#his belt buckle peeking through

[andy-clutterbuck]

3x01 | Seed

[screampied]

☆ cw. fem! reader, college au, first lesson, dumbification, praise, he's so nerdy, squırting, unprotected, mdni.

nerd! nanami who ends up teaching you a few ‘fundamentals’ of squirting after you end up gushing out by accident.

“oh, my,” he’d huskily croon, taking a short glance at your body that’s laid flat on his timber desk. mousy eyes zero up ‘n down your entire frame before he groans, feeling your legs snake around his slim torso. after another hourly long session of cramming your brain with pounds of boring information, you’d probably forget by the next day, you told nanami that you wanted to try out ‘penetration.’ and now, that came with you gushing straight out with his meaty shaft buried snugly deep inside of you. he grows quiet, smacking his lips as he feels your slobbering cunt dripping wetly like a running never-ending faucet. it’s almost adorable with the way your face scrunches up and you’re clawing at the buckle of his drooping belt with shaky hands. “we haven’t gone over that area yet, sweetheart,” and you’re moaning, feeling your back tickle against the scattered piles of marked papers that laid directly underneath you. “ah, ah. don’t close ‘em,” he purrs, staring as your stick-glossed quavery legs try to snap themselves shut. “let me examine the wet problem a bit closer.”

“w- was that supposed to happen?” you breathe through rushed pants, frantically chewing on your bottom lip as you watch him pull out. he’s slow, feeling your slight muscles tense and spasm as you drenched the entirety of his stilled dick with molasses of your webby slick. “f- fuck,” you whimper, and nanami’s pressing a pointed thumb down against the pearly top part of your tender clit. gradually, he’s swirling a plethora of exaggerated shapes alllll around your tender entrance, lowering his head once his turgid cock’s fully out of you.

with a placid hum, nanami nods. “don’t fret, sweet thing. it’s normal,” and you prepare a deep, heavy breath as you try to peek down, watching nanami re-adjust his clear-framed glasses. “but, do you think you can do that again? i’m . . having a bit of trouble with my vision,” and he softly presses a chaste kiss against your cunt. shortly after, a slimy dewy web of stringy juices merrily glues against his lips. “i believe if my hypothesis is correct . . if ‘m closer like thiiiis,” and you moan, feeling the cold lenses of his glasses press right up against your puffed folds. “you’ll help me solve just how much of a wet girl you can get for me this time.”

openly, nanami eyes at your sopping pussy that’s just pouring from all areas with so many dewdrops of slick. a shimmery stream of your syrupy arousal cascades down the slot of your entrance and oh- it’s so pretty. at least to him.

if you squinted enough, you could see the obscene mirroring reflection of the shiny glossed view that rests between your legs from the clear lenses of his glasses. “clitoral glands,” he starts to ramble, rubbing a thumb near the top bulb-shaped part of your twitching heat. “clitoral body,” and you moan, feeling him swerve his digit down lower. “but let’s skip to . . . her,” nanami coos huskily, and you gasp once his round thumb plugs itself inside you after just a few loose inches. you swallowed that single digit right up oh-so blissfully.

like a hidden trick of a magician—his finger disappears inside of your cunt, and it presses against a particular small texture right above your lower opening. “. . that pretty urethra of yours.”

there - that’s where you felt the exact pressure of yourself gushing out, creaming down his cock with such a vivid risqué spray.

you’re still getting over it as your jaw dangles open—mouth cutely wholly ajar and all. as nanami continues to toy with your slobbering clit, he silently grumbles whatever extra clitoris facts underneath his breath. a single finger that was tucked inside of your gummy orifice gradually transitions into two, and you let off the sweetest moan that rang against his ears.

“such a pretty pussy from an even prettier girl,” and his words smokily deepen as he loudly ‘pops!’ both fingers out of your drenched slit. it’s all puffy now, drooling from each slippery flap. nanami sits up before re-aligning his milky-covered tip against your sobbing cunt.. “mini pop quiz,” he grumbles, letting off a deep sigh once his flushed crownhead languidly slides its way between the split of your folds. you’re laid back against the desk with a pout twisting across both sides of your lips.

pop… quiz?

nanami adjusts his crooked glasses by shoving them slightly back with a middle finger before humming. “riddle me this,” and a sweet moan drags its way past your throat once he’s smearing his bulbous tip across your sticky entrance.

left-to-right and it’s hypnotic. “what is the majorly important gland of the clit that helps lubricate the vagina properly?” and nanami presses a large hand on your tummy, simpering at the cute silence for an answer. with a snicker, he tilts his head at your quirked brow. “oh- c’mon. this is easy, we talked about this two days ago.”

“t . . the um-” you stammer, the throbbing of your clit increasing with each delicious second that passed. with your mind joggling its empty memory, you inhale a moan that was desperately trying to escape from your spit-stained lips. “the clitoral glands?”

“close, but no, dumb girl,” and with a smack, nanami whacks his swollen tip against the front of your weeping pussy. you finally release that moan you were holding onto with heave after heave puffing out your chest. “try again. this time, actually use that brain for me, yeah?”

you pout, and after about four seconds you left off a whiny grump. “is it . . the skene’s glands?”

“good girl,” and you let off a needy mewl once he rubs a palm against your pussy. his personal way of praising you without words, even after calling you a ‘good girl.’

it’s a soft, enticing rub that smears the entirety of your slick around his entire palm, coating it right away.

you’re so wet - pathetically drenched that you stick your candied juices all over the prints of his hand.

“it’s very important that you know about the skene’s glands. just like how important it is for me to teach you how soaked you are,” and you don’t even realize it, but the second he spanks against your cunt once more with his palm, you’re squirting . . again.

it’s a thick shiny geyser that ends up spurting out of you with a loud pssssh! and your toes curled in ecstatic rapture. you’re whining at how sudden and abrupt it was, and nanami just shakes his head with a wry smile. a hand maneuvers in a circular rotation against your pussy as you finish your three-second monumental high. “f- fuuuck, fuck!” you whimper out the same colorful syllables through your lips as your eyelids droop.

as you’re panting, still feeling the scattered bundles of paper rub and prick against the back of your skin, you eye nanami through murky peripherals. pretty ‘n glossed-eyed, you let off a shaky puff before moaning. “did . . did i pass?”

“not quite,” nanami takes his glasses off. they were still a bit soaked from earlier, a bit of your own droplets of literal juices fogging the lenses before he gave it a sweet lick. filthy. nanami squints at your twitching body before slithering a fat thumb down your tender, convulsing pussy for the nth and last time. “think we still have more basics to go over,” and he positions his head right back down between the eagle-spread valley of your legs, whistling riiiight between your driveling, puffy slit.

“besides,” and you whine once he gives your cunt its final, sloppy spank. “my only criticism— is that, we could work on that squirt velocity a little bit more,” and he pats your cunt before staring straight at your pulsating entrance, hungrily licking his lips.

“i wouldn’t mind training her, heh.”

[msgexymunson]

Soft Touches

Description: you and your dealer Eddie get a little closer than anticipated.

Warnings: acquaintances to lovers, reader is AFAB, weed smoking (both parties so no real dub con), fem oral receiving, praise kink, p in v unprotected sex.

A/N: It's my birthday! And I'm high, and horny, so happy birthday! If you've read my work you KNOW I'm a sucker for the first time y/n fucks Eddie. When I'm a benevolent dictator it shall be a universal holiday ;)

4k words

Masterlist

“Eddie, what the hell was in that?” 

Floating in a cloud of your high, the entire room seemed to glow in pink and orange, senses tinged in a sunset glow. You were definitely stoned out of your tree if you were comparing Eddie's stuffy, cramped room to a breath-taking sunset. 

“It's a new strain I got from Rick. You feeling it?” 

“Oh, I'm feeling it alright. I can hear colours.” 

Eddie's rich laugh echoed off the walls of his trailer. He laid on the bed casually, one arm slung beneath his head making his tight t-shirt ride up slightly. Just a peek of his happy trail was on display, which you tried, and failed, not to stare at. 

It was proving difficult, especially since you sat criss-cross apple sauce on his floor. His body was eye level, handcuff belt shining softly in the low light. The glint of that drew your eyes even lower, concentrating on the bulge you could see in his jeans.

You thought you were being sneaky. You absolutely were not. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you gonna answer me or just stare at my dick?” 

“Huh?” 

Shaking your head as if to clear it, you finally met his gaze. 

“I said, you can come lay up here if you want.” 

Halfway between getting up and still in a weird little crouch his words finally filtered through your addled brain. 

“I wasn't staring at your dick!” 

“Whatever you say, baby girl.” 

Frozen, mind empty of comebacks, you clambered out of your goblin stance and stood up, when the blood decided to rush to your head. 

“Oh Holy shit.” 

Your knees buckled, and you would have ended up face first on Eddie's carpet if he hadn't caught you. 

“Easy there, I've got you.” 

Eddie's firm hands held your upper arms tightly as he manoeuvred you to sit on his bed. The room was spinning, everything was drifting out of focus. 

“I need to lie down.” 

Eddie pulled you towards his pillows and laid you down gently, picking your legs up and settling them on the bed with you. Staring up at his off white ceiling, things began to drift back in. Once the room finally stopped swooping around in your vision, you started to come to your senses. 

You are on Eddie Munson's bed. You knew him, sure, only in a ‘can I come round so you can smoke us out and listen to music’ kind of way. You'd hardly call him a friend. This though, feeling the heat of his body next to you, him leaning on his side staring at you worriedly seemed entirely outside of your current arrangement. 

Suddenly the air was stifling, Eddie's warmth only exacerbating the matter. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, just really warm. And fucking high.” 

Eddie laughed, relieved.

“Thank fuck, I was scared for a minute.” 

You fumbled at the hem of your oversized sweater, attempting to wriggle it up your body but all motor skills were beyond you right now. 

“Eddie.” You pouted at him, flapping the edge of your sweater with frustrated hands. 

“You want this off?” 

“Please.” 

He flashed you a mischievous grin and pulled up upright, beginning to draw the offensive sweater up and over your form. 

“Didn't think you'd be begging me to undress you sweetheart.” 

Rolling your eyes in response, you held your arms over your head like a petulant toddler. Sweater removed and tossed to the foot of the bed, you risked a glance at Eddie. He was entirely preoccupied, staring at your bare midriff that was now on display. 

“It's a crop top Eddie, get over it.” 

Flinging yourself back down on the pillow, Eddie coughed, looking a little flustered, and settled in next to you. 

“Sorry, I didn't expect it. You always wear baggy shit.” 

“Comfortable shit, thank you. I come here to smoke, it's not New York fashion week.”

Eddie ran a finger across you, just below your belly button. The barely there touch blazed across your skin. 

“I didn't know you had your belly button pierced.” 

Looking down, you watch as his fingers circle it, then flick the little jewel dangling off the end. Thighs clamping together out of sheer necessity, you attempt to ignore it. 

“Yeah, got it done when I was like 15, two towns over. Probably my least painful piercing. Apart from ears, of course.”

Apparently, Rick's new strain also makes you run your mouth, as well as being insanely warm and horny. It seemed you had captured Eddie's attention. He turned further towards you, one hand holding his head up. The other, much to your relief, stayed on your stomach. You're not sure he was even aware he was still stroking your skin. 

“Least painful? What other piercings do you have?” 

You seriously considered dodging the question, but it's difficult to be devious directly to those big wet eyes of his. It's like trying to lie to a baby cow. 

“Well, I got my nose done, but the piercing fell out and I didn't bother to get a new one. That one stung. But the worst had to be my… my nipples.” 

The whole bed lurched as Eddie jumped up and sat cross legged facing you. He practically flew into action, grabbing his cigarettes and a lighter as if you were about to tell him some epic tale. 

“Right, tell me everything.” 

Whilst laughing at his wide eyed expression, you realise he's being completely serious. 

“Well, they er, they like, sanitise the… area, draw a dot where they're going to pierce you and tell you to take a deep breath in and it's done. It's super quick actually. It's more the after part that hurts. Why are you interested?” 

Eddie pushes his hair behind one ear, the tip of it is glowing scarlet, you notice. 

“I was thinking about getting it done my last birthday but I didn't have the cash.” 

He's staring at you, nervously chewing on a hang nail. You can practically see the unasked question dancing on his tongue. You weren't going to offer, hell no. If he wants to see he has to ask. The thing is, the way your tummy is bubbling right now, you don't think you could say no to those eyes of his. 

The question remains unsaid. He merely offers you a drag on his cigarette which you take gratefully, before he's stubbing it out and laying back down next to you. 

“How you feeling now? Bit less baked?” 

“Oh I'm still fucked, but I can see straight and I don't feel sick.” 

His fingers begin their dance again, skating over your exposed flesh, stroking down your side to your hip, across your stomach, and back again. You want to mention it. He's never touched you like this before, but you also don't want him to stop. 

“Good. Not inviting you over again if you hurl on my bed.” 

Giggling, you turn and face him. You're both on your sides now, knees close to knocking. His shirts ridden up again and before you can even register what you're doing you've placed a delicate hand on his hip. His eyes widened briefly, but that's it. Both of you are touching the others bare flesh, whispers of touches. Little, tentative things, like the bursting of soap bubbles on skin. 

“I wouldn't hurl on your bed. I'm sure I'd at least make it to the bathroom. I'm not an animal.” 

Eddie just grins in response, and you look at each other, really look. His dopey smile is the same as yours, and it seems neither of you want to mention how this seems to be rolling into very unfamiliar territory. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Why are you touching me?” 

He pushes infinitesimally closer, his knee now slotting between yours. It's a small gesture, but suddenly the situation feels even more intimate than before. 

“Because. Because it feels good. You're soft, and warm. And you keep making little noises.” 

“I do?” 

He smooths his hand higher, thumb dragging along the underside of your breast, and you let out a tiny, quivering whimper.

“See? Like that.” 

Opening your legs slightly wider, Eddie's knee pushes naturally further forward, his thigh now wedged between yours. His breath is fanning your nose; cigarettes, weed, and sweet snacks. 

“So sweetheart, why are you touching me?” 

Your hand presses a little more firmly, snaking underneath the hem of his shirt. With no complaint forthcoming, you reach further up, stroking his side, up over his ribs, and back down again. He responds in kind. Every kiss of fingers is electrifying, filling the room with a soft, dense tension. 

“Because it feels good. Because I saw a bit of skin and I couldn't resist.” 

“Yeah?” He's smirking as he says it, but you're beyond playing games at this point. 

“Yeah.” 

“I didn't know I was irresistible.”

You pinch his skin a little and he stares at you like you just betrayed him. 

“I didn't say that, you're twisting my words.” 

“Pretty sure I heard-” 

Cutting him off with a tickle to the ribs, he grabs your hand to stop you. 

“OK, OK! You were right, I was wrong. Nice touches again please.” 

His hand swiftly makes its way back to your skin and you continue to stroke him. 

“Nice touches?” 

“Yeah, it feels really good.” 

Running your hand up, you graze his nipple, and then bring it back down, down, until you reach the top of his jeans. You graze a finger, just one, under them, sweeping across his tensing abs. Then, you move up to more innocent flesh. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

Eddie's chest is heaving, fingers pressing indents into your flesh. 

“Nice enough?” you're the one smirking this time, pleased at the effect you're having on him. 

“Yeah.” 

It's barely a word, more of a breath. You scoot closer toward him, just a couple of inches, but it's close enough to feel his thigh start to press against your heat. Gasping at the pressure, you rub subtly against his thigh to try and relieve your mounting feelings, no matter how slightly. 

Eddie's hand starts making a trembling journey up your form, fingers twisting underneath your top. Feeling the underside of your bare breast, you both gasp. Eddie undoubtedly because you weren't wearing a bra, you because, well, the obvious. The slightest graze had your nipple hardening instantly, hips rocking forward without your control. 

“Is this OK?” 

“Yeah. Please.” 

Fingers stretching further, Eddie finally brushes your nipple. The feeling is magnified by your piercing; they've felt more sensitive since you got them done.

The moan that escapes is louder than you meant but it couldn't be helped. This simple touch is igniting through your nerves and rushing to your high brain. 

“Shit, they are pierced.” 

It seems to be a thought that Eddie said out loud by accident as he rubs his fingers over your ruddy nipple, slowly circling the silver balls of the jewellery. 

Another moan breaks from you, even louder this time.

“Fuuuuck Eddie.” 

“Yeah?” 

His touches become firmer, rubbing your nipple between thumb and forefinger, mapping the way your face scrunches up with his eyes.

“Yeah, jeez. They're really sensitive.” 

Practically panting in each other's mouths, your noses rub together. 

“Can- can I kiss you?” 

His words are so hesitant that it makes you giggle. Pressing your lips in a swift kiss to his full bottom lip, you respond. 

“I'd be mad if you didn't.” 

Eddie wastes no more time, pressing a hot open mouthed kiss to you that you reciprocate in kind. You keep it slow, leisurely traversing new territory with soft, exploring tongues. Naturally your arms encircle him, pulling him closer, closer. His arm snakes around your back as your bodies press together, like puzzle pieces slotting together and finding their perfect match. Eventually you break away to take a gasping breath as Eddie presses kisses to your collarbone.

“I don't know why we waited so long to do that.” 

“We? I thought you just wanted me for free drugs!” 

You giggled loudly at that, so loud it came out as a snort, but it didn't matter. The moment was so honest that being cool had nothing to do with it. You were bare, in a way, and so was he. 

Eddie chuckled with you as he slowly but surely pushed you onto your back, slipping both of his legs between yours. Pushing your hips up, you feel his hardness graze your pubic bone. 

“Eddie?” 

He hums a response, lips and tongue busy loving on your neck. You tug at the hem of your top and pull upwards. Eddie gets the message, moving out of the way briefly so you can strip it off. 

There you are, bare chested in front of him. You'd be nervous, if you hadn't seen the longing in his eyes. He's kneeling, one arm leaning on the mattress whilst the other compulsively strokes your side. 

“Jesus Christ your tits are perfect.” 

The moment stretches just a little too long for comfort; you're a hair's breadth away from crossing your arms over your chest when Eddie leans down and runs his tongue around and around one nipple. Mewling pathetically, you lace your fingers in Eddie's soft waves and tug. In response his teeth graze you as he sucks softly; then he gives the other just as much attention. 

Shuddering and wriggling under him, you can't do anything but whine, your hips undulating upwards to chase some friction, some release, anything. 

“Eddie, please, I need you.” 

“Umph,” He responds, muffled by your chest, “I need you to say that again.” 

“Eddie I swear to God if you don't- ” 

He laughs, cutting off your sentence. 

“Alright baby girl, I got you.” 

Working his way down your front, he takes his time planting soft kisses, making you writhe at each touch of his lips, until he reaches your shorts. 

Flicking the button open, he slowly drags the zip down and finds the little sliver of red panties poking out. 

“Hearts? Cute.” 

Thick fingers plunge into your clothes and pull them away, flinging your shorts and panties across the room into the void that was Eddie's carpet. 

Insecurity finally gripped its claws into you. What if he didn't like what you looked like down there, smelled like, tasted like? 

A moment of unadulterated panic, and then Eddie licked his tongue, slowly yet firmly, between your lips and all the way up. Barging your thighs further apart with his shoulders, he rooted your clit out with his tongue, running dizzying circles and sucking at it desperately. 

Eddie's moans rivalled your own, such neediness etched in you swear his fingerprints will be left on the outside of your thighs like tattoos, simply from the force he held you with. Barely able to shake, you compensated by pulling his hair and guiding his tongue exactly where you needed it. 

He pushed a thick calloused finger into you slowly, looking up at you as he did so. You back arched off the bed. He felt around, staring at you with such intensity you that you were seconds away from telling him to quit staring when-

“Oh God, oh fuck!” 

Eddie smirked, sliding another finger in gently to join the first, and worked your clit between his lips. He incessantly stroked a spot inside that you'd never reach on your own, a firm, beckoning gesture as if he were willing your orgasm to come hither. 

It was working. Your insides tingle, a tightness pulling straight from your gut and shooting out to your fingers and toes. Beyond control by this point, your hand pulls his hair tightly. To your amazement, his other hand reaches out to you, seeking, and you lace your fingers in his own. 

As soon as your digits touched, you were gone. Your release plummets out of you, shaking through every bone you have, leaving you a twitching puddle of a woman. His fingers chase after it, dragging every inch of squelching pleasure out of your insides until you're tugging him away and begging for it to stop. 

As he moved back up your body, licking and sucking as he did so, you tried to think of an answer to the smug grin he was just about to flash at you. 

There was none. Brain unravelled, threads wound into your nerves instead of your thoughts, you laid there, ruminating on how he'd made you come faster than any other man.

Eddie hovered over you, nose nudging your own. He must have wiped his mouth at some point whilst you were in la la land. 

“Hey pretty girl.”

“Eddie, you're really fuckin’ good at that.”

“I know.”

You laugh, tapping his side.

“Cocky.”

“Confident.”

Before you can retort his mouth is back on you, peppering kisses to your jaw, as his solid member presses into your naked heat.

“Fuck Eddie, please, please please-”

“Please what baby girl?” He asks, then sucks a hickey on your neck. 

Pulling him towards you by his shirt collar, you bite down sharply on his earlobe, pulling a little groan from his chest.

“I want you to stuff me full Eddie. I'm- I'm on birth control. Fill me up.” 

You can practically feel Eddie's eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck, you can't just say that, I nearly busted in my pants!” 

Pulling himself off you for the shortest time he could, he peels his t-shirt over his head and flops back on top of you. Desperate kisses and urgent gropes spill from you both; grinding, needy things that tore at clothes and grasped at flesh. 

After fiddling and failing with his belt, you huff and tug harshly at his waistband. He chuckles, biting at your bottom lip as he unlatches it with ease and then wriggles his pants and boxers down his legs with urgency. 

More desperate grasps, teeth and tongues clashing violently, your hand reaching down to clutch at his- 

“Holy hell!” 

His eyes widen, hands coming to a halt, waiting for the rest of your sentence. You're too busy trying to glance down his front as he hovers over you, your fist firmly stroking his hardened cock.

“You're huge Eddie!” 

He smirks and thrusts into your hand, the velvet smoothness of his dick massaged  by your palm. 

“Bet you say that to all the guys.”

“Er, no, Rick's made some truth serum or some shit because that's the biggest I've ever felt.” 

You guide him firmly towards your entrance, dragging the tip of his enlarged cock through your slickened folds. He quivers over you, arms thick with tension. 

“Baby girl just, just slip it inside, please-” 

“Now who's begging?” 

Grinning mischievously, you wait for him to start forming an answer with his mouth when you slip the head inside your sopping opening. His open mouth turns into a long drawn out moan. 

You would tease him if the feeling of him splitting you open wasn't all consuming. Which it fucking is. He just keeps pushing, and pushing, until his chest is flush with yours and he's mumbling platitudes in your ear. 

“Doing so good for me. Such a naughty, naughty girl. Getting filled up by her drug dealer? Baby girls a little dirty, isn't she?”

You're trying not to let him know how much his words affect you, but the fluttering of your satin like walls tells a different story. 

“You're not my dealer.” 

“Oh really? I'm not?” 

Pulling out nearly all the way and pushing back in, you bite your lip at the drag against your insides.

“Dealer implies I buy shit. You just give it to me, like a little simp.”

Eddie's mouth drops open in mock outrage.

“You want me to give it to you now? I'll fucking give it to you baby.” 

Hooking an arm under your thigh, Eddie thrusts into you hard and devastatingly deep. And again, and again, until you start moaning wantonly right in his face, all bravado forgotten.

“Yeah? Atta girl. That good baby? Wanna feel me right here?” 

His other hand pushes against your lower stomach, the pressure deepening the pleasure he's giving you tenfold. 

“Oh Eddie, oh fuckfuckfuck!!” 

Your release explodes out of your cunt with a gush, liquid spurting out of you so hard you nearly force his impressive length out. It waves drastically, like the sea against the shore, washing and washing over you until it's hard to breathe. 

“Baby, baby! Holy shit, I think you squirted.” 

“Ya think? My God, that was… mind blowing.” 

“Yeah?” 

Looking up at him, you expect that arrogant grin, but he just looks pleased and innocent. Like a kid at Christmas. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah.”

Rolling him over with all the power left in your thighs, you pin him down and move firmly into him, ferality taking over your actions. 

“Jesus Christ, you are a dirty girl, aren't you?” 

“Maybe just a little.” 

Smirking, you hump against him, your swollen clit bumping against his pubic bone on each delicious pass. 

“Holy shit, I'm not complaining- fuck, what the- what are you doing? Jesus Christ!” 

You bounce hard on him. Seeing him writhe under you is a special kind of power, one you aren't willing to let go of. Ever.

“Fuck, b-baby girl, you're gonna make me come!” 

His intense moans spur you on further. Unable to bounce so much on shaky knees you snuggle down close to him, arms clutching his shoulders, as you grind into him. It's massaging sensations into your clit, as well as teasing your g spot with his imposing length. 

“I can't, I’m-  baby girl-” 

“I'm gonna come, Eddie please, fill me up, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel your cum inside me, please, fuckin’ breed me Eddie. Oh fuck!” 

Quivering against him uncontrollably, your legs give out, collapsing on his body as he tenses and releases inside of you. It spurs your own orgasm, snaking up your spine and gripping on your system like a fly caught in honey. An open mouthed scream is all you give him, silent but chock full of feeling, as your back arches in its own tension. 

As it curls out of you, your back gives up, and you flop forward, bones turned to pudding. 

“Well.” is all that comes out, a puff of a word, just air escaping from a collapsing chest.

“Well.” Eddie responds, waiting for what you're about to say. 

You're sure he doesn't expect it. A laugh bubbles out; a weird, inside laugh, that you probably should never share with anyone. But it keeps coming. And coming. Laughing uncontrollably, you roll off of him and try to get your stomach muscles in check. 

You'd be worried about his reaction, if he wasn't laughing with you. It was this odd mixture of tension and relief that was bursting in the air, a barrier broken and left crumbling at your feet. 

“Eddie. Fuck, Eddie.” 

“Yeah?”

‘Yeah.”

His heated hand found yours, and squeezed your fingers hard. For some reason, it felt more intimate than all of this combined. 

Giggling again, you lean into his chest, fingers dipping up to weave into his hair. 

“Baby girl, you can't just-” 

“What? Pull your hair? Because you like it?” 

Tugging on his hair dramatically, Eddie tosses his head back and groans. 

“Knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, certified genius. It's like you don't wanna be railed again.” 

Huffing, you pull yourself on top of him again, hardened nipples brushing softly against his flesh. 

“Oh, I think I'll be the one railing you. You wanna make a bet, for next time?” 

Smug grin forgotten, Eddie stares at you in disbelief.

“Next time?” 

“Well, I hope so. Got to be the best I've ever had.” 

Stupid Rick and his stupid strain. 

“Best you've ever had?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Only if you wanna.” 

The teasing stopped. At least for now. It was pretty clear, your need for each other was outranking any goading you'd been sharing. 

At least for now… 

Taglist (Some permanents, some likely candidates, if you want to be added, jus say the word sweetheart)

@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson

[moonlight-prose]

dust to dust

a/n: i chose to combine two prompts from the logan promptober hosted by the lovely @silverskyeline. only because old and belt buckle just blended so well for me and the idea i had in my head. i know i've basically written a different version of this in my fic slow, but i've made this one a whole lot filthier. solely cause this is literally my dream scenario with this man.

logan promptober: day fifteen + day seventeen - belt buckle + old

summary: when the days are long and he's grown weary of everything, he knows he can find his peace in your body. that is until he brings a whole new understanding to the belt buckle that sits proudly on his waist.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, fluff, exhausted logan, dirty talk, dry humping, he's so filthy in this one, overstimulation, domesticity.

The temperature of his body was the first thing you sought out. His scuffed boots that had seen better days were discarded by the door—his flannel on a hook beside the heavy leather jacket. You heard him by the shuffle of his feet, the tinkling echo of keys hitting the glass bowl in the kitchen. A creak of the couch filtering through the bedroom door—his raspy groan followed right behind it.

There wasn't much that could pull you out of a book when you were settled in a comfy spot, but the sound of Logan coming home still grasped all of your attention. He called to you silently, his presence strong enough to fill the house with a staggering amount of warmth. As if this place, these walls, wouldn't be the same without him.

"Baby?"

He grunted, rubbing his thumb between his scarred knuckles. "'M here."

"Long day?"

The audible huff gave you enough of an answer to make your way over to him. The dark lines beneath his eyes did little to prevent your stomach from twisting in empathy. He worked too hard. Broke himself right down to the bone and yet refused to let you help when it really mattered. You were his pretty girl, the soft swell of love he came home to every night.

To mar your skin with exhaustion was something he refused to accept.

You simply longed to help him. Bear the brunt of his anguish with him, your hand tightly gripped in his. The walls he built were too high—a mountain that only seemed to grow with each new precipice of emotion he came across—but you were resistant. You would climb until your hands were bloody and raw; you'd dig your heels in and refuse to let go.

His face dug into your stomach, hands curling low around your waist.

Silence became the embodiment of your conversations when he fell into his own mind. You tangled your fingers in his hair, thumbs curving along the base of his neck. The drop in his shoulders as tension released made you smile—the flutter of your heart dropping to your stomach within seconds.

He didn't even have to look at you, yet he had you in the palm of his hand—wrapped tightly around his pinky finger where you belonged.

"What can I do?" you hummed, tugging at a particular chunk of hair that always followed with a raspy groan.

The calloused brush of his palm dragged down your hips, grasping the flesh of your ass to drag you even closer. His face now pressed an inch above your crotch - the sweatpants you wore doing nothing to hide the fact that you were completely bare beneath them. The slight hitch in his back told you he knew. By your scent alone; the slick forming between your legs was sweet in the air, begging for his tongue to bury into you.

"Lemme see her," he grunted, inhaling sharply against your hip. "She's callin' to me princess."

A rush of air escaped your lungs. "But don't you want–"

"To see what I waited all day for." His head rose, eyes peeking at you through drooped lids—a lazy smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

"You should rest."

"You callin' me old?"

Your hands froze on the back of his neck. "No. You just–"

Fingers curled into the waistband of your sweats, dipping down beneath the fabric to slide along your hip. What little breath you had left caught in your throat—the flutter in your stomach dropping to press right up against your clit. He caught onto the minimal reaction instantly. His hand moving to cup your drooling pussy.

"Nothing underneath," he muttered, wetting his bottom lip. "This all for your old man?"

"Logan," you sighed.

"You like that huh?" Pushing further, his chest stuttered at the hot pool of wetness that greeted him—your body practically purring with such a simple touch. "Knownin' you're fuckin' an old man. Makes you wet doesn't it?"

"Oh fuck–"

"There you go." A huff of laughter escaped his mouth at the way your eyes slid shut. "Dust to dust. One foot in the grave and you still want me to ruin ya."

Unable to even comprehend what he was muttering, you nodded aimlessly.

A harsh tug dropped your sweatpants to the ground, your legs clambering out of them in clumsy quick steps. You felt uncoordinated—untethered. And Logan drank it down like the greatest whiskey known to man. He pulled you close, helping you straddle his lap, to grab a glance down at your sticky folds glistening in the low light of the lamp to his right.

You spread your legs wide unconsciously, the need to please him choking your insides until you held no other option but to relent. Yet you did so willingly and without hesitation. The smile on his face became your sole reason for why you breathed—why you lived.

All for him.

"I bet you missed me." You nodded frantically, canting your hips up into his touch. Only to realize...he wasn't talking to you. He wasn't even looking at you.

His attention lay solely in your fluttering hole creaming for the heavy cock that grew hard between his legs. Starvation bled into his features—darkening his eyes as they dragged down the length of your body. He wanted to eat you, dine on the flesh of his lover with a smile, anticipating more than just your shouts of pleasure.

Oftentimes it scared him how much he longed for the touch of your skin, the warmth that seeped from your softness. He craved you, desired to know each intimate part that lay between the crevices of your bones. The gaps in your ribs encased around the heart that beat solely for him.

"Touch me," you sucked in a breath, chest heaving beneath your tank top.

He barely spared you a glance, his thumb stroking the edge of your cunt. "That's not what she wants."

"W-What–"

The lift was nearly effortless, barely forcing a soft grunt past his lips as he pulled you directly over his cock. The very bulge you were eyeing the second you saw him. He didn't bother to unbutton his jeans or give into the throbbing ache that grew unfathomably quick. You clambered to hold onto his shoulders—mouth searching for his in the hopes of gaining something in return.

"I want to kiss you." A whine spilled free, hips shifting in his tight hold.

"Hang on princess."

"What are you–" The slow drag of your hips along his cleared the words from your mind—a stuttered cry replacing any other sound that might have come to the surface.

Cold and hard was all you could comprehend as he pushed your body back to repeat the same move. His lips plastered with a knowing smile as your eyes rolled back—a low throaty moan ripping from your throat. The belt buckle sat directly beneath you. Covering the button of his jeans. You'd maneuvered your way around it before, barely giving any detail to what it looked like.

Now you felt every minute carving drag along your pulsing clit, stimulating you in a way that shoved you towards a blinding release. Logan's hands became pliant on your hips, giving you the freedom to move as you wished. You thanked him with a kiss.

"Feels good doesn't it?" His tongue slid into your mouth, swallowing down the choked sound that rushed to the surface. "Gettin' off on your old man's belt buckle."

"F-Fuck. It feels—oh god–"

"That's it. Keep goin' honey." Cupping your chin, he pressed his forehead to yours, the hot brush of his breath hitting your lips with each word. "Soak it for me, yeah? And I'll wear it to work tomorrow."

A soft pleading cry was all he got in return, your hips jerking frantically over his lap—a wave of slick coating the tarnished metal. And he laughed. Chuckled softly into a spit soaked kiss that left your mind reeling, lips chasing his for just a bit more.

"I'll drive around with it." His words burned your skin, seeping right down to the erratically beating heart that struggled to keep up. "I'll lick it fuckin' clean while I get off to the thought of ya princess. Me sitting alone in that fuckin' limo. Stroking my cock to your pretty face."

The image flashed neon in your mind and that was all you needed to fling yourself off that cliff. With trembling thighs you pressed your clit down hard onto the metal surface, coming undone with a broken shout muffled against his cheek. He talked you through it, mumbling small praises of good girl, did such a good job for me, makin' me feel good. into your skin punctuated by the brush of his lips.

"Feel good?"

"Mhm," you mumbled, sagging into his chest with a sated grin. He grinded his hip up into you, pain sparking up your body and forcing you away from him. "Sensitive."

His hand brushed down your back, slipping beneath your top to knead at your waist—a soothing rhythm pressed into your skin. A sigh escaped his lips as he settled deeper into the couch, clutching you closer than before. You knew where this would lead. How you'd wake up with him atop you on the couch, restricting you from movement.

That alone kept you from moving.

"Good day now baby?" Your words were whispered against his neck, your lips trailing down to his chest.

A small grin pulled at his lips - his thumb working a circle into your lower back. "Yeah honey. It's a good day now."

[dearjaeyuns]

jealousy — [ 엔하이픈 제이크 ] genre ⋆ smut

“i thought we were supposed to stay a little longer.” your words came out slurred, your boyfriend jake tugging you behind him by the wrist and to the car.

he was furious and you had way too much to drink to realize why. what you did know was seeing him so frustrated turned you on beyond belief.

tonight was meant to be fun. jake always loved going out and drinking with the boys. he figured inviting you to tag along would be a good idea, but boy was he wrong.

all it took was for him to catch heeseung checking out your ass while you bent over the pool table with his lip caught between his teeth for him to drag you out the bar. you wore your favorite pleated skirt, innocently unaware that it was a bit too short and, when bending over, you could see a small peek of your laced panties underneath.

jake noticed of course. he always did. that skirt was his favorite and you knew it too. it was the whole reason you had put it on in the first place. for him.

with his jaw tightly clenched and eyebrows furrowed, he opened the car’s passenger door for you. even when he was pissed off, he was still such a gentleman. your buzzed mind couldn’t help but swarm with the filthiest thoughts while he got into the vehicle.

“you’re so sexy when you’re mad.” the words came up like vomit, jake’s eyes turning to you while he put the key in the ignition, “you know you belong to me, right?” his words came out through clenched teeth, breaking the silence that filled the car.

his fingers were clutching the wheel so tight that his knuckles were turning white. you couldn’t help but think of how pretty his hand would look around your throat, squeezing it just as hard.

you nodded sheepishly and reached your hand over to run your fingers through his dark hair to reassure him, “i’m yours, jake.” his shoulders immediately relaxed, his grip on the steering wheel relaxing as well. you loved seeing the effect that you had on him.

little did he know that he had a very lasting effect on you. your cute panties were now soaked in your own arousal. jake reached over to stroke your thigh. it was an innocent gesture from him. yet your cunt pulsed and hips shifted, the warmness of his hand making you feel unbearably hot.

“i can’t stand seeing other guys look at you, _____. it drives me insane.” jake’s nails dug into you, squeezing your plush skin. “i know, baby.” you whined, wanting nothing more than for him to touch you. really touch you.

he knew what you wanted too. jake always knew. he just loved to tease you. it was his favorite part, hearing you beg and plead for him to fuck you. he loved how whiny your voice got, how squirmy you were against him. but most of all, jake loved how he was the only one who could make you feel this way.

you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your boyfriend’s magical fingers, but as soon as he found your clit the area around you began spinning. your head fell back against the seat and your thighs parted ways immediately for him.

“fuck, you’re drenched.” his voice was husk, pretty eyes scanning the outside of the bar. there were a few people smoking by the front doors and empty cars filled most of the parking lot. anyone could walk up and catch the two of you and somehow that thought turned him on even more.

when jake attempted to pull your panties to the side, you held his wrist in place to stop him, “no.” your voice was firm and you pulled his hand away. at first, he was hurt. but you had quite a bit to drink and he wasn’t the type of boyfriend to take advantage of you. even if he was already visibly hard in his jeans.

then your voice was soft, shifting to sit on your legs while your hands reached over the middle console to eagerly fumble with his belt buckle. “let me show you how much i love you.” you wanted to be the one to please him this time. to prove how much you worshipped him and his beautiful cock. how he was the only one you could ever want.

once you got his zipper down, you quickly pulled his cock out from under his briefs. and jake’s dick sat straight up, all ready to be touched by you. he felt like he must’ve been dreaming when you licked a long stripe up the base of his cock to his tip, finally taking him in your mouth.

his hand quickly fisted your hair, pulling you closer and shoving his length further down your throat. “f— fuck, that’s my good girl.” his praises made your thighs clench together, jaw relaxing to take more of him. you would take as much as jake wanted you to. always.

it wasn’t until his tip hit the back of your throat that he stopped pushing your head down on him. your sweet eyes screwed shut and you hollowed your cheeks before quickly bobbing your head on his shaft.

“oh god. just like that.” jake’s eyebrows were furrowed, his lips slightly parted and, without even thinking, his hips thrusted upwards to meet your face. you gagged on him and your nails dug roughly into his thighs, earning a whiny moan from him.

with the tight hold jake had on your head and the incessant twitching of his cock in your mouth, you knew your boyfriend was getting close to his climax. plus he was getting much louder. praises and curses fell from his lips incoherently. you sped up on him, his head eventually falling back and legs trembling when his warm load finally coated the inside of your mouth.

you made sure to slowly suck him from the base to his tip, swirling your tongue along each curve and ridged vein on his dick to clean him all up. the smile that pulled at jake lips was absolutely stunning. beautiful little beads of sweat trickled his forehead and he audibly whimpered when you pulled off of him with a pop. your eyes locked with his and he immediately pressed his lips against yours.

you both melted into the kiss right away, you leaning even further over the console until you were bent over on all fours with your skirt bunched at your hips. jake couldn’t help but smirk into the kiss. then he pulled back, reaching his hand behind you to slap your half-naked ass which caused you to yelp loudly. and this time jake didn’t care who happened to see you or your cute panties because after all, you were his.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Hello! curious question, do you plan on continuing the "wet dream in your lap" series? because I'd love to see something with sub Dottore, although, I'll take anything, so ^_^

Wet Dream In Your Lap pt. 3 - Genshin Impact

Pairings: Dottore, Childe x reader (separately)

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom characters, somnophilia, clothed humping/grinding, choking (Childe), handjobs, characters are called by their real names (Zandik, Ajax)

Genre/Format: Smut; Scenarios

Author's Note: I did plan on continuing this a while ago, I couldn't think of which characters to include next though... Hope you enjoy this, anon!

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

Oftentimes you serve as a personal assistant to the second harbinger, handing him whichever tools that he calls out, cleaning up said tools and wiping down the laboratory tables, taking notes during his countless experiments. Whatever he needed, you would be there to lend a hand or two

But you were also his partner and oftentimes you had to remind Dottore that he needed to rest. How is he ever going to take accurate notes from his projects if he's delirious?

Despite your partner's many begrudging protests, the soft snoring that emanated from his position in your lap proved that this sleep was much needed. Pointy teeth peeked through Dottore's lips while his head rested on your shoulder, facing towards you with his arms snaked around your neck. Your own arms were wrapped around the doctor's waist comfortably, holding him close while he slept

Half an hour passed by before Dottore's snoring gradually faded into another sound. You had begun to drift off as well when the noise pulled you back to the waking world. It was hard to tell what exactly this new noise was, but eventually it became clear. It was a whine. Your partner was whining— and beginning to grind against you in your lap

The doctor's hips rolled against yours as a lewd — and rather loud — moan escaped from his lips, leaving you to blush and squirm underneath him, well aware that if this continued on you would get hard and slowly give in to your desires...

“Ah...y/n...y-yes, harder...” Dottore mumbled against your neck, calling out for you in his dreams, no doubt. Does this mean that his dream involved...you? Specifically, did it involve you fucking him? Your answers soon became clear when the doctor's hands unconsciously tangled in the hair near the nape of your neck, thrusting his hips more vigorously than before as he chased some feeling that the 'you' in his dreams caused

It was impossible to ignore the aching, wet feeling in between your legs now. With every sharp thrust against your lap, your dick grew harder and leaked more precum into your underwear. And clearly, your partner had the same issue; tilting your head down a bit, you noticed the growing wet spot on his pants as well. Dottore's own cock had been leaking the whole time, spilling into his underwear as they became stained with his sleepy lust

Carefully, you slid one arm in between your bodies and undid his belt buckle, slipping your hand down the front of his pants and stroking over the wet fabric. The action elicited a gutteral moan from Dottore, who began bucking his hips immediately. His sleepy mind could barely process the new sense of pleasure being administered to his stiff cock, humping your hand like a desperate puppy as you teased him

Letting one of your own needy moans slip out, you maneuvered your hand again and pushed it fully into Dottore's underwear, grabbing his drooling dick and stroking the shaft. “Yes...yes...gods yes...mmm y/n...” Came the doctor's wanton cries as you jerked him off languidly, hissing once your thumb found his slit and teased at the hole. His hips greedily chased your hand, fucking into your tight fist as more whorish sounds were breathed against your neck

“Mmm...good boy, Zandik. Such a cute whore even in your sleep.” You said, clutching the back of his shirt with your other hand. Groaning at how good his dick felt in your hand; slick and veiny and incredibly sensitive underneath your touch

Dottore's hips stuttered before stiffening while his cum painted the front of your shirt, squirting on his shirt a bit too. He always came so much, a little quirk that you found attractive and often used to tease him whenever you milked load after load out of him

After your partner settled down a little you began to squirm again. Even though he came minutes ago, he hasn't stopped humping you yet. Dottore's dick was semi-hard within your hand and making the hottest noises as he continued to fuck up into your cum-coated fist...but you hadn't cum once and it was starting to hurt...your baby's hot breath fanned against your neck with every moan and cry of your name and it was driving you fucking crazy

Surely the doctor wouldn't mind if you let go of his cock long enough to slip yours inside? He would probably love it if you used his sticky cum as lube to finger his hole before you pushed your own thick shaft inside and bounced him on your cock...

It was no secret that the eleventh harbinger, Tartaglia, had boundless stamina. It's one of the reasons why most fatuus would sweat and stammer an excuse whenever the young man asked for a sparring match. That and his terrifying strength, that is...

You were one of the few people that could keep up with that stamina, somewhat... Today just so happened to be one of those days where your match lasted long enough to wear Childe out to the point of exhaustion. Swiftly falling asleep in your lap after you suggested a rest. His eyes fluttering shut as his head laid back onto your shoulder

The comfortable silence that fell over the secluded area that you had fought in was nice after such a fierce fight. Childe's steady breathing nearly lulled you into a lovely nap as well— until a breathy moan came out of him, anyways

Quirking a brow at the unexpected noise, you stared at Childe's face as it scrunched up, opening his mouth to moan again but this time bucking his hips into the air. It was obvious what was happening; your partner was having a wet dream. Calling out your name as his hands unconsciously searched for yours, grasping at them until you helped lace your fingers together. Childe turned his head to the side, now breathing against your neck and arching his back. “Unf...y/n pleeeassee...more, harder...aah– ”

The harbinger's slutty moans caused your dick to twitch, stiffening under him as his hips wiggled and humped the air with more frequency. His hands squeezed yours tighter as he bit back a groan, thrusting upwards one more time and then stilling. A dark wet spot made itself visible in the middle of his pants; he had cum. Your partner just creamed his pants in your lap

You were forced to bite back some sound of your own at the realization, involuntarily thrusting your own hips as you searched for any friction. Childe's lewd scene had you too worked up to ignore it, so you decided to fix the problem that he has created

Trying to go slow and not wake him up, you discarded your partner's pants and boots, leaving him naked from the waist down. You freed your cock from its constraints, growling as the wet head rubbed against your underwear on the way out. The way your member nestled in between Childe's soft cheeks sent a shudder through your body— swallowing dryly, you rubbed against his hole for a minute, teasing both of you before you pushed inside

It was tight... deliciously so. The head of your dick barely fit inside, but you pushed in harder until it popped in. The stretch was what woke the harbinger up, gasping as his eyes snapped open. The burn was immediately noticeable before Childe even figured out what was happening or remembered where he was. “Ah-aah! Ouch...what is– Hey...c-comrade?” He whined, gazing up at you with those beautiful, confused eyes

“Shh, you already came...now it's my turn–” You groaned as your cock pushed farther inside, dragging along your partner's impossibly tight walls. You snaked one hand up and wrapped it around his throat, squeezing tightly and said, “You were...fuck...were grinding on me...felt really good, hah- Mmm take that fucking cock, Ajax—!! ”

He had no choice (not that he would've chosen anything other than this) except taking your fat cock as you thrust up into him, bouncing him in your lap while your heavy panting filled his ears. Childe's hands are laid over yours, digging in harshly as he accepts his situation. Whimpering like a slut while you abuse his hole repeatedly. Not that the harbinger wasn't enjoying this, of course. The dumb smile on his face was proof that he was grateful for this outcome

Tartaglia's naughty dream earned him the kind of fast-paced, desperate fucking that he always begs for. In return, his hole clenched around your dick and he let every last moan and cry fall out of his whore mouth

“Yes, yes, yes...fu-uuuck!! Yesyesyesyesyes—!! ” Childe blurted out, moving his hands down to grab your thighs, using them as leverage to bounce himself and take more of your cock. You responded by choking him even harder, growling right into his ear while your dick pressed on his prostate, which caused your partner's eyes to cross

“Gonna cum, baby? Go on, cum for me. Slut. ” You teased, squeezing the base of Childe's dick before jerking him off. The way his voice goes up an octave and his moans become broken and pathetic signals his incoming release, begging as if his life was on the line while your cock drills his pretty ass

“Pleasepleasepleasepleaseyeahyeahyeahyeaaaaaahhhh—!! Fuuuuck yeeeaaahh—!! ” The harbinger cried, sinking down on your dick as it filled him completely, his own cock spraying another round of cum onto the ground as you milked him fucking dry

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

toji teasing you with his dick/strap sucking skills.

he sits you down at the end of the bed while taking his place in front of you, his leg between your thighs. his navel is right at your eye-level and your mouth salivates. even though he's fully dressed, you can see his pants straining – he's so fucking hard and you just want to feel him. you want to push his shirt up, you want to drag your tongue over his happy trail, you want to listen to him hold back his little gasps and groans. teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you eagerly reach for his belt buckle but a hand on your jaw stops you.

"ya want it?"

gently, he guides your head up, forcing you to look at him in the eye. staring down at you, he does try to hold back a groan – you already look so fucked out and he hasn't even done anything. you nod at him, eyes blown wide and lips swollen from you biting down on them so hard.

toji's thumb draws a lazy circle over your cheek. "well, aren't ya sweet, hm?"

when he feels your hands trailing over his clothed muscles, your fingers digging into the material of his pants, he presses his thigh flush against your center, humming lowly as he watches your eyes fall shut at the contact.

"not today, though."

a small whine slips from your lips when you rest back on your hands, head dangling from your shoulders; perfectly displaying your neck and the few remaining marks from the nights from before. toji's eyes travel down from your throat and over your covered chest – of course, you're wearing one of his shirts. your collarbones peek from under the collar and a light sheen of sweat is already beginning to form all over your skin. toji licks his lips at the thought of running his tongue over the slopes of your body.

he puts some more pressure against the bulge in your own pants and watches your chest rise and fall with deep sharp breaths. "toji..."

he wants to ruin you so badly. he will never get sick of you saying his name like that, like a prayer, like a mantra – he's ready to give you all of him in return.

"look at ya..." he rumbles, his thigh slowly rocking back and forth against you. "s'desperate."

you can't stay still - your hips rolling against him, humping his leg like you're in heat but it's still not enough. "please..."

his low chuckle makes you loll your head forward. he looks sexy; standing tall between your legs, hair messy after a long day and a proud, hungry smile playing on his scarred lips.

"what do ya want, hm?"

"anything." he laughs at your needy answer, his chest rumbling like thunder as he nudges your thighs wider, fitting himself in the middle of them. he kneels down, so he's face level and you immediately push throw yourself over him. your hands snake around his neck, lips brushing over his. "everything...."

one of his own hands grabs at your waist, pulling you indefinitely closer while the other kneads your thigh. every time you try to kiss him, he pulls away just an inch; your breaths mingle together, lips grazing as his cologne fills your nostrils and his touch sets you ablaze. the need for him is growing and it's growing fast, the knot in your stomach tightening with every passing second.

"greedy little thing..." he whispers with a teasing tone and you nose at his cheek. your fingers play with the longer hair on the nape of his neck, combing through the locks, pushing his head closer to yours.

"please, toji..."

you feel him smirk against your cheek before he sits back on his legs.

"ya sound so cute like this." toji rests his elbows on your thighs, fingers tracing over the material of his shirt, over your abdomen and hips, until he reaches your waistband. "please, please, please..."

heat crawls on your body at his mocking, head dizzy from his touch. you don't have it in you to bark back at him, completely at his mercy – ready to take whatever he offers you.

he unbuttons your pants and taps on your thigh, telling you to stand up. and when you do, toji's nose brushes over your clothed belly button, making you buck into his face on instinct. your hands rest in his hair as he helps you out of the pants and underwear before letting you sit back down onto the bed.

you need him to touch you so badly that it's starting to hurt. your eyebrows furrow and you want to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the pain but the man in the middle stops you from doing that. he's just staring at you; taking you in – all of your little twitches, your hazy eyes, your heaving chest. oh, he's loving this.

"you're being so mean..."

he laughs. and you want to choke him. but before you can do that, or anything else for that matter – he leans forward, pressing a very faint kiss to your hip – so close and yet, so far from where you really need him. you mewl out and he pinches your waist. he's so close that his own abdomen is rubbing against your core and it's getting harder and harder to focus. you tug on his hair when he bites down into your soft flesh and pulls back with a mean grin. "yer so impatient..."

he grabs at the hem of your shirt and you raise your arms, letting him pull it off of your body. the scar on his lips finds the sensitive skin right below your jaw as he starts covering you in wet, open-mouthed kisses. he trails down from there, briefly licking and sucking your nipples, making your back arch up into him. he bites down to leave proud teethmarks on your skin as his big hands rest on your waist, kneading the soft flesh while you melt into him.

as he's getting closer and closer to where you actually need him, his hand slips from its place on your hip and you gasp when he starts rubbing at your inner thigh instead. with half-lidded eyes, you watch him lower himself back onto his legs and you buck into his hand again – your body has a mind of its own, you cannot think clearly anymore.

"this s'where you want me, yeah?"

his fingers trace around your crotch and you think you're going to explode from all of his teasing. hastily nodding, you beg with your eyes for him to finally touch you, to really touch you. he looks straight at you, flashing you a toothy smirk before cupping your balls, making your jaw fall slack. "soooo sensitive."

the eye-contact is making everything a thousand times better (worse) – his eyes bore into yours and it feels like he's planning on eating you alive.

"c'mon, gimme a kiss, sweetheart."

he doesn't need to say it twice because you're already lunging forward, pressing your mouth to his. he groans when you nip at his bottom lip – you want more, you need more. and he lets you have it.

your tongues dance together, swapping saliva like it's something you're supposed to do, all while his hand never stops massaging your sensitive skin. he's so warm and it feels so good and you want to forge the two of you together forever. you let your own hand slip between your bodies, desperately trying to guide him to your aching cock but he just grins into the kiss.

when you huff in disappointment and decide to wrap your own hand around yourself, he grabs your wrist and holds it down beside you. he presses another kiss to your lips and when he pulls away, a clear string of saliva keeps you connected.

he brings his free hand to your mouth and nods toward it. "spit."

toji lets out a hum as he watches it drip from your already wet lips and he twitches in his pants. without ever taking your eyes from you, he finally wraps his big fingers around your cock and devours the moan you reward him with.

your gaze flicks down to his hand, watching it slide up and down, the slick sound filling the room along with your quiet little whimpers and groans. every time he reaches the tip, he twists his wrist and tightens his fist, making you screw your eyes shut from the sensation. "ahh– fuck..."

"tell me how it feels."

"good, so fucking good. please– please, don't fucking stop." you stammer out. the words all slur together, the pleasure taking over your whole body. sweat dribbles from your temple and your fingers dig into the bedsheets under you.

you crack your eyes open just at the right time – when his pretty lips part and envelop the tip of your rock hard cock. he hums around you and you dig your fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots as a thank you. it's overwhelming – to let him take care of you like this. it feels special in a way, he doesn't do this with everyone.

he wants to make you feel good, he wants to show you his love.

he doesn't take his hand from you, keeping a firm grip on your base as he sucks on the tip. spit dribbles from the corners of his lips and he doesn't even try to hold it back – the messier the better. he pulls of with a little pop but dives right back in to drag his tongue all the way up from your balls. he does it a few times before getting sick of you trying to push his head closer to yourself (wonder who'd you learn that from).

taking your hands, he holds them against the bed. "no touching."

"bu- "

"touch me again and i'll stop."

his heart does a little flip in his chest at your little dumbfounded look – eyes wide and brows furrowed, hips twitching at the loss of contact.

"kiss me."

it's comes out like a demand and your own breath hitches, scared that he'll pull away completely now, but... he doesn't.

"ya want another kiss, hm? ya wanna taste yourself, is that it?"

the knot in your stomach tightens at his words and dumbly blink down at him, nodding your head. "yes, please..."

while still holding your hands to the bed, he lets you inch closer and press your swollen lips to his. a moan bubbles up from your throat and he swallows it with pride. toji pumps your cock with a steady pace, squeezing his fist every time he reaches the base. you taste so fucking good. and he tries to ignore the mess he's making in his pants purely from the act of getting you off. pre-cum stains the material of his boxers and he keeps twitching at every little sound you make.

this must be love, hm?

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Having a secret relationship wasn't as easy as you'd hoped it would be, especially when Eddie wasn't keen on keeping it a secret at all. (7.1k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, Reader wears a sun dress, making out, heavy petting, public displays of affection, sexual fantasies, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

A/N: had to include Eddie's favorite fruit in here. Shoutout to @eddiemunsonsmum for writing the best solo Eddie fics out there.

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter twelve: breath of fresh air

May teetered on the edge of June, the steadily climbing temperatures and the pungent odor of garbage signaling the beginning of another New York City summer. 

You awoke just after noon, sunlight pouring through the windows. Whispers of a headache nagged in your skull; not quite a hangover, but scarily close to one. Another drink definitely would have put you over. 

With a tired grimace, you shoved the covers aside and started your day. A day just like any other, except that you were still reeling from the fact that Eddie kissed you last night. That precious moment of connection was bested only by the sound of your name murmured from his lips onto yours.

The memory put a smile on your face as you dressed in your standard shorts and t-shirt. You wanted to kiss him over and over, to run your fingers through his mess of curls and hold him close, not parting until you both needed a breath. 

You could still taste the stain of nicotine when you swiped your tongue over your lips. Could still hear his breathy moan in your ear like a harmony. Could still feel his belt buckle pressed to your skin, the metal cold yet somehow filling you with a blazing heat.

Stripping the linens off of the bed, you lost yourself in thoughts of how it would feel to have Eddie laying beside you, his body pressing yours into the mattress, hands framing your body as he sank deeper into you—

You needed fresh air. Immediately. 

You tucked the pale pink sheets under your arm, time-faded from their original rosy hue to a salmon color, and zigzagged to the recently vacated rooms. The change of scenery did nothing to quell the desire stirring within you. Your mind was wrought with images of Eddie trailing his lips down your throat, or his teeth nipping at your collarbone, or his fingers slipping into your underwear—

“Stop it,” you hissed under your breath. The next stop was Eddie’s room, and you’d be damned if he had any inkling of the feelings you were harboring. 

His door swung open before you could even knock, halting you in your tracks. “Heard your footsteps down the hall,” he admitted, sheepishness coloring his cheeks pink. 

You only nodded as you caught your breath and your heart floated down from your throat into your chest. Thank God he couldn’t read your thoughts. “Got your pants?”

“Right here.” He held them up, balled in his fist. “Lead the way.”

“I can, um,” you searched for your words, still scrambled from your earlier musings. “I can wash them myself.” You were already throwing in the rest of the laundry; a pair of jeans wouldn’t make much of a difference.

Eddie shook his head, curls bouncing from his temples. “Nah, ‘s cool.” He plucked the bundle of linens from you. “Hasn’t been a lot to fix around here lately, so I might as well do some housekeeping.”

You threw him a playful grin as you led him to the laundry room. “No moochers allowed in my motel, y’know.”

The overhead lighting bathed him in a yellowish haze, matching the once-white walls. Maybe that could be his next project. 

“Exactly.” Eddie opened up a few cabinets, frowning when he couldn’t find what he’d been searching for. “Detergent?”

You pointed towards the cabinet below the sink. “Over there.”

Eddie saluted and stooped down to tug the economy-sized detergent tub from its spot. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring when his boxers peeked out from beneath the waistband of his jeans. Those damn Calvin Kleins; they would be your kryptonite.

“Heiress?”

Shit. He’d been talking to you, and all you could focus on was his underwear. “Yeah?”

“Do you have that stuff that makes the clothes smell really good?” He scooped out the detergent powder and sprinkled it in the washing machine. 

You laughed. “Sorry, no daisy-fresh pants for you.” 

The ensuing beat of silence seemed to stretch on for hours. Words bubbled on your tongue, desperate to continue talking to him. To discreetly sneak glances of the veins that intercepted his arm tattoos or of the sparse hair that adorned where his V-neck undershirt left his chest exposed. 

“Do anything fun today?” Christ, were you talking to a toddler? Should you offer him a sticker or a lollipop?

But Eddie perked up at the question. “Yeah, actually. I called my uncle for the first time in…” he scrunched up his mouth in contemplation. “Too damn long.” 

“How did that go?”

He set the dial to “start,” the washing machine humming to life. “Pretty good.” He hoisted himself on top of the adjacent dryer. “Same old Wayne. The world might change, but he never will.” Eddie’s eyes met yours. “When I started making money, I offered to buy him a house. Get him out of the trailer park and into a safer neighborhood. And he refused.”

Your brows raised. “He did?”

Eddie nodded, chuckling at the memory. “Said that if he left, there wouldn’t be anyone to feed the stray dogs.” He cocked his head, concentrating on your face. “You two would get along well. Similar personalities.”

“Thoughtful?”

“Yes, but to the point of stubbornness.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but Eddie cut you off. “Don’t even argue with me, Miss Social Worker by Day, Heiress by Night.” His feet swayed back and forth, tapping against the metal every so often. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the box of crayons that you keep in the desk for kids like Izzy.”

He might have had a point, but if you were going down, you’d go down swinging. “If I recall, one of us chose to sleep at a bus stop instead of accepting my gracious offer.”

“But I took you up on it eventually.”

“Only because I practically forced you,” you argued. 

“Exactly.” Eddie grinned. “Thoughtful to the point of stubbornness.” 

A stillness filled the small room, and you wondered if he had the same agenda as you: keep the conversation flowing without bringing up the date. Without bringing up the kiss; the one that seared through you and set your bones aflame. That kiss sent you to bed aching for more, mentally mapping out any way you could sneak into his room without your parents noticing. 

Eddie broke the silence. “I meant to ask…did you have a good time last night?” He scratched at the nape of his neck, the gesture betraying any air of casualness. 

“Yeah.” You smiled, trying to ignore the fluttering in your abdomen. Your skin warmed at the memory of his touch. “I mean, I got to hear you sing, and I reunited our drunk friend with her boyfriend. I don’t see how it could get better than that.” 

He laughed at that and ducked his head. “Those were the highlights?” His eyes met yours; that knowing gaze seared through you and sent your nerves humming. “Nothing else?”

“There was…another highlight.” Longing anchored the words deep in your throat, but you forced them up. You let them seep in, placing the ball squarely in his court. 

“Yeah?”

Eddie inched back onto the dryer, the shift opening a gap between his legs. A space for you to fill. Your feet carried you as though they had a mind of their own, your body slotting against his. 

“Tell me about this other highlight.” One hand reached out to yours and tugged you closer; he laid the other on your cheek. His thumb slowly swiped over your jaw as though he was memorizing its contour. 

“Well,” you started, letting your fingers rest on his denim-clad thighs, “I really liked when we kissed.”

Eddie’s eyes lit up when you supplied the answer he’d been hoping for. “That makes two of us.” He let his forefinger trail down to your collarbone, the slight movement saturated with equal parts awe and desire. “I think we should do it again sometime.”

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you asked, “when?”

“Right…” He grinned, and before you could double-check that you’d closed the door, his lips crashed into yours. You felt his tongue cautiously prod at the seam, seeking entry, and you allowed it. The scents of cigarettes and spearmint gum accompanied his tongue in a way that was so uniquely him. 

Eddie only broke the kiss to bring his lips to your neck. He was gentle at first, peppering delicate kisses down the column of your throat, but he lost all control the moment you tilted your head and gave him clear access to your pulse point. 

The hand on your cheek fell to your waist and pulled you close enough to feel Eddie’s heartbeat against your own chest. “This your favorite spot to be kissed?” He murmured into your skin. You felt him smile when you nodded in response. “Where else do you want me to kiss you?”

Was ‘everywhere’ a valid response? A soft sigh loosened itself and escaped you at the feeling of his teeth grazing your flesh. “Just my neck. For now,” you added, “but I like when…when you bite it, too.”

“I can do that.” Eddie’s voice rasped. He bit down again, swiping his tongue over the mark to soothe your bruising skin.

You gripped his t-shirt, resisting every urge to pull it up over his head. It wouldn’t be the first time you saw him bare-chested; that honor had been bestowed upon you the night he arrived. But now you could kiss it, trace the lines of his tattoos with your finger, with your tongue…

You needed it. You needed to memorize him, to learn every square inch of his body.

His shirt hit the ground and your lips immediately found his shoulders. Eddie’s arms snaked around you, keeping you in place as your tongue explored the contoured muscle. 

“More,” he pleaded. “Fuck, keep kissing me there.”

Heat blossomed in your core. Your lips traveled, placing some marks of your own just below his collarbone, where they could be easily hidden. His skin was already tinged bluish-purple where you’d sucked and nibbled, proof that you had been there.

Eddie had pushed your own shirt right below your bra when the washing machine rattled, a stark reminder of where you were. Your chest and his rose and fell in syncopated beats. He loosened his grasp, letting your shirt fall back down your torso.

“Christ.” He chuckled, a low growl in his laughter. “I’m gonna need a second. You…Christ, Heiress.” 

Your eyes traveled to where he instinctively palmed the bulge straining against his jeans. You wanted to be the one to touch it, to relieve him of his pent-up frustrations. Maybe you’d even get some relief of your own. But your gradually slowing heart rate informed you that the moment had passed. 

“I, um…I didn’t just follow you in here to maul you like some horndog.” Eddie hopped off of the washer. He swiped his shirt from the floor and slid it over his head, once again cloaking his tattoos. 

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Hey.” Eddie bumped his elbow against your arm. His smile was uncharacteristically shy, which only made him more endearing. “My other reason for following you in here was because I wanted to see if you were free sometime this week.”

His hand brushed against yours. You let your fingers intertwine with his, soft and gentle in their touch. Your thumb grazed over one of the paler spots where he must’ve worn a ring. The coloring was beginning to match the rest of his finger as though the memory of the rings was fading away with time. 

“Yeah. I mean, I’m around during the day.”

Eddie hooked his free pointer finger through your belt loop. “Cool.” He cocked his head. “Do people really have romantic picnics in Central Park? Or is that just in the movies?”

You laughed, leaning in and lightly kissing his jaw. Everything about him was so tempting. If there was a way to sneak him into your room without either of your parents noticing, you’d do it in a heartbeat. 

“They do, but…” You shrugged. “Central Park is super overrated. In my opinion, anyway.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” Another kiss, right below his ear this time. You could feel his body tense with each lingering touch. “Flushing Meadows is the superior park. Less crowded, shorter travel time, and you don’t have to worry about running into any Upper East Side snobs.”

Eddie tilted your chin so that you felt his lips on yours when he spoke. “Fuck those rich assholes.” The words were muffled and ended with him nipping at your lower lip; the slight pinch of pain from his teeth were sparks that set you alight. 

Your hands framed his face as you kissed him, his grasp tight on your lower back. A wanting groan vibrated in his throat when he felt your body against his. 

“Heiress.” Your nickname was molasses on his tongue, sweet and slow and syrupy. “Y’gotta let me take you on at least one more date before we do this. I’m tryna be a goddamn gentleman.”

He was right, even if his body seemed to protest. You needed to stop before you caused him physical pain. Needed to stop before you lost all semblance of control. Your first time with Eddie didn’t have to be caviar and champagne—and it likely would not be, given how broke you both were—but the occasion deserved to happen somewhere more private and more comfortable than the motel’s laundry room. 

Eddie breathed out consciously, trying to collect himself. “Does Thursday work for you?”

You blinked, batting away the fogginess left behind by his touch. “Thursday would be perfect.”

“Perfect,” Eddie echoed. A cautious, nervous smile curved his lips. He paused for a half-second before leaning in once more and pressing a kiss to your cheek. Its gentleness scorched your skin, flames licking in its wake.

The kiss rooted you to the ground for a second too long, and Eddie was already turning the doorknob before you could listen for any incoming foot traffic.

“Wait, we–”

His eyes widened when the opened door revealed Phyllis heading back to her room. “Didn’t realize laundry was a two person job,” she quipped, revealing a smile of cigarette-stained teeth. “Although…it takes two people to get the sheets dirty…”

“That’s not–we weren’t–” you sputtered helplessly, knowing that there was nothing you could say that would make the situation any better.

“Well, it’s either you two were messing around in there, or he stuck his finger in an electrical socket.” Phyllis gestured to Eddie’s hair, mussed and sticking up from where you’d thread your fingers through it. 

Eddie choked out a laugh, red creeping up his neck and coloring his cheeks. Even the tips of his ears turned a delicious shade of pink. “The washer was making a, um, a noise. But it’s fixed now.”

Phyllis’s forehead creased as her brows raised, not believing a word he said. “The noises I heard didn’t sound like machinery. They sounded more like—”

“Phyllis,” you hissed, hoping your embarrassment wasn’t overly palpable. 

The older woman took your hint and pivoted towards her room, seemingly satisfied with the buttons she’d already pushed. Though she likely hadn’t done it purposely, her comment about the noises served as a warning: If she heard them, your parents could have, too. 

You needed to be more careful. In order for this burgeoning relationship to have a chance at survival, you needed to keep it a secret. Phyllis knew, but her worst offense would be quiet ribbings. Not everyone would remain so tight-lipped. 

“Thursday…let’s meet at the bus stop.” There was the chance of someone seeing you together there, but at least it was less suspicious than Eddie knocking on your door. 

Confusion rippled across Eddie’s face for a beat before he composed himself. “Yeah. Sounds good.” 

Good. A definite few steps down from his earlier declaration of perfect. Your heart sank, joining the lead ball of anxiety currently sitting in your stomach. 

He’ll understand, you told yourself. He knew how it felt to have all sorts of external pressure pushing down on him; a weight too great to fight. It would all be fine. 

Yet you couldn’t convince yourself that that was the truth, nor could you bring yourself to look back at him as you rushed to the front desk. You were suddenly eager for a chore or two to keep your thoughts at bay. 

Amy’s Café was quieter than its usual bustling pace during the semester, and you easily snagged a table for three. It seemed like a blessing at the time, but now…

“Hold on,” Nora said through a bite of croissant. She held up her forefinger, signaling you and Ben to stay quiet until she finished chewing. “So you and Eddie were making out in the laundry room—”

“Don’t forget the part where she took off his shirt,” Ben added. 

Nora nodded, brushing crumbs off of her hands. “Basically feeling each other up. And then Phyllis caught you, and he pretended that he was fixing the washing machine?” She laughed incredulously.

Ben put down his mug and shook his head. “It’s a good thing you didn’t get carried away. Imagine conceiving your child in the motel laundry room, ten feet away from your parents at the resident prostitute.”

“Oh, my god.” You buried your face in your hands. “We’ve gone on one date and you’re already talking about me having his baby?”

“People have made babies without going on any dates,” Ben pointed out. Nora just snickered. 

“I hate you both.” You glanced between the two of them. It was hard to believe they’d met for the first time today. The way they effortlessly teased you in tandem was impressive for people who were basically strangers. “Can we please change the subject?”

Nora leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Not a chance. In fact,” she looked at Ben and then back to you, “we need to know more. Like, what are you wearing for this second date?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off as nonchalant, though you’d been wondering the same thing. “I dunno. It’s a picnic, so nothing fancy, I guess.” 

Your friends found that answer insufficient, both of them rolling their eyes in tandem. Ben took a bite of blueberry muffin and said nothing, but Nora plunged right ahead.

“Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

Nora sighed. “You never let yourself enjoy things. You should be happy about this. A hot guy is staying at your motel and can’t keep his hands off of you, and you’re all Mopey Magee about it.”

“I’m not Mopey Magee,” you mumbled, but she was right. Every time excitement began bubbling up, you shoved it back down. Every time your mind wandered, dipping into thoughts about a cozy future spent with Eddie, you yanked yourself back. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be happy; you just needed to stay realistic. Eddie wanted to be a rockstar, always on the go and living on the edge. You wanted to be a social worker, to come home and curl up with a good book. You’d be tucking yourself into bed as Eddie’s night was just beginning, and you’d wake up in the morning just as he was going to sleep. 

Not to mention the women, especially Death Echo’s badass drummer. And it didn’t help that she was Eddie’s ex. No matter how far you let your imagination stretch, you would never be her.

“Hey.” Ben rested his hand on yours, his eyes kind and free of judgment. “We just want you to be excited. Eddie seems like a…decent guy.” Clearly, he wasn’t fully convinced after the fiasco of their first meeting, though he’d thawed out a bit since Eddie helped clean the vandalism.

Nora nudged him from her seat. “He’s more than decent. He took a cab all the way to school to bring her paper. He sang a lovey-dovey karaoke song for her. And he had enough respect to not completely maul her in the laundry room.” She looked at you and asked pointedly, “Tell us the truth: would you have fucked him if he didn’t stop you?”

“Nora!” Your entire body flooded with heat. It was all the confirmation Nora needed. 

“See? He’s a good guy,” she declared. Case closed. “I bet he wants to, like, decorate the bed with rose petals and all of that corny shit.”

“He’ll probably play his guitar and serenade you.” Ben relented with a smirk. “Naked.”

You stood up, the back of your legs pushing your chair behind you. “Okay, thank you both very much for your insight, but I’m gonna go.” 

You refused to admit that you were currently picturing Eddie as Ben had portrayed him. His guitar would rest on his bare thighs, his chest on full display. That beautiful body that drew your lips to each inch of skin, no matter if tattooed or unmarked. 

“You know you love us,” Nora trilled. 

And you did. They only wanted what was best for you. Yes, you would love to lose yourself in daydreams of Eddie Munson, his strong arms wrapped around you, his tongue hungrily exploring your body. Yes, your stomach fluttered each time he smiled at you, called you beautiful, or took your hand in his. But was that worth lying to your parents about yet another part of your life?

The question branded you with a headache, one that sat right behind your eyes and thudded against your skull with each step back home. You did everything you could to focus on the pain instead of its cause.

By now, you were well-acquainted with Eddie’s schedule, which meant you were able to meet him outside the subway station before he returned to the motel. You’d had a moment of panic that morning just as you drifted off to sleep: your parents would immediately be suspicious if they saw the two of you leaving together, especially in your current outfit. Nora had dropped off a floral sundress, the tag still on it, and quietly proclaimed that Eddie wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you in it. It wasn’t until later that you noticed the back of the tag where she’d scrawled ‘happy boning!’ in tiny letters.

There certainly wouldn’t be any boning; not in the middle of the park. That was too far out of your comfortable zone, even if you weren’t trying to hide your relationship.

“I’m hanging out with Nora,” you told Dad before he even looked up from reading the newspaper. “Be back later.”

Your sandals thwacked against the pavement as you hurried out the door, not even pausing to hear if Dad had responded.

You nearly collided with Eddie halfway down the block. He held his guitar case in one hand and a plastic grocery bag in the other. His focused expression shifted to one of excitement when he saw you. 

“Didn’t expect to bump into you here.” He lifted the guitar slightly. “Let me just put this back in my room so I’m not lugging it all over Queens.”

Eddie started back towards the motel, pausing when he realized you weren’t following him. 

“You comin’?”

You shook your head. Dad might not have noticed you leaving in your new dress, but he would definitely notice you going back and forth with Eddie Munson in tow. 

“I’ll wait right here.” You tried peeking into the bag as he walked away, but he tugged it back and out of your sight. “What’s in there?”

His eyes lit up. “Patience is a virtue, dear Heiress,” he drawled. He leaned in to plant a dramatic kiss on your forehead before rushing towards the motel’s front door. 

The spot where he’d laid his lips still tingled for a moment after he left. If you could work up the nerve, if your head and your heart could cooperate, you would pull him in for the longest kiss of his life. But doubt creeped in before even he returned. If someone saw you…if Mom or Dad took a look around the door to see where Eddie was going…if a guest got an eyeful and made a comment about it to them…

“Okay, I’m back.” Eddie grinned, grabbing your hand with his empty one. “Your dad tried to pull me into a conversation about the Mets. I had to break the devastating news that I’m not a sports guy.” He laughed and adjusted his hand to better grasp yours. 

You barely registered the movement. “Did you tell him where you—we—were going?” If Eddie told Dad about the date…

Eddie shook his head. “Nah, just said I had to run.” His nose wrinkled in confusion. “Why? Are we not supposed to be going to the park or something?”

How could you explain it to him without hurting his feelings? ‘We can’t be seen together’ might be true, but far too harsh. Nor did you want to embroil yourself in another lie. You mulled over your words for a few seconds before speaking. 

“I just don’t want them asking a bunch of questions that even we don’t know the answers to.”

That was honest enough, you supposed. This was only your second date; far too early for any serious ‘what are your intentions with my daughter?’ speeches even under normal circumstances. The fact that Mom had explicitly warned you against dating guests would remain omitted for now.

He nodded in agreement, and your chest sagged with relief that he didn’t push the topic further. Instead, you enveloped yourself in the temporary safety that came with holding Eddie’s hand. The way his calloused palm pressed to yours, his grip tight yet without unwarranted possessiveness. Each brush of his thumb stoked the fire steadily building within you.

You once again tried to steal a glimpse of the surprise inside the bag once you found seats on the bus, but Eddie remained steadfast in his decision to keep it out of your view.

“It’s a surprise,” he practically whined, pouting to make you laugh. “C’mon, I’m trying to be romantic on a budget. Cut me a break here.”

“Fine.” But the moment he let his guard down, you swiped at the bag. Eddie was stealthier than you gave him credit for, and he held it shut between his legs. “Eddie!”

Eddie placed his hands on your cheeks, trapping you in place. “Don’t…ruin…the…surprise.” He kissed you between each word, little pecks on the lips that became increasingly more difficult to land as you both smiled. “You really are impossible.”

You begrudgingly relented, resting your head on his shoulder for the remainder of the bus ride. He shifted his stance every so often to purse his lips and kiss your forehead. You let out a contented sigh, the tension in your body fleeing with each gentle touch.

Flushing Meadows Park was relatively quiet when you and Eddie arrive. Kids were still in school until the end of the month, and nine-to-fivers were still at work. Besides you two, there were only an assortment of joggers, a few bird-watching retirees, and some particularly rowdy squirrels 

Eddie led you to a shaded spot beneath the branches of an old oak tree. He dug into his bag and pulled out a cloth, spreading it out on the overgrown grass. The fabric and color looked awfully familiar. It was almost as if…

“Is that your bedsheet?”

Eddie grinned sheepishly. “I couldn’t let you sit right on the grass. Besides,” he added, tone heavy with mischief, “it gives us another excuse to do laundry together.”

“We’re lucky we didn’t get caught the first time,” you muttered. But you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be pressed up against him, to feel him stiffen beneath his jeans as his tongue explored your mouth. 

He laughed as you both sat down, a melody if you’d ever heard one. He continued unpacking, placing foil-wrapped sandwiches, a small plastic container of pre-cut melon, and a bag of store-brand chocolate chip cookies onto the sheet. The last thing he dug out was two glass bottles of Yoo-Hoo chocolate milk, handing it directly to you. It was still relatively cold, a miracle in the early summer humidity. 

“Only the finest cuisine for my date.” He unscrewed the bottle cap and waited for you to do the same. He raised the bottle, clinking it against yours. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you echoed, taking a swig. You hadn’t had chocolate milk since you were a kid, and it was all at once nostalgic and too sugary, but you couldn’t get enough.

Eddie’s eyes rake over you, pupils fixated on the neckline of your sundress. His tongue darted out to lick up a droplet of milk that was caught in the corner of his mouth. “You look beautiful. You are beautiful,” he amended. One hand found your knee, and he rested it where the dress’s cotton fabric met your skin.

It had been a while since a man had called you beautiful, save for the cat-callers who pressed their luck from where they leaned against buildings and worked at construction sites. The compliment sent warmth surging through you, your head so airy that you hardly register the smile blooming on your face.

How would he react if you just leaned in and kissed him, mouths crashing together in a hunger that would remain forever unsatisfied? What would he do if you straddled his waist and let the hem of your dress cover the fly of his jeans?

You swallowed the thought, tempering the heat that fluttered in your core as you unwrapped one of the sandwiches. The cheese had cooled but was still melted, and a few strips of bacon peeked out from the sides of the roll. Your mouth watered just looking at it.

Eddie tucked into his own identical sandwich, a groan tumbling from his lips as he savored the taste. “I will never understand how those tiny corner stores make the best food. Like, better than all of those fancy-ass restaurants I went to for dinners with execs.”

“Those ‘corner stores’ are called ‘bodegas,’” you corrected through a cheesy mouthful. “If you’re gonna stick around, you’ve gotta start talking like a New Yorker.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie raised his brows, one corner of his mouth turning up in a knowing grin. “I gotta start tawk-ing like a New Yawk-er?”

“I don’t sound like that!”

He ignored you, continuing to massacre the stereotypical New York City accent. “Maybe on our next date, we can grab some caw-fee and go for a waw-k around the pah-k.”

“First of all, you pronounced ‘park’ like a Bostonian, which is a cardinal sin around here. Second, there won’t be another date if you keep making fun of me.”

“My apologies, Heiress.” Eddie placed his hand on his chest, and you immediately felt its absence from your leg. “I’ll be sure to more accurately mock you in the future.”

He was insufferable in the most endearing way. You took his hand, smoothing your thumb over his knuckles, and brought it back to where it was. He gave your thigh a small squeeze; not inherently sexual, but made your pulse quicken all the same.

You retrieved your breath from where it had hitched in your throat and opened the plastic container of melon. With delicate fingers as to not touch every piece, you plucked a cantaloupe cube from the pile and took a bite. The juice trickled down your chin; you cupped your hand beneath it to catch the droplets before they stained the bed sheet.

Eddie, meanwhile, kept his gaze plastered to how your lips wrapped around the fruit. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly and he coughed as though snapping himself out of a daze. 

“You okay?” 

“Y-Yeah.” He managed a smile and popped a piece of melon in his mouth, chewing if only to keep himself busy until he could concentrate on something besides your parted lips. “Peachy keen.” With another slight twitch of his mouth, let out a cough. 

It dawned on you, then, that he was losing control, and that you were the cause. If you indulged him in his desire–desire that you admittedly shared–you’d soon find yourselves pawing at each other on an old bed sheet in the middle of a public park.

You couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t let desperation get the best of you. You knew better.

Instead, you surveyed your surroundings for any other conversation topic. Grass, blooming flowers, the ants parading towards a puddle of spilled soda.

You took another swig of chocolate milk, hoping it would cool you from the inside out. “Yoo-Hoo was an interesting drink choice.” The words were strangled, forced, too abrupt. 

Eddie knew it, too, but he played along. Perhaps more for his sake than yours, but he still loosened a chuckle. “Yeah, I saw them at the cor—bodega, and it reminded me of when I was a kid.” Fiddling with the discarded sandwich wrapper, he continued. “My uncle would buy one on every payday. A Yoo-Hoo for me and a lotto scratcher for himself.”

“Did you get more Yoo-Hoo if he won anything?”

“Nah.” He crumpled the sandwich foil into a ball. “That went towards bills.”

Right. Eddie had told you that he grew up in poverty, sharing a tiny trailer with his uncle. Any extra money wasn’t really extra at all. 

You knew the feeling. How many times had you found loose change on the ground or a dropped dollar at the subway token booth and slipped it into the motel’s register?

“How did he feel about you pursuing music?” You were back on the right track, retreating into topics as far away from sex as possible.

Eddie shrugged, his shoulders holding a story that he wasn’t ready to tell. “He wasn’t thrilled. Wanted me to have something steady, something I could count on.” So I didn’t end up bartering to stay in a shitty Queens motel remained unspoken. “But he was the one who bought me my first guitar, so it’s partially his fault.”

There was that smirk, the one that turned your knees into jelly. God, to be on your knees for him, to taste what lay behind that godforsaken zipper–

You scrambled to patch up the cracks that might allow desperation to seep through. “Did you always want to be a musician?” 

“Pretty much. I mean, when I was really young, I wanted to be a dinosaur.”

You burst out into laughter, slapping your hand across your mouth to contain it all. Out of all of the things he could have said, ‘I wanted to be a dinosaur’ was nowhere near your list of possibilities. “A…dinosaur?”

“Yup. A triceratops, to be exact.” 

“Mhm.” What was going on? How did we get here? You chalked it up to being a blessing in disguise, a definite pivot from your racy thoughts. “Any particular reason?”

Did you want to know?

“The horns seemed cool. And good for impaling.”

You tucked your lips into your mouth and stifled a laugh, trying to keep a serious face. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.”

“Yeah, I was real bummed when I found out they were already extinct.” He pursed his lips and tilted his head towards you, breaking out into a smile. “So, any updates on social work school?”

You almost shook your head before you remembered. “There’s this event they’re doing where admitted students get to tour the campus, meet each other, talk to advisors...”

“You gonna go?”

“I probably should.” It would be a great opportunity for you to get your bearings and register for classes. “Are you busy next Friday?”

“Next Friday? Let me check my schedule.” Eddie feigned contemplation for a beat, then looked at you with a smile that flipped your stomach. “Free as a bird. Why, does the Heiress need to be accompanied to her Smart People Gathering?”

You stuck out your tongue in mock annoyance. Eddie grabbed it by the tip, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re a brat.”

His eyes bore into yours, holding your gaze even as he let go. He’d set the challenge: You make him beg to tag along, or you back down and admit that you wanted him to join you.

You chose the former.

“I mean, I can take Nora if you’re busy. Or Ben.” 

Jealousy flashed across Eddie’s face at your flippant reply. Did you have to add Ben? Probably not. Was it fun to watch Eddie squirm? Absolutely.

“I’ll take you.” He didn’t need to say it; not when his brief scowl already proclaimed that you won. 

Grinning, you kissed his cheek triumphantly. “Great.” You wiped at where your lipstick had left a smudge. “But the next time you grab my tongue, I’ll bite you.”

Without missing a beat, he growled, “Maybe I want you to.” 

You couldn’t temper your reaction, not with his voice reaching a bass note that signaled that his desire was just as strong as yours. Without warning, you anchored yourself in his lap, legs on either side of his, and let your teeth graze the skin above his collarbone. You bit down just enough to make him utter a tiny yelp. 

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass as he pulled you forward, your core now directly atop his. Instinct kicked in and your hips moved of their own accord, your cotton panties dragging over his fly, already wet just from your proximity to him.

Teeth clicked and tongues found one another, the kiss somehow sloppier and more ravenous than the tipsy one you’d shared a few nights earlier. You grabbed hold of his t-shirt, the fabric bunching in your shaking palms as you brought him closer, closer, still never close enough…

Eddie nipped at your lower lip, one palm sliding up to cup your cheek. His touch teetered between a timid ‘you’re mine?’ and a possessive ‘you’re mine,’ opposing sides in a battle to claim and be claimed. His own hips hedged upwards, the friction equal parts tantalizing and torturous.

God, you wanted him. You wanted him to flip you over and pin you down, hands grasping your wrists hard enough to leave a bruise. You wanted to remember that he was there, that he was on you, with you. You wanted to stare at those marks from the privacy of your own room and recount how he’d taken you in public. 

And then you heard it–your name. Not ‘Heiress,’ nor did it come from Eddie’s kiss-swollen lips. The voice was feminine and familiar.

You broke the kiss, your blood running ice cold as you swiveled around to see Aunt Tam and Uncle Mo standing before you. Aunt Tam’s brows were raised in a combination of disappointment and disbelief; Uncle Mo’s cheeks were splotched pink in pure embarrassment–a feeling you knew all too well.

You froze, your fingers now tangled in Eddie’s frizzy curls as reality sunk in, squashing down most of the lust connecting you to him. You’d been spotted dry humping Eddie in the middle of the park by your parents’ best friends. People who’d known you since you were born.

Too quickly, you removed yourself from Eddie’s lap and smoothed out the hem of your sundress, as though your aunt and uncle would forget what they’d just witnessed if it wasn’t happening anymore. 

This was bad. Worse than bad; this was humiliating. You wanted to beg them not to tell your parents, a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar, but the words clung to your throat. Instead, and much more shamefully, tears ran down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, we just–we got carried away, we shouldn’t have–I’m so sorry, please don’t say anything to my parents–”

Damn it. Damn it all to hell. Why couldn’t you just keep yourself in control? 

Aunt Tam cleared her throat, shaking herself from surprise. “No, I’m sorry for interrupting. I just wasn’t expecting to see, um, that.” The coloring of her cheeks now matched her husband’s as they hurried away, unable to leave fast enough. “Enjoy your picnic. Good to, uh, see you both.”

Everything was suddenly too much. The sun was too bright, the birds were chirping too loudly, the grass beneath the sheet was too sharp. 

You scrambled to clean up the remaining food, all of which now looked as appetizing as a pile of mud. You couldn’t even look at Eddie when you spoke. “We should go home.”

“Heiress, it’s fine. Calm down–”

“I can’t calm down!” Too snappy, too harsh, but you no longer had the capacity to care. “My parents will kill me if they find out we were together.”

Confusion knitted Eddie’s brows together. “You’re a grown adult. And it’s not like we were naked and getting arrested for public indecency.”

His lack of understanding only strengthened your frustration. “No, I–it’s just not a good look for me to be fooling around with a guest.”

There was no mistaking the hurt in Eddie’s scoff. “I mean, we’re on a date…and we’re kinda a…a thing, right?” He chewed on his lower lip, and you felt a wall come up, that same barrier he’d erected when you’d all but accused him of vandalizing Eisen’s. “I didn’t realize I was just a guest.”

“Yeah, no–I mean, we are a thing,” you rushed to explain, “and you’re not just a guest to me, but you technically are still a guest.” 

“Right.” Eddie stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I get it. Yeah. I just thought…never mind.” He blew out a breath and stooped down to help you clean up.

You forced yourself to speak again, terrified that you’d shatter this already fragile moment. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice so low that you weren’t sure he’d even hear it.

“S’okay.”

But it wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t okay even when he reached back and laced his fingers with yours. It was no longer an act of affection, but one of needed reassurance. And it didn’t fix the gaping chasm; you weren’t sure how to fix it, or if it could be fixed at all.

It was a Band-Aid on a bullet wound, and time was ticking until it bled out.

--

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98

@squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia

@kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock

@ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975

@yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts

@mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank

@sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles

@the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl

@fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader are married. he refers to readers breasts and makes a lewd joke. divider by cafekitsune my most beloved | wc 822

“That one looks like you.”

Squeezing Satoru’s bicep where your hand rests against it, arm looped through his, you giggle and shake your head. The statue in front of you is flesh made marble, a woman with thighs that maybe on a really good day resemble yours so painstakingly crafted that crowds gather to see her. She’s beautiful, a depiction of a goddess from fables you are both vaguely familiar with.

Is this really how he sees you? It makes those same butterflies he always manages to create stir in your belly and you wrinkle your nose, taking a peek up at him but looking away to admire the beauty depicted in front of you.

“You’ve already charmed me, Satoru. You don’t have to tell tall tales.” His gaze shifts from the sculpture to you, something you can feel rather than witness. He scoffs and tilts his head, shifting from standing beside you to in front of you, arms still linked together.

 “You always say that when I compliment you. Why?”

Laughing, you reach to pinch his side with your freehand and he dodges just in the nick of time. It’s preventative, he always giggles and causes a scene when you touch the tender ticklish spot right at his hip bone, and a museum in another country on a trip the two of you had to bend your schedules to go on is not the place to have a tickle fight. He traps your hand in his and deposits it at your side with a smug half smile.

“Let’s not get into it right now. I’ll just say thank you for the compliment and we can move on.”

Never one to take being put off gracefully, he crowds against you until there is zero space between your bodies. You worry about the PDA being seen as offensive or too much and glance around the mostly empty on a weekday museum where everyone else is fairly ignorant of your existence. It’s just the two of you, as always and not just in your head this time. Smiling, you let him embrace you and rest his balled hands against the small of your back, your entire body leaning into his side.

“You know, I’d have a house full of sculptures and paintings of you just like that if you’d let me,” he mumbles under his breath to bait you. You laugh aloud, pressing your cheek to his arm. “What, nude?” He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and raises his eyebrows over the tops of his sunglasses. “Obviously. Or clothed or in a gown or in water or tangled in our bed sheets.” 

Pausing to take a breath, he’s surprised to see you already looking up at him when he gazes down at you. He wishes he could capture this with more than just his eyes, his phone and heart. He has painted you before and would create a thousand more odes to his beauty if he had more time on his hands and you’d let him. You’re so eager to disbelieve your own beauty, you haven’t sat to be painted by him in years. 

Satoru makes a mental note to rectify that as soon as the two of you get home but continues to speak now that he has your undivided attention, smirking, all dimples and mischief and the things you love the most about him, the tenderness in your glance a reflection of how you feel.

“I’m just saying. I’m sure I could find some sculptor to carve my pretty wife and would do those,” he glances down at your chest and you roll your eyes half-heartedly, still wearing the smile he put on your face with his casual comparison of your likeness to that of a goddess. “The artistic justice they deserve.”

Despite the tongue in cheek joking, he can be such a romantic when he wants to be. You kind of feel he’s laying it on a little thick because you’re on vacation but what’s the harm in having fun when it is luxuriously just the two of you, the rarity that it is?

Smiling up at him, you offer a better solution.

“Maybe they can sculpt both of us. We can see if they’ll do that,” you subtly reach down and pat just below his belt buckle before he can swat at your hand or turn on his Infinity to keep you away, pulling your hand away as quickly as you can. “Some justice too.”

Now that’s an idea he appears to like, his smirk sliding into a full smile. You pat his arm and separate yourself from him, only to be met with a whine. You reach behind you and grab his hand, fingers intertwining as naturally as they always do, pulling him along with you.

“Now let me show you which one reminds me of you,” you tease him, smiling over your shoulder. 

[emilys-bangs]

invisible string | e.p

Tags: emt!reader, meet cute(?) - def a bloody one lol, blood and injury, car accident, flirty emily, flustered reader (who gives in once cause who wouldn’t), no use of yn

Summary: Emily gets into an accident. Could anyone fault her for flirting with her EMT?

Word count: 2.6k

For my fave loser girl @notaboypossiblyagenius because we’re spiritually connected <3

Car accidents can be no big deal, or they can be catastrophic. 

This one seems to be somewhere in between. The roads are icy tonight; you were expecting something of this measure since last week, and your predictions were right—this is the third accident you’ve been called to in the past six days. 

The hood of the SUV is bent around a pole. It seems to be a mild crash, no other cars around, but you’re still preparing yourself for anything as you carefully assess the stability of the pole before approaching the passenger’s side, your coworker going over to the driver.

When you peer through the window, you find a dark-haired woman. Her head is on the headrest and her eyes are closed, a crimson line of blood cutting down the paleness of her cheek. You lightly tap on the frosted glass. 

She opens her eyes. After blinking repeatedly, she lowers the window. 

You crane your neck into the car, checking the backseats and subtly trying to assess the damage. “Hi there.” You give her a smile, your eyes briefly flitting to her equally dark-haired companion in the driver’s seat.

The woman blinks at you sluggishly.

“…Hey.” She slurs.

It’s more of a question. That could definitely mean a concussion, you think, what with her head wound. You reach into your belt for your flashlight, clicking it open and shining it into the car. The woman squints. 

“You’re gonna be okay, we’ll get you out of here in a sec. Can you tell me your name?”

She pauses a little when your eyes meet. You hold your breath, the blankness of her gaze stirring up dread in the pit of your stomach. But then she blinks and it clears a fraction.

“Emily.” She mumbles, slowly. Her brows furrow and she stares at you intently, as if you might have the answer. In the darkness, you don’t know if you’re looking into pupil or iris. “...Prentiss.”

Some of the tightness in your gut loosens. You give her another smile, careful not to let your concern peek through. “How are you doing, Emily? Does anything hurt?” You run the flashlight up and down her body, your eyes sharp for any more serious looking injuries. Her coat seems to have protected her from the seatbelt, but when the light passes over her wrist, you spot some discoloration around it.

“Uhh…” she reaches for her seatbelt. “My—”

“Please don’t move.” Your hand shoots through the window, stilling hers on the buckle. She frowns confusedly. “Sorry, I just need to properly asses your injuries first. We’ll get you out of here in no time, I promise.” You say, your voice slipping into that firm but soothing tone you’ve learned to develop. Emily nods and you give her another reassuring smile as you open the car door. “You were saying something?”

“M’head,” she mumbles. You nod as you check her over, eventually clicking your flashlight closed and sliding it into your belt. Again you spot the discoloration on her wrist.

“Anything else?”

She seems to consider it for a moment, but then she shakes her head. You’ll deal with that later, then.

“Any trouble breathing?” You ask, leaning over her to unbuckle her seat belt. The scent of blood is thick; you try to take a closer look at the gash on her forehead, but it’s dark and her hair is in the way.

“No.”

Still, you check her airway, gently asking and prodding until you’re satisfied there’s nothing more critical needing your attention. When you’re done you instinctively place your hand on her knee and squeeze lightly—a habit of the job.

“Okay honey, I’m gonna get you out now. Let me know if anything hurts, okay?”

A faint pink spreads across her cheeks. “’Kay,” she mumbles, throwing a furtive look to the driver’s seat. Her companion is long gone, helped out of the car by your coworker; you can distantly hear them at the ambulance.

With the ice, it takes a bit of work, but once you safely get her out of the car, you also help Emily to the ambulance. She’s stiff, not really allowing herself to lean on you even though she sways a little. You’ve dealt with plenty of people like this before, so you don’t try to force her closer, just keeping your arm steady around her in case she slips. Some of the tension in her body loosens when she spots her friend on the ledge of the ambulance.

“They got ya too, Hot—Hey,” Emily cuts herself off, a deep v creasing between her brows, “you said you weren’t hurt.” 

Her tone is accusatory. Which is fair, given the bruising on the man’s cheek and the stilted way his jacket lays on one shoulder, very obviously dislocated. His eyes trail over her, down the blood on her forehead and your steadying arm around her waist.

“So did you.”

Her lips purse. “I’m fine. I jus’ have a headache—”

“A very bloody one.”

“—not a goddamn dislocated shoulder!” She protests, concern taking over her features. Her voice, so far having been fluid and slurry, hardens to steel. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“Not just for him,” you say. “That head wound might cause a concussion, we need to get you a CT scan.”

Emily turns to you and frowns, as if you’re being unreasonable. “It’s just a headache.” She sulks.

“Headaches are a common symptom of concussions after blunt force trauma.”

“But—”

“We’re all going to the hospital, Emily.” The man sighs, his lips pressing together into a thin line when your coworker comes back with his kit. “Just get in so we can get this over with.”

He must be some kind of boss—or at least some years older—because the fight leaks out of her shoulders, despite the firm set to her brows. She resignedly accepts as you get her into the ambulance and on the cot, her eyes squinting as she adjusts to the bright light.

“I’m just gonna check your vitals first.” You tell her. The words are instinctive to you; most patients you deal with are confused and in pain, still in shock from their accidents, and you’ve found that explaining what you’re about to do makes your job a lot easier.

You checked her breathing in the car but you do it again, just to be sure. Emily stays quiet as you do. She blinks rapidly and keeps her eyes down, still adjusting to the lights of the ambulance as you try your best to move quickly. Her blood pressure is next, which she also accepts without complaint. 

When you pick up her right hand, you find reddish discoloration circling her wrist. Her hand trembles in your grip, shaking almost imperceptibly. 

“Do you feel any pain here?” You ask, gently smoothing your thumb over the cold inner skin of her wrist. 

Emily shakes her head.

You frown a little as you gently prod the area. She yelps suddenly, half pulling her hand back into her chest. You drop it, guilt swirling in your gut at the way she grimaces. “Sorry.” You apologize thickly. “It might be sprained, you’ll need an X-ray to make sure.” 

Emily bites her lip and nods, not looking at you as you carefully take the pulse in her left wrist instead. It jumps beneath your fingertips, quicker than normal but still within the range of acceptable; you let go of her hand and grab an instant ice pack from your kit, popping it so it freezes over.

“Hold this to your wrist.” 

She does it silently. Her head is bent, the dark strands of her hair absorbing the fluorescent lights. The outline of her shoulders shivers faintly; you press your fingertips to her coat. “Hey. Are you doing alright?” You ask gently.

It sounds a stupid question even to your ears, especially when she looks up and you see the blood dripping down the sharp line of her jaw, onto the collar of her coat. There’s a small furrow between her brows when your eyes meet, but it loosens a little as she gives you a small smile.

“Yeah, ’m good.” She says. There’s a heaviness to her voice, despite the dimple in her cheek. 

Now that you’re beneath the light and she’s properly looking you in the eye, you’re suddenly aware of her striking beauty. Fluorescent lights and the blood dripping down her cheek hardly diminish her sharp features. Shiny dark bangs dip between her brows, just the same bitter coffee shade of her eyes. Those are ringed with equally dark lashes, and in her pale, bloodless face, the shocking collision has the same effect of a black hole.

You blink, the sightly ragged sound of her breathing snapping you back to the present.

Oh, god, had you been staring? 

Heat bursts through your cheeks as you clear your throat, desperately attempting to be casual. You reach for your penlight, bending your head to be more level with hers. “Keep your eyes open, please.” You instruct as you shine the light into her eyes. 

Her pupils are blown; wide, uneven pools of black that push her dark brown irises to thin rings. They’re almost as dark as her pupils, you note, and not for the first time.

Focus.

“Yep,” you mutter, giving her a small, sad smile as you straighten. “Definitely a concussion.”

“They’re not that big of a deal.” She says flippantly, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture.

A frown draws your brows together. “You have a history of concussions?” That could definitely be a problem, you think as you click the penlight closed.

“I’m a federal agent.” Emily says, as if that explains it. She squints as she tips her chin further up, gravity dragging her bangs over her brows. The darkness of her eyes freezes you in place. “You’re…really beautiful.” She murmurs. 

You suck in a surprised breath. The back of your throat goes dry, aided by the piercing intensity of her gaze. She blinks a few times and leans in closer, dark, spidery lashes kissing her bloody cheek.

“Excuse me?”

 “You’re a little blurry, though.”

“That’s—”

“Too pretty for a job like this.” Emily muses. Her eyes drag over you; the scrutiny makes your heart kick.

She’s your patient.

Trying to move on, you place the back of your hand to her cheek. Emily’s brows shoot up in surprise, not recognizing what you’re doing as you check the temperature of her skin. You shouldn’t rise to her flirtations, you know that. She’s not even fully lucid.

But your mouth moves before you can stop it.

“Well, you’re too pretty to be a federal agent,” you say softly, your voice low as you gauge her skin. Cold, pale. “I bet you get banged up all the time, right? That’s a shame.” You turn to grab a shock blanket. You unfold it, wrap it around her shoulders above her coat. Her dark hair is trapped under it; you resist the urge to pull it out. 

A blush has spread across her cheeks. Shocking red, a close shade to the blood traveling down the length of her face. “We—uh…we jus’ wanted to get food for our team.” She sucks in a breath, “Why’d you put this on me?”  

“You’re pale, looks like you might be in shock.”

“That’s just my natural color,” Emily protests as you reach for a pair of gloves and slip them over your unsteady hands. “Right, Hotch?” She calls out, loud enough for him to hear.

“Keep the shock blanket, Emily.”

“It’s cold out,” you say apologetically. For some reason, you don’t want to gain her displeasure, though—in a situation like this, at least—she seems easily displeased. “And you lost a lot of blood.”

Her whole demeanor shifts. Suddenly a dimple winks at you, its sly curve in her cheek matching the curve of her lips. “You could just warm me up.” Emily suggests, her light tone masking her exhaustion. 

What? “I…uh.” Fuck, your whole body is on fire. You’re sure you’re gaping at her, but she looks entirely serious. 

This is what you get for flirting back. 

“I have to clean your wound.” You blurt out.

“That’s okay, you can sit on my lap and do it.” Her teeth flash as she grins up at you. Dimples. Two. She laughs at the dumbfounded look on your face, the sound gritty and soft. “Hey, c’mon, I’m a big girl, I can handle it. Super strong FBI agent, y’know? I won’t let you fall.” She says earnestly.

“Ma’am—”

“Emily.” The man calls out.

Emily blows a raspberry.

“Buzzkill,” she mutters. Her eyes leave you to glare daggers at his back, and that’s when you finally regain your composure. Taking in a quiet, deep breath, you firmly push away the butterflies climbing up your stomach and grab an alcohol pad from your kit, getting to work on her forehead. The latex of your gloves sticks to your sweat-slick palms.

Stay professional, you tell yourself as you inhale quietly, trying to cool the heat in your body. She’s a patient.

Emily’s eyes are once again on your face, turning your skin to fire. “Do you have a boss like that, too? Bit of a hardass?” She lowers her voice theatrically, the whisper of it echoing in the space between your bodies. “We like him, don’t worry, but he can be a bit uptight.”

You don’t answer, biting your tongue because obviously you can’t be trusted to keep it to yourself. Instead you focus on swiping the alcohol pad over her cheek, gently scrubbing until the blood gives way to pale skin. Few freckles peek up at you as you continue moving your way up to the gash. The blood has stopped, but it’s still thick over the wound.

“What’s your name?” She asks softly. There’s a rasp to her voice, threading through her words, and you wonder if you should give her a bottle of water.

This question is harmless, so you answer it. 

“Pretty,” Emily says, her tone wistful. “Everythin’ about you is.”

Your inhale is audible in the minimal space. You avoid Emily’s eyes as you reach for a square of gauze and press it to her forehead; she takes in a quick breath of her own. 

The gauze quickly soaks through, and you replace it with a fresh one.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Her voice is small, thready.

Your heart is in your throat. “No,” you say. Just nervous.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her tone sincere. “I’m not usually like this.”

You gather no one would be themselves after they’d gotten into a car accident, obtained a concussion, and lost a significant amount of their blood volume from a bash to the head. But something tells you this enigma of a woman is different.

“I told you I’m not uncomfortable.” Roundabout way of saying you’re basking in her attention. You clear your throat, “It’s good that you’re talking—helps me know you’re conscious.”

Gently, you swipe her matted bangs to the side and try to get a look at her wound. It’s shallow, but nothing you can treat on your own. As you’re bandaging it, you hear her mutter a curse.

You look down at her, irrational guilt settling in your stomach. “Are you in pain? Do you want some Tylenol?”

Emily blinks dazedly, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She tilts her head, “If I say yes, will you give me your number?”

“Emily.” Her boss sighs.

She grins.

You blush.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi

[ma1dita]

play pretend

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k (holy shit)

summary: (established relationship…at the end of it lol) suggestive in nature but sfw , underage drinking what do you expect from a dionysus!kid, mentions of vomit The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren't exactly together yet. Everyone knows you two are together except the both of you, apparently. It’s hard to not run away from something good. (luke castellan x dionysus!reader)

a/n: happy first i love you to you and luke! yall are together now! crazy! thanks for being patient during my lil vacay :)) its been a little over a month since i started the trouble!verse!! ilysm

(posted 2/23 betad by my one and only @mrsaluado )

—

There’s something you’ve always loved about mornings.

Waking up with the first rays of light peeking through your window, the sun’s arms stretched around your sleepy frame pressing warm, featherlike kisses across the expanse of your back.

It almost feels real. 

Apollo must be feeling generous today, the heat of a warm breath brushing against your neck, and your alarm sounding an awful lot like soft snores. You ought to get up and close the blinds; it’s too damn bright. But your weighted blanket feels immensely heavier this morning as it envelopes your senses—smelling of citrus, musk, and a tangible dream of last night that seems to have stayed in bed with you. As soon as you try to untangle your legs from below the covers, warmth presses you deeper into the mattress with a…familiar sigh.

Your eyes pop open.

Quick and calculated, your eyes survey the surroundings of your room—the mop of licorice tresses nestled against the crook of your neck, both of your clothes scattered on the floor, as well as the alarm clock and a few other things knocked off your nightstand from Luke’s enthusiasm. The quiet of the morning is quickly disrupted when you hear two pairs of little hands pounding on your door, and for a moment you wonder if this is one of those hyper-realistic dreams that you don’t want to wake up from.

“Sissy! You missed breakfast,” Pollux bellows as Castor continues to slap his palms on the wood like a bongo drum.

The sheets start rustling as you squirm out of Luke’s grasp, bumping against the muscular ridges of his torso which brings him back to consciousness.

“Be out in a minute!” you slur against his shoulder, and he opens his eyes blearily at the sight of you sprawled over him to try to reach the alarm clock on the ground. As his eyes focus he can’t help but admire the planes of your body, soft and pretty in the morning light like a painting come to life. Waking up in one’s company has never felt more right, even with the usual chatter of campers wafting through the open window. Here in the swaddle of pink and purple sheets, you two are something singular—not camp counselors with jobs to do, not demigods wanting to achieve glory, just your Angelface and his Trouble. 

It’s intimate, even if it doesn’t have a label, him and you.

His large hand catches you at the plush of your tummy when you almost topple off the bed.

“Shit. Shit! They’re not kidding—Luke, it’s 9:30!”

You fling yourself upwards and off of him, clambering to find clothes from your dresser and tossing him his from the day prior. His belt buckle almost hits him in the eye and he groans, flinching as it smacks him in the cheek.

“Gods, woman. You think camp will crumble because you slept in for once?” 

The glare you throw in his direction is his answer, so Luke slowly tugs his pants on–though he quickly gets distracted by a half-dressed vision of you rummaging around your room.

“Castellan.”

He grins like a little kid in a candy store, and to that, you throw his shoe at him. 

Idiot. 

Too bad you’re in deep shit for sleeping in.

“SISSY!!!” 

“IN A FUCKING MINUTE, THING ONE AND TWO!” 

Screaming at the closed door as you throw some shorts on, you spin around and bump into Luke who’s already got his hands around your waist as his nose nudges the space between your jaw and your neck.

“You were supposed to leave before daybreak,” you sigh, a smile creeping onto your lips, “if you did as you were told, I wouldn’t have slept in.” Fake annoyance leaks through your voice though he knows it not to be true, he wouldn’t be able to latch onto you like this if you were. His nose continues to graze up towards your ear as he presses a kiss behind it—like how you both deal with your feelings and the truth nowadays, a hidden secret kept for both of your eyes only.

“Dunno Trouble…I can get used to waking up next to you,” he mumbles. You can feel the imprint of his smile searing into your skin.

Is this what going into cardiac arrest feels like? Genuine question.

You’ve both been sneaking around for the past few weeks, but neither of you has made anything official. They say it’s easier to fall for a friend rather than a stranger—to know someone so intimately (and now in more ways than one) should make falling the easy part. 

But that’s kind of the problem. 

Luke is your best friend—both knowing how the other feels from a single glance, so pray tell to all the gods on Olympus, why has this boy not asked you out yet? Whether this is all for fun or anything resembling a four-letter word that makes your brain go fuzzy, you think you’d rather swim in the Styx instead of putting yourself at a disadvantage. Love is scary, even if it’s Luke. 

Especially since it’s Luke.

His words make you stop in your tracks and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears, so you’re not dead… But the noise turns out to be one of the twins banging on the door again, and now you look like an asshole for taking too long to respond. Luke’s awkwardly looking at you now, tongue in cheek.

“Last warning,” one of your brothers teasingly croons, before the other continues, “Dad’s almost at the door! Your boyfriend’s gotta go or he’s dead…”

Your eyes widen in fear and Luke loosens his grip on your waist, unsure if you look like you’ve seen a ghost at the thought of him being called your boyfriend or the very real possibility of getting caught by your dad.

What a way to go, you two.

“Get out. You gotta go now, out the window!” 

You start pushing him towards the windowpane, your palms pressing against his marked-up and very bare back. 

Holy shit, he still doesn’t have a shirt and he looks like he got mauled by a hellhound. 

You can practically see the grapevines start to flourish outside your window. 

He’s too close for comfort, way too damn close, you think, but can’t reason if you mean Luke or your dad.

“Seriously?” 

He straddles the open window, and Luke doesn’t know what to feel about you pushing him away—it’s a feeling that’s foreign to him since he’s always by your side. 

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you later angelface,” you mumble, pulling him in for a mind-numbing kiss that almost makes him slip off the rain gutter, and by the time you’ve already closed the window he realizes he’s shirtless in broad daylight, feet hopping off the siding of the cabin.

This couldn’t get any worse (oh but it does in a second), and you’re definitely the asshole this time around.

Your dad barges into your room by the time you throw a shirt on.

“Kid, what the hell? You sick?” 

Mr. D furrows his brows at the sight of you, face flushed as you simper up a lie about your head hurting. It’s weak for an excuse and even if you usually don’t have a tell—he’s the master of this game, so he pretends to not notice you chuck a shirt out the window when you open it to make it less stuffy. 

He raises an eyebrow in disapproval when you both notice your shirt is too big on you.

Oh, he’s onto you, applying heat like a brand to make his only daughter squirm; Mr. D peeks out the window to see a certain Luke Castellan stomping across the path wearing your cropped camp tee—and concludes that if there’s anyone in hot water right now, Luke must be drowning in it.

—

Acting natural is a bit harder for you today, and it feels like a cruel and unusual punishment worth the deepest pit of the Underworld as you scribble words onto a page that won’t even be comprehensible once you read them after this meeting is over. You’ve been catching up on work all day (also known as the impossible task of avoiding Luke) to show your dad you haven’t been slacking off. But a late start meant you fumbled through your day and it was obvious to everyone that you were off your game. Archery ran into javelin throwing, capture the flag teams weren’t ready and had to be made on the spot, there were no new shipments delivered to the camp store, and the infirmary ran out of ambrosia— which were all things that you were expected to coordinate.

Gods, you’re getting too old for this shit.

And if you, the head counselor everyone depends on, is off her game, well—everyone’s on edge. The Stolls even dared to ask you if the world was ending today and you were less than impressed.

Being in love sure feels like it is.

The only thing left to get through is this counselor’s meeting before the party tonight at Fireworks Beach, and you’ll damn yourself to Tartarus if you can’t even get that right. You’re a Dionysus kid, so partying is in your blood. Party planning is your favorite hobby, and to be real, you deserve a drink after today.

Speaking of your father, he’s jabbering on about something you find yourself not particularly interested in, but well…someone’s gotta listen. Charles is dozing off at the table, and Lee jabs him in the side. You see Silena braiding Clarisse’s hair out of the corner of your periphery. And of course, out of all of them, there’s Luke who’s been trying to steal your attention for the past 30 minutes. Black ink smears across the page as you find yourself having every thought that ends supplemented with the memory of how Luke looked at you as he climbed out of your window this morning.

Could he actually want more? 

The all-star camper, Luke Castellan— camp’s best soldier who’s envied by many and admired by all…wants to wake up next to you. You, the camp director’s daughter who keeps everyone in line and is seen more as authority instead of a person with feelings. You’re not always feared, but in a camp for demigod kids who’d rather hone their powers instead of lose special privileges for skipping class, you’re not exactly their favorite either. Once, someone said they’d rather face Mr. D instead of you.

“That doesn’t make sense, we’re supposed to send in the next progress report to Olympus before the last day of the month. That’s Wednesday, D. So it should be by the Sunday before,” you butt in after a statement your dad makes about scheduling. 

All eyes are on you now— it’s the first time you’ve spoken up during tonight’s meeting which was out of character in itself, but your father catches you off guard when the sound of his booming laughter spreads across the room like dynamite tearing through a battlefield.

“Says who? We’ve got enough time,” The god remarks, a strange sheen in his eyes that reflects into yours. He’s on your ass a bit more today, pointing out your flaws from the day and making it his mission to get on your nerves. Few mortals would undermine a god, and though you do it daily to spite him for your existence, your confidence is lower today than it usually is—the reason being a boy with amber eyes boring into your soul from across the table. Everything else pales in comparison now, almost fading into the background, and even here in the hot seat you can’t help but think about if Luke could ever fall for someone like you.

You’re venturing into dangerous territory, you tell yourself, you’ve been hurt before.

It hurts less somehow when you’re cautious. To prepare oneself to be hurt is a defense mechanism ingrained in you—your mom raised you to always be ready for anything. Your self-identity has always been skewed by others’ perceptions. Mirroring the memory of your late mother’s ideals, exemplifying your actions through your immortal father’s personality, you find that fighting your bloodline is one of the most difficult things to come to terms with. A thought passes in your brain that you’ve taken after the worst of them—your mother’s ambition and your father’s unpredictability. 

And who would want to love someone so difficult? 

Tough love is the only way you know how to love. Perhaps someone as good as Luke deserves better than this.

“It’ll be less to worry about that way,” you swallow, and the other counselors sit back in their seats as tension fills the air, signaling another disagreement about to start between your father and you.

“Good thing you don’t have to worry about it since it’s my job, right, kid? Just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today doesn’t mean you can change things to better fit your schedule instead of the rest of ours.”

Mr. D scowls, and then again maybe you’re too much like your father—too brash, too mouthy, and self-serving, and your eyes meet Luke’s again as your mouth pulls into a bitter smile.

“It’s the first and last time it’ll ever happen. Gods know I don’t get sick days around here picking up after you,” you spit out harshly, words coming out like acid.

“Just saying kid. Haven’t seen you this careless in years— Maybe check yourself before telling us what to do, yeah?”

Your father’s words have a double meaning as he stares into your soul, glancing between you and Luke, who is none the wiser, still focused on you. Annabeth is holding his hand under the table as you watch his jaw flex. He can see right through the shoddy performance you put on of having it all together.

Does everyone know? 

Your lips pucker as you roll your neck from locking, and a humorless laugh slips from you. Everyone else’s eyes are on Luke, who looks like he’s about to jump across the table and wring a god’s neck. 

Fuck. 

“Whatever. I’m not doing this today,” you grumble, feeling overwhelmed. The chair screeches against the wood of the floor as you push yourself up, fists stained with ink and clenched in teenage angst as you walk to the door to make a quick escape. 

Your father crosses his arms smugly at the success of getting under your skin, and the last words you hear as you leave are, “You never want to hear the truth, kid. Must you always be so…. you?”

Your steps falter for a moment, feeling heavier knowing he’s right so you let go of the door to let it slam it behind you. There’s a commotion inside after you leave but you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.

It’s time to party and you’re sure as hell getting drunk, high, or both tonight.

—

It takes about two cups of wine for the inebriation to start kicking into Luke’s system. He’d never been much of a drinker, but with the way you’re throwing your head back at Lee’s jokes as he plays the guitar, he thinks he should drink a bit more to forget the fear in your eyes this morning and how Lee keeps touching your waist.

He’s been suspended from counselor duties for the rest of the month for mouthing off at Mr. D in your defense, and even if Annabeth tells him he’s lucky to have not met a worse fate, the way things played out today makes him feel like the most unlucky guy at camp. Fuck the gods, or at least…fuck your dads (that doesn’t sound right, but he’s too busy watching the moonlight glint against your skin that whatever his ex is whispering next to him goes in one ear and out the other). 

“Lukey?” Skye mumbles against his neck, “I miss you…you’re always busy doing who knows what!”

Well… you have a name, Luke thinks, taking a big gulp of whatever’s left in his cup as his eyes follow you across the beach. You’re dancing around the bonfire spinning a tipsy Clarisse who laughs without a care in the world. He thinks you’re the best of your parents—determined to achieve your goals, selfless when it comes to others’ needs, and passionate about what you want. Mr. D will never get to see this side of you—the one you show your friends and this place you all call home. He’ll never be deserving of the work you put into Camp Half-Blood (and to some extent, Luke knows he doesn’t deserve you either).

A dejected sigh brushes warm air against his shoulder.

“You know, Castellan. I wish I met you first,” the blond daughter of Athena slurs with tears forming in her eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“The two of you have always… it’s always been you and her. Even if you both don’t want to admit it. It’s not fair,” she hiccups. Luke pulls the cup out of his ex-lover’s hand and she shakes her head.

“Skye, you’re drunk. I’ll take you back to 6.”

“You really don’t see it do you?” Her hands grapple onto Luke’s shirt like she’s pulling him down and pleading for him to understand.

“That girl is in love with you. The both of you are meant for each other—and you’re both spending too much time trying to fight fate. The rest of us aren’t as lucky, but we sure as hell aren’t stupid.”

There’s a moment of clarity that hits as he looks into Skye’s eyes, and he scratches the back of his neck.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I meant what I said when we broke up a few years ago. You’re both always looking for each other, even if you don’t know it. Just meet in the middle already, for gods’ sake…I’ll be okay,” she sighs, sitting up on the log they were resting on. 

“Your girlfriend is sure as hell to give me a hangover worth her title of being Dionysus’ kid in the morning anyways,” she mutters, kissing Luke on his cheek as a farewell. But out of all of the things to catch your attention that night, Luke’s blush glows in the light of the fire, and he watches you frown and stomp off toward the forest.

For being the son of the god of luck, his dad really won’t give him a break.

It didn’t help that Skye suddenly started projectile vomiting seconds after you left (off of her only cup of wine; wonder how that happened).

—

Luke fights through his growing intoxication on the walk back towards the cabins, but boy are you difficult when you’re angry—you’ve always had a profound effect on his being, even more so with your powers. He makes a wrong turn somewhere through the woods, completely missing the cabins, which he doesn’t realize until he stumbles across the path leading to the Big House. When his eyes focus, he spots Mr. D sipping on a glass as he leans on the railing of the front porch. Be calm and don’t act drunk, Luke tells himself, but all of his concentration goes into not swaying in front of the god of wine that he can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“Good evening, um…sir.”

“Kid, it’s 3 in the morning. What the hell are you doing here? Gods know it’s not my window you’re trying to climb up. You’re a bit of a ways off.”

Now what the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

Luke freezes in his spot (in reality he bumps into the first wooden step and sticks a hand out to steady himself against the railing).

“Are you drunk?”

Mr. D looks at him knowingly like it’s almost funny to him, eyebrows furrowed and head quirked like he can sniff it off of him. He probably can, now that Luke thinks really hard about it.

“I’m not gonna answer that because I think you know the answer already,” the son of Hermes words carefully, but nothing smart can come of this. It’s like playing chess with checkers, and Dionysus of all gods would know—no breathalyzer needed.

There’s a beat of silence, before Mr. D says, “I’m gonna give you another chance to–”

“Yes, I’m drunk, but it’s not Trouble’s fault—it’s mine!” he blabbers, walking closer to your father. 

“She’s mad at me for defending her from you earlier besides the fact I act stupid around her and I only had a few cups, I swear, but she’s…your daughter is…extraordinary.”

“What?”

“Your daughter makes me feel drunk, sir. Even without the wine. I don’t know what to do with myself, just please don’t get mad at her. She has a lot more to lose…” He feels pathetic in all sense of the word, rubbing at his eyes until Mr. D snaps his fingers and the alcohol blanket lifts from his senses. Like a bucket of cold water splashed onto his spine, Luke is suddenly very awake, and all too embarrassed for the waterfall of words he’s told your father.

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know she knew how to do that yet. She’s learning quickly.” Mr. D looks out into the distance, the dim light of the cabins acting like a beacon of light in the middle of the campgrounds.

Luke wrings his hands, picking at his thumbs and he’s sure he’s about to get kicked out of camp for his behavior, much less the fact that he’s been fraternizing with the director’s daughter.

“Sometimes I think she knows too much.” He licks his lips, awkwardly standing next to the god and wondering if the dark liquid in his cup is wine.

“Do you think I don’t know that, Luke? Do you really think I don’t know about the parties? I let her have her fun too you know— I'm the one that keeps Chiron asleep. She doesn’t ask for much. I know I give her a hard time. I’m just….” 

There are a few things about Mr. D’s statement that surprise Luke: the fact that he actually knows his name, how he safeguards his daughter’s interests, and the possibility of a god actually knowing how to be a good parent. 

It still doesn’t take away from the countless times he’s seen you put yourself down because of your father, the inadequacy you feel from the responsibilities you take on, and how you’d do anything for simple applause. Tough love is still love with a heavy hand. And it leaves bruises, whether he meant it or not.

“Is that why you’ve never sent her on an actual quest? We all know picking up the twins doesn’t count in the grand scheme of things.”

“For what? To achieve glory? Recognition? I never understood why we Olympians do that. Send children off to their deaths to deserve a moment of their godrent’s time, or a gift to shut them up. I don’t need her to be a hero, she doesn’t have anything she needs to prove to me. I need her to be my daughter, and preferably alive. That’s enough for me.”

Luke takes a step back in disbelief. There’s something in his being that yearns to be loved like that, without having to prove it or needing to deserve it. It hurts almost, the way he wants to be loved like your family loves you. Your father, an Olympian, standing in front of him telling him that your existence is enough to be worthy of his presence. In the silence that follows, Luke wonders if he’ll ever have that.

“You should tell her that more often, sir.”

“Listen. She’s a good kid, I just give her a hard time because it’s hard to get attached to you mortals. Your lives are so short compared to the infinite timeline I live. I can do everything in my power to try to keep her safe, but I can’t stop her from leaving. So don’t blame me if I act needy if it’ll keep her here for a bit longer. I’ll take all the time I can get.”

“Then how do I tell her I love her with without either of us running away?”

Mr. D laughs loudly now, his wrinkles crinkling as liquid sloshes out of his cup. It turns out to be grape juice you left out for him before the party.

“Mortals always busy themselves with trivial things, like pride and sorrow. Pandora’s box left you humans with nothing but hope. I say you swallow the negative and just say it how it is. You’ll have a lot more time being happier together that way. I already lost my bet against some of the counselors anyway.”

“What bet?”

Your dad swats at Luke like he’s a dog to kick, and tosses his glass over his shoulder where it disappears in the night air.

“Get off my porch Castellan, and just know if you hurt her…” 

“I’d die before that happens, sir.”

“That would hurt her most of all. Think about what that means. For gods’ sake she’s left her light on for you, so go on before I set the harpies on you. And don’t call me sir, it freaks me out. You’re still not special to me.” Mr. D stalks back inside the Big House, and Luke takes that as his cue to leave. The cold night air pushes him back towards the cabins, the light in your window luring him in like a ship lost at sea.

—

“I know you’re still awake, Trouble.”

You hear him move closer to the bed as you keep your eyes shut, evening out your breaths, but you’re never able to hide anything from Luke anymore.

“I thought I closed that window,” you mumble, turning your face more towards your pillow.

“You didn’t.”

Of course, you didn’t. You were hoping he’d chase after you this time around, even if you made him drunk in more ways than one.

“Skye keep you busy?” you say nonchalantly, and you hear Luke laugh as he tugs your duvet off of you.

“Your dad did, actually,” he says grinning, watching your eyes pop open in confusion as you turn and face him, propping yourself up on your knees.

“What the fuck?”

“You could’ve gotten me kicked out y’know? Stumbled onto his porch telling him about how drunk you make me feel even without a drop of alcohol and how I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself when I’m around you.”

“You shouldn’t be so brave to fight gods like that for me. Even if it’s my dad, Castellan,” you whisper, and he kneels next to your bed so he can look at you in the eyes from an equal standpoint. Because that’s what the two of you are— equal, singular, one and the same. And he’s never made you feel less than, even if your brain tries to convince you of it.

“Stop that,” he scoffs, shaking his head as he grabs your hands, “stop calling me my last name like it detaches you from how you feel about me. I want you to stop pretending when it's just you and me,” he pleads, whispering your name so softly that the sound of it brushes against your lips.

There’s something more intimate in the way he looks at you now compared to when you were naked and nestled against him this past morning. The act of knowing that it’s you and him, no matter how hard you try to fight it.

His knuckle brushes against your jaw, pushing your eyes to look back into his, and you can’t deny him any longer.

“Hey. I love you, and I know you feel the same; I'm tired of you acting like you're not and I’m going crazy he—”

His words are halted by your lips surging forward to meet him in the middle. The culmination of years of friendship has brought you to this special moment frozen in time, and sure, demigods die young but this must be what he’ll see in Elysium. If there’s a single memory he can bring with him to his next life, he hopes it’s this one—the taste of you and how it feels to be loved like this, without question or reason. You pull away with a sweet smile and he feels drunk again.

“You’re my best friend, Angelface,” you mumble.

Okay, now that sobered him up faster than it should have.

Luke stiffens, his hands falling to your thighs as he starts to ramble, “If you’re actually friendzoning me right now I might just roll out of your window and feed myself to a harpy.”

The laugh that comes out of you booms across the room as you wrap your arms around him with a radiant smile. You always have so much to say, but right now only three words come to mind. Five vowels, three consonants, and the gravity of it pushes out of your mouth like there’s no better truth to tell.

“I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you even before I liked you and I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it. I’m not used to…”

Luke sighs in relief, as he presses his scarred cheek against your shoulder. 

“You think I’m not scared of us either, Trouble? I worship the ground you walk on, and everyone can see that.”

“Well I’m not a god, Luke,” you say tugging him up by his mop of curls as your legs wrap around him.

“Sometimes when I’m with you, I think you’re the closest thing to it,” he whispers, pulling your chin down for another kiss until you both get your fill. He thinks he can kiss you forever until the end of your short lives, until it’s senseless and maddening, like falling into a drunken stupor. Loving you is an experience he’ll never be able to rid himself of, heart stained with the best of you until both your fingertips are red and raw with the feeling.

You pull him back into your bed as your giggles fill the early morning air. He’s quickly becoming what you love most about waking up in the morning.

—

Chris Rodriguez wakes up to the sound of the morning birds and chattering children in the busy cabin 11. As he rubs at his eyes, ready to take on the day as an interim cabin counselor for the rest of the month because of Luke’s suspension, sunlight falls onto the one empty bunk in the corner of the room (Fact: There is never an empty bed in the Hermes cabin. Also a fact: he and Chiron will be able to cash in against the other counselors as fast as his feet can take him to the Big House).

—

“To love someone is firstly to confess; I’m prepared to be devastated by you.” Billy Ray Belcourt

ask to be added to luke/general taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Mutual masturbation with virgin!Ethan. Maybe reader teaches him how to touch a girl? He’d be so shy and cute and ugh I want him

The face Jack does in the gif represents many situations in this one

Warning: smut, virgin!Ethan, mutual touching, 

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

''It's weird. Do you think it's weird?''

''Should we be doing this? I really don't want to ruin our friendship.''

''Are you sure about this? We don't have to if you don't want—''

''Ethan.'' You felt like screaming. Consent is good, but he really needed to stop asking if it was okay every three seconds. It was starting to get on your nerves. You breathed out your emotions, then curled your lips into a soft smile. ''I would not be here with my pants off if I didn't want to.''

He bit his bottom lip and nodded. ''I'm just...I'm nervous. In case you cannot tell,'' Ethan explained, a light flush coating his cheeks. ''I've never seen a woman naked before — other than in porn. That's not how people look though.'' He drew his eyebrows, getting flashes of the porn he watched last night. Your body looked very different than the woman with the massive fake tits.

''Well, how do I look?'' You did a little twirl, giving him a three-sixty view and Ethan's breathing changed.

''Really nice.,'' he croaked, honest and innocent, feeling his cock stiffen beneath his pants.

That's not how you compliment a person's body, but you let it slide.

''I've also never touched a girl...like that before. Sorry in advance if I suck or can't find the clit,'' he added with deeper flushed cheeks.

Giggles bubbled from your mouth. ''It's okay. Like I said, I'll show you.'' You reached out and pulled him by his belt buckle. ''Now, lose some clothes. I'm starting to feel unfairly exposed being the only one undressed.''

Ethan nodded and quickly pulled his polo off, showing off his surprisingly nicely toned chest, getting it stuck under his chin at the collar in his haste. You wanted to tell him to slow down, but it was amusing to watch. He undid his belt and popped open the buttons on his jeans, then pushed them down his thighs.

''Eh...one other thing. I've never been fully naked in front of someone before. Other than a doctor or my mom during bath-time when I was a kid. I probably shouldn't be talking about my mom right now...''

You stepped over and kissed him softly. ''You talk too much.'' Your hand fell down his bare chest, your fingers brushing over his clothed erection, and he jumped a little. ''Shall we get to business?'' you asked against Ethan's lips.

He let out a sigh at your touch. ''Fuck. I don't think I'm gonna last long. I'm about to fucking burst just from that one touch.''

''Do you?'' Mischief washed over your features as you reached back to your bra clasp. ''And if I do this?'' You pushed the clasp and unhooked it, the straps slowly falling off your shoulders as you let your bra fall.

You saw Ethan's eyes wandering down from your face to your breasts, his breath catching in his throat. He had peeked at your chest before, through tight shirts or on days where you didn't wear a bra, but he had never seen much skin displayed. They were round and perky and tipped with perfectly peaked nipples that Ethan was dying to wrap his mouth around.

''Give me your hand.'' You grabbed Ethan's hand and raised it to your right breast to cup it.

He squeezed the flesh gently, passing his thumb over your nipple to rub it. He swallowed the whine that left his throat, unable to tear his eyes away as you moved his other hand to cup your other breast. ''Jesus Christ.''

You let him have his moment, living his teenage fantasy of touching a woman's breasts, then brought him back to business.

You shimmed your panties off as Ethan did with his boxers, his cheeks turning a deep crimson. Nerdy virgins like Ethan were rumored to have a small shrimp between their legs, but his cock was fairly big — bigger than what you thought it would be.

Feeling observed, Ethan shifted on his feet.

You moved to the bed, sitting facing each other, and Ethan's cock twitched in his lap when he felt your knee brushing against his. Cute.

You spread your legs and Ethan's breath spiraled out of his lungs. ''Fuck, you're so pretty,'' he breathed out, his eyes, blown wide with lust stared shamelessly at your glistening pussy, his mouth almost salivating by how wet you were.

''Eh, thanks. I guess...'' Awkwardness was starting to plant its foot, so you cleared your throat. ''Ready to learn how to touch a woman?''

He nodded, nervous but eager to learn.

''First, you gotta work her up. You can caress or kiss her breasts and thighs, gently run your fingers over her skin until you dive lower.'' You grabbed your own breasts, then slowly slid your hands down to your mound.

Before you, Ethan's cheeks were a lovely shade of red as he took mental notes.

You reached down and spread yourself out with two fingers, showing and teaching Ethan the basics. He had learned the female genitalia system during the anatomy lessons in high school, but he didn't remember anything, too focussed on not getting hard in class.

''O-okay. I think I got it.''

Swallowing thickly, Ethan dipped his fingers between your legs, marveling and almost moaning when a wet substance coated his fingers. He gathered up some of the wetness like you had done and dragged it back up to your clit. ''Is this good?'' he asked, needing reassurance.

You nodded. ''Now go a little higher — you know where the clit is, right?''

He didn't look too confident, but ended up finding it, a soft whine slipping from your lips as he gently and slowly circled your clit.

''That's it, E, you're doing so well. Keep doing that.''

Your encouraging words were a tap on the back for Ethan. They made him feel a little less like the virgin loser he did an hour ago.

You shifted your gaze to Ethan's cock, the tip so red it was practically drooling precum at this point. A hard shudder racked his body as you wrapped your hand around it. ''Big and hard for me. Right, E?''

He whimpered at that, his soft sounds filling the room as he bucked his hips towards you. You slowly — teasingly — moved your hand up and down, making Ethan shut his eyes, his head rolling back. His lips were parted, just slightly, but wide enough that if you pressed your mouth to his, you could slide your tongue between the pouty seam and taste him.

''I'm going to cum way too fast,'' Ethan said as a fact, absentmindedly pausing his movements.

You applied pressure at the tip of his cock to get his attention, eliciting a whimper. ''Keep your hand on me,'' you scolded, feeling him slip away as you were pleasuring him.

''Sorry...''

Snapping back into action, Ethan started rubbing your clit again and pressed harder against the bud but kept his pace, making you whine as an intense shock of pleasure shot through your body. Only your pink vibrator had ever made you feel this good.

You sped up your strokes, swiping your thumb over the head every upstroke to drive Ethan insane. He looked so cute struggling to keep it together and not cum right there.

''Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck,'' he cursed under his breath, rubbed you even faster to busy his mind and concentrate on something else.

Unfortunately, it wasn't very efficient. Each sounds leaving your mouth were making the situation worse.

He needed a distraction.

Ethan looked up through his sweaty fringe, catching sight of your full chest. With a glint in his eyes, his other hand skimmed up your body to cup one firm breast. He toyed with your nipple between his fingers and you bit back a growl. He wanted to suck on that puckered bud more than he wanted his next breath.

''Are you close, E?'' you asked although you already knew the answer.

''Shut up.''

You giggled softly. ''You can put a finger in, you know,'' you said, your voice was honeyed and sweet. ''No. Scratch that. Please put a finger in.''

That one little word almost sent Ethan over the edge.

His hand left your breast and traveled over your belly, down the edge of your hips. Your skin was so soft underneath his fingers. He made eye contact with you, then sank two of them into your pussy, while his other hand continued to tend to your clit.

The fullness of his fingers made you moan, a part of you wishing something other than his fingers was inside you. It would feel so fucking good.

''Fuck, you feel so good,'' you told him, pushing yourself against his fingers every time he withdrew them.

Your eyes had gone hazy with pleasure, and you were rocking restlessly on Ethan's fingers and crying out whenever he would curl them. Before you, Ethan's moans had become more whiny and his cock was so red and leaking more precum than you had ever seen a guy produce.

This wasn't going to last much longer.

Your body was on fire, but you stroked Ethan faster as you cried out, feeling the knot inside your lower stomach snap as you climaxed. A guttural moan echoed in the room and mixed with your cry, pleasure hurtling through Ethan and coating with spurts of white your hand and his stomach.

Several seconds later, your bodies relaxed and a sated sigh rumbled from Ethan's mouth, blowing a few curls of his fringe. Feeling a rush of tiredness, he fell back on his bed, his chest flushed from the heat of your activities. 

It was amusing seeing him like this, limp and spent and still having trouble breathing.

''Fuck, that was hot,'' he asserted, looking at the off-white colored ceiling. 

You chuckled and grabbed some tissues from the box on the nightstand and wiped your hand clean. ''Now you know how to get a girl off.'' 

Ethan hummed, his mouth curling into a beaming grin. He did.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn​ @bt.oliana

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz

[inthe-dark-tonight]

what she wants, anywhere

frankie morales x f!reader

summary: trying to hide the fact that you're horny from frankie while on an international flight leads to unexpectedly joining the mile high club

word count: 4.4k

warnings: E (18+ mdni!!!) dubcon, smut, porn w very little plot, pet names, established relationship, unsafe p in v, airplane sex, slight breeding kink (special just for cami hehe) creampie, reader uses frankie's hand to try and get off, no mention of age gap so read how you’d like :)

notes: this idea has been in my head for a few months but I never really knew how i wanted to write it, then an unreleased harry styles song came on shuffle (complicated freak - iykyk) and that just kinda fed the brainrot even more and…. now here we are. i'm also very aware that this is pretty unrealistic but it's fic so!! also let's pretend that airplane bathrooms aren't super gross i'm sorry. thank you to the loml @javiscigarette for always beta reading and listening to my insane rambling, i don’t know what i would do without you and our single shared braincell ILYSM xo

i also hit a new follower milestone this past week so i just want to say an extra big thank you to everyone that reads, likes, comments, reblogs or follows 🤍 enjoy!! :)

You and Frankie have had this trip planned for almost 6 months now, the two of you needing a vacation from work and day to day life. Now the only thing standing between the two of you and a week long vacation in Italy is an eight and a half hour flight. 

From the second you got to the airport you were on edge, worried about your bags, your tickets, your passports, if you had forgotten anything in your carry on, up until you got to security when you finally calmed down. When you got up to the belt, Frankie grabbed a few plastic bins throwing both of your carry ons into one as you removed your jacket and shoes. As you stuffed everything into your bin, you glanced over at him, watching him intently as he started to take his jacket off. 

You watched the way his biceps flexed as he slipped his jacket off of his broad shoulders and tossed it into the bin. Next he removed his hat, running his calloused fingers through his tousled curls, pushing them back before preparing to remove his belt. At that point you were noticeably gawking at him, watching the way his thick fingers unfastened his belt buckle before rapidly pulling it out the belt loops of his jeans and tossing it into the bin as well.

He looked over at you, giving you a quick once over before asking, “That everything?”

You weren’t able to conjure up any words, just a quick mhm and a nod of your head as you two moved forward. When he stepped into the metal detector, your eyes were glued to him the whole time. As he lifted his hands above his head, his shirt lifted the slightest bit, causing a small sliver of his soft tummy to peek out. A warmth started to build deep in your core from that moment forward. 

Once the two of you were through security, he slipped his belt back on followed by his jacket. You swiped his hat before he could grab it, quickly stuffing it into your carry on. 

He laughed, head tilting to the side as the dimple on his cheek deepened. “C’mon” he shot you a look. “Give it.” He held his large hand out towards you. 

“We’re inside now, don’t need it.” You smiled at him sweetly, a warmth blooming in your chest as his eyes met yours. 

He grunted, grabbing your bags with a small smile still plastered on his face before turning to walk towards your gate. Your eyes are glued to him as you walk, keeping a few steps behind him. 

By the time you finally sit down at your gate, the heat in your lower stomach has grown even more and Frankie is painfully unaware of the way you’re watching him, desire growing each second. The terminal was crowded and there weren’t many seats, so you sat across from him a bit upset at the distance while also enjoying the view of your man.

You sit across from him with a book in your hand, legs crossed as you peeked up over the top of your book every now and then to admire him. He was leaning back in the chair, one arm on the armrest and the other casually resting between his legs, right where you want him most. His legs were spread wide, hair perfectly tousled, one leg bouncing from nerves and brows furrowed as he focused on something on his phone. How could you possibly not stare? 

He caught you once, eyes lingering on him a little too long, causing heat to rise from for chest up to your cheeks. Your eyes roamed up his body, checking him out, before locking with his own as he shifted in his seat. 

Hm? He raised his brows, a smirk growing on his face. 

You quickly shook your head, looking back down at your book as a shy smile formed on your face. 

Boarding the plane went by quickly. You stood close to him as you waited for your group to be called and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. The comforting feeling of his warm body pressed against yours worked you up even more, if that was even possible, and Frankie held your hand the whole time during take off.  

Now you're seated on the plane, his thigh resting against yours, fighting the urge to keep your hands off of him and satisfy the throbbing need in your core. He’s surely noticed the way you’ve been squirming in your seat, crossing and uncrossing your legs a million times and the not so subtle staring. 

You turn on the screen in front of you, switching to the live map and checking the time on the screen. It’s only been 45 minutes, this is going to be impossible. You clear your throat and let out a deep sigh as you look out the window at the dark sky, only a small peek of blue light shining over the horizon now. 

“What’s wrong?” Frankie’s soft voice in your ear startles you slightly as you turn to see him leaning in close to you. “You nervous?” He moves his hand to rest on your thigh. 

You swallow before answering. “No.” You blurt out causing him to raise his brow in curiosity. “I mean, it’s not that.” Your eyes land on his lips after the last word leaves your mouth. 

“Then what is it?” He rubs your thigh lightly and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

He sounds concerned, but there’s no way you’re telling him that you’re horny with 7 hours left of this flight. All you can do is hope that as the time passes  the ache in your core dulls, or better yet goes away. 

“Just-“ you try to think of an excuse on the spot. “Excited actually.” You smile up at him and he returns it, the dimple on his cheek growing. 

“We’ll be there soon baby, the flight will be over before you know it.” He lifts his hand from your thigh and rests it on your cheek, rubbing your soft skin with his thumb before pecking your lips. 

You nod in agreement, closing your eyes as you toss your head back and lean into your seat. If he only knew.

You’ve been looking out the window for who knows how long, the lights in the cabin are low, almost completely off now, and the flight attendants haven’t walked up the aisles in almost half an hour. You look at the time on your phone again, only two hours in, how is that possible? The ache in your core hasn’t subsided.  

You look over at Frankie watching a movie on the screen in front of him, Top Gun, before reaching for your carry-on bag under the seat in front of you. You grab the sweater you stuffed into it and throw it across your lap. 

“Cold?” Frankie’s voice is soft yet gravely as he leans in close to you, whispering for just the two of you to hear. 

You look at him, eyes slightly widening. “Yeah.” You aren’t lying, the cabin is chilly, but that’s only half of the truth. 

His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he takes in your features in the low light. You scoot closer to him, leaning into his side as you get comfortable. Frankie smiles and plants a kiss on your temple before turning his attention back to the screen in front of him. You lay your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his bicep as you watch the movie with him. 

It’s not long before you��re distracted again, letting go of your grip on his arm and laying back in your seat. Your eyes linger on the way his pants hug his thighs. He’s not wearing his jacket anymore, the way he’s sitting with his arms crossed give you a  full view of his strong forearms and biceps.

You’re not sure how much longer you can ignore the heat pooling in your stomach. You decide to test something and reach your right hand over to rub the side of his thigh, resting there for a moment. He doesn’t move, eyes still on the screen, and you take that as a sign to keep going. You slowly inch closer towards where his cock is confined in his pants, resting your hand on the inside of his thigh and keeping it there for a few moments. He doesn’t react, but you hear his breathing picking up. 

As you start to rub small circles on the inside of his thigh and inch ever so slightly closer to where his member is hidden, he grabs your wrist. 

“What are you doing?” He whispers. 

His large hand is still wrapped around your wrist as you lean in, resting your chin on his shoulder as you look up at him. “Nothing.” That’s a lie, and he knows it.

“Querida...” His eyes burn through you as he stares back at you. He knows. 

You clear your throat and tilt your head up to whisper in his ear. “I’ve been worked up since we went through security.”  

“Hm.” He nods his head, the deep vibration causes goosebumps to raise on your skin.

You pull back and he looks into your eyes again. His hand finds yours on your lap, warm as it wraps around yours and squeezes lightly. 

“Once we land and get to the hotel, promise.” He raises his hand to rest on your cheek and plants a feather light kiss on your lips. 

You let out a small sigh as his hand moves from yours to rest on his lap and you turn to look out the window, trying to distract yourself from the pool of heat that burns in the pit of your stomach.

You’re not sure how much time has passed now, when you look over at Frankie his eyes are shut, mouth slightly parted as you admire his features. A small smile forms in your face as your eyes roam over him, landing on his hand still resting on his lap. 

At that exact moment, an idea comes to your mind. Something that could possibly give you a small amount of relief. For now. It’s not your best idea, but it could work. 

You look back up at his face as you reach over to rest your hand over his, he doesn’t open his eyes. You stay still for a moment, making sure you won’t wake him from the movement. When you think the time is right, you lift his hand, quickly resting it on your lap. Your eyes land on where his hand now lays over your sweater on your lap, so close to the dull thrumming at your core. You bite your lip and look back over to be sure he hasn’t woken up, you smile at the way his soft lashes rest on the tops of his cheeks as he rests, a warmth spreading through your chest. 

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly move his hand underneath where your sweater lays to rest on your inner thigh. His warm hand burns straight through the fabric of your pants, causing your skin to heat up from the touch, and your stomach to churn. He still hasn’t opened his eyes, so you take that as a safe sign to keep going, slowly moving his hand up your thigh until it rests over your clothed heat. 

A low whimper escapes your throat and your eyes widen at the realization, looking back over at where Frankie lays with his eyes shut. You watch him take a deep breath, letting out a sigh as he shifts slightly in his seat, head rolling slightly to the side as he stirs. You stay still for a few seconds, making sure he hasn’t woken from your movements. 

You look away from him, back to where his hand is touching you under your sweater, and you begin to press the heel of his hand into your clothed cunt. You let out a long, relieved breath from your nose and your eyes fall shut. The pressure of his large warm hand resting over your sensitive nub is just enough to give you some of the relief you were looking for, but it’s not enough. 

You take a deep breath before grinding yourself against the palm of his hand in a slow rocking motion that causes the seam of your pants to rub over your clit. Trying your best to be quiet, you bite into your cheek as your hips buck forward. A low groan escapes your throat and you let out a shaky breath. 

You're lost in the moment, relishing in the feeling of his large, warm hand resting over your clothed sex as you grind into it. Suddenly you feel him move and your heart leaps into your throat. His arm tenses up, hand grabbing at your clothed cunt as he applies more pressure than before. Your eyes fly open wide and you turn to look into his own. Heavy lidded as a small smirk forms on his face in the dim lighting, he leans in closer to you. 

“Bathroom at the back of the plane. I’ll be there in five.” He says slowly, just above a whisper. 

You blink, mouth agape as his words sink in. “W-what?” You watch the way his chest rapidly rises and falls as you wait for his response. 

“Now.” He presses harder into your clothed core before pulling his hand away.

You let out a gasp, reaching for your seat buckle as fast as you can before standing up. As you squeeze past him and make your way into the aisle, you take a quick glance around to look for the flight attendants. They're nowhere to be found, and as you walk towards the back of the plane you notice that almost everyone on the plane is asleep, has their nose in a book or eyes glued to something on the screen in front of them. You try not to walk too quickly as you make your way towards the back of the plane where the vacancy sign is glowing brightly. 

Your heart is racing and you feel giddy as you approach the door, pulling it open and stepping inside before closing it behind you. As you wait in the small stall for Frankie, you stand there for a moment with your back against the door, eyes falling shut as you take a deep breath in anticipation for what may happen next. Then you hear a light knocking on the door, causing you to flinch as you reach to pull the door open. 

Without giving you a second to think, Frankie pushes the door open causing you to step back, closing the door behind him and locking it before guiding you towards the sink. It's a tight fit with the two of you in there but right now you could care less. He presses close to you, causing your lower back to press into the small plastic sink as his hand flies down to grab you where you're wet and aching for him, the other grabbing your wrist. 

He leans in, nose grazing your cheek before speaking low in your ear. “This what you wanted?” His voice sends a shock straight to your core as he applies more pressure where he's caressing your clothed core, causing a moan to slip from your mouth.

“Frankie,” you say breathlessly. 

“Shhh.” his hand leaves your wrist to lightly cover your mouth. “Gotta be quiet for me baby, don’t want anyone to catch us committing a fucking felony now do we?” A small smirk covers his lips and your chest flutters with excitement at his words.

You look up at him with wide eyes and shake your head, then he removes his hand from your mouth and plants a needy kiss to your lips. Your eyes close and you melt into it, hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue parts your lips to tangle with your own. You press against him, slightly bucking your hips to feel the growing bulge in his pants. He groans before breaking the kiss, pulling away to catch his breath as his eyes roam over you. His large hands grab at your waist as he looks back into your eyes.

“Turn around.” you do as he says, turning your back to him and pressing your hips flush against the tiny sink while your hands grab onto the edge bracing yourself. 

Frankie’s large hands land back on your hips, smoothing over the fabric of your jeans to rest on your ass for a moment, squeezing lightly before moving back to your hips. he presses his hardening cock into your ass and lets out a low grunt as your eyes flutter shut, your head falling forward as you sigh.

His hands leave your hips and you hear the sound of his belt buckle. “Gotta make this quick.”  his voice is low and gruff, you lift your head to look at him through the mirror in front of you.

You watch him as he looks down between the two of you to unbutton his own jeans, stray curls falling onto his forehead. His muscles flex, the fabric of his shirt stretching as he pulls his jeans down just enough for his cock to spring out. His head snaps back up, dark eyes meeting yours in the mirror. His hands snake around to the front of you, reaching for the button on your pants, his thick fingers moving quickly to undo it before pulling at your zipper. 

His eyes never leave yours as he tugs your pants down just enough to expose the soft skin of your ass along with your soaked heat. Your mouth falls open as his hand moves towards your core and you stifle a moan as his fingers start to glide through your slick folds, his other hand resting back on your hip.

“Been thinking about me filling you up this whole time, huh?” You take in a deep breath, pressing your lips together as you try to hold in a moan. “Thinking about me filling you to the fucking brim with my cum?” 

You frantically nod your head, unable to form a single word. Frankie watches you through the mirror as your head falls back onto his shoulder and you press yourself back into him. A small gasp leaves your mouth as you feel his stiff cock press against your bare ass. He starts to rub small, slow circles on your clit and you raise your head to look at him through the mirror again. Your eyes immediately meet with his having never left you, and you watch him as he leans in closer to you.

“Wish there was time for me to taste this perfect pussy.” His nose grazes the side of your cheek, his low voice vibrating through your whole body. 

You bite your lip trying to keep quiet, squeezing your eyes shut as he applies more pressure to your swollen clit. You also wish there was time. He plants a kiss on your neck, scruff slightly scratching you as his warm lips press against your skin. It’s like he read your mind.

“Once we get to the hotel, I promise.” He lightly squeezes your hip, pulling his other hand away from your sensitive nub causing you to hold your breath. “Bend over for me baby.” 

You do as he says, bracing yourself on the sink once again as you slightly lean forward. One of his hands stays on your hip, the other lines his cock up with your soaking wet entrance. Your eyes are still glued to him in the mirror, your beautiful man. He’s focused as you watch him, and when you feel his tip slowly start to press in, you watch the way his face relaxes. You close your eyes, relishing in the feeling of him slowly filling you to the brim.  

“Fuck.” You watch as his head falls back, a blissful look on his face. “Feel so good cariño.” 

He stays still for a moment, taking in the feeling of your wet cunt pulsing around him. You’re not sure how long you’ve been in here, but you know that the two of you should hurry up before someone notices what’s going on. You wiggle your ass back and forth against Frankie to try and get his attention as you bite your bottom lip while looking up at him through the mirror. 

He lifts his head up, dark eyes meeting with yours. A deep almost growl comes from deep in his chest as he pulls out and slams his cock back into you. Your body jolts forward, mouth falling open as you brace yourself for his brutal pace. You’re not sure how long you’ll last, the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you bringing you so close to the release you’ve been waiting for. 

You watch him in the mirror, transfixed on the way his biceps strain the fabric of his shirt as he holds onto your waist for dear life. The feeling of his cock splitting you open so perfect. He leans down and wraps an arm around your torso, pulling you to stand straight up with your back against him as he continues to fuck you at the same brutal pace. 

His hand roams over your body and his eyes follow, finding the hem of your shirt as he slips his large hand beneath it. You press further back into him, a sigh leaving your mouth at the feeling of his warm skin against yours. 

“Francisco…” You murmur. 

His hand continues to travel up your body, leaving goosebumps in its trail up towards your breasts. You suck in a breath as his hand finds the cup of your bra, slipping underneath to caress the soft skin of your breast. He’s still staring at you in the mirror, tracing over your soft skin and curves with his eyes as he moves his hand to lift your shirt up to your chin. 

“So beautiful,” he whispers right beside your ear. “Look at you.” 

You’re just looking at him, the way his large hand is splayed over your chest, the light flush on his cheeks from being cramped in this stuffy bathroom, and the way his hair has fallen over his forehead. The coil in your stomach is ready to snap, any second now as he slows down his thrusts. He can feel it, the way your walls flutter around his thick cock. His hand slides back down your chest, stopping to rest on your stomach as he holds you against him.

“Come for me, come on baby.” His deep voice travels straight through you to your core. 

“Oh my-” Frankie’s hand flys up to cover your mouth before you can finish. 

“Shhh, quiet.” The vibration of his deep voice whispering in your ear sends you over the edge and a white hot feeling spreads through your body, radiating from your core as your orgasm takes over. 

“There you go.” He whispers, nose grazing your cheek as he speaks. 

Your hand reaches behind you to pull at the curls on the nape of his neck and you squeeze around him as your orgasm comes to an end. He lets out a deep moan as he buries his face into your neck, muffling the sound. He thrust one last time, stopping when he bottoms out, hot cum spurting out and filling you up. His shoulders rise and fall as he catches his breath, head still buried in your shoulder and your head lays back on his. Both of his arms are wrapped around your torso and you rest yours over his, squeezing his forearms lightly as he stays there for a moment longer, making sure all of his seed stays put. 

He kisses your neck before lifting his head up and looking between the two of you as he pulls out, pulling your underwear back on quickly to make sure his come stays put. His hands rest on your hips as you fix your shirt. You slide your pants back on and spin around to face him as he buttons his pants, watching the way his fingers move. A smile forms on your face as you watch him, a warmth growing in your chest. 

“Hm?” He looks up at you through his lashes as he fixes his belt.

You shake your head, reaching to rest your hands on his shoulders as you kiss him. He sucks in a deep breath, making a content sound as he kisses you back and wraps his arms tightly around you. When he breaks the kiss, his eyes roam your features before speaking. 

“We should go back.” One of his hands comes up to caress your cheek and he pecks your lips one last time. 

“You go first.” You lean into his touch, squeezing his broad shoulders. 

His thumb rubs your cheek before pulling away and turning to pull the door open. He slips out, quietly closing the door behind him. Once he’s gone you turn towards the mirror to fix yourself up and wash your hands before going back to your seat. You replay what just happened in your mind as you wait a few minutes to leave. 

Once you think it’s safe to leave, you slip back out into the dark cabin. You glance around, still no flight attendants in sight as you make your way back to the aisle where Frankie is sitting and waiting for you. A smirk forms on his face as you squeeze in front of him to take your seat at the window. You get comfortable, resting your head on his shoulder as his hand finds a spot on your lap and you close your eyes. As you start to drift off you feel Frankie shift in his seat. 

“Don’t think I forgot about my promise either.” He whispers for just you to hear. 

Your chest flutters, a quiet laugh leaves your mouth before you drift to sleep. Only 5 more hours, you’re almost sure you can wait this time.

thank you for reading <3 any feedback is appreciated and my asks are open!! xo

tagging a few moots: @ilovepedro @gracieheartsspedro @sapphic-gardn @northernbluess @tieronecrush @joelsversion @pr0ximamidnight @daydreamingmiller @hearteyesforjoel <3

[buckyalpine]

Sleepy Bucky

Overworked and exhausted beefy babie Bucky. He’s borderline acting like a toddler because he’s so tired and doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s beyond just sleepy, nearly delirious from a lack of rest after spending weeks on a mission. He’s all pouty and grumpy on the jet ride over, dragging his duffle back behind him as he trudges through the compound. 

“Hey Buck” You greet him from the couch where you were watching TV, only for him to wordlessly flop forward and face plant himself onto the sofa. “You okay?” 

He lets out a grunt while you pet his hair, coaxing him to at least lie on his back instead of suffocating himself into the couch seat. 

“What’s wrong Bucky” 

“Wan a poptart” 

You were sure you heard incorrectly, there was no way the super solder had requested the very treat he said was nothing but sugar and chemicals (though it didn’t stop him from finishing the whole box the first time he tried them). 

“A poptart?”

“Stwabewy poptart” 

You blink at his slurred words, watching him curiously as he rolls off the couch to slump onto the floor like a starfish, eyes wide open, arms and legs splayed out to the sides.

“Do you still want the poptart?”

“Ya” 

You nod, heading over to the kitchen to toast a poptart for him, occasionally peeking over to see what new pose he’d put himself in. You bring the poptart for him on a small plate along with a glass of milk, placing it on the coffee table where he’s still laying down. He pouts when you don’t put it on the floor within his reach, not bothering to sit up from his chosen position. 

“Feed me” He demands, looking at you with puppy eyes while you giggle, sitting down beside him and bringing the poptart to his mouth so he can take a bite. You’re not a fan of him eating in such a pose but it’s not like your strong enough to move him yourself. 

“Careful, don’t choke” 

“Save me. Give me mouth to mouth” He snickers to himself, while you roll your eyes, letting him take little bites.

“Wan milk” He rolls over onto his front, humming contently when you bring the glass for him to take a sip. You can’t believe you have to deal with this absolute manchild, letting him finish his snack. 

“Why don’t you get some rest” You see his eyes starting to close, but his body still too wired to actually fall asleep. 

“Don’t wanna” he rubs his eyes,  unsure of what he even wants anymore. 

“Alright, how about we just put your things away and change into something more comfy” Your reason with him, relieved when he nods and allows you to help him up, taking him to his room. He tosses his bag aside before starting to take off his gear, grumpily huffing when his zip gets stuck. 

“My zip” He pouts, dropping his arms to his sides, ready to crawl into bed with his tac suit on at this point. You giggle, gently tugging it till it easily slides down, helping him with the rest of the belts and buckles until he’s in just his boxer briefs. 

“How about your joggers and a tshirt?” You were about to go to his closet to grab his clothes but he has no interest in putting clothes back on. 

“No”

“But you’re just in your underwear Buck” You say incredulously while he starts making his way to bed, slipping under the covers. 

“M’not nakey. Just half” He shrugs, giving you grabby hands, hoping you’ll join him. You sigh, joining him under the covers, hoping he’ll go right to sleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

“Wanna sleep” He whines, and you can’t help but laugh because it’s very clear he needs it and no one’s stopping him from going to bed. 

“Go to sleep Bucky” 

“Okayyy” He drawls, shuffling around the sheets, huffing with each position, deeming nothing comfy enough for him to sleep. He reaches over for you, disregarding his pillow and replacing it with you instead. 

“What are you doing Buck” 

“M’a koala” He mumbles, burying his face into your chest and wrapping his arms and legs around you, his body starting to finally relax, all the tension in his muscles dissipating into thin air once hes wrapped around with you. 

“You’re a 6 foot super soldier” You huff, shifting against his wishes, trying to get air back into your lungs while he lets out a disgruntled grunt each time you squirm. “And you’re heavy”

“You movin’ too much” He complains, eyes still squeezed shut, hugging you tighter, starting to fall in and out of sleep at the feeling of your warmth. 

“Cause you’re squishing me bub” You snort, grazing his scalp and softly rubbing his temples while he purrs against you like a needy kitten. In his state of half slumber, he only registers bits and pieces of what you say. 

“M”not squishy” His voice is muffled as he keeps his face pressed into your chest. 

“No, I said you’re squishing me” By now theres no point in trying to tell him what you mean, he’s too sleepy to understand anything. 

“My squishy” He sleepily mumbles, letting out a content sigh when you pull the covers up over both of you. “G’night squishy” 

[gummygowon]

sugar | jeong yunho

word count: 2.7k

genre: smut (minor dni!) just another pwp, cowboy!yunho x waitress!afab reader

warnings: dom!yunho x sub!reader, unprotective sex (booo!), creampie, big dick yunho eheheh, slight humping lol, petnames (sugar, honey, sweetheart, doll)

author's note: don't know why this took light years for me to finish BUT SHE'S DONE!!!! and just in time for the cb >:) i will say though that this was written even before the cb was announced so i will take full credit for cowboy!ateez like i literally manifested that shit with this

in your quiet, little hometown not much went on. even the gossip that got around town was drier than the tumbles of weeds that ran through the streets.

recently, however, they were rumors about some lone cowboy who came in late last night. you were sure that the lone cowboy would wound his way into the saloon at one point of his stay here even if he was just passing by. what man could resist a glass of beer?

and you were right, well, you're pretty sure you're right. in the middle of your shift, some tall man stalked into the bar and quietly sat down in the back of the saloon. his eyes and the top half of his face were covered by the large black cowboy hat that he wore leading everyone curious as to what he looked like.

"do ya think that's him?" you ask your coworker miyeon as the two of you wipe down glasses and cups behind the bar.

"the mysterious cowboy who wandered into town last night?" she asks leading you to nodding, "well, let's look his tall man sitting in the back of a saloon and everyone is looking at him like he has horns growing out of his head so i assume so."

rolling your eyes at miyeon's sassy response, you find yourself taking a peek to look at the new visitor. from where you're standing and with the man's big cowboy hat blocking eighty percent of his face, your curiosity grew to as what he looked like. did he have a scar on his face? a beard? or maybe a mustache?

"if you're gonna keep looking at him, you may as well take his order." miyeon comments on your long gaze on the outsider.

"absolutely not!" you retort back but miyeon is already pushing you out the bar with your tray, "remember to smile! it gets ya more tips!"

you contemplate flipping off your coworker but decide against it and give her a nasty glare as you walked off to the back of the saloon.

as you approach closer to the man, you see him shift in his seat but he doesn't look up at you until you clear your throat.

the man finally looks up at you and you feel your breath gets caught in your throat. the man had no facial hair or any nasty scars on his face. to your surprise, he was well-shaven and his eyes were full of life along with his plump lips that sat prettily on his face.

too entranced by his aura, the man had to tilt his head and raise an eyebrow at you for you to start functioning again. "my apologies sir, "what can i get ya started with?" you ask, trying your best to calm your heart down before the stranger in front of you could hear it beating out of your chest.

he lets out a soft chuckle at your flustered state, "what do you recommend sweetheart?"

your heart stopped for a solid second at the pet name. "well, if you want something a little stronger i recommend our house's whiskey. but if you don't want something as harsh, our draft beer is great too sir."

the smile from his laugh stays on his face, "you can call me yunho, sweetheart. callin' me sir got me sounding old."

your face turned redder than the apple tree behind the saloon. "my apologies, yunho" you say, your eyes glued onto the floor.

another laugh erupts from yunho's mouth as he watches you flush with embarrassment. "what's got you so wound up so tight sugar? relax a bit for me sweetheart, you can do that, can't ya?"

the grip on your serving tray loosens as you let your shoulders drop.

"good girl." the cowboy praises as he leans back his chair, the big buckle on his black belt reflecting as it shines from the candlelight. "now, a glass of whiskey will do just fine for me sugar."

"i'll be right back with that, yunho." you curtsy at him before rushing to the bar.

miyeon!" you whisper-shout at your coworker, who somehow had disappeared behind the counter.

"so what does mister outsider look like?" miyeon asks, popping up from the bar like a jack-in-a-box. "i bet he got a nasty scar on his face!"

"he doesn't have a scar i can tell you that. but that man is fine as hell."

"no shot, he really is?" she asks, attempting to peek over you to get a look at the stranger.

"yes, he is and he keeps calling me sweetheart," you whisper at your coworker.

"he keeps calling you what?!" miyeon shouts into the saloon causing a few eyes to look over at the two of you.

"miyeon!" you whisper-shout once more. "anyways, he wants a glass of whiskey so would you be a dear and get me some."

"i think you should be the one filling up his glass, if he called you sweetheart."

"oh for christ's sake, miyeon. just give me the damn whiskey."

"who spit in your tea this mornin'" miyeon grumbles as she puts the glass down in front of you.

you roll your eyes at her response, before whisking away to the back of the saloon once more.

"where's ya whiskey," you place the glass down on the table before giving him a curtsy.

"thank you sugar."

in the distance, you hear another customer calling you over. reluctantly, you turn your attention towards the voice leaving yunho behind.

"sweetheart," yunho calls out to you, attention fully back on him again. you tilt your head waiting for him to finish his sentence, " you gonna be busy tonight?"

it took everything in you to not give yourself to him right away but godamn it was tempting. "i got some things to do tonight, but come tomorrow. i might not be busy."

you watch as the man slowly nods before downing the rest of his glass. "alright then sugar, i'll see you tomorrow."

yunho doesn't know how long he's been sitting in this damn saloon but he's been there too long and he can't keep slowly sipping this whiskey for another hour.

the cowboy arrived roughly around the same hour as he did last night assuming the flustered waitress he met would have the same hours again but as of right now he was wrong. yunho recognized her coworker and was tempted to ask about your whereabouts but decided against it. he didn't want come off as a creep or desperate.

usually, yunho didn't mess around with any of the girls in the small towns he visited. he was strictly a business-only type of man but something about you was just so enticing. a one-night stand wouldn't hurt right?

"wanna refill on that sir?" a pretty voice asks him luring out of his thoughts.

"i'm alright, i'm just," yunho looks up midsentence to see you standing above him. "waiting on someone..." he trials off, his eyes shamelessly wandering to places they shouldn't.

"really?"

"actually, they're here now." he answers absentmindedly, eyes still drifting towards your chest.

a blush makes its way to your cheeks as you hug the tray closer to your body, "well, let me know what they want, i'll be right back."

yunho only ordered one more glass from you as he waited for you to get off. he had planned to invite you back to his hotel room sometime during your shift but even with the alcohol running through his veins, he couldn't bring himself to talk to you.

once the night had began to wind down and most of the patrons had cleared from the saloon, yunho wandered to the bar to pay for his tab. he watched you gossip with your coworker, your backs to him as words carelessly left your mouth. he didn't know what the topic of the conversation was but yunho did catch some pretty interesting things.

"y'know what they say," your coworker leans into you with a knowing smirk. "save a horse, ride a cowboy!"

"miyeon!" you shout at her, giving her a slap on the shoulder. "we still have customers here!" you look over your shoulder to exaggerate your point only to see the cowboy she was referencing.

"hi sir! what can i help you with?" you ask, elbowing miyeon to get back to work.

a small laugh came up yunho's throat as he walked up closer to the counter with his hands on his belt, "just wanna close up my tab that's all."

"right, we'll get that for you. what'd ya order again?"

"just three glasses of whiskey."

"that'll be one hundred won."

"alrighty then." yunho reaches into his pocket to fish out the money. before placing on them on the table, he leans over the counter beckoning you to come closer which you do, "i can teach ya how to ride a real cowboy."

you froze, thighs rubbing at the suggested thought. "o-okay."

the corner of yunho's lips quip into a cocky smile as he watched you turn red. "i'll wait for ya then sugar. don't keep me waiting too long."

you have never cleaned up and closed so fast in your life. the tables were wiped and the floors were mopped. even miyeon had sped up with her own chores after you agreed to tell her what the mysterious cowboy told you.

before leaving the saloon, you take a moment to fix yourself up in the mirror. once deeming yourself presentable you take a deep breath before walking out.

the crisp, night air embraced you forcing you to wrap your arms around yourself as you look for the tall cowboy. "yunho?"

as on cue, the man emerged from the shadows with a cigarette between his lips. "you finished a lot sooner than i expected."

"there wasn't much to do."

"ahhh," yunho hums as he stomps on the cigarette to put it out, "ready doll?" he sticks out his arm for you to hold.

humming in response, you wrap your arm around his much larger one. the warmth radiating him his body instantly warming you up as you walked in the cold.

yunho made some effort to get to know you to refrain from taking you right now. it was hard to avoid thinking about he was going to fuck you tonight.

when the two of you arrived at yunho's room after passing by the innkeeper who merely raised an eyebrow at you, there was a thick tension in the air as you (im)patiently watched yunho unlock the door.

once unlocked, yunho stepped aside to let you in. the tension grew even thicker when he came inside. it was like a waiting game to see who would make the first move.

with hungry eyes, yunho stalked towards you, his figure looming over you as you eventually backed into the door. "i won't bite, sugar."

as soon as those words left his mouth, you closed the gap between you two attacking his lips mercilessly. yunho fought back with equal fervor, his tongue clashing with yours as he kept a finger under your chin to keep it titled.

pulling back for a breath with your chest heaving, yunho pulled away to your dismay but stayed close enough to whsiper, lead you to the bed inviting you to sit on his lap. eagerly, you throw your legs around him without a thought. your lips return to his in an instant, this time even messier as your teeth clashed with his. yunho pulled you higher up on his lap so that your clothed core came into contact with his raging hard-on. you gasped at the contact, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

yunho pulled away to catch his breath making you whine at the loss of his lips. he immediately shut you up by leaving soft kisses all over your neck and dangerously venturing toward your chest. soft gasps quickly turned to moans once those sweet kisses turned to love bites. one of your hands finds its way to yunho's hair, pulling every time he added another hickey. subconsciously, your hips began to rock against his.

a tut comes out of yunho's mouth as he stops his attacks on your neck, "patience sugar."

a pout forms on your lips as you beg with your eyes for the cowboy to do something about the ache in your lower half. "please,"

"you gotta use your words, doll." yunho teases as he matches your pout.

warmth begins to spread throughout your face, "please, let me ride you."

"there's my good girl," he praises a smile replacing the pout on your face.

his hands went to work at his belt, swiftly removing the chunky leather along with his pants as well while you unzipped your dress and drawls underneath. once you were fully unclothed, you shyly looked at yunho for guidance who was already waiting on the bed, a hand lazily pumping at his cock.

"come 'ere sugar," he motions at you with his free hand.

obediently, you climbed onto the bed, both legs swinging over each side as your hands shyly press against his lower stomach. yunho watches you intently as you glide your slick cunt over his aching cock before finally sinking down on him. once you've fully taken him in, your big doe eyes look down at yunho for help.

"you can move sweeheart." he encourages you. god you were going to be the death of him. how could such a pretty thing like you be so clueless? it made yunho want to ruin you more.

you nodded your head as the pain in your lower half turned into sweet pleasure. giving an experimental roll of your hips, you watch as yunho's bites down on his lip harder and mumbles a quiet "fuck".

"just like that sugar," yunho praises, his hands snaking around your waist to help him ground himself.

with yunho's praise, you fell into a steady rhythm of rocking your hips back and worth. whimpers left your mouth as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to tighten.

yunho could feel your pussy clench around his dick as you neared your high. he was close well but he needed more to be able to come. the cowboy was patient enough to let you figure out a rhythm but now he needed to cum. the hands on your waist still you for a moment as he guides your hips in a up and down motion. this new pace had you seeing stars as the repeated motion of yunho's big dick breached your walls every second.

"fuck yunho," you moan, "feels so good."

yunho smirks at your fucked out state, "does it baby?"

you hum in response, not even being able to form a single word. god, he was fucking you so good.

the cowboy started to bounce you harder on his dick as he bucked his own hips to meet yours. your moans spurred him on as he chased his high. lord, you were addicting. he could listen to your pretty sounds all day long.

"yunho, i'm-fuck, so cclose!" you whimper out with your eyes shut.

"wait for me sugar," yunho grunts slamming his hips even harder as his hands gripped your waist so tightly that there was sure to be a mark tommorow.

a whimper leaves your lips, warning yunho that you may not be able to hold off your orgasm. "you can be a good girl, can't you?" he groans in between thrusts.

"yes-fuck," you cry out, nails scratching at his toned chest.

"i'm close sugar, aalmost," yunho groans, his fingers pressing even harder onto your hips as he continued to slam his hips into yours.

"fuck!" you groan as you feel the knot in your stomach unravel as yunho finishes. his hips stutters as he empties his load into your cunt.

yunho watches as the cums leaks out from you and onto his lower stomach and he couldn't help but buck his hips one more time. a whine leaves your lips as your pussy aches from the overstimulation. "sorry sugar, you're just too tempting."

you collapse onto yunho's chest, arms tired from holding yourself up for so long. his body felt warm as yunho's arms wrap around you, encasing him in his embrace.

"good job sugar," yunho praises once more, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. "i think ya just need one more lesson from me doll. what'd ya think?"

[gogogodzilla]

Um I was wondering if you could write smut about connor and about if he can vibrate if yk what i mean cause i feel like im not the only person that thinks that androids can vibrate. please and thank you

Tease || Connor (RK800)

Summary: Connor can't wait until you get home.

Note Pt. 2: This is a spiritual epilogue of my completed Connor fanfic, Criminal Analysis!

Warnings: smut (obviously lol), afab reader, oral (reader receiving), fingering (connor has vibrating fingers), semi-public sex

{Masterlist}

You knew what you were doing— you were wearing those pants Connor liked. Really liked. 

Of course, you had another reason to be wearing them other than riling him up. You knew that you’d be called into court eventually, that’s part of being a forensic psychologist, after all. 

It all started that morning. You got to sleep in a little due to court and you relished the few extra moments of unconsciousness. 

However, those moments lost their sweetness when you felt the cold, empty space beside you in bed. You blindly swatted the other side of the bed, hoping that if you reached just a little bit further you’d find your lover. He’d bring your groggy form into his embrace, and lull you back into a dreamless sleep. 

Your grasps came up empty and you rolled onto your back with a huff. The bedroom door opened with a click, and soft footsteps echoed throughout the room. You peeked open an eye and struggled to fight the grin that appeared at the sight of your love.

Connor’s hair was neat as always, but he had exchanged his Cyberlife jacket with a normal suit jacket. It was a refreshing change. 

Connor neared your side of the bed, and your grin grew. He bent down and pressed a soft, slow kiss to your temple and ran his fingers through your hair, smoothing out some of the tangles.  

He slowly peppered kisses down your face, moving from your forehead, down to the space between your eyebrows, to the tip of your nose, and, finally, your lips.

You didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, the ache for him already growing. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged him towards you. 

Connor knew better than to fall into your trap, especially when he was running late. He placed a hand beside your head to stop himself from coming any closer. That didn’t stop you from trying, though.

“I have to go,” he whispered as he gently pulled away. 

You sighed dreamily as you sat up, “You should’ve woken me up sooner.” 

“If we started,” Connor purred as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “we wouldn’t be able to stop.” 

You hummed in response as you slowly trailed your fingers up his thigh. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, but you just grinned. 

You settled for resting your hands on his belt buckle, “You can afford to be a few minutes late.” 

Your argument was flawed, you knew that. Connor would rather cut off his own foot than be late. But, you also knew that you could be very persuasive. 

Connor pried your hand from his belt buckle and gave you a placating smile, “I’ll be home as soon as I can.” 

You let out a huff as you threw yourself back on the bed with a groan. You’re lucky you didn’t crack your head on the headboard, but you didn’t really care at the moment. 

Connor bent over and gave you a final kiss, whispering an ‘I love you’ against your lips. It was almost like you were Snow White, and he was your prince charming. Although, the only thing he’d awoken was a deep need throbbing between your legs. And then he was out the door. 

You set your plan into motion almost immediately. You felt a bit giddy at the thought of Connor getting all hot and bothered just by the sight of you. Especially, if he wouldn’t get to touch you until later that night. 

Your heart raced as you pushed open the glass door to the precinct. Your shoes clicked across the tile floor as you made your way through the turnstile and to your desk. 

You ignored Connor’s eyes searing a hole in your back as you bent down slightly and slowly put the files you came for in your bag. 

A low whistle sounded behind you, “Damn, sweetheart, what’re you all dressed up for?” Gavin called as he made his way to his desk, steaming mug clutched in his hand. 

You rolled your eyes and fought off a grin. Gavin’s shameless flirting was playing right into your plan. 

“If you must know,” you straightened and placed your hands on your hips, “some of us actually have to do our jobs.”

Gavin sat down and leaned back in his chair, “Very funny.” 

You went back to your task, pretending to look in one of the drawers for something, making sure to give Connor a very good view. 

“I think your plastic boy toy is malfunctioning,” Gavin snickered, and you stopped your fake search and looked up at Gavin. “He just practically ran to the bathroom.” 

“I’ll go check on him,” you muttered as you closed the drawer to your desk. 

Gavin put his feet up on his desk and sent you one of his blinks that’s meant to be a wink, “Yeah, you go ahead and check on him.”

You flushed as you turned away, your hurried steps echoing as you made your way to the bathroom. Gavin wasn’t stupid. Hell, you’d done the same thing when he’d pissed you off when you were dating. 

Old habits died hard.

The door to the men’s bathroom silently shut behind you, and luckily only one stall was occupied. You locked the bathroom door with a click and sauntered over to the stall which contained the object of your desires. Well, more like the person of your desires.

“Connor,” you called out as you came to a stop in front of the stall door. A slight grin graced your features as you waited for him to answer. 

The door opened in a flash, and you were pulled inside. Quicker than you could process, Connor had you pressed up against the door and had both of your hands caged in his and held above your head. 

“You just couldn’t wait,” Connor taunted as he tilted his head to the side, letting his breath fan across your cheek. He slid his knee between your legs, allowing himself to get even closer. 

You raised your head to look at him. “I dunno, seems like you’re the one who couldn’t wait.” He let out a sigh as he released your hands and raked them down your body. You had to be quick, Connor knew that. Although, that didn’t stop him from teasing you. 

He gripped your thighs as he looked down at you and pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips. It was mostly tongue, but you were quick to wrap your arms around him and pull him impossibly closer to you. 

Connor made quick work of undoing the buttons on your dress shirt as he pressed open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat and gripped your hips tightly. He was searching for that spot that made you make those noises he liked. You ground your core against his thigh, attempting to get some sort of relief.

Once he successfully got your shirt all the way unbuttoned, he was quick to attack the newly exposed skin, licking and sucking to his heart’s desire. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged at the pieces at the nape of his neck eliciting a groan from him. 

Connor gripped your waist as he moved his sloppy kisses down your abdomen and slowly got to his knees. You gazed down at him through your heavy lids. He moved to unbutton your pants, eager to finally touch you. His movements were practiced and precise as he pulled your pants down to your ankles. He let out a shaky breath when he realized you weren’t wearing any underwear. 

You’d almost forgotten about that part of your plan.

He slotted himself neatly between your legs. He always fit so well there. 

“So needy for me,” he breathed against your core as he caressed your inner thighs. You clenched them together but his grip held you in place. He pressed a kiss on the inside of your knee before slowly moving upward, avoiding where you needed him most.��

You let out a groan, and Connor looked up at you. 

“Use your words, Doctor,” he gently reminded before latching his lips onto your core. Your breath is promptly knocked out of you, and any retort you had died in your throat. 

His grip tightened on your thighs as he desperately pulled you closer to him. His tongue expertly circled your clit as he found a rhythm that had your eyes rolling back. You gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, eliciting a moan that sent heavenly vibrations up your body. 

You groaned at the sight of him— your slick had begun to coat his face and he showed no sign of slowing. 

Connor slowly and sinfully pressed one finger inside you, which was quickly joined by another. You thrusted your hips forward, desperate to have even more of him. He pumped his fingers achingly slow, but a stream of vibrations caused you to jolt. 

That was new.

A sly grin had curved into Connor’s face and he looked up at you, taking in the confusion mixed with arousal that graced your features. He pulled away from you for a moment, “I was saving that for later.” 

“Fuck, Connor,” you whimpered. 

“Be quiet,” Connor grunted into your core as he jutted his fingers deeper into you. You pressed a hand over your mouth to silence the breathy moans that were escaping you. 

You trusted yourself for only a moment to whimper out, “Need you.” 

Connor was more than happy to oblige you as he rose to his feet and pushed his fingers past your lips, making you taste yourself. You busied yourself with undoing his belt buckle, fingers clumsy as you revealed what you ached for. 

Connor let out a shaky breath as you stroked him, and he met your strokes halfway. He gripped your thighs and in one swift motion lifted you up. He was practically bending you in half, but you didn’t mind. 

He angled his cock up to your entrance, and agonizingly, slowly pushed inside you. The way he stretched you was delicious, and you let out a high-pitched mewl at the feeling. 

He covered your mouth with one of his hands as he rutted inside of you and bottomed out. After a few moments, you started moving your hips, begging him to move. Mercifully, he obliged you and snapped his hips against yours. You let out a breathy moan against his hand, and he pressed sloppy kisses against your neck. 

“You’re perfect,” he slurred into your shoulder, “couldn’t wait until tonight to have you.” He moved his hand from your mouth to resting on your neck, and he looked you in the eyes as he pounded into you. Connor brought his hand down to where you were joined and the vibrations continued once again. 

You grip onto his bicep, that familiar coil beginning to tighten, and you panted heavily. “I’m close,” you whined.

“Come for me.” 

He didn’t have to ask twice. You groaned and you felt your eyes roll back as you reached your high. You came hard as you involuntarily pushed your hips into Connor’s. 

He came with your name gracing his lips along with a few other words. You attempted to catch your breath as Connor stilled within you. 

“You’re going to be late,” he said matter-of-factly as he pressed a kiss to your temple. You huffed out a laugh, and Connor gently set you back down. You grabbed onto his shoulders while you waited for your legs to stop feeling like jelly. 

Connor helped clean you up and make you look presentable. His hands were a lot steadier than yours at the moment. 

You pressed a kiss to his cheek and grinned, “I should tease you more often."