather jacket. “I’m gonna–”

“That’s it, fuck, yes, just like that, baby,” he groans as your muscles tighten. He plunges two fingers into you with no warning, and that’s all you need to shatter. He works you through it, thumb circling your clit gently as his fingers pump to the rhythm of your hips working against his hand.

“Jesus,” you mutter. You bring one hand to his neck, trailing it lightly over the chain there until you reach the ring hanging over his heart. “You sure know how to show a lady a good time, Munson.”

“Always a pleasure to serve.” He grins, eyes bright even in the dark alley. “You like the show?”

“Mighty romantic of you to be playing our wedding song like that.”

His fingers toy with the ring on your left hand. A simple silver band he’d placed there two years ago that you haven’t taken off since. “Figured you might like that.”

“I gotta finish up helping with closing. I’ll see you at home?”

“I’ll help you out. I’ve only got three days before we’re back on the road, and I am firmly attaching myself to your hip the whole time,” he says, pushing your hair back from your face, cupping your cheeks reverently. “I love you.”

You go soft against him. “I love you, too.”

It’s tough, being away from him for so many long stretches at a time. But when he’s home, looking at you the way he is, a hand planted on the small of your back as you re-enter the bar, you can’t help but think - nothing else matters.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #no use of y/n #stranger things #rockstar eddie munson #no angst #ao3 author #eddie munson x female reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #idiots in love

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