Please read part 1 if you haven't, since this picks up directly after it!
Summary : You finally met Travis (accidentally) after talking with him for months without knowing who he was. How will the loss off anonymity affect your growing friendship, and the few extra variables of it? Will you be able to keep it casual?
Contents and Warnings : MDNI!!, strangers to friends to lovers (?), slow burn, reader has battled anxiety but is doing better now, reader has a therapist and a cat, descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks, reader has a healthy relationship with her dad, no use of y/n. More specific to this part : fluff, detailed description of a panic attack and naming things to ground oneself (if you don't like that), smut that is drawn-out, smut that goes from 0 to a 100, many smut scenes basically, hints at Bi!Teacake, Teacake has a tattoo on his dick (I dit it), oral sex (m! and f! recieving), body worship (both f! and m!), phone sex (videocall), masturbation (both f! and m!), use of a dildo, p in v (unprotected), creampie, gentle headlock, cum-eating, idiots in love that don't know it yet.
A/N : So I finally fucking finished it. Here is the huge second part to Anonymous help, thank you so much for waiting for it if you did and being patient. I hope it meets your expectations! I love them, there's a lot of smut, there's a lot of fluff and there's some totally casual 'dates' between friends that are definitely not in love with each other. Also, big shout out to @djoshairychest and @lacywithdrawal for giving me ideas, love ya!
WC : 23k wtf
♡ Masterlist ♡
************
“Travis?”
The name seemed to echo into the space between you and him – and your dad – the edges of the sound catching and reverberating against everything until the weight of it finally crashed through your mind. You didn’t register how your breathing had completely stopped as soon as you said the word, like you were right at the very apex of a roller-coaster before the terrifying vertical drop – a drop that came in the shape of two brown eyebrows pulling together and a head tilt that could rival the one puppies do when they’re trying to figure something out.
“W-what? How do you know my name?” He asked, confused but his lips pulled slightly in a smile, like the situation amused him. Of course, he hadn’t recognized you from a single word escaping your mouth. It wasn’t enough of a sample to allow him to link the very pretty girl in front of him to the one he had been speaking to for a few months now. The one he had been telling over the phone that he wanted to feel riding him as he made a mess all over himself for her mere hours before.
You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You didn’t know how to tell him who you were, especially not with your dad right there, who was watching the situation with a puzzled look on his face.
Travis’ eyes took in the details of your face, and even though he couldn’t place you, he offered you an out. “Oh! Did we go to Sunny Valley High School together? ‘Cause if so, I have to admit I don’t remember much from that time.” He chuckled nervously and scratched his scalp, shooting a side glance at your dad before looking back at you. “Wasn’t really on my best behavior back then, hah. And that’s kinda puttin’ it lightly.” He was totally a stoner in high school, but he felt hesitant to say that since your dad did have a pretty ‘anti-drugs’ kind of style.
Your lips pulled into a smile, and you let out a small chuckle. You shook your head gently and looked down at the set of keys in your hand, fumbling with the plastic keychain with the ‘SB-2031’ inscription on it. His voice and the way he talked pulled you out of your initial shock. This was just Travis.
Your best friend. Your used-to-be-anonymous best friend. Your best friend with benefits. Benefits that came in the tune of having phone sex almost everyday.
You had to be discreet, not that you thought you were doing anything wrong, but you really didn’t want your dad to understand the depth of what you had been doing with a man that clearly didn’t know your face.
You spoke up as you kept fiddling with the keys. “No, um… it’s me?” You managed to look into his eyes and say your name in a question. “From that online game?” Your eyes widened a bit, hoping that Travis would understand what you were putting down and pick it right up.
As soon as your name left your lips – especially since he had actually heard enough of your voice now – Travis’ whole expression opened in recognition. His mouth hung open slightly as the corners pulled up, his ears turned bright pink as well as his cheeks, and his eyes were completely and utterly fixed on your face. It was like he was drinking you in – a man stuck in the desert for a few days before finally reaching an oasis. “O-oh…” He said your name and smiled softly.
And then, against all odds, he stayed silent. He looked at you for the first time – well, the first time knowing who you were – and all the usual noise and voices inside his head went unnervingly quiet. The kind of quiet that can only come after everything had been too loud for too long before. The one that could make your skin crawl if it wasn’t welcome. The kind that made you forget that there was an almost sixty-year-old man right next to you.
Your dad cleared his throat, making both you and Travis turn your heads toward the older man as he rocked back on his feet and gave you a tight-lipped smile.
Travis then looked back at you and grinned widely. “Can’t believe I’m finally meetin’ you. Feels… surreal.” A little laugh slipped out of him at the admission.
You giggled shyly with him and then turned to your father. “I’m sorry, dad. Um… This is Travis. We’ve never actually met in person, but we play this game online where you can talk to the people on your team? And we became friends on there, so yeah.”
Your dad nodded slowly, taking in the new information. You knew that if you had said you had met him chatting anonymously on an online forum, he would not have liked it. He would have thought that you had put yourself in danger and he wouldn’t have trusted Travis. But with a game, knowing how much it was a pastime you had enjoyed when you were growing up? That felt safer.
“Ah! Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? Nice to meet you, son. And you didn’t know he worked here?” Your dad asked you as Travis nodded as if to say nice to meet you too.
You shook your head, your cheeks turning slightly crimson as you thought that you had learned exactly what he sounded like in the most intimate of ways, but never his place of employment. “Uh, no. It usually stays pretty anonymous on those games,” you explained to him.
Travis was back to looking at you with a fond expression on his face before you nodded toward the elevator. “So uh… the unit?” You kept saying things with a questioning inflection when you were nervous.
Travis shook his head, visibly snapping himself out of his staring, before he immediately got into action. “Y-yeah! Just follow me. You’ll see, it’s like really confusin’ down there with all the different sections and sh- uh… and stuff. I mean, even for me and I’m here all the time. Well, I guess you already know since you have obviously come in here before, but…”
In true Travis fashion, he kept talking the whole way down the elevator, through the hallways, until you reached the unit. He held out his hand once you arrived, and without him having to ask, you gently placed the keys in his palm as your fingers grazed it softly. He gave you a warm smile before unlocking the unit and pulling on the handle to open the heavy metal door. “So, there you go. I’m uh… supposed to leave you guys to it. Give you some privacy. So… do y’all think you’re okay to find your way back to the elevator and all?”
You nodded sweetly before your dad spoke. “Yeah, we got it, son. Thank you.”
Travis looked at him and gave him a small nod and smile, before his gaze settled back on you. “Alright, then. It was nice finally seein’ ya. Here.” He gave you back your keys, and this time, he purposefully let his fingers linger against yours.
You swallowed thickly, your heart hammering as you nodded swiftly. “Thanks, Trav. Um… yeah.” You cursed yourself internally for your inability to string words as you offered him a pitiful but fond expression.
But the way he tilted his head kindly and looked at you like he knew exactly what must have been going on in your brain made you feel like he simply got it. He knew you by now – the anxiety, the shyness – so of course he didn’t hold it against you.
He left after that, nodding to your father before walking back toward the elevator. He looked once over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner, but you hadn’t seen it, your father already pulling you into the unit to fetch the tools.
Right, your leaky faucet. That’s why you were here.
It took a few minutes, but you managed to find the toolbox your dad had given you when you moved here. “Ah, there it is, Pickle.”
He opened it, made sure he had everything he needed, before you both made your way out, locking the unit and heading for the elevator.
Once you reached the entrance again, Travis was at his desk reading a book. He looked up and smiled when he heard the elevator ding. You tapped your father’s forearm as you got out. “Wait for me in the car, okay? I’ll just be a minute.”
He looked at you with a puzzled expression, but your gaze was on Travis. That told him everything he needed to know. “Okay, sweets. I’ll be out there if you need me.”
Your dad left through the glass doors as you made your way over to Travis, your hands burying themselves in your pockets. “Hey,” you said softly, but the slight shake in your voice betrayed your nerves.
He got up and rounded the desk to stand in front of you. “Hi.” He smiled bright and boyish, making you bite the inside of your cheek.
You took the time to memorize how he looked. His hair was bleached with a brown regrowth, the strands looking weirdly soft even after they had obviously gone through a few rounds of chemicals. The moles that peppered his skin – especially the two close ones on his cheek and the few that went down his neck – looked like dots on a map inviting you to travel and discover what each one had to offer. His big and impossibly gentle hazel eyes paired nicely with the slight dark circles under them, helping to soften them even more.
And then, your eyes went down to his chest. He looked broad and strong, and even though you couldn’t exactly see everything since he had on an orange button-up over a gray shirt – the ‘Atchison Storage’ jacket gone now – you knew that it was the kind of strength that was caring and steady instead of hard and harsh. You expected to see a nice little layer of fat over the muscles, something comfortable to rest onto. Your gaze then went back up to his lips – pink and full and so damn kissable – as they moved.
Fuck. Had he been talking?
His voice cut through the haze in your mind at just the right time, the little voice inside yourself telling you to get yourself together, he’s a friend. “…so yeah. I’m sorry we had to meet like this. I know you kinda wanted to keep up the whole anonymity and shit, and um…”
You shook your head softly. “No, it’s fine. I… Um, this is good. Kinda broke the ice.” You were being genuine, but the stress etched into your features made him worry.
Even then, his shoulders relaxed slightly at your words. “Y-yeah, okay. I’m glad you think so.” And then you saw how he seemed to do the same thing you had just done, his eyes sweeping over your features in quiet awe. You felt the blush creep up on your cheeks.
He spoke up again. “Maybe since we uh…” He gestured between the both of you. “Maybe we could hang out sometime?”
A sharper flair of anxiety lit up the inside of your ribcage, the feeling almost scalding, but you knew it was because this was new for you. It was new, and you couldn’t predict what would happen if you accepted to see him again. But you also knew that you trusted him, and that even if it’s uncomfortable, the wave of anxiety always comes back down when you stick to the stressful situation and don’t avoid it. Your therapist, Jenna, had repeated that to you – or a close iteration of it – many times when you were first starting to deal with your anxiety.
You nodded, your hand coming up to your sternum as your palm felt the heat inside you. “Y-yeah, we could.”
He nodded for a long while, too long actually, like he was trying to convince himself that you had accepted his offer. “C-cool, okay. I’ll text you?”
“Sounds good. I should uh… probably get back to my dad.” You said with a small smile as you started to walk back toward the entrance, pointing at it with your thumb.
“Yeah, of course! I hope you have a nice night, um… See you soon, then.” He wiped his hands on his pants, his palms slightly clammy from his own inner turmoil.
“See you, Travis.”
And as you were about to turn around to leave, he raised his hand like he had just remembered something. You were further away so he spoke up louder. “And say ‘hi’ to Sergio for me!”
You laughed, the explosion coming out of you and releasing with it some of the tension you had accumulated. “I will!”
He watched you leave with a dazed look on his face, blinking rapidly as he leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “Damn,” he muttered. She’s beautiful, he thought.
As you slid into the passenger’s seat, your dad gave you a knowing look. He put the car in drive, the humid air whooshing in through the open windows. “So… Travis, huh?”
You turned your head to look at him before rolling your eyes. “Oh, don’t start.”
He laughed – a sound that betrayed numerous years of paying bills and knowing his daughter – before he reached across the console and patted your knee twice. “Come on, Pickle. I’ve seen the way you look when you’re infatuated with a boy since you were seven years old and in love with your ice-skating instructor.”
You groaned as you tipped your head back, but you couldn’t help the embarrassed giggle that left you. “Oh my god, dad!”
“What? It’s true! Oh, and all the actors and singers throughout the years. I mean, come on. I know my own daughter.” He was looking at the road, but he had a soft smile under his moustache.
You shook your head as you kept grinning. “S’not like that. He’s really just my friend, I hadn’t even met him before!”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay. If you say so. But… I saw the way he was looking at you.”
You were pretty sure that if you had a blue light next to your face, you could convincingly pull someone over from how red your cheeks were glowing. “Dad, can we not?”
He chuckled and nodded apologetically. “Sorry, sorry. Just saying.” He shrugged before continuing. “He kinda looked like bad news anyway. Did you see that tattoo on his neck?”
You giggled, feeling more like a teenager with a crush than a fully grown woman, and joked around with your father for the rest of the ride back to your apartment.
****
Your father left the morning after, kissing your forehead and pulling you in for a hug with a “come see us soon, huh? Love you, Pickle.”
You nodded and smiled at him, a little pang of guilt in your chest since you hadn’t made the trip to go see your parents that many times since moving out. “I will, dad. Love you too. Drive safe.”
Once the door was closed behind him, you took a moment to realize all that had happened the night before. You paused in your kitchen, and really if you thought about it, nothing had changed except for the fact that you couldn’t hear the leaky tap of your kitchen sink anymore, and that you now knew how hot Travis was. And fuck, was he your type.
So, the whole day, all you could think about was him. His portrait kept flashing in your mind as you were working, and every time, a small flutter of something sweet and warm ignited in your chest. It was just like that feeling you get when someone tells you they saw something – maybe a little trinket that shouldn’t have mattered but did – that reminded them of you. Travis made you feel seen in a way that you weren’t sure you ever had felt before.
When you got home that night, bending down to pick up Sergio and push your face in the fur of his neck, all you wanted to do was call Travis. You let Sergio down with a “Oof, you’re heavy, big boy,” before taking out your phone, staring at the contact as your finger repetitively tapped the side of your heavy-duty phone case.
It hit you then.
You didn’t know what to do. Should you call him and do as if it was any other night? Talk for a few hours before you both got horny from each other’s voices and had to do something about it? Or should you mellow it down since you had actually met now? It kind of felt awkward to go back to how it was, for some reason.
You debated it for so long that you managed to psych yourself out and not reach out to him. “He talks a lot. He’ll text eventually and then I’ll figure out how to respond. Yeah, that works,” you told yourself repeatedly.
Except it was hours later now. And he didn’t text. Even when he was now definitely at work and able to.
So your mind got to racing.
Maybe he saw me and I’m not his type. Maybe he lost all interest and doesn’t even want to keep the phone sex thing going. Maybe I just lost my only friend. Shit. He probably thinks I’m too shy and awkward. Ugh…
By the time your alarm blared loudly as if saying “Congrats on getting no sleep, bitch!”, your overactive brain had already managed to convince you that everything was over. You hadn’t even needed the embarrassment of checking in with him – of texting and getting no answer back – to simply know it was done.
You whined and forcefully shut your alarm clock off, sending a little piece of plastic flying into the air and under your desk.
You got up and started getting ready for work, feeling discouraged as you dragged your feet to your bathroom. You were in the process of trying to mask the bags under your eyes with your dried-up concealer when your phone buzzed on the edge of the sink. You picked it up and your heart stopped when you saw the ‘Travis’ notification.
Travis : Hey! So, I’m really sorry I didn’t text you last night
Fuck, there it was. He was going to tell you that he thought you’d be better off not talking anymore. Great.
Then, your magic rectangle buzzed again. And again. And again…
Travis : Truth is, I didn’t know how to start and I was kinda waiting for you to reach out first haha but now my shift is done and I can’t stop thinking about it
Travis : So here it goes
Travis : I was really surprised to see you when you came with your dad, and I know you didn’t really want that to happen, but I’m not mad it did
Travis : I’ve been wanting to actually meet you since probably the first week we started chatting if I’m being honest
Travis : so maybe that’s selfish, IDK, but yeah
Travis : and there’s many more things I want to say, but I guess I should wait until I see you again
Travis : so I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out sometime for real, or if you just said so the other day because you felt like you had to. I get it if you did, if you felt pressured cause we were face to face, yk? And I’ll respect that
You couldn’t help the stingy feeling in the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t have been more wrong, and it felt like the weight of the entire fucking world – dramatic much – got lifted off your shoulders as you read his oncoming flow of thoughts.
You : Hey! I’m sorry I didn’t text either, I was kinda overthinking everything too
You : and I don’t regret it either, btw. I’ve been wanting to meet you as well but I was too scared, you know me lol
You : But I do want to hang out, if you’re up for that :)
You couldn’t see him, but Travis beamed at his phone as he stopped his nervous pacing to drop back on his bed with a happy sigh.
Travis : Fuck I’m happy to hear that haha
Travis : I thought about it and if you want to, we could go to Copperwood Park? Have a little walk or something
That’s the park you had left your phone number at for him to pick up. For some reason, that felt like a perfect place to meet, and your stomach twisted in anticipation.
You : Yeah, that sounds fun! :)
You : Do you know when you’d wanna go?
Travis : I’m off on Friday, maybe we could go after you’re done with work? Around 6-ish?
You : Yeah, perfect
You were smiling brightly. You didn’t have a big shift on Friday, just a quick afternoon one that wouldn’t tire you out too much for the date.
Wait… was it a date?
He kept calling it ‘hanging out’. Maybe you should stick to that and not make it into something it isn’t and put unnecessary pressure on yourself. He’s your friend. This was going to be a friendly hang out. Easy.
****
Except the whole week leading up to it felt off.
You weren’t calling each other like you used to, not really even texting more than to make sure the other had a good shift or was doing okay. You used to call each other everyday. You used to talk for hours. You used to jerk off together, for Christ’s sake. Maybe this was a terrible idea.
Still, out of sheer bullheadedness of needing to stick to anxiety-inducing situations, you didn’t back down from it. And when Friday came with a little text from Travis at around 9 AM – before he usually went to sleep – you were overcome with that same warm feeling you had started associating with him.
Travis : Good morning! I hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to make sure we were still on for tonight? 6 at the park? :)
You : Good morning/evening to you! Yeah, still good for tonight. I’ll meet you there?
Travis : Yeah, perfect :)
You : Good :) see you then, sleep well
Travis : Thanks, have a good shift
****
When you got home at 4-ish PM and into your shower, the water felt calming, pulling your consciousness to the feeling of liquid heat against your skin instead of all the thoughts about everything that could go wrong. Your shift had been busy – more clients than usual – which usually would have annoyed you, but today, you’d been grateful for the distraction.
Picking out an outfit had then been a pain, until you decided to not overthink it. Just a friendly hangout, remember? So you put on normal jean shorts that went down to your middle thigh, a t-shirt that felt like you, and your broken-down Converse sneakers. It was the end of summer, and the evenings were still warm and comfortable.
Your left knee bounced terribly while you were driving toward Copperwood Park. The playlist you had put on filled the interior of your miraculously-still-running car, but your brain wasn’t able to pay any attention to it. No, you were busy brainstorming ideas of what to talk about if the conversation ever lulled. Maybe you could bring up Sergio, your job, the forum you met on, his job, the park… Fuck, it all sucks.
You let your ribcage swell up with a big breath before letting it all out, trying to calm your nerves as you parked near the bench you had left your number at for him to find a few months earlier.
You could see a blonde man sitting on it, his back to you, and you immediately recognized him. The flame in your ribcage grew fiercer, licks of it reaching all the way up to your jaw, until you forced yourself to take a few deep breaths.
You’re okay, you’re just doing something new. It’s normal to feel anxious. It’ll come back down once you’re in it.
You got out of your car and made your way over to the bench, your hands twisting together in front of you. Even with his back to you, you could see he was wearing a simple gray shirt with relaxed jeans. He had on skater shoes, which you thought was really cute. “Hey, Travis?”
He turned around at the sweet sound of your voice saying his name, and for an instant all your worries melted away. He looked at you with a genuine smile on his face and a slight furrow of his brows, like he was slightly surprised he actually got to see you again but impossibly happy he did. “Hey.” He said your name softly as he got up to come stand in front of you. “It’s good to see you again.”
You smiled and nodded, avoiding his eyes as you looked at the ground. “It’s nice to see you, too.”
He noticed, but it didn’t bother him. He expected it from you, since you had told him many times before how social interactions felt for you with people you didn’t know well. He spoke up before the silence got awkward. “I uh… thought maybe we could get some ice cream? From that little shop over there, you ever tried it?”
You looked up for an instant, and the lowering sun caught your eyes, simultaneously brightening your irises and deepening your pupils, and Travis could have sworn he stopped breathing for a moment. But just as soon, you looked away again. “Oh, yeah! I didn’t think you’d be down for that since you basically just woke up.” You giggled nervously, and your eyes met his once more. Oh, he was already entranced by them – any inch you’d give, he’d follow.
He chuckled and gestured to the shop as you started walking toward it. “Heh, you kinda stop carin’ about things like that after a while of doin’ the whole night versus day shit. It’ll be a nice breakfast, don’t you think?” He said with a playful smirk.
You laughed and nodded. “Oh sure! Not really different from sugary cereals if you really think about it.”
He laughed as well. “See? You get it!” he exclaimed as you reached the counter of the shop, greeting the lady working there as she smiled at you both. “Alright, Angel. What would you like to try, hm?”
The nickname rolled off his tongue so casually, exactly the same way it always did on the phone, and it made something twist in your stomach. On one hand, the familiarity of it helped to ground yourself and feel more present, the knot of anxiety in your chest starting to ease. On the other, it made your heart flutter and your mind unable to process his question normally. “Uhm…” Your eyes raked over the menu but none of it was registering.
He kept talking. “There’s this butterscotch one that’s really good, if you kinda like caramel stuff. They have soft serve too. You can dip it in chocolate, and it gets all hard on it, you ever had that? Mm, let’s see what else… Oh! Blueberry sorbet?” He looked at the lady with an inquisitive look.
She explained that it was new, made with fresh blueberries, and that it was great if you liked the tiny fruits and tangy flavors. It came in a bowl with a spoon because it was quite soft.
Travis looked at you with eyes that betrayed how excited that had gotten him. “I think I’m getting’ that, I love blueberries.”
You smiled and nodded. That did sound really good. “Yeah, me too.” You reached around to fetch your wallet in your bag, but Travis was already ordering.
“We’ll take two small blueberry sorbets, please.” He handed the lady a crisp ten-dollar bill, and he left the coins she had given him back in the tip jar.
Your cheeks flushed slightly. “Thank you, Travis. I could have paid for myself, you know.” You didn’t want him to feel like he had to pay for you, especially since you had never really confirmed this was supposed to be a date. Just a ‘friendly hangout’, supposedly.
He shook his head, leaning on the counter as you waited for your sorbets. “I know, I know. But I invited you, didn’t I?” His voice was soft and caring – not harsh, even though he was disagreeing with you. “I wanted to pay, so… you can quit worryin’.” He waved his hand as if it was obvious and tilted his head, studying your expression to make sure you were okay with it.
“O-okay.” You said simply, the tip of your ears getting red as you looked away again, pinching your lips to hide your smile.
Shortly after, the woman gave you your two frozen treats with a warm “there you go, enjoy!” Instinctively, you both started walking at an unhurried pace on the path that followed the sinuous stream in the middle of the park.
You took a spoonful of the sorbet, letting it melt in your mouth, before you hummed in appreciation. The flavor was bright and popped on your tongue deliciously, the squeeze of lemon you could taste in there helping to balance out the sweetness. “Oh, it’s incredible,” you told Travis.
He harmonized with your hum, tilting his head back in delight as the first sample hit his tastebuds. “Holy shit. That’s the best sorbet I’ve ever had.”
You giggled around a mouthful of the purple dessert, your shoulder lightly bumping his arm. “Have you ever had sorbet before?”
He grinned as he looked at your profile, bumping his elbow against your arm again. “Dunno, but it’s still the best.”
Conversation picked up quickly after that. Travis asked how your shift had been and listened with rapt attention. He kept nodding his head and asking you questions on how your job worked while he ate his sorbet. You also talked about the park and how you used to come here a lot when you first moved into town to get acquainted with your new environment. He told you about a few memories he had of this place when he was younger and doing things he maybe shouldn’t have been doing, like smoking pot and whatnot. “I used to smoke a lot in high school, but not really anymore. I don’t even drink.” He let out a soft chuckle. “Not that I think I had a full-on problem or anythin’! I just don’t think it helped my whole shtick of ‘getting talked into things easily’.”
“Yeah, I get that,” you said sweetly, remembering that time he had told you how he never had a sober sexual experience before you had done the whole ‘phone sex’ thing. You were starting to understand him better, and a strong feeling of protectiveness washed over you. “Like… having your inhibitions lowered made it even easier for you to jump into things without really thinking about it?”
He nodded, pushing a dollop of sorbet in the bowl with his spoon as you both kept walking leisurely. “Yeah, exactly. And I really didn’t like wakin’ up the next day and not knowin’ if I did somethin’ I shouldn’t have, y’know? ‘Cause there was a strong chance that I had done something.”
You hummed in understanding, looking ahead at the path as the conversation naturally changed to something else, Travis finding new topics to talk about and transitioning to them smoothly. It flowed so easily, and you found yourself wondering why you had been nervous in the first place. That was how it always had been with Travis – no matter the way you were communicating, or how your relationship developed, it always fell into easy and safe territory alarmingly quickly.
At one point, you threw away your empty sorbet bowls and decided to sit on a bench – yellow, this one – that was overlooking the lazy river. The sun was starting to set, painting the sky in hues of childhood memories – oranges, pinks and purples – that could rival the brightness of the blueberry dessert you had just eaten.
You were looking intently at Travis as he spoke, his hand gesturing to illustrate the work encounter he had had earlier in the week. “Right, so this guy comes in at Atchison, and like, y’know, I greet him and shit. And then I show him down to his unit, like I did with you, ‘member? And when we get there, he unlocks and opens it before I can leave, and he basically shows me his like, homoerotic art collection. Like so many paintings and sculptures. I mean, some really cool but others just straight up weird, and then he steps super close to me and asks me if I wanna make out!” He scoffs, shaking his head.
Before you could even start to worry that he’d say something you didn’t agree with, his shoulders raised as he spoke, his palm turning to the sky. “Like, at least buy me dinner first, Jesus.” He chuckled, burying his hand in his hair.
You giggled in relief, averting your eyes away from his as you talked. “Well, that’s being forward alright.”
He scoffed again, his expression softening when your gaze found his again. He noticed how you seemed to always make eye-contact when he spoke, but never when you did. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
“What did you do?” You asked, your hands tucking under your thighs as you looked at how a few ducks were idly floating on the water.
He shrugged before answering. “I said ‘oh no, thank you’, and just stepped away.” He giggled a bit before continuing. “He was good-looking and all, but I’m not…” He looked over at you and searched for the right words. “I’m not really looking for that right now.”
You nodded and looked down at your feet, pushing a small rock around with your shoe. You didn’t really know what he meant by ‘that’ – a past you probably wouldn’t have pushed, afraid to ask something wrong and mess everything up. But the present you did. “Not really looking for what? Like, romantic endeavours or…?” You cringed slightly at your question, but you stuck with it as your eyes lifted to look back at him.
He thought about it, and it was his turn to avoid your gaze. After a few seconds, he shook his head as he spoke gently. “No, just… my focus is elsewhere, I guess.” He looked at you then, his hazel eyes open and conveying a meaning you weren’t sure you had the right to catch in his words. Your heart did an annoying little flutter, warmth spreading in your ribcage.
You nodded as if you understood perfectly, even though it probably confused you even more. Did he mean his focus was on someone else or on something else? Because the first possibility and the way he looked at you had you’re your stomach clenching, while the second one cooled you down because it was also entirely plausible.
The subject was dropped after that, Travis catching on that maybe he had said a little too much. He talked about the ducks – how cute they were with their little butts poking out of the water as they tried to reach algae – and you started to laugh with him again. He could listen to that sweet sound forever, he thought.
Time went on, the sky slowly turning into a bruised kind of purple, a few shimmers peaking out between the thin clouds. “I should probably head home,” you said reluctantly. “I got an early shift.”
“Yeah, of course. Let me walk you to your car,” he said as he stood up and offered you his hand to help you stand.
The gesture made your cheeks burn as you took his hand and got to your feet. “Thanks, Trav.” You smiled warmly at him as you let go, the lingering warmth from his fingers still making your skin tingle.
You reached your car and turned to face him, rocking back on your heels. He did the same as he spoke up. “So, uh… I had a really good time. I’d be down to do that again, or somethin’ else, too.”
“Yeah! M-me too. Just um…” You twisted your hands together. “Can we keep texting and calling each other? It kinda felt weird to almost not talk to you all week.” You said with a soft sigh, worried your request might be too much.
His expression softened and he took a step closer. “Yeah, of course! I’m sorry, I didn’t wanna be too much since we had this planned. But yeah, I kinda felt weird too not talking to you.” He laughed softly.
You smiled and let out a breath of relief. “Okay, good. Well then… Have a good rest of your day, Travis.”
His arms came up like he wanted to give you a hug, but he wasn’t sure if that was okay. They hovered in the air, frozen in time, before you quickly got the hint and wrapped your arms around his middle section and pressed your cheek to his chest.
It didn’t last long – the duration was amply appropriate for a friendly hug – but it still lit something inside you. The way his chest felt so warm against your skin even through his t-shirt. The clean smell that enveloped you, with the slightest bit of musk and was that vanilla? that you didn’t know you’d soon associate as being Travis. The way his arms wrapped around your shoulders and his fingers splayed on your back, engulfing you in his frame.
You felt his thumb swipe once, before he pulled back and let his arms fall back to his sides. “And you have a good night, Angel.”
You were positive that you had to be completely red at that point, the feeling of the hug and of that forsaken nickname hitting you exactly where it mattered.
You got into your car with a small wave, watching him retreat to his own. You cranked the AC to the max, needing to cool yourself down. For some reason, during the whole time you were just together, you had almost forgotten about the extra-friendly activities you had engaged in with each other. But now, everything was coming back to you and your mind kept thinking about his sideburns and his biceps, and you could feel your core pulsing with a vicious need. “Not now, oh my god,” you told yourself as you started the drive back to your apartment.
****
You ignored the blazing inferno in your lower belly anytime you talked to him for the next few days. The calls had started back up again after you both agreed you wanted them to, but they always stayed into strictly friendly territory now. Sometimes, Travis would be making his rounds at work, talking away, while you’d listen and make yourself dinner, Sergio purring as he’d rub against your legs. Other times, you wouldn’t even be talking, just hanging out on the call together. He’d be reading or doing laundry, and you’d sneak glances at him – oh yeah, you had started video calling now that it wasn’t an issue – and hoping he wouldn’t catch you. You didn’t know that he did the exact same thing.
One Tuesday night, you were sprawled out on your belly on your made bed, reading your book. The soft scent of the marshmallow candle you had lit about a half-hour prior danced around your room while the fairy lights gave it that whimsical feeling you enjoyed so much. It was peaceful, and just the night you needed after your awful shift earlier. Perfect.
And then your phone rang, shattering the careful bubble wrapped around you. You picked it up.
A regular call. From Travis.
You furrowed your brows. He had told you it was going to be his day off and that he’d try and catch up on some sleep, which had undeniably been a motivation in wanting to make the night good for yourself, since you wouldn’t be talking to him. Clearly, he wasn’t sleeping, though.
You picked up the phone, turning to lay on your back on your plush comforter. “Hey, Trav. What’s up, weren’t you supposed to sleep in?”
You were immediately met with heavy breathing on the other end of the call, a small whimper escaping Travis’ mouth. It instantly lit up the fire between your legs as you felt your arousal pool low, low, low. But there was also a sharp pang of anxiety stabbing through your chest.
“H-hey, Angel. I uh… I couldn’t sleep anymore.” His voice sounded husky.
“Oh… what’s the matter?” You asked in such a sweet tone, and he almost groaned at the sound of your delicate voice.
“I…” He swallowed thickly. “I know we haven’t d- uh… in so long, but…”
You could hear how it seemed to take him so much effort to say, like he was wrestling with himself. He let out a shaky breath. “I’m thinkin’ ‘bout you. I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. And I… don’t know if I wanna stop, Angel.”
Your breath hitched. You hadn’t done anything sexual over the phone in so long, and you weren’t sure you could still do it, at least not in the same casual way as before. “Trav…”
“I know, I know…” He sounded apologetic, like he knew maybe he didn’t have the right to do this anymore, not after the arrival of the new variables in your friendship. “I know this is fucked. I thought I could go back to normal – I could just do as if our friendship was never like that, ‘cause it was supposed to be just casual and shit, whatever we were doin’. But… I’m realizin’ maybe it wasn’t for me.” The next words rushed out of him. “And I know that’s not fair! ‘Cause I didn’t tell you, and now I’m just throwin’ this at you outta nowhere, and I can’t expect you to wanna continue doin’ what we were doin’ before we met for real, or even to keep seein’ me now, but…”
He could hear the shakiness of your breathing as you listened to him, staying silent to allow him to express himself fully. God, he loved that about you. “I kinda wish you would, Angel. It… meant somethin’ to me, even just as friends.”
You took in a ragged breath, the knot inside your ribcage tightening and squeezing until it was getting harder to breathe. “Travis, I… oh, god.”
You pressed a hand to your sternum, feeling the rapid beating of your heart, the heat spreading at a dangerously fast pace. “It’s not that – wheezing inhale – that I don’t want to, I just – fuck…” Your vision was getting blurry and your head felt like it was spinning like a Beyblade.
Travis picked up on it immediately. “Hey, hey…” He said your name softly, like he was trying to reach through the phone and soothe you. “Breathe.”
Your jaw clenched, your eyelids closing as they vibrated with the freshly pumped adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I-I’m trying, s’not…” You inhaled raggedly again, your hand reaching for your comforter to squeeze it, but the sensation barely registered.
“Okay, don’t worry, Angel… S’just a panic attack, right? It’ll pass, just keep trying to breathe, ‘kay? In… and out. Forget what I said, m’kay? We can talk about it another time.” He tried to be reassuring, but he was starting to feel anxious as well. He had never heard you get one this bad before.
All your tricks weren’t working. You tried to focus on things you could see, but your eyes kept bouncing frantically from object to object, never landing on one long enough to ground you. Travis’ words didn’t even absorb in your foggy brain. “Travis… can’t breathe…”
His heart broke at the fear in your voice. He immediately got up, threw on sweatpants, a white shirt and a hoodie before crossing through his apartment and snatching his keys along the way. “I’ll be right there, Angel. Keep tryin’ for me.”
As soon as he reached his car, he realized that he didn’t know where you lived. “Focus on me, sweetheart.”
“Hm?” It was a miracle that you still had the phone pressed to your ear, your hands shaking as you pressed yourself against the headboard of your bed. It felt as though you were seeing yourself from so far inside your mind.
“What’s your address, Angel? Can you tell me that?” His voice sounded slightly frantic as he pulled out of his apartment building’s parking lot, heading toward the side of town he at least knew you lived in. He normally would have never spoken on the phone while driving, but he didn’t care right now. He had to get to you.
Your brows furrowed as you managed to hear his questions, and you gave him your address almost on instinct – the same way you would give it to a taxi driver while black-out drunk.
“Okay, got it. Hang tight, okay? That’s not far, I’ll be there in not even ten minutes, ‘kay?” He pulled the phone away, putting it on speaker, to type it in his phone and follow the directions.
You could only nod, body shaking like a leaf in a hurricane as you tried to focus on your breathing. You knew that if you hadn’t been this deep into the attack, you wouldn’t have wanted him to see you like this. You would have told him not to come, to stay home and that you’d deal with it. But you felt like you were drowning, like you’d die if it kept going, and you needed him. Which was ironic, because he kind of was the reason for your attack in the first place.
He kept talking, trying to get you to breathe or calm down or anything. You tried to focus on his voice – you really did – to latch on his words and bring your consciousness away from the frenzied worrying going on inside your mind. The panic had started because you got anxious at the idea of being intimate with him again, at what it would mean, at what could happen if it didn’t work out and you lost him. But now, fully in the worse of it, none of that seemed to matter anymore. No, you felt like you were fighting for your life – blood pulsing in your ears, lungs unable to expand, hands completely numb – and you were terrified you’d get stuck in this feeling. Which is why him coming to you didn’t feel like a bad idea.
The sound of the door of your apartment opening didn’t sink in, neither did the footsteps or the worried “oh, hi Sergio, where’s your mom, huh?”, until you heard the door to the bathroom creak. You looked toward your door as it opened next, revealing a Travis with wide, concerned eyes. As soon as he saw you, he let out a breath and rushed in, sitting next to you on the edge of your mattress.
“Hey, Angel… you’re okay. I’m right here. You’re safe.” Your shoulders lowered the slightest bit at the sight of him. You weren’t alone anymore.
“I can’t breathe, Trav. oh god…” You had trouble stilling your eyes, but at least they were on him. That’s good, he thought. He took in how gone you looked, how your gaze seemed almost hazed over, how your body shook but you didn’t even seem to realize it.
A conversation you’d had over the phone maybe a month into your chatting popped into his head. Pressure. You had mentioned how pressure and weight could help when your attacks got really bad.
Without hesitation, he shifted closer to you, his thigh now covering your feet. “Come here.”
It’s not his words that made you move, but the way his arm lifted in an invitation. You moved from being tucked into a ball against your headboard to sitting beside him, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, squeezing so you’d feel the pressure without it being uncomfortable.
It felt odd at first. You were still so far away inside your head that the sudden feeling of being surrounded and almost crushed was jarring – distracting – exactly what you needed to pull your attention outside of yourself and how you felt.
“I got you.”
“I’m right here.”
“You’re okay.”
Your arms wrapped around his torso after a minute – he could feel your limbs shaking against him and it tugged at his heart – before you buried your face in his chest. He kept you tight against him as he cradled the back of your head.
With the new-found ability to ground yourself, you started being able to do your usual tricks. You tilted your head and looked around for things you could see. “Computer. Bed. Travis…” You mumbled under your breath.
A soft smile pulled at his lips as he heard you, nodding along with you. “Yeah, that’s good. Keep going.”
Your breathing wasn’t as strenuous as you managed to keep speaking, “The comforter. You-your hoodie. The rug… under my feet.” Your hands flexed on his back, fingers splaying as you felt the strong muscles under the fabric and skin and slight layer of fat.
“Mhm, that’s right. Doin’ so good, Angel.” His nose tucked itself into your hair as he inhaled. “What else?”
You swallowed thickly, your throat dry from the panic slowly starting to leave your body. “The – um… the candle. Y-your soap.”
He nodded again, his head pulling back to look down at you without letting you go. You looked up at him, eyes steadier as you focused on his. Your limbs weren’t shaking anymore, but you still felt a faint buzzing sensation inside your ribcage.
I’m home. With someone I trust. I’m okay.
“See? You’re all okay.” The softness of his statement eased you even more, and you slumped against him, the inevitable exhaustion that came after attacks like this one catching up to you.
You nodded, eyes slightly teary. “T-thank you for coming.”
He hummed as he kept holding you and stroking your back, feeling the fear drain out of you. “Don’t have to thank me.”
“I just… I’m sorry, it’s really not that I don’t want to-“
He cut you off gently. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about that now.” He lowered his voice. “You should get some rest.”
You simply nodded, your shoulders dropping, but you didn’t move away – you rested your head against his shoulder again. You wanted more of it. Of him. Of his smell and of how soft yet strong he felt against you. Of his care.
Your hands clenched into his shirt. “C-can you stay here?”
His brows furrowed as he pulled back to look at you. He hadn’t expected that. “You want me to?”
“Yeah… don’t wanna be alone.” Your eyelids were starting to droop, your cheeks red from hyperventilating just a few minutes earlier.
He nodded, unable to deny you anything in this state, his head tilting as he looked at you. “Okay. I can stay on the couch.”
You let out a huff, your lips tugging into a smile for the first time since he’d arrived. “I meant… here.” You gestured to the bed with your head.
He chuckled nervously as his eyes widened. He wasn’t sure this was a good idea – you were kind of emotionally compromised, and you hadn’t talked about the whole ‘I’m not sure it ever was really casual’ bombshell he’d dropped on you and that had sent you in that state – but he couldn’t bring himself to argue with you.
“Y-yeah, okay. Let me uh… get you some water first.” He quickly got up and left toward your kitchen. Travis searched through your cupboards for a glass, which he then filled with cold tap water. When he got back to your room, you had slipped under the covers, the empty side of the bed still open for him. He willed himself to keep walking towards you, because if he’d have stopped, he would have spent way too long staring.
“Here.” His fingers brushed yours when he handed you the cup.
“Thanks,” you said, proceeding to basically inhale the whole glass before resting it on your nightstand.
He chuckled as he looked at you and rounded the bed. He blew off the candle on his way, and when he reached the other side, he took off his hoodie before sliding under the blankets. He laid on his back, respectful of your space, as his arm hooked behind his head.
You turned on your side toward him, resting your cheek on your hand.
For a while, you both didn’t say anything. Anytime you tried to rest your eyes though, the buzzing sensation inside you grew, like the lingering adrenaline could still be reactivated.
“Travis?”
“Yeah?” He turned his head to look at you.
“Could you… just talk? About whatever.”
His eyes searched your face, and he understood the request without further explanation. You still needed something else to focus on. “’Course.” He looked around your room and revved up his usual chatty self. “Um… I really like the whole set up of your room. S’real cozy, y’know? Like, I love these little lights you put up, they’re like…” He searched his mind for the word he was looking for. He snapped his fingers. “Ethereal and shit. Like a fairy or like, Arwen could live here. And the art you got is real nice…”
He kept describing what he liked about your room decor, and then he moved on to talking about his last shift, and then about work in general. It gave you something to focus on – the smooth sound of his voice, his little drawl you still couldn’t place but found so endearing, the outpouring of details no one truly needed when listening to a story but you were dying for – and it lulled you to sleep in no time, successfully making you forget about the residual anxiety coursing through your veins.
He felt the moment your body grew slack, your breathing slowing and deepening. He looked over, but he didn’t stop talking, at least not for a while until he was certain you wouldn’t wake up. And then, he let himself get pulled under to. He had been supposed to catch up on some sleep in the first place, after all.
****
The morning came with the quiet certainty that it always does come, even after the longest and most arduous of nights. It was still quite early, probably around 6 AM, when you first realized how warm you were. You didn’t open your eyes, didn’t even really understand you were awake, you just knew you were hot.
The soft light spilling from your window through your curtains warmed the air and your comforter where it fell, little dust particles floating in the passing rays. Oh, you could see the orange glow through your eyelids, feel the sun on your skin. That’s probably why you were so warm.
Wait, on your skin?
You opened your eyes and realized what had happened in an instant.
You had shifted in your sleep. Your head was resting on Travis’ chest as it raised up and down with his breathing, your body pressed to his side, his arm looped around you and keeping you against him, your leg bent and draping over his left one and secured between his legs. You had tossed the covers off of you in your sleep, probably because Travis was a literal furnace under you. But the worst of it – or the best, you hadn’t decided yet – was that your hand that wasn’t tucked under you had found its way on his stomach, right under his belly button, where his shirt had ridden up, exposing a band of skin and a happy trail that was honestly sin.
Your eyes immediately locked on it, sleepiness quickly replaced by a heated ache low in your belly – as if you needed to get even warmer – making you feel like your body was lighting up.
You didn’t move.
You couldn’t, even if you should have.
Instead, you leaned into it. Your gaze roamed over him, tilting your head slowly so as not to wake him. You looked at the hand that was holding your waist, how big and capable it looked, before carefully tipping your head back to observe his arm that was still hooked behind his head, tattoos marring the skin, his bicep straining against the cuff of his white t-shirt, the slightest bit of hair escaping it from his armpit. Your gaze then landed further up on his neck, on the freckles and moles adorning it, until you noticed the small silver hoops adorning his earlobes. You wondered how all of it tasted. Freak. And then you looked at his face – the slight furrow of his brow, his gorgeous eyelashes resting against his cheekbones, his plush pink lips, the stubble on his jaw and over his top lip, the sideburns that were slightly longer than what you’d usually prefer but for some reason, had the fire inside you burn hotter.
You shifted your hips slightly, the desire clouding your judgment, as your fingers curled and scratched lightly through his happy trail.
Travis hummed, one of his legs bending up and pulling your attention down to his sweatpants.
Fuck.
Yeah, you’re no better than a man.
His crotch was obscenely tented, his morning wood straining against the fabric like it ached to be noticed. All the while, Travis was blissfully unaware and still sleeping. Your lips parted as a breath escaped them, eyes wide and pupils blown. Against your will, your hips rolled into him again and gave you the slightest bit of friction where you needed it against his thigh. The whimper that came out of you made him stir.
He cleared his throat.
His arm behind his head left the spot to rub at his face.
And then, his eyes opened, immediately finding you looking up at him – hair messy, cheeks red, lips parted, eyes almost pleading. Your hand was still caressing his tummy, playing with the brown wisps, like you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.
“Morning,” you said softly, your gaze still roaming over his face.
He blinked a few times, eyebrows furrowing, like he was trying to figure out if this was a dream his own psyche concocted. “Uh… Hi.”
His hand pressed against your lower back unconsciously, fingers curling slightly against the sliver of skin that was exposed. He cleared his throat again, looking down at your lips. “You… are you okay?” He asked tentatively, like a wary dog slowly inching toward a hand it’s deathly scared of but desperately wants pets from.
“Yeah. I feel better than last night. Thanks to you.” A small, shy smile graced your face. He wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t trying to get you off him. You felt a flutter in your stomach.
He grinned back, eyes still a little droopy from sleep. “I’m glad.”
You stopped your movements on his tummy, suddenly remembering the unresolved tension. You swallowed thickly, the pit of arousal in your lower belly making you braver than yesterday. You still wanted him, that’s for sure.
“Trav, I… I wanted to say yesterday that I still think about you like that too. A lot.” You felt the flush spreading on your face and your neck. “It’s just a lot more real now, y’know? But…” You shifted even closer, pressing yourself against him even more. “We could keep doing stuff… if you want to.”
His breath hitched, pupils blowing wide as he looked down at your shifting hips. That is also when he realized how crazy his erection looked, making him feel shy. “Y-you’re sure? I get it if you’d rather stay normal friends-“
“I’m sure. I want you, Trav…” You resumed stroking his happy trail, and it sent a full body shiver through him, punching a whimper out through his gorgeous lips.
“Fuck, I want you too.” He said, slipping his hand under your shirt to caress the skin of your lower back and waist, getting lost in the feeling of finally having you against him in the way he had been dreaming about. But then his hand stopped. He gulped, his voice wavering slightly as he resumed talking. “I uh…”
You stopped your movements as well to listen to him intently, afraid to have crossed a line.
“I haven’t done anythin’ with someone since before goin’ to jail. And never sober, like I’ve told you before. So I’m kinda nervous, y’know? So, can we… take it slow? God, that sounds lame, but um….” His thumb stroked your overheated skin, your eyes softening as you looked at how vulnerable he looked.
“Of course, Trav. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I mean, I expect the same for me, too.” You said with a soft smile.
He nodded. “Yeah, of course. And uh…” He avoided your gaze to ask another question. “Can we… kiss? Or is that weird for friends?”
You chuckled, the buzzing inside you mixing up a cocktail of anxiety and lust and endearment. “I don’t think it’s weird.”
He looked at you then, his eyes dark with gentle flecks of golden light, taking in your features. They finally locked on your lips – pink and slightly chapped from being too warm all night. “Oh, thank god.”
He lifted his head from the pillow to press a testing first kiss on your mouth. You answered by moving your lips against his soft ones, following his movements as your hand came up to rest on his chest, fingers splaying, feeling the hair under his thin white shirt. He pulled back enough to talk, the tip of his nose grazing yours as he cupped your cheek. “Been wantin’ to do that for a long time… B‘fore I knew what you looked like.”
The look in his eyes – open, wanting, trusting – it gave you more confidence than you were prepared for. “Then you should keep doing it.”
He smirked and tilted his head toward you again, kissing you deeper. His lips parted against yours, coaxing you to open as well, his tongue delving inside and stealing his precious first taste of you. He hummed as if he was savoring his favorite meal.
You moved together perfectly – your leg rose higher to cover over his hip, feeling his erection against the inside of your thigh, your hips starting a slow grind. His arm around you pulled you even closer, triggering you to bite lightly on his lower lip as your head pulled back.
His breath shook slightly, eyes closed, as his hips bucked up, creating friction for his achingly hard cock against the plush give of your thigh.
Your hand moved up into the hair at the base of his skull, making him open his eyes to look at you. You could tell he felt slightly overwhelmed. “We could just do hands stuff today, just to start?” You propose, not wanting to make him jump into something big he hasn’t fully thought about.
His brows furrowed slightly, his hips still raising faintly as his hand left your cheek to grab your thigh. He swallowed thickly. “J-just hands stuff?” his voice sounded a little small, almost disappointed.
“Y-yeah, or we don’t have to do anything today,” you added, really removing any pressure he might have felt.
He shook his head immediately, his voice dropping in a lower register but still so considerate. “N-no, it’s good. I just… kinda really wanted to taste you. Thought maybe mouth stuff could be okay, too?”
A sharp spike of arousal stabbed through you at his words, sending heat flowing between your legs. You nodded before diving back in and kissing him again, this time letting your tongue do the exploring.
He groaned, grabbing your thigh harder and pressing it against his pelvis. It lasted not even a minute before he propped himself up, making you lay on your back so he could press his body on top of yours, settling between your legs.
His lips strayed from yours to leave open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, and then your neck. “Fuck, Angel… can’t believe you’re under me like this.” His hand slid under your sleep shirt, making it raise and exposing your belly to him. He pulled back enough to look into your eyes. “Can I take it off?”
You bit your lower lip, smirking up at him. You sat up just so he could take it off you in one swift move, before his hand pressed on your stomach to get you to lay back down. He didn’t follow you though.
He stayed sat back on his knees, looking down at you and drinking you in. His lips were parted, his eyes blown with lust but still impossibly soft, like a puppy after a long day playing outside. “Sweetheart.” His hands caressed up your parted thighs until they reached your waist, squeezing your flesh reverently.
He was transfixed, and it made you almost feel weird at first. He wasn’t talking as much as you thought he would be, and it made you fear that meant he was too in his head.
The reality was, Travis was simply speechless. He cared about you so strongly, and there you were, trusting him to see you fully and take care of you. Additionally, he wasn’t drunk. And he hadn’t been with someone in so long, since before going to jail – not that he thought it really mattered because he was positive you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and he’d still have felt nervous either way. He had to actively remind himself it was just casual.
He shook his head slightly, physically willing himself back into the moment. That seemed to get him to talk. “You’re so beautiful, y’know that? Like… god, look at you. Can I touch you? Please?”
A breath of relief left you. “Mhm. Touch me, Trav.”
He groaned softly as his large and veiny hands finally found your breasts, squeezing the globes of flesh. “Fuck. You’re so soft. Oh my god, these are the best tits- sorry, breasts- uh” He frowned, his gaze locked on how your nipples came closer together with his movements, his lips slightly parted around small, aroused breaths.
You chuckled breathily, hips shifting to try and get some friction but to no avail. “You can call them tits, Travis.”
He nodded as he kept complimenting you. “Best fucking tits I’ve ever seen, I swear to god. Angel, you’re so beautiful. Look at you. Better than anythin’ I could have imagined.”
Before you could think, he had ducked down and taken your left nipple into his mouth. He hummed, grinding his hard-on against your inner thigh as his tongue circled the peak, his hands still squeezing at the flesh.
“Fuck, Trav… that feels good…” Your back arched into him as he pulled back from your tit with a pop, shifting his attention to the other one to lavish attention to it. Your hands came up and tangled in his bleached locks, holding him against you, and he moaned at the feeling, the sound reverberating through your ribcage.
He was positive this was the most he had ever felt.
Once he was satisfied and you were a writhing mess under him, feeling your arousal stick uncomfortably to your underwear, he started planting kisses down your stomach until his trembling fingers hooked into your sleep shorts and underwear. “I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Will you let me?”
You nodded eagerly, lifting your hips to help him in his endeavour of getting you bare. He slid the offensive fabric off you and tossed it on the floor approximately where he had tossed your shirt.
Your thighs closed together on instinct, trying to shield yourself from his gaze, but his hands gently coaxed them apart as he looked at your face for any sign that you wanted to stop. “Don’t hide from me. You’re so beautiful, there’s absolutely no need to hide, baby.” His eyes then traveled down your body until they zeroed in on your core. His breath stopped for a second.
You were dripping. Your folds, slightly puffy and red from your arousal, glistened in the early morning light filtering through your curtains. The hair on your mound looked like it’d be pleasant against his cheekbones. But what also hit him then was how steady everything was – his head wasn’t fuzzy from an alcohol-induced buzz he regretted, his eyes could focus on you and see you underneath him, his senses were sharp and almost felt heightened instead of dulled.
“Angel… you’re literally that. A goddamn angel. So fuckin’ pretty-“ He cut himself off by laying down on his stomach, ready to dive right in. But as he did, you simultaneously shifted your hips up to resituate your self, making your mound accidentally collide with his nose, strong enough that he felt your pubic bone bang against the bridge of it. He instinctively pulled his head back, scrunching his features as a dull ache radiated through his face.
You gasped and tensed up, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “Oh my god, Travis! I’m so sorry!”
He pulled his top lip down, stretching his nose to check the pain. It hurt, but not too bad. Not broken. Good. And then he started giggling, his eyes finding yours.
The sight made you relax that he hadn’t hurt himself too bad, and a bright laugh escaped your chest as well.
He kept laughing, resting his cheek against your inner thigh. “Oh, Angel… tryin’ t’kill me before I even get my fill, huh?”
Your laugh fizzled out in soft giggles, your hand carding through his hair as you looked down at him fondly. “M’sorry, trav.”
He shook his head gently, pressing a sweet kiss to your plush skin. “Don’t be. Maybe I was a little too eager. Not your fault. Plus, it didn’t hurt that bad. See?”
Before you could register his words, his nose started tracing your folds. Some of your slick gathered on the tip of it as he nudged your clit with it, inhaling the scent – the one he already knew he loved after getting a snippet of it when you had accidentally crashed together just a few seconds earlier.
You whimpered softly, the amusement of the whole situation quickly making way to your growing arousal.
From his spot between your legs, he licked one long stripe up your slit, gathering your wetness on his tongue before swirling it around your clit. He groaned at the taste, his eyes rolling back before they fixed on your face. Your head was thrown back, moans escaping your lips with every flick and press of his tongue against your bundle of nerves.
He pulled back just enough to talk. “Not only do you have the best – fuck – the best tits I’ve ever seen, your pussy’s fucking delicious too. Fuckin’ spoilin’ me, I swear.”
“Trav- oh!” His mouth was back on you, his tongue lazily licking at your core, dipping down to plunge shallowly into your entrance, his nose stroking your clit, then back up. Your hand tangled in his hair, keeping him against you as you started to buck your hips against his pretty face, making him groan against your pussy.
He spoke into you, the sound muffled but still intelligible, the vibrations heightening the feeling of his tongue and whole face on you. “Mhmm? Feels good, baby? Use me like that, mmph… yeah…”
You could feel the familiar knot starting to wind tighter and tighter in your lower belly, your abundant slick dripping down to your back side, your whimpers and moans growing desperate. “T-Travis… more, please…”
“Y-yeah? Want my fingers, sweet thing? S’that it?” He said after pulling back, letting some slick-mixed spit dribble onto his fingers. He started circling around your hole, his eyes jumping from your weeping pussy to your pleading eyes.
You nodded, almost letting out a choked cry. “Mhmmm… please.” God, you didn’t recognize yourself. You felt so needy, so empty.
He didn’t make you wait for it – two long and thick fingers pressed inside you, stretching you in a way that made you dizzy. Your back arched, hips bucking to take him deeper, a sinful moan leaving your mouth.
He jumped right back into action, latching onto your clit and sucking it between his lips as his fingers grinded into you. You pulled on his hair tightly, making his nose bury into your hairy mound as you rode his fingers and mouth. The coil finally snapped as you felt the rumble of his groan against your clit, your orgasm shattering through your body as you let out a loud sob. You rolled your hips against his face as you rode it out, his fingers slowing gently to let you feel every wave fully.
Once he stopped feeling the rhythmic clenching of your walls, he removed his fingers and pressed soft, almost apologetic kisses to your left labia and the crease where your thigh met your hip. Your legs slumped back down on the mattress, your hand covering your stomach as you caught your breath.
He looked up at you then.
Body slightly shiny in places from sweat, your soft and satisfied eyes, your mussed hair. Gorgeous.
“Thank you, Angel. That was… wow. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that. You’re… incredible.” He pressed pecks over your hipbone as he crawled up over your body, peppering your skin with totally-casual-kisses along the way. “So beautiful. Don’t deserve this.” He was talking to himself more than he was to you.
Once he reached your face, you fisted your hands into his shirt and brought him down to kiss him. Your tongue dove inside his mouth eagerly, desperate to taste the pleasure he had given you just a few moments earlier.
He hummed into it, his hips lowering between your legs.
“I think it’s time for me to repay the favor, yeah?” You looked up, biting your lower lip as you pushed at his chest to try and get the control back.
He sat back on his knees, watching you as you sat up and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling up. “You don’t have to, sweetheart-“
“But I want to.” You paused once his shirt was up to his pecs, looking at him with a questioning expression, silently asking for permission.
“Shit, yeah, okay. Won’t say no to that,” he said as he raised his arms and let you pull off his shirt completely, tossing it to the floor, exposing his chest to you for the first time.
He had so many freckles and moles, beautifully spanning the expanse of his torso. His chest looked strong under the thin layer of skin and fat, the shape of his pecs making you want to run your hands all over him. Even worse was the hair covering them, and then reaching lower and lower into that happy trail you were getting familiar with, over his soft tummy. You could make out a few more tattoos on his belly – symmetrical flowers on each side of it – and it made your mouth water.
You shifted closer on your knees, your hands splaying over his chest and feeling the gentle strength of him. His breath stuttered as he looked at your face, how mesmerized you were by his body. “Your hands are so soft. I love it when you touch me like that.”
You smiled and kissed him, before trailing lower and pressing your palm against his hard cock through his sweatpants. “Yeah, Travy? S’this all for me?”
He nodded and hummed. “Yeah. All for you, Angel. You can do whatever you damn want with it.” He grinned, leaning into his playful side as he grabbed onto your hips, pulling you just a bit closer to nip at your neck.
You tilted your head back, giving him better access as you stroked his clothed cock. Your hand wrapping around him made you moan – he was impossibly thick, and definitely longer than average. “Sit on the edge of the bed,” you commanded swiftly, reaching around to lightly tap his ass.
“Oh. Yes, ma’am.” He smirked and obeyed, shifting to sit down as you grabbed a pillow and threw it on the ground to make it more comfortable for yourself. You kneeled in front of him, grabbing the waistbands of his pants and underwear and pulling down once he had raised his hips enough to do so. You freed him completely of the clothes, the fabric catching momentarily on his feet and making you curse under your breath.
Once you finally looked back up at him, the sight nearly broke your brain.
He was leaning back, hands propped behind him, lips curled into a grin that looked like he was actively refraining from talking. His thighs were spread to accommodate you between them, his cock resting pretty against his tummy. It looked almost swollen, big and painfully hard, reddened at the tip, a bead of precum rolling down the underside of it. You noticed how the stems of the flower tattoos on his stomach reached down to tangle gracefully right above his groin, partially hidden by the trimmed bush of hair there. But what really threw your mind for a loop was the dark, inky ring around the base of his dick. It was precise, delicate. Not scratchy like the ones on his arm and neck. It made heat pool low between your legs again.
“Fuck, Trav… you’re-“ You meant to sound playful, but the words died on your tongue. “You’re huge.”
He chuckled softly, his cheeks flushing. “Nothin’ too crazy. I’m sure you can manage.”
Your eyes widened slightly, your fingers immediately wrapping around his velvety shaft and giving an experimental stroke.
He groaned, locking his eyes with yours. “Fuck, Angel… just like that.”
You smirked coyly, before looking back down at the tattoo wrapped around his cock. Your free hand moved to cup his balls, your thumb smoothing down over the inked skin. “That must have hurt like a bitch.”
He giggled brightly, the last one morphing into a breathy moan. “It did. Wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be, though. The guy who did it had real gentle hands – o-oh, baby...”
You took his tip into your mouth, twirling your tongue around it to taste the clear and salty precum leaking out of him. You hummed at the taste, repaying him the same treatment he had given you when he had been between your legs mere moments ago.
He didn’t waste time gathering your hair in a loose ponytail, keeping one hand tangled in it as the other went back behind him to keep himself propped up. He didn’t make you go deeper, didn’t force a pace on you. He just kept praising you between whimpers that turned into full-on moans. “That’s it, Angel. Oh my god… Doin’ so good for me. Look at you, sucking my cock like a fuckin’ champ, shit…”
He took a few deep breaths, squeezing his eyes shut as you took him deeper, flattening your tongue against the underside of his shaft as the tip kissed the back of your throat.
“Fuuuuck, baby. So good, holy sh- You’re like, impossible to believe right now. How are you – ungh…. Real? Best fuckin’ tits, best fuckin’ pussy, and now best – oh god – best fuckin’ mouth.”
The praise made your eyes roll back into your head, mind getting hazy with the weight of him in your mouth and the way your saliva coated him sinfully, thin ropes of it dripping down to the ground and staining the pillow you had put there. You kept stroking what you couldn’t yet fit between your lips, as the hand that was massaging his balls left its spot to find a new home between your legs. You found your core swollen and dripping, your fingers parting your folds to bury themselves inside you.
You moaned around him, bobbing your head up and trying to go further down with each pass. His grip tightened in your hair as he saw you touch yourself at the same time, a fresh wave of pleasure shooting up through his spine. “Fuck, are you touchin’ yourself, Angel? Holy fuck, that’s so hot. Oh my god, baby… Gonna make me come
if you keep that up.”
You let out a pitiful whine around his cock, bucking your hips against your hand, grinding your palm into your clit as you kept fingering yourself. You removed your hand from his shaft, holding his thigh, as you took him as deep as you could, your lips reaching the dark ring around his base as your nose brushed his pubic hair. You felt his tip reach far down your throat, almost blocking off all of your air while his hips kicked against his will.
He moaned loudly, letting out little ah-ah-ah’s as you slightly bobbed your head, making his tip rub deliciously against the constricting walls of your throat. “Gonna come, Angel…” He tried to pull you off him, but you wouldn’t have it. You kept your ground, determined to make him finish inside your mouth.
“Fuck, fuck!” His hips bucked again, his release shooting straight down your throat as you moaned at the feeling, your own orgasm hitting you and pushing your fingers out of your pussy, making them draw it out by rubbing circles on your sensitive clit.
You pulled back slightly, making the last few spurts coat your tongue as you twirled it around his tip, your hand pumping the last few jolts of pleasure out of him. You swallowed everything he gave you, pulling back with a satisfied and dazed grin as you looked up at him.
His chest was flushed from exertion, going up and down quickly while he tried to come back down from his high. Your hands smoothed down his thighs to ground him.
“Still with me, Trav?” You asked, shifting to the left to sit down and rest your chin on his knee.
“Y-yeah, god… You just, sucked the life out of me. Damn, I’m…” A chuckle escaped him as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing just under your eye. “Thank you.”
You giggled sweetly, turning to press a gentle kiss to his palm. “Don’t have to thank me. I got plenty myself before.”
He shook his head as he reached down and softly grabbed your upper arms, coaxing you to lay beside him on the bed. He splayed one hand over your belly – a soothing touch, not sexual – as he laid on his side, facing you. “Still. This was… really amazing. Thank you for lettin’ me have that.”
Your expression softened, realizing just how much having an experience like that – sober, trusting, caring – meant for him, even if it was just as friends. “It was my pleasure, Trav,” you said softly, thank you for trusting me implied in the way you looked at him then.
He leaned in and pressed a whisper of a kiss to your cheek, making your insides twist with what dangerously felt life affection, but you ignored it. You let your eyes close and soaked into his touch, sliding a bit closer to him until his mouth pressed against your shoulder.
You both stayed like that for a few minutes, until Travis reluctantly had to leave.
****
Oh boy.
You were not prepared for the way having that real-life experience with him opened up a world of fun that now felt tame in comparison to having your mouths on each other.
The next weeks after it, the horny phone calls picked back up again. Of course, you were still having regular, totally chill phone or video calls, too. But you seemed to get turned on increasingly, if not every day you two talked.
There was also the issue of your conflicting schedules, making it harder to find times in the weeks after where you could meet up and it be worth your while. If he had a night off, you were being asked to do a double shift by your boss, and if you had a day off, he was in between shifts and needed to sleep. Calling was easier.
You had called him one time when he got into work and you were winding down for the night, breathily asking him to talk you through it as you pressed your vibrator to your clit.
He spoke in a hushed voice, making sure that if someone entered the facility, he’d hear them before they’d hear him. “There you go, Angel. Imagine it’s me holdin’ it against you.”
“Bet you’re so fuckin’ wet right now, huh? Fuck, I wish I could feel it. I do believe I’d lose my fuckin’ mind.”
“Got me so stupidly hard at work and can’t do nothin’ about it. You like that, huh? Such a tease.”
It was better than any ‘not safe for work’ audio you used to play to get yourself off before him.
One Tuesday morning, you woke up too early and lazily went through your morning routine, not having to go into work since it was your day off. As you reached the open area composed of your kitchen and living room to start making yourself a coffee, you saw Sergio curled up on his bed next to the window, the early-morning sun falling down on him and undoubtedly warming his black and white fur. He looked so cute that you grabbed your phone to take a picture.
You then saw the time. It was earlier than when you’d usually wake up, especially on a day you didn’t work. It was also about the time Travis would be arriving to his place after his graveyard shift.
You quickly pressed the little camera icon next to his name.
The video call connected after a few rings, Travis’ bright smile greeting you as he plopped down on his couch. “Hey, Angel. You’re up early.”
You nodded and smiled back before speaking in a whisper so as not to startle Sergio before you could show him to Travis. “Mhm. Look at this big boy.”
You switched camera on your phone and pointed it at your cat – the sun rays almost seemed to make his glorious and probably freshly-licked fur glow from within.
Travis’ eyes creased at the corner when he saw Sergio, a big grin spreading on his face. “Oh my god, he’s so adorable,” he said in a hush tone, matching your own.
You captured a few more angles for him as he kept praising your pet, Sergio rolling on his back at some point and exposing is slightly round belly as if he was royalty. You giggled, finally switching camera again to grant Travis the sight of your face. “Such a lazy bean, he’s being.”
Travis hummed in agreement and scratched his belly before tucking his arm behind his head, still looking at you through the screen. “So… what’s got you up this early?”
You shrugged, stepping back into your kitchen and propping your phone against your container of flour to start making yourself a coffee. You reached for a cup in your cupboard as you answered him. “Dunno. Just woke up and I wasn’t sleepy anymore. How was work?”
“Heh, it was alright. No storage emergency. Although there was this guy that came in completely drenched in sweat, teeth kinda clackin’, and desperate to get into his unit. That was kinda bizarre.”
You giggled as your coffee machine roared to life, glancing back at your phone to check on him. “Sounds like drugs, or something-“
Mistake.
He had made his way to his bathroom, letting the phone film him from the counter as he stripped his shirt off to start his getting-home routine. He didn’t waste time taking off his pants either, leaving him in just his underwear as he looked at himself in the mirror, grabbing his jaw and turning his head as if analyzing if he needed to shave or if he could get away with on more day of beard growth. “Yeah, maybe. Don’t really care. I do not wanna get involved in shit like that.”
Heat aggressively rushed between your legs, your brain pavloved now into associating Travis and his body to mind blowing orgasms. You stared at him openly, not really registering when your coffee finished dripping. “That’s unfair,” you spoke before thinking.
Travis’ eyes left his reflection and focused on you on his cellphone’s screen, a tiny smirk pulling at his lips. “Oh? What is?”
You huffed and picked up your phone, mustering your best unimpressed expression even though seeing him like that always made you feral. “You walkin’ around in just your underwear. You’re so slutty, I swear,” you said with a joking gleam in your eye, chuckling to yourself.
Travis laughed and cocked out his hip, crossing his arms over his chest and making his biceps swell enticingly. “Slutty, huh? I think you’re projectin’, Angel.”
You gave him a mock-offended look. “Projecting what?”
He smirked, resting his hands on his bathroom counter and leaning forward closer to his phone. You could see all the little moles seasoning his chest as the position basically gave him male cleavage you could drool for. “Your little horny thoughts.”
You gasped sarcastically, but damn if you didn’t just get called out. You walked back to your room, completely forgetting your coffee, closing the door behind you. “Let’s say that I am. What would you do about it?”
He chuckled and let his head hang as if you were being a nuisance, even though he absolutely loved it, before looking back at you through the screen. “I’d tell you to go into that little drawer of yours and pull out somethin’ that makes you think of me.”
You giggled shyly, sitting on your bed with a soft bounce and placing your phone on your nightstand to keep filming you. You opened your bedside drawer, going through your modest but still substantial collection of toys – you were pretty lonely before Travis – before settling on the largest dildo in your arsenal. Your fingers skimmed over the head, thinking back to when you had felt Travis in your hand. This was the closest you had to him.
You pulled it out, along with your bottle of lube, before showing it to him on screen. Your cheeks were flushed crimson, still feeling a little shy even though you had been intimate many times before. Something about showing him this part of you felt a bit more intense. You wanted to, though.
“I think I’d go with this one,” you said softly while you watched him settle back on his bed.
“And why that one, Babygirl?” His smooth voice reached your ears and made your thighs press together.
“It’s – uh… it’s big, like you. And I’ve been… thinking about it.”
His expression softened slightly, even if his pupils looked completely overtaken by a lustful haze. “Thinkin’ ‘bout what?”
Scooting backward until you laid back in the middle of your bed, angled toward your camera with some pillows for your head, you answered shyly. “How you’d feel inside me? All of you?”
His jaw clenched, eyes shutting as a ragged groan left his chest. “Fuck, Angel… can’t stop thinkin’ about that either. Wanna show me how good it makes you feel when you dream about my cock inside you?”
You whimpered and nodded, arousal clouding your judgment as your hands pushed down your shorts and panties. Your fingers found your core soaking wet, drawing circles slowly and applying maddening pressure to your clit.
You heard shuffling from his end, and even though you couldn’t see because the camera was on his face and your head was thrown back and far away from your phone, you knew he was taking his boxers off. “There you go, baby. You look so good. Wanna show me those perfect tits too, yeah? So fuckin’ wet for me. Just for me, right?” He was getting a bit more possessive as time went on, but you found that you didn’t mind it.
“Yes. Trav. Only f-for you.” You pushed up your shirt to your armpits to reveal your breasts, before reaching for the dildo on the bed, bringing it up to your face to inspect it, and it made you giggle.
Travis smiled as he saw you laugh, his eyebrows furrowed in amused confusion, his jerking motion over his achingly hard dick slowing. “What’s so funny, sweetheart?”
You pointed to the base of the dildo before extending your hand for the lube. “It can’t really be you. No tattoo, see?”
He let out a breath through his nose, his head shaking softly at your observation. “Guess you’re right about that. I do believe it is neon pink, too.”
You chuckled even more, before uncapping the lube and letting a thick glob fall on the head of the toy. You looked at Travis’ face on your phone as you wrapped your hand around the silicone dick, twisting your wrist at the head and smearing the lube over the length with your downward strokes, just like you’d do with him and his precum. “Allow me to think you don’t really care about that.”
He bit his lower lip, his hand mimicking your movements on his own very real and painfully hard cock. “Fuck, sweetheart… you’re right, I definitely don’t.” He didn’t know whether to keep looking at your hands working on the dildo or at your glistening yet neglected pussy. “You look fuckin’ perfect, I swear…”
At his praise, you let out a soft whine and smeared the excess of lube on your hand over your pussy, broadly circling your flesh as you adjusted your grip on the base of the dildo. You brought the tip of it close to your entrance, pushing it in slightly. It was already a stretch, not having prepped yourself before. “Oh, Travis…”
He hummed in reassurance, his gaze transfixed on you. “Go slow, Angel. Just relax and try to let me in, yeah? Doin’ so good for me, look at you.”
You moaned loudly as you pushed a few more inches of the pink toy inside, your free hand circling your clit soothingly and allowing you to relax and take more in. “So big, Trav.”
He choked on a groan, knowing that he was probably slightly bigger than the fake cock spearing you right now, which wasn’t helping his sinful picturing of ‘getting to fuck you for the first time’. “I know, baby. But I also know y’can do it. Just a little more?”
You nodded, before pushing the rest of the dildo inside you, leaving maybe an inch or so to still be able to hold onto it. You mewled at the fullness, hips shifting slightly as you got used to the stretch of your walls.
“Fuck, there you go. So full for me,” he praised, stroking his cock slowly. “Wanna see me, sugar?”
You whined and pulled the pink toy halfway out of you, before shoving it back in, earning a deep moan from within your chest. “You’re too – unh – tiny on my screen over there. Just…. Enjoy t-the show. Oh, and keep talking.”
He chuckled before humming in agreement, mentally going through ways of how he could repay you for the vision you’re giving him now. “How do you feel, Angel? Does it feel good?”
You nodded and let your head fall back as you found a rhythm that worked, pulling out and fucking yourself over and over again with the neon pink length, circling your clit with your other hand. “So fucking good, Trav. Wish it w-was you,” you moaned out, feeling a hazy blanket slowly covering your mind, bringing forth a worriless state of pure lust.
Travis started jerking his cock faster, following your rhythm and twisting his wrist every time he got to his sensitive tip. He could see how your slick was mixing with the lube, dripping down the sides of your pussy where the dildo was splitting you open, and it made him want to run his tongue all over you and taste you again. He groaned and moaned at the thought. “Wish I was there too. You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, Angel. I can almost taste you from over here, and I bet you’d be so sweet and perfect. Wanna fuckin’ eat you again. Hell, I’d probably suck that dildo clean just so I could get all’a you.”
He was rambling, saying all the dirty thoughts that came to his mind, and it turned you on even more, which you didn’t think was possible. The mental image of Travis sucking your bright girly dildo coated in your slick weirdly did it for you, and you felt a fresh gush of arousal glaze the object in question.
You fucked yourself faster, moaning louder, applying more pressure to your bundle of nerves. The coil in your stomach was tightening at a dangerously rapid rate, but you didn’t care, not when it felt this good. “H-holy shit, Trav. I’m so close,” you said, breathless.
His voice came out wrecked, panting along with you. “Right there with you, Angel. G-gonna come so hard for you.”
The vicious thought of him being the one inside you and filling you up with his spend catapulted you over the edge, your body tensing up and releasing as waves of pleasure spread from your core to the tip of your fingers and toes. “Travis!” His name fell from your lips, coated and dripping with relief and bliss.
He came as soon as you did, thick ropes of milky white seed coating his hand and his lower belly as he whimpered your name.
You slowly pulled the toy out of your stretched and slick hole, wiping your other hand on your inner thigh – the mix of lube and arousal was getting sticky in the aftermath of it all.
When you sat up, your breathing slowing back down to normal, you noticed that Travis was still looking at you, not moving an inch. You picked up your phone, showing a clearer picture of your flushed and sweaty face to him, and you smirked at him. “Can I see you now?”
It took him a second to register what you’d asked of him, too lost looking at your beautiful, droopy eyes. His eyebrows shot up, embarrassment making him blush. “W-what? You want to see me now?”
You hummed and fell back on your bed, spent and happy. “Mhm. Please, Trav.”
He chuckled incredulously, before giving in and turning the camera around. “Suit yourself.”
The sight almost left you breathless.
His cock was softening, but still slightly rigid as it flagged against the top of his thigh, reddened and sticky. His boxers had been pushed down barely enough to get it out, the waist band resting just under his balls. You also saw his release coating his happy trail and the few drops of it that got on the trimmed bush above his dick, the display of want feeling like a sin too good to give up.
“So pretty, Trav. You have no idea,” you praised softly, wishing you could be over there to lick him clean.
He turned the camera back on his face, his cheeks even more red than before and his eyes wide as saucers. “Can I see you soon? I’m off on Friday night again.”
The question took you by surprise, but you found yourself nodding before you could psyche yourself out. “Uh yeah, that works.”
You’re pretty sure the grin he gave you in response showed all his teeth. “Great! I was thinkin’ we could go to those escape rooms I was tellin’ you about?”
His excitement made you smile. “That sounds fun, yeah. You’ll pick me up?”
He nods, burying his fingers in his unruly hair. “Yeah, I’ll text you.”
****
You checked your reflection in the mirror so many times, adjusting your top again so it wasn’t slutty but still slightly revealing. Your jeans hugged your hips and ass just right, but it still felt like not enough.
Ugh, get it together. It’s just hanging out with Travis, your friend. Come on.
But was it?
A knock at your door broke your spiraling. You made your way to your entryway, grabbing your bag and looping it around your arm. You opened the front door to your apartment and froze for a second when you saw him.
He was wearing an opened gray button-up revealing a tight white t-shirt underneath, with black wide-leg jeans. His hair was wavy, parted in the middle messily but in a way that worked so well for him. He looked… handsome. But you were determined to keep things casual. That was what you both had agreed to and what would be best. Right?
“Hey, Trav.”
“Hey, Angel. You look great,” he said, letting his gaze take you in before reaching your face. He felt a little unsure of himself, of how he should greet you, but he settled on doing what felt right.
He stepped closer and raised his arm to wrap you in a friendly hug, your own arms circling his middle. He smelled clean, like shower gel, with a layer of a woodsy and vanilla-y scent that seemed to wrap itself around your lungs and stay there – another piece of Travis to keep deep within you.
He let go and pulled back, and the expression on his face seemed to mirror your own – a bit longing, a bit unsure – but he immediately started talking again. “So, I got the room that’s supposedly like trying to escape a mad scientist’s lab or somethin’. Thought that could be cool. The reservation is at 7, so…” He peaked at his phone and put it back in his pocket. “We should really get goin’.”
You nodded and smiled, stepping out of your apartment and into the hallway of your block before locking your door. Anyone could walk in your apartment building, but you lived in a relatively safe part of town, so it didn’t really bother you. “Let’s go! I’m sure it’ll be fun.”
You followed him out to his car, sneakily stealing glances at his ass as he was walking slightly in front of you.
“So, how are you?” He asked as he stepped up to his car and opened the passenger door for you.
“Been good, thanks,” you nodded as you got in his car and buckled your seatbelt, waiting for him to get into the driver seat to continue. “Work is picking back up again with fall so y’know, been getting a few extra shifts. But I can use the money.”
“Yeah, I bet. Is Steph still bein’ a bitch?” he looked over at you with a smirk before pulling out of the parking lot and heading toward The Puzzle Box, the place where he had booked the escape room.
You laughed at his question, delighted that he had remembered one of your coworkers that you had mentioned in passing over the phone – you usually clocked into work after her, and she always left you tasks that she could have done herself. “Yeah, I’m afraid ‘being a bitch’ is terminal for her.”
The car ride passed quickly, conversation flowing easily with a chatty Travis always ready to bounce off whatever you were talking about.
You arrived at The Puzzle Box and got out of the car, following your friend as you reached the door of the building. He held it open for you, motioning with his hand in front of his hips to let you step in. “After you, Angel.” His eyes gleamed and his head tilted ever-so-slightly in your direction as you passed and thanked him softly, making your stomach twist.
His hand grazed your lower back as you reached the front desk, but he quickly pulled it back, remembering that this. is. casual. It made you blush all the same, though.
The flamboyant woman at the desk greeted you both. “Welcome to The Puzzle Box! Do you have a reservation?”
Travis smiled and nodded. “Hi! Yeah, Travis Meacham?”
She let out an amused giggled as she looked through her computer, matching the deranged clown costume you were now realizing she was wearing. “Ah, yes! But you booked an experience that’s usually for four people… will it just be you two?”
He turned and looked sheepishly at you, realizing his mistake, before glancing back at the lady. “Uh, yeah. S’that okay?”
She laughed maniacally. “Well, it’s quite alright, but I’d say Doctor Flinch will most probably get to keep his pets tonight.”
It made you giggle, understanding that you probably wouldn’t be able to escape the room being just two, but you still wanted to do it. “No problem,” you said, poking Travis in his side and making him turn and glare at you playfully.
“Come with me!” The clown receptionist led you through a few hallways, all decorated with the various themes of the different escape rooms this place had to offer.
She stopped in front of a rusty-looking, riveted door and explained the plot of the experience and the rules vibrantly. You were already feeling the excitement bubble inside you.
“You have an hour… don’t break anything!” She finished and opened the door, shoving you both inside the room.
You giggled and turned to Travis when you finally got inside, before looking around the room. “Woah,” you both said at the same time.
The lighting in the room was dimmed, making it hard to see things clearly. But from what you could see, there were big vials filled with various gross items – feet, eyeballs, mice – that seemed to glow green from within and that casted worrisome shadows against the mildewed stone walls. There were various scientific contraptions all around, blueprints spread on a desk for equipment that looked vaguely like torture stuff, and a big metal table that looked stained with a red, viscous liquid. It was very immersive.
Travis spoke first. “Damn, this shit is insane. Look at all this stuff!”
He started walking around the room and pointing at various things, straining his eyes to see in the low lighting.
You quickly found a flashlight on the desk and clicked it on, walking over to him to peak at what he was looking at. Your shoulder pressed against his gently.
“There’s like, a bunch of numbers here. I bet it’s a puzzle or some shit.”
You both started to work together to try and solve it.
You managed to find a key under the desk that opened a hidden drawer, which contained a piece of paper with letters associated with numbers, allowing you to crack the first puzzle.
The thing was that it had been already forty minutes when you did.
What could you say? Travis kept getting distracted by other pieces of future puzzles you had no way of solving right now, and you let him, because there was something so stupidly endearing about watching him fully lost in this world and babbling away at everything. Plus, you basically had no shot at getting out in time, so what was the harm in that?
Once you had decrypted the message, it left a riddle that was actually pretty easy to solve and that led to an inconspicuous-looking picture frame. There was a key tucked into it, which matched the look of the lock of a huge metal safe on the far wall.
“Oh my god, Trav! We can totally unlock that big thing now!” You squealed, quickly making your way to the iron box, which was taller than you.
Travis followed you with a pleased smile, happy to see you enjoying yourself as much as he was. He was holding the flashlight in one hand and rested his other on his hip when he stopped behind you. You could almost feel the warmth of his chest against your back. “Go ahead, Angel. Open it!”
You slid the rusted key into the lock, turning it slowly. It creaked and clicked satisfyingly, your heart beating rapidly from the excitement of the game, before you quickly pulled the door opened.
At the same time, Travis angled the beam of the flashlight up into the box.
Clang!
A skeleton with realistic rotting flesh still clinging to it dropped and stopped a few inches away from your face, the light perfectly illuminating it and making it the only thing you could see in the creepy room.
You shrieked loudly, jumping and accidentally banging your foot against the safe, before quickly turning around to grab onto Travis and bury your face in his chest.
Travis had also been surprised – though less intensely than you – but he was still able to wrap his arms around you. You felt his chest shake slightly from trying to suppress his laughter. “You’re okay, Angel,” he said between breaths.
You lost it.
The laughing rumbled from deep within you as you shook your head from side to side, still resting your forehead against his shoulder. Travis let himself break when he saw you were alright, making you both hunch over, wheezing and holding your bellies.
The laughter slowly dissolved into a few loose giggles after a minute, but then Travis would make eye contact with you and it would send you both into another, smaller fit of it.
By the end of it, your sides were hurting and your cheeks were wet, and you both couldn’t wipe the smiles from your faces.
“Oh, you should have seen your face, sweetheart. That shit was priceless,” he said, wiping his cheeks.
Before you could answer, a booming maniacal laugh echoed in the room. “Your time is up! Doctor Finch will see you now, HAHAHA!”
You giggled again when the clown lady opened the door to the room to come and get you out. “How much of it was left?” You asked her.
She grinned and giggled. “You finished maybe… 20% of it?”
You laughed loudly again, Travis joining in with you. “Looks like we don’t count as four people, Trav.”
He chuckled and put his hand on your lower back to guide you out, this time not retracting from it. “M’not sure we count as two, but that’s all on me,” he joked, and it made you shake your head in admonishment but also amusement – he knew you didn’t love when he put himself down, but he had explained to you that it was part of his sense of humor and he didn’t actually think he was stupid, and that made you understand.
When you got out to his car, he opened your door again, which you couldn’t help but find adorable.
The drive back to your place was filled with laughter as you both relived your spectacular failure, sharing thoughts on the experience and what you had loved about it.
“You’re like, super smart though. I swear every time you said somethin’ it ended up bein’ right and I was just the one getting’ distracted by shit that didn’t matter.” He chuckled at himself. “But like, thanks for comin’ with me. I had a lot of fun,” he said in a softer voice, turning to you as he put the car in park in front of your apartment building.
“I had a lot of fun too, Travis. I hadn’t laughed like that in… god, so long.” A smile pulled at your lips as you remembered the moment. You looked up at the window of your apartment that was visible from the lot, before glancing back to Travis. You then lowered your gaze to the dashboard. “Would you wanna come in? Like, for tea?”
He nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I’d love to.”
He followed you up into your apartment, kicking his shoes off at the door before you gestured toward the couch while you stepped into the kitchen. “Make yourself at home. Sergio’s around, somewhere.”
“Thanks,” Travis said, before walking over to your couch and sitting down on the cushion. It took five seconds before a ball of black and white fur jumped up on his lap and demanded pets. Travis giggled and obliged, granting your cat with as many scratches as he wanted. “Nice to finally meet you properly too, sir. You’re mom’s pretty cool, huh?” He whispered like a secret.
You brought over two glasses of cold water. “So, apparently I’m out of tea and in dire need of a trip to the grocery store.”
He laughed and picked up the glass, taking a small sip. “No worries, Angel. Water’s fine.”
You sat down beside him and okay, there you were.
Face to face with your friend with benefits for the first time in a few weeks. You knew you wanted it to happen, but you weren’t sure how to transition from ‘friends hanging out’ to ‘friends having sex’. This was fairly new to you.
Sergio hopped off Travis’ lap, retreating back to his bed, and it gave you an idea. “Maybe I could take his spot?”
You cringed at yourself, but you stuck with it as you saw Travis’ eyes widen before they darkened slightly. “Sure, you can.”
You shifted closer to him, but before straddling his lap and going all out, you leaned into him.
He met you halfway, pressing his lips to yours and bringing a hand up to gently cradle your neck. You expected it to turn hot and sinful quickly, like it usually did on your numerous phone calls, but it didn’t.
Travis kissed you slow at first, his thumb carefully rubbing at the articulation of your jaw as he gently licked at your lower lip. You gasped softly, opening up for him and slanting your mouth against his. But even then, he took his time exploring you and tasting you. The kiss lasted long, both of you completely lost in the daze emanating from it, your tongues massaging against each other unhurriedly, and it didn’t register in your needy brain that this maybe wasn’t your typical ‘kiss-to-start-things-off-with-your-friend-with-benefits’.
It progressed naturally with you finally straddling his lap, your hands buried in his hair as you kept kissing him. His hands were resting on your hips, not helping you move against him, just holding you close as his thumbs brushed soft circles over the denim of your jeans. He was humming every time his tongue met yours, as if he so desperately wanted to talk and tell you how amazing this was, and the vibration of it, the heat of his body under yours – just him, really – made the familiar heat that only Travis could elicit in you pool low between your spread legs.
Your hips started to buck slowly over him, pressing down on his jean-clad erection with every motion. He let out a shaky breath through his nose, sucking on your bottom lip and pulling it into his mouth, before letting it go. “Angel… you’re drivin’ me crazy, y’know that?”
He started planting kisses down the column of your throat, letting you set the pace with your movements against him.
Your breathing was already growing ragged, the slowness of the build-up making everything better while simultaneously blurring those lines between friendship and something more.
His hands moved reverently to undress you, helping you slide your top off along with your bra and take his own shirts off him. He kept praising you through it all, his mouth unable to stop itself from delivering compliments you never knew you needed.
“You smell so good, baby. Right here,” he said, burying his face in the valley of your breasts and inhaling the scent of your skin.
Before you could move on to more though, you slid off his lap and extended your hand to him. “Bedroom?”
He grinned and took your hand, standing up from the couch and readjusting his hard-on through the front of his jeans. “Lead the way.”
He followed you, watching your hips sway as you confidently – he noted, even if you were feeling anything but – walked through your hallway and into your room. The fairy lights were shining softly, casting the scene in a gentle glow that heightened everything. “Still magical and shit in here.”
You chuckled at his need to comment on it, before he grabbed your waist, his big and warms hands spreading over your skin as he kissed you again. Travis pulled you closer and you felt his erection against your lower belly, straining behind the fabric of his jeans. You felt the hair of his chest and tummy tickle your palms as you slid them down his body, the soft muscles hypnotizing you into wanting more.
You reached for the button and popped it open before undoing the zipper, the sound of the little metal teeth unhooking one after the other resonating sensually in the quiet of the room. He stepped out of his pants and helped you take yours off in the same way, before falling to his knees in front of you. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty. I’ve never seen anythin’ quite like you, Angel.”
He pulled your lacy panties down your legs, the gusset sticking slightly to your wet core, while he kept looking up at your face for any sign you might want to stop. All he found was awe as you buried your hand in his hair. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the front of your hip, before angling his head back and jutting his chin forward, licking through your folds where he could reach.
You gasped and tightened your grip on his locks, letting him get a few more samples of your arousal before you carefully pulled him off of you. “Trav. This is great, but… I really want you inside me. Please.”
His expression softened as he gulped. He kissed your thigh and rose back up to his feet. “You sure, sweetheart? We don’t have to because of what we did on the phone-“
“I know, Travis. But please. I f-fucking need you.” Your voice was shaky, almost breathless from your yearning for him.
His head tilted, pupils blowing wide until the gorgeous hazel eyes you’ve grown to love – wait, to like – turned into pools of black and lust. He cupped your face and kissed you again, his tongue parting your lips and finding yours, letting you taste yourself on him.
You whimpered into it, falling onto your bed when the backs of your knees reached the edge, not realizing until then that he had walked you backwards toward it. He looked down at you – your hair fanning on the duvet, your soft body expanding and shrinking with your breathing, your eyes looking at him like he was everything that was missing – and it tugged at something inside him. “Angel… you’re a vision. A… a fuckin’ masterpiece, I swear. I can’t believe I met you on that shitty forum and now I get to see you like this.”
He tugged his boxers off, his cock releasing and slamming up against his soft tummy. The tip was red, leaking a bit of precum already as he gripped himself and gave a few experimental strokes on instinct. Your eyes locked on his length, on the veins meandering around it, on the tattoo at the base, and your walls clenched around nothing.
You looked back up his body, over his belly and chest that looked so stupidly comfortable to lay on, until you reached his face and eyes. You extended your hand, and he took it, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles before climbing on the bed on top of you. “Can’t believe it either, Trav.”
Your legs spread for him as he lowered himself between them, the underside of his cock resting against your slick folds as he caged you between his arms and kissed you again.
It seemed like he couldn’t stop himself from kissing you.
He thrusted his hips gently, his tip catching on your clit and making your whimper into his mouth. He pulled back enough to talk. “Love how you sound for me. You always sound so fuckin’ good.” He trailed kisses down your throat, over your collarbone, before wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking it softly. “Love these tits, still the best I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled against the plush flesh, making you giggle.
He came back up and kept that same rhythm with his hips, teasing you with his cock as you soaked the underside of it, nipping and licking at your neck. It was unfair that you already felt the knot tightening between your hips. “Travis, please…”
He nodded and hummed. “I know, I know. I’ll give it to you, Angel. M’sorry I wanna worship ya so bad.”
He lifted his hips, putting enough distance between your body and his to slip one hand in the space and grab the base of his cock, aligning the ruddy tip with your dripping entrance. He pushed in slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you, even though he was met with less resistance than he had thought – the confirmation of your arousal making his head spin. “Fuck, baby…”
Your arms wrapped around his neck as he pushed in a few inches, your walls clenching and releasing around him as you whimpered at the stretch. “W-wait…”
He stopped immediately, looking into your eyes as his hand left his cock to cup your face. “You okay, sweetheart? Am I hurting you?”
You shook your head. “I’m f-fine, just…” You took a few deep breaths, willing yourself to relax.
He nodded in understanding and started peppering your face in gentle, apologetic kisses. “Doin’ so good for me. There you go, just relax. We don’t have to rush, yeah? You feel so good around me, you’ve no idea. S’fuckin’ incredible.”
His words helped you relax even more, and your legs wrapped around his waist, making him bury the remaining inches inside you. He moaned loudly, along with you, as his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. “H-holy fuck.”
He caressed your hip up and down as he kissed the side of your face, reveling in the way you allowed him in, how warm and tight and wet you felt around him. He could feel everything, sober and aware, which almost brought tears to his eyes.
He rolled his hips experimentally, and you sighed beautifully, making him repeat the motion over and over. Your slick coated his cock every time he pulled out a few inches and plunged back in, the sound of your mixed arousals echoing off the walls of your room in a pornographic yet realistic way. His chest hair kept rubbing against your perked nipples, making every sensation sharper, every ripple of pleasure full-bodied.
“We’re doing it, Angel. We’re – fuck – I’m fucking you. I’ve wanted this for so long, can’t believe you’re lettin’ me in like that. I…” His words might have been clumsy, but they were so him and full of awe, that it had you arching your back.
“Me too, Trav. Y’feel s-so good inside me.” You buried your fingers in his hair and tugged at the strands, making him pull back from your neck and kiss you with a deep groan.
“Y-yeah? Can feel you stranglin’ me, sweetheart. You close?”
“Mhm. I’m… so close.” You moaned, your hips rising to meet his thrusts that were steadily growing harder, his hand now holding your thigh to keep you opened as his other forearm was still planted next to your head.
“Shit… al-alright. That’s so fuckin’ hot. I-I got you, baby. Come on my cock.”
He looked down and groaned as he saw the milky ring of your arousal layered over top of his inky one. Noticing how your hips were chasing his, he lowered them and opted for a grinding motion, making his pelvis press against your clit, providing pressure and friction from the coarse hair there. It was exactly what you needed, and you came with a loud moan, your fingernails digging in his back as your body shook, your pussy gushing around his cock.
He moaned as if your pleasure was his, as if the electric current that was your extasy flowing inside you had traveled through to him via your skin, aided by the thin and salty sweat between you both. “Fuckin’ hell, so good. Most beautiful thing I – unh – ever seen.”
He kept slowly fucking you through the aftershocks, feeling your walls spasm around his dick as he helped you ride it out. He was so close too, needing to clench his thighs in an effort not to come, because there was now way he was only giving you one orgasm.
He paused once he felt you slump back, the haze of your pleasure slowly leaving your mind as you smoothed your hands over his chest. “Fuck, Travis… you’re good at that.” A breathy giggle left you, before you pressed your lips on his again.
He chuckled against you, feeling the tip of his ears redden at your words. “I’m glad you think so, ‘cause I ain’t done.”
He sat back on his knees and grabbed your hips, helping you turn around on your belly. He smoothed his hands down your sides, his surprisingly soft palms making goosebumps bloom on your overheated skin while he straddled your thighs. He reached your ass and squeezed it gently, getting a peak of your dripping folds and tight rim which made his cock jump. “You know, I love seeing you from the front but this is also pretty fuckin’ good.”
You let out an amused breath and playfully hit his leg with your foot, as much as you could while laying on your belly, before he grabbed one of your pillows and slipped it under your hips. He let some spit dribble onto his cock, giving himself a few pumps to spread it down his length. He then leaned over you and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder blade, his arm resting next to your head while his dick slotted between your cheeks. “Is this okay for you?”
You hummed and nodded, pushing your hips back to give him some friction which made him whimper against your skin. “More than okay, Trav,” you said, grabbing his tricep and lifting your head to angle his forearm under your throat. He caught the hint and pulled his arm so that your neck was resting in the crook of his elbow. You turned your head enough to kiss his bicep, and he chuckled before resting his lips against the side of your face.
“You ready for me, Angel?”
You hummed and licked his skin, before settling in the gentle headlock he had you in. “Yes, Travis.”
He took a deep breath and raised his hips, making his heavy cock dip down toward your entrance while his free hand kept you open. He sank right back in, your abundant slick and his spit making it easy after he had already stretched you out. Still, it felt amazing as he immediately started to thrust his length inside you, the veiny shaft sliding against your walls.
The arm around your neck tightened slightly, helping to bring you back every time he grinded forward, making you feel both safe and used in a way that had your head spinning. A flesh-toned haze clouded your mind, moans spilling free from your lips as Travis kept fucking into you.
“Fuck, sweetheart… you feel so fuckin’ incredible like this. Takin’ me so well. I think you’re one of a kind. In fact, I – oh god – I do believe you are one of a fuckin’ kind. So wet for me, can feel you soakin’ the pillow.”
He kept talking you through it, praising you like it was his job, as the tip of his cock kept hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. He licked and kissed at the nape of your neck and the curve where it met your shoulder, his arm holding you steady as his other hand palmed at your ass and hip.
“T-Trav…” You moaned, unable to string more words together as you felt all thoughts escape your mind except for him. The edge was getting closer, but you were missing a little something, making your hips push up as you tried to slip your hand under yourself.
He noticed and nipped at your neck, slipping his free hand under your belly before you could. “Let me get that for you, Angel.” His fingers found your clit swollen and coated in your juices, before they started circling it like he knew exactly how to play you.
He felt you clench around him, his hips stuttering before he forced himself to keep a steady pace. “Fuck, baby. Come with me, yeah? Can feel how close y’are.”
Your body tensed as his arm flexed around your throat, cutting off just enough air to make everything fuzzy and light as you came hard around him, your walls contracting in waves of blinding pleasure.
It made him follow right after, his hips grinding once, twice, before he stilled and pumped you full of his spend, undoubtedly painting your walls white. He whimpered and moaned beautifully as he came, a broken string of syllables that resembled your name against your neck, his arm relaxing and letting you breathe in air that smelled like sex and him.
His weight settled over you, his cock softening slowly and allowing some of his semen to leak back out of you around it. He slipped his arm from under your neck, pressing sweet kisses to your cheek and your temple as he slipped out of you.
You winced at the feeling, and he immediately smoothed one hand over your hair. “I know. M’sorry sweetheart. Stay right there.”
But then his eyes caught on the mess between your legs, and he couldn't help himself. He quickly parted your cheeks and dipped his tongue to taste the mix of both of your releases, humming at the taste as his eyes rolled back. Pulling away, he pressed a kiss to your lower back before walking out of your room.
You were still lost in a daze, not completely registering what he had just done, slowly coming back to when you felt yourself getting colder without his heat and heard the soft patter of bare feet heading to your bathroom.
About a minute later, Travis came back in, armed with a damp washcloth and a glass of water. He put the latter on your nightstand, before he sat next to your limp body still on your stomach. He dragged the washcloth – which was surprisingly warm – through your puffy and irritated folds and in between your thighs, cleaning you up diligently as he kept murmuring praise. “That was… I don’t even have words for it and you know me. You’re so good, Angel. So perfect.”
The scratch of the cloth and his words finally made your brain snap back into place. You turned on your side and looked up at him, letting your gaze take in the signs of past pleasure on his body, the flush on his chest and cheeks, the softness in his droopy eyes. “D’you wanna stay?”
His mouth shaped into a ‘o’, eyebrows lifting before he nodded. “Yeah, if you’ll have me.”
After tossing the washcloth away and handing you the glass of water – which disappeared quite fast – he settled back next to you. You rested your head on his chest – you were right, it was so comfortable – and his arm wrapped around you.
You stayed like that a while, in silence.
Now that the rush of sleeping together had passed, your mind quickly launched itself into thinking. Was it still casual? Had you gone too far?
You couldn’t deny it to yourself anymore. You had feelings for him. Undoubtedly so. And you didn’t think you could hide them for long. At some point he’d realize the way you looked at him wasn’t just fondness but something deeper that you couldn’t name. He’d realize how no one else seemed to catch your eye, how you only wanted him. He’d get scared. He’d leave.
Before anxiety could start clawing its way through your post-coital bliss, Travis finally spoke up.
“Angel?” His voice was small.
“Mm? Yeah?” You looked up at him.
He took a deep breath, his eyes tender as they flicked over your face and settled on yours, like he was making sure he hadn’t read anything wrong.
For a second, you thought he was about to say it. He was looking at you so softly, like you looked at him, like he found something in you just like you did in him.
“Just, uh… thank you. I really enjoyed it.”
Your heart squeezed in your chest. You had let yourself hope for a second, and it had backfired.
You blinked and forced yourself to smile, forcefully willing yourself to calm down and accept this for what it was – casual – the word that once felt like it would protect you from pain now burning and lashing your self-worth.
“Y-yeah. I enjoyed it too.” No, you loved it. You wanted more of it. More of him.
But you said nothing more, letting him succumb to slumber as you tried to as well, eventually drifting off to the rhythmic rise and fall of the chest of this man you loved under your cheek.
****
The morning came softly.
Your room was warm, still smelling faintly of sex and the woodsy vanilla scent sticking to Travis’ skin.
He had moved in the night, now laying on his belly, one leg slightly bent at the knee. You were on your side, looking toward him when your eyes fluttered open.
Everything came rushing back to you, but in a way that didn’t feel overwhelming. Your gaze was focused on the expanse of his back, littered with moles as memories of last night rushed past you like dull conversations at a packed event.
Travis was completely naked, shameless as he kept on sleeping in your bed, completely uncovered. You let yourself watch and admire, wanting to worship him like he had you. If you couldn’t be with him, at least you could have this.
His overgrown bleached waves were mussed against your pillow, his face turned away from you toward the window. You watched his back swell up and down again as he breathed easily, like there was no weight restricting it.
His skin was surprisingly tanned, a few faint scars on his back, maybe from those small fights he had gotten into against his will in prison.
Your gaze finally reached past his waist to his ass, admiring how round and supple it looked, almost making you jealous that yours wasn’t as perfect in your eyes. It had moles all over it as well – the man was practically covered in them – and it made your mouth water.
You scooted closer and started to draw patterns between the freckles you saw on his back, soaking the warmth and the softness of his skin into the tip of your fingers.
Travis hummed and stirred, leaning into your touch, giving you enough confidence to press soft kisses over his shoulder blades. Your hand trailed down and smoothed over his butt and down the side of his thigh as you pressed your front to his back.
You felt him tense and relax as he woke up to feel you against him. “Morning, Angel…”
“Morning, babe…” The pet name slipped your lips, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He had called you worse last night.
He rolled onto his back, and you lazily straddled his hips, leaning over him to press kisses and lick at his neck.
He chuckled and his hand found your thighs, squeezing the plush skin as he felt your tongue lick through his sideburn. “Wow, sweetheart… what’s gotten into you?”
You shrugged and kept peppering kisses down his torso, which arched beautifully once you reached his nipple and gave it a slight nip. “You just looked so handsome.” You trailed lower, stopping at his happy trail to nuzzle into it. You looked up at him through your lashes, before licking a wet stripe through it, humming as you went along.
His stomach muscles tensed as he looked at you – worshipping him like he was something worthy of it – and all the feelings he had desperately been trying to keep bottled up spread through his ribcage and made it hard for him to breathe.
His hand cupped your cheek as you looked up at him – fully ready to take his hard cock into your mouth – but he stopped your movements.
“Wait, Angel…”
You blinked rapidly, worry mixing in your gut again. You leaned forward a little, just so his groin wasn’t level with your face. “Yeah?”
He swallowed thickly, feeling like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. “Before we keep goin’, I feel like I have to say this.”
The possibilities rushed inside your mind – ‘you can’t catch feelings’, ‘this is still casual’, ‘I don’t see you like that’ – but you were focused on him.
He gave you a lopsided smile, almost apologetic of the words about to come out of his mouth.
“I think m’falling for you.”
****
A/N : Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this ride, it always makes me feel so warm inside and I'm so grateful for everyone that take the time to read my fics. I love you all!
Taglist (comment if you want to be added, it is a general one for all of my works!) :
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: +18 MDNI, HEAVY DARK CONTENT! Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. Smut, cnc, unprotected rough sex, oral (both receiving), unprotected rough anal sex, choking, light bondage, creampie, humiliation, Eddie is a little mean but also a simp, body modifications.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 20,6K
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: The quiet town of Hawkins, Indiana has been ravaged by unexplained and sudden murders, bringing terror and panic to the population. Five friends find themselves cornered by a mysterious and sadistic masked figure and forced to reveal their darkest secrets. In a sadistic game, the winner is not the one who comes out alive.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: so... what do we think of this? i really tried to write the smut more sexy but i can't (to save my life really), i realized that i write smut the same way i write everything ugh and i hate it. but enjoy my perverts!!!
𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
"Well, well, well, looks like it's your lucky day," Ghostface teases, his words laced with a chilling blend of sarcasm and sadism. "Or should I say… your unlucky day?"
The mask’s hollow eyes seemed to pierce your soul, stripping away your facade of innocence and exposing the darkness lurking within you.
As Ghostface removed the gag from your mouth with unexpected tenderness — almost gently — a wave of dread washed over you. His voice was now a soft, seductive whisper, contrasting sharply with the sinister persona projected by his mask and his behavior throughout the night.
"There, darling, now we can have a little chat…" His words slithered out like a snake with bared fangs, dripping a disturbing allure like corrosive venom. "All your friends have confessed, but I saved the most special one for last."
You met the silent gazes of your friends — Carol, Tammy, Jason — each bearing the weight of their own torment and the anticipation of what was to come.
Your eyes shifted to Tommy’s motionless figure; he was still strapped to the chair, blood dripping onto the floor, bearing the wounds of the punishment Ghostface had inflicted.
Your voice faltered as you tried to speak, the weight of his stare hanging over you like a leaden curtain. His hand, clad in a sinister black glove, moved with the practiced grace of someone who had done this more times than you cared to admit; it traced your chin and caressed your jawline, leaving a trail of dread and nervous tension with every stroke of his fingers.
A sudden shiver raced down your spine as a thought crossed your mind, and you tried to decipher the meaning behind his unexpected gentleness.
Why was he treating you differently than your friends? And why did it feel as though the answer to that question had already been revealed deep within your mind?
“I—I don’t… I don’t know what you want me to say, I’ve never committed any crime.” You admitted it with a trembling voice, fearing the retaliation that would surely come.
He made a low sound that rumbled in his chest. “A lot of bad things aren’t considered crimes, sweetheart… But since you don’t have any crimes on your record, what’s the secret you’re keeping under lock and key, hmm?” His gloved hand moved to the back of your neck, stroking your hair.
You licked your chapped lips, feeling your heart pounding harder by the second. “I don’t know if my secret is exactly what you’re looking for.” At this point, attempts at persuasion had already proven to be an annoyance to him.
Surprisingly, his tone shifted almost instantly as he spoke. “Have you ever hurt someone you loved and regretted it?” His question hit like a flipped switch, freezing the blood in your veins; your muscles tensed with panic and dread.
The mask obscured Ghostface’s expression, leaving his intentions shrouded in shadow and mystery; his touch lingered on your skin, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this twisted game than met the eye. It was something frighteningly familiar — something that hit too close to home — though it was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was; yet, deep down, your mind knew all too well and had tried to warn you.
"I… I had a boyfriend in high school," you admitted, your gaze shifting to your friends, whose faces were a mosaic of curiosity and concern. "Someone I kept hidden from all of you, out of fear of judgment and… and out of shame."
Your voice wavered as you peeled back the layers of your hidden truth, each word heavy with the weight of long-buried secrets that had now been unearthed and exposed without warning.
The dim light flickered, casting sinister shadows that danced across the room, amplifying the suspense hanging in the air like a thick fog.
The confession hung in the air like a fragile thread, yet it bore the weight of years of concealed deception.
You felt Ghostface’s presence looming over you, his masked visage, a mask of inscrutable intrigue and something deeper, obscured by the black-and-white plastic.
"Hmm, a secret boyfriend you were ashamed of," he mused, his voice a sinister whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. "How intriguing…"
As he stood before you, his masked face seemed to pulse with a heavy, almost suffocating supernatural energy, his presence casting a chilling aura over the room.
You swallowed hard, bracing yourself to continue your confession under the watchful gaze of that enigmatic tormentor.
"Go on, my dear," he urged, his words brimming with a disturbing mix of curiosity and malice.
A lump formed in your throat as you pressed on, the weight of your confession bearing down on you like a cloak of lead — yet still lighter than the shame.
"He was a social outcast with a terrible reputation," you admitted, shame coursing through your veins. "I lied to him, told him that one day I’d officially be his girlfriend… But at the first opportunity, I turned against him and treated him just the way the others did."
Your words hung heavy in the air, every syllable overflowing with remorse and regret. You didn't dare look your friends in the eye; the weight of their silent judgment was almost palpable — not because of your own actions, but because of the person you had allowed into your life.
"Now, we’re getting to the interesting part…" Ghostface interrupted, his gloved hand gently stroking your hair.
Tears welled in your eyes as you poured out the painful truth, each word a sharp shard of regret piercing your soul. "I didn't want things to get as bad as they did, but he left me no choice," you choked out, your voice trembling with shame and remorse. "I decided to humiliate him in front of the whole school, to paint him as a pervert with a twisted obsession with me."
The weight of your confession hung in the air, suffocating you with its truth. You turned to your friends, unable to bear the burden of their silent judgment any longer.
"Eddie Munson was the sweetest, kindest guy I’ve ever known — and the only one who truly knew the real me," you confessed, your voice barely a whisper.
"But because of my own foolishness, because of the stupid fear I felt about being judged for being with him, I broke the heart of someone I loved. A man who showed me nothing but kindness and love."
As the weight of your words settled over the room, you braced yourself for the condemnation you knew you deserved.
Yet, as Ghostface’s hand continued to stroke your hair, a cold sense of dread washed over you, leaving you wondering what twisted fate awaited you now, even as you felt a strange sense of relief at finally getting that burden off your chest.
"Poor boy…" Ghostface’s sudden compassion caught you off guard, setting off alarm bells in your mind. Something wasn't right there.
"But your secret isn't out yet, is it, darling?" His words cut through the air like a knife, freezing your blood as despair flooded your eyes. You looked desperately at your friends, who stared back with nothing but pure disgust — as if you were an insect beneath them.
"No… Please, don't make me say it…" Your plea escaped in a trembling whisper, accompanied by a painful sob, tears welled in your eyes, and your heart grew heavy with the burden of what you couldn't bear to reveal.
Ghostface’s hands cupped your face, a paradoxical blend of comfort and threat. "Shhh, it’s almost over, my dear," he murmured, his voice now tinged with a deeper, more sinister resonance, something that no longer seemed merely theatrical, bordering instead on a genuine emotion you chose to ignore in that moment. "You just need to finish telling me. I promise I won't hurt you if you do what I say, hmm?"
His words hung in the air like a sinister promise, each syllable laden with the weight of impending doom.
Trembling, you nodded and resumed your story, your heart heavy with the pain and regret of a past that haunted you relentlessly.
With every word, your voice shook under the weight of your confession; each syllable was a painful reminder of the choices that had led you down this dark path.
"Eddie and I were always… sexually active, from the very moment we met outside of school during his second senior year," you began, your words heavy with shame. "We had sex all the time, but we always used protection." Shame flushed your cheeks as you recounted the intimacy you had shared with Eddie — an intimacy now tainted by the consequences it had wrought.
"I think the condom might have broken once — I don't know, we weren't really paying attention at the time," you continued, your voice barely a whisper, "but a few weeks before we split up and he left, I found out I was a month pregnant."
Silence filled the room, broken only by the shocked gasps of your friends. Their eyes were fixed on you, their expressions a mix of disbelief and horror as they grappled with the gravity of your revelation; none of them dared utter a word, though the looks on their faces spoke volumes.
"Eddie wanted me to keep the baby," you confessed, your voice thick with emotion. "He said he’d be a good father and take care of both of us, but I couldn't risk having a child with the town outcast — so one day, I drove to the next town over, to an underground clinic, and had an abortion."
As the weight of your confession settled over the room, you felt everyone’s eyes fixate on you; the shock and judgment from the people you once called friends were palpable.
"A child with the town outcast… A burden far too heavy for a girl like you to bear, isn't it, my dear?" His tone was almost taunting, as if he took pleasure in driving the knife of guilt even deeper into your heart. "Do you regret it, darling?"
Ghostface’s words slithered through the air like tentacles of darkness—his voice smooth and velvety, yet laced with a sinister undertone. Every syllable dripped with malice, probing the raw wounds of your conscience.
"Yes, I regret how things ended, he didn't deserve any of that and I wish I had acted differently. And… I wanted that baby, but only if it was with him, and at that moment I couldn't have both, but I ended up with neither."
Your admission hung in the air, a heavy mist of remorse enveloping the room, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed. The only sound breaking the silence was Ghostface’s low murmur, a chilling reminder of the impending judgment that awaited you.
"Hm, hm…" he crouched down in front of you, his masked face inches from yours. "I think I have the perfect punishment for you, my dear. Are you ready?" His question almost tender in its delivery sent a shiver down your spine, a premonition of the horrors to come.
Even though every fiber of your being screamed for escape, you nodded and braced yourself to accept whatever twisted punishment he chose.
"Well, since you decided to put an end to our first little baby… it’s only fair that I put another one inside you, right?"
A shudder ran through your body as Ghostface’s words hung in the air like a sinister melody, freezing you in place, trembling and terrified.
"Our?" You could barely utter the word; realization took hold with a sickening lurch in your gut, and you felt your insides churn as bile rose in your throat.
"Yes, darling, our little secret," he teased, his voice dripping with malice. "And since you decided to get rid of our first little bundle of joy, it’s only fair that I put another one inside you, don't you think?"
Ghostface’s grin twisted into a malevolent smile as he savored your realization, delighting in the fear dancing in your eyes. It was a nightmare come to life, a revelation too horrific to comprehend.
"Surprise, my dear," he mocked, his voice oozing malice as he removed the mask that concealed his true identity.
And there stood Eddie Munson, his face twisted in a mix of malice and madness, the very embodiment of the nightmare that had haunted you all along. The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning, leaving you stunned as the pieces of the twisted puzzle fell into place.
Your mind reeled, struggling to process the nightmare unfolding before you. "No… no, please…" you begged, the words barely a whisper, your voice choked with terror and disbelief.
A sense of dread washed over you as Eddie’s piercing brown eyes remained fixed on yours; his unwavering gaze was a chilling reminder of his true obsession and the reason behind all the madness.
"Oh, I almost forgot," he glanced at your friends — Carol, Tammy, and Jason — his tone dripping with malice. "I want you to meet the others, too." With a gesture, he indicated the four remaining masked figures who had taken part in the night's tortures and punishments.
"These are Jason, Jigsaw, Myers, and Freddy," he declared, as the masked figures removed their disguises, revealing the faces of Gareth, Ronnie, Jeff, and Grant — names that sent shockwaves of recognition through your friends.
"Also known as the sins of your past." Turning to you, his smile turned sweet, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. "And I am your worst nightmare, my dear…"
As Eddie’s hand caressed your cheek, a shiver ran through your body; his touch was a cruel reminder of the unfinished business between you. His words hung in the air like a dark omen, the tension mounting with every passing moment.
"We have some unfinished business, don't we?" His voice, though soft, carried a menacing weight that sent a chill down your spine. "And as much as I hate to admit it, you’re still my weakness…"
He glanced at his companions; their sinister expressions promised a night of horrors to come. "Have fun with your toys," he said suggestively, his gaze lingering on you before shifting to his friends.
"I’m going to have a chat with her somewhere more private."
Turning back to your friends, he delivered the final blow. "I lied. You aren't going anywhere. This is the end of the line for you."
As Eddie untied your hands and feet, freeing you from the chair's restraints, a glimmer of hope sparked within you, only to be quickly extinguished by the realization of what lay ahead. He hoisted you over his shoulder; your body went limp with resignation as he carried you into a nearby room.
Through blurred vision, you caught a final glimpse of your friends —Carol, Tammy, and Jason — bound and helpless, their eyes wide with terror as the grim fate awaiting them dawned on them. Their screams echoed through the corridors, a cacophony of agony that pierced the silence of the night.
As he carried you, the weight of your own helplessness pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket. Tears blurred your vision as you heard sounds that seemed like a macabre, distorted imitation of your friends' screams — their final attempt to fight for their lives, knowing their fate was sealed and that yours, too, would follow the same path, albeit in a different way.
Eddie walked down a dimly lit, forgotten corridor until he reached a door. He stopped, pulling a key from the pocket of the pants he wore under his black cloak, and used it to open the bedroom door.
He stepped inside and quickly locked the door behind him, all while balancing you on his shoulder. He flicked on the light, revealing gray concrete walls blotched with black mold — even on the ceiling — and a bed dressed in a black sheet and comforter, with two pillows resting against an old, peeling wooden headboard. To the right stood a closed bookcase and what appeared to be a closed wardrobe, alongside a stack of papers piled high on the floor.
He tossed you onto the bed with a certain aggressiveness that showed he was still pissed at you, then stopped at the edge, simply staring down at you with a serious, unmoving expression — something far worse than if he had chosen to shout. At least if he shouted, you would know what he was feeling: anger, and perhaps even hatred and resentment over what you had done.
You didn't recognize this silent, calculating version of Eddie Munson, and the realization made your insides churn with fear and uncertainty. This was a new kind of predator, unpredictably hostile and menacing.
He took a deep breath and briefly closed his eyes, weighing his thoughts. "I think we have some things to talk about, don't you?"
He shifted his gaze back to where you lay sprawled on the bed, watching the rise and fall of your chest with a half-smile that seemed to say, I know exactly what’s going through your head.
You kept staring back at him from the spot where he’d thrown you, remaining motionless as you tried to choose the right words, while he seemed amused by the look on your face.
His head tilted to the side, and a predatory smile spread across his face. “Ahh… Don’t tell me you’re afraid of me…”
His hands rose to slip off the black gloves covering them, revealing fingers bare of the rings you recognized; abstract black lines were tattooed on his index and middle fingers, a design you didn't have time to decipher before your gaze snapped back to his face, which was watching you with a different glint in his eyes.
“I’m not afraid of you…” You forced the words out; they wavered as they reached his ears, your tone betraying uncertainty and caution.
He made a sound deep in his throat that showed he didn't believe a word you said. “Oh, really?” he quipped, smiling again, a smile that deepened his dimples.
“Well, you should be afraid.” The smile vanished in a heartbeat, replaced once more by a stoic expression.
Your eyes, slightly wide, never left his figure; you bit your lower lip, hoping the pain would keep you grounded.
He ran his hands through his hair, gathering the strands; pulling a hair tie from his pocket, he bound his hair into a messy bun.
“You know I never go back on my word,” he said, his eyes darkening with something sinister. “Especially when it comes to a penance.”
You recalled his earlier words and grimaced, your eyebrows arching and drawing together.
You found your voice again, and a spark, almost nonexistent, of courage. “You can’t be serious.” He crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “Eddie, I’m not going to let you—”
“And who said you have to let anything happen?” His words cut through yours like a sharp blade. “You have no power here, my dear…” He cooed the words, almost affectionately.
You scoffed. "So you're going to force me? Because that's the only way you can carry out your penance." He grinned predatorily, and you could see two pairs of insanely white and sharp fangs, slightly curved at the tips, located in his upper and lower dental arches. You didn’t remember him having those.
Seeing your gaze fixed on his mouth, his smile widened, and he couldn't resist taunting you. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” The index finger of his right hand made direct contact with the tip of one of the fangs. You remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction or a reply to his provocations.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Instead, you returned to the previous topic. “Are you going to force me, Eddie?” you asked, spitting the words out venomously.
“Me?” He pointed a finger at his own chest in mock confusion, his face twisting into a look of feigned bewilderment. “Oh no, my dear…” He began to circle the bed like a hunting feline, drawing closer and closer to where you remained, motionless since being thrown there.
You averted your gaze to the bedsheets before he could reach your face, feeling the mattress sink where he rested his knee on the edge. "I won't need to force you to do anything," the implication was clear.
You felt his warm breath near your turned face, his skin nearly brushing against your cheek. “Or have you forgotten the time we spent together, my love? Hmm?”
The barely audible whisper reached your ears like thick syrup trickling through buried memories of two naked bodies in a frenzy of lust. "Your body is the most delicious map I've never forgotten how to read, and no matter how much time passes, I'll always remember the way home."
Your body tensed and you shuddered as the heat rushed to your head. How dare he? How dare he speak in that soft, seductive tone, the same way he used to speak after hours spent with his sweat slicked body pressed against yours?
You whipped your head around furiously and, for the first time that night, faced him. “You have absolutely no right to speak to me like that, not after everything you’ve done.”
You sat up fully and shoved his chest with one hand; the unexpected push was enough to nearly send him tumbling to the floor.
His expression bordered on disbelief. “You think I wanted this?” A sarcastic scoff escaped his lips. “I did. But that’s not important right now.” He got up from the bed and pursed his lips in a pout, like a spoiled child.
“You kidnapped me and my friends, Eddie.” You stated the obvious, earning a bored eye-roll in return. “You tortured them, humiliated them, and now…” Your voice cracked with the realization that, by this point, they should already be dead.
He turned his back to you, hands on his hips, shaking his head from side to side as if you were the irrational one. “After everything you heard in that room, I’m surprised you still want to defend them,” he said, sounding disappointed.
You looked away from his back, still covered by the black cape. He was right — technically, the things they’d done were unforgivable — but they were still your friends, right…?
“They were my friends.” You regretted saying it before you’d even finished the sentence, given his abrupt turn.
You stared at each other for a few moments that felt like an eternity, and in his eyes, right then, you could see fragments of the Eddie you knew so well.
"And what about me, angel?" His large brown eyes held a weight that pressed heavily on your heart. “What am I to you? What was I to you?” His voice, deep and hoarse, cracked with an emotion you refused to acknowledge.
Longing. For what might have been, and perhaps for what still could be. You felt unsettled by the intensity of the feeling reflected in his eyes, raw and unashamed.
Your throat tightened, as if barbed wire were slowly wrapping around it, trapping the words inside and keeping them from escaping. He took your silence as a refusal to admit your friends were wrong, and he nodded.
“You know what the funniest part of all this is?” You didn’t answer, and he didn’t give you time to. “What I felt when your friends made my life a living hell was nothing more than a scratch compared to the damage a few words from you caused me.”
You thought you saw a glint of moisture in his eyes. “Every time you believed them and chose them over me, it was like you were killing me. Over and over again, and even now, you’d still rather give them another chance than me.”
“Your friends did terrible things to me and to people who matter to me, yet once again you offer them the forgiveness that was never extended to me, the man you claimed to love, the man you said, just minutes ago, was the best thing that ever happened to you.” He paced back and forth, gesturing wildly.
"So tell me, why do you forgive those who hurt me, but crucify me for seeking justice, even in a distorted way, against them all? Tell me, why is the man you claim to have loved so much worth so much less than your friends?" He paused and stared right at you, his gaze piercing your soul intrusively, forcing the words out of your mouth.
“That isn’t justice, Eddie—”
“Answer my question!” he thundered, his voice echoing off the bedroom walls. “Why do they deserve your forgiveness and I don’t?”
“Because if I forgive you, I’ll have to admit to myself that I chose the people who hurt you over standing by your side.” The words poured out like a tsunami, devastating all your fragile defenses.
“I’d have to admit that I let them hurt you and did nothing, actually, I did do something. I helped them hurt you even more.” You admitted, your voice thick with tears and regret.
“That shit you pulled didn’t affect me one bit. Humiliating me in front of the whole school just so I’d leave you alone?” He rolled his eyes, even more pissed off.
“It didn’t even faze me; I’ve long since gotten used to being the center of attention, whether I’m being humiliated or sparking some kind of rebellion.” He stated the obvious.
“You killing our baby… Well, that hurt a little.” He deflated a bit.
“It was the perfect combination of the two of us… But that doesn’t matter either, I would have respected your decision to end the pregnancy, after all, it’s entirely your body, and I never would have pressured you to reconsider.” He looked down at the floor, pouting.
“I loved you; respecting you was an instinct that came long before the love did.” A sad smile touched his lips, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
“That was never the problem.” Eddie clenched his jaw, glancing away for a brief moment before looking back at you. His voice came out low and hoarse, heavy with a hurt he could no longer hide.
“The problem was how, at the first opportunity, you took their side instead of the man’s you claimed to love.” He let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his face.
“You slept with me, in every sense of the word. You let me be vulnerable with you and made me believe you were my safe harbor, the one I could turn to when the storm got too rough.” His fingers slowly curled into fists at his sides.
“And instead of honoring that…” Eddie took a deep breath, swallowing hard before continuing. “You deliberately chose to stab me in the back when Tammy accused me of harassing her. You didn’t even want to hear my side.”
His voice rose into that shaky tone of someone desperately trying not to lose control. “You simply decided I was the version she’d told everyone about.”
He paused briefly, his eyes welling up as he slowly exhaled through his nose.
“And you forgot the other version.” Eddie pointed to his own chest, touching it with two fingers. “The version only you knew. The part of me I gave only to you.”
He remained silent for a few seconds. Then he lowered his hand and turned his face away, as if the words that followed were harder to say than all the ones before.
“That Eddie died the day you made it clear I would never be the priority in your life.” He looked back at you, and there was something almost broken in his expression now. “Not as long as your lying, sinful friends were around.”
“I—I…” Eddie raised a hand, cutting off any attempt you made to speak.
His fingers hovered in the air for a moment, as if he needed the gesture to gather his thoughts. “No. Just… listen.”
He took a deep breath, running his tongue over his lips before continuing.
“So, I left town. I went far away, to a place where no one knew me.” A small, humorless smile touched his lips but vanished almost immediately. “Did you know I finished college?” Eddie tilted his head slightly, watching your reaction.
“After I left school, I took a test and got my degree. And I decided to focus on myself.” He shrugged, trying to appear indifferent, but the tension in his jaw gave him away.
“For the first time, I was trying to build something that had nothing to do with you.” He paused.
“But you were still here.”Eddie’s index finger tapped repeatedly against his temple; once, twice, three times, while his gaze remained fixed on you.
“Here.” His voice dropped. “In my head.”
He let out a faint, nasal laugh and finally let his hand drop to his side.
“Like a ghost that kept haunting me…”
Eddie shook his head slowly, his eyes tracing your face with a painful mix of resentment and longing. “A beautiful, treacherous ghost that followed me everywhere.”
“You were in my coffee…” Eddie exhaled slowly, lowering his gaze for a moment. “In the hazelnut and raspberry blend where you always swore you could taste every single note; in the two pumps of mocha and the splash of almond milk you insisted on having every day.”
He ran a hand over the back of his neck, letting out a low, almost incredulous laugh.
“I could remember exactly how you ordered it.” His gaze returned to you.
“You were in my food.” His voice dropped lower. “In the burger — no pickles, extra tomato — because you always loved the sweet-and-sour taste it left on your tongue after eating. In the fries you always ate before anything else, because you never liked mixing different parts of a meal together.”
Eddie paused briefly, pressing his lips together.
“In the chocolate Oreo milkshake that would get watery because you always waited until you’d finished eating everything else to drink it.” He shook his head, a wistful smile slipping out.
“You used to say it was a hideous thing to mix together while eating.”
The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
“You were in my song…” Eddie looked away, as if that were the memory that troubled him most. “In that stupid cover version you’d always listen to, wrapped up in blankets with a cup of tea.”
He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly.
“And it constantly reminded me of how much I wanted to crawl back to you, too.” His voice faltered for a second.
Eddie cleared his throat and clenched his jaw, trying to regain his composure.
“And how I’d always reach for the phone to call you whenever I’d had too much to drink.” He let out a bitter laugh, lowering his head.
“I never actually called.” His fingers curled tight, as if he could still feel the weight of that decision in the palm of his hand.
“But God…” Eddie looked up again. “So many times I wanted to.”
“You were on my mind in the most mundane memories imaginable.” Eddie lowered his gaze for a moment, a sad smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“In the way you’d always rest your legs over mine when we sat together at that picnic table in the middle of the woods. In the way you’d throw yourself against me whenever you laughed at something — as if the laughter drained your strength and you simply couldn't stay upright.”
He took a deep breath, slowly running a hand over his face.
“You were permanently etched into my body.” His voice dropped lower. “Not like a tattoo. It was something more than that.”
Eddie pressed his palm against his chest.
“You were under my skin like a memory that refused to die, like a crawling thing moving all over my body every time I closed my eyes, making me feel your soft, slow touch on my chest, your warm, gentle kisses along my neck as you nibbled at my ear.”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds.
“It made me feel the weight of your body against mine, the overwhelming pleasure I felt every time I entered you and we moved in sync, two souls merging into one with every breath, every drop of sweat, every open pore; every sound surrendered to the universe like a plea of pleasure meant only for the stars that served as our audience.”
When he opened his eyes again, there was an almost exhausted sadness in them.
“It was as if every part of me had learned you by heart.”
Silence filled the room.
“And that was my punishment.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“I could have left town. I could have changed colleges, jobs, my routine. I could have met hundreds of new people.” He held your gaze.
“But I couldn’t escape you.”
You remained seated on the bed, the two of you staring intently at each other after his confession.
Your heart felt heavy under the weight of everything he had said, of the betrayal and the cowardice you were now beginning to realize you had committed.
“Just… tell me the truth.” Eddie kept his eyes fixed on you, though there was an almost imperceptible hesitation in his voice. “At any point —even if only for a moment — was it real for you?”
“Yes, it was real for me. Every second I shared with you, especially those final moments when I saw you for the last time.”
He remained silent for a few seconds, as if trying to absorb every word.
“Do you want the truth, even if it hurts you more than I already have?”
Eddie nodded.
“I was afraid. Afraid they’d find out I loved you, that we were together behind everyone’s backs. I was afraid that if they found out, everyone would treat me like…” You paused, searching for the courage to finish.
“They’d treat you the way they treated me, and you were afraid of that.” Eddie replied with an almost unsettling matter-of-factness, like someone simply stating that the sky is blue.
He dragged a hand down his face and let out a weary sigh. “Fuck… even I didn’t want anyone to know about us.” You stared at him, surprised.
“Yeah, I know.” He slowly lowered his hand. “But I didn’t want to see you treated that way. People giving you dirty looks all over school and town, making you an easy target to get to me.” His jaw tightened.
“And it would’ve worked.” Eddie looked away for a moment, his fingers restless as he tried to steady his breathing.
“I couldn’t have stood by and done nothing if I saw that happening to you.” Then he looked back at you.
There was something different in his eyes. It wasn’t just anger. It was an almost frightening intensity, as if he himself knew he had crossed some line inside his own head.
“Do you think I’m crazy today?” He shook his head slowly, letting out a low, humorless laugh.
“Oh, angel…” Eddie took a step closer but stopped before invading your personal space.
“You have no idea what I’d turn into if something happened to you.”
He gestured around the room, indicating the chaos of that night.
“This?” His voice dropped low. “This would be nothing compared to what I’d become if someone actually laid a hand on you; this would be fucking heaven compared to the things I’d do to the people in this town. I’d show everyone what it really means to be a freak…”
He took a deep breath, his eyes locked on yours.
“I wanted them all to see what they’d done. To understand that the person they called a freak was never the monster they made him out to be.” He tilted his head slightly.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, sorry for the interruption, but I needed to make that clear.” Eddie looked down at the floor, quickly running his tongue over his lips.
If you didn’t know him so well, you’d say he looked embarrassed. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and he avoided your gaze as if he’d suddenly found something very interesting on the floor.
“Go on with what you were saying.” He made a small gesture with his hand, encouraging you to continue, before crossing his arms again.
You took a deep breath and rcontinued.
“I guess you could say I was a shallow person, someone who only cared about appearances and social standing, without appreciating the good things I actually had.” You fidgeted nervously with your fingers, rubbing the tips together while avoiding direct eye contact.
“I mean, you’re the one saying it, not me.” Eddie shrugged, keeping his arms crossed. He turned his face away and pursed his lips, holding back a smile that carried enough sarcasm to practically fill the room.
You poked your cheek with your tongue and stared at him with a pointed stare. “You don’t need to pretend to be nice to me; I know exactly what you think of me.”
The sarcasm vanished from his face. “No, you don’t.” The reply came immediately, serious and firm.
Eddie uncrossed his arms and let them drop to his sides. For a few seconds, he simply watched you, as if trying to decide the best way to make you understand.
“Do you think I didn’t already know that when I fell for you all those years ago?” He tilted his head slightly, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “Or do you think I only found out on that fateful day?”
The last question came out quieter. There was no sarcasm in it this time—just a certainty too old to be questioned.
“I always knew the kind of person you were when it came to reputation, and yet I dated you anyway, didn’t I?” Eddie tilted his head slightly, keeping his eyes on you. “It’s nothing new to me, sweetheart.”
“Then why—”
“Why did I fall for you, even knowing you were shallow and cared more about appearances than being yourself?” Eddie finished, raising an eyebrow.
You looked down at your hands. A mix of shame and anger slowly crackled hot from the back of your neck up to your cheeks at being called out like that. Eddie noticed.
The corner of his mouth almost twitched, but he held back any sign of sarcasm. Instead, he let out a slow breath and leaned back a little, giving you space to breathe.
“Have you ever heard the line Jaime Lannister says to Brienne of Tarth to try and justify the love he feels for his biological sister, Cersei?”
You shook your head, unable to meet his eyes.
“No?” Eddie asked. You remained silent.
He uncrossed his arms and let his hands rest on his legs, leaning slightly forward.
“That’s the answer to your question.” His voice dropped lower, turning almost gentle. “We don’t choose who we love.”
Your lower lip trembled. Your eyes burned as they welled up with tears, and you took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure before finally working up the courage to look at him.
He wore a gentle expression, the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, yet his eyes seemed to smile with the softness of his gaze.
“But even so, even with the power to choose…” Eddie paused briefly, as if ensuring you were truly looking at him. “If I could choose, I’d choose you.” The breath left your lungs at the intensity of his words.
“Over and over again. Infinite times, if need be.” His voice remained low and steady, charged with a certainty that seemed to have existed long before that night.
“Because you’re the only woman in the world I love and want to love, and I refuse to live in a world where my love isn’t entirely yours.”
He swallowed hard. For a moment, his eyes dropped, but they quickly returned to yours.
“Even if you reject me. Feel nothing. Even if you hate me, for fuck’s sake…” Eddie let out a small, shaky, joyless laugh. “And even if you decide you never want to see me again after tonight, or try to kill me at some point— I wouldn’t care.”
He placed a hand over his chest, holding it there for a few seconds.
“Because I’ll still carry this love with me. And that’s something neither you nor anyone else can take away from me.” His fingers slowly closed against the black cloak. “It’s mine. Mine alone.” His voice wavered, but Eddie continued.
“The only way to take it from me would be to tear out a part of who I am. And as long as I’m still here…” He took a deep breath. “What I feel for you will stay alive. It will keep existing. Just like me.”
You were in tears at that moment, unable to find words to respond. You tried to speak, but your voice died out before you could even form a sentence.
He stepped closer again, slowly this time, as if any sudden movement might make you pull away. His expression softened even further.
He sat on the bed beside you once more and reached out to stroke your hair, his fingers gliding through the strands with a familiarity that made your chest ache.
“Why are you crying, my angel?” His voice was low and gentle, almost a whisper. “All I did was tell the truth since you still think you know every thought running through my head, especially when it’s about you.”
With his other hand, he touched your chin and gently turned your face toward his. His fingertips traced your cheeks, wiping away the tears that were falling like a summer rain.
You closed your eyes as you felt that soft, familiar touch looking after you with such care once again.
It was like putting on a coat you thought you’d lost, only to discover it still fit — perhaps even better than before.
“You...” The words caught in your throat, choking you. You took a deep breath, trying to force them out.
“Because you didn’t say you loved me.”
“I know.” Eddie kept his eyes locked on yours, his thumb still slowly tracing your cheek. “I said I love you, and that I choose you again, if given the chance.” He paused briefly, as if carefully choosing his next words.
“When something is said in the past tense, it implies a completed action.” A faint smile touched his lips. “And I am nowhere near finished with my journey of loving you.” His fingers paused for a moment against your skin.
“The imperfect past indicates a habitual and continuous action, one that didn’t end in the past.” His voice dropped, heavy with an almost painful tenderness. “And that’s what my love for you is like: present every day, from the moment I wake up until the moment I lie down again. Even in my dreams.” Eddie took a deep breath.
“And it hasn’t diminished since the moment I realized I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”
His smile became a little more pronounced, though sadness still lingered in his eyes.
“Funny...” He let out a soft, nasal laugh. “The imperfect past.”
The hand resting in your hair went back to slowly stroking the strands. “Just like us and our imperfect past.”
“But habitual and continuous, not ending in the past, just like you said.” Eddie fell silent for a moment.
*Just like our future.* The unspoken words hung in the air, echoing at the end of the sentence like a melody of new beginnings.
“Yes, just like I said...” He took a deep breath, and his gaze softened. “But I need to hear from you first.”
You likely wore a worried expression, because Eddie noticed it immediately. He tilted his head slightly, searching your eyes.
“It doesn’t matter what you tell me. It won’t change how I feel about you and our future.” His voice remained calm, though there was evident tension beneath it. “I just need to know.” You nodded.
“Like I said, I was a shallow, empty person.” You lowered your eyes, your fingers interlacing nervously in your lap.
“When we started seeing each other after that agreement in the woods, I thought it would be... a fleeting thing. A way for both of us to forget our problems and get it all out of our systems. I thought it was just about attraction and that, eventually, it would fade away.” You let out a small, humorless laugh and shook your head.
“But I was incredibly wrong.” Eddie remained silent. His eyes didn’t leave your face for even a second.
“With every day I spent with you, every glimpse I caught of that Eddie, the one only a few people had the pleasure of knowing, my attraction only grew. It was as if you were a magnet, constantly pulling me toward you.” You took a deep breath. “And then, one day, you just changed.” Your gaze met his.
“From the way you looked at me when I arrived at your trailer late that afternoon, to the moment I left the next morning.” Your voice dropped lower. “I remember every detail of that night.” Eddie swallowed hard but remained quiet.
“I remember how you treated me with such care and tenderness. How you made a point of looking at me, as if you needed to be sure I was really there with you.” You clasped your hands together.
“I remember the moment you entered me and how different it was from that other time, slow and intense. It felt like we were going to merge into a single body, and it seemed so perfect at that moment.” You paused, taking a deep breath.
“It felt like something had changed between us. As if, for a few hours, that agreement no longer existed, nor the lie we told ourselves about this just being a way to forget.” Your voice trembled.
"It seemed like the two of us were becoming one. “We would be wholly each other’s half, sharing the same soul." You looked away.
“And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.” Eddie finally moved. His fingers tightened around his knee, and he breathed slowly, as if those words had struck a part of him that remained vulnerable.
“Because in that moment, I realized I wasn’t trying to forget you anymore.” You looked back at him. “I was falling in love.”
“And after that day, things started getting more serious.” You lowered your eyes to your hands, rubbing your fingers together.
“I know there was never really a conversation about what we were. We just knew we wanted each other, no matter what. And maybe it was precisely that lack of a conversation that kept our feelings for each other from being clear.”
You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to go on.
“Yes, actions spoke louder than words when we were together.” Your gaze met his again, heavy with regret. “But it was the *lack* of them that made me believe what we had wasn't as serious as we made it seem.” Eddie remained quiet, simply watching you.
“And then all that stuff with Tammy happened, and I...” Your voice began to falter, and you had to wipe away tears before continuing. “I knew you were innocent. I was certain it was a lie.” You pressed your lips together, ashamed.
“And yet, I took her side. I chose not to trust you, just as I chose to humiliate you in front of the whole school to save my own skin.” The silence that followed felt incredibly heavy.
“Would it help if I said I never felt angry at you at any point?” You probably made a funny face, because Eddie raised an eyebrow.
“I know, I know...” He raised a hand, as if asking you to wait. “When it happened, it hurt. I won’t lie.” He let out a slow breath and looked at the ground before meeting your gaze again.
“But then I thought about it, and to be honest...” A small smile appeared on his face. “I could never feel anything negative toward you.” You smiled weakly through your tears.
“And the baby...” Your voice trailed off for a moment. You looked away. “I don’t want to talk about that, Eddie.” He nodded immediately, without pressing the issue. You took a deep breath, but the tears kept falling.
“I wanted that baby. More than anything in the world.” Your voice came out broken. “And I wanted you by my side.” A sob escaped before you could hold it back.
Eddie said nothing. He simply stepped closer and wrapped you in an embrace, pulling you gently against his chest. One of his hands moved up to your hair, stroking it gently, while he made soft, soothing sounds to calm you.
He stayed like that until your breathing began to slow.
Then he sighed, seemingly satisfied that you had finally made it through that part of the conversation.
“Well...” Eddie ran a hand over his face and looked at you. “Now that we’re done airing our dirty laundry...” You let out a small laugh as you recognized the saying. “...I think it’s time we talked about one other little thing.”
His smile slowly faded. "The penance."
The two of you locked eyes, and for the first time that night, you allowed yourself to really look at him.
Eddie looked different. Not unrecognizable, but significantly different from the Eddie of years past.
The first thing you noticed were the piercings scattered across his face. A silver metal hoop featuring two spikes instead of the usual small balls at the ends adorned his septum. Jewelry in the same style, though black this time, was perfectly placed on the bridge of his nose and his left eyebrow.
You furrowed your brow slightly, taking in every detail as if trying to reconcile this new Eddie with the memory you still held of the old one.
Without realizing it, you leaned a little closer to him.
“Oh, no, angel...” He leaned back, keeping a safe distance, and flashed a mocking grin. His exposed fangs instantly caught your attention.
He raised an eyebrow. “I said I wouldn’t have to force you to do anything, and that means you’re going to have to beg if you want something from me...”
You stared at him in surprise. “But you said...” Eddie let out a low laugh, shaking his head as he crossed his arms.
“I said exactly what I said.” That mischievous smile remained plastered on his face. “So don’t go putting words in my mouth now.” You stood there open-mouthed, completely incredulous.
He reached up and caressed your chin. “I love you,I love you so much...” His fingers tightened their grip on your chin, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel it.
“But I’m going to fuck you like I don’t. I’m going to take you like a wild animal, and you’re going to beg me not to stop.” He brought your face close to his and leaned in to kiss your hair.
And whispered. “And that’s why I need you to remember this, because you’re going to feel the weight of your sins in everything I’m about to do to you.” Your breath hitched audibly, drawing a crooked smile across his face.
He rose from the bed and stood in the exact spot he’d occupied moments before. He crossed his arms, a look of amusement slowly spreading across his face.
“You could also pretend to hate me a little— just to make things more... interesting.” You scoffed, as if you couldn't believe what you were hearing.
“Oh, so that’s how you want to play it?” Eddie tilted his head, clearly amused. “Alright, then.” He uncrossed his arms and gave a small, exaggerated bow.
“I don’t even want to look at your face right now, let alone let you get close, you... psycho lunatic.” You leaned into the role of the victim, turning your face away and making a point of looking offended. Eddie fell silent for a few seconds.
He licked his lips like a predator that had just secured its prey, his sharp white canines gleaming dangerously in the bedroom light. Oh, how well you knew that hungry look…
“Don’t worry, I’ll take you from behind then; that way you don’t have to see my face, but you’ll feel my cock.” Your eyes widened and you choked on your own saliva, choosing to stay quiet as you watched him.
He looked down at himself, still wearing the black cape. “Look at this… You want to see what’s underneath?” He pinched the fabric of the cape between two fingers and gestured with his head.
You nodded, still unable to recover from his words but unwilling to miss the chance to see him naked again. God, you sound like an old woman who’s forgotten what a cock looks like.
“I just want to let you know I made a few changes to your favorite little toy, so don’t be startled, sweetheart.” He brought his hands to the cape’s velcro fastening at the base of his neck and undid it; the sound echoed through the room, sending a shiver down your spine in anticipation.
He slid the cape off his body and tossed it to the floor, revealing a torso clad in a black, sleeveless turtleneck that stretched tight — as if about to burst — over his broad, muscular chest, along with tattooed, powerful arms. You didn't know whether to widen your eyes or frown at the emotions washing over you; you searched your memory but couldn't recall him being quite so… robust and succulent.
You shook your head to clear the thoughts away as you saw him raise a single index finger.
“Huh?” Your eyes kept wandering over his body.
“I said I’m taking off the shirt before you analyze me; I want you to see the full project.” He repeated the words as he pulled off the garment, exposing his equally tattooed torso. “That’s better.” He walked closer to the bed so you could see him more clearly.
You swallowed hard at the sight of that delicious man standing before you. His body seemed hand-carved by the gods of lust; broad shoulders tapered down to strong arms, defined by firm, smooth muscle beneath pale skin.
His chest was broad and full, and his abdomen was sculpted with deep yet perfectly smooth lines, like precise markings in bread dough. With every breath, the muscles of his torso shifted beneath his tattoos, creating the illusion that the designs were breathing and alive right along with him.
You looked more closely and realized you had missed the tattoo on his face. Black markings rose up both sides of his neck toward his jawline, like twisted branches or flames whipped by the wind. They started out thick near the collarbone and branched out into increasingly fine points near his face, as if something were growing beneath the skin.
On his chest, a black symbol bloomed like a distorted sun, ringed by thorns that seemed to shift as he breathed. Shadows from the tattoo spread across his torso and trailed downward like charred roots, tracing the contours of his body in dense, twisted patterns until they vanished beneath his clothes.
His left shoulder and arm were spanned by the body of a gigantic centipede. Its dark, segmented back ran the length of his arm, coiling around his bicep and forearm, while dozens of spindly legs splayed across his skin like black threads clinging to him.
His other arm was almost entirely covered in solid black ink, wrapping around the limb like a second skin. Patches of bare skin showed through only in irregular gaps — like cracks of light cutting across a dark, liquid surface.
He turned around. “This one’s my favorite. It was the first one I got after I left Hawkins.”
Across his back, a long-horned creature kept watch from the top of his spine, perched atop a mass of distorted shapes like a silent king upon his realm. Faces and bodies mingled beneath it, merging into unrecognizable shadows until they seemed part of a single creature.
Eddie stood motionless for a few seconds before turning back to face you.
“That horned guy on the throne, sitting on that pile of bodies...” He pointed to the tattoo itself with a small, dark smile. “That’s me.” Then, he tilted his head. “And those things...” His eyes met yours. “You could say they’re your friends.”
He spoke as if explaining something obvious, as if there were nothing strange about turning years of resentment into permanent ink on one’s own skin.
Still in the same spot on the bed, you knelt and tentatively reached out a hand to touch his abdomen.
“No.” You looked up at him from your position, hand slightly outstretched, then slowly lowered it. “Good little slut.” Your pupils dilated at the praise.
He smiled as he watched your dazed expression. “You have to earn the right to touch me, and right now, you’re a long way from earning that.”
He walked to a corner of the room and picked up a large duffel bag that seemed heavy with whatever was inside. “I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do to you first,” he turned and walked back toward the bed, “and you’re going to listen quietly, understand?” He lazily pointed his index finger at you, waiting for your answer.
You nodded. Your brain registered the pain only seconds after your face had been snapped to the side by the precise, solid slap he’d delivered to your cheek.
“Did you understand what I said?” he repeated, his hand still raised and his gaze serious. His pupils were so dilated, his eyes as black as carnal sin.
You slowly turned your face toward him. “Yes, I understand, Eddie.”
“No,” he interrupted. “Master.”
“Yes, I understand, Master.” He caressed the spot where he’d slapped you, as a reward.
He rummaged through the bag and pulled out an object that looked like several leather straps joined together like a harness. “Microfiber leather restraints, or a straitjacket harness,” he said, as if reading your mind.
“It’s basically a long synthetic leather strap I’ll use to bind your wrists, arms, and neck,” he said, turning the sex toy over in his hands to display it as he explained. “This long leather strap will firmly restrict your movement, keeping your hands bound to your neck and your arms crossed behind your back, leaving your beautiful breasts fully exposed to me.” You stared at the strange, unfamiliar object in his hands as his words poured through your body like hot lava, heating everything in their path.
He placed the object on the bed beside where you were still kneeling and turned to grab another. It was a large, thick black leather belt connected by a silver chain to two smaller, thinner leather bands lower down; these, in turn, were connected by a longer chain to two other leather bands lined with soft, fuzzy fabric.
“This is a harness set,” he pointed to the large belt at the top — the waist strap — and continued, “and obviously, it goes around your waist. These two bands are thigh cuffs, and the ones below them are ankle cuffs.”
He tossed the harness set onto the bed next to the object he had mentioned earlier. “I’m going to chain your ankles to the backs of your thighs, exposing your beautiful pussy so I can eat the fuck out of you.” Your wide eyes didn’t leave him for a single second. “Do we understand each other?”
You were about to nod when you remembered his command. “Yes, Master.” Your eyes closed at the caress of his hand on your face.
“That’s it, such a good little fucktoy for me, huh?” He traced his thumb over your parted lips, teasing you, then slid it into your hot, wet mouth. “Why don’t you undress for me, pretty?” He withdrew his finger from your mouth and let his arm drop to his side, stepping back to sit beside you on the bed.
You were slow to react to his words, but within seconds you were standing right in front of where he sat — shirtless and deliciously bare-chested, legs spread wide — having already slipped off your sneakers and socks, your fingertips grazing the hem of your T-shirt as you held his gaze.
The t-shirt slowly rode up as you removed it, revealing the bare skin of your torso while Eddie stared at you, his eyes focused like lasers. The material of your simple cotton bra became visible, and you could hear him breathe a sigh of relief.
He remained silent, simply watching you undress as if that in itself was foreplay for him. His eyes never left your body, and you swear you could feel them like burning coals slowly sliding across your skin, burning it with intensity.
You reached for the zipper of your pants with your white knuckles as you lowered it inch by inch, the sound of the metal teeth separating echoing like thunder in the silence of the room, and removed the garment. You looked at him, contemplating whether you should remove your panties as well, and received only a raised eyebrow and a glance directed at your underwear.
You reached for the waistband of the garment, making a move to remove it, and he interrupted you.
“Slowly.” He ordered, bringing one of the hands that supported him on the bed to his lips and running his fingers over his own lips in an attempt at self-control.
You obeyed and slowly pulled your panties down your legs under his oppressive gaze. The fabric separated from your center, taking with it a transparent thread of your arousal that broke and clung to the inside of your thigh as it finally fell to the floor at your feet. Stepping out of the ruined underwear on the floor, you waited, anxious and with your heart pounding, for his next command.
Eddie remained seated on the bed, his brown eyes almost black with lust and sin as they languidly slid over your naked body, possessively appreciating and analyzing it. He knew your body like a map, as he had said earlier, and he wanted to make sure he navigated your curves the same way he did in that old room in that trailer in the city's suburbs.
"Look at you," he rasped, leaning forward just enough to let his voice carry to where you stood. "Come here, crawl to me and show me exactly how much you want to be ruined." You swallowed hard, hesitating, but did as he commanded.
You knelt, feeling the rough, icy texture of the floor against your skin, and crawled toward the bed, making sure to sway your hips as you advanced, your eyes never leaving his. Upon reaching him, you rested your chin on the mattress, looking up with an expression that mixed pleading and an intense hunger for whatever he had to offer — his body, his soul, or nothing at all if that were the case — you would gladly accept it all and thank him at his feet.
A faithful woman worshipping her merciful God, surrendered body, soul, and sin.
"You’re gonna be a good little toy for me?" he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of your lower lip. "You better be, or I might just decide to leave you shivering on this floor while I touch myself over and over in front of you." You shivered even more at his words, and your eyes fluttered for just a second before opening wide again.
He reached for the side of the bed where he had tossed the leather accessories he had shown you earlier and ordered you to lean forward, pressing your chest against the edge of the mattress.
The sound of thick leather sliding through his hands was enough to quicken your pulse with anticipation for what was to come. He pulled your arms back, crossing them behind you at navel level in a precise, painfully tight hold.
Black leather straps wrapped around your torso and shoulders, pinning your arms in a fixed, crossed embrace against your own back. As the buckles were tightened, your chest heaved against the bed; his hand slid between your shoulder blades, slowly rising to grip the back of your neck and pull you upright.
The constriction thrust your breasts forward, leaving you completely exposed and defenseless — a sculpture of submission bound in black leather, your only movement the frantic rise and fall of your chest. And he loved seeing you like that.
Then, crouching behind you, he bound your ankles together and tightened a strap around your upper thighs, forcing your legs into a narrow "V" shape; he connected the cuffs with a silver chain, locking you into a kneeling position. The leather was cool, pressing against your skin firmly enough to remind you who held the key to your freedom — both literally and figuratively.
You let out a startled shriek as you were suddenly lifted off the floor and tossed onto the bed like a sack of potatoes; the softness of the sheets against your skin was a welcome contrast after kneeling on the rough floor.
Lying on your back, you gazed up at him as he stood over you. The position made it impossible to move your hands or arms even within the restraints and arched your back, making your breasts even more prominent. Your legs were spread wide and tethered to the leather cuffs around your thighs by a thick metal chain that wouldn't budge, no matter how hard you tried to escape.
Eddie stood at the foot of the bed, gazing at you with a wicked grin and a hungry look in his eyes. "I’d forgotten how beautiful it is to see you like this." His eyes roamed over your naked body with a suffocating intensity.
"Naked and restrained?" you asked, your tone almost playful, coaxing a half-smile from him.
He shook his head, that lopsided smile still playing on his lips. "No, being *mine*." His mouth parted slightly, and you locked eyes in an ardent stare, neither of you willing to look away.
He slowly lowered himself, bracing his hands on the mattress and leaning in until he was face-to-face with your exposed pussy. "You're shaking, love. Are you that desperate for my touch?" You scoffed and rolled your eyes, making no effort to hide the tremors and shivers racing across your skin as his breath hit the very spot you wanted it most.
“It’s nothing; I’m just starting to get cold because of your lack of initiative. That’s all.” You knew exactly which buttons to push to turn him into a beastly sex machine.
But he just stared up at you from between your legs and gave a crooked smile, your teasing becoming nothing more than background noise to him.
He shifted his gaze to the center of your thighs and lowered himself further, his lips grazing your pussy so gently, torturing you and drawing out the moment.
Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, he slid his tongue out and licked excruciatingly slowly from your entrance up to your clitoris, making you gasp at the sensation of that hot, wet muscle gliding with such precision.
And there was something that looked like metal... something more than just a tongue.
You lifted your head as high as your position allowed and found him already watching you with a smile, as if he’d been waiting for your reaction and knew exactly why. “I think I forgot to mention,” he said, biting his lower lip to accentuate his sharp fangs and grinning even wider. “I gave your favorite seat an upgrade.” He opened his mouth and extended his tongue; your breath hitched audibly at the sight.
What used to be a single pink muscle was now two. Two separate muscles, adorned with rounded, silver metal barbells.
Eddie flexed the muscles with extreme dexterity and skill. “Don’t worry, my love, you’ll get used to it in time.” And with that, he dove into your pussy without hesitation.
His tongue traced a path from your entrance back to your clit, but this time he didn't stop; he continued to caress that bundle of nerves with the two muscles of his tongue, alternating between stiff, flicking movements and wrapping it in a sinful, wet embrace between them as he slowly moved his head up and down.
“O-oh fuck—” You strained against the restraints binding your arms, overwhelmed by the pleasure blooming in your core and surging through your veins like an aphrodisiac; your eyes rolled back beneath your lids under the relentless movements of his demonic tongue, and the only sound echoing through the old, decrepit room was the rhythmic, wet slapping of Eddie’s twin tongues against your sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Look at you," Eddie murmured, his voice a low, vibrating growl against your thighs. He paused for a fraction of a second, just long enough to let the tension build, before flicking those silver barbells against your most sensitive spot with surgical precision just to watch you squirm. "Absolutely drenched for me. You're practically begging for it, aren't you?"
You tried to answer, but the sound that escaped your throat was a sharp, broken moan. He wasted no time and slid his tongue back with a wet, heavy click, focusing all his attention on your wet center. He used his thumbs to spread your lips even further, exposing your cunt before covering it again with the infernal heat of his mouth. He sucked your clitoris deeply while the two muscles of his tongue teased the sensitive tip with a precision bordering on cruelty.
You arched your back, your breasts tense, as you let out a muffled moan. "No... I'm not!" Even now you refused to break the act, he would have to try much harder if he wanted to hear you beg.
"You love this, don't you?" he rasped provocatively, his voice heavy with lust and amusement, which only fueled your desperation. "Bein' my little toy... Bound and helpless while I wait to see if you deserve to come or if I'll just keep teasing until I break you."
He didn't give you a second to answer and plunged both tongues deep inside you, the silver piercings creating an electrifying friction, scraping against the inner walls in a way that made your toes clench. He began to move his head from side to side as he reveled in the sounds of your loss of control.
You no longer had control over your own breathing, only erratic gasps escaping you as he pushed you to the limit.
He stepped back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes filled with the shadow of a predatory hunger that would only be satiated when he drank every last drop you had to offer — and brought his two middle fingers to his mouth while holding your gaze. Your breath hitched as you watched him coat his knuckles with saliva, his twin tongues curling and sliding along their length.
He removed his fingers from his mouth with a pop and grinned wickedly as if he knew exactly what his performance had caused you. Mixed feelings coursed through you as you looked at his smiling face and the dimples in his cheeks contrasting with the hungry look in his eyes.
He wasn't a wolf in sheep's clothing, for this wolf didn't even try to hide his essence and bestiality; he displayed it proudly.
"You thought that was it?" he murmured after you let out a confused sound, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that sent a fresh shiver down your spine. "You're far too greedy to be finished already," he whispered, his gaze dropping to your swollen center. "And I'm not nearly done breaking you."
He shifted position, sliding two fingers deep inside you with a sudden, vigorous thrust that made you let out a loud moan. He wasn't slow; he moved intensely, his knuckles brushing against your entrance as he thrust his fingers in and out with a demanding, vigorous rhythm. You struggled to maintain your composure, clenching your teeth as you tried to resist the wave of pleasure.
"Fuck, you're squeezing me already, gonna make this little cunt come so hard for me." He didn't wait for an answer. He dove back in, his dual tongues working in a frantic, overlapping rhythm that blurred the line between flesh and metal; he wasn't just licking, it was like he was trying to devour you whole.
He used the silver barbells to create a friction that felt like lightning striking your clit over and over. "Look at you," he sneered, his voice muffled against your soaking skin, "absolutely drenched. You're practically begging for it, you needy little slut."
You let out a stifled moan, your hips arching instinctively against the handcuffs behind your back. "Shut up and just..." You tried to retort, but the words died in a guttural moan when he suddenly shifted his movements.
As his tongues continued to swirl and flick with maddening precision, he began moving his fingers with brutal, rhythmic intensity, curling them upward to stimulate your G-spot, while his two tongues drove your clitoris into a frenzy of overstimulation.
"You like being opened up like this, don't you?" he whispered, glancing up at you with a cruel, knowing glint in his eyes.
He gathered your wetness on the thumb of the hand not buried deep inside you and, with a sudden, decisive motion, pressed his thumb firmly against your asscheeks and pushed it deep into your tight hole.
The dual sensation — the fullness in your belly and the invasive pressure in your ass sent a shockwave of pleasure down your spine. You cried out, your head thrown back against the mattress and your body trembling violently as he penetrated you with his fingers in a relentless, punishing rhythm; his thumb massaged your ass slowly, gradually stretching you open while his tongue drove you into a state of total delirium.
The world around you narrowed; everything was wet, chaotic, and loud. Eddie’s breath was hot against your thighs, and his voice was a constant, obscene stream of commands and insults that only served to stoke your fire.
"That's it, take it all. Take every last bit." As he felt your muscles begin to contract with the first spasms of climax, he increased the pressure: his thumb pushed deeper into your ass, while his fingers curled forcefully inside your pussy.
You dissolved into a violent orgasm that made your toes curl and sent waves rushing through your entire body; the walls of your canal gripped his fingers in a rhythmic, desperate embrace as he drank in every drop of your ecstasy.
While you were still gasping and your muscles twitched with residual spasms, he withdrew his fingers only to replace them with the wet, voracious assault of his dual tongues. He licked and sucked, the muscles of his tongue creating a suction that seemed intent on tearing your very soul out through your clitoris.
He was relentless, noisily feasting on your fluids and leaving his face smeared with the evidence of your ecstasy. "Look at this mess," he chuckled softly, his voice husky, deep, and sensual. "You're dripping all over my face, you pathetic, soaking wet little thing. Is that all you've got, or are you just getting started?"
You tried to glare at him, your breathing still ragged and uneven. "You are... a total son of a bitch," you managed to stammer, even though your hips were already betraying you, tilting upward to invite him back.
He loved that challenge; it only made him more aggressive. He responded by thrusting three fingers back inside you with a violent, wet motion, while simultaneously pressing his thumb hard against your tight ass again. The duality of that invasion and the intrusive pressure on your ass made you scream with pleasure into the mattress.
He began moving his fingers with brutal, rhythmic speed, his thumb massaging your inner walls while his twin tongues returned to your clit, vibrating and swirling with a mechanical precision that drove you back to the brink of a second, even more violent orgasm.
"Tell me how much you like this," he commanded, his voice dropping to a predatory whisper. "Tell me how much you like being used like a toy."
"I hate you... oh God, fuck, don't stop!" you moaned, your body arching so hard that the leather restraints creaked under the strain.
He reveled in the sound of your desperation, in the way your voice faltered under the weight of the pleasure he was giving you. He withdrew his fingers with a wet, sucking pop that echoed through the room, only to plunge them back in immediately; his split tongue created a frenzied, swirling vortex against your clitoris.
The silver piercings acted like precision instruments, vibrating against nerve endings with a mechanical efficiency that made your vision blur.
"You're so fucking loud," he said dismissively, his voice muffled against your intense wetness. "Do you like it when I treat you like a piece of meat? When I just devour you until there's nothing left?" He punctuated the question by driving his three fingers even deeper inside you, stretching your walls to their absolute limit, while his thumb impaled the tight, puckered ring of your ass and shoved inward with an even more brutal, decisive motion.
You shattered again, a violent, sobbing release that made your internal muscles desperately clench around his hand, your body convulsing in total, pathetic surrender.
For a few minutes, the only sounds were the soft, steady breathing of a man who knew exactly how much power he held, and the weary, satisfied sighs of his prey still bound in leather.
You lay arched, exposed, and trembling, your arms pinned behind your back in a way that made every breath a conscious effort, especially after two orgasms that had nearly made you black out.
Eddie didn't move for a long moment; he simply watched the way your skin reacted to the heavy air of the room with dark, predatory eyes and then, with a sudden, disconcerting shift in energy, the "beast" vanished.
"If you keep fighting the leather, you're just going to end up with friction burns," Eddie murmured, his voice a deep, vibrating hum that seemed to settle right in the pit of your stomach.
He stepped closer, his expression softening into something alarmingly sweet, and began to undo the restraints with a gentleness that seemed entirely suspicious. One by one, the leather straps clicked open; the heavy cuffs slid off the mattress, producing a series of loud, metallic thuds that echoed through the silent room.
"There," he whispered, sliding your arms forward and kissing the skin chafed by the friction and the coarse material. "It's all good right now."
"You were such a good girl, staying so still for me," Eddie murmured, his voice a husky, velvety tone that contrasted sharply with the brutal grip he’d held on you just moments before.
The sweetness was a mask, a calculated calm that made the sudden shift in his energy feel like a physical blow; Eddie’s tenderness was a cruel trap, a brief interlude before the curtain fell on your dignity.
Without a word, he grabbed your shoulder, hauling you off the bed with firm, relentless pressure and forcing you down. The movement was fluid and sure; before you could even register the sensation of your feet touching the carpet, you were guided from the bed to the rough concrete floor until you were on your knees trembling and exposed.
Your knees hit the ground with a dull thud, leaving you kneeling at his feet, looking up and blinking in a daze.
Eddie stepped back just enough to undress, his movements methodical. He kicked his black combat boots into a corner and slid his black jeans down, leaving him in nothing but tight black boxers that barely contained the robust bulk of his body.
"Did you really think I’d let you leave, you needy little thing?" he taunted, the sweetness from moments ago replaced by a tone that was both sensual and sharp.
He stood there in tight black underwear that seemed to beg for mercy; the fabric was stretched to its absolute limit by his sheer size. Even through the cloth, the outline was monstrous — thick, pulsing, and demanding.
He gripped the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair to force your face forward as he removed the last piece of clothing standing between you and paradise. The sight of him was overwhelming: a massive, heavy member, pulsing and veiny.
The swollen, weeping red head looked painful in its hardness; a vein, more prominent than the rest, ran along the underside of his cock, and your mouth watered at the mere thought of tracing it with your tongue.
But the size wasn't the surprise — he had warned you he’d made changes to your "favorite toy" — yet you hadn't expected *that*. As you drew closer, you gasped, your eyes widening at the glint of silver.
Small, polished barbell piercings caught the light — one in the frenulum and another at the base of the shaft — like cold stars against his pale skin. But as you leaned in, your gaze drifted to the underside of the shaft, where a line of elegant, flowing script was tattooed in deep black ink: Sindarin.
Your eyes widened, and you looked up at him, a silent question in your gaze. Eddie let out a low, smug chuckle, the sound vibrating in his chest.
"Do you know what's written here?" he murmured, his hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back.
"Is it... my name?" you whispered uncertainly, glancing again at the lettering on his magnificent member.
"Surprised, my love? I’m marked by you," he whispered, his voice velvety and sensual. He didn't let you dwell too long on the surprise of the ink.
He slowly pushed your head down, forcing you to accommodate his thickness, then thrust forward, driving the thick head of his cock deep into your throat with sudden, brutal force.
You gagged instantly and your eyes watered, but he didn't relent; when you instinctively tried to pull back from the deep intrusion, he clamped his hand over your nose, cutting off your air and forcing you to fight for every breath while your throat was already filled by the massive length of him.
Panic was immediate and sharp, your muffled protests vibrating against his cock, but Eddie just let out a low laugh that reverberated deep within you. He watched your eyes widen and your lashes flutter in a frantic search for air, then pushed your head down again, forcing you to take him in as you struggled to breathe.
"Take it all," he murmured, his tone arrogant and cruel as he watched you struggle; a wicked, satisfied smile played on his lips as he observed your fluttering eyes, the muffled sounds of protest only fueling his arrogance. "Choke on it for me. Let me feel your desperation to serve this cock again."
He didn't just want you to take him; he wanted you to succumb to his overwhelming size. As he pinched your nose, the world narrowed down to the rhythmic, brutal motion of that thick shaft pounding against the back of your throat.
As your mouth slid along its length, the silver piercing on his frenulum grazed your soft tongue in a cold, metallic contrast to the searing heat of his skin. He was immense, a weight filling your mouth to the point of stretching it; as he thrust deeper, he deliberately struck the back of your throat.
You let out a muffled, desperate sound, your hands clawing uselessly at his thighs, but he only chuckled low in his chest, the vibration coursing through your entire body.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice heavy with cruel affection. "Fighting for air while my cock fills every inch of your mouth. You’re such a pathetic, insatiable little thing, aren't you?"
He felt your gag reflex, the involuntary spasm of your throat muscles reacting to his colossal size and leaned closer, his voice like a ribbon of dark velvet against your ear. "That's right, sweetheart. Take every inch. I want you to feel exactly how big I am."
Finally, he pulled you back, releasing your nose with a sharp snap of his fingers. You gasped, air rushing back into your lungs in a violent surge, but before you could even recover, he gripped your chin and forced you to look at the monstrosity he was wielding.
The silver jewelry gleamed in the dim light, and as he shifted the angle, the Sindarin inscriptions along the underside — your name, elegantly etched into his flesh, seemed to pulse with the blood coursing through it.
You stared, momentarily stunned by that display of possessiveness. "What... why are you..."
"Don't think," he snapped, his voice dropping an octave. "Just serve." He didn't let you finish the thought and began sliding his cock along your cheek.
The silver piercing grazed your skin, vibrating with an arrogant, smug energy. He treated your face like a canvas, painting it with the slickness of his own arousal; intentionally humiliating you with slow, sweeping movements, he wanted you to feel his weight, the imposing thickness that made your mouth seem small.
"Look at it," he commanded, his voice a low, rough growl. "Look at how much of me there is for you to take. Think you’ve had enough? We haven't even started."
He ordered you to watch him, to gaze at the way he pulsed thick and demanding as he pushed himself to the edge. He wanted you to see the exact moment he lost control, the exact moment he claimed you completely.
The silence of the room was punctuated by the wet, sliding sound of his skin brushing against your cheek, a slow friction that felt like a branding iron. Eddie didn't want your pleasure; but to mark you in the dirtiest, most humiliating way possible. Your punishment for your sins.
"You look so pathetic down there," he said with disdain, though his eyes held a purely predatory look.
He shifted his weight, his thigh muscles bunching as he pressed the head of his cock against your lips, forcing you to feel the pulsing heat and the hard, metallic edge of the piercing. He didn't wait for you to open your mouth; he simply gripped the back of your neck again, fingers tangling in your hair to guide you forward, and thrust into your mouth, the imposing thickness of his member stretching your lips to their absolute limit.
The silver piercing in his frenulum clacked against your teeth, a reminder of the jewelry he wore for your pleasure and his own vanity. He watched your eyes widen, your pupils dilating until they were almost entirely black, and felt your throat tighten around him.
He leaned over you, his chest heaving, his voice dropping to a guttural, obscene whisper. "You like feeling that thickness in your throat, don't you? Feeling just how much of me there is to make you gag?"
As you tried to wrap your lips around him to find a rhythm, Eddie shifted his hand and spoke only soft words, his tone heavy with an arrogant, cruel affection. "Shh, just take it. Don't fight it, just swallow," he murmured, thrusting deeper and deliberately hitting the back of your throat, making you gag.
He savored the involuntary spasm of your muscles and the way you clung to his thighs for support as you struggled to breathe.
He began to move at a slow, torturous pace, sliding his length out of your mouth with a wet, slick sound that echoed through the quiet room. He was in no rush; he wanted you to feel every ridge, every pulse of the intense heat radiating from him.
He spoke, intoxicated by pleasure, his words becoming more explicit as he described the exact sensation of your tongue swirling around the silver piercing, how your mouth felt — tight, wet, and completely dominated — and how he loved watching your eyes roll back every time he forced you to accommodate his size.
He was a predator in that room, toying with your senses, pushing you to the brink of desperation before pulling back just enough to keep you anchored to the moment.
Eddie’s breath hitched, a ragged sound and he lowered his hand, his fingers tangling in your hair with a grip that wasn't a caress, a way to hold you tight, tilting your head back at a sharp angle.
"Open wide for me, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low, husky vibration.
He was an immense presence in your mouth, a thick, pulsing weight moving with speed and depth; every thrust was a calculated invasion of your space. His thickness forced your jaw to its absolute limit, stretching the skin of your cheeks as he thrust deeper, intentionally seeking out the soft tissue at the back of your throat.
Upon reaching that point, he didn't pull back; instead, he pressed harder, driving himself forward until you gagged, your body instinctively trying to reject that massive bulk.
"You're fighting so hard," he whispered, his voice a dark, velvety tone. "But we both know you love being completely dominated by me."
Eddie wouldn't let you look away from the mess he was making of you; he shifted his stance, his thigh muscles bunching as he braced himself. He pulled the heavy, throbbing head of his cock out from between your lips, yet he didn't let you recover, slapping the shaft against your cheek and dragging the heavy head adorned with a silver stud across your skin with deliberate, humiliating slowness.
"Use your hands, since you're too busy gasping like a fish to actually suck me off." You obeyed immediately; your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, stroking him frantically to win back his favor.
You looked up at him, your expression a mix of desperation and defiance. "You're a total asshole," you managed to say, a defiant half-smile playing on your lips. Eddie let out a dark, guttural laugh, tightening his grip on your hair. "And you love every second of it."
"Keep moving your hands," he ordered, his voice rough and hoarse. "Don't even think about slowing down."
You obeyed; your fingers slid over the hot, heavy skin of his member, and your palm grazed the silver barbell piercing at the base, all while you maintained a frantic, steady rhythm.
His hips began to jerk sharply forward, and his breathing grew heavy and ragged. With a sudden, sharp intake of breath, Eddie pulled back just enough but didn't let go of you.
He held your hair firmly, tilting your face up to receive the pulsing heat of his cum. He didn't hold back and came with a fierce, trembling intensity, thick, hot jets of his climax striking your cheeks and chin in heavy, rhythmic pulses and he watched the warm, whitish fluid coat your skin as he emptied himself over your face, marking you with the proof of his dominance.
He didn't pull away immediately; he remained there, panting, his chest heaving, as he gazed at the glistening, surrendered mess he had turned you into. The arrogance in his eyes hadn't faded; in fact, victory had made him even more smug.
With a slow, deliberate movement, he began to drag the length of his cock across your face once more. He used no cloth or towel; he used you, sliding the head of his member through the slickness of his own cooling semen, smearing it across your forehead and the bridge of your nose.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice slipping back into that sensual, cruel tone. "Covered in me. Completely messy."
He moved with agonizing slowness; the silver stud in his frenulum caught on the curve of your lip, dragging the cream of his release toward the corner of your mouth. He treated your face like a canvas for his own satisfaction, sliding the thick length of his cock back and forth across your cheeks, ensuring every inch of your skin was coated in his heat and salt.
Finally, he stepped back and grinned wickedly, watching you kneel there, covered in him.
As you wiped the hot, thick cream from your face with the back of your hand, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around your throat to tilt your face up so he could look into your glazed, dilated eyes. "Do you think it's over?" he murmured, his voice like velvet, the cruelty in his tone now tinged with a vibrant, hungry heat. "We’ve barely started the real punishment."
He didn't wait for an answer; with a sudden, fluid motion, he tossed you onto the bed. The mattress groaned under the impact, and the sudden loss of balance left you breathless, your hair fanning out across the pillows like a dark halo.
Before you could even think of escaping, he was over you; his weight pinned your thighs and hips against the fabric.
"Your punishment has only just begun," he murmured, his face inches from yours. He began to taunt you, his voice a low, mocking drawl.
He let out a soft, dangerous laugh as he watched your bare chest rise and fall. Shifting his weight into a dominant missionary position, he leaned down to press his lips against the sensitive curve where your neck met your shoulder. The contact was electric; he moved with a slow, deliberate intensity, creating a constellation of marks that would serve as a visible reminder of whom you belonged to.
Then came the bite. Not the clumsy nip of a lover, but something more primal and precise; he sank his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder, and you felt the distinct, sharp pressure of his twin fangs, four points of contact that latched onto your skin with terrifying efficiency.
He didn't pull away immediately; he remained there, his breath hot and ragged against your collarbone, savoring the short, sharp gasp that escaped your lips. The sensation served as an anchor, pinning you not just to the mattress, but to the singular, overwhelming reality of belonging to him.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, a triumphant, lopsided smile playing on his lips.
"Look at you," he whispered, his voice vibrating with a kind of dark affection. "Trembling for me. Did you really think you could resist me?" He shifted his hands, spreading his fingers across your ribs to hold you steady, ensuring you felt the full weight of his body pressing you into the sheets.
He was dismantling your composure, stripping away layers of defiance until nothing remained but a raw, honest reaction to his touch.
He turned his attention to your neck, focusing on a patch of skin that remained untouched.
He took his time, slowly and deliberately tracing your jawline with his tongue before biting down again, more gently this time, marking you with a possessiveness that bordered on obsession.
"You're so quiet now," he teased, his voice a velvety murmur that felt like a physical touch. "Where did all that composure go? Where is that sharp, clever tongue, the one that knows exactly how to throw me off balance?" He looked down at you; his eyes were dark, heavy with a mix of affection and an insatiable need for possession.
"You look so desperate," he murmured in that velvety voice, his words laced with a cruel sort of affection. "It’s pathetic, really, how much you want this."
Without waiting for an answer, he positioned himself between your legs and firmly parted them. He used the head of his cock to tease your entrance, sliding just an inch or two inside before pulling back, moving with agonizing slowness.
The metal of his piercings grazed against you, a cold, metallic contrast to the searing heat of your skin. He repeated the motion over and over, a rhythmic, shallow dance that made you arch your body off the bed, your fingers clutching the sheets. "Eddie, please," you moaned, your voice thick with emotion.
He paused, a half-smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you. "Please, what? Tell me exactly what you want, you greedy girl," he commanded, his tone seductive yet demanding.
You tried to retort, a spark of defiance flashing in your eyes as you told him he was taking too long, but the moment the words left your lips, he let out a groan and gripped your hips, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh with enough intensity to leave marks, pinning you firmly against the mattress.
He shifted his weight, pressing his full mass against you, and thrust forward in a slow, deliberate, almost painful movement. The first few inches were a struggle; you felt your muscles stretch and strain as his thickness filled you to a point that seemed almost impossible.
As he drove deeper, the silver stud in his frenulum grazed your most sensitive walls, a sharp, electric sensation that made your head rock from side to side.
"God, you're still so tight," he groaned, the sound vibrating from his chest into hers.
He paused halfway, halting the movement just as the pressure was turning into intense, overwhelming pain, and held his position for a moment, letting her feel every ridge of him, the weight of his cock stretching her wide.
He leaned in, his lips grazing her ear, his voice a cruel, sensual whisper. "You're trembling around me. Is it too much? Does it feel like you're going to tear yourself apart?"
You let out a ragged gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "It's... it's too big, Eddie," you managed to say, your voice trembling.
"It hurts." Yet, even as you said it, you arched your hips upward, unconsciously begging for exactly that. You didn't want him to stop; you wanted to be completely consumed by him — in both the pain and the pleasure.
His eyes darkened at the admission. He loved the contradiction, the way you complained even while you craved him so fiercely.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" he murmured, a predatory smile playing on his lips. "Then take it." With a sudden, powerful thrust, he drove himself all the way in.
The impact was visceral, a deep, heavy jolt that stole the breath from your lungs. You let out a sharp moan and squeezed your eyes shut as he reached the limit, the base of his cock pressing firmly against you.
He held still for a moment, buried deep, letting you adjust to his overwhelming size while his own breathing came in heavy, ragged gasps. He didn't move for a long minute, simply pinning you against the mattress with the immense weight of his body; he wanted you to feel every millimeter of him, the way he filled every available inch inside you.
The silence was broken only by the sound of your heavy, synchronized breathing and the faint, wet sound of the base of his cock meeting your skin. He shifted his weight slightly, moving his hips in a slow, intense rotation that made you gasp; the piercing grazed your sensitive walls, sending electric shocks through your lower belly.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice a low, husky growl. When you opened your eyes, you found him watching you with a gaze that was almost wild, stripped of everything but raw desire.
"You're trembling. You're so small around me, aren't you?" He didn't wait for an answer; he simply pulled back, withdrawing almost completely until only the head of his cock remained buried inside. The sudden emptiness was almost as jarring as the fullness, leaving you feeling exposed and aching.
Then, with a sudden, animalistic grunt, he thrust again with a force that made the headboard slam against the wall.
The rhythm shifted from a slow, mounting intensity to a frenetic, overwhelming cadence. Eddie cast caution aside. He began to thrust hard, his movements rough and heavy, each stroke a deliberate attempt to claim every part of you.
The silver piercings became a blur of sensations, a sharp, cold spark, and then a blunt pressure pinning you deeper into the sheets. He gripped your thighs, lifting your hips to shift the angle, allowing him to penetrate even deeper.
With every full-depth thrust, you felt the heavy impact of his pelvis against yours, a wet, perverted, rhythmic percussion that drowned out the rest of the world.
"Is it too much?" he taunted with a smirk, though the cruelty in his voice was laced with desperate arousal. "Tell me it's too much." He leaned in, his sharp fangs grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder, his voice dropping to a sensual, demanding whisper. "Tell me you can't handle all of me."
"I... I can't," you gasped, your voice nothing more than a weak, broken thread of sound.
You tried to shake your head, but the force of his movement held you pinned, your head thrown back against the pillows. "It's too much, Eddie, please..." The plea turned into a high-pitched moan as he shifted the angle, thrusting upward with a savage precision that struck your deepest point.
The silver piercing on the underside of his cock snagged and slid against you, a spark of searing friction that made your toes curl and your vision blur. Eddie let out a guttural sound, his muscles rippling beneath your touch.
He gripped your hips so hard his knuckles turned white, pulling you in to meet every brutal thrust. "Lie to me," he said, his voice hoarse and heavy with exertion. "Tell me to stop while you cling to me as if your life depended on it."
He pulled back almost completely before driving in again with animalistic intensity. The impact was heavy, a raw force that sent an electric jolt straight to your core. You let out a cry, a mix of pain and overwhelming, intense pleasure as your fingers dug into the muscles of his back.
"Don't stop," you sobbed, the words tumbling out in a rush of desperation. "Don't you dare stop."
"You're so tight," he growled, his voice raspy and sensual, as if dragged over gravel. "I can feel you trying to push me out, but you just hold on tighter, don't you?" He punctuated the statement with a sudden, violent thrust, driving deep and wringing a series of pained moans from you.
You tried to speak, but your voice was gone, replaced by a series of sharp, broken moans. You could only shake your head, eyes glazed over, as his cock created a focal point of electric, searing pleasure that threatened to shatter your consciousness.
The sensation was too intense, the thick, heavy slide of his member combined with the sharp, metallic drag of the silver and you felt yourself coming undone. You arched your back, digging your heels into the mattress and trying to resist his crushing weight, but that only made him thrust even deeper.
"Say it's too much," he commanded, dropping his voice to that cruel, honeyed whisper that always made your blood boil and bubble. He leaned in, his twin fangs grazing the sensitive skin of your earlobe, his breath hot and ragged.
"Say I'm opening you up." He shifted his weight, sliding almost all the way out until only the head of his cock remained, a teasing void that left you aching and exposed for an instant before he drove back in with animalistic intensity. The force of the movement knocked the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping and wide eyed.
"Say it," he growled, his voice a deep, vibrating rumble. You felt your inner walls stretch and strain as he moved in and out of your pussy; his thickness demanded every ounce of your surrender.
"You're too big, Eddie... you're breaking me!" you sobbed, the words spilling out in a fragmented rush. He let out a guttural growl, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs to lift your hips higher, positioning you so he could plunge deeper into your hot, wet hole.
The impact was visceral, a heavy, brutal thrust that made your teeth rattle and sent a jolt of pure, intense sensation straight to your brain.
Eddie felt your inner walls contract, a series of desperate, frenetic pulses signaling the onset of your undoing.
"Look at you," he rasped, his voice thick with raw, rugged sensuality. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, a predatory smile returning to his lips despite his exhaustion.
"Completely undone. You’re shaking like a leaf, you dirty girl." He shifted his hips just a few inches, making you whimper softly as your legs began to tremble uncontrollably and an unstoppable, white-hot heat surged through your body like a hot tongue licking at your insides.
"That’s it, good girl..." he whispered, a cruel, sensual smile curling his lips as he felt the first wave of ecstasy begin to flood your body. Your inner walls tightened fiercely, trying to push his cock out, and you let out a loud, high-pitched moan as thick tears spilled from your eyes with the intensity of your climax.
He didn't give you a single moment to recover; he seized the peak of your orgasm to thrust with even greater force, his movements becoming erratic and desperate.
The roar of his release was visceral, a sound that seemed to tear through the silence lingering in the room. Eddie delivered one final, overwhelming thrust, burying himself so deeply he pinned you to the mattress under the crushing weight of his body as he coated your insides with his seed.
He remained there for a long, agonizing minute, buried to the hilt, his entire body trembling from the force of his own release. His muscles were taut, his chest heaving with ragged, damp breaths against your breasts. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of their panting, synchronized, desperate breaths.
He didn't move, simply continuing to pin you against the mattress with his weight, letting you feel the slow, rhythmic pulse of his cock as he kept you spread open and filled with his hot cum.
"On your knees," he suddenly murmured as he withdrew from you, still erect and slick with your juices, the command escaping him like a threat.
He gave you no time to process the demand before turning you over and placing you face-down on the bed; his hand gripped the back of your neck, guiding your head down, while his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back until your spine arched sharply.
The movement was rough, devoid of hesitation, anchoring you in the reality of his strength.
He positioned you with brutal efficiency, ensuring you was propped up on your hands and knees, your hips raised and vulnerable.
"Did you think we were finished?" he hissed, his voice a low, predatory vibration against your skin. "We aren't finished yet. To complete your penance, you're going to take me where you're tightest. You're going to take it all in your ass." His words triggered a fresh wave of panic and desire within you.
When he positioned himself at your entrance, the impressive thickness of his member seemed like an insurmountable obstacle. He didn't take a slow approach, nor did he bother to prepare or lubricate you — after all, it was a punishment — and he thrust forward with a decisive, overwhelming force that tore a loud, guttural scream from your throat.
The sensation was suffocating, a burning ache that stretched and seemed to tear you apart, as if splitting you in two. You sobbed with your face buried in the pillows, letting out a desperate, muffled sound. "It hurts, Eddie— please, it hurts so much!" you cried out, your body trembling from the impact.
But the pain was the catalyst. Even as you wept, your hips instinctively pressed against him, craving the very thing that felt like a violation.
Eddie laughed a dark, sensual sound devoid of any trace of mercy and reached out, wrapping his heavy bicep around your throat; he pulled your head back, constricting your airways just enough to make you gasp for air.
He held you pinned, your neck arched and vulnerable, as he began to hammer away with a relentless, animalistic rhythm, an oppressive force that stretched you beyond your limits, making every thrust feel like a permanent claim on your body.
"Cry for me," he said, his voice a deep, rough rasp echoing in your ears.
"Let me hear how much you hate this while you take every inch of me." He didn't wait for an answer; he punctuated the demand with a sharp, stinging slap to your ass, the sound cracking through the room like a gunshot.
The weight of his hand brought pleasure that outweighed the pain, transforming the agonizing, hot pressure into a wave of incandescent ecstasy that manifested as a flow of thick, clear fluid running down your legs.
You were sobbing openly now, your voice broken and trembling, yet you whispered for him not to stop as your body shook from the brutal invasion.
He shifted his position, his chest slamming against your back with a rhythmic, wet thud. With every sob, he answered with a harder thrust, a more violent slap, and a deeper penetration that blurred your vision.
"You're taking it," he growled, his voice a hoarse, predatory rasp that felt like a physical weight. "Every inch of this thick cock, and you're taking it like a good little slut." He tightened his bicep around your throat, not enough to make you pass out, but enough to leave you gasping in short, frantic breaths.
The lack of oxygen turned the pleasure into a dizzying, narcotic haze, making the pain of his size feel distant yet overwhelming. He wouldn't let you surrender just yet, though; he punctuated the moment with another hard slap to your thigh, a sharp, commanding sound.
You let out a broken, ragged sob, your forehead sinking into the mattress as your body trembled. "It's too much, Eddie, please... it hurts," you pleaded, but your hips betrayed you, arching back to pull him deeper, seeking the very friction that was making you come undone.
The contradiction between your plea and your hunger only fueled his aggression. He shifted his grip, manipulating you with a sudden, rough yank that forced your chest down and your hips up, maximizing the angle of penetration.
He began to thrust into you with animalistic intensity, his chest slamming against your back with rhythmic, overwhelming force. He whispered obscenities in your ear, describing in detail how your body was being defiled, how he was taking possession of your tightest depths, and how you belonged to him in every possible way.
You were sobbing openly now; your voice was a succession of low, desperate moans, to which he responded with deeper, more violent thrusts.
Eddie didn't pull back when the tension finally snapped into orgasm; instead, he drove even deeper, moving with frantic desperation. He gripped your hips hard enough to leave marks, pinning you against the mattress as he bottomed out.
A low, guttural growl escaped his throat. As he climaxed, he shuddered violently, remaining buried deep inside you; his body shook with spasms as he surrendered to ecstasy, pumping wave after wave of hot, thick semen into you.
He remained still for a long minute, his chest heaving against your back, letting you feel every pulse of his release filling you completely. When he finally slid out, a heavy, wet, sucking sound that left you both breathless, you collapsed face-first onto the sheets, utterly spent. He pulled back just enough to look down at you, a cruel, satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
Your body was trembling, exposed and undone, and he took a moment to admire the wreckage. Both your holes glistened, dilated and weeping his cum in slow, pearly drops that trickled down your thighs. He watched you with a mix of pride and possessiveness, as if he had just painted a masterpiece in the most visceral way possible.
Without a word, Eddie reached down and pressed two fingers firmly against your pussy, sliding them through the accumulated heat and coating his fingertips in a mixture of your arousal and the semen he had just deposited. Without hesitation, he slid those same fingers straight into your ass, moving them in circles to gather the traces of your climax. He held them there for a moment, feeling your internal muscles contract and try to close around him, before withdrawing his hand, his fingers pale and slick with fluids.
He held his damp hand out toward your face; the black designs on his fingers caught the dim light. He kept his fingers just inches from your lips, the scent of sex and musk hanging heavy between you. "Look at that," he commanded, his voice dropping back into that husky, sensual, and imperious tone. "Now, be a good girl and clean me up."
The silence following the order was thick almost suffocating, as you obeyed, your tongue darting out to lick the thick, pearlescent mixture from his fingers.
Eddie watched you with a cold, clinical fascination, his eyes narrowed. He didn't let you linger on the lingering sensation of the act; the moment you finished, he grabbed the back of your neck, yanking your head back to force you to look at him.
“You’ve served your penance,” his eyes softened, as if someone had flipped a switch that turned off that side of his personality. “Now you’re free to go, my love.” He leaned in and gently kissed your forehead, a stark contrast to the man who, just minutes ago, had buried himself in your ass and taken his fill until he was satisfied.
You wore a confused expression; the night’s events hit you like a bucket of cold water. “B-but I… They— What?” He laughed, as if your confusion and shock were amusing.
Eddie got out of bed, still naked, and walked over to the duffel bag tossed on the bedroom floor. He grabbed what looked like wet wipes, sat back down on the bed, and parted your legs.
“You’re free to go home, my love, live your life normally, and forget this night ever happened.” He stared intently into your eyes as he gently cleaned between your legs.
You knew that look, that mysterious glint in his eyes.
“And what’s the other option?” His movements stopped the moment the words left your lips. He tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips.
“Well, you come with me and let me take care of you.” He looked at you earnestly, and you furrowed your brows, waiting for him to finish.
“Is… is that it?” you asked, confused and unconvinced. “You aren’t going to ask me to join your group of serial killers? Or, I don’t know, ask me to lie to the police about what happened?” This time, *he* was the one who looked confused; his brows furrowed, and his pout seemed to double in size. You fought the urge to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him until tomorrow.
“Why would I ask that of you?” he countered, genuinely puzzled by the question. "Do you think I started all this without a concrete plan? Without alibis and the possibility of something going wrong?"
You nodded. The confusion on his face vanished, replaced by understanding; he nodded and took a deep breath.
“If you come with me, I promise you, nothing will happen to you, and you’ll always be safe.” Eddie might have been many things, but his eyes never lied, and in that moment, they were more sincere than ever.
You stared at each other for a good few minutes — you lying face-down on the bed, him sitting near your hips, both of you naked — and you realized you didn’t want to be without him anymore. He was a man capable of killing people in cold blood, yet he refused to lay a finger on you to cause pain — or rather, the kind of pain that wouldn’t be pleasurable for you.
Eddie might have been many things, but he loved you more than anything in the world, and he made sure you knew it, even after everything you’d done and after all these years.
“I want to be with you, Eddie.” The smile he gave you was enough to wipe away any lingering trace of doubt.
“Perfect. You trust me, don’t you, my love?” he asked softly, and you nodded once more. He grinned broadly.
“Great, because I need you to pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you.”
I LOVEEEEE HOUSE TOUR!!!!! that was truly a masterpiece!!! could you do something similar but it be juno and kind of the trend where whatever pose she does joe and reader have to do. but maybe make it like the night he gets cuffed so maybe they could use them?? and also obviously joe doesn't know it's a trend so he's super frazzled by the reader saying it and gets "excited" from the moment he realizes what's going to happen later. thank youuuuu 💋
"Have you ever tried this one"
⋆⭒˚.⋆ Joe Keery x reader ⋆⭒˚.⋆
english is not my language please be kind and sorry if i wrote wrong :) requests are closed!
summary: Joe gets arrested by Sabrina at her concert, you take them home and recreate the Juno pose later
warnings: Explicit sexual content, handcuffs, bondage, public arousal, smut, 18+
You and Joe had been looking forward to this night for weeks. Sabrina Carpenter’s Short n’ Sweet tour had sold out in minutes, but Joe had scored two floor tickets somehow, probably through a friend of a friend in the industry, and the second he’d shown them to you, his grin had been pure mischief.
“We’re going,” he’d said, already pulling you in by the waist. “And you’re wearing something that makes me regret every decision that keeps me from bending you over before we even leave the house.”
You’d chosen a tight black dress that stopped mid-thigh, the kind that clung to every curve and made the silver chain around your neck rest just above the soft push of your cleavage. Joe had taken one look at you in the mirror while he fixed his own dark jeans and half-unbuttoned shirt and groaned.
“Fuck, we’re going to be late.”
You weren’t late, you made it just as the lights dropped and the first notes of the opener rolled through the arena. The crowd was already screaming. You stood pressed against Joe’s side, his hand low on your back, fingers occasionally sliding under the hem of your dress just enough to brush the bare skin of your thigh. Every time he did it, heat licked up your spine.
Halfway through the set, Sabrina appeared in a glittering bodysuit, blonde hair swinging, and the energy in the room went nuclear. Joe was laughing, singing along off-key, the way he always did when he was genuinely happy. You watched him more than the stage, the way the stage lights caught the freckles across his nose, the way his throat worked when he swallowed, the easy roll of his shoulders under that open shirt.
The lights shifted into soft pink. Sabrina walked toward the edge of the stage, scanning the floor with a slow, deliberate look.
“So I’m gonna look really hard tonight and see who I see… who’s that?” she said, stopping right in front of you and Joe. Her eyes locked on him. “Oh my goodness, wait. What’s your name?”
“Joe!” he called up, already grinning.
“Joe? Hi Joe, where are you from?”
“Boston!”
“Boston? Damn it, rhymes with Austin though! It’s close enough…” She smiled, voice dropping into pure mischief. “You know Joe, it’s actually cuffing season, I don’t know if you know that, it’s like we’re getting...”
She didn’t even finish the sentence, Joe already had both arms lifted toward her, wrists out, ready.
Sabrina burst out laughing. “You seem very eager actually… this is so rare. Okay, you’re the one, we did it, Joe.”
She handed him the fuzzy pink handcuffs. Joe caught them, still smiling, cheeks flushed under the lights.
Sabrina turned back to the crowd, pointing at him one last time. “I’m gonna sing this next song, this is dedicated to Joe, everybody, it’s called Juno.”
The opening chords hit and the arena exploded.
She winked at you over his shoulder, mouthed lucky, and vaulted back onto the stage while Joe stood there looking both delighted and slightly dazed, the handcuffs still hanging from his fingers.
He turned to you, eyes bright. “Did that just happen?”
He handed you the cuffs, the metal still warm from Sabrina’s hand, and you slipped them into the small bag you carried.
“Apparently you’re a public menace.”
Joe’s hand found the small of your back again, lower this time.
“Only for you.”
The rest of the set blurred in a haze of bass and lights. You danced against him, his chest solid behind you, his mouth occasionally brushing your ear when the music dipped. Every time your ass pressed back into him you felt the thick ridge of his cock starting to thicken against the curve of your lower back. He never said anything, just breathed harder, fingers tightening on your hip.
The crowd screming the song with her, Joe sang along, still loose and happy, still not clocking what was coming. You knew the choreography. Everyone online did. When Sabrina hit the line "have you ever tried this one" she dropped into that infamous pose: knees bent, back arched hard, one hand sliding down the front of her body like she was showing exactly how she wanted to be touched, the other lifting her hair off her neck as she rolled her hips in a slow, filthy circle.
Joe went still behind you.
You turned just enough to look at him, his eyes were locked on the stage, then flicked down to you, then back. Realization hit him in real time. You watched it happen, the slight parting of his lips, the way his throat bobbed, the sudden, unmistakable press of his cock against your ass as the full meaning of the trend landed.
You leaned up, lips against the shell of his ear so only he could hear.
“Later, at home. we are doing that... with these.” You patted the bag where the cuffs sat. “Every single time she hits that line, you’re going to remember what I’m going to make you do.”
Joe’s breath left him in a rough exhale. “Jesus Christ.”
He didn’t know it was a trend, he only knew that the second those words left your mouth, his entire body locked into a state of hyper-aware, half-terrified arousal. Joe’s hand on your hip twitched.
Every time you ground back against him, he made a low sound that got lost in the music. By the final chorus he was hard enough that you could feel the full shape of him through his jeans, thick and insistent, and his free hand had slipped under the back of your dress to grip the bare cheek of your ass like he needed the anchor.
The car ride home was electric.
Joe drove with one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh, higher and higher until his fingers brushed the damp lace between your legs. You didn’t stop him. You spread a little wider and watched the muscle in his jaw jump.
“You’re already wet,” he said, voice rough. “From the concert?”
“From watching you realize what was going to happen.” You reached over and cupped him through his jeans, squeezing the hard length. “From feeling this the whole second half of the show.”
Joe swore under his breath and pressed the accelerator.
The second the apartment door shut behind you, he had you against it. Mouth open and hungry, tongue sliding against yours, one hand already shoving your dress up around your waist. The handcuffs clinked in the bag as it hit the floor.
“Clothes off,” he ordered against your mouth. “Now.”
You stripped for him slowly, deliberately, dress first, then the lace bra, then the soaked panties. Joe watched like a man starving, already working his own shirt open, jeans shoved down just enough to free his cock. It sprung heavy and flushed against his stomach, the head already shiny.
You stepped in close, took the handcuffs from the bag, and held them up between you.
“On the bed,” you said. “On your back.”
Joe’s eyes darkened. He obeyed without a word, stretching out across the sheets, arms above his head without being asked. You straddled his hips, the wet heat of your cunt hovering just above the thick shaft of his cock, and clicked one cuff around his right wrist, the other around the left, then looped the chain through the metal headboard so he was locked in place.
He tested the restraint once. The metal rattled. His cock jerked against your inner thigh.
“You’re really doing this,” he said, voice already frayed.
“I’m really doing this.” You leaned down and kissed him, slow and filthy, while you reached between your bodies and guided the head of his cock through your folds, coating him in the slick that had been building since the middle of the concert.
Joe’s hips lifted helplessly. “Fuck...yes. Okay. Whatever you want.”
You sank down onto him in one slow, continuous slide.
The stretch was immediate and perfect, thick enough that your breath caught, deep enough that you felt him in your stomach. Joe’s head tipped back against the pillow, a broken sound ripping out of him as your cunt swallowed every inch. You stayed seated fully for a long moment, rolling your hips in tiny circles so he could feel how wet you already were, how your walls fluttered around him.
Then you lifted almost all the way off and dropped back down hard.
Joe’s cuffed hands flexed. “Shit...go slow or I’m not going to last.”
You didn’t go slow.
You rode him with deliberate, nasty intent, grinding down so your clit dragged against the base of his cock on every stroke, lifting high enough that the head nearly slipped free before you slammed back onto him. The wet sound of it filled the room. Joe’s thighs tensed under you, his cock throbbing inside you every time you clenched.
“Look at me,” you ordered.
His eyes opened, glassy and dark. You reached back and braced your hands on his thighs, arched your back the exact way Sabrina had, and rolled your hips in that same slow, filthy circle while you were still full of him.
Joe’s entire body shuddered. “fuck....”
You did it again, and again.
Riding him in the exact choreography of the song, back arched, tits pushed forward, one hand sliding down your own stomach to circle your clit while the other lifted your hair off your neck the way she had. Every time you hit the deepest point you clenched hard around him and watched his face fall apart.
“You’re going to come like this,” you told him. “With me doing the pose on your cock.”
Joe’s hips snapped up to meet every downward grind. The handcuffs rattled against the headboard with every thrust. Sweat was already starting to gleam on his chest, freckles dark against flushed skin.
“I’m close,” he warned, voice wrecked. “You’re so fucking tight....god, the way you’re moving....”
You leaned forward, braced your hands on either side of his head, and fucked him harder, short, sharp rolls of your hips that kept him buried deep while your clit rubbed against him on every stroke. The orgasm hit you first, sudden and vicious, your cunt clamping down around his cock in rhythmic pulses that dragged a broken shout out of him.
Joe came a second later, hips locking, cock pulsing hard as he spilled inside you in thick, hot ropes. You kept rolling through it, milking every last spurt out of him until his thighs were shaking and the only sound left was both of you breathing hard.
You stayed seated on him while he softened slightly inside you, then carefully unlocked one cuff so you could free his wrists. The second his hands were free he sat up, wrapped both arms around you, and kissed you like he was still coming down from something seismic.
“My turn,” he said against your mouth.
He flipped you onto your back with zero warning, shoved a pillow under your hips, and spread your thighs wide. His come was already starting to leak out of you; he watched it for a second, then pushed two fingers inside and scooped some of it back up, pressing it against your clit.
“Stay just like that,” he ordered. “Legs open. I want to see everything while I do this.”
Joe knelt between your spread thighs, still half-hard, and arched his own back the exact way the choreography demanded; chest forward, hips rolling in a slow, filthy circle, one hand sliding down the front of his body to fist his cock while the other lifted through his hair. He looked at you the entire time, eyes heavy-lidded, and the second the words left his mouth they were wrecked with leftover pleasure.
You reached between your legs and rubbed your clit in time with the roll of his hips. “Again.”
He did it again and again, until his cock was fully hard once more, shiny with the mix of both of you, and he couldn’t stand not being inside you.
Joe crawled over you, lined himself up, and sank back in with one long thrust. The angle was deeper this time, the pillow under your hips letting him bottom out on every stroke. He fucked you slow at first, long, dragging pulls that made you feel every ridge, then harder, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room.
“Cuffs,” you managed between moans.
He didn’t hesitate, he grabbed them, clipped one around your right wrist, the other around your left, and pinned both hands above your head with one of his own. The metal bit into your skin just enough to sting. Joe’s other hand slid under your ass, tilting you higher so he could drive into you at the exact angle that made your vision spark.
“You’re going to come on my cock again,” he said against your throat. “And then I’m going to flip you over and fuck you from behind while you’re still cuffed.”
You came harder the second time, body locking up, cunt fluttering around him in tight waves that made him curse and bury himself to the hilt. Joe kept thrusting through it, chasing his own second orgasm, until he pulled out at the last second, stroked himself twice, and painted your stomach and the undersides of your tits with thick ropes of come.
He stayed kneeling over you for a long moment, chest heaving, then carefully unlocked the cuffs and gathered you against him.
You weren’t done.
An hour later, after water and a half-hearted attempt at cleaning up, Joe had you on your knees on the bed, wrists cuffed behind your back this time. He stood behind you, one hand in your hair, the other guiding his cock between your lips.
“Open,” he said quietly. “I want to feel that mouth while I think about you doing the pose on stage in front of thousands of people. Just for me.”
You took him deep on the first stroke, the head of his cock pressing into the back of your throat. Joe’s fingers tightened in your hair. He fucked your mouth in slow, controlled thrusts, watching the way your lips stretched around him, the way saliva started to drip down your chin. Every few strokes he pulled out completely so you could catch your breath, then pushed back in until your nose brushed the soft hair at the base of his cock.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Just like that, take it.”
When he finally pulled free, shiny and dripping, he guided you onto your stomach, still cuffed, and shoved a pillow under your hips again so your ass was tilted up. He spread you open with both hands and licked a long, filthy stripe from your clit all the way up to your hole, tongue pushing inside for a second before he replaced it with the head of his cock.
Joe sank into you from behind in one smooth thrust and immediately started fucking you the way the song demanded, hips rolling in that same circular grind, back arched, one hand sliding down his own stomach so you could feel the motion of it even if you couldn’t see. Every time he bottomed out he stayed there for a second and ground deep, the way Sabrina had rolled her hips on stage, until you were shaking and dripping around him.
“Have you ever tried this one,” he said, voice low and wrecked, and then he did it again, exactly the same motion, exactly the same filthy intention, while his cock throbbed inside you.
You came so hard your arms strained against the cuffs. Joe followed a handful of thrusts later, burying himself to the hilt and flooding you again, the excess already starting to drip down your thighs by the time he carefully unlocked your wrists and gathered you into his chest.
The rest of the night blurred into more of the same; Joe on his back again with the cuffs clipped to the headboard while you rode him through a third orgasm; you on all fours with your wrists bound while he took you slow and deep from behind, murmuring against the back of your neck every time he rolled his hips just right; both of you sticky and spent and still reaching for each other in the dark.
By the time the first light of morning started filtering through the curtains, the handcuffs were lying open on the nightstand, the sheets were ruined, and Joe’s mouth was pressed to the side of your throat, still whispering the same filthy promise every time his fingers drifted between your legs again.
“Have you ever tried this one.”
You had, multiple times. and you were already planning on trying it again the second either of you could move.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: +18 MDNI, HEAVY DARK CONTENT! Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. Smut, unprotected rough sex, oral (both receiving), unprotected rough anal sex, choking, light bondage, creampie, humiliation, Eddie is a little mean but also a simp, body modifications, so much angst.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 20K+
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: The quiet town of Hawkins, Indiana has been ravaged by unexplained and sudden murders, bringing terror and panic to the population. Five friends find themselves cornered by a mysterious and sadistic masked figure and forced to reveal their darkest secrets. In a sadistic game, the winner is not the one who comes out alive.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: so... hihi, are we ready for this? TAGLIST IS OPEN!!!
"There, darling, now we can have a little chat…" His words slithered out like a snake with bared fangs, dripping a disturbing allure like corrosive venom. "All your friends have confessed, but I saved the most special one for last."
You met the silent gazes of your friends — Carol, Tammy, Jason — each bearing the weight of their own torment and the anticipation of what was to come.
— You never really thought that you’d start hooking up and have a secret relationship. Especially with Gator Tillman - your brother’s best friend, the boy you’ve had a crush on ever since you were thirteen. —
cw: eventual smut; language;
Chapter 1 -
Chapter 2 -
Chapter 3 -
Chapter 4 -
Chapter 5 -
More coming soon….
Taglist: @yailology @oohlillie @djoaholic @keerygirlie98 (comment if u want to be added)
Note: So, this is the love child of me and @flashmountainn the little devil on my shoulder who slid into my inbox with a suggestion that had be instantly locked in. And because we all know Teacake is a MUNCH, it had to be done. Happy hump day bitches, Mimi <3
It’s Friday; regular mandated girl’s night. You’re all sprawled across the sectional, legs tangled, empty wine glasses dotted across the coffee table, the air filled with gossip and laughter.
“He was just so bad at it… imagine a cat drinking milk. Literally, no difference,” Jess groans, tipping her head back against the cushions.
“Beginning to think we all need to take a page out of Bella’s book and start playing for the other team.” Priya snorts, swirling the last of her wine.
“Believe it or not, there are still lesbians who are also terrible at it.” Bella smirks, lifting her glass.
Down the hall, behind his closed bedroom door, Travis stares blankly at his television. He’d come in here on purpose, specifically to give you space, determined not to be that annoying roommate hovering where he wasn’t invited. But you’d all gotten louder as the night went on. He knew you weren’t drinking, you had work in the morning; you’d been complaining about the early opening shift to him most of the afternoon. But the others definitely were, and with every glass their voices rose another decibel. He found himself reaching for the remote, turning the volume down lower and lower until the TV was little more than a quiet murmur, and leaning closer to the wall to listen.
Back in the living room, you lean forward to grab a chip from the bowl, shaking your head as you speak.
“I’d take terrible at this point. Luke wouldn’t do it at all.”
“Ugh, I’m so glad you broke up with that dickhead,” Jess sighs.
“At all? Like not once?” Priya asks.
You crunch the chip slowly, nodding grimly.
“Two years together and he didn’t go down on me once.”
Bella makes a face, “that’s just depressing.”
“Tell me about it.”
Travis freezes, staring at the wall like it just told him something impossible. He knows he absolutely was not supposed to hear that. Panic spikes hot in his chest and he fumbles for the remote, turning the TV volume up a little higher to try and drown your voices out, but it does nothing. The words are already burned into his brain. Two whole years?
He’d met Luke plenty of times. Never liked the guy, but he’d always been civil, for your sake. Luke was constantly giving you grief about having a male roommate, making snide comments, acting like Travis was the problem. But Travis was sat there thinking Luke sounded like the fucking problem: he had you, for two years, and never touched you like that? The idea sits heavy and hot in his chest. If you were his? You’d have to physically pry him off you. Okay, maybe that sounds a little intense. Maybe a little weird. But Travis knows, he’s thought about it enough, imagined it enough, he’d be more than happy to make up for every single second of that neglect.
A little later, the wine runs dry and the girls are tipsy enough to be swaying on their feet. You see them out to the Uber, hugging them goodbye, then shut the door and turn back into the quiet living room. You start gathering up glasses and bowls, calling out toward the hallway as you work.
“You can come out now, they’ve gone.”
Travis emerges from his room a moment later, looking sheepish. His dyed blonde hair is all messy and tousled like he’s been running his hands through it, wearing loose grey sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt that fits him just a little too well. He gives you that soft, lopsided smile. You lean against the arm of the sofa, watching him.
“You know you don’t have to hide in your room, right? I tell you all the time; the girls love you. You’re more than welcome to join us.”
He scratches the back of his neck, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just… it’s girl night, right? Sanctity of girl night and all that.”
You laugh, shaking your head. He looks nervous, embarrassed, and you realise you might be pushing too hard. You decide to ease off, changing the subject gently.
“Were you watching anything good?”
Travis blinks, and suddenly his mind goes completely blank. He has no idea what he was watching. All he can think about is Luke, and what a waste of space he was, and exactly how much better he could treat you, how you’d feel against his tongue, how you’d smell, how you’d sound. He stands there frozen for a beat too long, staring at you, until you tilt your head.
“Trav? You okay?”
“Huh? Yeah, sorry, just… documentary about… um. Starfish. Or seahorses. Or… seals.” He flounders, rubbing his forehead. “Can’t remember now. Just stuff in the ocean, you know, that British guy. With the… the voice.”
You smile, warmth curling soft and quiet in your chest, and turn to carry the stack of glasses through to the kitchen. You turn back from the kitchen and find Travis exactly where you left him, rooted to the spot, gaze fixed on nothing in particular, so quiet you can practically hear the gears spinning fast in his head.
“Trav?”
Nothing.
“Travis?”
He blinks hard, like he’s surfacing from a daze, and finally looks at you.
“Sorry.”
“You’re being weird. What’s up?”
He wrings his hands together, nervous energy rolling off him in waves, then jerks a thumb back toward his bedroom door.
“I wasn’t trying to, like… eavesdrop or nothing. But… were you serious? About what you said? About your ex and how he never…” He gestures vaguely, hand bobbing in the general direction of your hips, and the sheer awkwardness of it makes you laugh.
“Oh. So, you do take part in girl night. Just from the comfort of your own bed?”
You smirk and his face flushes bright pink, ears burning, and your smile softens.
“It’s fine. We’re loud. I get it. But… yeah. Yeah, I was serious.”
“Why?”
“Um… he never did. From the beginning. It wasn’t like he just stopped, he never started. I never really asked. Didn’t like it, I guess?”
You fluff the cushions as you speak, picking up the blanket and folding it neatly, rolling it tight to tuck away. All the while, Travis just stands there, staring at you like you’ve just told him the most outrageous thing he’s ever heard.
“That is the dumbest shit I have ever heard in my life. What an idiot. The guy was a complete dickhead, no offence. I mean… who does that? You don’t skip the best part.”
You set the blanket in the basket and look at him. He’s wide-eyed, genuinely aghast, hands moving as fast as his mouth, gaze darting everywhere except at you, too invested to hide how ridiculous he thinks it is.
“Like, if I had the chance? If it were me? I’d be down there every chance I got. I mean… shoot. I’d love to get my lips on yours. Either set, honestly. I’m just saying, like, if you need someone to fix that ratio? I’m available. I’d consider it a favour to both of us.”
The words hang in the air as Travis freezes mid-gesture, brain catching up with his mouth. Did he actually just say that out loud? To his roommate? Who he’s been pining over for months? He scrambles, panic rising fast.
“Wait, shit. No. I didn’t mean… okay, I did mean it, but I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like some weirdo. I’m not trying to be a creep. I just meant he’s an idiot, and you deserve… well, not that I’m saying I’m the guy. But I could be. If you… fuck. Let me start over…”
He doesn’t get to finish. You step forward in two quick strides, fist curling tight in the front of his t-shirt, and yank him down to meet you. Your mouth crashes onto his, and for a split-second Travis short-circuits entirely; his brain goes completely static, every coherent thought vanishing. This is happening. This is actually happening. Hang on, is this happening? He pulls back just an inch, chest heaving, eyes blown wide and dark.
“Yeah?” he asks.
You smile at that quiet, stunned little question, unfurl your fist from his shirt, and rest your palm flat over his chest, feeling his heart hammering wild and fast beneath your fingers.
“If you’re half as good at it as you are at talking? Then yeah.”
A slow, dark, devastating grin spreads across Travis’ face. His eyes sparkle, bright and hungry, and every trace of flustered ramble vanishes.
“Bet,” he says with a smirk.
This time he kisses you hard, deep and claiming. His hands drop straight to your waist, fingers bunching in the fabric to tug your top upward, then fumbling with the waistband of your sweatpants, pushing you backward toward the sofa like he can’t decide where he wants you first. You laugh breathlessly against his mouth, lifting your arms to help him pull your top over your head, while he shoves your sweats down over your hips. You fall back onto the cushions together, and he yanks your sweats all the way off in one smooth, frantic motion, barely breaking the kiss even for a second.
You reach for him, curling your fingers into the back of his neck to pull his t-shirt over his head and he lets you, but he barely even seems to notice, doesn’t care about himself at all, every scrap of his focus locked entirely on you. His mouth leaves yours only to blaze a trail down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone; kisses that are just as deep, just as thorough, just as hungry as the way he kisses your mouth. Then he’s back, stealing your breath all over again, before his hands are working at the clasp of your bra, deft and suspiciously capable, the second it comes undone he’s kissing his way back down, hot open-mouthed presses over your chest, closing his lips around your nipples and sucking deep and warm until you’re arching up, already gasping and lightheaded.
He keeps going, descending lower, trailing heavy, wet kisses, soft nips, slow broad licks over every inch of skin he passes; thorough, unhurried, like he intends to memorise every reaction he pulls from you. He hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them free, tossing them aside, then settles between your legs and looks.
Travis’ breath catches hard in his throat the second he sees you; the soft, glistening sheen coating your folds, how you already pulse and wait for him. His mouth literally waters, and he shakes his head, like he can barely believe what he’s looking at.
“Jesus Christ.” The words come out low and rough, dropping an octave like he’s speaking through clenched teeth. “I’m being deadly serious; your ex needs his head checked. He is a fucking idiot. Certifiable moron. This is the best thing I have ever seen in my life. The best thing I’ve ever… shit, I haven’t even touched it yet.”
He leans in just an inch closer, inhales deep, lungs pulling in your scent, throat bobbing hard as he flickers a quick, burning glance up to your eyes before dropping right back down.
“You smell so good. Fuck. I bet you taste even better. God, I’m just… I’m just gonna…”
Before you can even part your lips to speak, he leans in and his mouth covers you completely. No hesitation, no light little flicks, no tentative testing. His lips part wide and he presses full, wet, heavy warmth flush against you, then his tongue sweeps slow and broad from the very bottom all the way up, one long, heavy, rolling drag that makes your hips jerk upward off the cushions. He’s kissing you exactly the way he kissed your mouth; hungry and thorough, like he’s been dying for this, like he intends to consume every last drop.
Travis takes his time, savouring every second. He’s already rock hard just from the taste, just from the soft, slick warmth against his tongue. He pays attention to everything; every gasp that hitches in your throat, every twitch of your thighs, every sound you make. He’s learning you in real time, adjusting the angle, varying the pressure, figuring out exactly what makes your breath catch. He alternates: long, slow, sweeping drags that cover every inch of you, broad and lazy and deep; then he closes his lips and sucks, warm, firm suction that pulls a sharper cry from you, messier, more urgent, the way a kiss deepens when someone gets carried away and forgets to be careful. His hands never stay still; they grip your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you, fingers digging in just enough; they drift up and down your thighs, warm and rough and reverent; they pull you closer, tighter, right into his mouth like he can’t get enough, like he wants you pressed so close you can’t tell where he ends and you begin.
It’s overwhelming, it feels like he’s everywhere at once. His mouth covers you fully, completely, lips sealed hot and heavy over your sensitive flesh, no part of you left untouched. He works a deliberate rhythm, varying the pressure until he finds the right spot, then leaning into it, breathing hot and damp against you, every heavy exhale vibrating right through your skin. It feels thorough, devout, like he’s pouring every ounce of focus he has into making you fall apart.
Your back arches hard off the cushions, hips jerking but Travis’ grip locks tight around you, holding you exactly where he wants you, keeping you pinned right to his mouth, not letting you pull away even an inch.
“Fuck, Travis… right there, fuck---”
You can feel it coiling tight and hot deep in your gut, building faster and harder than anything you’ve ever felt before. Sweat beads at your hairline, your fingers scrabbling uselessly at the sofa cushion beneath you and still he doesn’t come up for air. It’s like he can breathe right through you, devouring every twitch and gasp. When your hips start rolling, chasing the peak, he meets every single movement with the same rhythm, matching you stroke for stroke, like he’s kissing you back; following your lead, letting you set the pace then taking it deeper.
“Fuck--- Travis--- I’m gonna---”
The words dissolve into a broken groan, too far gone to finish the sentence. You reach blindly, grab a throw cushion, and yank it over your face to muffle the screaming, but Travis feels the movement instantly. He reaches up without even lifting his head, tugs the cushion away and tosses it aside, refusing to let you hide a single sound. He’s buried so deep between your thighs you have no idea how he even saw you do it, but his eyes are dark and locked on yours for half a second before he dives back in.
You’re panting, babbling nothing but broken, incoherent noises, your whole body winding tight and then you snap. It crashes over you all at once, white-hot and endless, your back bowing, your hands fisting deep into the cushions as you practically scream his name. Travis doesn’t stop. He stays locked right there, mouth sealed to you, riding you through every shuddering aftershock, tongue working you gently through the spasms until you’re gasping, chest heaving, limbs trembling.
You assume he’s done. Your hips twitch, trying to lift away, overstimulated and sensitive but Travis wraps both arms around your thighs, pulls you right back, and buries his face deeper than before. He doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t ease up. And instantly, you feel it, that hot, tight pull building all over again, too soon, too intense, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you rock helplessly into his mouth.
His tongue is everywhere; circling slow and firm over your clit, swirling tight and precise, then dipping lower, sweeping broad through your slick heat, pressing into your entrance and lapping slow and deep. The sounds are obscene; loud, wet, slurping drags, heavy suction, the slick friction of his mouth moving through your arousal echoing in the quiet room. Travis is moaning right into you, low throaty vibrations rumbling against your skin, lost in the taste of you, and you can’t hold anything back. Your own cries are raw, broken, spilling freely, loud and unhinged. Before you can even catch your breath, the second wave hits, harder than the first, snapping through you and leaving you shaking, limp, and screaming his name into the empty living room.
“Fuckkkk, Travis, shit, yes, fuck.”
Travis feels your thighs trembling either side of his head but still has no intention of stopping. He braces his forearms firm around your hips, presses a flat palm light and steady against your lower stomach to keep you anchored to the sofa, and just keeps going; deeper, harder, louder. The sound is filthy, wet slurping and sucking. You’re a dripping mess, and he’s completely lost in it. You taste incredible and you smell like heaven, feel like heaven, soaked and slick and trembling for him. You’re so wet, so ready, and he would happily drown in every single drop.
Above him you’re bucking, twisting, spilling nonsense cries, and it only spurs him on. He tightens his grip, holds you still, and points his tongue, diving sharp and precise right into your fluttering entrance, dragging slow and deliberate through your spasms. He’s so painfully hard it aches, straining against his sweats, throbbing and desperate. He shifts his weight higher up the sofa, dragging himself closer, and presses his hips down hard into the cushion, grinding slow and heavy against the fabric, seeking any friction he can get while he stays right there, mouth locked to you, refusing to pull away. You’re heaving, chest rising and falling fast, lungs burning as you claw for air.
“Trav… fuck… I can’t…”
It’s true. You don’t think you have anything left to give, every nerve frayed raw and screaming. You reach down, fingers tangling tight into his messy blonde hair, and try to yank his head up, but he doesn’t budge. His arms are locked firm around your thighs, his heavy palm pressing steady, unyielding weight low on your belly, refusing to let you pull away. A broken sob tears from your throat, overstimulated and overwhelmed and completely at his mercy.
Travis is drunk on you; lost in the taste, the smell, the way you tremble and unravel for him. Every drag of his tongue makes his own cock throb so painfully it aches, straining hard and heavy behind the fabric of his sweats. He can’t bring himself to pull away from you, not even for a second, so he just grinds his hips down hard into the plush sofa cushions, rolling and gyrating, seeking any friction he can get while his mouth stays sealed hot and tight to your core. The pressure drives him wild, makes him work harder, hungrier and it’s exactly what pushes you right back over the edge before you can even catch your breath.
This third orgasm shatters you completely. No words, no scream, just a deep, guttural groan wrenched from somewhere deep in your chest as you convulse, walls fluttering and gushing hot and hard against his tongue. He rides you right through the peak, lapping it all up, letting your slick spread across his mouth, his chin, his nose, his cheeks; shiny and messy and marked by you. Fuck, he thinks, half-dazed and delirious. He could die right here and die happy.
At last, he pulls back just an inch, lifting his head. His face is flushed pink, glistening wet and shiny, lips swollen and dark. You let out a ragged, shaky breath, chest heaving. Thank God, he’s done. You blink hard, fighting the weight of your eyelids, tilting your head to look down at him. He rests his chin heavy on your trembling thigh and looks up at you, eyes blown wide and dark, pupils swallowing the light, voice soft and wrecked and thick with need.
“Please. Just… give me one more? Can you do that for me? Just one more. Please?”
He says it like you’re doing him the biggest favour in the world, like he’s begging for something precious. You can barely string two thoughts together, can barely remember your own name, you just give him a dumb, dazed, overwhelmed nod.
He doesn’t waste a second. He slides his hands beneath your hips, lifts you just enough to tilt you upward and then he dives back down. This time he doubles everything. Harder, faster, deeper and his tongue pushes past your entrance, slips inside you fully, burying itself deep and sweeping slow and deliberate through your fluttering walls. He feels you clamp down tight around him, hears the broken little cry you make, and the sheer sight and sound and feel of it all hits him so hard his hips stutter. He stiffens momentarily, spilling right there in his sweats, just from tasting you, just from watching you come apart entirely for him.
Your knuckles are white where you claw and grip the cushions, tears spilling freely now as your hips buck wildly off the sofa and Travis meets every sharp, desperate roll with his mouth sealed to you, inhaling you completely. His tongue drives deep inside you one last time, slow and sure, and that’s what breaks you. You choke on a sob as your whole body seizes and convulses around him. Travis doesn’t pull away. He holds you there, soft steady licks and gentle sucks guiding you all the way down until your hips stop trembling and your breath finally starts to return. Only then does he begin to move.
He climbs slow, dragging his mouth up the length of you. Wet, heavy, claiming kisses pressed hot to your trembling stomach, your ribs, the swell of your chest, all the way up your throat until he reaches your jaw. Then he kisses your mouth, deep and unashamed. His face is still shiny and damp with you, and you taste yourself on his lips as he steals the breath right out of your lungs.
Your hands drift down, fumbling with the waistband of his sweats, desperate to touch him, to give back even a fraction of what he just gave you but Travis catches your wrists instantly, pins them firm above your head, and kisses you deeper until the words dissolve in your throat.
“Trav… let me…”
He pulls back just an inch, forehead resting light against yours, chest heaving.
“Gonna need to give me a few minutes for that.”
“Huh? Why?”
You blink up at him, dazed and confused. A devastatingly satisfied grin tugs at his mouth.
“I told you. This is the best part.”
Realisation hits you slow, “Travis… did you…”
“Cum in my pants?” He says it so casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah.”
He chuckles soft and warm against your skin, completely unbothered, and drops his mouth to kiss slow open-mouthed lines down the side of your neck.
“Listen. I’ll be good in like… two minutes. Tops. But until then? I’m more than happy right here. I ain’t going anywhere.”
He kisses your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth and you lie there beneath him, wrecked and glowing, staring up at him through heavy, soft lashes.
“I wish you’d offered this months ago,” you murmur, breathless and quiet, “and saved me all that drama with Luke.”
Travis stops. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye and the look on his face makes your chest ache. Dark, intense, completely sincere.
“I’ll make it up to you. Every. Fucking. Day.”
You sink back into the cushions, thoroughly ruined in the most wonderful way, and think if he actually keeps that promise, you might not survive it. But as you pull him down to kiss you again, slow and sweet and tasting of you both; you decide you’re more than willing to try.
Description: You and your boyfriend mistake aphrodisiac gummies for regular ones. By the time you both realize, it's too late.
You're at Eddie's for the weekend, casually reading one of his metal magazines out of curiosity.
The moment you came over, Eddie was beaming about a new bag of gummies he'd never seen at the store before until recently. He decided to buy them for you since he knows you have a sweet tooth sometimes.
As Eddie's going around his room and trying to straighten up as much as he can to make room for more things in the future, you're both sharing the bag of strawberry flavored gummies.
"These are like, abnormally good." You say, popping another one into your mouth.
"I'll get you those more often, then." Eddie smiles, letting you feed him another one.
You start feeling warm and relaxed, and everything around you seems to have a tranquility you haven't achieved in your life.
Eddie stops what he's doing to look at you. His nose is blushed, as are his cheeks. His eyelids are hung lower than usual and his irises look as if he's in a dreamy state.
"Did I ever tell you you're the prettiest girl in the world?"
"Stop it, Eddie." You chuckle warmly.
"You look... incredible."
"Okay, Eddie. What is in these gummies?"
You cross your legs at the throbbing sensation in between your legs before you read the bag.
Enjoy responsibly. Pop 2-3 for a good time;).
Your eyes widen like saucers. Oh.
You give Eddie the bag and the simple brush of his fingers against yours makes you whimper.
When Eddie sees it, he panics internally for a split second. "Oh shit, babe I'm so sorry-"
"Just stop talking." You cut him off. Your body is in waves of heat flashes.
"Why, baby?" He grins goofily.
"I want you to fuck me."
"You dying for it?"
"Yes, Eddie."
"I'm dying to fuck you, too."
Eddie gets up from kneeling at his drawer to cup your ass and pick you up from his bed. His lips are desperately moving with yours while his hands squeeze you with everything he's got, his ring bands digging slightly into your ass.
With just enough of your hungry strength, you use your body weight so that you're on top of him when he's back flat on the bed.
The moment his thigh grazes your pussy, you're already kissing him again. Subconsciously, you begin rubbing your pussy against his thigh. Eddie holds you by your hips and gives you more pressure by holding his thigh closer against it.
You break the kiss to rest your head into his shoulder and cry into him as your hips move faster.
"G- God, I'm gonna cum already!" You whine.
"Please cum, baby." He begs with sweat beads lofting on his forehead.
You roughly fuck his thigh until your body jolts from how hard you cum in your panties.
"Wanna clean you up, baby." Eddie's eyes pierce through you with desperation.
"Are...are you about to cry, Eddie?"
"I wanna eat you out. Please, baby." He's grabbing at your shorts, clenching them at the waistband.
He's practically ripping off your clothes, his knuckles white from his harsh gripping as he does so.
You feel your hips being hoisted upwards once he's done.
"Eddie no, I'm going to suffocate you-"
"Please do." He pleads before sitting your pussy directly on his face. His tongue flicks fervently at your pussy, sloppy and carefree.
Your hips jolt and your thighs clench around your head from being unable to keep up with him. He's groaning into you. The pain from his rings as he holds you down in place hurts so good.
"E-Eddie-" Your hands fight to grip his sheets, though you lose it a few times.
Your back arches when you ride his face. His nose rubs you just right as his tongue is still stimulating you.
"Fuck, Eddie!"
He growls a low rumble in his chest when he starts sucking on your bud, and you swear you can see fireworks in the air.
With a sharp cry of his name, your body twitches as you cum on his face. You continue face fucking him to suppress the waves of your orgasm before you get off of him to sit on his torso again.
Eddie's face is soaked, and he seems to have shed a few tears.
"Eddie...?"
"I'm sorry. You taste so good-"
You place a finger over his mouth. "It's okay, I promise."
You move down to position your face at his crotch. "I want to make you feel good, too."
You rush to pull down his pants just enough to reveal his erect cock that's wet from him eating you out.
You hold his cock with your hand, leaving the tip accessible so that you can lick it in a slow circle.
"Fuck, you're teasing me."
Impatient with need, you take it into your mouth to suck it with a certain amount of pressure.
You hear the sheets crinkle from him grabbing them.
He hisses when you start moving your hand to stroke him as you continue bobbing your head slightly to suck his tip.
"Oh, God." He groans. One of his hands comes to rest on his forehead to give him some sort of mental stability as you're wrecking him.
Spit begins covering his tip profusely the longer you continue. Your hand picks up in rhythm as it begins to while stroking him.
Eddie's back arches off the bed.
"Fuck, are you trying to kill me?" He gasps, taking sharp breaths that make his tummy rise and fall.
If Eddie could, he would hold his noises back. But he just can't.
His cock grows warm in your hand in mouth, letting you know he's about to cum within seconds.
"Ah, ah, fuck! Oh fuck!"
Eddie cries your name when he cums. You remove your mouth from him to spit into a cup you and Eddie forgot about a couple of hours ago.
A few curls of his stick to his flushed and sweaty face. His eyes are closed as he tries to get the room to stop spinning in his head.
"Are you okay?" He asks, finally opening his eyes again. His voice is hoarse from moaning.
"I...I think I'm still..." You stutter.
"Need to use me again, honey?"
"Yes."
You pull down his pants to his ankles, and position yourself on your thigh again.
"I- just one more, Eddie-"
Eddie grips you in place by the sides of your tummy.
"Come on, baby."
You're stimulating yourself on his thigh, rolling your pussy on him in a sloppy manner.
"That's it, baby. Use me wherever you want."
Your slick from your first orgasm adds a level of pleasure when it coats his thigh enough to give you a smoother surface to fuck yourself on.
The upper half of your body collapses onto Eddie from being unable to hold itself up. He holds you close.
"That's it, baby. Keep going. I love you so much."
You let out a high pitched cry from your intense orgasm, and hold onto him for stability and comfort. You both begin to feel tired.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know they weren't...normal."
"It's...the best and worst mistake you've ever made." You huff with amusement.
"Same time, next week?" You can hear the shit eating grin in his voice.
"Don't push your luck, Munson." You say, knowing fully well your answer is yes.
I have a gator request!! Could you write something where unbeknownst to Mr Tillman, you have that man wrapped around your damn finger. He’s just absolutely head over heels and will do just about anything for you. Expect of course, when he finally realizes, he’s like wait a damn minute. And gets a little pissy because of his upbringing and his need to be all manly🙄 but you’re just like sorry babe, you’d do anything I’d ask☺️
WRAPPED AROUND MY FINGER
Gator Tillman X Reader.
Summary: Having the Sheriff's son all wrapped around your finger comes with great things. He'd do anything for you, even when he realises it.
Warnings: Suggestive backseat smut, fluff, Gator being WHIPPED 🙆♀️
A/N: I'm a SUCKERRRRR for Gator, like kiss me babe xx (I hope this is executed to you liking x)
You stood in the station, waiting for Gator to get on break. Officers around you laughed with their friends, others filed reports and before you knew it, it all died down once heavy boots thudded the floor.
You looked up watching him flood the room with his authority, but the second his eyes met yours, all of that vanished. The stern, intimidating mask he wore instantly got replaced with a soft, helpless smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He walked past his co workers without a word as you stood up, all his focus on you.
"Hey," He murmured, his voice dropping so only you could hear. He reached out, fingers snaking around your wrist as he pulled you closer. "Tell me you haven't waited long. I missed you."
You smiled up at him, your thumb caressing the line in the middle of his brows to soothe them before showing him a container. "Not long. I bought you some food."
His eyes lit up, a bigger smile playing on his lips. "God, woman. I love you."
"I love you too." A giggle left your lips as he practically jogged you out the station, a boyish grin, that his co workers would never believe, plastered on his face. He opened the passenger door, but before letting you sit, he grabbed your hips and pulled you flush against him, catching your lips with his.
You hummed softly as he quickly pulled away. "Man, I'm a winner. Got you as my girl? I'm a fuckin' winner." He chuckled, letting you slide in and giving your cheek a playful tap. "Let's go to that spot you like, yeah?"
After a while of driving, Gator pulled up to a wide field before instantly getting into the back and pulling you with him. You obliged, little laughs slipping past your lips as he kissed you.
"Baby, baby," You said pulling away. "Your food is gonna get cold."
"The food can wait." He urged, pulling you closer. Before he could kiss you again, you covered your mouth, raising a brow at him, playfully.
"Food. Now."
He sighed dramatically, taking the container and slumping into the car seat. "You're cruel." He muttered, though the massive grin on his face said otherwise. He dug into the meal, humming happily at the taste of a real dinner after so long. He never ate that well at his own house so whenever he got the chance, he went to you.
After some bites, he scooped some up on the fork and held it out to your lips, his brown eyes softening. "You gotta take a bite too. I ain't the only one needing to eat out here."
You smiled, leaning closer to take the bite before pulling him closer so he could lean onto you whilst you scratched his scalp. Once he was done, he stared down at the empty container, then sat up to look at you - a smug and satisfied look played on your face.
Realisation washed over him as he instantly set the plastic aside. "I'm a grown ass man. A Tillman. Roy would be at my throat if he saw me eatin' on command just because you told me to, doll." He narrowed his eyes as he watched you put the container away. "A man is supposed to lead. I'm supposed ta call the shots, not getting bossed around by my girl."
You couldn't help but laugh, leaning forward to poke his chest. "You love me though, don't you deputy? That's why your wrapped around my finger."
"You're dangerous," He chuckled, looking at you with dark eyes. The moment you leaned back, Gator didn't hesitate. He scrambled over you, pinning your wrists above your head. The car was spacious enough that your head didn't even hit the door by the way it rocked under Gators movement. His chest heaved as he stared down at you in the dim light, a beautifully desperate hunger in his eyes. But not for the food this time.
For you.
"No more talking," he whispered, forcing your knees apart as his free hand undid his belt. "I've been good. Now let me be bad, doll."
summary: you finally left your house to have a girls day. shopping, food, friendship- the works. robin and nancy always had your back but eddie- he was your best friend. hes the one who knew you inside and out. but is that all you wanted him to be? maybe a fashion show will change things.
warnings/tags: best friends to lovers, shy reader, typical eddie bullshit, fluff, comfort, alternating POV, smut (oral f receiving, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, eddie trying not to nut in 30 seconds, squirting)
masterlist // join the taglist
You were three stores deep into the kind of afternoon that only happened when Robin got bored and Nancy decided retail therapy was a legitimate coping mechanism.
Your phone buzzed in the back pocket of your jeans just as Nancy was holding up a soft gray sweater against you, head tilted in that critical way of hers. It's not your style but you like to appease her.
Eddie:
bored.
come over.
i have leftover chinese and a new playlist that will either heal your soul or destroy it. your pick.
You smiled at the screen before you could stop yourself. Robin noticed immediately.
“That’s the Eddie face,” she said, already leaning in. “What’s he want?”
“He wants me to come over.”
Nancy raised an eyebrow. “And you’re going to say no because…?”
You typed back while Robin peered over your shoulder.
You:
can’t. already at the mall with robin and nancy. not being a hermit for once.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Eddie:
the mall.
you’re at the mall???
and no one thought to invite me?
i’m hurt. actually offended.
also tbh you’re gonna get overwhelmed and start doing that weird thing you always do
i’m coming.
You stared at the message.
You:
eddie you don’t have to come
Eddie:
already in the van.
tell robin to stop making that face. i can feel it through the phone.
Robin was, in fact, making that face.
Twenty-seven minutes later you were standing near the big fountain on the lower level, arms full of bags. You'd dragged the two of them into Hot Topic and Spencers. Nancy had somehow convinced you that you needed new jeans— so you bought some black ones. Robin had dragged you into a candle store “just to smell things.” And then, because the universe had a sense of humor, the three of you had ended up in Victoria’s Secret.
You were still a little pink about that one.
The pink-and-black bag swung from your wrist every time you shifted your grip. It felt louder than the rest of them somehow. Like it was announcing itself.
Robin was mid-rant about this hot girl who keeps coming into her job when a familiar voice cut through the mall noise.
“Well, well, well. Look at this delinquent little shopping squad.”
You turned.
Eddie Munson was walking toward you like he owned the entire second floor, black jeans with the knees blown out, a faded Dio shirt under an open sleeveless flannel, rings catching the harsh mall lights. His hair was a little messier than usual, like he’d driven with the windows down the whole way. He had that grin on—the one that said he’d already decided this was going to be fun for him and mildly embarrassing for you.
Robin lit up. “Munson! You actually showed.”
“Had to make sure no one was bullying my favorite introvert into buying things she’ll never wear.” His eyes flicked to you, soft for half a second before the performance kicked back in. “Speaking of which… Jesus Christ, look at you.”
He stopped a couple feet away, taking in the armful of bags. His gaze snagged on the Victoria’s Secret one and stayed there just long enough for heat to crawl up the back of your neck.
“Wow,” he said, voice dropping into something almost reverent. “You actually went shopping. I’m proud. Also mildly concerned.”
Nancy smirked. “She needed jeans. And then Robin got involved. And she dragged us into her own stores. And then the lingerie section happened.”
Eddie made a wounded little sound, hand over his heart. “You took her into the den of sin without me?”
You shifted the bags, trying to hide the pink one behind the others. “It’s not that dramatic.”
“It’s a little dramatic,” he said, stepping closer. Close enough that you could smell the faint mix of cigarettes and that cheap cologne he always wore even though he claimed he didn’t. “You okay? You’ve got that look.”
You opened your mouth to say you were fine.
He just raised an eyebrow.
“…I’m a little overstimulated,” you admitted, quieter.
Eddie’s whole posture softened. He reached out without asking and carefully took two of the heavier bags from your arms, including the Victoria’s Secret one. He didn’t comment on it this time. Just hooked the handles over his wrist like it was nothing.
“C’mon,” he said. “We’re doing one more lap so Nancy can finish buying a new pantsuit or whatever, then I’m extracting you. Chinese food’s getting cold and my couch misses your weight on it.”
Robin grinned. “He’s so soft for you it’s disgusting.”
Eddie didn’t deny it. He just looked at you over the top of the bags, eyes warm and knowing in that way that always made the rest of the mall feel a little farther away.
“Yeah, well,” he said, voice low enough that only you caught the full weight of it. “Somebody’s gotta make sure she doesn’t disappear into the void.”
He bumped his shoulder lightly against yours.
“Lead the way, shopping gremlin. I’m your official bag mule for the next twenty minutes. Use me wisely.”
By the time you’d made it halfway through the next stretch of stores, the worst of the overstimulation had started to loosen its grip.
It was Eddie. It was always Eddie.
He walked half a step behind you, still carrying the bulk of the bags like it was the most natural thing in the world, occasionally bumping his shoulder into yours just hard enough to make you stumble and then catch yourself with a laugh. Nancy and Robin had drifted a few feet ahead, deep in a debate about whether a particular pair of boots were too much for the upcoming summer and who wears boots in summer anyway? That left the two of you in your own little orbit, the mall noise fading into background static.
“You’re quieter when you're with them,” Eddie said, voice low enough that it stayed between you. “Not in a bad way. Just… smaller. Like you’re trying to take up less space.”
You glanced at him. “And with you I’m suddenly loud?”
“With me you’re you.” He said it simply, like it was the most obvious fact in the world. “The version that likes to talk shit and snorts when she laughs. I like that version. Miss her when she’s gone.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no real heat in it. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m correct.” He shifted the bags so he could free one hand and reach over, gently tugging the sleeve of your hoodie. “Look at you. Five minutes ago you were about to jump into the void. Now you’re about to roast me. Progress.”
“I wasn’t going to roast you.”
“Liar.” His grin was slow and crooked. “You were definitely going to say something about the way I’m carrying these bags like a peasant. Go on. I can take it.”
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too wide. “You look like a Victorian servant who got lost on the way to a metal show.”
Eddie gasped, hand flying to his chest hard enough that the Victoria’s Secret bag swung wildly. “How dare you. I’ll have you know this is high fashion. Wore my favorite rings just for you.”
“Your rings make you look like you stuck your hand in an antique store display and just bought whatever stuck.”
“Rude.” He leaned in closer, voice dropping into that teasing register he only ever used with you. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re mean. Otherwise I’d leave you here with all these bags and go find people who appreciate my good looks.”
You bumped him with your hip. “You wouldn’t.”
“I might.”
“You wouldn’t.”
"Try me."
"There's some mall rats over by Hot Topic. Bet they'd love you."
Eddie looked at you for a second too long, something softer flickering behind the performance. The kind of look that made your stomach do a slow, traitorous flip. He always looked at you like that when he thought you weren’t paying attention—like he was trying to memorize the exact shape of your smile, or the way your eyes crinkled when you were actually relaxed. Like you were the only thing in the entire building worth staring at.
You felt it. You always felt it. And you looked back at him the same way, even if neither of you ever said it out loud.
Robin’s voice cut through from up ahead. “Are you two flirting or fighting? Because from back here it sounds like both and I hope she wins.”
Eddie didn’t break eye contact with you as he called back, “We’re engaged in battle, Buckley. Mind your business.”
“Sure,” Robin said, entirely unconvinced. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Munson.”
He finally looked away, but the corner of his mouth stayed curved. He shifted the bags again and, without asking, reached over to take the last one from your hand so you were completely free.
“There,” he said, quieter. “Now you can actually exist without any extra weight in your hands. You’re welcome.”
You flexed your fingers, still warm from where the plastic handles had dug in. “You’re being weirdly nice today.”
“I’m always nice to you.” He said it like a fact, not a defense. Then, softer, almost under his breath: “Especially when you look like you’re about two seconds from disappearing into your own head again.”
You didn’t answer right away. Just walked beside him, the space between your arms brushing every few steps. Nancy and Robin had stopped in front of another window display, giving the two of you another pocket of privacy.
Eddie glanced sideways at you, rings catching the light as he adjusted his grip on the bags.
“For the record,” he said, voice low and almost careful, “I like when you let yourself be loud with me. Even when you're being a butt head. Cause I know you're only like that with me. Makes me feel special."
You looked at him. Really looked.
And for a second the rest of the mall—Robin’s laughter, the distant music, the fluorescent lights—dropped away.
“Yeah,” you said, just as quiet. “I like it too.”
Eddie’s smile this time was smaller. Softer. The kind he only ever gave you when the banter peeled back and something truer sat underneath.
He didn’t say anything else.
The drive back was easy in the way things always were with him.
Eddie had the windows cracked just enough to let the warm spring air in, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift like he was half-tempted to reach over and take yours. He didn’t. He just talked the whole way—about how Robin’s taste in shoes was a crime against humanity, about how Nancy had looked at a seventy-dollar candle like she could actually afford it. You laughed more than you had all day.
His apartment was on the second floor of a tired brick building two towns over from Hawkins. The kind of place with a sticky front door and a hallway that always smelled faintly of someone else’s cooking. He’d worked doubles and sold half his vinyl collection to make the deposit after graduation. It showed in the way he talked about it sometimes—quiet pride mixed with the usual self-deprecation.
“Home sweet dump,” he announced as he kicked the door open with his boot, still carrying most of your bags. “Couch has been waiting for you milady.”
It was exactly as lived-in as always. Band posters peeling at the corners. A thrifted couch that had seen better decades. A kitchen table covered in sheet music and empty coffee mugs. The faint smell of the dragons blood incense he always used because you once said you liked it.
He dropped the bags by the couch with a dramatic groan and flopped down, immediately stretching his legs out and patting the cushion beside him.
“Sit. Argue with me. I’ve been waiting all day to be wrong about something.”
You sat. The couch dipped under your combined weight the way it always did.
It started with Iron Man versus Batman, because of course it did.
“I’m just saying,” you said, turning to face him fully, “Tony Stark would fold Bruce Wayne like a lawn chair. The man has an entire AI, flight, repulsors—”
Eddie held up a finger, rings glinting. “Batman has prep time. Prep. Time. That’s his whole thing. He would study every single one of Stark’s weaknesses, build a suit specifically designed to counter the arc reactor, and then—”
“And then Iron Man would still vaporize him from the air before Batman even finished monologuing.”
“You’re underestimating the power of pure spite and a utility belt.”
“You’re underestimating the power of literally being able to fly and shoot lasers.”
Eddie threw his head back against the couch with a wounded sound. “I can’t believe I’m friends with someone this wrong.”
You poked his knee with your socked foot. “You’re just mad because you know I’m right.”
“I’m mad because you’re smug about it.” But he was smiling, soft around the edges, the argument already losing steam in favor of watching the way your face lit up when you got competitive. He loved that version of you. The one that forgot to be quiet.
After another minute of half-hearted defense of Batman’s honor, Eddie finally held up both hands in surrender.
“Fine. Iron Man wins. Happy? You destroyed my entire worldview. I hope you’re proud.”
You grinned. “Extremely.”
He huffed a laugh, then his eyes drifted toward the pile of bags near the arm of the couch.
“Alright,” he said, voice shifting into something lighter, curious. “Show and tell. What’d you actually buy, shopping gremlin? Besides the jeans Nancy forced on you and whatever candles Robin convinced you to buy.”
You felt the heat climb up your neck almost immediately.
Eddie noticed. Of course he did. His expression gentled, the teasing dialing back just enough.
“Hey. No pressure. You don’t have to—”
“Can I…” You hesitated, fingers twisting in the hem of your hoodie. The shyness was back, but different this time. Softer. Safe, because it was him. “Can I give you a fashion show?”
Eddie went still for half a second.
Then the slowest, softest smile spread across his face. The kind that made his eyes crinkle and his voice drop into something almost reverent.
“Yeah?” he said, quiet. “You wanna model for me?”
You nodded, small.
He sat up a little straighter, like he was preparing for something important. “Hell yeah you can. Go on. I’ll be the most supportive, least judgmental audience you’ve ever had.”
He gestured toward the short hallway that led to his bedroom. “Use my room. Mirror’s clean for once. Take your time.”
You stood, gathering the bags with slightly shaky hands. Eddie watched you the whole way, that same look from the mall settled deep in his eyes—like he was trying not to hope too hard, and failing.
Just before you disappeared around the corner, he called after you, voice warm and a little rough around the edges.
“And for the record… whatever you got in that pink bag? I’m already a fan.”
You didn’t answer.
But the door to his bedroom clicked shut behind you with a soft, anticipatory sound, and he leaned back against the couch, his heart doing something stupid and hopeful in his chest while he waited.
Eddie barely had time to scrub a hand over his face and pretend he wasn’t already halfway gone before the bedroom door creaked open.
You stepped out in the black jeans first—ones that actually fit like they were made for you instead of the baggy shit you usually hid in—and a soft, flowy crop top that kept flashing a strip of skin every time you moved. You did a little half-turn, arms sort of awkwardly out like you weren’t sure what to do with them yet.
“Okay,” you said, voice still quiet. “First one. Jeans and… this. It’s kind of floaty. I don’t know.”
Eddie swallowed. His brain helpfully supplied approximately forty different compliments and zero of them felt safe enough to say out loud.
“Floaty’s good,” he managed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees so he had something to do with his hands. “Floaty’s very good. You look… hippie. Very Stevie Nicks. Ten out of ten. No notes. Except maybe do the turn again so I can fully appreciate the jeans.”
You huffed a tiny laugh and spun slower this time. The confidence was still shy around the edges, but it was there. He could see it.
God, he wanted to bottle that sound.
You disappeared again. He let his head drop back against the couch and stared at the ceiling like it might offer him strength. It did not. All it offered was a water stain shaped vaguely like a middle finger.
The door opened a second time.
Black mini skirt. Tight black velvet crop top, cut to look like a bat. The kind of top that looked like it had been designed specifically to ruin his entire life.
Eddie forgot how to breathe for a full three seconds.
“Shopping for summer, you know?” you said, a little stronger this time, doing a small sway that made the skirt flip against your thighs. “Figured I should own at least one thing that isn’t a hoodie.”
“Summer,” he repeated, voice coming out rougher than he meant it to. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Summer. Very… seasonal. The bat is a nice touch. Extremely on-brand for hanging out with me. I’m choosing to take that as a personal compliment.”
You smiled—actually smiled—and did a full turn this time. The skirt flared just enough. The velvet caught the low light of his shitty lamp. Something in his chest went tight and warm and stupid.
Look at you. Look at you getting braver every single time you walk out here. Like you’re remembering you’re allowed to take up space. Like maybe you trust me enough to let me see it.
“You’re staring,” you said, but there was no real accusation in it. Just a little spark of something playful.
“I’m observing,” Eddie corrected immediately. “Very different. Scientific, even. For example… observation one— the skirt makes your legs look criminal. Observation two— I’m going to have dreams about that velvet bat. Observation three— you’re getting less shy about the spins and I am thriving.”
You laughed, bright and real, and the sound did something catastrophic to his heart rate.
Third time.
You kept the mini skirt. Swapped the velvet for a ridiculous shirt from Spencer’s—a bunch of dachshunds with the phrase "Everyone loves wieners" and it's so perfectly you that Eddie felt his face do that soft, helpless thing he could never quite hide around you. You struck a little pose in the doorway this time, one hand on your hip, the other up in the air like you had no idea what to do with it. You probably didn't.
“Behold,” you declared, voice full of mock grandeur. “The intellectual peak of my shopping trip.”
Eddie clapped. Actually clapped, slow and dramatic.
“Masterpiece,” he said solemnly. “I feel smarter just looking at it. The skirt and the wiener dog shirt combination is inspired. You’re a visionary. I’m obsessed. I hope you wear this exact combination to your next outing.”
You were grinning now. Fully. The shy little glances had turned into actual eye contact, like each outfit had peeled another layer of hesitation off you and left something brighter underneath. He watched it happen in real time and felt like the luckiest bastard alive for getting front-row seats.
You walked closer this time, stopping a few feet in front of the couch, doing a slow turn without him even asking. The skirt flared up, giving him the slightest glimpse of the supple curve of your ass underneath. Eddie’s hands flexed against his knees.
You’re going to kill me. You’re going to stand there getting more confident by the second and I’m going to sit here and fall harder every time you laugh at your own joke. And you’re never going to know, because I’m a coward who would rather keep you forever as my best friend than risk saying the quiet part out loud.
You stopped spinning and looked at him, cheeks a little pink but eyes bright.
“Okay,” you said, softer again, but steady. “Are you ready for the finale?”
Eddie felt his entire soul short-circuit.
He sat up straighter, tried to play it cool, failed miserably, and ended up just staring at you with his heart somewhere in the vicinity of his throat.
“Yeah,” he said, voice low and a little wrecked. “I’m ready. Show me.”
The bedroom door opened again and Eddie’s brain helpfully decided it was obsolete.
You stepped out wrapped in the fluffiest pink bathrobe he’d ever seen in his life. It looked like someone had murdered a cloud and dyed it the color of cotton candy. Your hands were buried in the pockets, shoulders a little hunched, that familiar shy tilt to your head that always made him want to gather you up and hide you from the entire world.
“Okay,” you said, voice small. “Finale. Don’t laugh.”
“I would never,” Eddie answered immediately, and he meant it. His voice came out softer than he intended. “C’mon. Show me.”
You hesitated for half a second longer, then slowly tugged the belt loose.
The robe slipped open.
Eddie’s entire nervous system short-circuited so hard he was pretty sure he blacked out for a full second.
Hot pink. Barely-there hot pink lingerie that looked like it had been designed specifically to end him. A tiny bralette that clung to the soft curve of your chest, delicate straps, and matching bottoms that sat high on your hips and left almost nothing to the imagination. The kind of set that made every inch of bare skin look deliberate. Completely fucking lethal.
You didn’t even seem to notice the way his soul left his body. You just stood there in the middle of his living room like this was normal. Like best friends did this shit all the time. Like you weren’t currently rewriting every single one of his brain cells.
Jesus Christ.
He grabbed the nearest throw pillow and shoved it into his lap so hard. His jeans were already getting tight in a way that was going to be extremely obvious if he didn’t hide it. He tried to look casual. He failed.
“Holy shit,” he managed, voice cracking just enough that he had to clear his throat. “Okay. Wow. That’s… yeah. That’s the finale alright.”
You gave a tiny, embarrassed little smile and did a slow twirl.
The bathrobe slipped further down your arms, hanging loose around your elbows like a soft pink frame. The movement made the tiny scraps of hot pink shift against your skin. And then the smell hit him—your perfume, the same floral kind you've worn since the day you met him, the one that always lingered on his hoodie for days whenever you borrowed it. It wrapped around him like a second heartbeat.
Eddie dug his fingers into the pillow hard enough that his nails pressed little crescent shapes into the fabric.
You’re actually going to kill me. You’re standing there in the middle of my shitty apartment in the tiniest fucking lingerie set I’ve ever seen and you think this is just friend stuff. You have no idea. You have no idea that I’m two seconds from dropping to my knees and begging. That I’ve wanted to put my mouth on every single inch of you for months. That the only reason I’m still sitting here like a functional human is because I refuse to ruin the best thing in my life by being a horny idiot.
You finished the turn and looked at him, cheeks pink, completely unaware that he was actively dying.
“Is it too much?” you asked, tugging self-consciously at one of the straps. “I almost didn’t get it. Robin said the color was cute though.”
Eddie let out a sound that was half laugh, half wounded animal.
“Too much?” he repeated, staring at you like you’d just asked if the sun was a little bright today. “Baby— I mean. No. It’s not too much. It’s… fuck. You look unreal. Like someone drew you. The pink is doing something illegal to my brain chemistry. I’m serious. I might need medical attention.”
You laughed, soft and shy, and the sound went straight through him.
He adjusted the pillow again, very carefully, and tried to remember how to breathe like a person who wasn’t currently imagining peeling those tiny pink scraps off you with his teeth.
“C’mere,” he said, voice lower now, rougher. He patted the cushion beside him even though he was pretty sure sitting next to you right now was going to finish him off. “Let me look at you properly. Without you doing the nervous shuffle from six feet away.”
You stepped closer.
The perfume got stronger.
Eddie was so completely, utterly fucked.
The shyness came flooding back like a switch had flipped the moment you stood in front of him.
Eddie watched it happen in real time—the way your shoulders curled inward just a little, the way your fingers twisted in the loose sleeves of the bathrobe still hanging off your arms, the way you suddenly couldn’t quite meet his eyes even though you were standing close enough that he could see each mark on your body. Close enough that the heat of your skin felt like it was already touching him.
He swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice steady.
“Hey,” he said softly, tilting his head to catch your gaze. “None of that. You’re allowed to stand here looking like every fantasy I’ve ever had and still get a little shy. I can handle both.” He let his eyes flick down for half a second before forcing them back up. “You look… soft. And dangerous. And like I should probably be on my knees right now saying thank you, but I’m trying really hard to be a gentleman instead of a complete disaster.”
You let out a tiny, nervous huff of laughter. The sound went straight to his dick.
Eddie kept talking, walking that razor-thin line between honest and too much. “The pink is killing me, by the way. Like actually ending my life. And the way it sits on you—fuck—it’s not fair. You’re standing in my living room looking like that and I’m supposed to just… what? Act normal? Impossible. You’re making it impossible.”
You shifted your weight. The movement was small.
The left strap of the bralette slipped.
It slid down the curve of your shoulder in slow motion, delicate and pink and devastating, and Eddie’s brain broke in half so hard a low, wrecked moan tore out of his throat before he could stop it.
The sound hung in the air between you.
You both froze.
Eddie’s eyes went wide. The pillow was still crushed in his lap. His pulse was hammering so loud he was pretty sure you could hear it. Heat flooded his face so fast it felt like a fever.
You stared at him, lips parted, the slipped strap still resting halfway down your arm.
“…Did you really just do that?” you asked, voice quiet and a little disbelieving. A tiny, dangerous spark of something flirty flickered underneath the shock.
Eddie let out a strangled laugh that was half embarrassment, half pure desperation. “Yeah. Yeah, I really just did that. In my defense, the strap moved and— Completely involuntary. I’m a victim here.”
Your mouth twitched. “A victim.”
“Exactly.” He gestured helplessly at the strap still hanging off your shoulder. “Look at it. It’s torturing me. It’s doing it on purpose. You’re doing it on purpose.”
“I’m not doing anything,” you said, but your voice had gone softer, warmer. You didn’t fix the strap. You just stood there looking at him like you were suddenly seeing something new.
Eddie couldn’t take it anymore.
The careful distance he’d been clinging to for years—the jokes, the looks he thought you never noticed, the way he always stopped himself right at the edge—snapped clean in half.
He surged up off the couch, pillow tumbling to the floor, and closed the space between you. One hand came up to cradle the side of your face, rings cool against your cheek, the other settling at your waist like he’d been dying to put it there for years.
“Fuck it,” he whispered, and then he kissed you.
It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t soft. It was years of wanting poured into one desperate, open-mouthed press of lips. He kissed you like he’d been starving. Like the taste of you might actually save him. His fingers slid back into your hair, tilting your head just enough to deepen it, and a low, broken sound rumbled in his chest when you made a tiny noise against his mouth.
The slipped strap was still hanging off your shoulder.
Eddie didn’t fix it.
You broke the kiss with a soft, shaky inhale, lips still brushing his as you pulled back just far enough to see his face.
Eddie’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, mouth kiss-bitten and a little shiny. His hand was still cradling your cheek like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.
“How long?” you asked, voice quieter than you meant it to be. “How long have you been thinking about doing that?”
His thumb stroked once along your cheekbone. He didn’t look away.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Eddie let out a breath that was almost a laugh, low and rough. “Jesus. Okay. No lying.” He swallowed. “Months. Longer than months. Since before I even had this apartment. Since you started doing that thing where you’d steal my hoodies and really all my clothes. I’ve wanted to kiss you every single fucking time you walked into a room since the moment I met you.”
Your heart did something violent behind your ribs.
You didn’t think. You just lifted your hand and gave his chest a playful little smack, right over the faded print of his shirt.
Eddie jerked back half an inch, eyes wide with pure betrayal. “What— why? What was that for?”
“Because I’ve liked you too, you absolute idiot,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them. Heat flooded your face but you didn’t look away. “I’ve been sitting here in this dumb pink robe thinking this was just normal best-friend fashion-show territory while you’ve been dying over there with a pillow on your lap. We’ve both been ridiculous.”
For a second Eddie just stared at you.
Then a helpless, disbelieving grin broke across his face, soft and a little wrecked.
“We’re both idiots,” he said, voice thick with something that sounded a lot like relief. “Complete, hopeless idiots.”
And then he was kissing you again.
This time there was no hesitation. One of his hands slid down to your waist, the other still tangled in your hair, and he pulled you with him as he dropped back onto the couch. You went willingly, knees bracketing his hips, the fluffy robe slipping further down your arms as he settled you fully into his lap. The tiny scraps of hot pink lace were the only things between you now, and Eddie made a low, punched-out sound against your mouth the second your weight settled over him.
His hands found your bare thighs, rings cool against overheated skin, and he kissed you like he’d never get the chance again—deep and open and a little desperate, like he still couldn’t quite believe you were real and in his lap and kissing him back just as hard.
You sank down harder into his lap and the kiss turned messy, open, wet. Eddie’s hands slid higher up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just beneath the edge of the hot-pink lace. Every time you shifted, the thin material of the bottoms dragged against him, and the second it slipped to the side you both felt it—heat against denim, almost nothing left between you.
Eddie broke the kiss with a ragged sound, forehead dropping against yours.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Look at you. So pretty. Always so god damn pretty.” His voice was low, reverent, already half-ruined. “I’ve wanted to worship you for so long it makes me feel stupid. Wanted to get my mouth on every soft inch of you and take my time. Make you feel how gone I am. Hope you're okay with that or I'm about to look like the biggest jackass in the world.”
You rolled your hips once, slow, and watched his eyes flutter.
The unspoken rule sat between you both like a ghost. You never talked about anyone else. Neither did he. No stories, no casual mentions, nothing. You’d always told yourself it was just boundaries. Now, with his hands gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear, you understood. It had never been about boundaries. It had been about not having to picture each other with anyone else. About protecting something neither of you had been brave enough to name.
Eddie seemed to realize it at the same time. His expression went soft and a little pained.
“We never talked about it,” he murmured, thumb stroking along the waistband of the lace. “Not once. I used to think it was because you didn’t… you know. Because you never brought it up. I thought maybe you hadn’t… done much. And I didn’t want to push.” His laugh was quiet, self-deprecating. “Turns out we were both just trying not to break our own hearts.”
"Think you're right about that."
"I'm always right sweetheart."
You ground down again, deliberately this time— partially to shut him up and also because it felt so damn good. The lace shifted fully out of the way. The friction dragged a broken noise out of both of you. Eddie’s head tipped back against the couch, throat working.
“Jesus Christ—”
His hands slid up your back, fingers finding the clasp of the bralette with surprising care. He unhooked it slowly, like he was unwrapping something sacred, and the hot-pink scrap loosened. You shrugged it off the rest of the way. The second it hit the floor Eddie went completely still.
He stared.
No jokes. No dramatic commentary. Just pure, speechless hunger as his eyes dragged over you—bare chest, flushed skin, the way the remaining lace sat low on your hips and did nothing to hide how wet you already were.
“Holy shit,” he finally whispered, voice cracking. “You’re… fuck. You’re perfect. Look at these.” One hand came up to cup the soft weight of your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple like he was testing whether you were real. “Soft and pretty and already so fucking responsive for me. I’ve been dying to see you like this. Dying to get my hands and mouth all over you and make you fall apart.”
He leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the center of your chest, then lower, dragging his lips over the curve of one breast while his other hand squeezed gently at your hip, encouraging you to keep moving against him.
“Keep grinding on me like that,” he murmured against your skin, filthy and soft at the same time. “Use me. Wanna feel how wet you are through these tiny little things. Wanna make a mess of both of us before I even get my mouth between your legs.”
"What if I want you now Munson? What then?"
Your voice was wrecked. And the way he looked up at you—like you were something holy and filthy all at once—made it very clear that Eddie Munson planned to take his time worshipping every single inch of you.
Eddie moved like a man possessed.
He broke away from your chest just long enough to yank his shirt over his head and throw it somewhere behind the couch. His jeans were next—belt undone with clumsy, impatient fingers, zipper dragged down, fabric shoved past his hips until he could kick them off. He left the black boxers on— the hard line of his cock already tenting the front obscenely.
You reached between you without thinking, palm sliding down the plane of his stomach until your fingers wrapped around him. The second you pulled him free of the last bit of fabric, your breath caught.
He was thick. Heavy in your hand. Bigger than you’d let yourself imagine in all those late-night thoughts you never admitted to.
Eddie watched your face and let out a low, breathless laugh that was pure nerves and ego all at once.
“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “I get that look a lot. Don’t worry, sweetheart—I’ll go slow. I’m not trying to ruin my favorite person on the first night I finally get to touch her.”
You stroked him once, just to feel the weight of him, and his hips jerked up into your fist with a punched-out little sound.
But he didn’t let you keep control for long.
Eddie gently caught your wrist and guided your hand away, eyes dark and focused. “My turn first. Been dying to get my mouth on you. Need to get you nice and open for me before I even think about putting that in you.”
He moved with surprising care for how wrecked he looked—hands on your waist, guiding you down until your back hit the couch cushions. One of your legs was carefully lifted and draped over the back of the couch; the other he guided down so your foot rested on the floor. The position left you completely spread for him, the tiny scrap of hot-pink lace still clinging to the side of your cunt.
Eddie knelt between your thighs on the floor and just stared for a long second, hands resting on the insides of your knees like he needed the anchor.
“Holy fuck,” he whispered, almost to himself. “You’re really here. In my apartment. In that tiny pink shit. Legs open for me like this. I can’t— Jesus Christ, I can’t believe this is happening.”
Then he leaned in.
The first drag of his tongue over your clit was slow and filthy, broad and wet. He moaned against you like the taste alone was enough to ruin him. One hand stayed splayed on your lower stomach to keep you still while the other stroked up the inside of your thigh, fingers teasing along the soaked edge of the lace.
“So wet already,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick. “All for me. Gonna take my time opening you up, okay? Want you dripping before I even try to fit.”
He licked another slow stripe through your folds, then sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked gently while one long finger pressed inside. The stretch was easy—you were already so ready—but he still worked it carefully, curling and stroking until your hips twitched. A second finger joined the first sooner than you expected, scissoring gently, stretching you while his tongue kept up that steady, filthy rhythm on your clit.
“That’s it,” he breathed, glancing up the length of your body. “Look at you taking two already. So fucking pretty like this. Can you give me one more? Want you nice and ready for me.”
The third finger pressed in slow, the burn sweet and deep. Eddie groaned like he was the one being stretched, forehead dropping against your hip for a second as he felt you clench around him.
“Fuck— there you go. Three. God, you’re perfect. So tight and hot around my fingers. Keep breathing for me, baby. Gonna keep working you open just like this 'til you’re shaking.”
He curled all three fingers and rubbed firmly against that spot inside you while his tongue flicked faster over your clit, wet sounds filling the quiet apartment. His free hand gripped your thigh hard enough to bruise, holding you spread wide open while he worshipped you with his mouth and hand like he’d been starving for it.
You were already shaking, thighs trembling on either side of his head, when the need finally spilled out of you in broken little pieces.
“Eddie— please— I need— fuck, I need you, I can’t— please just—”
He lifted his head immediately, mouth shiny, three fingers still buried deep inside you. His eyes were almost black.
“Yeah?” His voice was wrecked. “You need me right now, baby? Need my cock instead of my fingers?”
You nodded frantically, hips twitching down against his hand. “Please. Now. I need you inside me—”
Eddie didn’t need to be told twice.
He pulled his fingers free with a wet sound that made both of you groan, then surged up over you. One hand shoved his boxers the rest of the way down while the other stayed braced on the inside of your thigh, keeping you spread exactly the way he wanted.
He knew you had an IUD—he’d driven you to the appointment months ago, sat in the waiting room with his knee bouncing, bought you a milkshake afterward like it was the most normal thing in the world. So no condom. Nothing between you.
He wrapped a hand around himself and dragged the thick head of his cock through your soaked folds once, twice, coating himself in how wet you’d gotten for him. Then he lined up, the blunt pressure of him settling right against your entrance while your legs stayed open—one hooked over the back of the couch, the other dangling toward the floor.
“Breathe for me,” he whispered, voice low and shaking with restraint. “Gonna go slow. You’re so fucking tight and I’m not exactly small. Tell me if it’s too much.”
He pushed in.
The stretch was immediate, deep, almost overwhelming. Eddie’s mouth fell open on a broken sound as the head of him sank inside you, and he kept going—inch by thick inch—while a steady stream of praise spilled out of him like he couldn’t stop it.
“Holy shit— look at that. Look at you taking me. So fucking pretty stretched around my cock already. That’s it, baby, just like that. You’re doing so good. S' good for me.”
His hands gripped your thighs harder, rings pressing into soft skin as he sank deeper. Another inch. Another. His stomach was trembling with the effort of holding back.
“Fuck, you’re s' warm inside. Sucking me in so perfect. Knew you’d feel like this. Dreamed about it. God, you’re taking every inch like you were made for me— almost there, almost— there. That’s all of me. Feel that? Feel how deep I am?”
He bottomed out with a punched-out groan, hips flush against yours, and stayed completely still so you could adjust. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, breath hot and ragged against your neck.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice cracking with pure awe. “You’re perfect. So tight and wet and mine. Just stay right here and let me feel you for a second. Let me feel how you grip me when you’re full.”
He kissed the side of your throat, soft and reverent even while his cock throbbed deep inside you, and kept murmuring filthy, worshipful praise against your skin like he never planned to stop.
Your cunt clenched around him—tight, wet, perfect—and Eddie’s brain short-circuited all over again.
“Move,” you whispered, voice wrecked and needy. “Please, Eddie, move.”
He lifted his head, eyes searching your face even as his hips twitched with the desperate urge to thrust. “How do you want it?” he asked, voice low and rough. One hand stroked up your side, grounding both of you. “Tell me. I’ll give you whatever you need.”
“Soft,” you breathed. “Start soft. Then… rough when I’m close. When I’m about to come.”
Eddie nodded like you’d just handed him sacred instructions.
“Soft first. Got it. I can do soft.”
He pulled out slow—dragged every thick inch of himself almost all the way free until just the head stayed tucked inside you—then pushed back in just as carefully. The wet heat of you swallowed him again and a broken sound punched out of his chest. He did it again. And again. Deep, rolling strokes that kept him buried to the hilt for a long second each time, letting you feel every ridge and pulse of him.
“That’s it,” he murmured against your mouth, kissing you between words. “I could die happy here. So fucking soft and warm inside. Look at you. Perfect. You’re fuckin' perfect.”
He kissed you deeper, tongue sliding against yours in the same lazy rhythm as his hips. One hand stayed braced on the back of the couch near your knee, keeping that leg hooked high; the other cupped your breast, thumb stroking over your nipple in time with every slow thrust.
Internally, Eddie was losing his entire mind.
Holy shit. Holy shit, this is real. You’re under me on my shitty couch in that tiny pink lingerie, stretched around my cock, telling me exactly how you want it. I’ve jerked off to this exact fantasy so many times it’s embarrassing and now you’re actually here, actually clenching around me, actually letting me have this. Don’t you dare fuck this up, Munson. Go slow. Make it good. Make it so good she never wants anyone else. God, the way she feels— dripping down my balls already. I’m not gonna survive this. I’m going to come embarrassingly fast if I keep thinking about how long I’ve wanted to be right here.
He kept the pace steady and deep, every thrust deliberate, every kiss lingering.
“You feel unreal,” he whispered against your lips, voice shaking with restraint. “So tight every time I push back in. Think your body’s trying to keep me. Fuck— I love that. Love how wet you are for me. I'll give you anything you ever need baby.”
He rolled his hips again, grinding against you at the end of the stroke so the base of his cock rubbed your clit, and another filthy, worshipful groan spilled out of him.
Don’t rush. Don’t you dare rush. She’s trusting you. She’s asking for soft first. Give it to her. Worship her. Make her come so hard she forgets anyone else ever touched her. God, I still can’t believe she’s mine right now. Even if it’s just for tonight. Even if—
He kissed you harder to shut his own spiraling thoughts up, and kept moving—slow, deep, devoted—exactly the way you’d asked.
Eddie's hand under the thigh that was still draped over the back of the couch lifted you up and pushed it higher, folding you open even more. The new angle let him sink impossibly deeper on the next slow thrust, and he groaned into the side of your neck.
He leaned in fully, chest pressed to yours, and put his mouth on your throat.
Soft kisses first—open and wet along the column of your neck—then the careful scrape of teeth. He found a spot just under your jaw and sucked hard enough to leave a mark, then another lower, closer to your pulse, worrying the skin between his lips until he knew it would bloom purple later. Every time he bottomed out he did it again, marking you like he needed proof this was real.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough. “Gonna leave these all over you. Want everyone to know I had you like this. Want you to look in the mirror tomorrow and remember how deep I was.”
Your hand slipped between your bodies.
Eddie felt the moment your fingers found your clit—felt the way your cunt fluttered hard around him in response—and his hips stuttered.
“That’s it,” he breathed, lifting his head just enough to watch. “Take what you need angel. Let me feel it. Wanna feel every bit of you.”
She’s getting close. Fuck, she’s getting close and I’m still inside her and she’s touching herself and I can feel every single clench. Don’t come. Do not come yet, you absolute fucking idiot. She asked for soft until she’s about to finish. Give her that. Hold it together. Think about literally anything else— guitar tabs, the broken latch on the van, the way Robin would mock you forever if you finished in thirty seconds flat— anything except how perfect and hot and wet she is around you.
Eddie pressed his forehead to yours, breathing hard, still rocking into you in those same controlled, deep thrusts even as his thighs started to shake.
“You’re tightening up on me,” he whispered, almost in awe. “I can feel it. You’re getting close, aren’t you? Keep rubbing that pretty clit. Wanna feel you come on my cock. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. Just let it build.”
He kissed you again, messy and open, and kept moving exactly the way you’d asked—holding that leg high, marking your neck, fighting every instinct that screamed at him to snap his hips and chase his own release—while your cunt kept clenching tighter and tighter around him.
“Harder,” you breathed against his mouth, fingers still working between your bodies. “Eddie— harder, please—”
The magic words.
Eddie pulled almost all the way out and then snapped his hips forward, the slow, worshipful pace shattering as he gave you exactly what you wanted. He kept the build gradual at first—each thrust a little faster, a little deeper—until he was driving into you with real force, the hard wet slap of skin on skin filling the apartment. The new rhythm forced him against your cervix on every stroke; he felt the firm resistance and the faint, unmistakable nudge of your IUD against the head of his cock and he did not give a single shit.
Not when you were taking him like this.
“Fuck— there it is,” he groaned, voice wrecked as he held your leg higher and leaned into every thrust. “Feel that? That’s as deep as I can get. Taking every fucking inch like you were built for it. God, you’re perfect— so perfect—”
Your cunt clenched down around him so hard it punched the air from his lungs.
Then you gushed.
Hot, sudden wetness flooded around his cock, squirting in pulsing waves that soaked his stomach, his thighs, the couch cushion beneath you. The sound was filthy and unmistakable. Eddie’s eyes went wide, a broken, awed noise tearing out of his throat as he watched and felt you come apart under him.
“Oh my god— you’re— fuck, you’re squirting on me—”
That was all it took.
The tight, rhythmic pulse of your cunt milking him while you kept spurting around his cock ripped his orgasm out of him with zero warning. Eddie buried himself to the hilt and came hard, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you in thick, pulsing waves. He kept thrusting through it—short, messy strokes that forced his cum deeper while you were still gushing around him—mouth open against your neck, one hand locked under your thigh, the other braced on the couch like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.
“Shit— shit, baby, I- fuck— feel that? Feel me filling you up while you’re still making a mess of me? Fuck, you’re incredible— so wet and tight and perfect—”
He stayed inside you through the aftershocks, cock twitching as the last of your squirting eased into trembling little pulses. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, breath coming in ragged, disbelieving gasps, every muscle in his body still shaking from how hard he’d finished.
The couch was ruined.
He couldn’t bring himself to care.
Eddie stayed exactly where he was—chest to chest, cock softening in the wet heat he’d just filled. His breath was still coming a little uneven against the side of your neck. One hand stayed hooked under your thigh like he wasn’t ready to let you close your legs yet.
He lifted his head after a long moment, eyes dark and a little dazed, and looked down at you.
“…Did you know you could do that?”
His voice was rough, still wrecked around the edges, but there was pure curiosity underneath it. And a little bit of awe he wasn’t even trying to hide.
You blinked up at him, cheeks flushed, and gave a small nod. “Yeah.”
Eddie stared.
“Yeah?” He let out a short, disbelieving laugh that made his softening cock twitch inside you. “You’ve been walking around knowing you can do that and you just… never mentioned it? Not once? We’ve talked about every stupid thing under the sun and you never thought to bring up the fact that you can soak a couch?”
You shrugged as much as you could with him still on top of you. “I didn’t know it was gonna happen with you.”
Eddie opened his mouth. Closed it. Then dropped his forehead back to your shoulder with a dramatic groan.
“Oh my god. You’re serious. You actually didn’t know.” He sounded personally offended and deeply smug at the same time. “So what you’re telling me is that I did that. Me. Eddie Munson. Made you squirt. On my couch. And how often does that happen?”
"By myself? A lot. With other people? Not as much."
"So you're saying I'm a sex god?"
"I'm not not saying that."
He lifted his head again, grinning now—soft and a little filthy, hair a mess, lips still kiss-bitten.
“I’m never recovering from this. You’re never living this down. I’m going to be so insufferable about it. Just warning you now.”
He shifted his hips the tiniest bit, still half-hard and sliding through the mess of both of you, and made a low, content sound at the feeling.
“Also,” he added, voice dropping into something warmer, “for the record? That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You just— just… gushing all over me while I was coming? Jesus Christ. I thought I was going to black out. You ruined me. Completely.”
He kissed the corner of your mouth, lazy and fond, and didn’t pull out.
“We’re gonna need to burn this cushion,” he murmured against your lips, clearly not sorry at all. “And probably the whole couch. Worth it. So fucking worth it.”
Eddie cleaned you up with a care that made your chest ache.
He disappeared into the bathroom for a minute and came back with a warm washcloth, still bare and soft-eyed, and wiped between your legs with slow, gentle strokes like you were something precious. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee when he was done, then another to your hip, and helped you stand on slightly unsteady legs.
“C’mon,” he murmured, voice still rough. “Bed. Couch is a crime scene and I’m not making you sit in it.”
His bedroom was dim and lived-in—unmade sheets, a pile of band tees on the chair, the faint smell of his cologne and laundry detergent. He dug through a drawer and tossed you a soft black shirt that was definitely his and a pair of boxers that hung low on your hips. You pulled both on while he watched, something warm and possessive flickering across his face when the shirt settled over you and the boxers disappeared under the hem.
Then he tugged you down into the bed with him.
You ended up half on top of him, head on his chest, one of his arms wrapped solidly around your back while the other worked the remote. Some random late-night show played at low volume, the light from the screen flickering across the ceiling. His fingers traced idle patterns along your spine under the shirt. Every so often he pressed a lazy kiss to the top of your head like he couldn’t help it.
The quiet stretched long enough to feel safe.
You traced a fingertip over one of the tattoos on his chest and finally asked, voice soft, “What are we now?”
Eddie let out a short, incredulous laugh that rumbled under your ear.
“Are you serious?” He shifted just enough to look down at you, dark eyes soft and completely certain. “You’re asking me that while you’re in my clothes, in my bed, still smelling like me and sex? Baby. I’m not letting go of you now. Not after that. Not after years of wanting you and finally getting to have you.” His hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, thumb stroking behind your ear. “You’re my girl. That’s what we are. Official. Permanent. Whatever word makes it sink in. You’re mine.”
He kissed your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then your mouth—slow and sweet.
When he pulled back there was a familiar crooked grin tugging at his lips.
“Also,” he added, “I’m keeping those ruined little pink panties. They’re mine now. Evidence. Trophy. Whatever. I’ll buy you a new set. Hell, I’ll buy you ten new sets if it means I get to ruin them the same way. Fair trade.”
He settled back against the pillows, tugging you more firmly against his chest, and turned the volume on the TV up just a little.
“Now quit overthinking and watch the show with me,” he murmured into your hair, already sounding half-asleep and completely content. “My girl needs rest. I’ve got you.”
Summary: Eddie Munson wanted you to be his girl more than he’s ever wanted anything and when Eddie wanted something, he got it. Even if it meant fucking it out of you.
Content Warning: 18+ Smut, Penetration (P in V), Slight Spanking, Dirty Talk, Profanity/Swearing, Use of Handcuffs.
Credits: Dividers by @cafekitsune
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“C’mon, baby. Say it. I know you fucking want to.”
He slams his hips into you hard and fast, his pace relentless as he was fucking you so hard and deep that you were practically drooling onto his bedsheets.
“Fucking. Say. It.” He demanded, wrapping his right hand around the chain link of the handcuffs he had around your wrists- pinning your arms behind your back. Once he grips it, he begins to yank the chain towards him- using it to pull you back onto his cock.
“Oh- oh my god!” You gasp, your mouth dry and hoarse from moaning and crying out underneath him. But he didn’t care. Eddie was going to continue using and abusing your tight, wet cunt until you finally gave him what he wanted. Until he finally had ownership of you.
“Yeah?” He coos “That feel good? Taking me nice and deep in that pussy? Of course it does, sweetheart. Don’t know why I even ask. As if you’re not too cock-drunk and fucked out to answer me anyway, right? Fucking you so stupid that you can barely even form a sentence.”
“Eddie!” You squeal as he begins to hit a new spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling into your skull.
“You come over here every other day begging to get dicked down but you don’t wanna be my girl? What’s that about, huh?” He tsks “Answer me, you fucking brat.”
“N-no!” You choke out, gasping for air as his hips clap against your ass hard enough to jolt you forward “I- oh shit!”
“You what?” He asks, yanking the cuff chain back far enough to have you arching your back, causing you to take his cock even deeper.
“Fuck!” You scream “I’m- oh fuuuuck. I’m scared, Eddie.”
“Scared of what, doll?” He asks, watching the way his cock disappeared into you over and over again. He never got sick of the sight. That’s why he needed you to say it so bad. He needed to lock you down. “Tell me what you’re scared of.”
“I-I don’t know.” You stammer, squeezing your eyes shut at the way that you could feel him in your fucking guts. The way he was fucking you was intense enough to make you cry. Almost bordering on too much.
“You scared that you’re going to realize that you need me? That you and I will be so fucking good together, baby?”
You try to focus on his words but you can’t help but realize how obscene the sounds were that your pussy was making as he fucked into you.
“Ohhh god!” You cry out.
“You feel how good that feels?” He asks “You could have this every day, baby. All you’ve gotta do is say it. Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you belong to me.”
Hearing him speak like that when he was balls deep in you was bringing you closer and closer to the edge. That delicious feeling of release. You wanted it bad. So bad.
“C’mon, sweetheart. Say it. You know you want to. You know I’d treat you good. Give it to you like this any time you wanted. Don’t you want that? Hm? My big fucking cock stretching you open and fucking you sore as much as you want? Anytime. Anywhere. Just say it, baby. Say it because I’m not gonna stop. Not until you’re mine. I’ll go all fucking night if I have to. If that’s what it takes.”
His words only serve to get you wetter. Hearing him tell you how much he wanted you was the ultimate turn on. The way he was taking you as if he already owned you. In a way, he already did. The only thing he had left to claim was your heart.
“You know I always get what I was, sweetness. I always do. And I want you. God, I want you. So, I’m gonna keep giving you this dick and making you fucking take it until you say it. Say it, baby. Fucking say it. Let me love you, baby. Let me take care of you.”
“I-It’s yours!” You choke out, whimpering into the bedsheets “My pussy’s yours.”
“No, baby.” Eddie tsks, shaking his head as he smacks your ass harshly- causing you to yell out. “That’s really nice of you, doll, but you know what I want. I don’t just want this pussy, baby. I want you. All of you. Every fucking part. I’ll cuff you to the goddamn bed for hours. Fucking days. As long as it takes until you break. You’re not leaving this bed until you’re mine. All mine.”
“No.”
The word caused his hips to still. Stopping mid-thrust as he growls. Quickly pulling out of you. You whimper at the loss as you watch Eddie reach for the key to the handcuffs, leaning back to free one of your wrists. Only one. He wasn’t finished with you.
“On your fucking back.” He orders.
You quickly obey, lying down flat as he stares down at you.
“Put your arm up.”
You follow directions, letting him cuff you to the headboard as he watches you with heat in his eyes. If that didn’t break you then he would try something else.
“Open.” He demands, using his large ring-clad hands to pry your thighs open. He grabs his dick, rubbing the tip up and down your folds before quickly plunging back inside of your heat- causing you to gasp.
“Holy shit!” You moan, suddenly wishing that your hands were freed so that you could grab onto him as he sunk himself deep into you over and over. “Eddie!”
“Fucking look at you. You don’t wanna be with me but you scream my fucking name like it’s the only thing you can remember. You act like your pussy doesn’t fucking gush around me every time I stick my dick in you. You know I’d treat you good, baby. Stop fucking hiding from me. You’re gonna be my girl. Even if I’ve gotta keep chasing you. Even if I’m gotta keep fucking you like I hate you. Especially when I know that it’s the opposite. When I love you.”
The admission caused you to moan out, your mouth falling open in shock and pleasure.
“Fuck, baby. Is that what you need to hear?” He asks “That I love you? I love you, sweetheart. I’m not gonna stop fucking you until you tell me you love me back. C’mon. Stop being fucking stubborn.”
He shifts his hips so that he was thrusting downwards into you in a way that had you breathless and gasping for air. You were so close.
“I….love…you.” He groans out between deep thrusts “C’mon baby, say it back. I know you feel it too. Fucking tell me. Tell me.”
“Eddie, I-“ You gasp out, feeling every fucking inch of him punch into you.
“C’mon sweetheart. Say it. Look at me when you fucking say it.” He demands, grabbing your chin in his hand as he forced you to look at him. To stare deep into those brown doe eyes of his that had you melting and gushing and….in love. Totally and completely in love.
“It’s right there, angel. You’re so close. Just tell me. Please tell me.” He pleads.
“I love you, Eddie.” You choke out “I- fuck, I love you.”
“Yeah?” He breathes, his heart practically bursting when he finally heard those words come from your mouth “Fuck, baby!” He cries out “Oh fuck!”
He felt out of control. Diving and snapping his hips into you like he was going crazy.
“Say it again, baby.” He pleads “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you, Eddie.”
“Fuck, sweetheart! You’re gonna make me cum!” He moans, his jaw quivering. “God, I love you, baby. I fucking love you. Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.” You moan “I’m all yours.”
“Fuck!” He pants “Again. Say it again.”
“I’m yours!” You scream out “Wanna be yours! I’m…gonna- fuck! Gonna c-cum, Eddie!”
“Me too, baby.” He whimpers “Me too. Wanna cum in my girl. Wanna fill you up. Let me fill you up. Please, baby.”
“Okay.” You nod “Do what you want with me. I belong to you.”
“Ohhhh fuuuuck!” Eddie gasps “Baby, I c-can’t hold on much longer. Need you to…oh, Christ!”
He reaches down between you, using the pad of his thumb to roughly grind against your clit. It was just what you needed. That’s why you were in love with him. He always knew what you needed.
“Cum for me, baby! C’mon, sweetheart! Give it to me!”
“Eddie, I’m c-cumming! I- holy fucking…oh god!”
He watches the way your body shakes beneath him, your eyes rolling back as you gasped for air. He loved seeing you come apart for him. Completely his mercy.
“Fuck yes! Atta girl! That’s my girl! Gonna give you this cum, baby. Gonna fucking cum in you. Gonna make you mine. Oh shit!”
His mouth drops open in ecstasy as he releases inside of you, filling you with enough cum to have you leaking for a week. The thought of it was enough to get him going again. His girl. Leaking his cum.
His body gives out as he flops onto the mattress beside you, trying to catch his breath. He reaches for the key to the handcuffs, gently releasing you as he scoops you into his arms and pulls you close- letting you rest your head on his chest. You were silent the whole time, in post orgasmic bliss as he lights up a cigarette- taking drags of it as he stares at the ceiling.
“I meant it, you know.” He says, his head turning towards you “I’m in love with you.”
“Really?” You laugh “I couldn’t tell.”
“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes “At least you know now.”
“I love you too, Eddie.” You reply softly “I mean it. If you want me to be yours, I’m ready.”
He stare at you for a long while before putting out his cigarette, leaning towards you as he kisses your lips tenderly. This kiss felt different than all the others. Because it was the first kiss you would share after becoming his girl.
“Sweetheart,” He says, grinning as he pulls back to look at you “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”
Some of my fav fics for Eddie Munson
🔥smut 🗡angst ☁️fluff 🕷️dark
SERIES
Needle and the damage done(series) by @keeryhours
Cruel intentions(Innocent!reader)🕷️ by @eddiesghxst
Have I the right?(Stalker!Eddie) 🕷️ by @oneforthemunny
ONE SHOT
Best Mates(Alpha!Fuckboy!Eddie) 🔥 by @bloodibambiidoll
Piercer!Eddie 🔥 by @gaybybirth
Dentist!Eddie 🔥 by @msgexymunson
I'm the best thing at this party 🗡 by @carolmunson
Do you feel it 🔥🕷️ by @thepastdied
You get me closer to god(kas!Eddie) 🔥🕷️ by @carolmunson
Let them know 🔥 by @roanniom
Pornstar!Eddie 🔥 by @rebelfell
Sinclairs new neighbor 🔥 by @usedtobecooler
LGDW!Eddie Valentines day 🔥 by @carolmunson
Eddie has a question for you ☁️ by @hellfire--cult
(parenthesis) ☁️ by @rebelfell
Heard you / Saw you / Need you, love you 🕷️ by @writhingg
Mini road trip with perv!Eddie 🔥 by @elegantpaperoperatormaker @elegantpaperoperatormaker
Best friend!Piercer!Eddie 🔥by @gaybybirth
Janitor!Eddie 🔥 by @oneforthemunny
Lets go back to the start 🗡 by @neonghostlights
Rockstar!Eddie x reader ☁️ by @oneforthemunny
If I knew then(ex-husband!Eddie) 🗡 by @oneforthemunny
BLURBS
I like to think Eddie went back to Tennessee when he died 🗡 by @d0rianw1lde
Inexperienced!reader x Eddie 🔥 by @dicephalicdoll
Eddies massive cock entering you raw :) 🔥 by @elegantpaperoperatormaker
most nights with gator ended up like this, making out in the back of his cruiser and groping each other like youre hormonal teenagers. the energy tonight feels heavier, hotter. in a disgustingly confident manner, he grabs your hand and brings it to his crotch, where he is straining against his cargos. normally, you would hate it if some asshole– especially someone like gator tillman– were to forcibly move your hand toward his dick like he deserves it, but you were too caught up to even care. hes stupidly hot and is such a good kisser that you actually found yourself enjoying it.
breaths came out ragged in between kisses, and gator found himself groaning against your lips as you palmed him deliberately. he took it upon himself to unzip his pants to free his length. you pull away from his lips, and your eyes widen at the sight of him. “holy shit, gator.” he smirks knowingly. he knows hes hung. of course he does.
“dont worry, i just want ya to touch it.”
“come on,” he bucks his hips up, “dont get all shy now. show it some love.”
hes so disgusting.
cautiously, you wrap your hand as best you can around his length. hes so thick you cant even fully wrap your hand around him. gator sucks in a breath, he is hot and heavy in your hand with some of his arousal already oozing out of his tip.
“yeah, like that.”
your hand slides up and down his length experimentally. gator is surprisingly vocal, letting out deep, guttural groans.
gator leans forward and puckers his lips to let a thick glob of spit land right on his tip.
“now spread it ‘round.”
you move your thumb to the head of him, smearing his saliva and precum so you can glide your hand more efficiently. “atta girl.” the praise makes you grin.
his breathing turned shallow as you stroked him slowly, heat pooled low in his belly and every movement sent shivers up his spine.
“can barely even hold me,” he murmurs gruffly, referring to how your hands can only cover about ¾ of his length. “you want some help, doll?”
before you can answer him, his much larger, rougher, and calloused hand engulfs your own, helping you stroke his cock.
“just like this,” he groans. “can squeeze tighter, y’know? wont hurt me.”
gator squeezes his hand over yours, which automatically makes your hand grip around his length tighter.
“uh-huh,” he moans, “thats it, pretty girl.”
with gators dick in your joined grip, you quickly learned how he liked to be touched. firm, steady, with a nice twist of your wrist when you get to the tip. gators breath starts to become uneven, his hips start twitching and bucking with impatience.
dont get him wrong, experimenting and teaching you how to touch him feels good and is actually really hot, but he wants more. hes never been a patient man, so without warning, his grip tightened slightly over yours and suddenly started moving faster. his hand guided your strokes quicker now, a low groan falling from him as the pace picked up.
“let me see you,” gators free hand, the one that wasnt busy guiding you, made its way up your body and started to tug down the thin straps of your tank top. the moment gator sees your tits, his hips started moving on their own, desperately chasing even more friction.
“fuckin hell. go faster,” he groans, with his eyes glued to your chest. “perfect fuckin’ tits.”
“yer gonna make me cum.”
gators movements become frantic, hes practically humping into your shared grip with absolutely zero rhythm and zero control.
“faster,” he pants.
“ohfuck,” his voice cracks, “‘m right there.”
his sounds are desperate and needy, a huge contrast from the big bad deputy facade that everyone in stark county knows.
his breath hitched, and a loud choked out groan falls from him
“sh-shit.”
and he came hard. gator throws his head back as his entire body tenses up. you felt him pulse in your grasp, spurts of cum shot out of his tip, his release spilling all over both you and gators hand. some of it even stained his black t-shirt. gator, still in control of your hand, gradually decreases the speed as he comes down from his high. his chest is heaving and the tension in his body slowly slips away as the last bit of cum seeps out of him before hes officially done for.
“jesus christ,” he murmurs, looking down at his now cum stained shirt and both of your hands.
you can’t stand your sisters boyfriend. but things can change, right?
The storm hit harder than the radio had promised.
You’d left Claire’s place late, the sky already low and heavy, the kind of gray that didn’t bother pretending it would clear.
By the time the first heavy flakes started sticking to the windshield the wind had shifted, shoving the car sideways in short, mean bursts.
The road out toward the county line was empty. No headlights. No tracks. Just white filling in the world one layer at a time.
The front end of your car caught the ditch before you fully understood what was happening.
Metal screamed.
The airbag punched the breath out of you.
Something in your left leg lit up white-hot and stayed that way.
For a few seconds there was only the sound of the engine ticking and snow already starting to bury the hood.
You tried the door. It opened far enough to let the cold in like a slap.
Standing was a mistake. The leg folded and you went down hard against the side of the car, gloves slipping on ice. Blood was already darkening the denim above your knee. The world tilted.
Time got strange after that. The cold worked fast. Your hands stopped feeling like they belonged to you.
Somewhere in the distance a set of headlights cut through the white, slowed, then stopped.
Boots crunched. A flashlight beam found your face and stayed there.
“The fuck are you doing out here, kid?”
Gator’s voice. Rough, irritated, like you’d personally interrupted his night.
He dropped into a crouch beside you, one gloved hand already on your shoulder to keep you from sliding further into the ditch.
Snow clung to the brim of his hat and the shoulders of his jacket. His badge caught the flashlight for half a second before he angled it away.
You tried to answer and only managed a thin sound.
He looked at the car, then at your leg, then back at your face. “Just get in the goddamn truck. I’m not leaving your pitiful ass here.”
Getting upright took both of you. He hauled most of your weight without comment, jaw tight, breath visible in short clouds.
The truck smelled like cold leather, old coffee, and the faint chemical bite of whatever cleaner they used at the station.
He shoved the passenger door shut hard enough to rock the cab, then circled around and climbed in on the driver’s side.
The heater was already running. It didn’t help much yet.
He reached into the back seat, dragged out a heavy dark hoodie, and shoved it at you. “Here. Put it on.”
You stared at it.
“I’m only letting you do this cuz of the blizzard,” he said, eyes on the road as he put the truck in gear. “..And the car crash. Don’t make it a thing.”
Your fingers were too stiff to manage the zipper. He noticed, swore under his breath, and leaned across the console.
The motion brought him close enough that you caught the scent of cigarette smoke and cold air still clinging to his coat. He got the hoodie zipped halfway, then sat back like the whole exchange had personally offended him.
“Fuck, you’re freezing.”
He drove faster than the conditions should have allowed, the wipers working overtime.
Every bump sent a fresh spike through your leg. You kept your teeth locked so you wouldn’t make noise.
He noticed that too.
“Talk to me,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “Where’s it hurt worst?”
“Leg.” Your voice came out thin. “Left. And… ribs, I think.”
He nodded once, like he’d already guessed. “Claire know you were out driving in this?”
You didn’t answer. He didn’t push.
The Tillman ranch appeared out of the white like something that had been waiting. Porch light on. A couple of trucks already parked.
Gator killed the engine and came around to your side before you could try the door yourself. He got an arm under your shoulders and half-carried you up the steps. The door opened under his boot.
Roy was in the kitchen doorway, coffee mug in one hand. He took in the blood on your jeans, the way you were leaning on his son, and the fact that it was Claire’s sister without changing expression much.
“She need a hospital?”
Gator shook his head. “Roads are shit. I’ll handle it. She’s conscious.”
Roy’s eyes lingered another second, then he nodded once and stepped aside. No questions. No lecture. Just the quiet acceptance that Gator would clean up whatever mess had landed on the doorstep.
Gator got you to the bathroom off the mudroom, sat you on the closed toilet lid, and started pulling supplies out of a cabinet like he’d done this before.
He knelt in front of you, pushed the ruined jeans up past the cut, and swore again when he saw how deep it was.
“Hey—hey.” His voice dropped, less sharp than it had been in the truck. “I’m gonna patch ya’ up. Look at me.”
You did. His hands were steady even if his mouth wasn’t soft.
“It’s gonna sting, babydoll, but we’ve gotta clean this.”
The word slipped out like he hadn’t meant to say it. He didn’t take it back.
The antiseptic burned exactly as promised. You flinched hard enough that his free hand came up and caught your wrist, holding it still against your thigh.
“I’m here—I’ve got ya’.”
He worked in silence after that. Butterfly bandages. Gauze. Pressure.
Your ribs got a careful once-over that left you hissing through your teeth.
When he finally sat back on his heels the hoodie he’d given you was half-soaked with melted snow and a little blood, and his own sleeves were pushed up to the elbows.
“You’re staying here tonight,” he said. Not a question.
“Claire’s place is further out and the roads are closed. Guest room’s down the hall. You need anything, you yell. Don’t try walking on that leg by yourself.”
You looked at him. The cocky edge was still there, but it had thinned. Underneath it was the same restless, slightly defensive energy he’d had the day you met—only now it had somewhere specific to land.
“Why’d you stop?” you asked, quietly.
He stood, wiping his hands on a towel that was already ruined.
“Saw the taillights. Figured somebody was being an idiot.” A beat. “Turns out I was right.”
He helped you to the guest room, your leg still wasn’t good enough to walk on.
Later, somewhere deeper in the house you heard Roy’s voice, low, and Gator’s shorter reply.
No raised voices. Just the quiet machinery of a household that had seen worse than a girl from a ditch and a snowstorm.
You sat there in the borrowed hoodie, leg throbbing, the heater in the truck still a distant memory, and tried not to think about how long it would be before you could stand without help.
Outside, the blizzard kept coming down like it planned to stay.
theartofmadeline
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