I Heart Natural Dialogue😍

I heart natural dialogue😍

okay so what if a kieran culkin character wore as many hand accessories like the bracelets but also rings as kieran and then fingered you rougly? what if?

girl ya smart let’s get into it

i’m gonna go with roman the love of my life light of my day fire of my loins because we see him wearing bracelets a couple times, especially when he’s in barbados and in the gym. and…im gonna go with post-s4. like, future rome and you. because i’m a softie and i like imagining him happy in the future. so SPOILERS for s4 of succession, beware.

You’ve come with Roman to a vacation home—a villa, really, in Rome. His dad gave it to him, it’s his now. That’s weird, right? Your dad dies and you get a villa in Italy, specifically for you, that’s weird to him. Maybe he’s just sensitive, you keep giving him those puppy-dog eyes like he could crumble at any minute, especially in the jet on the way over. You almost yank his arm off trying to stop him from carrying your luggage.

But now you’re settled in, it’s warm outside (maybe too warm) and you’ve gone to a market nearby to buy some meats and cheeses for snacks, and a peach wine despite having real (expensive) wine in the cellar. You’d tease him in a couple weeks of staying here, bully him for getting ‘fat’ all the while sucking his dick by the pool. But that’s later, in the future, and for now, you’re in the room he always stayed at when they vacationed here, ‘his room.’

“It’s very…red,” you’re shocked, not that you don’t like it, just surprised by how red it is. His room in Barbados was a teal and beige, all blue paired with the natural stone. Here, it’s a deep red, very fitting for Italy and the whole ‘Rome’ aesthetic, but weird, with a similar stone texture surrounding, the same as outside, almost stuccoed.

“Yep. Red. Very emo eye my father had, maybe he was trying to get me in with Gerard Way,” he teases his past self, and you can almost implicitly tell that Logan picked it out. You can’t imagine Logan redesigning a house without making it a part of some psychological training routine.

“I’d think you were a Frank Iero, personally,” you quip with a grin.

“Oh thank you, thanks. For that. I uh, I’ll try to ignore your emo mumbo jumbo and act like I’ve never heard those names before,” he says, trying to active ‘above’ the emo scene. He opens a little drawer in his dresser and like muscle memory finds a shitty little box against the front panel, the cheapest thing in this whole house you’re sure.

The top is lifted and placed onto the dresser with a familiar movement, a limp wrist and body twisting to face you as he rolls a single bracelet down his arm, past his wrist. He holds his arm up for you to see, the plastic bracelet covered with teal and dark blue beads with a few large notches of white stone.

“Nice. Never knew you liked accessories so much,” you comment, not sure if this is a joke, or?

“Didn’t really, I guess? Just kept ‘em. Mom hated it, Dad hated it. Look, Shiv,” he says, holding up a bracelet with orange, pink, and beige beads, with ‘S-H-I-V’ in white letter blocks, not quite centered. He drops it back down in the box and rummages around.

“Aww. Big bro was such a sweetie,” you say despite Roman being barely older than Shiv. You hold yourself back from asking invasive questions, like how old she was when she made him that, and how old she was when she stopped. Maybe she sent him bracelets in military school, maybe her friends had a crush on him—you doubt it, he was a little too lanky and annoying to be the typical rich girl’s pre-teen crush.

“Yeah yeah, sure, sure I was. Ooh, pretty,” he holds up a ring and gives you the box, using both hands to put the gold band on, a lapis lazuli in the center. It still fits his forefinger perfectly on his right hand.

You peek through the box like a treasure chest as you hold it in your hands. There’s so much of him in here you’ve heard about but will never have been there to see. It makes you wish you were born at the same time, same place, and spent every second together. It might’ve been worth him bullying you through your many awkward phases to see him in all his breakout teenage glory watching Fight Club and Tetsuo the Iron Man with ten or twenty bracelets down his arm.

“Want one?”

“Oh—uhhh, no, thank you,” you squeak out, lost in your thoughts, not sure how to politely respond.

“Uh-huh. I think I’m supposed to give you fuckin’…Tiffany and Cartier before I make you wear my sweaty rope cord bracelets,” he says before putting one on. I mean, he’s given you plenty of expensive jewelry before, he just kind of feels like he should give you more before you have to wear this junk, even for play. The rope cord bracelet he stretched over his hand is a dark green color, it looks good with the tan he has from Barbados. The strings that tighten it hand down against the beaded bracelet, and you don’t think about Roman in this way, in Italy, as a teen on summer break. You’re sure there’s a copy of Sex, Lies, and Videotape bound to be in this room.

“Oooh,” he sounds in awe of a three-bracelet band of dark green, light green, and white crystalline beads, rolling them down his arm. He holds up a pear-shaped ruby ring—which looks like a real ruby, which is shocking because why the fuck would that be in there? “Here, for you, m’lady.”

“Thank…you,” you say, not sure how to respond. Is he giving you this? Maybe just telling you to wear it? You put it on your middle finger, hesitating, almost putting it on the finger beside it, which could lead to a big insinuation that you’d prefer to avoid.

“You’re welcome, wow, how excited you sound,” he sarcastically quips, putting a stack of silver rings on his ring finger, one from Miansai, with a flat onyx at the top. The other looks sort of like a screw-fastener, like a dirty, used up attachment to some screw or bolt, with a hole big enough to fit around his ring finger. There’s another similar to it that he puts on his thumb, with what you think is black spray paint on it.

“You wanna look s’more in my little box of horrors?” he asks, rolling a couple thick red rubber bracelets, four or five down his arm, and a black leather cuff. He seems punk. He’s not, he’s a fucking born-and-raised billionaire who pissed the bed at fourteen, but he seems…like a guy, a regular guy from your high school or home town or something, someone who wears AC/DC shirts from Spencer’s.

“Uhn-uhn, I’m good,” you say, twisting off the ruby ring.

“No—what? Keep it on. You keep that, ‘s yours now, unless you hate it?” he seems confused and genuinely offended. You thought it was time to put it away but he’s giving it to you? You make a quick noise that sounds like an ‘oops’, like ‘oh fuck, I thought wrong.’

“You’re sure? I mean, is this—?”

“Real? Yeeesss, duh, would I put a fake vending machine ring on you? Jesus. C’mere, let’s bang on my childhood bed,” he jokes, urging you to sit down with him. He plops down and he’s weirdly solid, the bed bounces from the force of his weight suddenly falling almost limp on it, feet barely on the ground. His hand gently pats against the comforter.

“Didn’t you say your dad bought this after he divorced Caroline?” you ask incredulously, questioning his idea of ‘childhood’.

“Yeah, okay, ‘childhood’ is relative, Freud,” he rolls his eyes and grabs you by your waist, slamming you down into the bed face-first. “There we go, see? See what happens when you don’t listen? Ya get slammed. Face first into my dusty old mattress.”

“Mmfhm,” you mumble, tucking your forearms under your chest.

“Is it nice down there?” he asks with a half-grin, still sitting up, twisted around to peer over his shoulder at you still lying face-down.

“Mmyup,” you reply, raising your head up to look up at him.

“Looks comfy. Watch out, comin’ in hot,” he says, plopping on top of you as you squeal. His arms wrap around you, laying himself on you like dead weight and squeezing you tight.

“Roman! Rome, you’re like, a thousand pounds, oh my god—,” you say, a little breathless from beneath him.

“I can’t believe you’re calling me fat when you’re the one who fed me a metric ton of brie,” he mumbles into your hair, sniffing it deeply. You smell good. He lays there for a few moments until you speak up.

“Speaking of, we gotta fix dinner, fatty, now get up,” you say, kicking your legs at the back of his thighs, occasionally hitting his ass. He could stay here forever.

“Fuck you? Come on, lemme jump your bones and hump you right here. Just the tip,” he giggles and scoots back, practically crawling off the bed and reaching his hand down to help you up. “Fiocchetti again?”

“Penne instead?” you barter. He makes a little ‘mm’ noise in agreement.

Heading downstairs, fixing some simple penne with a tomato, basil, and garlic sauce, it’s all pretty simple with Roman. Without a chef doing everything for you like in the penthouse back in New York, it’s a lot more—normal, relaxed. Almost domestic. The pear-shaped ruby on your middle finger seems, in quick glances, like it belongs on your ring finger. It seems only natural, almost like you’re living in a sitcom as the ‘cringe married couple next door’ stereotype. Everything has been weirdly easy after the death of his father, almost like he’s happier—which oversimplifies so much, but he seems so open now. He’s even began rewriting some of his old screenplays. He dubs you his ‘editor.’

You ate in the kitchen together, him sitting on the countertop and you standing between his legs. You both finished the pasta off together, nice and full and bloated, putting the dishes in the sink before heading upstairs to sleep in his room, at his request.

You’re in a tank and shorts when he comes up behind you, leaning against you with a pitiful whine, arms wrapped around you. He nuzzles into the nape of your neck, bites your back gently with a growl. “C’mere, wifey-poo,” he says, walking backwards, guiding you both with the occasional misstep and stagger.

“Heeeere we go,” he says, pulling you back on the bed, your back landing on his front. “Mm. You comfy?” he asks, and it’s comical, because he wants to know the minute the two of you fucking land if you’re already cozy. He sure is. He smells toothpaste and your skincare. You used the same toothpaste but he still wants to know if you taste the same.

“Yeah, sure, okay now, release me,” you say, trying to crawl out of his clinging.

“No! Nooo, no-no-no, bad girl, stay down with me,” he demands, one leg wrapping around you, then the other. His face nuzzles into the side of your neck and his hand lays flat against your lower navel. You groan but stay still, freezing up when his right hand slips between the band of your shorts and where your tank top hangs over it. He’s still wearing the two rings on his ring finger, one on his pointer, and one on his thumb, all of his bracelets still on his arm.

“You ‘kay if we…?” he asks. He so rarely asks. It’s weird here, it’s like he’s so different but still obviously your Roman. You can’t help but sputter out a laugh, because Roman’s already awkward enough without asking-but-not-asking for sex. “Fuck you, I’m taking that as a ‘yes.’”

He unentangles his legs from around you and moves them to between your thighs, keeping them open. “You gonna shut the fuck up now?” he asks, but he’s just not intimidating when you’re mid-laugh, so you just respond, “Oh my god, yeah, sure Rome, I’m so scared. Shaking in my boots, really.”

“You should be,” he says, suddenly serious but still not unfunny. His jaw clenches and his eyes are dark. His hand moves your face to his, your cheek smushing under his forceful touch in a way he thinks is so cute (but certainly can’t say now). It looks like he’s about to kiss you—you’re even ready for him to, lips halfway puckered when you hear a noise that can’t be what you think it is, and the wet feeling splattered on your face registers a moment after it happens.

“What the fuck,” you say, eyes wide and confused, a little pissed.

“Told you. Be fucking scared, I’m serious,” he says a moment before he licks his own spit, both hands on your head keeping you from moving away as his tongue trails the top of your nose, under your eye, the apple of your cheek, a little lick to your eyelid when your eyes flutter shut, and your lips. It turns into a kiss, slowly, his tongue forcing its way in your mouth, one hand encouraging your jaw to stay down, tugging your mouth open. Your face is covered in his spit by the time he’s done.

“Here. Help me out a little,” he shoves his fingers in your mouth, his pointed and middle, down to the base where you feel his gold ring on his pointer. “Gooood, that’s good. What a beauty. You make it so fuckin’ easy.”

You gurgle around them as they trigger your gag reflex. “Shhh-sh-sh-sh,” he shushes you, feeling around your mouth for a little longer before slipping them out.

His wet fingers leave snail trails grabbing the inside of your thigh from behind. He knows you. He knows you don’t wear panties under these shorts. He knows you’ll jolt a little and get all squirmy if he doesn’t keep you against him, your back to his chest, your ass to his dick. Roman knows you so well, he knows the color of your childhood bedroom, he knows where you keep the hair ties on your arm when you take them off, he knows your weak spots and how to make your brain get fuzzy.

“Shut the fuck up, I got you,” he mumbles into your hair, huffing the smell of your shampoo and conditioner, trying to get every note of you. His fingers slip beneath the fabric of your sleep shorts, and you’re not usually one for keeping them on—too uncomfortable usually—but they’re nice and soft and loose. Not gonna inhibit his ability to feel around and fuck around, so no reason to do more work than necessary, right?

Roman’s pointer and middle fingers play with your clit, not roughly and not with much of an intention to get you off, just playing, for his own enjoyment. You twitch and whine, but he only presses a couple kisses to your head through your hair and your neck. You feel his bracelets against your lower navel leading down to your cunt.

“Give it, come on. Give it to me,” he demands brattishly, thumb rubbing your swollen clit then trailing down to massage your labia. You open up, and he’s right after all, you do make it easy for him. He slips his pointer in your pussy and rubs your clit sweetly, nice and hard so that your hips can twitch as his legs prevent you from grinding up into his touch. You feel the gold ring at the base of his index, and after a few moments he slips in his middle finger. He can’t help but comment on it with a shocked, giggly little noise, “Tight fit, huh? Yeaaah, that’s alright. Just little ole me stretching you out. Never fear, Romey’s here.”

You moan when he wiggles his fingers against that one spot, and fuck, his fingers are thick, and what he lacks in experience (and dexterity) he makes up for in excitement. It’s almost sadistic, his legs wrapped around you and keeping you down from behind, his left hand popping your tits out of your tank top and grabbing them. But it’s reverent all the same, how he never grabs too hard, how he massages your tits from base to the tip of your nipple instead of pinching your nips, how his free hand grabs yours and kisses the finger where the ruby ring is adorned.

“R-Roman,” you breathe. “Fuck me, fuck, please.”

“Uhn-uh, don’t wanna. Saw you looking at my hands earlier, so you’re gonna give ‘em a nice fuck-and-suck,” he says, grinding his dick against your lower back in time with his fingers, slowly sliding in a third and hearing you wince. “Oh, you’re fine. They’ll fit.”

It’s disgusting, the wet noises are fucking embarrassingly loud. It all feels like a book, the cliche of getting fingered in one of his childhood bedrooms. Three fingers deep and the two silver rings at the base of his ring finger against your hole, holding you down against him and keeping you still, it’s straight out of a porno.

“Shit, are you — are you, fucking—?” he’s shocked when your pussy gushes with that telltale flutter. “You’re cumming on my hand like a bitch in heat from a whole lotta nothing. Didn’t even have to try.”

You whine, laying your head back on his shoulder, nose nudging at his ear, breath huffing at his neck. His dick is twitchy and he can’t resist humping it into your ass through the back of your shorts, he can’t help but shudder visibly, breath audibly stuttering against the crook of your neck. The two of you are so intertwined, your head leaned back with him leaned over to bury his face in the crook of your neck where it meets your shoulder. It’s intimate, a weird comfort, like how he always stares at your tits with that weird look, and how he takes deep breaths every time you hug him.

“I can’t take it, I can’t Rome, ‘s—,”

“Yeah, but you can though. You can, actually, you just squeeze reeeeal tight and milk my fuckin’ fingers like a bitch. You’re actually a pro, if I remember correctly,” he quips, and it would often be followed by a sadistic giggle, but his dick has drained all the blood in his fucking brain and he’s too close to worry about appearances right now.

And you do take it. You squeeze his fingers and he fucks you through it, three thick fingers fucking you through it, one thumb against your vulva and the heel of his palm moved to slap and grind against your clit. His other thumb brushes against the back of your hand, held in his free hand. You would be a little embarrassed of how noisy you are if not for how brain dead you are from how good it feels. You don’t even hear him moaning behind you, it hardly registers that he’s grinding his dick against your ass and lower back, hips stuttering.

When it’s all over, it seems a little ridiculous. His fingers kept inside, your tits still out, him breathing hard on your neck — the fact you’re in a villa that he now owns, in Italy, the fact that his dad died and he just kinda whisked you away to process at his own pace, away from a cold, dark, and worn Manhattan that his past still seems to haunt. You sputter out a little giggle. This isn’t really something you anticipate in your five year plan.

“What? I make you cum your brains out and you still think it’s funny to bully me?” he snarks, burying his face in your hair from behind, nuzzling into the side of your neck like a puppy ready to nap.

“No, just — what the fuck is this. Like, I’m in Italy, with you, and…it’s just different. A lot’s changed since I met you.” It’s true. A lot of shit has become a whole lot better, and a few things have become a whole lot worse at times. You have new stressors, new insecurities, new challenges; but you have Roman. Someone who takes you to Italy and makes jokes about knocking you up about of wedlock and then forcing you to elope with him. And has the chef make you your favorite breakfasts, better than anyone ever could. Sometimes he goes to markets with you and picks around at stuff, or goes to thrift shops and makes gross jokes about how everything is contaminated, inappropriate jokes about poverty, showing his pretentious socioeconomic class — but he still goes. He brushes your hair and has nicely trimmed (or rather, bitten) nails. He knows your favorite flowers and has them imported when they’re out of season. Everything is pretty weirdly domestic.

“Mmh,” he makes a little noise, wiggling his fingers in your cunt to feel you squeeze in oversensitivity. “Yeah. You’re,” he pauses, makes you think he’s gonna say something profound. His response doesn’t have to be said, it’s pretty fucking obvious from his everything that he loves you more than life itself. Change is whatever, nice, but his life technically only started when you came into it, and is on pause when you aren’t watching him. It’s horrible and codependent, but yeah, so is he. “Gonna drip on the bed. God, you hear that? Creamy, creamy girl. You creamed on my fingers so hard it got your fuckin’…neurons firing shit up in there, thinking these philosophical thoughts.”

He takes his fingers out, wiggling them around more as he extracts them, and your cunt squelches. His fingers are soaked, a thick ring of cream around the base before his rings. He turns your head to the side with his left hand and cranes his to face you, keeping eye contact as he licks his fingers one by one. It isn’t sexual. It’s more of an ‘I own you, your pussy is so fucking owned’ move, in his own playful manner, that little glint in his eye as he cleans them, savoring the taste. He kinda regrets not eating you out.

“Gonna be good?” he asks.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I want a kiss but I don’t kiss bad girls. Kiss-kiss?” he puckers his lips. You peck them with a quick ‘mwwwwah’. “Good,” he lightly smacks his left hand against your face, his right hand rubbing against the front of it to gross you out, the spit-slick fingers making you gasp in shock and mock offense, making him giggle in return.

He gets up out of bed with a groan of, “Hoooooly shit, ow.”

“You’re old as fuck, Jesus,” you giggle at him before noticing the large stain on the front of his pants. “Holy shit, did you—?”

“No. No, I pissed myself, the fuck do I look like, a bed-wetter?” he defensively quips, his load visibly staining the front of his pants.

“Yes,” you reply quickly. I mean, he did wet the bed for like, a long time, and then started wetting the bed again as a trauma response as an early teen, not to mention the adult ‘accidents’ he fails to keep hidden.

“Okay, fuck you, say ‘thank you, Daddy’ or something, I just made you cum,” he retorts, walking to the dresser to change, removing his bracelets and rings with heavy clinks and thuds onto the top of the dresser.

“Maybe you should thank me for making you cum,” you surrebut, the sharp look he gives you in return being nothing but play, like two puppies tugging on each other’s ears. “Thaaaaank you, Daddy,” you mock, half-genuine but you’d never let it show.

“You’re welcome, shithead,” he complains, changing into some soft briefs and a tee that he stole from you years ago, climbing into bed with you. Tonight, he chooses to do the ol’ reliable, sleeping facing you, noses nuzzling and breaths intermingling until one of you nudges downwards and sleeps on the other’s chest, an unspoken routine.

“Thanks. By the way,” he mumbles, not even fully said. “Even though you didn’t even try. Just born with a really nice pussy and perfected your moans at whatever pornstar school you attended. You lucked up, you’re the load-blow queen. Princess,” he corrects himself, thinking the title ‘princess’ seemed a better fit.

“You’re welcome, prince Romulus,” you let out one more tease, letting him nuzzle your hair as he has been all night, kissing the top of your head.

Tags

succession roman roy hbo succession roman roy x reader roman roy x you succession fanfic succession imagine roman roy fanfic roman roy imagine roman roy x you smut roman roy x reader smut

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Masterlist | Eddie Munson Masterlist | Corroded Coffin Masterlist

FanBoy!Eddie Munson x Popstar!Fem Reader

(Both Eddie and Reader are 18+)

This fic is for: birthday boy pop-up event by @corrodedcoffinfest ; the prompt is “gift”

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Eddie is lowkey a Pervert with so many thoughts about you, Dirty Talking, Kinda a Fanboy kink if you can call it that? (Mutual between Eddie and Reader), Smut: Oral (Fem and Male Receiving), Fingering, Cum Eating, Protected PinV, afab reader

Synopsis: Eddie was your biggest fan; it started after Gareth decided to drag him to your concert. Now, Eddie just doesn't shut up about you. So, the guys decide to come together and pitch in on an amazing Birthday gift for Eddie. This is based off of this blurb I had written and I had people ask for more of these two (including them actually meeting); so woo! Also this slowly turned into the longest fic I have ever written so, I hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 8.8k

Two months.

It had been two months since your newest album had been released to the public—copies of the vinyls sat in record stores far and wide while your top song played on every radio station on the top of every hour.

It had been two whole months of Eddie Munson playing your album every day and night, no matter what he was doing within the four walls of his cluttered bedroom.

Your pop sound and lyrics were a stark contrast to the usual heavy metal music that would ring through his room as he laid back on his bed, packing a bowl of the latest recommendation from his dealer. He’d play your music in the background while he messed around with his guitar, adding some heavy riffs to the poppy sounds that played from the record player. He’d sit on his bed, hand in his pants with his cock in his fist tightly; he’d stroke himself while your voice filled his ears, edging him closer and closer to release. The sound of your sweet and soft voice played late into the night, always seeming to help him drift off to sleep faster; and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that to anyone that would listen.

Anyone.

No, really, the Hellfire boys were so fucking sick of listening to Eddie bring you up in every conversation–during lunch at the cafeteria, between battles at Hellfire campaigns, during a late night smoke session in his van by the lake–it didn’t matter the occasion, your name was always rolling off of his lips like a prayer. It was like he was dating you; he spoke about you so highly and intimately, there was never anything negative spoken about you by that boy.

He was just such a love sick little puppy that thought about you every single minute of his morning, afternoon and evening. And the Hellfire boys always just shared looks and groaned while rolling their eyes when Eddie started talking about you. And Eddie noticed their looks, he noticed their annoyance with him but that didn’t stop him from speaking about you… it had actually gotten to the point where he would join the conversations of the cheerleaders just so he could talk about you and your music.

You released a new song? He ran to the girls to ask if they had heard it yet before gushing over how good it was because, you never seem to have any songs that suck.

You announced a tour or a show near them? He was telling all the girls that he was going to do anything in his power to make sure he would be at that show, seeing you perform live yet again.

And, let’s be real, all these cheerleaders thought that was funny as hell, but they always allowed Eddie to join their conversations; in fact, some of the cheerleaders went out of their way and started the conversations with him. He was just like them—he was a fanboy at heart and he couldn’t help that you were his current unconventional musical hyper fixation at the moment.

It had been two whole months of your posters and pictures being placed on his walls, hung up so carefully to ensure that they wouldn’t rip or tear. And, every time the guys came over he was constantly getting attacked and questioned by those pieces of paper. The posters were everywhere, there was one above his bed, there was one above his record player, hell, this motherfucker had one on the ceiling above his bed. You were the last thing he saw before he fell asleep and the first thing he saw when he woke up in the morning, cheesy, right? And, fuck, did the Hellfire boys tease him about that. I mean, it’s not everyday that the stoner Metalhead had pictures of a pop princess on his wall.

But, could you blame him? You just happened to look oh so good in those posters.

And his favorite to this day was still the one of you in that short fucking black dress; he made sure that poster was above his record player so he could look at you while sitting on his bed. He just couldn’t help it—that picture didn’t leave anything to the imagination. The way your curves were so full and perfect, god, he wanted to run his hands all over your body, feeling every single curve and divet of your plush skin. The way your cleavage looked like it could pop out of that dress at any moment, god, he wanted to reach out and squeeze your breasts gently, hearing the small moans and whines escape your mouth while he massages them between his hands, thumbs running over your hardened nipples slowly. Eddie just loved that dress on you so much but he desperately wanted to see it on his bedroom floor–preferably in a pile with his own clothes while you were pressed up against him, moaning and groaning his name with each and every thrust he made.

He had countless thoughts about you since he had first listened to that album and somehow each one seemed worse than the last.

He knows, he knows–he’s a pervert. You don’t have to tell him twice.

Seriously, though, each thought was worse than the last. He’s imagined you on your knees in front of him, hand wrapping around the base of his cock while taking it in your pretty little mouth. He’s imagined you on your knees on his bed while he's thrusting into you from behind, so deep and fast that you are screaming his name. He’s imagined hovering over you, kissing the soft skin of your neck as he thrusts into you slow and deep, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He’s imagined you on top of him, riding on his cock with your tits bouncing in his face. He’s imagined quickies with you after your shows in the dressing room, directly backstage, in the bathroom. You name it he’s probably thought of it with you.

Eddie was just so whipped and craved you. Craved to know how you felt, how you smelled, how you tasted, how you sounded… he craved to know every little thing about you; all your little imperfections, quirks, any skeletons you had hidden in your closet. He just craved to know you on such an intimate and personal level. But, sadly, you were just a celebrity crush who didn’t even know he existed.

At least, until tonight.

Tonight you were back in Hawkins, Indiana for a concert. Tonight, on Eddie Munson’s 19th birthday, you were in Hawkins, Indiana. You were in his hometown for his birthday. God, it was like the stars were aligning to give him the best birthday he’s had in a while, if not ever.

Eddie had purchased his ticket for your show months ago, literally the day they went on sale; he had called Gareth and bought a ticket for both of them (and, Gareth wasn’t entirely thrilled about that, but he knew he had to support his best friend… especially on his birthday).

He had his ticket, he had his best friend by his side, he knew your new songs front to back; he was beyond ready for your concert.

But, the Hellfire boys had a surprise gift for him. They all knew he had a concert ticket, hell, the entire school knew he had a ticket to your show tonight. But, what he didn’t have was a meet and greet VIP ticket… at least, until Jeff pulled some strings with his dad who worked at the venue you were going to be performing at.

And, my god, you should have seen the look on Eddie’s face when he opened that gift. At first, he looked at the Hellfire boys with a questionable look, he already had tickets, he didn’t need them. But when he read the words “VIP Meet and Greet Ticket” with your name next to it? Yeah, he screamed. A literal scream left his mouth as he thought about meeting you, talking to you, hugging you. And Gareth shook his head because he knew he’d have to stand next to Eddie the entire time during this Meet and Greet. (But, come on, Gareth was also secretly excited to meet you and see you face to face as well; he was just… not excited to deal with Eddie the whole time…)

So, now, Eddie stood next to Gareth waiting in the meet and greet line amongst a ton of younger girls and teenage girls that were all gushing to meet you. And Eddie was shaking from head to toe. He was both excited and terrified at the same time. What if you were mean? What if you hated him? What if you were a bitch? What if you aren’t like anything he has pictured you to be? What if everything he has thought about you was actually just something he made up and you weren’t that perfect little angel he has you made out to be?

He’s never met a celebrity before… are you really just a normal person like him? Do you enjoy going to the movies just like he did? Do you enjoy listening to music and getting high just like he did? Do you enjoy pancakes over waffles just like he did? Do you enjoy spending your free time with friends and family just like he did?

“Eddie,” Gareth said, looking at his friend. Eddie snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Gareth, raising an eyebrow.

“Hm?” He replied, looking at Gareth.

“We’re next,” Gareth said, motioning to the nonexistent line in front of them. Eddie gulped, looking up in front of him. He caught a glimpse of you and your smile and panicked.

“I can’t do this,” Eddie said, shaking his head. Gareth rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes, you can. Please, you don’t shut up about her. At least talk to her.” Gareth replied, looking at his friend. “She’s not going to bite you or anything.”

“She might.”

“Next!” The security guard called, looking up Eddie and Gareth. He raised his eyebrow slightly when he saw the two boys but shrugged, allowing them through. The pair walked towards the stage where you were standing in front of a pale pink and purple backdrop with hearts all over it.

God, why was Eddie’s head spinning? He felt hot. He felt dizzy. He felt like the room was slowly melting away from around him as he stood there, looking at you. It felt like the heavens were opening up and shining down on you as you stood in front of them, glowing like an angel, a goddess, a beautiful princess that he wanted to sweep off your feet with his wit, charm and good looks.

You looked up at Gareth and Eddie and smiled, waving them towards you. “Hi!” You cheered. “Thank you for coming, oh my gosh!”

God, when you spoke it sounded like a chorus of angels signing around you. Eddie had never been to church, but he felt like he wanted to fall to knees to worship you and sing your praises.

Gareth stepped towards you but Eddie didn’t, he just stood there frozen. He looked you up and down, taking in your appearance. Your hair and makeup were already clearly done for the concert—hair curled perfectly, not even moving as you moved your head side to side, beautiful soft pink eyeshadow with glitter overtop, making you sparkle each time you moved. You were wearing some baggy light blue jeans and a pink crop top that showed off your midriff perfectly.

God, you were perfect. You were real, you were perfectly real, and you were standing right in front of Eddie, beckoning him towards you with those beautiful and subtle hand motions.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Gareth said softly, stepping closer to you. You smiled at him, opening your arms for a hug. Gareth didn’t decline, he wrapped his arms around you gently before pulling away, looking at Eddie.

Eddie watched Gareth hug you before he stepped closer, a nervous smile on his face. “Hi,” he spoke softly.

You opened your arms and Eddie quickly stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your body as he pulled you close to him. Your arms wrapped around him, smiling as you stood there embracing each other. His arms moved down to your waist gently as he held you against his soft and warm body. It felt like it was just you two in the room as you hugged, sparks flying around you like fireworks. He was so happy to be embracing you, to be holding you, and you allowed him to. You allowed him to hug you and hold you as long as he pleased; you didn’t pull away, you didn’t back away, you just hugged him tighter and smiled as he held you close to his body.

After what felt like ages, Eddie finally pulled away from the hug, looking at you with a goofy and giddy grin on his face. Gareth glanced at Eddie and raised an eyebrow slightly before looking back at you.

You smiled at them both, “thanks for coming to meet me and hang out!” You giggled, looking at them. “You probably know my name, but I don’t know yours…” You pouted, looking at the two boys in front of you that looked like they were at the wrong concert. Heavy metal band tees on, ripped jeans, boots on their feet; why on earth were they here to listen to you?

“I’m Gareth,” Gareth said softly, nodding with a smile.

“I’m Eddie, it’s uh, it’s really cool to meet you. I’ve been listening to your music for quite some time and when I saw you were coming today I just had to come see you. Makes for a really cool birthday.” Eddie smiled, watching you.

“Birthday? Oh my gosh, is today your birthday?” You asked, Eddie nodded slightly.

“Yeah, nineteen. Scary number,” he joked.

“Our friend got him a meet and greet ticket for his birthday,” Gareth piped in, looking at Eddie. “He’s like, your number one fan.”

“Oh my gosh, I was your birthday gift? That’s so cool!” You gushed, “thank you for listening to my music and supporting me, really, it means the world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do what I love doing without people like you.”

“Yeah,” Eddie stuttered out, nodding at you. “Anytime,” he added.

You smiled, looking at the boys. “Well, can I interest you in a picture together? A signed poster? I have to make sure my number one fan has the best birthday ever.”

Eddie blushed. You just acknowledged him and called him your number one fan. Fuck.

“Yeah, that'd be cool,” Eddie smiled, Gareth nodded as well.

“Perfect, come here and smile for the camera.” You said, motioning towards the boys. They walked to you, standing on either side of you. Gareth stood on your left and Eddie stood on your right. You wrapped your arms around their backs gently and looked at the camera and smiled with the boys. Once the photo was taken you looked at Eddie with a smile. “Want a picture of just the two of us?” You asked. He looked at you nervously.

“You, uh, you’d do that for me? Can we? Really?” He asked. You nodded.

“Of course! Consider it a birthday gift from me to you.”

Gareth took this as a sign to step away, leaving you and Eddie together for your own picture. You wrapped your arms around Eddie’s waist and smiled, leaning closer to him for the picture. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him as a goofy grin appeared on his face.

After the photo was taken you hugged Eddie again, smiling at him. “Happy birthday, Eddie. It was nice to meet you and Gareth,” you said, glancing at Gareth. “I hope you both enjoy the show. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Thanks, princess,” Eddie smiled. Gareth smiled as well, waving at you. The two grabbed their posters and were on their way while you turned towards your next fan here for meet and greet—a little girl and her mom. You were crouching towards the ground to get to the level of the little girl as she ran towards you for a hug. You hugged her tightly and smiled, rocking her back and forth gently.

Eddie looked back and watched from afar as he left.

Fuck, did he love you.

“I’ll be back,” Eddie yelled to Gareth over the noise of the bar. Your concert was over and Eddie was bummed to leave, so Gareth suggested heading to the Hideout for a few drinks to celebrate his birthday. Eddie reluctantly agreed, even though he’d rather be at home right now thinking about you with his pants around his ankles and his hand on his cock, stroking himself in time to your music.

Gareth nodded at Eddie, before going back to his conversation with Jeff. They were having a heated argument about something, but Eddie didn’t really listen to the details because he didn’t really care. That sounded rude, oh well, it was true. All he cared about right now was you.

“Jack and Coke, please,” Eddie said as he walked up to the bar, away from Gareth and the other boys in the crowd. He grunted as he took a seat in one of the uncomfortable bar stools. The bartender looked up at him and smiled slightly, nodding to get him his drink. “Thanks, Mark,” Eddie added, watching the usual bartender go off to fix his drink. Once the drink was in his hand he raised it slightly, giving a nod to Mark as he began sipping on his drink. He looked around the bar, eyeing his surroundings as he usually did.

Your concert was over, you had left the stage long ago and were probably a long ways away from Hawkins by now. Why would you stay here longer than you had to? Eddie sighed to himself, finishing the drink in his hand a little too quickly.

He had finally gotten to meet you, to hug you, to smell you. That was weird, yeah, he’s weird, but, did you know you smell like a mixture of roses and strawberries? Like, he was walking through a strawberry field with a bouquet of roses in his hands, on the way to give you said bouquet before falling to his knees to confess his undying love for you. Begging you for a chance to let him love you and hold you for as long as you would let him.

“Mind if I sit here?” A feminine voice rang through his ear on his left side. Eddie didn’t look up, he just nodded, mumbling what sounded like a yes as he stared down at the ice in the glass his hand was wrapped around tightly. “Thanks. Hi, I’ll have a Rum and Coke, please.”

That voice. Eddie knew that voice, he had listened to it everyday for the last two months. Not to mention, he basically drooled over it a few hours prior at the concert.

He stopped, looking up to his left. His eyes widened as he saw you sitting on the barstool next to him. Live and in the flesh.

God, you looked perfect.

Your hair was still holding its curl perfectly while resting against your shoulders, your sparkly stage makeup had been removed from your face leaving a more natural look but, damn, you still looked drop dead gorgeous. Instead of the pale pink sparkly mini skirt and matching top you wore during the concert, you now had the same baggy jeans from the meet and greet and a sweatshirt with your name on it. Wearing your own merchandise, huh? Damn, that’s hot.

You smiled as Mark slid the drink your way, leaving you with a flirty wink. “This one’s on the house, princess,” Mark said and Eddie shot him a glare.

“Oh, why, thank you.” You replied, grabbing the glass in your hand. You brought it to your lips and smiled, sipping on the drink slowly. You glanced at Eddie, nodding at him with that adorable smile of yours. Fuck. “Hi, uh… Eddie, right?” You asked, remembering him all too well from your Meet and Greet earlier in the night. And, I mean, how could you forget him? Not many others showed up to your show with a Metallica shirt, ripped jeans and chains.

Not many people showed up like that but, damn, did you love it.

“Yeah, uh, hi. Uh, yeah, that’s me… Eddie,” he replied, nodding as he set his empty glass down on the bar, releasing his grip from it. “You, uh, remembered my name?” He asked, turning his body towards you slightly in the bar stool.

You smiled, nodding your head before sipping on your drink. “It's a little hard not to remember the name of my biggest fan.” You murmured, setting your drink down on the bar. “How was the show?”

“It was amazing, really good, actually. You always seem to kill it on stage…” Eddie said softly, taking in your appearance yet again. He just couldn't believe you were here in the Hideout and sitting right next to him. He was so scared that he was going to embarrass himself in front of you and ruin any chance he may have with you. Because, he totally believes he has a chance with you, yeah. “What, uh, what are you doing here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad you’re here and sitting next to me but… I kind of figured you’d be on a tour bus driving as far away from Hawkins as possible right now. You know, getting ready for the next concert of your tour.” He rambled on, stopping at the end to take a breath.

You giggled softly, turning your body towards him. Your left elbow rested on the bar, your chin resting on your palm as a smile appeared on your face. “Why, thank you. I already said it once but, thank you for coming to my show tonight, it means alot. And, I don’t know; I don’t have another show for a couple days so I decided to stay in town for a bit… is that not a good idea? Is it not too fun here in Hawkins?” Your right hand reached for your drink, taking a couple sips as Eddie shrugged.

“Hawkins really isn’t that fun,” he admitted, smiling at the way you gave your full attention to him. Fuck. “But, I don’t know, with a gorgeous girl like you floating around… it might get better.” He smiled, leaning a little closer to you. You blushed softly, smiling at him. You finished your drink and set the glass on the bar.

“Yeah? Is that so?” You asked, looking at Eddie again. You were able to actually take your time looking at him now, unlike earlier. Pretty brown doe eyes, beautiful yet nervous smile, long and shaggy curls that fell into his face a bit until he repositioned his head.

“Absolutely. You might make it worth staying here,” he nodded. You smiled again, looking up at Mark as he came over towards you two, asking about drinks.

“Yeah, I’ll take another Rum and Coke. And a drink here for my friend, Eddie, as well please.” Mark nodded at your words before walking off to make you and Eddie both another drink.

“Woah, you don’t need to buy me a drink, princess. I’ll survive.”

“Actually, I do. Consider it a birthday gift,” you smiled, looking at Eddie with that stupid perfect grin on your face. “Speaking of, how was your birthday?” You asked, “I’ll have to admit, I’m still feeling slightly honored that you decided to spend your birthday with me.”

“You already gave me a birthday gift today,” he argued, referring to the solo picture of the two of you from earlier. “But, my birthday was perfect. Actually, I didn’t think it could get better but, somehow, with you next to me… it’s definitely going to go down in history as the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Eddie replied, smiling widely at you. “Not everyday you get to spend your day with your favorite popstar, you know?”

“Oh, I’m your favorite popstar, huh?” You giggled, leaning closer to him. Fuck, that giggle.

“Well, you’re definitely up there on my list.” Eddie smiled, a chuckle escaping his lips. Mark walked back over and set the drinks down on the bar before he walked away again. You both reached for your glasses, taking them in your hands.

“Well,” you said, raising your glass. “Happy birthday, Eddie. And, cheers to many more for you.” You and Eddie clinked your glasses together before taking a sip out of them.

“Thank you,” he replied, nodding. “Make it a note to come to Hawkins on my birthday every year?” He teased.

“I'll see what I can do,” you responded with a flirty wink.

“You better,” Eddie replied with a goofy smile. You sipped on your drink more, smiling as you looked around the small bar.

“This place is cool,” you commented, looking back at Eddie. “And, you hate Hawkins?” He smiled.

“Not that I hate Hawkins,” he said softly. “More so that it’s a little… boring. Not much really happens here.” He added, shrugging. He watched you with a smile on his face as you continued to look around the bar, your eyes catching the stage in the corner.

“Is that a stage?” You asked, motioning towards the corner as you sipped on your drink. Eddie’s gaze followed your and he nodded, smiling as he took another sip of his drink.

“Oh, yeah! Tons of local bands play there every week, including mine. We play here every Tuesday night.”

“Woah, you're in a band?” You asked, suddenly a bit more interested in the boy sitting next to you.

“Yeah,” he smiled, blushing slightly as you took more interest in him. “It’s, uh, it’s called Corroded Coffin; we play some more heavy metal sounds. I’m a guitarist and lead singer in it…” Eddied replied, nodding at you.

“Corroded Coffin, huh? Sounds cool,” you giggled, finishing your drink. You set the empty glass on the bar and looked at him, “heavy metal, huh? What makes me stand out so much that you listen to my silly little pop music then?”

Eddie chuckled nervously, finishing his drink as well. “Well, you’re very pretty, you have an amazing voice and I do have a soft spot in my heart for pop music.” He replied, setting his empty glass down next to yours. “Guilty pleasure music, I guess you can say…”

“Well, I’m honored to be part of your guilty pleasure music.” You smiled, looking at him. “Oh, and I’d absolutely love to see and hear some Corroded Coffin songs, if you’ll show me, that is. I actually do enjoy listening to a heavier metal sound from time to time.” Eddie blushed, looking at you shocked.

“You listen to heavy metal?”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “It’s funny, I make pop music but I tend to not listen to that in my free time, actually.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly as he learned more about you. “Huh. It appears there is a lot that I don’t know about you, pop princess.”

“Yeah, I get that alot,” you nodded. “So, you play guitar, huh? That’s a skill I wish I had, I’ve been pushing myself to learn but, I just have very little motivation.” You admitted softly.

“I could teach you,” Eddie suggested, looking at you with a goofy smile. “If you want me to, at least…”

“I think I would love that, Eddie,” you giggled, looking at him.

He smiled at your giggle, looking at you. “You’re really pretty,” he said softly, looking at you. You blushed, smiling softly.

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know that Mr. Metalhead?” You replied, causing Eddie’s cheek to turn a slight shade of pink.

And with that you were both leaning closer to each other, eyes glancing at each other’s lips as you moved closer and closer together. Time stopped. Eddie’s ears were ringing and he felt like he was vibrating. You were so close to him, so close. He could see the small freckles on your cheeks, wanting to connect them all like little constellations. He could see the tiny baby hairs that didn’t want to stay down no matter how much hairspray you used, wanting to push them back and play with them gently. He could see the small scar that sat on your forehead from when you face planted on stage one night. He could see everything, and you were so beautiful.

You smiled your little smile, tilting your head to the side as your lips pressed against his softly. Eddie sighed, the feeling of your lips against his enough to make him weak in the knees. He moved his lips against yours, kissing you back softly as his hand moved to the side of your face. He held your cheek, caressing it even, as his thumb ran along the smooth skin. Your hand moved towards his face as well, pulling him closer during the kiss.

He suddenly forgot where he was. All the noises of the bar around; the clinking of glasses, the yelling of partiers, the sounds of men hitting on women… it was all gone. There was no one else in the room.

It was just you and him. The way it was meant to be—the way he wanted it. The way he dreamed it would be for the rest of his life; you and him against the world.

Eddie felt like he was dreaming. Or, he died and went to heaven. He wasn’t entirely sure which was true but he was counting his blessings, and mentally thanking Jeff for those meet and greet tickets because; fuck. That gift just keeps on giving. Literally.

He wasn’t sure how, he wasn’t sure why, but, he didn’t fucking care about the logistics of all of this.

All Eddie cared about was the feeling of your lips on his neck as he struggled with his keys to the front door of the trailer. That, and the fact that his uncle wasn’t home, otherwise this would be awkward.

He finally got his key in the lock and turned it, pushing the door open. He stumbled inside the trailer, pulling you with him. He kicked the front door shut behind you both and led you to his bedroom, pinning you up against the back of the door.

“God, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, lips crashing into yours desperately. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, pulling him in closer as you kissed him back, your lips moving against his with the same desperate want and need.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” you replied, fingers moving through his curls gently. He groaned, his hands finding your hips. He pushed his hips against yours, grinding against you slightly. A slight moan left your lips as your eyes closed and your head fell back against the door. “Fuck, Eddie,” you sighed.

He moaned a little too loudly when he heard you say his name like that, a literal pitiful moan left his mouth as he kissed down your jawline to your neck. He attacked your neck with kisses and nips, his hips still moving against yours with a slow rhythm. “God, princess, you sound so good saying my name like that,” he mumbled, biting down on your neck a little rougher. ”You don’t know how bad I want you.”

You whined at the bite, eyes opening to look down at Eddie. Your fingers ran through his curls, tugging them gently before you looked around his room. Your eyes caught sight of the posters of you on his wall and an accidental laugh left your lips. Eddie pulled away from your neck and looked at you, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” He asked, looking at you. “Did I do something wrong?” He continued, hoping you didn’t think this was a huge mistake.

You giggled a little, shaking your head. “No, sorry, just, you have posters of me on your wall?” You asked, glancing back at the posters that sat above his bed and above his record player.

Eddie’s cheeks turned a bright red as he turned his head, glancing at the two posters you were talking about. “Look, I just, they came with your vinyl!” He replied, trying to prove a point. “What else am I supposed to do? Let them sit in my closet and collect dust, I mean, look at you!” He added, frantically hoping this wasn’t a weird deal breaker for you.

Your right hand moved to his face, caressing his cheek gently before you turned his head back to face you. “You’re cute, you know that?” You asked, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips. “A perfect little fanboy,” you added, kissing his lips again. ”My fanboy.”

“Fuck, yeah,” he nodded, looking at you. “Definitely your fanboy,” he replied, kissing you again. “I wanna make you feel good, please, can I?” He asked, pulling you towards his bed. You nodded, following after him.

He tugged your sweatshirt up, pulling it up and over your body before discarding it on the floor. He laid you back on his bed gently and crawled on top of you, kissing your lips softly. Slowly, he kissed down your neck and over your chest. Eddie left soft and sweet kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, stopping right above the button of your jeans. He looked up at you, brown eyes glowing and waiting for you to give him the okay to continue.

When you nodded your head, he undid your baggy jeans. You lifted your hips gently, allowing him easier access. He pulled your jeans off gently, tossing them on the floor with your sweatshirt. He sat up on his knees, looking down at you.

His eyes roamed over your body, committing everything to memory as you laid in front of him in your bra and panties.

“You’re so beautiful, princess. Fuck,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. “Can I taste you? Please? Been dying to know what you taste like,” he begged, looking at you.

“Fucking hell, yes. Please,” you replied, watching him pull your panties down. He left soft and sweet kisses on your inner thighs, slowly pushing your legs apart. He looked up at you as he licked a small stripe up your folds, moaning to himself as he tasted you.

Fuck. You tasted better than he had imagined. So sweet, so… perfect.

He licked up your folds again, his hands moving under your thighs as he pulled you closer to him, thighs now resting on his shoulders. You moaned softly, fingers tangling into his hair as you watched him. He left soft kisses on your clit, looking up at you as he did so.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you mumbled, tugging on his curls gently. “You’re good with your mouth, ah,” you added. He groaned at your words, tongue flicking over your clit gently before he sucked on it. His right hand moved closer to your core, his pointer finger and middle fingers teasing your entrance before slowly pushing into you. You gasped at the feeling, back arching up slightly as he slowly began pumping his fingers in and out of you while simultaneously sucking on your clit. “Jesus, Eds,” you whined, pulling on his hair tighter. He groaned against you, speeding up his movements with his fingers.

“God,” he sighed, looking up at you. “God, you’re so… hot. You’re just so fucking hot. So fucking beautiful, you sound so pretty when you’re saying my name like that. You look so pretty like that. You’re just so… perfect.” Eddie said, leaving more kisses on your inner thighs before he bit down gently, leaving a small mark on your inner thigh.

You moaned, grinding against his fingers. “Fuck, you gonna mark me up as yours?” You asked softly, watching him leave more bite marks across your thighs. He moaned against your thigh, his hips thrusting against the bed gently at the thought.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, nodding up at you. “Gonna make you all mine.” He bit down on the plush skin of your thigh again, his fingers curling inside of you as he pumped them. He kissed back up your body, face now inches from yours as he slowed the movements of his fingers. He pumped them slowly, curling them with each pump as he kissed your lips gently.

You kissed him back, moaning as you tasted yourself on his lips. Your fingernails ran down his back gently, scratching at the fabric of his shirt. “Eddie–ah,” you whined, moving your hips up again, grinding against his fingers as he curled them perfectly, hitting your sweet spot. “Gonna, ah, shit, gonna cum,” you moaned, kissing his lips a bit rougher than before.

“Fuck, princess, cum for me,” Eddie groaned against your lips, speeding up his movements again. You whined his name, head falling back on his pillows as you clenched around his fingers, releasing your juices onto them with a loud moan. He pumped his fingers a bit more, helping you ride out your high as you fell back on his bed. You caught your breath, looking up at him with a sigh. He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, bringing them to his mouth. He sucked his fingers clean of your juices and moaned, looking at you. “Good god, baby, you taste amazing.”

You blushed and looked up at him, “yeah?” You asked, smiling slightly. You sat up carefully and kissed his lips. “I bet you taste even better,” you mumbled, reaching for his shirt. You pulled it up and over his head, throwing it to the floor. You pushed him back onto his bed and straddled his lap, kissing his lips desperately. Eddie kissed you with the same desperation as his hands moved behind your back, undoing your bra gently. You slid your bra down your body, throwing it to the ground.

You left soft and sweet kisses down his neck, chest and stomach. When you reached his jeans you left soft kisses on his erection through the denim, looking up at him as you did. You left a flirty wink before you ran your nails along his lower stomach, running over the soft hair that sat directly above his waistband.

Eddie’s breath hitched as he watched you, groaning at the sight in front of him. He had dreamed of this moment more times than he could count but never in a million years did he think it would actually happen. Like, really? Were you real right now? Or was he passed out at the bar in the Hideout?

“Can I take these off?” You asked, looking up at him as you played with the hem of his jeans. He nodded, pushing your hair out of your face gently before running his fingers through it.

“Please, princess,” he said, looking down at you. You undid his jeans quickly, pulling them down. He moved his hips up, making it easier for you to free him from his denim pants. You tossed them behind you and they landed on the floor with a thud. Your nails ran up his thighs and over the fabric of his boxers before you slid your fingers under the waistband, tugging them down gently.

As you tugged his boxers down, his rock hard erection sprung free, hitting his stomach. You looked up at him, sinking down between his thighs.

“Well, you’re so pretty,” you mumbled, hand wrapping around the base of his cock gently. “So pretty and so big,” you commented, pumping him in your hand slowly. “Not sure if I can take all of this in my mouth but, I really want to try,” you mumbled, looking up at him as you kissed the tip of his cock. “That okay?” You asked, your tongue flicking over the slit on his tip.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie moaned, watching you. “More than okay, fuck. Please, do anything you want to me, I’m yours.” You smiled, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock gently. You sucked on it slowly, moaning around him. Eddie whined, his hand running through your hair again as he gathered it gently at the back of your head.

You moved your head down slowly, taking more of him in your mouth. He watched you, pulling your hair gently as you moved to take more and more of him in your mouth. You made it down about three quarters of the way before you gagged slightly, pulling back from him. You pumped him in your hand and looked up at him. “You’re so big, I’m not sure I can do it,” you said softly, moving back to suck on the tip of his cock gently.

“Fuck, princess, that’s okay,” he groaned, tugging on your locks again. You bobbed your head slightly, taking more of him in your mouth.

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was seeing; this was definitely everything he imagined and more. Sure, he’d pictured you sucking his cock, but he never thought it would be too big for you to take fully in your mouth. God, you were somehow boosting his ego without even trying. Your sweet eyes looked up at him as you struggled to take him all in his mouth. Every so often you’d gag around him and pull back before going back to what you were doing.

He moaned every time, watching you proceed to go deeper and deeper for him. He pulled your hair tighter and closed his eyes, groaning as you got him all in your mouth. You moaned around him, looking up at him. He bucked his hips up, causing you to gag loudly but stay where you were, trying to fight through the pain and uncomfort.

“Fuck, baby girl, keep doing that and I’m gonna cum.” Eddie groaned as you went back to bobbing your head slightly. He moaned your name as you took all of him in your mouth again, and he thrusted his hips up against your mouth. He tugged your hair so tightly as he panted, releasing ropes of cum into your mouth. You groaned around him, swallowing it all before you pulled away, leaving a soft kiss on the tip of his cock again. “Holy shit,” Eddie mumbled, shaking his head. “That was better than I had ever imagined.”

“You’ve… imagined that?” You asked, tilting your head slightly as you sat back on your knees on his bed. Eddie sat up, his face turning a bright red color yet again. Damn, he was really out here exposing himself to you, wasn’t he?

“I, uh,” he stuttered, looking around the room. “…no?” He said, sounding more like a question than a statement. “No, because that would be weird and not right.” He mumbled, a giggle escaped your lips as you moved closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You sure?” You asked, tilting your head as you looked at him. “Because, I think you’re lying.” You mumbled, fingers trailing small circles on his chest.

“And if I am?” He asked softly, hands moving to hold your hips.

“I think that’s really hot…” you replied, leaning in to kiss his lips softly. He groaned against your lips and kissed you back, pulling you closer to him. He laid you back on the bed softly and hovered over you, looking down at you.

“You are just so incredibly beautiful,” he mumbled, leaving soft kisses on your neck. “I still cannot believe this is happening,” he added, his right hand roaming over your body. He moved up to your chest, squeezing your left breast gently as he continued to kiss down your neck and upper chest. He kissed over right breast, tongue flicking over your hardened nipple. You moaned softly, hands tangling into his hair gently.

“You’re so sweet,” you purred, tugging on Eddie’s locks. He moaned at the feeling and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking on it softly. You gasped at the feeling, head falling back on the pillows. “Fucking shit, Eddie, I think I’m going to need you to fuck me.” You mumbled, Eddie’s head shot up, looking down at you.

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting up gently. “You want me to fuck you, princess?” He asked, moving towards his bedside table for a condom.

“Want you to fuck me,” you mumbled, running your fingers over his bicep gently as he fished for a condom. “Need you to fuck me,” you added, nails scratching up and down his muscular biceps more.

“Fuck,” he groaned, opening the condom. He stood up, pumping his cock a few times before he slid the condom on slowly. He stood at the edge of his bed and grabbed your thighs gently, pulling you towards him. You squealed softly, looking up at him as he lifted your thighs, moving closer towards you. He teased your folds with the tip of his cock before he pushed in slowly, moaning as he felt you around him.

You gasped at the feeling, looking up at him. “Eddie,” you whined softly, eyes closing slightly.

“Fuck, princess,” he groaned, filling you up completely. He stayed still for a second before he started to thrust in and out of you slowly. He pulled you closer and your legs wrapped around his body, holding him against you. “Shit,” he mumbled, hands moving down to your breasts. He squeezed your breasts, massaging them as he continued to thrust in and out of you. “So pretty like this, fuck. You look so pretty taking my cock,” he groaned out, leaning down to kiss your lips.

You groaned and kissed him back, hands wrapping around his wrists as he continued to thrust. He picked up the pace a bit, thrusting faster and deeper as he squeezed your breasts harder.

“Ah, fuck, Eddie, shit,” you moaned, moving your hips against him as he thrusted. “Shit, fuck, you’re so big. You fill me up, god, fuck, made just for me, my perfect fanboy,” you whined, lips moving against his with desperate kisses. He moaned louder, thrusting deeper.

“Fuck, yeah. I’m your fanboy,” he groaned, biting your bottom lip gently before he tugged on it. “You’re my popstar, favorite one ever. Taking my cock so good and sounding so pretty, fuck, your moans sound prettier than your music.”

Eddie released your breasts from his hands and moved his left hand down to where your bodies were connected, rubbing slow and tight circles on your clit. A loud moan escaped your lips as your back arched off the bed, looking up at him. “Eddie, shit,” you moaned, nails scratching down his biceps again. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?” He asked, thrusting faster. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Gonna cum on my cock? Gonna cum on your favorite fanboy’s cock?”

You moaned, nodding your head repeatedly. “Yeah, fuck, gonna cum on my favorite fanboy’s cock,” you said blissed out as you felt your high come closer. Eddie made one more deep thrust and felt you clench around him. Your head fell back on the bed as you released around his cock, whining at the feeling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you muttered.

“God, fuck, you’re so pretty baby,” Eddie groaned, “I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“Yeah? Fuck, cum for me pretty boy,” you sighed, feeling completely blissed out. “My perfect little fanboy.” Your legs tightened around his waist, holding him close to you and inside of you. Eddie moaned at your words, his cock twitching inside of you as he released into the condom. He made a couple more thrusts before he groaned. Your legs fell back down and Eddie pulled out of you, helping you steady yourself so you didn’t fall off the bed.

He placed his hands out for you to grab and helped you sit up on the bed gently. You smiled slightly and sat on the edge of his bed, looking at him. “You’re so perfect,” he sighed, leaning in to give you a soft kiss on the lips. He reached for your panties and his Metallica shirt, handing them to you before he slid the condom off, tying it up before throwing it in the trash. You accepted the shirt and panties, sliding them both on before falling back on his bed. He chuckled slightly, looking at you. “You okay, princess?” He asked, you looked at him and nodded.

“Yeah, you just took a lot out of me, fuck, you’re amazing,” you said, smiling at him. “And, you’re coming to bed with me… right?” You asked, he shuffled towards you and smiled.

“As if that’s even a question.” He grabbed his boxers from the floor and slid them on before laying down in the bed, wrapping his arm around your waist gently.

You moved towards him, a smile on your face as you rested your head on his chest. He left a soft kiss on the top of your head and hummed, closing his eyes.

You giggled softly and he opened his eyes, looking down at you. “What?” He asked, pushing your hair out of your face gently with his finger tips.

“A poster on the ceiling? Really?” You giggled more, pointing to the poster of you on the ceiling. He blushed softly, groaning as he covered his face with his hand.

“Please don’t start with me,” he mumbled.

“My perfect little fan boy, huh?” You teased and he turned bright red.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” He sighed, leaving another soft kiss on your forehead.

“Oh, I will.” You said, snuggling into his side more as you closed your eyes again.

Eddie held you close to his body and smiled a little. Tonight was different for him, he didn’t need to listen to your music to help him sleep. Instead, he was able to hold you in bed, listening to your breathing and soft snores.

Yeah, this was way better.

Eddie woke up the next morning to some knocks on the front door of the trailer. He grunted, rolling out of bed gently. He found a dirty shirt from the floor and slid it on over his body. He stretched, groaning as the knocking continued. He looked at your sleeping form and smiled, remembering everything that happened the night before. He leaned down, leaving a soft kiss on your head before he shifted towards the front door of the trailer.

He glanced around and shrugged when he didn’t see his uncle, huh, must be working a double.

Eddie opened the front door, Gareth and Jeff standing on the other side. “What?” Eddie groaned, rubbing his face as he leaned against the door.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Gareth teased, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’re just checking in on you,” Jeff added, shooting Gareth a glare.

“I’m fine, why?” Eddie yawned, looking at his friends with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, how were we supposed to know? You left us at the Hideout and just disappeared.” Gareth shot back with a snark tone.

“Damn, chill,” Jeff said, looking at Gareth. “It was his birthday, he probably got wasted and came home to sleep it off.”

Eddie went to open his mouth and reply but he was cut off by you. You called his name and walked towards him in your panties and his Metallica shirt from the night before.

“Eddie,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You left me alone in bed,” you added, leaving a soft kiss on his neck.

“Sorry, princess,” Eddie said with a small smirk, arm wrapping around your shoulder gently.

“It’s okay,” you shrugged, looking up at his friends. You remembered Gareth but didn’t know his other friend. “Oh!” You smiled, nodding at his friends. “Gareth, right? And, I’m so sorry, but I don't believe we have met yet,” you added, looking at Jeff.

“Gareth, yeah,” Gareth replied, staring at you.

“Jeff,” Jeff said, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You smiled and shook it gently.

“Nice to meet you, Jeff. Good to see you again, Gareth.” You smiled at the boys before turning your attention back to Eddie. “Come back to bed when you can, yeah?” You asked, placing a soft kiss on his lips before you turned back towards his room.

Gareth and Jeff both stared at you as you walked away, retreating back to Eddie’s room with a slight shake of your hips.

“There’s no fucking way.” Gareth said, looking back at Eddie. “Seriously?! You took her home?!” He questioned, the sound of jealousy evident in his voice.

“Yeah, I did; so what?” Eddie smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door.

“Fuck,” Jeff muttered, still looking in the direction you went.

“Oh,” Eddie mumbled, remembering something. “Thanks for those VIP meet and greet tickets, Jeffy boy.” Eddie smirked. “Now, I must be going, have a good day.”

Gareth and Jeff just shared a look as Eddie closed the door in their faces, making his way back to his room to be with you again.

eddie tag list: wanna be added? comment + let me know! @keeryhours ; @the-witty-pen-name ; @swiftieintheupsidedown ; @hawkinsmafia ; @earthlyangelbby ; @jasminelafleur

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stranger things eddie munson eddie munson x reader eddie munson imagine eddie munson fluff eddie x reader eddie stranger things eddie munson smut eddie munson stranger things eddie munson fic eddie munson blurb eddie x you eddie munson x reader smut eddie munson x you popstar!reader fan!eddie munson fan!eddie munson x popstar!reader fanboy eddie munson corroded coffin fest corrodedcoffinfest

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ewusernamessuck-offical

4 months ago

10/10!!! OMG I WILL BE COMING BACK TO READ THIS🤭✋🏼😭

At the Emperor’s Word -Viktor x Reader x Jayce

Summary: Sneaking around the academy after hours sounds like a good idea right up until you get caught; then, it becomes a great idea.

Pairing: Dom!Viktor x Sub!Reader x Switch! Jayce

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Explicit (PwP)

Tags: Threesome, Kissing, Handjob, Voyeurism, Obedience Kink, Praise Kink, Slight Cuckolding, Edging, Degradation, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Masturbation, Voice Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Lap Sex, Light Punishment Kink, Big Dick Viktor, Pet Names, Begging, Slight Choking, Vaginal Sex, Teasing, Rough Sex

Notes: A little fashionably late, but here is my absolutely filthy piece in celebration of Viktor’s birthday 🎉!! Viktor, my dearest, thank you for being my beloved husband and the devoted father of our many children. Glorious ovulation everyone ✌️💕.

You try to stifle a chuckle.

“Jayce, we can't-”

He's warm, so warm. You always feel yourself melt under his touch.

“C'mon, just a minute…” he insists.

You can't help but giggle breathlessly as he brings your hand into his pants, a large hand wrapping your fingers around his already half-hard cock. His body presses yours against the workbench, the firm wood digging into your lower back. His other hand slides against the fabric of your skirt, cushioning the strain, and not so subtly placing his palm over your ass.

He nuzzles his face against the top of your head, letting out a pleased groan when your fist starts moving. You suppress another laugh, trying your best to remain quiet, but you're positively enamoured of those sounds he makes when you touch him. Without even seeing his face, you know the content smile hasn't left his lips; he's so easy to please.

He's twitching under your grip, gripping your cheeks to the rhythm of the strokes. You quicken the pace, and he lets out a low moan that echoes through the empty lab.

This wing of the academy is always empty at this time of night, but there's something exciting about having to stay quiet. You can feel how close he's getting, the slight rutting of his hips a now familiar sign. His breath hitches, he's almost there, just a little more-

“I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

You yelp in surprise, pulling out your hand from Jayce's pants so fast your arm hits the wooden desk behind you. Jayce lets out a confused, frustrated shout at the sudden loss of friction as you wince in pain.

There, at the entrance of the lab, stands a looming figure, holding one of the large doors partially open. The light from the corridor obscures his face from the darkness of the lab; but there is no mistaking who this silhouette belongs to.

Viktor makes a single step forward, the metallic sound of his crutch against the tiled floor making you wince, as he lets the door close behind him. The room falls into obscurity again, the pale glow of the moon and the distant city lights only faintly shining through the windows.

“Ah, Viktor!” Jayce almost bellows in an overly cheery tone, walking backwards to put some distance between the two of you. “I- We were waiting for you! Got a bunch of interesting notes about today's experiments to show you !”

Viktor's face is blank, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in cold annoyance. He is neither amused nor does he seem the believe Jayce's jovial act. He nods curtly at the other man's pants, which are obviously, painfully unbuttoned. Jayce cringes as he quickly stumbles to reattach them, sliding the buttons in the wrong slits. You're frozen in place, eyes wide in fear, incapable of looking away from Viktor's frigid expression. But his focus is not on you; it's on Jayce.

“So,” he starts loudly, not bothering with whispers, “You barely spend any time working in the lab anymore. You have not even checked any of the upgrades I have suggested for the hexgates in the last month.” His voice is apathetic and dry, and his eyes narrow when he says the next words:

“And this is what you've been up to?”

Jayce opens his mouth like he's ready to argue, but the glare from his work partner seems to change his mind. He lowers his head silently, like a puppy being scolded. Viktor's golden pupils slide to you, and you now understand exactly why Jayce prefers looking at the floor.

“From Jayce I could expect,” Viktor remarks, the weight of his stare making you shrink, “but from you? I'll admit I'm disappointed.”

You bow your head in embarrassment. Your cheeks are burning, and you know there's no way to pretend like this is only a misunderstanding. You wish you could vanish on the spot.

Jayce, always the hero, comes to your defence quickly: “Viktor, it wasn't her idea-”

“I'm so sorry sir,” you interrupt him, stepping forward. You know Viktor well enough to recognize he's not a fan of poor excuses or avoiding accountability. “I swear this internship means the world to me. I know how many other students dream of working on hextech. It won't ever happen again.”

He seems pleased by your answer, although his expression stays perfectly stoic.

“That's good to hear,” he hums, walking closer to the both of you. He stops a few feet away, a ray of moonlight passing through a coloured beaker catching in his auburn hair. It illuminates him in an eerie, reddish glow, like he's not quite human, almost a phantom. “Well then, do not let me stop the both of you. Keep going, as you were.”

You have to assume he's joking, even if his tone sounds anything but, and you let out a confused, nervous giggle. But he isn't laughing, and neither is Jayce.

“Viktor…” there's uncertainty in the taller man's voice. It's not fear, or alarm, but he's apprehensive about something.

Viktor lets out a small sigh of lassitude, discontent evident. He looks at you again, with these amber eyes that make you feel like the world around you vanishes. Like there's nothing but him, and the words about to leave his lips.

“It would appear my partner is suddenly hard of hearing. Were my instructions unclear to you as well?”

You swallow. Your lips feel dry. Jayce is still unmoving next to you, still as a board, watching your interaction with his lab partner with an uneasy look.

“…No sir,” you mutter, just loudly enough for both men to hear. Viktor gives you the shadow of a smile.

“C'mon Viktor, you've humiliated her enough,” Jayce argues softly, raising his hand in a gesture of peace. But the other man has clearly decided Jayce hasn't gained his favour for the night, barely sparing him an icy glare.

“I do not believe I was talking to you,” he states matter-of-factly. The man of progress makes a strangled sound of protest, clearly insulted, but Viktor seems to have all but forgotten about him, now. It's back to only you and him, and the teasing smile dancing on his lips.

“He's always like this. Begging for attention,” Viktor tells you in a tone of confidence, like the topic of the conversation isn't standing less than a foot away from you with a baffled look on his face. “One has to wonder if he is compensating for something, but I figure you are in a good position to tell, right?”

You can’t prevent the corners of your mouth from lifting at the underhanded jab; Viktor seems emboldened by your reaction, voice louder when he continues:

“I certainly hope he's been more of a gentleman to you than this. Or does he only bend you over in our lab like an animal?”

The comment is enough to pull Jayce out of his stupor, and he raises his arms in protest.

“Hey, I'm not that-” he starts heatedly.

“Jayce.”

It's just his name; nothing else. You've said it to him hundreds of times. But there's something different in the way Viktor says it, the slow pronunciation of the syllables, the hardness of the accent, the deepness of the voice. Whatever it is, Jayce is compelled by it just as much as an order. He stops right in his tracks, his arms falling uselessly back to his side, like a dog listening to a command.

Viktor hums in approval, but his stare is no less punishing.

“I was not talking to you. When it is your turn to speak, you will know.”

Jayce's mouth is slightly agape, his eyes wide, an expression you can't quite read on his face; but he obeys. He stands there like a puppet, unmoving, drinking Viktor's words. You can't help but notice the still present strain in his badly buttoned pants.

The thinner man's gaze softens once more as it falls on you. He makes another step forward; close enough that you could reach him with your hand if you tried. He looks at you encouragingly: “Answer the question, sweet thing.”

The room feels like it's shrunk to barely a tenth of its size. Your breath has become shallow without you noticing. But isn't quite from fear anymore.

“T-twice in the lab before,” you stutter, the embarrassment of recounting your adventures to your direct supervisor burning your cheeks. The arousal in the air is undeniable now, and he's visibly aware of it. “And in the library. Once in my bedroom.”

Viktor hums pensively, studying your answer. It almost feels like you're passing some kind of final exam; the world's most sexually charged exam, undoubtedly.

“So he is aware of the basic notion of privacy behind closed doors, then,” Viktor concludes, the thin smirk now fully on display. “Who would have thought.”

He doesn't look away from your eyes when he finally speaks to the other man again.

“Jayce. How close are you?”

You glance at the taller engineer; he's started palming himself through his pants, his breathing irregular. His hair is dishevelled from your previous activities, and his cheeks are a bright crimson against his caramel skin. He's usually so dominating, on top of things, handling you like a chiffon doll up and down his dick with that cocky smile of his. You've never seen him like this; flustered, desperate, seeming so small despite all of his stature.

“Pretty close,” Jayce almost moans out, voice raspy for exertion. He's biting his own bottom lip so tightly it might start bleeding. “Just a little more.”

Viktor finally gives him a slight smile, though it's dripping with self-satisfaction. He's close enough to you that you can smell him now, that you could brush away the wayward strands of hair on his forehead. His face has been marked by the passage of time and countless hours of work, heavy bags under his eyes, cheeks almost gaudy. And yet, there is no sign of him ever losing control of this moment. Nothing could change the hypnotic power of his eyes, the controlling tone of his voice, or the subjugating effect of his slightly crooked smile.

“I suppose we should oblige,” he suggests lightly, his free hand brushing your cheek. His fingers are thin and lithe, cold against your skin, and you lean into the touch. He gives you a moment to pull away, if you want to; but you don't.

The kiss is slow at first, gentle, just the way little girls dream their prince charming might one day give them. He lets you decide when to pick up the speed, and you initiate after a few seconds by slipping your tongue in his mouth. It's messier, now, teeth clashing every now and then, saliva pooling where your lips meet. He tastes nothing like Jayce, his flavour of dark coffee and fresh mint; Viktor is sweet, like milk and honey, like a slice of lemon cake in the summer heat.

When he pulls away for air, you feel like time has started to move once again, as if you've just emerged from a dream. He's smirking confidently, still, but not entirely unfazed; his pale cheeks have turned pink, his breathing is slightly laboured, and there are traces of smudged saliva on the corners of his mouth.

A foreign whine makes you both turn towards Jayce, who is clearly on the edge of orgasm. He's abandoned any pretence of innocence, his cock fully pulled out of his pants as he rubs it furiously, eyes locked on the two of you.

“Stop,” Viktor only says.

Jayce groans in frantic frustration, slowing his rhythm but incapable of removing his hand. He's harder than you've ever seen him, his tip almost a painful red.

“No, no, c'mon V, don't do this. Please keep going,” he begs, looking at you with pitiful eyes, pleading silently. You want to touch him, to let him touch himself. But you know it's not your decision; it's Viktor's. And he's made his ruling, so you're not about to get on your research director's bad side again.

The head engineer offers a proud smile at your lack of answer to Jayce, the kind he usually reserves for reports submitted in advance or ingenious schematics. You recognize him more like this, strict, but never unappreciative of your efforts. He never forgets to slip a word of encouragement when you're stuck, never hesitates to reread your notes with you when the math isn't quite adding up. The cold anger seems to have fully passed, and now only the teasing, taunting satisfaction remains.

“I believe you may have forgotten that as per her contract, she is my assistant. Meaning she is under my direct command.”

He's looking at Jayce now, whose hand is still wrapped around his length, but unmoving. His cock is twitching in his grasp, desperate as the rest of him. His whole body shifts to the rhythm of his respiration, large shoulders slumped in defeat. Viktor doesn't turn to you when he asks you the following question, choosing instead to stare deeply into Jayce's citrine eyes.

“Is that not correct?”

You don't hesitate with your answer this time.

“Yes sir.”

His focus is still on the other man, but he strokes your cheek again with his left hand. He rests his weight comfortably on his crutch, like he doesn't have a single worry in the world in this moment.

“Good girl.”

You feel yourself tighten at that. That voice could tell you to find a way to harness the power of the goddamn stars before figuring out the hexcore, and you would comply.

“Jayce, could you bring the chair over here? The larger one.”

Viktor points with his chin towards a wooden chair with a flat backing, in a corner of the lab. Jayce looks back and forth between the chair and his partner, like he's unsure if he's joking or testing him. When no additional directions come from Viktor, he sighs in discomfort, clearly disgruntled, unceremoniously shoving himself back in his pants to go fetch the chair. The thinner man hums in appreciation when he brings it back and places it next to him.

“Thank you, Jayce.”

He sits, using his crutch for balance as he shifts slightly to find a comfortable position. His hand leaves the burgundy handgrip, instead settling on the metallic upper section. He looks like the king of a forgotten kingdom, resting on his wooden throne, sceptre in hand. You and Jayce, his obedient consorts, can't do anything but await his next command.

It comes in the form of a simple motion of his hand, beckoning you closer. You only stop when your legs bump against his, standing above him. His fingers caress the fabric of your skirt studyingly, like he's committing the feel to memory. They eventually catch on the waistband, tugging it questioningly. His golden eyes look up at you, the colour of the sunrise etched in his pupils. You nod earnestly in approval, and he lowers the skirt down until it reaches your knees, letting it fall to the floor. You're suddenly very thankful you dressed up this morning knowing you would see Jayce.

The design is simple, a line of flowery lace hugging your hips, and curving to the shape of your ass. It's the kind of thing Jayce loves; he'll even make you keep your panties on sometimes as he fucks you, just pushing the bottom of the fabric to the side to fit himself inside you. It's the lace he can’t resist, you think, the way it barely covers anything and rests against your skin like a present for him to unwrap.

It doesn’t seem to have the same effect on Viktor, but you can tell he’s still appreciative, cold hand sneaking under the lace to squeeze a cheek firmly.

“This is fucking torture,” Jayce groans in complaint, standing still just barely a few feet away. He's obviously aware he's not supposed to interfere with the two of you, or to touch himself for relief, but the glistening sweat on his forehead and down the prominent vein on his neck indicates how difficult this is for him.

“And you should know better than to have sex next to a table covered in explosive materials and one-of-a-kind prototypes,” Viktor retorts, sparing him a slightly displeased glance. “What if you had broken something irreplaceable?”

Jayce seems genuinely embarrassed by that; he may not show it as often these days with how busy he is, but you know he still cares about the academy's research and the state of hextech.

“I'm sorry Viktor. I wasn't thinking…”

“I am aware you were not thinking. And that is exactly the issue. You forget how much of our profession relies on thinking, not talking.”

It's crystal clear that's going to be the end of the conversation, for now. Viktor's fingers slide to your hip, following the shape of the panties until your inner thigh. A small tap with a single digit tells him everything he needs to know.

“Look at this,” he smiles, taunting but affectionate, “Already so wet just from a kiss. Or was it the sound of my voice that did it, I wonder.”

Both, it's both, and every single thing that has happened in this lab since he entered it. You tremble when his finger moves slowly against the damp fabric, not quite oversensitive, but a little on edge.

“I, um-” Jayce hesitantly speaks up from the side. “I fingered her a bit earlier. I… think she should be alright?”

This time, Viktor doesn't reprimand him for talking; he seems surprisingly pleased, eyes boring into yours for confirmation.

“Is that so?” he exhales softly.

You nod breathlessly. Why is it always so difficult to talk when he's studying you like this?

The teasing finger slips under the fabric, gently making its way into you. You let out an involuntary sound of eagerness as he verifies if you've been loosened up, analyzing you with the precision of a machine. He removes the digit with a crooked grin when he judges you've passed, and you whine at the loss; it was barely anything in the first place, but it soothed the feeling of total emptiness in your core.

“Color me impressed,” Viktor declares, half genuine, half mocking. “I do not think I have ever seen Jayce do his work in advance.”

Said man groans in defeated complaint:

“You're turning her against me.”

Viktor lets out a wry snort:

“You do that well enough on your own. You touched her without even making her cum?”

He pats your pussy comfortingly, and you almost sing to the feeling. Your panties get lowered swiftly, and you discard them with little decorum. Viktor's assertive expression has softened enough that you feel emboldened enough to try to join in the banter:

“Jayce thinks foreplay is watching him get undressed. He's not exactly an expert.”

Viktor laughs at that, a charming and genuine sound, and you feel yourself glow with pride. The topic of mockery doesn't seem as pleased, his cheeks red, his lips thin:

“See? Told you. You've already worked your fucking magic on her.”

Viktor starts unbuttoning his pants, the teasing smile still etched on his angular features. His fingers work nimbly, swiftly, with the precision only the best engineer in Runeterra could muster in such circumstances.

“It is not magic, Jayce. Simply talent and practice.”

He does quick work of lowering his pants, just enough to expose his underwear. The confirmation that he is indeed not as unbothered as he still may seem is poking through the fabric. Judging by the defined outline and the sizeable tent, you can instantly confirm a hypothesis you've had since the start of your internship: the Assistant to the Dean of the Academy is packing.

He's not unaware of it either; his golden eyes follow the movement of your own, playfully examining your reaction. It's different from Jayce's endearing ego and constant need for praise; Viktor knows his worth, but he revels in the admiration, the stares filled with awe and devotion.

If Jayce needs to feel worthy, then Viktor needs to feel wanted.

He finally frees his cock from the restrive fabric, letting the member bob slightly. He's not even fully hard, and he's huge, the length imposing, the bulbous tip a pleasant shade of pink. The skin is as pale as the rest of him, blueish veins marking it like porcelain; only a few well-trimmed auburn curls at the base remind you he's not sculpted from actual marble.

Jayce lets out a low, tentatively playful whistle as the other man’s slender fingers wrap around the shaft.

“Flattery will not get you far, Jayce,” Viktor comments absentmindedly. “You and I both know this is nothing you have not seen before.”

He moves his hand in an open, loose fist, evidently without any real intent to finish himself off; not with the way he's made you stand right above him, not with how he's looking right at you. You swallow with difficulty, licking your lips for moisture. The energy between the two of you is tangible, electric, as he keeps working himself tantalizingly slow.

“Darling. Sweet thing. Do you want this?”

You nod vigorously, the words stuck in your throat again.

“Tell me, then. Please. Tell me how much you want this,” he requests, and it's hard to tell whether that's an order or a plea with the way his voice lowers, just barely louder than a whisper.

You feel like you're high, your mind a jumbled mess of adrenaline and lust. There are no sentences that could possibly express how he's got you under his spell. How many times have you imagined a scene like this, in only a year of being his assistant? The stolen glances, the passing touches, you had no reason to believe they were anything more than figments of your lustful imagination. The very idea that he could be the one doubting your interest in him is laughable, and yet his gaze is probing you for a response, his lips parted with bated breath.

“I want this. I want you,” you swear to him, staring back so deeply into the amber irises there could not be a single question left. “Please, sir.”

You bring a hand to the crook of his neck; the coolness of the skin under your palm, the sharpness of his collarbone against your fingertips, the beating of his heart below your thumb. He has to know this is real.

Viktor smiles slightly, the little mole above his lips shifting alongside his dimples.

“I would ask you to be weary of my right leg, then. It is not quite as strong as it used to be, although that is not saying much.”

You've never seen the emotion that crosses Viktor's face in that moment, gone in under a second. It's so subtle one might have missed it; bitterness, regret, defeat. The tragedy of a man brilliant enough to change the whole world, but who wouldn't live long enough to see it. If Janna truly watches over the lost children of Zaun, then she is turning a blind eye to the brightest of them all.

You could say something, try and comfort him, but you choose not to. There's nothing that can be said to change things; there’s only the present, and there are only actions.

You sink down on him slowly, the both of you moaning in unison. You can't help the array of whines escaping your pinched lips. The heat from where your bodies meet is overwhelming, the stretch delightful and filling. He's not fully inside you and you're already wondering how much more you can take. It's dizzying, the pain making you grit your teeth, but you persist, fingers clenching on the back of the chair. When you've fully bottomed out, you let out a shaky breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Viktor soothingly pats your back, and you hang on to him for dear life, wrapping both arms around his back.

“Are you alright?” he whispers softly, worry evident in his voice. You want to answer, but you're quite certain if you open your mouth you'll only get confused gibberish out, because fuck, he's filling you so much it's hard to even think. You shift your grip to his shoulder blades, trying to anchor yourself, absentmindedly noticing the cool feeling of metal under his uniform. You trace the intricate patterns with your fingers to ground yourself, recognizing the shapes of bolts and screws, as you feel your breathing slowly even out

“I’m ok,” you eventually manage to exhale. “I just- need a second“

Viktor makes an understanding hum, his hand caressing the valley of your back like you're doing with his, his strokes mellow. He moves his head slightly to look at Jayce behind you, throwing him an irritated glare.

“So much for your preparations,” he points out with irony.

Without needing to see him, you know exactly the kind of disgruntled face Jayce is making: “She only needs three to fit me, you're just stupid big.”

“I can move,” you interrupt them, the pain now only a vague tingle; all that remains is the yearning for him.

You place both hands on the back of the chair to balance your weight, being careful of Viktor's weaker leg. You bring yourself up slowly, tantalizingly, before letting yourself fall back on his length. There's no other way to describe the broken moan you release than dirty.

“Eh,” Viktor remarks slyly, groaning when you start moving again. “S-she does not seem to think it’s stupid.”

You fuck yourself on him with abandon, fast, rough, not caring of how debauched you may look. If anything, Jayce seems very appreciative if his moans and curses are any indication.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants somewhere behind you, too far to feel his warmth, but close enough to hear he's pumping himself to the same rhythm you're riding Viktor. “You're doing such a good job taking him, princess…”

He's truly begging when he calls the other man's name again, delirious from the unending edging:

“V, please, make her turn to my side, I have to see her face.”

Viktor's hooded eyes bare into yours, his raspy pants echoing through your head as you thrust up and down his length.

“Do you think he is truly sorry, now?” he asks, the ever-teasing glimmer in his pupils shining despite the clear physical effort from his body.

You can't even remember what Jayce has to be sorry for; you whimper a positive ‘huh-uh’. Viktor nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck for a moment, gently bitting the sweaty skin in a surprising hint of possessiveness, but he does finally agree to free Jayce of his torture.

“I will trust your good judgment. You can come here, Jayce.”

You yelp in surprise when two strong but familiar hands suddenly grab you at the waist and turn you around, almost pulling you off Viktor's cock and into a messy kiss. The slight tickle of Jayce's stubble is pleasantly itchy, his tongue desperately searching for more of your taste. You moan wantonly against his mouth when you feel Viktor twitch inside you, but the man under you doesn't seem fully pleased: a thinner but firm hand brings you back against his chest, and he throws Jayce an irritated glare.

“I give you an inch and you take a mile. Typical,” the older man accuses him with a bitter tone, his accent more pronounced, rigid. “You do not get to touch, and you are only allowed to cum on her.”

His lips come to your ear in the ghost of a kiss, velvety smooth:

“Would that be agreeable to you, sweet thing?”

You just know you want to keep going, really; so you do exactly that as a reply.

This position is harder for movement, since without the support of the chair’s back, you would have to rely on putting pressure on Viktor's knees. Thankfully, with Jayce’s proximity, you can use his muscled chest for balance. He certainly doesn't mind being used like this if the expression he’s wearing is any sign: his entire face is crimson, his eyes heavy, laboured breaths escaping his abused lips. He's still following your pace, pumping up and down every time your ass meets Viktor's hip bones. It has to be painful by now, with the way he's been rubbing himself raw for so long without release, but he's either too entranced to care or getting off the burning friction

“So obedient,” Viktor praises you, his free hand moving to your lower stomach, long fingers digging gently into your skin; you wonder if he’s trying to feel himself move inside you. “We might still be able to make a top student out of you. What do you think, Jayce?”

Much like yourself, Jayce seems beyond the capacity for words. He's looking at you like he wants to devour you, like he wants to take you off Viktor's lap and fuck you right on the floor. But you both know he wouldn't do that without Viktor's approval, at the risk of getting on the other man’s bad side again.

Viktor's cock hits a peculiarly sensitive spot inside you and you cry out from the sudden shock, loling out your tongue involuntarily. Jayc makes a strangled sound at the sight, and it visibly takes all his self-control to not shove himself into the warmth of your throat.

“For once, I cannot get you to talk when I actually want you to,” Viktor tsks in disapproval, but it's clear he's not frustrated; rather, he seems to enjoy the trance-like silence Jayce has been reduced to.

“F-fuck, I think this is the hottest thing I've ever seen,” the younger man sputters, delirious, his fist moving with a frenzied pace. “I can see your cock in and out of her every time she bounces like that. Her tits look so good…”

You recognize that slight pitch in his voice, the rumbling in his throat; he's close again.

“What else?” Viktor hums, not letting him have a moment of respite. You can hear ragged gasps next to your ear, parts of heaved curses indicating he too is nearing his end, but he's still firmly insistent on being the one in control of it all.

Jayce whines in struggle, but it's hard to hear with how loud the sound of your own moans echo in the room. You've been using Viktor's cock to hit that one spot over and over, chasing your high without restraint, the familiar clenching of your walls maddening.

“She looks all fucked out. Like she -fuck- like she's so close to cumming around you…”

The other man seems pleased by that if the way you feel him twitch inside you is evidence. “Good observations,” he replies in playful irony. “Perhaps there is still a scientist in there.”

The hand on your stomach leaves its comfortable position to wrap around your neck, the pressure light, just barely restricting airflow.

“Sweet thing,” he calls out to you once more. “You can pick up the pace a little. I want you to never look away from Mr Talis's eyes.”

It's a hard request to fulfill considering how badly you want to squint your eyes shut in the agonizing pleasure; but you try your very best, unshed tears of exhaustion starting to pool and blurying your vision.

The sight of you so desperately trying to obey Viktor's order to focus on nothing but him is what finally undoes Jayce, who lets out one final loud curse:

“Shit-!”

He cums all over your academy blouse with a shout, little droplets reaching as high as your chin. It barely takes three more thrusts against Viktor for you to join him, crying tears of relief as an intense wave of bliss rocks your entire body. With your limbs reduced to nothing but putty, your head falls forward in exhaustion, thankfully stopped by Jayce's strong torso; the fabric of his dress shirt feels like satin against your face, burying your sobs.

Viktor takes a moment longer to reach his peak, fucking into your exhausted body with concentration, thick eyebrows furrowed. It's too much, too rough, and you throw your head back to whine against his neck pitifully. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath before he finally unloads into you with a long groan.

“Shh, good girl,” he compliments you soothingly as his warmth settles into your core, kissing your neck leisurely in praise. “You have done so well.”

He bends your head back slightly more to catch your mouth in an open-mouth kiss, slow and tired, sloppy from your mutual exhaustion. Jayce groans, his hand somehow still on his softened cock, pumping it lazily; his stamina is utterly unbelievable.

“Okay, actually, this might be the hottest thing I've ever seen,” he comments hoarsely, absorbing the way your tongue dances with Viktor's with every inch of his capacities.

Viktor concludes the wet kiss with a small peck on your lips, smiling as your head falls back on his shoulder in fatigue, your eyes shut close.

“Because you managed to get yourself all over her?” he throws back at Jayce, as calm and confident as if he hadn't just made you go through the most intense orgasm of your life. “Your ego will never cease to impress me.”

The stars behind your eyelids are still spinning; you weakly try to move an arm, finding it almost completely unresponsive.

“Sir?” you ask, and you almost don't recognize your voice with how rough and broken it resonates in the empty lab.

“I think we have reached the point where you are allowed to call me by my name in private,” Viktor amusedly hums close to you.

“Viktor, I…”

You want to open your eyes, to look into his golden eyes again and see the way he looks right after sex, but they're sealed shut from how worn out you are. “…I don't think I can move right away.”

That earns you a content chuckle from one man and a disbelieving laugh from the other.

“Jayce,” Viktor asks, now with a tone of request rather than command, “be a gentleman for once and carry her to her bedroom. The poor thing is exhausted.”

Jayce snorts, for once tonight the one hitting back with irony:

“And whose fault is that?”

Viktor’s fingers, still loosely wrapped around your throat as lightly as feathers, slide down to massage the tender muscles at the base of your nape. You moan brokenly into the touch. You couldn't move even if you wanted to.

“Undeniably yours. I am not the one sneaking around in the academy for nefarious purposes,” Viktor retorts playfully, tiredness noticeable but skillfully hidden in his voice. “But if you were to have a bad idea like this once more… I believe I can offer you my services as her supervisor. For both your sakes.”

Tags

arcane viktor arcane Jayce Talis viktor nation viktor x reader viktor smut jayce x reader arcane smut jayce smut jayce talis smut jayce talis x you viktor x y/n viktor x reader x jayce viktor arcane x reader

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ewusernamessuck-offical

5 months ago

To the men who voted for Donald Trump today:

When your girlfriend gets pregnant, and you’re not ready to become a father, and you’re forced into a position that cripples you emotionally, financially and irreversibly, remember: you did this.

When your sister’s pregnancy turns out to be ectopic, and she can’t get the life-saving medical care she needs and dies a completely pointless, preventable death, remember: you did this.

When your 12-year-old daughter is raped by her soccer coach — after he’s legally allowed to strip off her pants and peep at her genitals, because the existence of trans kids terrifies you — and she steals your shotgun and kills herself in your garage, remember, first and foremost: you did this.

Hundreds of thousands of people are going to die because of the decision you made today.

You did that.

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ewusernamessuck-offical

1 month ago

i need a shirt that says “i ❤️ pathetic boys who whine for attention”

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ewusernamessuck-offical

4 months ago

Currently doing a writing project, saving on my page for me and others :}}

Hey, random writing tip: Instead of having something be a ridiculously unlikely coincidence, you can make the thing happen due to who this particular character is as a person. Instead of getting stuck on "there's no logical reason to why that would happen", try to bend it into a case of "something like this would never happen to anybody but this specific fucker." Something that makes your reader chuckle and roll their eyes, going "well of course you would."

Why would the timid shy nerd be at a huge sketchy downtown black market bazaar? Well, she's got this beetle colony she's raising that needs a very specific kind of leaf for nest material, and there only place to get it is this one guy at the bazaar that sells that stuff. Why would the most femininely flamboyant guy ever known just happen to have downright encyclopedic knowledge about professional boxing? Well, there was this one time when he was down bad for this guy who was an aspiring professional boxer...

I know it sounds stupidly obvious when written out like this, but when you're up close to your writing, it's hard to see the forest for the trees. Some time ago I finished reading a book, where the whole plot hinges on character A, who is 100% certain that character B is dead, personally getting up and coming down from the top rooms of a castle, to the gates, at 3 am, to come look at some drunk who claims to be this guy who died 17 years ago. Why would A do that, if he's sure that B is dead?

Because he's a Warrior Guy from a culture of Loyalty And Honour, and hearing that someone's got the audacity to go about claiming to be his long-lost brother in battle, there is no other option than to immediately personally go down there to beat the ever-loving shit out of this guy. Who then turns out to actually be character B, after all.

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ewusernamessuck-offical

2 months ago

NEEDED this

Soap is the last person anyone would expect to want a wife as desperately as he does but oh. Does that boy think about marriage more than anything else.

Tags

domestic fluff john soap mactavish soap x reader soap x you soap cod john soap mctavish x reader

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ewusernamessuck-offical

1 month ago

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ewusernamessuck-offical

2 months ago

I hate the flesh hat man, I don't want to see him.

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ewusernamessuck-offical

3 months ago

Sevika look alike contest in my bed RIGHT NOW

HCs for Sevika w/ an oral fixation

Ooo baby this one is sin

༇ ༇ ༇

This one is based off a hc by @justhereforsubsevika !!! Thank you for the sevi brainrot food my friend 😫

cw: smut. (mostly) bottom!sevika (TEEHEE)

༇ ༇ ༇

Those are some of the prettiest, most captivating lips south of Noxus. They were meant to always be wrapped around something; or, parted and filled until she gagged.

She is an absolute munch. She'd live between your legs if you'd allow it. Morning wood? No, morning munchies.

You wake up every morning, without fail, to Sevika peppering your skin with kisses. You can tell sleep is still clinging to her mind like it is yours, because her kisses fade in and out with minute pauses when she nearly falls back asleep for a moment.

And yet, she's still kissing down your body, lingering to lavish your lower stomach with special attention before she rises back to kiss under your ear.

"Can I have it, baby?" She'll ask in a morning voice that could have Janna herself laying back and spreading.

Her fingers are busying themselves teasing the hem of your underwear, and are deftly ripping away the damnable boundary once you emphatically say yes.

She'll always give you those begging eyes while she goes down on you, as if pleading with you for even more of your essence down her throat. She can never have enough of you. Her mind melts away when you're between her lips, all she can comprehend is you, your taste, and how you fall apart in her mouth.

Eating you out is by far her favorite past-time, she would say it's a hobby of hers even, but it's more than even that; it's literally a passion of hers. Sevika daydreams about your pussy, eyes glazing over mid-workday as she traces out your clit in her mind.

MUNCH

Once you two are together, she can't even masturbate without something resembling your pussy with her. In her mouth, specifically.

You get Sevika the custom-made fleshlight as an anniversary gift, handing it to her with a giggle (mostly bc you'd wrapped it in a way where it was very obvious what it was).

"Please make sure I catch you using it," you murmur in her ear with a groan, palming her cunt through her pants to drive home your point. And if bby can do one thing, it's follow orders!

On the night that Sevika first uses it, she gets home a little earlier than you do from work. There's rarely a night where she doesn't need to blow off some steam from dealing with the repercussions of Silco's blunders, or the general headassery of the Chem-barons.

You're not home yet, and she's particularly impatient. She takes the fleshlight out from the nightstand (with a strange sense of bashfulness lol), running her fingers gently over the replica of your pussy lips. She bites her lip, imagining your breathy moans at her light touches.

She lays down on her stomach on the bed, pillow tucked under her hips and propping her pretty ass even further up in the air. She holds the fleshlight with her mechanical hand in front of her face like she's laid between your legs, while the other pumps one of your longer dildos slowly in and out of her pussy…

Sevika doesn't know how she ever touched herself without it beforehand. Stars are shooting around behind her eyes as she traces her tongue over the perfectly-replicated folds of your pussy. There's something so painfully lewd- borderline humiliating- about what she's doing that makes her even more wet.

She loves it, she loves it so much and she's pumping the dildo even faster, her hips bucking as she sucks on "your" clit, eyes rolling back as she swears she can taste you. She can practically hear you cooing her ear, calling her a good girl while your hand strokes over her ass-

Oh, but you are cooing in her ear. And your hand's drifted down to the cock between her legs, taking control and slowing the pace down until she was whimpering. Big, strong Sevika, whimpering.

"Shhh, baby, it's okay, I'm here. Keep eating that little toy of yours out, keep being good."

The little moan of submission she gives shoots straight up your spine, and it takes all of your willpower not to fuck her silly with the dildo. You keep pumping it slowly, bottoming out with each stroke just to hear that restrained whimper in the back of her throat.

Sevika looked so good when you stepped into the bedroom, hips rutting against your pillow as she fucked into herself, face buried in your pussy. She was consumed by you, and it drove you absolutely insane.

You appreciate getting to see from a different angle how she looks when she eats you out. It's so clear that she's eating you out for her own pleasure (the fuckin' brat) rather than your own, as she practically makes out with the fleshlight.

Against all rationale, you're almost jealous. Then you remember, you're in charge.

"Enough of that. Lay on your back." And then, you're climbing up to sit on her pretty face (not without giving her a proper hello kiss first, ofc), leaning over her with a broken moan to continue fucking her with the dildo.

You'd think she hadn't had a proper meal in days with how loudly she moans into your pussy. Her hands clamp down on your hips, pulling you down to smother her face. And suddenly… you're not nearly as in charge as her tongue is.

"B-baby… please, wait, it's so much, oh!" You're whimpering as you rest your forehead on her stomach, your wrist lazily pumping the dildo in and out of her. It's funny how quickly that wicked tongue can break your more dominant spirit.

She won't stop suckling on your clit, muttering "so good, so sweet" in that fucked-out tone of hers that lets you know Sevika's gone. All that's in her place are her whims, all of which have to do with having you in her mouth.

She's pulling your third orgasm of the night out of you, which at that point your throat is raw from screaming and begging for more. You rapidly tap on her thigh, squeaking out a high-pitched string of "please"'s that cause her to release you with a pop.

That puppy-eyed look is back as you two readjust, with you laying back on the bed and her bracketed between your legs. "Was that good?" She asks, her mind still hazy, and sinking back into her subspace as you massaged her scalp.

"So good, Sevi," you praised. She smirked pridefully, dipping down between your legs to give your pussy a kiss. She laughs softly when your hips buck, and you push her face back with a whine.

"The real thing's still better," she says, reaching up to grasp one of your hands as her languid, loving kisses branched out.

Tags

x reader arcane Sevika x female reader x fem!reader arcane x reader arcane sevika sevika x reader sevika x you arcane smut sevika headcanon sevika x female reader

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