#Gettin the Band Back Together

[nerdynanny]

@heedingcalls for duke

"I understand the last time you saw me I was a bright-eyed brunet with hope for the future-- but the long short of it is I'm a grumpy old man frustrated about the time I have left." He rubbed the back of his head nervously, an old habit that echoed the man he once was.

"I know it's been years but I-- uh-- missed you."

[avesseloflanguage]

drunk rant/discussion w my best friend the other night has caused me to figure out the last major piece missing in my EP concept and so now. uh. working on an EP i guess. and im fucking pumped i love having friends i love music i love writing i love being alive. i love college.

[primerockroast]

YOYOYO! Did anyone get their Spotify Wrapped yet?! Apparently, if Tally Hall gets 30 to 40 million listeners a month, they're gettin the band back together!!!

[mysteriesofmilo]

[fanaticsnail]

Kind And Gentle

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 3,100+

Synopsis: Your shoulders and back ached with a pain you had attempted to cast aside as you went about your duties. The ache turned excruciating, your focus now being taken hostage between the gripping pain. Fortunately, the grip of two firm hands found your body and eased you through the torment.

Themes: Benn Beckman x reader, Friends to lovers, confessions of love, suggestive dialogue, massaging - reader receiving, pain, aching, yearning, small kiss, Shanks is a meanie, swearing, teasing, Beckman is a softie, Beckman is a gentleman, term of endearment "Darlin'" used - it's just what I associate him saying.

Notes: Pure self-indulgence fic, procrastinating while I should be going through my WIPs. My shoulder hurts, guys. Needed this to get out of my system and get through the pain. Art link.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @carrotsunshine @i-am-vita @gingernut1314 @mfreedomstuff @missbeckman @tiredemomama

Pain. White and hot, swelling and encumbering. This was what you were experiencing in the middle of your spine; just a little to the right side of your body.

The ache never eased, no matter what position you slept in, nor adjusting your posture throughout the day. It was unending, the torment which knit your muscles together and cemented them in place. 

You clenched your eyes tightly shut, bracing yourself against the wooden hallway wall as you rotate your neck in a circle atop your shoulders slowly. Arching your back, you winced as the knot continued to integrate itself in a woven entanglement of painful muscle beneath your skin. 

Biting back a whimper, you tried as you might to reach the cursed divot beneath your flesh, whining quietly as your fingertips barely brushed against the surface of the painful coil. The ache called to you, the burden causing a small tremor in your lips from the electric heat of the hidden wound. 

Shaking your head, you huffed out a breath as you attempted to soldier on about your daily chores. Ignoring the tight ache beneath your skin with a deep grimace written on your lips, you finally gave into your pain and balanced your hands against the wooden beam atop the deck of the Red-Force. 

The sea breeze hit your nose, relaxing you briefly before the pain eclipsed all your senses. Brain foggy with anguish, lips parted and panting, eyes frantic and wife: you could bear it no longer. You muted a cry, muffling it within your mouth while you tried to release the elastic coil in your back by twisting your torso. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you curse in a soft whisper, your brows rising in a pain-riddled peak in your forehead. You moaned out in a soft whimper, praying nobody could hear your weakness as you tried to reach for the spot a second time.

The band was bordering on excruciating, your mind contemplating whether or not to seek out Hongo for medical attention due to the intensity of the pain. Just as you began to turn on your way, two strong hands clapped over your shoulders: thumbs moving in rough circles against your skin. 

“I got you, Darlin’,” the gruff voice Shanks’ first mate whispered in a calming rumble, “Just tell me when I'm gettin’ close to it.” 

Benn Beckman. It was always Benn Beckman. Any time any of the crew needed anything, no task too small, no feat too great: Beckman was the champion you had all grown accustomed to rely on. Leaning back into his touch, you hung your neck low to grant him greater access

“Oh-... mmmf-... -‘kay,'' you whimpered, curving your back down to expose more of your spine to him, “It's not-... Hhah-... It's not normally this-...fucking, shit-... -this bad.” A small click of his tongue snapped at you in empathy as his thumbs brushed against the coil of pain. 

Although your friendship with Beckman ran deep, you had never engaged with him physically before. You respected one another, adored one another, and were as close as two crewmates could be. Two sides of a coin, twin edges of a blade, the gunpowder and the spark that lit the fuse - this was how you were described by your red-headed captain. 

But as his thumbs sought out your deepest pain, all your thoughts escaped you. There was nothing else, just: Beckman, his focus and his expert touch. 

“Just a touch to the right-... ahh, Becks!” you cried out as his digits flicked over the painful swell beneath your flesh. Huffing out pants of breath, you sobbed in strained relief as he continued massaging your body. 

“Oh, fuck. It's there, isn't it?” he whispered, the thumb of his right hand pressed firmly against the tight knot as his left hand braced you against the side-beam of the boat, “There it is, Darlin’. I found it. There's the spot.” You arched your back within his broad hands, your arms stiffening in firm pillars against the deck as he prodded the painful peak in your back. 

“Oh, that's it! Right there, that's the spot,” you mewled out, crying and gasping for him as he untangled your muscles with his rough, practiced hands. Just as he pressed his strength further against you, you winced out a strangled, “Fuck, not so rough! Be kind and gentle with me, Becks!” 

“Darlin’, this is me being kind and gentle,” he bullied his thumb into your skin, stapling you to the wall of the ship by his hips and holding you steady with his hand perched on your left shoulder, “You need a bit of rough treatment. Hold still, let me coax it out of you.”

“Becks,” you whispered out his name, lulling your head back on your shoulders as he continued to pry, paw and claw the knot apart with his right hand, “Becks it hurts.”

“I know, I know,” his gruff voice reassured you, the gentle hold of his left hand against your shoulder contradicted the right hand that bruised your muscles, “It'll all be over soon. I'm nearly there, I can feel your body moving it with me. Just hold on.”

His thumb pressed an intentional swipe up, directing the pain up your back and into the peaked corner of your shoulder. His brows knit low in deep concentration, prompting him to suck in an empathetic breath in anticipation. 

“Ohh��� You're gonna hate me,” he whispered in your ear, kicking your feet apart with his heavy boots before anchoring his pelvis against your glutes to hold you firmer against the ship's wooden railing, “You need an elbow.”

“No, no, no! Not an elbow!” you cried, just as his right elbow drew itself against your spongy flesh, “Becks! It's-... nnmfph-... too much! Ahh! Too much!”

Attempting to break from his grip, you shook yourself away from his hands, only for your body to immediately betray you. Bent over the railing, your back immediately became unraveled by a firm grip and a strong elbow to the point that ailed you. 

“Oh hush, you need it,” he barked in a soft tone, eclipsing your concern with an intentional rotation of his elbow against your shoulder, “Be a good little thing and take it.” He was moving the vines of the entanglement away from the source point, breaking it down beneath his body and flushing it out with heavy swipes. 

Benn Beckman was experiencing the toughest battle he had ever had the displeasure in engaging with. He was trying to tune out how good you sounded calling out his name in pants and whines, his own empathetic huffs and groans mixing harmoniously with yours as he gripped your flesh.

“Benn Beck-...fuck-... It's right there. Right there, Becks! Don't stop!” you whimpered, your voice high and your desperation showcased in the soft pants of your breath. The release of your entangled flesh was just within Beckman's grasp, prompting him to switch back to using his fingers to expel the pressure beneath your skin. 

“I got you. There ya’ go,” he confirmed again, expanding the heel of his palm against the binding presence of the last of the entanglement, “Breathe through it with me, I'm not gonna stop ‘til you're done.” 

“Oh, fuck Beckman,” your eyes glazed over, your lips parting and crying out in bliss as his skillful ministrations cast out the pressure in your shoulder as a priest would cleanse unholy ground to make their sanctuary.

“Th-That’s it. Oh m-my fuck-,” you whined back into his hands, “You're so good. Your hands feel so good.” As the last of the knot fled your shoulder, a warm chuckle rumbled from behind you. Beckman's laugh brought you comfort, his softness depicted in this small moment as he held you in his arms. 

His firm hands turned soft, caressing your shoulders in tender, gentle touches. He molded both of your shoulders within his palms, your body becoming jelly beneath his rough and calloused hands. You moaned softly as he maneuvered your body in a perfect arch against his chest, the rumble of his chuckle reverberating within your back to vibrate within your chest. 

“Better?” he whispered in the shell of your ear, easing his body back to enable you to escape his broad cage. Instead of breaking away from his body, you relaxed into his arms, sighing out a warm breath of contentment. 

“Thank you, Becks. You're bloody amazing at that,” you praised him, feeling light and free of the bonds that confined you, “Why did you offer to help me with it?” 

“There was something in your face that told me you needed it,” he shrugged, huffing a small chuckle out of his nose and leant down to rumble out a whisper in your ear, “Always wanna help you, Darlin’.”

“Oh Becks, I could kiss you,” you turned in his arms, gazing through half-hooded eyelids up at him, “Can I?”

He smirked down at you, a small pink due flushing his cheeks with a subtle dust, bobbing his head in a soft nod to grant you permission. As you circled your arms over his neck and began to draw him closer to your lips, a chorus of barked laughter and an uproar of cheers echoed along the hull of the ship. Clapping hands, whistles and hoots erupted from your crew now surrounding the two of you. 

“Oh, Beckman,” your captain cackled at you, his right hand clapping over his heart, “In public, big guy? And you,” he pointed his index finger at you, his wolfy grin painted in a drawn-out taunting smirk, “You sly little fox. Gettin’ the big man to take you right on the deck?”

“What?” you questioned your captain in a warning tone, floating your eyes between the rest of the crew gathered on the deck beside him. Shanks’ playful twinkle fluttered beneath his weighty eyelashes. 

“Be gentle with me, Becks,” he mocked in a needy moan not too dissimilar from your own, before hardening his features and deepening his voice in a grunted, “You need a bit of rough treatment,” he commented gruffly. The color drained from your face, eyes widening and lips parting once again in bashful horrification. 

“Oh right there, Becks, don't stop,” Shanks continued his performance, a small warning began to rise within Beckman's throat in a rumbled growl. Breaking out of your embrace, he grimaced at the red-head in front of him. 

“Enough, Cap’n,” Beckman snarled, reaching within his pocket and pulling out his lighter with his left hand, fishing out a cigarette to follow, “Got out a knot, s’all. You know how shit they are.” Beckman ignited the end, taking a lengthy drag and exhaling a puff away from your face. 

“Really? That's all?” Shanks cried out a laugh, the crew echoing his unashamed and carefree joy at the notion, “I thought I saw some hips moving together, Becks. You were letting some of your own groans out too, mewling like a wh-.”

“-Or should I relay half of the bullshit you curse out when Hongo releases the knots in your own shoulder?” Beckman smirked, his eyes daring his captain to say another embarrassing quip. After a pregnant pause, silent tension only momentary before another uproar of laughter barked out amongst the Red-Hair pirates. 

“Yeah, yeah. I'm done,” Shanks waved his hand in the air, shooting you a small wink before turning to face his crew, “What say we make port, huh? Resupply with some fresh drinks, a hot meal, some good company, and a comfortable sleep on dry land?”

“Aye, sir!” the crew echoed in unison, your own confirmation falling from your lips as you began maneuvering around the first-mate to resume your duties. Just as you passed Beckman's shoulder, a firm hand shot out and gripped your forearm to hold you in place. 

“Beckman?” you asked, turning to meet his eyes. You floated your own between his, hovering your attention to fixate on him completely, “Everything alright, Sir?” 

“Goin’ back to ‘Sir’ again, after all that,” he murmured, barely above comprehension. Your quizzical feeling never left you, still hovering between the lenses of his glassy orbs. 

“How you feeling?” he asked as he pressed down the filter end of the cigarette beneath the pad of his thumb, placing the butt-end in the small drawer attached to the hull of the ship, “I get it all out, or the ache still hangin’ in there?”

Humming in thought, you rotated your right arm and felt the ghost of your prior pain simmer down and flee from your form. The small pinch only remained behind in memory, but the small remnants of the ache threatened to return. 

“It's gone for now, I think,” you uttered with a small shrug, “It'll likely begin the slow journey back up my spine in a pinch.” Beckman hummed in thought, nodding along as he checked over your body for any changes. 

After a small lull, you held your ground as the atmosphere once again fell into awkwardness. You shook your head to stifle your nerves, sucking in a breath to elevate your courage. 

“Can I buy you a drink or two when we get to port?” you ask him, eyes dropping to the ground and hands laced behind you, “An expression of my gratitude for you helping me out?”

“You askin’ me out on a date?” Beckman disguised his growing smile by arching himself away from you, loosening the tie in his hair and beginning to restyle it.

“And if I am?” you ask, still avoiding his gaze by holding your eyes firmly against the floor, “What then?”

“What then, Darlin’,'' he smirked, his eyes softening as his hands found your hips, “Is that I'd accept.” He pulled you flush with him, prompting your eyes to widen and search his gray orbs in your shock, “I wouldn't mind spending an evening with you, havin’ drinks in a quiet corner for a change.”

“It would be a nice change,” you confessed, eyes again falling soft for the first mate. He leant his hips back on the wooden railing, reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. His index finger lingered on your chin, holding your eyes against his. 

“What was it for you? To have you finally make a move after all this time?” he asked, his eyes turning playful as he looked down at you through half-hooded eyes, “The hands or the elbow?”

“I think it was the words,” you confessed with a small laugh, “Not used to having the Great Benn Beckman whisper: ‘be a good little thing and take it.’ Wouldn't mind hearing that again, if I'm being honest,” a small choked pause fell from Beckman's lips, your own question now posed to him.

“What made you accept a drink with me?” you searched his eyes quizzically, pursing your lips as you continued, “We've served together for so long, what made you consider it now?”

“Oh Darlin', I've always considered it. More than considered it,” he huffed out a chuckle, bringing your face closer to his with the curl of his index finger, “Just didn't know how much I wanted it ‘til you started sayin' my name like that.” He hovered his lips over yours, his breath still scented with the sour, smoky tang of his last cigarette as he beckoned you in. 

“Wouldn't mind hearing that again, if I'm bein' honest,” he parroted your words back at you before finally claiming your lips beneath his own in a chaste kiss. The attention he gave your lips was brief, ending contact almost as soon as they touched. 

He pulled away from your lips, noticing your pout and slight agitation at the hastiness the kiss ended. Chuckling, he leant over your ear and confessed his intentions further. 

“Cap’n’s watchin’,” he nodded over to where Shanks’ taunting eyes and winning smile wordlessly teased you both, “Don't wanna give him more ammunition to tease you with, Darlin'. No matter how much I really wanna kiss you.”

“I owe you more,” you hummed up at him with a soft smile, tucking the loose strand of hair away from his forehead and behind his ear, “Anything I can do to repay my growing debt to you? More than a couple drinks later, a little kiss, or taking care of your duties for you today?”

“Just the promise of your company later will do for now,” he chuckled, leaning into the heel of your palm with his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

“Aye, Sir,” you smirked at him, giving his cheek two gentle taps before returning back to duty with a newfound rejuvenation. Your limbs felt lighter, your body felt freer and your head felt less foggy with the prior pain you felt. 

Shanks sauntered over towards his first-mate, smirking and kicking up his feet all along the way in a playful dance. Beckman shook his head, reaching for another cigarette and lit the end. Shanks leaned his head against Beck’s shoulders, uttering not a single word as he fluttered his eyelashes, wiggled his eyebrows and clicked his tongue at the broody, larger man. 

“Don’t even start,” Beckman growled under his breath. Shanks smiled wider, jolting his right index finger into Beckman’s side as he hummed up a playful mock at him. 

“But you finally made a move, big man,” Shanks chuckled, nudging him with his left shoulder, “How long’s it been now? Two, maybe three years of longing, yearning and lusting from afar, hm?”

“Four,” Beckman commented gruffly, inhaling a deep breath of smoke in his mouth and holding it still behind his lips, “And I remember saying: ‘don’t even start’.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going, I’m going,” Shanks held his right hand up in defence, an extra buzz in his step at the knowledge that Beckman and you had finally allowed a small crack in the door open to engage with one another this way. A small chuckle erupted in Shanks’ voice, his own amusement adamant over his features.

“Right there Becks, don’t stop,” Shanks’ voice whined again in a needy moan, before growling out a rumbled mock of, “I’m not gonna stop ‘til you’re done,” he laughed, turning back over his shoulder, “Honestly, Beckman. Show a bit of composure, man.” 

Beckman’s blush scorched scarlet on his features, prompting him to thrust the butt of his cigarette into the drawer and begin to charge at his Captain. Shanks shrieked out a giddy cry of amusement at his first-mate.

“Be kind and gentle with me, Becks!” Shanks laughed, turning tail and began running away in glee from successfully taunting his first mate. The barrelling boot heels of the first mate almost managed to catch up to the Captain immediately, but Shanks continued successfully darting away from Beckman’s disciplinary grasp.

[dutiful-wildcraft]

I thought to myself, ya know? There isn't enough Gaz/Ghost. So I fixed that problem.

Fluff, 1K, unedited, enjoy <3

It starts with the pair laying together, soft and sweet in the afterglow.

Never in a million years would Gaz guess that Simon would match his touchiness. Scarred hands massaging and petting almost incessantly at Gaz’s warm skin. It’s reverent, eyes and hands roaming over his body with a soft curiosity that had Gaz shivering in his arms.

Simon's eyes flicker up from where they were trained on the curve of Gaz's waist, tries to withdraw his hand when he catches Gaz's look of amusement.

Gaz snags him or course, gives his palm a squeeze and replaces it firmly back at his waist, squirming in closer to Simon's bulky frame, like a cat demanding pets.

Simon continues after a moment, shifting to draw patterns with his fingertips over his skin that has Gaz biting back ticklish laughs, he peers back up at him, finds eye black stained eyes trained back on him, an almost confused furrow to his brow as his fingers stroke back and forth.

“What's on your mind doll?” Gaz murmurs, pressing a small kiss to his shoulder. 

Simon pauses again, flattens his palm back out to slide down his hip, grab a handful a plush ass that has Gaz biting at his shoulder in playful retaliation.

“How are you so bloody soft?” Simon finally rumbles out, curling an arm around him to squeeze him close, bury his face into Gaz’s curls and inhale the warm scent that constantly clings to the man. 

Gaz laughs, rich and sweet, presses a trio of kisses over Simon’s heart in a quick rhythm. 

“I’ll show you.”

-

Gaz half thinks the big boy was going to back out as he corrals Simon into his bathroom. Simon stands there,  still and quiet as Gaz moves around the small space, void like eyes watching him as he unloads a small collection of hair and skincare products he’d picked up specifically for gentle giant.

It isn't until after a sufficient amount of steam is billowing from the shower and Gaz is guiding Simon’s old band t shirt off of his shoulders does he notice the stark blush creeping up his chest, red creeping up his neck. 

“Gettin’ shy on me?” Gaz teases, placating him with another kiss as he tugs off the ratty balaclava, revealing Simon’s full glare.  His hair has grown out, blonde curls sad and dry. Gaz would take care of that too. 

Gaz sets to work as soon as they climb into the shower,  guides Simon under the warm spray and pours a sweet smelling shampoo between his palms, working Simon’s curls over with gentle massaging. It’s powerful Gaz thinks, to see his lover like this, at peace, eyes closed as Gaz draws swirls in the suds of his hair. 

He applies a light leave in conditioner to sit next while he works his way down to clean away the remnant eye black from Simon’s face. Rubbing away the stubborn paint from his eyes and cheeks with gentle hands. Simon is putty in his arms, practically leaning on him as he works an expensive soap over his curves, thoroughly massaging the sweet smelling scent into skin as he works him over from head to toe.

After he’s finished he props Simon up against the shower wall and subtly gives a little show of lathering himself down. Simon’s hands are on him almost immediately, his hands playing in the bubbles against his skin as he steals kisses under the warm spray. Gaz just barely gets him pried off to wash his own hair, almost giddy with the way Simon watches him. Eyes following the rivulets of water that slide along his skin. 

It’s a challenge to coax his cold natured partner out of the hot spray, but Gaz can barely fight off his pleased grin as he finally pulls Simon free, his lover red faced and dreamy as he pats him dry with a soft towel, and works another lotion into his pale skin. He can tell Simon is valiantly trying to will away the blood flowing to his groin, chubbing up his length as Gaz sits pretty on his knees, working over Simon’s calves and thighs. 

“Like being pampered don’t you doll?” Gaz purrs, pressing a cheeky kiss to his thigh that has Simon’s fingers curling into his hair in warning. “Be patient.” he reminds. 

Simon complies, of course he does, lets Gaz coat is hair with a light curl cream, fingers carefully taming and reshaping the short curls that Simon has neglected for years. Sits quietly on the toilet seat while Gaz shaves away the stubble that he knows Simon hates , lines up the back of his neck to keep his curls from touching there, applies cool feeling creams to face to battle any razor burn of acne.

By the time it’s all said and done, Gaz can’t help but admire the man. 

Simon is glowing. 

Pretty blonde curls so soft and shiny. Face clean and cheeks pink. Gaz runs his hands over his skin, preening happily at the silky glide of his fingers over Simon’s muscles, the way Simon’s own scent mingles beautifully with the honey almond scent Gaz painted him with. A little treat Gaz is more than happy to have all to himself. 

He’s never seen the man drunk, but Gaz thinks this must be pretty close. Simon’s eyes are half-lidded, dopey with the way Gaz caresses his face, pets over his skin like he’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. Kisses him sweet and slow, chuckling as Simon’s big paws find him again, pulling him in close by the hips, former chub now full and hot against his thigh. 

“Come along sweets, not done with you yet.”

[mytheoristavenue]

DM - Chilchuck Tims x Reader 🍋 - Logical Next Step

Kinktober 2024 - XI

Size difference + Breeding

Summary: Realizing he's getting up there in age, Chilchuck decides to settle down again for his remaining years. After taking you as his second wife, he finds himself missing a home filled with the pattering of little feet.

Warnings: Breeding, unprotected sex, creampie, tallman!reader, fem!reader, sub!reader, dom!Chilchuck, married/pre-established relationship, post-canon, language

Chilchuck would never have claimed to have had the perfect life, nor would he have claimed that that wasn't his own fault. He knew in his heart that he was the reason his marriage fell apart, why he was estranged from his children, why he was living paycheck to paycheck. As he aged and fell into life with the Touden party, he thought he was comfortable with spending the rest of his life dungeon-delving. That was until he met you.

You had joined the party shortly after Senshi had, during their search for Falin and the Red Dragon, and the half-foot was quietly amazed at your way of operating. You were a fair bit younger than him, around Laios's age, but you were so mature, so cool under pressure. You had a way of saying exactly the right thing at exactly the right time to calm everyone's nerves. Chilchuck couldn't count how many times you'd soothed Marcille when she got anxious, or came between himself and Laios when he was ready to come to blows.

"Hey, we're all tired and frustrated. Let's cool off, yeah?" You'd say, your hand on his shoulder, smiling down at him patiently. After which, you'd lead him away to the other side of camp and offer him space or company. And you always respected any decision he made.

That was why, after the journey to save Falin was completed, Chilchuck took his savings, bought himself a cottage and a stop, and decided to settle down. With what little he had left, he bought a modest ring with a genuine pearl and approached you at Laios's dinner party.

"H-Hey, (Y/N), c'mere." Hey stammered as he passed you, everyone else preoccupied. Popping the question here, especially with his daughters in attendance was risky for sure, but he just couldn't wait. You followed him over to the corned, watching on curiously as he fidgeted with something in his pocket. "I know we haven't known each other long, and we've only been together for a little while..."

Tears instantly pricked your eyes and you gasped, covering your mouth, guessing what came next. "But I'm not gettin' any younger." He continued. " I never thought I'd find myself looking to get tied down again but..." He sighed, frustrated that he was losing words- he was stalling.

"Go ahead," You smiled patiently, sinking to your knees to be on his level. You didn't miss the way his eyes wet at your action, and he mirrored it, kneeling on his left knee.

"R-Right," He laughed nervously, clearing his throat. " I thought I had it all figured out, that domestic life just wasn't for me but- (Y/N), I wanna try it again. With you." By this time, he'd pulled the silver band out of his pocket. He didn't have an ornate box with silk lining, he just pinched it between his fingers as he offered it to you. "You've singlehandedly changed my entire outlook on life, and I'm tired of wasting the last little bit of my life doing odd jobs, sleeping on a bedroll by myself."

Suddenly, there was a chorus of squeals from the dinner table, and Chilchuck grimaced. Looking over his shoulder, you could see his two younger daughters, as well as Marcille, fawning over the sight. You giggled a bit as a crowd formed around him, pinning you both into the corner. He began to sweat, irritated that his moment has been ruined. "Can't you all screw off for five minutes?" He scolded, face red.

"Chilchuck," You smiled fondly, placing your hand on his shoulder. "What did you want to ask me?"

His attention instantly snapped back to you, the tips of his ears hot from his daughters excitedly cheering him on. "W-Will uh..." He swallows nervously, nodding to the ring. " Will you marry me?"

"Yes, I thought you'd never ask!"

-----

You hummed softly, stirring a large cast iron pot filled with Autumn vegetables and broth. Beside you, your youngest step-daughter set the dinner table. "Your father and sister should be home soon," You mentioned casually.

"I wonder how business went today," Puckpatti replied, fluffing the bouquet of flowers in the center of the table.

"I'm sure it went well, those two are the best lockpicks around!" Flertom chirped from the sink, washing up the dishes you'd used.

You and Chilchuck had been married for about a month and today was the first day that his new shop would be open. To celebrate, you and the girls planned a dinner to surprise him. You couldn't help but feel a warmth in your chest, truly part of the family. Nothing could possibly make you happier.

Just as you turned off the heat of the stove, the front door opened, and you could hear a jovial conversation and a pair of boots hitting the floor near the entrance. "Hon, we're home- oh!"

Chilchuck couldn't keep a straight face as he stepped into the kitchen, finding his lovely wife and beautiful daughters standing around the table, waiting for him. "What's all this?"

You smiled bashfully, setting the pot down on the table, plaid oven mitts still covering your hands. "We made dinner to celebrate the shop opening today!" Flertom cheered, pressing into his side for a hug.

"We wanted to surprise you!" Puckpatti added, mirroring her sister on his other side. Their father glanced back over his shoulder to his eldest daughter, who smiled back at him smugly.

"Did you know about this, Mei?" He asked with a smirk. She simply nodded, uncrossing her arms and patting his back.

You watched the moment fondly, feeling a bit awkward to be outside of it. Shyly, you turned away to the oven, pulling out a fresh loaf of bread. "Don't think I forgot about you," Your husband's flirtatious voice called, startlingly close. You nearly jumped, feeling his arms wrap around your hips, pressing a kiss to your tummy as you sat the bread down. The girls grimaced at the display. "Oh, grow up," Chilchuck groaned, taking his seat, and prompting you to sit beside him. "When you get spouses that are twice your height, you'll understand!" He huffed, crossing his arms before pausing. "Wait, scratch that, none of you are allowed to get married!"

The night went smoothly, filled with laughter, joy, and praise for your squash stew. As the stars came out, one by one, the girls all began to leave, each tired and heading to their respective homes. Once it was just the pair of you left, you stood up, beginning to clear the table. "Hey, lemme help with that." Your husband smiled, standing up with you and carrying the rest of the dishes to the sink.

You thanked him, rolling up your sleeves to begin washing them, plunging your hands into the wrist-deep sink of bubbles. "How was work, dear?" You asked softly as his arms found their way around your waist again.

"It was great, we were way busier than I thought we'd be." He mused, resting his head against the small of your back. "Mei's so skill now, she might actually be a better locksmith than me. Don't tell her I said that, though."

You giggled in response. "She's a carbon copy of you, of course she's skilled. She learned from the best."

"Patti and Fler seem pretty fond of you." He mentioned, partying from you and heading over to the cabinet, taking a bottle of ale from it.

"I'm pretty fond of them too," You laughed. "They're sweet girls. So is Mei."

"Yeah, you're right, couldn't ask for better kids." Chilchuck smiled softly, uncorking the bottle. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask... are we gonna have kids?" The question caught you so off guard, you dropped a bowl into the sudsy sink, shattering it. "I didn't mean to startle you, I'm sorry."

Concerned, he stepped up onto a stool, pulling your hands away from the sink as you tried to dip them back in, apologizing relentlessly. "Hey, it's okay, really. Let me," You watched as he carefully dug out the drain stop, revealing the rest of the dishes and broken glass, before picking it out into a towel. "You okay?" He asked, setting the towel to the side. "Listen, I'Il fix this tomorrow after work, m'kay? No harm, no foul."

You soften at his comforting words, nodding. Ever the worrier, his concerned eyes stayed trained on you. "You look a bit flushed, why don't you go rest? I'll finish up."

-----

Your hands wouldn't stop trembling as you undressed for bed, his words echoing in your head. Where the two of you going to have kids? He didn't want more kids, did he? Could the two of you even have kids, being different species? What would they look like? How would that even work?

Your mind raced with questions and visions of how he might go about impregnating you, considering the vast difference in your stature. Sure, you'd been intimate before, but when you imagined how a man would breed his wife, it tended to look a bit different than what you were used to with him.

Nevermind all that- did he want to have more kids with you?

As you slid into bed, you tried to immerse yourself in a book to calm your nerves, but just as you found your place, the bedroom door opened. "Are you upset at me, hun?" Chilchuck's voice was a bit more timid than usual and laced with worry. "I'm sorry I asked about having kids, it was dumb-"

"Do... you want to have more kids?" You interrupted him, voice quaking a bit.

"I wanna do whatever you wanna do." He answered, approaching the bed and sitting on the edge of it.

You search his eyes for sincerity. "So do I, so you tell me first."

"Well..." He trailed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I wouldn't mind. Kinda miss when the girls were little." He admitted with a sheepish smile. "Is that weird? Am I too old to be havin' kids?"

"No," you replied with a warm smile. "I don't think so, not at all."

"Would you... maybe wanna?" He asked with a nervous laugh, much like how he acted the day he proposed. "You wanna be a mama?"

Your cheeks heated up exponentially and you hid your face, save for your eyes with your book. "I-I... I-" You stammered, unable to find the correct words. Eventually, you simply nodded. Chilchuck's sheepish expression turned smug as he began crawling closer.

"Need you to tell me with words, hun." He cooed, straddling your lap. "Tell me you wanna have my baby."

"I-I want to..." You swallowed hard. "Have your b-baby." As a reward for your obedience, he pulled you close, tilting your chin up as he began peppering kisses up and down your throat. "M-My love, what are you...?"

"Givin' my pretty wife a baby."

-----

"G-Gods, Chil," You cooed, your eyes rolling back as he bottomed out, hips rolling into yours at a slow but firm pace. His hands cupped the back of your knees, pressing them into your collarbone, folding you beneath him.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" He rasped, a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead onto your tummy. "Didn't think a guy like me could fold a girl like you? I'm stronger than I look." His brows furrowed, a cocky grin splitting his flushed face. "Not gonna lie, ain't never bred a woman bigger than me, but-" He laughed confidently, suddenly slamming his hips into yours, making you see stars. "Won't let that stop me from fuckin' a baby into this pretty little thing."

You had always known Chilchuck had a foul mouth, but you'd never heard anything like this from his lips. You felt a bit silly for worrying about how this would go, he was so stubborn, you should have known he'd find a way. Still, it made your tummy churn how he could be half your size and still dominate you so completely. He had you wrapped around his finger and you both knew it.

"That's it, pretty, just lay back," He soothed smugly, pressing you deeper into the mattress. "Let your big, strong husband take care of everything," You could practically see his ego inflate with his self-praise, breath falling out in ragged chuckles. "How does it feel getting pinned by a half-foot?"

"F-Feels good..." You whimpered, drool dripping down the side of your cheek as his tip endlessly nudged against that special spot, which he seemed to know exactly how to locate.

"What's that? Couldn't hear ya?" He teased, hips pistoning into yours with renewed vigor. "Tell me louder, mama."

"Chil, it f-feels so good," You moaned a bit louder, eyes squeezed tight, trembling under him.

"What feels good?" He laughed cruelly, his nails digging into the meat of the back of your thighs in his daze. "Be specific, babe."

"I-I feels so good to be under you like this..." You admitted shyly, overwhelmed tears welling in your eyes. Chilchuck groaned at your words, drunk off of your pretty, pouty, flustered expression.

"That's my girl," He grinned, doubling his efforts, reaching down to press his thumb to your clit, rubbing in rough circles with experienced ease. "Big surprises come in small packages, or however the saying goes."

"Chil, ahh-" You whined, feeling that familiar knot in your tummy tightens at his doubled efforts. "P-Please, make me a mommy..."

Your eager begging made his breath hitch and his pace faltered a bit. "Shit, pretty, so desperate to carry my baby, huh?" He grunted, thrusts changing to a more insistent pattern. "That's okay, I can't wait to be a daddy again."

You knew his last words would do you in, the knot in your belly snapping taut within seconds of hearing it. You couldn't hold back the needy pleading that spilled from your throat, clamping down on him as you rolled your hips into his, riding out. "A-Ahh, Chil! I love you so much!"

He let out a choked groan, sent over the edge by your constriction and loving declaration. "Oh fuck," He hissed, hips sputtering as that warm, gooey feeling enveloped his sensitive member. "Fuckin' milk it, mama." He muttered, folding against you, nestling his face between your breasts. "Shit, love love you like crazy."

Your chest heaved as you both lay there, revelling in the moment. After a bit, you began to shift, expecting him to pull away so you could stretch your legs. To your surprise, he continued to hold your knees to your shoulders. "H-Honey," You whispered bashfully. "My hips are getting sore."

"That sucks," He laughed, languidly rolling his hips into yours, making you jump in surprise. "Gonna have to get used to it, they're gonna get a lot worse when you start showin'." He teased, fuckings seed deeper into your womb.

"S-Showing what?" You asked innocently, melting at his tender pace.

"Your baby bump, obviously." He smirked, kissing up and down your stomach.

"I-I don't think I can go again so soon..." You admit shamefully, only to have him reach out, lifting your chin to meet his gaze.

"You want me to make you cum again later, I will, but that's not what this is, hun." It was just now that you were beginning to really look at his face, your eyes having been closed during most of this event. His cheeks, nose, and ears were blushed, freckles more evident against the pinked skin. His auburn hair slicked to his forehead with sweat and you could see the greys in his sideburns more easily in the moonlight. He looked so mature in this moment, you could almost forget how different his species was from yours.

"W-What is it, then, my love?" You asked, bringing up a hand to lovingly rake through his hair.

"Think of it as insurance," he replied, softening a bit, nuzzling into your hand. "Gotta make sure it takes, right? And hey, if it doesn't we won't stop 'til we get it right."

[finalgirlfae]

that miles smut was so good omg🤭🤭

pls write moree💕💕

thank you! ask and u shall receive ;)

sunday morning, miles morales

DISCLAIMER: miles is aged up to 19.

pairings: miles morales x afab!reader

summary: it’s sunday morning, and for breakfast miles is craving you.

tags, warnings: unprotected sex, soft sex, praise, teasing fingering, slight body worship, oral (f!recieving), miles using his webs🤭, uhh i think that’s it lmk if i missed anything!

you slowly opened your eyes with a quiet yawn and rolled over to the other side of the bed. the sunrise was climbing the sky and peaking through your white curtains, landing on miles’ face.

the golden yellow rays hit his featured perfectly. a small smile found its way on to your lips as you admired how peaceful your boyfriend looked. he was sound asleep, bare and toned chest rising and falling slowly with each breath he took. you took another moment to admire miles before turning away and deciding to get ready for the day. you pushed your self to the edge of the bed, feet not even getting a chance to touch the floor before you felt something sticky grab at your arm, immediately pulling you back into bed.

“miles!” you let out a soft shriek ���and turned to face your boyfriend who was laid on his side, arm propped up to hold his head as he stared at you with a soft smirk. “how many times have i told you not to web me from behind!”

“how else am i supposed to get to you stay in bed with me?

“ask.” you narrowed your eyes at him, only pretending to be mad.

“ok.” miles sat up. “i want you to stay in bed with me.”

you scoffed. “that’s not asking me that’s telling me.”

miles sucked his teeth at you. he moved his hands to your legs, grabbing you by your ankles and making you yelp again when he pulled your body closer to his, sitting you in his lap to straddle him.

“what?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek. he smiled. “i didn’t use my webs this time.”

“shut up.” you cupped hands on either side of miles face, pulling the boy into a kiss. he immediately kissed back, pushing his lips into yours softly and nibbling at your bottom one.

soon his hands trailed up your waist, slipping under the t-shirt you wore and tracing over your back. “this is my shirt actually, and i want it off.” he muttered against your lips. you pulled away from the kiss. “oh yeah? come and get it bugboy.”

you slid off his lap and moved to the head of the bed, pressing your back against the pillows and looking at him. he sucked his teeth again and crawled over to you. “stop playin’ with me.” he put his arms out and pressed down on his palms, sending two webs to attach to either side of your shirt and pulling it off in one swift motion. you only laughed.

“i’m gettin’ good at that.” miles winked before attaching his lips to yours again. his hands hands cupped your boobs causing you to moan. he pinched the one he knew was most sensitive and began to roll it between his thumb and middle finger, after that he moved to kiss your neck, beginning to nibble and suck at your favorite spot. “perfect.”

“miles.” you whined at the compliment, wrapping an arm around him to pull him closer.

he took his hands off your boobs and lips off your neck. miles looked at you for a second, rolling his plump lips together. he played with the band on your underwear. “take ya panties off.”

as if you could get any wetter right now.

you followed his order, taking off the gray cotton panties and tossing them somewhere in the room.

he gave you another quick kiss before laying you down on the bed. miles began to kiss your chest before trailing down to your stomach. he pressed kisses and sometimes little nibbles against your pelvis before laying down and spreading your legs, placing them over his shoulders.

he made eye contact with you, pressing a kiss on your inner left thigh before immediately beginning to roll his tongue on your clit. a moan fell from your lips and you threw your head back. he sucked your clit gently, bringing a finger to your pussy and pushing it in.

your legs clenched for a second at the sudden feel as the tip of his tongue swirled your clit. he added a second finger, beginning to pump a little faster and slightly curl them.

your hips bucked into his face and you reached a hand down, grabbing a fist full of his coils. “shit, keep doing that.”

he half listened to you, keeping the exact same swirl pattern on your clit but choosing to add a third finger. you immediately clenched around his fingers, letting out a very loud fuck. he pumped his fingers into you a little harder, curling them and making you scream a bit as you came around them.

he slowly pulled his fingers out and made eye contact with you asked he sucked them, letting out an almost pornographic moan. your jaw dropped at his actions and if it was possible, you were even more turned on.

“miles.” you whined out. he smirked at you and brought himself closer, using a hand to hold your jaw while he began to kiss you.

his let go of your jaw and slid his hands over your breasts again, squeezing each of them in his large hands.

the two of you melted into the kiss, hands moving all over each other but suddenly you were very aware that you were the only one fully naked. he still had on his blue flannel night pants.

you trailed a hand down miles stomach, tracing your finger tips over his abs before reaching down and palming your hand his large bulge. you gave his dick a gentle squeeze and miles let out a groan before grabbing your hand. he webbed one of your wrists above your head. “stop playin with me.” he muttered the warning against your lips.

you kissed back, “unfair advantage.”

“shh, you love it.” he leaned back, swiftly pulling off his pants and boxers. you glazed eyes over his body and found a small smile place on your lips. miles was so beautiful and his body was absolutely perfect to you. his arms and chest were so toned. you didn’t get mych time to admire him before his hands were back on your body. he grabbed your legs, pushing them back and putting you into a breeding press. he liked this position the best because like missionary; he could still see your face and kiss you but he had more control.

“look so pretty folded f’ me.” miles muttered to you before he began to trail hot and wet kisses down your neck. a large gasp left your lips as you felt something long, thick and hard slide into you. he went back to your lips, laughing at the gasp you let out “yea, its big. i know.” he whispered, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

you let out of muffled moan as miles slowly started to thrust into you. his dick before the bite was already kind of big and after it grew an extra two inches so it’s safe to say you were more than satisfied with your lover.

a curse slipped from your lips when miles gave a particularly deep thrust. he had set a medium level pace that felt good for both of you, not too sustained but also not too rough for morning sex. he was right in the middle.

he leaned up, taking one of his hands and pressing down on your stomach. “fuck oh my god.” you could feel everything now. every ridge, vein and every curve on his dick. miles gave you a small smirk, licking his thumb before circling it over your clit. your body jerked at the sudden stimulation and your tried to grab at his hand. he immediately grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through yours before moving both your hands above your head.

miles now had all the control. he body was pressed against yours, hips beginning to snap at a ruthless pace while your legs trembled and pussy pulsated around his dick. his tip began to brush your g spot with every roll of his hips.

“miles-”

“i know, i know baby.” he whined. “you feel so fucking good, fuck.” miles’ breathing became a bit heavier. he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, beginning to bite and suck at the hot skin.

his hands gripped yours tighter and a muffled moan fell from his lips as your wrapped legs around his waist. it drove him crazy when you did things like that, little actions that let him know how much you wanted him, how much you enjoyed the feeling between you two and the sensation of his body on top yours.

“shit,” miles spoke, snapping his hips against your faster. he was close and you could feel him throbbing inside you. miles moved his free hand down to your clit again, rubbing figure eights and immediately making you clench around him. the feeling of him thrusting inside you, rubbing your clit and kissing your neck was entirely too much and it didn’t take much longer before you came around him with a loud moan.

miles smirked to himself, pulling his face from your neck and pecking your lips before he pulled out of you. he began to stroke himself, tossing his head back and letting out a moan as he came all over your chest. when you came down from your high you looked at your wrist that was still webbed to the bed. “..gonna let me go now?”

miles gave you a laugh. “for what? we not done.” he moved your legs to lay flat, kissing down your stomach again and across your pelvis. “far from done.” he muttered into your skin. it was going to be a long morning.

•••

i need him so bad.

tags:

@multifariousqueer

[fawnpires]

LOCKED & LOADED — SIMON "GHOST" RILEY.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ synopsis: ghost loves two things the most; you and his pistol, but there was nothing better than the two combined. (AKA - ghost fucks you with his pistol.)

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: gunplay, weapons, gun kink, slightly mean!ghost, oral sex (female receiving), pussy-slapping, dirty talk, edging, use of pet-names, mild degradation.

"You're fuckin' depraved you know that, don't you, sweetheart?"

His voice heavy of an accented tone sends a shock down your laid spine, your body quivering with tiny non-visible motions. The only lasting separation from your bareness and his lingering eyes were your bra and panties full of lace — with his difference, he had been fully clothed, draped in his military gear and tactical cloth considering his return from a month-lasting expedition a long couple of minutes ago. Through the front door and trudging towards your shared bedroom; your body laid already half-naked on the mattress — as if you in preparation for him — the view causing him to practically drop everything from his hold — duffel bags and a few of his more heavier rifles.

In the band of the utility belt, only a single rifle and a pocket of ammo to it — which is how you ended up with his much more towering, heavier frame suspending over you; the muzzle of said pistol to your clothed cunt, circulating in small and sensual gestures. He squints his eyes at how your panties leave a stain where the gun traces, a smirk pressed to his lips at the sight from underneath the skull of his mask.

"Gettin' off on my gun, huh?" he rasps to your ear, "You take anythin' I fuck you with, don't you, love?"

Your thrown-back head lifts itself from the pillow, staring right into the sockets of the mask. "Mmhm — waited so long for you, missed you s'much."

"I know, baby, I know," he said while his free-hand caresses the flesh of your clammy stomach, "Missed you too. Couldn't stop thinkin' about you and this pretty pussy." his eyes drift to your stimulated cunt, the confines of his tactical jeans growing tighter at the erection that bulges through the material.

"Please!" you whine, "Fuck. I need you so bad, can't wait anymore, Simon."

His edging maneuvers latch onto you, but they just weren't enough to your liking. For the duration of his absence away from you, you had craved more than just a gun running at the exterior of your cunt; some fleshy, physical portion of his body — not just the solid metal of a weapon running into you. It had just seemed to lack your needs — not to be demanding, but there had just been some missing addition that would peak up to your arousal. Your bottom lip was teared from the constant bite of your top teeth, nearly broken of the skin at the repeated sensations at the front of your panties; needy hips grind against your only source of pleasure, the muzzle of the unpredicted pistol — it could've been loaded, a hazard to your safety, or unloaded due to the amount of care that Ghost holds for you.

"Don't worry, sweet girl," he straightens himself back up and holds his stance between your bare legs which he spreads for you, resting them at both sides of his kneeled figure. "Won't torture you that much."

Your mind is left to ponder at his phrase, slightly curious and wanting to poke more at the topic of 'torture' he has in mind.

With his pistol still clutched at the handle in his right hand, he puts his left hand to use and wraps his fingers to the waistband of your panties, tugging at the elastic before slowly ragging it down your thighs. From your knees, and down to pool at your ankles until they were eventually shrugged off to be abandoned somewhere on the floorboards of the bedroom's ground; you were almost unconditionally bare, minus the lace of your bra cushioning your breasts that were nearly spilling out from the position the man above held you captive in.

The embarrassment of your cunt stripped of its fabric finally hits you, causing you to press your thighs together in an attempt to give some shielded cover. It had possibly been the span of time he had left you all alone but his usual superior disposition had left you a bit intimidated, meek to his eyes. He strips himself of his tactical jacket, then the black of his thinned shirt — somewhat equivalently bare to you.

"What'cha hiding from, baby?" he aims the point of the gun to one of your thighs, one hand brushing to a single side of your waist. "Seen you naked so many times for me, no reason to be so shy."

His words label an impact on you — warming up to his characteristic nature and steadily parting your legs wider for him, situating them back to the sides of himself. He can't help but bring himself to smirk at the act, pinning the bottom of his balaclava to the end of his nose and folding the blemished material for it to stay in place. "That's a good girl, openin' all up for me. Just like how she always has." he praises, his hand no longer at your waist but brought down to between your thighs — landing a flattened slap on the puffy lips of your glossy cunt.

Your body jerks at the impact, vibrations sent straight to your stimulated clit as a muted whine draws from your throat. You feel yourself pulsating from the cruel action, just about swollen and pigmented red. Ghost elicits a shallow, stifled chuckle at the reaction in which he extracts from you; directing the muzzle of his forgotten pistol to your cunt, nudging at the lips and placing it still there — no movements, motionless in place. Body engulfed in shame, yet you left yourself to do the disgraceful; revolving your hips at the muzzle, grinding onto the object much like the first time he set it into place — only more needier, more faster and desperate in each circular move. A shiver comes down onto your body at the cold of the firearm, but immediately warming up once the metal bumps at your swollen clit.

"Are you going to take this, huh?" Ghost graces your ears with the inquiry, watching as you hump yourself against his gun, slick drooling down the muzzle and all the way to the barrel — glistening and shined down to each portion of the weapon. He reaches a hand to your face, his large palm fondling at your features with fingers kneading into the skin. "You gonna let me fuck you with my gun, baby?"

"I- I dunno," you whine out, loudly and more extended, "but, Simon-"

"C'mon, don't be like that," he said, grim in tone, "don't'cha wanna be my good girl like always? Takin' what's given to her?"

You gasp as he presses the the gun further against you, prodding right at your clit; the new sensation of cold, hard metal causing your lips to part and your body to instinctually press yourself harder on it. Your left no choice but to nod swiftly — the only way you could really get further into the pleasure he edges you with. He feels his lips curve into a small grin, the grasp on the handle of the gun tightening.

He doesn't hold himself back anymore, no boundaries to stop him from slowly pumping the cooled pistol into the entrance of your drippy cunt. Your breath hitches, body squirming as one of his hands is pressed down onto one side of your waist; preventing you from breaking free of the stimulation. A shattered sound — something between a squeal and a moan — forces from your mouth at the operation of insertion. Your back arches, body tensed and moderately uncomfortable; still getting used to the feeling of a literal gun being shoved into your cunt.

"There you go," he said, eyes widening at the sight in which he gives power to. The abnormally loud squelching of your cunt while taking his gun and the released whines of your mouth were placing him into a personal paradise. "See? I knew you could do it, honey. Just for me."

Your body no longer writhes under the gun when it is at the limit which you can only take it in; right to the bottom of the barrel, slick painting the material.

"M' gonna start moving now, stay still for me honey. Just like this." he warns, leisurely pulling the weapon out of you before thrusting it back in a more quicker maneuver. Your hips lift themselves before being pushed back down into the mattress with the hand at your waist, a whimper pulling from past the teeth and tongue. "Love this slutty pussy s'much, sweetheart, you likin' this?" he questions, "You like — no, — love bein' this much of a slut for my gun?"

Through the continuous whines and towed moans, you can only manage a non-verbal response — another agreement from the nod of your head. He only grins, leaning down to your face to press a sloppy kiss to your forehead, kissing down the soft expanse of your chest and stomach before settling where his gun quickens in pace at your cunt, a delicate kiss from his lips places at your clit. The object pumps up into you more quickly now but is joined with his tongue giving one long, wet stripe up your lips past the gun. A high-pitched moan is plucked at the new sensitivity, back curved off the creaking bed, hips bucking and pressed down onto his face.

"Simon, fuck!" you moan, nearly coming out in a scream.

He smirks against your cunt, surrounding his lips around your clit and sucking on the bud. Ghost continues to thrust his gun into you, the rate of it violent and in carnal. With the supplement of both his pistol and mouth at your cunt, your mind is invaded of a stupefying cloud of haze. The muscle of his tongue repeats long, prolonged stripes at your puffy lips; occasionally putting time into lapping at your clit. Your brows furrow, collecting beads of created sweat as your chest rises with each heavy breath you take.

"Doin' so good for me, pretty thing." Ghost murmurs, his fingers wrapped at the handle for more leverage and pounding his gun to the warmth of your walls with that same violent pace.

His saliva coats your inner thighs, as well as the thrusting pistol; piling with the surface of your slick. Drool dribbles down the structure of his chin, using his utmost stamina to put strength into both fucking you with his gun and tongue. Your vision is blurred of tears, head in spirals while your left to leave your mouth expanded — no longer giving attempts to even muffle any of your noises, or suppressing right at your throat. An organization of heat begins to birth in your abdomen, threatening to spill of itself any second; any move of either his tongue or gun would be the root of that release.

"S'close, Simon!"

"Go on, then, love." his eyes flow to arching anatomy then to your fucked-out face, "I know how badly you were waitin' for me to come home, take care of this achy lil' cunt of yours," he cooed, "Want you to make a mess of my gun, of me."

The hastened blend of a pistol and his tongue vitalizing your cunt was enough for your head to be fully sent into a stage of dumbification and the birthed heat at your abdomen to be overturned; streams of rapture flood every crevice of your body as you gushed all over both the the gun and his tongue, covering both parties. The hand at your waist caresses your skin in gentle gestures, one last press of his lips to your clit before he lifts himself up — his mouth left to hang open, catching breaths. His gun positions still inside you for a minute longer before you feel the now-warmed metal of it being withdrawn from your sticky cunt.

When it's pulled out from you, almost the entire thing was submerged in your arousal; the liquid glinting from the illuminance of the bed-side table lamp. Your head leans up the pillow, staring at the stained object; then to him, with his alluring lips now smeared of all you.

"Shit, baby," he breathes, words ending in a chuckle while he stares down the slick-painted weapon, "You really did stain my pistol."

You dumbly smile up at him through your remaining orgasm, all lips, no teeth. "Don't you want a reminder of me when you're away?"

"Yeah," he replied, moving to your side and "and you were so desperate to make it happen."

You bite at the fleshy wall of your cheek with tearing teeth, more warmth rising to your face at his statement.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing, honey," he confirms while taking note of the silence you leave, bending himself down and caging you in with his body and two arms; one holding the pistol right above your head. His lips press to yours in a deepened, messy kiss before smaller ones are peppered to your face in comfort. "I like when you're desperate anyways, you get all pretty and fucked out."

[thesassypadawan]

Make Them Blue (Leo x FemReader) *Blurb*

Summary:  It’s No Nut November and, as usual, your man lets his stunad friends talk him into participating.  Everything was going sort of well, until one crazy day working at the shop.  After dealing with idiot customers, watching you scampering around in that skirt and his hoodie…he needs to unwind badly.  So he grabs the bottle of wine stashed for emergencies and you, dragging you both out back to the alley.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut. Thigh riding; some good, cheap vino; one horny and worked up big chooch, sauce stain, jizz in pants, and… Leo’s big, fat dick.

Notes: Happy No Nut November all you, lovelies! 🤍💙

- Two fingers beckon while holding a bottle of wine.  “Come here, amore…”  Other flour covered hand easily captures both of your sweater pawed ones.  Bringing your knuckles to his red stained lips; placing a kiss on the icy-hot skin.  “Missin’ ya all afternoon…”

- Tugging gently, he urges you to take a seat.  “Leo…”  Flirtatious grin widening on his flushed face as you happily oblige.  Plopping down onto his toned thigh.  “…I've practically been glued to your side the whole time.”   Knee ‘accidentally’ glancing his already hard cock; warm, tacky core pressing against his sauce-stained jeans.

- One last deep swig for himself, for you, and he sets it with a soft clink on the alley floor.  “Yeah, I know.”  Calloused fingertips come to rest on your waist, squeezing and kneading your handle like fresh dough.  “But I couldn't do…”  Before wandering lower, slipping under the hem of your skirt.  “…this…”

- Hooking his thumb, snapping the band of your lacey panties.  Ample globes jiggle, ripple from the recoil.  Tits bounce beneath his stolen hoodie.  When a squeak, followed by a giggle bubbles up from your throat.  “Ooooh, true.  Customers kind of frown at the cook feeling up the register girl in front of them.”    

- “Exactly,” he chuckles.  Big hands come to rest, cup your bottom firmly.  Pulling you even closer, little paunch brushing his thick middle… the swell of his prominent bulge.  “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

- Your own small ones settle on his toned chest, fingers tangle lazily in his gold chain.  “I am, but…”  Head tilts slightly to the side, mischievous smile curling at the corners of your mouth.  Plush pillow rubs and prods; eyes search his glassy, blue ones.  “…what about your bet with the guys?”

- Low hiss, hot breath washes over you.  Faint smell of alcohol tickles your nose and senses.  “Fuuuck ‘em.”  Shrugging, leaning down; lips hover inches away from yours.  “Choochs don’t got it as good as me…”

- Crashing them together, pushing past yours.  Tongues tangle, wrestle.  “Got someone to keep their dicks wet…”  Bitter, sweet taste tantalizing and arousing.  Adding to the overwhelming, swirling onslaught of pent-up frustrations and tension.  “Got a fat ass like this…”

- All the while he caresses, gropes your full cheeks.  Guiding, rocking you back and forth.  Stimulation, friction from your puffy folds passing over the course denim; making a thrill run, sparks of pleasure erupt throughout your body.   Causing you to moan softly into his mouth, yank roughly on his chain.  “Faster…  Faster…”

- Landing a solid, painful smack.  His grip tightens, fingers dig and sink into the subtle flesh.  “Faster, huh?”  Presses you down harder on his flexed thigh, drags and grinds your sensitive bud.  Pushing, hurtling you towards the edge…the much-needed release.  “Better hang on then, angel.”

- Pace picks up, almost brutal and blinding.  Juices totally soak, drench your panties; seeping into his jeans, coating them in a sticky trail.  Needy mewls, whines echoing off the brick walls.  Along with the distressed creaks from the wooden crate below.  “’Cause I ain’t stoppin’…”

- You can feel him rutting frantically, desperately against you.  Chubby cock straining at the fabric, poking at the underside of your stomach.  His breaths coming out in shallow pants; wispy puffs that float away on the cool, night air.  “…‘til…’t-til…”

- Nails scratch at, digits just start to fumble with his zipper.  Trying to free him when…  Abruptly he stops, deep groan escapes him.  Face and cheeks grow redder, sweaty forehead leans on yours.  As a moist, heated spot forms, soaks through the front of your skirt.   “…cum.”

Tag Lists: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @kenobiskywalkerkestis, @loverforoldermen, @lunarnightt, @adorbzliz, @ahano, @kenmaiica, @freezerbride95, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex,

@littlelamy, @khoatic-with-no-energy, @raiwpenl, @malinadbbdh, @strokingforyou26, @xspacexwitchx, @em-21, @hearts4sammonroe, @shouldbetakencareof2, @loxbbg, @supersoldatbarnesstuff, @thesilentreaderrrrr, @theoriginalsinner28, @dumb-slut-things, @indigoblues1207, @ald6518, @julxstrawberry, @wh0sl0ttie, @tojis-missing-arm, @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo, @theladykassia, @doblasftcisco, @morguexmvp, @f4iryjinsworld, @nyxiesstuff, @heymamasblog, @justsomeimbicel, @prettywhenicry-777, @femme-is-typing, @maddis0n4, @ttdrake, @melmurkun, @brattyyybbg, @zara13ts, @bigaoibhe2024, @neocitywhore, @ter-luer, @ladyanaschmidt, @sarahflores07,  @death934, @dovepevensie, @adorebambie, @pookiswookis, @icecoldhearts, @elliemariscal, @allievalll, @moonlxght-tyler, @1-racha, @tosterwwannie, @inejghafawifesblog, @carlgrimeswifeofficial, @hellemo666, @pitas-star, @sapphirefrog-blog, @carlgrimeseyepatch, @melonmochi, @coldcupcakedinosaur

[arcadeghozt]

MILTON CAMEO‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

CYBERNEDDLY TEDDLY CAMEO‼️‼️‼️‼️

[cupidscrule]

BLACK CAT

Leon X Fem! reader

P in V, smut

[ no tw, vanillaish idk ]

1.2k wrd

”Woah, woah, slow down” Leon chuckled as you started explaining another cool story to him.

Your relationship was like the definition of a black cat and a golden retriever. You always have so much energy and are nice to almost everyone. Leon on the other hand is a tough agent who doesn’t really enjoy showing much emotion. He’s pretty stern towards others— but his softspot for you is clear.

”Okay, i’m listening. Tell me” He said while you were walking together with your fingers interlocked.

"okay okay! So THEN after Fluttershy wrote an entire song, rainbow dash just decides to throw it out? Ugh she's such a bitch. Don't you agree? I mean her friend went through all the trouble to try and get them to win the battle of the bands but she's so selfish.." you said, going on about a children's movie. You loved cute things, hello kitty, my little pony, really anything a 12 year old girl would be obsessed with, wearing cute little outfits and rambling about pointless stuff. But hey it made you happy and Leon thought it was adorable

"Mhm, yeah, so selfish" Leon couldn’t help but chuckle a little about how into the movie she was. by now he knew EVERYTHING about these stupid colourful horses, rainbowdash, fluttershy, twilight, pinkie, apple jack, list goes on. Honestly from what he knew rarity seemed like the best- I mean she was a boss bitch.

He found the whole thing pretty amusing, you were just so excited about it and he’s glad you have stuff you're so.. passionate about

"I mean, it would probably get annoying if her friend just wasted all that effort right? " He said trying to show his interest in her story.

"exactly! Ugh finally you get it" you said smiling up to him, leaning closer into his side as you two walked down back home, it was a long day. Like REALLY long, you took Leon shopping, got your nails done, bought some new skirts, and a new album. All that sort of stuff, but y'know dragging Leon aside you cause someone had to carry the shit, you were gettin really close to the outside of your house, skipping beside Leon holding hands. Life was like a dream.

But the long day out had Leon pretty tired— he had to drag a lot of your stuff around and you insisted they go to multiple stores (you tried to be nice and let him pick something out but he was too tired and grumpy, I know right such a dick head?)

When you were about to arrive home, he looked at you as you skipped around excitedly and smiled softly. Despite what he’s put through, he can’t deny that he finds your behavior adorable.

He squeezed your hand and chuckled a little before you guys got in front of your door.

"Oo Leon tomorrow we should watch rainbow rocks, then you'll understand what I'm talking about better" you say giggling as you step into your house, taking off your little boots and walking away from Leon plopping your ass on the leather sofa, even if you were like if you gave a six year old crack mixed with sour gummy worms even you could get kinda tired. Right, ain't that surprising? Little princess bitch face getting tired, after crawling over Leon like a little kid and skipping everywhere, runnin, jumping, god doing everything known to fucken man kind

“don’t know if we’ll have the time because of..” Leon muttered under his breath, he didn’t want to upset you and ruin your mood when you’re so excited.

He walked over to the couch and sat beside you silently and just observed you as you started talking about the movie. He placed a hand over your thigh, brushing up and down just silently smiling hearing you decribe your weird ass fictional horse people argue with other creatures from mythology, honestly sometimes he wondered if you needed to be checked into a mental hospital. Little grippy sock princess

“Wellll, maybe we can watch it tomorrow..” He shrugged. “I mean, i’ll do anything you want” Leon chuckled looking over at you.

He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him, his body was pretty warm given how hot the day was and his arm was pretty comfortable.

He kissed you forehead before wrapping his other arm around you, squeezing you a little. You loved when he was affectionate, but not in a creepy way, a cute way. But after a long day a girl can get a bit needy, like sue me but when you have a hot ass man cradling you and taking you everywhere, GOD it's like an angel is sent from heaven to fuck you. But fuck you in a good homemade porno way, not one of thoes shitty ones with a whole plotline. Just straight raw fucking

You turn around, breaking his grip on you before climbing onto his lap, placing yourself onto his thigh "Woah Woah, calm down- y'know I'm tire-" he was trying to speak, silly men. You land a big fat kiss on his lips to shut him up, slowly moving yourself on his thigh, pulling away from him getting a breath, saliva dripping down your face like an animal, staring at him in the eyes, his face slightly shocked you made the first move. But you felt something perk up, bingo. Always know what can make your man want ya

"God I can't just stare at your handsome face and do nothing-" you mutter under your breath, pushing yourself closer into him, kissing his face like a big ol' dog, your free hand finding its way to his jean zipper, undoing it his fat dick springing up, he grabs you by your hips, pulling your panties aside, slapping you onto his cock, a groan coming from his lips, honestly didn't expect the day to end like this, went from talkin ponies to getting your brains fucked out. Like a good girl you ride him, his hands are placed on your hips moving you at a decent pase, bit fast but he did do A LOT of work today, guess he deserves it. Nothing else in the world matters right now, euphoric feeling, he thrusted up into you, taking one hand off your hip and grabbing your face, making you look at him, god his eyes make you MELT. He could take care of you, he was real nice with it. He groped your tits sometimes in public, but just made you love him more.

You're at your high, he knows that. Few more thrusts and you whine, feeling your body melt like butter, your weight collapses onto him, but he's not done practically druling on him, limp body he keeps fucken like a doll, if you still have a tight pussy thats all that matters, few moments and he finishes, pressing you down onto him, filling your cervix, still collapsed on him both of you breathen all heavy. "So babydoll, what happened next?" He groaned, a sly ass smirk on his face. "Mm that cunt rainbow got put in her place and they play fluttershys song" you mutter, pushing on his fat chest, rollin off him like a little kid, pussy dripping. His pants stained with you, and a heavy chest.

"I wanna-"

"No"

"Pleaseee"

[dodje-melai]

Can we talk about how fucking sweet Hobie would be in a relationship?

He’d treat you so well every single moment he’s with you. He’d never treat you bad and would always make sure you feel appreciated and wanted.

You guys probably wouldn’t have an official title to your relationship because Hobie “doesn’t believe in labels” (he’s joking when he says that), but everyone who knows you knows that you two are basically dating. However, if it matters to you about putting a label on your relationship with him, he’d be totally cool with doing that. He wouldn’t mind you calling him your partner publicly, and he’d love to do the same with you.

“I don’t mind puttin’ a label on us, luv. Whateva makes ya happy.”

Hobie would treat you almost daily with handmade gifts, or gifts he bought from a small family-owned shop, or something he just stole from a corporate-owned store if it’s something you really really want. He’d also treat you by taking you out, mainly to cool places that he’s found while swinging around. He’d also take you out to concerts by either stealing tickets or sneaking you in.

“‘Ey doll, got us sum tickets to a band ya like.”

“What? Hobie, these tickets are crazy expensive! How the hell did you buy these?”

“I ain’t ever said I bought ‘em.”

And sometimes, if he thinks you’re tough enough for it and you’re willing to go, he’ll take you to riots with him. He’d hold your hand or your hip or just anywhere he can so that he doesn’t lose you in the crowd. He makes sure that nothing bad happens to you, which his spidey sense makes it easier for him to do so. Though if you were to somehow get hurt he’d feel guilty for letting that happen, and he’d patch you up and make sure you heal properly.

“Hobie, I’m fine. I just scraped my knee—“

“I don’t want ya gettin’ an infection, dove. The road’s dirty. Now quit squirmin’, I’m tryna disinfect it.”

Aside from gift giving and quality time, Hobie’s other love language is physical touch. He loves to hold you, kiss you, touch you, anything that involves being close to you. He’ll hold your hand or your hip while walking, and he’ll either hold your waist or slip his hand into your back pocket while you’re standing together. If you’re sitting, he’ll always have his hand on your thigh. Always. Sometimes he’ll even try to sit you on his lap if he wants to be extra close to you.

“Mm… c’mere babes, I wanna be closer to ya.”

“Hobie, I’m literally sitting on top of you. I can’t get any closer.”

“Yes ya can, you’re just not tryin’ hard enough.”

I think a very important aspect of being in a relationship with Hobie would be effective communication. Yes that’s important in all relationships, but it’s extremely important for him especially. He always wants to be aware of what’s too much for you so that he doesn’t cross any boundaries, and if he did, he wants you to feel comfortable enough to tell him what he did. He hates the thought of miscommunication ruining your relationship.

“Darlin’, I can tell somethin’ is wrong. Ya can tell me anythin’, ya know that yeah?”

Hobie is undoubtedly a very loyal partner. He would never even think of cheating on you. You’re practically his everything at this point. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost you; it doesn’t matter how he loses you, any way would be devastating. In turn, he trusts that you are very loyal too. He knows that you’d never cheat on him or flirt with someone else. Why would he date you if he didn’t trust you?

“Ya know I trust ya mo’ than anyone, yeah?”

Hobie doesn’t get jealous or overly possessive. He knows you’re his, there’s no need to consistently flaunt that. Besides, it’s fun watching you tell people that are flirting with you that you’re not single. But if some bastard wants to keep flirting with you after you’ve made it clear that you’re taken and uninterested, then he’ll step in and put that bastard in their place.

“Oi, fuck off mate. They ain’t interested in you.”

Something important about Hobie is that he’ll never lie to you. He keeps secrets, but if you find out about something and confront him about it, he’ll tell you the truth. Even if the secret you found out is that he’s Spider-Man.

“Hobie, this is a serious question, so I need you to tell me the truth. Are you really, genuinely Spider-Man?”

“Yep, I am. You’re a smart one, dove. How much snoopin’ have you been doin’ lately?”

“…I swear to god if you’re messing with me right now I will punt you.”

“Not jokin’. I’m a hundred percent serious, especially ‘bout ya bein’ very smart.”

Basically I think being his partner would be nice :)

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 8th: Rockstar | Times Like These - Foo Fighters | Confident a/n: rockstar!eddie & corroded coffin. steddie. suggestive themes but not explicit. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

When Eddie was a teenager, he pictured himself on stage, surrounded by pyrotechnics and aggressive bass riffs. His hair was long, his skin mottled in tattoos with maybe a love bruise or two, and his favorite ruby red guitar slung low to his hips as he belts his vocals into the microphone. 

All but the last part comes true. 

He does end up sweaty from the heat of the fire cannons on either side of their set. Freak shreds his bass every fucking show, his fingers undoubtedly calloused beyond repair. Eddie’s hair gets in his face as he plays his own guitar, his Sweetheart, but he doesn’t get to sing. 

That’s all Steve. 

Unassuming, surprisingly talented Steve Harrington who Eddie discovers can fucking sing when he’s home from a tour, driving around together through the empty streets of Hawkins, Indiana. The 90s bring a new landscape to heavy metal and rock and roll, and as cocky as Eddie might be, as confident as he is when it comes to his music, he can see when someone has one up on him. Steve’s rendition of The Foo Fighters’ Good Grief as he drums along on the steering wheel sets his heart aflame– and maybe another appendage that he’s tried to ignore for the better part of ten years. 

Steve agrees to join the band with a heavy bit of convincing, agreeing only when Eddie offers to retain his role as frontman.

I don’t wanna be a rockstar, Ed. That’s all you. 

The band truly takes off when Steve joins, his voice adding a different flavor and Eddie’s backing vocals rounding out their sound. Eddie tells Steve night after night, show after show, that he’s happy he’s there, because he is. Maybe being in love with his bandmate hadn’t part of the teenage fantasy, but it’s become his favorite part of the reality, even if it’s one-sided or unrequited. His skin remains unbruised, no groupies or flings to be found, but he’d prefer a blank canvas over meaningless artistry anyways. 

They end up touring again, exploring the country and parts of Canada together but always with different hotel rooms. Eddie never minds sharing with Gareth, or Jeff, or Freak but he also doesn’t make a habit of thinking about their dicks. 

After their show in Toronto, the end of this leg of their tour, Eddie and the rest of the band celebrate in Eddie’s room– it’s the biggest of their block and Eddie won rock-paper-scissors to claim the lone room this time around. 

Drinks flow, smoke from their joints curl out the window screen into the night, and before Eddie realizes it’s happened, he’s left alone with Steve.

Steve, who hasn’t had a thing to drink and only a few puffs of his joint, but is laying across the bed with his feet crossed at the ankles and his head resting in Eddie’s lap anyways. Steve, who Eddie listens to as he hums the melody of their encore and whose hair he can’t help but thread through his fingers. Steve, who Eddie has been watching night after night sing the words Eddie’s written himself, some of which are about Steve. 

It’s a dangerous position to be in. 

“Gettin’ tired yet, Harrington?” Eddie asks, grinning as Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, we’re back to Harrington now, Munson?” 

Eddie just shrugs and continues playing with Steve’s hair. It’s soft, still damp from his shower, and Eddie’s surprised he hasn’t shoved him off yet with some comment about how he’s gonna fuck it up. But he doesn’t, and Eddie doesn’t know what to make of that. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” Steve asks, shifting his gaze from the ceiling to Eddie’s eyes. “It’s weird.” 

“I contain multitudes, don’t try to make me some one-dimensional agent of chaos.” 

Steve laughs and it’s better than any song Eddie’s ever written. And he’s written some damn good songs, if he does say so himself. 

Eddie lets out a little oof as Steve sits up, bracing himself on Eddie’s stomach to turn and face him. There’s something in Steve’s expression that Eddie can’t place– searching eyes, furrowed brows, one corner of his lips quirked up. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You just did.” 

“God, you’re so annoying sometimes, you know that?” 

“I do, actually. But yeah, go ahead.” Eddie bites his bottom lip and shrugs.

“How come you never wanna share a room with me?” 

Eddie just about chokes on nothing, inhaling oxygen into the wrong pipe or something. His ears turn red, a tell that no amount of shaking his hair out can hide, at least not from Steve. He feels the soft skin of Steve’s hand graze his cheek as he tucks hair back behind his right ear, exposing the bright red shade of embarrassment. 

“Is it me? I can’t imagine that I, Steve Harrington, make you, big ol’ Rockstar Eddie Munson, uncomfortable after all these years.” 

You motherfucker, Eddie thinks, his mouth a little behind the speed of his thoughts, effectively leaving him speechless. 

“Little bit, actually,” Eddie manages to admit. 

He shouldn’t admit anything, but he’s alone in this quiet room with the boy he’s loved for so many years, who’s touching him like he loves him, too. Who can blame him?

“How come?” Steve whispers, his lips suddenly closer, their noses nearly touching. Eddie may or may not be breathing, but he tries. Fainting would definitely kill whatever this energy is between them. 

“Ed, c’mon. Just, just tell me you want me, too. Please.” 

Too? He thinks.

“Too?” He asks.

Steve smiles and nods, running his thumb across Eddie’s chapped lower lip before resting his palm against his cheek. 

“Too.” 

—

The following morning, Eddie and Steve meet up with the rest of the band in the hotel restaurant for breakfast– or, well, brunch at best given the time they actually make it downstairs. 

“Notice you stayed in Eddie’s room last night,” Jeff asks, one eyebrow raised halfway up his forehead as his eyes flit back and forth from Steve to the very clear, purpling bruise on Eddie’s collarbone. 

“Astute observation,” Eddie grins and answers for him, digging into the stack of pancakes in front of him, ravenous. 

“Sure did,” Steve just grins, shrugging as he shifts in his seat. 

Gareth, Freak, and Jeff all exchange a look, the kind of look that comes with inside jokes and long-suffering waiting. 

“Wait–” Steve starts, pointing an accusing finger at Jeff. “You all left early on purpose, didn’t you?”

Gareth laughs the hardest, rivaled only by Eddie who watches them all with incredulity as Jeff parrots Steve with casual confidence. 

“Sure did.” 

[lunarw0rks]

Holding back from brushing my hair behind my ear and biting my lip

How do you think the boys display jealousy? Like someone gettin just a little too close and friendly with their sweetheart?

PRICE

the most openly possessive of them all

surprised that the man even approached, considering his palm as on the small of your back... and the fact that you were wearing a matching wedding band !!

but nothing stops creeps. that's quite obvious.

would put an arm around you and scoff, resuming on the path you two were walking.

god forbid the creeper says ANYTHING under his breath. might as well recite his last rights preemptively.

SIMON

honestly, finds it hilarious that it's happening at all

not because of you; you're a knockout, people will inevitably hit on you.

and he's not into PDA much, so it might not even appear like you two are together

but oh my god

getting in your personal space? god forbid, forcing you to do that fake laugh while unease flickers in your eyes?

if the guy wanted his jaw broken so badly, he should have just asked simon first.

grabs your arm and has you walk on the other side of him, silently giving the most sinister look known to man, sure to scare off ANYONE — most likely.

SOAP

the quickest to shut shit down, in an aggressive way

he has no qualms for someone sparking conversation, even if it's a man. he's not an insecure prick, just cautious.

but getting close to you? fuck no.

especially if it's a pub or store; soap is standing in front of you as soon as he can get over to you

makes it obvious that he, himself, is the obstacle the creep would need to get through first.

well, try to get through, that is.

GAZ

when he looks over, it's nothing major. just a flirty conversation with a seemingly clueless guy.

don't get me wrong, gaz hates it, but he's not going to cause a scene.

keeps his cool on the outside — at first.

as soon as it turns into an invasion of your space, all that's out the window

but is already picturing turning all 32 of the man's teeth into a necklace

selling his organs on the black market

and running him over repeatedly until he's a pancake

walks over and holds an item off the shelves to you, in hopes of steering the suitor away, "what do you think of these? would look great in the bedroom, don't you think, babe?"

pretends like the man isn't there, resuming conversation with you until he takes the hint and fucks off.

[like-what-the-fuck-scoob]

I saw you're looking for Eddie requests :)

Could I request an Eddie x reader where Eddie takes the reader to a concert for their birthday? Maybe some birthday smut?

Thank you so much if you decide to write this!

Pent Up (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary - You tease Eddie at a concert. When you get home, he can't hold himself back. Reader is female. Part one (maybe?).

Word Count - 1.3k

Content Warnings - Smut, teasing, grinding, fingering, public teasing? kind of orgasm denial? Eddie is dominant but not degrading. He's just cocky. Use of 'sweetheart', 'princess', 'love' and 'good girl'.

************************************

Deep bass and a harsh rhythm pounded at your ears, stage lights and strobes ringing your blurry field of vision, as you thrashed your head in time with the music.

It was your birthday, and Eddie had taken you to see your favourite band. Waking up this morning, you remember the squeal of excitement that escaped your lips as you opened an envelope addressed to 'my lady', to find two concert tickets inside. Having anticipated this all day, you were finally here, rocking out with your boyfriend behind you.

Immersed in the atmosphere, your focus was set on the stage, watching the band with awe and enthusiasm, dancing your starstruck heart away.

But Eddie wasn't paying attention to the concert. He wasn't encapsulated by the music or the performance. No, he was entranced by you.

To say the floor was busy was an understatement. The concert was packed to the brim, attendees squished like sardines as everyone fought for their place in the mosh pit. And you an Eddie were no exception to this. As you moved your body to the aggressive melody, you couldn't escape making contact with your boyfriend, bumping him, knocking into his form.

Eddie's hazel eyes bore into your back with lust as you moved against him. Your soft hair floating over his lips as you bobbed your head back and forth, your arms brushing over his chest, your ass rubbing against his crotch as you swayed your hips. He snaked his hands around your waist.

Leaning in close to your ear, the brunette whispered. "You're killin' me right now sweetheart..."

The bulge in his jeans made you gasp as your ass caressed the hard length.

"Gettin' me all nice and hard, hm?" He smirked against the back of your hair, his grip around you tightening.

As the rockstars transitioned into their next song, you turned in Eddie's arms, facing him with a devious smile. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you began to grind your clothed mound against him, his lips tight and eyes wide as he attempted to mask the pleasure building in his midsection.

"Mhmm" you hummed, dragging out the sound. "Just like that baby?"

You were teasing him, and Eddie knew it. Gripping your shirt and pulling you in for a kiss, he melded your lips together in heat as you both rocked to the rhythm of the room.

"Oh, the things I'm gonna do to you when we get back home, sweetheart..."

/

You squealed as Eddie threw you onto the bed, playfully peppering kisses down your cheeks and neck as he clambered on top of you.

"I've been waiting for this, love..." He seduced, lifting your band shirt above your head, exposing your bra and stomach.

Eyeing you hungrily, your boyfriend wasted no time in tugging down your black denim shorts, leaving you sprawled in just your underwear, your slick already forming a slight wet spot in your panties.

"So fucking beautiful." He gushed, cupping your chin and placing a passionate kiss to your mouth, his tongue slipping between your lips and entwining with yours. You whined as Eddie's hand reached down and began teasing your clit through the fabric, bucking up into his touch.

"E-Eddie, please." You pressed your forehead against his. With a smug look, he quickened the pace of his fingers, prompting a gasp as your grip on him tightened in a mixture of frustration and pleasure.

"Use your words sweetheart. What do you want?" He asked coyly, his own length hard and aching at the sound of your soft cries.

"T-Take them off. Touch me, please Eds."

The dungeon master didn't need any further encouragement. Within seconds, his fingers were hooked under the elastic, jerking your panties down your legs with one smooth motion. Discarding them to the side, your boyfriend focused his attention on your dripping folds.

Humming softly as the air hit your bare skin, you realised how sensitive you were.

"Such a pretty pussy..." Eddie cooed, before slipping a finger into your entrance, earning a sharp whimper from your parted, puffy lips.

"Feels so good babe." You reassured him, spurring him to keep going.

Looking up at you, his deep hazel orbs roamed your face, noting your expressions as he inserted another finger into you.

Throwing your head back onto the plump cushions below, you arched your body with a loud, sinful moan, giving into the warm sensations flooding your abdomen.

A cocky chuckle arose from your boyfriend, infatuated by your neediness. "You like that sweetheart, hm?"

You nodded your head eagerly, whining as his fingers curled deeper into your hole, hitting your sweet spot. Groaning in pure pleasure, you squeezed your eyes shut, biting your lip as a familiar knot began to build.

"Eddie- fuck!!"

Jerking your hips towards him, you rode his fingers as he quickened the pace, now using his thumb to rub circles around your deprived, swollen clit. You were close to seeing stars, Eddie's fingers working magic on your bundle of nerves, the cold metal of his rings distinct against your soaked mound.

You were a writhing mess, your body shaking under his touch, spewing a constant string of 'fuck, yes, yes, fuck yes!'

You cried out, only for the guitarist to slow his momentum, carefully removing his wet fingers from your stretched walls.

The brunette moved up the bed, his face now hovering above yours as he gently cupped your chin. "Not yet princess, I'm not done with you."

His sentiment earned a frustrated whine, but you complied, eager to make love to the metalhead on your special day.

Eddie wasted no time unbuckling his belt, undressing from both his jeans and boxers, desperate to free his solid cock. Almost drooling at the sight of him, you reached out to stroke his long length, only for your boyfriend to push your hand away, instead closing the gap between you as he positioned himself above your needy form.

"Oh no sweetheart..." he tutted, amused at your confused expression, gazing over your pouting lips and wide, questioning eyes. "We don't have time for that."

You stilled, unsure of his line of thought.

With a sigh, Eddie dropped his head and caught your lips in his own, initiating a heated, wanting kiss. His cock twitched against your slick as he hovered above you, before moving his mouth, nibbling gently at your tip of your flushed ear, sensing your hesitancy.

"You can't just tease me like that at the concert... leaving me pent up for hours..." he breathed into your ear, his voice low and raspy, "and not expect me to want to fuck you senseless..."

Your heart nearly beat out of your chest at his words, your pussy on fire, thighs trembling with anticipation. He was greedy for you, and oh how you wanted to give him everything, give him all of you.

"Since you were grinding up on me, all I've been thinking about is fucking that pretty pussy." He admitted, your breathing hitched as he wrapped his fingers around his length, resting it on top of your sensitive nub. "So be a good birthday girl, and spread those legs for me."

Pressing a kiss to your forehead as you opened your thighs, Eddie couldn't stop himself from rubbing his erection over your folds, coating himself in your wetness, hissing in pleasure as he allowed his cock some relief, enamored with your moans as he slid over your aching clit.

Lining himself up at your entrance, he looked to you for a final confirmation.

With sparkling eyes, you nodded, pushing your hips up to graze the head of his cock against your hole. Raking a hand through his damp, curly hair, you reassured him.

"Don't hold back"

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(Authors Note - I have reached the conclusion that I'm bad at writing smut paha. But on the off chance someone does enjoy this, let me know if you'd like a part 2! Just drop a comment or send me an ask! ❤️)