#it's like whenever something good happens shit has to ruin it

[starkeysprincess]

Duuuude ugh I thought about what it would look like with stepbro!rafe making you cum for the first time cause you told him you’d feel funny sometimes so you’d try to get off but then it felt like you had to pee and you’d stop and the innocence he’d get off on…

-like I can see him at the start of your fucked stepsibling relationship him just liking to grope and fondle you and then one day when he’s stressed he just needs something to smack and rough up so he calls for you “you gonna let me play with my favorite little ass?”

-once he has you over his lap spanking and gripping you while he watches TV, you’re getting wet and tell him you feel funny and never really felt what happened after cause you were scared and so he points out his bulge under your lower tummy “you did that sweet baby. get that empty head working and see if you can figure out what you need” and before you know it he’s helping you grind on his lap, talking you through it, praising and degrading you until you finally feel your first orgasm. “You wanna feel that again, you come to me, I’ll take care of you, princess, but head upstairs, now I gotta show you how to take care of me for being such a good big brother”

warnings: stepcest, spanking, dry humping, reader is 18+

he practically uses your ass like a stress ball, whether squeezing and kneading the fatty flesh or giving it a harsh smack whenever you’re nearby; he just can’t help himself, especially when he was under immense stress. "rafey?" your voice called out, entering his bedroom when you heard him call your name. his hand encircled your wrist, pulling you further into his room, and locked the door.

"what's wrong?" you frowned, noticing the distressed look on his face. "nothing your pretty little head needs to worry about, alright? i'm just stressed, s'all," your stepbrother murmured.

"is there anything i could do to help?"

rafe didn't have to think twice at your question, "mhm, i have a whole lot of stress to relieve. you gonna let me play with my favorite little ass?". his fingers play with the ends of your hair, sensing your hesitation, “c’mon, princess. you wouldn’t want your stepbrother to be stressed, would you?” he faux pouted. you shook your head, "no, i wanna help you if i can.".

"yeah? you're such a good girl. always wanting to make me feel better, huh?" he licked his lips, sitting on the edge of his bed before pulling you to lay across his lap. his hand ran up the back of your thigh to the hem of your oversized shirt, pushing it till it bunched around your waist, revealing your perfectly plump ass.

“missed this sweet little ass,” he groaned, kneading the soft flesh. a small yelp slips from your lips when his large palm harshly lands on your ass, making your body jolt forward.

you could feel the band of his ring leaving an impression on your sensitive skin with each delivered smack. your skin felt hot, the stinging sensation slowly fading into pleasure as he alternated between slapping and massaging your red, swollen ass. you squirm in his lap, your panties soaked and sticking to your cunt. “what’s got you squirming, hm?” rafe teased, his hands gripping your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to see a wet patch seeping through the thin material.

“oh, you like this, huh? i could tell by how much of a mess you’re making, ruining these pretty little pink panties,” he chuckled. “rafe…” you whine, your cunt pulsing with need. he bucks his hip, his bulge pressing against your lower tummy, “feel that? s’all cause of you sweet girl. need you to get that pretty little head working and see if you can tell me what you need.”

“i-i don’t know,” you stammered, “you don’t know? you and i both know that’s a load of shit,” rafe tsks.

"guess i have to show you what you need then, huh?" he chuckles, pulling you up till you're straddling his lap. his hands find your hips, holding them steady as he guides you to rut against his lap. he grins to himself, licking his lips when he hears your breath hitch in your throat as his bulge grinds against your clothed cunt, "feels good, yeah?".

you nod weakly, burying your face into his shoulder, encouraging rafe to push and pull your hips back and forth. you press your face further into his shoulder, muffling the small moans that slip from your lips, "that's it, keep making those sounds. let me hear how good it feels," rafe cooed. his palms slide to your ass, squeezing the flesh hard enough to leave bruises, his own hips bucking to meet each roll of your hips.

a sharp gasp erupts from your throat when your clit bumps where the tip of his cock rests, making your body squirm, and your hips start to roll against his. "there you go, just like that...show me how much of a desperate little slut you are," rafe groans, grinding himself harder against you, matching your rhythm.

"please..." you whine, trying to halt your movements as you feel an unfamiliar tightening in your lower belly. "shh, just let it happen, sweet girl. s'okay, i got you," rafe reassures, his grip on your hips tightening.

rafe buries his face into the side of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, “c’mon, baby. cum f’me, want you to show me how much you need me.”. you cry out against his shoulder, your cunt clenches around nothing as your orgasm washes over you.

your body slumps forward into his chest, your breath tickling his neck as you pant for air. rafe's thumbs rubbed soothing circles onto your hips, “good girl, you did so good.".

"hey, look at me," he rasps, his hand intertwining in your hair, pulling your head back to make you look at him. "if you ever wanna feel that again, you come to me, understand? i'll take care of you, okay?" he brushed your hair out of your face.

"okay," you whisper, nodding in response. "good...now i gotta show you how to take care of me for being such a good big brother. can you do that for me?" .

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

TF141 reactions to "want me to paint your nails?"

PRICE has never been asked that question before

knee-jerk reaction is no. because he is a man.

but he knows better than that, too; it's just an assumption he was raised with and he's lived too long and seen too much to care about other people's judgement.

he leans over and watches you paint yours. seems harmless enough.

he allows you to paint one (1) pinky nail.

you do as neat a job as you can. very deliberate strokes. sliding one of your unpainted nails around the edge of his cuticle to catch a smudge.

you say "there you go :)"

he nods, seems pretty unaffected by the whole thing. just indulging you, it's a good captain thing to do. fun is allowed sometimes as a little treat.

if you catch him looking down at that one painted pinky nail in thought, in meetings, running his thumb over it in thought, no you didn't.

GHOST balks. acts like that's a stupid question. this is a lie.

even if you shrug and say okay, your loss, he feels kinda tingly about it in the stomach for a minute.

but if you were to just... maybe reach over and pull his hand in anyway, he wouldn't stop you.

he just lets you paint his nails. all of them. just sits there like it's not happening.

activates the monkey grooming part of his brain. not only are you doing a nice thing for him for no reason, you're touching him.

like, you're holding his hand almost. that shit is intimate.

his touch-starved ass starts having pavlovian reactions to the smell of nail polish after that.

GAZ says yeah. asks you to show him.

you lean in and show him the hand you're working on.

when you pull his hand over to do his, he pulls an uno reverse. flips your hand over in his.

plucks the nail polish brush out of your hand and starts painting the thumbnail of your non-dominant hand.

he's just doing it as an excuse to have your hand in his. he does not deny it when you point this out. no, he's not letting go.

his grip is secure. you protest and he counters by asking you how long it takes to dry. how many layers. if this is your favorite color. how to clean up that dot he just made on your fingertip.

he is so coolheaded about it that he flusters you the more you try to argue. you eventually have to just shut up and let him work. and answer his questions.

he is smirking.

after that, he makes a point to grab your hand whenever you're not wearing gloves and check your nails. if they're chipped, he quips it's time for him to fill you in.

SOAP says sure >:)

do not trust him. this is a mistake.

the minute you scoot over to pick his hand up, he yanks you over and wrestles you to the floor.

pot of nail polish? spilled. your freshly painted nails? ruined. done for.

you should've known. like this is seriously your fault. you know him.

he gets your nail polish on his fingers by accident. then happily smudges it wherever he can reach. 

he loves wrestling :) and playing too rough on purpose

eventually he will apologize for ruining your manicure.

helps you repaint them. you're awed when he does a better job than you could.

he has steady hands. part of his demo skillset. and he likes sketching, so

you don't have to clean up any of the nails he paints.

he even uses your detail brush to draw a little something on your accent nail to remind you of him. you think it's just something to make up for his bullshit, but now whenever he sees it (and that thumbprint of nail polish he left on the back of your shoulder and didn't tell you) he feels like he signed you <3

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[bandgie]

More Please | Armageddon Event

Request: Greed | Christopher Bahng-Chan by anon song!

warnings: MDNI18+, fem!reader, exhibitionism!, pussy play, fingering, oral mentions (f!), sex flashbacks, double date w/ Changlix, piv mentions

notes! this song better be released because wtf? he can't drop that and dip

When his hand rests on your knee, you don’t overthink it. Chan is a physical lover in every sense. He needs you next to him. Close to him. He just has to know that you’re here, real, and safe.

But when his fingers trail to your lower thigh, you raise an eyebrow.

A silent question since you two are on a double date. Changbin and Felix love telling the story of how they met. Well, Felix does. Changbin only blushes and says ‘it didn’t happen like that’ more times than once. Perhaps Chan is invested in this new version of the story because he doesn’t seem to notice how you glance at him.

Whatever, you’re thinking too much. Chan got more than enough loving before you two left for dinner. The dress, your boyfriend claims, is all to blame. The way it accentuates your hips and makes the top of your breasts pop is sublime.

Sure, it’s cute. A simple floral gown that Chan tied and untied more times than you can count while getting ready. You had to cover the fresh bruises on your neck with so much concealer you think Felix can figure out why that specific spot is so yellow.

But it doesn't matter too much. You don’t regret being a few minutes late in the slightest. Chan is hardly the type for a quickie, so sex with him is always intense. It was only half an hour ago that the hair he styled for tonight was messy from your pulling. The shade of your lipstick was smeared on your face and his own. You doubt there was enough time to clean the pecks you left on his thighs.

And when he was between your legs, you were sure the dress he claimed was so pretty would get ruined. But Chan still insisted on keeping it on, opting to eat your cunt from under the material.

I’ll be careful.

You look down at your thighs upon the memory. You could see it now if you tried, the bobbing of his head making the fabric bounce. Something was alluring about seeing him, but not quite. The fact that you could hear and feel his mouth sucking only heightened the pleasure. You didn’t know what he was going to do next and you were more than eager to find out.

“Ya! Yongbok, you’re embarrassing me!” Changbin’s voice booms in the restaurant. His volume is something you four have grown accustomed to, but with your imagination running wild, you couldn’t help but jump.

Felix smiles, all teeth and pride. “That’s what I love about you though! It’s okay that you’re allergic to wood.”

You smile with them, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Not when all you think about is how Chan’s fingers are creeping between your legs and making your thighs tense.

And this time when you do look at him, he looks back. “You okay?” His eyes have a certain gleam in them. “You look like you’re thinking about something.”

That little shit. He is doing this on purpose.

“Nothing.” You can play his little game. “Nothing at all.”

His smirk tells you that he catches on. “Hm. I just couldn’t help but notice that you looked…deep in thought.”

Chan squeezes your thigh. Not hard in the slightest, but possessively. The same way he grips your legs when they’re over his shoulders. When he has to find leverage being on top, fingers digging into the underside of your thighs to keep you still and him upright.

“Ooo, I thought so too.” Felix's wide eyes blink innocently. “I thought you were being quiet. What’s on your mind, babe? Is Channie-hyung bothering you?”

Babe. Chan called you babe not too long ago.

His mouth was latched onto your pussy so good the slick started to run down his chin. He was eating like a starved man, greedy for more and more until you were shaking and oozing cum. Chan swallowed everything you gave him, gulping and licking his lips whenever he pulled away to catch his breath. You can still picture the messy curls from under your dress and how his eyes peeked over the material almost in a frenzy.

Fuck, babe, you taste so good.

Clearing your throat is the only way to make the memories fizzle into nothing but the arousal in your stomach. “When isn’t he bothering me? I don’t know how I’ve managed to put up with him for so long.”

Changbin laughs. Both at your words and Chan’s blushing face. Felix only agrees, stating how bothersome your lover used to be back in pre-debut days. 

“Ah, but you like it when I’m annoying, don’t you, baby?” Chan’s ears twinge with red, but his fluster doesn’t stop his fingers from prying your legs and finally finding the space he’s been aiming for. “You like it enough to stay with me, hm?”

His touches are soft on your cunt. The tips of his fingers brushing against your clit so sweetly it almost feels like a massage.

The buzz in your pussy spreads throughout your body. It’s warm and comforting, and all you can reply is, “Whatever.”

The conversation stirs to Changbin talking about a track he’s making; asking his hyung for advice on mixing and sampling. Chan answers as though he’s not playing with your folds through your underwear.

It was easy enough to listen in the beginning. All you had to do was nod and hum in agreement, but when Chan’s fingers prodded your clit and your clit only, you jolted.

No one seemed to notice. Felix was too entranced in his boyfriend to see how your jaw had slacked open and your eyes nearly crossed from Chan’s fingers.

And when he slid down, he could feel how wet you were getting through your panties. Chan could only imagine how swollen your cunt is from his lips, fingers, and cock. Neither of you thought there’d be enough juice left to get horny, but the slick on his fingers and your underwear shows how possible that is.

The pads of Chan’s fingers rub slow circles on your entrance. It leaves his digits warm and a little wet, and he uses that to trail back up to play with the peak of your clit. If you focus hard enough, you could make out the soft sounds of squishing and slicking from your pussy.

It’s barely audible, but Changbin’s booming voice easily overshadows it. 

Breathe. You have to remind yourself to breathe. Your moans force themselves into quiet puffs of air. Maybe to the couple across, it just looks like you’re catching your breath from eating, but everything feels so obvious. From the licking of your lips to the slight movement in Chan’s shoulder, you think Felix and Changbin have to know what’s happening under the table.

Then your boyfriend adjusts in his seat. You envision his fingers slipping away for a moment, but the exact opposite happens. Chan uses the movement to his advantage, making the slide into your underwear unbelievably smooth.

And gosh, his fingers are even warmer like this. You thought they’d be cold from the air, but being attached to your cunt even with the panties in the way kept them hot. The ridges of his knuckles glide perfectly over your clit and you can’t help the way your hips buck.

“Fuck! I-sorry.” They’re looking at you. Their eyes feel heavy - watchful. You look to Chan for help, but he only has a clueless look in his eyes that makes you want to strangle him. “I thought I felt something crawl on my leg.”

Changbin pales. “Don’t say that! Are you serious?”

You shake your head. “It was just my-” Chan slips a finger in, deep, thick, and welcomed. You suck in a sharp breath. “My imagination. Sorry.”

“Here. I’ll check.” Chan lifts the tablecloth. You have to pinch your lips together from gasping, pretending that Chan’s finger isn’t digging into your cunt for a waiter who decides to check in on your four to see.

He hums, fully acting as if he’s thoroughly searching.

Then a second finger finds its way inside. He even goes as far as to lean down, pretending to look under the table when you feel a string of warm saliva hit your cunt.

Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

And his fingers are doing the same. They barely thrust to not make it obvious, but it so is. How can he possibly be hungry for more when he was just-

“Nope. I don’t see anything.” Chan’s face is red. You know his friends will write it off from being upside down, but you know the blood rushing to his face is the same reason his cock is straining uncomfortably in his jeans.

“I think my jagiya is getting tired. Should we go home soon?”

It doesn’t matter how good his fingers hit your sensitive spot. How the hard part of his palm rubs just perfectly on your clit. You won’t ever give him the satisfaction.“I don’t know. I think I’m feeling wide awake.”

The smile on his face says it all. You’re definitely getting it rough tonight.

Again.

“Yeah. You know what? I do need to finish that stupid album.” Changbin groans in annoyance. “I really wanted to have seconds too.”

Felix giggles at his lover - praising him for eating so well when you’re the one that’s stuffed to the brim. Chan nods, “Yeah, that sounds good. Plus, I think we have dessert at the house, right baby? You want a little more?”

Little shit. He hardly uses his flirty voice, but it makes you clench around him anyway.

You suppose you’ll let him indulge in you a bit longer. “Please.”

[syrupfog]

Luffy grew up with two brothers who, at first, hated him and kicked the shit out of him. Then, eventually, loved him and who expressed that love through kicking the shit out of him. 

Luffy's grown up with a low level of violence as love his whole life. 

His crew is the same, from very early on. Nami will beat on anyone (or at least any of the boys), and Zoro's been known to land a punch to the back of his head at every dumb remark he makes. 

And Sanji... his kicks are INTENSE. 

Luffy's lucky he's made of rubber.

and he laughs it all off-- because it's FUNNY. He knows his crew loves him, they're his CREW. He knows his brothers loved him, they're his BROTHERS. Luffy has always known violence as a form of love, although notably he rarely reflects that methodology onto others.

When Luffy meets Law the first time, Law watches as Luffy punches a Celestial Dragon in the face. That violence is, obviously, NOT a form of love. 

When Luffy meets Law the second time, it's when Law is saving his life, doing impossible levels of knitting him back together.

Luffy doesn't remember a lot of that bit, or the bit right after, on Amazon Lily, when the grief is at its strongest. 

But then, two years later, he sees Law again on Punk Hazard, and they form an alliance, and Luffy declares that Law is a good guy. 

No one else agrees.

But when has Luffy ever cared about other peoples' opinions? Now certainly isn't the time to start. Law gave all those pirates new legs. He saved Luffy. He's good. 

and then Law is travelling with them, aboard the Sunny. 

And he's mean and grouchy and short tempered and, again, everyone is wary of him. 

Luffy's not, of course, because that's just how Law is, but he's confused. 

Because no matter how many times Law snaps or yells or threatens to slice people apart, he's never violent. He doesn't throw punches or kick or draw his sword.

Which does make Luffy wonder if he's done something wrong, that Law doesn't feel like he can be free with Luffy, to go after him when he says something stupid. Everyone else does, is it because he's the captain? But Law's captain too, and they're in an alliance, they're equal.

But he doesn't say anything on it-- and even in Dressrosa, when Law tries to tell him the alliance is over, Luffy knows he wouldn't attack him even if he could. And it's confusing. He couldn't count the amount of times Ace landed a punch on him just for waking him up wrong.

After all that is said and done, and they land on Zou, and Luffy meets the Heart Pirates in all their glory, all twenty of them, he doesn't know if he gets more confused or less. 

The Heart Pirates LOVE their captain (as they should, Traffy is great!) and clearly would do anything for him, starting with those dorky poses they strike. And they yell at him for abandoning them, but they don't get violent with Law, and doesn't get violent with them. He sort of just... lets them yell at him and then talks over them. 

It's weird.

This isn't a thought that keeps Luffy up at night so much as it's a thought that he returns to whenever he looks at Law, reclining as his crew tries to get him to talk about what happened, or whenever Luffy's getting literally kicked out of the kitchen by Sanji.

It's a fact that Luffy puzzles on even in Wano, as Law is passively letting Luffy ruin every plan and then announcing that he planned FOR Luffy to ruin every plan. 

He doesn't hit Luffy for ruining his plan. He doesn't even elbow him in the side.

Before Luffy had seen Law with his own crew on Zou, he had thought that maybe Law didn't really like him. But after seeing Law interacting with his crew, he started to reevaluate. Law loves his crew, and although he threatens to use his Room on them (and maybe sometimes he does), that's not a violent thing. They can pop back together like Kin'emon did. 

But Luffy wonders-- what does it mean to be close with someone without feeling the freedom to get physical with them? 

He wonders this and doesn't have an answer, because that's never been his world.

And of course, what Luffy doesn't know, is that Law grew up with that violence. Had those formative years with Doflamingo, where he was taught to fight and lived with a family who was just as violent as Luffy's own. He was full of hatred and happily took it out on people.

And the only difference was Cora-- who at first was just as violent, to be fair, throwing him out a window and all that. 

But Cora who saw him as someone that could be saved, who sacrificed everything from his mission to his life, to give Law freedom of a different kind— the freedom of gentleness. The freedom that comes from being able to live for yourself. The freedom that comes from being loved enough that the one who loves you gave it all up for you. 

He gave Law everything he had, and he held him tight and told him it would all be okay.

And it wasn't, because Cora's gone, but Law took that love and internalized it, and from the very start the first thing he does is save Bepo from being hurt. 

He gathers a crew little by little and does so by giving them second chances like he was given, and gives them safety— including physical safety. Because separating himself from Doflamingo and that hatred means also separating himself from that senseless violence that comes from growing up in organized crime. 

Law's crew respects him because, despite his prickly exterior, he's stoically kind.He's using his fruit to help and to heal-- even when he gives those pirate hearts to the marines, did he kill them? Debatable. 

Law has worked hard to excise that violence from his life, and Luffy can see that even when no one else on his crew seems to notice.

And Luffy doesn't know why-- doesn't understand it-- but god it makes him smile wide when he sees Law snap at someone and knows that he can trust that Law won't hurt. 

It's like having a wild animal, capable of destruction, lay lazily at your feet.

Luffy wants that. It's an addicting feeling, to feel safe in that way. 

He loves his crew and he loves his brothers and he's made of rubber-- they couldn't hurt him, wouldn't hurt him. 

But the secret gentle kindness of Law is addicting.

[callooopie]

Modern!Davos Blackwood headcannons (pt. Smut)

— NSFW edition—

It can’t be unlearned. I’ve known the warmth of your doorways — It Will Come Back // Hozier

I haven’t written NSFW in a bit ~3~. Bear with me while I try not to blush and cringe at my own writing T~T (also that new episode.. rip MY queen Rhaenys dude. It actually made me so bummed it ruined my night.) Also do I still use the Benjicot tags or is he now his own character now that he’s been mentioned finally ~3~ ?!

cw— NSFW, smut detailed to the best of my abilities. Minors do not interact. Interact with this and I’ll punch you so hard your ancestors will feel it I’ll-

< added one (1) new headcannon since posting >

Cool, calm, confident. That’s what Davos was. Surely it would translate to the bedroom too—it does not. He’s shy the first time around. Very much. Silent, rigid; his eyes simply darting up and down your body as you undress in front of him. The only sign that he’s there in the head is his hands gripping the comforter in his fists tightly. Before you begin, please give him a few kisses and reassuring smiles. Sitting in his lap and doing so does wonders. Run your fingers through his hair in a calming manner too.

You might have to pause, because he’s genuinely trembling out of excitement and anticipation that he cannot concentrate or continue without calming down. He just loves your touch! Any touch, all touch. Your fingers grazing against his skin, it’s like nicotine. Press your nose against his, laugh softly and kindly against his lips, and tell him it’s alright—you can wait a minute. His hands (shaking slightly still) will find their way to your hips soon enough.

Before you two experience each other more often. Before ANY sexual encounters, with you or not with you. He is the type of guy… to not know where the clit is. It’s a sad truth. You have to sit him down and literally point to where it is. No pants, sitting on the bed with your legs spread. It’s not even sexual at this point, you’re just letting him ooo and ahh at your pussy as you tell him what feels good and how to make it feel good. A lesson in anatomy that has him going (“…really?!”). Don’t worry. He gets with the program right away. When he figures shit out you won’t ever let him leave the house ever again.

If he’s already on the more experienced side and/or after you’ve both gotten comfortable with one another after months or a couple years; he is a fiend, a menace. He wants his sheets drenched by the time you’re both done. He wants you passed out, unconscious. If you aren’t being carted off to the emergency room after sex he feels he isn’t doing it right.

Speaking of.. He has sent you to the ER before. A bruised cervix that sent searing pain whenever you walked, burning aches in your muscles and bones from being bent or pulled around that. It’s something that’s never happened before and worried you enough to make Davos drive you to the urgent care. Embarrassment and a hint of disbelief burned on your face as the doctor awkwardly told you your diagnoses, splitting their gaze between you and Davos. The latter had the biggest grin on his face as he sat there like an innocent man. His apologies are a farce don’t believe it.

Needs you to sit on his face. Dude gets off on eating you like you’re his last meal, and makes it messy too.. Doesn’t matter when (or where..) but if you are not straddling his head, laying her full weight onto him—that’s basically like breaking his heart. He wants to die by your thighs that’s his goal. He is the type to grab and scratch at your thighs, squeezing flesh as he tries to pull you closer to his lips and tongue. Sometimes his hand leaves your thigh to deal with his own hardened cock—muffled and incoherent whines leaving him as he devours you sloppily and breathlessly. If he’s eating you out while you’re laying on your back; he will be pathetically grinding against the mattress.

Suck him off under his desk. Quietly slip underneath the wooden desk, he’s too focused on whatever he’s doing to even notice you undoing the string of his sweats anyways. Once he dies in-game and looks down he gets the memo, silently helping you slide them off of him as he talks to his team. Whatever you do, do not drag your tongue up from his base to his tip—especially when he’s comming to his teammates. He’ll be talking normally and then let out a nearly pornographic whine. If you choose to not be a menace off the bat and simply slide his cock in and out of your mouth; he’ll go blank in the head. He starts to mess up, mouth going slack as he splits his attention between the game and you on your knees between his legs with your tongue wrapping around his tip and licking off whatever leaking pre-cum you find. It’s the fastest he’s ever won (or lost) a game.

It’s edge or be edged in his world. Loves it when you tell him he can’t cum. A sloppy half-grin plastered on his face as you ride him. His hands holding your hips as he sits up, looking up at you from where he places his head by your chin. He’s gonna bitch and moan about it as usual, but slowly devolves into loud begging. His speech is slurred as his eyes stare up at you like your god who has the power to grant him that divine release he’s been denied for an hour.

He loves fucking you against the wall. It gives him a reason to show off his arms and muscles—and it feels good. If you have comments about your weight, your body, how will he hold you up, etc. Leave ‘em at the door, Davos does not care. He goes to the gym for this reason baby! To be able to lift you easily and hold you against the apartment wall as he pounds into you. His hands digging into the skin of where your thighs and ass meet. Wrap your legs around his waist, tangle your fingers into his hair. You’re not leaving until there’s a puddle of your arousal and cum underneath you.

Switch. He’s a switch. Let the world (and himself) believes he’s a top, only you will know the truth. And the truth is that he loves when you take control. Tie him up, slap him around, ride him till he’s crying and drooling from either edging or overstimulation—and then keep going some more. But also remember that he can easily overpower you, pinning you down to the bed or against a wall as he thrusts in and out of you with loud groans and words of praise. His hand holds your head down as he fucks you from behind, fingers grasping onto your hair as he rambles in a pleasured high. Davos is the type to tear underwear too, so be careful about that as well..

Davos is gentle, Davos is rough. No matter what, he’s mean about it. And he’s very vocal about it too. He’ll ask if you’re enjoying yourself, if you’re liking how rough he’s fucking your cunt right now—speaking of.. can you hear how wet you are right now, it’s almost embarrassing no? Ohhh, you like being used by him? Well.. he likes your sloppy pussy too—don’t worry. Made just for him, all for him. If he’s gentle he asks if you’re doing okay between the soft kisses he places on your neck and face. His face will nuzzle against your neck, soft whispers of how you feel entering your ear between groans. You’re just a sweetheart after all, aren’t you? So soft, so good, just for him. He likes how you feel around him, how soft your skin feels under his hands. So beautiful, so cute. Don’t you like how you can feel all of him as he thrusts into you slowly? Can you feel every vein and ridge? ‘Cause he can feel every squeeze and shudder from your walls darling.

Biter. I’ve got him pinned—Davos is a biter. Bites at your nipples before swirling a tongue around them and sucking harshly. Licks your ear before biting and tugging on it. He’s a bastard and bites your clit, a low chuckle coming from him as you yelp (he kisses it after, of course). Hickeys line your skin from your neck to your lower abdomen. Bite marks, prominent bite marks, are scattered across your body. No matter what, it’ll be on your neck mostly as well. From the front or the back, a bite mark will find its way to your neck. He just gets so into it! Dicking you down so roughly he just needs to latch his teeth onto your skin hard enough to draw blood. What? No he did not lick the droplet of blood up you must be imagining—

…car sex—I’m sorry I said it. At night when you both are skating or if he’s driving around with you. Sometimes you just end up in an empty parking lot.. the windows are fogged up and there’s music playing faintly, not that you care or really hear it as you listen to his moans. His hands holding your hips or waist as you slowly bounce on his cock while he sits in the driver seat. Bonus if you hold the thin necklace he wears between your teeth as you grind yourself down onto him.

Added! HE’S INTO SHOTGUNNING. Absolutely, how did I forget such a thing. Happens when you’re riding him. It’s a lazy night; him sitting in a chair, a cigarette between his fingers as you moan and whimper loudly. His other hand remains on your ass, guiding you up and down as he lets his head fall back briefly with a low grunt from his throat. He sits back up to take a drag from the cigarette, his other hand moving up from your ass to the back of your head (he gives you a parting slap to your butt). He presses your face closer to his and you instinctively part your lips, letting him blow smoke into it. He does talk you through that like he’s talking you through your orgasm, soft words of encouragement and guidance as he watches you blow it back out. It ends in him kissing you and wrapping one arm tightly around your waist as he starts to thrust up into you roughly. “In.. and out.. atta girl. There we are. Aren’t you just a good listener, my lovely lady?”

[chaepink]

DAY 19: SUCH A TEASE | COCKWARMING

teasing kageyama is always fun, especially if it has something to do with him cockwarming you.

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ PAIRING ⸻ kageyama tobio x reader

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WARNINGS ⸻ dom!gn!reader, dacryphilia, begging, cockwarming (character receiving), edging, riding, praise, pegging, strap can be read as a dick, reader can lift him up

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WORDS ⸻ 1.8k words

KINKTOBER EVENT

You love teasing kageyama. Whether it's palming him under the table at a restaurant, making tears brim his eyes when you continue to overstimulate him, or being blunt with your words about how you want to just bend him over the nearest desk and fuck him till he can't think anymore. All three would result in kageyama flushing red and letting out a needy whine, stuttering out a quiet response.

And today is no different. With your focus solely on the work in front of you, you almost forget about him on your lap. That's until kageyama lets out a whimper, wrapping his arms around you tighter.

"Are you alright, kageyama?" He whines at you. Here he is, fully naked and on your lap with your strap stuffing him full. The tip is just barely touching his prostate and it brushes against it whenever he moves just a little, each time making him leak out pre cum from his hard red dick. It lays against your stomach and he tries his best not to move, wanting to be good for you. He's been cockwarming you for a while now and he's lost track of how many times you've edged him.

A mere hour or so earlier you were working on stuff you needed to finish until Kageyama kept begging you to pay attention to you. So a suggestion of him cockwarming you, some edging, and teasing now has you here. The tip of Kageyama's ears burns, not thinking it his neediness would result to this.

"ah! y-yeah i-im mmph! fine!" You let out a sigh before putting your pencil down and running your hand through his hair. You suddenly grab a fistful of it and pull it back, making kageyama let out a gasp as he throws his head back. Your other hand roams down his body to grip his thigh, giving it a squeeze.

In this new position, you're able to see kageyama much better. His face is flushed red and his eyes are hooded as he looks at you. You look at his dick and how pre cum continues to leak out of it like a broken faucet. The substance continues to drip down his dick and to the base. Ragged breaths escape him and your eyes trail down to where your strap disappears into his ass. The feeling of your eyes down there makes him subconsciously squeeze around your strap, making him let out a small moan. So needy.

"Really? It seems like you're falling apart on top of me already though from what I can tell." Kageyama lets out a cry when you grab his hips to slam him down on your strap, a squirt of his cum spurting out of his dick and staining your shirt. There's no warning for him as you continue your actions.

"s-shit o-oh my god! let me cum, please!" Kageyama lets out a sob when the strap hits the spot inside him that makes his toes curl and back arch back against the desk. When you keep going, kageyama begins to think that you're finally going to let him cum and pleas and begs flood out of his mouth. That's until you stop. He cries out before looking at you with tears brimming his eyes.

"Y-You're so mean, [name]! Stop t-teasing me!" He cries at you, trying to subtly grind against your strap as he paws at your chest. It's been the same thing over and over again. You pay attention to your work for a while before finally paying attention to him. But it doesn't last long cause all you do is edge him close to his orgasm, make him think each time would be the time that you finally let him cum, before stopping altogether and ruining his release. Then you go back to your work as if nothing happened.

You coo at him, cupping his cheek. You feel him lean into your touch with a pout on his lips. How cute.

"But you just make it so easy to be mean to you, baby. You let out those noises I love so much and you're just so pretty when you cry. I can't help teasing you." Kageyama shoves his head into the crook of your neck, hiding his red face. You hear him sniffle and he grips onto your shoulders for support.

"I-I keep getting so close! It h-hurts, [name]." You begin to mark his neck, leaving bite marks and hickeys here and there. Afterwards, you admire how the colors of the marks compliments his skin so prettily. While a part of you feels bad for edging him for a while now, another part wants him to beg for it more, to make him cry.

"Don't you want to be good, though? Wanna be a good boy for me, yeah?" He whines and nods hastily. Of course he does! "That's what I thought too. Good boys do what they're told don't they? So how about you let me do it again, hm? One more time, please?" Kageyama's breath hitches in his throat. You raise a eyebrow at his hesitation.

While he wants to be good for you, the pain in his dick and being denied release a couple times now is starting to get to him and he feels his mind getting foggy. Though of course, the right answer is always clear to him. He wants to be good for you.

He nods again but you tap his cheek, wanting a verbal answer from him. "Y-Yes." You smile at him. "Good boy. Tell me when you're close, alright?"

He shivers at the praise but you surprise him when you grab his dick and begin stroking it, the pace immediately quickening. He widens his eyes, the feeling of his orgasm and the need to release quickly coming back and overwhelming him. His noises fill the room and you almost feel bad for your neighbors who would surely hear him. Almost.

He shuts his eyes close and as his release quickly returns back, he's quick to tell you about it. Even though he knows it's going to happen, he still lets out a broken whine when you release your hand from his dick, ripping his orgasm away from him.

Tears are streaming down his face by now and you have to wipe them off his face. His eyelashes are clumped together and his eyes are glossy.

"You're doing so good for me, baby. That was the last one remember?"

He swallows and nods. You admire the way tears streak down his red face. Fuck, he looks so pretty like this.

"Bet you want to cum now right, doesn't it hurt?" Kageyama lets out a quiet 'yes', pouting at you.

"Go on then, put on a show and ride me." You don't have to tell him twice as his grip on you tightens. He puts his calves on the seat and sits up, slowly taking your strap out of him until it's merely a inch away from his hole. He bites his lip in anticipation and neediness. Seconds later he slams himself down on it, the strap entering him in one smooth movement. A scream leaves his mouth as it fills him up to the brim.

He begins bouncing on top of you so quickly that it's almost like he forgot how you two are only on a chair. Sure the environment may not be the best for him to ride you but the both of you barely cares. All you're focused on is him.

You watch as he quickly falls apart in front of you once again and becomes quickly overwhelmed at the pace and intensity he set for himself. But he doesn't choose to slow down, wanting to chase his high as fast as possible. His mouth is wide open and drool begins falling from the corner of it. He looks so fucked out that you can't help but wish to take a picture and savor it forever.

You notice the bulge on his stomach every time your strap enters him and you press down on the spot, grinning when Kageyama lets out a choked moan at the feeling.

"f-feels so good, [name]." There's a teasing grin on your face. "It feels so good as you ride me, doesn't it? I'm making you feel so good, right?" He nods dumbly even though he doesn't even process what you just said. All your words just go in one ear and out the other.

Incoherent words leave his mouth and you struggle to understand what he's saying. Though you don't really need to know how he feels from his words, the amount and volume of his noises tell you enough about how he's feeling.

"[name], please," he whines. He doesn't even know what he's begging for anymore. His hole sucks in your strap so greedily as if it wants more ever time it enters him.

He can barely think properly. All his thoughts are scrambled and instead are replaced by the feeling of your strap and how it's just hitting all the right spots in him. He feels so full and warm that he doesn't even release how he's about to cum.

The feeling of cumming hits his body suddenly and he lets out a wail at the intense feeling. After being edged so many times, it only makes it better when he finally gets to cum. Cum shoots out his dick and it makes a mess everywhere. It stains his chest and also your top but you don't care. Kageyama continues to ride your strap and you realize that it seems like he's not going to stop anything soon. You don't even have to overstimulate him, he's already doing it himself!

The sound of skin on skin is sinful as it floods your ears. It along with his noises are music to your ears and you swear you could hear them forever and would never get tired of it. Praises spill from your mouth and Kageyama whines at each one.

An idea hits you and you quickly push everything out of the way on your desk. Your hands reach for his waist and when you notice Kageyama slowing down, you lift him off you and push him against the desk. Before he could beg you to put the strap in again, you do it yourself and slam it back in him. The new angle makes his eyes roll back and let out a mewl. He chokes on his spit and all he can do is lay there all pretty for you as you fuck his brains out. After being edged so many times, the feeling of overstimulation is heaven for him.

It's going to be a long night and he knows that by the morning, he won't be able to walk properly. Well, it's not like he's complaining of course.

🏷️: @Vealize21 @fabitheraven @sourissue @jksstuffposts @gallantys @tired-of-life-86 @ineedsleeporilldie @aphoneixnamed-angel @flawlessvictorymentality @wowonamo @euphiroo @saintravey @tomiokx @archer-fb @d1gitalbathh @Lifesucksweswallow @rxflen @aspengagrimlin @ilovemenwhowhimperandbeg @lamees004 @22rhianna2006 @literary-latte @cl-0-vr @qweenjx @mysicklove @uniquebeautylove1 @someonepleasesedateme @arminsesposa

[fangirlika]

yes yes yes !! for a pt2 of learning hours because that was hot. thinking abt the build up to them actually realising their feelings after charles makes her feel good....AHHH

me too bestie, me too… but first of all, thank you for all of your feedback! And to fulfill all of you guys’ wishes, here is part 2 to Learning Hours! I decided against directly connecting it to where we left off in part 1 but I hope you still enjoy reading it <3

Study Break

MASTERLIST

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

summary: “I wouldn’t want it to ruin our friendship, you know?” “It doesn’t have to.” But oh how wrong you were… part 2 to this.

warnings: nsfw, smut, porn with plot?? who would’ve thought, fluff, bad French, reader and Charles in denial

“You fucked?!”

“Psst, Pierre, say it louder because I think not the entire paddock has heard you…”, Charles grumbled and looked around him slightly to check if anyone was actually close enough to hear them talking.

“Désolé, but how do you want me to react when you tell me that you and Y/n slept with each other?”, Pierre whisper-shouted now with a frown on his face.

Charles only rolled his eyes.

“Je ne sais pas comment c'est arrivé, but it has been happening a little more often these past weeks”, Charles admitted honestly whilst scratching the back of his neck. I don’t know how it happened

Pierre sighed and patted his friend on the back. “Oh, you’re in deep shit, mate.”

In deep shit he was indeed.

It’s been a little more than a month since you and Charles had sex for learning purposes for the first time but it definitely hadn’t been the last time.

After you gave him head he insisted on returning the favour to you immediately.

“Please”, he whispered against your lips, “let me make you feel good.”

You couldn’t turn him down, not then, not any of the times after that.

That day, Charles ate you out like a man starved, something your ex-boyfriend never dared to try out and really, you didn’t know what you missed out on.

Charles indeed made you feel good, he always does, and he probably gave you your most intense orgasm so far with his tongue alone. For the next few days after you couldn’t help but wonder what he could do to you with his dick.

And oh he did show you.

It was safe to say that with one single orgasm he made you feel better than your ex ever did in all of your time together.

After that, it seemed as if you two couldn’t stay away from each other.

Whether you two were at your or his place, whether it was in the evening or in the middle of the day - you almost always ended up as a tangled mess in bed or on the couch even.

But you were friends, that was what you were desperately trying to convince yourself of.

But all effort was without success because whenever Charles smiled at you when you were laying underneath him in bed or when you looked up at him while sucking him off, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies erupt inside your stomach.

It wasn’t just lust, it was something else as well. Something you were yet too scared to narrow down and confront exactly. You were scared of ruining whatever the two of you had.

You should’ve probably broken up whatever deal you had going on weeks ago but it all also felt far too good to quit.

-

That is how you found yourself in the current situation, with his dick hot and heavy inside your mouth.

You two had been watching a movie together at his place - which one you didn’t remember, it didn’t really matter from the beginning on because since the first minute of the movie your mind has been on everything Charles did sitting beside you on the couch.

His arm was lazily draped around your shoulders and you were leaning into his side, something the two of you have been doing for years but it seems like now you can’t do this without it becoming heated afterwards.

You were half an hour into the movie before Charles turned your head to face him and pressed his lips to yours.

“I think it’s stupid to keep pretending that either of us is paying attention to the TV…”, he muttered against your lips and you just smiled into the kiss.

No matter how many times you and Charles had made out by now, he never failed to knock the air out of your lungs with how his lips moved against yours and how his tongue danced around your tongue.

“Wanna take this to the bedroom?”, Charles broke the kiss and mumbled. You could only nod your head, still breathless from the kiss, and Charles smiled before he pecked your lips once again and pulled you into his lap. He then stood up with you in his arms and made his way towards his bedroom down the hall.

During that, you started to press wet kisses along his neck and jawline, your lips sucking a little on the spots you knew made his breath stutter.

As absurd as it sounds, the two of you had almost developed a routine on how to get the other one into the mood, something friends certainly do, right?

Charles pushed open the door to his bedroom with his foot and in a matter of seconds he had you underneath him on the edge of his bed, his upper-body hovering above yours. He took a moment to look you in the eyes with a small smile on his lips before he pressed them onto the side of your neck, just like you did to him only mere seconds ago.

You couldn’t help but let out a small moan at the contact.

Your hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt in a silent plead for him to take it off. And he did pull away from your neck to remove his shirt. You used this moment to pull off yours over your head as well, lazily tossing it somewhere on the carpet for you to pick up later - or tomorrow most likely.

Charles' gaze immediately shifted towards your tits. Since you had only been lounging inside the house for most of the day, you decided to not wear a bra. Charles knew that, hell, he was hyper aware of your nipples poking through the thin cotton material of your shirt the entire day.

“I love your tits”, he said and moved both of his hands to knead them softly. You only let out a chuckle at that, followed up by a moan when Charles pinched your right nipple with his fingers.

“L-let me suck you off, yeah?”, you moaned out and Charles audibly let out a groan at your proposal before nodding his head.

God, he loved how forward you were in bed too. When you two started this, he expected you to be a lot more shy and hesitant but he took pride in the fact that you seemed to be so comfortable with him.

Charles' cock was already hard when he pulled down his sweatpants and boxers and stepped out of them, using his foot to push them towards the pile of clothing that started forming on the carpet.

Immediately you sat up, mouth watering at the sight of his cock in front of your face. You licked your right hand before you wrapped it around the base of his cock, observing his reaction thoroughly. You smirked when you saw how he screw his eyes shut at the contact and let out a silent moan, his mouth hanging open a little.

You stroked his cock a few times before you used your tongue to lick up the length of his cock and over the tip. Charles' hand made it’s way to your hair, pushing some loose strands behind your ears, almost lovingly.

Despite the situation starting to get thoroughly filthy, the atmosphere between you was calm and somewhat familiar.

“You feel so good around me, keep going”, he whispered in encouragement and let out another groan as you wrapped your lips around his cock and started to move up and down his length as far as you could.

You looked up at him and your eyes met. Charles could’ve come at the sight alone and therefore decided to gently pull his hips away so that he slipped out of your mouth.

You looked at him confused but he only pushed you back onto the bed by your shoulders. “Wanna come inside you”, he mumbled which made you smile.

“Okay?”, he asked for confirmation and you nodded.

“Yes, please.”

Charles gave you a quick kiss and then made his way down your stomach until he kissed the hem of your panties. One of his fingers pressed agains your clothed clit which earned him a whine from your mouth.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties before pulling them down and off your legs. You slightly shuddered as your core got exposed to the cooler air of the apartment and the wandering eyes of Charles.

The first time he saw you completely naked, you were still a little nervous but seeing the way he looked at you somehow made all your nervousness vanish.

“Belle”, he whispered and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. “Please, Charles, get on with it”, you whined which earned you a light slap to your clit. You moaned and bit your lip right after.

Charles was never too rough with you, not wanting to scare you away or hurt you in any way but little things like these - he couldn’t help himself when he got to hear you moan so sweetly afterwards.

“Bossy again?”, he teased when he got up from his sitting position in front of the bed. You only let out a huff at his words and wrapped one of your legs around the back of his to pull him towards you, eager to feel him inside you again.

Charles had already taken his cock into his hand, ready to line himself up with your pussy when an idea came to his mind.

“Ready for another lesson?”, he asked with a smirk.

He probably expected you to nod your head with the same eagerness you displayed before but you couldn’t help but feel a little sting to your heart at his words. They reminded you what this seemingly still was: lessons, only teaching you how to feel good - no feelings involved.

Charles noticed the brief change of your facial expression before you forced up a smile and nodded. He hated to pretend that all this was just for learning purposes, to him it was more than that. And your reaction gave him the small hope that maybe you felt the same.

Nevertheless, he didn’t say anything and just continued with his proposal: “Soo, we have tried some positions by now but one thing we haven’t done yet is your riding me”, he spoke while stroking the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Would you be interested in that?”, he asked with an underlying tone of nervousness in his question.

You clenched your core at the thought of you sitting on his dick and riding him even though you would definitely lie to yourself if you claimed you hadn’t thought of that before.

“Lay down then, Leclerc”, was your response and you gave him a challenging smirk, one he immediately returned.

“Your wish is my command, L/n”, he teased before laying down on the bed and leaning his back against the headboard. You straddled him and moaned when you felt him between your folds.

“Go slow, okay baby?”, he said and put his hands on your hips. You answered him with a nod and sat up slightly before you lined up his cock with your entrance.

You slowly sank down on him which made your rally feel him inch by inch. You held eye contact the entire time and your mouth hung open while his brows were furrowed together to handle the insane feeling that was being inside you again.

When you bottomed out you took a moment to adjust to his size again. In this position you felt even fuller than ever before.

Charles squeezed your hips slightly and asked: “You okay?” You nodded and started to move up and down in his lap slowly but surely.

It only took a few strokes before the dull pain of him inside you vanished and was replaced with the familiar pleasurable feeling you had every time you two had sex.

You started to build a rhythm of moving your hips up and down his length and felt the familiar warmth building up in your core.

“You’re doing so good for me, love”, Charles groaned out and squeezed your hips tighter to keep himself from fucking up into you. He liked you in control but it took a lot of willpower for him to restrain himself from speeding up the rhythm himself.

You kept your rhythm and started to circle your hips slightly as well which caused him to hit that spongy spot inside your core once again and made you moan out his name in pleasure.

“Feels so- so good”, you managed to stutter out. “I’m close”, you moaned out after that and you struggled to keep up the rhythm with your hips.

Charles noticed and finally started meeting your thrusts with his hips pushing upwards and even deeper into you with had you seeing stars in a matter of seconds.

“My god, Charles”, you almost screamed out when you came with trembling legs and clenching your core. The sensation of you coming all over his cock didn’t fail to push him over the edge as well. He continued to fuck up into you during both of your highs but his thrusts began to stutter and became sloppier with each one.

“So good for me”, he repeated and caressed the skin of your hips while he closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. You attempted the same but you were unable to keep yourself up anymore and therefore almost fell onto his sweaty chest.

The room felt hot and sticky, just like your skin and the only audible thing were your ragged breaths.

Charles moved his hands to caress your back in small, mindless circles. The action made you smile agains his chest.

The two of you stayed in that moment for a little while before you moved your head up to look him in the eyes.

What you didn’t expect was that he was already looking at you with an expression you still failed to read but one you had seen increasingly more often these past weeks.

You stared at each other with the same loving expression on your face for what felt like an eternity.

“Y/n”, he started but quiet frankly, he didn’t know what to say exactly. Charles generally was a confident guy but you somehow managed to have him at a loss for words most of the times.

“I think we can stop pretending that this is only for learning purposes”, he whispered and internally he was ever so scared of your reaction.

He didn’t know what he expected you to reply. Only in the far back of his mind he allowed himself to believe that he wasn’t alone with that realisation of his feelings.

Your response therefore came as nothing less but a surprise to him. “I don’t like saying it, but you are more than right, Leclerc”, you said with a smirk before you pulled yourself up a little and leaned into his face.

Charles laid one of his hands on your cheek before he flipped the two of you around so that you were laying underneath him again. He wasted no time in kissing you with anything he could give to you, trying to pour all his emotions into the kiss.

“Please be mine”, he mumbled against your lips.

“I’m already yours”, you replied breathlessly.

—————

Ahhh nervous for your reactions but oh please let me know what you think <333 I enjoyed writing this so much and aww I fell in love with Charles and Y/n here

here I’m tagging everyone who asked for a second part in the comments, I hope you don’t mind or else let me know!

@tempo-rary-fix @spicyclover @charlesswife @oscarissacsslut @dakotali @celine-xox @mysticalnightenthusiast @formulas-bitch @basicallyherondale @shyshva @teenagedreams-cl

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Fake dating 2 (mini fic)

Part one here

❤️

Now that Jason was leaving you alone it felt like there was a time limit on your "relationship" with Eddie. You're hesitant to admit that your feelings have changed after Eddie's dismissive attitude.

His words keep coming back to you whenever you think of telling him. What was the point?

There was no way you could talk to him and ruin the budding friendship that was happening between the two of you. You adored hanging out with Eddie at the trailer; his uncle Wayne was funny and really nice to you and the trailer had begun to feel like a home away from home.

You didn't want to ruin what you had by admitting your feelings and making everything super awkward and you were so busy trying to cover up your feelings that you didn't notice Eddie beginning to struggle with his...

❤️

Naturally Dustin is the first person to notice Eddie's changing feelings. Even after he took the little shrimp to the record store and Family Video.

He's watching Eddie with an amused grin on his face while browsing the horror collection.

Eddie wasn't normally a jealous person, at least there wasn't a universe where he ever thought he'd be jealous of Steve Harrington...

Okay maybe that was a teeny tiny lie. He was a little jealous that Steve seemed to have it all. Rich, good looks and the ladies loved him but it was a passing thought than anything else.

Now he couldn't quite ignore the jealousy that was raging through him.

"So that oh we don't actually have real feelings for each other comments really came back to bite you in the ass huh dude?" Dustin says sarcastically and Eddie glares at him. The little shrimp and his tone was getting worse by the day.

Dustin is patting his shoulder in a meant to be soothing manner and that irritated Eddie even more.

"Yeah. Real helpful you little butthead" he grumbles as Steve says something that makes you laugh.

He shouldn't be feeling like this but every inch of him is thrumming with envy. Without thinking Eddie walks over and slips his arms around your waist, you look at him surprised.

"Harrington. Good to see you" stop flirting with my girl you butthead he seethes, fuck. He really does want you to be his girl. The realisation is staggering to him because he's been living in denial for a while now.

And instead of admitting these feelings he panics and takes his attitude out on Steve. He feels guilty about doing it but he doesn't like the way Steve is looking at you. Doesn't he have enough chicks swooning about his good looks?

He can tell you're irritated but he's having trouble getting his annoyance under control and once Dustin has picked the movies he likes, he storms out to his van.

When you follow him out with Dustin the look on your face makes Eddie's stomach churn. Dustin shakes his head as he looks between the pair of you and climbs in the front with him.

"Are you coming?" he asks even though he really doesn't want to know the answer.

"What was that with Steve? Why did I feel like I was in the middle of some pissing contest?" he gulps and really he should just apologise but he puts his foot in his mouth. "Sorry I just feel a little nauseated what with all of Steve's flirting" he snaps and Dustin groans.

Your eyes flash with anger and you glare at him, "He's my friend Eddie. Even if he was flirting I'm not interested" this lessons the ache in Eddie's chest but he's still pissed at Steve.

"Yeah well clearly Steve is" he grumbles and the anger fades from your features.

"What does it matter? This isn't real. Our feelings and all of this shit is fake. You said it yourself" your voice cracks at the end and he stiffens. Shit. He did see that... and now you looked like you were going to cry.

"I think I'll walk home today" you tell him and rush away before he can call you back. Shit. Shit.

"You know that I admire you dude but you really can be the world's biggest dumbass at times" Dustin pipes up and he sighs.

Yeah. He definitely is.

❤️

[moonybug444]

Queen i love ur stories will you ever do other characters one day? keep writing girl ur killing it

i actually have been working on something for gojo so here it is lol but i didn’t think people wanted other characters! please let me know someone you guys would like me to write for!

you had it comin’

tw: daddy kink / reader is called a brat a lot / gojo ruins an orgasm / ——————————————————————————————————

“y’like it satoru? really?”

gojo looks at you like he’s got stars in his eyes. the second he even sees your pretty frame he was done for.

he had just come in from an entirely too long stressful day of work, the only thing on his mind was you. and of course, like you read his mind, you had a pretty surprise for him

you’re cutely giggling by the time he finally walks over to you, quickly shuffling himself so he sitting on the king size bed and your straddling his long legs.

with a bright smile on his face he demands, “gimme a spin beautiful,” and you happily get up. raising to your tip tip toes and giving him a short yet thorough spin. you’re in a short, pretty, baby blue lingerie set, and paired with the cute little matching bows you topped, he thinks you want him to explode.

when it comes to your husband, it doesn’t take much to get plenty praise from him. in his eyes your perfect. shit, it’s gotten to the point where you wake up in the morning already expecting praise just for opening your pretty eyes.

of course that has its ups and downs though. i mean you’ve always been really, ‘taking cared of’ as you call it, though satoru calls it spoiled. getting everything you’ve wanted since the day you were born without so much as a rebuttal plus satoru’s constant yes’ didn’t do well for you at all. before you were only spoiled, now you’re a full on brat. you never hear the word no out of anyone’s mouth anymore, and when you do, who cares? you know your husbands going to make it happen for you.

gojo cuffs both hands under your ass and grins handsomely.

“look what you do to me, baby.” he looks down at the hard-on in his dress pants, and your eyes follow, practically drooling at the sight.

you feel like your going crazy the longer you look at it, you need it. it’s not like you haven’t had it or anything, you’re fucking yourself on your husbands dick practically every night. which is why your confused when satoru doesn’t make his move like usual. and you’re even more confused when he shoves your hand away from touching him.

your lips curl back when you pout, “satoru…why can’t i—”

“what you think you deserve it all of the sudden?” he takes a deep breath and tries to put on his stern voice. “you really think weeks worth of being a spoiled brat is gonna erase from this, sweetheart?”

yes. most definitely. even satoru knows it can, but he’s realized going easy on you doesn’t get him anywhere. he can’t help it though, you’re as cute as can be. how’s he supposed to just say no to his pretty wife when she’s looking up at him with those perfect doe eyes, those wispy lashes he just adores on her? that big pouty lip and the puffed out cheeks when you start to throw a fit? exactly he can’t. although he figures he’ll at least give it a shot, just to say he tried.

“but—” of course he sees ‘em before they come. those big fat crocodile tears you force out whenever you’re not getting what you want on your timing. “i have been a good girl…! you just don’t even love me—” you go to wipe at your eyes and whine. usually they work, but this time satoru’s putting his foot down.

“nu-uh, no— baby c’mon, we’re not doing this tonight, ok?” he says the kind words though an antagonizing smile shows on his face, which he tries to hide.

he pulls you back on his lap and rubs circles on your back. he speaks to you in a delicate tone when you’ve finally calmed down he speaks to you in a subtle tone.

“what’s been going on, huh?” he fakes a pout. “what’s up with my sweet girl? i just can’t say no to anything these days, just throw a fit.”

your eyebrows are raised when you curl your head into his shoulder like a cat, trying to get on his good side. “m’sorry toru.” you sniffle out a whiney, “i jus’ miss you so much.” when you puff your chest out and start to slowly move your hips against him, you think your older husband starts to listen.

“i know you do pretty girl, but you can’t just—”

“please daddy…can i make it better?” when you say it like that all satoru can look at is your plush tits in that pretty set you’ve got on. all he can pay attention to is your full hips slowly circling his cock.

out the window is his stern attitude when you lay him down and take his clothes off one by one. out the window is you being a spoiled brat the last few weeks. all your husband can think about now is the way you let yourself sink on top of his leaking cock. he thinks all can be forgiven.

——————————————————————————————————

“hah—” you’re still whining as you bounce on his cock, wanting to hear his praise. “m’doin g….good, daddy?” your pussy still dripping from the last load satoru gave you, sucking everything he’s got.

satoru slaps your ass and pants against your tits, mumbling incoherently to himself. he looks up at you bouncing on your tip toes and he feels like he’s gonna faint. he’s never seen something so beautiful, sure of it.

“mygosh, baby…” he tries to grab on to something—your hips, the bed, anything to keep him stable. “can’t keep doing this, ok? n…next time m’putting my foot done.”

yeah, yeah. you give him a cutely whined, ‘k, daddy’ and keep yourself going, trying your best to fuck him good like he does you. your trying your best and your husband knows it. and it’s almost like he reads your mind, because the second you feel your legs grow aches and tired of riding, he flips you onto the edge of the bed.

satoru leans down to fuck his tounge into your mouth when he starts to hear you whine about how its, ‘too much,’ all the sudden. he just can’t get a fucking break from your shit, can he? when he’s not fucking you its, ‘you don’t love me,’ but when he is you can’t take it?fuck that. he feels himself taking deeper stroke when you complain. fucks you harder and harder. you try to push at his lower tummy but he won’t let up—just grabs both of your hands with one of his and holds them above your head.

when your pussy starts to squirt out more of her mess he knows you’re starting to get overstimulated, but he just can’t seem to get himself to care. when you get too fussy all he does is stuff two of his fat fingers in your mouth.

“yeah,” he looks down to see the mix of slick and sweat pooling at the base of his cock every time he pulls away from you. “pussy feels even better when it’s not a fucking brat in my ear.”

drool pools around your mouth when you go to say something. satorus positive it’s something along the lines of, “m’not a brat!” he’s just glad he doesn’t have to hear it.

your clit pulses against his moving fingers and he can tell your there, just a few more strokes and you’d be making another mess.

“you wanna cum, baby?” satoru watches you hurriedly nod and his eyebrows raise, ready to play. he keeps fucking you deeper and deeper and you swear your feel your pussy gradually molding just for his dick.

his cock getting messier by the second, white ring showing every time he pulls in and out of your pussy. as soon as satoru sees your eyes start to roll back, and feels that little pussy let go. he pulls right out.

the whine that escapes from your lips is beyond satisfying, he can barely hold his smile. “wha— ‘toru!!” your little fingers fly to your clit, trying to at least ease some of the dissatisfaction. you rub your middle and ring finger in circles on your little clit messily, not nearly doing it as fulfilling as your husband. when your twitchy pussy does nothing but ache you cry out.

your eyes are weeping when you look to see your husband already pulling his briefs up and laughing at you. “don’t look at me like that baby.” he looks down at your pretty pussy still leaking with his and your cum and licks his lips, “you had it coming’.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 6: Lighter x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6664

Warnings: Afab!reader, friends with benefits, casual sex, body worship, mirror sex, blowjob, deep throating, brief cunnilingus, piv

A/N: This guy is so cool, I really hope this doesn't end up being too ooc since he was only just introduced and we still don't know a whole lot about him. 🫣

⭐

Nights out in the desert lean towards chilly but with a raging bonfire going you almost don’t even notice it. Not until you step away from the hotly licking flames anyway, and then you find yourself burrowing deeper into your coat for insulation from the wind. If the need to find some trouble to get into hadn’t been brewing like a storm in the back of your mind you would have been perfectly content to stay right where you were for the rest of the evening until it came time for bed, but that persistent tug has you scanning through the gathered crowd for an all too familiar face. 

You spot Lucy and Caesar easily enough, though as usual they were a little hard to miss when they couldn’t seem to get along for more than five minutes at a time. Sometimes you wondered how they managed to work together at all given the obvious tensions between them but it wasn’t really your place to pry. The Sons of Calydon were good to the people who made Blazewood their home and you liked them better than some of the other biker gangs at least. Eccentricities aside, they were just fine in your book. 

Neither of them were the one you sought though, so you keep making your way around the perimeter of the crowded area. It wasn’t often that everyone gathered for a celebration like this but the Sons, true to nature, tended to liven up the place whenever they came through. One of the many services you probably owed them thanks for. 

And then you finally spot him, just when you were starting to wonder if he’d turned in for an early night. Slouched in a banged up lawn chair someone had dug out from who only knows where with a stout glass full of something dark braced on the bend of his knee. Cool and casual. Yep, that was Lighter down to the letter. 

Stuffing your hands into the pockets of your jacket, you shuffle over to come up alongside where he’s sat in a loosely formed circle with a handful of other men, no doubt shooting the shit with each other which you thoroughly interrupt with your appearance. That he’d retreated to this reclusive side of the field where the girls were less likely to impede on his very important masculine brooding with like minded individuals does not escape your notice but too bad for him. 

You were not someone Lighter could easily ignore just as you had a hard time ignoring him whenever he happened to be around, and you allow yourself a small smile when he tips his head back to look up at you through the tinted lenses of his sunglasses. Still wearing them even now, when it was completely dark out and he probably couldn’t make out much of anything through them as a result. What a dork. 

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” He volleys right back, not missing a beat as he bobs his chin at you in relaxed greeting. “Good to see you. I was wondering if you’d stop by to pay me a visit tonight.” 

“Putting aside the fact that I always come see you, don’t you think it might be nice if you were the one who came to me sometimes? I’ve been standing over by the fire for a while now.”

A vaguely mischievous smile pulls at his mouth. “What, you want me to start following you around like a lovesick pup now? I seem to recall you giving me completely different instructions before.” 

“All I’m saying is some initiative might win you a few favors in the long run.” You shoot back, pinning Lighter with a playfully rueful look while you try very hard not to laugh. 

“Well, a man could always use more favors. What sort of initiative were you hoping for?” 

“Please, why would I tell you and ruin the fun of watching you try to figure it out on your own? And besides, it wouldn’t count for much if I just gave you all the answers.” 

This back and forth game with him already has you feeling eager and excited while you stand there, idly rocking on your toes in anticipation of his next move. But then he noises a brief sound of rumbling consideration before reaching out to suddenly snag your forearm with a hand gloved in leather. 

It happens much too quick for you to pull away or react beyond the giggling squeak you let out when he yanks you down across his lap. The two of you had known each other for a very long time now and these sorts of physical exchanges were common enough that no one really questioned it any more, though you’re still keenly aware of the other men that are gathered around politely turning their attention elsewhere. Breaking off into their own smaller groups, starting up their own snippets of conversation. It’s like they didn’t even see the two of you sitting there anymore, which comes as a relief while you work to get settled into place atop his legs, using a hand curved over his broad shoulder for stability. 

You and Lighter weren’t actually together, nor were you an item in any sense of the word, but you also weren’t just friends either. Everyone knew that so there wasn’t much point in hiding it. A lot of good it would have done you anyway when the communities scattered across the Outer Ring were so small and tight knit that keeping secrets often felt like an impossibility. 

So you look down into his face head on, openly grinning now as he minutely shifts underneath you to get comfortable again. He’s so firm and sturdy that it takes a great deal of self control on your part not to start kissing him right then and there. The two of you might not try all that hard to hide whatever was going on here but you still had some polite sensibilities left to your name. 

“Alright, sugar,” He intones, juggling his drink over to the opposite hand so he can casually set his arm across your lap while the other loosely curls around your hip. Just to make sure you don’t accidentally fall off, you’re sure. “I’m listening. Tell me what it is you want.”

“I’d think that should be obvious by now.” 

“You’re insatiable.”

“Only when it comes to you.” Lightly teasing a finger over one of the metal spikes on his biker jacket, you give him a pointed little smile. “Maybe if I saw you more often than every few weeks I’d get bored of it but you know how to keep a girl coming back for more, don’t you? Never give her enough to get complacent, just enough to become addicted.” 

“Hey now. That makes me sound like some kind of scheming playboy. I’m sure you know I’d give it to you every day if I could.” 

Your pussy distantly clenches at the thought, and you sit up a little straighter to subtly press down on his thigh. It was so unfair how easily he could drive you wild. Sometimes you didn’t think the playboy label was all that inaccurate, but then he’d say or do something so goofy that it completely shattered that impression of him in your mind. Despite how it looked he wasn’t actually some disloyal womanizer incapable of commitment, just someone with a lot of baggage and a long past. That’s all. 

But really, who couldn’t say the same in the Outer Ring? 

“That’s sweet but you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Lighter.” 

“It’s not for a lack of wanting, trust me.” He assures you, giving the meat of your hip a brief squeeze. “The Sons have just been busy lately. You know that. But once we win the Tour de Inferno - -“ 

“You’ll have better routes and less busy work. I’ve heard it before.” Sighing softly, you lift your hand from his shoulder to reach up and cradle a mostly smooth cheek in your palm. You could just feel the faintest hint of stubble starting to grow back after his morning shave much earlier in the day but the scratch of it registers as pleasant rather than disagreeable. “It doesn’t really matter in the end I guess. No strings attached, that was what we agreed on. I just worry about you sometimes. Even if it’s not for me, at least try to swing by more often so I can feed you. I’ll even make extra for the girls.” 

“I’m sure they’ll like that.” He murmurs, peering at you now over the top of his shades with an unwavering, plainly heated look that makes a shudder work down your spine. 

You stare into his face for another moment longer until the magnetic pull of his mouth becomes too much for you to resist, and you lean down to claim those sinfully inviting lips for yourself. Lighter readily returns the favor with a steady push and pull that only coaxes you further into your vibrating need for him, unable to reject it even if you’d wanted to. 

And you most certainly don’t want to. 

Realizing that you really can’t wait any longer to have him, you pull back just enough to speak against his mouth. “Take me home, Lighter. I want to be alone with you.” 

“If that’s what you want.” He husks, his tone dropped to a secretive but no less simmering drawl now. “Your wish is but my command, princess.”  

Bracing to stand, you ready to hop up from his lap but he manages to catch you off guard when he locks his arm around your middle and carefully eases himself out of the chair so he can rise to his feet with a rumbling groan for effect. You weren’t exactly a delicate waif but he’d picked you up far too many times for you to be surprised by his strength, and your pulse just quickens in excitement while you dangle a foot or so off the ground from his hold. 

Pausing there, Lighter lifts his glass to his mouth and tips his head back to down the whole thing in a quick gulp. You watch him do it with attentive fascination, admiring the defined line of his jaw and the thick bob of his Adam’s apple, but then he’s gently sliding you down to stand on your own and you take a reluctant step back from him. Everyone who’d come out for the bonfire didn’t need to see him carrying you off into the night like a caveman so you couldn’t argue the logic in letting you walk by yourself. But that doesn’t stop you from missing the warmth of his body pressed up against you, or the heady scent of him drowning out your sense of smell. 

Soon enough that would be rectified though, and together the two of you start to make your way back towards the gas station in companionable silence. 

It’s a quiet walk save the drone of conversation and the occasional shouts behind you, but those noises gradually fade the further you get from the gathering. Most of the locals had gone out into the nearby barren field to join the Sons of Calydon in celebrating their return trip from the transport they’d just completed, so the tiny outpost is perfectly still and peaceful when you reach it. 

Even calling it a town would have been quite the stretch when the outcrop of buildings and trailers, and decrepit mobile homes that spring up around the gas station in the center of it had only come into being out of necessity. Blazewood was at best an encampment of refugees but there were a lot of places like that left behind after the Hollow Disaster so it doesn’t look half as depressing as it probably actually is. It’s the only thing you’d ever really known with any familiarity though, and to you it’s home. 

Lighter was too much a roving nomad to have anything similar, save perhaps his band of fellow bikers, but there’s a small part of you that hopes he thinks of your tiny little motel as a kind of home too. He’d certainly been here more than enough times to be intimately familiar with the place and you by extension. 

Treading the exact same steps the two of you had walked many times before, you make your way into the back of what was at one time a supplies building. Your father had worked tirelessly to repurpose it into a place for lodgings, so that the traveling biker gangs would have somewhere to rest at night during their long hauls, and you’d naturally inherited the place from him when you were old enough. Although it had put a bit of a damper on any aspirations you’d once harbored about joining one of the gangs yourself, you’re admittedly glad for it now since it gave you some place to safely retreat to with Lighter at the end of the day. 

You certainly weren’t going to take him to your own room and fuck him on your own bed. That was one of the rules you’d established at the start of all this, more than just a few years ago now. At first it had been solely for practical reasons. Didn’t want him getting the wrong idea or, even worse, give yourself a chance to be fooled into thinking that this was somehow more meaningful than it actually was. He didn’t need to have access to your personal space like that. 

But by now it had become something of a safe neutral zone where both of you could simply let go of whatever roles and responsibilities, obligations and preconceptions you carried with you. Everyone had baggage in the Outer Rings, and neither you or Lighter were any different in that regard. 

But the good news was that both of your tastes aligned in the most delightful of ways, and as you step into your favorite room your eyes come up to look into the reflective surface of the floor length mirror hung on the wall. Between the bed and the claustrophobicbly small toilet closet there wasn’t much else in the tight space to look at. One of the bikers from the previous generation had gifted it to your father after finding it by chance in an old and abandoned warehouse. Evidently it was the only mirror that had still been in one piece after sitting forgotten for so long, and he’d carefully hauled it all the way back to Blazewood in his trailer. 

You suspected your father had at one time toyed with the notion of using this place as a brothel of sorts to make a little extra money on the side, but after you were born shortly thereafter it seemed he no longer had the heart to follow through on it. That was fine though, because this room and its mirror had still seen more than its fair share of action thanks to you and Lighter. 

The door clicks shut behind you with a sense of finality as you tread across the rough carpet and you eagerly turn to him, just in time for his hands to come up and cradle your cheeks. Firmly tilting your face up at him, he bends down to kiss you again but this time it’s not nearly as polite as it was when you’d had an audience watching. 

His mouth is hungry against yours now, matching your own need to feel him against you, on top of you, inside of you. Groaning softly, you rock forward onto the tips of your toes to better accommodate the height difference and reach up to thread your fingers through his shaggy hair. It’s soft but dry against your skin from all the wind and sand grit that naturally came with riding a motorcycle in the desert, yet you still relish the feel of it against you.

Giving it a slow tug, you tip your head to deepen the exchange and allow his tongue entry to your mouth when it prods at your lips. All at once the taste of him overwhelms your olfactory system in a potent rush made all the more intoxicating by the strong notes of whiskey you can clearly pick up on your tastebuds. You noise a quiet sound of ratcheting pleasure against his mouth while his hands descend upon your body to take greedy, squeezing grabs at whatever part of you he can reach. 

Lighter quickly loses patience for all the clothes standing between the two of you though, and he’s soon tugging at your coat to get it unzipped and tossed aside. You do the same with his leather jacket, fumbling to get it shoved back over his shoulders which he accommodates by helpfully stretching his arms down to let it fall to the floor. Then he’s right back to groping at you through your jeans, giving your ass a tight pinch before redirecting them around to your hips so he can steer you backwards. 

Still kissing his mouth with wild abandon, you let him guide you back to stand almost directly in front of the mirror where you finally manage to pry yourself from him only enough to get his t-shirt pulled up over his head. It leaves him standing there naked from the waist up, his already unruly hair more mussed than it was before, and you quickly bend your head close to flick your tongue over a pert nipple. 

Sighing a low rumble of appreciation, Lighter lifts one of his hands to briefly cradle the back of your head while the other reaches down to tug his belt loose. You know what’s coming and you just purr into his skin as you kiss over the planes of his chest to feel the faint tickle of sparse hair against your lips. Giving his bare sides an encouraging squeeze when the sound of his buckle rattling makes your cunt tighten in anticipation, you latch onto the opposite bud to offer it a taunting love bite. 

But by that time he’s got his thick jeans undone and the hand in your hair closes into a fist, using his hold on you to pull you up with a faltering sound of delight. The tug on your scalp is just sharp enough to make you really want it, stumbling a single, uncertain step before he forces you down onto your knees. You’re so hot with want and fast pumping adrenaline that you don’t even think to fight it as he directs your face to the front of his pants where he somewhat meanly grinds the stiff bulge inside across your mouth. 

Whining a needy little sound in the back of your throat, you quickly reach up to pull his pants down so you can shove your face into his underwear full on. You immediately take a deep, savory inhale to taste the distinct smell of him on the back of your tongue, feeling your slit leak sticky gossamer into your panties while you do it. Gods, he smelled heavenly. 

“Damn,” He issues a barely there groan in response, nudging his hips forward to press his cock tighter against your nose while he distractedly lifts his hands up to pull his gloves off one by one. “You’re gonna’ be the death of me at this rate, sugar. Maybe it’s for the best I can’t come see you more often. I don’t think there’d be anything left of me.” 

That brings a smile to your face as you roll your eyes upward to pin him with a sly look. He probably wasn’t wrong about that. It hadn’t taken you long to realize that most men struggled to keep pace with you but for his part Lighter certainly made the effort whenever he could. You’d likely have him completely drained within a week. 

It’s clear the powerful champion of Calydon isn’t intimidated though, and he gives his sunglasses a quick adjustment where they’d started to inch down — insisting they stay on even now, the goof — before shuffling back half a step. 

You almost catch yourself mewling a quiet sound of disappointment but then he’s bending low to hook his fingers in the hem of your top and pull it up. An impressively well practiced motion of his hand soon has your bra falling loose around your shoulders before it quickly joins everything else on the floor in a rumpled heap of all your discarded clothes. 

An intense tremble works through your body at the sensation of your bare tits cutting through the air, already stiff and seeking attention. Still bending at the waist, Lighter takes a moment to briefly cup your breasts in his calloused palms and lift them, encouraging you to arch your back to better present your chest. He hunches even closer then and gives each nipple a savory kiss to tease the sensitive flesh, eliciting another groan of pleasure from you when he moves to straighten up again. 

One of his hands is immediately back in your hair and he roughly pulls you in against him as he closes the distance, rubbing your face against his cock once again. Unable to go another moment without him in your mouth, you dig your fingers into his dark boxer briefs so you can yank them down to pool in his jeans where they were still tucked into his boots. 

The hard length of him promptly springs up into the scant space between you and just brushes the kiss swollen pucker of your mouth to leave behind a faintly sticky trail. Bracing one hand on a powerfully lean thigh, you use the other to take hold of him in a tight grip and give it a few perfunctory tugs to ease the foreskin back. You can clearly see the flushed glans glinting in the overhead light with a sheen of sticky arousal which you coquettishly lick up to get your first taste of him for the evening. 

Groaning quietly in appreciation, Lighter settles into a wide legged stances with his feet braced far apart while the hand on your head firmly guides you forward to take him in. And you do so with great enthusiasm, sliding your mouth down to about the halfway point of his shaft where the head of him starts to tickle at your throat. 

From the corner of your eye you can just make out what’s happening in the reflection of the mirror, the tall tell bob of your head while you work him over with your tongue to build up more saliva and the very noticeable way your tits shift with the motion. It makes you feel ten times hotter, squirming there on the floor at his feet while you watch yourself suck him off. As far as visuals go it was incredibly satisfying to observe in real time, which was exactly why both of you loved this room so much. You’d had to use a different one on a few occasions, when he’d shown up unexpectedly and this room was already occupied by someone else, but it was never the same. Nothing quite compared to the front row seat you had here, getting to watch him fuck you and go down on you, to see yourself spread out on his thick cock and pushed straight to the limit of your physical abilities. 

They made video recording devices in the city, or so you’d heard, and you had half a mind to try it out sometime with him just to get a different perspective. But such technology didn’t last long all the way out here when the ether corruption was so high that most anything that wasn’t analogue didn’t survive for even a whole month. The mirror had served you well up until now though, and you savoringly pull back as you turn your head to watch the shuddering string of spittle stretch between his stiff cock and your mouth before breaking apart. 

Looking into your own reflection, you’re struck by how very needy you look in that moment with eyes blown wide under the heavy droop of your lashes and flushed, kiss swollen lips coated in a sheen of saliva. Lighter knows you a little too well though, and he rumbles a masculine sound when he shifts the position of his hand to better grip your hair so he can turn your face up and around to make you look at him instead. 

“Getting distracted there, sugar?”

Feeling punchdrunk on something stronger than any drink you’d had at the bonfire, you blithely nod your head in agreement. He hadn’t really needed to ask and the way he pins you with a barely there smirk assures you he’d already known the answer. But that was how the two of you played this game no matter how overly familiar you got with each other's bodies, and yet it never seemed to truly get old. 

Neither does the way he expertly uses the fistful of hair he’s got in his hold to force your mouth back down, rudely shoving his cock past lips and teeth, and a squirming tongue so he can prod at the back of your throat. The glide of satiny flesh is smooth and nearly seamless when he sedately thrusts his hips back and forth, back and then forth again, thanks in no small part to the excess of spit forming along your palate. And you just keep drooling all the more excessively the longer he does it, coaxing your salivary glands to work overtime for him until you can feel it bubbling out to dribble down your chin.

Only then does Lighter at last shove himself forward in tortuous slow motion to slide down your gullet one sinful inch at a time. You feel the customary jump in your pulse at suddenly finding your airway blocked and the alarm of pressure pushing in on your throat but force yourself to relax into it. The eventual tickle of coarse pubic hair brushing your nose lets you know when you’ve taken it all and you gurgle a wet sound of pleasure around his length when he makes a point of grinding your face down, holding you there for a prolonged beat. 

Then he’s pulling you back, using your hair to smoothly guide your neck where he wants it to go and dislodge himself from your throat in the process. A fresh wave of copious, sticky spit comes out with him, leaving you kneeling there gasping for air as thick wads of saliva roll down your face. You blearily glance up through the reflexive moisture in your eyes while he gives you a moment to catch your breath only to suck in a rattling gasp when you see how very wrecked you look in the mirror. But he’s not quite through with your mouth just yet, and he repeats the process a handful of times more until you’re dizzily swaying at his feet from the head rush. 

You’re so delirious with it, in fact, that by the time he bends down to get on your level again you almost don’t even notice how close he suddenly is. Not until Lighter takes your wet face between his hands and angles your attention up at him. Reeling and hungry to have his mouth on yours, you eagerly rock forward to catch his lips, but he keeps you firmly in place while he presumably looks over your expression. 

It was sometimes hard to tell through those damned sunglasses. 

“Still doing good, princess?” 

“Y - yeeah …” You groan, forcing your neck to work on an unsteady bob. 

“Good.” Swooping in too quick for you to react, he presses a hard, firm kiss to your temple and then pulls away so he can carefully unwind his fingers from your hair. 

Even this late in the game you still know what he’s about to do because the two of you have done this about a hundred different times now. Same song, different dance — and yet that doesn’t stop the little squeak of excitement you give when he grabs under your arms to lift you up off the floor. Without his jacket in the way you can see all the tension running through his muscles, scarred skin bulging under the strain of your weight, but he doesn’t even falter. He’s as steady as solid iron, and just as strong too. 

Smoothly turning on his heel, Lighter tosses you onto the bed where you bounce once, twice, then his hands are on your hips to yank you back closer to the edge. Panting and breathless, you glance up at him while he stands between your legs, heavy hands working to get your jeans unfastened. His shades have slid forward on the bridge of his nose at some point in all that messing around, and he now sends you a steely look from over the top of them. 

“What did I say?” He murmurs, the fond note in his voice doing little to soften the masculine rumble behind the words. “Insatiable.” 

“Not my fault.” You purr back, grinning. “Maybe you should try being less amazing in the sheets.” 

Sending you a rueful look, Lighter grabs the top of your open pants and yanks them down your legs, knocking your shoes off in process with a dull thump on the floor. Your panties are quick to go next and, momentarily left to your own devices while he kicks off his own boots and jeans, you roll over onto your stomach so you can jut your ass up in the air. Giving it a playful, taunting wiggle, you glance back at him over your shoulder with a sly smile. 

Alright, so he wasn’t wrong. You were insatiable, but could anyone really blame you? 

Cooly watching the display from under his tousled hair, he shoots you a quick look of warning while he leans down to get his underwear pulled off. The weighty bob of his cock between his legs makes you pussy clench and you bite down on your lip as you invitingly arch your back for him. 

“Careful, sugar. You’re looking for trouble tonight.” 

“Mmm, then why don’t you come punish me?” 

He scoffs a hushed laugh at the taunt, casually stepping into the space between your dangling feet again. Both of his hands come down on your ass at the same time, the deafening crack doing more to startle a sound of surprise out of you than the starburst of pain that comes with it, but it’s quickly followed by an appreciative groan when he squeezes the cheeks pinchingly tight and spreads them open. 

You feel him lean close then and you screw your eyes shut, seething a sensitive whine through your teeth when he runs his tongue from one end of your slit straight down to the other, getting a good taste of your arousal along the way. He takes a moment to just leisurely eat you out from the back like he had all night to wind you up tighter and tighter, the firm nudge of him against your clit making your thighs judder. It doesn’t last long enough to send you over the edge though, just encouraging you a little closer to the edge of oblivion before he straightens up behind you again. 

Stretching, Lighter reaches around you then to snag one of the pillows from the headboard which he tosses down next to your head before moving to sit next to you. At his hushed coaxing, you stiffly sit up and let him pull you over into his lap where you eagerly lean into him for a kiss, soft tits pushing into the firm planes of his chest. 

He indulges you only briefly though, letting you get a good taste of yourself on his tongue before pulling back enough to speak. “Turn around for me, princess. Gonna’ make you watch while I split that little cunt in half. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

Just hearing him talk like that makes every single nerve ending in your body tense up to the point of real discomfort and you shudder fiercely even as you work to get spun around, tossing your leg over his hip so you can get settled across Lighter’s stomach. But even knowing good and well how strong he is wasn’t quite enough to fully ease your concerns about sitting on top of him. It makes you carefully hold yourself so you don’t put too much of your weight on him but he’s quick to smooth his palms down your sides to take bruising hold of your hips, forcing you to sit all the way and keeping you locked right where you are. 

While he gets situated behind you, laying back on the pillow he’d grabbed, you steal a harried glance at yourself in the mirror. Somehow this part always manages to surprise you, how soft and voluptuous you look against all the hard muscle and masculine angles of his body. Tits heavy and full, your pussy shamelessly spread open for him and the rigid length of him spearing up in the air between your legs. The visual alone is enough to nearly send you into free fall, and the knowledge that he was about to stuff that thick cock inside your body … you felt like you were going to cum before he even put it in you. 

“Nnghn, Lighter … fuck!” 

He softly shushes you, jostling you slightly as he at last tightens his fingers on your hips to lift your pelvis and guide your cunt into position over him. The shift forces you to go up on your toes, hands splayed out behind you across his flexing abdominals to steady your balance. 

And you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the reflection now when he uses his braced feet on the floor to push up, sending his cock skirting along your sticky slit. You suck in a wet, faltering breath, arching your back to better angle your pussy down. He tries again, slipping and sliding through soaked fleshy lips, and the glans successfully catches at your entrance on the second attempt. 

You almost breathe a shuddering sigh of relief but then he’s pushing into you, good on his word of making you watch him split you in half. The gummy stretch of your body gradually taking him in one fraction of an inch at a time makes you feel faint from how hard your arousal spikes but you deliriously force yourself to keep watching. It’s fascinating, in a way, how his length slowly disappears inside you and demands your tight inner sleeve make room for him until he’s finally sheathed in you straight down to the base. 

Sitting there on top of him like that, cunt stuffed full and blissfully aching, you let out a low, mewling groan of satisfaction as your head starts to loll back as if in a doped out stupor. That little bit of reprieve in which he allows you to adjust is short lived though, and Lighter issues a rumbling groan of his own when he starts to move. 

The immediate heavy bounce of his ballsack excites you almost as much as the heavy jiggle of your tits does, and you cry out at the blindingly sharp bursts of ecstasy that shoot through your system each time he takes an upward jab up into your guts. You can see everything clearly in the mirror from your own pleasure stricken expression and the sweat coating your body down to the vigorous flex of muscle along his thighs. It doesn’t take long for it to start feeling overwhelming in this position though, your cunt completely defenseless and at his mercy like this, and your legs soon begin to tremble when the internal pressure steadily climbs. But the meaty slap of his pelvis driving against your ass and the accompanying wet clicks of your pussy sucking him in deep almost overwhelms any other sounds, and you nearly miss the hushed grunt of his voice when he speaks over your own desperate bleating. 

“Goddamn, you’re taking me so well, sugar … nnghnohh, yeeaah. You like that dick in your little pussy, huh? Already getting so tight for me … aghh, gonna’ cum all over this cock, aren’t you? Gonna be a good girl for me?” 

“Y - yes! I’m - I’m gonna’ — ahhghnn!”

Unable to take the relentless pounding anymore, you gingerly try to lift your lower body from the total onslaught but he just squeezes your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you firmly in place. There’s no escape from him or his cock, and you shudderingly squirm on top of him as your cresting pleasure just continues to climb higher and higher. It was like he was specifically made to fit you, each little ridge and veiny bump along his shaft perfectly stoking the blaze inside your body until it felt like you were going to combust. 

Still, it wasn’t quite enough to tip you over the edge though, and you precariously hang there in the balance, sobbing in pleasure, until he at last slides one of his hands inward to direct the blocky fingers towards your slit. You can see his intention clearly in the mirror's reflection but with your own hands braced behind you there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Gently at first, then more vigorously, Lighter rubs over your clit with a steady motion that quickly has you teetering over into the awaiting abyss below. 

And for a split second you get to watch yourself cum, get to see the way your whole body seizes up and uncontrollably shakes, how your expression twists in deeply felt relief, before it becomes too much to bear. Your eyes screw shut as you wildly jerk through your orgasm, wailing up at the ceiling while he just continues to pet you and fuck his cock into your pulsing cunt to drag it out. 

You briefly think you might actually die there like that, stretched out on him with your heart jackhammering such a violent rhythm it seems a small wonder you don’t kick the bucket, but at last you finally start to come down from it one fragmented piece of you at a time. It’s a process to refit the pieces back together again but when you finally manage to stir from your semi comatose state, you find Lighter still slowly thrusting into your fluttering cunt to milk every lost drop out of your release. 

At the deeply ruffled, frazzled sound you let out, he seems to realize you’re starting to recover and he seamlessly flips you over onto your stomach with a well practiced twist. Stretching out over top of you to pin your heaving body down, he finds your numb hands with his own so he can direct them high up on the bed and leave you prone underneath him. 

“Well, princess,” He murmurs right into your ear to make you whine a muffled groan into the sheets. “It looks to me like you might’ve finally bitten off a bit more than you can chew. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so tame. Still want more?” 

You quickly nod your head, trying in vain to arch your ass up into him, but it was impossible when his sturdy weight was settled on top of you like that and all you end up doing is restlessly squirming under him. It doesn’t matter though and it doesn’t stop you from trying. That was perhaps the best orgasm you’d ever had and you were still hungry for more. Voracious, even. 

“Yes, yes, yes — please, Lighter, please. Give me more.”

Softly clicking his tongue, he presses his mouth against the side of your head in another hard, toe curling kiss before pulling back enough to rumble a tender, “Insatiable brat.” 

And you really can’t argue against it.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[janananarei]

Rivals!Satosugu x Reader

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contains: fluff, kinda satosugu-centric, love triangle (in the beginning)

a/n: just thought of this out of nowhere. New one shot will come out soon!

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Imagine...

Rivals! Satosugu who both have a crush on you. But ever since they found out they both like you, there has been a silent rivalry between them. Having a competition on who wins your heart first.

Rivals! Satosugu who does anything to impress you and one-up the other. Suguru gave you flowers and chocolate? Satoru bought you the newest designer bag and all the sweets you can think of. Satoru reserved you both a seat for the restaurant down the street? Suguru made you a whole buffet, home cooked and handmade. Your just standing there confused from all the attention your getting from them. Your flattered, but still confused.

Rivals! Satosugu who's rivalry continues even through missions. You three assigned to clear up the curses in an abandoned school. Satoru would always take the last hit just as Suguru was about to kill a curse or absorb it. And Suguru would use one of his curses to lead Satoru away from you both, so while Satoru was killing Suguru's curses, you and Suguru got to spend more time together with no interruptions.

Rivals! Satosugu who would spar with each other infront of you, so that they can show off their skills and strength. They would go back to back, not holding back, always making sure to reach their limit whilst your int he bleachers wit shoko cheering for them both. Despite their 'friendly' competition, Satoru would still make sure that Suguru didn't get too hurt after their matches.

Rivals! Satosugu who would ruin each other's supposed dates with you by tagging along. Suguru would just be sitting across both of you, with an annoyed expression, as you both gobble up the cake he had to pay (even though Satoru was the one who insisted they eat at this specific cafe, and is more than rich enough to afford the whole menu). And Satoru, in the sidelines, would just roll his eyes whenever Suguru wins you something from the claw machine.

Rival! Suguru who is used to Satoru butting in his date with you. So he always carries candy in his pocket whenever Satoru gets a headache from keeping up infinity for too long.

Rivals! Satosugu who was just sparring with each other again, as you and shoko converse with each other in the sidelines. Satoru was sure he would win since Suguru was getting tired and starting to struggle. But he was caught off guard as Suguru suddenly appeared behind him and pinned him down.

Rival! Satoru who opens his eyes and is met with dark eyes that look just like the night sky. Suguru's face was just inches away from his, so much so that he can feel his breath. Satoru felt his face burning up and his mind becoming a scatter. Suguru just looks at him confused, about to ask if he was okay but was caught of by shoko.

"Hey! You boys okay? You better not be bleeding, cuz I'm not gonna heal you!"

Rival! Suguru who answers back and stands up, dusting away the dirt. Satoru still lays on the ground all beet red and still in shock. "You good man?" Suguru asked, holding out his hand for Satoru to take. Satoru finally gets out of his daze and takes his hand to stand up. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm just tired from the mission yesterday. I'm gonna go back to my room." Satoru scratches the back of his head and bolts his way out of there. Suguru just looks confused, as you and shoko start to approach him.

Rival! Satoru who buried his face in his pillow as he couldn't stop thinking about his face being so close to Suguru's. His face once again beet red as he recalls what just happened. Satoru is trying to collect his thoughts until his eyes widen and he stops breathing for a second. Having a striking realization.

He likes you and Suguru

'Well shit.'

[sxorpiomooon]

How do they feel about you - pac reading

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Pile 1

Pile 1 I'm sorry, the first thing I noticed was that my eyes kept forcing themselves to shut down for some reason it's like when you are thinking about someone and you sort of force yourself not to that's the vibe. I feel as if this person feels like you are walking away from this connection. I want to tell you that you are very brave for making this decision as I can see how stressed you look. Pile 1 might be extremely exhausted I heard "it's time to go" and had a vision of a clock tickling a brown one very light or dark academia core I think it was 9 o clock? I heard "i let go off what no longer serves me". This person has a victim complex they still that they are the victim here, the one who was wronged they are refusing to see the truth it reminds me of the first thing I mentioned while writing this the eye thing. This person self sabotages things and then cries about it. It's like someone is crying with their eyes closed to everyone that they are tied with rope and can't move but they don't realise that they are never tied in the first place. OML im so mad😭😭😭 this person has placed everything in your power I'll tell you what this is the kind of man who would NEVER plan ANY dates or anything and will ALWAYS say "we'll see" etc I'm so mad this person refuses to put any efforts and wants you to do all the WORK and they might also Gaslight you oh my pile 1 you are doing right throw this son of. A bitch away this made me mad too. Also for those who need it, the flower that you guys choose is lotus and the reason why lotus is my favourite flavour is because even while being surrounded by mud, it never loses it's beauty and goodness. I hope you remember that<3

Pile 2

i like this whoever this person is they might be really forgetful air signs if you are asking about a man ooo he good looking might have good eyes but dark circles I'm seeing a dark blue tshirt and very dim yellow lights is this a party no idea a libra is involved anyways this might be a new connection or you guys might be starting a new cycle. Also the second thing I got and I forgot to include was that whenever this person remembers you they might do it in a very pleasant manner it's like a bunch of people talking about you and all a sudden they'll be like "ooooooo xyz? Oh yea they're good they're nice they're very nice i like them" that's the vibe I'm seeing whiskey??? This connection has alot of raw potential only slowly unleashing or revealing itself now, you have the power to take this connection wherever you want it go rn. There are endless possibilities. Apples keep playing in my head SOMEONE STPP IT. I hope you don't take this the wrong way but I feel like either they feel like this or its both of your energy but there's something about childhood trauma here I keep hearing something shattering like plates or glasses broken family and disharmony is what I heard. And this person might also think that you might be a loner or someone who just really enjoys their own company I had a vision of painting? I guess this might also be interpreted as this was a connection with alot of potential but past trauma kinda ruined shit for the both of you and if that's the case I'm so sorry to my pile 2

Pile 3

Someone here might speak like singing as in even while saying normal sentences you might say it in a very melodious manner something about singing also had a vision of a takeaway as in the window and vibing alibi started playing YOU WONT BELIEVE WHAT UUST HAPPENEDNNOTONCE BUT TWIECE OKAY MY RUMBLR CRASHED OUT OF NOWHERE AND THEN OPENED AND I WAS SVARWD THAT MY 3NTIRE READING WILL BE WASTED BUTBIT GOT RESTORED AND THEN IT HAPPENED AGAIN BUT AGAIN IT WAS RESTORED. Anyways for some of you something might have happened in this connection that destroyed it as in there was so much hope and light which all ended up in darkness for some reason "all this rage was once love" came to my mind and a very nice warming instrumental played in my head. This is a pile for a very few of you, you might be asking for a past connection. I think there is hope however there's also a need to let go off your emotional baggage in order to continue to connection or for anything. This person also feels this way, that you might have walked away or both of you did because of the unreleased trauma. I hope everything works out in your favour pile 3 <3

[sitp-recs]

top 10 drarry fics by the sheer force of the feels they gave you? not necessarily good feels! things you remember primarily because they hit hard in some way.

obviously, i'd also love to hear exactly how/why they hit hard if you're up for sharing that!

Oh that’s such a wonderful ask, thank you! I’m sorry for the late reply, the 10 fics came easily bc whenever I see those titles I get immediately transported back to where I was and what I felt reading them for the first time. But putting into words what exactly makes them heartkick-y for me was a bit more challengeging. It’s usually a “when you feel it you know it” kind of thing (and quite literally too, as sometimes it manifests as an actual physical reaction!) but more often than not the fic just clicks for me and there’s no rationale behind it. As Clarice Lispector said: “I suppose that understanding myself is not a question of intelligence but of feeling. It either touches you, or it doesn't."

Anyhoo, I tried my best to keep this short and sweet but since I’ve written individual recs for almost all these fics, I thought I’d include them too :) thanks again, this was super fun! And I’d love to read about your picks as well 👀

An Emerald In The Sky by corvuscrowned | my rec

it doesn’t get more romantic than star-crossed lovers doomed by time travel!!!! (see also: my thoughts on The Eighth Tale by lettered). this is my brand of melancholy, something about the constant yearning, the beauty of stolen moments in liminal space, the unfairness of it all… ugh

Far From the Tree by aideomai | my rec

fft has altered my brain chemistry and ruined me forever with its tender devastation, I had such a visceral reaction to it - to the point of feeling dizzy and feverish. a simple time travel concept (this is my kryptonite istg) but the epic storytelling! the gratification! the bittersweet ending! rereading it would kill me but what a way to go

Forgive Those Who Trespass by Lomonaaeren

easily one of the most haunting and terrifying fics I’ve ever read, one jumpscare after the other but so creative and well-written I was too busy collecting my jaw from the floor to talk myself out of it lol

Little Compton Street by writcraft | my rec

as a queer woman, this one feels extremely personal and is very dear to my heart. I’ll never forget the emotions I felt learning about queer history and finding a sense of peace and belonging. lcs feels like coming home 🏳️‍🌈

Little Red Courgette by blamebrampton

this was my first bb fic and their sense of humor just blew my mind. I was so impressed by the smooth world building, by their wit and clever political commentary. I just couldn’t stop laughing. the dialogue is so good it makes me wanna weep, I can’t explain how much joy and comfort this fic gave me

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore

full disclosure: my reading experience was shaped by the fact that I didn’t realize the tagged disability would be major and permanent 🤡 by the time I noticed I was so emotionally invested I couldn’t stop. one of the most painful reads I’ve ever endured, worth it tho

Running on Air by eleventy7 | my rec

introspective fics are my jam and this one was just what I needed while working through some shit at a turning point in my life. so I guess it was more about finding the right fic at the right time, and I’m hit by mixed feelings of catharsis and nostalgia every time I revisit roa.

Still Life (orphaned) | my rec

my definition of a perfect shortfic. gorgeous prose, flawless execution, the “nothing is happening but everything is changing” vibes I live for, one of the best Harry pov I’ve ever read and an ending that always makes me gasp in awe. few authors can write complex emotions so effortlessly as seefin, absolute masterclass

Super Rich Kids by trishjames | my rec

criminally underrated, this story broke my heart but also gave me such a THRILL. I usually avoid substance abuse in fic but something about Draco’s spiral journey felt so raw it kept me at the edge of my seat. devastating but also a surprisingly funny and exciting thriller. the range!!!

The Long Fall by tackytiger | my rec

as someone who’s never been into kid fic and family dynamics, this was a punch on the solar plexus and rearranged my whole view about this trope. I was deeply moved by Harry’s longing for a family of his own and despite not having or wanting kids, this still felt really cathartic and changed me in a way I can’t quite explain.

[ineffably-human]

It's completely okay they had sex. There is nothing wrong with it and it isn't what temporarily broke them up.

They are both grown-ass men who've had sex with other people before (for various reasons and with various results). The seriousness of their relationship doesn't rise or fall on whether they've had sex because despite social mores, those two things aren't intrinsically linked. Sex is part of how people process complicated feelings all the time (see: funerals, near-death situations), and if both parties are clearly consenting then that isn't necessarily a bad thing or something that ruins a relationship.

Ed wakes up and gets rid of a tangible part of a persona he's wanted to shed for a long time. He makes his lover breakfast in bed. He's not rattled by Izzy coming in to tease them, if anything he's calmer than Stede is (which makes sense as the partner who has actually been with a man/had sex he enjoyed before).

They have a very happy date where Stede's new celebrity status doesn't bother him at all. Ed getting rid of the Blackbeard leathers 'felt good.' More gentle ribbing about sex with Stede gets a smile from Ed.

(They could have chosen to talk about Ned Lowe that morning, by the way, or at some other time that day, or literally whenever they both felt ready to do it. I don't think they did and I think they really should, but they by no means had to process every bit of it five whole seconds after it happened.)

There is no awkwardness, distance, or upset between Ed and Stede until it becomes clear just how much Stede is blowing up as a newly successful pirate, and just how much Ed is thinking about retiring. His conversation with Jackie highlights just how much those are incongruous things. That's when he freaks out and leaves. That's when he starts picking a fight - about how they're moving too fast, about how Stede isn't instantly supportive of his plan to drop everything and run off to a new career, about how fishermen and pirates are fundamentally different or whatever shit he says in the moment.

Because Stede is 100% correct about what Ed is doing - he's blowing it up. Ed is looking for the barest hint of conflict anywhere he can to turn into a bigger fight, and then using that as an excuse to leave before Stede can do it first. And Stede may think that's a fear of commitment or intimacy or something, since he doesn't have the full context, but it absolutely is a cowardly move.

I've seen posts saying Ed is clearly communicating his needs and I feel like I'm living on another planet. Did he ever say 'I'm scared we want fundamentally different lives and that means we can't be together'? Or 'I'm worried the life you want to embrace is the life I need to drop, because it's toxic for me'? Because until he says that, he hasn't told Stede anything.

And nothing about those very real fears has anything to do with sex.

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 2/12)

hiii here's these two again, enjoy!!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie still hates you, you're way too nice, and gareth fucked up big time

contains: enemies to lover trope, themes of sexism/misogyny, smoking, drug and alcohol use, reader gets injured (nothing crazy), eddie hooking up with someone that's not reader, mean eddie, sexual themes, a glimpse of needy n sad eddie, mild violence (eddie punches someone), and Eddie being nosey <3

word count: 5.6k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Eddie can’t do it.

He can’t fucking stand you. He hates that you’re everywhere, always around, always lingering— like a fucking hawk— just silently watching and waiting for one of them to fuck up. And he hates that you carry that fucking journal everywhere, always jotting down notes about whatever bullshit you write about— and he’s sure it isn’t any good either way because most of the time, the band does the same shit every day. There’s nothing for you to write about. They do a show, hang out backstage, catch wind of some party, stay out until they can’t physically walk anymore, and crash as soon as they get to the hotel. 

It’s the same shit. Yet, you’re always writing something down as if something new has happened— as if it’s something intriguing and eye-catching. 

You barely talk for the first few days; you just watch and observe, and Eddie thinks this must be how animals at the zoo feel— on display and putting up some fascinating show. He hates it.

After the third show, you start to loosen around the edges and start actually talking, like a normal human being. You talk to Jeff the most, laugh at his shitty jokes and ask him questions about songs and lines he’s written in past songs, and Eddie hates that. He hates watching you sit next to Jeff and scribble in your journal as Jeff strums out a new hook. 

He hates that whenever he brings you up to Jeff and makes some snide comment about you, Jeff never joins in— just shrugs and says, ‘She’s not too bad, actually.’

As if Eddie would ever believe that.

Gareth hardly pays any mind to you; he's too busy checking out chicks and just… being Gareth, but you’ve talked to him on multiple occasions. Eddie’s caught glimpses of you two chatting at rehearsals or in the green room. You even sat with him at breakfast the other day, and Eddie— Eddie almost blew a gasket because that was his fucking seat.

You’re ruining everything, and nobody seems to notice except for Eddie, and it’s driving him nuts.

“Dude, you’re gonna scare her away if you keep glaring at her like that,” Jeff mumbles, turning back to his guitar as he runs a dust cloth over the neck of the instrument. 

They’re in the studio today because there’s no show tonight, and against all of Eddie’s wishes, Richie still invited you to come sit in for their session. Eddie watches through the glass of the sound booth as you settle in on the brown couch, pulling out that stupid journal and a pen, mindlessly clicking it a few times before writing a note. Ridiculous. 

Eddie glares at Jeff and works the gum in his mouth as he pulls a face, “Good. She can blow off the face of the earth for all I care.” He grumbles, sitting down in the metal chair beside Jeff. 

Jeff looks at him, raises an unimpressed eyebrow, and shakes his head, “She’s not going anywhere, man. You’re gonna fuck it up if you keep being so… hostile toward her.” He points out. Eddie leans back in his chair, pulling out a box of cigarettes and sparking up. “I’m not gonna be the one to fuck it up,” Eddie mumbles through smoke, “You guys are practically feeding her all the information she needs on a silver fucking platter. She’s a goddamn shark.” 

Jeff scoffs and says nothing more as he continues cleaning his guitar. Eddie glances at you and watches you talk to the producer, smiling and laughing at something that Eddie can’t hear because the mic is off and the door is closed. 

Aside from how annoying and creepishly lurk-y you are, Eddie can admit you’re pretty. You have a pretty face, pretty smile, pretty hair, a bright look in your eyes that Eddie can’t stand because you look at the rest of the band like they hung the fucking moon when they speak. You look at everyone as if they’re so important, and Eddie thinks that’s dumb. 

He glances at Jeff, watches him silently for a moment, and glances back at you, takes a hit of his cigarette before speaking, “You like her?” he asks.

Jeff glimpses at Eddie and laughs with a shake of his head, “Isn’t that precisely what you’re pissed about?”

Eddie shakes his head, “No, like,” he kicks the heel of his shoe into the floor, “Do you wanna fuck her?”

Jeff pauses his task and watches as Eddie puffs on his cigarette. “I have a girlfriend, Eddie.” He reminds the boy. Eddie glances at him and scoffs, “That chick from Chicago? Thought that was just for fun.” He responds. 

Eddie remembers the girl from a few weeks back, remembers Jeff sneaking her on the bus while they had dinner. He didn’t know they were serious.

Jeff shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief, “No, man. She’s come to like every show— and her name is Naomi; she’s not a chick.”

Eddie grunts in response, burning to the end of his cigarette when Jeff stands up and nudges him with his foot, “Just talk to her, dude. She’s not as bad as you think she is, and she asks good questions— actual questions, about the music and shit. None of that,” he waves a hand in gesture, “stupid shit we get from reporters. She’s good. Just try.”

Jeff leaves Eddie to mill about it and finish off cigarette, snuffing it out in the ashtray sitting on the amp. Eddie doesn’t believe Jeff one bit; he thinks you’re a liar who’s mastered the art of manipulation and has weaseled your way into gaining his friends' trust. He doesn’t believe you are here for the music, as Jeff had said; he thinks— knows— that you’re here to find the cracks.

You’re here to find the cuts and bruises and press into them so you can tear them apart piece by piece. A starved monster, preying on his band for some sick and twisted story to feed the media so you can climb the ladder of your industry. Eddie has met and knows people like you, and he can call your bluff from a mile away.

He doesn’t believe Jeff. But he does, however, know how to play your game. 

The next day is show day— the fifth show of the residency, and Eddie is in a good mood. He woke up with a girl in his bed, got high, went for a short walk to a nearby cafe, and even signed a few autographs for some lovely fans. On top of that, you haven’t shown up for rehearsals yet, and Eddie thinks the world is working in his favor today if you skip.

He’s playful today. He jumps on Gareth’s back and makes him run down the rows of the arena, screaming and hollering like wild animals. He and Jeff take Richie’s golf cart and go for a spin backstage, giggling when the security chases them and tells them speeding backstage is prohibited. They don’t listen, though; Eddie ignores everyone’s warnings and keeps hauling ass down the nearly empty hallways, swerving around boxes and equipment like a madman.

And Eddie may be mean sometimes; he may push people's buttons for the hell of it and do things he knows he shouldn’t just to get a reaction out of it, but Eddie isn’t cruel. He isn’t a psychopath who likes hurting people, so he doesn’t mean to speed past you and spook you badly enough to stumble into a stack of road cases.

Eddie saw you, and he tried to warn you, yelled out for you to move out of the way, and even honked, but you had a pair of headphones stuffed over your ears so that you couldn’t hear the squealing wheels of the golf cart or Eddie’s warning. He almost took you out. Almost. But he didn’t because he swerved at the last second, and you panicked and stepped back, stumbling on the heel of your shoe and falling onto the cold cement floor, slamming your back against the black boxes.

Eddie curses and comes to a screeching halt, parking the golf cart and following Jeff as he jogs over to you, quickly asking if you’re okay and helping you to sit up. As you speak, your face is twisted in confusion, wincing and sitting up, “I’m fine, I just— I just fell, it’s fine.”

Eddie watches from a few feet back as Jeff helps you stand up, face pinching in an expression of pain when you put your weight onto your ankle, and Eddie doesn’t believe it for a second. “I think you might need to get that checked—” Eddie cuts Jeff off and speaks the first thought that comes to his mind, “Why didn’t you move out of the way?”

You look at him, anger replacing your look of pain as you glare at Eddie. You grip the band of your headphones and wave it at him, “Because I didn’t fucking hear you, jackass.” You snap. “What, you couldn’t see the big ass machine hurling your way?”

“No,” you seethe, “You shouldn’t have been driving that fast anyways; this isn’t my fault. The least you could do is say fucking sorry.” You spat. And Eddie just thinks you’re a brat. Before Eddie can respond with an even bitchier response, Jeff is cutting in with a wave of his hands, “Okay, this is fucking stupid,” he scoffs, “just let me drive you to medic so you can get checked.”

Eddie doesn’t even bother helping Jeff get you to the golf cart; he simply watches as you fake your limp all the way to the vehicle and thank Jeff for helping you get in. Jeff looks back to Eddie and raises an eyebrow, “Are you coming, man?” 

Eddie wouldn’t willingly spend a minute with you if someone paid him to do it. 

He shakes his head with a scoff and tells them to go on, he’ll meet them at the stage later on, and Jeff takes off without another word.

“Did you try to hit the journalist with a fucking golf cart?”

Eddie’s good mood is long gone. 

After the whole golf cart fiasco, Eddie took his time walking around backstage and burning through cigarettes before finding himself in the room filled with snacks and drinks. He’s standing at the table filled with chips and sodas when Richie storms in and starts causing a goddamn scene.

“What—” “You know what I’m talking about.” Richie snaps. Eddie’s face twists in annoyance, “I didn’t try to fucking hit her; she didn’t move out of the goddamn way because she’s an idiot,” Eddie grumbles, returning to his task of sifting through the different brands of chips. Eddie doesn’t believe you’re actually hurt. That pathetic fall was as minor as a fall can get, and he thinks Jeff and anyone else who believes your shitty acting skills is dumber than a rock. 

Richie snatches the bag of chips out of Eddie’s hand and tosses them onto the table, ignoring Eddie’s protest as he speaks, “She sprained her fucking ankle, man.”

Eddie scoffs, “She’s faking it, Richie; anybody with brains can see that from a mile away.” He rolls his eyes. Richie looks at Eddie as if he’s lost his mind, as if Eddie is the worst villain to ever grace the goddamn planet, “You’re fucked up,” and Eddie’s stomach twists in some weird way he can’t explain. 

“You have some serious fucking issues, man. That girl did nothing to you, and you treat her like shit.” Richie spits, and Eddie hates how his throat feels tight, like someone shoved a golf ball down his throat. “Get over yourself.”

Richie leaves Eddie in the empty room, silent and, against Eddie’s wishes, feeling like the shittiest man alive. 

Eddie’s good mood feels like a dream now.

He’s silent throughout rehearsals. He sings his parts half-assed and plays his solos half-assed, too. You watch from the side of the stage, propped up on one of the road cases to take the weight off your ankle, and Eddie doesn’t even glance in your direction the entire time. He avoids you at all costs, leaving the room when you walk in, going the other direction you’re walking in, and even skipping lunch to avoid crossing paths. 

You’ve been like a ghost all day; everywhere Eddie goes, you’re somehow there, walking with a shitty limp as if trying to rub it into Eddie’s face that, ‘You did this. This is your fault.’ and Eddie can’t stand it. By the time the doors open to the arena, Eddie is more than ready to finish the show and steer clear of all traces of you.

You watched the show on the TV in the dressing room, silently snacking on a bag of Ritz crackers with your foot propped up on the coffee table beside the couch. The medic advised you to avoid putting pressure on your ankle for the next few days so you couldn’t have your usual front-row view of the show. 

The boys do good; they perform a new song they’re working on, and the crowd seems to have loved it. As usual, they get up to their ritual backstage antics, pregaming for whatever party they’ll attend, loud and obnoxious music, and cheering on whatever drinking game they’ve made up. You’re silently writing in your journal, updating the last entry on what you’ve witnessed today. Interpretations on the new music, drabbles on what you and Gareth briefly discussed about his childhood, and quick notes on whatever comes to mind while writing.

You hardly notice Eddie stumbling through the dressing room door until you hear him bumping into the side table with a curse. You look up, silently watching as he looks around the room, searching for something you’re unsure of. You try to keep your voice level to not scare him, but he is startled either way, “What are you looking for?”

His eyes are low, puffy around the edges from the alcohol he’d tossed back earlier, hair tousled with curly strands clinging to his lips. His lips are slick, swollen, and red, clothes askew on his lean frame. His jeans are unbuttoned, belt clinking as he sways a bit, licking his lips as he stammers, “Uh… my uh, my jacket—” he blinks, stumbling to lean against the door and blinking hard, “M’looking for my jacket.”

Your eyebrows raise as you watch him, the disheveled and captivating mess he is, bleary eyes gazing at you through a cloud of eyeshadow and whiskey. You breathe and point to the chair in front of the vanity, “It’s over there.”

His gaze follows your lead, landing on his strewn jacket, cursing as he walks across the room. You busy yourself with your journal, picking up where you’d left off. You can hear Eddie rustling behind you, and you try to avoid glancing back at him, but you fail, glancing in time to watch as he leans forward into the mirror to tug at misplaced strands of his hair. 

He’s silent for a moment before clearing his throat, glancing back at you through the mirror, “I’m uh… I’m sorry about,” he gestures to your elevated foot, forgetting you’re not even facing him, and rubbing the back of his hand to rub his nose and sniffling, “About your foot… Was really shitty of me.”

You glance back at him, a ghost of a smile gracing your lips, “Thank you, Eddie. I appreciate your apology.”

Eddie scoffs, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and shoving a stick between his lips with quivering fingers, “Yeah, well, that’s the first and last apology you’ll ever get from me so…” you silently watch as he lights his cigarette, puffing out a cloud of smoke and glancing at you through the mirror, “cherish it.” 

You quietly sigh and shift in your seat, ignoring his remark, “You going out tonight?” You ask.

You watch as he steps away from the vanity and walks over to the couch, plopping down on the farthest side from you with a deep sigh, “That’s the routine.” He mumbles around a cloud of smoke.

You nod, an uncomfortable silence settling over the two of you as you continue writing. Eddie is slumped down in his seat, quietly puffing on his cigarette as he gazes at you through low lids, “What are you writing?”

You look at him; pen paused over the sentence you’d been writing as you tilt your head, “I’m working on my piece… you know, the piece you’re starring in.” Eddie grumbles in response with a single nod of his head, and his eyes are so low you’d almost think he’s falling asleep if it weren’t for his determination to finish his cigarette. 

“Why— why haven’t you asked me anything?” Eddie asks.

You look at him, doing your best to keep a neutral expression as you fold your hands over the paper of your notebook, “I wasn’t under the impression you wanted to be… bothered.”

Eddie glances at you, scoffing, and you remind yourself that you’ve already somehow made the man despise you, so it’d be better to hold your tongue, opting not to remind him of the shitty attitude he’s had since you met. “I’m part of the band, aren’t I?” He shrugs, picking at the loose threads of his ripped jeans. “Shouldn’t I have as much coverage as… Jeff?” He mumbles, and you think he might be under the impression that you can’t hear him, but you do either way.

Your eyebrows raise, and you shift in your seat once again, “Well… would you like me to ask you some questions?”

Eddie is more gentle when he is drunk, you think. More pliable, softer. The stone-hard deflective shield he has thrown up for you has withered beneath the alcohol. Where his eyes are usually cold and sharp, they are now softer and telling— of what, you’re not sure yet. He shifts further into the couch and shrugs, and you take a deep breath and flip to a clean page, scribbling Eddie’s name in the corner.

“Okay, Eddie,” you begin, turning ever so slightly to face him. “Tell me about yourself. Tell me about who you are aside from the frontman of Corroded Coffin.” You glance between your notebook and Eddie, patiently waiting as he takes a drag of the burning paper. He looks at you, the majority of his face shielded behind unruly dark curls, and the room is so silent it’s nearly deafening.

Eddie shakes his head so gently you almost don’t notice the movement, “I don’t…” he bounces his leg once, “I thought this was about the music.”

You nod, “It is.”

Eddie gently blinks, like if he blinks too hard, the earth might shatter, and you think it’s beautiful, and you think you might hate that.

“It’s about the music, but I can’t write about the music without knowing the creator, can I?”

Eddie looks at you, eyes almost clear with lips parted around smoke. He blinks again, and you smile in encouragement, situating the pen in your grip. He looks at you, studies you, his gaze dropping to your awaiting hand, and his face twists in some expression you can’t put a finger on.

Before Eddie can speak, the door opens, both of your heads snapping toward the door as a tipsy Gareth pops his head inside, “Eddie, come on man, the car’s here.”

If Gareth had noticed the odd combination of you and Eddie sitting on the same couch, willingly enduring each other's presence, he wouldn’t mention it. 

You look back to Eddie, and you almost want to stop him as he gets up because, god, you were so fucking close. So close to finally touching Eddie. But he’s gone quicker than he came, the scent of his cologne and smoke lingering like a ghost, and despite Eddie giving you absolutely nothing to write about, you find yourself writing about him either way with nothing but his scent to aid you.

Eddie is drunk, and he can not, for the life of him, stop thinking about you.

A girl is climbing over him in the back of a taxi, and Eddie can only think about you. The look of pain you had when you stood up after falling, the way you looked at him as if he was the bane of your existence— it makes Eddie’s stomach churn, and he wishes the culprit for his nausea was the alcohol, but it’s not. Eddie knows it’s not because the second he thinks about the way you smiled at him in the dressing room, the way you said his name, the way you spoke so gently despite how much of an asshole he’s been to you, Eddie’s sick stomach settles and erupts in this annoying warm flutter.

Eddie can’t think of anything but the fact that he wants you to smile at him more, wants to hear you say his name again, and talk to him in your gentle way.

His face pinches in frustration, fingers gripping the girl's waist as she mouths at his neck. She moans against his skin, grinding down against his bulge and grinning when she feels him rut up against her. Eddie mumbles something, he’s not sure what he mumbles because his brain is split between worlds of scary feelings and arousal, but the girl laughs, scraping her teeth against his thumping pulse, “That journalist?” She asks.

Eddie blinks away the foggy cloud, “Huh?”

Lany pulls away from his neck and looks at him, biting her lip and tilting her head as she rubs up against him again, Eddie grunting in the back of his throat as his face twists in pleasure. “The journalist. You said her name.” Lany hums, drifting her hands up Eddie’s chest and grappling at the collar of his unbuttoned sheer top. Eddie blinks again and shakes his head, “I didn’t,” he denies.

Lany giggles, “You did, Eddie.”

Eddie glances over her shoulder, making awkward eye contact with the driver through the rearview mirror, and he slightly grimaces and looks back to Lany as she leans in, ghosting her lips over his and tauntingly whispering your name. Eddie grunts in protest, squeezing her hips in a warning. Before he can say something, Lany kisses him with a hum before pulling away to where her lips brush against hers as she speaks, “Did you fuck her?”

Eddie pulls away from Lany, a look of distaste on his face as he glares at her, “Did I— what? No,” Eddie cringes as if it’s the worst thing he’s ever heard— and it’s not, and Eddie… Eddie hates that, he thinks. “No, I didn’t fuck her. Are you serious?” “You want to fuck her then?”

“I want you to stop talking about her,” Eddie counters, dragging his thumb across her bottom lip and watching as he drags the plump flesh down, grinning when Lany nips at his fingertip. “Maybe put these pretty lips to good use, hm?” He taunts, grin widening when she nods and sucks his thumb down to the last knuckle, his jeans tightening at the feeling and sight.

And if Eddie did say your name, he doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that he’d been thinking of you for whatever odd, fucked up reason, and he doesn’t try to figure out what that weird flutter feeling is when he thinks about your softness, the softness he’s been depriving himself of.

He doesn’t dwell on any of it because Eddie is drunk, and when Eddie drinks, he thinks of and does stupid things, things that sound good at the moment but will screw him over in the long run.

And Eddie wants nothing to do with you anyway, and it’s not like one half-assed drunken conversation changed that, right?

Eddie’s got a blistering headache and a churning stomach as he stands outside the studio the following day. It’s drizzling, gloomy clouds drooping over the looming buildings of New York, and Eddie always hated this kind of weather; he preferred a full storm over the tease of a shower.

New York has never been Eddie’s favorite place, it’s dirty, and reeks of trash, and the people are shitty, but he likes how easy it is to blend in with the crowd; not many people notice him here, and that’s rare these days.

He’s leaning on the stoop of the building, tiny drops of rain dripping from the portico onto his leather-covered shoulders. A burning cigarette hangs between his fingers as he watches the traffic go by, taking slow puffs to ease his body.

He hardly notices you when you bounce up the stairs until you stand just two steps below him. He glances at you and sees the coffee cups in each of your hands. You extend one out to him, “Would you like one? They accidentally gave me two.” You offer.

And you’re fucking nice. Despite how shitty Eddie has been towards you, you’re still nice to him, and Eddie, for the life of him, can’t stand it. He thinks you’re weird, insane, stupid. Thinks you were probably dropped as a baby more times than anyone can count because there’s no way somebody in their right mind would willingly give him the time of day when he’s treated them as shitty as Eddie has treated you. He nearly ran you over, for Christ's sake.

Still, Eddie doesn’t falter, “No. Probably spit in it on your way here.”

You laugh, and it irks Eddie in a way that makes him want to shiver as if the sound were nails scraping against a chalkboard. He distracts himself with a drag of his cigarette as you say, “I didn’t, but thanks for the idea.”

Eddie grunts in response, focusing on the last of his smoke as you tell him you’ll see him inside before walking up the rest of the stairs. Eddie barely acknowledges you as you pass him, but he acknowledges the sound of something dropping beside his feet. He looks down with pinched eyebrows, eyeing the notebook lying on the wet ground.

It’s your notebook— obviously— he’d know that stupid journal from anywhere. It’s a pale yellow with two leather straps you like to tie in a lousy bow, and Eddie believes it’s an annoying color, but he thinks that has more to do with the fact that you chose it. Mindlessly, Eddie picks it up, shaking off the rainwater before it seeps into the pages, and he turns to give it to you because he’d assumed you realized you dropped it, but you’re gone.

Eddie blinks, eyeing the door and the book in his hands, and Eddie knows he should just follow you and give it back because that’s the right thing to do. Knows he shouldn’t peek inside to see what your mind is like, knows you’d probably kill him because Eddie would do the same if anyone looked into his thousands of journals back home, but his fingers itch, and before he can stop himself, he’s flicking his cigarette bud away, leaning against the building and cracking the front page open.

Eddie’s not sure what he’d expected. Maybe something interesting, like a list of dudes you’ve fucked or some rant about a friend, but Jesus, how much more boring could you get? Grocery lists, reminders to book appointments, dates for work meetings, boring shit that Eddie could care less about. He flicks through nearly half of the book before anything piques his interest, snickering when he comes across a page of you talking about a guy named Danny, “What a sap,” Eddie mumbles to himself, softly chuckling and turning the page.

He flips through a few more pages before halting because Eddie's name is right at the top of the page. 

The door opens, and he jumps, fearing you might be searching for your lost journal, but it’s only a staff member. Eddie watches them trot down the steps before returning to the treasure in his hands, eagerly reading as if the book will turn to dust before he gets a chance.

And Eddie thinks he’s fucked up, screwed up in ways he never really wants to address. Despite Eddie’s outwardly attitude of thinking he’s the best at everything and knows all, there are still ugly parts of him that he so badly wants to reach inside and pull like weeds from a garden, crack his chest open, and take it from the root; pieces of him that can make him crumble quicker than a house of cards on a rickety table. 

However, the way you write about Eddie— the words you use and the so careful placement of each thought— it makes Eddie feel something he forgot he ever could about himself, and he doesn’t like how it makes his insides twist. He hates it. Eddie hates that you can read him as if he’s a fucking children’s book. Hates that you can see and point out parts of him that have been lost for so long he’d thought it was a dream. He can’t stand it. 

But as much as Eddie swears he hates what you’ve written and as much as he hates that it makes him feel something other than disdain, he can’t stop reading. He wants to read all you can say about him and only exist in the imagery you create of him because Eddie, for once in a long time, is someone in your eyes.

You write about Eddie like he is a person, a human being with real feelings and depth and a history of memories you’ve never seen or heard of before, but you still somehow manage to paint him so clearly. Inside your words, Eddie exists as more than the entity that fame has created him to be, and Eddie can’t remember the last time he read something about himself and didn’t feel like a pawn. 

It’s… refreshing.

Eddie flips the page, thinking there will be more you’ve written about him, but he’s selfishly disappointed when he realizes it’s just a personal entry. He scans the page, nearly deciding to close it for the day, when he catches a glimpse of a familiar name— Gareth.

It takes Eddie a moment to fully grasp the words you’ve written, the meaning of what exactly you’re explaining that you’d apparently discussed with Gareth. As soon as he lets the words settle into his chest, he’s storming into the building quicker than he can comprehend.

Bursting through the room of Richie's rented studio, Eddie makes a beeline for the sound booth where Gareth is busy tapping out a steady beat.

Eddie barely acknowledges you and the rest of the band in discussion off to the side, but his abrupt appearance has halted all conversation in the room. He storms up to Gareth behind his drum set and wastes no time gripping the man’s collar, gaze lit with fire and words seething as he leans in and glares down at the man. The room goes silent as soon as the question leaves Eddie’s lips, “Did you fuck Chrissy?”

Chrissy Cunningham was Eddie Munson’s high school sweetheart.

As the story goes, Eddie spent the better part of high school crushing on the cute captain of the cheerleading squad. For as long as he can remember, Eddie had been labeled as the school freak— something to do with his love of fantasy games and ‘odd music taste’— so he’d never imagined he would get a chance with Chrissy, but that all changed after a weird spiral of events they experienced together.

Eddie and Chrissy dated for a few years until Corroded Coffin went big. The long-distance trial of their relationship didn’t last long; Eddie rarely called Chrissy, and when he did call, they could only ever find time to argue about whatever Eddie had been photographed doing. Chrissy never came to watch the band once they moved out to LA, and she broke Eddie's heart the one time she did. 

So, it’s no surprise that reading the words in your journal has twisted the knife that’d been lodged in Eddie’s chest for so long that he was sure he couldn’t feel it anymore— he was wrong.

Gareth is looking at Eddie as if Eddie has asked him if the sky is blue and Eddie’s mind is a whirling wind of fire. “What are you talking about, man?” Gareth’s eyebrows pinch in confusion.

Eddie sneers and pulls him closer, Gareth leaning so far off his stool that Eddie's grip on his shirt is the only thing keeping him from the ground. Gareth drops his drumsticks to grab Eddie’s wrists as Eddie speaks, “Don’t bullshit me, Gareth. Did you fuck Chrissy, yes or no?”

Eddie looks at his best friend, and he sees lies, something he’s never had to associate with their friendship, and it almost hurts him more than what Chrissy did. Gareth stutters, shaking his head as if he wants to say no, tries to say no and deny that he slept with his best friend's girlfriend, but he can’t.

Gareth whispers Eddie’s name so quietly Eddie nearly misses it, but the quiver in his voice is all Eddie needs to hear to know the truth. Eddie doesn’t take a second to think before he cracks a closed fist down on his best friend's cheek, sending him back, crashing into the symbols in a clatter of noise.

He doesn’t wait to hear Gareth’s spew of apologies, and he doesn’t wait to listen to the pathetic excuses he makes up because he’s marching over to you next, a scowl on his face as he tosses your journal into your lap, and you look up at him in shock, “You dropped this on your way in.” 

And if this is the end of Corroded Coffin, then Eddie’s sure you’ll have one hell of a story to write. That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?

A good story.

————

part three

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a/n: AHH U MADE IT TO THE END, PLS LET ME KNOW HOW U LIKED THIS PART I LOVE TO HEAR UR FEEDBACK, ILY BYE

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975

[phoenixblaze1412]

HIII I LOVE your works and THE CHILD READER IS SO FUXKING DELICIOUS that I've been living in your blog for like.. three days.

But anyways I wanted to request grown up child reader (like 15-17 yrs old) headcanons from your child readerXDottore ffs.

I love you and your works❤️

Also, can I be your 🦅 anon?

Sure you can, anon <3

Dottore was always proud to call you his child, his prodigy. He may not be able to show his care for you due to him always having to work but when he's free for the days, he tends to you as much as he can.

Time flew by so fast, you grew up from a tiny toddler to a teen.

In Iota and Theta's words, you used to be a little shit. Now you became a bigger shit.

You didn't need to worry much about what happens when one goes through puberty and maturity. Your father has it all covered, he actually made them beforehand before you reached thirteen.

And with your knowledge expanding from all the things you were taught at such a young age, you followed in your father's footsteps and Dottore was euphoric with it.

Kappa was a bit upset that you grew up, he would miss the times when you and him would always spend time together to play.

He was definitely pouting whenever you talk about your heights, now that you grew up to be a teenager while he's stuck as a child perspective of your father, the height difference was very noticable, he reaches about your stomach now and he will forever be that short.

Sadly that doesn't go the same for the other segments. Eta, Theta and Delta would still make fun of your shortness.

Beta would still carry you around despite already being a teenager. He still sees you as his little angel no matter how tall or old you get.

Iota still keeps those baby pictures he took of you. Doesn't matter if you looked bad or good in it, he still sees you as his little, troublemaker mutt. He still takes photos of you and would make scrapbooks of it during his free time whenever he's bored at tinkering on ruin machines.

The troublemaker (s)quad: Delta, Gamma, Theta and Beta would always bring you along with them whenever they wanted to cause trouble, watch something blow up or make some failed experiments kill each other. They would still cover your eyes if the scene becomes too much for you to handle.

Dottore was very enthusiastic when he took you in as his apprentice, of course you got lots of glares and side eyes from those who work under him who always wanted to be the doctor's apprentice, those looks did not go unnoticed by your father though. Oh how delightful you already have new fresh bodies to experiment on!

Who else would Dottore choose as his own apprentice if not you? It was already decided the moment your ruby red eyes stared back at him the moment you were born that he was to choose you.

Prime and Omega were always there to assist you whenever you have a little trouble in doing some of the work your father has tasked you to do. They may be segments and are 400+ years old in terms of memory but you're still their little child, it wouldn't hurt to spoil and give you a helping hand without the doctor knowing.

Dottore was definitely not happy when he saw the Knave's children interacting with you. Who were those brats again? Ah yes, Lyney, Lynette and Freminet. Time to tell the segments about those orphans.

You would always be curious on why a segment would always be with you wherever you go.

One time when Lyney kissed the back of your hand, he was immediately backed up to the wall with Delta's claymore pressed against his neck while Beta carried you away.

Having tea and cake with Lynette would have went well if Theta didn't splash her with water, intentionally letting the bucket fall on her head to grab your hand and run off.

Gamma even burned the flowers he took from Freminet to give to you since the boy was too shy to do so. The segment snipped the petals off to use them as ingredients for future experiments before burning the stems over by the fireplace with a grin.

Last one was when Childe came over to the lab to visit you since he brought you some snacks and souvenirs he got from Liyue only to get multiple glares from the segments and your father, your father was teaching you how to dissect a frog while the segments were watching as encouragement since it was your first time dissecting an organism.

It was during the harbinger meeting that Arlecchino brought up the doctor's protectiveness.

"Is the doctor afraid that his own child is being courted by others? Come on, surely you know that children would be leaving their nest to go fly off on their own to live their life? Surely my children are capable and worthy enough to court a child like them, no?"

"Absolutely fucking not. My child will not be tainted by your orphan brats."