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atrwriting · 5 months

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kisses and other sweet things — billy the kid x cowgirl!reader

ok… i couldn’t help myself lol

also side note i don’t remember what scene this gif was from but i feel like his turned on look and look of disgust/confusion is the same — like if i hadn’t watched the show i’d be like “did he just see a pretty girl walk in?? or did someone just threaten him?? both??? hopefully both???”

but like also if he looked at me like that…,,,… melting. on the spot.

as always, warnings: smuuuuut, dom!billy, brat!reader, i don’t know if you can call it non-con but just to be safe im going to put that, p in v sex, oral, spitting in mouth (yeah i went there sue me), tears, biting, cums inside of reader (they didn’t have condoms in his time but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use them!!!!)

also don’t sue me i don’t know if they had running water (sinks, baths, etc) but also the real billy the kid didn’t look this fine so we’re making it up as we go and going with the flow

ENOUGH TALK — here’s kisses and other sweet things…

you had been working with a crew for some time now, and as you all struggled to keep a cash flow — you had to turn to other things.

like joining forces with another crew.

the idea of joining a crew wasn’t what unsettled you — what unsettled you was being the only woman with a gun with even more men.

it’s just for one job, y’all, they had said. just this one.

one job turned into two. then that turned into three. four, five, six — and suddenly you knew everyone’s back story, drink of choice, and their type when it came to women of the night.

your first crew never asked how you felt, but you also never told them. they were all — including you — in it for the money. at the end of the day, it was all about what you had in your pockets. there was no time for quelling the simple worries, like they’d call the ones in your head.

at the end of the day — you had been doing this a long time. you had taken care of yourself up until this point, and you would continue to do so. didn’t matter who you were working with — you’d get it done.

after a day of success, everyone wanted to blow off steam. you all had found a boarding house for the night where the alcohol ran deep and there was two or three pretty women for each cattle rustler in your large group. you stayed behind a bit to drink with them, but once they started eyeing the women — you knew it was time to go.

sleeping with any of the men you worked with was also a bad idea. you couldn’t afford them seeing you as anything less than someone quick with a draw — and you worried a night of meaningless sex would ruin that.

you would never take the chance.

“have your fun, boys,” you chuckled. “you deserve it.”

“won’t stay a little longer, sweetheart?” your leader asked as a girl licked at his neck.

“another time — bath’s calling my name.”

a few pleasantries were thrown over shoulders, and you returned them. you made your quick escape up the stairway and into the shared washroom between three or four bedrooms. you knew your party had rented those rooms for the evening, so you were very excited to be able to have the bath to yourself for a little bit longer than usual.

you filled the tub with scalding hot water. the steam from the water and the whisky in your stomach made you hazy, but you welcomed it. who knew when you’d have until you had this sort of luxury or privacy again — you weren’t going to waste the chance.

the bath was quite large — fit for two or three people. you stayed on one edge as you washed your dirty skin. you were about to relax against the back when the doorknob began to turn.

you immediately snatched your gun and pointed it at the door.

“shit — sorry.”

it was the bonney kid.

he was holding a towel in his hand and was naked from the waist up. a scared look on his face was present as he tried to avert his eyes.

you put down the gun and raised an eyebrow, waiting for his next move.

“just came to wash up,” he spoke.

you knew he couldn’t see anything from where he stood, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to see below the water’s surface with the bubbles. you could tell him to fuck off — but being mean to some of these assholes sometimes proved to be worse than just swallowing your pride and being nice. you didn’t know billy very well — and you weren’t about to find out while you were naked if he was an asshole or not.

“i’m going to be a bit,” you spoke. “i don’t mind if you come in.”

he looked at you uneasily before nodded curtly, lips parting. you closed your eyes and leaned back against the tub, letting your eyes drift closed. you heard the water running and the sound of soap being scrubbed onto skin, and felt better. the next sound you heard was a razor being pulled out and your eye drifted open.

he was shaving.

he kept his gaze on himself in the mirror as he spoke. “surprised the kid can shave?”

you smiled. “never thought you were a kid from how you were with a gun.”

that made him smile. “never seen a women like you with a gun before.”

you hummed in response, not exactly sure how to respond.

“come up here to escape?”

that made you laugh. you couldn’t help but let your gaze fall on his reflection in the mirror. his eyes were trained on his skin as he let the blade slide down his neck and pull up loose hairs. your mind was hazy with drink and heat, which made you forget to respond.

“some people would say it’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

you laughed at that — he had you there.

“and some people would say it’s rude to intrude on a woman’s bath,” you countered.

he smiled, but kept his eyes off you. you’d like to think it was out of respect. “…and would you?”

“not with you,” you offered. “you’re the only one who hasn’t tried to make a pass at me.”

“not hard to believe,” he spoke. “downstairs they’ve got a running bet to see who will be the first with you.”

you scoffed. “in their dreams.”

billy didn’t respond. he was almost done with shaving. he was washing more of his upper arms in the sink, and you suddenly felt bad. you were only taking this long because you thought everyone would be preoccupied with the downstairs activities, and because you couldn’t exactly exit with him standing there — able to see you.

“i can leave if you want to wash,” you spoke.

“water will be cold,” he responded. “‘s fine — i’ll wait the hour.”

you weren’t sure why — but that made you feel bad.

“you could join me.”

you weren’t sure what brought that on, and you knew you’d probably regret it later. however, billy’s eyes drifted up the length of the mirror to the edge where you knew he could see the tub, to your eyes. you weren’t sure how you looked — but you knew your curls were piled on top of your head and you looked sleepy. relaxed, even. peaceful.

“i don’t think you mean that, sweetheart.”

you hummed. “you don’t have to. just thought i’d offer.”

he appeared to sigh, and that’s when you thought he would leave — but he didn’t.

instead, he locked the door.

“should’ve done that in the first place,” he spoke before coming towards the tub to unlace his pants.

you turned your head away from him and let out a small giggle, shielding your gaze from his naked form. “how would we have gotten so well acquainted then, mr. bonney?”

you heard him find the other side of the tub where he sat back against. you let your eye line find in front of you and your jaw almost dropped at the sight. billy appeared to struggle to get comfortable as he sank into the warmth of the tub. the water line came up to right under his chest, showing off all of his perfect and trim muscles. with billy’s arms stretched out around the edge of the tub… you got the perfect view of the stretched muscles of his biceps.

“do i need to remind you about staring?” he asked.

you weren’t sure if he was joking — but he was right. if you wanted respect, you had to give it, too.

but you couldn’t deny just how handsome he was.

“sorry,” you said with a coy smile, and let your head fall back against the tub again.

you could hear water slightly splashing from the other side of the tub. billy had extended his legs so they were brushing yours slightly, and you shivered at the thought.

“can you…” he began. “can you get my back?”

you lifted your head and smiled. i can do all that and more if you asked, you thought.

“sure,” you said with a simple smile.

billy turned around and handed you the soap. there were a few cuts and bruises littered on his back, and you tried to be as careful with them as possible. you started on his neck, working the soap and the sponge against his muscles.

he hummed in response. you could’ve died at the thought of the big, bad billy the kid keening into your touch because you were massaging his muscles just right.

“that feels good,” he spoke. “talented fingers i suppose.”

you laughed lightly at that. you kept the sponge on his shoulders, and then worked down towards the expansion of his shoulder blades. it was scary to see such a broad man before you as you were so bare, but also the look of him was so enticing. you drew rough circles on his skin and worked your way down to the middle of his back.

“that’s good,” he replied. “thank you, darlin’.”

you went to hand the sponge back to him, but he turned around in place instead. the tops of your breasts were showing and you knew he could see the wildness in your eyes.

“how’d a sweet thing like you end up with us?” he asked, eyes searching yours for the answer.

“maybe i’m just the only one who knows how to handle you boys,” you spoke, trying to be coy. “actually… one of them i grew up with. we’ve always worked together, but that’s as far as it’s ever gone.”

“and what would he say if he knew if you were in here with me?” he asked.

you scrunched your eyebrows at him. “wouldn’t be his business. he’s also got a pretty blonde in his lap tonight. change of pace from his usual red head.”

“and he missed a chance to get to see you like this?” he asked, tucking a curl behind your ear.

“is his loss your gain, mr. bonney?” you asked, a smile drifting onto your face.

that was bold. you knew it. you could feel it.

“i think you’d have to ask the pretty miss before me,” he responded, inching his face closer. “she’d be mighty sweet if she let me kiss her.”

“she’s pretty pissed you haven’t already.”

he stared at you for a few minutes with his plump and pink lips parted in such a way where you knew thoughts were running behind his pretty eyes. he dipped his forehead towards yours as the intensity of the situation mixed with the hot steam around you and the liquor inside both of you. he dipped his chin once, and caught your waiting lips with ease.

his lips were dry and cracked against yours, but you loved it. billy was the type of man that was hard and worked even harder, and every bit of him reflected that. his dark curls were twirling around his hairline, mixing with sweat and soapy water. you wanted to brush them back, hop in his lap, and kiss him until there was more water on the floor than in the tub.

but you couldn’t — not yet.

billy’s lips folded between yours as if he was just happy to be here — with you. the feeling was intoxicating as there was nothing like sharing intimacy with a sweet man in the comfort of hot water. you couldn’t help yourself in that moment — you brought your hand up to cup the side of his face, and he sucked in a sharp breath in response.

“you can touch me, you know,” you whispered.

“the things i want to do to you, darlin’…” he spoke, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath at the same time. “shouldn’t be wasted in a tub. let me take you back to your room.”

you both left the bathtub and tried your best to dry off as quickly as possible. it was almost hard to believe you were giggling with billy like innocents as you raced back to your room — hoping not to run into any more cowboys.

you immediately pushed him to sit down on the edge of the bed before you climbed into his lap. his thighs were strong and thick — the perfect foundation for a thing like you to hold yourself up enough to grab his cock in your hands, and swallow his moans through another kiss.

“tried not to stare in the bathtub, billy… but can you blame me?” you asked, breathless.

“noticed you starin’,” he grunted, running his calloused hands all over your body. “couldn’t help but stare back. needed to see where the trigger on you was.”

you squealed in delight at his dirty mouth before he threw you off his lap and rolled you over. he immediately started kissing down your body.

“i want you inside me, billy,” you whined. “not that.”

he worked his way back up to you before he caught you in another chaste kiss. against your lips, he spoke, “i’m a gentleman, sweetheart, first and foremost.”

“and what if a dirty little thing like me didn’t want a gentleman?”

he caught your chin in between his pointer finger and thumb and extended your neck ever so slightly. he looked down his nose at your pretty, flushed face. you smiled up at him as he scanned your face. “then i’d tell you — if i’ve got you all to myself, i’m going to do anything i want with that pretty little pussy. planned on tastin’ you, sweetheart — you got a problem with that?”

a wide grin spread across your face as your cheeks became rosier. “can’t say i can argue with you, then, cowboy.”

he pressed a heavy kiss to your lips, your cheek, one on the base of your neck — and then bit down hard on the skin of your shoulder. immediately, your hands came up to lay across his biceps before he began to suck on the spot, sending shock waves throughout your body. he withdrew from you and was in between your thighs in an instant.

he spread your legs and held them down in place. his tongue was strong and thick as it explored the places between your folds. you hoisted yourself onto your elbows so you could get a better look at the angel before you.

you watched as his eyes close as his tongue drew sloppy, wet circles around your clit. your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you watched him bring a hand up to his mouth, lubricate his fingers, and prod at your entrance. billy let out a throaty groan as his two fingers slipped in with ease, exploring for that one special spot.

he watched as your pussy swallowed his fingers, hoping to trap them inside of you. you were almost vibrating at how good it felt to have his fingers inside of you and his drier thumb deliver the most delicious bouts of friction and pressure to your clit.

“yes —“ you gasped, gazing at his fingers.

his eyes immediately flicked up to yours. “still got a problem with this, doll?”

you folded your lips into each other as you shook your head slowly, holding his gaze. you were biting back the moan as he curled your fingers inside of you.

“no, that’s not how this works,” he stated. “if i’m making you feel that good, i should get to hear those pretty moans, don’t you think?”

a deep crease was forming in your brow with the perfect combination of friction, lubrication, pressure, and rhythm you had ever felt. you wanted to respond to him, of course, but how could you?

“i gotta work for it, that it?” he grunted. “oh, sweet thing…”

he shoved a third finger inside of you and you gasped. you couldn’t help it. you fisted the sheets on either side of you and threw your head back in the air. his thumb was working long, drawn out circles on your sensitive clit as your hips bucked up to meet his movements.

“that’s what you needed, baby?” he asked. “break so easily. i’d fit another, but this pussy is so sweet and tight — can’t fit.”

you were practically whining at his words. he would switch between his tongue and thumb every few seconds to show you the type of variety that had your toes curling. his groans against your pussy were the added vibration that kept your hips moving to meet his face.

“tastes so fuckin’ sweet,” he grunted, his eyes closed. “can’t wait to stuff my cock in there.”

“don’t be mean to me, billy,” you gasped. “i want to feel your cock so bad, please…”

“no, baby,” he refused. “not until i make you feel good. you want my cock? yeah, well — you know what i want.”

you whined in frustration at his words — his words, the addition of what was making the heat and pressure build, and build, and build inside you until you were a sobbing mess on the bed.

“that’s it, sweetheart — give in,” he gasped. “i wanna know how good i’m making you feel.”

his voice was so husky it was taking over all of your senses. you hung onto every word as he led you closer and closer to what was your tipping point. he was stretching you so taut — like a string, ready to snap. when he suddenly pulled his hand away, you barely noticed it — until he replaced it with his cock.

you gasped at what came next.

first it was your legs — they immediately began to shake uncontrollably. the immense pressure started at your curled toes, your stretched feet, and worked its way up all the way to your shaking calves and thighs. the warmth coaxed your hips into a soft roll as you rode out your orgasm — blinded by the ecstasy of it all.

you immediately grabbed onto billy for dear life as all of your senses fucking swam. it was wave, after wave, after wave that hit you, arched your back towards the ceiling, and left you fucking breathless. your mouth fell open instantly, parted as whines and soft moans left and filled the open air of your bedroom.

and what did billy do? he grabbed you by the chin, still rutting his hips against yours, and spit in your fucking mouth.

“swallow,” he ordered, eyes boring down into yours.

you gasped as you understood his command, and like the good girl you were — you did as you were told.

“good girl,” he whispered from above you, stroking your chin.

you sucked in a sharp breath of air as you tried to regain your senses. you hoisted yourself back into your elbows, trying to focus — but it was just so hard. your pussy was so, so sensitive and it was like billy’s cock knew exactly out how to drag out your orgasm. you glanced up at billy, and realized your vision was blurry. shattered, fucked out beyond belief — you realized there were tears, literal tears in your eyes.

“no breaks for you, sweetheart,” he spoke, leaning over and holding your hips down. “need to make sure this pussy knows who she belongs to.”

your body refused to stop shaking — but it gave into every touch, caress, pull, and push from billy. you were his to use and you fucking relished in the feeling.

through your dark, thick, damp lashes, you glanced up at him. immediately, his bright, wild eyes connected with yours. there was no stopping the animal before you — not until he got his fix. the pure and pretty girl who always surprised the group with her skill was laying beneath him like a fucked out doll and he couldn’t get enough.

“please, billy,” you whined, biting down on your lip. “use my pussy just like that…”

“my fucking pussy,” he grunted.

“all yours, baby,” you gasped, laying victim to the curling warmth inside your womb once again. it was like an itch that needed to be scratched, and only billy could fix it. the idea of a second orgasm taunted you — teased you, until it was the only thing you could think about. you were close… so close… “billy, fuck — you’re going to make me — you’re gonna —“

“that’s it, baby, yeah —“ his thrusts were getting sloppier now as a light sheen of sweat lay across his forehead. the veins in his biceps and neck were protruding and his eyes were trained on your face. “bein’ so good f’me.”

“billy —“ you cried, tears coming to your eyes again. you reached for him, and brought him down to you. he held you by the back of the head and held your jaw in place with his thumb. through gritted teeth and wet eyes, you sobbed, “driving me fucking crazy.”

“yeah, yeah?” he taunted. “good. boutta make a mess of this fuckin’ pussy.”

with one last thrust, you curled into billy’s neck and cried. actually cried. he held you close to him as he continued to thrust inside of you — pressing fat, wet kisses to the side of your face. you were shaking in his hold, trying so desperately to hold onto reality — but it was slipping. it was slipping farther and farther away with every sweet word that billy ghosted over your ear.

“say you’re mine,” he ordered, with desperation in your voice. “say you’re mine, and i’ll cum.”

“i’m yours, billy,” you sobbed. “i’m yours. only yours.”

an animalistic groan left billy’s mouth as he tugged on your hair. he pulled your neck back and taut, shoving his face into the crook of your neck and biting down on your shoulder. his body pulsed one, two, three times as his orgasm overtook him and you. you were a weeping, crying mess and took everything that billy gave you.

he rut his cock into you a few more times as you both came down for your highs. billy was so commanding in bed — but after? nothing compared to how he was after. he pulled you into his lap, cock still inside you, and began peppering kisses all over your face. sweet nothings were whispered into your ear, but all you could do was whimper quietly in response. he laughed slightly in your ear, his breath ticking your sensitive skin, and dug his nose into your hairline.

“never getting rid of me now, sweet thing.”

- - -

would love to hear your thoughts :)

-L

#billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid smut #billy the kid #william bonney smut #william h bonney x reader #william bonney #kid antrim #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you

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old-lorarri · 4 months

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꒰꒰ ‧₊˚𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 ─ 𝐋𝐒𝟐 ˚₊· ꒱꒱

─ summary . . . ❨ your friend forces you onto a dating app and to be honest you weren't expecting much but maybe it was worth it ❩ ─ pairing . . . ❨ logan sargent x fem! non-famous! reader ❩ ─ genre . . . ❨ social media file ❩ ─ author note . . . . ❨ now tbh I was meant to do this for a different driver but changed last min so I hope this is still good so enjoy! ❩

❨ taglist | masterlist ❩

WELCOME TO L♡VE LINE

the app where you are destined to find the one

create an account . . .

number: xxx-xxx-xxx

name: Y/N L/N

birthday: xx xx xxxx

nationally: british

idea type: funny, nice, and not a serial killer

about you: creeps stay away 🤺🤺🤺

add a profile picture . . .

please wait while we find your matches

loading . .

thank you for being patient,

we have found 4 matches

matt markson has requested to message you

accepted decline

birthday: november 10th, 2002

nationally: american

ideal type: sexy, funny, and submissive

bio: best haircut in ohio

matt

hey baby girl 😮‍💨

how about you give me a show 😏

Y/N

no 🥰

also you hair is fucked

you have blocked this person

try again

yes no

lukas morris has requested to message you

accepted decline

birthday: january 21st, 2000

nationally: poland

ideal type: hot, horny, shy

bio: drug, drinking, sex 4 life

lukas

what are your thoughts on gun play?

Y/N

...

lukas

not a fan I see

how about blood play

has anyone told you

that you would make a beautiful corpse 🥵

Y/N

goodbye 👋

you have blocked this person

try again

yes no

amir abbas has requested to message you

accepted decline

birthday: july 19th, 1999

nationally: uae

ideal type: modest, kind, god fearing

bio: habibi come to dubai

amir

you are so beautiful ❤️

Y/N

aww thank you ☺️

your good looking to 👀

amir

I would love to bring you to dubai 😉

Y/N

bit soon don't you think?

amir

I think it would make it easier to get to know each other

you know face to face

Y/N

yeah ig

amir

great

just don't tell my wife

Y/N

your what?

amir

my wife

also you can't post me

and I can't post you

but I'll buy you channel and a ferrari ❤️

how does that sound habibi

Y/N

fucking awful

I am not some fucking side hoe

hope your wife finds out what a piece of shit you are mate 🖕

you have blocked this person

yes no

logan sargent has requested to message you

accepted decline

birthday: july 19th, 1999

nationally: usa

ideal type: funny, kind, honest

bio: american f1 driver

logan

oh thank god

this app has finally matched me with someone normal 😮‍💨

Y/N

right?!?!?

eveyone on this app is givning either serial killer or scum bag 😭

but I gotta ask dude

what's up with that pfp 💀

logan

my friend alex took it

he forced me to make this account

he said it was a good photo

is it not?

Y/N

wait you got forced on here too??????

same 😭

my friend megan said I needed to

"meet new people"

what ever tf that means

also

if I were you

I would sue alex for defamation of character 💀

cuz that photo does not do you justice

makes you look like a ✨ serial killer ✨

very ✨ted bundy✨

also question

american white man

which type of american are you 🤔

logan

florida baby

RAHHHHHHH 🦅🔥🇺🇸

Y/N

oh dear 😅

it's always florida or ohio...

but anyway

thoughts on taylor 🧐

logan

queen 👸

icon 💅

the moment ✨

mother 😌

Y/N

hummmm

you have passed the test ✅

logan

yessss

anyway question

Y/N

shoot

not literally florida

figuratively 😭

logan

florida really?

anyway

what do you do for a living?

Y/N

barista

I know I know

before you say it yeah customers can be a bitch sometimes

but I'm a sucker for free coffee

what about you

logan

f1 driver for williams racing

Y/N

oh cool

don't really know what that is sorry 😭

I only really watch football

liverpool fan till i die 🫡

logan

you mean soccer

Y/N

football

logan

soccer

Y/N

football

logan

soccer

Y/N

football

logan

soccer

Y/N

it's football you twat 🥰

listen we don't call american football

kick run catch and occasionally punt now do we

logan

okay speak your truth queen 👸

Y/N

thank u king 🤴

okay but why when I googled your name

this was the first thing that came up 😭😭😭

logan

oh god

sorry you had to see that

Y/N

not a problem mate ☺️

logan

wow 💔

I just got mate zoned 😢

going dark 😞

Y/N

no no no no no

I'M SORRY 😭😭😭

I'M BRITSH IT'S IN MY DNA

logan

all I hear is excuses 😞

Y/N

WHAT CAN I DO TO MAKE IT BETTER

logan

I think you number would heal my broken heart rn 🫣

Y/N

smooth america real smooth 😭

logan

thank u thank u

Y/N

xxx-xxx-xxx

if you turn out to be a serial killer I'm going to be pissed 💀

logan

Is the photo really that bad 😭😭😭

Y/N

yes babe 😌

dw when we go on a date I'll take some yummy pic's of you

logan

bet

text me the deets

Y/N

will do mr miami 🫡

logan reacted with a ❤️

read

─ inspired by . . .

@landitolover ─ dulce hotline

─ requested by . . .

anon ─ Any driver of your choosing where the reader doesn’t know who they are and is just a regular person

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anyroads · 1 year

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OK you know what, if we're gonna talk about Bake Off then fuck it, let's do this.

It used to be this wholesome, lovely show! We used to watch it for the bakers! And the learning! And the light banter and occasional bit of coy innuendo! What happened?

Channel 4 happened. When they bought the show they made a number of changes, most of them Not Good™️. Not just in the sense of them resulting in a lot of 😬 and 🫠 moments, but in the sense of how they changed the show's purpose, atmosphere, and brand.

Look, I know most people are just like, "whatever, it's just a baking show," and yeah, sure. But it's one of the UK's most successful TV exports, and where it once shifted the tone of reality competition to being wholesome and supportive of contestants, it's since moved towards creating tension at the contestants' cost. So aside from the fact that most people watching it signed up to watch a nice show, it has also shifted the goalposts of what that even means. And that, lovelies and gentlefolk, is some bullshit.

I decided to break my rant analysis into four main parts: theme weeks, the hosts, the judges, and the bakers. Let's get to it!

Theme Weeks:

If you watch Bake Off, you know the show's always had a specific theme for each week. The staples that come up in most seasons are:

cake

biscuit

bread

pudding/dessert

pastry

patisserie

Less common but consistent are things like caramel and chocolate week.

Then there are the fun episodes! When GBBO was on the BBC, this started out with things tea week, tarts, pies, tray bakes, basically little tangents still focused on emphasizing specific baking skills. In Series 6 (still on the BBC) they had their first nation-focused theme week with French week -- fairly innocuous given that a lot of patisserie is French, France and England share much more culture than either cares to admit [Norman Flag dot gif], and it was a nice change from watching Paul make the bakers do recipes that involved boiling things while talking about how wonderful boiled doughs are (are they, Paul? Are they?).

The show kept mixing it up with innocuous themes like advanced dough and alternative ingredients weeks, European cakes, Victorian week, batter week, and botanical week. And while it was frustrating to watch Paul Hollywood mispronounce things like the Hungarian Dobos Torta and lecture bakers on babka when he clearly knew nothing about it (or about Jewish baking in general, go off Past Me), the show's general attitude was that the judges had their own opinions, which were separate from the immutable facts around the chemistry of baking (more on this later) and shouldn't affect how bakers are judged.

After the show moved to Channel 4, the number of themed weeks increased and more of them focused on specific countries. In 6 seasons on the BBC, there were only two country-focused theme weeks, and in 5 seasons on Channel 4 there have been five. And while they've also had themes like vegan baking, roaring 20s, the 1980s, spice week, etc. the show has really started to go hard on exoticizing other cultures in outright disrespectful and racist ways. There's been Italian and Danish week, German, Japanese (it wasn't, it was East Asian week), and now Mexican week (which doesn't touch on interspersed Jewish bakes that didn't get a theme week, like versions of bagels and babka set as technical challenges that were borderline hate crimes and mansplained by a guy who has no idea how to make either and once wrote in a cookbook that challah was traditionally eaten during Passover). Each time the hosts played up the theme with racist bits and jokes that can be used as evidence in court if your case is "why should shows with scripted content have a professional writing staff."

Which touches on other issues the show has now...

The Hosts:

When GBBO was on the BBC, the show was hosted by ✨Mel Giedroyc✨ and ✨Sue Perkins✨. They encouraged the bakers! They'd hold stuff for them sometimes! They were interested in them! If a baker had a breakdown, they would start singing copyrighted material to render the footage unusable! When the show moved to Channel 4, they left, though I'm not unconvinced that Channel 4 offered them impossible to accept contracts to force them out so they could rebrand the show. They replaced them with Sandy Toksvig and Noel Fielding. Sandy was a lovely host in the vein of Mel and Sue, and she and Noel had a relatively sweet rapport, but she left a few seasons ago and was replaced by Matt Lucas.

Noel Fielding is mostly known for his quirky brand of comedy, a sort of British Zooey Deschanel who's goth from the neck up, an upperclass British gay divorcee from the neck down, and basically an early 60s Beatle re: trousers. Matt Lucas has almost definitely never watched a single episode of GBBO and his most redeeming quality is his thinly veiled contempt for Paul Hollywood.

The two treat the baking tent as their personal playground. Far from the supportive attitude of Mel and Sue, they tend to get in the bakers' way during the most stressful moments, especially when they try to do hilarious "comedy" bits (I can't not put that in quotes) like Noel's talking wooden spoon thing, or Matt talking over Noel to do time calls. During theme weeks like Japanese and Mexican week, they do culture-specific bits that are both racist ("just Juan joke" and "is Mexico a real place?") and unsurprising, given that both Matt and Noel did blackface on their respective sketch shows and absolutely could and should have known better because it was already the current fucking century.

All this to say, there's now a separation between the bakers and the hosts, as if they're on different shows. The hosts are doing their own thing and the bakers are doing GBBO. The show has gotten meaner to the bakers, and the hosts aren't there to support them anymore, they're just there to be comic relief. Because when you refocus your show on stressing the bakers the fuck out, you need a forced laugh I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

The Judges:

First of all, a sincere congratulations to Paul Hollywood who managed to squeeze I jUsT cAmE bAcK fRoM mExIcO aNd YeT sTiLL pRoNoUnCe PiCo De GaLLo As 'PiKa De KaLLa' and I aM aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS wHiCh aRe MaDe WiTh DiGeStiVe BiScUiTs AcCoRdiNg tO mE, aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS, just two in a giant pile of astoundingly wrong hot takes, into a short enough time span that they all aired within Liz Truss's term as Prime Minister. A true man of accomplishments.

In the interest of fairness, I need to preface this with a disclaimer that, due to the fact that I've been watching Bake Off for most of its run, I'm biased. Specifically, I can't stand Paul Hollywood's smarmy, classist, egomaniac ass because he's proven time and again he's more interested in looking smart than actually knowing what he's talking about. Since the show moved to Channel 4, they've changed the occasional handshake Paul would give bakers to the HoLlYwOoD hAnDsHaKe™️. It's gone from being an emphasis of someone's skill to a goal, a reward, and one that emphasizes the judges' place above the bakers.

The judges used to function as teachers, imparting their skills and insights to the bakers. When the show was on the BBC, the voiceover leading to a judging would focus on the bakers' work being finished, saying how it will now be evaluated based on their skill and how well they met the brief. The voiceovers now, on Channel 4, focus on the judging (literally saying something along the lines of, "the bakers will now be judged by Prue and Paul"). There is a clear distinction Channel 4's producers have made, to mark that the show is now about whether or not the judges approve, not whether the brief was understood and executed well. On the BBC, it was irrelevant whether the judges liked a particular flavor, as long as the bake was well-made. Now, the bakers are expected to know the judges tastes and cater to them, which is frankly bullshit. A judge doesn't have to like a flavor to know whether or not it was executed well, ie. is it carrying a bake and was it meant to etc.

The judges have been turned into a brand. Cynically, Channel 4 knows that by building them up and focusing the show more on them, they can exploit their image more for profit. In the process, they've become much more biased and their own biases have come out as well. Most recently in the flaming dumpster fire that was Mexican Week, Paul Hollywood tried to intimidate a baker by telling them he had just gotten back from Mexico (which must have been a fruitful learning trip if he couldn't even learn how to pronounce pico de gallo correctly). Where do I even start with this? Here's an amateur baker from England (the show specifically casts middle and lower middle class bakers for the most part??) who likely can't afford trips to Mexico, who lives in a country with incredibly limited access to Mexican cuisine, who is expected not only to understand the cooking and baking traditions of a completely different culture but to do so well enough to play with it and do something creative with it. On top of which, one of the judges is now using his privilege of traveling halfway around the world as some kind of leverage, as if this were a bar that any amateur British baker could clear.

Prue, meanwhile, has openly asserted her biases against cultural flavors and textures, prioritizing her own personal preferences over them, as if they were in any way relevant to the skills and knowledge necessary to execute the tasks she sets to the bakers. She has also been consistently elitist, criticizing bakers for choices they made that were clearly informed by their experiences within income brackets that are too low and foreign for Prue to comprehend. She once had a go at a baker on a Christmas special because his Christmas dinner themed bake didn't have a turkey, even though it was clear from the stories he shared of his own Christmases that his family likely couldn't afford one. "It's not really Christmas dinner without a turkey," Prue said into the camera angrily while sitting on a chair made of live orphans and telling the ghost of Christmas Future to come back when he had another museum gift shop necklace for her to round out her collection.

The show is no longer about which baker has the best skills. It's become about which mortal can appease the gods of Mount Olympus, ie. the judges.

The Bakers:

Remember when the show was about them? Channel 4 doesn't! Because this is a reality competition show, the bakers are chosen both based on their skills, as well as cast-ability. They're cast as characters, distinct from each other, from different areas, age groups, ethnicities. All of them are amateurs. All of them are middle or lower middle class. They've ranged from college students to supermarket cashiers to prison wardens to scientists.

Something I noticed when the show moved to Channel 4 is that the baker who goes home in the first week is always wildly behind the rest in skills. I have no proof of this other than my eyeballs and deductive reasoning skills, but I think that Channel 4 deliberately casts a ringer each season who they think will be an easy send-off in the first week, just to get the audience's feet wet.

Anyway, like I said, this show used to be about the bakers - about them building skills and learning, and having walked into the tent with a self-taught foundation and understanding of the processes and chemical reactions involved in baking. When the show was on the BBC, the end of each round had some (often brief) moments of tension - will they finish in time? Will they get their bakes on the plate before time is up? Did they forget to add sugar to their batter and only remember at the last minute? In the end, they usually managed to finish and we'd all breathe a sigh of relief and think, yeah! You go, Bakers Who I'm Rooting For!

Now, on Channel 4, the end of round drama has been stretched to be so much longer that they've composed extra music for it. The bakers often seem out of their depth, whether because the instructions for the technical challenge are too vague (bake a lemon meringue pie??? As if anyone in the UK under the age of 60 has had one in the last decade???), or because they were expected to bake something that required a more than a basic foundation they weren't told of. Often it seems like they just aren't given enough time, a tactic used by reality competition shows to manipulate contestants into giving the cameras more dramatic content. On top of all this, the hosts get in their way, instead of helping them plate their bakes. As has been pointed out before, when everyone fails the challenge, the real failure lies with whoever set it.

In conclusion:

The show no longer exists to teach the bakers - and the audience - skills or knowledge. It now manipulates contestants for dramatic effect and prioritizes showing conflict over wholesome content. Channel 4 sees the bakers as social media content they can churn out season after season, and don't care about them because in a few months there'll be a new batch to exploit. Meanwhile, the judges are also out of their depth, co-opting recipes from other cultures and butchering them horrendously, while the camera gives them nothing but status as they hold bakers to the expectation that they learn how to make things very much the wrong way. If you saw any of the tweets about Mexican or Japanese week, or read my post on how Paul Hollywood isn't allowed to go near babka ever again, you'll understand.

So what would fix all this? Scrap the current judges and the hosts altogether. Bring back Mel and Sue, and replace the judges with expert bakers who have a love of their craft and want to share it with others. The draw of GBBO used to be its warmth and comfort - if Channel 4 isn't going to start its own version of Master Chef For Bakers, then it needs to stop trying to find a balance of how it can insert that vibe into GBBO. It can't. That's not a thing. Stop trying.

#GBBO #paul hollywood #prue leith #the great british bake off

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xhoneygirlxx · 7 months

Text

We’re Not Friends

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: Eddie is just trying to help when he offers to be your date to your sister's wedding, but with all the love in the air will you and Eddie be able to stay friends?

warnings: lots of angst. reader's family sucks. reader's mom makes a comment about her weight. anxiety attacks. reader has low self esteem. fluff. best friends to lovers. fake dating. modern au. (this is titled after an Ed Sheeran song and I also use another one of his songs in the fic, sue me). slight smut. allusions to sex. alcohol consumption. swearing. minors dni!!!!!!!!!! reader and Eddie are both in their 20's. no y/n used, reader is referred to as Birdie. skin color/ethnicity/body type is not mentioned. spelling errors/shitting writing, just pretend you don't notice lmao. also the venue is completely made up and so is the location if you couldn’t tell, im not that creative.

*if I miss anything plz lmk*

a/n: hi my loves!!!! this is one of the last fics on my birthday fic list!!! I want to thank all of you for being patient and being so so supportive of my work. I love you all so much!!! also I do go back to work on Monday so I'm going to try to get as many fics pumped out by the end of the weekend.

And that's why friends should sleep in other beds

And friends shouldn't kiss me like you do

And I know that there's a limit to everything

But my friends won't love me like you do

The turning color of the leaves create the prettiest backdrop, tall trees blooming with orange, red, and a pinch of brown. The ones that have already fallen to the ground get swept up under the wheels of Eddie's car, lifting up and swirling around in a pretty dance, and falling right back into place waiting for the next car.

Although the crisp fall morning is peaceful you can't help but feel like you're living a nightmare. As he soft hum of Eddie's playlist flows through the speakers, you're coming up with a plan to turn the whole car around.

So far you thought about faking an illness, one that would stop the whole journey in it's tracks, only to dismiss it because you couldn't put your best friend through that stress. The idea of pulling the steering wheel also came to mind but you quickly threw that out of the window, not wanting to cause injury to the innocent man next to you or anyone else. Your final idea was one you're sure you could pull off as long as you used all the power within your being. If you pushed your feet on the floorboard hard enough, you could poke them out like the Flintstones and stop the car that way.

Between science and logic, you knew that wasn't possible no matter how hard you wished it would. Instead you'll stare out the window, watching all the pretty trees dance in the wind while you push down the rising anxiety that's forming in the pit of your stomach.

"You good over there, Birdie?" The deep voice next to you shakes you from your thoughts.

Turning your head Eddie's already looking at you with a lopsided grin. His demeanor matches the landscape outside, relaxed and serene. As you look at him you wish you could trade places, be as pleasant as he is.

"Yeah I'm just tired." Trying to sell him your answer, you smile lazily at him even though your response holds more tension than a game of tug of war.

Turning his attention back on the road, you watch as the pavement moves on the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Eddie looks pretty like this, even though you always thinks he looks pretty. Usually he would be a grump having to be up this early, but today he wears his smile like a badge of honor. The dark curls of his hair cascade down his back, while some falls over his shoulders.

He's wearing the same red and black checkered flannel he always does this time of year, the same one you said was your favorite three years ago and it still holds that title. Underneath is a plain black tee shirt, the only one he has that's free of any band name, and a dark blue pair of jeans that have no holes.

He's still the same Eddie, his rings still sit on his fingers and his pick still hangs from the chain around his neck, but it seems that he only gets prettier and prettier as time passes by - like the turning leaves that still hang on the branches of the trees that you drive by.

"I think you're worried about this whole wedding thing," His voice is unwavering, screaming "I'm right" like it always does. "I don't get what's so bad about an open bar and free food."

Although his point is valid, Eddie couldn't be more wrong than that. This wasn't just an event to get drunk for free and stuffed to the gills at no charge. This was your older sister's wedding, the same sister that was the apple of your parents' eyes. Veronica was your arch nemesis since birth, a rival that you had no option but to defeat in order to survive.

You were the outcast of the family, the black sheep if you will, and you had to endure eighteen years of nonstop torture because of it. Your parents, Christine and Tim, were nothing but successful. The doctor and his trophy wife, the star couple in your small community, that had two beautiful and healthy children.

However you were the hardheaded child, the daughter that didn't have a bright future, you didn't carry as much promise as Vee, and your parents made sure to remind you of that every day. So when you moved out three years ago, you made sure to distance yourself as much as you could. But when you received a pristine white envelope with a glamorous invite on the inside, you were roped right back into the hell hole you worked so hard to leave behind.

You could've just ignore it, faked that you were on a trip and couldn't make it but your mother pretty much threatened you into showing up. So that's how you ended up in the countryside right outside of Chicago, driving in Eddie's Toyota Corolla to the Jefferson Manner on a Friday at eight am.

"You're right, Eddie, I should be so thrilled by that. Thank you so much for pointing it out to me." It's snippy with a hint of malice, and your eye roll held enough venom to injure an army of men.

Whistling loudly, Eddie chuckles lightly. "Woah, killer. Relax, I was just tryna help." He's still soft despite your outburst, sweet like your pumpkin spice latte that sits in the cupholder.

Hanging your head, you inhale a deep breath and release it slowly. "I'm sorry, Eds. I just really fucking hate my family."

He switches his attention from you and the road, taking in your saddened features. Reaching his right hand over the console, he places his hand searches for yours and laces his fingers through yours, which you gladly except.

"Don't apologize for that, kay? That's a valid reason for you to not want to go, I was just trying to make you laugh." The sincerity in his voice wraps around you, easing the nerves that go haywire in your body.

His palm is warm like the coffee cups that sit in the cup holders, his voice is as calming as the trees in the wind, and his smile is just as pretty as it was the first day you met him. You're safe with him, the safest you've ever been in your life, and here in the front seat of his car he reminds you of that.

"They just make me crazy, s'why I don't like seeing them." You feel shy being vulnerable, refusing to meet his gaze by focusing on tracing the back of his hand with your free one.

Eddie doesn't mind, instead he reassures you with a quick squeeze of your hand. "If it makes you feel any better, Birdie, I like you a little crazy."

Dimples deep as the sea and smile still as delicate as a flower's pedal, Eddie looks like a painting that hangs in the Louvre. You want to capture this moment of him to have for the rest of your life, so no matter what you can always remember him just like this.

"You say that now." You tease and he eats it right up.

Looking back over to you, he shines his smile onto you, filling you up with the light of a million stars. "And I'll say it till the end of time." There's no tease to it, nothing but truth in the way he says it.

It turns you into jelly, the feelings that swim through your blood stream, and now you've become too sheepish to answer. You decided to trust your touch over your words, squeezing his hand the same way he did to yours, trying your best to communicate the feelings you hold secretly in your heart for your best friend.

The cobblestone driveway leading to the entrance of Jefferson Manner is, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. It is a straight drive to the property, but once you get closer, a large fountain sits in the middle where the arch of the circle driveway starts.

Different colored cars are already lined up, some you recognize and the rest you have no clue who they belong to. Either way it's pretty evident that Eddie 2018 Toyota sticks out like a sore thumb.

The same dread that you left 45 miles back, is now running through you again. Unintentionally, you squeeze his hand harder as your heart begins to pound in your ear and if it hurts him he doesn't mention it. Instead, Eddie gives you one, two, three squeezes and then lets you continue your attempt to stop the blood flow to his hand.

Pulling behind the Mercedes Benz S Class, he puts his car into park and then shuts the car off. Reading your expression the way he always does, he sits in the silence of the car with you until your features loosen up.

"You okay, Birdie?" Even though he knows you're not okay, you still appreciate him asking anyway.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself a few times, eyes clamped shut as you focus on your breathing pattern. Once your head is above water and your heart stops racing, you open your eyes back up to the real world.

Relaxing your shoulders, you let go of the grip you're holding Eddie's hand in. "I'm okay. I'll be okay." Despite answering him, it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of what you're saying.

Another brief pause goes by and Eddie continues to monitor you, sunglasses now removed so not only can he see you but you can see him.

Your gaze is unwavering, the thousand yard stare has fallen over you and you have yet to dig out of it. "Are you prepared for what we're about to walk into?"

The tone of your voice scares Eddie, the emotion being sucked right out of the words that you speak despite the feelings that battle in your mind that he doesn't know about.

"Honey, I'm prepared for anything as long as I have you." For a split second he winces, wondering if that was too cringy but when your face breaks out into a sweet smile he feels better.

The two of you get out of the car, retrieving your suitcases and dress bags from the trunk. When the door shuts you begin to count the steps it takes to get to the big wooden doors of the mansion.

You don't have to ask Eddie for his hand, he's already giving it to you and you gladly except it, gripping on for dear life the closer you get. Despite the beautiful landscape and the soothing sound of the running fountain, you feel like this is the soundtrack that plays before your imminent death.

The tall, thick, wooden doors sit menacingly in front of you, the skeletons of your past standing just right behind it waiting for your arrival. The ghosts that have haunted your dreams, the graveyard of your history, and the phantoms of your family, mingle and laugh right behind this door.

Eddie waits for you, not moving a muscle until you say so, and you silently thank him with a smile. Like a switch, he watches your face change from flight to fight mode. In a flash your looking over your outfit, brushing down the long black sleeved shirt that sits on your torso, and then straightening out the jeans that stick to your legs.

Your hair is the next thing you frantically fix, pushing it behind your ears and out of your face, letting it fall over your shoulders while doing so. Like a buzzing bee, you zone in on Eddie, fixing the collar of his flannel and then smoothing the material of his shirt. With out speaking, you pick off a singular piece of fuzz from his pants and then let it blow away in the wind.

Moving your hands back up to his chest, you center the pick on his chain. Then move his hair, fixing the ringlets that got blown around in the breeze. Once your satisfied, you move back to your spot next to him and sweep his hand right back into your hold. Releasing on more deep breath, you settle your pinched eyebrows and your determined eyes, and let the worst fake smile settle onto your lips.

The smile doesn't reach your eyes the way it usually does, your teeth push against one another so forcibly Eddie wonders if you'll shatter teeth, and you simply look like your in pain. Either way, you push open the big oak door and let yourself inside with him following right behind.

The lobby of the manner is everything you expected, high ceilings, a crystal chandelier, and every single family member of yours gathered around sipping champagne and speaking to each other like a potential client.

Even though it's magnificent inside with the beautiful décor and lively plants, the sight of everyone in their gaudy outfits and cheap laughter makes it feel like an eternal hell.

Eddie must feel the way your shoulders tense because he's quickly leaning into you, his voice just a whisper in the shell of your ear.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. You have me and I won't let anything happen." He reminds you, his smile is more sympathetic than anything.

Nodding your head you remain smiling, it's awful and it hurts even doing it but if you want to survive the whirlpool of piranhas, then you just have to fake it until you make it.

"If it isn't our lovely Birdie!" The sound of your mother's voice is like silk, smooth and confident, just like she always was. Walking over to you, she holds a champagne flute in her hand and you wonder how much the bubbling spritz cost your father.

The last time you've seen her was last winter, her million dollar smile outshining the Swarovski crystal tree decorations that sit behind her. Your mother has always been beautiful but her insides are rotten, ugly and maggot infested, all hidden behind the mask that she put on for everyone to see.

You gave up a long time ago trying to figure out her brain, finally accepting defeat to the maze that was her mind. Now when you look at your mother all you see is a shell, a hallow covering that has nothing to offer you other than it's pretty design.

Pulling you into a hug, you're hit with her scent. She smells like Dior and cashmere, the Chanel outfit that sits on her body scratches your skin, and the pearl necklace she wears jabs you right in your collarbone.

"Hello mother, thank you for inviting me to such a wonder occasion." You instantly revert back to your old accent, the same one your mother instilled into you from the time you could even under stand the English language.

A faux laugh comes from her bright red lips, "No need for that, darling, you're always welcome." Her manicured hand waves at you in fake genuineness.

The smile on your face continues to show and you hate to think it matches hers. Even with the sweet tone you use and the gentleness of your actions, the blood that runs through your body continues to boil the longer she stands there.

Eddie on the other hand stands next to you completely and utterly amused by your fake performance. The snort he lets out when you continue to use your "eloquent" voice is quickly covered up by a sniffle.

Like a vulture, your mother's eyes are quick to zero in on the curly haired man next to you. "Excuse my daughter for her bad manner of not introducing us, I'm Christine."

The minute her hand reaches out for a handshake, you're heart stops. This is the one thing that could make or break this whole trip and it was the only thing you didn't prepare your best friend for. Many years of your life, you were trained that a handshake is all it takes for someone to learn about you.

Without skipping a beat, Eddie simply picks embraces her hand like a prince out of a Disney movie and places a kiss to the back of her unwrinkled hand.

"What a pleasure to meet you, Christine, I'm Eddie. And might I say how beautiful you are."

He's all dimples and doe eyes staring at your mother, a true prince charming in his red flannel and jeans. His voice is like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, it's smooth going down your throat and it warms your belly better than any blanket can.

That warmth is now tingling your body, a frenzy of butterflies flapping around in the walls of your heart. It clearly works on your mother as well but unlike you she doesn't hide it very well.

"You're really the charmer, Eddie." It's flirtatious and alluring, the same voice she put on for every pool boy your father ever hired.

Annoyance and anger floods through you and you know that your eyes would be shining green to anyone with a trained eye.

While she clutches her pearls and eyes Eddie like he's a four course meal, you intervene into the conversation before it can continue.

"Where's daddy? I'd really like for my boyfriend to meet him." You bat your eyelashes like a pageant queen and your arm acts like a python wrapping around Eddie's, making a mark on what is yours.

"Oh you're father's around here somewhere, you know how he is." She dismisses, taking a drink from her glass and swallowing down the golden liquid quickly. "So how long have you and Birdie here been dating?"

"It's going to be two years next month. Isn't that right, honey?" Eddie turns to you and gives you a playful smile.

Looking back at him you hope he can see the misery that hides being your eyes, a white flag of surrender.

Your mother on the other hand doesn't care about your answer, that's why she didn't ask you. She's reading Eddie, trying to see how much she can push your so called boyfriend until she gets what she wants.

"Well that's just wonderful, young love is a beautiful experience. You have to be careful with Birdie here, she's known to leave the nest quickly." It's a jab, a spiteful and mean comment headed right for your gut.

Eddie doesn't miss the way you're lips falter for a second, the flash of hurt in your eyes. It kills him watching you stand there and take all the comments from your mother like stray bullets.

Turning his attention back to your mother, he gives her a smile, one that you would know as a wicked one but to a stranger would seem kind. "I don't think that will be a problem. Birdie knows where her home is."

It's a direct warning, a clear sign to your mother to not mess with you or what is yours. Just him sticking up for you like that makes your stomach twist in excitement, a feeling you've grown so used to over the course of friendship with Eddie.

"Well, I'm glad she finally found her place then." Your mother responds coldly, clearly hearing the bite in his tone. "Why don't you two go find your room and get settled in, rehearsal dinner is in a few."

Before retreating into the large crowd of family, your mother turns back to you in one more attack.

"Oh and Birdie, wear something that will hide that stomach. Don't want anyone to assume you've been knocked up."

Once you've found your room, you all but rush Eddie inside slamming the door behind you. In the quiet safety of your suite, you can relax your shoulders that have been sitting high since you've arrive.

"Jesus Bird, you weren't lying." Eddie says as he flops himself on the queen sized bed.

You don't respond, instead you squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm the heaviness of your breathing. Behind the darkness of your eyes, little twinkles of stars flash from how hard you have them closed, the swooshing of your heart continuing in your ears like angry waves of the sea.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself over and over again, trying to erase the cruel words of your mother and the images of disgusted family member's faces out of your mind. You're not sure how long you've been standing by the door until a hand grasps at your wrist lightly.

"Birdie," Eddie's coax goes unanswered, "Come on, Birdie."

Warm calloused hands travel to the plump of your cheeks, lifting your face up just enough that he can see you. Finally opening your eyes, you're relieved to be looking into the golden whiskey pools of his.

Smoothing his thumb over your cheek he doesn't say anything, just lets your breathing calm down. Here you are, in the nice room behind the shelter of the locked door, and he's here.

Breathe in. It's okay. Breathe out. You're safe. Breathe in. You are here. Breathe out. So is he.

It's enough to let your feet move on the plush white carpeting, while Eddie leads you to the bed with the tug of your arm. Sitting on the plush mattress on crisp linen sheets you're grounded, and with the heat of Eddie sitting next to you and his hand in yours, you're anchored.

The rehearsal dinner goes over well enough, the Irish mule helping with every single speech that's given and every horror story of your childhood that is told. Luckily for you, Vee didn't ask you to be in her bridal party so you didn't have to attend the actual wedding rehearsal, and even better you won't have to deal with her for the real thing tomorrow.

Eddie does great at dinner, he talks to your father who surprisingly likes him, both getting along over their love for vintage cars. Your soon to be brother in law and his groomsmen also get along with Eddie, they laugh and cut up most of the time while clinking beer bottles together. Not to mention every single woman there wanted to get into his pants, swooning at everything he said and giving him the 'fuck me' eyes while doing it.

You hated it, every single minute of it. Like always you were ignored, simply looked over until some story was being told where you were ultimately the joke of. Any time someone asked you what you were doing with your life, you were met with cringing smiles and snickering laughs.

Four separate times your mother commented on your dress, the way it fit, the price value of it, and how it really wasn't a good color on you. All of your sisters friends rolled their eyes and whispered back and forth while staring at you, aunts and uncles acted dumbfounded when you told them that you were a freelance writer for a small music magazine back in Indy, and your cousins made comments about how badly you look since the last time you saw them.

It didn't matter anyway, even if your sister asked how you managed to get a stand up guy like Eddie to agree to be with you, in front of all of the guests. You had to remind yourself that you were there for the free booze and food or whatever the hell Eddie said in the car on the way here.

This wasn't a popularity contest for you, it was simply you being forced to do something against your wishes because your mother said so. You asked yourself why you even listened to her in the first place while letting the brown liquor burn in your stomach.

Why was it so important that you even showed up here? Why did you have to come to the awarding ceremony of favorite kid when you knew you weren't going to win? Why would you even set yourself up for such failure just because your mom said so?

Well, you're answer came when a flushed faced Eddie was laughing with your grandparents at one of the round tables in the corner. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his head was leaned back so you had a clear view of the neck you loved so much.

Then you looked over at your sweet looking grandparents who laughed loudly at whatever was said. Your grandmother had her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head back and forth, and beaming brightly. Your grandfather smiled around his cigar, big round belly jumping with laugher, and his cheeks smooshing up against the frames of his big glasses.

You didn't come here to win a competition. You didn't come here because your mother threatened you within an inch of your life if you didn't. You didn't come here because you thought it would be fun.

You showed up because you wanted to prove to the people who doubted you for so long just how happy you were. You wanted to prove that happiness doesn't come from the amount of money in your account or how many rooms sit in your house. You came here because you wanted to prove that they were wrong, that the grass on the other side of the fence could be green too, and that someone who grew up differently that you could still do amazing things.

Eddie was someone that your father would've had you kicked out over bringing him home in high school. Eddie was the boy your mother would tell you to stay far away from. Eddie was the kind of guy that your sister wouldn't look twice at because of who he was.

But right now, during the beautiful dinner the night before your sister's wedding, your best friend/fake boyfriend has them all wrapped around his guitar calloused finger.

Not much has been said between you and him, especially when he was the man of the hour. You're not really complaining though, you're happy that he made a good impression with them. When the night began to settle into your bones and the alcohol started to make you tipsy, you slyly walked up to Eddie and tugged on his sleeve to let him know it was time to go.

On the walk back to the room, you sway slightly with every step you take, balancing on the walls with one hand while the other holds your strappy heels. When Eddie stops and turns to the door of your room, you all but smack into him with clumsy steps.

While he fumbles with key, you're in blissful content with your eyes closed. The kick of the lock and the turn of the handle doesn't even pull you out of your daze, instead you hold your arms out like a mummy and feel around until you find Eddie's clothed back.

You can tell Eddie is laughing by the large breath that passes through his nose and the tell tale sign of him kissing his teeth. Large hands wrap around your wrists, guiding you into the doorway that you can't see.

Your cheeks are warm, the smile on your face is permanent, and the buzzing in your heart makes you feel light on your feet.

"Alright mummy, lets get you into bed." Letting go of his hold on you, you feel him slightly brush past you to close the door. His voice sounds like the way stars look, sparkling and bright, twinkling all around.

You giggle, eyes still shut and your nose scrunched up. "M'not a mummy but I could be if ya want."

Putting your arms out, you lean back and forth on your feet to mimicking what you think is a mummy but looks more like a zombie.

"Baaaaahhhhh, I'm a mummy. Be very afraid." You deepen your voice, dragging the syllables of every word to make them come out slower.

Eddie must be entertained because the sound of a loud raspberry comes from where he stands, the clear sign of him losing the grip on the laugh he'd been holding in.

Cracking one of your eyes open, you hope to find him with rose cheeks and dimples flashing, the look you love so much. Instead you see him, beaming at you without the shine of his canines. It's an admiring smile, one where your eyes go all gooey and your smile is simple yet dipped with so much love.

Opening your eyes all the way, you let your arms down slowly to rest by your sides, a meek look painting your face.

"Did I do good?" You ask, even though you didn't really want his opinion.

"I think you're perfect." It comes out even, smooth like the hilltops in December covered in a layer of the purest snow.

The two of you sit there for a while, soaking up the glow of each other and letting it sink into your souls. For a moment you wonder if he feels it too, the spark that you feel whenever he's around. You wonder if he feels like crying simply because he loves you that much. You wonder if he wishes this whole dating thing wasn't just a lie and that it was true, the same way you wish it was.

Once the moment ends for him, he's clearing his throat to clear any lovesick daze that's left. "I guess we better head to bed, huh?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, you try with everything in your power to not look down where his turtle neck rode up, where the patch of mouth watering hair trails from his belly button to underneath the waist of his pants.

A part of you wishes you stuck it out longer, stayed in your seat at the dinner table just to see him in his outfit longer. He asked you to help him pick it out this morning and when you think back to it, you get flustered with thinking how domesticated it felt. Making him try on different shirts and jumping for joy when he walked out of the bathroom wearing a turtleneck he swore he'd never wear. The khakis you pulled out of his suitcase was the cause of so much laughter and the pink tinge that sat on the rounds of his cheeks.

God, he looked so good, especially with his hair pulled back and the dangled earring that sat in his ear, but now it would all be a memory for you to file away in the back of your brain.

Eddie had already started taking off his dress shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed bent over and messing with the knots that kept the laces together.

The smile that once held your lips high and proud, now weigh down in a sad frown. Even after the success of the dinner and proving everyone wrong, you are now brought back to the reality of what you and Eddie were. Just friends.

"Since I'm a gentleman and I can't see to get these shoes untied, I'll let you shower first." His voice comes out strained from how hard he pulls on the knotted strings.

You don't say anything, quietly nodding your head before shuffling over to your suitcase that sits by the closet. Grabbing a sleepshirt and some shorts, you go to move around the lanky man that can't get his shoes off no matter how hard he tries.

Without a sound, you kneel in front of him, placing your clothes somewhere off to the side. Taking his calf in your hand, you place his foot on your thigh. Delicately, you remove the first shoe and then the next.

"Y'didn't have to do that." It's quiet but not enough to be a whisper, still you shrug.

"I didn't but I wanted to." It seems so simple when you say it, even though deep down inside you wanted that last piece of your fantasy before it goes away for the rest of the night.

"Will you help me with my dress?" You ask him, standing on your feet and turning so that the golden zipper is facing him.

In the mirrored closet door you can see him and how he hesitates for a moment, shaky hands lingering in the air before they close in on the gold slider.

The sound of the metal teeth unlatching from one another fills the room, clouding the unrhythmic beat of your heart. You try to remember the feeling of him on the sacred part of your skin, the way his light touch tickles you and makes goosebumps rise. You want to memorize it like your favorite song, so that when you leave this place and the fake nature of this whole thing goes away, you still have something to think about on those bad days.

It ends too soon for your liking, his hands retracting right back to the sides of his body like a measuring tape. With the fuzz of your tipsy has now wore off but the sting of everything still remains.

Giving him a small smile and muttering a thank you, you hide in the bathroom where the sound of running water hides the muffled cries that leave your throat.

Waking up felt more painful than any hangover you've ever had. The pain of Eddie's bare back facing you was heartbreaking. You force yourself not connect the freckles that litter his skin or trace your fingers along his spine and shoulder blades.

It's a sight you've seen plenty of times and sharing a bed is something you've done more than enough that you're not uncomfortable. Yet your heart squeezes, wrapping itself up in the tightest loop so that it hurts to even breathe.

The sound of his soft snores only makes it worse, imagining what he dreams about and if it's you.

You use all of the willpower that's left in your body, marching over to the small kitchenette that sits in the corner of the giant room. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you try to focus on the swirl of dark liquid mixing with the coffee creamer and how they mix together so perfectly. Without much of a peep, you slide the glass doors that lead out to the balcony and sit down in one of the plush chairs.

You look out over the mountains of colors, tracing over the lines of trees that go on for miles. Although pretentious, you think Veronica did an excellent job and choosing this location.

Sipping on the hot beverage, you watch the clouds in the blue sky go by, wondering what it would've been like if your sister asked you to be a bridesmaid. You imagine that the two of you would've actually gotten along and maybe even laughed together. You envision what it would've been like to have your mother compliment you in your gown and how it would feel to take a picture with your family where all the smiles were real.

Tears begin to burn the back of your eyes, falling rapidly like a fall rainstorm. The skin of your cheeks burn slightly from the heated trails of water that fall. You're sad and incredibly so. Within the first twenty four hours of being here, you remember how much of an outsider you really are to these people.

Even with the company of Eddie, someone that truly loves you, you still can't help but feel so fucking lonely. To put on the mask you wore for many year back on and pretend that the man standing next to you is yours to claim is harder than any other time you had to do it.

This time you weren't really faking it, the love that you showed to him, the happiness you felt with him was real, just the titles weren't. With the cool fall chill, your coffee has gone cold but your tears keep coming.

"You made yourself a cup of coffee but not one for me, and this is how I find out? That's just mean." Eddie's curly hair pokes out from the small gap in the sliding back door that he's created.

His eyes are squinted from the harshness of the morning sun but his cheeky smile is forever unwavering. Sliding a space big enough for him to go through, he stalks out onto the small space in his plaid pajama pants and a hoodie he must've thrown on.

Trying your best to cover up that you've been crying, you wipe the back of your hand across your cheeks, but Eddie still catches your movements.

Instead of embarrassing you, he sits down in the chair across from you and looks out over the balcony.

"You okay?" It's a simple enough question, one that you can answer with one word and he wouldn't pry for more information to not overwhelm you.

Sniffling, you shake your head yes and then move your gaze to where his is. "No, yeah, m'good. The view really does something for me." You say, chuckling just a bit at your own joke.

Eddie also laughs, only this time it's not as genuine as it usually is, just a hard exhale through his nose.

"Yeah, sure does." He agrees, letting his eyes follow the red and orange of the tree tops.

A calm silence falls over you two, only the sounds of the birds that fly and the ruffle of the leaves can be heard from where you sit. It's peaceful.

"You know, I really thought this weekend would be different." It comes out of your mouth as easy as the breeze that blows. Still your eyes stay trained out in front of you and past the mountains of trees.

Eddie doesn't respond but the hole that he burns through the side of your head with his eyes tell you he's listening.

"When I was little, I used to imagine the day Vee got married. I would fantasize that maybe one day we could be close enough that I could enjoy this day with her and we could be sisters for once." You exhale an uneven breath, moving your sights to the cup that still sits in your hand.

"I just wanted all of us to be a family for once. I wanted my mom to actually act like she liked me, for my dad to say that for once he was proud of who I was, and for Veronica, I just wanted her to say she's happy that I'm her little sister."

Just like that, every single thing you've carried since you were little is now out in the open, whipping around in the wind like the dead leaves. Even with the amount of burden that's been lifted, the pain still remains the same. It all hurts, stabbing you over and over again in the scars that you worked so hard to patch up.

Eddie doesn't say anything and for a moment you don't think he'll say anything at all. You watch him pull out the pack of cigarettes he had nestled in his pocket and place one in between his pretty pink lips.

Another second goes by and he's flicking the wheel of his lighter, shielding the flame away from the wind so he can light it. When the end of the smoke burns red, he takes a big inhale and then lets the cloud of smoke out.

"I know what I say won't matter," He starts before taking another drag of his smoke, "But these people don't fucking mean anything."

"They're you're family and I get that but they don't fucking deserve you, they never have. A fake boyfriend, a new haircut, or a cool job shouldn't define their love for you. They're shitty people who were blessed with an amazing person and they didn't even realize it."

Eddie looks at you the same way he speaks, with nothing but truth. You let the words settle in your mind, letting them soak in, in case you forget.

The tears that once ceased start to flow again, except this time it's from relief. It feels good that someone else sees your worth, to know someone actually holds value to you.

"It kills me that they treat you the way they do, that they can say all those things without batting an eye. I know why you asked me to come here and I know I have a job to do, but man do I want to rip them all a new asshole."

Although he speaks with fire behind the words, you have to laugh from the thought of the actions. The moment you giggle, his own smile forms.

"I hope you know that I love you and when everything is done and over with, we'll give them the bird." To make his point, Eddie raises his middle finger high into the sky.

Repeating his actions, you hold your own finger to the sky and smile happily while doing it.

Letting his arm fall back down into place, he pats the tops of your thighs and stands from the chair.

"That's my girl, now let's get ready for an open bar and free booze." Holding his open palm to you, he helps you up.

The wedding reception was what you thought it would be, drawn out and boring. The only saving grace of the whole thing was Eddie's commentary, the scruff on his face tickling you every time he leaned close to your ear.

A lot of the things he was saying was probably just to make you feel better but you did have to agree, the dress Veronica picked out was a bad rip off of Princess Diana's and it shouldn't have seen broad daylight.

You did however get choked up when the vowels started, not because you were happy with your sister but because you wish that were you and Eddie up there instead.

All and all it was okay, even though one of your brother in law's aunt's wore a hat so big you couldn't see past it most of the time.

The wedding reception though was beautiful. The décor of the manner looked exquisite against the maroon coloring of all the bridesmaids dresses. The tables had beautiful bouquets sitting in the middle and you can't help but laugh imagining your father cutting a check for all of them.

To much of yours and Eddie's delight, there is an open bar that is stacked high with pricey alcohol. Again you laugh thinking about your father having to pay the tab, which you and Eddie will be happy to run up.

So far this is the most the two of you had fun, both laughing and enjoying the company that's around you. The table you've been stuck at is also occupied by other family rejects that enjoy the titles they've been given.

Eddie's hand hasn't left your thigh, which you're more than happy about, and every so often he flexes his fingers squeezing the meaty flesh.

You feel good, the boost from the drinks and the feeling of your best friend makes you bloom like a flower in the spring. You watch as he talks to the people at your table and how his hand moves with enthusiasm. You trace the muscles in his neck and watch his adam's apple bob up and down when he speaks. Your chin sits in the palm of your hand as you watch him be himself like he always is.

He's so beautiful, he always has been, and in this moment he gets to be yours. You don't have to think about what anyone else thinks, you don't have to question how the two of you look from another's perception, because you know that your heart bleeds for him and it always will.

Eddie's your home, he's your best friend, and he's your person. You think back to what he said to you this morning and how he called you a blessing but you think he's wrong. Eddie is the true blessing. He's sweet, he's smart, and he's so fucking caring it's disgusting. Behind all the jagged features and dark clothes, he's nothing but a giant teddy bear that wears his heart on his sleeve.

"Birdie." He smiles at you, all goo and mush it makes your heart skip.

You hum in response, still sitting in the same position, looking at him as if he were a painting.

"You wanna dance?" He blushes, embarrassed by the request and you feel like you're back in junior high.

"You, Eddie Munson hate dancing." You say, scrunching your nose cutely.

Laughing loudly, he nods, "Yeah, I know, but I'd dance with you."

That breaks you out of your daze, breath catching in your throat. "O-oh, yeah. I'll um dance."

Again he stands, holding a palm out to you so he can help you up. Leaning you to the dance floor, you can't help but feel jittery despite the wine that you've consumed.

Once out on the floor, he pulls you into his chest. Strong hands grip your waist through the silk fabric of your red dress and you desperately try to fight the need that rises in your guy.

You stand stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself and Eddie's quick to help you, placing your hands around his neck where they lay contently.

He looks good tonight, even better than last night, and you hate how it makes butterflies flap around in your stomach. The black button up shirt sits nicely on his torso, wrapping his arms so deliciously you want to take a bite out of them. The black slacks he wears fit nicely and you wonder if he had them tailored and you have to ignore the want to undo the sleek black belt with a bright golden buckle that holds them up. Again his hair sits in a low bun and that silver chain peeks out at you from underneath his collar.

"I can't believe you asked me to dance to Ed Sheeran." You say breathlessly, still nervous with being this close to him.

Eddie snorts, lopsided smile forming on his lips. "What, a guy can't like Ed Sheeran and metal? That's gatekeeping, sweetheart." He teases.

Rolling your eyes, you try to ignore that tingle that settles in your cheeks. "Whatever you say, Munson."

"I'm serious, Thinking Out Loud was in my top ten last year." The two of you hold eye contact until you can't take it anymore, both bursting into laughter at his admission.

"That's something you shouldn’t repeat." You sputter at him and he laughs even harder.

"Hey, I like this song, okay?" He defends, still swaying back and forth with you.

Raising your hands in defense, you pull back on your clowning for the sake of your friend. Placing your arms back around his neck, you lean your head on his chest and try to hear the beat of his heart.

The scent of him floods your nose, cologne and smoke, whiskey and linen, and you wish you could bottle it to keep forever.

"Why do you like this song anyway? It's kind of basic." You mutter at him.

His shoulders lift in a shrug, and he takes a moment to respond. "Honestly, I like it cause it reminds me of you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you remove your head to look up at him.

"Wha'do you mean?" You mumble, eyes searching his for some sort of answer.

Looking bashful again, red tints his cheeks and ears in a blush. Sticking his tongue out to wet his lips, he hesitantly answers.

"I always felt like he said everything I couldn't, ya know? Everything I ever wanted to say to you, he put in a song."

It feels like the whole world stops, that time freezes and it's just the two of you. You're in shock and for some reason you can't wrap your head around anything he's saying.

"What?" You say harshly and again he shrugs, shying away from your burning focus on him.

"Reminds me of you and everything I ever felt about you. I always wanted to call you mine but if you hadn't noticed, I'm a chicken shit."

You don't say anything, instead you stare at him with your mouth wide open. Eddie starts to loose his cool, frantically flexing his fingers against the material of your dress, looking around at anything but you.

"Sorry, I - shit, I really fucked this up," He doesn't get to finish his sputtering apology because you quickly smash your lips into his.

His lips taste like brown liquor and chapstick, like love and forever, and you can't believe you waited this long to experience it. Two heart sync as one, two people fall together like the leaves outside, and anxieties are finally laid to rest.

You hate that you pull away first but the need for air is too much. Eddie bends enough so that his forehead leans on yours, both looking into each other eyes living in the moment of your blissed out hearts.

"Tell me if I'm being too forward but do you wanna get out of here?" He flirts and you respond simply by pecking his lips once more.

"Thought you'd never ask."

thank you all for reading!!! love you guys <3

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #honey's birthday bash #honey's holiday celebrations

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bruisedboys · 8 months

Note

Shy!reader who's brain is running a million miles per hour and Sirius who notices and decides to pull her into a secret room for doting kisses and sweet compliments???

thank you for your request lovely! <333

sirius black x fem!reader

You don’t know how Sirius has managed to weasel you out of the thick of the party and into his friend’s bathroom, but here you are, alone with Sirius in Remus Lupin’s bathroom and trying not to act like this is exactly what you wanted.

“Sirius,” you say, breathless as you watch him close the door and then spin round to face you, grinning. “What are you doing?”

Sirius shrugs. “Just trying to get some alone time with my girl. Sue me.”

My girl. You try not to buckle at the knees. “Alone time? I thought you liked parties.”

“I only like whatever you like.”

You glare at him. He’s being awful on purpose. “Don’t you want to go hang out with your friends?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Sirius says, moving towards you. You know he’s gonna grab you before he does, hands hot at your hips as he pulls you towards him. “I was watching you out there, you know. You looked like you weren’t having a good time.”

“Did I?” You ask, horrified. “Sirius, why didn’t you tell me earlier?” You push at his chest as if that’s gonna do anything. He’s much stronger than you. In more ways than one. “I don’t want Remus to think I’m a priss.”

Sirius laughs. “Dove,” he says, chiding and amused. “He doesn’t think that. The only reason I noticed is ‘cos I know you so well.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb as if to say, yeah, I know you, and I love you all the same. “You’d’ve looked completely lovely to everyone else.”

“Ugh,” you say, as if you’re grossed out by his fondness rather than totally enthralled. Your burning cheeks say otherwise.

“Ugh,” Sirius copies agreeably. “You’re okay, though? We can leave if you need, babe. I swear I don’t mind.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence. “No, I’m okay. We can stay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you having an awful time.”

“I’m not,” you say honestly. You were overwhelmed earlier but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have handled it for Sirius’ sake. He’s handled a lot worse for your sake.

Sirius raises his eyebrows, looking incredibly handsome. “Promise?”

You smile at him. “Promise.”

Sirius smiles back, all pearly white teeth and the dusty pink lips. You’re not surprised when he ducks in to kiss you. You let him because you like him a lot and you could really use a kiss right now. He’s right of course, you had been having a hard time out in the living room. You’d just been beginning to spiral when Sirius had appeared out of nowhere and whisked you away like he could read your mind. Now, he kisses you with all the care of someone who knows you like the back of his hand, and all the electricity of a boy in love.

He backs you up against the sink, hands firm at your hips, kissing and kissing, but pulls back just when you think he’s about to really get carried away. You’re grateful because you’d hate to be discovered like this by one of his friends and you think he knows that.

“I love you,” he says, ducking in for another quick kiss that’s brief but sweet enough to leave you reeling. “Promise you’ll let me know if you want to get out of here, yeah?”

“Okay,” you nod, frazzled by his kissing and his sweetness.

Sirius smiles a dizzying smile and chucks you under the chin. “C’mon, lovely girl,” he takes your hand and tugs you towards the door. “Wanna help me win poker?”

He knows you’re no good at card games — he just wants you in his lap as his so-called lucky charm. Lucky for him, you can’t think of anything else you’d rather do.

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chososdiscordkitten · 2 months

Text

Prettier In Pink.

artist: @g00miato

Synopsis: Discovering the wonders of lingerie with Choso.

Pairing: Sub!Choso x GN!reader Content: some plot, mostly smut, no penetrative sex, he wears panties hehe, mentions of different sexual acts (him fucking r!, r! fucking him, oral ect), handjob, edging, nipple play, use of good boy, PRAISE, the mark on his nose leaks •⩊•, ik anon made it sound like teasing- but he's just soooo pretty I never wanna write edging him, he deserves to cum :> no aftercare (sue me.)

(a.n) you know how choso hyperventilated nd groaned when he found out Yuuji is his brother? yeah. that's what I listened to while writing this.

MDNI

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Choso asked as his knees dug into the bed. Blush evident on his cheeks, the prominent black stripe on the bridge of his nose threatening to waver its lines from how embarrassed he was.

One of his hands pulled on the veil like fabric to cover his leaking tip. Precum seeping onto the thin lace panties that trapped his cock.

This all started when the topic of lingerie was brought up. At first Choso didn't really understand the point- “Isn't it just gonna be taken off right after?” he asked as you showed him photos of potential pieces of lace you could buy.

“Well I mean, yeah-” you scoffed with a grin, turning off your phone and looking at his expression- lost as to how it would be different from any other piece of clothing. “It's like when you choose fun wrapping paper for a present.” you grinned about the metaphor you were using, “It would be fine if you gave it to someone without it- but the wrapping makes it so much more fun.” you smiled sweetly, seeing his eyebrows furrow and thinking of receiving an unwrapped present.

“Isn't it the best part of receiving a gift?” you asked, seeing a lightbulb flicker behind his eyes, “Unwrapping it to reveal the best part?” you grinned, watching as he nodded his head agreeingly. Though the look in his eyes wasn't quite convinced.

That was until you surprised him with a black lace set leaving very little to his imagination. Complete with a pair of sheer stockings held up by black garters.

After that Choso saw the light and the excitement in unwrapping you before sex. Only after, when you leaned over to his ear as you tried to catch your breath, whispering “Your turn.”

Choso didn't know they made lingerie for men, he was completely unaware how they could make such delicate lace pieces for people with his build.

That was until you came home from shopping, handing him a little pink bag with white tissue paper on the top. And as he plucked the tissue from the pink bag- revealing light pink lace at the bottom- just by looking at it he knew there was little to no fabric.

Choso got excited thinking that you were gonna wear it- looking back up at you with sparkling eyes. Only for you to greet him with a smile he knew all too well, he looked back down into the bag. Coming to the realization that you meant what you said when you whispered that it was his turn.

And as he tried to put on the thin lace, he came to the revelation that this wasn't meant for a man's body. Little to no space in the panties for his cock to fit in, the thin thong of the panties felt like he was wearing nothing on his bottom. But he was thankful you at least chose a set that had a skirt.

Even if it was skimpy and was held onto his waist from a single satin pink ribbon that could easily come undone- Choso was grateful that his growing bulge would be covered by the thin fabric. All too aware of the possibility that if he moved in any way, his ass would be showcased in full. Be it the slit on the back or how short it was.

And god- the top was the worst part. Choso tried buckling the small clasp that was supposed to hold the bralette onto his chest, his hands trying to reach up to connect the endings. Trying to remember how it was supposed to clasp together. But his fingers only ever undid the clasps, never did he hook them back on.

“I'm waitinngg!” you shouted from your shared bed, impatiently waiting for him to come out of the master bathroom in the pink wrapping you carefully chose, purposefully a few sizes too small for him. And as you said that, Choso finally got the clasp to stay in place, seeing his chest fill in the padless cups of the light pink bra.

Choso furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at himself in the mirror- a sliver of embarrassment forming in his chest as he looked at the pink bows beneath the breast cups.

He inhaled deeply- feeling the dainty lace stretch against his chest as he did. Quickly deflating his lungs in fear he might tear the fabric. The hem of the thin skirt ending right below his bulge. Thinking how it was only fair that if you wore something like this for him- he had to do it for you too.

Choso opened the door of the restroom, shuffling out and into your line of sight as you watched his hand tug at the little skirt to cover his veiled bulge. You gasped in adoration as you watched him take little steps- afraid he’d tear the over expensive lace with any movement.

He raised his knee onto the bed slowly, glancing at your amazed expression as he settled onto the bed, his hand held onto the hem of the skirt. Hoping the see through veil would cover his cock in the little panties.

You were sitting laxly on the bed, your back on the pillows as your hand reached out for him, guiding him to straddle you, placing one thick thigh on each side of you.

As though it was instinct, your hands pressed onto his bare thighs, thumbs rubbing small circles on his pale muscles as you gazed at his red face.

Choso’s mouth dared to pull up on one side as he watched your gaze darken, knowing that little smile on your lips meant you were enjoying yourself.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he murmured, the blush on his cheeks had to be alarming at this point. Your lips were curled in a desirous smile, having him in the frilly pink lingerie almost made your eye twitch from how cute he looked right now.

His thick thighs caged you onto the bed, hovering right above your own as he looked down at you.

You parted your lips as your hand trailed up and down his thighs adoringly- his hand still holding down the front of the pink veil that was closer to a belt than a skirt.

Your gaze was dark- more greedy than anything. “I don’t think ive ever wanted anything more, Cho.” you whispered as one of your hands landed on his elbow gently, coaxing his hand to pull away from the hem.

“It's embarrassing..” he murmured, watching as your fingers wrapped around his wrist gently, “What's embarrassing about this?” you cooed, pulling his hand away from the hem with a quiet gasp from his lips, “Hmm?” you looked at the lace straining against his cock, Choso’s tip was threatening to poke from the band of the panties as your hand rubbed on his thigh gently.

His lips were shut tight as the air brisked against the fabric, your hands guided his hips to ease down onto your thighs, feeling his bottom rest on your legs. Finding it that much hotter that you were fully clothed, and here he was- practically naked in front of you.

You rolled up the sleeves of your shirt to avoid a mess before trailing a hand up his side as he eased his weight onto your legs, his shoulders shivering from the gentle touch the pads of your fingers left on his exposed skin. “You look as pretty as I pictured.” you murmured as you traced your finger onto the ridges of his abs, curling your thumb beneath the pink bows on the bralette, your fingers easing onto his ribs as your other hand caressed at his exposed hip.

He furrowed his eyebrows and lowered his eyes, not being able to handle the scalding gaze you were burning through him. Choso started shifting on your legs slowly- uneasy from the dynamic that was arranged for him. Your thumb roamed up the lace on his chest- strained from his hardened nipple beneath it. A small gasp left his throat as your thumb gently grazed over the little mound.

Still avoiding your gaze- his hands grasped onto your shoulders in attempts to brace for whatever you had for him. And in tandem, his back arched in the slightest way, pushing his chest closer to your face.

You looked at his expression that was littered with a mix of excitement and humiliation. Smiling before pressing a kiss onto his exposed sternum, humming as the hand on his hip lowered down to his thigh again, denting the tips of your fingers into the plentiful skin.

Choso breathed shakily at the wet kiss you placed on where his heart would be, your lips separated by skin and bones. Trailing more sloppy pecks onto the swell of his chest, the lace grazing your chin as your thumb gently brushed back and forth on the hardened pebble beneath delicate lace, earning small whimpers from his dry throat. His cheeks were an alarming shade of red, the black stripe on his nose bridge was wavering in shape from the simple touches.

He inhaled as you licked a stripe on the edge of the lace, “Did it feel this-” he started quietly, watching your tongue wet the light lace adorning his chest. “This revealing, when you wore-” his words were cut off with a shuddering gasp by your tongue running past his laced nipple, pulling back and looking at him, trailing your hand towards his inner thigh.

You huff in amusement at how sensitive he was. Your breath wisps against the wet fabric causing his chest to rise with a heavy inhale. “It's supposed to feel revealing.” you grinned as your fingertips danced on the pale skin between his thighs, purposefully ignoring the obvious tent beneath the veiled skirt.

Choso was about to reply- but your lips latched onto his nipple, the tip of your tongue waltzing against the ridges of the lace. His lips parting at the sudden warmth, eyes batting closed as the tip of your tongue traced around the ring of color, deliberately ignoring the pebble beneath the delicate fabric. His hand wandered down your shoulder as he tried to suppress the throaty grunts that dared leave his lungs.

Choso was huffing harshly, only earning for his chest to press against your face. The hand dancing on his thigh traced up his side, landing on his ribs as he let out a stifled grunt from the frustration. Both of your hands holding onto his back in an attempt to keep him still, fingers splayed against his pale back.

Choso’s hold on your shoulders threatened to grip harder as your fingers pressed onto his back bringing his chest closer to your face. You pulled your lips from the soaked fabric, pursing your lips and blowing gently as goosebumps formed beneath your fingers, your lips so close to his nipple he could feel every breath you exhaled wisp against the damp lace.

You smiled before baring your teeth, your lips pressed against them as you licked one light stripe onto the little peak beneath the lace before lightly sinking down your front teeth onto the bud. Choso gasped harshly at the faint bite, causing his chest to cave and his shoulders to shiver from the feeling. Your eyes glimmered as you looked up at him, “You're so cute Cho~” you huffed in astonishment.

You pulled away from him just enough to take in the full sight of him, your hungry eyes scouring every single inch of skin you could see. On his chest, small circles of saliva left behind from your messy kisses. The roaming blush down his neck accentuating the evidence of your endearing pecks, causing the ache between your own thighs to pulse.

Choso fanned his eyelashes closed, embarrassed from how long you were staring, and your gaze fell onto his abs that were starting to glimmer from the light sweat that seeped from his skin.

Your tongue darted past your bottom teeth in reflex, mouth watering as Choso looked down to your actions. Pressing your warm tongue onto his lightly salted skin, right above the first set of the ridges of his abs. His jaw fell softly, feeling your tongue trail up to his sternum with a low hum that vibrated against his suede flesh. The taste of his skin soaking onto the palate of your tongue causing a hum in the shape of a moan to buzz against his chest.

The hand on your shoulder trailing onto your neck, keeping a gentle hold as he watched you level yourself in his sight again.

Looking at him with a seemingly innocent smile on your lips before extending your neck up, Choso met you halfway- pressing his lips onto yours as you greedily sucked his tongue into the cavern of your mouth. His hand held the side of your neck to make sure you wouldn't pull away, his eyes were shut tight, eyebrows knitted as your hands slid down to his waist. You watched him with a half lidded gaze as your tongue swirled against his.

Choso moaned into the kiss as your hands roamed to the swell of his bottom, your soft fingers giving his ass a light squeeze. The thin skirt creased in your grip before trailing your light fingers onto his hips in unison.

He gasped into your mouth, breaking the kiss as he felt the tip of his harrowing cock pop from the band of the little panties that only held his balls now, you snapped your gaze down- his tip holding up the skirt in the shape of a tent as his precum started pooling onto the sheer fabric, causing it to become translucent.

Choso only let out an embarrassed huff at your staring. You pouted a feigned ‘awee’ before looking back up at him, trailing your hand from the side of his thigh to the inside of it.

“Have I been neglecting your pretty cock?” You cooed, Choso sighed at the words you spoke in a condescending tone. Even if it was a sort of praise it still sounded somewhat demeaning. He turned his head to the side with a soft exhale, his chest gleaming a blush against the lace as you giggled, raising your hand slightly and looking down to the translucent chiffon on his leaking tip.

Though he was on top, and had a bigger frame- you had the control here.

You lightly pressed the end of your pointer finger to his reddening tip that stood proud beneath the fabric. Choso’s chest heaved at the light pressure, his lungs threatening to let out whiny moans, only for you to pull your finger away from him with a mean smile.

You sighed a dreamy breath, taking a second to look at him with your hand rubbing the top of his thigh soothingly. “Look at you-” you gasped in disbelief, his cock twitching from the compliment, coaxing a fresh pump of pre from his tip.

You slid your hands to his waist, slowly snaking them back to the silk ribbon that held the skirt on his hips, your face was unbelievably close to his as you pulled one of the pink bows’ tails, the top of the skirt loosening by the action. Choso looked at your face, bashful eyes staring into yours as you gently pulled the thin skirt from his waist, leaning back with a gasp and looking at the pretty pink panties that truly hid nothing-

Choso’s chest let out a hic from looking at your expression as you tossed the soiled skirt to the side. Sighing as you looked at his state, the urge to keep teasing him was strong- but the look on his face made you feel like you were being a little too mean. With a sniffle from his almost pained expression, you caved.

You grazed the tip of your finger from the band of the panties to the underside of his cock, gathering his precum on the pad- watching his face contort in attempts to not whimper at the feeling. Your other hand rubbing back and forth atop his thigh to soothe your teasing touch. Choso’s grasp on your shoulders was threatening to firmen- needing something to grip onto if you to keep on this way.

“What sweet boy?” you hummed almost teasingly, “How do you want me?” you whispered in a coo, your touch against his cock was light- barely applying any pressure. But it was present enough for his lips to press shut tightly in attempts to hide his moans, knowing they’d come out in strained whimpers if he allowed them to leave his lips.

He looked at you with bewildered eyes- not being able to process the question. “You wannt-” you started, pressing the pad of your finger onto his crying slit before sliding it down to the side of his cock head, “My mouth?” you smiled with a perked brow, inhaling the sight of his face at your words.

You leaned over- your lips brushing against his ear as your finger traced down his shaft, “You wanna fuck me?” you whispered- a shiver running down his spine at your enticing offers. One of the hands on your shoulders snaking to hold the back of your head to keep you close to him.

Choso inhaled with a light whine at the breath filling his lungs- quickly releasing the air before repeating the heavy breaths littered with whimpers- all but hyperventilating as you licked a stripe against the warm cartilage. With a seducing tone, “You wan’me to fuck you?” you huffed with a smirk, carefully wrapping your fingers around his shaft in a ghost-like grasp.

His chest was practically heaving at your overwhelming words, unable to process what you were asking. The lines of the black marking across his nose bridge becoming wobbly, showing you he was getting off on your teasing maundering just as much as you were.

You pressed a kiss to his feverish ear, trailing sloppy pecks down his neck- gently sucking on the prominent vein on his jugular, formed from how desperately he was holding back his moans. Lightly lapping your saliva on his neck, the glisten almost looked like glass from how thick it laid on his skin.

“You wan’your mouth filled?” You rumbled against his collarbones as you gently pressed your thumb onto his weeping cockhead.

A throaty grunt left his throat from the act, the hand on his thigh trailing up his ribs with a feather light touch. Pressing supple kisses to the swell of his chest, rubbing your thumb lightly back and forth earning a few more semi-clear tears to leak from his exposed tip.

In a way, your offers were spoken to fluster him- knowing he wouldn't last long from the expression decorating his face, along with the unfiltered whines between his heavy breaths.

Choso’s eyes tried to stay open- watching your tender lips press adoring kisses onto his skin, but your gentle hold on his cock made his vision fuzzy from how obscene his view was.

Your hand reached his back- goosebumps trailing in wake of your touch.

You hesitantly tightened your grip on his cock, feeling your pinkie graze the band of his panties that held his balls exquisitely- adding just enough pressure to keep him from cumming prematurely.

Choso could barely focus on breathing- let alone make the choice you were leaving in his hands.

Your thumb was lazily circling on his tip- his fingers gripping onto the fabric of your shirt as your fingers reached the hook of the lacey bra that Choso spent too much time trying to clasp.

Your lips latched on his nipple once more- this time placing all the attention on the little bud that strained against the pink lace, a guttural moan left his throat as your thumb moved back and forth in tandem with your tongue, the hand on his back undid the hook on the thin wings of the bralette, causing the fabric to become shapeless in your mouth.

You unlatched your lips from his nipple, slipping the lifeless lace from his chest. Wasting no time before you connected your lips onto it once more, leaving nothing to separate your tongue from his puffy nipple.

With a circle from the tip of your tongue, you pulled away from his nipple with a quiet ‘pop’ before trailing wet sloppy kisses in between his tits. Latching onto his neglected nipple, sucking harshly as his hips bucked up into your hand- enticing you to stroke him quicker.

Choso’s whines told you what his lips couldn’t- he was close. So, so fucking close.

His breathing was ragged, on the verge of hyperventilating as you slowed your thumbs motions- gaining a frustrated grunt from his chest. Lightly dragging it down to the little v that formed beneath his cockhead.

Your tongue lapped at his puffy nipple as he started muttering incomprehensible pleads through breathy whimpers- the pad of your thumb gently pressing onto the sensitive skin, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull with a drawn out moan.

Even if Choso decided on how he wanted you- it was too easy to let him cum from a few lingering touches. So as his shoulders started shuddering- mouth slack jawed as his hips twitched- you pulled your hand away alongside your lips from his pink nipple. Leaving him right on the edge with an exasperated whine- his head bowed down as he caught his breath.

A saccharine smile on your lips was what greeted Choso when he managed to raise his head, a sweet expression as though you had done nothing wrong.

Both your hands landed on the loose bra straps that dangled on his biceps, loose from not being clasped together anymore. ”Let's get this off of you-” you muttered as he eased his grip on your shoulders- allowing you to pull off the damp pink lace and toss it mindlessly.

Choso’s cock stood tall between you, the little pink panties accentuating his reddening tip that was coated in a copious amount of precum that worked better than any lube.

His eyes were low, almost asking you why you’d derive him from the orgasm he was riding up. And as though you could read his mind- “You didn't tell me how you wanted me.” you smiled sweetly, almost apathetic as you watched his glistening chest settle into a breathing pattern. Choso looked down to his cock- your hand close to it- so close he could feel your warmth seep onto his shaft.

Choso looked at the silken precum that messied your palm, “Well?” you hummed sweetly, earning for him to meet eyes with you. His lips parted as your clean hand came up to swipe away damp strands of hair from his forehead.

He was finally able to collect his thoughts as your hand gently caressed his blushed cheek, Choso knew he wouldn't be able to act on any of your proposals for longer than a few minutes. Just thinking of your mouth, of fucking you; made his tip twitch. And he knew if you fucked him, the prep alone would take too long for his tastes. His mouth watered from thinking of you stuffing his mouth while he came-

“Your hand-” he murmured with furrowed eyebrows as you raised your own. “C-can I fuck your hand?” he whispered with an exhilarated tone. You were surprised, sure. Thinking he would have asked for something else- anything else, but he chose your hand for his own reasons. So you gave him a sweet smile before pulling your hands from his searing body.

Reaching for the hem of your shirt and tossing it to the other discarded articles of clothing on the floor. You tapped the top of his thigh lightly- urging him to raise himself a little.

And as he did, you sank down into the bed further, his thighs on the sides of your hips leaving you directly in the splash zone. Choso looked down at you- already feeling apologetic before he even did anything.

You parted your lips as the angle infiltrated your pupils- the sight was similar to missionary. But only this time, your legs were caged by his thighs, and his cock was hovering over your tummy.

Choso was going to object to this position- not wanting to dirty you with his seed. But as your hand came into view, hovering right above your belly as your fingers formed an ‘o’ shape, awaiting his cock to push past the small opening.

Choso gulped before placing his shaky hand to his pale base, guiding the red tip of his cock to press against your fists opening. His eyebrows knitting as he slowly rolled his hips into the tight ring, your clean hand landing on his thigh again as he slowly pushed his tip past the taut opening. Trying not to cum from the over-surrounding feeling of your hand around his cock.

Coating your hand in even more of his pre as his chest struggled to keep the breathing pace he just steadied. “It's okay Cho-” you muttered with an excited smile- “You can go as fast as you'd like.” you assured, watching his eyebrows knit as he dragged his cock from your fist slowly.

He quickly thrusted his cock back in with a drawn out whimper. Taking your words to heart as he started sloppily thrusting in and out of your hand- the angle looked like he was fucking you- but his twitching thighs beside your hips made it seem like he was riding you.

“There you go~” you smiled, feeling the harsh jolts of his thrusts shake the bed, Choso’s lungs unwillingly let out heaves littered with whines- his hips rolling into your hand as you watched him with prying eyes. Squeezing your fist when his cockhead would breach the rim of your fingers.

He tried keeping his spine straight, he tried to not let his posture falter. But his knees couldn't keep holding him up- causing his hands to fall on either side of you. Face to face, chest to chest and keeping his sloppy thrusts in and out of your hand as you watched the faltering stripe on his nose start to drip slowly down his rosy cheeks.

Choso’s blushed chest was searing against yours, his sensitive nipples dragging up and down against your bare chest from his rigorous thrusts.

“You're so pretty-” you whispered against Choso’s lips, brushing against each other as he huffed in every breath you exhaled. His thrusts were borderline rabid- almost like he was trying to finish before you could pull your hand away again.

Trailing your hand up the side of his hip, parting your lips as you watched the dark red tears fall from his stripe. Your hand held onto the side of his ass, gripping lightly as he fluttered his eyes closed and pressed his parted lips to yours.

The kiss he instigated was messy- mostly teeth and imprecise movements from his tongue as his moans vibrated against your lips. Your hand was caged between your tummy and his clenching abs that signaled he was close.

He trailed a hand from the sheets up to the side of your face, pulling his lips from you as his striped nose bumped against yours.

Your lips were brushing against his with every jolt from his thrusts, his half lidded eyes staring into yours. “S-so fucking good for me.” you stuttered through clenched teeth- words spoken into the warm air that hung between your lips and his.

Almost as though he was trying to suck your soul directly from your lungs- he gasped deeply, his hips stuttering their thrusts into your fist as he tried warning, ‘M’cumm-cumming- im cummi-’ into the air between your lips, forcing his half lidded eyes to stay open as his balls clenched in the lacy panties-

With one guttural moan, his cock oozed out warm hard earned white streamers onto your torso. Fucking your clenched fist sloppily, Choso’s spasming hips struggled to bring himself down from the well won orgasm.

You pressed a kiss onto his parted lips, slowly working your fist up and down his shaft in attrition as he muttered a curse. Your hand on the swell of his bottom wandering up to the little dimples of his back rubbing softly to soothe him as your palm threatened to overstimulate him. But the little hic’s from his blushed lips made that mean urge melt along with the violent trembles from his back.

His forehead pressed against yours as you assisted him in the comedown, breathing in the same air as his hips twitched in your grasp. His eyes threatened to blink shut from how your hand felt as you stroked him tenderly.

Slowly, Choso’s cock softened in your hand, pressing a sloppy opened mouth kiss to the corner of your lips. Raising himself ever so slightly onto his forearms, easing his head onto your chest as his mess spread on his own stomach, just fucked out enough to not even bother in getting a wet towel.

Basking in the afterglow as his eyes threatened to stay closed. Still breathing heavily as you placed your clean hand onto the back of his head, tangling in his black hair and scratching your nails lightly on his scalp as his eyelashes bat against your chest, small spasms rattling in his shoulders.

Choso sighed softly, “They don't make lingerie for men, do they?” he asked with a breathy tone, your laugh rumbled against the side of his cheek from the question. You pressed a small kiss to the top of his head, “I'm sure they do- but you look prettier in pink.” you hummed as he gave a small grunt against your skin from the compliment.

Knowing you were biased since that was the only kind of lingerie you've seen on him. But certainly not the last.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

this is what my dreams are made of. truly. strong men in pink frilly lingerie. nobody asked for it but alr plotting a prequel of reader showing him lingerie (them in it) where Choso ISNT a sub??? what?? me writing non sub Choso???? the world has flipped upside down

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ladykailitha · 3 months

Text

Love is Kind

All of the stories I was reading today were sad Steve and it made me cry so I wrote happy Steve to make me feel better.

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

***

Jeana looked down at the purple water lilies in Steve's hand in distaste.

"Water lilies?" she asked, frowning. "Not red roses?"

Steve looked at her in confusion. "Yeah, your favorite flower in your favorite color."

"Yeah," she agreed, reluctantly taking the flowers. "But red roses are more romantic for Valentine's Day."

Steve went from wilting in disappointment to her reaction, to standing up straight with a spine of steel. "Oh I get it now." He took bouquet back from her forcefully. "Yeah, we're done."

Jeana's eyes went wide. "You're breaking up with me on Valentine's Day over a bunch of flowers?"

"No, Jeana," he said coldly. "We're done because you didn't tell me you wanted red roses. I assumed that the cheaper more personal water lilies would be the perfect thing for Valentine's Day."

Jeana winced.

"Ohhh..." Steve said, "I get it now. You wanted the Harrington money." He rubbed his fingers together. "Despite the fact that I work at a book store. That I told you when we first started going out that I had been kicked out."

Jeana rolled her eyes. "You still wore nice clothes and had fancy hair products in your bathroom, like I was supposed to believe that obvious lie?"

"I save for those!" Steve hissed. "I can't use anything else for my hair, I've tried. And yeah, so sue me for buying something nice once in a while."

She peeked around him to see the table was set with romantic candles and another bouquet of water lilies. "You weren't even going to take me out to eat?"

Steve tossed the flowers on the counter behind him. "Why else would I have you come here instead of picking you up?"

Jeana threw her arms in the air. "I thought you were supposed to be this Romeo, this Casanova."

Steve's nostrils flared. "Out!"

She stomped her foot and crossed her arms. "I'm not going anywhere until we talk this through!"

"There is nothing to talk about," Steve said, spinning her around and pushing her toward the door. "You were expecting me to shell out a shit ton of money on you, money you thought I was hiding from you. It's clear you were never interested in me, only the money and prestige the Harrington name brought you."

He opened the door and shoved her through it. "Goodbye."

He slammed the door behind her and gripped his hair tightly. Not enough to pull but just enough to feel pain at pressure of his tugging.

Now he had dinner that was about to be ready in ten minutes, no girlfriend, and a dessert he had slaved over all day.

He needed to call someone to share this with. Robin was doing Valentine's with Vickie so she was out.

Then his eyes lit up. He knew exactly who to call.

He walked over to the phone and dialed.

"Hello, Munson's Funeral Parlor, you tag 'em, we bag 'em," the warm baritone came through the line.

"Eddie!" Steve said with a giggle.

"Stevie!" Eddie greeted back. "To what to I owe this pleasure?"

"How goes your anti-consumerism night in?" Steve asked, avoiding Eddie's question.

"Eh..." Eddie said. "Could be better. I'm watching violent movies to make myself feel less lonely."

Steve chewed on his bottom lip. "I have a warm lasagna, fresh breadsticks, and a nice bottle of wine and suddenly sans a girlfriend if you wanted to have some company."

"What happened with Jeana?" Eddie asked.

Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "She didn't want me, she wanted the Harrington money, the King Steve charm, and a Casanova, not Steve Harrington who works at a queer little book shop in the middle of town."

"Well, fuck her," Eddie said. "Her loss. You bet I'll be there, sweetheart. Just give me time to put on my shoes and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Eds."

Steve opened the door a few minutes later to find that Eddie somehow had found sunflowers in the middle of fucking winter.

“Where are on earth did you find these, Eds?” Steve asked, breathing in the scent of his favorite flower.

Eddie tapped his nose knowingly. He spotted the water lilies in the vase on the table and dumped them in the trash. He replaced them with Steve’s sunflowers.

“There, that livens up the place better,” he said, turning to Steve, “don’cha think?”

Steve smiled back at him. “Yeah it really does.”

He went and made up their plates as Eddie opened the wine. He set them down on the table while Eddie filled their glasses. Steve trotted back to the kitchen and pulled out the breadsticks that were warming in the oven. He put them in a nice basket a covered them with a towel. He set them on the table between Eddie and him.

“This looks fantastic, Stevie,” Eddie murmured and dug into the lasagna. “Ooh. This is better than fantastic. This is divine.”

Steve hurried to take a sip of his wine to hide the flush of pleasure at the compliment that dusted his cheeks. And judging from the smirk on Eddie’s face, he hadn’t been successful at all.

“So what were you watching before I interrupted you?” he asked, blush still staining his cheeks.

“Chinatown.”

Steve grimaces. “That is pretty violent. A little depressing too.”

Eddie shrugged, stabbing another bite of lasagna. “Was kind of the point. Didn’t want anything happy or romantic today.”

Steve picked up his glass and held up to Eddie. “I’ll drink to that.”

Eddie laughed, but clinked their glasses together and drank when Steve did.

They polished off all of the breadsticks, all of the wine, and about half of the lasagna. Steve put the leftovers in the fridge.

“You want a soda or something?” he called from the door of the fridge.

“I’ll take a beer if you have one,” Eddie called back from the sofa.

Steve grabbed two beers and handed one of the cans to Eddie.

“I thought you preferred bottles, babe,” Eddie said, popping open the can.

“I do,” Steve muttered darkly. “They were Jeana’s.”

Eddie cackled. “Here’s to stealing your ex’s shitty beer!”

Steve laughed too. “Cheers!”

Eddie went over to Steve’s record player and put on some Metallica he’d left over here and then flopped back on the sofa next to Steve.

“Thanks for coming over,” Steve murmured over the screaming riffs of Master of Puppets. “Rob is over at Vickie’s tonight and didn’t want to ruin her Valentine’s day, too.”

Eddie smiled softly. “And since I refuse to participate in the rampant consumerism of the day, there would be nothing for you to ruin.”

Steve chuckled. “That and you’re my best friend. I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d want to spend it with.”

This time it was Eddie’s turn to blush and he shoved a lock of hair in front of his face to hide the redness of his cheeks. He pushed playfully at Steve’s shoulder. “Fuck off. I’m sure there are lots of people you could have called that would have come running.”

“Rob was first pick,” Steve said, “you were second. I mean it, Eds. I wanted to share everything I’d done for her with you instead.”

Eddie’s blush reached his ears and stained the column of his throat. “You keep that shit up and this boy is going to start thinking impure thoughts.”

Steve blinked for a moment before he laughed. It wasn’t a harsh or hurtful laugh. It was bright and cheerful. “You put out on the first date, Eds?”

Eddie who was starting to think he’d taken it a step too far, stared up at Steve in amazement. He got his wits back fast enough to quip, “Only if they’re pretty enough.”

Steve ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck trying to hide his embarrassment. Well maybe that was the wrong word. Charmed. He was fucking charmed.

“You think I’m pretty?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie raised Steve’s chin with his finger. “The prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, Stevie.”

Steve gulped. “And if I told you that I’ve had the biggest crush on you for so long?”

“Then I would ask why we aren’t dating, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured, leaning in close.

Steve let out a shuddering sigh. “Because I didn’t think I was an option for you.”

Eddie half knelt on the sofa, cupping his face in his hands. “You are my number one option, honey. Just say the word and I’m yours.”

“Mine.”

Eddie grinned and then kissed Steve gently on the lips. He pulled back after a moment. “This isn’t just because you’re lonely on Valentine’s Day, right?”

Steve pulled Eddie onto his lap and brushed their noses together. “No, baby. She was only ever a placeholder for you. And a piss poor one at that. She never loved me for me. Not like you.”

Eddie chuckled. “And what makes you think I love you, pretty boy?”

“Because you knew I would be sad and brought me sunflowers.”

Eddie kissed Steve fiercely. “You are too clever for your own good, honey. Yes, that is exactly why I brought them. Because I didn’t want you to be sad. Because I wanted you to feel loved.”

“And I do,” Steve murmured. “I love you, too. So so much.”

“Good.”

They resumed kissing. It was darker. Deeper. More potent. Eddie could write songs and poems and books filled with the love he felt for this man and finding out that he felt the same.

All the bookstores and libraries in all the world couldn’t begin to fill the amount of pages Eddie would need to even try and convey how he felt in that moment.

But it could be summed up in one word.

Ecstasy.

Just pure ecstasy.

Robin wasn’t sure if it could be called a walk of shame when she had told Steve that she would be spending the night at Vickie’s, but walking into their shared apartment after the wild sex they had had last night she did feel a little silly.

She stopped short when she saw who was in her kitchen making breakfast in Steve’s track pants.

“Eddie?” she squeaked.

Eddie looked up at her with a grin. “Welcome home, Bucksters! If you haven’t eaten yet, pull up a chair and grab a stack of pancakes. I’ve made plenty.”

“You’re not Jeana,” Robin said stupidly.

“Nope.”

“Steve would never cheat,” she said, again trying to figure this out.

“Nope.”

“You two are a couple now?” Robin asked, her brain still in first gear.

“Yup!”

Just then a very sleep rumpled Steve came wandering out of his bedroom and latched on to Eddie. “I missed you.” He kissed Eddie’s neck.

Eddie kissed his temple. “Sorry, sweetness. I got hungry.”

“Mhmm..” he muttered. “Does smell good.”

“Morning, dingus.” Robin crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You want to tell what this is about?”

Steve looked over at her and gave her a dopey smile. “Jeana sucked. Only wanted the Harrington money and not me. Called Eddie over to make me less sad. He brought me sunflowers and made me very happy.”

Robin looked over at Eddie who half shrugged around a clingy Steve. “That’s the gist of it.”

“Got it,” she said. “I’m happy for you both.”

She grabbed a plate and pilled on the pancakes, with Steve releasing Eddie to do the same.

As the three of them sat down and ate Eddie’s pancakes, Steve smiled happily to himself.

He was with the two people he loved most in all the world and he wouldn’t change a thing.

***

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #valentine's fic #fluff #minor steve/female oc #breakup

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hecateslore · 2 months

Text

💌

supervisor!simon

you have now been promotedddddd 😆😆😝 i'm gonna try to push the valentines party out in a couple

“I’m very fond of these conversations.” he winks, which makes you furrow your brows.

You put your sandwich, umbrella and chips in a bag, following Simon who was half way out of the store. “You listen to us on the phone?” Simon turns his head to look at you, “It was a joke.” he says, when in actuality, he might've picked up the phone a few times. He likes to monitor, sue him!

“It’s not raining.” you frown, putting the umbrella back in the bag. Simon sits on the store's patio. “Wanna join?” He offers a seat. You think about it, you wanted to be alone and wanted to have a quiet lunch. But he’s offering you a seat, it would be rude to decline. “Sure.”

You sit and unwrap your sandwich, and Simon stares at it, “Do you always get that?” You nod. “Is it good?” he watches you eat (y’all know that one jake gyllenhaal picture.. That's Simon.). Staring at the way you hold your sandwich, how you inspect it, searching from what side you’re gonna bite next. “You stare a lot.” you comment. “It’s a habit.” he says quickly, “It’s kind of rude.” you say, “I know.” he fixes his gaze on the umbrella you threw on the floor before you sat down.

“Is that like a military thing? Johnny does it too.” You add, “Johnny stares cause he’s weird.” He snorts, “I don’t mean to, but Johnny does.” He says and grabs your bag of chips, opening it for you. You mutter a quick thank you, grabbing a chip, “So Johnny likes to stare huh?” you ask.

“It’s in his nature.” he shrugs, sitting back on the patio chair. “Does Simon like to stare?” you jokingly ask, “Simon already answered this question.” he says causing you to chuckle at his response. “You’re quick,” you point out. Simon smiles at you teasingly, “So you and Johnny are a thing now?” he questions. “Who said that?” confusion in your voice and all over your face. “Just thought,” he shrugged, “Since he’s getting a bit territorial.” You let out a small laugh at his comment. “He’s not,” you deny, “He just likes to hang out with me.”

“And we’re best friends.” Simon scoffs and you let out an even louder laugh than before, “He’s nice.” you say, calming down, “I’m sure.” SImon watches as you ball up the paper that your sandwich came in. “Johnny said you two aren’t close anymore.” You say, looking at the umbrella that sat by Simon's feet. “We aren’t.” he affirms, “so that’s what all the tension was about.” You adjust yourself.

“Nah, He only calls when he needs something.” You raise your brows at what he said. They looked like friends, sometimes even acted like it. Especially on the day Johnny started, they gave each other a big hug, they were laughing and chatting. “So there’s tension?” you ask.

“If that’s what it means to you.” Simon pulls back the sleeve of his button up, checking the time on his watch, “we should head back.” You agree, throwing the trash and grabbing your umbrella from the floor, “Man, I shouldn’t have bought this.” you hold it up, frowning at it. “It might rain later, you should keep it.” Simon grabs the Umbrella from you and proceeds to open it up to see the design, a clear umbrella with daisies and a black handle. “Cute.”

You take the umbrella from his hands, closing it and stuffing it in your side, holding it between your arm and ribcage. You both walk side by side quietly, Simon breaks the silence, “ I meant what I said on friday.”

“I know.” you sigh. “I sound like a broken record, but I really do feel bad.” Simon admits crossing his arms. You look around the strip mall, watching people walk in and out of the buildings that surround you and Simon. “I can tell,” you snort, you stop walking for a moment and stick your hand out for a shake. Simon takes it, and shakes it firmly. “Are we done with this conversation now?” you ask, “Yeah.” he smiles

You both finally get to the office, Simon now soaked. In the midst of your convo it decided to rain heavily. Knowing Simon, he refused to use the umbrella, he’s tracking water all over the office and looking damn good while doing so. His button up stuck to his skin, showing off all of his muscles. “What happened here?” Linda asks, shocked while also grateful for the view in front of her. “We got caught in the rain,” Simon says, walking carefully to the back. “He didn’t want to use my umbrella.” you shrug, “It’s too small to share.” he clarifies.

You walk past a slow stepping Simon and open the door to the back office, Johnny waiting by your desk, “Hello” you draw out making Johnny smile, “hi,” he says, “I brought something for you,’ he hands you a green folder filled with paperwork, “this is glorious.” you say taking the folder from him. “How was lunch,” he asks. “It was good, I bought-”

Your conversation is interrupted by Simon opening the door and walking through. Going to his office, “I bought an umbrella,” you finish staring at Simon's big frame heading towards his office.

“Looks like he didn’t” Johnny chuckles, “Yeah,” you say distractedly, Simon's door was left cracked open, from where you’re standing you got a clear shot of him taking his button up off and changing into his sweatshirt from this morning.

Putting your attention back on Johnny all you could think about was Simon's chest and his big arms, and his abdomen and how big he was and broad his shoulders are.

Johnny’s mouth was moving but no sound was coming out, you could’ve sworn you heard Simon call your name, and right when you turned to look at his office again, he was walking out, sending you a small smile. You look back at Johnny who was already looking at Simon. Johnny has muscles, Simon also has muscles. “I’ll be right back.” you say.

You manage to escape to the bathroom.. No wonder all the old ladies are hot for Simon.

Simon’s fucking hot.

Back at your desk you sit, sifting through the paperwork Johnny gave you earlier, you get a tap on your desk. You look up, “I forgot to tell you, we’re having a valentines party after work, if you wanna stay.” He scratches the back of his neck, “Linda’s decorating the front.” he clears his throat.

“I’ll think about it,” you shrug, giving him a polite smile, “are you going?” you ask, “I am supervisor.” you roll your eyes playfully, “Maybe.” you say and he taps your desk one more time before he goes back to his office. You sit there with a stupid grin on your face. You get a tap on your shoulder, Linda behind you with a heart headband in hand, “Are you staying?” You think for two seconds, “yeah.” she places the head band on your head, and you chuckle at the stupid heart springing back and forth.

“Nice hat.” Johnny pokes one of the hearts. “It’s a headband,” you fake swat at him, “are you staying?” you ask, “I’m thinking about it, what about you?” you point at the hearts on your head, “this wasn’t a dead give away?” he flicks a heart one more time, “Guess i’ll go.” he shrugs

You clock out and walk to the break room, headband still on, Simon stood by the microwave heating up his lunch from earlier. Hearing footsteps he turns his head around, “well one of us is gonna have to change.” you joke, the red hearts springing back and forth on his head, “So you’re staying?” he chuckles. “Yup.” you sigh, going for the vending machine. “What are you heating up?” you ask, taking note of the re-heatable container spinning, “My lunch,” He says, crossing his arm, “what are you buying?” he points to the vending machine, “Snapple.”

“Classic.” he snorts. You press the button for your drink and feed the machine your dollar, waiting for the drink to fall to the bottom. When it does you grab it and pull the table’s chair in the break room. Sitting and watching Simon stand at where the microwave was put. “You didn’t eat your lunch?” you ask, eyes on the way his muscles flex while pulling out the chair, “I was a little busy during lunch time,” he smirks, holding eye contact. “Ha,ha” you laugh sarcastically, “you should've said something, I wouldn’t have kept you.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” he says, opening the plastic pack of cutlery. Now it was your turn to stare and watch him eat. Simon didn’t eat like Johny, Johnny was a messy eater and he talks with his mouth full. Johnny does that weird thing where you drink and chew.

Not Simon, Simon covers his mouth, and he chews with his mouth closed, his head is mostly down when he eats. He’s kind of fast, not in a disruptive way where you can hear his teeth grinding, but in a; I only have a certain time to eat before I get back here or there. You can see where some of military habits show, when people are in the way of where he needs to go, he says “Move.” instead of excuse me, always says Hurry, or quickly after he asks you to do something.

the way his brows twitch a little with each chew. The way his jaw tenses and then releases, His knee sort of bounces a bit when he’s sitting. And those long eyelashes that rest slightly above his cheek.

Simon finishes his food, throwing his used cutlery and washing out his food container.

“You done staring?” He teases.

“sorry.”

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theminecraftbee · 7 months

Text

There are several things Martyn realizes, all at once, when he opens his eyes:

He is dreaming.

It's one of those in-between dreams, the ones that aren't quite dreams.

He is sitting at a green felted table. It is sitting on a stage. The lighting is dim, and no one is watching, but out of the corner of his eye he can see the stagehands dressed in black, waiting.

He is not the only one sitting at the table. There is a Watcher, draped in purple. There is a Listener, draped in yellow. There is someone he recognizes in a red sweater. There is someone he thinks he should recognize, but can't quite, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Right. What's all this, then," he mutters.

We are playing blackjack, the Listener says.

We are deciding the rules, the Watcher says.

"It's not like we have anything better to do. Honestly, I'm glad you're here. Do you know how boring these guys are?" Grian says, and Martyn decides to quietly file Grian away as a dream-Grian, as opposed to real-life-Grian, so he doesn't go insane and/or stab him when he wakes up. He waits for the almost-familiar dealer to say something. He does not. After another few moments of awkward nonsense dream-silence, Martyn sighs and leans forward on the table.

"Sure, this might as well be happening," Martyn says. "Deal me in. How's the betting work, again?"

"You put your bet on the table. If you beat the dealer, you get to add it to the game," Grian explains. "If you don't beat the dealer, it takes it."

"Yeah, but like, that's abstract, isn't it? What does that mean, exactly, me losing what I bet if I don't beat the dealer," Martyn says.

Grian shrugs. "Don't ask me. To be honest, I'm hardly the storyteller you are."

"Me? Why are you acting like I have any control over these things when you're--"

Are you ready to play?

Martyn shuts up, looks at the Listener, and sighs. "Yeah, sure, I'm ready to play. Why not."

The dealer looks to its left. Grian sighs. "Why are you making me bet first. Again. We should rotate where we're sitting--fine, fine, I know it's an advantage because I'm the worst at this. Uh. Hm. No trading or giving away lives again. Not even as time or something. It makes the dynamics all weird, and I think we could use a nice straightforward death game next time."

(Martyn wants to roll his eyes. Nice and straightforward. Sure.)

The Watcher goes next. I would like there to be deep and wonderful bonds between the players. I would like those bonds to seem unbreakable.

"Coming from you, that's ominous," Martyn says.

Can I not just miss the alliances of the early days? the Watcher says.

"Never left the desert," Grian says, rolls his eyes, and looks at Martyn in commiseration. Martyn just stares back. So sue him, he's a bit more worried about this whole concept than an eye roll and a pithy phrase. Things Watchers want are rarely good.

When the bonds are enforced, they're less interesting, complains the Listener.

Martyn looks over sharply. Hey, wait, he thought--

I didn't say they had to be enforced by rule. I said they had to be deep. Encouraged, as opposed to discouraged.

Just saying. You'll never recapture Third Life.

Martyn swallows. His throat is dry. Weren't the Listeners supposed to be the good guys, here?

Besides, what I want is for each death to be meaningful again. They've felt too meaningless, lately, the Listener continues.

Martyn thinks the dealer raises an eyebrow, but it strikes him he's not exactly sure. Grian snorts. "Meaningful deaths. That's rich for you to say. I mean, I guess they're meaningful sometimes? I don't know, Martyn's the one who understands dramatic sacrifices, I just like killing things."

"Why do you keep on looking at me when you say those things," Martyn says.

"Look, you wouldn't be here if you weren't helping write," Grian says.

"What?" Martyn says.

We're here to play our cards for the story, the Watcher says. Aren't you also one of the authors?

"Me? What? No, I'm--what are you talking about," Martyn says.

Oh, well. I also hope your meaningful deaths make it in, the Watcher says the Listener.

Thanks, even if I disagree on the bonds, the Listener says.

"They hardly ever talk about real, concrete rules they want," complains Grian. "It's easier to understand the consequence if they bring up actual rules. Like boogeyman or no boogeyman."

"We're all just betting on cards!" Martyn says, throwing his hands up. "You're giving me a headache!"

It's your bet.

"Fine!" Martyn says. "Fine! You know what? Screw all of you. I hope this is the last one. I hope we never have to go back to that stupid death game. I hope it's miserable to watch or to listen to or to play and everyone just gives up. How's that for a bet?"

You're no fun.

Is that what you really want?

"Suit yourself," Grian says. "Honestly, if I still had that to bet, I guess I probably would."

"What do you mean, if you still had that to bet?"

"Well, I mean, that's not how blackjack works, is it? I don't just get back my in when I play it."

The dealer nods, and then silently, with a long bony hand, deals the cards.

Grian is dealt the four of diamonds. The Watcher is dealt the nine of spades. The Listener is dealt the five of clubs. Martyn is dealt a jack of spades. The dealer deals itself a seven of hearts. The dealer deals Grian a six of clubs--

"Hey, isn't that supposed to be face-down?" Martyn asks.

"Not here," Grian explains. "They're all face up so we can't touch the cards. So we don't have to. So we can't cheat."

"Who said anything about cheating?" Martyn says.

"Please," Grian says.

The dealer makes a hand motion. Martyn, grumpily, falls silent. He supposes they're playing by casino rules, then. He hasn't been in a casino since--he wouldn't know. Hard to remember anything that isn't this, isn't it? Isn't killing and dying and things out of his control and things very much in his control and, apparently, bizarre dream sequences designed to make him want to strangle Grian.

Anyway. Grian is dealt a six of clubs, giving him ten. The Watcher is given an eight of spades, giving it seventeen. The Listener is dealt a king of hearts, giving it fifteen. Martyn is given a six of clubs, giving him sixteen. The dealer deals its own second card face-down. Martyn stops to try to speak, and then shuts his mouth. Right. Dealer's advantage.

He stares at the numbers.

Grian sighs. "Well, I've got to double down, don't I? Fine. I want the whole 'red lives can kill' thing to be enforced somehow. I don't care how. There's my double down."

The dealer nods.

"Why would you want that," Martyn says blankly.

If we all win, that will be interesting with the bonds, the Watcher says mildly.

Grian shrugs. "I mean, we've enforced red names not befriending green names, but not the murder thing before. Figure we should switch up the game, right?"

"Why?" Martyn says again.

Well, it wouldn't do for it to be boring.

"No, not that. Just... isn't it easier to handle when the rules are laid out properly?"

Martyn throws his hands up, but stops arguing. The dealer gives Grian a face-down card. The dealer moves to the next party at the table.

The Watcher looks over at the dealer and makes a cutting-off motion. I stand.

The dealer moves on. Hit me, the Listener says, and is dealt the queen of diamonds. The Listener gestures to Martyn. It seems I bust. Pity. I suppose there will be no guarantee of meaning, then. Not what I'd prefer.

The dealer looks at Martyn. Martyn looks at the other hands. Martyn pauses.

"Wait, this is like, casino blackjack, yeah? I'm only playing against you, not the whole table?"

"Why would you be playing against us?" Grian says. "Writing's a collaborative process."

Martyn looks entreatingly at the Listener, but the Listener is a little too caught up in the bad hand it has been dealt. Martyn looks entreatingly at the Watcher, but the Watcher just looks somehow confused.

"I was under the impression that, I don't know, you all were adversarial."

Why? All we want is the same thing as you: the story to be told a certain way.

Martyn's not sure if he's furious or just numb.

"Fine. Got a sixteen, don't I? Hit me."

Two of spades.

He's furious. He wants to win against the dealer. He wants to win against everyone. He wants his idea to make it through. He has an eighteen, though. There are only two numbers in the deck that will not bust him, and he's no fool. Hitting on sixteen is a risk enough; if he wants his stupid bet of everything finally ending to make it through, he's got to hold here.

"I hold," he says through gritted teeth.

The dealer silently deals itself another card. A three of hearts. Distantly, Martyn's ears rush. He could have taken that. He could have taken the hit. He could have won. He could have had blackjack, and he doesn't know what the extra payout for blackjack even means in a game like this one, but he could have had it, and he held back, he didn't take the risk, he didn't--

The dealer flips up its cards. Seven, eight, three. Eighteen.

Martyn's heart pounds. A stand-off.

Grian flips up his own card and groans. It's a five of diamonds. "There goes that bet," he mutters.

The dealer makes a sweeping motion around the table. The Watcher smiles, a terrible, terrible thing. Martyn, all at once, realizes that he can't ask again. He can't say 'this is guaranteed to be the last one' again. He backs out of his chair. To the sides, he sees the stagehands change the lighting. A spotlight, on him and the dealer--

"That isn't fair," he says. "It's a tie. I should get my bet back, right? It's a tie!"

THAT IS WHERE WE DIFFER FROM THE HOUSES IN VEGAS, the dealer says, and Martyn's heart stops.

(The voice is familiar. Familiar, but he cannot place it.)

YOU SEE, IN THIS GAME, THERE IS ALWAYS ONE THING THAT HAS AN ADVANTAGE. ONE THING THE STORY IS ALWAYS PLAYING AGAINST. ONE THING, THAT INEVITABLY, AFTER LONG ENOUGH PLAYING, WILL WIN.

There, the dealer looks Martyn in the eyes, and Martyn, all at once, knows exactly what the dealer must be.

AND THAT IS ME.

Martyn stares Death in the eyes.

Then, in a cold sweat, Martyn wakes up.

He does not sleep again for a long time.

#trafficblr #martyn inthelittlewood #grian #the watchers #the listeners #a bee fic #this is me getting ALL OF MY MOST PRETENTIOUS URGES OUT before i go write more giftfic #literally all my most favoritest pretentious tropes. death personified. weird audience/writer avatar watchers and listeners. cards.#the series abstracted as a stage show. martyn being tired and confused.#really really ominous portents of the next game that hasn't actually happened yet #this is what self-indulgence looks like. if you're me.#there could not be. a more me fic.#anyway. ANYWAY. martyn doesn't understand why he's here. but why WOULDN'T he be here?#out of everyone in the series he's one of the ones who shapes the narrative the most after all

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juuuulez · 17 days

Text

📋 | carmen berzatto nsfw alphabet.

don’t ask what possessed me today. it was definitely all the weed.

soo much nsfw under the cut….this is just paragraphs of porn.

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act):

whatever ur carmy kink headcanons are i think we all agree that he’s really sweet afterwards :( he might suddenly get nervous or anxious and overthink everything you’ve done (“are you sure you’re alright?” “i know, i know, baby ‘m just.. i wanna take care of you, yeah?”) and you’ll have to assure him it’s okay! you loved it, he was perfect, he didn’t hurt you. he just wants some reassurance and then he’ll be finding you some water, a snack, whatever you need! (“just crackers? ‘cus i’ve got this new recipe, it’s a soup, i can make it—“ “nobody wants soup after sex, carm.”)

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers):

carmy doesn’t like many things about himself, initially.. until you’re quick to vocalise exactly how amazing he is. immediately, carmy is enamoured with just what he can do with his hands. his palm covering the entirety of your neck when you kiss, or how his fingers looked splayed over your hip. and fuck, his fingers! they’re really thick, and carmen secretly gets off on the fact that your fingers are so much smaller, so even alone, you’ll never be able to finger yourself as good, never be able to reach those spots that carmy touched with ease.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it):

let’s be so honest carmen berzatto marking kink is so real. it starts out as a practicality, pulling out to spill over your thighs, sticky white liquid that clung to your curves, and carmy found himself growing more aroused the longer he stared at it. now, even if you’re on the pill, carmy will pull out for the sole purpose of pumping his cum wherever he can, a physical reminder of what’s his, because despite all his flaws, you belong to him.

however, assuming carmy can hold back cumming well enough for this is bold, so it usually ends in covering your already sticky cunt and lower stomach in it.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory):

he jerked off with your panties once. it was near the start of your relationship, and carmen was so busy with the re-brand, he barely got to see you. so, one of the rare days he was over, he’d done some laundry for the both of you. and found some pink lace panties. and kept them. and, those nights he’d come home late and exhausted and slightly miserable, unable to call you for you were at home fast asleep, carmen.. used them to jerk off! sue him! he felt so guilty about it (poor baby) and admitted to it after a couple months of dating. he seemed so ashamed that you couldn’t help but go easy on the punishment… tying him to the bed and getting him off by only grinding over his swollen cock, wearing those same pink lace panties.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing):

of course he doesn’t. not properly, at least. carmy’s never had girlfriends, and maybe had a hook-up or two at fancy chef events in New York or Paris or wherever. nothing that mattered, at least. so this time, he’s careful and attentive. asking questions like he’s studying for a test, watching every single movement, every reaction. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking notes.

F= Favorite position:

ooof carmen definitely wants to see your face. he likes holding it in his big palms, whispering sweet words over your lips and swallowing your moans (“c’mon sweetheart, you can do it.. just one more for me, huh? fuck— your cunt fuckin’ wants it yeah? that’s it..”). probably missionary mostly, maybe he fucks you from behind one early-morning, his forehead pressed to your neck while the sun seeps in through the blinds.

G= Goofy (how serious are they):

not exactly serious, but he definitely gets into the zone. for him, sex isn’t casual, and it’s a time that means a lot to him. he’s choosing to be vulnerable for someone, and in turn, feels special that he’s allowed to see you like this. carmen can loose himself in the moment, his mind going uncharacteristically blank, too focused on the pure sensation and emotion connected with it. despite this, carmy can always be found gently tapping your cheek, pushing through the haze to ask “you with me, baby? feel good?”, because his pleasure only comes when you’re still into it.

H= Hair (grooming habits):

carmen doesn’t particularly allocate time to grooming down there, it’s not really a priority, unless his partner explicitly made it clear to him that was of interest. however, i don’t think carmy has the thickest of hair, just dark little curls in all the normal places. idk guys just thinking about shirtless lip…..he’s a pretty smooth guy.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty):

definitely depends. i wanna say a mix of both? when you’re into it carmen is so lovely, making sure to express how much he loves you, how much you mean to him. but private time doesn’t come around very often, so it’s usually instigated with a needy carmen coming home, exhausted from a long shift, his hands gripping at your waist before the words come out. his actions aren’t demanding at all, still gentle, but hurried and desperate to get inside your cunt.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often):

carmy is so a shower jerk person. i know guys i just know. he doesn’t like making a mess anywhere else, because it’s just an inconvenience, and cleaning the sheets or another shirt is just another useless task he doesn’t have time for. it’s rare he begins with the intention of jerking off, either. the hot shower melts away a day of tension, and carmen finds himself finally relaxing, finally tuning into his body, only to realise how much he needs this.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual):

we’ve already established the marking kink… and now listen 😝 i am a sub carmy truther guys! i can’t help it he’s so baby i need him to cry for me ;( but carmy definitely likes being bossed around, being told what to do, when he gets to cum.. it’s a change from being in control of literally everything, which most of the time carmen feels all he does falls apart, so he enjoys not having to think (which usually means second-guess and reconsider and debate and obsess).

L= Location (where they like to get it on):

every single carmen office quickie fic is SO SO SO SO SO SEXY they always have me foaming and barking like a rabid animal….however i’m gonna have to say his or your bed! he likes the idea of you being comfortable..bonus points for you guys probably fucking more often on the couch, since needy carmen can’t wait long enough to split you open :(

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons):

there are a variety of ways to get carmen in the mood, but his #1 is a confident partner who takes what they want. imagine carmy obsessing over the new menu, spending endless hours in the living room, papers and recipes and notes scattered over the table. you’ve barely gotten any attention all night, not necessarily in a needy way, just that this was supposed to be your night off together. the solution is actually quite easy: climbing onto the table, obscuring carmen’s vision of his work. before a protest can leave his lips, brows furrowed in confusion and slight distress, your hands are firmly pressing down on his shoulders. “you’re gonna eat me out, yeah? like you promised?” and he is DOWN on his knees, mind fucking short-circuiting, because suddenly there is nothing he’d rather do.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do):

carmen really doesn’t like seriously hurting you, so no intense spanking or choking. however i really love choking 🙄🙄 so i think he’d wrap his hand around your neck, his finger rubbing the hinge of your jaw, his warm palm a gentle assurance of the power he has without fully exercising it.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are):

pussy eating champ…carmen genuinely gets off on being able to make you feel good. his strong arms bracketing your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, holding you to his mouth while his tongue fucks deep. carmy can’t help but rut against the mattress, hips hastily thrusting in tune to your moans, the swollen head of his dick rubbing against the sheets. “please, baby, please.. c’mon, just a little longer, please— i need it so fuckin’ bad.” he’ll cry into your cunt after your first orgasm, needing to eat your sopping pussy in order to cum.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed):

soft, grinding rolls of his hips against yours, holding your cunt against the base of his cock, letting your clit rub against his skin. carmen takes it slow, making sure to hit the spongy place right up inside you, the one that makes you cry and squirm.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard):

carmen prefers to take his time with it, but more often you find yourself hurriedly making love on the couch, bench, shower, maybe even his car. clothes scattered around the room, a bra on the chair, carmen’s boxers under the coffee table. he’ll take you wherever he can, whenever the time finally allows it, and he makes it deep and fast.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things):

anything you want, he’ll hear you out. carmen loves to learn, he wants to know everything that makes you tick, and will willingly absorb anything you have to teach. that’s not to say he isn’t nervous, as he finds himself always double-checking you’re still alright, asking if it still feels good.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts):

definitely a multiple rounds kinda guy. he can’t help it! the sight of you laying there, stripes of cum over your stomach and shiny slick on your thighs, carmen finds himself hard all over again. expect a round two, maybe three from him, and even then he’ll probably eat you out again.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers):

carmen doesn’t see the use for sex toys, since he’d much prefer to be the one providing you pleasure. definitely not fully opposed, though, he’ll fuck you long and slow with a vibrator on nights where he just wants to watch and study you.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves):

i 🩷 edging so carmen 🩷’s edging! carmy puts on this needy desperate front (“please, fuck, i need’a cum, ‘m not kidding.”) but there is NOTHING alike to carmy’s mind going completely blank after denying his third orgasm in a row, his cock swollen and throbbing with each pass of your hand, only for you to finally give him permission (“cum for me, carmy, i’ve got you.”)

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk):

think about the lowest, guttural moans you’ve ever heard. as carmen gets closer, they taper off into higher whines, soft whispers into your skin about how much he wants this.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort):

now, carmen does not take disrespect in the kitchen, and clearly doesn’t tolerate people talking back. but you? there’s a certain fire in his stomach, when you glare at him over the pass, or don’t back up whenever he gets into your personal space. if you stand your ground, firm and sure about whatever you’re doing, carmen feels himself fostering a growing mixture of respect and arousal.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants):

i just KNOW carmen is thick…the stretch seems impossible every time, his cock filling up every inch inside your hot cunt, while carmen whispers that it’s going to be alright, that you can take it.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level):

higher than carmen has time for. hence the jerking off in the shower, and fucking you on the couch. he’ll take anything that he can get, for he knows time isn’t on his side.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after):

carmy will ask you a hundred questions about how you’re feeling, if you need anything, what he can do, before finally settling in beside you. sometimes he’ll lay there for a few minutes, before dragging himself up, uttering some excuse about needing to revise the new menu. you’ll fuss, try and pull him back down, and he’ll fold almost instantly.

#the bear fx #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #the bear smut

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writerswall26 · 2 months

Text

My Sweet Cairo (Part 3)

Synopsis: The Ravens' Soccer team Captain fell in love for Cairo Sweet

Warning: Slight cursing, Student-Teacher relations, Anger rage. Other than that, none that I know of (but feel free to correct me)

Words: 2.2k

Masterlist | Previous Part| Next Part

A/N: Some small fluff before the start of it all. Also, I apologize to all the football (yes! I call it football, they use their foot! Sue me! But for the sake of the story, I'll call it soccer.) enthusiast out there that knows their thing. Happy Reading!

Y/N was on her way home on friday when she noticed a car on Cairo's driveway. She did not expect Cairo's parents to be home. She slowed down for a couple of moments only to be greeted by Mr. Miller walking out of Cairo's front door, looking horrified and dishevelled and wet.

There was stinging in her eyes as she watched their literature teacher run to his car and drive off without looking back. She watched him until he was out of sight before she let the tears fall. The anger inside her bubbling once again. She rode her bike, went home and slammed her bedroom door shut. Her mum's at the hospital right now, she's on call.

The next thing she knows, she's throwing everything that she got her hands on, punching a hole in the wall every chance she gets. Flash backs coming to her. She despises them. Students like them, like Cairo.

"Fuck you!" She shouted, throwing a lamp on the wall. "Fuck all of you!" She shouted before her sobs were heard. Her body slumping on her closet door as she cried. Her body was shaking. She couldn't take it.

The flashback of herself running to her parents' bedroom when she heard the gunshot, the red colour flowing down the floor, and the sight of her father's unmoving body, a bullet hole in his head as the gun's dropped on the floor. All of it, coming back to her like a tidal wave, taking her down with it and not letting her breathe even for a second. Then she was out cold.

When she woke up, her room was already tidied up, no more shattered glasses on the floor, the holes on the wall were still there, her hand bandaged up gently. She groaned as she pushed herself up, looking around her room. It was like the scene from last night did not happen. The only evidence of it were the holes.

When she got down to get herself lunch, which she did not notice, she found her mother already preparing the table. Y/M/N gave her daughter a smile as she patted the empty spot beside her.

"I was going to wake you up in a bit. Big night tonight." Y/M/N said, not mentioning or asking what the hell happened last night. She knows better.

"What time did you come in last night?" Y/N asked her mother who turned to her with a smile.

"Just a little over midnight. I was gonna check in on you but you were passed out cold on the floor so I dragged your heavy ass on your bed. Rough day yesterday?" Y/M/N said, not wanting to ask questions. She wants to let her daughter feel free to tell her things.

Y/N nodded. "It was, yeah. Or maybe the championship game is getting ahead of me. Thanks for patching my hand, cleaning my room, and dragging my huge ass on my bed." She smiled.

Y/M/N chuckled as they started to eat. "Are you ready for tonight's game? You know I'm still extremely proud of you even if you sit this down, right?" She assured.

"Nah, I can't. I want to win this game and whack Mr. Miller with the championship cup, together with my MVP trophy." She joked, hypothetically.

"Ooff, that's a bit aggressive." Y/M/N said, making Y/N laugh.

"We have a bet going on. I don't want to lose to a one time book publishing writer." Y/N said, there was something in her voice that Y/M/N can't quite pinpoint on, but she did not push it.

"I'll see you at school, mum." Y/N bid her mum goodbye a couple of hours after lunch to go get ready for the championship game.

"Good luck, sweetheart." Y/M/N told her daughter and gave her a kiss on the cheek before she let Y/N go.

When Y/N got to the locker room, everyone was already there, preparing.

"Where have you been, man? And what happened to your hand?" Jasmine was the first to find her.

Y/N just smiled before she put her duffel bag down, got her clothes and shoes out and went to go change. They didn't have enough time to speak as it was about to start in a few minutes. After Y/N changed, she removed the bandage in her hand with a wince, seeing the wounds but paying no mind as coach Fillmore clapped his hands to get their attention.

He did his usual motivational speech but this time, a bit aggressive and rough. Then they all turned to Y/N who was not in her usual smiling face.

"The Sharks were the hardest bunch to defeat in the rosters this year. But we already did that. However, we don't want to be complacent. The timberwolves were a menace last season, we managed to beat them but this is different. They're gonna be rough and dirty. So I suggest, if you must, join them at their game." She said, aggression and venom in her voice.

Everyone was quiet after that. They know she was not here to play and she's gonna do whatever means necessary to win that cup. Coach noticed the tense atmosphere so he clapped his hands and got their attention.

"Alright! Let's get out there and get this cup! Go, Ravens!" He shouted, guiding his team out the lockers to the dugout.

Y/N was front in line as they waited for their team name to be called. The usual starter went on with the national anthem and rules laid down from the refs.

"You sure you're down to play?" Coach Fillmore asked when he got a few moments with Y/N before the game started.

"Yes, sir." Y/N said, looking at the fields to focus herself.

"Y/N." He called out which got her to look at him. He was worried, she can see that. Her body is whacked and he's not sure if she's really ready for this game emotionally.

"I can do this. I can play." She assured them with a burning desire to win in her eyes. The coach nodded, not knowing what to say or do so he let her.

As soon as they got on the field, Y/N was aggressive. She was soloing the fields left and right, kicking the ball to the post whenever she could but nothing was going in. She was getting frustrated when the last 5 minutes of the first half came so she did what she knew in the moment, slamming bodies and aggressive goal kicking.

She heard a whistle blowing and then a yellow card on her face by the time the first half was over.

Y/N slammed the door of the locker room as soon as she got inside, then Jasmine lunged at her, screaming at her.

"What the fuck were you thinking?! What was that?!" Jasmine keeps berating her while their teammates are pulling Jasmine off her.

"Y/L/N! What was that?!" Coach Fillmore followed as Y/N fixed herself. "Get your ass out of here and take a breather before I pull you out of the game all together!"

Y/N picked up her water bottle and stormed out of the locker room. She was pacing back and forth on the dark dugout before throwing her water bottle on the wall.

"Y/N!" Someone called out, a voice she knew all too well.

"Cairo, get away from me, I swear to God." Y/N angrily said, facing the shorter girl as she breathes heavily.

Cairo stared at her for a moment before walking towards her but she stepped back.

"Leave, now!" She shouted, making Cairo flinched, but she made no attempt to leave.

"What is happening to you? You're throwing away your game, your championship. You literally tackled a player out there." Cairo said, a certain sweetness in her voice that made Y/N's knees buckle but she stood firm.

"What the fuck do you care?" Y/N asked aggressively. "Why are you even here?!"

"Because I care for you, I want you to win this game." Cairo said, slowly walking towards her, wanting their distance to close in so she could hold Y/N but the taller girl kept walking back.

"I saw you." Y/N said, staring at Cairo to see her reaction. "At Vanderbilt. With Mr. Miller. That's why you rejected my invite right? Because you were with Mr. Miller?"

Cairo's brows furrowed for a bit, Y/N almost saw her panic before Cairo smiled and walked towards her, holding a hand on her chest.

"Is that why you've been acting all weird lately? Because you saw me with Mr. Miller?" Cairo asked, her voice laced with amusement. "He's helping me with my essay, Y/N. It was nothing."

Y/N shook her head, not believing what she's hearing but Cairo held her cheek, pulling her face so she could look at the brunette in front of her. Cairo's smile never left her face as she caressed Y/N's face gently. Calming the taller girl.

"Are you jealous?" She asked, amused.

Y/N rolled her eyes and looked away again but Cairo pulled her face back so she could look at her.

"You're really jealous." Cairo let out a giggle before she pulled Y/N's face and gave her a long sweet kiss.

When Cairo pulled away, there was still the sweet smile, her forehead on Y/N's forehead.

"Y/N, I like you. I know I should've told you this earlier." She said.

"Then what was Mr. Miller doing at your house? Last friday. I saw him walk out of your front door looking bothered and disoriented." She asked, pulling herself away.

Cairo gave her a look. "There was a small mishap that happened, he accidentally grabbed my phone so he went to my place to give it back. He was supposed to be on a weekend getaway with his wife when she called it off because there was something wrong, I don't know."

Y/N stared at Cairo for a long time, reading her, seeing a semblance of a lie, but nothing. Then she sighed, walking over to Cairo and leaning her head on the shorter girl's shoulder. Cairo's hand was immediately at the back of her head, playing with her hair, soothing her.

"I cannot believe I got jealous over nothing." Y/N groaned before she pulled her head back to look at Cairo who's already giggling.

"Maybe next time before you go all hulk on everyone, try to ask me first."

"Yeah, I'll do that." Y/N said before she leaned forward to capture Cairo's lips for the last time.

When she pulled back, there was already a smile on her face. All the anger and resentment bubbling down with everything that Cairo said. She's finally at peace.

"Now, go back there. Apologize to your team and to coach Fillmore. Apologize to that player you tackled. And go win this damn championship." Cairo told her sweetly. Y/N nodded before she straightened up.

"See you after I win this game." Y/N said and went back to the locker room. When she got there, the team was already waiting for her, 2 minutes before the second half started.

"I'm sorry. My head is in shambles, I was a mess. But I promise, I am all calmed and ready to play nice." She told them.

Her team looked at each other before Jasmine stood up and walked to her. Jasmine smiled, holding a hand.

"Let's get this championship done." Jasmine said. Y/N took her hand before the locker room erupted in cheers and hype.

"Alright!" Coach shut them up. "We're gonna play nice, play fair, and we're gonna score. Ready?"

"Yes, sir!" Everyone shouted before they were out of the locker room and into the fields.

Y/N walked to the player she tackled and apologized. The player was pissed to say the least but she accepted Y/N apology and playfully taunted her. The game went smoothly with no aggressiveness.

"Y/L/N ran the fields, dodging 2 players at a time, the ball steady in her feet, she sidestepped and GOAL!" The commentator said, watching in anticipation as the Ravens scored their winning goal for the championship.

The stands erupted in cheers and whistles. The ravens tackled Y/N with a hug, throwing her on their shoulder and chanting her name. It was a wonderful game for both teams despite the earlier play.

Y/N held the championship trophy up, looking up at the sky with teary eyes.

"For you, dad." She muttered before she was let down to celebrate.

The first person Y/N looked for was her mum, who was patiently waiting on the side, tears in her eyes, her hands held together. Y/N ran to her mum and gave her a tight hug.

"I'm so so proud of you, darling!" Y/M/N said, holding her daughter's face to give her a kiss. Y/N let her mum before she gave her the MVP trophy as well.

"This game is for you, and dad." She said, smiling widely at her mum who sobbed. She held her mum tightly in her arms.

"Your father would be so proud of you, he would be so proud." Y/M/N cried in her daughter's arms.

When her mum finally calmed down, Y/M/N told her to go celebrate so she did. She looked around until she found the person she was looking for, she ran to Cairo and hugged her tight, making the shorter girl laugh in her arms.

"Congratulations, baby. I'm so proud of you." Cairo said, patting Y/N's back before the taller girl pulled away.

"I bet you are." Y/N said before she leaned down and gave Cairo a loving kiss.

They heard the Ravens shouting and cheering but they paid no mind as they got lost in their own world.

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega x you #cairo sweet x reader #tara carpenter #cairo sweet #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #miller's girl

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lunarmoves · 11 months

Text

you don't think you'll ever get over how tall the daycare attendant is.

it's a bit intimidating at times, you think. all seven-foot-something of metal and silicon that tends to loom rather ominously over your own figure from time to time. you're not sure why they were made that tall, but you figure it has something to do with being able to see kids easier around the daycare. or maybe fazbear entertainment just likes making freakishly tall robots. who knows.

the first time it really strikes you how much of a height advantage they have over you is during the daytime hours of the daycare. some poor kid had gotten their toy thrown up onto the playground structure and it was stuck on the outside, nestled between two bars that you definitely can't reach from the ground nor from the inside of the structure.

you look down at said kid holding onto your leg after you'd scolded the other two who were the culprits of such an act and let out a small sigh. you don't like climbing, not particularly, but you guess you're going to have to suck it up for now. if only so the poor kid can stop making that teary-eyed expression at you.

you pat the kid on the head and take the few steps to the playground so you can grab onto one of the bars and pull yourself up. but before you can even attempt to shimmy your way farther up, a bright and certainly loud figure comes swooping in from behind you.

"heellooo friends! that's awfully dangerous to be doing here!" sun exclaims as he grabs you easily on the sides and lifts you from the playground to set you back on the floor. you blink up at him and watch as he extends a long arm (seriously, his arms are way out of proportion compared to the rest of his body) up to the toy and easily grabs it from its stuck position.

"i believe this belongs to you?" he asks the sniveling kid standing next to you, and they immediately brighten once their toy is back in their hands. sun gives them a little hair ruffle. "don't go losing it again, now! we don't want to get any boo-boos climbing where we shouldn't be, right?"

"mmh!" the kid nods, then wipes their snotty little nose on their sleeve and runs off to show their retrieved toy to their friends. sun's head turns 180 degrees to watch them scamper off, and then he's turning back around to face you with a wagging finger.

"friend! you know you can always ask me for help, yes?" he chides you in a way that makes you feel a bit embarrassed, but you only roll your eyes in good nature.

"c'mon sun, i'd thought you were busy with the others!" you frown, and the sight makes sun reach out a large hand so he can smush your cheeks together until your lips are puffed out like a fish's.

"i'm never too busy to help you, silly!" he says as you bat his hand away and rub at your cheeks. "all you have to do is ask!"

"i had it handled," you murmur, looking anywhere but at him. with the way sun is looming over you, slightly bent at the torso, you're covered in his shadow. it makes you feel small.

"climbing the outside of the playground does not set a good example for the children!" sun says, and his words make it seem like he's scolding you, though his tone is light and airy. "no, no, no, friend! we don't want you to get hurt, do we?"

"i get it already," you reply, stepping back slightly so you can look at him better without having to crane your head back. sun's head tilts slightly to the side, but he doesn't comment. "i'm not a kid, you know. a fall from that height won't hurt me." okay, yeah, maybe your pride's just a bit wounded at needing someone taller to do a simple task for you. sue you.

"it can if you fall right on your head!" sun gasps dramatically, bringing his hands up to his fixed smile. "no, better to be safe than sorry, okay?" he reaches down to boop you right on the nose. you wrinkle it at him then concede with a large sigh that's more for show than anything. this was a dumb semi-argument anyways.

"okay, i'll ask you for help next time," you relent, and it makes sun spring up, his rays spinning happily around his faceplate.

"wonderful!" he chirps, then reaches a lanky arm down to grab your wrist. "now, come! it's almost naptime!" you get practically dragged over to the sleeping mats, sun's long stride making you do an awkward jog to keep up.

you've long come to realize that sun tends to use his height to help you with different things. whether it may be cleaning parts of the playground equipment that you can't reach, or helping you stack things on shelves that were way above your arm's length. he just wants to be of good use, you suppose, no matter how teeny tiny it makes you feel.

you can't say the same for moon.

for where sun may inadvertently make you feel small, moon does it on purpose.

"moon, c'mon!" you groan, standing before him in the dark daycare after hours as he dangles your phone just out of reach over your head. you raise your arms up half-heartedly and try to snatch at it, but he pulls it up farther away from you when you do. "give it back."

moon snickers, white eyes upturned into crescent moons of delight. "no."

"moon," you say sternly, as though you have any power of authority over him (you don't). "please."

"no texting on the job," moon replies, even though you know that he knows you were literally just checking the time. you give him an exasperated look.

"moon. phone. now."

"no." then, as though to taunt you even further, he bends down to pinch your nose. "shorty."

you give him a glare and bat his hand away so you can rub at your poor nose. both him and sun liked to squish and squeeze you, you've noticed. "moon!"

he says your name back at you in the same tone you just used. it just makes you huff.

"if you don't give me back my phone, you'll regret it," you say ominously, mustering all the darkness you have in your body to make your scowl as scary as possible. moon just giggles. you don't think you're successful. he probably thinks you look like a wet cat.

"yeah?" it's obviously an invitation. he wants to see what you can possibly do. your mind's practically in overdrive trying to think of something on the spot. and you do come up with something. unfortunately.

there's a moment where all you do is stare at him. his head rotates curiously to the side. and then you launch yourself at him, hands gripping at his torso so you can claw your way up his body like you're some kind of small animal (to him, you probably are).

moon freezes for the slightest of seconds, and it gives you ample opportunity to shimmy your way up so that you can grip at his thin shoulders and pull yourself farther up. then he's leaning backwards slightly, his arm raising higher above his head to prevent you from reaching your phone.

"give!" you demand as you hook your feet around his body like he's a sliding pole and use one of his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as you extend your arm as far as it can go.

"cheating! cheater!" he barks out in response, and his voice is a bit muffled from where it's nearly against your stomach, but you don't care.

"not cheating! give me back my phone!"

it's a few moments more of this kind of struggling until you finally just end up yanking his nightcap over his face in a temporary distraction. it works, too. at least long enough for you to yank his arm down, grab your phone, and then leap off of him. you stumble a little when you hit the ground and spin around with a triumphant look as you notice moon has lifted his cap high enough so you can see the lower half of his eyes.

"ha!" you gloat, pocketing your phone right away so he can't snatch it out of your hands again. "you asked for it!"

moon simply stares at you. and just when you're starting to think that maybe he locked up or something, his mischievous smile returns with a vengeance as he bends low and raises his arms like he's about to grab you.

uh oh. you know that look. you don't even hesitate as you spin around on your heel and immediately make a run for it.

and well... as moon chases after you through the plex, his long shadow constantly overlapping your own, you figure that you'll just have to get used to being constantly swamped by the significantly taller animatronics. it isn't the worst thing, at least, but it will certainly take some time.

even if moon's an ass about it.

#i was strugglingto end this can u tell #fnaf sun x reader #sun x reader #fnaf moon x reader #moon x reader #dca x reader #daycare attendant x reader #fnaf sb #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #the daycare attendant #fnaf dca #dca #fnaf daycare attendant #shay scribbles daydreams

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truetogaia · 10 months

Text

mihihi hes so prettyboy

# pairing: bill kaulitz x gn!reader

# genre: fluff

# notes: back in my th era... watch out.. Anyway, this is just a fluff drabble of reader taking care of Bill before a show!! not proofread

# wc: ab 600

TOKIO HOTEL MASTERLIST I REQUESTS OPEN

“Please, Bill, stop moving. I’m being so serious I am literally about to stab your eye out.” You carefully blew some eyeshadow residue from his cheekbones, pulling away from his face with a deep sigh. “I don’t think your crazy fangirls would appreciate a `pirate Bill era´ all too much”

His hands rested on your hips as you straddled his lap, rubbing gentle circles with the pads of his thumbs as you worked restlessly to apply his eye makeup for the upcoming show. His black hair was disheveled, looking like he had been struck by lightning multiple times. But oh, how charming it was.

“It tickles though..” Your tense features relaxed into a soft smile as he spoke, your heart swelling with love at his German accent. His face, however, wore a puzzled expression as you gazed into his brown eyes. They glimmered and swirled like honey in the warm light seeping in through the windows of the dressing room. “Was? Did you mess up the eyeliner?” He questioned, quirking his eyebrow.

“Nono! It looks great!” You snapped back into reality, shaking your head and bringing a hand up to tuck some loose strands away. You could sense his nervousness, the way his hands fiddled restlessly with the fabric of your jeans, the way his eyes darted across your features and the furniture simultaneously, the way he subconsciously gnawed at his bottom lip, “Oh, don’t worry Bill, you’ll do great. You always do.” You offered him a reassuring smile. It was genuine, he could tell.

“But last time, I almost fell off the stage! AND I had a voice crack halfway through a song!” He whined, eyebrows furrowing as he suddenly rested his head against your chest.

“Would you stop whining and look at me so I can finish the makeup?” You sighed, placing the palm of your hands against his forehead, which was still lodged into your sternum, to give it a gentle push. He finally sat up straight again, a pout adorning his soft lips until his gaze locked on your shirt.

“Hey, wait a minute… isn't this my shirt?” He quirked a brow, looking up at you with a curious expression.

“Noooo.. I have no clue what you’re talking about Bill. I guess your memory.. or sight.. or something, must’ve been all scrambled from all the stress!” You gently twirled a strand of his hair around your finger, placing it behind his ear before hopping off his lap to place a kiss to his cheek. “Anyway, I’m gonna go now. I’m actually not even allowed in here, the staff was just so considerate and cooperative.”

“Did you threaten to sue them for emotional abuse?”

“That was one time! Plus, I didn’t need to, nobody can resist my charm.” He chuckled at your antics, smiling lovingly at you as you made your merry way to the door of his dressing room, leaning against it as your hand held the knob. “You’ll do great, I promise. Just take some deep breaths, yeah?” You were halfway out the door already when he spoke up.

“Wait baby, you didn’t finish my makeup..” You didn’t bother to turn around, only waving your hand in the air.

“You were getting too distracted, Bill. I saw the way you were staring at my neck, I’m going to get one of your stylists just stay put.”

He groaned as your figure disappeared out the door, turning around in his chair. A deep sigh escaped him before he whispered, to himself.

“Whatever, there’s nothing wrong with admiring your own work.”

#tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #fluff #devilish #tokio hotel edits #tokio hotel fanfics #bill kaulitz edits #tokio hotel imagine #bill kaulitz imagines #2007 bill kaulitz #2008 bill kaulitz

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 2 months

Text

a/n: andrei got an all star weekend fic last year, so it’s only right that mat gets one this year! i literally have a million favorite pics from this weekend so i had to use them all i don’t care. i tried to hit a bunch of the main weekend highlights! i’m also aware that some of the timing and stuff is weird in the fic, but we’re just rolling with it and enjoying the vibes. 🧡💙

word count: 7k

tw: innuendo, dirty talk, protected sex, oral (m receiving), fingering (f recieving), thigh riding, extremely minimal editing

summary: all star weekend in toronto with mat is one to remember

“Who do you think will pick you?” You ask, settled comfortably in the middle of the hotel room’s mattress, wrapped warmly in the plush robe. You have the perfect spot to watch Mat at the bathroom sink while he shaves. He’s in his suit pants, but his chest is bare, giving you the opportunity to watch his back and arm muscles move as he works.

“Dunno,” he replies, slightly muffled. You can see his face in the mirror, lips tucked in and half covered in shaving cream. He lets his hand fall to the counter and turns to face you, a crooked smile on his face made even more lopsided by the shaving cream beard. “If it’s not Mo and Auston though, I’m leaving.”

You roll your eyes, knowing that your boyfriend loves Justin Bieber almost more than he loves you. “I want Nate and Cale to pick you. I want to meet Tate McRae.”

“You can meet Tate McRae even if I’m not on her team,” Mat scoffs, returning to his shaving. “When am I ever going to get a chance to be coached by Justin Bieber? Never, Squeaks! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“You’re such a dork,” you murmur affectionately, grinning at his back and tucking your face into the collar of the robe. You have to get up and start getting ready soon, but you’re too comfortable to move. Mat’ll go over to the arena earlier for media interviews and the red carpet, but you don’t have to be there, technically at all, but you want to see the draft.

Mat finishes shaving his face and wipes his cheeks off with the hand towel. “You’re not being very supportive of my dreams,” he informs you dramatically, tossing the dirty towel onto the counter and planting his hands on his hips.

You kneel up on the bed and gape at him, amping up the dramatics. “I’m spending my vacation in cold ass Toronto instead of Baha Mar because I’m supportive of your dreams,” you laugh, throwing your arms out to your sides. “Sue me if I want you to have a good celebrity captain.”

“The Biebs would be the best captain,” Mat replies, crossing over to the bed in a handful of steps, reaching out to rest his hands on your hips. His fingers play with the tie of the robe. “He played hockey and he’s a huge fan.”

“Are their colors at least the blue jersey?” You ask. “You look so good in blue.”

Mat lifts an eyebrow. “That would make you support my coaching dreams? The color blue?”

You hum, resting your hands on his shoulders, playing with the chain around his neck. “I’m very superficial,” you inform him, deadpan.

“Yeah,” Mat replies, equally deadpan, “me too.” He breaks a second later, grinning and peppering kisses all over your face, making you squeal. His fingers dig into your sides, tickling you under the robe, and you wriggle on your knees, slumping forward over his chest when you can’t take it anymore. Gasping laughter saws from your chest and you try to catch your breath, but Mat’s making it hard with his hands splayed over your back. They’re warm and slightly rough and you’re both really wearing barely any clothes, it would be so easy to drag him down onto the bed.

He seems to be telepathically picking up on your thoughts because Mat presses a kiss to your bare shoulder where the robe has slipped off and says, “I gotta finish getting ready or I’m going to be late. But when we get back after the draft, my body is yours to use.”

You pull back and grin at him. “However I want?”

“Yeah,” he snorts, “I need to conserve energy to reclaim my title tomorrow, so you have to do all the work.”

“Pillow princess,” you accuse, pouting at him.

“Just for you, babe,” Mat shoots back, cupping your chin in his hand and tilting your head back so he can really kiss you, licking into your mouth and leaving you wet and wanting when he pulls back. “Start thinking about what position you want me in.”

He winks, laughing, and heads back to the bathroom to finish getting his hair in place. You slump back down on the bed and call to his back, “I’m making sure I get two orgasms before you even get one.”

“Fine by me,” Mat calls back, hands working through his hair. “I like the way you scream my name when you’re coming on my cock.”

Your entire body flushes with heat and you press your thighs together. “Damnit,” you mutter, knowing you need to start getting ready and you definitely don’t have time for even a halfway satisfying orgasm. “For that,” you call, starting to roll off the bed so you can do your hair and makeup, “I get three orgasms before you get one.”

“You’re being so mean to your All-Star,” Mat teases, shrugging into his button down and starting to do up the buttons. You plug in your curling iron and roll your eyes at him.

“Should’ve known all the attention would go to your head,” you sigh, pretending to be burdened by him. “I’m your All-Star, Mr. Barzal, and don’t you forget it.”

His answering grin crinkles his entire face and you go to him easily when he reaches out to grab your wrist and tug you into his chest. “That’s why I’m letting you have your orgasms before I get mine,” he says cheekily, pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek and disappearing to the other side of the room for his shoes.

You huff a little, a small smile playing on your lips, and return to fixing your hair. Mat finishes getting ready, lacing up his dress shoes and pulling on his suit jacket before throwing his arms out to his sides and doing a little half-turn, asking, “so, how do I look?”

“Like my All-Star,” you beam at him, tilting your head up for a kiss. He obliges. “I like this suit a lot,” you continue, reaching for your purse and withdrawing a Sharpie. You hold it up in between your bodies and tuck it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Just in case.”

Mat pats his hand over the pocket and kisses your forehead. “Thanks, Squeaks. Text me when you get to the arena, okay? I’ll see you after the draft.”

You nod and with one final kiss, Mat’s out the door, leaving you with some peace and quiet to get ready. You do wish that Bo or Noah had been voted in too, so you’d at least have Holly or Alexa to hang out with while you’re watching the events. Mat’s parents and Liana are getting into town tomorrow afternoon, with enough time to join you for the Skills Competition, but until then, you’re on your own.

Luckily, you run into Steph Marner outside of the arena, saving you from the awkward first day of a new school feeling where you’ll either have to sit alone or find someone you know in the arena. You know Steph a little bit from different events and you’re friendly enough, it’s not the same as having one of your girls with you, but she’s a familiar face.

“Hey, girl!” Steph greets you with a hug that you return. “Welcome to the six!”

“I really wish you were welcoming me to the Bahamas,” you laugh, falling into step next to her. The crowds are wild and you look around as you walk in, having never been to an All-Star game before this is so much fun.

She lets loose a laugh, “you and me both! It would’ve been nice to get out of the city for a bit, but what can you do?” She shrugs and you fall into small talk for a little bit, catching up on what’s been happening since you last saw each other.

By the time the draft starts, you’re pleasantly tipsy and getting into the fun. The guys are all sitting on little benches on the ice and it’s adorable watching them swing their legs like toddlers. You snap a few photos of Mat from your spot in the stands, knowing the professional photos you’ll get from the team’s social media team later will be better. The draft starts and you wait impatiently for Mat to be picked.

By the time the fourth round ends and he hasn’t been picked, you’re starting to get cranky on his behalf. And slightly anxious that he’ll be picked last, even though you know logically that won’t happen. On the ice, he keeps swinging his legs, fidgeting in place until finally Mo and Auston pick him to join Team Bieber, along with half the Maple Leafs - Mitch Marner and William Nylander included.

Steph slaps your hand in a high-five, “woohoo! Teammates!”

You laugh and cheer along with her, snapping a picture of Mat getting a hug from Justin Bieber. You immediately send it off to your group chat, adding the message: pretty sure he’s going to leave me for the biebs 😭

The girls flood the chat, but you’re too busy laughing with Steph about Mat and Mitch’s chatter on the Team Bieber bench.

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “Mat’s such a yapper. He must be talking Mitch’s ear off.”

“Please,” Steph waves her hand in the air. “Mitch can’t shut up either. They probably aren’t even listening to each other.”

As the draft continues, you tune out a little since Mat’s been picked. Eventually, you tune back in and your gaze lands on your boyfriend manspreading to an extreme degree. Muffling a laugh with your hand, you shoot him a text, knowing he won’t see it until later: spread your legs a little wider, babe, i want to feel the stretch when i straddle you 👀

The draft comes to an end and it’s a little bit of a whirlwind after that, chatting with people you haven’t seen in a bit and wandering the arena until you find Mat. Or he finds you, actually.

“Team Bieber!” He crows, barely hiding his excitement now that it’s just you in front of him.

You grin at him, squeaked laughter pushed from your lungs when he crushes you to his chest in a hug. “Happy for you, Mat!”

“Babe,” he shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear, “this is gonna be so fucking fun. He hugged me!”

“You are the biggest fangirl I’ve ever seen,” you tease, tucking yourself under his arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. “It’s adorable.”

“I know you’re making fun of me right now,” he says, “but I don’t even care. We’ve got a Bieber concert to get to.”

You shake your head and let yourself be dragged along to the concert, knowing that Mat’s going to have the time of his life listening to one of his favorite artists perform live and that you’re going to get so many videos of him singing along that will immediately be sent to Beau for blackmail material.

The concert is actually beyond fun, and by the time you get back to the hotel, Mat’s completely forgotten about his earlier determination to be a pillow princess and has you out of your sweater and jeans before you really process what’s happening. His mouth and fingers work you up to two hard and fast orgasms, leaving you sweaty and breathless in the middle of the bed.

“Fuck,” you mutter, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing them, bending your knees to draw his cock closer to your cunt. You clit throbs and the condom-wrapped head of Mat’s cock bumps against it, making you see stars.

“One more each, okay?” Mat mutters, pushing into you slowly. You whine and clench around him, scraping your nails down his back. He hisses at the sting, but doesn’t stop until he’s seated fully inside your pussy, breathing hard. Sweat rolls down his temples, dampening his hair.

You barely last a few minutes, overly sensitive from the last two orgasms, and you come before Mat, stroking your hands over every inch of him you can reach while he pumps his hips into yours. He grunts into your neck when he comes, filling the condom and nearly crushing you with the heavy weight of his body on top of yours. The air is pushed from your lungs, Mat’s sweaty chest pressed against yours.

“Fuck,” he mumbles into your hair, “that felt good. You feel good. Could stay here forever.”

You kiss his shoulder. “I’d make some kind of innuendo about being an all star, but I think my brain is melted,” you say honestly, still wrapped around Mat like an octopus and making no effort to move.

——-

Mat’s Friday is quiet, other than an early afternoon practice for the Saturday game and the Skills Competition at night, so you have a lazy morning with him in bed. Neither of you bothered with clothes the night before, so it’s easy to get your hands on him and harder to get his hands off of you. You slip under the covers and wake him up with your mouth on his cock, sucking him off until he comes in your mouth. After he returns the favror with a slow, lingering orgasm, you shower and decide to head off to explore downtown Toronto for a bit before Mat goes to practice and you head off to the airport in the rental car to pick up Mat’s parents and sister.

“Thank god you’re here,” you give Liana a huge hug after helping everyone load their bags into the trunk. “It’s so hard being the only one around to chirp Mat to his face.”

“Please tell me you have video of the Bieber of it all,” she grins at you, a little evilly. You nod and she she pumps her fist. Nadia shakes her head.

“Don’t be mean to your brother this weekend,” she turns around in the passenger seat to face you both. Michael had insisted on driving back into the city and you weren’t about to argue - Toronto traffic rivaled New York traffic.

Liana rolls her eyes. “Mom, he needs some humbling,” she replies. “It’s good for his character

growth.”

You hide a giggle behind your hand. The Barzal sibling dynamic is one of your favorite things to witness. “I promise, Nadia,” you say, leaning forward a bit, “Mat gets so much praise. He does need a little humbling every once in a while.”

Once you’re back in the city, you drop the car and everyone’s bags off at the hotel and head over to meet Mat at the arena. He’s waiting for you all in the main lobby, looking fresh and clean and beyond adorable in his new All-Stars beanie. His smile is huge and only grows when he gives his parents hugs hello. He rubs the top of Liana’s head in a noogie that has her punching his arm, while they both laugh.

“Hi,” you smile up at him. You missed him even though it’s been less than two hours since you saw him.

“Hi,” Mat kisses you quickly before tugging the beanie off his head and unceremoniously dropping it on yours, tugging the cuff of it low over your forehead and smushing your hair. You wrinkle your nose at him and he raises an eyebrow. “It’s cold and you look cute in it.”

You lift your phone, the screen lighting up to display a handful of social media notifications and texts, “not as cute as you, according to the Twitter girlies. Apparently, you’re giving babygirl.” Your grin is shit-eating and Liana openly cracks up next to you, even as Michael and Nadia frown at each other, completely confused by the social media phrases.

Mat’s ears go pink and he nudges his hip against yours. “Shut up, let’s just go for lunch and not talk about that,” he rests his hand against your lower back and slings the other arm over Liana’s shoulder, guiding the both of you out of the arena.

“Oh no,” his sister says in a sugary-sweet tone, “we’re definitely talking about it. I have a few of my favorites bookmarked to mention…” She trails off, starting to scroll through her phone.

“Mom!” Mat whips his head around to look at Nadia. She plucks the phone from Liana’s hands and stashes it in her purse.

Michael, in order to cut off Liana’s complaint, jumps in, “Mat, tell us about Patrick Roy. How’s the change going?”

Luckily, the new coach is a topic Mat could happily chatter on about for hours, so he takes the bait and you end up having a fairly peaceful lunch before heading back to the hotel for a little relaxation before the Skills Competition. Liana comes to hang out with you and Mat, while Michael and Nadia get in a quick nap after their long flight. You put a movie on, but really the three of you end up gossiping and catching up, before Mat finally kicks you both out so he can get in a short nap too.

“Love you,” he kisses you before essentially pushing you out the door.

“Yeah, I really feel the love,” you roll your eyes, quickly pulling your coat back before Mat can close the door on it.

Liana smiles at you wryly. “I don’t know how you put up with him, but thank god for you. Let’s go get a coffee,” she says, linking arms with you as you stroll down to the elevators. You have the toque back on your head, adjusted so it’s not smashing your hair flat, and you can’t help but smile when you think about Mat putting it on your head in the first place.

“He’s surprisingly easy to love,” you laugh. “When he’s not being a drama queen.”

“Ugh,” Liana rolls her eyes affectionately, “you guys are disgusting.”

“Be nice or I’m going to decide to renovate the guest room during the week in April you’re coming to visit,” you joke.

——-

The arena is even louder and more chaotic during the Skills Competition and you’re having fun with Liana, taking pictures and getting snacks while you wait for everything to start.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, scrolling through Instagram before the events start. The reel the team’s socials have posted of Mat picking out his skate blades has your panties immediately damp and you’re ready to demand it get taken down for your own sanity. You shift in your seat, damp fabric scraping against your wet cunt.

Liana looks over your shoulder to see what you’re looking at. “Oh gross,” she fakes a gagging noise. “He needs to put those away.”

“Or save them just for me,” you mumble, for her ears only. As much as you love Nadia and Michael, they don’t need to hear how horny you are for their son. Liana bumps your shoulder and your fingers slip over the screen.

“I’m gonna go blind, put that thirst trap away,” she frowns. “They’re going to start now.”

She’s right and Mat is the first one introduced on the ice. The four of you jump to your feet and scream for him, your heart pounding with excitement. Mat looks so stupidly happy to be on the ice, you can’t help but let out an extra loud wolf-whistle for him.

The Fastest Skater competition is up first and you won’t admit it, but you’re a little nervous for Mat to hold onto his title. You clench your hands together while William Nylander, Quinn Hughes, and Cale Makar go, crossing your fingers when their times are all over 14 seconds.

Mat’s fourth and you scream when he’s under 14 seconds, holding first until, of course, Connor McDavid unseats him. It’s annoying and a little frustrating, but you’re still beyond proud of Mat for being so close.

“Fuck that!” Liana grumbles, echoing your thoughts.

“He’s fastest skater in my heart,” you whisper back, purposely not telling her your plan to giving him a blow job at the end of the night.

One Timers is next. Honestly, you have no idea what the rules on this one are, but you just enjoy the show. Especially since Mat’s not that great in this competition in the end. You can see the scowl on his face and even Nadia laughs a little.

“He’s so hard on himself, even for fun events,” she shakes her head.

You can see him shake his head after his turn at the Passing Challenge, but honestly you’re really just focused on down damn good he looks with the backwards cap on his head. Watching Mat show off his skills is always your favorite thing. Mat takes third in this challenge and then talks to Kevin Weekes on ice and you record him while he talks, loving that crooked smile of his.

“I can’t believe he’s tied for first,” Liana shakes her head, filling in Michael and Nadia as they come back to the seats with drinks. “Think he’ll drop a couple thousand my way?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” you nudge her side. “Right after he funds my tropical vacation.”

During the musical break, you both get up to use the bathroom and stretch your legs. Your phone is vibrating with texts from the team and the girls, chirping Mat and making sure you know to pass on the messages.

Mat’s final event is Stick Handling and you keep your fingers crossed throughout the break - he’s in third overall and honestly you think he could pull off a win. Either way, you know you’re going to celebrate with him later.

“That’s my man!” You shout when Mat’s announced for second place. “Silkiest mits in the league!”

Liana and Nadia jump up to celebrate with you - Mat’s tied for first over all with one competition left.

He makes it to the next round and the three of you cheer, laughing and more than a little tipsy off of arena beers and cocktails. It’s so much more fun to cheer him on and celebrate Mat with his family.

“I always forget how good he is,” Nadia comments. “I know he’s good, but he’s having fun out there too.”

“No, he was literally off the wall excited to come back,” you tell her. “Being selected and then getting to replace Jack Hughes in the skills comp, on top of the new coach, Mat’s been in such a good mood lately.”

“He’s also whipped,” Liana teases you. You stick your tongue out at her.

“He just knows when he has to listen and turn off his hockey brain,” you shrug, talking over the music.

“Oh, Mat sucks at the shootout,” you groan, seeing what the One on One competition entails. “I just need him to not be last on this one.”

Mat picks Igor Shesterkin as his goalie and you watch him collect six points and sit in a tie for third. The New York rivalry runs strong and you can’t wait for the Stadium Series game in two weeks. You’re kind of treating the cold in Toronto as a preview of sitting out in the cold in New Jersey.

And with that, Mat’s onto the final round.

“One step closer to that cool million,” Liana grins. “You know how big of an engagement ring you could get with that…”

You choke on your sip of water and Michael claps you on the back while Nadia frowns at Liana. “No way I need or want something that big,” you manage to squeak out. “Not to be, like, basic, but I’d take a page out of Taylor Swift’s book and marry him with a paper ring.”

Your entire face feels like it’s burning red, talking about marrying Mat in front of his parents. You do, obviously, want to marry him, but it feels strange to say so in front of his parents when you’ve only met them a handful of times.

Liana’s shit-eating grin is identical to Mat’s. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says and when you try to say anything, she shushes you and points to the ice, where the obstacle course is starting.

“Oh, he’s locked in,” Liana says and you’re all leaning forward in your seats as Mat goes through the obstacles.

“Oh god,” you groan, covering your eyes with your hands as Mat struggles with the little nets. Liana and Nadia wince at your sides. It’s like a train wreck, you can’t look away from his struggle. When they have to bring out more pucks for him, your heart sinks into your stomach.

Mat’s time in the end is awful, and you can see his disappointment on his face when he looks up at the jumbotron. He would’ve beaten McDavid if the nets hadn’t tripped him up.

“Ah, he did his best,” Michael says and you nod. It sucks that Mat didn’t place higher, but you’re so proud of him. Considering he wasn’t even chosen to be in the Skills Competition in the first place, the fact that he made it to the final round and nearly won is an incredible effort.

Mat texts you all in a group chat that you’d honestly forgotten existed, letting you know that he still has to shower and do some media availability, so he’ll meet you all back at the hotel.

Michael and Nadia decide to head to bed and you promise to let Mat know - you’ll all get together for breakfast before Mat goes to his morning skate before the game at 3. You and Liana hang out in the hotel bar until Mat joins you a little more than an hour later, spotting you immediately and wedging himself in the few inches of space left in the arm chair you’re sitting in. He squishes you to the side with his thighs, spreading them without concern. His arms wrap around your shoulders and he kisses the side of your head. “Hey, Squeaks,” he greets you, adjusting so one of your legs is draped over his and you’re as close as you could possibly be.

“Jesus,” Liana mutters. “Get a room.”

Mat squints at her, “I would love to.”

You nudge his side and murmur, “behave,” at him. All that does is encourage Mat to get in your face and kiss you hungrily. A surprised giggle is swallowed by Mat’s mouth and Liana’s disgusted scoff makes Mat smile against your lips.

“I’m going to bed,” she pushes up from her chair. “See you two in the morning. And wear a condom, I’m not ready to be an aunt.”

You and Mat choke simultaneously, Liana’s laughter echoing as she dances away. You drop your forehead to Mat’s shoulder and he shakes his head, “she really knows how to kill the mood.”

When you shift your leg though, you can feel the bulge of Mat’s cock against your thigh. “I don’t think she killed the mood that much,” you tease, curling closer to him. “Should we go upstairs and I can reward you for being the all-star of my heart?”

“Cheesy,” Mat accuses even as he’s pulling you to your feet and guiding you to the elevator bank. “I’m exhausted though, I didn’t realize how much work the obstacle course would be.”

“I’ll do all the work, don’t you worry,” you grin at him.

Less than ten minutes later you have him on his back, cunt clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mat groans, fingers digging into your hips. “Baby, god, fuck feels so good.”

You lean forward, bouncing over Mat’s cock, nails digging into his chest. “Wanted to do this all day,” you gasp. “All the posts, your fucking thighs, Mat! Been soaked for you.”

He laughs underneath you, sliding one hand to play with your clit. You whine and feel your arousal leak from your body, smearing all over Mat’s pelvis. “Thought about riding my thighs, baby?” He asks, gripping your hip even tighter and helping you bounce on him.

“Every fucking day,” you admit, choking on air when Mat bucks his hips up into yours, the head of his cock smacking against your g-spot. “All-Star Mat is my favorite Mat.”

His face is red from exertion, beads of sweat rolling down his temples, but even still you can tell that your praise is getting to him, flushing his chest pink and making his rhythm over your clit stutter. You grin wickedly down at him, knowing exactly how you want to play him.

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur sincerely, grinding down on him. “Came in and killed it, made it look easy,” you hiccup on a particularly aggressive bounce, “so fucking handsome. My all-star. Mine, mine, mine.”

“Fuuuuck” Mat drags out the curse, bending his knees and planting his feet on the mattress so he can fuck up into you roughly. “Jesus. Wanted to win ��cause you were there.”

You whimper every time Mat’s cock hits your g-spot, nearly there, and praise him again, “always a winner. Always my winner. Love you so much.”

Mat’s cock thickens inside of you while you clench around him and you plant your hands on his stomach for leverage and to feel his muscles bunch up in the lead up to his orgasm. He groans and squeezes a handful of your ass, bucking up into you harshly. “Gonna - sorry, baby. Need to come,” he groans your name, filling the condom with a deep growl. You keep riding him through it, replacing his hand on your clit with yours so he can grip your hips and bounce you while he finishes.

“C’mon, fill me up,” you whine, chanting his name, rolling your fingers over your clit until you finish a few seconds after him, gushing around the base of his cock and his lower stomach. You slump over his chest and Mat grunts underneath you, smoothing his hands over your ass.

“God, that was fucking amazing,” he mutters into your hair, kissing your cheek. “Gotta be the all-star more often.”

You laugh and wiggle your ass over him, cunt clenching lazily around him. “I dunno, I was supposed to take care of you, but you took over there for a bit,” you mumble against his skin.

“Couldn’t help it,” he shrugs, “looked so fucking good with your tits bouncing, that gorgeous face you make when I hit as deep as possible.” He yawns a little, swallowing the last few words of his sentence.

“Shut up,” you laugh lightly, swatting at his chest while you roll off of him, sticky and sore. Mat moves to get up, but you push him back a little and wrap a hand around his hip. “I’ve got it.” You make quick work of the condom, tying a knot at the top and padding into the bathroom to get rid of it. You rinse off quickly and bring Mat back a damp washcloth to clean off his stomach, but by the time you get back into the bedroom, he’s got one arm tucked behind his head and he’s fast asleep, letting out gentle grumbling snores.

You laugh a little to yourself, shaking your head. Men.

Still, you wipe him off carefully - not that it matters, he doesn’t move at all - and climb into bed with him, after stealing a clean t-shirt from his suitcase.

Mat chokes a little on his snore and rolls over, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you close to his chest. His arm is a strong lock over your stomach and you shift, getting comfortable before falling asleep with the warm weight of Mat’s body at your back.

You wake up a little bit later, with one of Mat’s thighs wedged in between your legs, corded muscle pressed up against your cunt, making it throb. You grind experimentally over his leg and he grunts against your hair, warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and making you shiver.

“Mat?” You whisper his name quietly and his arm tightens around your waist. You trace your fingertips over the veins on his hand.

His thigh flexes against you and you gasp, warmth pooling between your legs.

“Told you to use me,” Mat mumbles sleepily, kissing behind your ear. “Go ‘head.”

His hand is splayed flat over your stomach and he pushes gently, spurring you into movement. Your hips rock lazily over his thigh, the sleepy rhythm making it hard for you to hold onto the coil of pleasure. Mat rocks his half-hard cock into your backside and you sigh softly, heat building in your blood.

“Feels good,” he sighs, helping you move over him, eyes still shut. He hikes his thigh up higher, catching your clit on his leg hair and sensing a wave of pleasure through your body.

You whine his name, burying your fingers between your legs to help coax yourself to an orgasm. “Wanna feel you,” you whisper and Mat’s hand slips between your bodies, leaving your stomach cold, so he can roughly jerk his cock a few times, tugging until he’s harder.

He pulls you back by the hip, until his cock is nestled between your thighs and you angle back against him, slipping the head of him inside your entrance. A breathy sigh escapes your lungs and Mat rocks his hips so his cock thrusts in and out of your shallowly. Between his cock and your fingers, you’re falling over the cliff of pleasure within seconds, slick covering your thighs.

“Roll over,” you rasp, legs still trembling. You’re not about to go searching in the dark for a condom, so you settle yourself in between Mat’s powerful thighs and take him into your mouth, tasting yourself on him. Both of his hands land on your head, tangling in your hair and holding you in place while you lick at him, kissing the head of his cock and hollowing your cheeks around him until he’s coming in your mouth.

Mat groans, hips bucking up into your mouth, eyes screwed shut. “Babe, christ, love that fucking mouth,” he says hoarsely, hauling you up his body when you’re done so he can kiss you sleepily.

You’re exhausted and close your eyes again, lying over Mat’s chest, his arms wrapped around your back. “You make me so stupid,” you mumble against his collarbone, asleep before you know it.

——-

Saturday is the big game day and after your middle of the night sexcapades, you and Mat oversleep so he just barely has time for breakfast with everyone before he’s off to the arena for a little morning skate and a brief stint on NHL News.

You and the Barzals decide to take in a little bit of the Fan Fest before exploring downtown Toronto before the game starts. It’s fun to spend so much time with Mat’s family and you’re looking forward for them to coming to Long Island for Easter.

The games themselves are beyond fun to watch, since the guys are all taking it seriously while still having a good time.

When Mat and Team Bieber make it to the finals, you and Liana are beside yourselves, screaming with excitement.

“Mat willed them to a win so he can spend more time with Justin,” Liana laughs and you agree.

“Honestly, I’m not convinced he wouldn’t dump me for Justin,” you snort, snapping a picture of Mat on the ice.

Team Bieber/Matthews wins the whole thing and you know it’s just a silly fun weekend, but you can’t help be so incredibly proud of Mat and his performance all weekend. He’s been so light and happy all weekend and you know it was the break he needed to reset for the second half of the season.

After he finishes with post-game media availabilities - where he apparently mentions his future kids, much to Liana and Nadia’s delight and your slight panic, one day but definitely not any time soon - he comes and meets you all for dinner. Mat’s still buzzing from adrenaline and won’t shut up about Justin Bieber as a coach.

“He was just so invested,” he says. “Really wanted to win and knew what he was talking about.”

“Who’s a better coach,” you cut in slyly, “Justin Bieber or Patrick?”

He pins you with a wry look, as his parents laugh. “Squeaks, that’s just not fair.”

“It’s also not even a competition,” Michael points out. “I would think Patrick Roy has nothing on Justin Bieber’s enthusiasm.”

You recognize your boyfriend’s father’s sarcastic joke and giggle. Everyone knows about Patrick’s enthusiastic coaching style.

“I actually can’t wait to get back to it,” Mat says, swiping a bite of your steak off your plate. “I feel really good about the back half.”

Dinner continues comfortably for another few hours, Mat soaking up time with his family while he doesn’t have to worry about practice or a game tomorrow. Eventually, you all head back to your rooms - the Barzals are flying back to Vancouver tomorrow afternoon, while you and Mat get to enjoy the day together before the team flies in before the game.

“Oh, hey, check this out,” Mat’s nearly bouncing when you get back to your hotel room, directing your attention to a huge gift bag sitting on the bed.

You raise an eyebrow, “all star game swag?”

“Even better,” Mat’s eyes are wide. “Justin gave us all some stuff from his line.”

Muffling a giggle with your hand, you poke at the gift bag. “Justin? Your new best friend?” You ask, dryly, spotting a grey hoodie at the top of the pile.

Mat nudges you with his knuckles. “Just for that, I’m not sharing my new gear,” he informs you, pulling each item out of the bag. He’s like a kid on Christmas, giddy with each piece of merch and relaying more stories about Justin behind the bench, like you haven’t heard them all already.

You indulge him, getting ready for bed as he talks, giving him a soft, affectionate smile when he finally pauses his yapping. “You are such a dork,” you murmur, squishing his cheeks between your palms and planting a quick kiss on her pursed lips. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute.”

——

Sunday is quiet, festivities over. Mat immediately pulls on his new Drew hoodie and you snag the sweats, going for comfort over fashion for your day.

“Steal that sweatshirt and send it to me,” Liana says, hugging you goodbye.

“Over my dead body,” Mat shakes his head at her. “Buy your own.”

You sling an arm around Mat’s waist and lean into him. “Oh, calm down. No one’s stealing the gifts your boyfriend gave you,” you wrinkle your nose at him in a crinkly-eyed smile.

He snaps at the waist band of your pilfered sweats and gives you a stink eye. You laugh, “I live with you! They’re going back to our shared dresser.”

“In my drawer,” Mat says and you nod, indulging him. You both know that you’re keeping the sweats.

Once Mat’s parents and Liana are off to the airport, the rest of the day is chill. You’re soaking up the time with Mat before he goes back into the grind for the back half of the season.

“Hey,” you say at dinner later, nudging his foot with yours under the table.

Mat looks up from the menu, hair a little messy, eyes still bright from the excitement of the weekend.

“I just…I’m really proud of you,” you manage to say around the little ball of emotion in your throat. You reach across the table and lace your fingers with his and Mat squeezes them gently. “This has been the best weekend and I hope you get to bring this excitement to the back half of the season.”

His grins at you, that crooked smile of his that you love so much, and says, “having you here was the second best part of the weekend.”

“Let me guess,” you deadpan, “becoming besties with Justin was the best part?”

He nods, eyes twinkling, “yep.”

“I hate you,” you snort a laugh, smiling despite yourself.

“It’s a really close second though,” Mat assures you.

With a faint sigh, you shake your head, “I see where I stand. Maybe I’ll just have to cheer for the Leafs tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Mat rushes to say and you kick his shin lightly.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “What kind of Long Islander would I be, rooting for the enemy?”

Mat pinches your palm, “a terrible one and an awful girlfriend too.”

You hum and say nonchalantly, “you’d think two blowjobs in a weekend, plus riding you, would cement me as best girlfriend ever.”

“Make it three and I’ll marry you right now,” Mat jokes, surprising a laugh out of your chest. Your heart skips a beat in your chest at the mention of marrying Mat, even as a little joke. You want to be his forever.

“You know,” you say, voice shaking just slightly, “marriage is all about give and take.”

Mat bumps his knee against yours, grinning wickedly. “Baby, if you wanted an orgasm, all you had to do was ask,” he says, voice low so he won’t be heard in the restaurant.

Your entire body heats with lust and you brush your fingers over your lips, hiding the involuntary little smile Mat’s words elicit. “Oh,” your voice is breathless, “well, if that’s all it takes.”

“You going to ask for what you want?” Mat asks, running his thumb over the backs of your knuckles.

Leaning forward, you hum, catching the faint hint of Mat’s cologne and the hotel shampoo. You wet your lower lip and watch as Mat’s gaze tracks the tiny movement of your tongue. Quietly, you murmur just for Mat’s ears, “I want some all-star orgasms before I become a hockey widow again.”

Mat chuckles and leans forward too so he can give you a quick kiss. “I think I can make that happen,” he replies easily, leaning back in his seat. You can see from the way his body shifts that he’s spreading his legs again. You shift in your seat, feeling hot. He smirks a little at you, clearly seeing the way your body reacts to him.

Fuck, it may be a three blowjob weekend after all.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal fic #nhl fic

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letterstotheflre · 2 years

Text

𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐘𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 || 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

summary: in which you forget your wallet and offer eddie a quid pro quo. oh, look at you using big words! [eddie munson x bimbo!reader]

cw: smut || 18+ only [ft. oral sex (m receiver), cheating, outdoors sex, reader is dumb (obviously, so if that bothers you.. goodbye!]

a/n: i rewrote this entire thing 4 times 😃 i still don’t really like how some parts turned out but let’s pretend it’s because i’ve stared at it for hours on end and not bc it’s actually bad <3

“That’d be 20,” Eddie says, sliding the bag of weed towards you over the wooden table.

You open your bag to look for your wallet only to not find it in its usual spot. You look inside the bigger compartment, ruffling through makeup bags, receipts and strawberry lollipops but come back empty handed. You look back at Eddie, offering him an anxious smile, “Just a sec.”

He nods and rests his forearms on the table, toying with the wristband of his watch while he watches you open all three of your makeup bags, the glass bottles and compact powders clinking against each other.

His eyebrows raise at your mumbled curse. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. S’just…” you giggle nervously, twirling a strand of hair. “I forgot my wallet. Silly me.”

Eddie grimaces in pity. “Well that’s unfortunate, sweetheart, but you know what they say…” he takes back the plastic bag and dumps it into his toolbox, closing the lid sharply. He smiles sarcastically, “Flattery doesn’t pay the bills.”

Your shoulders drop as he stands up, but before he can put his leather jacket back on your face lights up, resembling a cartoon having an eureka moment. Or so Eddie thinks. “Wait! I could pay you some other way, if you want!”

“Cash only, you know the rules.” Your twinkling laughter lets him know he said something stupid, which coming from you should probably bruise his ego a little. “What?”

“That’s not what I meant, silly,” you chuckle, adjusting your position on the bench and leaning forward conspiratorially, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Eddie gulps as your eyes drag down his body to his groin then back up to his face. “I meant, I could do you a little favour.”

“A favour,” he repeats blankly.

“Yeah, like a little– ugh, what’s the word?” You muse, your front teeth trapping your lower lip. Eddie has to admit that the way your brows furrow in concentration is adorable. “Oh, yeah, a little quid pro quo! I suck your cock, you give me the weed for free,” you sing-song, smiling at him.

Eddie is many things. A freak, a nerd, an academic failure, a drug dealer. He is not dumb, though, even though the vast majority of Hawkins High would like to defer. So it’d be very dumb of him to turn down a blowjob offer from one of the prettiest girls in Hawkins.

He’s seen you around town before, walking around with your short skirts and dresses and tight shirts, heeled mary janes that probably cost more than anything inside his trailer clicking against the pavement. You were one of the few people in Hawkins that didn’t cast him aside, in fact, you had always been kind to him whenever he got the courage to talk to you.

Whether it was because you were simply too nice or because the fact that he was Eddie “the Freak” Munson just flew over your pretty little ditzy head, he’d never know.

So sue him if he had a teeny tiny crush on the local airhead.

Then he remembers the hunk who usually had an arm wrapped around your waist. The meathead that would bump into his shoulder if they crossed paths. The jackass that would make your shoulders drop and a sad look cloud your face when he mocked you as you played around with the figurines on display in the comic shop he frequented.

His mood sours.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah, but he won’t mind. Half the weed is for him anyways.” You shrug, clearly unbothered. “Besides, it’s not like he hasn’t been sneaking around with like, half of his girl friends behind my back. At least I’m doing this as a favour to him.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “Shit, no way.”

“Yeah, he must think I’m stupid or something. I mean, I’ve already found three different fake nails in his car. Do I look like the type of girl to wear black nail polish?” You tilt your head to the side, your shiny purple nails clicking on the table. Eddie shakes his head with a snort. “Exactly! So, are we gonna do this or not? I have a hair dresser’s appointment in like an hour.”

Eddie shifts in place, kicking some leaves up in the air. As much as this is a dream come true, he doesn’t wanna take advantage of your predicament. Hoping you don’t take it back, he asks, “You sure this is cool?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun!”

He wonders if your idea of fun is usually this fucked up but finds himself nodding in approval. “Yeah, sure. Fuck it.”

You clap your hands in excitement and stand up, your skirt flaring as you twirl around to walk to the opposite side of the bench. You stand in front of him, fingers linked together as you bounce on the balls of your feet. “So, like, do you wanna stand or sit down?”

Eddie stares at your glossy mouth as you talk, down to your low cut top that exposes the swells of your chest, and lower to your short skirt that will most likely rise up if the barest hint of a breeze passes you by.

“I, uh, I think I’ll sit,” he says, lowering himself to the bench. He gulps when he’s face to face with your boobs, your nipples straining against your shirt.

Yeah, he thinks as his cock stirs awake, sitting down was the smartest choice.

“Wait,” he grabs his jacket and dumps it in front of him. “For– for your knees. So the leaves don’t hurt you,” he explains when he sees the confused look on your face.

Your heart swells inside your chest. You have to clutch it to make sure it doesn’t burst from the seams. “That’s so sweet!” you cry and give him a quick peck on the cheek before kneeling between his legs.

You shuffle until you’re in a comfortable position, caressing his thighs gently when you’re done. “It’s super comfy, Eddie. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he exhales, watching in anticipation as you unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans. He helps you out by raising his hips, pulling down his boxers himself just enough to get his cock out.

Your mouth falls open. “Oh, wow.”

His cock isn’t even fully hard yet but it’s still an impressive sight, barely thicker than it’s longer and decorated with two cute veins on either side that lead to the pink tip. Your favourite colour.

You reach forward to touch him but he shifts back awkwardly, shoulders drawn up. “Sorry about the mess,” he says, more pink coating his cheeks. If he keeps this up you’re going to fall in love. “I didn’t think I'd be getting blowed during a deal so, uh, y’know… housekeeping missed a week.”

He’s embarrassed, you realise, catching up to the misunderstanding. About his… pubic hair? You laugh internally, how dumb is this boy?

“I don’t care about that, dummy,” you keep stroking his inner thigh, now touching his skin. He’s so warm.

Your honesty is so clear in your eyes that it helps him relax. Your hand hovers above his mound and only touches him when he nods shakily, petting it softly. Your eyes light up with happiness and god, Eddie loves that shine on you. “I think it’s super hot, actually. Kinda wish my boyfriend kept it like this.”

Eddie sighs as you litter warm kisses around the base. His dick twitches when your nose bumps against it. “He doesn’t?”

He doesn’t know why he asks, but he’s curious. So very curious to know what you see in that asshole, what it is exactly that Eddie’s missing. And maybe, just maybe, he feels a burst of proudness when you shake your head with a sad pout.

Eddie: 1

Asshole boyfriend: 0

Your kisses move upwards, your lips pressing sweetly all around his cock and your tongue tracing the veins. Eddie is practically vibrating with anticipation, his hands hovering on either side of your head like he doesn’t know if he can touch you.

“You can touch me, Eddie,” you mumble against his length, the vibrations sending a shiver down Eddie’s spine. “You can do whatever you want. Here–”

He swallows down the whine of despair that threatens to come out of his throat when you pull away, has to bite his lip to stay quiet when you take off your top and your tits fall out.

You take his hands and press them to your chest. “Feel them,” you guide his fingers so he can squeeze them, letting out a breathy moan in response. Encouraged, Eddie does it again, this time by himself, and sneaks out of your hold to twist your nipples. “S-soft, aren’t they?”

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he corrects.

You swallow harshly, the praise and Eddie’s eyes glued to your boobs creating a gentle warmth inside you. “I, uh, thought you might’ve wanted something pretty to look at. Trees can get a little boring. A-and you can use them as stress balls, too! Just anything y’want, really…” You shake your scattered head and grip him once more, Eddie cursing from your sudden movement. “I’m gonna suck you now, ‘kay?”

“Whenever you want, sweetheart.”

Something in the tone of his voice makes your thighs clench together.

You purse your lips and dribble some spit onto the tip, spreading the rivulettes around with firm strokes. Eddie’s breathing hardens, and when you finally wrap the soft cushions of your mouth around the head and suckle on it like the lollipops you’re always munching on, it’s like he’s stopped breathing all together.

“Shit,” he curses, the feel of your wet tongue swirling around turning his brain into mush. He can’t think straight, not when he looks down and sees you slobbering all over him, slurping loudly as your head bobs up and down enthusiastically.

“Holy fuck, that feels so good.” You’re fighting back your gag reflex, he can feel it– your throat contracting around him as you try your best to fight off the urge to throw up, desperate to keep him snug inside your mouth. The spasms cause his head to fall back, the grip on your tits tightening until you’re whimpering.

You’re a sputtering mess when you pull away, spit dripping down your chin and onto your chest, which is panting with the effort to relieve your burning lungs. You keep stroking him, though, your fist gliding with ease thanks to all the drool you left on him.

“Look what you did to me,” Eddie says, eyes glued to the tip that oozes precum like a leaky faucet. You follow one of the pearly white drops on its path down to his balls and, never having been a wasteful person, lick it up.

Eddie groans the feeling of your soft tongue kitten licking his heavy balls. “Do that again,” he begs, hands leaving your chest to keep you down where you are, pressing you against his base. You’re overwhelmed with all things Eddie: his scent, his taste, the sounds he makes as you plop both sacks into your mouth and suck them.

Eddie slumps back against the table, the sharp edge digging itself into his back but he doesn’t care. He’s spewing curses and the sweetest sounds you have ever heard. “Oh god, you feel how full they are? How full of cum they are for you? Never got this fucking needy for anyone, I swear to fucking Ozzy or- shit, I don’t know. Feels like I’m gonna explode.”

There aren’t many things that make you as wet as having a cock in your mouth and the evidence is clear in your panties, a string of slick stretching when you pull them to the side to play with your clit. You roll Eddie’s balls in your mouth, press two fingers into your dripping hole in search of relief. The reaction is immediate: a cute little mewl ripping from your chest thanks to the knowledge that your fingers are sticky with his cum and your spit.

You press your face further into his groin and sigh in pleasure, eyelashes fluttering as you pump and curl your fingers. With a kiss yo each of his balls, you lave your tongue on the underside of his cock, flicking the tip over his slit so you can embed his salty taste in your mouth.

“Oh shit, are you touching yourself?” His voice gets higher from the surprise and the arousal, something rabid growing in his stomach. He combs back your hair so he can see your eyes. “That’s– that’s so hot. You have no idea how fucking hot it is.”

He can’t look away from you. Wants to burn the image of your mouth stuffed full and your teary eyes and your lips stretched wide as you try to give him your best smile. Your nipples are grazing the rough fabric of his jeans, your tits bouncing up and down as you drool all over him.

He doesn’t think he can last much longer, not when you touch him so good and sound so pretty and he knows he’s the reason you’re so desperately fucking your own fingers. It’s then that the wet heat of your mouth envelops him again, your cheeks hollowing in a suction motion.

All hell breaks loose.

He thinks he’s burning up, he has to be. His skin is hot and sweaty, his mind delirious and he can’t keep himself from spewing the first thoughts that come to mind. “I bet that little pussy is beautiful. Sweet too. It’s– It’s gotta be, with how fucking pretty you are. How sweet you always are to me. Always so nice to me, laughing at my awful jokes. Even if your idiotic boyfriend is around. Goddamit,” he clutches the bench beneath him, eyes screwed shut. “I’m gonna cum, sweetheart. Where- Where do you want it? In that tight throat, that pretty face? Anywhere, anywhere you want.”

You pull away with a lewd popping sound, Eddie’s eyes rolling back. “My face, please. Want you to make me pretty,” you say breathlessly.

Your inner walls flutter at the sight of Eddie losing himself in his orgasm. He’s always been pretty but now, with his lips raw bitten, his hair a wild mess from running his hand through it, his face flushed and his shirt sticking to his sweaty chest? He’s beautiful, gorgeous, every synonym in the dictionary.

You await with an open mouth and the second the first spurts of his cum hit your cheek, you’re cumming yourself, movements stuttering and thighs closing in on your wrist. Some of the spurts enter your mouth directly and you gulp them down without hesitation. Others drip down your forehead and cheekbones before they touch your parted lips, your tongue darting out to collect them.

“Come here.” He grabs you by the back of your neck and leans forward to kiss, not even caring that you’re covered in him. His nose presses against your cheek as he swallows down your whiny moans, tasting himself on your tongue.

He’ll blame the mushyness on his post-orgasmic bliss, not worried about anything when you’re switching his deep kisses for sweet little pecks that could make his knees buckle.

“Oh!” you exclaim when you notice the clump of white on the tip of Eddie’s nose. You swipe it off with your thumb and lick it up, not even worrying about the state of your own. “So, uh, I read that cum is like this super amazing facial… maybe we could do it again sometime?”

Oh, bless your silly little heart.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #bimbo!reader

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