#the untamed musical crack

[twistedappletree]

#like sorry but the popular HC that LSZ listens to ambient and classical music just isn’t something I can believe LOL #I’m literally an ambient/classical composer and can confirm #that I rarely ever listen to ambient and classical outside of my work #it’s mostly German death metal and darkwave tbh AHSHAJD #mdzs #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #lan sizhui #lan yuan #a yuan #mdzs meme #mdzs crack #mdzs shitposting #apple memes 🍎 #mdzs juniors #cannibal corpse #hammer smashed face #😌🌸💕✨🔪

[aline-the-cat]

Is Wei Ying gay or european?

Dumb idea brought to you courtesy of this amazing video

Jin Zixuan was fidgeting, he looked once more at the Yunmeng Jiang table, then followed his eyes to the Gusu Lan contigent, taking notice of the two suspicously missing figures. Dammit! this was all Nie Huaisang fault! If he hadn’t pointed out earlier, Zixuan could’ve ended the discussion conference in peace, now, as it was, his too curious for his own good brain was torturing itself with the same damn question. It was stupid!! It was soo stupid! ... and yet

“Now those are the new positions for the eligible bachelors list, before we move on to trade, anyone has anything else to add?” A-Yao smiled to the ones presents. Jin Zixuan looked once more to the Jiang group, then to the Lan and finally he saw Huaisang, who only opened his fan and arched an eyebrow, as to say ‘You see what I was talking about?’. And just... he couldn’t. Stand. It 

“Is Wei Wuxian gay?!” he blurted out to the Jiang contigent. There was a horrifying moment full of silence when he realized what he had done... but one look at Huaisang confimed it... there was no going back now 

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just that....” Jin Zixuan was babbling, he could see Yanli laughing at him, he swallows and looks at the window, where he can see the cause of all this sitting comfortably with the other cause of this disaster “There! Right there!” he points, the other sect leaders turn to look at the sweet scene “Is Wei Wuxian a cut sleeve?” he wonders again 

“Young Master Jin, I hardly think this is the time to-”

“Of course he is not!” Jiang Wanyin almost jumped out of his seat, interrumpting whatever nonsense sect leader Yao was about to say “How can you think that?!”

“How can you not?!” the good think about Jiang Cheng being the one that first answered, Huaisang thinks, is that Jin Zixuan gets on his competitive mood and forgets everything else as he launches himself in the most ridiculous debate they’ve ever entertained “Have you seen his skin? have you seen the killer shape he is in?! Oh please he’s gay, totally gay!” Zixuan almost looked offended for some reason 

“Young masters, please-”

“Young master Jin could not be wrong however...” Nie Huaisang had to do a double take at Lan Qiren interrupting someone over this random argument “Those traits does not make someone a cut-sleeve, and considering his reputation, Wei Wuxian couldn’t be one, I say not gay” 

“But look at his coiffed and crispy locks!” one disciple of Yunmeng Jiang pipes up, and Jiang Wanying’s betrayed expression is hilarious 

“He does have silk translucent socks” Nie Huaisang says behind his fan, adding to the chaos 

“There’s the eternal paradox, look what we’re seeing...”

“What are we seeing, Lan Laoshi?” the younger Nie ignores his brother’s grunt to shut him up  

“Is he gay...”

“Of course he is gay!” Jin Zixuan insists 

“Or a rogue?” at Lan Qiren’s question the rest awes, Jiang Wanyin facepalms and the smaller sects want nothing to do with this, yet...

“Is he gay or a rogue?” for some reason almost the entire room turns to look at Nie Huaisang, and he gets it, if there’s someone who would know whether Wei Wuxian  would go rogue, it would’ve been him, in this case though

“Well don’t look at me” he shakes his head 

“Well the rogues cultivators are different from the sects, they take different sports than us and use shorter robes” one cultivator adds

“Depending on the context... young master Wei could go either way” Lan Xichen says quietly taking a sip of his tea, totally knowing about his brother’s infatuation with the boy 

As the discussion conference gets out of control, everyone starts asking the same question ‘Is Wei Wuxian gay or going rogue?’

“Hold it!” the matriarch of Yunmeng Jiang takes the attention of everyone, and while some are relieved thinking they are going to stop this idiotic nonsense, Yu Ziyuan says another unexpected thing “Have you all seen the brat’s condenscending smirk? Is not one that everyone can see on every cultivator present? Wei Wuxian is a metro-hetro jerk, he is not gay, I say no way!”

Next to her Fengmian is sighing and Yanli is barely containing her laughter  

“Look, we all saw Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji interact during the classes” Jin Zixuan takes his point back “With all that evidence I just say is safe to presume that he is a cutsleeve”

For the next minutes the room descends into chaos, especially with Lan Qiren screaming against the mere notion of Wei Wuxian being into his nephew. But as a conclusion is about to be reach and the rest of the espectators start a betting pool, one young cultivator attracts the attention 

“Hold it, hold it! If I remember correctly, Wei Wuxian flirted with Mianmian once!”

the mob turns to look at the girl 

“Is that true?”

“I mean... yes, he did”

“Dammit!” Nie Huaisang arches an eyebrow, surprised that sect leader Oouyang and his own brother would vote for the cut sleeves 

“Is this only about his style? A-Xian has a magnetic personallity, but his shoes are pointy toed” Jiang Yanli smiles innocently 

“Huh” Nie Huaisang hadn’t thought about that “So many shades of gray” 

“If he turns out straight though, I could be free after this” one female cultivator giggles in the back 

“So is he gay or going rogue?!” 

“Stop!” Jiang Cheng is official done with this bullshit about his shixiong “give a chance to crack the menance, I have an idea I’d like to try”

“Go on, young master Jiang, the floor is yours” Lan Xichen smiles, he hopes for a happy resolution for his own brother’s sake

“Wei Wuxian!” at Jiang Cheng’s call, the disciple runs to the room, Lan Wangji trailing behind “Help us understand something quick, you first ate a-Jie’s soup when you were..?”

“Nine years old!” he answers, a little bit confused but also happy to see his beloved shijie’s smile 

“Okay, and your first name is...?”

“Wei Ying!”

“And your boyfriend’s name is...?”

“Lan Zhan!” he says without thinking, a bright, happy smile on his face; when he hears the gasps around him he realizes what he said, turning to look at a furious Lan Qiren he tries to backtrack “I’m sorry Jiang Cheng, I misunderstood the question, you say boyfriend, I thought you say best friend, and Lan Zhan is my best friend” he says trying not to be kill by his former teacher 

“Wei Ying” Lan Wangji takes his hand softly “There’s no need to keep lying anymore” he turns to his brother in particular, but his voice carries “Wei Ying is a cut sleeve and we are thinking to go on as rogue cultivators”

“Didi!”

“Wangji!”

“Wei Wuxian!”

“Lan Zhan!” among the multiple voices claming for an explanation, Lan Wangji turns to the whining voice of his boyfriend 

“Wei Ying must stop lying himself as well, this is not a disgrace nor something you should be ashamed of”

“But... I’m straight?” he tries, nervously looking at both Lan Qiren and Madam Yu fumming on their seats

“You really aren’t, you weren’t yesterday at least” Lan Wangji shows him an almost imperceptible smirk that makes Xichen gasp and Wei Wuxian swoon “So, if I may, Xiongzhang, honourable leaders, I would like to have Wei Ying as my cultivation partner” 

“Lan Zhan!!” Wei Wuxian tackles the taller man in a hug as the room descends into chaos once more

He groans, but Jin Zixuan knows there’s no one else to blame but himself, he brought it upon himself. Except, not. Scratch that, it was all Nie Huaisang’s fault!!

#I was editing Sanctuary when this song appeared on my playlist #and then this was borned #Jin Zixuan is suffering while Nie Huaisang collects his winnings #Jiang Yanli is also collecting her bets as Jiang Cheng groans #is the last time I bet on your favor Wei Wuxian! #crack fic #mdzs #mdzs fic #mo dao zu shi fanfic #mo dao zu shi AU #mo dao zu shi crack fic #incorrect mdzs #this totally happened sometime in the novel #you cant fool me! #the untamed #the untamed fanfic #is wei wuxian gay? #mdzs musical #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan zhan #lan wangji #Jiang Cheng #jiang yanli #yu ziyuan #jiang fengmian #nie huaisang #jin zixuan #the grand master of demonic cultivation #cultivation world

[liathebookwyrm]

Babyproofing...how???

Here's a thought that keeps me up… How do you baby-proof Lanling OR Lotus Pier? One is sitting on top of a MASSIVE staircase, the other is literally on top of a lake with zero railings on the paths. Is there a designated baby wrangler or whichever junior annoyed their seniors most gets to look after the crawling harbingers of qi deviation?

I suppose Lanling has playpens with solid gold bars. Anyone too poor to afford one deserves to fall down the steps. Playpens are of course only useful until the baby figures out how to climb. They invest in a new polish that coincidentally makes the bars super slippery. The nannies then pass the time watching the babies slide down all the time.

As for Yunmeng… I imagine they laugh it off as part of their 'attempt the impossible' motto. While distracting the questioning guest from the nannies frantically running after countless babies and toddlers in the background.

Enter Jin Ling the tiny escape artist. Co-parented by Jin Passive Aggression Is My Moto Guangyao and Jiang What Is Chill Cheng... Jiang Cheng wasn't warned about it - baby's first visit to Yunmeng was… interesting. I suppose he forgot to warn them about the tambourine he gifted Jin Ling before he left…. He's a Sect Leader, he has a lot in his mind.

Thus starts the period of Jin Ling's childhood where his guardians give him the most annoying gifts they can think of for when he goes to stay with each of them. Jiang Cheng starts it off with the tambourine, but Jin Guangyao soon counters with a mini drum set. No-one in Lanling or Yunmeng get any sleep for a veeeery long time.

And they should both be glad that Lan Wangji is currently ignoring their existence because can you imagine if he decided to get in on the action? Especially since one of the "gifts" could have been introducing Jingyi to Jin Ling when they were little. There's no rule that forbids pettiness - he knows because he's already checked. And anyway it's not pettiness, it's encouraging good sect relations in the next generation. Or taking an interest in his nephew by marriage. Depends on who asks...

As always co-authored with/enabled by @sswangxian

#the untamed #jin ling #jiang cheng #jin guangyao #lan wangji #musical cultivation as an uncommon tool for inter-sect aggression #it is a miracle #that jin ling is as well adjusted as he is #considering his upbringing #we serve crack here sir #canon serves my whims #kid!jingyi and kid!jin ling could and would have brought lanling down #through sheer mayhem #is it aiding and abetting #if lwj is never withing earshot when they plot mischief?

[deathbyoctopi]

The Untamed fanart prompt: 

Experts in music Gusu Lan clan greet the new visiting disciples from abroad: Mozart, Beethoven, Bach and Wagner, all with their student white robes -but try to touch their hair one bit and Wagner will bite your fingers off while B-2 trample you

(Mozart might try a topknot on his white-pink wig, tho)

#the untamed #cql #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #maybe call it... #Music!AU #mdzs crack

[cadavercowboy]

Just Friends

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A night of drinking makes Bucky bold and a harmless text makes him bolder.

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Alcohol consumption. Thigh fucking. Orgasm denial. Cum play (microscopically). Oral sex (implied).

The tip of one finger prods gently at your lower lip, eyebrows scrunching with a wince when a burst of pain emanates from the slightly swollen flesh. A narrow, reddened cut dissects the once smooth surface and you lean closer to your streaked mirror to get a better look. Carefully, you press your lips together as if you’d just applied a layer of lipstick and the sting worsens.

You swear you can feel your pulse throbbing beneath the superficial wound and you sigh. It has ached all day, even more so when you split the small wound open while eating dinner earlier. Yanking open a drawer, you dig around in search of your scarcely-used tub of Vaseline, hoping the sticky goop will prevent your scabbed lip from cracking open again. With a soft touch, you apply a thin layer to your tender lip as well as its uninjured mate, having to stop yourself from habitually rubbing them together. 

This is all Bucky’s fault.

Last night had been a normal outing, no different from any other you’ve shared among your small group of friends. Music pumped from speakers, alcohol flowed from an array of bottles and cocktails, fun and laughter filled the evening. Normal, that is, until Bucky backed you into a dark corner of the bar and kissed you harder and more fiercely than any man or woman ever has.

It wasn’t the kiss that surprised you so much as the kisser. Admittedly, Bucky is a good-looking guy and sure you’ve had less-than-appropriate thoughts about him a time or two, but it’s not as if you’ve ever had a truly serious interest in him beyond what some might consider a crush. Not that it matters much. Although you consider him a friend, Bucky is rather reserved and — prior to last night — you’d have bet any amount of money that he’s certainly never had a second thought about you. 

And yet, the ghost of his warm lips devouring yours still haunts your mouth. The way he’d cradled your head and caressed your tongue with his own has you feeling light-headed even after all these hours. Bucky licked and sucked hungrily at you, at one point seeming to grow so overwhelmed with an untamed need that he’d nipped rather harshly at your mouth and left you with a memento of your shared moment of passion.

You shake your head and flip off the bathroom lights before heading back to your bedroom. Stripping down, you throw on a comfortable outfit to sleep in and climb under the covers. With your head burrowed comfortably deep in your pillows, you shut your eyes and beg your brain to stop replaying the memory of last night on a loop. You have to stop thinking about Bucky. And about Bucky’s lips. And about kissing Bucky. 

But you can’t.

Your eyes flick open, hardly able to see anything in the darkness of your room and you sigh. You huff and flop onto your side, hoping the change of position will usher you off to sleep faster. The niggling thoughts pervade. You still can’t believe he kissed you like that. Ignoring the pinch of pain you feel, your tongue sweeps repeatedly over your bruised lip and you swear you can still taste Bucky there. 

In all honesty, you want to simply blame it on the alcohol or the heated tension you’d created on the dancefloor together just so you won’t have to admit that your broody, handsome friend might actually be attracted to you. Hell, you’d blame it on something as trivial as the full moon if it means you can avoid having to think about what last night’s kiss might mean for your meager friendship. Is it too much to hope that Bucky had been overly inebriated and forgotten about it altogether? 

As if able to hear you thinking about him, the once silent phone sitting on your dresser lights up and vibrates. Propped up on one elbow, you can just barely make out Bucky’s name popping up with a succinct ping. You stare at the screen for a long moment, hoping that if you don’t look at his text, it will somehow go away. It doesn’t. In fact, an accompanying message joins the first and your curiosity finally forces you to reach for the device. 

Bucky: Tried to order a shot at the bar and they’re all out of tequila. I think we did serious damage last night

You smirk and release a quick snort of laughter at Bucky’s text, all the while wondering how in the world he’s managing to go out drinking after last night. It’s been an entire day and you’re still feeling the effects of your overindulgence, your head evidently doing its best impression of a balloon full of concrete. Before you can respond, the screen indicates that Bucky is typing something else. 

Bucky: Sorry about kissing you by the way. We have to be as awkward as possible around each other now FYI

So much for forgetting. Sensing Bucky’s attempt to make light of the strange situation while also trying to suss out how you’re feeling about it, you decide to take it easy on him. You have no hard feelings about the kiss and you’d hate for him to feel badly over something so trivial. 

Sitting all the way up, you switch on the bedside lamp and open the camera app while you bring your phone close to your face. You open your mouth slightly so the aftermath of Bucky’s kiss is more visible, take a photo, then send it his way with a sarcastic text about how he should be sorry for how he’s maimed and massacred you. 

It doesn’t even occur to you how the thoughtlessly snapped picture might be misinterpreted. There had been no purposeful intention in the sensual way your lips were parted, nor had you meant to capture your cleavage in the image. You’d simply sent the picture as a joke and locked your phone, but seconds later — even before you’ve managed to set the device back down — Bucky’s number and the goofy group picture you have saved as his contact photo are lighting up your screen. The phone vibrates steadily in your hand as you stare in surprise. 

If you’d been sitting in the downtown bar with him, you would have watched as the content smile that accompanied the sight of your incoming message had been promptly swept away as Bucky’s eyes scanned what you’d actually sent. You would have seen the way he snatched his jacket off the barstool and how his hand nearly shattered the glass of his phone’s screen when he jabbed your contact with unnecessary force. You would have witnessed him lifting the phone to his ear, grinding his teeth as the dial tone droned while he strode through the thinning crowd and out the bar’s exit to the crowded street.

“Hello?” you drawl hesitantly upon answering the call.

You receive no greeting in return, only a terse demand.

“Send me your address.”

“What? Why?” you wonder, sitting up straighter in your bed at the serious sound of Bucky’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is you sending me that picture,” he retorts as if it is obvious.

“Bucky, what are you talking about?” you laugh nervously. “It was just a joke.”

“I’m not joking,” Bucky assures you seriously. “Send me the damn address.”

You repeat his name again with another uneasy scoff as you try to process his unexpected adamance. Heat blooms all across your body and you begin to chew nervously on your fingernail as you struggle to come up with a reason for him not to come over. There’s no way this man is going to show up on your doorstep.

“Listen, I’m…I’m already in bed in my pajamas,” you offer lamely. “I’m not exactly in any state to receive company and…and…I haven’t cleaned in days! I was just kidding, Buck…you don’t need to—.”

“Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t you dare.”

The argument sounds rather lacking even to your own ears. In actuality, you don’t care how you look or how your place looks if Bucky does come over. What you care about is what will happen if he does; specifically, what’s going to happen to you. But there’s no way this man is going to show up on your doorstep.

“I’m going to hang up the phone and get a cab,” Bucky informs you impatiently. “By the time I do, I better have your address.”

Before you even have a chance to plead your case, the line goes dead. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you stare indecisively at the chat which remains open on the screen. The easiest solution would be to put the damn thing down, roll over, and go to sleep. But the cursor that flashes in the textbox taunts you, calling to you like a beacon. You’re suddenly feeling uncharacteristically weak. 

Your fingers move of their own volition, punching in the appropriate information before you toss your phone to the end of the bed and flop backwards with a closed-mouth scream. This man is going to show up on your doorstep. 

There’s something paradoxical to the notion that you aren’t close enough friends for Bucky to know where you live, yet he’s about to show up here to…well, you aren’t quite sure what he’s showing up for. His demand to know your address was alarming — if not somewhat enticing — and you allow your imagination to take over for a moment.

With damp palms dragging down your suddenly overheated face, your mind races and you begin to question your sanity. It would have been so easy to ignore Bucky’s demand and just go to sleep. You’d probably be saving yourself a lot of trouble. But deep down, you have to admit that this is something you’ve been secretly wanting since the very first day you met Bucky. However, that particular thought exists miles down a road you’re not quite ready to travel along.

By the time the resounding knock comes, you’ve paced about a mile and a half back and forth through your bedroom. Your heart is pounding and you’re practically shaking right out of the clothes you wear. A thick hoodie and a pair of loose cotton shorts hang off your vibrating frame, only because you decided wearing your sexy pajama set would seem a bit too presumptuous…perhaps even desperate. And it had definitely felt that way when you put them on earlier. 

Maybe you should change back. Maybe you shouldn’t care so much. The echoing knock is firmer this time and doesn’t give you time to think about it any longer. Because this man actually showed up on your doorstep.

You’ve hardly cracked the door open an inch and Bucky is already inside and shedding his leather jacket from his broad shoulders. He closes in on you until you’re forced to take several unsteady steps backwards into the dark, narrow hall. His hungry eyes look you up and down, sizing you up like a lion would its kill.

“What exactly are you doing here?”

Although you try to infuse some sort of playful, casual laughter into the question, the uncertain quiver of your voice gives you away. As does the way your eyes dart around, refusing to meet Bucky’s. He notes the anxious rubbing of your palms against your thighs and takes a slow step closer to you. 

Standing frozen before him, you gasp when he takes hold of your elbow and promptly marches you towards your bedroom. By the time you’ve turned around to face him, Bucky has already pulled his shirt up and over his head, the defined muscles of his torso rippling and on full display as he does so. Your mouth is dry and your brain is fuzzy.

“You changed,” he notes nonchalantly before gesturing at your outfit. “You’re gonna wanna take that off.”

Bucky utters the order so confidently and with no preamble that it nearly knocks you off balance. You know what’s happening, your brain just doesn’t seem to believe it. And so you stand stock-still, incapable of much more than staring. It isn’t until Bucky growls in frustration — clearly believing that you’re being coy or perhaps just stubborn — that you find your voice.

“You still haven’t said why you’re here.”

“Because…” he begins impatiently as he toes off his boots and kicks them aside. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night. And now…seeing how good I look on you is driving me crazy and making me wanna mark you all over.”

The admission is jarring. Almost as much as the cracking sound that shatters the silence in the room when Bucky unbuckles his belt and whips it free of his pants with one smooth movement. You choose to ignore his unashamed desire and opt to address the less detrimental part of his confession.

“Buck, c’mon,” you choke, somehow feeling even warmer. “It was just a kiss.”

“So?”

Your eyes meet his then, not sure how to respond to his unexpected challenge. The heat you find there nearly scorches you. You’re suddenly at a loss for an excuse that seems adequate enough to turn down the prowling man. Especially when you know you want this as much as he does, if not more. Still, you try.

“We were drunk,” you offer weakly.

It sounds like a question even to you and when Bucky quirks a dark brow, you know your reason has fallen flat. He regards you for a long moment, unbuttoning his jeans and revealing a trail of hair which dips below the illegibly branded waistband of his underwear.

“I wasn’t that drunk,” he assures, hair mussed and nostrils flaring. “Now, like I said…take that off.”

“Take…what off?” you mumble distantly.

You’re too distracted by the plethora of smooth, tanned skin to pay attention; too beguiled by the sight of his half-naked body and all that it promises to continue thinking. Bucky points a long finger in your direction, swirling it mid-air to specify that he’s referring to your baggy hoodie and rumpled shorts.

“All of it,” he barks. “Off.”

Ultimately, you obey Bucky’s request and though your limbs move as if filled with sand, they manage to shed your hoodie and shorts just the same. You’re left standing bare-chested in nothing but a pair of underwear that do very little to shield you from the lascivious perusal of Bucky’s hungry eyes. He mirrors your state, now standing before you statuesque and gorgeous in nothing but a pair of tight-fitting boxer briefs when he finally answers your earlier question. 

“I’m here to finish what I started.”

He breathes the words, his lips so close to your own that you can almost taste him. With barely an inch between you, Bucky’s eyes flicks to yours, silently asking permission. He shows no intention of closing the space between you, instead waiting for you to make that decision. You do so without hesitation and crash your lips into his with a sigh of relief at the familiar feeling of his mouth on yours.

In a flash, Bucky tears away and has you hauled into his arms to toss you easily into the middle of your soft mattress. You’ve barely stopped bouncing when Bucky’s strong body is braced above you. His hips settle perfectly in the space between your thighs; you can feel the heat of him there and the sensation is dizzying. Holding his weight on one hand, Bucky slips the other in the miniscule space between your torsos and hooks a finger along the elastic band of your panties. He tugs playfully at the material before letting it snap sharply against your hip.

“I did say all of it, didn’t I?” he taunts with a wry smirk.

“I didn’t have time,” you argue with a giggle that stops short when he allows his hips to drop so that you feel his hardness directly against your center. “I’m sorry.”

He hums against your skin as his lips trail from your jaw to your ear where he licks the sensitive lobe and nips gently at your skin.

“Shh…don’t worry,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. We can leave them on because if you take ‘em off right now, I am going to fuck the shit out of you.”

You’re uncertain whether the words are a promise or a threat, even more unsure which you’d prefer. With a pathetic whimper that curls warmly into Bucky’s ear, you feel his heavy cock twitch against your crotch. His lips latch hastily to the side of your neck and he suckles.

“Please, Bucky,” you mewl, wanting him to deliver on his threat. 

Threat…promise…you don’t care what it was, just so long as he follows through. To your dismay, Bucky puts a swift end to your hopefulness.

“No no no, baby…don’t beg,” Bucky coos almost cruelly. “You’re not getting fucked tonight.”

He punctuates the lowly-spoken words with a pointed thrust of his hips, grinding firmly against your core and beginning to feel the dampness of your sodden panties through his own underwear. You gasp then, sharp and sudden — the sound only partially prompted by the pleasurable sensation he imparts upon you. It is the widening of your eyes that belies the other cause for the breathy noise: Bucky’s unexpected denial. The complete turnaround has you reeling. If he notices your disapproving reaction, he gives no indication and instead continues his inauspicious words.

“I’m gonna make you ache the way I’ve ached for you. Gonna make you go crazy wanting me,” he breathes, interspersing thrusts every so often between the syllables. “Make you so desperate that you’ll do anything just for a little taste.”

Bucky hisses the last word and you flinch just as the rigid head of his length brushes your swollen clit through the thin layers of material separating you. Even without touching you beyond this, he has you near tears and yearning. He watches the pathetic tilt of your hips and the pitiful way your face crumbles, in awe over the way your muscles quiver and your body moves restlessly beneath him. You haven’t even seen a fraction of what he has planned for you and already you’re falling apart; the very notion has him clenching his jaw as his cock hardens painfully.

“Buck. Please.”

You whine — breathless and high — though Bucky continues as if you haven’t said a word.

“I’m gonna take you right to the edge,” he cups your ass, lifting and grinding your hips into his with a dramatic pause, “and then…stop.”

Before you have a chance to lament Bucky’s refusal to give you what he’s made you want, his strong hands grip your bent knees to gather your legs and arrange them over one shoulder so that the backs of your thighs settle along the hard ridges of his abdomen. With your legs pressed firmly together, Bucky reaches down to take himself in hand. He inhales through his teeth, allowing a few indulgent strokes of his throbbing cock before he aligns the glistening tip between the soft flesh of your thighs.

A groan forms deep in his belly, bubbling up until it fights its way out when his lips part instinctively. You watch, trancelike, as Bucky glides his dick rhythmically between your legs. In and out, over and over. Sweat gathers where your skin meets and Bucky’s grip on you tightens as fucks your thighs, taking a smug sort of pleasure in his endeavor to continue denying you.

As his thrusts increase in speed and the veins in his thick neck begin to protrude, you hope Bucky is suitably distracted and dare to lift your hips in search of some much needed friction. Bucky’s reaction is swift, immediate, and infuriating. He presses his weight forward, shoving you back into the mattress and effectively pinning you in place just as a strangled sound pours from him. 

Without warning, his hips jolt forward and his body tenses before becoming still. A wet warmth splashes against your belly and Bucky lets out a rush of breath while his body convulses and another rope of cum rains down on you. 

Bucky finally allows your legs to fall to the side, each one bracketing his corded legs where he still kneels above you as he allows his orgasm to wash over him. The fog lifts for you before it does for him and with the dawning realization, your desperation ratchets up a notch. Feral for some sort of release, you thrash with need and whimper with embarrassing anguish. Your body vibrates with the tension that blazes through your veins and you reach for Bucky, fingernails grabbing and clawing at his hairy thighs while you beg and plead for him to take you, touch you, anything.

Bucky had come here tonight with every intention of teasing and torturing you — a sort of retaliation for the yearning he’s felt for you — but seeing you like this is pushing him dangerously close to giving in. To fucking you the way you both want him to. However, he vowed not to fuck you tonight and he’s a man of his word. Still, he’s willing to show a little mercy. 

With a huff and a quick sweep of his hand through his hair, Bucky is shushing you. He shifts his weight and slides down until his striking face hovers just above your pelvis. From here, he can smell you and the faint aroma has his mouth watering in a way he thinks he ought to be ashamed of. He drags his fingers through the pearlescent splatters that dot your stomach while his other hand eases your panties to the side before he brings the slickened digits to your folds. Warm breath puffs against you when he whispers.

“I said I wouldn’t fuck you, I never said I wouldn’t make you cum,” he concedes with a dastardly grin.

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

#ummmmm hi? LOL #coming back from unannounced hiatuses with dumb fics is my brand now i guess #just dipping my toes back in a teeny bit #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan

[cowboycereal]

music is actually the reason we’re alive

#han.txt #music #music is literally hope and grief and love and wonder all in one #it’s powerful and moving and compelling #and serious and fun and distinct and unique #it is rain against the window panes and sun beaming down onto cracked sidewalks #it is humanity it is nature it is wilderness and everything civilized and untamable #it is everything actually

[vexxandra]

mini pac : stardust

we're all made of stars, but how do you shine? (your best qualities, and how they appear in the world) 3-28-24

PILE ONE ; " like the afterglow of rain " ...

your shine is like that of a child finding their first four leaf clover. the euphoria of finding a diamond in the rough, the feeling of finding light in darkness. you are hope. you are the orange remnants of dusk, painted across the sky, the freckles on someone's skin- perfection amongst beauty. but what makes you shine the most is that you are unaware of this. you don't see your own shine, can't see how bright you burn. you are just like that one direction song; what makes you beautiful. you may envy people for their effortlessness and grace, but let me tell you a secret; you are just the same.

extra: the cool colors, color schemes like the photo above, led lights, neon lights, bars, little black dresses, musical career, forests, cars, synth pop, long sweaters, nighttime. polytheism.

PILE TWO ; " like the call of home " ...

your shine is like the warm hug of the person you love most, tenfold. like the nostalgia in reaching out and making peace with your past, laying in a field of sunflowers thinking of the future. you are the daisies during sunrise, you are bouquets of roses. you are just like flowers in bloom; universally loved. unlike pile one, you know you shine, and you bask in it. but not egoically, no, comfortably. you know your worth and so do the people that love you. sometimes you may feel alone, but let me tell you a secret; you will never be.

extra: hamilton (ontario), tall houses, mundanity, bubble 2022, open roof cars, white dresses, sandals, countryside imagery, text messages, leaving someone on delivered, sunset.

PILE THREE ; " like a rose despite it's thorns " ...

you shine like cat eyes in the night, brilliant and gleaming. like a snake coiled to attack, dangerous like mesmerizing. like a dahlia in full splendor, or the sparkles of glitter and gold. you are the crack of a crystal within a geode, and the flare of a lens. your shine is more like a sparkle, bright, bold and untamable. your spark is like a lion, and shines a golden glow. eyes beautiful and bright that stand out in an ocean of dullness. you stand out. sometimes you try to hide your claws in order to conform to the norm, but let me tell you a secret; you are more beautiful unconcealed.

extra: dashboard, striped sweaters, long nails, shoulder-length hair, october, 2026, driving fast, platform sneakers, enid (wednesday), chicago illinois, tanned skin, pregnancy (doesn't have to be you).

#pick a pile #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile readings #pick a card readings #pac #pac tarot #pac reading #intuition #intuitive readings #intuitive messages #intuitive #tarot free reading #tarot reading #tarot readings

[princessbrunette]

i need a longer blurb of jj teaching reader how to smoke 🙏🏻 possible shotgunning

i was hoping someone would ask teehee ♡

suggestive themes down below, mentions of weed etc

jj cringes at himself as he taps the cracked screen of his iphone, hitting play on the spotify playlist titled simply with the leaf emoji — a subtle and yet juvenile nod to it being his smoking playlist. what kind of nerd actually has a playlist made and ready to hit play when hanging out with a pretty girl, he thinks — cheeks a little red under the dim light. his shitty speaker hiccups and splutters before playing the music smoothly, just as he comes to drop down beside you on the comfy old couch.

“anyway, fuck uh— i don’t remember. it doesn’t matter.” he waves a hand, pushing his heels into the ground to lift up his hips so he can pull the rolled J out his back pocket.

“your concentration is terrible.” you tease with a giggle, legs tucked beneath you. he recalls you looking particularly adorable in that moment, and his brain malfunctions for a second as he looks at you before he forces out a response.

“uh… yeah — i got that letter thing.”

“adhd?”

“thats the one.” he presses his fingers tightly around the compact J before patting his front pockets for a lighter. “you smoke?”

it was the first time you’d had the privilege of hanging out with just JJ alone. you were sarah’s friend, and had tagged along with her to a few pogue hangouts when she’d started dating john b. you all seemed to get on well as a group, and you were pretty meek and shy most of the time — which they found pretty endearing, so they kept you around. you were harmless, and brought an oddly charming sense of innocence to their reckless and vulgar world. you’d started harbouring a little crush on JJ since you’d met, all smiles and doe eyes whenever he was up to his usual nonsense. he was loud and untameable, but always made an effort to behave around you. the special attention made you melt.

“JJ you’re yelling.” pope would accuse and the blonde would hold his hands up.

“sorry.” he’d apologise before turning specifically to you. “sorry. those pretty ears. shouldn’t be hearing that.” he waves it off and continues with whatever rant he was on, but your smile doesn’t go away for like 2 minutes.

his effort didn’t go unnoticed by the pogues, and since you weren’t technically a pogue yourself — and it wouldn’t be breaking any pogue rules, john b and sarah specifically had encouraged the two of you to hang out alone, leaving JJ the keys to the chateau. it made total sense to them, john b desperately wanted jj to be happy (and to get some, from a nice girl.) and sarah was enthralled by the idea of double dates based off ideas she’d tucked into a pinterest board. whilst the blonde was infamous for making bad decisions, he wouldn’t let turning down alone time with a pretty girl be another on his extensive track record.

you eye him where he sits beside you on the small cushy couch, shifting a little — springs clinking beneath you suggesting it may have been a pull out bed. “i’ve never… i haven’t done it before.” you shrug, embarrassed. you envied the pogues in that way, whilst you’d been sheltered your whole life up into adulthood, they’d been able to explore themselves and figure out what they like.

his eyes widen a little and his mouth forms a surprised little ‘o’ shape, before nodding quickly and stuffing the J back into his pocket.

“what are you doing?” your brows furrow.

“don’t wanna make you feel weird, if i smoke ‘n stuff.” he waves a hand dismissively and you shake your head with wide eyes, sitting up a little in your seat.

“oh, no i don’t mind! don’t let me stop you.” you smile as reassuringly as you can. he looks at you for a moment, fixing his hat on his head before pausing a little and turning more toward you.

“totally shoot me down if you don’t wanna but…” he pulls the J back out, slowly and cautiously like it’ll scare you if he moves too fast. “you down to learn? heard i’m quite the teacher.” he smirks, but there’s a friendly twinkle behind his eyes that just makes him so approachable and non-intimidating that you feel completely safe.

“m’kay, yeah, i’ve always wanted to know what it feels like.” your voice is soft behind your wide smile and he wants to slap himself for staring at you for so long.

“alright, that’s the spirit.” he mirrors your grin, tossing his lighter in the air and catching it.

“i didn’t know smoking was something that needed to be taught.” you comment, shuffling a little downward so you can lean against the couch more— getting as comfortable as you can in your sweet little sundress. you were sat so close now you could feel his body heat radiating onto you, and it was doing something crazy to your stomach. that, and the way he looked, manspreading casually on the couch, white tee and black sweatpants, frowning in concentration as he presses the joint between his lips, holding a flame to the end of it until it glows and then shaking out the flame.

registering your words, he sends you a little face of mock offence that makes you giggle. he inhales deep and holds the smoke in his lungs, voice strained when he responds. “nah, this shit is an art form. ‘course it can be taught.” exhale. you find you’re holding your breath too.

“yeah this’ll be good for your first time, asked my guy for somethin’ weaker cos’ i didn’t want you to think i was bein’ a weirdo or whatever, smoking you out with the strong stuff so i can be creepy. i know some guys do that.” he rambles before taking another shorter toke, brows creased as he concentrates on his mini review.

“you bought weed especially for hanging out with me?” you smile kindly and he gapes for a millisecond, holding the J between his fingers and he blinks, caught out.

“yeah.” he shrugs. “s’like buying you flowers. but better.” he shuffles closer to you on the seat. before you have time to overthink the flowers comment, he’s carefully holding the joint to your lips, his own eyes wide and already a little glossy.

“i’m nervous.” you giggle, briefly holding his hovering wrist to stabilise you both.

“hey, you’re in good hands i swear, i’ll look after you.” he promises, free hand cupping your cheek with a teasing but far from unkind expression. “you’re my little baby tonight.” it was made to be a joke but your stomach does a little somersault.

“‘kay.” your lips brush the tip of the J and he has to force himself not to think something inappropriate.

“what i want you to do is breathe in and then hold it, ‘kay?” he instructs and you do so, eyes looking to him for guidance. it burns and tickles your throat at the same time but it’s not awful, you don’t even cough. maybe this is rare, because he grins when you squint— holding it in your chest. “atta girl! see, you’re born for this. breathe out for me.” his voice is closer, and therefore quieter, more intimate. you’re a lightweight by nature, so by your second toke the delay starts to unwind and you start feeling a buzz.

sativa by jhené aiko starts to play through the cheap speaker by the time you’re really feeling it. he’s talking to you the whole time, talking you through it, praising you. your whole body feels hot and you revel in the euphoria of feeling so safe and comfortable in someone’s presence. you lean against his shoulder a little, giggling over a little anecdote he told you about his day with pope.

he’s grinning with pretty pink eyes, turning to look down at you, really look at you close up. his heart stammers because you’re so damn beautiful and he nearly chokes on smoke. that would have been embarrassing.

“you’re cute.” he lifts his cap for a second, running a hand through his hair and you tilt your head, joint still clasped between your fingers.

“really?”

“totally. i’d complain about anyone else getting lipgloss on the joint, but you’re cute so you’re allowed.” he jokes and you’re off again, leaning more into him as you chortle. his arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer until your head rests against him. he looks down at you, a warm smile bordering on chuckle spreading across his face at the way you’re gazing up at him like he hung the moon and stars for you. “y’wanna learn something else?” he offers and you’re slow, but eager— eyes widening hazily and nodding clumsily.

“alright. y’trust me, yeah?” he adjusts his position a little.

“mhm, yeah i do JJ.” you’re all dazed and openly crushing. he seems pretty into it and you’re glad, because someone a little meaner might find it pathetic.

he takes your hand holding the joint and brings your fingers that clasp it to his lips, where he then takes a hit. his palms encase your jaw, pulling your face to his. he pulls ever so slightly, so your mouth gapes before he’s breathing the smoke slowly into your mouth. your heart hammers, and your hands are frozen but you get the hint and inhale, feeling the second hand burn. you open your eyes, not remembering having closed them and he’s staring at you— and you don’t get the chance to pull away because he’s closing the gap again and pressing his lips fully to yours.

you let out a quiet moan at the surprise, the sound from your throat a lot more vulgar than intended and he pulls back after a moment, eyes flickering between yours.

“sorry.”

“dont be. i wanna do it again. can we?”

“the smoking thing or the…” he trails off as you lean in slowly, a curious and sweet expression tainted with a glossy haze of intoxication and lust. you’d never been like this before with anyone, hell— you’d never felt like this.

you press your lips to his, kissing him simply before pulling back. your brows pinch together and be bites back a smile, thumbing at your cheekbone.

“wh’sthe matter?” he whispers.

“there’s more you need to teach me.” you bat your eyelashes at him and he feels himself wake up from the waist down, subtly adjusting himself.

“well we got all night.” he teases before leaning in, this time his mouth taking the lead. the joint is put out and forgotten about as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your swollen lips. “didn’t i say i was a good teacher?”

#jj maybank prompt #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank blurb #obx drabble #obx blurb

[paperultra]

prometheus.

Pairing: OPLA!Nami x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,717 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

mesmeric (adjective): appealing; drawing attention limerence (noun): the state of being infatuated with another person

The first time you see her, you think that perhaps you’ve had way too much to drink.

The tavern is crowded, loud, filthy, the countertops tacky with spilled booze, the music too sharp and the air too humid. Sweat covers your forehead the way condensation coats the outside of your glass; the drink inside sloshes over the top as your crewmates push and shove you around in your seat, their clamoring for more beer drowning out any semblance of a thought in your head.

Noise. Drunkenness. Celebration. It's everything a pirate could want after a successful raid.

You just want to go to sleep.

“Mind if I sit here?” The voice of your ship’s first mate cuts through the fog.

“Sure,” you mumble. Truth be told, you wouldn’t mind if a rabid grizzly took the neighboring stool right now. “You can have the rest of my drink, too.”

She laughs. You’ve never known the first mate to laugh, so you use what little of your strength is left to turn your head and look over at her.

Everything else in the crowded, loud, filthy tavern ceases to exist.

Sitting in the seat right next to you is the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. She smiles at you, and it’s the kind of smile that follows hearty laughter, the kind that makes a person’s face glow and crinkles the corners of their eyes. Roughly chopped hair frames her face like untamed fire and her gaze feels like the ocean on a sunny day. She has freckles.

Your grip tightens on your glass. Mouth dry, you open it to speak, to apologize and ask if you could buy her a drink or several, but nothing comes out.

“Are you guys celebrating something?” the girl asks. “You sure filled up the place pretty quick.”

When she speaks, the chaos around the two of you rushes back into your ears. Blinking, you look around and pause at the sight of your captain and the shipwright sparring on top of one of the tables. Embarrassment flashes hotly through you as you glance back at the girl. (She’s still there.)

“Yeah,” you answer. “Treasure.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Oh? That’s definitely worth celebrating.” She slides her bottle over to clink it against your glass, then brings it to her lips; your heart thuds as she meets your eye from the corner of hers. “Tell me about it.”

You finish the rest of your cocktail and tell her.

When dawn broke this morning, the first mate had recognized another pirate ship sailing in the same direction as your own. She alerted the captain, who, itching to settle a personal score of which you had no details, ordered the crew to tail it. The rest of the morning and the entire afternoon was spent in a bloody chase-and-attack. Ultimately, your crew prevailed, and upon pillaging the other ship laid claim to a large pile of gold and silver.

You, being only one position removed from a lowly cabin girl, spent most of the time serving as cannon fodder. You don’t tell her that. The details are a bit foggy, anyway.

“That’s amazing. I’ve heard of you guys before, but I never thought I’d ever run into the whole crew,” the girl exclaims once you’re done recalling. “What’s your Jolly Roger look like again?”

“It’s …” All of a sudden, you draw a blank. Shit. “Um … oh, it has violet crossbones and a crack straight down the skull. I … I think …” You frown. “I should check.”

The girl grabs your shoulder and chuckles as you attempt to teeter off the stool, keeping you in place. Her firm grasp burns against your skin.

“I think you’re a little too drunk to wander off right now,” she chides while you steady yourself against the counter, your head going fuzzy for more than one reason. “You’re definitely right, anyway. I remember what it looks like now.”

“Okay.” The next thing you know, she’s standing up, letting go of your shoulder. You frown. “Where … where’re you going?”

“Just going to the bathroom. Watch my drink for me?”

She winks. You assure her that you will, but you break your promise the moment you make it, eyes fixed instead on the back of the girl’s head until the bright fire of her hair is finally lost in the crowd.

She never comes back.

(It’s almost dawn when your crew stumbles back to the ship, loose-limbed and completely exhausted. And as you drag yourself into your hammock, only partially sobered up, you think you hear somebody shriek that half the raid’s treasure is gone.)

(You just turn over and go to sleep.)

—

The second time you see her, it’s by accident.

You’re in town to buy candles and rope with the cabin girl, having been relegated to babysitting duty once again, but she somehow managed to slip away while you were walking through the market. You’ve been going in circles for the past half-hour trying to locate the damn kid.

“Genie!” You narrowly avoid a stack of cages with chickens in them – the cook will probably get some, you figure – and cup your hands around your mouth, pushing against the flow of foot traffic. “Genie, you little brat –”

Someone bumps your shoulder as they pass by. You feel a weight leave the belt loop of your pants.

The money.

Fuck.

Whipping around, you spot a flash of navy-blue polka dots just as they disappear into the throng of people. Genie gets shoved to the back of your mind as you immediately set off in pursuit.

“Hey! Get back here!”

Nobody else seems to care as you squeeze in between bodies and boxes, jumping over stray dogs and shouting after the thief. It’s your fault, after all. You were thoughtless with how you carried the money.

(Or maybe they can tell you’re a small-time pirate, greedy and violent, and have concluded that you got what you deserved. You are not a person to be feared and certainly not one to step aside for.)

After what seems to be an eternity, you manage to break out of the crowd, promptly stumbling over a broken brick in the road. Sweat drips down your back and sticks to your blouse as you catch a glimpse of polka dots vanishing into a nearby alleyway.

You’re screwed if the captain finds out you got robbed.

Sprinting into the alley, you leap at the thief, grabbing them by the collar of their shirt just as they begin to scale the wall.

“Oi,” you snarl, spinning them around, “who the hell do you think you –"

A face that you thought you’d never see again stares back at you, and the rest of your sentence breaks off in your throat.

The girl from the tavern takes the opportunity to knee you in the stomach and twist away. But you’re stronger, and you’ve felt worse; instinctively, you move behind her and wrap an arm around her neck, holding tight while your other hand slips behind to prevent her from headbutting you. Her hands shoot up and her nails dig painfully into your skin.

“Let go of me!” she orders through gritted teeth, kicking at you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you say, thoughts running a thousand miles a minute. “Just give me back my money.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know you.”

You grit your teeth. There’s no doubt in your mind, and you know that there’s no doubt in hers. “You ran away after taking my bag.”

“I didn’t take anything. You started yelling and chasing after me out of nowhere.”

“Why would you run if you didn’t take it?”

“You’re a pirate,” she hisses. “Of course I would run.”

“How do you know I’m a pirate?” you ask.

The girl stills for a mere second. It’s enough to feel her inhale against your chest, your nose nearly pressed against the cap that she’d tucked her orange hair underneath.

“I can just tell,” she mutters. Her tone is so bitter, so hateful that you can taste it. “All pirates are the same.”

Your arms begin to bleed.

You open your mouth to protest. You want to argue that she’s wrong – you aren’t the same, you’re not bloodthirsty or greedy like your captain, your first instinct isn’t to hurt people to get what you want.

But to say that now, with your arm around her throat, unwilling to let go under the pretense of demanding money that isn’t even yours to begin with? Even you recognize the hypocrisy. That bitterness and hatred is directed at you too.

You let go of her, jaw clenched.

“Sorry,” you mutter. You release her and step away. She steps back as well, eyeing you warily, and the muffled sound of coins clinking together reaches your ears. You don’t so much as direct your gaze towards the source. “I must’ve mixed you up with the thief somehow.”

She scoffs. “Yeah.”

(So she’s committing to the bit until the very end.)

You take one last look at her. Her stony expression, so different from the smiling, pleasant one you can only recall through a haze from three months ago, sinks into your memory and settles there with purpose.

“Have a nice day,” you say.

You turn on your heel, fingers brushing over the trail of bloody crescents she had left on your arm, and leave the alleyway for good.

—

The third time you see her, you know it’s fate.

You’re at a different tavern, on a different island, for a different reason. The patrons are elderly and sparse in number, and they like to brag about how they can still drink you under the table. There’s no music and the countertops are kept clean.

When they walk in, it’s almost the end of your shift – you’re sweeping underneath the corner table for the second time and hear them before you turn around.

“Ah, great! I’m starving.”

“You ate just before we disembarked.”

“And I’ll eat afterwards too!”

You suppress a snort, dragging your broom around the table’s base. Grey will be happy with these customers, for sure. More dishes bring more work, but they also bring more beri.

A girl speaks next. “If you have the money for twenty servings of meat, go right ahead, Luffy.”

Your grip tightens around the broom handle until your knuckles crack.

The crumbs on the floor completely forgotten, you turn around, slowly, carefully, and fire fills your vision once again.

It stares back at you, eyes wide, lips parted. Her fingers twitch at her sides.

Fate, surely.

“Hello!” says the boy on her right, the one in an odd straw hat. “We’re here to eat.”

You take in a breath.

“Hi,” you rasp, heart squeezing in your chest, making itself known for the first time in a year. “You can take a seat anywhere.”

The girl nods, the movement deliberate and cautious. Three of the people with her furrow their brows at you, but the straw hat simply jaunts to a table in the center and sits down, prompting them to break their gazes and follow behind him.

You finish sweeping to collect yourself, then head over with a notepad and a pen.

“What can I get for you guys?”

They each give you their drink of choice. The straw hat then rattles off a number of dishes, seeming to have completely forgotten the girl’s earlier warning, and you note them down the best you can.

“Okay.” You repeat the order, receiving satisfied grunts upon reciting it correctly. “Anything else?”

The blond-haired man shoots you a crooked smirk. “Just your wonderful presence, miss,” he tells you with a wink.

You stand awkwardly.

“… Thank you,” you reply after some time, not sure how else to respond. “My shift ends soon, though.”

The green-haired man and the guy in the bandana do little to hide their snorts. The blond-haired man clears his throat, murmuring a soft ‘oh, how unfortunate’ with a disappointed smile, and says that they’ll make do with the wonderful drinks and meals that are sure to come.

Well, that’s that.

You begin to head to the kitchen when the girl’s voice rings out behind you, halting you in your steps.

“When’s the end of your shift?”

You don’t dare to look over your shoulder. “In thirty minutes.”

“Do you mind waiting around for a little while afterward?” she asks, and it’s a question, not an order.

“I don’t mind,” you say. It’s the answer you would’ve given either way.

—

The girl’s name is Nami. Wave. You wonder if she knows the violence with which she’d crashed into the tiny island of your life.

She sits across from you at the table in the corner, just far enough away from her comrades to not be eavesdropped on, though you suspect they’ll try their best. She cocks her head to the side and her eyes narrow at you.

“The eyepatch is new,” she finally says.

“It came with my resignation.”

“You left your crew?”

“Yeah.”

You avert your gaze. A frown graces Nami’s face.

“What brought you here?” The suspicion in her tone is almost imperceptible, but it’s there.

“This is my hometown. I came back about two months ago to save up for the time being.”

“Save up for what?”

“I don’t know. Another adventure, I guess.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “Can I ask you a question now?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Why did you talk to me at the bar?”

“Because you seemed like a soft touch,” Nami replies.

Ouch. That stings your pride a bit. The fact that she had known that from the very beginning makes you wonder what else she knows.

“Why did you steal from me in Wolftown?”

“Because I knew you were a pirate.” She leans forward in her chair, arms crossed over the table. “Why did you let me go?”

You swallow.

“I … wanted to prove you wrong,” you tell her. Tracing a long scratch on the table, you don’t tell her that you’ve thought about her words every morning while at sea, the disgust that fell so easily from her tongue, or that they fell from your own as you clutched your eye socket and spat at your captain’s feet. “But you ended up being right in the end.”

“… Oh,” Nami says.

She shifts in her seat. Her attention turns briefly to the group of men still sitting at their table – they are watching, not even trying to be subtle – and she worries her lower lip, contemplative, before turning back to you.

“Not all pirates … are the same,” she admits softly. “I was wrong.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. You sit quietly while she speaks with a strange conviction.

“There are good ones. Not a lot, but some. Maybe you were one of them.”

You glance at her friends. Understanding dawns upon you, and it’s envy and gladness all at the same time.

“I don’t think I was,” you finally say. “But I’m happy you found some.”

She huffs out a laugh. It’s clear and present and genuine. “They found me. I didn’t have a choice.”

You grin, cheeks warming under the sun of her smile and hands folded on the edge of the table as the two of you chuckle together.

“Nami.” Her name burns your lips and washes over them once the amusement dies down. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Surprise flickers across Nami’s face.

She blinks once, not speaking for a moment, and you realize that you’ve made a mistake for the umpteenth time. However, just when you’re about to backtrack and leave the tavern never to return, the girl reaches out across the table towards you.

(Three years from now, you will stand on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, and Nami will tell you that she thought about you everyday after the incident in the alleyway. And you will laugh, and kiss her, and say that you’ve thought about her every day since the night she robbed your old pirate ship. The pains of the past will only be a faint scar.)

(But for now, you sit across from each other and smile.)

“Sure,” she murmurs. “I’d like that.”

#aesthetic words prompt list #opla #one piece #nami x reader #opla nami #nami #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #fem!reader #nami: give me your money #reader: cash or credit #man she's kinda hard to write for !! worth it though. love me some all-consuming pining

[superficialdomina]

Lost (Into Submission, Part 3)

Part 2: Pain

Series masterlist

AN: Loki's determined to prove you wrong, so he takes himself to a BDSM sex club to get his Dom on.

As always, an enormous thank you to @acidcasualties for making this whole series happen.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: 18+; minors DNI. Explicit smut: oral (male receiving) PIV, elements of rough Dom!Loki. Hints of orgy/voyeurism. More Loki angst. Ana is 100% consenting, but naive. A reminder to young subs out there: always have pre-negotiated limits, and a safe word that you're prepared to use (I know you know, but I was a bit worried about Ana after this).

Also, writing Dom!Loki was surprisingly hot. Maybe I do get it after all.

Loki checked up and down the grimy street before he stepped out of the limo. He’d been driven right to the door of the club, but it wouldn’t do to be recognised in the few metres’ walk from the curb. He had handed the driver a crisp $100 bill as he left; the man’s salary from Stark Towers already paid for his discretion, but Loki wanted to ensure that his gratitude for that silence was understood. Straightening his suit jacket, he turned the door handle.

Inside was as nondescript as the outside; Loki navigated downwards through two floors of industrial concrete and metal to find what he was looking for. The deeper bass notes of electro-grunge seeped through the plush ruby door, and Loki felt the familiar thudding of his heart in time with the music. As always, he swallowed his budding anxiety, straightened to his full height, and stepped through the doorway of club Genuflexa.

The interior of Genuflexa – known as "the Gen” only to those who had never been inside – was darkened, but Loki’s eyes adjusted quickly. The basement floor was open, opulent, and luxuriously furnished, with beams, frames, rings and anchors adorning every surface at regular intervals. If it weren’t for the lack of windows and the faintly musty odour, it would be easy to forget that he was several floors underground. Bodies clustered at various points around the room, some playing, some watching, some lounging on the lush sofas where they pleasured themselves or each other. With skill that belied centuries of practice, Loki pushed the feeling of overwhelm from his mind.

“Mr. Smith,” a honeyed voice came from his shoulder. “It’s been a while.”

He looked down at the latex-clad brunette who had appeared beside him, giving her as smouldering a look as he could manage. Image. “Nervo,” he purred. “It’s good to see you.”

It wasn’t her real name, just as it wasn’t his, although unlike her, he genuinely didn’t know who she was outside this basement. The Genuflexa’s excessive membership fee paid for the privacy of all its patrons; nonetheless, as with his driver, he would leave Nervo a hefty tip to show his appreciation for her discretion. She may know his real name, but she certainly wouldn’t speak it.

“Can I take your jacket?”

“No.” He idly thumbed the edge of his sleeve. “I’ll keep it with me, thank you.”

Nervo smiled. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need, Mr. Smith.”

Loki briefly scanned the opulent surroundings, trying to ascertain the club’s energy tonight. The was a wildness in the air; something savage and untamed and feral that covered the luxurious décor like an invisible fog. It was exhilarating, and equally - Loki admitted it only in the deepest parts of his mind - frightening.

Loki turned to the abandoned bar, searching for something to do with his hands. There was never any liquor served here, but expensive bottles of still and sparkling water lined the countertop. He took an imported bottle of San Pellegrino, and closed his eyes for a moment to savour the crack of the aluminium lid as he twisted it open. The bubbles danced gently on his tongue; the cool of the glass was divine in his hands.

By the time he he opened his eyes, they had seen him.

They didn’t quite rush to him, but there was an eagerness with which they surrounded him, pressed their hot bodies against him, gazed up at his face in rapture. One – blonde, slender, notably bolder than her peers – met his eyes with hungry, dilated pupils.

“Are you-“

“My name is Mr. Smith,” Loki interrupted. He hesitated for a beat. “You may call me Sir.”

Her eyes narrowed for the briefest moment, then she giggled. “Mr. Smith, Sir, are you here to play?”

She looked so fragile, her waif-like frame buffeted by the beat of the music. I could snap her in half. He instinctively wanted to decline her invitation. Instead, he affected a well-rehearsed mask that, despite being achingly familiar, was never truly comfortable.

“What is your name, girl?”

“Ana, Sir.”

“How old are you, Ana?”

Ana giggled again. She was chewing gum, which Loki found highly unappealing. “I’m 25, Sir.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at her. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Ana?”

“No, Sir.”

Loki caught Nervo’s eye over Ana’s shoulder; she gave a half-nod, half-shrug. The tiny woman was of age. He swallowed, and placed his San Pellegrino back on the bar.

“Come then, Ana – let’s find somewhere... comfortable.”

Ana squealed, taking his tie in her hands and pulling him towards her, snaking her lithe body against him as she walked him backwards across the club floor.

“My safe word is never,” Ana spoke loudly into his ear as they moved through the furnishings. Her unpleasant chewing continued, and she lowered her voice to a stage-whisper. “As in, I’ll never use it.” She giggled once more at her “joke”, batting her eyelids at him conspiratorially as her back met the rolled arm of a large, lush sofa. Loki managed not to roll his eyes.

The crowd had followed them; Loki tried to shut out the voyeurs who peered at them through the dark, to focus only on the sweet body before him. Ana. Loki hoped, for her sake, that it was not her real name. He lifted his chin, and straightened again.

“Get rid of your gum, girl,” he commanded. Ana didn’t look away as she spat her gum on the floor. Loki seethed.

“Not there, you filth.” She looked slightly taken aback, but she picked the wet wad of gum off the grimy floor and tucked it into her black corset. Loki hoped the revulsion in his face would be misconstrued by the onlookers as contempt. He loomed over her as he spoke again.

“Kneel.”

Ana’s mouth hung open; that word, from this man, this God – because of course she knew, they all knew, exactly who he was –  

But they don’t know, do they? The voice slithered through Loki’s mind like a serpent. Nobody knows. Nobody…

And for the briefest moment, your face swam in Loki’s eyes. Your luscious, curvy body, wrapped in straps of leather and softly jingling brass, his hands bound, prostrate before you, and your beautiful mouth so close –

Loki grabbed a fistful of Ana’s hair, pulling her down and forwards so that she stumbled to her knees. He lowered his voice, sneering.

“I said kneel, girl.”

The smirk was gone from her face, all trace of brat vanished as she sank back to rest on her heels, mouth and eyes wide, hands resting demurely in her lap. Loki had not released his grip on her hair; with his other hand, he freed his cock from his suit trousers. Mesmerised, Ana watched it grow hard before her as he pumped himself slowly, his fist only centimetres from her open mouth.

He tugged roughly at her hair, pulling her up to face him.

“You will look me in the eyes as you take me in your throat. Do you understand?”

Ana nodded, not breaking eye contact, straightening on her knees and widening her jaw to take him as he guided her forwards, fingers still wrapped tightly in her hair. As her mouth enveloped him, he lifted his own hand off of himself and stroked her cheek with his fingers. She was ambitious, her hot, wet mouth bobbing eagerly, saliva running down her chin as it spilled from around the edges of him. He watched her cheeks hollow with every lunge she made.

“Use your hands, girl,” he growled, and she whimpered, lifting her arms precariously to run her fingers over the fabric covering his thighs, tracing the ridges of muscle beneath. Loki grit his teeth. “Not there.” He took her hand and guided it to the base of his cock, curving her fingers around him. She gripped him hard. Still she did not break his gaze.

Loki felt the room pressing in; felt the hot, filthy gaze of the crowd as they wordlessly egged him on, their heavy breaths and moans pushing and demanding, and Loki’s own voice telling him not to fail, don’t fail, and Ana’s sweet young face stared back at him with those wide, dark eyes-

Without warning, he pulled her head back, causing his cock to slip from her wet mouth with a grotesque slurp. She was gasping for air. He let go of her hair, watching her closely.

“Stand.” Ana did so, unsteadily, but consciously. The collective audience grunted and moaned; Ana seemed somewhat recharged by their encouragement. “Turn around.”

Delighted, Ana turned, arching her back so that her petite bottom poked out from under her short skirt. She was clearly naked underneath; even in the dark, Loki could see the outline of her surprisingly plump labia between her slim legs.

“Put your forearms on the couch, and spread your legs.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ana breathed, and she bent forward so that her skirt tipped up over her midsection; Loki roughly widened her legs with his foot until she seemed suitably off-balance. He placed his hands on her slender hips, tracing the lower curve of her exposed buttocks with his thumbs.  Ana gasped theatrically.

“Are you going to spank me, Daddy?” Ana whined, peering back over her shoulder at him.

Loki glowered at her. “You will call me,” he said, bringing his wide palm down on her silky flesh with a thwack, “Sir.” He swapped hands, slapping her other cheek in punctuation. Ana flinched, crying out in pain with each strike. Loki softly stroked the reddening skin, soothing her. “Never” indeed, Loki thought cruely, scathingly. I could have you safewording out in minutes if I-

But in truth, he had no interest in hurting her. He trailed his gaze over her small body back up to her face, and realised with quiet horror that she had tightened restraints around her own wrists; the cuffs, which must have been waiting within her reach, were affixed via a long chain to the base of the sofa. Loki suppressed a shudder.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Ana whined again. “Are you going to fuck me now, Sir?”

Loki’s mouth was dry; he wished he hadn’t left his water on the bar. The crowd pressed in again, and Loki could feel them now, actually feel them, their bodies moving against him as they jostled for the best view, desperate to watch this young woman be fucked and flogged and beaten and broken by a God… And Loki knew, as he had known from the moment he stepped out of the limo and descended the Genuflexa’s concrete stairs, that he would give them all what they wanted.

He purred at Ana menacingly. “Would you like that, girl?”

“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.”

With one hand still on her hip, he guided himself to her, pressing his wide tip against her and feeling her wet, slippery resistance as her body stretched to take him. He could feel the heat of her, the elasticity of her. She was so hungry for him. She will likely be fast, he thought with relief as he eased into her.

He began to move in her, and she moaned, and the crowd moaned with her as they ground and gyrated against each other. Loki felt like he was fucking all of them at once, and he knew that it should make him feel powerful, to have their eyes on him, their desire, their pleasure at his mercy. Instead, he felt hollow. Mechanical. Yes, he would give them what they expected from their beautiful alien Prince, whose bloodlines and arrogance and titanic vanity must surely imply his need for dominance, for control, for carnal power.

Loki glanced up, still numbly thrusting into Ana as she writhed and moaned against the soft arm of the sofa. Across the room, through the dark haze (was it the club or just his eyes?), he could make out a young man, naked, facedown over a covered wooden beam. An elegant series of Shabari knots restrained him from shoulder to toe; a tall woman, dressed entirely in leather, stood over him, a short riding crop in her hand. The young man’s eyes were closed, his forehead resting on the beam, as his entire body was stroked and touched and teased. While Loki watched, the leather-clad domme lifted the crop and struck him swiftly across the buttocks; the young man flinched slightly, but did not open his eyes.

Loki stared, enthralled. The scene was utterly beautiful.

And for the second time, images of you came to him unbidden. You, standing before him as he lay restrained; you, binding his body in beautiful knots, bending him to your will, taking your pleasure from him and making his pleasure your own, and he, Loki, giving that power to you because he knew it was safe, because he knew it was what he truly wanted -

With a strangled cry that was eerily mimicked by the masturbatory audience, Loki pulled himself from Ana’s body and spilled his Godly seed over her cheeks, which were still marked red with his handprints. His own cheeks burned with shame. What had he done to her while he was lost in this fantasy? Had she climaxed? Was she hurt?

“Ana, are you alright?” For a moment she remained slumped over the arm of the sofa, but at his touch on her shoulder, she straightened, and turned to him with a sex-drunk smile across her face. The crowd were reaching for her, stroking her skin, her hair, any part of her that they could touch; for a few moments, she was their Queen. He took her shoulders, eyeing her closely. He repeated his question. She nodded mutely, still smiling dreamily. Loki turned, looking for supplies that were usually present at the foot of the lounge, but found none.

He roughly grabbed the arm of the closest of the watching horde. “You,” he barked, then took a deep breath. Don’t overcompensate. “Please, I need a warm washcloth and some drinking water.”

But when Loki turned back to Ana, she was gone; vanished into the clutch of her adoring audience.

Loki stood still as the crowd around him dissipated, consumed with shame that no one else would see. He couldn’t look at the young man in the Shabari restraints; couldn’t speak to the woman who returned with the cloth that Ana would never use. He could only reflect on the last few minutes, replaying the scene that had appeared in his mind in his final moments of ecstasy. Loki clenched his jaw.

Fuck.

Continued in Part 4: Training

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#sub!loki/femdom!reader #sub!loki #loki fic

[reasonsmandy]

Lullabies of Life

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — prompt 13 with eddie roundtree

✧.* summary — It was supposed to be just a hookup, but he became the father of your daughter and the love of your life.

✧.* warnings — mentions of pregnancy.

✧.* word count — 4.0k

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I fell in love with this little family, I hope you guys fall in love too. Good reading 🫶🏾

The bustling bar was a sanctuary of rhythm and revelry, a haven where music echoed through the air and laughter intertwined with the clinking of glasses. Its dimly lit interior exuded a vintage charm, with walls adorned by colorful posters of iconic bands from the era. The aroma of spirits and the familiar buzz of conversation enveloped the space, creating an ambiance that oozed with nostalgia and possibility.

Amidst the lively crowd, Eddie found himself drawn to the bar, its magnetic energy pulling him closer. His eyes fell upon you, the enchanting bartender who seemed to command the room with a flick of your wrist and a radiant smile. He approached the counter with a grin, eager to engage in their delightful banter.

"Hey there, stranger," You greeted him, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. The word "stranger" was delivered with a playful lilt, a nickname that hinted at the connection they were about to forge.

Eddie leaned against the bar, his voice brimming with charm. "Well, if I'm a stranger, then let me be the one who gets to know you better."

You chuckled, your fingers gracefully maneuvering the cocktail shakers. "Oh, so you're a smooth talker, huh? We'll see about that."

As the night unfolded, Eddie and you engaged in a delightful dance of words amidst the ebb and flow of the bar's enchanting melodies. The clinking of ice against glass, the occasional burst of laughter, and the vibrant hum of conversation formed the backdrop to your blossoming connection.

Eddie would order a drink, taking in the eclectic playlist that filled the room with nostalgia. You, always attentive, would slip playful comments into your conversation, occasionally referring to him as "stranger" as a playful reminder of their initial encounter.

Over time, your flirty exchanges at the bar evolved into something deeper and more intimate. The magnetism between you and Eddie grew stronger with each passing day, drawing you both into a passionate liaison that extended beyond the confines of the club.

As the night grew darker and the bar closed its doors, you found solace in each other's company. Eddie's presence became a constant, a reassuring presence waiting for you after your shift ended. Together, you would slip away to secret hideaways, where the world faded into insignificance, and it was only the two of you.

In the hushed corners of hotel rooms or the hidden embrace of secluded spots, you explored the depths of desire and indulged in the pleasures of each other's company. It was a friends-with-benefits arrangement, an unspoken agreement that allowed you both to revel in the physical connection without the complications of a committed relationship.

The moments shared were passionate and intoxicating. The touch of his hands, the taste of his lips, the way his body melded with yours—each encounter was a symphony of sensations, a dance of unspoken longing and untamed passion. In those stolen moments, you found release and a refuge from the demands of the world.

But as the flames of desire burned brightly, so too did the risk of falling deeper. Moments of tenderness would slip through the cracks, fleeting glimpses of a connection that extended beyond the physical. It was in those stolen glances, in the whispered words of affection, that the lines between friendship and something more became blurred.

The arrangement of a friend with benefits relationship was both thrilling and bittersweet. It allowed you to explore your desires, to indulge in the heat of the moment, yet it left the door ajar for the possibility of yearning for more. Every encounter was an intoxicating blend of pleasure and the unspoken question of what might lie beyond the confines of your secret trysts.

Together, you walked a tightrope, balancing between the exhilaration of passion and the lingering desire for something deeper. The memories created in those hidden moments would forever be etched in your hearts, a testament to the connection shared and the complexities of navigating a relationship that blurred the boundaries of friendship and desire.

…

You and Eddie carried on with what you had, you preferred not to name something so good, you just lived and loved every moment, but the love of desire and fulfillment of it made you careless. You sat on the edge of gour worn-out couch, your hands trembling as you clutched the positive pregnancy test. Thoughts raced through your mind like a whirlwind, and a mix of fear and excitement coursed through your veins. You needed to share this life-altering news with Eddie, although the fear of his reaction filled your chest every second pass.

With shaky fingers, you dialed Eddie's number, your voice filled with urgency and vulnerability as you pleaded, "Eddie, please come over. There's something important I need to tell you."

Minutes later, Eddie arrived at your doorstep, his face etched with concern. As he entered the apartment, his eyes met yours, searching for answers. The air was heavy with tension, thick with the weight of the news about to be shared.

"You're scaring me, you called me by my name on the phone." Eddie chuckled until he took knowledge of your worried features. "Is everything alright?"

Your voice quivered as you handed him the pregnancy test, your fingers brushing against each other in an electric moment. "I just found out," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper and your hands trembling. "I'm pregnant, Eddie."

Eddie's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. The room fell silent, the gravity of the situation sinking in. He stepped closer to you, his voice filled with a mix of awe and disbelief. "A baby?" he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're carrying our child?"

You nodded, tears glistening in your eyes. "Yes, Eddie. What the hell are we gonna do?"

Emotions cascaded over Eddie's face like a tidal wave. The initial shock gave way to a profound sense of responsibility and determination. He closed the distance between you, gently cupping your face in his hands. "Y/N, I know we didn't plan any of this, not at all, but I'm here to support you" he says, his voice filled with raw emotion. "And being honest with you, knowing that we have a child together, it brings me more comfort than having this baby with anyone else. Of course, if that's your choice... having the baby."

"I want to have the baby." You say crying and he hugs you closer, conveying comfort.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you clung to Eddie's words, your heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and love. In that tender moment, they shared an unspoken understanding that this unexpected twist of fate was an opportunity for growth and a chance to explore the depths of their connection. And of course, you agreed to be your best selves for this child.

After hours of talking that morning, you decided that it would be better to cut off any romantic attitudes between you, for the sake of the baby it would be better not to confuse anything from now on.

With your hands entwined, you faced the unknown together, ready to embrace the journey of parenthood as a united front. Little did you know that this new chapter would not only reveal the strength of your love but also redefine your understanding of yourselves and the remarkable bond you shared.

…

You were feeling horrible, the nausea wouldn't leave you alone since last morning and your head ache as if a carnival float was giving a parade in it. Eddie was by your side all this time, helping you with everything you needed and if you were honest that messed with your feelings, you knew it was his duty as this baby's father, but the cold that grew in your stomach when he took care of you was inevitable.

You had your eyes closed but you couldn't sleep, you could hear Roundtree in the kitchen preparing something for you to have dinner and you decide to get up and go to him. You stop at the entrance to the kitchen, an involuntary smile spreads across your face when you see the way he was trying to understand the recipe.

You watched the clock on the wall pass the hours and your chest tightened at the thought of him leaving your place, his presence made you feel more relaxed about all of this. You involuntarily rest your hand on your belly that already showed your baby's development, you sigh loudly catching the bassist's attention.

"You alright there?" He asks, and you try to hold in a laugh when you see him in an apron. "Did our little bean let you rest?"

"Not actually." You smile weakly, approaching him. "Would you mind spending the night?"

Eddie's body freezes, he wonders several times if his ears had heard correctly, he turns to you analyzing every detail in your face for any sign of joke or humor, and when he doesn't find it he worries. "Are you that bad? Don't you want me to take you to the hospital?"

You roll your eyes and instantly give up making the invitation, maybe you had misunderstood what he felt. You leave the kitchen disappointed, "I'm going to my room."

Worried, Roundtree turned off the fire and made his way towards the bedroom, following the sound of your voice. As he entered the room, he found you lying on the bed, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, lost in your thoughts.

"I like it when you're here," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and longing. Sensing his presence, you turned your head towards him, your eyes locking with his. Roundtree sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze attentive as he listened intently to your words.

"I want you to stay, but if you don't... It's okay, I understand," you continued, your voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

Roundtree's expression softened, his hand reaching out to gently stroke your leg. "You know I'll do anything to help you through the pregnancy," he reassured, his voice filled with genuine concern. "I'll stay with you."

Despite his words, an underlying sense of unease lingered on his face, his turmoil evident. He felt the weight of the situation, the frustration of not knowing how to improve things or make you feel better. "Look, I don't know what I did to upset you but–"

Before he could finish his sentence, you closed the distance between you, surprising him with an unexpected kiss. It was a passionate and spontaneous gesture, born out of the emotions swirling between you. Roundtree's initial surprise gave way to a reciprocated desire as he kissed you back, his lips meeting yours in a moment of shared vulnerability and longing.

In that instant, the worries and uncertainties melted away, replaced by the warmth of your connection. The kiss spoke volumes, expressing the depth of your feelings for each other, transcending the words that had gone unspoken.

"I want you to stay because of me." You say after the kiss, feeling his breath hitch on your face. "That's what I want, I want you."

"My precious…" He smiles, closing his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I don't want you to just be my baby's daddy." You say frustrated, pulling away from him a little. "Stay with me..."

Eddie was holding back a smile, and you knew he wanted to make some joke of the situation, or of course, drop a line at you. "Just say it stranger."

"So you want me to be your daddy, uh?" The smirk that grew on his face made you let out a genuine laugh.

"You're ridiculous!" You exclaim pulling him down onto the bed. "Now cuddle with me."

…

Amidst the journey of pregnancy, you and Eddie found yourselves navigating uncharted emotional territory. The anticipation of becoming parents together brought a newfound awareness of your feelings, deepening your connection in unexpected ways.

As the months passed, you couldn't help but notice Eddie's increased affection and care towards you. He would accompany you to doctor's appointments, his hand resting protectively on your growing belly, his eyes filled with awe and wonder. The way he spoke to your unborn child, whispering words of love and promises of a bright future, touched your heart in ways you had never imagined.

One quiet morning, as the dawn cast a soft glow into the room, you and Eddie found yourselves sitting side by side on the edge of the bed. You placed Eddie's hand on your belly, feeling the gentle kicks and movements of your little one.

Eddie's voice was filled with tenderness as he addressed your unborn child. "Hey there, little one, they're kicking" he whispered the last part at you with a sparkle in his eyes and you can't help but smile, his voice carrying a mixture of awe and excitement. "You're growing stronger every day, and we can't wait to meet you. Your mom and I love you more than words can express."

You watched Eddie, your heart swelling with a mixture of joy and affection. "That's right, baby," you chimed in, your voice filled with warmth. "You're surrounded by so much love. We're here for you, every step of the way."

Suddenly, your baby let out a particularly enthusiastic kick, causing you to laugh. "Looks like our little kicker is ready for some action," you exclaimed, a playful gleam in your eyes.

Eddie chuckled, his hand still resting on your belly. "I think our future rockstar is already rehearsing for their first concert," he joked, his voice filled with amusement.

You playfully nudged Eddie's arm. "Well, just don't let Warren know about it cuz since I told him that the baby won't stop kicking, he's been to like twenty different stores looking for a mini drum set," you say, laughing as you remembered the drummers words.

Eddie feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "It's not like my child is going to play the drums, it's business will be string instruments, right little bean?" he retorted, kissing your belly, a twinkle in his eyes.

You both burst into laughter, your shared humor creating an atmosphere of joy and lightness. In that moment, you realized that amidst the seriousness of pregnancy and impending parenthood, there was room for laughter and playfulness.

As the first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, you and Eddie sat in laughter-filled silence, your hearts intertwined with the tiny heartbeat within your womb. The sunlight hits your naked body and your boyfriend admires you as if you are the most beautiful work in the world, you feel a flush on your cheeks and you look away.

"Are you embarrassed now, my precious?" He says laying closer to you, kissing your cheek. "After everything we did tonight?" He says with a sly look and you smack him on the arm, burying your face in the pillow.

"I need to sleep, the baby hasn't been quiet all night." You close your eyes pretending to sleep.

"Hey baby, let your mother sleep, daddy tired her today" Eddie whispers close to your navel, as if sharing a secret with your child.

You sit up with a serious look on your face, your face now hot with embarrassment. "Hey! Don't talk about these things with the baby."

"My bad my bad." He says after a series of laughs from you, pulling you closer to him. "Now come sleep in my arms, my precious." He kisses the top of your head and you feel safe and sound.

…

Inside the bustling recording studio, Daisy Jones and the Six poured their hearts into the music, unaware of the impending news. Eddie's fingers glided across the bass strings, his mind fully absorbed in the melodies.

Suddenly, Teddy Price, their producer, burst into the room, his face flushed with urgency.

"Eddie, I've got something important," Teddy called out, waving for them to stop playing.

Eddie takes off his headphones, waiting for the older man to tell him what was going on. "Y/N's waters broke. She's on her way to the hospital. It's time," he announced.

"What?!" Warren yelled, jumping from his drum set.

Everyone turns to Rojas with raised eyebrows, he was excited about the idea of being godfather from the beginning of your pregnancy. Eddie felt his heart pounding like a wild animal, it was time, he was going to meet his baby.

Desperate they go to Warren's van, the streets of LA were congested with people returning to their homes after a long day at work and Warren felt he was going to have a breakdown.

"¡Vete a la mierda, cabrón!" Rojas cursed yet another driver who passed in front of him, his hands were sweating and he was struggling to concentrate.

"Warren is already the second exit you missed." Billy says irritated, he saw Eddie desperate in the passenger seat. "Let's change places."

"It's not your goddaughter being born, I'm the one driving!" Warren speaks sullenly at the situation.

"First of all, we don't even know if it's a girl, second of all...Quit being reckless!" Billy gets up from the back of the van taking Warren's belt off.

"Do you want to kill me?" Rojas says as he feels the grip of the feeling released from him.

"Get out of there Warren!" Billy pulls the drummer to the back of the van as the vehicle stops at the light.

"Okay okay, but only because I wanted to!" He says switching places with the older Dunne, Eddie makes a face when he sees Rojas' ass on his face during this change of places.

Eddie stepped into the hospital, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. The scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of flowers brought by well-wishers. The walls were adorned with faded paintings, remnants of an era gone by, while the sound of muffled voices and beeping machines created a symphony of activity.

He followed the signs that led him down a long corridor, his footsteps echoing against the tiled floor. The atmosphere was hushed, the occasional sound of a baby's cry punctuating the stillness. The soft hum of conversations between doctors and nurses drifted through the hallways, adding to the sense of purpose that permeated the space.

As Eddie approached the door to the labor and delivery ward, he paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. The sound of his own heartbeat filled his ears, the weight of impending fatherhood settling upon his shoulders. He took a deep breath, finding solace in the knowledge that you were just beyond that door, bringing your child into the world.

Roundtree pushed open the door to the labor and delivery ward, and his eyes immediately fell upon you, lying in the hospital bed. Beads of perspiration dotted your forehead, evidence of the intense physical exertion you were going through. The room was filled with a symphony of sounds—the rhythmic beeping of monitors, the hushed whispers of medical staff, and your own deep, controlled breaths.

Your face was a canvas of mixed emotions, a cocktail of determination, pain, and anticipation. Your brows furrowed with each contraction, the waves of discomfort coursing through your body. The lines of your face tightened, and your grip on the bed rails tightened in response to the increasing intensity.

The air in the room seemed to hum with a sense of purpose and urgency. Nurses and doctors moved around you, their voices soft and comforting as they offered encouragement and monitored your progress. Their gentle touch and soothing words were like anchors, providing a sense of support in the midst of the storm.

As Eddie approached your bedside, his heart ached seeing you in this state. He took your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours, offering a steadying presence. He could feel the strength of your grip, a testament to your resilience and determination. His eyes never wavered from your face, his love and admiration shining through the concern etched on his features.

Each contraction rippled through your body like a storm, intensifying and then subsiding, leaving you breathless but resolute. The pain etched lines of raw vulnerability on your face, but there was also an undeniable beauty in the strength you displayed, the unwavering commitment to bring life into the world.

Amidst the physical sensations that consumed you, your eyes met Eddie's, finding solace in his presence. In that shared gaze, unspoken words passed between you, a silent acknowledgment of the journey you were on together. His touch and unwavering support were a lifeline, grounding you in the midst of the whirlwind of labor.

As the medical team continued to guide you through each contraction, their voices blending with the symphony of beeps and your own primal vocalizations, Eddie stood by your side, a pillar of unwavering support. He whispered words of encouragement, his voice a gentle melody amidst the chaos, reminding you of the strength within you.

In that labor and delivery room, time seemed to bend and sway, as if the world outside ceased to exist. The pain and intensity were all-consuming, but through it all, a glimmer of hope and anticipation shone in your eyes. Eddie, witnessing your strength and perseverance, knew in his heart that together you would weather this storm, emerging on the other side with a precious gift—a new life, their baby, a testament to the love you shared.

Amid the pain that fills your body like a devastating wave you hear your baby's cry and such a sound in your eardrums makes you cry too. The doctor announces the arrival of his daughter and Eddie smiles widely when he sees the crumpled face of the baby, Aurora Roundtree, his new reason to live was right there for just a fell second and changed everything for him.

"You did it, my precious.” He kisses the top of her head. “Our daughter is beautiful."

…

You didn't know what to expect, after all everything with your boyfriend's band was always beyond any kind of imagination and possibility. Although you took care of your newborn together with her father, you feared what the presence of your friends could bring.

"Warren is the last I tell you." You say into the phone, as Eddie naps your daughter. "If you bring weed over here, I'll rip you apart."

Eddie starts laughing softly, trying not to wake up little Aurora who was sleeping peacefully in his arms. When she finally falls asleep he puts her in her crib, then hugs you tenderly.

"Don't you miss some weed darling?" he asks in a playful tone and you pat his chest.

They didn't take long to arrive, Camila Billy and Julia were the first. The little toddler approaches you with a gift and hands it to you with a shy smile.

"Thank you Jules." You say bending down to pick up the package. "Do you want to see the little bean?"

The little one waves shyly, hiding behind her father's leg, you hold out your hand for her to lead her to her daughter's crib. Julia stands nearby admiring the baby curiously and you stand beside her while Billy, Camila and Eddie talk.

Some time later Daisy arrives with Karen, both with their proper gifts in hand, you thank them and introduce the little one to them and as time goes by you talk and eat the snack prepared by Eddie moments before they arrive.

When the sound goes down, you notice the delay of Graham and Warren and you get worried, both of them didn't answer the phone at the house in Laurel Canyon and that increased the anguish of not knowing where they are.

You hear the classic rumble of the van's old engine and it automatically quiets your heartbeats, but before it becomes a pattern you hear a loud noise followed by an "Ouch".

Interestingly, everyone leaves for the front door of the house, finding Warren with his hands on his toes, Graham scratching his head and a relatively large box with a sticker that says 'Fragile.'

"What the fuck is this Rojas?" You question while laughing at the situation.

Warren ignores the pain shooting up from his toes into his body, spreads his arms and points to the box with excitement. "Guess who found a mini drum set?"

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

Want to be tagged when new stories come out? REASONSMANDY'S TAG LIST

#djats #daisy jones and the six #djats x reader #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie roundtree x fem!reader #eddie roundtree x y/n #eddie roundtree #josh whitehouse x you #josh whitehouse x reader #joshua whitehouse #eddie Roundtree x you #eddie x y/n #eddie x reader #the dunne brothers #daisy jones & the six #the six #daisy jones and the six fanfic #daisy jones and the 6 #daisy jones fanfic #reasonsmandy writing

[subbypeterparker]

hey! can you do an eddie munson nsfw alphabet? thanks

some 18+ headcannons about my boyfriend:

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

he’s pretty cuddly afterwards. even if it’s just a hookup, or you’re together, he needs to have you in his arms to make sure you’re okay. once you’ve both come back down, he’s always the first to start cracking jokes and making you laugh until you fall asleep.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he’s pretty fond of his hands, especially now that he’s seen them wrapped around your legs, and pushing in and out of your cunt. enjoys how they look with rings.

eddie’s an everything man. not boobs or ass, both. he doesn’t care what your body type is, he’s all over it, especially your thighs. thick or skinny, he’s on his knees for you 24/7.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…)

he’s not a big fan of cumming on top of you. prefers it to be inside your cunt or mouth (but never insists you swallow).

but he especially loves eating his and your mixed cum when it’s leaking out of your cunt when he’s done fucking you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

secretly wants you to jack him off during Hellfire meetings. amongst all his theatrics and gambits he pulls, just wants your hands down his pants. would never ever want people to notice, but thinks it’d be fun to try to stifle his moans.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

as a “freak” he didn’t have too much experience before meeting you. some handjobs by random girls, maybe a quickie or two, but that was it. he’s however a quick learner, and it takes him no time to learn what you like, and once he does, he’s determined to only get better.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

anything face to face. nothing to him beats seeing your face scrunched up in pleasure, or your tits bouncing in front of his face. he usually latches onto your tits, and watches you grind against his cock when his mouth moves across your chest, and your legs go weak.

the only exception, however, is when you’re pegging him, and taking him from behind. then, and only then will he be okay with not being face to face.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

he’s definitely never serious in bed, always cracking jokes and making you laugh. he could be balls deep inside of you, and will still make your sides hurt with laughter as he cracks jokes and tickles you.

he can get serious if you guys are doing someone more kinky, cause you’re both more focused on making sure you’re both okay.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

he’s definitely not shaved down there. it’s not completely untamed, but he’s not bald. he keeps it groomed enough that it’s not unpleasant for you.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

he gets shy and somewhat awkward with intimacy, and he’s the same with sex. eddie does love eye contact and sweet kisses as much as often, but that’s as far as he knows how to be romantic during sex.

the more you two date, the more comfortable he gets. with time he’s a candle light and music kinda guy, but not without some weed in the mix.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

he jacks off a lot honestly. more since you two started fucking, just cause sometimes he can’t help himself from thinking about you. super into edging himself, since you do it to him. it’s one of the only ways he can get himself to cum, cause it reminds him of you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

so he’s definitely kinky in the bedroom. likes choking, degradation, praise, crying, spanking, pain, bondage, mommy kink, etc. loves to be on the receiving end of them all.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

usually in his trailer, or where you guys play D&D with the gang. he’s 100% down to fuck in the woods though, but would be super careful to make sure you won’t get caught. admittedly though, he’d love to have someone walk in on you guys when he’s too far gone he can’t help but let out moans.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

basically anything about you turns him on. he just always thinks you’re hot, but if i’m being honest, you’re especially sexy when you wear his clothes and jewelry.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

not big on degrading or hurting you (ex: impact play). the most he’ll do is leave bruises on your thighs from digging his fingers into you while fucking you. as i’ve said, this man is seriously sub-leaning.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

total giver. end of story. he’s a damn god when it comes to giving. incredibly skilled fingers and mouth, and he fucking knows how to use them.

he’s however 100% down to get head every damn chance be gets. never gets tired of how your mouth feels around his cock, or how you look at him while sucking him off.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

depends on his mood that day. he’s more into the slow and hard kinda pace, finding that fast just gets exhausting too quickly, and sensual just isn’t a day-to-day pace. the slow and hard combo just feels better for both, and allows him to really hit the best angles for you.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

huge fan of quickies, but given the choice between a quickie and proper sex, would choose the later. however, he loves a quick blowjob, handjob, or anything where he gets to touch you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

he’s 1000% an experimentalist, and is always ready to take risks. he’s pretty diverse in the bedroom, and as long as you’re both safe and enjoying it, he’s down to try anything, especially if it’s to pleasure you.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

he can’t last long when you two start fucking, but his stamina has built up thanks to you constantly edging him. after this, he can go for about 5 rounds, and can last a very long time, depending on what you guys have done.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

he doesn’t own any toys (handcuffs don’t really count) but after meeting you, had a drawer dedicated to things to use together. a strap-on, vibrators, ties for bondage, etc. all stay buried deep so no one can find them.

the usage of them are pretty much 50/50 (ex: loves using vibrations on you and himself, or dildos on you and him)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he can be a major tease. like an actual asshole. trailing his fingers up your legs, getting so close to where you need him, and then removing his hands. putting his hands up his shirt, inching closer and closer to your tits, and then leaving you. getting you so close to your orgasm, only to leave you high and dry with a smirk on his face.

but it’s fine though, cause you usually tie him up and have your way with him while he whimpers and moans underneath you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

eddie is extremely loud in bed. neighbours have complained. multiple times. his moans are pretty high pitched, and almost harmonize with his groans when he finally sinks into your cunt. the needier he gets, the louder he gets.

whenever he talks, however, it’s usually incomplete words, and more often than not, whatever he says is completely incoherent. he’s just so fucking pussy-drunk he can’t fucking think.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

super into pegging. loves fisting his hands into the bedsheets while you pound into him from behind, hand around cock to jerk him off. wether he’s on his back, or all four, eddie can never get enough of it.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

he’s got an average length, maybe around 5-ish inches when soft, and 6.5 when hard? he’s got a beautiful pink tip, and the whole thing curves a little, but he is a damn god at using it. when he gets hard, his foreskin rolls back and there’s a little vein on the side that kinda pops out.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

he’s gotta pretty high sex drive, and you two have sex maybe 4-5 times a week. if you’re both tired but horny, it’s mostly dry humping, but it’s still fucking amazing.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he’s not usually super tired after sex. maybe it’s the drugs or something, but it can take him a while to fall asleep. he usually stays up and draws patterns on your skin softy until you fall asleep.

however, if the sex was mostly concentrated on him being the sub, he dozes off pretty quickly. gets super tired during aftercare, and once he’s tired, you know he’s out of sub space.

#subbypeterparker #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson

[firstkanaphans]

oh my god i love these prompts!!! could i request Y with sandray? tysm!!

[Y]elling “I love you” in the middle of an argument + [Q]uieting them with a kiss

Ray was drifting in and out of consciousness when he heard his bedroom door being wrenched open. 

“Ray? Ray?!”

Despite its anxious tenor, the voice was familiar and comforting, but Ray was far too exhausted to open his eyes and see who it belonged to. Instead, he rolled over and buried his face in his pillow with a groan. The voice was very loud.

“Jesus Christ, Ray. Are you drunk?!”

Ray groaned again because it was really none of this voice’s business whether he was drunk or not, but before he could find the energy to tell them to piss off, he was forcibly rolled over as the covers were ripped off of him. He tried to shield his eyes from the sunlight, but it was too late. His retinas burned.

“Leave me alone. I’m sleeping.”

“Sleeping? Ray, have you lost your goddamn mind? You were supposed to meet me at the orphanage an hour ago to complete your community service—you know, the thing you’re required by the government to do or otherwise they’ll send you to jail?”

Ray recognized the voice now and the longer he stared at the blurry figure in front of him, the better Sand came into focus. His cheeks were flushed and he looked angry. He usually did these days.

“I’ll reschedule,” Ray grumbled. He didn’t understand what the big deal was. It wasn’t like it was Sand’s problem.

“Ray,” Sand snapped. “You can’t keep doing this!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s irresponsible.” Ray rolled his eyes—what a lame excuse—and then reached for the bottle of whiskey on his bedside table. He picked it up and was just about to take a sip when Sand snatched it away. Ray glared at him. Sand glared back. “If you keep going like this, you’re going to kill yourself.”

Ray didn’t quite know how to articulate that he really didn’t fucking care. He had broken up with Mew the night before, finally forced to come to terms with the fact that Mew didn’t love him. That he didn’t love Mew. And without that safety net to fall back on, he didn’t really give a damn where he ended up. Jail? Hell? It was all the same to him. 

He climbed out of bed in search of a drink. Sand couldn’t gatekeep all of it. There was too much. 

There was a bottle of wine in the music room, so he grabbed it only to find that it was empty. He tossed it to the side and then went to the mini fridge instead. He found a beer, but before he could crack it open, Sand stole that from him too. Ray turned to glare at him. 

“I’m not going to let you drink,” Sand said and then held the bottles up in demonstration. “I can do this all day. I’m sober. You can’t outlast me.”

“I’ll call the cops,” Ray countered, “and tell them you’re trespassing.”

Sand called his bluff. “Go right ahead.”

Ray let out a shriek of frustration. “Why do you fucking care if I drink myself to death, anyway? I’m not your fucking problem!”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

The words struck Ray like a bolt of lightning and he suddenly felt more sober than he had in days. He froze, his anger evaporating as quick as it had come, and just stared at Sand who had turned beet red at his own outburst.

“But you know what?” Sand said, immediately backpedaling. He set the bottles down on the table next to him and began turning towards the door. “Clearly, you don’t need my help, so…”

He was giving in. He was trying to get away. Ray didn’t want to let him go because Sand loved him—despite everything he had done. Despite everything Ray had put him through. Sand loved him. And Ray was pretty sure that he loved Sand, too. He hadn’t recognized it at first because the feeling was so different than what he felt for Mew. It wasn’t safe. It was wild and scary and untamed. It made him want to be alive.

“Just show up for your community service, okay?” Sand said as he reached the door. “Please. Don’t go to prison over this, Ray. I don’t think I could live with myself if—”

Ray crossed the room, spun Sand around, and kissed him. Sand let out a soft noise of surprise against his lips, but once he realized what was happening, he relaxed. He kissed him back. When they finally parted, he just stared at Ray, a question in his eyes. 

“I love you, too,” Ray said. He was sure this time. 

Sand smiled at him so brightly that it warmed him from the inside out and for the first time in a very long while, Ray wasn’t craving alcohol. Instead, he kissed Sand again.

For the Fluff Prompt ABCs

#i'm kinda obsessed with this one you guys #thank you for the prompt 🙏🏻 #only friends the series #only friends fic #sandray #sandray fic #sarah writes things #fluff prompt abcs

[bonny-kookoo]

hii bonny 🤍

i‘m also very curious about what happened in crossroads can you maybe still post what is in your drafts 🥺

This is a random scene from my notes on my phone, set somewhere (I think? It's been a long time since I wrote those notes..) after his (failed) tattoo appointment. It was unfinished, so I cut off the last part of it that was a little scrambled and ended in an open sentence haha.

Only a warning for angst, being drunk and smoking. That's it.

It's not hard to realize that he's not the same person you used to go out with years ago- if not just by the way he visually changed, but also internally.

Still- if you had the ability to open up his chest and repair all the damage done to his back then soft heart, you'd do it in a beat of your very own with no questions asked. Then again, maybe you shouldn't- maybe you should just leave him alone just like you were told to years back. Did it do any good?

Did he grow up well? Are his piercings and tattoos his choice, or were they just a decision of rebellion against his parents after you left?

Had you already fucked him up too much to have someone save him?

"Hey- oh, you're cold." He notices the second his warm hand finds your rather cooled down, naked skin fleetingly, before he sits down next to you on the large rock in Taehyung's backyard. The music is still booming inside the house, and everyone's clearly conversing and having fun- so why is Jungkook out here with you of all people?

Especially after avoiding you like the plague?

"It's fine." You say, pulling your knees up to your chest, heels of your shoes scraping a bit before they find hold on an edge. He runs his fingers through your hair, his cheeks a bit reddened and nose shiny from the alcohol he still holds in his hand, before he sets down the beer bottle into the grass in front of him. "I get a headache from the loud music." You mumble, looking at a frog jumping into a bush. Taehyung fails to really maintain a proper garden- everything's wild and untamed back here, and you actually like the sight.

"I swear he keeps turning it louder every song." Jungkook chuckles, clearing his throat before he pulls out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes- offering you one that you take rather reluctantly. You're not sure when he started to smoke- but you won't question it either, just as much as he doesn't question if you still smoke or not, apparently. "I won't stay much longer. They're getting too wasted for my taste.." He mumbles to himself, before he lights his cigarette- holding out the lighter to you. "Taehyung keeps kissing people on the cheek."

"Well, you're pretty bad already too." You sigh, lighting your own for yourself before you give it back to him-

noticing the pink glued yarn on it, right before he snatches it back to put it into the small cardboard box he stuffs in the front pocket of his blue sweater.

Does he know that he still keeps something of you with himself?

Or did he forget that it was yours years back?

"Not really, no." Jungkook laughs, though he does rub his eyes a little, and it stings because his timing to your thoughts couldn't be anymore painful. "Really. Why do you think I'm drunk?" He accuses with a slightly playful hint in his tone that you don't feel fits the moment.

"Cause you're out here with me." You simply tell him, avoiding eye contact because he's been avoiding you the entire night until now.

"Hm, you have a point." He shrugs, taking a long drag of the cigarette between his fingers before he continues. "I can't handle you when my brain works, I guess." He laughs, and you just silently smoke next to him, watching the ash from it fly off with red sparks every time you flick it off. "I wanna ask you why you left." He says, lowly, seriously, and now you start to feel the cold too.

Or maybe it's just him.

"But I'm not drunk enough to do that." He chuckles, leaning back a little, moving his neck until it cracks- a habit he still has.

"Is that why you're here now?" You ask quietly, worried about his answer, somewhat- but at the same time, you're already scolding yourself for not letting it go. "So I tell you without you having to ask?" You continue nevertheless, brain too fogged up from the amount of alcohol to really sustain the ability to think thoughts quietly it seems like.

"No." He shakes his head, before he huffs out a long drag of smoke. "I just wanna.. pretend? Remember? Fuck." He laughs to himself, face in his hands for a good moment, cigarette burning on it's own tucked between to fingers.

It takes you a moment to realize he's probably crying. Or trying not to. You can't tell.

"Can't you at least say sorry?" He suddenly says, and once his hands are gone from his face, you can finally spot all the lights from the inside of the house behind you reflect in his glassy eyes like they're mirrored. His tears don't fall until he blinks-

then they're gone again, the lights and the tears, frustration replacing all of it, shaking you awake especially when you realize he's looking right at you.

"I can't." You tell him, bottom lip quivering as you keep it together the best you can. "I can... only say sorry for not being able to say sorry." You laugh, and he shakes his head.

"So you just.. left, fucked me over, and you don't regret that at all?" He argues so softly it hurts. It would feel a lot better if he yelled at you- because you can deal with anger, with resentment and all of that, you grew up with it, it's normal-

this isn't. You don't know what to do.

"Never said I didn't regret it." You deny, killing the burning cigarette bud by scratching it over the rock you're sitting on. "...I just can't say sorry for something I.. didn't do." You deny, and at that, he looks at you standing up, hugging yourself, before your heels sink into the soft ground, making you trip-

and him get up too quickly as he stumbles just as much, almost falling into the bushes with you if it wasn't for the flimsy fence your back hits instead, his hands on either side of you, face right next to yours.

"What did they do to you?" He asks, and you want to scream, yell, call police or whatever just to get out of it-

because you can handle him hating you. You're okay with him using you as the villain and reason he ended up mending his relationship with his parents. You can handle being the breaking point of the young Jungkook who finally woke up and realized that his parents and home had always been trying to help him. You can handle that.

But you can't handle tearing all of that apart. Not because he doesn't deserve the truth, but because you won't get a happily ever after anyways.

"They had something to do with it." He keeps going, only slowly giving you space again, and suddenly you want him close again, just so you don't have to look at him. "I know they did-"

"Jungkook-" You start, when you hear the door of the house opening, glass door swinging open, some people laughing as they walk out as well, shattering whatever moment just transpired between you both as you slip right underneath his arm. "I should get home now." You tell him with a tight-lipped somewhat smile, but his face is dangerous.

"Hoseok drives you home, right?" He asks, and you nod, unsure. "Cool." He says, completely catching you off guard as he walks past you. "I'll tell him you wanna go. I'll just go and say bye to Taehyung." He says, making you look after him confused, before you realize.

Hoseok mentioned he'd drop someone off on the way to your place.

And apparently you now know who that someone might be.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine

[miioouu]

1-Car Sex: Kuroo Tetsuro

What’s more fun than going camping with a bunch of your friends? It’s the whole journey that makes it so special, from bantering over the location to deciding who’s going to set up the tents, these are moments filled with loud yells and even louder laughs. You really did enjoy a little get away with your group.

There is only one thing you did not enjoy; the ride over to the destination, and all because of Lev, instead of feeling the discomfort for just an hour or so, the tall Russian has chosen one of the furthest spots, making it a minimum of four hours if luckily there was no traffic. The car was small, stuffed to the brim with people and supplies, this resulting in your situation right now; you were sitting on someone’s lap. It wasn’t just anyone, the one person you never truly felt close to, the one you avoided being left alone with, the man with untamable black hair and piercing golden eyes, you were sitting on Kuroo’s lap. Now lucky for you, he didn’t complain much, knowing this situation is just as uncomfortable to you as it is to him, he kept his mouth shut.

The first couple of hours passed by quickly. The conversation kept you distracted, the music kept you hyped, and the sights outside the windows were breathtaking. But now that everybody quieted down, you can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable, antsy in your “seat”. You tried to keep your movements to a minimum, knowing it might bother the man below you, but you really couldn’t; your back began to ache, your feet felt numb, and you wanted to crack every bone in your body. So, you shifted slightly, but it still didn’t satisfy you. You wriggled and adjusted even more, looking for the perfect position, until you felt hands on your hips, stilling you. “Y/n, stop moving! I know you’re uncomfortable but stay still.” You mumbled up an apology, trying to stay as motionless as possible, which worked for a few minutes, but even then, after a while, the pain started again, and you had to move. It’s like your body had a mind of its own, no matter how much you wanted to just stay like you were, you body jolted in uneasiness. Your legs spread a bit, your body sinking into the man's chest, and your neck hung back, the loud sound of your spine cracking echoed in the car. But you couldn't care now about the pain or how you're still feeling caged, not with Kuroo's arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his head leaning on your back as his voice, rough and whispered, sent shivers down your spine "I told you to stop mov- Fuck" His sentence was cut short, now that you're further away from the city, the roads became rocky, unstable, you could feel every bump underneath you.

And you could also feel Kuroo underneath you. His boner poking out, you felt him against your ass. You tried to deny how good it felt, tried to act like you weren't affected, although you couldn't contain the sigh that escaped your lips when you felt his hands leave your waist, slid down and rested on your thighs. His fingers gripping you, he used his strength to shift you, now his clothed crotch was rubbing perfectly between your folds; you don't know if you should feel lucky or not that you decided to wear thin shorts today. The more you drove, the shakier the road will get, you were practically bouncing in his lap, on his dick. Honestly, Kuroo was struggling too much. He glanced to his side seeing most of his friends passed out, and the others too busy on their phones to pay attention to him. He straightened up, his lips mere inches away from your ear "Wanna feel more?" Your eyes widened as you quickly twisted your head to look at him. You barely had time to open your mouth though, he slightly lifted his hips up, pushing both his sweats and boxer down, just enough to free his aching, oozing dick. Your heartbeat quickened as you saw the tip poking between the soft flesh of your thighs, your thoughts were running a million miles a second; just a few hours ago you were barely acquainted with this man, and now you were drooling over him. He cut off your daydreams when you felt his kisses pressing against the nape of your neck, soft and sweet, a really unexpected gesture in this moment, but it only made you melt more into him.

Now it was your turn to lift your hips up, pushing both your shorts and panties to the side, and sinking back down onto his dick. You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet as you felt him slowly slide into you; you could feel all of him, so much of him. The tip kissed your cervix, made your back arch and nails dig into his arm. The veins that ran down his length, dragging against your gummy walls with each bump the car was hitting. It all felt too good. Both of you were trying your best to keep your voice down, to keep calm, not wanting to attract your friends' attention. This whole situation made it feel all so much better, so much more pleasurable. You clenched around him, surprised at how quickly you felt the knot form in your lower stomach, your head fell back, laying on his shoulder as your eyes, barely open and glazed with lust, met his. The eye contact made him hold you closer, made him bite down on the exposed skin of your neck. A few more bites and a few more bumps, a few more thrusts and kissing of your cervix, that all it took for that tight knot to finally give in, to finally break. And it's like Kuroo knew you couldn't keep your voice at bay, one of his hands flew to clasp against your mouth, while the other held your hips tight, preventing you from jolting up and attracting unwanted attention. Your orgasm triggered his own, his grip around you hardened, his knuckles turned white as his canines really sunk in, piercing through the thin surface of your skin, drawing blood, and he finally painted your insides white.

You took a few minutes to regain your breath, your senses, your rationality, and the moment you do, the moment reality drowns up on you, you stiffened up with fear. He could feel your worries, he could see the way your widened eyes clouded with confusion, a sight that made him chuckle before slowly lifting you up, slightly so he could pull out of you. Your mixed juices overflowing, making you even more embarrassed as you feel them dripping down your thighs and landing on his. His arms found a way around your waist again, this time adjusting in his seat and making sure you're more comfortable, he leaned in again, his lips so close to your ear again "I hope we'll share the same tent Y/n."

#kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #smut #female reader #kinktober #haikyuu smut #hq smut

[rose-blush-eddie]

This is my first ever attempt at smut so I apologise in advance. Not proof read yet but will get round to it soon!

Feedback more than welcome!

5k words

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, smut, semi-public sex, praise kink, degradation, oral sex (male receding), AFAB reader, Eddie Munson x reader, enemies to lovers, alcohol. Please let me know if I forgot anything!

You don’t know what it is about Eddie that causes you such disdain towards him. Maybe it’s his cocky attitude, his untamed hair or just… how much he annoyed the shit out of you. It was like he’d made it his personal mission to drive you insane.

Every snide comment or sneer in your direction sent blood boiling through your veins and colour flushing your cheeks in anger. It didn’t help that beneath all the animosity there was deep routed tension and attraction. You weren’t stupid, you knew it was mutual from all the times you’d caught him staring at your chest or ass, and worst of all he wouldn’t even pretended to be ashamed at being caught. He’d just wink at you and carry on with the conversation like he had any right to look at you that way.

You think it began a few years ago when you were both teenagers. You had been drunk at one Steve Harrington’s many house parties, arm around Eddie and your mouth pressed to his ear, his hair pushed aside, so he could hear you over the booming music.

“You know, I’ve always thought something might happen between me and you.” You confessed, far too drunk to care that your filter was completely shot. Eddie just laughed in return, his arm squeezing around your waist as he pulled you closer to his side.

“And why is that sweetheart? Can’t resist me?” He chuckled, as you pouted in return.

“I’ve seen how you look at me Eddie, you’re not slick you know.” A blush rose to his cheeks as he looked away from you, but no denial left his mouth.

“You could kiss me you know? If you wanted to?” You couldn’t help but flirt, thanking the alcohol in your system for the boost of confidence you’d never have had whilst sober.

Eddie turned to look at you, but the humour was gone from his eyes. You wondered if had even been there in the first place or if you’d imagined it. “I can’t kiss you sweetheart. It’s wrong” you watched as his throat moved around the lump forming there, his adams apple bobbing with the force.

He looked away again before he could see your reaction, and you were glad. The sting of rejection must have been written all over your face. The words felt like an icy dagger plunged through your heart, cracking the beating organ in your chest.

“It’s wrong?” You spoke coldly, trying to avoid any emotion weeping into your voice.

“Yes it’s wrong, you know it is.” He replied, still not looking at you. His arm was carefully removed from your waist and placed back by his own side. Which hurt even more. He wouldn’t even touch you.

“Well if it’s so wrong I guess I’ll leave you in peace Eddie. Wouldn’t want to bother you with my presence.” You spat, voice laced with venom to hide the heartbreak he’d forced upon you.

For months you’d harboured feelings towards the cutely haired boy. Months of pining and longing looks. Surely you can’t have imagined the way he looked at you, the lingering touches on your arm or back when you sat together or passed in the hallway.

What hurt the most was the fact that Eddie was your friend. Your closest friend. Rejecting you is one thing, if you truly had imagined what you thought had been there between you, but to do it so openly, so cruelly. He didn’t even have the decency to let you down gently. So much for being your friend.

Without sparing Eddie another glance you got up, smoothing out your dress and grabbing your drink from where you’d left it on the floor and turned, walking away from Eddie and the remnants of your once comforting friendship. If he was going to treat you like he had no care for your feelings, why did you have to spare him another thought. He could go fuck himself for all you cared.

Speaking of fucking… you glanced around, weighing up the men around you with slight disdain in the hopes you could find another man to entertain you for the night. It was slim pickings, most of the decent guys were already spoken for, until your eyes landed on Jason Carver. He was stood by the bar in the kitchen, mixing himself an awful looking concoction. He wasn’t the nicest of people, if anything he was downright rude, but he was attractive. And single. And his personality had no bearing on what you needed from him. You walked up, faking the confidence required and leaned against the counter to his right, holding your drink out.

“Y/N? Hey, you good?” He asked, looking up at you in confusion. His blue eyes displayed his unsureness as to why you’d approached him. You rarely mixed with his sort, you were only at the party because Steve apparently invited the whole year, but you weren’t an outcast. Just… selective of what company you kept. Clearly that was a lapse in judgement on your part.

“Yeah, more than good. Just thought you looked like you could use some company?” You cringed internally at your blatant flirting, batting your eyelashes as you took a sip from your drink. To your surprise it seemed to be working. The jock straightened up, taking another step towards you, his drink forgotten on the kitchen counter. His hand reached towards yours, his pinky finger nudging your hand as it rested next to him.

“I can’t say I’m not flattered Y/N, but aren’t you normally hanging out with the freak at these sort of things?” You winced at his words, before remembering exactly what that ‘freak’ had done to you. You owed him nothing.

“Mmm I used to. But I’ve had a slight change of heart. Figured I was hanging with the wrong sort of people and it was about time to change it. People like him can reflect badly on people like us if we give them the time of day. You know?” Your voice was sickly sweet, matching the slightly sick feeling in your stomach, partly from the ridiculous amount of alcohol you’d consumed and also the awful words leaving your mouth. Even then it hurt to talk about Eddie that way. But you shook the feeling, determined to turn the night around. “Why don’t you show me what I’ve been missing out on? I know Harrington has a few spare rooms upstairs?” You leaned even further in, your nose practically touching Jason’s as he glanced down at your lips.

“That sounds like a great idea to me.” He beamed down at you, straightening to his full height as he grabbed your hand in one of his, and his drink in the other. “Lead the way.”

You giggled as you turned around to head upstairs, freezing for a split second when your eyes locked onto Eddie’s. He was emotionless, nothing showing in his usually sparkling brown eyes. You got a hold of yourself, shrugging off his gaze as you lead Jason upstairs.

——————————————————————-

That night was three years ago now.

Two of which had been spent with you and Eddie avoiding each other at all possible times. That was until last year, when Steve (who you’d grown close to over the years) inexplicably befriended the metal head. And since then Eddie has started tagging along to all your hangouts and driving you slowly insane. The worst part is you hadn’t told any of the others why you disliked Eddie so much, because to do so you’d have to reveal the humiliating rejection he’d thrown your way three whole years ago. Which still stung to this day.

You’d slowly gone off the rails after that night, sleeping around to a degree, switching up your wardrobe and friends and slowly integrating yourself into the popular group at Hawkins High. The friendships felt superficial, the male attention hollow, but it proved to be a good distraction. And your friendship with Steve and Robin helped ease some of the mundanity of your school life, even after graduating last year they were still there for you.

So that’s how you found yourself in the Hideout on a random Friday night, fake ID burning in your pocket. Eddie’s band was playing and Robin and Steve had all but insisted you all go to show your support as it was his first gig on a Friday, which was apparently a big deal. You were corded round a small table, luke warm beer growing even warmer in your hand as you tried to tune out the music coming from the stage. You’d even turned up late, hoping to have missed Corroded Coffin by ‘accident’ but had somehow ended up arriving just in time for the last song. The crowd was mild at best, mostly middle aged men and the odd girl decked in leather and eyeliner eyeing up the men on the stage. The music wasn’t to your taste, all shouting vocals and harsh guitars, but you could appreciate the skill required to produce such sounds. Even if it was Eddie’s skills you were forced to appreciate.

The worst part was how good he looked on stage, sweat glistening off his pale, tattooed skin, fingers skilfully picking at his guitar strings as closed the final song to applause from the small audience. As the band closed their set and packed up their instruments, one of the girls dressed all in black approached the stage, leaning onto the decking as she started talking to Eddie. He pushed his hair off his face as he seemed to lean in closer to her, grinning in the bright stage light and talking animatedly to her.

You looked away, focusing back on Steve and Robin’s idle chatter to distract yourself from the man whose attention was evidently occupied. You weren’t really listening, until Steve nodded his head in the direction of the bar to your right, and Robin rolled her eyes. “He’s honestly insatiable. I don’t know how he does it.” She quipped, to Steve’s amusement. You turned, knowing they were talking about Eddie. And you were right. He was now stood at the bar, the girl he’d been taking to minutes ago clinging to his side as they both downed shots of what looked like vodka, the blonde girl giggling obnoxiously.

Your insides turned. You’d bbe en around Eddie enough lately to know he had no issues getting laid. Since graduating high school his confidence had soared, as did his popularity and other women. Clearly he had no problem sleeping around, just not with you.

“I’m going outside for a smoke.” You mumbled as you grabbed your bag from the table, ignoring Steve’s offer to accompany you. You know it was rude but you couldn't face Steve’s ueuql questioning about ‘what actually is your problem with Eddie?’

You pushed open the heavy back door to the hideout, letting it slam behind you as you lit up a cigarette. You let your head gently hit the wall behind you as you exhaled, eyes closed as you blew the smoke out into the cool November air. The door slammed next to you, but you didn’t care to look up. Any number of people came outside to smoke, none of which mattered to you.

“You should be careful smoking out here by yourself.” Eddie. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know.

“Taken a break from trying to get that girl drunk in the hopes that you’d get laid tonight?” You snarked, keeping your eyes closed as you heard Eddie light up his own cigarette.

“You of all people know I would never do that.” He replied solemnly, which caught your attention. You opened your eyes, peering at him out of the corner of your eye line.

“What is that supposed to mean?” The statement seemed to alert some lingering memory inside of you, but what it was you couldn’t say.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. But no, she’s gay if you must know. And I’m only telling you that because she’s a good friend and doesn’t mind me saying to people I trust.” He replied, inhaling again as he held his cigarette between his middle and pointer fingers.

“You trust me?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the statement. You’ve avoided him as much as you can for three years, only mutual friends forcing you to interact.

“Yeah. I do. Fuck knows why Y/N. Maybe because we were once friends.”

“Yeah and you made sure to put a stop to that, didn’t you Eddie.” It wasn’t a question. You hadn’t spoken about what happened that night, hoping you could go your whole life never having to breach the subject. Trust Eddie to ruin even that.

“Me? I ruined it did I? Bit rich Y/N, considering you were the one who fucking slandered me to Jason Carver and then left with him, rubbing my face in it like I meant nothing to you!” He was shouting now, stamping his cigarette out beneath his reeboks into the dirt. Glaring at your with pure anger in his eyes.

“And why do you care Eddie? You made it more than clear that you didn’t want me.” At that you turned, entering back into the Hideout and letting the door slam shut behind you, however the loud bang of the door swinging shut never came. Eddie was storming in behind you, closely behind you. You ignored his pursuit, heading towards the ladies toilets. Only as you entered, Eddie was still behind you, following you into the toilets.

“Eddie what the fuck? You can’t be in here!” You snarled, pushing at his chest to try and get him to back out of the door and back into the bar. His hands came to grip your wrists as you still pushed against his chest. His large fingers encompassed your wrists as he took another step towards you.

“You know Y/N, you’re such a little fucking brat. You turn up at my show, accuse me of trying to get some girl drunk in the hopes of getting lucky, and then rub in my face how little you care for me.” He was almost spitting, his face right in yours now and his hands frightening around your wrists. You could feel his heart racing beneath your palms.

Up close you had a glimpse into his eyes you hadn’t seen in yours. Sparkling and the deepest chocolate brown, swimming with hurt. What right had he to be hurt. He was the one who rejected you.

“Well I think I can talk to you how I want after what you did Eddie. You don’t deserve my respect or even my time of day. I hate you Eddie, I hate that I have to see you every day. I hate that you fucking rejected me and then let me walk off with Jason Carver. You could’ve stopped me, you could’ve cared and you didn’t” you screamed, still held steadfast by Eddie’s unrelenting grip. His eyes flashed quickly across yours, his look assessing you as he leant in somehow even closer.

“You wanted me to stop you?” He breathed, eyes flickering down to your lips. The motion ignited fire inside of you. How dare he consider kissing you after what he did. After years of ignoring each other and sleeping with stupid men who you barely even cared for in the hopes that one of them will be the one who helped you forgot about Eddie.

“Of course I did Eddie. How fucking naive of me, right?” You snapped back. Still unmoving.

Eddie seemed to hesitate for only a second more, before he forcefully pressed his lips into yours, one hand leaving your wrist to wrap into your hair. His mouth was insistent, his hot body pressed against you, crushing your hands that remained on his chest. You couldn’t help yourself, kissing back with an equal amount of force and pushing your hips onto his.

This spurred him on, his tongue wetting your lips as you parted to let him in, your tongues moving against each other and his hand tightening in your loose hair. You bit his lip, earning a sharp hiss from the man as he pulled you back by the grip on your hair, looking at you with a fire in his eyes you’d never had the pleasure of witnessing before.

“Into the cubicle. Now.” He growled, not giving you the option to oblige before pulling you into the farthest toilet cubicle and locking the door behind you.

“How much have you had to drink?” He questioned, throwing you completely at the sudden change in conversation.

“Like two sips? The beer here is vile, can barely drink it. Why?” You responded, breathing heavily still from the kiss just moments ago.

“Good.” He gave no further answer, pulling you to him again into another searing kiss, growling as your left hand ran up his neck and found its home in the tangle of curls on his head.

His hips pressed into yours again and all your focus on how wrong this was dissolved. All you knew was that you wanted him. After years of avoiding him at all costs, your walls had broken down and you had to let yourself have this.

“Eddie.” You gasped as you felt the line of his growing erection against you hip, hot and hard and wanting.

“See what you to me Y/N?” His lips had moved to your neck as he kissed and sucked marks into your skin, but you heard the words with startling clarity.

“You drive me insane. Every bitchy little comment, every eye roll just makes me want to push you up against the wall and show you exactly how fucking angry you make me.” You threw your head back against the wall, his words shooting straight to your core as warmth spread through your aching body.

“Show me then Eddie, show me what you want to do to me.” You knew you sounded pathetic, you wanted to shout and scream at the man for all the hurt he’d cause you, but you were powerless. All you wanted was him to make you feel good.

He pulled away from your neck to look down at you, licking his lips as he took in your flushed face. “Is that what you want baby? You want me to show you how little sluts like you deserve to be treated? All those guys on the football team not do a good enough job?” His words should have hurt, should have angered you, but all you could do was nod. Desperate to feel his touch on you again.

“Then you better get on your news sweetheart, show me how good of a slut you really are.” You needed no further encouragement, dropping to your knees on the frankly disgusting bathroom floor, peering up at Eddie through half lidded eyes.

“Well what are you waiting for? We both know you know what you’re doing.” He snarled, waiting for you to react. Your hand reached up to quickly unbuckle his belt, no sign of hesitation in your movements. Once the belt was undone, you moved to undo his button and zipper, pulling his black torn jeans down just far enough to let you reach into his boxers and pull out his dripping, red cock. You gasped, the sheer size shocking you into stilling. He just have been at least 8 inches, his girth almost too wide for you to get your hold hand around. After the initial shock, you lent down, licking a strip from the base all the way to the tip, moaning as you licked at the weeping tip of his aching cock. His eyes flew shut, face screwing up in pleasure. This spurred you on as you opened your mouth to sink down onto his cock, taking and taking him further into your throat until you could fit no more into your mouth. You felt tears burning in your eyes and the obstruction, swelling around him and trying to breathe steadily out of your nose.

“God baby, your fucking mouth. Knew it was good for something other than bitchy remarks.” He was almost laughing at the pleasure as you started moving, your hand gripping what you could reach. The pressure on your mouth felt so right, his cock heavy and smooth in your saliva filled mouth. You found a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his length as your revelled in the moans leaving his slack jaw.

“See what we could’ve had all this time? See what you missed out on?” Eddie growled out between broken moans.

You tried to make a questioning noise, obstructed by his member in your mouth. What did he mean by ‘all this time’? He made it clear his priorities lay elsewhere years ago.

“Oh you poor dumb slut, too desperate for my cock to understand me?” He continued, his hands now in your hair, helping you keep rhythm as his cock pumped in and out of your mouth. You pulled off suddenly, leaning back onto your calves to look at him. “What do you mean ‘all this time Eddie?’” You gasped, saliva still dripping down your chin.

Eddie looked down at you, and then meant forward, gripping you under your arms to pull you up to almost eye level with him.

“What I mean, sweetheart” he began to answer, leaning in to kiss your neck again. “Is we could have been doing this for years if you hadn’t made it clear you regretted what you said to me.” What? But that made no sense. He rejected you and you left. Of course you regretted what you said to him, he broke your heart.

“Eddie stop.” You ordered, pulling the metal head away from your neck as he made a noise of protest. “Of course I regretted what I said. You rejected me. You broke my heart Eddie.” You confessed, finally having the strength to look him in the eyes as you revealed just how much he’d truly hurt you.

He looked at you in earnest, eyes flicking back and forth across yours.

“I thought you were drunk Y/N. I thought it was some stupid drunk attempt at flirting and you’d regret it as soon as you sobered up. There was no way you actually liked me like that. Have you seen yourself?” He clarified, hands coming to cup your face as he held your gaze.

“But… you never stopped me when I went upstairs with Jason? You made it clear you didn’t care about me that night Eddie.” You couldn’t let him twist what had happened, he’d rejected you and let you walk away. He was the bad guy.

“Y/N I heard what you said about me to him. It hurt so fucking badly and just solidified in my mind that you never even liked me to start with. I had to let you walk away.” Your heart broke even more at his confession. “I was going to let you sober up and then speak to you the next day. It was wrong to let you kiss me when you were drunk. I shouldn't have let you sleep with Jason but I just felt so stupid and powerless that I wasn’t thinking straight.” He pleaded, hands never leaving your face.

“Eddie I never slept with him. I just wanted to get back at you for hurting me. You said it was wrong, I thought you meant we were wrong. That you didn’t want me.” Tears pooled in your eyes again, devastated at all the pain one misperceived conversation had caused you both.

“Oh sweetheart no. I’m so sorry, I always wanted you. I have always wanted you. When Steve started inviting both of us to hang out it was unbearable. I thought it would get easier seeing you so much but it never stopped hurting me. It’s always been you.” Eddie’s sincerity pierced into you, his honesty startling. He’d always wanted you. All those years of fighting and avoiding each other and he wanted you all along.

“Me too Eddie. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” You confessed, bringing your lips to his again, this time full of passion but no less urgency. He kissed back, bringing his body close to yours once again, his thumbs wiping the fallen tears off your cheeks as your tongues met once more.

The kiss grew more heated, his length growing hard against your hip again, and you leaned your hips into his, wanting him to know just how much you need him.

His hand left your face to trail down your front, and dipped under the hem of your short skirt, and his fingers met with your dripping cunt through the flimsy fabric of your panties.

“Oh baby.” He practically purred. “You really need this don’t you?” He teased. You could only whimper in reply, nodding your head as his fingers pushed your panties to the side and slid through your slit. He moved to kiss you again as he slid two fingers into your dripping count, his thumb rubbing your clit as he curled the fingers deep inside of you.

“Oh fuck Eddie.” You moaned, legs turning weak beneath you as he held you up.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me haven’t you sweetheart? Getting down on your knees and showing me just how much you want this? Do you think you deserve something in return.”

“Please Eddie, please I need you to fuck me. I need it.” You whined, grinding against his skilled fingers, oblivious or your surroundings where anyone could walk in.

“Oh you sound so sweet when you beg. How can I say no to that?” Eddie grinned as he pulled his fingers out, to your protest, before bringing them up to his mouth and licking your juices off his gleaming fingers. “So sweet. Next time I’m going to eat you out for hours until you’re left stupid and crying.” He promised, your heart skipping at the promise of a next time. “But for now I need to fuck you. Think over three years of waiting is enough.” At his words he wrapped one of your legs around his waist as his other reached down to his weeping member between his legs, lining up with your dripping hole.

He looked into your eyes again, before he slowly pushed into you. The intrusion still hurt slightly, despite how well he’d prepared you with his fingers.

“Fuck Eddie!” You gasped, your nails gripping onto his shoulders as he slowly pushed further into you.

“Shh baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re being such a good girl for me, taking me so well. Just breathe for me.” He soothed as you did as he told you, taking deep breaths to help sooth the twinge as he bottomed out into you.

“God look at you.” He breathed, just as breathless as you were. “You’re made for my cock. You looks so perfect wrapped around me.” He continued as he watched you take him all in.

“Eds I need you to move, please.” You pleaded, finally adjusting to his member deep within you. He moved at your request, slowly withdrawing to push back in, both of you gasping at the sensation. He picked up his pace after that, beginning to steadily pump into you as you cling to him, head on his shoulder as he began a brutal pace.

“Oh fuck Eddie, you feel so good.” You panted, letting the overwhelming feeling of him fucking you so harshly wash over your body, limbs going loose and tingly.

“I know baby, I know. I’m all yours now, always yours. I’m always going to make you feel good.” You whimpered again at his words, unable to think anything hit Eddie Eddie Eddie.

His thumb began rubbing at your clit again at a brutal pace, and you screamed as pleasure grew inside of you. His pace only quickened more, hammering into you unrelenting and desperate. You could feel him so deep within you, hitting a place no one else had ever reached. It was all too much, too unbelievably pleasurable. You couldn’t last much longer.

“Gonna cum Eds” you gasped, barely hanging on as the pressure continued to build.

“I’ve got you baby, cum for me. You’ve been such a good girl for me, you deserve it.” He groaned, his thumb never slowing down on your swollen bud. At his words you let go, screaming as the pleasure crescendoed and you came around him, only held up by his strong arm around your waist.

“That’s it sweetheart, you’ve done so well haven’t you.” You could hear in his voice that he was close, thirsts becoming erratic and his thumb leaving your clit as you started to come down from your orgasm.

“Need you to cum for me Eddie. Please.” You pleaded, still being bounced on his length as he groaned at yours words.

“On your knees. Now.” He ordered, pulling out of you suddenly. You obeyed immediately, dropping to your knees at once and dropping you mouth open as he positioned his tip at your lips, furiously jerking his cock until he suddenly groaned our as cum spilled from the now purple tip, dripping into your mouth and down your chin as you did your best to swallow all of his cum. When he finally came down, you licked your lips and held your tongue out for him, showing him you’d swallowed all of his load.

“Fucking hell sweetheart.” He gasped between laughter, running his hand through his sweaty and unruly curls. “God that was fucking incredible.”

Eddie knelt down in front of you on the floor, kissing you soundly on your lips, licking to the last bit of his cum off your chin. It should’ve been disgusting but this was Eddie. Anything he did was unbelievably attractive.

“I can’t believe we could have been doing that for the last three years” you giggled, adjusting your skirt to pull it back down over your hips.

“It doesn’t matter that we’ve missed out on those three years. What matters is we’re not going to make the same stupid mistake again. I’m not letting you go now that I’ve got you.” Eddie replied, helping you up off the floor.

You instantly agreed. Fuck whatever happened three years ago when you were stupid teenagers. You had him now. That’s all that mattered.

#eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie Munson one shot #eddie x reader #Eddie Munson fanfic #stranger things smut