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unholyhelbig · 3 months

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More Wandanat pls 😊

Title: Are you Avoiding me?

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 2935

Warnings: pet names, sexual situations implied, broken glass, and horrible spelling (I don't proofread).

Summary: It's becoming harder and harder for reader to avoid both Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. Things only get worse when they're cornered in their lab.

[A/n: This is just a little drabble, that's been sitting in my drafts for months, nothing with too much sustinance! I've been distracting myself lately with Wenclair content instead of writing]

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There were thousands of mugs with Shield’s logo on the side that floated around the compound, changing hands between agents and the high-ranking Avengers. It’s why you felt less bad about dropping the one in your grasp to the floor. It shattered into dozens of pieces, and the rest of the pale coffee you were drinking seeped out of the wreckage.

“Ow! Why? Why?” Clint’s voice had turned to a growl by the end of his sentence. He had righted himself and gripped his own mug to his chest, leveling you with a glare that was much too vicious this early in the morning.

The words were trapped in your throat and you dropped down behind the kitchen island, pressing yourself close enough to the wood to become apart of the grain. If you could just hide long enough for them to wander away, then all would be well.

The archer glanced down at you, and then back to the hallway that passed the communal kitchen. Natasha Romanoff had her brow furrowed, lifting a sculped eyebrow at him. She had just come back from her morning run, a fine sheen of sweat coating her muscles. He gave her a shrug and that was enough encouragement to send her on her way.

You let out a long sigh at the sound of her footsteps retreating. “Don’t look at me like that, Barton.”

“I can look at you anyway I want to, you’re the one that would rather be on the ground than talk to Natasha.”

It wasn’t just talking to Natasha. It was looking at her too; breathing the same air as her, meeting her fern-colored eyes across the room and ceasing to have a tangible thought pattern. You were an Avenger, for fucks sake, an ex-KGB spy shouldn’t make you fumble the way that you did.

“It’s not that hard, y/n. She’s harmless, really.”

That was easy for him to say. You huffed quietly and picked up the broken pieces of mug before depositing them into the trashcan. Coffee would make you too jittery anyway. So, if you really thought about it, your nerves had done you a favor.

“She’s terrifying.” You said, reaching for an empty glass. You filled it up with tap water and tentatively took a sip. It went down clunky and cold. “And gorgeous.”

“A combination that renders you absolutely useless.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Clint lifted both of his eyebrows at you, not saying a word. He didn’t have to. And you didn’t need all of this judgement from him in the first place. He had been so scared of Natasha that he couldn’t bring her in, in the first place. He would tell it differently, but you didn’t stick around to find out.

There were other things that you had to do; like a mountain of paperwork and a few modifications to the Vibranium arm that had found its way onto your desk. A cold shower wouldn’t do you any harm either. And if your fingers were to wander? No one would know.

You flashed him the middle finger, abandoning all thoughts of nourishment for the day. Tony kept his labs stocked with bottled water and granola bars after some nagging from Pepper. That would hold you over until lunch and if you started to drift, there were plenty of electrical sources that would give you a low-grade jolt.

Most of the time, you kept your head down, earbuds in even if they weren’t playing music. It was easier not to get caught up in the fanfare of the Avengers. Most of them were human, and they made human mistakes even if they weren’t.

You answered your superiors and fixed any problems that arose with tech and machinery, sometimes even costuming. Those things were simple, cut and dry. Your feelings for Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff weren’t even slightly that.

There was admiration from afar, and Clint would even say a numbness that clouded your brain completely. That celebrity that all other agents produced around any of the spandex wearing heroes often evaded you.

But each time Wanda stepped through the doors of your lab to get a personal watch fixed, or once, a VHS player that had the scent of smoke and burning plastic. She’d jutted out her lower lip when a copy of ‘I Love Lucy’ was burnt to a crisp.

Despite your meager salary, you had found one at the thrift and set it outside her door without a word. Not a romantic gesture, Clint. You should have seen her face. It was something you’d do as a friend, a co-worker.

Your shoulder collided with something strong, yet soft. There was a small grunt released from the back of your throat. You got a mouthful of the scent of rain and vanilla tobacco. But strong hands were suddenly gripping your forearms, keeping you steady.

Your eyes widened and met with curious hazel ones. You thought you gave Natasha enough time to get back to her room. But here she was, in that tight tank top, sweat drenching the collar. She looked beautiful, the lights overhead hitting her.

Agent Romanoff reached up and pulled one of your earbuds out, letting it hang loose against your chest. “Doctor y/l/n, are you avoiding me?”

“Avoiding?” You laughed with a little too much force, compensating for the lost air by snorting and instantly regretting it. A light blush fell over your cheeks. She didn’t look mad, in fact, she looked quite amused. “No, no. I’m not avoiding.”

“So, what would you call ducking down behind the counter in the kitchen?”

“How did you…”

“I’m a superspy and you’re not exactly subtle.”

Yeah. You’d forgotten about that. She didn’t’ allude to the fact, simply continuing on her way and leaving you to your horrible conversation with Clint. But then she had waited in front of your lab, her own clearance not allowing her past the sliding doors without you in it.

She lilted her head to the side “Don’t worry about it, it’s actually rather adorable.”

The heat against your cheeks started to spread down your neck and to your collarbone. If she noticed, and of course she noticed, she didn’t’ say anything. But she released her hold, and you fought back a whimper of disappointment.

“What can I do for you, Agent Romanoff?”

“Us, actually.” She responded, eyes darting towards the locked doors. “I’d rather talk somewhere a bit more private, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely that’s alight. If this is about the Widow Bites that I redesigned then I can most definitely tweak them. We don’t want you to get a jolt every time you use them. Not that I’m saying you’re not skilled enough to avoid that,”

You kept talking as you swiped your card and it with a beep, walking into the instant familiarity of your lab. There was a coolness there for tactical purposes, but it washed over your heated skin and hopefully took some of the soft color away.

You started to flit around the lab, flicking on all the lights and the different purifiers. There was an experiment that Fitz was working on that needed a rotating heat source and that was turned on as well.

“If we remove the outer panel and with a little tweaking, we can make them non-lethal, heavy with stopping power. They can break up under the sub-cutaneous tissue-“

Again, you ran into Natasha. Her body was so warm and solid, stable compared to the way you buzzed about. The door had slid shut behind you, its frosted glass exterior shielding you from the rest of the world.

This time you didn’t’ rush to apologize, instead you pushed your glasses up to the center of your nose and stared at her in a comfortable silence. “This wasn’t about your widow bites. You said us.”

She nodded at you, suddenly seeming quite shy herself. You’d never seen her avert her gaze before and something about the reaction worried you. Your stomach was doing somersaults, flipping back and forth between pure panic and excitement. This was the longest you two had spent in one another’s space without you bolting from the room.

“For the past six months I’ve been involved in a sexual relationship with Wanda Maximoff.”

“Uh,”

It was the only word that you could muster. Thoughts that flushed your cheeks all over again ran through your mind; bare breasts pressed against each other, lips hungrily clashing, hands raking up perfectly toned muscles. Your eyes were hazy with lust, but you blinked it away just as fast as it had settled. Natasha ghosted a smirk regardless.

“It was purely sexual, we both needed to blow off some steam. I’m sure you know how that is.”

On nights when you needed to ‘blow off steam’, you went into the empty training room and ran for six miles before taking a stark cold shower to loosen your muscles. When you ran, you forgot about the dip of Natasha’s collarbone and the dexterity of Wanda’s fingers.

Now that you thought about it, there were signs that the two of them had something and why shouldn’t they? Subtle touches that led to more. The tenderness in Natasha’s eyes betrayed more. If she hadn’t noticed yet, you weren’t going to be the one to tell her.

“It was fun for a while, a supply closet here, the gym floor there. But going on month seven it’s almost losing its… spark.”

“I’m sorry?” You were cautious with your words, and she giggled, the Black Widow herself was giggling at you.

“I’m not so good at this.”

“You’re good at everything.”

She smiled “Wanda insisted that I come and talk to you first because you’re skittish. Moreso around her than me. She was upset when I told her you let me stay the afternoon in here last week, just watching you work.”

Each move you made that day was languid. There was a nervousness to you that seemed to vanish when you could open up the back of a monitor and stare at the innerworkings. You were recruited right out of MIT, and though you had been offered more than one job, you jumped at the idea of working in the Stark tower, living here.

She worked her hand through her hair and sighed “see, not so good at this.”

“What exactly is this?”

Natasha furrowed her brow and a small crease formed between her eyebrows in response. You wanted to reach up and smooth it away with the subtle touch of your thumb. That part wasn’t complicated, not like people usually were.

So, you did just that, you touched the pad of your finger to her soft, warm skin and pressed until the tension started to leave her body. Natasha’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and moved your hand until you cupped her cheek. She sighed into the embrace; eyes closed for more than a single moment.

“I want you, y/n.” She mumbled against the palm of your hand, turning it to the side and delivering a single kiss to the pulse point on your wrist. You were sure that she could feel the quickness in which it thrummed. “So does Wanda.”

You were dizzy, suddenly glad for her hold on you. Months, close to a year, you had spent ducking behind counters and taking the long way back to your dorm. They were both stunning to an intimidating degree, to the point where it devastated you.

“Say something, please” Natasha whispered, voice breaking “I know this is a lot and you can absolutely decline. We can forget this conversation ever happened and you can go back to breaking coffee mugs.”

“No! I mean, no. I don’t want to go back to breaking coffee mugs. I think Clint is running a tab, and Mr. Stark isn’t exactly generous with our salaries.”

A grin spread across Natasha’s face. It was like being wrapped in a warm towel after a long day in the rain. You’d do anything to make her smile. You were in down bad, not that you’d admit it to Bird Boy.

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, not trusting your ability to vocalize anything right now. Her lips were on yours, soft and tender. She kissed you slowly, with purpose. The two of you savored the moment, a sigh of extasy escaping you, your arms winding around her shoulders, hers pressing against your spine.

Natasha broke the embrace, staring hazily at you. That cocky smile had turned into a wonderstruck and borderline goofy one. Have you broken the superspy? She’d certainly made you waver. You were effectively rendered silent.

“Oh, sweet girl, how easy it is to fluster you.” Natasha pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I fear that a certain witch is lurking just close enough for you to open the door.”

It slid open on its own with a dejected beep. You glanced down at the pocket of your lab coat, badge still attached. A small pout made its way to your lips but softened when Wanda stalked into the mostly empty lab, you felt your defenses lower.

The remnants of red twirled around her fingers- and god, you didn’t mean to stare, but they held a power to them. With Natasha slotted against your body, the primal scent of her, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. Oh, how good they’d feel on your tongue.

A pink blush crept up her collarbone and at the tips of her ears. Wanda raised a perfectly sculpted brow at you. There was no doubt in your mind that your thoughts were loud enough for her to hear them. And somehow, you didn’t mind one bit. You’d never imagine being this bold with either of them, but the kiss with Natasha had left you heady, greedy for more.

“Have you been able to do that the whole time?” You panted out, watching the door slide shut once more.

“Well, yes. But I respect your privacy… to an extent. You have quite the dirty mind, don’t you?”

“I… you… no!”

You pulled away from Natasha, crossing your arms over your chest. If you weren’t careful, your glasses would fog up just by being in the same vicinity as them both. Sure, there had been a few times where you’d let your mind wander; images of Wanda shoving you against the wall, pinning your arms above your head.

Natasha taking you over the lab table that you made sure was meticulous in every single way each night before you left. The thought of them taking control was alluring, tantalizing. You thought all the time, too much about every move you made. You didn’t want to admit that you’d welcome not thinking at all, even if it was only for a few moments.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Wanda soothed.

“That’s why Stark keeps me in the basement.”

She’d gotten impossibly close. You could smell the lavender shampoo that often accompanied her. They were both taller than you, though, not by much. Your breath still hitched in your throat at her proximity. Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, lilting her head to the side in a way that made your knees feel unstable.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, and a smile moved across her lips. “You need to use your words, sweetheart.”

“Oh, don’t be mean, Wanda.” Natasha wrapped her arms around your midsection, resting her chin against your shoulder. You felt the incredible warmth she provided, nearly sighing into it. “This is a lot to take in. Baby steps.”

You couldn’t tell which of the two held more control over the situation, but didn’t much care when you felt Wanda’s breath hot against your lips. She closed the distance and you kissed until it stung, until your lungs were begging for air. A desperate noise that you had never made before escaped you when she broke the embrace.

All the while, the calloused pads of Natasha’s fingers were running softly over the expanse of skin between your waistband and shirt. Her touch was so delicate and impossibly warm compared to the coolness of the lab.

Natasha hugged you closer, and you allowed her to. Everything about both women surrounding you screamed control. The darkness that settled over Wanda’s stare made a wetness pool between your thighs. You squeezed them together in an attempt of subtly.

It was like fooling a seer. They could read your body like an open book and you clenched your eyes shut but could still feel the grin that stretched across Natasha’s face in the crook of your neck. It would be so easy to give up control to them.

“Does anyone else have the key to your lab?” Wanda purred, her hand splayed on your chest in a startling grounding motion. Your eyes snapped open, hazy with lust.

You were breathless, stunned. “Just you.”

Wanda’s head tilted, her tongue darting out against her bottom lip. Chills pushed down your spine, Natasha’s hold tightening around your center. You were sure that you’d catch flame right there and wake up from this dream. But neither of them vanished when you blinked.

“Good. What’s your safe word, darling?”

Natasha’s grin was nothing short of wolfish. She squeezed both of your hips possessively, hauling you with a spy’s quickness onto the nearest counter. You nudged a white mug with a SHIELD logo on the front. It fell to the floor, shattered into a million different pieces.

None of that seemed to matter.

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanov x reader #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Wanda Maximoff x reader #Wanda maximoff #Wanda Maximoff x y/n #Wanda Maximoff x you #Wandanat #Wandanat x reader #Wandanat x you #Wandanat x y/n

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bruisedboys · 1 year

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can I request remus and anxious!reader where he asks her to be his, but she is worried that remus will think that she is too much to take care of?

thank you for your request angel!! this was fun to write <3

remus lupin x fem!anxious!reader, 1.3k words

Remus turns up unannounced at your door with a huge bouquet of flowers. You think you know where this is going.

“Hey,” he says, smiling a brilliant smile that sets your heart aflame. “You look nice. Can I come in?”

You don’t look nice, at least not in your opinion. You’re in your pyjamas, a loose tank and a pair of flannel pants, fresh out of the shower with your damp hair hanging limp over your shoulders. But you can’t not let him in. You like him too much.

“Uh— sure. Yeah, come in. Sorry about the mess.” You kick a stray shoe to the side to prevent him tripping in your doorway, embarrassed.

“Don’t start,” he tells you, fondly exasperated as he toes off his shoes. He closes the door behind him and then turns back to you, holding the bouquet out. “These are for you, by the way.”

You’d guessed. Still, you’re very very happy to get them. He’s given you flowers before, ones he’s picked on the way to your place or a rose, once, on your last birthday, but never a bouquet. You take it from him, fingers brushing his at the stalks.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. You can’t imagine how much they cost him. It’s the fullest bouquet you’ve ever seen, petals bursting out of the tissue paper in pretty pinks and whites and creams. You don’t try to fight the smile working it’s way onto your lips. “They’re really pretty.”

Remus grins and raises one shoulder in a shrug. “Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.”

“Remus,” you whine, heat building in your cheeks at an alarming rate.

Remus laughs, surprised. “What?”

You glare, fierce as you can when you’re so infatuated with him. He’s making this hard for you and he knows it. “Nothing. Come on, come through, I’ll find a vase.”

You lead the way through your entryway and into the kitchen. Remus sits at your kitchen island and watches while you find a vase for your flowers and fill it with water from the tap. You feel his gaze like laser beams and try not to think about how much skin your pyjama top is showing right now, how much you don’t actually care because you want him to look at you.

“Stop looking at me,” you say anyway, though you know he won’t listen.

“No, I don’t think I will.” Typical.

“You’re awful.”

“Thanks, gorgeous.”

You sigh and finish setting up your flowers, setting them on the kitchen island. Remus smiles at you like a fool when you meet his eyes.

“Do you want a drink?” You ask, desperate to do something other than be under his gaze.

“No. I want to ask you something.”

Your heart stutters. This could go a million ways and you’re not sure which way you’d prefer. You sit down across from him and try not to fall right off your chair.

“Okay,” you say quietly, playing with your hands, pulling at your fingers. “Ask away, then.”

Remus doesn’t say anything right away. He slides his hands across the counter and pushes them over yours, stopping your mindless fiddling. You let him take your hands in his. They’re warm, rough but soft in the places that count. His fingers thread through yours and your heart does a backflip.

“Look at me?” He asks, voice soft as silk. You’re glad he’s stopped joking around but somehow his sweet patience is worse.

You look up, meeting his eyes. Remus beams.

“Hi,” he says, grinning.

You huff a laugh through your nose. “Hi,” you say back.

Remus strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “Look, I’m not gonna beat around the bush,” he says, words measured as if he’s being careful to not worry you. You both despise and adore how patient he is with you. “I want to ask you something, and if you don’t like it, please feel free to kick me out of your house. Okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, wondering if the hammering of your heart is for a good reason or a bad. “I’m not gonna kick you out of my house, Remus.”

“You might.”

You shake your head firmly. “I won’t.”

Remus takes a deep breath, and you watch his chest rise and fall.

“I really like you,” he says. “And as much as I enjoy being friends, I think I’d like to be more.”

You blink. You can barely open your mouth, feeling like your lips have been glued shut. “More?” You manage.

Remus nods. “Yeah.”

You don’t know why but you suddenly feel like crying. You’re not oblivious, you’d known Remus liked you at least a little bit more than just a friend. You’ve gone over this moment countless times in your head, content with it happening in your head but never in real life. You’re a fish out of water. You swallow.

“Remus,” you say, trying not to sound like you’re rejecting him. “I … I don’t know.”

Remus blinks.

“Not— I mean, it’s not because of you,” you say in a desperate rush. You untangle your hands from his and wrap your fingers around his wrists instead. “I like you, Remus. You know I do. It’s just— I don’t think you’d … I’m a lot of work,” you finish dejectedly.

Remus gives you a looks like a kicked puppy. “What? Y/N, that doesn’t—“

“No, listen, Remus,” you say, desperate for him to understand. “I’m not— I wouldn’t be a good girlfriend. You already do so much for me, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do more.” Remus knows about your anxiety. It’s one of the reasons you like him so much, because he knows and doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t treat you any differently for it. Still, “You’d get tired of me.”

Remus genuinely looks like he might cry. He releases your hands and gets up, and for one terrifying second you think he’s leaving you, that he’s already sick of you and your worries, that he doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. But he only rounds the kitchen island and gets so close to you you can smell his cologne.

“Can I give you a hug?” He asks in a soft murmur. “Please?”

You nod. Remus only hesitates for a half a second before wrapping his arms around you, pulling your head to his stomach, a hand in your damp hair. He’s warm and firm, tall, all-encompassing. He’s hugged you before but never like this. Never like he wants to hold all the pieces of you together in case you fall apart. You might just.

You weasel your arms around his tummy and try not to squeeze too hard. Remus strokes the back of your head, once, twice, three times. He doesn’t seem to mind your wet hair, the dampness slowly soaking into his soft t-shirt.

“Sweetheart,” he says gently. “I want you to know that none of that matters to me. Only you matter. I don’t care if I have to look after you, I wouldn’t care if I had to carry you around like a log everywhere we went. I want to look after you.”

You squeeze him harder.

“I don’t want to burden you,” you say into his t-shirt.

Remus makes a sad noise and pulls back, hands climbing to your neck. He encourages your face from his stomach gently, fingers pushing your hair out of the way so he can cup your jaw.

“You won’t be a burden,” he says. “You’re not. I like you just the way you are. I could never get tired of you, honey. Every time I see you it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time all over again.”

There’s a pause in which you look at each other, a lot of big, beautiful feelings in the way you study each other’s faces. Your heart pounds in your chest. You know your decision has already been made, was probably made the second he appeared at your door, maybe the moment you met him however long ago. He’s lovely, the best person you’ve ever met. You like him enough to put aside your worries and be with him, if that’s what he wants.

And it is what he wants. Suddenly you feel so happy you could burst.

“Okay,” you say hoarsely, emotion thick in your throat. You nod, not caring how desperate you look. “Yes.”

Remus’ answering smile is bruising. “Yeah?” He says, pleased and almost as giddy as you. His eyes light up like stars and you know you could’ve never said no to him. “You’ll be mine? Let me look after you for ever and ever?”

A giggle bubbles out of you before you can stop it. You beam up at him. “Only if you let me look after you, too.”

Remus thumbs the hollow under your eye slowly, his touch like fireworks along your skin, leaning close like he’s gonna kiss you. You’re surprised to realise you really, really want him to.

“I think that can be arranged.”

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

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urhoneycombwitch · 9 months

Text

I know what they call you.

You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you. shy!reader

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous. Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

wc: 11k

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after.

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music.

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm.

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways.

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask.

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him.

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return.

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me.

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm.

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot.

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house.

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids.

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of.

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again.

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty.

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair.

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke.

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it.

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code.

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter.

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive.

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily.

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending. “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out.

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them.

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in.

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it.

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom.

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth.

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits.

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring.

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence.

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music.

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around.

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows.

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic.

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms.

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate.

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart.

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down.

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement.

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?”

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard.

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs.

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands.

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel.

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves.

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own.

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours.

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp.

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch.

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights.

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown.

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you.

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him.

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation.

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam.

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie.

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders.

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh.

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,”

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips.

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x shy! reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #robin buckley #steve harrington #mdni

2K notes · View notes

siscon-stsg · 5 months

Note

Can we get Toji’s daughter pleasing him after a stressful job 💗

(CW: incest, name-calling (slut, whore, bitch, brat, etc), toji calls reader 'princess' a few times, toji-levels of bad parenting, daddy kink ofc, chokehold, rough sex, cockdrunk reader, titty slapping, teasing, a weird mix of degradation and praise i think, begging, toji cums on reader's chest and face, toji makes one joke about prostituting reader)

i'll let you guys know i am physically unable to thirst for toji because my daddy issues are just like tHAT, but i did my best for y'all guys, if this ain't a proof of how much i love you idk what is. ~BLOSSOM

TOJI is not an exemplary dad, though that is something you already knew. it was almost fun how little effort he put into hiding it, even laughing sometimes that you'd expect him to be better. him.

“brat, i'm home,” you heard him grumble from the main door before he slammed it shut. you barely acknowledged with a hum from the comfort of your own cramped bedroom, such as was usual between you two; never the type to interact much. TOJI hadn't been home for well over a week, barely letting you know through a phone call that the job he'd taken proved to be more difficult than it seemed.

for a few long minutes, TOJI was but a ghost in the apartment, the one sound indicating he was even there being the water running form inside the bathroom. and as you made your way to the kitchen, looking for something to drink, he coincidentally walked into the adjacent living room, leaving the bathroom in a puff of steam.

water droplets ran, still warm, down the outline of each muscle and vein and scar; stopped only by the towel that hung suspiciously low around his hip. black hair was damp, carrying with it the scent of that cheap shampoo he'd get on a discount pack.

maybe you focused a bit too long on the other hairs tho, the ones trailing down his belly to his crotch. maybe.

“your brother?” TOJI asked, in a tired mumble, as he plopped down on the couch with a sigh; head tilted back, manspreading even when he didn't have boxers on. you averted your eyes from the hot embarrassing sight your father made, taking a sip from your glass of tap water, throat feeling oddly constricted all of a sudden.

“out. didn't say where,” you answered, honestly. you and your younger brother megumi hadn't been in the best terms since he turned into a teen. knowing TOJI would be home any minute, tho, megumi usually disappeared.

the knowledge that you two were home alone didn't sit right in your belly. though at this point, it was hard to discern whether you loathed these moments with TOJI, or looked forward to them.

thing were never very normal between you anyway.

the non-committal, husky hum your dad made only proved he, and you, were on the same wavelength after all. it didn't require much more than a simple “c'mere” from him to feel your legs, though jiggling like jelly, take you across the kitchen to the living room, to couch, and then to him.

TOJI's hands were always so big, rough and heavy, even when he wasn't applying any force. he squeezed them just right on each of your hips, pulling you down until you took your usual place on your daddy's lap.

“'m tired,” he grumbled, hands absent-mindedly rubbing your thighs, following the curve they made up to your ass. he pushed your body closer, digging his fingers just enough on the squishy flesh to make your breath hitch. “and i won't see m'payment 'til a few more days, cuz the shitty client's mad the job took more days than we agreed on. so,”

without warning, one of his hands tangled in the roots of your head, gently tugging until your mouth slanted over his. his kisses were sloppy, filthy, even when they had no tongue.

“y're gonna help daddy out”

“who y'runnin' away from, lil' girl?”

TOJI's voice was a husky, breathy mess. a deep growl compared to your high-pitched moans and squeaks; and nothing on the filthy, wet slap of his thighs on yours.

he was spooning you from behind on the couch, both fully naked. but when you tried to run away, TOJI snuck an arm under you and curled it around your neck; thick bicep bulging, chin slotted right in the crook of his elbow. the wheezing sound you let out got a chuckle out of him.

“such a bitch, runnin' from my cock. after i work my ass off f'you and your stupid brother”. TOJI spoke right into your ear, relishing each shiver and whimper he got out of you. it was either the bass his voice doing it, or the slap of his balls against your clit, or his toned muscles practically molded against your smaller frame.

“s-... so-...!” your brain was broken beyond the point of coherency, but still you felt like he expected a response. “AH!” only that this particular one earned your tit a slap and a nasty squeeze.

“don' say sorry, you slut, jus' take my fucking cock. yeahhh, like th'tt”. TOJI growled, momentarily slowing down just to bully his thickness slowly, from fat tip to even fatter hilt, inch by punishing inch. his pubes were a sticky mess of your pussy juices that so unapologetically dribbled down the couch. “pussy's so wet 'n tight, might start t' think you were waitin' f'me to do this”.

TOJI slipped out of you with a nasty squelch, manhandling you onto your back and dragging you like a rag doll to kneel between your open thighs. his fat cock rubbed fast and slick against your drooling slit, your chest heaving each time it caught on your pretty clit.

“daddy!”

“yeah, princess?” he hissed, teasing your hole only with the head, then he pulled back and kept rubbing at your sloppy cunny. “what' d's my girl want?”

you could barely even think. when TOJI was inside it felt like you'd never get used to his sheer girth and all, but... now you didn't have him and it just felt like your body was missing something; empty.

whining at this, pathetic and through tears, your hips bucked into his. your daddy answered so nicely by pinching your clit until you cried out.

“use y'r words, slut. or 's your brain fucked out already?”

TOJI hovered over you, trapping your body oh so right under his mass and height. the tenderness in which he sought your lips and tongue only made your fuzzy brain even more dizzy.

“yeah... thatta girl,” he purred when your legs lifted and wrapped around his hips. hissing as his tip caught your hole once again, this time your daddy didn't pull back: instead he grabbed your chin, grazing your bottom lip with his thumb as he said: “now speak”.

“y-your cock, please”. your squeaked plea made him chuckle. “please, need it s'bad!”

“hmm, can' wait?” TOJI murmured; hissing as he slowly, slowly sank back to the hilt. “such a whore for y'r daddy's cock...”

he barely gave you a breath to adjust before resuming his previous pounding. it got you screaming, nails digging into his back and heels into his hips as your daddy battered your cervix to tears.

each thrust made it more and more difficult to breath, you were even surprised the old couch managed to keep up with TOJI FUSHIGURO slamming into your pussy like he hated it. your belly felt more and more tight and stiff, thighs caught in between being tense to break and jittery.

“dad-! daddy!” you wailed between choked gasps. he groaned into your neck, calloused hands bruising your skin from how hard he was gripping onto your hips.

“cum f'me. c'mon, bitch, cum on this cock!”

two or three thrusts more, and your body snapped. all the moans you'd been choking on came out in a pathetic, sobbing, loud whine, body trashing from the sheer strength of your orgasm that made you forget about the neighbors. your eyes rolled back and you floated painfully on cloud nine, for long enough that it made you question if you dreamed the whole thing.

but no, because your pussy squeezed so hard it tore an actual moan out of TOJI and you heard it. he pulled out in a frenzy, kneeling over your chest as his thick fist blurred in vicious strokes and

“shit!” your daddy came. over your chest, some of your face; specially when he nudged your red cheek with the dripping tip, slowing down more and more with each stroke as he throbbed through his orgasm.

TOJI savored it, licking his lips and brushing the hair out of his handsome face: the sight of his pretty daughter with cum, his cum all over her skin, was a sight he'd pay to engrave behind his eyelids.

“fuck... you're good at this,” he panted, grinning down at your fucked out face. “how much would they pay for a pussy like yo-? ow! don't hit me, you fucking brat!”

#tw.incest #tw incest #dd:dne #papa toji #dead dove do not eat #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #tw dark content #daddy toji #tw. daddy kink #tw.daddy kink #tw daddy kink

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tigermark · 5 months

Text

les ˖ ࣪⊹

the haechan portion of my playlist series!!

pairing : haechan x fem!reader

synopsis : at a party with donghyuck, he keeps eyeing you. he knew you were just that pretty girl he went to school with, but he wished you were more...

genre : fluff, slightly suggestive, strangers to lovers, college au

tw : love at first sight type situation, hyuck is down BAD, kissing, reader and hyuck are just desperate for each other

donghyuck just couldn't help but notice you from across the room, dancing your heart out to whatever song was playing. he'd seen you before in the hallways, maybe even in one of his classes; he wasn't sure. but what he did know is that you were so captivating. he smiled as he sipped the concoction in his red solo cup looking back over to his friends.

"what're you looking at?" one of his friends asks. "is she cute??? where is she???" his friend pretty much climbs on top of him to look in the direction he was looking, making donghyuck push him away.

"calm down," he says as his friend scoffs in response.

"damn, possessive much? you probably won't even talk to her," his friend rolls his eyes and takes a step back from donghyuck.

now he feels the need to prove something.

he puts his drink on a nearby table, fixes his shirt, runs a hand through his hair, and walks over to you.

donghyuck never attends parties. however, his friends invited him to some random house party, so he went. after all, what's there to lose? after all, he's not going to be in college forever.

as he approaches you, he swears his heartbeat has accelerated. he tries to keep his cool as he gently taps you on the shoulder, taking in a sharp breath when you turn around to face him.

you survey his face, realizing he looks a bit familiar. you smile as you see his cheeks reddening as you look at him.

"um.. hi," he says awkwardly, fixing the collar on his shirt. he should've figured out what to say before walking over to you.

"hi," you respond, realizing how prettily the lights are hitting his tanned skin. "do you need something?"

hyuck's heart pretty much stops. what the hell is he supposed to say to that? in a panic, he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "yeah, you."

your eyes immediately widen and your jaw drops. "wow... um okay," you respond in utter shock. yet, you don't want to walk away from him; you almost feel drawn to his awkwardness.

it's probably the alcohol in your system, or maybe it's the way he looks at the moment, but something makes you grab his wrist and drag him down the hall into the nearest bathroom.

you shove him inside the small room and walk in behind him, closing and locking the door. donghyuck's eyes are wider than you've ever seen them, his chest is heaving; he looks like he's just seen a ghost.

without much thought, your hands land on the counter behind him, caging him between your arms. you lean in to give him a hesitant kiss, almost as to test the waters. you feel his breath puffing against your lips and you almost miss how he whimpers when your lips touch. you give him another chaste kiss, and then another, and then one more before you finally back off of him.

you just stand in front of him, admiring how he looks in the moment. his cheeks are slightly pink, his hair is still messy, his hands are gripping his pants, and you notice one more thing bulging out at you-

"so um..." you say before either of you get too carried away. "what's your name anyway?"

he takes in a shallow breath, one that sounds like he'd just been drowning. "donghyuck. and you?"

"i'm y/n," you respond fiddling with your outfit a bit. "just assumed you wanted to know the name of the person you're about to make out with."

"yeah that'd be nice," he responds, a small laugh escaping his lips. his eyes fall back onto your face, the thing he fell for first. now he's in love with your lips and your touch.

his staring is interrupted when you laugh at him reaching out to caress his cheek. "you want another kiss baby?" his heart skips like five beats at your words. donghyuck never struck himself as a person who would fall in love so easily but here he is.

he nods, leaning into your touch. your lips are on his again but this time the kiss is more heated, one that makes hyuck go absolutely insane.

it would take getting caught for him to ever stop kissing you... well, maybe not.

#tigermark #the playlist series 🤍#nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct haechan #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct 127 fluff #haechan fluff #kpop #kpop fluff

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httpdwaekki · 6 months

Text

worship | s.c.

summary: you don’t feel beautiful but changbin shows you just how beautiful you are.

wc: 4.6k

warning: SMUT 18+ (MDNI), tall!chubby!afab!reader, praise kink, body worship, negative self-talk, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap in), oral (read rec), nipple play, aftercare, tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible but written as afab!reader, probably more, read at your own risk.

a/n: minors and ageless blogs DNI. i will be blocking anyone that interacts with this post that is a minor/ageless blog. okayyyy, this is my first smut and i of course had to write it about my favorite boy <3 let me know what you think! anyway, i hope you enjoy! remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

my library

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

you weren’t always the most comfortable in your skin growing up. you were taller, and on the chubbier side for as long as you can remember. it always bothered you, you got treated differently from your skinnier friends.

you got stares not only for your height but your weight, you certainly didn’t get approached by boys and if you did they were trying to use you to get to your friends. you got used to it, you got depressed, and got into a really dark place.

but you slowly realized that if no one was gonna love you for you, then you were going to have to. and that’s what you did, you embraced every roll, every curve, every stretch mark. and you loved yourself like no else has. but then you met one seo changbin.

and if you thought no one could love you more, you were very mistaken. he proved to you everyday how much he loved you, every flaw, every strength, every high, every low. his love was truly unconditional.

and as much as he showed you how much he loved you, you were of course going to have your bad days. days where you don’t feel good about yourself, where you want to hide from the world, where you feel so uncomfortable in your own skin you almost wish you could rip it off.

and that’s exactly how you felt today. you laid on your couch in the biggest shirt you had, with an even bigger blanket around you, swallowing you into a fuzzy cocoon.

you were barely watching what was playing on the tv in front of you when you heard the familiar sound of the lock of your front door clicking, signaling it being unlocked. you know exactly who it was, you didn’t even have to move. you knew he was showing up sooner or later to figure out why you hadn’t been acting like yourself.

he had tried to ask but you shut him down every time. you knew he was busy and you didn’t want to burden him with your issues and especially when you knew the feelings would pass sooner or later.

you hear him lock the door once more before taking his shoes off and setting his bag down. he then makes his way into your living room finding you in your cocoon, long legs curled up as much as they could be. you look up at him, big eyes reflecting the forgotten show on your tv.

your eyes follow him as he makes his way, squatting next to your cocoon. he raises a hand, brushing the soft surface of your chubby cheeks, “hi my baby.” he coos, eyes bright, finally getting to see his favorite person. “hi bin.” you mumble, leaning into his warm touch.

“you wanna tell me what’s been going on, hm?” you feel your face heat up, bringing your hands up to cover your face, inherently halting his movements and touch.

“hey, baby, look at me,” he gently grabs your hands, holding them in his. “what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?” you shake your head, feeling all of the emotions you’ve been trying to ignore. “baby i can’t help if you don’t talk to me.” thumbs slowly stroking the back of your hands.

“i just don’t feel beautiful right now, bin.” you whisper, shaking your head. “and i know it’s just my brain being mean but fuck bin, it hurts and i don’t want to believe it but it’s so hard when it’s me.” you’re staring at your connected hands, avoiding the eyes of the man in front of you.

he lets go of one of your hands, gently placing it under your chin to lift your eyes to his. “you gotta tell me when you feel like this, okay?” he pauses. “you are the most beautiful, gorgeous person i’ve ever laid my eyes on.” he places a gentle kiss to your hand.

“will you tell me what’s going through your head so i can prove it wrong?” you think about it for a moment, the one person in your life that always makes you feel loved and seen is asking to show you how much he loves you. and who the hell are you to say no.

“i just,” you pause, moving to sit up, crossing your legs in front of you, binnie’s hands laying on top of them. “i hate that my thighs are so big or that my stomach is pudgy or i’m so fucking tall and i just wish that i loved the way i looked because i fucking hate feeling this way.” you must admit, it did feel good to finally get it off your chest, it however didn’t quiet your brain or the negative thoughts that continued to run rampant through them.

“will you let me show you how gorgeous you are?” he asks, rubbing the exposed skin of your calf. you looked into his eyes once more, finding nothing but love and sincerity. you nod your head slightly, before he moved to his knees before you,

he grabs your cheek once more, bringing you closer before placing his lips on yours. he’s placing gentle strokes on your cheek with his thumb, as his lips move against yours. he eventually starts to move further down, kissing the length of your jaw, down to the sweet spot, just below your ear.

he stays there for a moment, interchanging between kissing and sucking the soft skin, pulling light whimpers from you. “look at you, sounding so pretty for me already.” he praises before placing one last kiss, moving to his feet.

he grabs your hand, pulling you from the couch and your warm cocoon. “if i’m gonna show you, i’m gonna do it right.” he says before picking you up with ease, taking you to your bedroom where he lays you on the bed.

“move to the middle, bunny.” he requests, tapping the side of your thigh. you do as he says, laying in the middle before he moves to hover over you. “look at you, my pretty baby.” he kisses your jaw once more, moving down for the second time. this time he starts placing kisses down your clothed sternum.

once he reaches your belly, he lifts your shirt up, just enough, to expose it to him. he starts placing slow, loving kisses over each roll and curve the soft surface has to offer. “you see this gorgeous tummy? so soft just for me. it holds all of the important things your body needs to keep you with me.” he starts, still placing kisses.

“and hopefully will one day carry our mini me into the world.” your eyes soften, hands finding their way into the soft raven curls that lay atop his head. “you’re gonna make me cry.” you mumble, scratching softly at his scalp. “it’s true though.”

he gives your stomach one last kiss before moving your shirt up once more. this time exposing your bare breasts to him. “and these,” he pauses, bringing his hands up to sofft brush the sides. “god these are so fucking perfect jagi.” he places kisses around each nipple, softly brushing his lips against them.

“the perfect pillows, so soft and the noises you make when i touch them?” he takes a nipple into his mouth, gently sucking it, his tongue flicking the peaked bud. you let out a high pitched moan, tighten the grip on his hair slightly, resulting in a satisfied hum from the man above you.

“so fucking pretty baby.” he says before moving the next bud, gently rolling the previous one between his fingers. repeating the same process, you let out another moan, squeezing your thighs together, feeling the wet spot in your panties getting bigger.

he finally releases your nipple placing a kiss to each one before he leans back. “sit up for a second.” you sit up, allowing him to take the shirt off before he moves you to lean comfortably against the pillows. he places a kiss to the side of your mouth before moving to your shoulder, kissing all the way down your arms, until he reaches you hand entwining your fingers.

“and these arms, that hold me with such love and care.” he kisses your other arm. “and take care of me so well, whenever i need it most.” he places a kiss to each shoulder and each hand before positioning himself between your legs. not before gving your tummy a few extra kisses on the way down.

he starts by kissing your panty line, placing a kiss on the now obvious wet spot. you let a soft sigh before looking down, catching a glimpse of the obvious proud smirk on his pretty face. “ and don’t even get me started on these fucking legs.” he sits back on his heels, grabbing one leg, placing a kiss on the inside of your knee.

“so fucking long, and beautiful, god you have no idea what they do to me.” he grabs the other one, placing a kiss in the same place. “now for my favorite part, your beautiful thighs.” kissing up the inside of them, nipping the skin, right next to where you needed him the most.

“look at them baby, so big and beautiful,” he switches to the other side. “and they way they feel wrapped around my head while i’m making you feel good?” his arms coming up to caress the sides of them. “i could stay like that all day jagiya.” he places one last kiss to each one, before bringing a hand up to gently rub the wet spot on your pink panties.

“and my favorite treat, so ready and so fucking pretty for me as always baby.” he places soft kisses to the wet fabric before sitting up, tapping your hip, signaling you to lift them. he quickly slides them off, throwing them some place in the room before moving back between your plush thighs.

he wraps his arms around your hips, pulling you forward a bit, finally settling there. he brings one hand back around to spread you wet lips. “always ready for me, huh bubs?” he lightly blows, making you whine a bit. “i know baby, i know. i just wanted to look at my pretty baby for a little bit.”

he brings his arms back to rest around your soft thighs before placing a kiss to your inner thigh, slowly making his way to your pussy. placing light kisses to your lips before finally placing a kiss to your bundle of nerves. you whimper at the minimal stimulation, “binnie, please.” you beg, looking down to find that same proud smirk on his face.

“my pretty baby feeling needy?” he teases, still lightly pressing kisses to your clit. you nod, pouting, hoping he’ll cave and give you what you want. “okay jagi, i’m sorry.” he gives your clit one last kiss before licking a stripe from your dripping hole, to your sensitive clit.

your back arches slightly, mouth agape, at the feeling of finally getting the stimulation you’ve been waiting for. your hand finds his raven curls once more as he then fully takes your clit in his mouth, alternating between sucking and flicking the sensitive bud.

you moan, lightly scratching his scalp, as he continues his work on your bud. “feels good baby?” he asks, mouth still against you. you nod, another moan leaving your mouth as he gently grazes you clit with his teeth.

you feel a finger rub at your entrance before he fully inserts it, curling it slightly. your hand tightens around his curls for a moment, as a whine leaves your mouth. “more please.” you beg, feeling the knot in your tummy already begin to tighten. “patience baby, i got you.”

he adds a second finger, picking up the pace slightly, causing your legs to tighten around him. the way he’s using your clit and hitting that sweet spot perfectly feels euphoric. “binnie,” you moaned, “i’m close.” you warned, back arching off the mattress, hand tightening in his curls once more.

this only prompts him to quicken his movements, sucking on your clit a little harder. your whimpers and moans get louder and louder as you get closer and closer to your release. “please,” you beg, teetering on the edge of cumming. “binnie, don’t stop, i’m so close.” you whimper, your free hand coming up to play with your peaked bud.

“you gonna cum pretty?” he asks against your clit. you moan a small “mhm” telling him all he needs to know. “so cum baby, let me see how pretty my baby looks when i’m making them feel good.” that sends you over the edge, throwing your head back, thighs tighten around his head, fingers tightening in his hair as you cum.

he works you through your high, taking out his fingers, taking all you have to offer. your fingers release his hair, relaxing back into the mattress as you come down. you whimper as he still flicks your sensitive bud with his tongue. you push his head away softly, feeling slightly overstimulated.

“give me one more pretty.” he says, inserting his fingers once more. “let me make you feel good, baby.” his movements are quicker this time. your noises becoming high pitched as you get closer to your second release.

“binnie!” you cry, legs shaking slightly at the stimulation. he adds a third finger, stretching you even more. “there you go my pretty baby,” he continues his work before speaking again, “looking so beautiful for me.” his mouth back on you, moving with fever to get you to your release once more.

“ah!” you wail. “binnie-“ you cut yourself off with a load moan. “come on gorgeous, let go, show me how beautiful you are.” you’re cumming again, legs shaking, tightening around his head once more. both hands grabbing your boobs as your back arches off the bed.

“there you go, good job baby, did so good.” he says as you finally relax into the mattress once more. your breathing heavily, trying to regain your composure as he pulls out his fingers. he places a slow, soft kiss to your clit before placing one to each of your inner thighs.

he sits up, licking his fingers before hovering over you once more. he kisses you, tasting yourself slightly on his tongue. “so beautiful baby.” he says against your lips. “always sound so pretty when you cum.” he kisses you again. “you look even prettier.” he kisses you once more before leaning back, taking off his shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room.

you take in the beautiful man in front of you, aching once again even after two orgasms. you sit up, leaning forward, pulling him into a feverous kiss, hands finding his pecs, working their way down to his abdomen. you make your way down his neck, finding his own sweet spot, pulling a groan from him.

you whine as he pulls you away, pout present on your swollen lips. “i know jagi but this is about you, not me.” he brings a hand back to your soft cheek, caressing it once more before placing a quick kiss to the other one. “lay back down bunny.”

he gets off the bed as you lay back down against the pillows. you watch as he slides his pants down, stepping out of them, kicking them to the side. he grabs the waistband of his boxers, pulling it down, releasing his hard length, thick and leaking against his soft tummy.

you squeeze your thighs together as he tosses the fabric to the side. he climbs over you once again, this time carefully spreading your legs, leaning down to place a kiss to your inner thighs “so beautiful.” mumbles against your soft skin before placing a gentle kiss to your clit, making you jolt from the contact.

he kisses his way back up you body, sparing extra kisses to your soft tummy, and of course one to each nipple. he kisses up your sternum, up your throat to jaw before he pulls away to look at you. you swear you could see hearts in his eyes as he looked down at you.

“hi pretty.” he whispers, eyes gleaming. his hand was resting on the bed next to your head, the other one rubbing small circles on your plush thighs that laid upon his. “hi bub.” you whisper back, face warm. “how’re you feeling, hm?” you smile at his question, bringing your hand up to rest on his puffy cheek.

“really good jagi, thank you.” he smiles, pressing a deep kiss to your lips. he leans against you, his body pressing against you. you feel his hard length slide between your wet folds, brushing against your bundle of nerves.

you let out a soft moan against his lip, as he pushes your thigh to the side, allowing him more access to your core. his lips never leaving yours as he rubs little circles on your clit. you pull away, letting out a whimper as he continues his movements.

“feel good, jagi?” he asks, capturing your lips once more. you nod against him, your hand coming up to grip his bicep. he pulls away once more, but continues rubbing circles to your sensitive nub.

“you ready my baby?” you nod, another moan falling from your lips. “i gotta hear you say it, bunny.” you whine. “i’m ready binnie, please i need you.” satisfied with your answer he places another kiss to your swollen lips and his lines up to your entrance.

your mouth falls open and he pushes into you, your grip tightening around his bicep. “fuck.” you whisper against his lips. he’s stretching you out in the best way possible. he’s stills once he’s fully in, giving you a moment to adjust.

his hand rests on your hip, softly caressing your skin as you adjust to his size. he’s placing kisses to the side of your mouth, your jaw, your cheek before he places his forehead against yours. “you okay, pretty?” you nod against his forehead.

“i’m so okay, you have no idea.” you giggle, causing him to smile. “i’m gonna move now okay?” you nod once again. “okay.” you confirm, your body relaxing into the mattress below you. he places one last kiss to your lips before sitting up a bit.

he places one hand on your plush thigh while the other grabs your waist. he pulls out just to fully push back in, pulling a moan from you. “fuck bin, oh my god.” your hand once again finding the soft flesh of your chest. “that’s it baby, sound so pretty while i’m making you feel good.”

he’s slowly thrusting into you, drinking in the way your body reacts to him. he picks up the pace slightly, “play with your pretty nipples for me baby.” you do as he says, clenching around him and you play with the hard buds. “fuck bunny, you’re squeezing me so good.” he moans, throwing his head back for a moment.

he looks godly above you, you arch your back at the sight causing him to hit that sweet spot inside of you. you let out a particularly high pitched moan at the feeling, causing him to snap his head back down, catching the sight of you arched infront of him.

he slows down, reaching for an extra pillow that you’re not leaning against. you let out a whine, relaxing your back. “relax jagi, i’m just getting you a pillow.” he pulls out and taps your hip. “lift up for me baby.” you lift your hips and he slides the pillow under you.

“okay bunny, lay back down.” you lay back into the mattress, and he pushes your legs open once more. “my pretty bunny is so obedient.” he leans down, arm next to your head as he kisses you. he rubs your sensitive clit once again, pulling whimper from you.

“just like that, look at this beautiful body. jagi.” he says against your lips, still rubbing little circles on your clit. “so soft and perfect, just for me.” you bring your hands back up, one on your tit the other wrapping around his shoulder.

“binnie please.” you beg, needing to be filled again. “i got you baby don’t worry.” he stops his movements on your clit to line himself once more, slowly pushing in. the new angle making it feel intoxicating as he pushed into you.

“oh fuck, baby, fuck.” you cried, digging your nails into his shoulder. “yeah? that feel good?” he starts thrusting into you. “my baby is making such pretty noises for me.” you’ve lost your train of thought, your mind only filled with binnie and the way he’s making you feel right now.

“oh-, bin-, fuck-“ you couldn’t get a coherent sentence out. truly being fucked dumb by the man above you. “that’s it bunny, just empty that pretty little brain of yours.” he slid his arm under your neck, pressing his body into yours. he brought his other hand to your clit, rubbing small circles as he increased his pace.

“oh god! binnie!” you wail, your legs wrapping around his waist. “wrap those pretty long legs around me bunny, there you go.” he places kisses along your jaw, both your arms wrapped around him, pulling him impossibly closer. one hand finding its way into his hair, as you turn your head into him.

“oh my god.” you groan into his ear, pulling at his hair slightly. “my beautiful baby feels so good for me.” he moans in your ear, causing you to clench around him. he groans, “fuck, you like when i call you my beautiful baby?” you cry out, nodding against him.

“is my pretty bunny about to cum?” your toes curl, feeling that familiar knot tightening in your tummy. “yes, yes, i’m-“ you cut yourself off with a cry, it’s almost too much pleasure, almost. “you’re close jagi i know, fuck.” his breathing getting heavier and heavier letting you know he’s close too.

“can you hold on for me?” you let out a high pitched whine. “i know pretty, just a little longer.” you whine again. “you can’t-“ you cut yourself off, trying to focus on anything but how good his making you feel. “you can’t, tell me to wait-“ you let out a moan, “and then call me pretty- oh fuck.” you feel it getting tighter, seconds away from snapping.

“i can’t, why not pretty? hm, cause my gorgeous baby is about to cum? is that it?” you cry out at his words, his teasing only egging you on. he leans down to your ear, still keeping his pace, hitting your sweet spot and rubbing your clit so deliciously. “so then cum bunny. show me how fucking perfect my jagiya is.” that’s all it takes, you let out a scream, the pleasure overwhelming you.

“fuck!” you tighten your legs around him, as much as you can as they’re shaking, toes curling as your orgasm rips through you. nails digging into his shoulder as you grab onto whatever you can to keep you grounded. “good job pretty, that’s my baby.” he’s fucking you through your high as you feel his hip stutter.

“fuck, bunny.” his thrusts are getting sloppy, knowing he’s close. “give it to me binnie. show me how much you love me.” and with that he’s cumming in your pretty pussy. he gives a few more thrusts before he stills in you, laying on top of you.

you both lay there, catching your breath, coming down from your highs. you’re the first to move, arms still wrapped around him, carding your fingers through his hair, placing kisses on the side of his head. he finally ground’s himself, placing a kiss to your shoulder, before moving to hover over you, your hands falling, landing on the back of his neck.

he looks down at you with nothing but love as he places his hand to your cheek, gently rubbing it. “you are so beautiful, my love.” your face warms once again. “thank you binnie, i love you.” he leans down, capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

“i love you more my perfect jagi.” he says against your lips, causing a smile to spread across them. “i’m gonna pull out now okay? then we’ll get cleaned up and relax.” you nodded, stealing a quick peck before he leaned back, your legs falling onto the mattress as he pulled out. he hissed as he did, pulling a small whimper from you at the emptiness.

he, watches as his cum pours out of you, effectively ruining your sheets but he couldn’t care less. he leans down, kissing each thigh again, placing a soft kiss to your swollen clit, causing you to flinch. then your hips, making his way up, kissing every curve and roll on your soft tummy, giving each nipple their own kiss before finally making it back to your lips.

“my gorgeous, gorgeous bunny.” you smile pulling him closer, wrapping your legs around him once again, deepening the kissing. he pulls back, tapping the side of your ass, “come on, let’s get you cleaned up so you can relax.” he moves off the bed, quickly finding his boxers before pulling them back on.

he turns around to find you sitting on the bed, he picks you up bringing you to your bathroom, setting you on the counter. he turns on the bath, making it nice and warm before plugging the drain and putting your lavender bubble bath in.

walking back over to you, he picks you up once again, setting you on the toilet, placing a kiss to your head, “i’m gonna go change the sheets quick, i’ll be right back.” you nod at him, smiling as he makes his exit, closing the door behind him.

you quickly use the bathroom before stepping into the nice warm bath. he opens the door 10 minutes later, with towels, setting them on the counter before removing his boxers. you move forward as he approaches the tub to give him enough room to sit behind you.

once in the tub he pulls you back to him, wrapping his arms around you, showering you in kisses once more. you grab both hands, entwining his hands with yours, giving each hand a kiss, “thank you, for everything.” you turn your head to look back at him. “you’re the best person i know and i really don’t know what i’d do without you.”

he pulls you into another kiss before you relax against him once more. “you never have to thank me for telling the truth.” he pauses. “all i ask is that you tell me when you’re feeling like this so i can show you just how truly beautiful you are.” you feel a lump in your throat form at the love you feel for the man behind you.

you nod your head. “okay, i promise.” he holds you tighter, hands still connected, placing a kiss to your hair. you both stay like then until the water runs cold, draining it before you both get out, putting on the minimum amount of clothes.

making your way to your bed, with clean sheets, where you both spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, relaxing. you’re always gonna have bad days but it’s comforting to know you’re favorite person will always be there to help you through it and make it all better.

do not repost

#seo changbin #changbin #changbin fluff #changbin smut #seo changbin smut #changbin imagine #changbin x reader #changbin oneshot #changbin fic #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagine #stray kids fic #binnie <3 #ash's archive ‧₊˚✩彡

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miniwheat77 · 1 year

Text

Bunny. (Dark!141 x Reader)

*REPOST* (A comment if this reached your feed would be amazing.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, Gang bang, 141 being creepy and dark, Virgin!reader, reader being innocent, implied consent, oral sex (m&f receiving), coercion, drugs & alcohol, roofies, double penetration, unprotected sex, pure filth. (Sorry if I missed any.)

GET A WATER BEFORE YOU READ 🥵

You were excited to be chosen to be apart of Task Force 141.

You felt special because you know only the most skilled are chosen for the team.

Your first few weeks on the base was awesome. It was pretty hands on, missions every week. There was always something around every corner, but once Hassan had been eliminated, there wasn’t much to do other than your chores around the base. You did your fair share of research but there weren’t any new leads on the next target. It was boring and most of your time you spent inside your room on base.

You noticed that everyone was pretty quiet on base. They didn’t do much talking and they seemed to have this dark look in their eyes when they looked at you.

You ignored it and always made conversation with them anyways, not wanting any tension between you. You noticed sometimes they made jokes about you right in front of you, mostly about how innocent you are. You didn’t like that they made fun of you, but you always just laughed it off.

You did your best at being patient with them.

Sometimes you didn’t like what they had to say about other women on base or had previously been on it with them. They usually said pretty derogatory insults. Or gross ones you didn’t want to cause any trouble so you stayed quiet, usually just excusing yourself from the table. You didn’t want to hear it.

You sat at your desk in your assigned room. It was quiet. You were looking through a stack of paper, looking for any leads on a next target. A knock at your door brought you out of your thoughts, turning to look at the door. “Come in!” You called.

“Hey. We’re playing a drinking game. You want to play?” Gaz asks. “Uh.. I don’t know about that.” You laugh. Knowing that something like this probably wouldn’t go too well. He crosses his arms. “Oh come on.. don’t be such a prude.” He rolls his eyes. You sigh. You had a bad feeling about this. He continues to pressure you for a few minutes before you finally cave in. “Alright fine.” You stand up from your desk, following him out.

Everyone is already waiting. They have everything laid out on the table. It’s the large oak table in the meeting room. They’re all sitting around it. “Alright. We’re starting with one on one. You and Ghost will go against each other first.” You look confused. “Just so you’ll get used to it, yeah? You have to throw the penny into the shot glass while blindfolded, if you don’t make it, you have to drink. Whoever drinks all 5 shots first loses.” You nod your head. They pass you a blindfold, Gaz helps you tie it behind your head. The small shot glasses are lined up in front of you.

You don’t see that they never put a blindfold on Ghost.

Ghost takes the tiny vial of white crushed powder out of his pocket, he’d come prepared. This had been planned out for some time.

He taps the vial until it’s empty into the first shot glass, allowing you to go first. You miss the first shot, and they pass you the shot glass. Evil smiles playing at their lips. You had no idea what was about to happen. You tip it back, flinching at the taste of the liquor as it burns your throat. You miss all 5 of your shots and somehow, Ghost doesn’t miss one. You’re 5 shots in, feeling out of it. They catch up a little bit, taking shots here or there just to give themselves a little bit of liquid courage. “So. How long have you been in the military?” Soap asks. You smile. “Few years.” Your words are slurred and you’re almost exactly where they want you. “Yeah? You were on bases before this obviously. Got a favorite?” He asks. “Not really. Aside from this one.” You shrug. “Yeah?” He smirks. “You a barracks bunny Y/N?” He asks. “What’s that?” You ask, confused.

He laughs, he just can’t help it. “So innocent..” he mumbles. “It’s a girl who has sex with everyone on base.” He smirks. Your eyes go wide. “Oh.. no. No I’m not.”

“Hey, I’m not judging.” He laughs. “I’m not a… barracks bunny.” Your cheeks are on fire. “I’m just fucking with you darling, relax.” He places his hand on your thigh. “Here. Drink more. Loosen up.” You start to notice the amount of pressure they’re putting on you. “I don’t know. I think I’m done.” You laugh nervously. “Oh come on. Don’t be such a buzz kill.” He rolls his eyes. He convinces you to take another few shots, your face is hot and the heat between your legs is becoming too much to bear. You notice they’re passing around a joint.

When they offer it to you, you shake your head. “I don’t really think we should be doing this.” You breathe, going to stand up. You find it’s pretty hard to move. “All is good here. It’s my base after all.” Captain Price reassures you. You’re so close to where they need you.

After about an hour of passing around the joint, convincing you to take more and more shots of liquor. You’re ready.

“You ever met a barracks bunny before?” Soap asks. You shrug. “Heard rumors.” You giggle. “Yeah. Must be pretty fun I imagine. I mean.. getting to fuck that much in one day.” He smiles, tipping back a shot. “You ever fucked more than one person in a day Y/N?” He asks. You shake your head shyly. “No.. I’ve never had sex.” You mumble. “Why not?” He asks. “Religious?” He smirks. “Oh no.. it’s nothing to do with that. Just.. never crossed paths with the right person.” You shrug. “I was always bullied for being ugly in school too so..” you laugh. “Really?” Gaz gathers your attention. You nod your head. “Jesus.. that’s fucked up. And not true, you’re stunning.” He smiles, resting his hand on your thigh. “Oh.. thank you.” You smile. “Yeah, I’d fuck you.”

Your cheeks burn and you avoid his gaze. “Yeah I’d fuck you too.” Soap winks. You laugh, looking away from them. “Maybe you should let us.” Gaz lifts your chin to make you look at him. “W-what?” You ask. “Yeah. Maybe you could be our little barracks bunny hm?” He smiles. “I… I don’t know about that.” You breathe. “Oh come on.. we’ll take good care of you sweetheart. Nothing to worry about.” He moves himself closer to you. “I just.. I don’t know. I thought maybe I’d start slow for my first time.”

“We can start slow. Come on.” He tilts his head. You take in a deep breath as he takes your hand, helping you up. “Gaz.. I’m really not sure about this.” You swallow hard, your words are unstable and you’re unsteady on your feet as he lifts you up onto the wooden table. “Hey. Just relax alright?” He brushes your hair back behind your ear. You’re so far gone you can barely think straight. “Nothing to worry about. We’ll be real gentle with you.” He pushes you back by your chest gently. You’re tense as he reaches for the waistband of your pants. You can’t help but like the attention you’re getting from them. Maybe it’s the weed or liquor. Your blood feels hot in your veins, body warm and fuzzy as they surround you. “Fuck.. look at you.” Ghost mumbles. Running his fingers down your chest. You look up at him, the sweet look in your eyes has his stomach curling. It’s almost as if you have no idea what they’re about to do to you. The filthy things running through their heads, about to play out like a film.

“So pretty. Such a good girl.” Ghost mumbles. You close your eyes, biting your lip lightly as you relax into the table. He grasps the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head.

You’ll be the perfect bunny after this.

Gaz has your panties at your ankles and they’re drooling, like a pack of wild dogs. “Captain. She was your idea, get in here.” Gaz nods at his Captain.

John smiles, moving between Soap and Gaz. He moves himself up until his clothed crotch is pressed up against your bare pussy. He sighs. Running his hand over your chin. “You are pure sin my darling. So fucking pretty.” He breathes. He slides a finger into your mouth and you take it, sucking gently at it. He groans out. He pulls away from you, Unzipping his pants just enough to where he can free his cock. "Are you ready darling?" He asks. His cock is standing at attention. The tip is blushing red. Begging for release. He's huge. You don't know how he's supposed to fit. You're looking up at him, he can tell you're nervous. "It's alright. Relax for me okay?" You nod your head, resting on your arms.

Not only are you about to give your virginity to your captain, but your entire task force is watching. Waiting to be next up. A whimper leaves your lips when he glides his tip up through your folds. You’re dizzy, everything feels fuzzy.

Your reaction speed is off, only feeling the tightness from his cock after he’s already buried himself inside of you. You shift uncomfortably, whimpering and trying to slide your hips away from him. “Hey. You’ll get used to me. Calm down.” He soothes. He holds your hips steady. Another whine leaves your lips, tears filling up your eyes. Ghost is quick to soothe you, helping you lay back on the table. Soap is running his fingertips over your stomach, soothing your skin. Ghost cups your face, his warm breath on your face distracts you from the tearing you feel from your Captains massive cock. You weren’t ready but you would be. “Shhh. S’alright. Should start to feel good soon.” Ghost mumbles, kissing your tears away.

They’re evil. Devils standing around you, waiting to devour you whole. They’d had this planned from the start. They planned it all out. What they’d do to you, how they’d get you to give into them.

You’re starting to pant, your legs are numb but you can feel the pleasure of him sliding into your pussy. “Cmon, prop yourself up.” Ghost helps you. “Watch him. Watch him fuck your pussy.” You gasp out, clutching at the sides of the table as you see it. He’s slid his shirt up over his hips, and you can get a good look at the way he slides into you. Hands gripping at your hips. It’s intense. You tilt your head back, moaning out. Your brain is a blur, all you can think about is how good he feels. You wince when you feel something building, pushing your hips into him more. “F-feels weird.” You whimper. “S’alright. Just get used to it.” You whimper, holding yourself steady so that he can get the perfect angle. “Feels.. it feels- ah!” You cry out.

You soak your Captain’s jeans, and his eyes are wide.

You’re panting, pulling away from him. “I.. I’m sorry.” You whimper. He grasps your thighs, pulling you back down. “Fuck.. didn’t know you could do that.” He breathes.

Their eyes are blown wide with lust, cocks throbbing behind cargo pants and jeans. They all want a piece of you. They all want to make you squirt on them.

“Didn’t take long to make her do that Cap.” Gaz laughs. “Course not. I know exactly what girls like her like.” He smiles. You’re looking up at him, a look in your eyes they haven’t seen yet. Your chest is rising and falling with every deep breath you take. “Did you like that baby?” He asks. You nod your head lazily. He smiles, sliding himself back inside of you. Seeing your eyes close. You tilt your head back, moaning out at the way he fills you up. Eyes are burning into you, the tension in the room is thick. John is not as gentle as he was to start, thrusting into you with more force than before. It was clear you were going to be a wreck when they were finished with you. He’s got a tight grip on your thighs, head tilted back as you wrap so tight around him. “Fuck.. so fucking tight-“ he hisses. “Not going to last long with you darling.” He chuckles. You’re gripping the table hard, knuckles turning white. He lifts your legs up onto his shoulders and you cry out as he bottoms out, your lower stomach cramps up slightly from the new angle. “Ah- fuck!” He growls. He pulls out of you, pumping his cock fast with his hand. He pushes your legs apart slightly, finishing on your stomach with a groan. You tilt your head back, panting out. “Did so good.” Ghost mumbles, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Sit up.” He breathes. He helps you adjust yourself. You’re propped up on your hands and knees. Feet hooking over the edge of the table, ass on display for them all to see. “W-what now?” You breathe. “Just going to get you ready darling. Calm down.” He rests his gloved hand onto your back. He’s trying to soothe you. You hear what sounds like a cap clicking shut, turning to see Ghost putting lube on his aching cock. He’s massive.

Thank god your Captain stretched you a little bit.

“Cmere.” Ghost pulls you back into him. Pushing your back down until you’re low enough to be lined up with his cock. You feel him nudging at your ass, jumping away from him. Your reaction time is slow. “I- woah. I don’t think I’m ready for that-“ you breathe. “It’s okay.” He grasps your hips again, pulling you back. “Be a good girl and be still.”

“Ghost I-“

“Simon.” He growls. “Simon I don’t think I’m ready.” You whimper. “Relax. I won’t hurt you.” He breathes.

You suck in a sharp breath, feeling his bare fingers circling your tight hole, nudging into you deeper with each pump. At least he’d ditched his glove. You flinch away from his touch as he seeps deeper into you. You take in a deep breath. “S’alright. Doing so good lass.” Soap moves next to Simon, circling his fingers over your clit at an attempt to make you relax. It works and you relax into Johnny’s touch, body relaxing slightly. You make it easier on Simon as you relax, his fingers sliding easier into you. The feeling is foreign. It doesn’t hurt and it’s not bad. You relax into him more. Johnny keeps rubbing gentle circles over your clit. You’re a mess already.

You feel Simon’s cock nudging at your entrance and you’re nervous. He’s much bigger than his fingers. A whine leaves your lips when he pushes into you, cock burrowing deeper into your ass. The feeling is too much. You lean forward away from his aching cock, but he follows you with his hips, reaching forward to stop you and hold you still. “Relax into me.” He breathes. “Keep rubbing her clit Johnny.” He spits on the base of his cock, working himself deeper. Johnny does, keeps rubbing gentle circles into your clit so that you’ll relax more. You let out a mewl, the sensation was too much. “Halfway there darling. Just.. a little more.” He breathes. You’re clutching the table, whimpering with each small circle Johnny runs over your entrance. It’s so good. They’re pushing you so much. When your ass finally presses against Simon’s front, he groans out. You’ve taken him all of the way.

You whimper, moving your hips forward and back into his cock. “Oh fuck baby. You want it that bad huh?” He smirks. “Don’t worry. Me n Johnny are gonna fill you up real nice.” He breathes. You can’t say anything, your vision is blurry and you’ve got tears in your eyes but all you know is that whatever this is, it feels amazing. Simon lifts you up off of the table, Johnny moving to your front and grasping hold of you by your thighs. Sliding his cock into your pussy. You straddle Johnny and Simon still had his cock buried inside your ass.

You tilt your head back with a cry, so completely full of them.

Your eyes roll back when they slide out of you, starting to thrust themselves back into you. You’re a mess, can barely stay quiet as they fuck you. “Fuck.. you’re so tight.” Johnny growls. “Been waiting fucking months for this sweet pussy.” He chuckles, teeth gritted. “How does it feel hm?” He mumbles, lips right by your ear. “Went from a body count of 0 to 3 in just a few minutes Hm?” He taunts.

You’re sobbing. Hands are clutching Johnny’s shoulders and your body is shaking. You’ve absolutely soaked them both in your cum, unsure of where you even are anymore. You probably can’t even say your own name at this point. Everything is blurry and fuzzy, you can’t move your body anymore. They’re holding you exactly where they want you. You wrap your arms around Johnny’s neck, laying your head on his shoulder. “Can’t be done yet sweetheart.” He chuckles. “Gaz hasn’t had a go at you yet. You don’t want him to be deprived so you?”

You shake your head, looking over his shoulder at Gaz. He’s pumping his cock, you lock eyes with him. You lick your lips and he nearly cums right there. “Ah- getting tired.” Soap complains. “Here.” Ghost grabs hold of you. Johnny slides out of you and you whimper. “Relax.” Ghost smirks. He lays you onto the table, pushing your face into the cool wood. His hips are hammering against yours, thrusts getting sloppy. He’s close. “Oh yes- fuck I love fucking this tight ass of yours. So fucking good.” He growls. His hand slapping against your ass makes you want to jump forward but you can’t. A whimper leaves your lips, tightening down around Ghost. “Oh fuck- I’m going to cum.” He pants. “Fuck- oh fuck!” He gasps. His hips halt and you gasp, the foreign feeling of something flooding inside of you. You finally raise your head to look at him. His hands resting on your hips. Cock nestled inside of your ass.

He slides out of you, watching his filth spill back out of your hole. He smiles at the work he’d done. Soap is quick to flip you over, burying his cock back inside of you. “Just one more. And than you’re going to treat Kyle very well darling.” He smirks. You nod your head lazily. Johnny pinches your nipples, smiling at the way you cry out. “Fuckin tight pussy baby. Give me one more hm?” He smiles. He rubs circles over your clit with his thumb. A whine leaves your lips and you try to wiggle your hips away from him but he holds you still. You can feel another orgasm building. Right on the edge. You push his hand away from you, running circles over your own clit. You’re going quickly. “Yeah that’s a good girl.” He grips your hips, pounding into you. “You rub that little clit for me. Nice n fucking wet for my cock.” He tilts his head back, swallowing hard. His skin is sweaty and red and he’s right on the edge. Your moans are getting louder and more frequent. Your hand is moving quickly as you rub your clit. “Fuck yes!” He growls. Your eyes roll back, body lurching as you cum again. Soaking him completely. He holds you steady until you’re worn out, sliding out of you and finishing right on your stomach, just like his captain had.

He’s panting, and your eyes are droopy.

“You can’t sleep yet.” Soap tries to shake you awake. “It’s fine. I’ll get it out of her one way or another.” Gaz laughs. Soap nods his head.

“I’ll take her to her room, get her cleaned up.”

Gaz made sure to do a good job. You were already undressed so running a bath for you and using a small towel to clean your skin was easy. Washing your hair was a bit harder. You were out cold. He redressed you in one of his shirts, helping you into bed.

When the light just began to show through your window, he knew it was his turn.

You’re still out cold but he knew this would wake you.

His face buried between your thighs, tongue lapping at your entrance. Sucking your clit and flicking his tongue over your clit. You’re stirring in your sleep, moaning. Your eyes open and you’re still dazed, but you know whatever you’re feeling is amazing. You push your blanket back, whining out at the sight of him between your thighs. “Gaz?” You whimper. He draws himself away from you. “You still owe me princess.” He breathes, returning to devour you. “What do you want me to do?” You whine. Your pussy is sore, but he’s soothing you. “M’gonna fuck this pussy. Nice n slow.” He pulls away for a second, sucking your clit between his lips and drawing away from you. “Show you who you belong to.” He breathes. You nod your head. He sits up, his cock is throbbing hard.

He pushes his sweatpants down his legs, pumping his hard cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. “Actually..” he mumbles. Pulling away. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve gone hm? Get up.” You listen, standing up. He lays down. “Get up here. I’ll help you.” He mumbles. You nod your head, straddling his hips and sinking down onto his cock. Your thighs shiver at the size of him, a mewl leaving your lips. “Ah- too much.” You whimper. “You’ll get used to it. Ride my cock baby.” You nod your head, rocking your hips into him. You rest your hands on his chest, raising your hips off of him. He circles your clit with his fingers, he needs to cum soon. He’s been waiting all night for this, he’s not going to last long.

You’re rocking into him faster, moaning out. You’re enjoying yourself and that’s exactly what he wants. “Who do you belong to darling? Who’s barracks bunny are you?” He smirks. “Y-yours-“ you whimper. A sharp slap to your ass has you whimpering. “Wrong, who do you belong to? Who’s barracks bunny are you?”

“141.” You whine. “Hm? I didn’t hear you.” He breathes. “Task Force 141, I’m task force 141’s barracks bunny!” You cry. Your hips halt as you soak him, and he cries out, pushing your hips off of him as he finishes. “Shit!” He growls. Pumping his cock quickly, costing your ass in his cum.

You relax into him, panting.

He once again helps you clean up, but leaves you alone this time. You needed to rest.

While you were on base with them, you were always going to keep them busy.

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